$REDPURZ

The Spirit Tale of Fire Lord Ozai
Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/38420449.
Rating: Mature
Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Category: Gen
Fandom: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Relationships: The Fire Nation & The Rest of the World, Zuko & Iroh, Zuko & Zuko,
Zuko & Azula, Zuko & Agni, Zuko & Tui, Agni & Tui, La/Tui
Characters: Zuko, Iroh, Azula, Agni, Tui, La - Character
Additional Tags: Despite the title, Ozai is Deader than a Doornail, Fire Lord Zuko, Zuko-
centric, ATLA Show Canon Only, Worldbuilding, Alternate Universe -
Canon Divergence, 100 Year War Ends Early, Post-Canon, Pre-Canon,
Fix-It, Time Travel Fix-It, Time Travel, Bodyswap, Reincarnation, Zuko
is an Awkward Turtleduck, Spirits, Agni Stole the Script, La Brought the
Red Pen, Tui Has the Best Seat in the House and a Bucket of Fire Flakes,
Family, Fire Nation Royal Family, Parenthood, Father-Son Relationship,
Father-Daughter Relationship, Dragon-Heart Azula, Brothers, Iroh tries
his best, Politics, Political tension, Culture Shock, Waterbender Prison,
Bloodbenders, Angst, Grief, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Aiming for Monthly
Updates
Language: English
Series: Part 1 of Spirit Tales by the Sun and Sea
Collections: ✧ Favourite Fanfictions ✧, that's make me feel alive (я рыдала при
прочтении ™), Delicious fic concepts written by big-brained creative
authors
Stats: Published: 2022-04-16 Updated: 2024-03-28 Words: 74,658 Chapters:
28/?
The Spirit Tale of Fire Lord Ozai
by Bored_Commehter
Summary
When La demands justice for Tui's favored mortal, Agni proposes a compromise and spirits
become more active in the world of man.
Or...
Fire Lord Zuko finds himself entangled in the spirits' schemes. He has been stripped of
everything -- including his name -- except for the golden flame that adorns his head and the
throne from which he guides his country. He... has a lot he needs to process, and even more to
do.
Now posting on Royal Road! Come leave a review!
Notes
There's no need to read Just Like Your Father before reading this story. Both fics are
completely unaffiliated and independent of each other. I'm only playing with the main idea
presented in Just Like Your Father because I thought it had interesting possibilities.
Inspired by Just like your father by Eye_of_Purgatory

The Meddling of Spirits
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
One moment, Fire Lord Zuko is drifting off to sleep after signing the last of the major peace
treaties required to officially end the war between the Fire Nation and the Earth Kingdoms. In
the next moment, he is standing barefoot in a forest and unable to open his eyes.
"Who's there?" he snarls. He can hear his abductors whispering amongst themselves. He
hasn't been left unwatched. "What do you want?"
This is far from the first attack he's suffered since ascending to the throne, but it's already the
most successful. He has no idea how his kidnappers have removed him from his bedroom, let
alone how they got past the high palace walls and transported him beyond the heavily
patrolled streets of Caldera.
"Peace, Zuko of Second Fire," a man's voice says from directly in front of him.
Zuko throws a fist blindly at his kidnapper's head. The man laughs as he catches the punch.
There are no flames. His bending isn't responding. Has he been drugged? Is that how they got
him out of the palace? The man steps closer -- Heat pours off of his abductor as if he is a
living furnace. -- and presses the Fire Lord's fist over his own heart. Enough of Zuko's focus
is on not panicking that he allows the repositioning of his arm without any resistance.
"Your favored has poor manners," observes a deeper voice from somewhere to his left, "Are
you sure you wouldn't rather just end his line to pay the debt?"
Zuko stiffens. They're after more than just him. Is Mai also being held captive somewhere
nearby? Has the baby been harmed? Does their reach extend far enough to threaten Uncle in
Ba Sing Se? Do their plans include Azula and Ozai? Both have been officially removed from
the line of succession, but that doesn't mean much to some.
"The council is agreed," the man in front of him refutes easily, "The debt can be repaid in full
through my plan."
"If your favored is as different from the last three of his line as you think he is," the deeper
voice huffs, "If. He is still very young, even for a mortal. He could become much the same as
they were, given some time."
"He won't," the first kidnapper states in confidence, "He is young, but he has been tried
thoroughly. He will not forget himself to the lure of power or ill-founded ambition."
"My brother is correct," a woman's voice joins the conversation, "Fire Lord Zuko has proven
himself to be a man of honor and compassion to the other nations. Do not forget, beloved, my
brother's plan also benefits our own favored."
"I have not forgotten, my love," the second voice says, "I simply remain unconvinced. Your
brother's plan is radical and has many delicate balances. It may fail more easily than it could
succeed, especially with this one's inclusion."
"His inclusion is necessary or the plan has little chance to succeed at all," the first states
calmly.
"Who are you people?" Zuko demands, temper nearing its end.
A mix of grumbling and laughter answers him. There are... a lot more kidnappers
surrounding him than he had previously thought.
"Oh, child of fire, I am afraid you do not yet realize the magnitude of the situation you have
been brought into," the first voice says in gentle amusement. Zuko tenses as the man walks a
tight half-circle only to stop behind him. The dull red that has been the shade of his closed
eyelids fades to pitch black and a steady heat beats against his back. "Dear Tui, your
assistance would be greatly appreciated. Zuko of Second Fire, open your eyes and know
those who address you today."
His eyes fly open as soon as the words are spoken and his legs immediately buckle at the
sight that greets him. It is only the arm suddenly secured around his chest that keeps him
upright. There is a second hand resting lightly at his throat. Zuko isn't sure whether or not
that's meant to be a threat.
"Peace, child," the first man -- No, he is not a man at all. -- says, breath a warm breeze
rushing past his right ear and cheek, "It is not our goal to harm you."
"Spirits?" Zuko squeaks, twisting to look at the being holding him. It is an attempt that is
quickly thwarted.
The hand around his neck slides ever so slightly higher to put pressure on the underside of his
jaw and effectively traps his head against the spirit's shoulder. Zuko swallows his pride and
yields to the hold. It burns to do so, but he isn't equipped to fight spirits, let alone so many
and without so much as his firebending to protect himself or a viable exit strategy. The hand
at his throat reverts to being a deceptively light and unrestrictive touch.
The spirit laughs merrily, seemingly unbothered by the actions of the mortal man in his grasp.
"Indeed," he answers, "This is the Council of Greater World Spirits."
Zuko scans the odd beings before him again but one in particular catches his attention, if only
because she is the sole spirit approaching him. The female spirit is almost suspiciously
normal-looking compared to the wilder physiques that some of the other spirits possess. Zuko
frowns even as the spirit smiles at him. The form she wears is one he recognizes, but not in
regards to any spirit.
"I know you," he says, "You were the Northern Water Tribe's princess."
The woman's smile brightens. "I would not have expected you to remember my favored's
mortal form. It is a shame you and my Yue were never properly introduced to each other. I
believe you would have gotten on well," she tells him, "My name is Tui."
"The Moon Spirit," Zuko whispers. The others have told him the story, about how Princess
Yue sacrificed herself to resurrect the moon. Well, Sokka had told him the story once, after he
had gotten drunk at some festival, and the others had clarified a few things when Zuko had
thought to ask. He's still not completely sure which parts of the tale were factually true and
which parts were alcohol-fueled rambling.
"Yes," the pale spirit says, "It is a pleasure to meet you, Zuko of Second Fire."
"Second Fire?" the man amongst spirits finally asks. He's heard the phrase too many times
now to continue ignoring it.
The spirit at his back chuckles softly before answering, "I bestowed the gift of flame upon the
dragons first, and to mortal man second, child of fire."
"Agni?" he questions weakly.
"So I am," the spirit responds.
He's being held by the greatest deity of the Fire Nation, one of the great spirits that support
life throughout the entire world. He doesn't know how to process that thought.
"Tui, if you would," Agni requests as he continues to support Zuko's shock-numbed body.
"Of course, Brother," the moon says before returning her attention to the Fire Lord. "You
would no more be able to gaze upon the Sun Spirit's native form than you would his physical
manifestation in your world's sky without being blinded by his great light. It is, as it has
always been, my happy privilege to reflect Agni's brilliance. Please, allow me to be the
means through which you might know my brother's face."
Tui turns on her heel and suddenly a very different spirit is standing in her place. Or, not
quite. The Moon Spirit's form remains, as if in dark shadow, behind the shining reflection of
Agni. It looks as if the two spirits are standing back-to-back in the space intended only for a
solitary spirit. It's surreal but, from what Zuko has heard and occasionally experienced, spirits
only make sense about half of the time anyway.
The hand at his throat carefully closes Zuko's dropped jaw for him. The reflection's
outstretched arm and hand don't quite line up with the fingers he feels gently pressed against
his jaw, but it gets the point across well enough. Agni's reflection looks unexpectedly fond.
That's... probably a good thing?
Zuko feels himself being lowered to the ground but he can't tear his eyes away from the
reflection sinking into a relaxed kneeling position in front of him. The arms retreat for a
moment but heavy hands soon fall upon his shoulders and Zuko honestly isn't sure if he
currently has enough control over his own body to prevent himself from falling down
completely without the support. Again the reflection is an imperfect match for the real thing,
given the angles, but he can't be bothered to care when he's staring up at the face of Agni.
"I have a task for you, Fire Lord," Agni says, expression turning serious, "I am sorry to say it
is not one you will be given a choice in taking up, but the council is in agreement that you
deserve to be told why it must happen."
Zuko tries to breathe through the building panic. "Okay," he wheezes past his fried nerves,
"I'm ready."
"Three years ago, Zhao of Second Fire attempted to slay the Moon Spirit."
"I remember," Zuko says through his tightening throat, "The Ocean Spirit sank the entire
invasion fleet and dragged Zhao down to the bottom of the Northern Sea. I saw it happen
with my own eyes."
Agni tips his head in a shallow acknowledging nod. "The Ocean Spirit swept up Zhao of
Second Fire into a fate far worse than that of a man drowned at the sea floor, but that is a
matter already settled. La's actions that day repaid in full the debt for daring to attack a spirit.
However, Tui's favored was lost to the mortal world as a result of Zhao's actions and that debt
has yet to be repaid. Balance would require that I, likewise, take from the mortal realm my
favored. It is no secret that I have promised my strongest blessings upon my first children, the
dragons; the leaders of my second children, the Fire Lands' royal line; and the mortal bridge,
the Avatar.
"Yue of the Northern Seas was the only favored of Tui and La among mortal men. The
council reached the decision that balance and justice would require that every living member
of the Fire Lands' royal line be wiped from the mortal realm."
The breath in his lungs stutters as he processes the meaning of Agni's words.
The spirits have condemned his entire family to death.
"No! Please, I can --"
"Peace, child mine." Agni's hand cups his unscarred cheek and Zuko feels a face press against
his hair. "And listen well." The spirit withdraws so Zuko can again see the reflection's face.
He can't give up without a fight, and especially not when the fight is for more than just
himself. Still, Agni has bid him to listen and he has learned the hard way that it is often best
to listen before acting. Zuko takes a steadying breath and nods.
"This was not a decision the council reached quickly and, in that time, I had put together
another plan to repay the debt. My proposal caused yet more arguing amongst our numbers,
but, eventually, my plan was accepted. Only Ozai of Second Fire will be removed from the
mortal world."
"Oh," Zuko's relief bursts from him in a gust of breath that he had not meant to give voice to.
Ozai's death will doubtlessly cause a stir, and there will likely be rumors of patricide, but...
Considering what the alternative is, he has no complaints. He'll find a way to deal with the
fallout.
"There is more to the plan and it will demand much of you," the spirit warns, "It will not be
accomplished quickly."
"I can do it," Zuko promises. Whatever the plan is, he'll do his part. For Uncle, and Mai, and
the baby, and even Azula.
Agni smiles but something about the Sun Spirit's expression is nonetheless pitying. "You can
and I have faith that you will, but, as I said, you are not being given a choice in the matter.
You will take up this task. But you will not be working alone. Now that the council is set on
this course, many spirits are eager to participate. Tui and I in particular will remain near to
guide you, and lesser spirits may also seek you out to offer their services."
Agni retreats and stands. Zuko's head is swimming under the warring relief and dread but he
manages to remain sitting upright. "Now, we should get started," the Sun Spirit announces.
"La, are you ready?"
The oddly normal-looking Water Tribe man that is actually the Ocean Spirit, apparently,
flashes a shark-like grin. "Don't worry about me, King of Flames. I've had more practice in
the mortal world than any of you in recent memory," he says in the same voice that had
earlier disparaged Zuko's manners and openly wondered if they shouldn't go back to the old
plan of indiscriminately killing his entire family. "I'll manage just fine."
"Wait! You still haven't told me what my task is!" Zuko yells.
"Your task is nothing more or less than you would do regardless, given what you have
already been told and the situation we are sending you into," Agni says, "Be an honorable
Fire Lord. Seek to create and maintain peaceful relations between the Fire Lands and the rest
of the world. But please, child of fire, take some time to rest and think. The path before you
is long and difficult."
"My moon," La says, offering a hand to Agni's reflection, "let us begin."
Tui spins and Agni's visage drops from her form like the illusion it is. The Moon Spirit takes
the ocean's offered hand. She smiles at Zuko as she says, "Remember, young Fire Lord, the
burden is not yours to bear alone. We all must do our parts. Call for us if you have need. We
will answer."
Agni briefly touches the back of his neck and Zuko has to resist the urge to glance over his
shoulder at the Sun Spirit. "I give you now the same charge that I once gave your forefathers:
Fire Lord, my blessing is upon you. Go forth and tend to my children and my lands. Bring
prosperity and honor to that which has been entrusted to you."
Between one moment and the next, Fire Lord Zuko exits the spirit world as abruptly as he
had been pulled into it.
Chapter End Notes

Writing advice/correction welcome!
Ask Spoiler Questions | The Author Elsewhere

Once Upon a Time
Chapter Notes
Zuko blinks awake feeling dazed, vaguely nauseous, and extremely disoriented.
The first thing he becomes aware of is the hard ground he is kneeling on. The second is that
he is staring up at a bright, cloudless sky rimmed in by four rather decorative and tall walls.
One of the palace courtyards? How did he get here?
He remembers a meeting with several spirits. Agni and Tui, the sun and moon, spoke directly
to him. He'll have to ask Aang if he has any advice regarding audiences with spirits, being the
Avatar and all. If he's lucky, maybe Aang will even have some idea of whatever this plan is
that the spirits are putting into motion. He's not holding out much hope for that, but it would
be nice to be given a clearer goal to work toward.
Zuko groans and runs a hand over his face.
...Wait? What? How?
His scar is missing.
For that matter, his whole face feels wrong.
Zuko jolts into full wakefulness with that realization. What have the spirits done to him?
The sound slams into him from all sides, the whispers of many and the shouts of a few.
Flames crackle in the background. One voice manages to catch his attention by the simple
virtue of being closer than all of the others.
"Father?"
Zuko drags his eyes away from the sky to locate the source of the young voice. Gasps and
swears ripple through the gathered crowd and the boy in front of the Fire Lord falls backward
in shock, catching himself on his elbows as he openly gapes at Zuko. He can't be more than
fourteen years or so and he looks... familiar. Is he a nobleman's son? Or maybe a son of one
of the palace servants? He can't place where he's seen the teen before but it nags at the back
of his mind like a half-forgotten memory.
"Father," a second voice says from his left. It's a girl, somewhere between the ages of ten and
twelve if he had to guess, who looks eerily like Azula did when she was that age. She's
looking right at Zuko, but... she can't be addressing him. Can she? She crosses her arms and
leans casually against the raised platform. It is only then that Zuko recognizes his
surroundings as the Royal Agni Kai Arena in the western wing of the palace.
Zuko feels sick. Why is he here? Has there been another challenge? He glances at the boy
slowly reapproaching him. Why has this child been allowed onto the combat platform? Why
is he dressed as if he is a participant?
"Father," the girl says again, reclaiming his attention and steadily meeting his gaze. Why
does she keep calling him that? "Your eyes are glowing," she says, as if it is a completely
mundane thing to claim, and then she follows that impossible statement up by asking, "Did
you know?"
She even sounds like... "Azula?" he asks.
The girl immediately straightens. "Yes, Father?" After a slight hesitation that most would
miss, she dares to question the Fire Lord, "Are you well?"
He ignores the inquiry as his gaze flies to settle on the boy sharing the arena with him. He
recognizes that young, tear-streaked face now. Unscarred and naive, a thirteen-year-old
Prince Zuko stares back at him with open concern.
Zuko's stomach promptly relieves itself of its contents.
Screams fill the courtyard.
"Father!" two terribly young voices cry.
"Medic!" Iroh bellows.
Zuko hardly hears any of them.
Ozai. He's in Ozai's body.
He is also six years in the past.
Zuko squeezes his eyes shut and gasps for air past a burning throat.
Even when attempting to be kind, the spirits are cruel. Agni has schemed a way to spare his
family and simultaneously thrown Zuko headlong into something more horrifying than even
the worst of his nightmares.
There is a furnace at his back and a too-warm hand on his shoulder. "Breathe, Fire Lord,"
Agni instructs.
Zuko reaches for the hand on his shoulder and clings to those fingers like they're his last
lifeline. He doesn't bother to open his eyes.
"I never wanted to be my father," he rasps in a weak voice. It's a lie. The foolish child in front
of him wants nothing more than to be just like Ozai. Or, at least, the person that the teenager
has built up Ozai to be in his mind.
"And you are not. Nor could you ever be," Agni says, "You are your own man."
"Please, Agni, I can't do this." He hasn't begged like this since the seconds before his father
burned his face. The fact that he is here, again, pleading for mercy, again, makes his already
emptied stomach roll.
The Sun Spirit squeezes his shoulder and then withdraws despite Zuko's attempt to hold onto
the spirit's hand. "The choice has already been made, Zuko of Second Fire, and it was never
yours to make." Agni touches the back of his neck, like he had only moments ago in the spirit
world, and says, "You are capable of greater things than you know, Fire Lord. But for now,
tend to that which cannot wait and then rest. A man needs his rest."
The heat at his back and the hand on his neck both vanish between one breath and the next.
As suddenly as Agni had come, he leaves.
"Fire Lord? Your majesty?"
Zuko opens his eyes in time to spot a cautious healer reaching toward his face. He jerks away
from the offending hand and snarls, "I'm f--" The Fire Lord coughs and spits into the puddle
of bile and a half-digested meal that he is still kneeling beside. Zuko grimaces. "I'm fine," he
insists in a calmer tone, "Get someone to clean that up."
Zuko draws a deep breath and lets it go slowly. Agni had told him to focus on what couldn't
wait. So, what is it that can't wait?
The boy, obviously. An Agni Kai continues until the first burn and not a single flame has
been summoned. Thankfully, in this particular Agni Kai, he has another option available that
the Fire Lord typically wouldn't have.
Zuko pushes himself to his feet and impatiently waves off the small flock of doctors still
hovering around him. They withdraw while bent over in deep bows and Zuko uses the back
of his hand to wipe his mouth. He could really use some water. His mouth tastes disgusting.
"Prince Z--" his throat closes up. It's his name. It isn't fair that the spirits have effectively
taken everything down to his name from him. It would be more unfair to deny it to a teenager
that has done nothing wrong and is fully ignorant of the spirits' meddling. "Prince Zuko," the
Fire Lord forces himself to say, "your forfeiture is accepted."
"Thank you, Father," the prince says in a full kowtow. He's trembling. The Fire Lord looks
away.
He scans the crowd behind Azula. "Un-- Iroh, escort the... What are you doing?"
Iroh straightens from his crouch and offers a bow before saying, "Fire Lord, if you are not in
need of the healers, may I suggest they take a look at Captain Zhao? Though I am not certain
they will be able to do anything for him."
Zuko's eyes widen. "What?" he demands before leaping down from the platform and striding
to the other man's side to see for himself. The crowd parts quickly for him and soon Zuko is
staring down at a shell of a man. Zhao lies crumpled on the ground where he collapsed
sometime during the earlier chaos. The man's eyes gaze forward unseeingly and drool
dribbles from his mouth.
"The Ocean Spirit swept up Zhao of Second Fire into a fate far worse than that of a man
drowned at the sea floor."
Zuko hadn't been sure what to make of Agni's statement at the time. He has some idea now of
what the spirit had been talking about.
"He's fallen out of the spirits' favor," Zuko says around a grimace, "There's nothing that can
be done for him."
"Spirits?" Iroh questions.
"Yes," Zuko answers as he waves the healers over. "Bring him to the infirmary and take care
of the body until it dies," he instructs, pitching his voice for the whole courtyard to hear,
"Then perform the usual funeral rights and scatter his ashes in the sea. Furthermore, he is
hereby stripped of all honors he has previously been awarded." He glances over at the scribe
that has been assigned to record the Agni Kai. "Did you get all that?"
"Yes, your majesty!" the man squeaks, drawn out of his stupor by the direct address and
writing furiously to catch up with the unfolding events.
Zuko sighs and spares the body one last glance as it is loaded onto a stretcher and taken away.
A part of him thinks he should declare Zhao a traitor, have him executed and his name
recorded in dishonor. Except the shell of a man being whisked off to the palace infirmary
hasn't done any of the things that would have earned such a sentence. While Zuko doesn't
doubt he already has the will to go through with the crimes that he would have committed in
three years' time, it also doesn't matter now. La's judgement has proven itself to be harsher
than anything that the Fire Nation is capable of doing.
"Iroh, escort the prince and princess back to their rooms," he says, "After that, send word to
the generals that there will be a war meeting ten degrees before sunset. An important one.
And have the Fire Sages send at least one of their number to join us, more if they are
willing."
Uncle's eyebrows climb high on his forehead. "It will be done."
"Good, and," he says but hesitates. He has no indication that the spirits have included Uncle
in their plots and he doesn't know their reasoning for that one way or the other. He doesn't
know how much he should tell the older man, but he's going to need his help in holding the
Fire Nation together through the changes ahead of them. "Come find me when you're done,"
he settles on saying, "We need to speak privately before the war meeting."
Iroh looks no less surprised by this request. "As you wish, Fire Lord."
"Thank you." Zuko ignores the reaction those words prompt from everyone close enough to
be eavesdropping on the conversation. This whole debacle is already going to cause dozens
of rumors that will spread faster than a summer wildfire. That the Fire Lord might be capable
of expressing gratitude isn't one that worries him.
"This Agni Kai is over," he announces loudly, "You are all dismissed. Unless you have duties
here, leave." He doesn't wait for the crowd to disperse before striding out one the doorways
himself.
It's probably not the right thing to do, not after two children just watched their father... Well,
Ozai had likely collapsed to his knees, considering the position he'd woken in, and then Zuko
had thrown up, which doesn't sound like a man in good health. He probably should have tried
to reassure the prince and princess, somehow. No matter how undeservedly, Prince Zuko and
Princess Azula love their father. He knows that bone-deep. What he doesn't know is what to
say to either of them. He'd been nervous about learning how to be the father of one small
newborn, not... not two...
Zuko clenches his eyes closed and steadies himself with one hand on a nearby wall as a wave
of grief crashes into him. His child with Mai doesn't exist now. His child will not ever exist.
He never had so much as a chance to hold them. Mai hadn't told him which names she had
settled on for their first child. The baby is simply gone. Come to that, his marriage is
effectively over. His whole life is over.
And in its place he has a nation he must guide out of its slow self-destruction, along with
some much faster global destruction. He also has two half-grown children he has no idea how
to act around. Finally, he has an estranged un-- brother that he desperately needs to support
him. He already knows he will crumble under the weight of his responsibilities if Iroh refuses
to help him.
Zuko pushes away from the wall and continues on his way through the palace corridors.
There will be a time to address his sorrows and fears, but that time is not now.
For now, he has a war meeting he needs to prepare for.
Chapter End Notes
I just noticed the similarities between the set up in this fic and in Off Script. ...I guess
Zuko and Filbrick aren't the only ones who are having problems with repetition. Ah
well, there will be plenty of differences moving forward, so never mind all that.

Agni's Own
Chapter Notes
Iroh watches his brother exit the courtyard and isn't sure if he should feel more relieved or
worried as the younger man vanishes from view. On one hand, the spirits themselves had
intervened and spared his young, foolhardy nephew from what would have doubtlessly been
a grievous injury. On the other hand, the spirits had intervened and they had not been subtle.
To his shame, he had averted his eyes when Zuko refused to fight and Ozai approached the
boy regardless, and so he had not seen the Fire Lord fall to his knees. He had only dared to
again look upon the Agni Kai platform after the crowd's gasps had been followed by Prince
Zuko's distressed call for his father, rather than his cry of pain. Iroh already knows he will
never forget the sight of his indomitable younger brother driven to his knees with his head
tipped up to the sky and light pouring from his open mouth and eyes. It had been unsettling,
to say the least, and will doubtlessly be the source of many whispers for years to come.
Even after the spirits had released the man from their thrall, his eyes had not returned to
normal. Although they are no longer casting out beams of light, the Fire Lord's eyes now
glow from an internal source that is wholly separate from a firebender's inner flame. One
glance at Ozai's face will be enough to confirm to even the staunchest of skeptics that his
brother has been spirit-touched.
But to what end?
Iroh does his best to banish the frown from his face as he collects his niece and nephew. He
can only hope that he will receive the answers to some of his many questions later in the day.
"I'm not to be disturbed except for emergencies," the Fire Lord tells the guards, "When
General Iroh arrives, allow him entry."
"Yes, Fire Lord," both guards respond dutifully.
Zuko tips his head in a shallow nod before crossing the threshold into the Fire Lord's suite.
As soon as the doors are closed behind him, he leans back against the solid barrier between
him and the rest of the nation with an exhausted sigh and closes his eyes.
He has Iroh arranging the war meeting and collecting the Fire Sages for their counsel. He
stopped by the kitchens to request refreshments to keep the generals from getting any
crankier over empty bellies than they would already be from the ceasefire he was about to
order. The clerks are currently working to assemble new maps and statistics with updated
troop numbers and locations, borders, supply lines, and any other relevant information
regarding the war front for the entire Earth Kingdom and the scattered islands that claim
independence. The maps that would have been used only yesterday for that disastrous
meeting his father had used to banish him could be reused today, but they focussed on only a
small portion of the large continent.
(Only six years after the fact, he finally has a real chance to save the 41st Division from being
slaughtered. It would almost be funny if the whole situation wasn't so stressful.)
Zuko focusses on his breathing and the now empty tea mug in his hands that he'd taken from
the kitchens. He can do this. One step at a time.
He already knows that it's going to be a nightmare convincing all the various Earth kings and
Water Tribe chieftains to trust him without an Avatar to vouch for him, but he'll figure it out.
Somehow.
Zuko groans and opens his eyes only for his gaze to catch on the full-length mirror visible
through the open doorway to his bedroom. He nearly drops the mug before managing to set it
down on the small table beside the suite's main doors.
He'd already realized he was trapped in his father's body, but somehow he still hadn't been
prepared to see the reality of the situation for himself. Zuko swallows and forces himself to
approach the mirror, to look at what is now his own face and form. It doesn't matter how
painful it is. His life has never been easy. He knows how to push past pain.
Zuko frowns at the mirror. Maybe he's spent too much time with Aang, but the odd inner
glow of his eyes barely registers compared to the rest of his reflection. He's always taken
after his mother in looks, but he can see shadows on his own features in Ozai's face. It's a lot
easier to find the similarities with the disdain removed from his father's expression. -- No.
His expression on his face. He needs to accept that. -- Zuko holds a hand over his left eye.
Ah, there he is. Despite the sharper cheekbones and jawline, he can definitely see pieces of
himself in the reflected image. He just wishes that was comforting.
He allows his hand to fall away from his face before he can do anything stupid. This body is
his now, and he will make it his, but trying to reclaim old scars isn't the way to do so. Zuko
sweeps a critical gaze over his reflection and comes to a decision. There isn't a need to make
any drastic changes, but the goatee has to go. And probably several inches of hair, too.
There is a movement in the mirror behind him.
Zuko whirls around in a ready stance. Flames flare to life in his hands only to twist out of his
control and stream toward a growing sphere of fire hovering in the center of his bedroom.
Zuko grunts and ceases to bend. This is clearly spirit work and not one he can fight with
firebending. His fingers itch for his dao swords but he makes himself wait to discover what
spirit has sought him out and what they want from him.
Every sconce in the room continues to feed their flames into the burning sphere, fire
changing from bright yellows to pure white. Finally the sphere releases the smaller fires. It
spins and elongates itself before reshaping itself into a familiar form.
"Agni?"
"So I am," the spirit responds, "You have been busy, Fire Lord."
Unlike the Moon Spirit and Ocean Spirit, Agni doesn't look much like a human. Agni is fire
and he doesn't hide that fact. The white flames that make up his form may hold to the shape
of a man, but that is the only concession he makes in his appearance.
"I... Am I going to go blind?" Zuko asks. His eyes don't feel like they're burning, and Agni
had been careful not to let Zuko harm himself during their first meeting, but he remembers
the warning he'd received in the spirit world about looking directly at Agni and even on a
cloudy day it could be dangerous to look at the sun.
"Peace, child mine," Agni's voice holds laughter, but at least it sounds like amusement and
not condescension, "This form is a greatly reduced representation of all that I am. It is safe
for you to look."
"Oh. Good." Zuko flushes in embarrassment. He has no clue what he's supposed to do. Agni
is the sun in the sky, the source of all firebending, and the patron deity of the Fire Nation. He
is also the same spirit that had thrown him headlong into his father's life, held him up when
his legs gave out on him, and attempted to calm him after he'd unceremoniously lost his
lunch all over an arena dedicated in his honor.
Agni chuckles softly and rounds the bed to stand in front of him. "There are yet a few hours
before you must attend the meeting you have called, and preparations are underway." The
spirit tips his head toward Zuko and advises, "You should rest while you can, Fire Lord."
"I will. I had the clerks clear my schedule for tomorrow."
"And for today?" Agni questions. "We plucked you up from your bed before sleep had found
you and dropped you into noonday. You need rest."
Zuko shifts his weight on his feet. He does. He can feel it dragging at him. A tired Fire Lord
is a Fire Lord that makes mistakes that affect thousands at the least. He'd been planning to
meditate, but something tells him Agni will push for full sleep instead. "I'll take a nap," he
says reluctantly, "I just need to do something first."
"One thing?" Agni presses.
"Yes." Zuko straightens his shoulders. "I need to cut some of this hair off. There's too much
of it." Tradition means he has to keep enough for a topknot, but leaving more than that gives
opponents an unnecessary handhold attached directly to his head. The same for goes for the
stupidly long goatee his father had favored for reasons Zuko can't fathom.
Agni shakes his head but there is a smile in his tone as he says, "Very well. Let us be done
with the task quickly so that you may sleep."
"Us?" Zuko asks.
"Indeed," Agni answers, placing a hand on the young Fire Lord's back and herding him into
the attached bathing room, "The servants will likely have to clean it up later, but I doubt I can
do much worse than you would on your own without any assistance."
"Probably," Zuko admits wryly.
Agni is going to help him cut his hair. How did his life get this weird?
Agni doesn't wait for the guard to knock on the Fire Lord's suite doors. In fact he makes sure
to open the door before the poor mortal's fist can make contact. His child needs all the rest he
can convince the young human to take.
"General Iroh of Second Fire," he greets formally, careful to keep his voice bland, "You may
--"
The retired general's face displays open shock. One of the guards yelps and the other attempts
to run him through with his spear.
Agni flares the flames of this secondary manifestation hotter and molten steel falls at his feet.
The spirit huffs quietly and bends to collect the puddled metal. He is perhaps a bit too fond of
mortal man, he muses. An attempt to kill him and he can only find it cute, like a fledgeling of
first fire practicing use of their claws and fangs with their clutchmates. The spirit carefully
bends the heat from the melted steel until it resolidifies and then further still until the
irregular ingots are unlikely to burn through gloves.
"Your hand," he says and gestures toward the guard that had tried to stab him, "No need to let
it go to waste. I'm sure a decent smith can forge something worthwhile from it." The guard
hesitantly offers a hand as requested and Agni drops the ingots into the waiting palm. The
spirit ignores the man's soft hiss. Making something cold is not among his abilities. He has no
doubts that the metal feels quite hot even to a child of second fire, but his leather glove is
neither smoking nor melting. The guard will be fine.
"As I was saying, you may come in, General."
Iroh does not move beyond his breath and his eyes. The man's gaze is wary and scrutinizing.
"And whom among the spirits would I be addressing?" the man asks, tone carefully mild.
"A spirit of flame and heat, of fire and burning," Agni responds for no other reason than to be
difficult. He has not yet gotten over his disappointment in the once-crown-prince and he is
unlikely to reach that point during the man's lifetime. Iroh had had such promise and he threw
it away in a grief that he had allowed to subsume all else. Still, he can hear his young Fire
Lord stirring deeper within the chambers. Iroh of Second Fire will have his answer soon
enough.
"There are many spirits of fire," the general says evenly, "some more friendly toward humans
than others. I would be honored to be entrusted with your name, spirit."
"Would you?" Agni says, "You once had the chance for such an honor but chose to eschew
the responsibilities that came with becoming my herald to this world."
Iroh frowns, his eyes speak of uncertainty. How the man fails to recognize him at this point is
beyond Agni. There are few other spirits capable of burning hot enough to produce white
flames and fewer still that care to retain heralds among humans. The guards can be forgiven
their ignorance. Sozin and Azulon were thorough in their efforts to bury most knowledge of
the spirits among those of second fire. But Iroh has sought out enough information to know
better. Perhaps that is the problem. Iroh may know enough to be wary of tricksters and
impersonators.
"I'm afraid I --"
"Agni?" his young Fire Lord calls for him, voice roughened by sleep.
Both guards drop to the floor in full kowtows. Iroh's face flushes and contorts in anger. Ah,
he does suspect a trickster, then. Well, that is easily remedied. "So I am." And although many
spirits may twist their words or speak in riddles, lies are a fully mortal contrivance.
Iroh of Second Fire immediately pales as he gapes and his eyes widen. Finally, some proper
fear from the prince that forsook his duties. The man falls into a deep bow and Agni feels his
temper flare. "Lower, Once-Prince," he commands, "You rejected your birthright and duties.
You have lost the protections of your bloodline. The blessings of Kuzon, Uniter of the Sacred
Fire Lands, First of the Fire Lords, is no longer upon you. And never will be again."
Iroh shakes as he sinks to his knees. "I beg your forgiveness for my trespass, Great Agni,
King of Flames."
Agni tamps down on his temper. He does not hate Iroh. He does not wish him to come to
harm. He is simply frustrated with the man. "Rise, all of you. Return to the duties the Fire
Lord has assigned you."
"What did I miss?" the man behind him asks warily.
Agni considers his newly reforged Fire Lord, of Zuko's soul and Ozai's body, not so
dissimilar to the state Tui had been in only a few short years ago. He is yet fragile and still in
the process of setting. Iroh has not done enough to earn his full contempt, but the man
schemes and meddles and Agni will not have him strike unknowingly at an ally only to
destroy a young man that loves him and will not fight fang for fang, claw for claw. Fire Lord
Zuko should be allowed more time to mourn his life and identity, but his protection is more
important.
Agni approaches the Fire Lord and all three of the humans still by the doorway tense as the
fire spirit rests a palm on his favored's forehead and wraps his other hand around the back of
the man's neck. The Fire Lord does not flinch but he remains wary.
"Agni?"
"You are Fire Lord Ozai," the spirit declares and wills himself to ignore the betrayed look in
the young man's eyes, "Born of Kuzon the Uniter's line, reforged by the Council of Greater
World Spirits, and holder of Agni's favor. By my blessing, you will rule over my Fire Lands
until your death or abdication. Woe be to any who would conspire against you. They will
know the full measure of my ire."
The Fire Lord glances over at the small gathering of witnesses, specifically at his uncle-
brother, before his eyes return to Agni. "I understand," he rasps.
Agni is not done. "You are Ozai," he declares, dropping his hand from the mortal's head to his
chest, "Son of Agni and Nephew of Tui, cherished child of the sky. Nowhere under our gaze
can you wander alone. Nowhere under our gaze can your enemies hide."
"Oh," his child breathes.
Good, sometimes it takes a while for those he favors to realize that ceremonial words take on
deeper meaning with his favor. Better to say it more plainly when matters are already
balanced precariously.
Agni releases the young man. "Now, I believe you have matters to attend to," he says,
sweeping a measuring glance over his child. Still shaken, but growing more sure of himself.
And Iroh (who for better or worse, stands as the greatest threat to Ozai) has been warned. The
older mortal is not usually a fool. He will wait and watch before taking any further actions. It
is enough.
"Thank you, Agni," Ozai says and offers a deep bow.
The spirit indulges himself when the young mortal's unbound hair falls forward, tucking the
locks behind his ear before withdrawing. "Be honorable, Fire Lord."
Agni allows the manifestation to unravel, flame without fuel dissipating harmlessly in the air.
Chapter End Notes

The Lord and the Lotus
Chapter Notes
Ozai. Agni had declared him 'Ozai.' Twice. In front of witnesses. That the witnesses don't
realize precisely what they have witnessed doesn't change anything.
It hurts. The promise that Agni and Tui are watching, that he is not alone and the further
implication that they care, helps, but it still hurts.
A part of him had known that it was coming, that it had to happen, or else what was the point
of dragging him six years into the past and dropping him directly into his father's life? If the
spirits had wanted Zuko on the Dragon Throne, they could have stricken his father down as
they had Zhao. If the spirits had wanted an experienced Fire Lord, they could have placed
him back into his own life. That isn't what the spirits chose to do. He still doesn't know what
all Agni's plan entails, but the spirits had clearly decided that those options were insufficient.
And yet, he had dared to hope that, maybe, at least the spirits would still recognize him as
Zuko. Agni had, in those moments right after he'd found himself in this waking nightmare,
but it seems that was only a brief reprieve from his new reality.
Worse, Agni had used his latest blessing as a warning and reminder. Iroh sees him as an
enemy. Or, at the very least, an obstacle to restoring the world's balance. Iroh will not trust
him easily, and so Zu-- Ozai cannot fully trust in his brother's intentions, either. 'Conspire'
had not been a careless choice of phrasing, but... That's something that he can use, isn't it? If
he can get the White Lotus working in parallel with him... Even if the alliance is uneasy and
never formalized, that could be irreplaceably valuable in fostering a new era of peace
between the nations.
He's not sure if Agni had meant to draw his attention to Iroh's ties with the White Lotus, but
he's grateful for the reminder regardless of any intentions. Before, he'd only been thinking
about his personal reliance on Iroh, and the sway the older man has on the internal politics of
the Fire Nation as the previous crown prince and a successful general. He hadn't thought
about his unc-- his brother's allies outside of the nation, several of whom are in high positions
within their respective societies.
Z-- Ozai, dammit! He is the Fire Lord! His will comes second only to Agni, and he will not
let a specter best him! The name is his now and a dead man will not --
The Fire Lord squeezes his eyes shut and bites back the sudden sob trying to break free as an
unexpected swell of grief hits him anew. His father is dead. Agni's plan killed him. He doesn't
want to mourn the man that burned and banished him, that planned to raze the whole Eastern
Continent to the ground in comet's fire, but the feeling of loss is there no matter how
unwanted or foolish.
Later. There will be time to cry over all he has lost later.
Ozai breathes deeply, opens his eyes, and finally allows himself to rise from his bow and face
his audience.
"Iroh," he gestures at a lounge absently, offering his brother a place to sit. He waits until the
doors are closed again before saying, "We need to talk before the meeting." Out of habit, he
reaches for the sun with his inner flame to check the time and hisses out a surprised breath,
steam escaping between his teeth. Agni had let him sleep longer than he had intended to and
the spirit's second manifestation, while weaker, had been much closer, obscuring his ability to
sense the primary physical form's progress through the sky. In short, it is much later in the
day than he had anticipated having this conversation.
At Iroh's raised brows, the Fire Lord reluctantly admits, "I hadn't realized how late it's gotten.
We don't have enough time for everything and I need to get ready." He's still dressed in only
the traditional Agni Kai garb he'd been wearing when he had arrived in the... present, he
supposes. He ignores his brother's surprised blink at receiving an answer for the question he,
technically, never asked, just as he ignores the slight flush heating his own face, and retreats
to the closet to find something that he can wrestle himself into without servants but formal
enough for the impending meeting.
(Belatedly, it is occuring to him that he may not have any better an idea how to interact with a
General Iroh that has not followed his nephew into exile for three years than he does
regarding the young prince and princess elsewhere in the palace.)
He's half expecting some inane comment about how he shaved or that he cut his hair, or
maybe a remark about the eerie glowing of his eyes. He'd forgotten that Uncle had only
begun playing the part of an easily distracted fool after his banishment. Instead, Iroh gets
right to the point. "You seem to have caught the spirits' attention, Brother. It has been a long
time since any of them have deigned to interfere so obviously in our world. A very long
time." Iroh only hesitates a breath before asking, "Has Agni given you insight on the war?"
"You could say that," Ozai grumbles under his breath, yanking on the last of his chosen
outfit's base layers and gathering up the outer robe and shoes that will complete the ensemble.
Several ties and buttons still need to be secured, but he's decent enough and he wants to be
able to see the other man's face as they speak. Besides, after rescuing an Uncle who had been
kidnapped while bathing, no version of Iroh has a right to complain about any state of dress
he may be found in.
"Agni has a plan," he confirms, "He hasn't told me all of it, but he made it clear enough what
he expects of me, and thus the Fire Nation." Ozai focusses on finishing with the last of the
fastenings and then continues when he can look Iroh in the eye, "I'm going to need your help
holding the country together. There are going to be a lot of changes and a lot of people will
be angry about them. I think you'll approve of most of it, though."
"Oh?" Iroh asks in a carefully mild tone.
Ozai rolls his eyes. "Yes." He slips his shoes on, secures them, and says, "I'll be ordering a
ceasefire and consolidating our borders in the colonies."
Iroh gapes, frowns, strokes his beard, and then finally asks, "You are going to order a
retreat?"
The Fire Lord shrugs. "It's been almost a century of war. Agni instructed me to seek its end
and establish peaceful relations with the other nations. He gave me no specific instruction
past that. He gave me no time frame. He only charged me with a goal and granted me the
authority to see it done. This is as good a first step as any."
"I see..." Iroh murmurs.
"Do you?" Ozai challenges the other man, "Agni ordered the end of the war. He did not
instruct me to forfeit our colonies or any other spoils we've won. He also just very obviously
warned you about 'conspiring' against me."
"I have not --"
Ozai holds up a hand and his brother falls silent. "Iroh," he says steadily, meeting the other
man's eyes, "I'm not asking for details or names. I'm not even telling you to break ties. Just...
be careful." He huffs softly and allows himself a wry smirk. "I meant it when I said I'll need
your help. Access to a network that spans the remaining nations would also be useful. If you
are willing to trust me this far, send a message to King Bumi of Omashu. Ask him about
Aang and Appa. You don't have to tell me you've so much as consented to send the message
unless King Bumi is interested in further information."
Iroh eyes him warily. "I would not have expected you to extend mercy to a man you are
convinced plots against you, Brother. No matter who he may be."
Ozai takes a moment to consider his response. He's never been a skilled liar. He likely never
will be. But three years in court as Fire Lord has taught him the value of letting others reach
their own conclusions. Iroh isn't ready to hear the whole truth, perhaps it is better if he never
learns the entirety of it, but he needs some kind of explanation and Ozai can give him that
much.
"Yesterday, you would have been granted no reprieve," he admits slowly, "Today, you are."
He breathes deeply, still carefully picking through his words. "I don't know what it looked
like from the outside, after the spirits plucked me up and before they released me, but how
many men have you known to escape such an encounter with the spirits unchanged?"
"Not many," the older firebender acknowledges. "I thank you for the mercy you have shown
me, my lord, but it is unneeded. I do not plot against you."
"No," Ozai scoffs in vague amusement, "my rule is no longer at cross-purposes with the
White Lotus." He pretends not to notice as Iroh pales. Instead he stands and turns away.
"We're out of time," he announces, heading for the attached bathroom to retrieve his crown,
"Remember, ask Bumi about Aang and Appa. I'll see you at the meeting. Dismissed."
Chapter End Notes

For the sake of clarity in the comments, the author hereby dubs the main character New
Ozai Zu-Ozai.
Also, the leaders of the White Lotus might have some differing opinions on our newly
re-christened protagonist.
Ask Spoiler Questions | SToFLO Discord | The Author Elsewhere

The Flames of Agni
Chapter Notes
Ozai strides through the throne room entrance located behind the curtain of flame and closest
to the room's namesake already feeling frazzled.
It had taken him longer to scrape together an acceptable topknot than he'd expected. He knew
the hand motions necessary to perform the act but that didn't mean his body did. The muscle
memory just isn't there. After all, when would his father, surrounded by servants every day
since his birth, have deigned to style his own hair? When would he ever have needed to? He
wouldn't. That's the answer. Ozai had still managed eventually, but it had taken too many
attempts and he'd needed to go slowly to keep the hair neat. (It is yet another thing that will
need work. He refuses to be wholly dependent on servants for anything.)
The only thing that keeps him from being considered late to his own meeting is the fact that
the Fire Lord, Herald of Agni, who measures the length of the day, cannot be late. If Agni's
Herald arrives later than anticipated, it is because it was ordained to happen by the great
spirit. At least, that is the traditional reasoning. (Ozai is almost certain that some past Fire
Lord made it up to excuse their inability to keep track of time. He hates that he will be
relying on that same custom to excuse his own tardiness now.)
The throne room is bare of other people except for the servants, all bowing low as he enters.
(There are three runners should messages need to be sent out before the meeting is
concluded, two scribes to observe and compare notes on the meeting before an official record
is written and submitted to the palace library, a handful of attendants for more mundane tasks,
and there will be at least three intelligence officers hidden either among the visible staff or
else completely out of sight.) It's no surprise that none of the war council is present yet, of
course. It is traditional for meeting attendants and guests to only be allowed into the throne
room after the Fire Lord is in place.
Ozai takes a moment to stop and breathe deeply, in part to settle his nerves, as he reaches for
the bank of coals and the wall of fire they feed.
White flames shoot up to the high ceiling and it is only the careful metal and stone design of
the throne room that prevents the fire from spreading beyond its banking channels in the floor
and roof. Several servants gasp. A few of them give voice to quickly stifled screams. For his
part, Ozai flinches back only to realize in the next moment that he can feel a furnace at his
back and that his eyes have been sealed shut.
"Gently, Fire Lord. There is no need to strain for that which will come to you," Agni advises,
voice soft and amused in his ear. One too-warm hand rests on his shoulder and its mate soon
covers Ozai's own outstretched hand, guiding it downward and tempering the wild flames
into something manageable.
"I thought it was a myth," Ozai admits hoarsely, "the records about the old Fire Lords. What
they could do." The white Flames of Agni, hotter even than the rare blue flame that some
benders could achieve, wielded by ancient Fire Lords, was but one facet of the old stories.
The implications are overwhelming if he thinks about them.
Agni chuckles and settles both hands on his shoulders. "You are the first in generations to
hold my full favor as herald, a true Lord of Fire. Just as those you speak of were in their
times," Agni tells him, "Flames will leap to do as you bid with enthusiasm. You will find that
all fire is eager to serve you, because in serving the herald it serves its master."
Agni doesn't release him, but rather leans around him as if peering over his shoulder. Which
is ridiculous, because every time Agni has appeared to him the spirit has been at least a head
taller than him. That doesn't change what the shifting sense of heat and pressure tell him,
though. "What?" he finally asks.
Agni huffs a laugh under his breath. "Feel," he instructs, "This particular stray flame burns
hotly enough that you will be able to find it, even if you are not yet an experienced herald."
And then Agni again vanishes from the mortal world and Ozai opens his eyes with a frown.
The Fire Lord tentatively searches the room for whatever it was that Agni had found and
intended to draw to his attention. A light touch of his bending keeps the curtain of flame at
the appropriate height for an audience, still burning what should be an impossible white. The
wall sconces are all lit but none are out of the ordinary. A few flare and spark white as he
ghosts his bending sense over them and Ozai's frown deepens. It's going to take time and
effort to regain proper control. He can already tell.
Finished with the obvious fires in the room, Ozai attempts to discover fires he may have
somehow overlooked. He nearly collapses in shock when he realizes he can pinpoint every
servant in the room by their inner flames.
"My lord?" one of the braver servants finally speaks into the silence, "Do you require
something before the generals and sages are brought in?"
Ozai glances back at the servant. "They will wait a moment more."
"Of course, your majesty," the servant murmurs, falling into another bow.
Had no one else recognized Agni's presence a moment ago? Heard his voice and the
instructions he'd passed to his Fire Lord? Then again, no one else seemed to have noticed the
Sun Spirit's arrival in the courtyard, either. Only when Agni had built a body of mortal flames
in the Fire Lord's chambers had anyone else reacted to the spirit's appearance. Agni's Herald
indeed. Regardless, he has not yet puzzled out the great spirit's latest task.
Could Agni have meant a stray inner flame?
He scans over the servants in the room, the two spies hidden in the walls, and even those
waiting beyond the doors. One flame draws notice, burning hotter than all the others. The
inner flame is tucked low to the ground and behind a particular floor-length banner that he
knows as well from the back as he does from the front, conveniently placed to be obscured by
the flame wall from the throne and by the open door when an audience enters or leaves.
"Azula!" he bellows, parting the flame wall and stalking across the throne room.
Azula pushes the banner aside and steps forward. "Father," she greets smoothly while
bowing, skilled hands effortlessly forming the sign of the flame to high court standards. As
always, the girl's actions are precise and perfect.
"Your brother just found himself a participant in an Agni Kai for speaking out of turn during
a war meeting," he half-growls the words as he says them. (It had only been after he'd taken
the throne himself that he'd realized just how badly he'd misstepped in doing so. If a Fire
Lord could not control his own courtroom, then he was weak. Weak Fire Lords were either
challenged face-to-face in Agni Kais by the ambitious, or else assassinated in the night
because cowards were unworthy of honorable deaths. His father had still been wrong --
dishonorable and cruel -- in his actions six years ago, but the offense of disrupting his court
had been very real.) "It is by Agni's mercy that he left the arena unscathed," he continues,
"What about that made you think it was a good idea to attend a war meeting uninvited?"
"I sought to learn about the state of our great nation, Father," Azula answers, "As a princess
of the Fire Nation, it is my duty to remain informed about anything that affects our country,
especially its goals and security, so that I may be ready to aid in guiding it into a future of
further glory."
Ozai pinches the bridge of his nose and breathes out steam. He's not entirely sure he believes
the reason she's given him, but... The prince and princess are more alike than they realize.
They both vie for Ozai's favor, they are equally convinced they are destined to be the next
Fire Lord, and they are each entirely too willing to throw themselves into dangerous
situations in an effort to prove themselves worthy of both.
"Azula," he grits out, "you are eleven. A war council is no place for a child."
"I wouldn't have made a nuisance of myself," the girl argues, back straight and shoulders
square in the proper posture expected in the high court. Or of recruits in the military
branches. "I'm not Zuzu."
He's not sure what brings it to his attention, but it's in that moment that he realizes Azula is
afraid. She doesn't shift her weight. She doesn't fidget with her hands. She doesn't look away.
She keeps herself carefully poised, her breathing steady, and her face haughty. But he knows
his sister and Azula is afraid. Something in her voice, something about her eyes, makes it
impossible to brush away the gut certainty of the feeling. It takes him another long second to
realize that she is afraid of him and why.
She isn't seeing the brother she has always prodded into loud, explosive, ultimately harmless
displays of temper. Instead, she sees her father, normally cold and detached, openly angry
with her. He doubts Father has ever been obviously angry with Azula before, and the
previous Fire Lord had never needed to be openly enraged to be deathly dangerous to anyone
who gained his displeasure. Both of their parents had donned porcelain masks more often
than not, cold, unfeeling, and beautiful. It's not a skill he's ever mastered. And now Azula has
found herself the sole focus of a very emotive and irritated Fire Lord Ozai. Is it any wonder
he's scared her? (It scares him, how well she hides her fear when she is still so young, too
young for court. It is only their own family she could need to hide from behind her own
porcelain mask. His stomach twists but the thought makes too much sense to ignore.)
Ozai feels any anger he held only an instant ago flee in the face of his new understanding.
(What does he think he's doing, towering over an eleven-year-old child? This Azula is not his
sister.) "We'll discuss this tomorrow," he says with a sigh, "Right now, I have a meeting that
has already been postponed too long."
"Yes, Father," Azula says. She glances at the wall of flames he'd released to its natural state
of low burning coals. "Are the servants right? Has Agni blessed you with his flames?"
"Yes, but control takes practice." He reaches for the flame wall again and again the fire turns
white and leaps high before he gentles his touch. "Come, you'll leave through the back exit so
the generals don't notice you." He parts the flames and places a hand between Azula's
shoulder blades.
The girl stiffens at the touch but follows without resistance. Moving forward with eyes
trained before her, chin held high as is befitting her station as a princess of the nation. Ozai
frowns and withdraws his hand. He hadn't meant to frighten her worse than he already has.
He had often walked beside Mother, her hand a reassuring support on his back. It seems
Azula does not likewise find the contact a comfort.
"Take the princess back to the royal suites," he instructs one of the servants, "Then inform the
kitchens that she and Prince Zuko will be taking breakfast with me tomorrow."
"Yes, my lord," the servant responds, "Princess."
Ozai watches them depart for only a second before turning his attention to the war council
that has yet to begin and is now degrees late to start. In a snap decision, he snatches up the
cushion from the throne, passes through the flame wall for a third time, and makes himself
comfortable at the head of the table where he can see the same maps and reports that the
generals will be using. He can feel the questioning looks of the gathered servants but none of
them dare to offer comment on his odd choice.
"Open the door," Ozai commands, "I've kept my guests waiting long enough."
Chapter End Notes

Into the Furnace
Chapter Notes
The evening's meeting is late to start. It isn't proper in court to observe as much aloud, of
course. Old traditions and superstitions dictate that the Fire Lord is never late, but that is the
reality of events this evening, even if it goes unacknowledged.
General Bujing is not typically a patient man, but open criticism of the Fire Lord is a surefire
way to land one in trouble. He doesn't trust himself to speak, lest his irritation get the best of
him, in his tone if not his words. Even that much would be courting danger. Certain others
waiting to enter the throne room do not restrain themselves in a similar manner, however,
particularly the trio of sages chattering away off to the side with General Iroh.
Their inclusion amongst the generals is an oddity, to be sure, especially as all three appear to
be rather young as sages go. Bujing wonders at what could have prompted the addition of
sages to a war council. Such superstitious nonsense has not been a part of the Fire Lords'
courts for centuries. Perhaps that is why General Iroh continues to speak with them. How
much of the court's customs do the Fire Sages still teach their own? How many of those
customs have become outdated?
Bujing doesn't allow himself to frown as his thoughts turn to the young prince Iroh had
dragged into the last meeting. He doesn't know why Prince Zuko was allowed to attend that
war meeting, but it is clear from his conduct that the boy was not ready. He had not attended
the prince's Agni Kai earlier in the day, but he almost wishes he had made the time to witness
it firsthand. He'd heard that the young prince walked away under his own power. The Fire
Lord must have decided to be lenient, but that is only to be expected, given the boy's age and
the fact that he is the Fire Lord's own son. More to the point, Bujing has heard fantastical
tales about spirit meddling. He can only guess what may have actually occurred to create
such wild rumors surrounding this past noon's Agni Kai.
Finally, the doors to the throne room are opened by a pair of bowing palace servants. Only for
a knot of his fellow generals to clog the entrance. Bujing growls under his breath. These fools
are going to get all of them in trouble! As much as he struggles with his own patience, the
Fire Lord is known for having a chillingly dispassionate manner as he destroys those that
waste his time.
"Move!" he hisses lowly as he elbows his way through the throng. He freezes in his tracks
when he gets close enough to the front to see what has caused the other generals' pause.
The flame curtain burns white as in the old stories and a pair of golden eyes pierce through
the dim gloom of the throne room as the eyes of a predator cut through the night.
Bujing feels faint. Those impossible rumors of the Fire Lord's possession by rogue spirits are
true!
"Gentlemen, please, be seated," a voice from within the chamber calls. The Fire Lord?
Abedni has never met him, but who else could command the generals? "We have much to
do."
Abedni looks first to General Iroh, who nods encouragingly, and then to Shadra and Misha.
His fellow sages and friends appear as nervous as he feels, but Agni himself has chosen them.
Surely they are capable of handling whatever awaits them in the Fire Lord's council if the
great spirit sent them. Surely. It would be unseemly for a Fire Sage to doubt the Father of
Fire's judgement. He just hopes they don't enter the throne room only to be executed by a Fire
Lord unwilling to listen. Agni doesn't usually select sages to deliver easy messages, after all,
and it would not be the first time a sage has run afoul of a Fire Lord's temper. Not that any of
them have a message for Fire Lord Ozai, exactly. The consensus among the elder sages had
been that Shadra, Misha, and Abedni would know what to say in the moment, as it became
relevant.
Abedni nearly trips over his own feet as he enters the throne room behind the generals.
It can't be.
But it is.
The Flames of Agni burn bright and undeniable behind the Fire Lord.
Shadra, Misha, and Abedni all fall to their knees in full kowtows.
"All hail the herald!" the three sages proclaim, "Anointed of Agni!"
Finally, after centuries of spiritual drift, their nation is on the path of return! Abedni's heart
has never been so full of hope, nor so full of fear. This is a sign that all children of fire are
again under Agni's eye.
Ozai feels his eyebrows shoot up at the sages' display. It's odd to have both sides of his face
move equally. Or just to remember he possesses two intact eyebrows, for that matter.
"Rise," he commands. He waits for the sages to regain kneeling positions before speaking
again. "You are all... younger than I was expecting when I requested Fire Sages to join this
council."
"Agni chose us!" the one in the middle exclaims with a barely contained enthusiasm, a large
grin splitting his face.
"I see," he says. It seems Agni has been busy with more than just him today. He can only
imagine what other spirits have been up to today with how active Agni alone has been. In
particular, Tui and -- more worryingly -- La had obviously had some kind of business they
were leaving to take care of at the end of his visit to the spirit world. He really hopes he isn't
going to get any reports of either islands or colonies drowned in the name of La's vengeance.
"Did he draw you into the spirit world, or did he meet with you in the temple?"
The sages all have wide eyes at his question and two of them gape at him with open mouths.
They... really are very young, aren't they? Not that the generals are doing much better at
keeping themselves composed. Is his question that outrageous? He'd been under the
impression that was just how Agni operated, but maybe he isn't so direct in his interactions
with other mortals?
The sage on the left glances at his compatriots for help, only to realize he is the least affected
by the Fire Lord's question. He elbows the sage next to him as he answers, "No, my lord."
The middle sage startles with a blink, sheepishly glances first at the left sage and then at the
right sage. He throws a wary look back at Ozai when he spots the final sage's openly
dumbfounded expression.
"We never spoke with Agni," the left sage reports, "Spheres of white fire appeared above our
heads, without explanation or warning." He gestures to the curtain of flames burning behind
Ozai as if to draw a comparison. "None who tried could dismiss the flames."
The middle sage pokes the final sage in the shoulder to break his continued stupor. There is a
shared moment of panicked glances before both sages appear to simultaneously decide that
denial is the best policy and plaster on poorly constructed blank expressions. Did Agni really
choose these three sages? Why? They seem as if they should still be in training, not attending
to the requests of the Fire Lord.
"And, although the spheres gave off substantial heat, they did not burn anything that was
passed through the flames. The elders came to the consensus that the spheres were spiritual in
origin, and almost certainly from Agni himself," the left-most sage goes on, "Then, news
reached us that General Iroh had arrived to request sages for this meeting. Only then did the
spheres disperse. The elders declared it a sign from Agni and we were sent to attend to you,
Fire Lord."
A white fire that does not indiscriminately burn all that comes near it does sound like his own
experiences with Agni. That still doesn't explain any reason the great spirit may have had to
choose these three, though.
The sage then falls into a second kowtow and his fellows are quick to follow his example. "It
is an honor to be among the first in centuries to serve a True Herald of Agni."
And that, that, right there, is very dangerous. Because the implication of being the first in
centuries is...
The only sound in the throne room is the crackle of the flame wall. Every eye is on him.
Every general and servant remains frozen in place, awaiting his judgement.
"Are you saying that Azulon and Sozin were not true heralds?" Ozai challenges levelly.
The three too-young sages tense and then rise from their kowtows. They are, each of them,
varying degrees of nervous, but all now kneel before him with straightened spines and
squared shoulders. The sage on the left speaks again, "My lord, we will not blaspheme Agni,
nor spread lies about the King of Flames' will. As surely as you have earned Agni's full favor,
evidenced by your command over his white fire, it is equally sure that neither your honored
father, nor your honored grandfather, ever attained the whole of Agni's blessing. They never
wielded Agni's Flames."
Ozai allows the silence to stretch, considering the sage's words. "And the two of you agree
with your brother's sentiments?"
"Y-yes," the sage of the right finally speaks.
The one in the middle makes a statement bolder still, "The will of Agni supersedes even the
will of the herald. He has chosen you to fulfill the role of herald. He only allowed Azulon and
Sozin to hold the title."
Several of the generals make barely restrained sounds of anger and shift in their seats.
Ozai raises a hand. "Peace." The generals all settle back into their cushions, many of them
with angry glares focussed on the sages, particularly the one in the middle.
Fearful but firm to a man, the sages remain silent under his gaze. Now he knows why Agni
chose these three. How many Fire Sages are left that have the courage to face down a
roomful of generals and the Fire Lord himself and remain resolute in their service to the great
spirit?
"What are your names, sages?"
"We are Shadra," says the left sage, placing a hand over his own chest, "Misha," he gestures
to the middle sage, "and Abedni," finally, he indicates the quiet sage on the right.
"Sages Shadra, Misha, and Abedni," Ozai says and sweeps a hand over the table, "please,
take your seats. It is clear that Agni passed over any number of the elder sages and instead
selected you three as his representatives because they lacked your bravery and devotion. You
can expect to be summoned for further counsel in the future. For the moment, it is time we
turn our attention to this meeting."
All three sages smile as the tension breaks. Shadra takes a moment to close his eyes and find
his center, Abedni looks ready to pass out in relief, but Misha shoots to his feet with another
ecstatic, wide grin and bows low over the sign of the flame. "Yes, your majesty," Misha says
as his companions likewise clamber to their feet and offer bows of their own.
As the sages make themselves comfortable on a trio of cushions near the foot of the table,
Ozai takes his own chance to draw a centering breath. This news isn't going to go over well
with the gathered generals. Not most of them, anyway. A cynical part of him wonders how
many Agni Kais he is going to have to refight, and how many of the generals will have
second thoughts when their hypothetical opponent is not a seemingly half-blind, half-deaf,
once-banished boy-king that was in the process of recovering from a lightning strike.
"If any of you have not heard yet," he says once everyone has finally settled, "I met with the
spirits this past noonday and, chief among them, Agni." That causes something of a stir but
no one dares to challenge the statement. "Agni charged me with establishing peaceful
relations with the other nations. In other words, gentlemen, it is the great Sun Spirit's will that
this war end, sooner rather than later. We are here to set about doing just that."
Objections and denials ring out from every side and Ozai prepares himself for the long hours
ahead. He's dragged the Fire Nation kicking and screaming into peace once before. He can do
it again.
Chapter End Notes
If you have a question about the Fire Sages' names, I recommend skimming the
comments for this chapter to see if it hasn't already been asked and answered. (It's faster
than waiting on me to reply, anyway.) Otherwise, please continue as you normally
would.

Head of the Nation
Chapter Notes
General Kazuya Kai frowns down at the maps spread over the long table as he absently picks
at the meal the kitchen staff sent in a few degrees ago.
Planning a retreat on this scale is not something any of them have experience with. The entire
frontline will need to be recalled first so their troops do not become stranded with enemies on
all sides -- that much is easy to figure out -- but then the support regiments and the supply
lines likewise need to start falling back before they become the frontline, which they are ill-
suited for. From there, it only gets trickier as the number of people and supplies begins to
swell. Routing everything back to established colonies and the Mother Islands is nothing
short of a headache-inducing puzzle. Too many troops through this area will draw attention
and prompt attacks. Too many people stalled in that area could lead to food shortages. The
ports can hold only so many ships, the ships can hold only so many troops, the colonies can
only lodge and feed so many people, and on and on it goes. In short, this whole proposal is a
logistics nightmare.
It would be easier to hold the line until Sozin's Comet is scheduled to return in three years'
time and then use the comet's power to win the war once and for all. Fire Lord Ozai has
already vetoed that plan, however. Some of his brasher fellow generals had voiced objections
to ending the war before the return of Sozin's Comet, but they had all fallen silent under the
Fire Lord's glare. Even if he were not the Fire Lord, it would be difficult to argue with a man
possessing spirit-cursed eyes and Agni's Flames. More to the point, those fools are fortunate
that whatever happened during the Fire Lord's meeting with the spirits seems to have
tempered his bloodlust. It was only yesterday that Ozai had issued his own son an Agni Kai
challenge for failing to hold his tongue during a war council.
"This will take at least a year to complete," he says, taking advantage of the current lull in the
open-floor strategizing session the Fire Lord declared after the initial outbursts had settled,
"If the goal is peace negotiations, our best option may be to start now, with the withdrawals.
Retreating while enemy boulders are raining down on your head is difficult, to say the least."
"You would be the expert," Bujing snipes from across the table.
Kazuya Kai scowls at the other general. "Perhaps you would like to go to the Eastern
Continent and take personal command over a theater, General Bujing? It may be your last
opportunity to set foot on the field."
Bujing glowers at him but has no ready retort. Pompous, noble-born, officer-track busybody
that he is, Bujing has never once seen combat from the frontlines. He's never been to the
colonies, accepted an Earth general's surrender, witnessed the dead and dying after a battle,
nor quashed rebellion in a newly conquered territory. He is both elitist and ignorant. The
whole of the war is more theoretical to him than anything. Bujing hasn't lived it. His ilk
frustrate Kazuya Kai to no end, and not only because he always falls on the wrong side of
that elitist mentality, though that fact plays a large role. A colony brat with Earth in his veins
could be nothing else in their eyes.
"Save your squabbles for your own time," Fire Lord Ozai says, almost casual in his speech.
His thumb and forefinger find the point of his chin, as if they are searching for his missing
beard, and he just as casually returns to studying the very same maps that the generals are
referencing. And how strange it is to have the Fire Lord seated among them, almost like an
equal if not for his place of honor at the head of the table. "If we can establish lines of
communication with the various Earth kings and generals, and if they are willing to trust us, a
mutual disengagement would be preferable." He briefly glances at his elder brother. Kazuya
Kai's frown deepens. Iroh has been strangely quiet throughout the meeting thus far. "That
won't be possible everywhere, however. Some will be impossible to safely message. Many
more will suspect a trap."
"Perhaps," General Iroh breaks his silence, "our plans would be better served if we gave the
field commanders more flexibility. A location and deadline. More detailed orders may prove
to be a hindrance, especially if the facts on the ground change rapidly." A pause. "If it pleases
the Fire Lord, as the end goal has been established, and the initial orders to cease aggressions
and begin retreat to fortified locations will be sent out at the conclusion of this meeting, a
selection of generals from this council could be sent to oversee the different theaters, as
General Kazuya Kai suggested."
Kazuya Kai holds back a grimace as several of his fellow generals take the chance to send
glares in his direction. He usually considers Iroh an ally but, in this instance, he has thrown
him under the komodo rhino to be trampled. (Unlike Iroh, who is retired from the field -- and
those of Bujing's ilk, who are closer to being politicians than soldiers -- nearly all of the other
generals on the council regularly serve in the war effort on the Eastern Continent, and being
recalled to Caldera for a year to serve on the Fire Lord's council is the closest to leave that
many of them will see until their retirements. It is therefore no surprise that they are less than
pleased that Kazuya Kai's petty back-and-forth with Bujing has jeopardized their time with
their families and away from the front.)
"I would be willing to oversee one of the theaters myself," Iroh finishes mildly.
The Fire Lord's attention jerks from the maps on the table to his brother, imperious mask
broken for a moment in startled surprise and fully visible without the wall of flame separating
the reigning monarch from the rest of the council.
"No!"
Ozai grimaces. That was too much. The entire council is staring at him and he knows from
past experiences that the light frown on Iroh's face hides a much deeper disapproval.
Almost absently, he lowers the curtain of fire behind him away from the ceiling. Again. Its
height has been erratic all through the meeting. The obvious lack of control over his bending
is embarrassing, possibly dangerous in the political undertones it creates, but there's nothing
for it now. The only cure is practice and that takes time.
"You're retired," he says, but that reasoning sounds weak even to his own ears, so he tries
something else, "If you think the best course is to send generals from the council to oversee
the retreat, it will be done. But I need you here."
He's never been able to shake the idea that Iroh had been half looking for an excuse to join
his son and wife in the spirit world during those first few years following the failed Ba Sing
Se campaign. How else could he explain his uncle's behavior through that time frame? He'd
aged rapidly in those years, ceased his training, neglected his exercise, and practically invited
assassins by failing to challenge his brother over the widely suspected theft of the throne. The
servants had whispered about nightmares and drinking. And all of that didn't even include
Iroh's actions on behalf of the White Lotus -- some of which could be considered treasonous
-- or his choice to actively seek out spirit knowledge and sometimes the spirits themselves!
Accompanying his nephew on a fool's errand through enemy territories that wanted the
Dragon of the West dead may have been among the least actively dangerous choices his uncle
had made in those years. Allowing Iroh to run loose in the Earth Kingdom, as he is now and
without the distraction of a nephew to care for, is an open invitation for disaster.
"I recognize that it has been some time," Iroh says, his current tone is not far off from the
tone his uncle had often used on the Wani when his temper had flared, "but I have a great
amount of experience in moving troops and supplies. I am certain my presence on the Eastern
Continent would only be of benefit to our efforts in reshaping the frontlines and fortifying the
colonies."
Ozai stares down the older man with a scowl. "Leave us," he orders. The rest of the room's
occupants are quick to obey and soon he and Iroh are alone.
"Why are you insisting on this?" Ozai demands in what could almost be called a hiss. The
two spies stationed in the walls have not left their posts and he has no desire for anyone to
overhear them, but his temper has never been particularly compatible with remaining quiet.
"In front of the council?"
He can feel the weight of Iroh's judgement in the man's eyes and the stretching silence.
Finally, in a soft voice that confirms he is likewise mindful of the ears in the palace walls, the
other man says, "You did say that you wished for me to contact King Bumi of Omashu. Such
a task can only be faster and more easily accomplished if there is not an ocean between
myself and my correspondent."
"You're admitting you know him, now?" Ozai sneers, frustration getting the better of him. He
draws a centering breath to calm himself.
"Whether I do or not," Iroh says, careful to confirm nothing, "you are convinced that is the
case and it is your desire that I speak with him."
"Send a hawk!" he snaps.
"I am afraid that is not an option."
"Not an option, or just not one you're willing to --" Ozai cuts himself off as the obvious
problem finally dawns on him. "You're worried about compromising the rest of the network."
The Fire Lord scowls. It's a reasonable fear on Iroh's part. Just because Ozai says he wants to
have access to the White Lotus for his own purposes doesn't mean his real goal isn't to
destroy it utterly. There is no proof from Iroh's perspective that the request has been made in
good faith rather than to set up a trap.
The older man's silence is confirmation enough.
"Send several hawks," Ozai says, "Use red herrings, codes, whatever it takes to assuage your
concerns." The Fire Lord frowns as he considers his next words, "Not sending the message at
all is still an option if you're that worried. Certain objectives would be easier to achieve with
the White Lotus' assistance, but I can manage without them if I have to."
When Iroh next speaks, although his voice never rises beyond the volume of the rest of their
whispered conversation, his eyes hold a clear challenge, "Am I to be a prisoner within these
walls?"
"What?" Ozai cannot help but remember his sister the first time he had gone to see her after
their Agni Kai.
"You seem intent on keeping me here."
"I need you here," Ozai argues, "and the last place you should be is anywhere near the Earth
Kingdoms. They haven't forgotten the Dragon of the West. They'll want your blood, Iroh."
"I am touched by your concern for my well-being, brother," the man deadpans.
"What is your pr--" he again cuts himself off as he belatedly figures out the obvious for a
second time in their conversation. The flame curtain and the sconces flare, his fists clench
under the table, and Ozai tips his head back and breathes fire at the ceiling. Of course. Of
course, Iroh not only doesn't trust him but he actively expects him to make an attempt on his
life. The timing of Azulon's death was suspicious in the extreme, and Ursa's disappearance on
the very same night was doubly so. Iroh would be a fool not to consider the possibility that he
would be the next to fall at his ambitious younger brother's hands. Add to that the fact that
Ozai has as good as told Iroh to his face that he is a burned spy...
Ozai regains his composure enough to consider the other man, recognizing the wary
tenseness he had previously missed in the other's frame. He scowls. As justified as Iroh's
behavior is, that doesn't stop it from being maddening.
"I'm fixing this. Now," Ozai declares as he stands, uncaring of the unseen listening ears. Iroh
also rises to his feet. He refrains from falling into anything so immediately apparent as a
fighting stance, but Ozai can see the other man's readiness all the same, now that he knows to
look for it. "Give me the names of three generals among the council that you consider to be
honorable men."
Iroh's brow furrows. "My lord?"
Ozai gestures at the hall beyond the throne room's main entrance and the sealed door.
"Honorable names, Iroh."
Iroh hesitates. "Generals Shiro, Kazuya Kai, and Masao are good men of strong convictions
and courage," he finally answers.
Ozai nods. Generals Shiro and Masao had continued to serve the Fire Nation after he'd taken
the throne and he'd grown to respect both men. With the reduction of the military, only Shiro
had remained a general, but Masao had gone on to lead the Caldera chapter of the Home
Guard after the war. General Kazuya Kai's inclusion on Iroh's list is a bit of a surprise. Ozai
hardly knows the man at all. Kazuya Kai had resigned early on in his reign, shortly after the
colonies had been given independence from the Fire Nation. The majority of the general's
family had been colonials and he'd felt that the Fire Nation's withdrawal of authority over the
region was a betrayal to the citizenry living there. He hadn't been the only one to feel that
way. Still, despite a rough start, Toph had said good things about him over the last two years.
More to the point, if Iroh considers the man to be honorable, that's enough for Ozai.
Ozai strides over to the door and throws it open. "You three," he points at the clustered sages,
"You, you, and you," he points at each of the generals in turn, "The rest of you, remain here."
There is a slight hesitation before the six men file through the entrance. Ozai doesn't try to
discern whether it is surprise or fear that causes the delayed response. He's not sure he'd be
able to keep a grip on his temper if the answer is the latter. A servant shuts the heavy door
from the outside.
"You six are here as witnesses," Ozai says, "but first, I need your oaths that you will ensure
the following oath of honor is enforced."
There are confused faces all around, including Iroh, though his eyes remain wary.
"Yes, your majesty," General Shiro says, the first to shake off his uncertainty and slip back
into court manners. He bows over the sign of the flame, "On my honor, I shall see that the
oath to which I bear witness is enforced in full. By this oath, I am bound."
The other five are quick to mimic Shiro. "On my honor," they chorus as they offer their own
bows to the Fire Lord.
Ozai nods before turning to face Iroh. "On my honor," he begins, absently noting the clear
surprise in his audience that he is offering an oath rather than demanding one from his elder
brother, "no harm shall come to Iroh of the Fire Nation by my hand, bending, or command. I
withhold my judgement over Iroh and his actions. Iroh shall henceforth be under Agni's
authority alone. Should harm or death come to Iroh by any hand but Agni's, and should the
shadow of doubt fall upon me, and should my faithfulness to my oath be cast into question,
my right to the throne will be forfeit and Crown Prince Zuko will ascend to begin his reign as
Fire Lord. Should this scenario come to pass and Prince Zuko has yet to attain his majority, a
regent shall be appointed either by Iroh's living voice or as is indicated in Iroh's last will. By
this oath, I am bound."
The badly concealed shock of the room's other occupants turns into open startlement as every
fire in the room flares loudly, jumping high to scorch the ceiling.
"That isn't me," Ozai says with a frown as he meets their stares. It's the only warning the
others receive before Agni steps from the wall of flames.
"Fire Lord," Agni snarls, "who gave you leave to cast aside your duties?"
Chapter End Notes

The King and the Herald
Chapter Notes
Ozai roots his stance and bows to the Sun Spirit. "Agni," he greets, ignoring the hurried
shuffling of armor and the whisper of silken sage robes as the other occupants of the room
sink into kowtows. He dares to raise his head so he can look at the spirit as he says, "I have
cast aside nothing."
Agni makes an impatient gesture for him to straighten from his bow. "You have tied your
ability to carry out the responsibilities I have given you to another man's life," he accuses.
"I have no intention of allowing him to be killed," Ozai says with a scowl.
"Mortal lives are fragile and short," the Sun Spirit dismisses, "Your intent alone cannot
ensure another's life."
"You're right. I can't protect against everything, but my oath doesn't demand that," the Fire
Lord says, "You charged me to be honorable. A man that lashes out at his brother unprovoked
is far from honorable."
"You left no provision to protect yourself."
Ozai squares his shoulders and glares. Foolish, but his temper is nearly at its end and he's
quickly losing the different facets of his self-control one by one. "I have no reason to doubt
Iroh's honor and, if I am wrong, he remains under your authority and judgement. A betrayal
of my trust would not go unpunished."
"No, it would not," Agni agrees, staring down at Iroh's hunched over form, "But by then, the
damage may already be done."
"You would still have a herald."
Agni's attention returns to the Fire Lord. "You are young for the role as it is, child mine. The
boy is not ready."
"There would be a regent to --"
Agni cuts him off. "I have grown weary of men seeking to rule by an authority I have not
given them." Ozai stiffens at the statement. That sounds like a rebuke of his father, the sole
member of the living royal line that Agni had actively chosen to sacrifice. "I have corrected
that in you. I am in no hurry to tolerate the return of ambitious false kings."
"Then I am sure you will handle the matter in whatever manner you judge best, if it ever
comes to be. Either way, we've been at war with the other nations for generations. It's all we
know, anymore, and we have an arsenal built to take on the rest of the world because of it.
Some of us won't be ready to let Sozin's war die so easily, and it won't matter to them who
they need to turn on in order to keep it alive. It could lead to a new, internal war in a bid to
continue the outer war that you ordered we end. I need Iroh to trust me or it will be yet
another thread of tension pulling the nation apart. You can't want that."
"No," Agni says, "My promise to Kuzon the Uniter stands to this day, as it will tomorrow,
and all of the days that follow." He again turns his consideration to the previous crown
prince.
A raised hand forestalls Ozai's next words and the tension in the room simmers as the silence
grows.
"Rise, all of you," Agni commands. The spirit slowly circles the subject of his attention
before coming to a stop in front of him. "Iroh of Second Fire," he addresses the mortal, "it
would seem that Ozai the Reforged has not only deemed you worthy of a large portion of his
trust, but also decided that it is appropriate to deliver you fully into my keeping." The spirit
bends down closer to Iroh's pale face. "You may come to regret your brother's choice over the
next several weeks. Rest well, Once-Prince. You will need it in the morning."
Agni takes a step back before allowing his form to unravel, disappearing from the throne
room as quickly as he had appeared. All the flames in the room return to their natural oranges
and yellows, and the wall of flame burns low in its trough of coals.
Ozai pinches the bridge of his nose and doesn't bother to reclaim control over any of the fires.
They're not going to get anything more done tonight. The Fire Lord drops his hand and
instead studies the shaken men around him. "This council will reconvene later this week to
finalize plans for the first stage of the withdrawal. In the meantime... General Shiro, see to it
that the orders to cease aggressions are sent out immediately. General Masao, let the rest of
the council know that we are finished for the evening and to expect a summons sometime in
the next few days. Sages, make the temple elders aware of my oath and also of Agni's
appearance. Dismissed."
"Yes, Fire Lord," General Shiro says despite his ill pallor and wide eyes as he bows. Masao
and Kazuya Kai follow suit with equally shocked faces. The sages, in turn, quickly mimic the
generals and hurry out on the older men's heels.
"That was Agni!" Misha says in a poorly contained whisper to his brother sages, "We were in
the presence of Agni!"
"The elders are never going to believe all of this," Abedni worries.
Shadra sighs, "All we can do is report what we have witnessed. The rest is out of our hands."
"Who cares? We met Agni!"
Ozai catches Iroh's arm before the man can attempt to follow the others as they file out the
throne room door. "Sit," he says, guiding Iroh to the nearest of the cushions surrounding the
table, "Breathe."
The older royal braces his elbows on the table and his head finds its way into his hands as the
subtle shaking of his fingers becomes full-bodied trembling. It is almost a full handful of
degrees before the shudders lessen and Iroh attempts to speak. "I do not know what to believe
anymore," the man croaks.
Ozai doesn't know what to say in response, so he remains quiet.
"Agni called you 'reforged.'"
"Yes."
Iroh frowns but it does nothing to disguise his exhaustion. "What does that mean?"
"What it means." That is something he has zero interest getting into while they are both as
tired and out of sorts as they are. Or possibly ever. The more he thinks about it the more he
comes to realize that it is awkward enough when he is the only one that knows he has been
transplanted into his father's body. He doesn't want to think about what Iroh's reaction might
be, and especially not right at this moment.
Iroh ponders over that non-answer for nearly half a degree. "Agni is..." the elder royal thinks
better of finishing his thought and instead allows the sentence to trail off into nothing. After
another second's consideration, he says, "None of my research into the spirits has prepared
me for this."
Ozai closes his eyes and sighs. "I wasn't prepared, either," he admits softly. The Fire Lord
shakes his head and pushes himself to his feet. "You seem to have recovered. I'm going to
bed. Goodnight, Iroh."
He doesn't wait for Iroh's response before leaving.
Iroh stares after his brother and wonders what the spirits have done to so thoroughly change
the man.
Chapter End Notes

Dawning
Chapter Notes
Zuko groans as he wakes, rubbing the crust of sleep from his eyes. He'd had the weirdest --
His scar is missing.
The Fire Lord stiffens, lifts a hand from his face, and ignites the smallest flame he can
manage with his bending. The brightness of the light so soon after waking is painful as it
pierces his unprepared eyes and he snuffs the flame only a moment after calling it forth. Still,
the flame had burned white.
It hadn't been a dream.
The Fire Lord buries his face in his hands and focusses on his breathing.
He is six years in what had once been his past. He has also been thrown headlong into his
father's life. He's met the Sun Spirit and Moon Spirit, and, to a lesser extent, the Ocean Spirit.
He holds Agni's favor but, as he learned firsthand yesterday, being favored does not mean he
is immune to the spirit's anger. At least Agni seems to have enough of a grip on his temper
not to immolate everything in his path at the first spark of his ire.
...His name isn't Zuko, anymore. That name now belongs to a son he didn't have two days
ago.
The man groans into his hands before removing them from his face. He still has no idea what
to do about the prince and princess, nor the rest of his situation for that matter.
His friends are gone. What is left of his family doesn't trust him. His nation is at war with the
world. There is no Avatar to vouch for him with the other nations. His own court is full of
backstabbers and warmongers. His bending is out of control.
He's sure there is some way for things to be worse, but he doesn't want to risk thinking it into
existence.
Ozai stares up at the ceiling.
He remembers crying himself to sleep like a child as the events of the day had finally caught
up to him without a ready distraction to focus his energy on. He remembers a furnace at his
back and a too-warm hand on his shoulder, Agni's presence silent but real as he'd sobbed for
what he'd lost. Agni had promised that he wouldn't be alone. The Sun Spirit seems intent on
keeping that promise thoroughly. In less than a day's time, the great spirit has seen him weak-
kneed, ill, and grieving. It's a far cry from the unwavering strength a Fire Lord is supposed to
embody. Still, Agni had not abandoned him to his weakness, nor had he withdrawn his favor
because of it. That's... something.
Ozai pinches the bridge of his nose and exhales slowly.
Enough moping. Just because he's cleared his schedule for 'rest' doesn't mean that the day
should be wasted in bed.
The Fire Lord reaches for the sun to check the time and frowns at the odd double-sense that
registers in his chi before he realizes what it means. Agni has returned to the palace, and this
time he is not on the mortal plane for Ozai.
"Iroh," he mutters under his breath as he sits up in his bed.
On the one hand, he doesn't think Agni is inclined to harm Iroh. On the other hand, Agni is
clearly not pleased with the older royal for reasons that Ozai is not entirely sure of, though he
might have an idea after that scene in the throne room last night. The past day has proven that
there isn't much he can do after Agni comes to a decision, but the Sun Spirit had listened to
Ozai yesterday despite his obvious disapproval. More, Agni hadn't revoked Ozai's oath to
Iroh. As the greatest authority of the nation, Agni would have had the right to do exactly that
if he'd really wanted, but Agni had allowed the oath to stand.
So, his words hold some sway with the spirit. Iroh should be fine long enough for Ozai to get
ready for the day without rushing. He hopes.
He still chooses to dress in one of the simplest outfits he can find in the wardrobe, and he
calls a servant in to do his topknot for expediency, just in case... Well, in case. When the
servant makes a soft, almost inaudible tisk and picks up the hair scissors, Ozai realizes that he
has miscalculated.
'Expediency' never has been the highest priority of the palace servants.
A fire that ever so politely does not burn hooks around his ankle and Iroh yelps as he falls.
The retired general meets the sand roughly, catching himself on his rump and elbows. Iroh
groans at the impact. He is beginning to feel like his bruises have bruises.
"Again," Agni commands.
Iroh grasps the offered hand of fire and leverages himself to his feet with a grunt.
Ozai follows the tug on his chi to the training courtyard reserved for the royal family in the
eastern wing of the palace.
"Your majesty! Agni is expecting you," one of the guards informs him as he approaches,
wonder lingering in his expression. His companion's face is painted with a complimentary
expression of shocked disbelief that speaks of a shattered worldview.
The Fire Lord nods his acknowledgement of the message. He pauses before entering as it
occurs to him to ask, "How long has Agni been waiting?"
"He and your honored brother arrived nearly an hour ago, my lord."
So, Iroh is with Agni, then. "Thank you."
He passes through the doorway and finds himself watching as Iroh throws a set of fireball-
punches at Agni. As harmless as the flames are to a fire spirit, let alone the greatest fire spirit
of them all, Agni still dodges out of the way with the grace of a master combatant. Iroh
moves into an advanced kata designed to create space around the practitioner but Agni slips
past his defenses. A hand of fire pushes against the mortal's chest as Agni drops into a half-
kneeling position. A split-second later, Agni's other hand slams into the back of the man's
knee. Iroh collapses into a heap with a groan.
"Fire Lord," Agni greets, rising to stand over his defeated opponent. The spirit holds out a
hand to Iroh.
"Brother," the retired general says wearily before accepting the help back onto his feet.
"Agni," Ozai greets first with a bow, and then, "Iroh." He considers the pair for a moment.
"Sunrise training? This isn't what I'd imagined when you warned of regret in the coming
weeks."
"It is an honor," Iroh intones, "but perhaps a bit rough on these old bones."
"You're not that old," Ozai says with a frown.
Although the fine details of Agni's expressions are not as easily read on his mortal fire forms
as they were in the spirit world on Tui's pale but more solid reflection, the spirit's current
sharp smile is still clear to see. "Oh, there will be plenty of regret. I am not a soft master,"
Agni promises, "Sore muscles, aching bones, chi exhaustion, general tiredness, and a
multitude of bruises that I suspect have already begun to form. By the time I am done with
him, the inevitable assassins will at least have to work for their prize." A slight pause, and
then the Sun Spirit asks, "Would you care to join this morning's session, child mine?"
"Yes," Ozai answers eagerly, shrugging off his outer robes as he strides over to take up
position on one side of the sparring field. Who knows what techniques have been lost over
the years that Agni can teach him? Perhaps there are even lessons that have only ever been
taught to Agni's Heralds. Ozai sinks into a ready stance.
Agni laughs merrily, the sound filling the space. "I am afraid we have finished that portion of
today's training," the great spirit says and walks over to a closet of supplies set into the
courtyard's wall.
Iroh sighs in relief. "Thank Agni," the man mutters under his breath.
The great spirit in question chuckles and replies, "Your thanks is received and noted, Once-
Prince. It will neither spare nor shorten tomorrow's session, however."
The man blinks and then smiles in wry amusement at himself. "No, I suspect it will not," he
muses.
For his part, Ozai frowns in confused disappointment. "Finished?" he questions.

"Indeed." Agni closes the closet. He deposits a small oil lamp into Iroh's hands as he walks
past, one finger skimming over the wick to light it. "Control is an important skill and it
requires regular practice to maintain. I recognize that your recent struggle is a result of my
actions, and yet the problem is one that must be fixed through your efforts." The fire spirit
holds up a rectangular slip of paper only to pinch its center and sear a pinprick-sized hole
through it. "I believe you are familiar with the exercise?"
It is ridiculously difficult to keep himself from groaning as he says, "Yes."
Agni's following hum of acknowledgement sounds suspiciously like smothered laughter as he

passes over the slowly smoldering piece of paper. "Be mindful of the time as you practice,
young Fire Lord. You have a breakfast appointment to keep today." Agni takes a step away
and looks over his shoulder at Iroh. "Until next I rise over the horizon, Once-Prince," he says.
The secondary form disperses into the air.
Iroh seats himself on one of the benches pressed against the courtyard's walls, the lamp
cradled between his hands and its flame already rising and falling with his breaths.
"Throwing me around a sparing field seems to have improved his mood," he remarks with
that familiarly deceptive mildness.
Ozai sighs and wanders closer to his brother, sinking into a crossed-legs position on the
ground opposite the man. He ignores Iroh's raised eyebrows. It's a private courtyard with
guards at its entrance. There's no one to see. Instead, he scowls down at the training paper in
his hands and the embers slowly eating away at the fibers. He doesn't dare to try bending it
into a sustainable burn just yet. He prods at the well of chi in his belly, trying to figure out
how to make the cinders his own without overfeeding them.
"I've only seen him angry twice, thus far. When I found the two of you talking in the
entryway of my suite, and when I gave you my oath," Ozai says, "Outside of that, he's been
either cheerful or... sympathetic, but unyielding."
"If that is true," Iroh says carefully, "then it would seem I am the common thread and the
cause of Agni's dissatisfaction, though I certainly hope for my own sake that is not the case."
His breathing and the flame of his candle remain steady in their shared rising and falling as
he speaks. "How many times have you met with Agni?"
Ozai pushes down the jealousy that threatens to rise up and reaches out with his bending to
claim the smoking cinders. (He'd spent his childhood being jealous of Azula's easy skill and
it had never helped him. He refuses to waste his time on envy over Iroh's mastery.) White fire
flares to life and a diameter a full inch wide burns away into ash before the Fire Lord
manages to gentle the flames back down to bright embers. Small tongues of flame attempt to
grow stronger with every slow breath. His frustration with his own lack of control isn't
helping his case, either.
"Agni has been a near constant presence since the Agni Kai," he admits. "As for a number of
individual encounters..." Ozai quickly runs through the events of the previous day, "Six. It
could be counted as six separate times." He keeps his focus on the fire he is trying to
convince to burn colder, lower, and slower as he adds, "And I don't think you're the reason for
Agni's displeasure. It's more... what you represent to him." The Sun Spirit had schemed to
save the royal line and he had included Iroh's life in those he sought to preserve, after all.
Ozai's efforts finally begin to bear fruit as he achieves a tamed smoldering ring of small
embers.
"Oh?"
The Fire Lord glances up at the other man before returning his gaze and the bulk of his
attention to his task. He has only begun to grasp at something approaching passable control.
The real trick is in successfully maintaining it. Fire's nature is to consume. It is prone to
either flaring up or burning out. For a fire to remain stable, it must be carefully tended.
"I don't mean he isn't unhappy with you," he clarifies, "but it's more what you've done or,
rather, what you haven't done that's..." Ozai scowls down the embers. He's explaining this
wrong. "The second time, when I gave you my oath," he says slowly, "It wasn't your
involvement that angered Agni. He accused me of abandoning my job as Fire Lord, of
neglecting my duties and responsibilities. But... it's more than that." He wrestles with his
thoughts and bending as he attempts to give voice to the idea just beyond his reach. "To be
the Fire Lord is to be Agni's Herald, it isn't just the responsibility of governing the nation.
It's... a privilege. A..."
Oh. Oh, he is an idiot. Flames leap high from the paper and Ozai quickly snuffs them, the fire
going cold and dead. How did he not see this sooner? How does Iroh not see it?
"It's a spirit gift," he says in a strained voice, turning his complete attention to Iroh, "passed
from Kuzon, First of the Fire Lords, down through our line. And when you chose not to fight
for the throne..."
His brother looks immediately ill and the lamp's flame flickers wildly before he follows
Ozai's lead and extinguishes the small fire. Iroh sets the lamp down on the bench. "The spirits
do not take kindly to those who reject their gifts," he says, "Agni is more merciful than most
to stay his hand."
Ozai grimaces. He's still putting the pieces together, making sense of what he has seen and
heard in the context of spirits. It's not a manner he is used to thinking in, but...
He remembers heat beating against his back and hands on his shoulders. He remembers a
laughing voice near his ear, counseling him through the chaos of the last day that would have
otherwise overwhelmed him.
"Son of Agni and Nephew of Tui, cherished child of the sky."
Ozai had thought he'd understood. He hadn't. Every Fire Nation citizen is a child of Agni, but
very few will ever have a chance to meet the spirit face-to-face. Ozai is not merely another of
thousands -- millions -- of children. The Fire Lord is favored. A True Herald is, apparently,
cherished. It's the difference between himself and his sister in his father's eyes, but amplified
in the way that spirits always seem to trend toward extremes. Or maybe that isn't quite right,
because Ozai has grown to believe that his father is -- was -- incapable of loving anyone
outside of himself, and Agni has not only been present but fond, almost doting at times.
It isn't only a gift, he realizes. Becoming Agni's Herald -- not just bearing the title as a
holdover from a time when the Fire Lord was also the head sage, but fully stepping into the
role -- means beginning a personal relationship with Agni, requires it, or else how would the
Fire Lord know Agni's will well enough to lead the country in accordance with it? Records
could be studied and sages could be consulted, but those would be a shallow substitute. It
would be like how obsessively reading through scrolls on airbenders and Avatars had left him
ill-prepared for Aang.
The sages were right when they said there had not been a True Herald of Agni in living
memory, but had Agni been planning to change that once Iroh took the throne? Had Uncle
unknowingly not only rejected Agni's gift, but Agni himself?
If he is right, then Iroh is lucky to be alive. At the very least, he would have expected Agni to
strip Iroh of his bending, much like Aang had done to his father.
He feels ill at the direction his thoughts are traveling.
"Ozai," Iroh says, brow furrowed with the beginnings of concern and eyes searching his face
for answers, "Are you well?"
"Fine," he forces out and rises to his feet, "I need to go. I'm having breakfast with the prince
and princess today."
He flees the courtyard before Iroh can ask any more questions and storms through halls
before ducking into a room that is thankfully empty of servants. "Agni," he chokes out.
His eyes close without his permission, heat radiates from behind his back, and a pair of hands
fall to rest on his shoulders. "You called for me, Fire Lord," Agni says. It is no question,
merely a statement of fact.
His head is spinning, his heart is beating in his ears, and he can't seem to breathe properly.
"I'm sorry! I didn't, I didn't realize --"
"Ah," the spirit says, voice gentling into something just shy of being a murmur, "This is about
last night, then."
Ozai nods quickly. "I'm honored to be your herald," he rushes to say, "I didn't mean to make
it seem like I'm ungrateful for the role you've given me, or that I don't value the time and
attention you afford me."
Agni sighs, creating a warm breeze near the Fire Lord's ear. "A misunderstanding on both our
parts, child mine. I sometimes forget how little man is taught of spirits and heraldships in this
current age. You will learn." Ozai's breathing eases somewhat. Agni doesn't blame him for
the ignorance that has left him floundering. It's still something he needs to fix, but he has
time. "Focus on the tasks I have given you. I will see to Iroh of Second Fire."
And there is the second source for the sudden onset of his newest concerns. "Are you... angry
with him?" Ozai tries not to flinch at his own words.
"I am more disappointed than I am angry with the once-prince. Iroh was the first of Kuzon's
line in generations that I thought might rise to be a satisfactory herald. The Fire Lords before
him had varied in their flaws -- lazy, honorless, wrathful, cruel, arrogant, greedy, and all of
them faithless, all of them placing their own desires before their duties -- but Iroh showed
potential. He loved the nation he was to lead. Then Lu Ten of Second Fire was struck down
in battle and Iroh's great flaw as a potential herald was revealed. Iroh lost himself to his
grief."
"But..." Last night, he'd thought...
Agni huffs a humorless laugh and Ozai feels the Sun Spirit's face press lightly against his
temple. "Your grief and Iroh's grief are two very different beasts, young Fire Lord. Iroh
forsook his duties in a search to remedy that which caused his heart's wounds," he explains,
"You have lost as much, if not more, and instead of running from the responsibilities inherent
to governing my lands and people, you called a meeting to bring about the end of Sozin's war
before taking even a moment's respite."
"You told me to take care of things that couldn't wait," Ozai says. Some part of him is waiting
for the praise to turn into gently phrased scolding about overworking himself. Uncle had
done that a lot, and Katara had used the same tactic before deciding that icing him to his bed
and glaring was a more effective method of forcing him to rest. "The longer the war
continues, the more people it kills. Of every nation."
Agni hums and draws back, though his hands remain firm on the man's shoulders. "Mortals
are always in conflict," the Sun Spirit says, "If it is not this war, then it will be others for their
own reasons. This one is notable only for the length of time it has lasted and the breadth of
the world it has reached."
"I thought you wanted me to end the war," Ozai says in confusion, "You said to build
peaceful relations with the other nations."
"I did and it must," Agni answers, "Sozin's war has attracted the displeasure of many spirits,
and I considered it a small price to guarantee its end in order to secure the agreement of the
council. Building mutual ties with the other nations will help to further soothe some of the
spirits that have taken insult from the recent actions of those of second fire. However, outside
of my promise to Kuzon the Uniter, I myself care little one way or the other about the wars of
mortal men."
"Oh." He doesn't know how to feel about the fact that Agni apparently neither supports nor
condemns the war his ancestors started.
Agni releases his steadying hold. "Our time grows short, Fire Lord. Do not keep your heir
and your fledgeling waiting."
The heat at his back disappears and Ozai opens his eyes. His brow furrows as he wonders,
"Fledgeling?"
He nearly jumps in surprise when he hears Agni's laugh but the spirit does not manifest any
more of himself than his voice. "The young princess is as dragon-hearted as mortals come:
fierce, loyal, and ruthless. It is up to you to teach her when she should put her claws to use
and when she should curb her instinct to hunt and rend. Now, child mine, go, or you risk
being late."
Ozai turns that thought over as he leaves the room, backtracking to the training courtyard to
retrieve the outer robes he'd forgotten earlier. He thinks about Ran and Shaw, about the very
real risk he and Aang had taken of being either eaten or flame-roasted by the pair of dragons.
Yeah, that sounds like Azula. If his sister was supposed to learn restraint from their father,
then it's no wonder she'd grown to be so unrelentingly vicious.
Ozai freezes mid-stride in the halls.
How is he supposed to raise a dragon? How does he even begin to try?
The Fire Lord stifles a groan and pinches the bridge of his nose. He has no idea what he's
doing.
Chapter End Notes

Of Awkward Turtle-Ducks
Chapter Notes
The children are both already there by the time Ozai settles into his place at the head of the
table. From the look on Azula's face, she's been taunting her brother again, though Ozai had
not overheard anything on his way into the room. Prince Zuko, for his part, looks anxious,
almost nauseous. The boy also looks incredibly young, devoted, desperate, and naive. How
had his father looked at this child and burned off half of his face?
The prince's fidgeting brings his attention to the fact that he's staring.
Ozai turns his gaze away from Zuko and breaks the suffocating silence hanging in the air.
"Eat," he instructs the children. The Fire Lord frowns down at his own plate. There is a
certain painful irony in realizing the fact that he has a better appetite cloistered in a room full
of generals discussing the logistics of war -- even if the goal is disengagement -- than he has
dining with his family. He forces himself to eat anyway. Just because he has no desire for the
food doesn't mean he won't be able to keep it down, and a Fire Lord running on empty is one
that gets less work done.
The suffocating silence is back, only filled by quiet chewing and the use of chopsticks. He
realizes belatedly that both children are waiting on him, watching him for cues on how to act.
He's not sure what to do with that, so he decides to ask a question.
"What rumors have you heard over the past day?" he asks. At the very least, Azula will have
plenty to say. His sister had always loved knowing more than she should.
The girl doesn't disappoint. "Oh, the servants have been whispering about all sorts of crazy
imaginings, Father," Azula reports with a familiar smirk on a too-young face, "I've heard
them speculating about you and spirits, mostly. They've spoken of everything from
possession to madness to a curse." The girl scoffs. "They obviously haven't seen your new
flames, yet. Clearly you have found Agni's favor and been blessed, not cursed."
"New flames?" Prince Zuko asks, finally bringing his gaze up from his plate to look at his
sister. A moment later, the boy's questioning gaze swings instead to Ozai.
"You hadn't told your brother, yet?" he asks, scrutinizing his new daughter's face.
"I thought you might wish to share the news yourself, Father," Azula says sweetly, "But I
apologize. I seem to have spoiled the surprise, anyway."
Ozai smothers the desire to display his exasperation. He'd eat his shoes if Azula hadn't been
hoping that withholding the information would somehow trip up her brother. He makes sure
to keep his voice calm and measured as he says, "Don't lie to me, Azula."
The girl's eyes widen in shock. "I'm not --"

Ozai raises a hand to halt her protests. "Don't," he says firmly.
The princess lowers her eyes and flushes furiously. Ozai doesn't think he's ever seen Azula's
face so red before. Zuko seems just as stunned as his sister.
Ozai decides to move the focus of the room along. Azula is always worse when she feels
embarrassed. "What else have you heard?"
"It wasn't a rumor," Zuko says slowly, every line of his frame marked by the same hesitancy
that Ozai remembers suffering every time he knew he'd fallen short in his father's eyes, "but
Uncle explained about court etiquette during councils. I'm sorry for speaking out of turn,
Father. I understand now why it was disrespectful."
Ozai remembers having a similar conversation with Uncle a week after the Agni Kai, when
he'd had a chance to recover from the worst of the fever. He also remembers the first few
weeks of court as Fire Lord, when assumptions built on that same conversation had caused
him to stumble. Uncle's explanation had left out some very relevant details in an effort to
shield his recently-banished thirteen-year-old nephew. It wouldn't have mattered if the Avatar
had stayed lost and he'd never returned to court. And yet, this Iroh has no reason to believe
that Prince Zuko will never again step foot inside a Fire Lord's council. Perhaps Iroh has
explained more to the prince than Uncle had to him, but somehow he doubts it was as
thorough an explanation as it should have been for the child that will have to live with the
consequences.
"We'll discuss that further after breakfast," he says. Ozai notices the prince's golden eyes fill
with dread but he doesn't know of anything he can say that will reassure the boy. "For now,
we should talk about what happened yesterday."
"Of course, Father," Azula says, her composure once more flawless.
Zuko nods, hands fisted in his lap.
Right. How is he supposed to explain this?
"I met Agni," he ends up blurting, for lack of a better way to begin, and immediately feels
like an idiot as two sets of widened eyes stare up at him. Agni help him. He has no idea how
to handle children. These days, his expertise runs along the lines of military leaders, law
enforcement, interior ministers, nobles, ambassadors, and foreign heads of state, almost all of
them multiple decades older than himself.
"He gave me his blessing and instructed me to end the war," Ozai plows on. What else can he
do at this point? "Last night, I gave the order to cease aggressions on the frontlines, and there
will be more meetings in the next few days as the generals and I hammer out the best way to
start bringing our soldiers home. At some point, we'll have to open negotiations with the
other nations to establish a more lasting peace." He hesitates for a moment before deciding
there isn't a good way to say this next part. "Making such an abrupt change in the direction of
the country will leave many of our people... dissatisfied. Some may become motivated to do
drastic things."
"Treasonous things, Father?" Azula asks, sharp-eyed and calculating.
"Perhaps. It's likely. And there will probably be more than one group or individual driven to
cause trouble because of the changes ahead of us." Ozai meets both sets of young eyes before
saying, "There's a chance some of that trouble could find us inside the palace walls. If
someone threatens you, do whatever it takes to protect yourselves. If both of you happen to
be together at the time... Zuko, I want you to run for help. You're faster than your sister." At
least, the boy will be until said sister figures out how to propel herself with firebending.
"Azula, cover for your brother. Your bending is more advanced than your brother's is. And
don't hold anything back. In that situation, you'll be defending your family and your nation."
"Yes, Father," Azula preens.
Ozai almost wishes he could be as pleased about worst-case-scenario planning as the girl is.
Still, so long as both children survive, he'll find a way to deal with whatever fallout develops
from effectively ordering an eleven-year-old to kill. (The older he gets, the more he tries not
to think about just how young all of them were when destiny dropped the duty to end the
Hundred-Year War onto their shoulders.)
"I can fight!" Zuko objects, "I'm older! Azula should be the one to run!"
Ozai grimaces. "No." He can't say he's surprised by the outburst.
"But I --"
"Enough," Ozai speaks over the boy, doing his best to not to snap as he says the word. While
he isn't particularly angry, while he knows exactly the sort of desperation that is driving the
boy, certain habitual responses have become ingrained when confronted with open insolence
in his own palace. He knows it isn't how Zuko intends to present himself. He also knows that
fact makes the behavior no less dangerous for either of them, particularly with the current
political climate and what it will surely evolve into as Ozai pursues peace. "You have been
given your role. If circumstances unfold in a manner that prevents you from fulfilling it, then
that is the way of things, but do not subvert my orders to chase after your own glories. I am
Fire Lord. You will yield to my commands."
"I didn't mean to suggest -- I-I'm sorry!" The prince swallows dryly and offers a quiet, "I'll
run for help."
Ozai bites back the frustrated sigh that nearly escapes him. He returns his attention to his
half-eaten breakfast, unsure how to offer comforting words or even break the tension in the
air. His mother would have known what to do, but he remembers less of her with every year
that passes. He doesn't know what the right thing to do is. Just figuring out who he is has
become more complicated than he could have ever imagined. He does, however, know these
three things:
He is Ozai.
He is Fire Lord.
He will not be his father.
Those three facts are enough of a foundation for him to rebuild himself.
The rest of the meal is eaten in silence, with Azula visibly smug and Zuko withdrawn, but
although Ozai finishes eating first, he does not rise from the table until he is certain the prince
is done with the meal.
"Thank you for having breakfast with me, Azula," he says.
"Of course, Father," she responds smoothly as Zuko hunches into his shoulders, "Shall I tell
my instructors to increase the intensity of my firebending lessons? To better prepare myself
for any future battles against traitors?"
"The goal is to ensure your own and your brother's protection," he reminds her, "not to
humiliate your opponents with flashy moves."
"More defensive katas, then," Azula says decisively.
Ozai huffs a wry laugh. "Even prodigies can only master so much of their craft at once," he
tells her, reluctantly amused at this diminutive Azula's obvious maneuvering. And then,
because a part of him has always wanted to do so, despite never quite daring an attempt, Ozai
reaches across the table and gently tugs on the nearest of the loose locks of hair framing
Azula's face. His daughter's surprised blink followed by her utterly baffled expression makes
indulging in the impulse entirely worthwhile. "Have a good day, Azula," he says, struggling
to suppress the amused grin threatening to break across his face.
Ozai turns to the sullen boy glaring a hole through the table. "Zuko." The prince jolts back
from wherever his thoughts had taken him. "Walk with me," he says, holding a hand out to
the child.
Zuko's eyes slide from his face down to his hand and back again. His bafflement looks
remarkably similar to his sister's expression. Tentatively, as if not sure it's really happening,
Zuko grips Ozai's hand and allows the man to help pull him to his feet.
Ozai sets an easy pace through the halls. A part of him wants to lead his new son to the
garden courtyard with the turtle-duck pond that Ursa had favored, but instead he begins to
retrace a path back to the training courtyard he'd met Agni and Iroh in earlier.
It is only when Zuko carefully shifts to press more firmly against the hand on his back and
walk just a little closer that Ozai realizes he has reached out without thought to physically
guide the boy through the palace corridors. Ozai brushes his thumb over the teen's spine and
the reaction is almost immediate. Zuko stands taller and his stride gains confidence. From the
outside, it probably doesn't look much different from how Azula had reacted last night when
placed in a similar situation, but the prince's frame never manifests the tension that had
marked the princess' reaction. The difference is... worrying, for all that he doesn't know its
source.
The Fire Lord and his son have the courtyard to themselves when they arrive. Iroh has long
since departed and Azula's firebending lessons are always scheduled from evening to dusk,
when the shadow of the palace and the setting of the sun will push her just that much harder
during her exercises.
"You said Iroh spoke to you about some of the peculiarities of court etiquette during council,"
Ozai begins, settling on a bench near the entrance and gesturing for the prince to take his
place beside him. There isn't much to look at in this particular courtyard, though Ozai notes
that the servants have not yet been in to rake smooth the sand of the sparring field and it
remains uneven from this morning's workout.
Zuko perches on the edge of the bench, twisted to face Ozai rather than the empty courtyard
and with both hands fisted in his lap. "Uncle explained that during a council meeting the floor
isn't open for anyone to speak except for when the Fire Lord calls on them. I broke the rules
of your court, so it was you that I disrespected."
Ozai fights back a scowl. That is precisely what he'd been told. Does Iroh really think that
half-truth is sufficient for a child that will continue to live in the palace? He isn't worried
about Bujing trying anything. As cruel, wasteful, and petty as the general can be, he isn't a
fool. And for a man so callous with the lives of new recruits, he is surprisingly lenient when
it comes to children. No, he's not worried about Bujing, but there are others who wouldn't
hesitate to attack the prince if given an excuse, regardless of his age and status. Some --
particularly ambitious nobles -- might target him specifically because of those things.
"You managed three counts of disrespect when you spoke out," Ozai corrects, "Not one." The
boy shifts in discomfort but holds his tongue. "You spoke out of turn in a Fire Lord's court.
You questioned a general's honor. Finally, you insulted a guest of the Fire Lord, and thus you
insulted the Fire Lord." There is a reason the nobles and generals have grown skilled at
making backhanded comments. "Only one count was ever Bujing's to claim, and he chose not
to pursue the matter." Ozai traces the tale of footfalls and tumbles in the sand. "That covers
your misconduct in the throne room. Did Iroh speak to you at all about the Agni Kai itself?"
Zuko sounds uncertain as he says, "I know how Agni Kais work, Father. Opponents fight
under the light of Agni so he may lend his strength if he favors one combatant over the other.
The fight continues until either first burn, when one combatant is forced out of bounds for the
chosen arena, or voluntary surrender. What more would Uncle have needed to tell me?"
Ozai pinches the bridge of his nose. He isn't sure how much he wants to tell a thirteen-year-
old about the cruel circumstances surrounding the Agni Kai that would have left him literally
scarred for the rest of his life. Still, Iroh had chosen to say nothing? Maybe things hadn't
progressed to the part where Zuko had disobeyed his father's command to fight, twice, but
even then there are some things the prince should know.
He drops his hand and looks directly at the young teenager. He immediately decides to skip
over the customs and traditions involving guests in court. Firstly, he has no idea if Iroh had
been denied the right to fight in his nephew's stead or if Iroh had simply assumed that the
prince was in no real danger. Secondly, there will be time to go further into the intricacies of
court politics when Zuko is older and less focussed on the shame of this latest misstep.
"An Agni Kai is nothing to be taken lightly, Zuko," he says, making sure to keep eye contact
with his son, "'First burn' can easily be death and sometimes it is. Fleeing the boundary, rather
than being forced from it, leaves the loser branded as an honorless coward. 'Voluntary
surrender' must be freely accepted by the other combatant and most would not deign to do so.
By the time a conflict has reached Agni Kai, the involved parties are typically looking to
repay the insult in bloodshed. It's too late for apologies at that stage. That is the nature of the
challenge."
Zuko is looking green.
"If for any reason you participate in another Agni Kai before you become Fire Lord, be sure
of your reason and do not offer surrender more than once. After you enter the arena, you are
committed to the fight, regardless of who your opponent may be. Do you understand? An
Agni Kai is not a spar. It is not only your honor but your life at stake. You must be ready to
fight upon entering that arena."
"B-but you didn't -- You wouldn't have --"
Ozai looks away from the shaken prince, unable to watch as the boy's understanding of the
world threatens to shake itself apart. It isn't fair. Not to the boy and not to himself. But this is
a necessary lesson.
"It is due to Agni's grace that you left the arena unharmed." He takes a steadying breath and
confesses, "My world was turned on its head yesterday. The person I was then could not have
fathomed becoming the man I am today." The statement is true several times over, whether he
considers 'yesterday' to be the day six years in his past or the day he lived through before this
one. "I accepted your surrender. The man you stepped into the arena with would not have. It
is Agni's influence that saved you, not your refusal to fight. I need to know that you
understand, Zuko. Hesitation and reluctance have no place in an Agni Kai. It does not matter
who your opponent is once you are in the arena, you have to be prepared to fight."
"I, I understand, Father," Zuko says.
Ozai scrutinizes the child's face. "No," he concludes, "you don't. But you will grow to
understand. In time. Do not accept another challenge until you do."
The prince stares down at his lap and mumbles an obedient, "Yes, Father."
"Good."
Ozai considers the sandy training arena again. He's going to push things further, he decides. It
had been a vague idea when he'd chosen to come back to this courtyard, a possibility, but he's
certain of his course now. The prince needs to learn the difference between hesitation and
restraint, and he needs to learn sooner rather than later. Even if the lesson takes a few
repetitions to sink in, they can begin here today.
"Get up. We're starting practice now." His bending is too unstable to risk returning fire, but he
should be fine to block and deflect. Ozai rises to his feet and shrugs off his outer robes,
leaving them draped over the bench as he strides over to the sparring field.
Zuko clambers to his feet in a startled awkwardness and hesitates by the bench rather than
following him. "But you said not to --"
Ozai takes his place at the far side of the field. "This is a spar, not an Agni Kai. Its purpose is
to learn and improve. It is not a fight of life and honor. Join me."
"Yes, Father." The boy's fear is clear from his eyes to the slow removal and careful folding of
his outer layers to his reluctant manner in crossing the space and settling into an opening
stance.
"Attack."
Zuko stares at him with wide eyes. "I, I can't!"
"You can."
The prince remains frozen.
Ozai releases a long, slow breath and forces himself to remember who he'd been at thirteen.
"It isn't disrespectful and you're not going to hurt me," he says, careful to keep a level and
gentle tone, "Start slow. You are Crown Prince of the Fire Nation. You can do this."
That does the trick. Ozai can see as his son finds his resolve.
Zuko does start slow and his conflicted motivations make his flames weak, but Ozai takes the
opportunity it provides him to observe. His son's forms are mostly correct, but he can see the
flaws in the foundations that Uncle had drilled out of him during the three years of his
banishment. A too-wide stance here, an incorrect angle there, sloppy breath control in
general. It's a better starting point than he'd had with a certain scatterbrained airbender, but
the prince definitely won't appreciate it when Ozai has him busted back down to drill the
basics. He'll have to speak with Iroh later. As Fire Lord, he doesn't have enough free time to
devote to personally taking on his son's daily firebending training.
The teen stumbles and flushes in embarrassment.
Ozai tips his head in acknowledgement but commands, "Continue."
Zuko nods and pushes past the mistake, flames growing stronger as he grows gradually more
confident in the exercise and his role in it.
Ozai briefly turns his observations to his own bending. The fire flares and shifts into brighter
hues in the split-second that Ozai uses to redirect the flames, but they dissipate as he releases
them and never reach the tell-tale white of his new bending. He doesn't think the prince even
realizes what the difference Azula had hinted at is, not just yet anyway.
The spar continues for some time and Zuko slowly works his way through more and more
advanced forms. Eventually, Ozai decides he's pushed the boy as far as he should for one day.
"Enough!" Ozai yells over the roar of the flames.

Zuko's next strike is promptly aborted halfway through the movement, the fire fizzling away
just in front of his fist. The prince bows, exertion clear as what little breath-control he had
retained to that point quickly falls apart with the conclusion of the spar.
"Thank you for taking the time to train with me, Father," the child pants.
Ozai crosses the field as the prince straightens and offers his son a smile. He places a hand on
the boy's shoulder and says, "You did well."
The boy flushes with pride before doubt creeps over his face. "But my flames were weak, and
I stumbled on form three, and --"
"Zuko," Ozai interrupts and the child obediently falls silent. "You are thirteen and you are
learning," the Fire Lord says, "You are going to make mistakes. That isn't the question. The
question is will you push yourself back to your feet after every fall?"
Zuko blinks up at him in surprise, but it isn't long before the boy squares his stance and
declares, "Yes. I will."
"Good." Ozai squeezes his son's shoulder before letting go. "I'll speak to Iroh about your
training going forward," he informs his son as he strides over to the same closet of supplies
that Agni had raided earlier in the morning.
Ending a training session with a breath-control exercise is a long tradition in the Fire Nation,
especially among firebenders. Oil lamps, jars of oil, metal frames, metal posts with hooks,
ceramic targets, paper targets, rectangular slips of paper, a variety of candles, and several
candle holders all crowd the closet, even as neatly arranged as they are. Ozai feels his
eyebrows climb his forehead when he realizes that several of the candles must have partially
melted at some point and are bent over the paper slips. A quiet snort escapes his composure
when he gets hit with a small epiphany and a sudden, wild desire to ask the Sun Spirit's
opinion on wax as a general substance. He'll have to instruct the servants to rearrange the
closet with the candles tucked away on the lowest shelf and kept separate from everything
else, or possibly have them placed in a different closet altogether. For now, he selects two of
the shorter, slender candles that remain straight and a pair of matching holders before closing
the closet.
Ozai sits cross-legged on the stone floor outside the sparring field and begins to set up the
candles. "Join me."
Zuko promptly settles himself across from the Fire Lord. Ozai holds an upturned hand
between them, but his eyes are on the prince as he calls forth his bending. Fire leaps high in
his hand, startling the boy, before Ozai tames it into a more appropriate and easily maintained
fistful of flame hovering over his palm. His son's eyes fill with wonder and an excited smile
spreads across the boy's face.
"It's white!" Zuko exclaims, "Are those Agni's Flames? Like the legends?"
Ozai smirks. "They are. Unfortunately, Agni's gift has left my control shattered, and it will
take time for me to relearn what I have lost." The Fire Lord carefully lights the candle wicks
and then releases the handful of fire so that it dissipates harmlessly in the air. The little flames
left behind burn in cheery, well-mannered yellows atop their candles. "You could probably
beat me in this exercise right now. If you concentrate."
Zuko looks between him and the candles, once more hesitant and uncertain.
"It isn't disrespectful," Ozai encourages, voice gentle, "It's practice. For both of us."
Zuko contemplates the words and candles alike for another long moment but then nods with
new found determination. "I am honored to be considered a worthy opponent, Father," the
boy says, "I accept your challenge."
Ozai grins at his son. "You're still going to have to work for your victory."
Zuko offers a smile of his own in return that is only slightly tentative. "Yes, Father. I plan to."
Ozai chuckles and then both royals fall into matching breath patterns as they begin, one
candle burning yellow and orange while the other blazes brightly before being tempered into
a more controlled tongue of white.
Chapter End Notes

Tea with a Familial Stranger
Chapter Notes
Bathing had been awkward. Necessary, after this morning's firebending practice, and
inevitable in the long run regardless of his chosen activities, but awkward all the same. Ozai
has never wanted to know what his father looked like naked, except that the body in question
is his now and some things are impractical -- impossible -- to avoid, like the basic demands
of self care and hygiene.
"Bodies aren't meant to be recycled," the Fire Lord mutters under his breath as he navigates
the palace hallways to Iroh's suite in the guest wing.
Ever since the older man chose not to pursue his birthright, Iroh has existed in an odd royal-
and-yet-not limbo in the Fire Nation's laws and culture. His royal titles have all been revoked,
but not his military achievements. He has lost his place in the succession as if dishonored,
and yet he has not been officially erased from the family records. The palace remains his
home, but his rooms neighbor the visiting nobles, generals, and ministers, rather than the rest
of the royal family. The blood of Kuzon the Uniter flows through his veins, and, ironically
enough, that fact threatens to become a rallying cry that could split the country in two should
rumors begin to spread that Iroh does not support the current Fire Lord's reign.
It's a delicate balance and not one that Ozai thinks can be sustained. He wishes he had a
better idea of how to repair the rift between Iroh and the rest of the family, but he's learned
that certain problems can only be solved one step at a time.
The sharp double rap on the door draws Iroh's attention from his tea. A moment later, the
door opens a bare inch and a guard's voice announces, "Fire Lord Ozai is here to see you,
General." And then the door is quietly relatched.
Iroh sets his teacup down on its saucer and stares at his suite's entrance in something
approaching disbelief. Ozai has sought him out again?
The man grunts as he pushes himself to his feet, missing the spryness of his youth.
True to the guard's words, Ozai stands on the other side of the door when Iroh opens it.
"Brother," he greets with a bow.
"May I come in?" the Fire Lord requests politely.
Iroh fights not to appear completely dumbstruck. They both know that the Fire Lord need not
ask for anything, let alone entrance into one of the rooms in his own palace. Furthermore, this
marks the fourth time in the last twenty-four hours that his younger brother has arranged for
them to speak privately. Never before has Ozai shown such an interest in his company. And
yet... Agni himself had gone out of his way this morning to remind him that Ozai's oath --
which potentially risks his position as Fire Lord -- has not been revoked, but rather stands as
a testament to Ozai's regard and Agni's tolerance of 'the foolishness of mortal man and
particularly that of Kuzon's brood,' as the Sun Spirit had put it.
He steps aside and gestures for the younger man to join him in his suite's anteroom.
"Thank you," Ozai says, sweeping past him and taking a seat in the chair opposite the couch
Iroh had occupied only a few seconds before.
The retired general shuts the door behind his brother. He retrieves another cup and saucer
from his cupboard of personal tea supplies and proceeds to pour the other man a cup of tea
from the pot. "What is it that brings you to my rooms, Brother?" he asks as he places the
fresh teacup and saucer in front of the Fire Lord.
Having been asked bluntly, Ozai doesn't waste any further time. "Prince Zuko's firebending
lessons have clearly been rushed. There are flaws in his foundational understanding of the art
and his discipline is sloppy. I don't know if his previous instructors felt pressured by the pace
of Princess Azula's progress or if they were simply neglectful. Either way, the results are the
same. I don't have the time to devote to the task myself. Would you be willing to take on
Zuko's firebending training?"
Iroh frowns into his tea. "If the problems begin in his mastery of the basics as you say, then
this is not a new problem."
"No." Ozai's gaze is fixed on him with a single-mindedness that another man might find to be
disquieting, but Azulon's stare had often been just as focussed and intent. Iroh has long since
learned how to break free of the silent demands behind such eyes.
He sips his tea to buy time. Is it worth prodding further at this apparent change in his brother?
There have been so many that Iroh barely recognizes the man across from him. He and Ozai
have never been close -- for many reasons -- but he had thought he had some idea of who his
younger brother is. He would like to take the very convenient excuse the spirits have
provided him for why the man he is sharing tea with is a stranger, but his expectations of his
brother were proven wrong in the degrees before the spirits' intervention. He'd never thought
Ozai cruel enough to engage in an Agni Kai against his own son until he was witnessing the
event unfold before his very eyes, nor had he ever imagined that his brother would disregard
the boy's surrender, twice. And that does not begin to touch upon the matter of what he had
said to Prince Zuko!
He makes no attempt to hide the accusation in his next question. "Why choose now to care
about a child you have neglected this long?"
Ozai's jaw clenches but he continues to hold his intense stare. After a few long seconds of
silence, the Fire Lord answers, "Guess. I'd think the reason for the timing should be easy
enough to figure out."
Iroh scowls and sets his teacup on its saucer with a harsh clank before he can shatter it. "So, it
only takes the spirits for you to see value in your son."
Ozai's mouth opens only to snap closed without saying a word as his eyes widen and he looks
away. The Fire Lord's hands fist in his lap. The man's lips twist and his brow furrows as he
wrestles with unvoiced thoughts. It is only after the first droplets have pattered against the
back of Iroh's wrist, and he has brushed his hand over his cheek to confirm, that he realizes
what has caused the Fire Lord's sudden hesitation.
How foolish of him to be crying over his boy again. His tears had not saved his son at Ba
Sing Se's wall and they will do nothing for him now, going on two years after his death. And
it is all the more foolish of him to mourn the loss of his son in front of the man that had used
Lu Ten's death as a stepping stone to further his ambitions.
"Lu Ten was a brave and honorable man," Ozai says around a grimace, "I --"
"Do not!" Iroh snaps, "I will not have your false sympathies over my son's death!"
Ozai pauses before giving him a shallow acquiescing nod. "As you wish." The Fire Lord
meets his eyes again before continuing, "And Zuko? Are you willing to train him?"
"That depends," Iroh says, wiping his face clean of tears. He is not ashamed to grieve over
the loss of his child, but Ozai has proven that he is not above wielding Lu Ten's death as a
tool to achieve his aims and Iroh will not allow himself to be the means through which Ozai
further degrades the memory of his lost prince.
"On?"
"'You will learn respect, and suffering.' Are these still words you intend to see realized, or is
this another thing that has changed?" he challenges, "I have no desire to be a punishment
inflicted upon my nephew. If he truly needs to be retrained, I am willing to help, but if this is
instead some attempt to humiliate Prince Zuko, then I want no part in it!"
The Fire Lord appears staggered and perhaps Iroh should not be surprised. He cannot recall if
he has ever spoken to his brother so bluntly in the past. Ozai seems to regain his senses after
a brief moment and releases a hissing torrent of steam through his teeth. "That was said?" he
demands, "Those exact words?"
Iroh frowns. "Yes. Do you not remember? It was just before the spirits intervened." He
considers the thought some more. "Given the rather dramatic display that it was, it is possible
that very few of those who witnessed the Agni Kai and its surrounding events will recall your
statement to Prince Zuko."
"But the boy will," Ozai says, pinching the bridge of his nose as if fighting off a headache.
"That might actually be worse than..." the words trail off in a frustrated growl. "Agni damn
it!" the Fire Lord seethes before his head tips ever so slightly further forward than it had been
and the man utters a quiet grunt.
"...Ozai?"
His brother sighs, leans back in the chair he is occupying, and meets his gaze. "I've been
reminded that I have Agni's attention," the Fire Lord explains, "and that he hears when his
name is said."
Iroh absorbs that statement, thinking back to the moment he had thoughtlessly thanked Agni
in the training courtyard, and cannot help feeling stunned and simultaneously skeptical of the
implied claim. "Agni spoke to you just now?" he checks.
Ozai hums and says, "I told you that he's been an almost constant presence. He doesn't
always bother to build a body of fire. I think it might be easier for him to reach me, rather
than crossing into our world directly." His brow furrows as he continues, "I'm beginning to
suspect I've been tied to the spirit world somehow, or maybe specifically to Agni. It would
help to explain this." The man gestures carelessly toward his face, eyes bright as twin flames.
"Perhaps. The glow does not appear to have diminished, in any case, and I do not have a
better theory to offer you." There are a few mentions in the records about some of the ancient
Fire Lords' eyes, comparing them to those of a predator or, at times, specifically those of a
dragon. He'd thought it was merely poetic phrasing to describe the fierce or cunning
dispositions of his ancestors, but perhaps the old texts had meant to convey something else
entirely. "It could be a normal condition of becoming Agni's Herald," he says, "We have lost
much of our knowledge regarding the heraldship."
"I become more aware of that with every hour that passes." The Fire Lord scrubs a hand over
his face before meeting his eyes again. "It's not a punishment," he says, bringing their
conversation back to its previous topic, "Zuko needs better instruction than he has received. I
would consider it a personal favor if you would be willing to teach him."
"Very well. I will give Prince Zuko my own evaluation. Tomorrow. If his training is indeed as
flawed as you say, I will do what I can to correct it."
"Thank you."
Iroh hums a noncommittal response. He's not sure he trusts a 'thank you' from Ozai to be
anything more than another manipulation. "I believe the prince is typically instructed in
firebending during the hours before lunch?"
"Yes."
"Then, if you find it agreeable, I will let you know my final answer on the matter over
tomorrow's lunch."
"Lunch?" the Fire Lord questions, seemingly surprised. A tentative smile tries to form on the
younger man's face before he crushes it, hiding his mouth behind a fist and clearing his
throat. "Lunch. Yes. That's agreeable," he says awkwardly.
The retired general is uncertain what to make of his brother's behavior, so he decides not to
address it. Not in this moment, at any rate. "Was there anything else you wished to discuss?"
Iroh asks and finishes off his current cup of tea. He should have at least another half-cup left
in the pot, he thinks.
"No. No, it was just the one thing." Ozai stands and says, "I shouldn't intrude on your
hospitality further. I'll see you tomorrow. For lunch." He frowns. "And probably a war
meeting after that. I need to speak with the clerks next to rearrange the rest of this week's
schedule."
Iroh nods to acknowledge the words but gestures to the untouched cup and saucer left
abandoned on the table. "You have not even tried the tea," he remarks, "I prepare it myself,
you know. I like to think I have acquired some skill in the art of brewing."
The Fire Lord rolls his eyes, scoops up the neglected cup, and swallows its contents all at
once. He sets the cup back down on its saucer and says in a wholly perfunctory manner, "It's
very good."
Iroh can't help feeling insulted by the display. "You did not even taste it!" he chides, "Brother,
tea is meant to be savored. Not thrown back like cheap alcohol!"
"Iroh," the other man huffs impatiently, "I have a country to run. I'm not going to waste time
on savoring what amounts to hot leaf juice."
He reels back, thoroughly disgruntled to learn of this previously unknown flaw in his
brother's character. "'Hot leaf juice,' you say?" Iroh strokes his beard and runs a critical eye
over the Fire Lord's unimpressed stance and stubborn scowl. (The thought that the Fire Lord
currently resembles a sulking teenager flits through his mind before being swiftly dismissed.)
"It would seem that Prince Zuko is not the only one who has received faulty training. A Fire
Lord without a proper appreciation for tea..." Iroh bemoans the fate of the nation and decides,
"I will bring a pot of ginseng with me for tomorrow's lunch. Regardless of my decision on
Prince Zuko's firebending, we should begin your training immediately."
Ozai does not react the way Iroh would have expected him to, had Iroh taken the time to
think about how he would have expected Ozai to react. Instead, his brother stares at him for a
moment before bursting into laughter, one hand clutching the nearby chair's backrest for
support and the other arm tucked around his abdomen.
Iroh can only stare in bewilderment.
"I'm sorry," the Fire Lord apologizes between lingering chortles as his mirth winds down,
waving one hand in some vague gesture while the other continues to cling to the chair, "I just
-- It's good, after everything that's happened, to know that some things remain unchanged. I
needed that more than I realized. Thank you. Brother."
And then Ozai bows. It's shallow, representing gratitude between equals if he is reading it
correctly, but it is still undeniably a bow from the Fire Lord. It is almost as inappropriate a
behavior as sitting at his feet in the training courtyard had been. If Ozai isn't mindful of such
acts and their potential audiences, he could start rumors every bit as destabilizing as anything
Iroh could try to stir up on his own. (Iroh tries not to think about Ozai's oath of honor to him,
and the argument with Agni that the Fire Lord had immediately gotten into following it.
There had been at least six direct witnesses to the event and news has doubtlessly already
begun to spread, especially as Ozai himself ordered the sages to give an honest report to the
temple. Time alone will reveal what results the oath shall bear.)
"I'll leave you to savor the rest of your tea," Ozai says, but the words carry no mocking tone
and a smile remains from his previous laughter, "Until tomorrow."
"Until tomorrow," Iroh repeats, too preoccupied with his increasingly tumultuous thoughts to
offer a different farewell.
The Fire Lord nods and sees himself out.
Iroh collapses back into the waiting cushioned support of the couch and stares unseeingly
ahead. He needs to renew his research into spirits, he decides, particularly in regards to what
it may mean when spirits refer to a mortal as 'reforged.'
Chapter End Notes
Meanwhile, in a world two years behind and a step to the left, Iroh is facing an eerily
similar mystery with some rather dramatic political fallout as its result.

On Schedule
Chapter Notes
Ozai skims over the latest draft of his schedule for the week. Head Clerk Dar Ling waits for
the Fire Lord's approval at his shoulder and Senior Clerk Wen Li, the second-ranked clerk,
sits ready nearby with brush and parchment at hand to begin scrawling out yet another
iteration should this draft not meet the Fire Lord's approval.
There is a strong family resemblance between the two clerks. Ozai suspects the middle-aged
woman is either the Head Clerk's daughter or niece, but he can't fault the work she produces.
Wen Li's brush is fast and accurate with a skill that she likely honed at the old man's knee.
The ink at the beginning of each draft has barely dried by the time the clerk carefully hands
them over for Ozai's inspection. As a result, and rather ironically, there are more ink stains
decorating the Fire Lord's hands than there are on the near spotless hands of the Senior Clerk.
(Wen Li had begun to leave wider margins around the edges of the sheets after the first
careless smudging of her work and Dar Ling had immediately offered up a fine cleaning cloth
from a pocket with a polite, "My lord.")
"And in this version, how long will it take to catch up with the rescheduled appointments?"
the Fire Lord asks.
He's already settled on dealing with the nation's regular needs in the mornings and focussing
on de-escalation efforts in the afternoons, but he'd displaced the last half of yesterday's and
all of today's planned events almost as soon as he'd been dropped into this time. He'll be
displacing even more in this week's upcoming series of afternoons as he works on starting to
shift the Fire Nation from being a country at war with its neighbors to one pursuing peace. He
needs to meet those delayed obligations at some point, if he can.
"Discarding the cancelled appointments," Dar Ling says, voice creaking from age like old
floorboards, "just under a month will see everything tended to. Any appointments yet to be
arranged will, of course, either see that time extended or else have to be scheduled further
out."
Ozai hums in response, eyes still reading over the lines. Of all his father's faults, keeping up
with the minutiae of ruling the nation apparently hadn't been one of them. This is his second
time taking over the role of Fire Lord from the same man and neither time had the former
monarch's schedule or desk been inundated with work waiting to be done. He wonders if his
father had been more efficient at the job or merely more willing to dismiss and delegate
matters he deemed to be of lesser importance. He recalls often feeling like he was drowning
under the paperwork alone, especially during the first few months after his coronation.
"If any of the cancelled appointments seek to be rescheduled, make sure to note that in the
proposals," Ozai instructs.
"As you wish, Fire Lord," Dar Ling says.

There is an interior meeting with the ministers of the Mother Islands scheduled for the day
after tomorrow. He'd expected to have to wait almost two weeks to arrange an emergency
meeting with them. It takes a messenger hawk two or three days to reach the farthest islands
and a little over a week for the ministers from the most distant islands to comfortably make
the trek to the capital. He'll still need to wait to meet with any of the colony governors.
Unlike the island ministers, colony governors rarely travel to the capital to discuss the
general operations and daily running of their assigned territories directly with the Fire Lord.
It might not be feasible to speak with most of the governors face-to-face until after
negotiations are fully underway with the nearest Earth kings. Until then, messenger hawks
and envoys will have to do.
And now that the thought has crossed his mind...
Ozai keeps his eyes trained on the proposed schedule in his hands as he says, "Just to
confirm, the orders to cease aggressions have all been sent out?"
"Yes, my lord," Dar Ling answers promptly, "Every scribe worked late to ensure the
appropriate number of copies of your orders were finished with all haste last night. The birds
were released at first light this morning."
"Good. Thank you."
The afternoons of the days before and after the ministers' meeting are dedicated entirely to
war meetings with the generals, in case one meeting is not enough to iron out the details of
their first steps. There's a good chance that he will end up sending some of the more
trustworthy generals out to assume control over certain theaters. A part of him that has never
fully grown comfortable with delegating tasks to others wishes that he could go to personally
oversee everything, but that isn't practical in the least and the Eastern Continent isn't where
he is most needed.
In the coming weeks, he is also hoping to arrange meetings with the state industrial
administrators, trade guilds, farmers, archivists, and school administrators. After almost a
century, the war has become entrenched in nearly every aspect of their culture. Failing to
address the more subtle branches of the war had threatened to plunge the country into open
violence or financial ruin or any number of other stumbling blocks that had plagued his first
year as Fire Lord. Ozai would prefer to ease some of those national growing pains this time
around if at all possible, and it starts by addressing those issues before they begin to cause
problems big enough to draw attention.
Ozai reaches the last line of the schedule. For the most part, he's pleased with what he, Dar
Ling, and Wen Li have constructed.
"There is one more thing..."
"Of course, my lord," Dar Ling says and Wen Li picks up her brush, hovering its tip over the
inkwell.
The Fire Lord holds up a stalling hand. "It won't require a complete rewrite for the draft,"
Ozai promises and instead lays the copy in his hand down on the table near the seated clerk,
"With the appropriate exceptions for conflicts in scheduling, I'd like to make having breakfast
with the prince and princess a regular occurance."
He remembers the two years between his mother's disappearance and his banishment as being
particularly lonely, despite being continually surrounded by servants and instructors. Father
had always been distant and only grew to be more so during that time. Uncle had spent a year
completely out of contact before he finally returned, and by then he had been closer to being
a stranger than family. Lu Ten was dead. As was Grandfather. For all they fought and
snapped at each other, Zuko and Azula had been the closest family either of them had known
for that span of time. He wants them to have more than that. He doesn't want children --
especially children that are now his own -- to feel as if they have been abandoned by every
adult in their lives.
Wen Li ducks her head as she writes a quick note in the margins of the draft. He thinks the
clerk might be smiling.
"An excellent idea, your majesty," Dar Ling offers his praise.
"And..." Iroh did mention his determination to fix the Fire Lord's underdeveloped
appreciation for tea. "Make a similar arrangement for lunch with my brother."
Both clerks look at him in surprise and Clerk Wen Li is definitely smiling when she again
ducks her head and adds a second note. Ozai is a bit surprised himself when Wen Li finally
breaks her silence to say, "It is good to see the royal family beginning to heal, my lord."
"It heartens the nation when the royal family is well," Dar Ling agrees.
Ozai flushes faintly and resists the urge to rub the back of his neck sheepishly. "Right... That
should be everything. Thank you. Have the official schedule drawn up and send out the
corresponding notifications and requests to the necessary parties."
"As you wish, Fire Lord," Dar Ling says, looking pleased to have successfully arranged the
schedule to the satisfaction of the nation's leader.
"There is one more matter, my lord," Wen Li speaks up softly, meeting his eyes. She looks
nervous but determined all the same. "There have been... certain whispers floating about the
palace," she says, "Should the 'Herald of Agni' title be reinstated amongst your other titles?"
Head Clerk Dar Ling frowns. "Wen Li," the man chides, "you shouldn't pay those ridiculous
tales any mind. The great spirits left us many centuries ago."
"Forgive me, Head Clerk, but should we not --"
Ozai raises an arm between the clerks and summons a handful of white fire. "Yes, reinstate it.
Have it listed first among them."
"It's true!" Wen Li gasps in delight.
Dar Ling's expression drops in shock before he bows deeply and pleads, "Please forgive my
disrespect, Herald!"
Ozai dismisses the flames and allows his hand to fall back to his side. "Please, rise. Your
skepticism was understandable. It has been a very long time, but Agni has returned to us."
The head clerk tentatively straightens, seeming to very much expect some kind of greater
penalty for his doubts.
"A real Herald of Agni," Wen Li says, drawing the men's attention, "In our lifetime! Can you
believe it, Father?"
"It would be rather difficult to deny it at this point, dear," Dar Ling admits. The man clears
his throat. "B-but we are still at work and this talk is unprofessional, Clerk Wen Li."
The woman blinks and then flushes, "O-of course! Please forgive my lapse, Fire Lord, Head
Clerk!" She offers her best bow while awkwardly caught between her chair and the table.
"Neither of you have done anything that requires my forgiveness," Ozai assures, struck anew
by the strong family resemblance the two share.
"This... is good news, isn't it?" Dar Ling muses, tugging lightly at the neat goatee he keeps,
"Our patron spirit has returned to us. This is good for the nation. We'll need to scour the
archives for the old ceremonies." He drags his rambling thoughts back to the present and
refocusses on the Fire Lord. "Will we be reinstating the old ceremonies, my lord?" he asks.
Ozai frowns as he considers that. "Have a list made," he decides, "I'll ask Agni which ones he
wants brought back and when." He has no idea how much of their culture and ceremonies
they've lost since the time they openly revered and celebrated Agni.
"And..." Dar Ling hesitates, "Should we also prepare a list for the other great spirits? Are
they likewise returning to our world?"
La and Tui are up to something somewhere, he knows that much. And Agni had said that
more spirits would want to help, but the Sun Spirit hadn't provided him with any further
names. Still... "It's probable that other great spirits will also return. Prepare the second list,
but prioritize the one for Agni."
"Of course, Fire Lord. We will begin to compile that information immediately!"
"Is there anything further?" Ozai asks.
Dar Ling and Wen Li share a quick glance. "No, your majesty," Dar Ling answers for both of
them.
"In that case, you may return to your other duties." The clerks bow and Ozai takes his leave.
Wen Li does not wait quite long enough to ask, "Do you think the Avatar will also return,
Father?"
Ozai stops to listen.

"Avatar, bah!" Dar Ling says in response, "If we are lucky, that is one spirit that will stay
gone."
"Szeto was beloved by the Fire Nation!" Wen Li objects, "And Yangchen served honorably!"
"And Kuruk was a troublemaker, Kyoshi a tyrant, and Roku a traitor. Each worse than the
Avatar that preceded them," Dar Ling refutes, "With the way things were going, far better for
the world to be free of the Avatar altogether. Who knows how disastrous the next would have
been? And do not forget what Sozin had done to the airbenders. If there is another Avatar, our
nation will not be regarded well in their eyes if they are born to any people other than our
own. No, far better for us all if the Avatar never returns."
"I suppose," Wen Li sighs.
"There are days I wish your mother had not filled your head with quite so many spirit tales
while you and your brothers were young," Dar Ling says, "You have a good life here in this
world, dear girl."
"Father, I am quite happy with my life but I am no 'girl,'" she huffs, "Have I not given you six
grandsons?"
"Indeed you have!" Dar Ling agrees happily, "And I look forward to spending my upcoming
retirement encouraging each of your handsome boys to find lovely wives of their own while
you deal with the paperwork here. Spirits willing, I shall see all of them and their cousins
well settled before I journey to the next world and join the spirits. When is young Tom's
wedding, again?"
"The week after next," Wen Li answers, "And you would do well not to embarrass your
grandsons. They will find wives faster without your interference."
"Nonsense! I am an excellent wingman!" Dar Ling says, "But, because it is your request, dear
daughter, I shall attempt more subtle methods."
Wen Li giggles. "Thank you. I'm sure the boys will appreciate your restraint."
Ozai frowns as he leaves the duo to their chatter and continues on his way.
Dar Ling will not be the only one to hold such an opinion on the Avatar's return. If anything,
Ozai would bet that it is a fairly common stance to hold on the issue, among his people. As
far as he's ever cared to research the matter -- which, admittedly, hadn't been much -- Avatars
Kuruk and Kyoshi had been largely unpopular outside of their respective homes. Roku and
Sozin -- historical figures he has researched more thoroughly, if only because of his personal
connection to both men -- had lived in an uneasy stalemate for decades, and Sozin had most
of the records on Avatar Roku scrubbed from the Fire Nation's history scrolls after the other
man's death. What remains of him in the cultural psyche of the Fire Nation is little more than
the shadow of a disloyal villain.
In short, the Avatar has not been a widely acclaimed figure in the Fire Nation for centuries,
long before Sozin and Roku came to be entangled in a very public feud over the nation's
expanding borders.
He sighs. It seems he's found one more thing he needs to bring in line with the future he's
trying to build for his nation. Hopefully, he can do so before Aang wakes up from the stasis
the Avatar Spirit has him in.
Chapter End Notes

Fledgeling
Chapter Notes
The desk hadn't been overflowing with work when he'd started, but Ozai can feel the
headache forming behind his eyes all the same. To be fair to himself, he's been at this for
hours, first skimming and resorting the various papers from his father's system to his own,
and then actually working to answer, sign, approve, or reject each collection of missives or
forms as needed.
...It's nice having fully unimpaired eyesight again. His left eye hadn't suffered as great a loss
of vision as most seemed to assume from the surrounding scar, but there had been some
damage along those lines, and reading had always been an activity that made the degradation
starkly apparent. Either way, however, it seems he's doomed to chronic tension headaches for
as long as he remains Fire Lord.
He signs off on one last form -- the official retiring of the oldest serving cruiser-style ships,
specifically the Wani's class, funnily enough -- and sets down his brush. (He'd felt alien to
himself directly after the first thoughtless signature he'd scrawled out had resulted in an
abstract 'Ozai' rather than 'Zuko.' He'd laughed hysterically and only had the presence of
mind to be grateful that he was alone after the fact. Still, at least learning to forge his father's
signature isn't something he needs to worry about.)
He resists the desire to scrub his ink-stained hands over his face. A black-smudged face isn't
the greatest look for a Fire Lord. Instead, Ozai wipes his hands free of any remaining wet ink
with the cloth Dar Ling had gifted him before rolling up and sealing his last set of finished
paperwork for the afternoon. (Or evening, he supposes. It's begun to get late in the day at this
point.) Each of the wax seals get stamped by the imperial signet ring and then set aside to
cure fully on racks that the servants will collect early tomorrow morning.
Ozai considers the dancing lights and shadows playing across the ceiling above his office's
east window. On occasion, the flashes of light are tinted blue. Azula has yet to master the
blue flame that she will become renowned for, but she's close. Her bending flares stronger
and hotter in sporadic bursts without an apparent reason behind the fluctuations, but those
same unpredictable spikes in power have been increasing in frequency. Ever so slowly, the
princess progresses toward the goal of a sustained and consistent blue fire.
Ozai moves to the window to watch the small figure below throw flames of bright yellow and
blue across the courtyard. All of eleven years old, and the child prodigy is well on her way to
achieving a level of firebending mastery that few ever do. He's never really thought about
how hard Azula was pushed to achieve her prowess in the art.
Zuko trains for two hours every day under the midday sun. Azula trains for three hours daily
as Agni prepares to depart beyond the horizon. Both training regimes are aggressive, but
there is no debate as to which is the more demanding of the two.
His sister may have been born lucky, but she had also earned the skill into which she had
crafted her natural talent. Now the question is if he can coax his daughter into using all the
skill and talent she is honing for something that isn't tormenting her brother and the servants.
Agni had called Azula 'dragon-hearted.' The Sun Spirit had listed her traits as fierce, loyal,
and ruthless. Ozai can think of another dragon-like trait that applies to his new daughter.
Namely, Azula is possessive. It's a step to the left of being protective, but maybe she could be
nudged in that direction with some encouragement. It's worth trying, at any rate. Regardless
of any long-term plans, however, he needs to speak with her after the task he'd given her at
this morning's breakfast. The last thing he needs is for Azula to twist his words into a mission
to hunt down any hypothetical intruders.
Decision made, Ozai once more makes his way to the training courtyard.
Li and Lo hadn't allowed her to make any changes to her training. She isn't terribly surprised
that the old crones are unwilling to budge on their schedule. It's been carefully crafted and
tailored to her already, after all.
Azula doesn't doubt that she could push beyond the limits of her current regime, but she's
been confronted with the fact that she would then need to sustain that higher level
indefinitely and she is less certain about her body's ability to endure the demands without
injury. How irritating. And then there is the time it would take away from her other lessons to
consider as well. It wouldn't do for a princess of the Fire Nation to have a lacking education.
Utterly unacceptable.
Instead of fighting against Li's and Lo's wisdom, however aggravating, Azula throws herself
into the day's planned katas with a vengeance.
Most of the katas in question are heavily focussed on kicks to help draw out the blue fire she
is on the verge of harnessing. The chi lines in the legs are thicker and stronger than the lines
in the arms. They also provide a more direct path for the sea of chi in the belly to exit the
body in flames than the pathways up the torso and then down the arms do. In short, a
firebender can generally produce larger, hotter plumes of fire from their feet than their hands.
Li's and Lo's theory is that if Azula can achieve regular results with her kicks, then the
breakthrough for the rest of her bending should fall into place shortly after. It's as good a
theory as any other that is available to them. The last known blue flame user died five
generations before Azula's birth and the surviving records regarding the blue flame do not
offer recommended methods or techniques for achieving the ability.
No matter. Azula has never shrunk from a challenge and she will not begin now.
Ozai nods to Li and Lo as he enters the courtyard, joining them in observing the girl's
movements through her assigned kata. He's never learned how to tell the twins apart. He's not
entirely sure if his sister ever did, either, for that matter.
"Fire Lord Ozai," creaks one of the elderly women.

The other woman adds, "You honor us."
Ozai nods in greeting. "How is she doing?"
"Princess Azula's dedication is a credit to your line, Fire Lord," the first twin remarks.
The second twin continues the thought, "Her flames grow hotter by the day. We have hopes
that she will have mastered the blue flame by the end of the month."
"I see," Ozai murmurs, watching his daughter jump high and come down with her heel
wreathed in cobalt fire, "I would like to evaluate the princess' progress personally."
"As you wish, Fire Lord," both twins say together.
Azula works her way through another series of punches and kicks before she finishes her
current kata and turns smoothly to regard him. "Father," she says with a disciplined bow, as if
she is not sweating and fatigued from the intensive exercise she has been engaged in.
"Azula," he responds. He shrugs off his outer robes and drapes them over the arm of the
bench Li and Lo are occupying.
Azula watches every motion with sharp eyes. She tenses ever so slightly as he approaches.
He likely wouldn't have even noticed if she wasn't lacking her own outer robes, but, as it is,
he sees the slight movement in her shoulders and the rebalancing of her weight.
"I was hoping you might feel up to a spar," Ozai says, tone kept carefully light. Azula does
not relax.
"Of course, Father," the girl answers. There is the slightest of hesitations before she adds, "I
had thought your new flames would take longer to bring under control."
Ozai blinks and then suppresses a grimace. The comment is precisely crafted to be neither an
insult nor a questioning of the Fire Lord's judgement, but Azula had seen first hand how
uncontrolled his bending currently is. How dangerous it is. No wonder she has misgivings
about the exercise.
"I do not have full control yet," he admits as he takes his place on the other end of the
sparring arena, "I will be blocking and deflecting."
"I see," Azula says. She considers him for perhaps half a second more before sinking into a
ready stance with a slow smirk, "I suppose I have outgrown my other sparring partners."
It is ridiculously relieving to see the reemergence of the boastful viper he remembers from his
childhood rather than the cautious court mask. He never thought he'd miss Azula's arrogant,
vicious side, but anything is better than witnessing her fear and knowing he is the cause.
"It won't be a regular thing. There are too many demands on my time to allow for it," Ozai
says, mirroring Azula's opening stance, "Attack!"
Unlike Zuko, Azula does not hesitate. She throws herself wholeheartedly into a fierce assault
with a rush of flame every bit as ferocious and determined as its bender. The fire flares bright
white as he deflects it. Azula's bending is stronger and hotter than the best of Prince Zuko's
flames had been, and the temperatures only soar higher as Ozai is forced to add his own chi
to the flames to rip them away from the eleven-year-old prodigy and send them away in a
safe direction.
Azula does not relent. Her attacks come quickly as she combines them fluidly, always in
motion and changing the angle of her assault constantly. Even if he were to go back on his
word and attempt to launch an offensive himself, Azula leaves few openings in her one-
bender siege and what few exist would be difficult to take advantage of for anyone with less
training than an Imperial Firebender.
He can't fault the results of Li's and Lo's lessons.
"Enough!"
Azula instantly dismisses the flames she'd been preparing to throw and bows. "Thank you for
the spar, Father," his daughter says. Her breathing is deep but steady under her iron will.
Ozai glances at Li and Lo. "The princess is progressing well under your tutelage. I apologize
for interrupting your regime for her. However, there are matters I must discuss with my
daughter privately and I believe it would be appropriate for her to be excused from the rest of
tonight's session."
The two old women rise to their feet, if slowly.
"We are pleased to hear our efforts have met your approval, Fire Lord," says one.
"And awed to witness with our own eyes the return of Agni's greatest blessing to the line of
Kuzon," the other says.
Both bow shallowly, as is appropriate for the elderly who are no longer as sure on their feet
as they had been in their youth. "Herald," they intone in parting, before rising from their
bows and shuffling out the door.
Ozai waits for the women to depart and the door to close before taking the three strides
necessary to close the distance between himself and his daughter. He then tugs lightly on one
of the locks framing her face and says, "You did well, Little Dragon."
Azula blinks up at him, cocks her head slightly, and ultimately seems to decide to simply be
pleased by the praise. Her smile is small but lacking the edge so many of her usual smirks
and grins retain. "I'll do even better soon," she claims, "I'm very close to mastering the blue
flame."
"You are," Ozai agrees, "but that isn't what I need to speak to you about." He nods toward the
supplies closet and instructs, "Go fetch your cooldown supplies and a tall candle."
"Yes, Father."
Ozai shakes the sand from his shoes and settles himself on the stone floor beside the sparring
field. Azula returns, seating herself across from him and placing the candle down between
them. She pinches the end of the wick to light it before doing the same to the slip of paper
still in her hands.
Ozai raises a brow at the chosen activity for the princess' breathing exercise. It's very... basic.
"I hadn't expected you to prefer to end your training with the Smolder Ring," he observes.
Azula glances at him before returning her eyes to the tiny embers slowly eating away at the
paper. "Preference has little to do with my training, Father," the girl says.
"Then why choose it?" Ozai asks.
"It was the next in the cycle."
"Cycle?"
Azula glances at him again. "Instructors Li and Lo have made it clear that each breathing
exercise they have assigned for the end of my firebending lessons focus on training different
facets of the art. Furthermore, my instructors insist that all of my assigned breathing exercises
be cycled through evenly to ensure that each is practiced regularly.
"Smolder Ring teaches restraint and fine control over the smallest embers. Breaths should be
slow and shallow.
"Vacillating Tongue," she nods to indicate Ozai's single candle, "focusses instead on the
controlled rise and fall of power. Breaths should be full with even inhales and exhales."
Ozai hums an acknowledgement and says, "You've learned well under Li and Lo." There is a
small part of him that is still jealous of the training his sister had been given when they were
children. None of his childhood instructors at the palace had explained the purpose of any of
the exercises he was expected to do so clearly as Azula's have to her.
"Thank you, Father. They are adequate instructors."
The next three degrees are spent in silence as both royals focus on their different breathing
exercises.
Ozai pinches out the flame of his candle, drawing Azula's attention. "About the task I
assigned you this morning at breakfast," he says slowly, "it would be prudent to clarify a few
things."
Azula's next exhale smothers the circle of cinders and she sets the paper aside to give Ozai
her undivided attention. "You mean my mission to protect our home from traitors?" the girl
asks. "I'm ready, Father. I won't disappoint you."
"I know you won't," Ozai says, "But to be clear, your job is to protect yourself and your
brother. Nothing more. Do not endanger yourself needlessly. Iroh and I can protect ourselves.
The palace can be rebuilt. Any traitors can be tracked down after the fact. If there are guards
nearby, allow them to do their jobs to protect you. My first concern in the event of a coup or
any other attack is your and Zuko's safety. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Father," Azula says. She doesn't pout, but he can tell that she wants to do as much.
"And, Azula?" he says, "Don't create situations to get around my instructions. I don't want
you anywhere near the fighting if it can be prevented."
"But --" Azula bites off her words and instead offers a stiff, "Yes, Sir."
Ozai sighs. "I know you're capable. The whole nation knows." She's more capable than any
eleven-year-old has any business being. "You have nothing to prove, Little Dragon."
"I'd still enjoy the opportunity to do so, Father," Azula says, "I'm not sure what else my
training has been for if not to dispose of traitors."
The Fire Lord bites back an exasperated sigh. He can't claim Azula lacks the skill needed to
be effective in combat, and telling her that she is too young will only spur the girl to attempt
to prove otherwise. "Sometimes, things happen on the battlefield that have nothing to do with
anything other than luck," he says, "Lu Ten was a master, and a skilled soldier in his own
right, but he still died when Iroh allowed him to join the men at the frontlines."
"And then Uncle broke the siege because he got sad," Azula sneers.
"Azula!" he snaps before he can stop himself.
The girl stares up at him with wide eyes for the split second before the porcelain mask is
slipped on, hiding his daughter behind a polite, contrite facade. "Forgive me, Father."
"No, I shouldn't have snapped at you," Ozai says, frustrated with himself.
Azula says nothing. The mask remains firmly in place.
Ozai runs a hand over his face. Does Azula even know why and what she should be
apologizing for? Or is she only apologizing because he became angry with her? Considering
that Father had often voiced open contempt for Iroh after taking the throne, and also what
Agni had mentioned of Azula's nature, Ozai has his answer.
He releases a slow breath. One problem at a time. Focus on just the step in front of you. The
rest can come after that.
"Azula," he says calmer, softer, gentler, "Iroh broke when he lost his son. Parents are not
supposed to outlive their children. Beyond that, morale among the troops was already
running low. It had been a long deployment, and breaching the outer wall quickly turned the
engagement into a treacherous and bloody bottleneck. Progress was costly in every way
imaginable. News of Prince Lu Ten's death broke more than just Iroh's will to continue.
Whatever mistakes your uncle may have made during the Ba Sing Se campaign, ordering the
withdrawal after Lu Ten's death was not one of them.
"The nation mourned Azulon's passing as we would any Fire Lord, but during that time it was
Lu Ten that the nation wept for. The children of the royal family, its youngest generation,
represent the future of the Fire Nation.
"As such, what the nation and I need most from you is to remain safe and well. Sometimes,
that might mean holding your ground and fighting until help can arrive, but more often it will
mean avoiding battlefields altogether, regardless of where they erupt. Can I trust you to
remain safe to the best of your abilities, Azula? And to help keep your brother safe as well?"
"Yes, Father."
He sighs. What more can he expect after frightening her again? "Good. Thank you," he says.
Azula blinks at him but doesn't respond otherwise.
The Fire Lord stands and offers his daughter a hand, assisting the child to her feet. "It's gotten
late," he observes, "I won't keep you longer than I already have. Sleep well, Daughter. You
are dismissed."
Azula bows and says, "Goodnight, Father." The girl doesn't stop to collect anything before
leaving the courtyard.
Ozai watches her go and quietly hopes that fatherhood will be the one thing in his life that he
manages to learn quickly.
"You Did Well, Little Dragon" by malistaticy

View the original full-sized post on AO3 or the contest entry on Tumblr
Chapter End Notes

The Child of the Sky and the Reforged Moon
Chapter Notes
Ozai stares out at Caldera from the balcony of the Fire Lord's suite. The skyline is different
from the one he had grown used to seeing from this view. Certain buildings are missing.
Others have not been destroyed in the Invasion of Black Sun. It's a strange mix of restoration
and lost progress. A fitting allegory for himself, perhaps, considering what the spirits have
done in casting him back from his future.
He is still grieving what he has lost, what he has been torn from, but... Today has given him a
measure of comfort in what he still has, and hope for what he may yet be able to forge here.
Ozai is pulled from his musings when a staircase of light slowly materializes in midair. Its
colors remind him of the winding lights occasionally seen in the skies over the world's frozen
poles, all soft greens and purples. It's obviously spirit work and, considering how the
staircase stretches from the nearly-full moon down to his balcony, he can only assume Tui
has decided to visit him.
The spirit that descends from the staircase is not what he had been expecting. The spirit
appears as an old man with Water Tribe features, dressed in white silks of the same style as
Ozai had seen clothing the Moon Spirit during his brief stint in the spirit world. One of Tui's
court, maybe? He certainly looks the part, with matching white hair and pale blue eyes.
The spirit smiles at him, laugh lines and crow's feet deepening on the elderly face. "Fire
Lord," he greets upon reaching the balcony, "Agni wastes no time in boasting over what you
have already set in motion. I have not seen him so thoroughly pleased with a herald in an
age."
Agni is talking to the other spirits about him? Ozai can't help feeling flustered at the news.
"But I've barely done anything yet! And the hawks were only sent out this morning. It will be
a week before those orders reach the warfront!"
"But you have sent them," the spirit says, smile undiminished by the Fire Lord's objections,
"and our world has been full of chatter, excited and skeptical, since. Do not make the mistake
of thinking it is only my brother's eyes upon you, Nephew. Many of our kind have their
attention trained on you and your nation."
That last sentence would have concerned him more if he wasn't caught on the addresses used
just before it.
"Tui?" he gapes.
The spirit blinks and then laughs. The laugh doesn't have Agni's boisterous confidence
behind it, instead supported by a serene certainty, but there is a similarity in the pure
merriment both spirits express in the action.
"Forgive me, Nephew. I should have reintroduced myself," the spirit says, blue eyes still
laughing, "Yes, it is I, Tui."
"Oh." Ozai feels his entire face heat in embarrassment. "You look... different from when I last
saw you."
"Yes, very," Tui agrees with another wrinkly smile, and then remarks, "We spirits tend to
forget how much man has forgotten of spirits. Your people have not told tales of us in
generations, though I suspect that will soon change."
Ozai frowns. "What do you mean?"
"Only that Agni's plan has begun to unfold and it cannot be undone now. You, your father,
and my Yue are the only members of man to be directly affected due to my brother's plot but,
in accepting Agni's proposal, a new charter regarding the mortal world has been agreed to by
the Council of Greater World Spirits and it has replaced the previous compact entirely. The
Sun Spirit's schemes are always carefully thought out, but even he could not predict every
eventuality that may come to be with such a grand change between our worlds.
"La was not wrong to call my brother's plan radical."
Ozai's brow furrows as he tries to piece together what information he has while being
frustratingly aware that he does not yet have enough of the overall picture to reveal the whole
of the Sun Spirit's plan. "And the new charter is part of why Agni mentioned other spirits
might show up to help?"
"In part," Tui agrees, turning to gaze out at Caldera, the ocean beyond, and the night sky,
"Many wish to see the success of Agni's plan. Many others remain skeptical. Some are
simply aloof. A few, however, would seek its failure or else pursue their own aims in the
mortal realm, heedless of the damage they leave in their wake. Just as with man, not every
spirit can be trusted. Be careful in whom you choose to place your faith."
"I understand. ...I think," Ozai says. He considers the view for a moment before breaking the
brief silence that has settled between them to ask, "Forgive me, Tui, but... is there a reason
you've come to see me tonight? Is there something you want me to do?"
Tui chuckles softly. "Nothing so direct as that, Fire Lord. Princess Yue of the Northern Seas
has taken much of my and La's attention over the past several hours, but Agni has seen fit to
give me a new nephew. The first in many years. And, as my brother has also rewritten the
charter regarding your world, I have the liberty to visit my extended family with markedly
fewer restrictions. While we will undoubtedly have business to discuss in the future, tonight
is merely a social call. I am here solely for you, nephew mine."
"O-oh," Ozai says for a second time. He doesn't know how to react to that.
The Moon Spirit grins, turning to face the Fire Lord. "Perhaps a full introduction is in order,"
the spirit admits, "I am Tui, brother to Agni, King of Flames, who is your patron spirit, young
herald. Agni is a spirit of fire, of light and warmth, of time, sky, and repeating cycles. I, too,
am a spirit of time, sky, and repeating cycles, but that is where much of our similarities end.
"I am a spirit of reflection and changing faces, of pull and shifting tides, of balance and
enduring partnerships. As your generation is no longer taught of the spirits, I am sure you
have questions. Please, ask them."
He's never going to get a better invitation than that. "You said you and Agni are both spirits
of time?"
"We are."
"Is that how I'm here? Six years in the past?"
"In the present. The path of this world is not a repetition of what was before," Tui corrects
gently. "As for how the mortal world came to be cast back and set upon its current path, that
was the work of many spirits and much effort. Agni and I played our parts, but there were
others who made far greater contributions in that particular act. It was not an easy task, nor
would Agni be able to convince the spirits involved to do so again. You will have this one
chance to remake your nation's mark on the mortal world as you deem fit, Fire Lord, and this
one chance alone."
"No pressure or anything," Ozai mumbles, more to himself than the spirit beside him.
Regardless, Tui hums an acknowledgement and nods solemnly. "Agni has placed a heavy
burden upon your shoulders, but you shall have help in carrying it. Agni will not abandon
you, and I will likewise assist you where I can. I suspect there will also be others, in time, to
say nothing of your allies among man.
"Have you another question?"
Ozai does his best to set aside his worries about the future to focus on the conversation he is
having with the Moon Spirit. "Can all spirits change their appearance like you have, or is it
an ability unique to spirits of 'changing faces'?"
"That answer is complicated and it would take many nights to explain it in full. For now, it
will suffice for you to understand that very few mortal rules apply to spirits. Our bodies are
reflections of what we are, but the possible representations of any one spirit may vary widely.
"Agni is fire. He will always appear as fire because that is his essence, but you have thus far
encountered him in a form that holds to the shape of man. There is little reason for my
brother to hold to such a form except as a courtesy during his interactions with mankind.
Meanwhile, his form in your world's sky is that of a grand sphere of blinding radiance. And
my brother is hardly limited to these two examples.
"In a similar manner, so too may other spirits change their appearances as they please, though
most are not inclined to alter themselves after they have settled upon a form that they find
comfortable. Beyond this baseline, there are also spirits of illusion, trickery, change, and yet
more that will have even greater abilities to reshape themselves as they will. It is something
to be wary of, Nephew, but do not be swift to assume it is an effort to deceive. Some may
attempt just that, however, a spirit may have any number of reasons to shift their form. It will
depend upon the individual spirit in question.
"As for myself, I change faces and forms regularly. It is a part of my nature to change and
cycle. While grieving my Yue, I wore her face often in remembrance, but even then I could
not hold her for long. Two days, on occasion three, but no longer than that."
"I'm sorry," Ozai says.
"Thank you, but there is no need to be sorry," Tui says, "Agni has been quite thorough in
making amends for her loss and she is lost to me no longer. Zhao of Second Fire, who
planned and led the attack, is no more, by La's own hand. But Agni has gone further. He has
removed Ozai the Usurper, who provided Zhao with the means to enact his wicked plan, and
replaced him with Ozai the Reforged, whom he has directed to seek peace rather than war. It
does not guarantee my Yue's life to her old age, but he has ensured that the tragedy that took
her before will not be repeated."
Ozai flinches. "The Usurper?" he repeats hoarsely. It fits, considering what he has pieced
together of his father's rise to the throne, but somehow it still hurts to know that is how his
father is being remembered by the spirits.
The Moon Spirit's face is sympathetic as he explains, "The two of you share a name and are
of the same age. You each have equal claim as children of fire to the title 'of Second Fire' and
so, too, have you both been known as 'Fire Lord,' rendering those addresses unclear. Agni's
displeasure with your father's coronation was impossible to miss and he was not quiet about
its cause. In light of this, and because you are at the heart of much of the spirit world's current
gossip, the terms 'the Usurper' and 'the Reforged' have quickly spread amongst our kind to
differentiate between you and your father."
"I see," Ozai rasps. He doesn't like it, but he doesn't have to. Matters that involve his father
have never been easy.
Tui's eyes are kind as the spirit says, "I cannot regret his removal, but I have known grief, and
I am sorry that his death pains you. It has not been my intention to add to your tribulations,
Nephew."
"Thank you."
Silence descends on them as the Moon Spirit once more turns to contemplate the view from
the balcony, giving Ozai time to recollect himself. After a few degrees, Tui speaks again,
"May I tell you the tale of Yue and Tui?"
Ozai joins the spirit at the balcony's railing. "Please."
Tui's smile is serene, if touched by a lingering melancholy, as he begins to recount the tale for
the Fire Lord.
"Once, under the spirits' old compact when contact between spirits and man was more
restricted than it is today, a mortal child was born in the frozen north. Although the newborn
survived her mother's long, hard labor, she was weak. Her breaths were shallow and she
made not a sound upon her arrival into the world. Distraught, the child's father brought his
new daughter to the Spirit Oasis at the North Pole, where Ocean Spirit La and Moon Spirit
Tui resided in those days, and he prayed before the patron spirits of his tribe for a miracle.
"La was impassive and ignored the father's prayers, for although La and Tui were among the
few spirits that had chosen to remain in the mortal world, with all the risks that carried under
the old charter, the people of the tribe had forgotten La and Tui.
"Tui, ever La's balancing opposite, saw the matter differently. Neglected for an age by the
tribe they patronized, here was one mortal that had remembered the patrons of his tribe and
sought their help with that which was most precious to him.
"And so, when the father placed his daughter in the pond with the spirits, Tui deigned to grant
the girl a blessing of essence and life. Upon receiving the spirit's gift, the girl's dark brown
hair turned pale as moonlight, a spirit mark. Scarcely a moment later, the child opened her
mouth, drew her first full breath, and cried, as newborns are meant to do. The father likewise
sobbed, as relieved parents are known to do, and brought the moon-blessed child home to his
weary wife. The grateful parents named their daughter Yue, in honor of the Moon Spirit who
had saved their child.
"Sixteen years passed and Yue grew into a young adult of her tribe, but war had come to her
tribe's doorstep. A cunning enemy commander had discovered the vulnerability of the ocean's
and moon's mortal forms in the Spirit Oasis, and the commander sought to exploit the spirits
in order to ensure his victory over Yue's tribe. In his madness and arrogance, the commander
set out to destroy the balance between the greater world spirits by killing the moon.
"And he succeeded, much to his detriment.
"Zhao attacked and slew Tui. In the night sky, the moon grew dark -- dead -- and the ocean
below raged and swelled in fury.
"La dragged the Zhao down to the depths of the Northern Seas before tearing the man's black
soul from his body and taking him further still into the spirit world. There, La cast the man's
screaming soul into the Fog of the Lost. But as great as La's wrath was, it could do nothing
for Tui.
"Back in the mortal world, Yue grieved the death of the spirit that had protected her tribe and
given her life and, in her tears, she came to a terrible realization. The gift the spirit had
granted her shortly after her birth had not only been of life, but also that of essence, and the
young woman's hair remained the pale moon-white that had drawn comments all of her years.
She alone contained a portion of the moon's essence. She alone could return the moon.
"Although scared, Yue was brave. Out of love for her family and friends, duty for her tribe
and world, and gratitude for the spirit that had given her sixteen years of life that she would
not otherwise have lived, Yue sacrificed herself to revive Tui.
"The moon brightened in the sky and balance was restored."
The Moon Spirit allows a moment of silent contemplation to pass before admitting, "This is
where most would end the tale, as few know what followed. Though I suppose just as few
now know of the tale at all."
Tui doesn't continue speaking immediately, instead taking in the view and considering his
next words. Ozai waits patiently beside the spirit. What he has heard thus far matches up
more or less with what he'd already been told by his friends and what he'd witnessed for
himself that night, anything that comes after this point, however...
"When I came back to myself," Tui says slowly, "I was very disoriented. Although my Yue
had succeeded in reviving me, she had done so with but a tiny glimmer of my essence that I
had never intended to reclaim. That wisp of essence had spent sixteen years cut off from all
that I was and instead wholly dedicated to preserving a single mortal life. As a consequence,
my mind was more that of Yue than of Tui in the early days following my reforging."
Ozai startles and looks over at the spirit. "Your reforging?"
Tui chuckles. "Yes, Nephew, my reforging. Your circumstances may be unique amongst
mortals, but it is not unheard of among spirits, though no two instances are alike in every
facet. And I am afraid it was yet further unintended consequences regarding my reforging and
Princess Yue that delayed me in coming to greet you."
"But Princess Yue is well now?"
The Moon Spirit smiles with an understated joy that nonetheless brightens Tui's eyes. "She is.
I look forward to the two of you meeting, when the time is right. For tonight, shall I continue
with my story? There is not much left."
"I'd like to hear the rest, if you're willing," Ozai says.
"Very well," Tui nods, "La and Agni were both distraught over my state, as you might
imagine. My memories as Tui were murky and I barely recognized either of them. I was more
sure of my life as Yue than as Tui, and my nature as a spirit of changing faces was something
I found to be particularly distressing throughout that time.
"I think that may have been when Agni began his scheming in earnest. My brother never
approved of my choice to retain a mortal form in accordance with the previous charter, and
quite suddenly all of his worst fears had been confirmed. Not only could a mortal form be
killed, but I had been slain, and only happenstance and another's courage had saved me. If
Agni had not already begun to draft a replacement charter at that point, then he certainly must
have when La stood before the Council of Greater World Spirits and demanded recompense.
"It was several moon-cycles before I reclaimed enough of my own mind to grow comfortable
in my role once more and, by then, what had been set in motion with the council could not be
halted. Considering what Agni has put together in answer to La's demands, I cannot regret
what has come to be of the circumstance.
"And now, here we are."
"Here we are," Ozai agrees.

Tui lingers for a few more degrees of companionable silence before bidding him a good
night. The celestial staircase disappears behind the spirit as he ascends back to what Ozai can
only assume is the spirit world.
All in all, Ozai thinks Tui's unexpected visit went well. Now if only he knew how to buy the
Fire Nation's way back into La's good graces... Maybe he'll have figured out a tactful way to
ask about that by the next time the moon comes to meet with him.
Chapter End Notes
On a tangentially related note, if any of you are interested in Zhao and spirit meddling,
may I recommend Rufftoon's amazing Water Tribe comic over on DeviantArt? (And, if
you read the comic way back in the day like I did, did you know there is now a Part
Two? And an Addendum?)

Liukshi
Chapter Notes
Italicized lines are taken directly from a transcript of the show.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Two combatants stand still as statues in their ready stances at opposing ends of the Royal
Agni Kai Arena. Their ceremonial blessing shawls have been shed in the opening twists of
the ritual combat but remain caught in midair as if the silk garments have been pinned in
place. The fires surrounding the arena neither dance nor crackle, instead rigid and unmoving
in a manner that should be impossible for the element that encapsulates the burning passion
of life.
The stage is set.
The actors are in position.
The world holds its breath and waits.
The Fire Lord gazes upon the familiar tableau and grimaces. He'd been enjoying the break
from his nightmares over the past several months and last night his sleep had been mercifully
dreamless. To be so suddenly confronted with this odd presentation of what should be a well
worn nightmare is unsettling, though the return of the nightmares themselves isn't terribly
surprising with the upheaval his life has become. Ozai groans and runs his hands over his
face.
...His scar is back.
Ozai -- Zuko? -- pulls his hands away with a confused frown. He knows he's dreaming, which
is itself unusual, but more importantly... How much of what he's experienced has been a
dream?
A high-pitched giggle echoes through the courtyard. "Looksy! Looksy! Come look and see
what Liukshi sees!" the unknown voice singsongs.
The Fire Lord locates the source of the call high up, perched atop one of the courtyard walls.
It... looks a lot like Momo, actually. Except the creature in question is completely green and a
single large eye makes up the entirety of its face.
The creature giggles again before taking flight. It glides down in an easy loop of the space
before alighting upon the Fire Lord's shoulder, heedless of the man's hurried attempt to back
out of its path. The creature's huge eye blinks at him from a place far too close to his own
face.
"Uh..." The Fire Lord places a hand against the thing's chest and carefully pushes it back to a
more comfortable distance. It doesn't seem to be aggressive, merely... curious and without a
concept of personal space. "Liukshi, was it?"
The creature giggles again. It seems to do that a lot. "Liukshi is me!" it chirps, "It is good to
be meeting Agni's new herald!"
Still Ozai, then. Assuming he isn't experiencing a dream nested within a dream.
...He's probably better off making that assumption than not. At least until such a time as he
can be relatively sure that he is awake and has a chance to reevaluate what is and is not
reality.
"This is a dream," he says, testing the words on his tongue and watching large ears as they
twitch in response to the sound of his voice. This is probably the most lucid dream he's ever
had in his life. Not that he's had many others to compare it to, but this dream feels different
somehow. "Is any of this... Are you real?"
Liukshi unleashes the loudest laugh yet. "Yes, a dream! Liukshi works best in dreams! And
Liukshi is very real, little Fire Lord."
"Okay," he draws the word out as he considers what he has been told and the fact that this
entire conversation is happening in an oddly lucid dream with a very strange creature that is
likewise aware of residing within a dream. Liukshi is almost certainly a spirit of some kind.
Probably. "And... Why am I like this?" Ozai asks, gesturing to his scarred face.
Lemur-like ears swing low before swiveling back upright. "Little herald is still setting," the
spirit explains. "Men forge metal slow and then all at once. Heat and beat, heat and beat,
quench and hsss! Spirits are not forged like metal. Spirit forging is done all at once and then
slow, slow, slow! Spirits need time to think and feel and grow and become. Little herald is
new and human and fragile."
"I... see." Maybe someday all of this spirit stuff will finally make some sense. It probably
won't be now.
"Agni's Herald should be careful not to undo the Sun Spirit's work," Liukshi warns solemnly.
"But! This is not what Liukshi has come to show the King of Flames' child!" The green spirit
hops around to perch behind Ozai's back, blunt-clawed toes digging into the collar of his
robes and small hands clapping over his eyes.
"Hey!"
"Mortals are not meant to see Agni unfiltered," the spirit says, "so Liukshi will share his eye!
Look! Look and see!"
And strangely enough, he does. The world is rendered in an eerily glowing green, but he
views it otherwise uninhibited by the spirit's hands.
A third figure, standing off to the side of the arena but shining like a signalling beacon,
catches his attention immediately.
Agni.
"Look and see what Agni has done for the young prince!"
And the world spins back into motion as if it had never stopped. Ozai flinches. He can't see
the prince's face from this angle, but he remembers this moment as the instant when the
foundations of everything he had believed fell away and left him to plummet into
increasingly desperate self-delusions.
"Please, Father!" the boy cries, "I only had the Fire Nation's best interest at heart. I'm sorry I
spoke out of turn!"
His father remains unmoved by the plea, "You will fight for your honor."
Agni shifts as the phantom strides past him.
"I meant you no disrespect!" the child continues, kneeling, "I am your loyal son."
"Rise and fight, Prince Zuko!" the man insists.
Agni frowns and follows after the mortal, towering unseen and ignored over the former Fire
Lord's shoulder.
"I won't fight you!" the prince declares.
"You will learn respect," his father says, "and suffering will be your teacher."
His nightmares always end here, in pain and fire. He's never been able to remember exactly
what happened after his father had finished speaking.
Ozai's stomach twists. He's not sure he wants to witness what must come next.
Fire blooms in the phantom's hand and the specter of the previous Fire Lord thrusts his hand
forward, sending out a jet of flame with the motion. Behind him, Agni mimics the move, but
where the man had kept his palm aimed straight for the prince, Agni twists his wrist away
and to the right in a movement that almost looks like waterbending.
His father's flames skew to the side. The boy screams. Agni gradually clenches his upturned
hand into a fist and the stream of fire dwindles to sparks.
Ozai can only feel ill as he watches his father's face twist in confusion, fear, and anger as his
bending fails to heed his will.
So. That's the truth of it, then.
Father hadn't meant to maim him that day.

Father had meant to kill him and only Agni's intervention had stayed his flames from doing
greater damage.
His father must have intended 'suffering' to be a far faster teacher than an indefinite number
of years at sea chasing spirit tales like he'd deceived himself into believing during his youth.
Ozai chokes back the hysterical laughter crowding his throat.
The previous Fire Lord's phantom storms away from the platform, shoving aside any
spectators too slow to get out of his way soon enough.
Agni kneels and places a hand briefly over the unconscious prince's ruined face before
withdrawing. In the next instant, Agni disappears just in time for a cadre of healers to fill the
space around the young teenager, working hastily to triage the injury and begin preliminary
treatment.
"Look and see what Agni has done for spirits!" Liukshi cries.
The scene suddenly shifts around them to the same spirit world forest clearing in which Ozai
had first spoken with Agni. There are even more spirits gathered than there had been during
Ozai's time there. The spirits range in all manner of sizes and shapes but Agni still commands
attention, impossible to ignore thanks to his inherent brightness and his position standing
alone in the center of the gathering.
"I will pay my debt," Agni is saying, "I do not mean to cheat this council's judgement."
"But?" demands a snarling feminine spirit. She looks human -- Water Tribe, specifically, with
dark eyes and midnight hair -- though her height and ferocity would rival Avatar Kyoshi.
"Stop stalling, King of Flames! The council has reached its decision. Oath or no, it is your
duty now to bring about the same sacrifice of the Fire Lands' royal line as was made
necessary of Yue of the Northern Seas."
"La," pleads a small boy with white hair and pale eyes from his place half-hidden by the
larger spirit's skirts, "let Agni speak."
The tall woman glances down into the large, clear blue eyes of the shorter spirit before
offering a rough nod. "As you wish, my moon," La says, though she still scowls, crosses her
arms, and leans back on her heels, gaze trained on the Sun Spirit.
Ozai has just enough presence of mind left to wonder if La is also considered a spirit of
'changing faces.'
"You seek retribution for the death of your favored, and you will have it," Agni declares, "but
I would ask the council to consider an alternative that will not only offer you redress for the
injury suffered but also to restore that which you lost. More, I would offer you the means to
prevent such a situation from repeating itself in the future. I would offer each of us the
opportunity to reclaim a piece of what we have all lost.
"The current charter has failed," the Sun Spirit says without apology, "The compact before it
was cast aside because our conflicts were destroying the world we had invested so much in
building, but this one has allowed a spirit to be killed by mortal hands. Its demands are too
great, its restrictions too strong. We are not meant to be mortal, we should not be barred from
influencing the world we have created, and these should not be the only options we allow
ourselves: to be wholly a part of our creation in a manner counter to our essence, or to be
removed by all but the barest connection to that which we have borne. The first charter was
unsustainable. The second has been damaging. I am presenting a new compact for the
council's consideration.
"If it is accepted, it would open the means through which Yue of the Northern Seas could be
restored among the living. In exchange for her revival, I would ask that with the exception of
Ozai of Second Fire, who is the mortal that authorized the attack on the Northern Seas,
Kuzon the Uniter's line be spared."
Tui stares at Agni with wide, hopeful eyes. La seems stunned. Many of the gathered spirits
whisper to each other in scattered conversations.
Agni holds up a scroll. "My proposed charter regarding the mortal world." The Sun Spirit
holds the scroll out to La. "If it meets this council's approval, will you hear my words and the
details of my plan for repayment?"
La frowns at the offered scroll, glances around at the hushed ring of spirits, and returns her
gaze to the scroll in Agni's hand. The Ocean Spirit sighs and accepts the scroll. "We will
consider what you have presented, King of Flames."
"That is all I can ask," Agni says, "Thank you, Master of Seas."
La scoffs and rolls her eyes.
"Look and see what Agni has done for the Line of Kuzon!"
The scene returns to the Agni Kai arena in the palace. The prince is already kneeling. Agni
stands tall at his father's shoulder.
"I won't fight you!" the prince declares.
A second manifestation of Agni suddenly appears between the phantom Fire Lord and the
prince. Both of Agni's forms go unnoticed by the royals.
"You will learn respect," his father says, "and suffering --"
The four ritual torches at the corners of the arena dedicated to Agni flare high and burn bright
white. As if that is their cue, the two manifestations move together. The one behind his father
places two hands on his shoulders and another set of arms sprouts forth to grab the man's
sides near the end of his ribcage. The one in front likewise gains a new set of arms, grasping
the man's hips and placing a hand each on his head and chest.
Ozai watches as his father gasps and Agni forces the man to his knees.
Light spills from the phantom's eyes and mouth in a manner that matches the way Sokka has
always told his rendition of the Hundred Year War's final battle.
The prince scrambles back in shock.
Ozai feels ill again.
This does not stop at the removal of his father's firebending, he knows.
Whatever else Liukshi might have wished to show him, he may never find out. In the next
instant, the world shatters around him.
Ozai could swear he shatters with it.
The Fire Lord wakes up in his own bed only to instantly twist to the side and vomit over the
edge of the mattress. Ozai coughs, sobs, and, not knowing what else to do, he chokes out,
"Agni!"
"Changing Faces" by PoisonousCephalopod

View the original full-sized post on AO3
Chapter End Notes

The Pre-Dawn Sun
Chapter Notes
"You called for --" Agni's voice cuts off in a hiss. "What happened?" the Sun Spirit demands.
Ozai can't see anything with his eyes sealed as they are, but the spirit sounds equal parts
concerned and furious. One overly-warm hand grasps his shoulder, but its mate instead
comes to rest on his cheek and Ozai can't help but flinch away with the memories of his first
Agni Kai still fresh in his mind.
Agni ignores the involuntary action as he gently helps the Fire Lord to lay back down.
"Nightmare," Ozai chokes out, "I don't usually react this badly." He groans as he settles into
the overabundance of pillows on his bed. "I feel awful."
He really does. His stomach is roiling with a lingering nausea, his chest is tight, and his entire
head is caught in a dull but very noticeable ache.
Agni's hands skim his body, first over his chest and abdomen, then up his sides, and back
down his arms. He has no idea what the spirit might be searching for, but the actions feel
oddly like a healer's examination and Ozai can't shake the suspicion that that is exactly what
they are.
"What did you dream of, child mine?" Agni asks. The spirit's hands sweep over the Fire
Lord's neck before briefly cupping the sides of his head. Agni makes no more remark on the
mortal's second flinch than he had about the first. "A nightmare should not have done this."
"Liukshi," Ozai answers and asks, "Do you --"
"That shattered fool!" Agni seethes in a low growl.
"You do know him," Ozai concludes needlessly. He frowns in confusion. "What do you mean
'shattered'?"
"Later," the spirit says, "For now, Liukshi's actions must be mitigated. Brace yourself, Fire
Lord. I am about to wake Caldera."
Panic hits him like a charging komodo rhino.
"Wait! What? Agni, what are you --" His eyes fly open. "-- going to do?"
The room is dark with only the stars and setting moon to illuminate it. There is not a hint of
the burning Sun Spirit to be found.
Ozai's fists clench in the sheets. 'Caldera' is a rather aptly, if unimaginatively, named city.
'Wake' and volcanoes in the same sentence generally mean tumult at best and catastrophe at
worst.
The volcano continues to slumber but the city does erupt after a fashion.
The sun must be an hour beyond the horizon yet, at least, but suddenly Agni is everywhere.
The guards outside his suite startle so badly that Ozai can hear the clank and crash of their
armor plates as they meet roughly with other hard surfaces before the cacophony of rushing
flames drowns out every other sound in the palace. The Fire Lord watches past the open
curtains of his balcony, dumbstruck, as thick streams of white fire rise from the city to
combine in the air high above Caldera's rooftops.
He almost misses when the doors to his suite are thrown open but he manages to drag his
gaze away from the sight beyond his balcony. One of Agni's physical manifestations stands in
the doorway.
"Fetch a maid!" Agni orders over the roar, "The flames will not harm you! And allow Iroh of
Second Fire entrance when he arrives!"
"What?" Ozai croaks out as Agni stalks back to his bedside and one of the guards tentatively
sets out through fire-filled halls.
"Y-yes, Agni!" the remaining guard gasps out and closes the doors behind the Sun Spirit.
"Liukshi is a spirit of hidden knowledge, and dreams have long been his preferred method of
contacting mortal minds," Agni starts his belated explanation. He gestures out at the new sun
being created over Caldera and continues, "While it is unlikely he acts with malicious intent,
he has a history of making exceedingly poor decisions. Allowing the flock to linger is not a
risk I am inclined to permit."
"Flock?" Ozai questions faintly.
"Indeed." Agni places one hand over the Fire Lord's heart and the other over the pool of chi
in his belly. Whatever the Sun Spirit is doing feels strange. The closest thing he can think to
compare it to is waterbending's healing capabilities, though even that is a poor comparison
for the sensation. Still, the nausea finally begins to subside, his headache fades, and each
breath becomes easier to draw.
But there is apparently a flock of these spirits out causing mischief in the capital.
"Do you know how many people Liukshi's flock would have affected?" he asks, already
dreading the answer.
"No more than ninety-seven at one time, but the flock may have shifted from dream to dream
throughout the night," Agni says, removing his hands. Ozai moves to sit up and, although
Agni frowns at him, the Sun Spirit allows the action. He feels better, if not fully well. Agni
continues, "Liukshi will likely have joined the dreams of those in the palace, first, before
moving outward to seek other sleeping mortals to whom he could reveal some facet of hidden
knowledge."
"The children!" Ozai suddenly realizes. He's used to thinking as the leader of his nation, not
as a father, but he has a son and daughter now and they need someone to --
Agni's hands clasp his shoulders and halt his movements before he can stand. "Your heir and
fledgeling are both well. You, Fire Lord, will rest."
"But --"
"Rest," Agni repeats, pushing him down to the mattress, "The newly reforged are fragile and
you all the more so. It is not uncommon for revelations to cause upset, but it is your status as
reforged that caused your illness. There are none beyond yourself that could be affected so by
Liukshi's meddling."
This has to do with his reforging? That... is actually an incredible relief.
Ozai sags into the pillows behind him as he allows himself to relax. It's just him. The rest of
Caldera is safe. No one else has been struck by a sudden spirit-illness.
"They're not hurt? But... You mentioned 'upset,'" he worries, "Are they upset? Do you know
what Liukshi's flock showed them? Should I --" Ozai almost asks if he should go to check on
Zuko and Azula, but Agni clearly has no plans to allow him to leave his bed in the next few
degrees. He instead finishes with, "... send for them?"
The roar of flames in the palace halls finally tapers off and the streams of fire wane. Outside,
the new sun shines like noonday over Caldera. Even though it must be far smaller than Agni's
permanent manifestation, it is much closer by virtue of residing lower in the sky. As a result,
its heat and the shadows it casts are intense, and it is bright enough that it hurts to look
directly at it. He wouldn't be surprised if the miniature sun can be seen as far away as the
colonies. Ozai can't begin to imagine the kind of rumors this will spark.
"I see much, child mine, but not everything. Dreams are not in my purview and my attention
can only be divided between so many places at once. I saw to it that the prince and princess
awoke and that they did not require me to attend them further." Ozai opens his mouth but the
Sun Spirit raises a hand to forestall his words. Agni is quiet for a moment, and then, "Zuko of
Second Fire was distressed but quickly distracted by the commotion upon waking. Azula of
Second Fire hides her thoughts well and I am not certain if Liukshi visited her dreams or not.
I greeted her when she chose to approach me, but my attention was needed elsewhere and I
did not linger.
"Your heir and fledgeling are now both in their mother's favored garden." Agni suddenly
laughs. Ozai blinks in surprise. "Clever fledgeling," the Sun Spirit chuckles.
"What?"
"Ah. To answer that question would spoil the surprise," Agni chastens in good humor, "Allow
the children their fun."
"I have a sudden sense of foreboding," Ozai mutters, more serious than joking.
"And perhaps you should," Agni laughs, which is not particularly reassuring, and then, "Iroh
of Second Fire approaches."
The doors to his suite are opened before Ozai can ask any questions. The remaining guard
stationed there announces, "General Iroh has arrived."
And indeed he has. With a complete tea service, which he sets carefully on the floor before
sinking into a kowtow. "I came as you requested, Agni."
"Rise, Once-Prince." Agni instructs, "I have given you a task. You need not waste time on
such formalities while you see it done."
Iroh collects the tea service and disappears from view in the outer chamber of the Fire Lord's
suite.
Ozai glances up at Agni. "You arranged this?"
"I did."
"Including the tea?"
"It is my understanding that many mortals find it calming."
Ozai breathes deeply, pinches the bridge of his nose, and wonders if Tui is the correct spirit to
pray to when he needs patience dealing with Agni.
Chapter End Notes
Want to peek in on Azula and Zuko?

The Patron and the Regent
Chapter Notes
Iroh places the tea service on the antechamber's central table and sets about pouring two cups.
He does not know why he has been summoned, but he will do as his nation's patron spirit
bids.
(Yesterday, he had woken with the sunrise only for the Sun Spirit himself to burst into his
suite and order him to the training courtyard to resume exercises that he had been neglecting,
admittedly for too long. Today, Agni had not waited for his appointed time to rise and had
instead startled the entire capital awake by building a new sun over the city. Why Agni had
felt such an action to be necessary is a question for which Iroh does not yet have an answer.)
Ozai's voice reaches his ears. "You arranged this?"
"I did," comes the Sun Spirit's response.
"Including the tea?"
"It is my understanding that many mortals find it calming."
It is gratifying to know that Agni agrees with him, even if his brother is a tea-swigging
barbarian.
And then...
"I can walk!" Ozai yells indignantly from the other room.
Agni's tone remains unchanged as he says, "You will not."
The fire spirit emerges from the bedroom carrying a flustered Fire Lord as one might a new
bride. It is... quite a sight to behold.
Iroh ruthlessly crushes the desire to laugh.
He must not have hidden his shocked humor at the situation's absurdity well enough,
however, because Ozai spares him a half-second's glare before going back to arguing with
Agni. When had his younger brother lost all sense of self-preservation? One does not argue
with spirits! And especially not spirits as great and powerful as Agni!
"I'm not an invalid!"
Except if the 'one' in question is Iroh's brother, apparently. Not even a full seven-hundred-
and-twenty degrees since their patron spirit returned to their nation, and already Iroh knows
of two arguments that the younger man has fallen into with Agni. One argument would have
been too many! This is quickly becoming a very disconcerting habit.
"Fire Lord," the spirit says, finally beginning to sound frustrated as he sets the mortal man
down in a chair and impatiently gestures for Iroh to seat himself in its nearby twin, "you are
still setting. The ties which bind your reforging almost failed."
Iroh picks up his teacup and listens carefully to this particular turn in the discussion. He has
not had much time to research this 'reforging' matter, and he has yet to meet with any success
on that front, but to hear of its near failure is... ominous.
"I feel fine," Ozai insists, ox-mulish, "You fixed whatever was wrong."
"I reinforced the binds that Liukshi weakened," Agni corrects.
Iroh blinks in surprise. He recognizes the name, but what could the small dragon-like spirit
that had visited his dreams have done that would lead to Agni's and Ozai's current quarrel?
What part do these 'binds' play in Ozai's so-called 'reforging'?
The Sun Spirit continues, "Your reforging remains fragile. A mortal body is more rigid than a
spirit's form, and there is a lingering risk of rejection until the bond has time to set. You, child
mine, nearly died."
Iroh barely avoids dropping his teacup in shock.
"I felt a bit ill. Nauseous," Ozai objects weakly, "It didn't feel that serious."
Agni huffs and states, "Death for mortals comes in many varieties." Without prompting, the
great fire spirit continues, "Is an explosion and its shrapnel the equal experience of
drowning? What of arctic chill? Are starvation and thirst indistinguishable from heatstroke?
Is the impact of an earthbender's stone the same as a high fever brought by illness? Does
freefall create a sensation akin to that of a lightning strike?"
Iroh can't help being somewhat disturbed by the spirit's easy listing of several possible
deaths. ...And why does his brother appear vaguely guilty?
Ozai looks away. "No," he admits.
"Indeed." Agni studies the Fire Lord for a prolonged moment before sighing. "Iroh of Second
Fire," the spirit addresses him, "what visions did Liukshi reveal to you as you slept?"
Iroh sets his teacup upon its matching saucer and folds his hands into his sleeves. It's an old
habit, learned under his father, designed to hide the nervous worrying of his fingers. He dares
not lie to Agni, but he is uncertain of Ozai's reaction and his younger brother is openly
watching him now.
"I dreamt of dragons, Agni," he says slowly, though he is mindful to keep his tone steady and
firm, "A fully grown pair of blue and red. They flew in intertwined orbits around a towering
platform spanning the space between two mountains." He decides it may be prudent not to
mention that he had recognized the location from his past travels. He had promised to keep
certain secrets, after all. "On the platform, two firebenders moved in tandem through a
traditional form rarely taught today." Iroh draws a deep breath before saying, "The benders in
my dream were Ozai and the Avatar."
The Fire Lord jolts in his seat. "Me?"
"Yes," Iroh confirms and brushes a thumb over the lotus tile caught in his other hand. He
returns his focus to Agni and continues, "Once the kata was completed, the dragons breathed
a cyclone of fire around Ozai and the Avatar. You appeared on the platform, and blessed Ozai
and the Avatar before disappearing again. The cyclone of fire then ceased and the dragons
returned to their nests in the mountains. That is where the dream ended." If only because he
had been woken by Agni's latest work of wonder, but that hardly needs to be said. Agni is
already well aware of when and how Iroh had been pulled from his bed.
Ozai stares. Iroh cannot decipher the look he is receiving from his brother, for all that the
expression is worryingly unguarded. There is surprise and confusion, certainly, but beyond
that... Hope? Fear? He lacks the context that might explain the source for either emotion in
the current Fire Lord.
Again, Ozai asks, "Me?"
"Yes?" Iroh offers for a second time. Ozai does not typically have much patience for
repetition.
There are two knocks on the doors of the suite and a guard announces, "The requested maid
has arrived."
A young woman enters through the opened doors and gasps upon spotting the spirit in the
room. "Agni!" The maid hurriedly sets aside the bucket she is holding and sinks into a
kowtow before the Sun Spirit.
"Rise," Agni directs and gestures toward the bedroom, "You will find the mess through
there."
The woman clumsily retrieves her bucket at the clear dismissal, causing something of a
clatter as its contents are disturbed, and bows once more from what is likely a bad case of
nerves. She fails to acknowledge either of the royals in the room as she scurries deeper into
the suite to fulfill her task.
Iroh cannot tell if his brother has noticed the unintended slight by the frazzled servant. He
seems to still be caught on the details of Iroh's dream. For the maid's sake, Iroh will attempt
to keep Ozai's attention on their conversation. It isn't as if he doesn't have a few of his own
questions he would like answers to, anyway.
"Forgive me," he says, "but who is Liukshi? He did not offer much of an introduction. Is he a
spirit of illusions? Possibilities?"
"Liukshi is a spirit of knowledge," Agni corrects, "and prefers to interact with mortals
through dreams. While he does not typically deal in illusions, it is likewise not uncommon
for him to translate past events in a manner he believes will be easier for spectators to
comprehend."
Ozai blinks and finally breaks his extended stare. (It would be disrespectful to imply that the
Fire Lord had fallen into a stupor.) The man shakes his head and scrubs both of his hands
over his face. "Of course it's not that easy. It's never easy," the Fire Lord grumbles to himself
from behind his meager barrier.
Agni goes on as if there has been no interruption to his explanation, "If your vision contained
Ozai the Reforged and the Avatar together, I would guess that Liukshi felt such adjustments
would benefit your understanding and allowed you the use of one of his eyes."
Iroh nods to confirm the fire spirit's suspicion and frowns in thought. "A vision of a past Fire
Lord and Avatar?" he muses.
"It would not be unexpected if it were a tale lost to your people at this time," Agni says.
Ozai lowers his hands enough to glare at their patron spirit for no reason Iroh can divine, but
he is beginning to wonder if his brother hasn't developed a sudden death wish with this
continued irreverent behavior.
"Old, then," Iroh concludes, "I confess, I do not know why Liukshi or any other spirit would
choose to show me such a vision."
"Liukshi's decision making skills have long been unfortunate and his sanity would be
considered questionable by man's standards," Agni notes, "The reason may be sensible to
Liukshi alone."
Ozai's brow furrows. "Is 'Liukshi' the name of the flock, or of a single spirit? Sometimes you
speak the name as if referring to an individual, but other times you say the name as if talking
about the whole flock. Which is it?"
There is a flock of spirits similar to the one that had visited his dreams? Perhaps that explains
how Agni knew to ask about his recent spirit vision, and how there was time for whatever
occurred to interfere with his brother's reforging.
"Liukshi is the flock," the Sun Spirit says, "and the flock is what remains of Liukshi."
That... is not especially illuminating.
Iroh shares a confused glance with Ozai at the offered answer.
"Could you... expand on that?" the Fire Lord requests.
"If that is your desire, child mine." Agni considers his words briefly before saying, "The
worst of Liukshi's poor decisions began when he spoiled one of his brother's deals with a
group of mortals. It is his nature to share knowledge, and he cares little of the consequences
for doing so, one way or the other. Having received the answers they needed in their dreams
from Liukshi, the humans were no longer interested in bartering away the scrolls they had
brought for the spirit of recorded knowledge that they had originally sought out.
"Wan Shi Tong was incensed. He tore each of Liukshi's hundred eyes from his body,
shattering one spirit into a flock of one hundred fragmented pieces."
Iroh grimaces. Spirits are capable of terrible violence if provoked, and it sounds as if this
instance was no exception.
"That's why you called him 'shattered,' earlier," Ozai says in dawning realization, "But... You
said ninety-seven before."
Agni nods in acknowledgement of the observation. "Three of Liukshi's eyes have since
perished."
Despite the warmth of the room, Iroh feels a shudder run down his spine. Spirits are not
easily destroyed and they have no frailties such as old age to which they might succumb.
"You asked earlier what I had dreamt of before I called you," Ozai offers into the lengthening
lapse of discussion, "I dreamt of my first Agni Kai. Liukshi showed me how you saved my
life."
Iroh frowns. He had not been home to witness his brother's first Agni Kai, shortly after his
coronation -- nor the three others that followed it in rapid succession, for that matter -- but he
had heard from several accounts that Ozai had bested each and every one of his opponents
handily.
"I also dreamt of the meeting where you presented the new charter to the other spirits, and
my... latest Agni Kai," the Fire Lord continues, "You saved my life, again, and my family.
Thank you."
Iroh blinks at that bit of news. He does not know what may have happened to draw the spirits'
attention to their line after such a long isolation between the mortal and spirit realms, but the
idea is a disquieting one.
Agni is still. "That is what Liukshi showed you?" the Sun Spirit demands.
"Yes." Ozai belatedly adds, "I can't say everything Liukshi showed me was easy to watch, but
I don't think he meant to cause any trouble. I think he just wanted me to know what you'd
done."
Agni raises a hand and hisses, "A moment."
The white fire comprising Agni's form flickers colorfully in a fashion that reminds Iroh of
dragon's fire and the heat it puts off oscillates wildly for several seconds. Outside, there is a
loud crack of thunder, though the sky is clear of any cloud cover when Iroh risks a peek over
his shoulder and past the open balcony curtains. Finally, Agni's form reverts to its normal
white and he lowers his hand.
"You are correct in that it is unlikely Liukshi intended to cause trouble," Agni snarls, "This is
more likely to be that fool's attempt at gratitude. However, I can think of few worse manners
through which he could have pursued such an end. He is fortunate his actions only weakened
your reforging rather than undoing it entirely."
Ozai shifts uncomfortably in his chair. "Liukshi meant no harm. He sought to honor you.
Would you really punish him for that?"
"His intentions matter little when what he actually accomplished was to come very close to
destroying my herald," Agni says, "particularly as there is no ready heir at this time."
Ozai looks away and hunches his shoulders while crossing his arms. The undisguised
vulnerability from his brother is disorienting and, if Iroh were not already worried for many
other reasons, this alone would be enough to cause considerable concern.
Agni sighs. "Liukshi is no child, Fire Lord," the Sun Spirit says, "but if it will comfort you, I
will deal with him without further reducing the number of his eyes."
Ozai grimaces and Iroh has to fight off a similar expression from taking over his own face.
Hearing about Agni's willingness to inflict violence upon other spirits is rather discomforting.
Iroh slips the lotus tile back into one of his sleeve pockets and reclaims his teacup from its
saucer. Given the general heat in the room, the beverage has not cooled much.
One second, two, three pass in tense silence and sipped tea.
"I will suggest he take flight to Ba Sing Se," Agni decides, "That den of rat-vipers should
hold his attention for a few centuries."
Ozai flinches. "That sounds like you're banishing him."
Agni waves a dismissive hand. "He is not a member of my court, and there is little Liukshi
would love more than a large concentration of mortals with which to share knowledge. More
to the point, there is not a newly reforged mortal in the vicinity that his blundering might
cause an untimely divorce of soul and body."
And that is apparently the extent of negotiation that Agni is willing to entertain on Liukshi's
behalf.
The Sun Spirit turns from the morose Fire Lord to instead focus on him. "Iroh of Second
Fire," Agni says, "you will act as regent for this morning until noonday while the Fire Lord
rests."
There is no near miss this time. Iroh's shock-numbed fingertips drop the teacup they'd been
holding aloft and he hisses at the sting of the hot liquid seeping through his robes. He waves
a hand over the spill with some hasty bending to pull the heat from the wasted tea. It is not a
particularly easy application of firebending and he fumbles through the action a few times to
bring the lost tea to a temperature that is not so uncomfortable against skin.
"But --"
"Choose your next words with care, child mine," Agni warns, "He is capable and you can do
nothing for the Fire Lands if the reforging fails. You require rest."
Ozai scowls. "I know he is! I know I do! But I've only just started to alter the nation's course!
I haven't had time to go over any plans or detailed goals with him yet!"
That... is not the sort of objections he would have expected from his brother.
Reluctantly, Iroh clears his throat and draws the attention of both spirit and lord. "I was under
the impression that I was out of favor?"
"You are stripped of the blessings of Kuzon's line, but you have the necessary training for the
task," Agni states, "You will be acceptable in a temporary capacity during stints in which
Ozai the Reforged is unavailable."
"Who else do you think we'd trust in the role?" Ozai asks, puzzled.
Honestly, Iroh would have thought his brother's preference would have been anyone, down to
the stable boys, before allowing Iroh so close to the throne after all the political maneuvering
he must have gone through to secure it for himself. Still, that is overlooking the obvious
solution to today's demands.
"You could cancel the morning's meetings?" he suggests.
"All of them?" Ozai looks scandalized by the very thought, perhaps even horrified, "I've
already cancelled more than half of the internal affairs that were on the schedule yesterday! I
can't cancel the whole morning on top of that!"
Iroh isn't certain he's ever witnessed his brother so emotive as he has been this morning. (Is
this morning, or is it still night? Agni is in the sky, but it is not his usual manifestation... Their
national time measurements were not designed for this.)
Agni tisks. "I have been watching, and this one," the spirit gestures at the Fire Lord,
"becomes restless if the work is not being done."
"It piles up!" Ozai defends.
Their patron spirit huffs in response and says, "Brief Iroh of Second Fire on your plans,
breakfast with your heir and fledgeling, and then rest, Fire Lord. You may return to your
duties at noonday and not before."
Agni disappears before Ozai can say anything to continue the argument.
Iroh wonders about the recent turn his life has taken while his brother stews in the chair
beside him.
"Stay here," Ozai grumbles as he rises to his feet, "I'll get my copy of the day's schedule so
we can --" The Fire Lord falls back into the cushions with a grunt and closed eyes. His frown
turns into a deep scowl before his eyes flash open and he snaps, "Fine!" The man crosses his
arms and slumps back into the padded support of the chair.
"Brother?" Iroh questions, confused and cautious.

Ozai turns the scowl on him. "The day's schedule should be in the top drawer of my
nightstand. You will have to be the one to retrieve it."
Iroh nods and stands, thinking through what changes and oddities he has witnessed in his
brother over the past few days. Only one instance seems to match, so he asks, "Agni?"
"Yes," Ozai seethes.
Iroh nods again and moves into the bedroom to do as he has been instructed. He glances over
his shoulder when he hears Ozai hiss, "You're worse than the healers! You make Katara seem
tame!"
Isn't that a Water Tribe name?
Iroh's brow furrows as he ponders the implications. Ozai has never shown much interest in
the Water Tribes before, yet now he speaks of a specific woman by name. He has no idea
what it could mean.
A sudden yelp pulls him from his thoughts and he looks up in time to watch as the maid
drops her scrub brush. The woman snatches up her bucket and splashes sud-filled water over
a smattering of small flames that had been eating through silken bedclothes. Water and soap
bubbles quickly douse the fire and then spread over the floor, soaking the maid's robes and
the soles of Iroh's shoes -- to say nothing of the room's usual contents.
The woman takes a shaky breath and stares at her hands. Sparks flare up in wild bursts above
her fingertips.
Iroh has never seen such terrible control in one her age. "Careful now," he says, suppressing a
wince when she startles and nearly sets the bed aflame a second time, "it would not do to
repeat the incident." As it is, he is not sure how lenient he will be able to convince Ozai to be
over the damaged property.
Iroh gently pushes both of the maid's hands together between his own to smother the sparks.
The woman meets his eyes with frightened tears in her own. "H-highness! I, I --"
"I have lost that title," he corrects easily. She is hardly the first of the palace servants to slip
back into old habits. "It is only 'General,' now."
"Y-yes, General," the maid agrees. She runs a nervous tongue over her lips before confessing,
"But, I, I'm not a bender, sir. I, I've never..." She glances back at the ruined sheets and Iroh
likewise takes in the proof that denies the woman's claims. "I don't..." she trails off helplessly.
Iroh sighs.
It's going to be a long day, isn't it?
Chapter End Notes


Sparked Potential
Chapter Notes
The maid's name is Kiyi. Her family hails from Hira'a and none of her line are firebenders
going back three generations. She has neither siblings nor first cousins that firebend, either.
There are two firebending second cousins that she is aware of, but their bending can be traced
back to the other branch of their family tree, not Kiyi's branch.
More to the point, Kiyi is twenty-three years of age and she has just thrown her first sparks.
It's unheard of. It's less than an hour after Agni's latest work of wonder. A work of the Sun
Spirit, who is the granter and source of firebending, through which the maid had walked to
reach his suite.
"It gave off heat -- a lot of heat -- but it didn't burn. Just like the guard said Agni had
promised. I saw others reach for the flames while we were walking through the halls," Kiyi
stammers through her ongoing explanation, "It was -- Everyone smiled when they touched
the white flames. I --" The maid flushes and fidgets in place.
"What is it?" Ozai asks, mindful to keep his tone gentle instead of letting his exasperation
show. The servant is nervous as it is. Acting on his irritation with being placed on mandatory
bedrest while Caldera is in an uproar won't help the situation.
"I -- It could be nothing. I, I thought it was nothing, but..." The maid tucks a loose lock
behind her ear before once more clasping her hands together and quickly wetting her lips.
"I've listened some to firebenders when they talk to each other. About, um, inner flames and
seas of chi, and, well..." Kiyi squirms. "Walking through the flames was, was warm. On the
inside. And tingly. It felt like, like infatuation, or giddiness, or awe, or nerves -- the good
kind. I've heard some of the other women use the phrase 'a bellyful of butter-dragonflies' for
the feeling. Does... Does that make sense?"
Iroh has an odd look on his face. It's one Ozai recognizes.
"You just realized something."
Iroh startles and glances at him as if caught. After a second's hesitation, the older man nods
from his place at Kiyi's side. "I did," he admits, "I noticed a similar stirring in my chi as I
walked through the flames filling the palace halls, but I did not think much of it. Why would
I? To be surrounded by Agni's power in such a manner is bound to affect an inner flame."
"By Agni," Ozai corrects absently, "He is fire. If he takes control of a flame, it becomes a part
of him."
At least he thinks that's what Tui had meant to convey when explaining spirits' natures and
essences last night. Either way, Agni had used those flames to build the manifestation still
burning overhead, and the streams of fire had felt like Agni even before they had joined
together in the sky. Regardless of any details that may or may not be within man's mental
grasp of spirit natures, however, there is a thought niggling at the back of his mind and
distracting him.
"Would I have I seen you at any point in the past two days?"
The maid blinks at him with wide eyes. "I, I was recruited as one of the message runners for
the war meeting the day before yesterday," Kiyi says, "It isn't my normal role, but the
meeting was called suddenly, and almost a third of the staff is down with monsoon fever, so...
So I was assigned the role of runner, though none of us were used."
No, things had gone off track before anything had been decided that may have required a
message runner. Once there had been messages to send, he had instead charged General Shiro
to instruct the scribes, General Masao to inform the rest of the war council, and the trio of
young sages to bring word of the events back to the capital's temple. He hadn't made use of
any of the servants to run messages.
But he had realized before the meeting began that he could locate every servant there by their
inner flames. Some inner flames had burned hotter than others, but he distinctly remembers
being able to match all of the servants present with some sense of an inner flame.
He hasn't paid the ability much attention over the past few days -- much like a firebender's
sense of Agni's position in the sky, it is easily ignored unless it is needed -- but he can't think
of a single person he has encountered in that time whom he did not sense to possess an inner
flame. That doesn't line up with his childhood memories of the palace and its staff. Some of
them have to be nonbenders. Come to that, he's almost certain a few of the generals that had
attended the meeting aren't firebenders, now that he's thinking about it.
"About how many of the staff would you guess to be nonbenders?" Ozai asks.
"P-perhaps half, my lord?" Kiyi says, glancing between him and Iroh as if seeking direction.
Iroh frowns. "The census for the last handful of decades places the numbers of firebenders
and nonbenders as roughly equal in the nation," he says, "It could only be expected that the
pattern would continue to the palace staff. Outside of the Imperial Firebenders, of course."
"Of course," Ozai agrees, unable to resist rubbing his temples as his exasperation with the
whole debacle grows.
The weakest inner flames he's felt over the past two days, the ones that felt more like banked
coals than open flames, could those be potential benders rather than recognized and trained
firebenders? Is the whole nation's worth of nonbenders actually potential firebenders with
banked inner flames? Could the stirring of chi that Kiyi and Iroh have described experiencing
be enough to change a person's inner flame? Is it permanent?
Even now, Kiyi does not feel like a strong bender. Iroh is a bonfire compared to Kiyi's small
candle of an inner flame.
But even a small flame can swiftly become dangerous if left unattended. The new firebenders
will need instruction in basic control before they can become a danger to themselves or
others, and a program for them will take at least some time to put together. Until then...
"Maid Kiyi," he says, doing his best to ignore the young woman's fearful flinch, "thank you
for telling us what you can about your firebending. I'm tasking you with spreading word
through the palace that all nonbenders are to remain close to competent firebenders, in case
they throw their first sparks in the next few days. Also, have a team put together to see about
cleaning up my bedroom and fixing any damage. You are dismissed."
"Yes! R-right away, your majesty! Thank you!" She bows quickly to him and Iroh before all
but running to the doors to make her escape.
As soon as the maid is gone and the doors are once more sealed behind her, Ozai lets his head
fall into his hands and groans loudly. There is a moment's delay before he hears Iroh's
footfalls cross the floor, followed by the rustle of wrinkling silk and the older man's quiet
grunt as he reclaims the chair beside him.
"So, every nonbender that touched Agni's flames may now be a firebender?" Iroh muses.
"That's my theory so far," Ozai agrees in a grumble and lets his hands drop into his lap.
Quibbling further over the semantics of 'Agni's flames' versus 'Agni' himself isn't something
he has the patience for currently. For all he knows, they amount to the same thing and the
entire point is moot. Spirits are weird. "I think I just figured out something else about the
heraldship."
"Oh?"
Ozai sighs, leaning back into the chair's cushioning. "'And the Fire Lord raised up an army of
men. He instilled in them the full power of fire, and they were victorious over the enemy,'" he
recites and then asks, "How many times are those words repeated in our texts of the old Fire
Lords? How are we sure those passages only refer to training, and that they don't begin with
something far more basic?"
Iroh's eyebrows climb high on his forehead. "You believe Maid Kiyi's circumstance was once
more common? That our nation has a history of nonbenders becoming firebenders after
reaching adulthood?"
Ozai hums an affirming note. "Just before the last war meeting, I realized I could sense other
firebenders' inner flames. Now, I'm wondering if it isn't possible that I could bend them, turn
those who were once nonbenders into firebenders." He grimaces as he adds the obvious
reversal, "Or dampen an inner flame, if necessary."
Iroh had looked uneasy before, but now he pales. "You would strip the inner flame from a
firebender?" he asks in undisguised horror.
Ozai can't meet his brother's eyes and turns away. "It's all theoretical right now, anyway. I'm
in no hurry to try it."
He remembers how Father had shivered for months before his body had adjusted after Aang
had removed his bending, and that had just been the physical toll of the loss. It isn't
something to inflict upon someone lightly.
"It's blasphemous!" Iroh yells, "Agni's gift is not yours to take away!"
Ozai faces Iroh with a fierce scowl and snaps. "I am Agni's Herald! If I have the ability at all,
it would only be because Agni has given it to me! How could using an ability he gave me be
blasphemous?"
The older man shakes his head in disgust. "If you will not see it for blasphemy, then I hope
you will at least have mercy upon any who earn your ire and allow them a swift execution,
instead."
The Fire Lord slumps back into his chair and pinches the bridge of his nose. "As I said, I am
in no hurry to try it." He won't promise not to use it, though. As distasteful as the thought is,
if he does have such an ability, then there may one day be a circumstance where it is the best
option, even if he cannot imagine such a situation today. Still, he doesn't want to keep arguing
over what amounts to untested theories, and they have work to do. "You have the day's
schedule?"
"Yes," Iroh says with poorly contained malcontent. He fishes the scroll in question out of his
sleeve and offers it to the Fire Lord.
Ozai accepts the rolled rice paper. "Thank you." He skims the lines of precise characters.
Iroh pours himself a new cup of tea as the Fire Lord reads.
"Alright," Ozai says, leaning over the arm of his chair to lessen the distance between them
and holding the scroll out for the other man to see, "the meeting just before lunch can be
cancelled. I still want you to evaluate Zuko's firebending today. Minister Daiki will have to
reschedule if he's serious about petitioning for more funds."
"Daiki is known to be easily offended," Iroh cautions as he takes his own turn to look over
the scroll's contents.
"I know, but Agni wasn't wrong," Ozai says, "There isn't a ready heir. I know Zuko and Azula
are both too young regardless, but they haven't been prepared for the throne like you and Lu
Ten were. They were the fourth and fifth in line until recently, and no one ever expected them
to need --" He cuts himself off with a sigh. "Never mind. We'll go over that some other time
that isn't your first day as regent. What matters is that correcting the heir apparent's bending
is more important than Daiki's pettiness, and I'm not willing to put it off any longer than it
already has been."
"As you wish, Fire Lord."
"As for lunch itself, send an invitation to the temple for the sages to come early, including the
Head Fire Sage. I have a feeling that more people will have been affected than the palace
staff, and the temple is probably in the best position to help any new firebenders, but we'll
need to talk to them about setting up the program."
"We?"
"Your input could be valuable, and I'm not cancelling our lunch just because I need to
squeeze a chat with the sages into the schedule somewhere." Iroh squints at him in thinly
veiled disbelief. Ozai meets it with a deadpan. "You also threatened to force me through tea
appreciation lessons. I'd hate to deprive you of the opportunity."
Iroh fails to stifle a startled laugh and Ozai smirks back.
"Now," the Fire Lord continues, "the day's first meeting is with the silk guild. They need to
be told that negotiations are being opened to end the war and that the orders of under armor
will likely see a steep decrease in the coming years. Don't cancel or reduce any of the current
orders -- We don't know how long negotiations will actually take. -- but they need to be able
to start planning for a peace-time economy. Make it clear that whatever happens, we will still
be buying under armor -- We will not be demilitarizing entirely, no matter what the other
nations or the White Lotus think of it. Too many outside parties are looking for revenge for
us to consider that, even if we were inclined to do such a thing. -- but future orders will be at
lower quantities than they have been previously. Let them know that they will be free to seek
other opportunities for their surplus silk. Depending on how negotiations go, Earth Kingdom
and Water Tribe markets might be available to them in the next few years.
"The next meeting is with..."
Azula skips down the halls ahead of Zuzu, who sulks as he follows in her trail.
Yesterday, a servant had told her that Father now expects to breakfast with her and Zuko
every day going forward. Today, a servant had informed her and her brother that today's
breakfast would be served in the Fire Lord's suite. It isn't often that either of them has the
opportunity to glimpse the interior of their father's private sanctuary, let alone be invited
inside.
One of the guards outside the Fire Lord's suite knocks on the doors and announces them
before allowing the two youngest royals entrance into the set of rooms. She hears voices off
to the right before she sees anyone.
"Continue," Father instructs placidly.
"It is only Prince Zuko's evaluation and lunch with the Fire Sages after that," Uncle Iroh
replies.
Azula's nose scrunches. No one had mentioned the old fuddy-duddy would be here to spoil
breakfast with Father. At least Zuzu is sometimes amusing. But what was that about an
evaluation for Zuko?
She can feel the way Dum-Dum has frozen behind her. It's not something he had known
about, either, then.
Azula spins on her heel just long enough to stick her tongue out at her brother and watch his
instant indignation before darting into the room. "Father," she greets with a bow. "Uncle," she
acknowledges because court manners demand it.
"Father, Uncle," Zuko copies, a step behind and a second late, as usual. She sees her brother
offer a second bow to their uncle out of her periphery. The action is technically unnecessary
now that Uncle no longer outranks them, but Father makes no comment about the needless
act, and so neither will Azula. There are more important things to consider, anyway.
Such as the unusual sight in front of her.
Father is dressed in naught but sleep pants and a light robe meant for leisure. His hair is
unbound and its new, shorter length leaves the ends to brush his shoulders. His posture is
relaxed and he sips absently from the teacup in his hand. It is the most casual she can ever
recall seeing her father. She's not sure she likes it. Ever since the spirits interfered in Father's
and Zuko's Agni Kai, Father has been acting strange.
Uncle Iroh is, for once, not sipping tea, though there is an empty cup at his elbow and some
suspicious stains down the front of his robes. The old has-been is crouched over a small
scroll littered with annotations and he holds a brush in his dominant hand as he scans over the
cramped writing.
"Azula, Zuko," Father says, drawing her attention away from further observations, "Please,
sit." He gestures at the backless couch across the table from him and Uncle Iroh. "I'm sure the
servants will be in with breakfast soon."
"Children," Uncle greets them with a strained smile, but returns to his earlier conversation
with Father immediately after, "Is that everything?"
"I think so," Father says, "Even if it isn't, it will have to be enough. We're out of time. You
need to get ready for your first audience."
Azula steals the spot closest to Father and Zuko is apparently too nervous about whatever
upcoming evaluation he has to complain about the slight.
"It is an extensive amount of notes," Uncle sighs, "I hope I will be able to remember them
all."
"You'll do fine. Just get everything moving in the right direction. I'll fix any discrepancies
later." Father frowns. "I'd like to think you don't need this reminder, but don't do anything that
would catch Agni's ire. The Fire Nation needs to be your priority while acting as regent, not
the White Lo--"
"Brother," Uncle Iroh interrupts the Fire Lord. Azula's eyes widen in shock and she barely
stops her jaw from falling open into an unseemly gape. Beside her, Zuko gasps and stiffens.
"Almost a solid third of your notes have been warnings against attempting to win favor from
or for my associates. I have received that particular message quite clearly."
"Your 'associ--' Ah." Father glances at her and Zuko. "Yes, them, right." He sets his teacup on
its saucer and rubs the back of his neck as if goat-sheepish. "You're right. At a certain point, I
either trust you to do this or I don't. Go. Before you're late."
What was that? It had been terribly unsubtle, whatever it was.
Uncle rolls up the scroll and tucks it into his sleeve. He stands and bows. "Thank you, Fire
Lord." And then another bow for her and her brother. "Prince Zuko, Princess Azula," he says
as a farewell.
"Uncle," she returns mechanically.
Zuko doesn't manage that much.
Uncle Iroh leaves swiftly.
Azula wills herself to shake off her lingering shock. "Uncle is acting as regent today?" she
asks, struggling to keep her tone mild rather than incredulous. Posing any question to the Fire
Lord is always a fine balancing act, and often better avoided altogether, but she needs
answers after what she has witnessed.
"Only for the morning," Father answers, an irritated twist to his lips, "Agni forbade me to
return to my duties before noon."
"You spoke with Agni again?" Zuko asks.
"He's been a fairly consistent presence since he first made himself known to me," Father says,
irritation giving way for something closer to resignation.
This is her opportunity. She has been rehearsing this speech in her head for the past hour,
concise as it is, making it as perfect as she can. She will not chicken-pig out now. It is
unfortunate that Father does not seem to be particularly happy with the Sun Spirit's continued
interference, but perhaps her news will be enough to sway his opinion.
"I spoke with Agni," she announces, voice clear and back straight.
Father does not seem surprised by her declaration, but he does ask, "And what did you speak
to Agni about, Princess Azula?"
She draws a preparatory breath and smiles, sharp and fierce. This is her moment.
"I greeted the Sun Spirit and was recognized. I danced in the fire of Agni's pre-dawn sun --"
"You told me not to call it dancing," Zuko mutters behind her. She ignores her brother and his
petulance.
"-- and I found my flames."

Azula holds out a hand and ignites a small, precise, concentrated flame of unwavering blue
above her palm. Her form is impeccable. Her accomplishment is undeniable.
Father laughs.
Her control falters shamefully before she snuffs the flaring fire. This is not the reaction she
had been anticipating, when she had been revelling over her latest success in Mother's
garden. Father was supposed to praise her prowess, not laugh.
"I'm sorry, Azula. I shouldn't laugh. I just -- I hadn't expected -- I didn't think --" The Fire
Lord giggles and shakes his head, covering his mouth with one hand and taking a long,
calming breath in through his nose. He lowers his hand and manages not to break into further
tittering merriment at her expense. "We all thought you were weeks, possibly months, away
from attaining mastery. I should have known better than to expect you to keep to anyone
else's time frame. Congratulations, Azula of the Blue Flame." He reaches out and tugs on one
of her bangs again, as is one of his new, inexplicable habits. Softer, he says, "Well done,
Little Dragon."
This is not the reaction she had been hoping for, but... She does not particularly mind the
gentle hair pulling, nor the unexplained endearment that nonetheless hints at a future
fierceness and power that would make any enemy think twice. What's more, Father's eyes are
glowing with pride as much as they are from being spirit-touched, and his smile is soft with
easy affection like Mother used to have for Zuko. It inspires feelings in her like the warm
sparking of her chi in the instant before she bends, the elation of a new achievement, and the
satisfaction of a perfectly performed kata. It's a heady cocktail of emotions.
Hesitantly, although she will never admit as much aloud, Azula allows herself to smile in
return.
Chapter End Notes

Branching Destinies
Chapter Notes
Breakfast is quiet. Azula is still basking in the glow of well-earned praise -- His daughter
danced with Agni and mastered the blue flame. She's achieved in two days from the branch in
history what had taken his sister another two months to accomplish. -- but Zuko seems to be
distracted by something altogether more unpleasant.
"Zuko," he waits for the boy to meet his eyes, "What's on your mind?"
The prince hesitates before saying, "Uncle mentioned an evaluation, but there isn't anything
on my schedule. Did I do something wrong?"
Of course, he should have thought about how that would sound to the children without the
surrounding context. He feels a tension he hadn't realized was there ease.
"No," Ozai says as he relaxes back in his chair and uses his chopsticks to collect his next bite,
"I told you I would speak to Iroh about your training. He wants to see for himself where you
are before he agrees to anything."
"Oh."
That... had not sounded nearly as reassured as it should have. Ozai looks up from his
breakfast again. "Is there something else bothering you?"
The prince hunches into himself and stares down at his plate.
"Zuko?"
The boy takes a slow breath before relenting. "'You will learn respect,'" his son recites as he
tentatively meets his eyes, "'and suffering will be your teacher.'"
Azula lowers her chopsticks to her plate and frowns at her brother. "That's not what Father
said."
Ozai isn't sure what face he's making. It's good that Azula's attention is elsewhere, though,
because it wouldn't surprise him if his expression largely mirrored the prince's pale dawning
horror. Even if it wasn't quite as obvious as that, his sharp-eyed daughter would doubtlessly
still see more than she should.
Zuko breaks their uncomfortable staring contest almost as soon as he'd inadvertently started
it, ducking his head once more. "You, you mentioned yesterday that Agni's grace saved me,"
he rambles anxiously, "Was that... Was that what you were going to say? During the Agni
Kai? Were you really going to --" The boy reaches for the left side of his face before aborting
the motion, hands fisting in his lap.
The Fire Lord groans and slumps back into the cushions behind him as he scrubs his own
hands over his unscarred and too-angular face.
Focus on the here and now. Take it one step at a time. Remember to breathe. The situation
isn't beyond repair. He can do this.
...Agni's favored or not, it appears his perpetual bad luck is as attentive a companion as it has
always been.
Both of the children are watching him when he lowers his hands. "What else did Liukshi
show you?" he asks. Better that he find out now than be surprised by it later.
Azula's eyes narrow as she glances back and forth between Fire Lord and prince. Zuko
squirms.
"You didn't accept my forfeiture. The Agni Kai went to first burn." The prince's fists tighten
in his lap. "You banished me for my cowardice and dishonor. I think Liukshi might have
meant to show me more, but then I woke up, and there wasn't a green turtle-duck with a
weird face in my room, so --"
"Turtle-duck?" the princess interrupts, "I know the eye-face is off-putting, Dum-Dum, but
Liukshi is clearly a messenger hawk."
...And that answers the question of whether or not Liukshi had visited Azula's dreams as well.
Zuko scowls at his sister. "I know what I saw, Azula! The spirit looked just like a turtle-duck,
except it was green, and glowing, and had a large eye instead of a face!"
"You're blind!" Azula snaps back, "Liukshi is a hawk!"
"Enough," Ozai breaks into the argument, and it's obvious by the children's caught
expressions that they had forgotten he was there to witness their squabbling, "Agni told me
Liukshi was shattered, and Tui said spirits can take on different forms. Liukshi was a lemur-
bat when he visited me." He'd wanted to wait so he could be sure he didn't say anything that
he'd later regret confirming about Liukshi and his visions, but he thinks he can afford to say a
little to smooth the conversation and get it back on track. "He showed me things as they had
happened and things as they might have happened in another life but did not in this one.
That's all you saw, Zuko. It was a possibility that did not and will not happen. You'll be better
off not dwelling on it."
"Yes, sir," comes the prince's rigid reply.
Ozai sighs. He can't ask for more than that. "And what did Liukshi show you, Azula?"
"Nothing of consequence if all Liukshi deals in are mere possibilities, Father," the girl says
breezily as she returns to her meal. The dismissive tone fools neither Ozai nor Zuko and they
both watch her as she finishes the statement, "I saw myself coronated Fire Lord under the
light of Sozin's Comet."
Zuko glares at his sister. "You're not the heir, Azula."

"Not yet," the girl quips, "but if you don't shape up soon, Father might decide you're not the
nation's best option." She swirls a fistful of blue fire over her palm, as if there had been any
doubt about the implications behind her words.
Ozai, for his part, feels decidedly less conflicted about Agni sending Liukshi far, far away
from the Fire Nation. Azula puts on a good show, but he remembers all-too-well what state
his sister had been in after everyone she'd ever trusted had left her side. Liukshi has shown
both of his children the lowest points of the lives Agni had spared them from. The pain,
trauma, and knowledge of those experiences should never have touched them, not in any
form, however mild.
"I'm not having Zuko removed from the line of succession," Ozai says, breaking the siblings'
second argument in a single degree, "and it's time that this rivalry end. You are both my
children. You will each have a role to play in the nation's future, but they will, by necessity,
be different roles."
To Zuko, he says, "You are my heir and I have no intention to see that changed. Once you
become Fire Lord, Azula will either be among your greatest assets or hindrances during your
reign. I recommend ensuring she is always aware of how much you value her continued
support."
To Azula, he adds, "For you to be Fire Lord would require two deaths or abdications." Both
children wince at the blunt words. "There is no scenario under which that happens that is
good for the Fire Nation. However, unlike your brother, you have a choice in what role you
wish to take on to serve the nation. If you really want to spend your every day pouring over
paperwork or stuck in council meetings, you'd make a good advisor to help balance your
brother's idealism, but you've other options as well and the time to consider them."
To both children he says, "Yours will be the first generation in almost a century to grow up in
a world at peace rather than war, but that peace will remain fragile long after the first handful
of treaties establishing it are signed. If the two of you can't figure out how to form a lasting
peace between yourselves, then neither of you will be able to continue the work I am
beginning now."
The rest of the meal is a quiet affair, like an uneasy mirroring of its start, full of Zuko and
Azula leveling frowns and scowls and considering squints at each other. If some of his son's
and daughter's most confused and contemplative glances are occasionally cast in his direction
instead of at each other, Ozai pretends not to notice.
Iroh worries his lotus tile between three fingers, carefully hidden behind his other hand and
the sleeves of his best robes. This feels like a trap.
He has trained for his whole life to one day take the throne. He has not wanted it since the
disaster of the Ba Sing Se Siege had turned personal and he had lost his son. How could he
possibly lead his nation knowing he had led his own son to his death and his troops to a
slaughter? After the siege had broken, he had abandoned his post and wandered the length of
the Eastern Continent by foot. His aimless traveling had left him to confront the ruin his
nation had left in the wake of its conquest, not the least of which were large swathes of land
that bore the scars of his own past campaigns. How could a man so blind to the consequences
of his own actions be trusted to guide an entire nation of men? And then, most damning of
all, when news had finally reached him of his father's death and Ozai's ascension -- not as
regent during Iroh's absence from the Mother Islands, but as the next Fire Lord -- all Iroh had
felt was relief. In that moment, he had known by his own reaction that he was unfit for the
throne and too weak for the crown.
But then...
Destiny is a funny thing.
And it might just have a vicious sense of humor all its own.
Iroh runs his thumb over the raised petals of the lotus tile and considers the eponymous
throne of the room in which he now stands. A regent typically rules from the throne just as a
true Fire Lord would, however, during the last meeting held within these walls, Ozai had cast
aside centuries of tradition and sat at the table among the generals and sages of his council. It
had only been a single meeting, but a long and important one during a time of change. Had
his brother meant to set a new precedent? Or had Ozai only intended the aberration to last for
the evening? Dozens of careful notes from his discussion with the Fire Lord this morning, but
not one had been spared to address the expected seating arrangements.
Iroh flips the Pai Sho tile end-over-end as he weighs his options. It almost feels like being a
general at the front again.
...He will not be holding an audience with any of the war council while he is acting as regent.
That meeting is scheduled for later in the day, after Ozai's return. That leaves only the
servants who might know there is anything to question, depending on how many of them also
witnessed the last meeting. On the other hand, it would be preferable to avoid further wrong-
footing or otherwise antagonizing the parties expecting an audience with the Fire Lord who
will instead have to settle for speaking to a disgraced 'once-prince,' as the Sun Spirit is prone
to phrasing it.
His fingers still as he reaches a decision.
While patience is a powerful weapon in the hands of the shrewd and caution is among the
greatest tools of the prudent, hesitance is the folly born of a weak will.
Iroh settles into the cushions of the throne, slips the lotus tile back into its usual pocket, and
hopes he has not already committed his first unwise action as regent. The curtain of flame
flares upward from its bed of coals as he brings it under his control.
"I believe we are ready to begin," he addresses the waiting roomful of servants, "Let us allow
our first guests to join us. Please, open the doors."
Chapter End Notes


The Breath of the Matter
Chapter Notes
Zuko stumbles to a halt when he realizes Uncle Iroh has entered the courtyard without his
notice. "Uncle!"
"Hello, Prince Zuko!" the older firebender returns with cheer.
"You were not told to stop, trainee!" yells the towering man at Uncle's side, "Continue the
exercise to its completion!"
Zuko tries to hide his flinch. "Yes, Instructor Akio!" He hurries to resume his kata but a part
of him finds time to begin fretting over how he must already be failing Uncle Iroh's
evaluation.
His firebending lesson goes on largely as it normally would for the next hour, excepting
Uncle's presence. The two older men speak in hushed tones as they watch him and Zuko
wishes he could make out their words. He already knows that he must be the topic of their
conversation, but not knowing the specifics of their discussion is nerve-racking. It makes him
tense in a manner that is not at all helping his performance, which in turn is even more
stressful.
Despite the split in his attention that Iroh creates, Instructor Akio still manages to find the
flaws in Zuko's form and give corrections. Loudly.
"Mind your breathing!"
"Wider stance!"
"Control your breath, trainee!"
"That was pathetic! Start again from the beginning!"
And then, much like Uncle had appeared without warning in the training courtyard, Instructor
Akio disappears.
"Please, continue the kata, Prince Zuko," Uncle instructs calmly, "There is honor in
completing what one starts."
Zuko hesitates but soon continues with the kata he had been working through. When he
finishes the last move of the set, Uncle invites him to approach with a wave.
"That was well done, Nephew," Iroh says, "but there are some aspects in your bending that
you seem to be struggling with."
The boy flushes as embarrassment rises up again. "Yes, Uncle," he admits and glances around
the courtyard. His firebending instructor is still nowhere to be seen. "Where is Instructor
Akio? He's never left during a lesson before."
Uncle strokes his beard twice before answering. "Instructor Akio has been reassigned to train
Imperial Firebenders," he says, "as he was doing before he was selected to take on your
firebending lessons."
"Oh. I see," Zuko says and swallows. Another master has given him up as a lost cause, then.
"I've been told he's trained some of the finest Imperial Firebenders among the ranks. It will be
good to have him training more of the nation's elite benders."
The old man nods sagely. "From the way he speaks, I suspect that the structure of the military
suits him well," Uncle Iroh says, "Instructor Akio knows how to take firebenders who have
gone through the standard army training of our nation and refine them into strong masters.
And yet, I do not believe he has learned how to teach a young pupil who has much promise
but lacks the foundational lessons that his previous students would have rigorously drilled
before reaching him."
Zuko frowns as his confusion grows. "Uncle?"
"His failure to adapt has left the two of you badly mismatched, Nephew. I am not certain if
you are aware, but I trained your cousin Lu Ten personally, from his first sparks up to his
mastery." Uncle bows as he says, "I would be honored if you would allow me the privilege of
training another young prince to the height of his potential."
"O-oh." When Father had said he'd speak to Uncle about Zuko's training, he'd assumed that
Uncle might offer a few corrections or some advice before turning him back over to
Instructor Akio. At most, he'd expected Uncle might find the time to lead an occasional
lesson. He hadn't thought the Dragon of the West would be stepping into the role of his
firebending master full time! "Thank you, Uncle! I am honored that you would consider me a
worthy student." He offers an appropriate bow to acknowledge his uncle's new status as his
firebending master. "I'll do my best to live up to your expectations!"
"I am certain that you will, Prince Zuko!" Uncle grins. "Please, go fetch your cooldown
supplies. There is no better time to begin than the present."
"Yes, Instructor! ...Master? Um..." Zuko gives up on salvaging his dignity and asks, "How
should I address you?"
The man chuckles. "How about we stick with 'Uncle?'" the older royal suggests, "There are
no greater or more cherished titles than those of familial relationships."
"Except 'Fire Lord,'" Zuko says.
Uncle pauses a moment and a strange emotion flickers across his face before it vanishes
without a trace. "'Fire Lord' is indeed a very important title," he acknowledges.
It sounds like an agreement, but somehow Zuko isn't sure that it is. The nagging uncertainty
makes him feel anxious. He doesn't know what to do with that emotion and its implication, so
he does his best to ignore the thought and everything it would lead to. Instead, the teen turns
to collect the supplies for his breathing exercises as he was directed.
...Maybe he doesn't need to tell Father about this particular conversation with Uncle. Or at
least, not how it ended.
Ozai bites back a yawn as he settles into the cushion at the head of the table. Napping during
the day always leaves him feeling groggy. At least it had been a good nap this time. He'd
actually been able to relax knowing that Iroh was taking care of things and that Agni would
step in if it became necessary for whatever reason.
"Fire Lord."
Ozai startles from his slump to find Iroh at one of the room's entrances. The older man rises
from his bow with a brow lifted in a silent question.
"I'm still half asleep. Firebenders aren't supposed to wake at noon," the Fire Lord grumbles
and then scrubs a hand over his face. "Sit," he directs absently, gesturing to the spot at his
left. "How did the morning go? Any problems?"
"A few ruffled feathers, but nothing that appeared likely to lead to sustained insults or
grudges."
Ozai hums in response and Iroh reaches for the teapot at the center of the table. The older
man rather pointedly pours a cup for Ozai before filling his own.
"I did not have time to brew the tea myself with the change in today's schedule," Iroh says,
"but the kitchen staff have always produced an excellent pot of ginseng."
Ozai rolls his eyes under Iroh's expectant gaze. He lifts his cup and takes a sip to satisfy the
other man.
Iroh appears mollified for the moment and indulges in a sip from his own teacup. He savors
the flavor for a moment and then, instead of beginning the lecture about the tea's qualities
that Ozai is anticipating, says, "There is one matter we should discuss before the sages join
us."
Suddenly, Ozai feels far more awake. "Oh?"
"Yes," Iroh's gaze sharpens as he asks, "Who convinced you that a man used to training full-
grown soldiers would make a good candidate for a thirteen-year-old child's firebending
master?"
Ozai grimaces. He has no idea who recommended Akio for the position. For all he knows,
the idea might have originated with his father. More to the point, he isn't inclined to give Iroh
any names so long as the older man has that particular glint in his eyes.
"It sounds bad when you phrase it like that," he deflects. Iroh levels a distinctly unimpressed
look at him for his chosen response and Ozai tamps down on the instinctive wince prompted
by the obvious disapproval.
"Then I am glad you agree that Akio was poorly suited for the task," Iroh states, "I sent him
to reclaim his previous position as an instructor for the Imperial Firebenders."
Ozai releases a quiet sigh of relief. Iroh isn't going to push the matter. "I'm told Instructor
Akio has trained some of our finest Imperial Firebenders. It will be good for the nation to
have him training more of our elite benders," he confirms. His brother squints at him
strangely. Ozai isn't sure what to make of the expression and so he attempts to move the
conversation forward, "Does this mean you're agreeing to become Prince Zuko's firebending
teacher?"
"I am." The curious look on the older man's face remains and Ozai affects obliviousness by
drinking more tea. "I wonder... Do you realize how strongly your son takes after you? He said
almost --"
Ozai breaks into a coughing fit as he chokes on ginseng.
"Brother!"
The Fire Lord bats Iroh's hovering hands away and snatches a napkin from the table. "You
have no idea," he rasps as he regains control of his breathing, "how acutely aware I am of the
many similarities and key differences that exist between myself and Prince Zuko."
Iroh frowns but does not question the claim.
"Sages," the Fire Lord greets, "Please, join us."
Head Sage Hijiri rises from his bow. "Thank you, Fire Lord Ozai," he returns, moving to take
his place at the monarch's side and across from General Iroh, "It is --"
Sage Misha brushes by him with a large grin on his face and claims the open cushion to the
left of the ex-crown prince. Hijiri scowls. He does not know these three junior sages well,
having only met them upon their selection by Agni, but it is clear that the young sage has no
patience -- nor sense of decorum, for that matter. He will have to recommend additional study
for the man.
Hijiri takes a breath, reminds himself that the youthful are often foolish in their exuberance,
and refrains from remarking on the behavior while they remain in the presence of those
outside the brotherhood. There will be a time for correction, but it is not now.
"It is an honor to serve Agni's anointed," the head sage says, drawing attention back to
himself and hopefully away from Sage Misha's impertinence. He then takes his place of
honor at the Fire Lord's right side as the highest ranking guest. Sage Shadra seats himself at
Hijiri's right and Abedni, skittish thing that he is, practically hides himself behind Shadra.
Hm, perhaps different lessons are in order for that one. Hijiri is starting to suspect that Sage
Abedni had expected to bury himself in the quieter aspects of temple life, but the role he is
being called on to fulfill would benefit from a dash more confidence than the junior sage has
thus far displayed.
"Let us begin lunch," Fire Lord Ozai says, waving servants in to present the meal. It is quite
the generous selection, but the sharing of a meal is not why Hijiri has been summoned to the
palace.
"Sages Shadra, Abedni, and Misha returned to the temple from their last visit with quite the
tale of Agni's return, and the Sun Spirit's close presence over Caldera all through this
morning has caused a stir through the city and, I am sure, beyond. Please, Herald, tell us what
we can do to assist in your duties."
Fire Lord Ozai does not waste time. "There is a maid in my employment, Kiyi. This morning
she threw her first sparks after touching the fire of Agni's pre-dawn sun before it rose into the
sky. I suspect she will not be the only one to have such an experience after this morning and
that there will be more instances of nonbenders becoming firebenders."
The Head Fire Sage nods at the Fire Lord's conclusion. This is not quite what he had
expected to be the first topic discussed at a lunch preceding the day's war meeting, but there
is no denying its importance.
"We have received many reports of such instances in the last several hours," he says,
confirming the other man's suspicions as well founded. Most of the reports in question had
even been given in person during the unprecedented influx they had at this morning's prayers
to Agni. But then, if the existence of a pre-dawn sun over the capital had not moved the
people to revere and worship Agni again, Hijiri would have to wonder about the stubborn
blindness of the current generation.
Ozai takes in that statement and something in the man's face grows firm. It is more subtle
than the glint in his eyes or the tilt of his chin, but the look is one of a man who has come to a
decision and is used to having his orders obeyed. "I want the temple to put a program
together for these new benders. Teach them control. If they come from nonbending families
or otherwise do not share a home with an established firebender that can help them subdue
stray sparks, offer them a place to stay in the temple until they can safely return to their own
residences. If they insist on returning to their homes before you deem them ready, let them go
but send a sage with them to inform their neighbors of the increased fire risk.
"I will send official orders along these lines at a later date when I have more time in my
schedule to draft the appropriate paperwork. For now, know that the palace will reimburse
any funds the temple needs to spend on this project."
"Yes, Fire Lord," Hijiri says, "It will be done."
A throat is cleared on the opposite side of the table and, for a split-second, the head sage fears
the worst of Sage Misha's comportment. He is greatly relieved to realize that the culprit is
instead General Iroh.
"If I may?" the previous crown-prince says.

General Iroh wears the regent's crown in his topknot, Hijiri notes in surprise, the triple-
pointed copper headpiece shining as it reflects light off its polished surface. Strange that the
Fire Lord would allow the lesser counterpart of his own crown and symbol of authority to be
worn by any in his presence, let alone while business is actively being conducted, in however
unofficial a capacity.
The Fire Lord renders his judgement, "Speak."
"Although the sages have very skilled teachers among them, especially for firebending," Iroh
nods across the table at Hijiri in acknowledgement, "it has recently come to my attention how
often those that train master benders expect their students to come to them already strong in
their foundational lessons. This initiative may benefit from the inclusion of teachers that
focus on the training of beginner firebenders."
Hijiri would not have thought of that, but the general raises a valid point and the idea has
merit. A glance at the Fire Lord's face reveals that the nation's leader at least does not seem
displeased by his brother's counsel.
"We do practice the basics regularly at the temple," the head sage says, "but General Iroh is
correct in that we have little experience in teaching them. There is also the matter of the
children who touched Agni's flames to consider, both older and younger than the typical age
range of five-to-eight for manifestation. They, in particular, may be best served by instructors
from outside the temple."
"Recruit as many outside instructors as you believe necessary," the Fire Lord decides,
"Collect their names and addresses. The palace will pay them directly. Of the other things
you buy, make sure to keep an itemized list. I'll be directing the treasury to expect as much
and to reject all requests that do not properly record what funds were spent on."
Well, that is certainly news. He'll have to remember to pass that on to the bookkeepers at the
temple. There will doubtlessly be grumbling over the increased hassle this will cause them.
"Has something happened to cause the change?"
"Not yet. Not beyond the usual corruption and skimming of funds," the Fire Lord dismisses
lightly, "but it is likely that there will be substantial turbulence in the future of the nation's
economy, quite possibly a recession at some point. A war-time economy does not fix itself
overnight into a successful peace-time economy. Taking actions now to reduce wasted funds
will help mitigate a portion of the toll on our citizenry, at least through the taxes."
"I see." The head sage strokes his beard in thought. His audience includes General Iroh, who
is known for certain excesses but is nonetheless outside of the brotherhood, and three junior
sages, who Hijiri barely knows a thing about but were chosen by Agni. It is worth the
potential risks, he thinks. "Would it be too forward, my lord, to offer a list of sages for audit?"
Five sets of eyes are immediately pinned to his person, weighing him for his boldness.
"Is this an attempt to root out corruption or rivals, Head Sage?" the Fire Lord asks.
Hijiri dares not look away from the monarch to gauge the other reactions of those in the
room. "Fire Lord Ozai, if any sage on the list I provide you does not show signs of living
beyond the means of a Fire Sage's allotted allowance, I will submit myself to whatever
punishment you deem fit. I cannot guarantee corruption will be found in every case, there
could be other explanations, but it is easy to spot excess and extravagance within the
brotherhood of the temple."
"I-If I may?"
Hijiri glances back and cannot help being stunned that Sage Abedni has gathered the courage
to speak at all. He would have sooner suspected either of his two cohorts. Perhaps there is
something more to the young man than a first impression of him would suggest.
"Speak," the Fire Lord commands.
Abedni flinches at the firm order. He twists his fingers in his lap but says past the obvious
case of nerves, "The head sage is correct. Once you know what to look for, extra coin is easy
to see in the possessions and habits of certain brothers."
A frown mars the Fire Lord's face as he considers what he has been told. The tension in the
room hangs uncomfortably in the air as they all wait on his verdict.
"This portion of the conversation doesn't leave the room," Ozai says at last, "Suspected
widespread corruption in the Fire Sages without clear facts or answers could be destabilizing,
catastrophically so. Have the list ready by the day after tomorrow's afternoon and send it to
me through Sage Shadra, Misha, or Abedni when they join that day's war meeting. I'll have
people look into the matter discreetly."
Head Sage Hijiri strokes his beard. It is a wise precaution. "As you wish, Fire Lord."
"Good." The Fire Lord glances down at the table. "You should eat before you have to return
to the temple, Head Sage, and most of these dishes are much better hot than they are after
they've cooled."
Hijiri startles at the subject change and peeks around the table only to find that he alone has
yet to touch his meal. "Ah! I am sure it is all still delicious, my lord!" He pauses just before
he takes his first bite. "Before I 'return to the temple,' my lord?" he asks, "I had expected I
would be joining the war meeting this afternoon."
The Fire Lord seems surprised by the mere suggestion. "Agni has chosen sages for that role.
You were not among them." It is spoken as nothing more than fact, but the implication is a
stinging rebuke all the same. "Also, I would prefer that the preparations for the new
firebenders' program be started as soon as possible. As the highest administrator of the
temple, I expect you'll be busy for the remainder of the day on organization efforts."
"It is as you say, Fire Lord Ozai. I should not have been so presumptuous."
Hijiri has been passed over by Agni, but trusted by his herald, at least. It helps to soothe some
of the wounds inflicted on the head sage's ego. Perhaps it is that same pride that caused Agni
to reject him for the honor the Sun Spirit bestowed upon Sages Shadra, Abedni, and Misha.
He will have to meditate on the matter before he retires for the night.
"Oh, and Iroh?" the Fire Lord says, something like amusement in his voice.
"Yes, Brother?"
"Make sure you leave yourself time to switch your headpiece before the next meeting."
The general blinks rapidly before flushing. Like an embarrassed child, he admits, "I had
forgotten."
The Fire Lord chuckles with a surprising amount of warmth. "Yes, I can tell."
Despite the political pitfalls inherent to dining with the Fire Lord, and the injured pride
caused by his own assumptions, Hijiri must admit that he finds the lunch to be an overall
pleasant experience. He can only hope that any future meetings with Agni's Herald will go as
well as this one has.
Chapter End Notes
Psst! Hey there! How are you? I hope you've been enjoying the story. Did you know that
this point marks twenty chapters and over fifty-thousand words shared between us? If
you could spare a second to hit the kudos button, I'd be much obliged!
And with that out of the way, I think it's about time for a life-changing field trip, don't
you? See you next chapter and happy reading!

Spirited Away
Chapter Notes
I got asked on tumblr about Iroh's opinion on Zu-Ozai and so I took the opportunity to
ramble a bit about some of the behind the scenes worldbuilding I'm playing with
regarding the brothers' dynamic/past. Potential spoilers through the link, depending upon
where one draws that particular line, but relatively mild I think. It might have also
impacted how I wrote the second half of this chapter. Who's to say?
Anyway, happy reading!
"I believe we now have something we can work from," Ozai announces to the tired war
council, causing a silent wave of relief to cross more than a few faces in the room.
It's been a long and tedious session, working towards a goal that many of the members are
reluctant to support. The evening meal had come and gone about three hours ago, presented
in the throne room without flourish. However, despite how long it has taken to accomplish,
they have nearly completed the preliminary planning necessary for things to actually begin
moving. There's a rough plan in place for the entire Eastern Continent, numerous alternative
paths and actions have been proposed and weighed in the event that the preferred option in
any given situation becomes untenable, and clear goals established with specifically
prioritized sub-objectives that can be pursued or cut as the reality on the ground allows. It's
good progress, all things considered.
"Generals Iroh, Kazuya Kai, and Masao, I am placing you in charge of the remaining details.
Assign generals as you see fit, either from this council or from those already on the continent,
to lead each theater, and finalize the initial orders and routing. Have your recommendations
ready by our next meeting," the Fire Lord continues.
Iroh is one of the most successful generals of the last three decades, and he hadn't been
exaggerating his ability to organize and move troops. Kazuya Kai has proven throughout the
meeting to have an extensive knowledge of not just his home colony Yu Dao, but of the
colonies in general and the surrounding terrain. The man is also more defensively minded
than most of the other generals, which works well for retreat planning. Masao has a love for
logistics of all kinds and has offered up a solid quarter of the proposed routes for this meeting
single-handedly, along with complementary lists of the advantages and disadvantages he
could see in his own strategies. There should be enough overlap in skill and desire for the
three men to work together while their different perspectives and motivations should keep a
balance between minimizing damage to the Earth Kingdoms, protecting their own, and
getting the job done.
"As for the rest of you, I suggest taking tomorrow to attend to any pressing matters you have
within the nation so that your attention can be properly focussed as we move forward. I know
I've kept you late this evening, but I promise that the real work is just beginning," Ozai says,
"Sages, thank you for your contributions. If more spirits come to your attention that are
known to occupy the areas we will be moving troops through, or if you recall something else
about the spirits you have already brought to our attention, have the relevant information
ready for when we reconvene."
Sage Misha had been able to point out nearly two dozen minor spirits along the Eastern
Continent's shoreline, some more likely to cause trouble than others. Sage Abedni had
recalled a few older spirits that might well return to the mortal world, once Ozai had
mentioned that more spirits than Agni would likely be making themselves known to man
again. Sage Shadra had less to contribute directly, but the man has a well-honed skill in
keeping Misha on topic and Abedni from shrinking into himself under the weight of the
council's collective gaze. Ozai isn't sure if Shadra's abilities are specific to his two fellow
sages through a longstanding friendship, or if the man has more broadly applicable leadership
qualities. Either way, his inclusion has helped to smooth out the integration of the sages on
the council.
"This meeting is complete." Ozai rises to his feet, generals and sages following his example
before bowing. "The council is dismissed for the evening."
Weary councilmen begin to file out of the room to retire to their homes for the night.
Ozai turns and parts the flame wall to make his own exit but stops when he glimpses a slight
figure reflected by the gold decorating the back wall. No one is standing in a position that
could cast the reflection, and the detailed metalwork of the gold distorts the features beyond
anything recognizable, but the dark skin and bright white clothes give Ozai a decent guess as
to the reflection's identity.
"Tui?"
"Isn't that the Moon Spirit's name?" a voice asks from behind him.
Another two voices reply at the same time, "Yes." Meanwhile, a third responder launches into
a longer, chattering answer.
"Nephew," the spirit sobs, "I need your help. Quickly. I will meet you outside."
Ozai doesn't think to question the request beyond the dread it sparks in him that the Moon
Spirit is distressed and asking for help from him, rather than from more obvious sources of
aid such as Agni or La. He spins and sprints for the open doors. "Move!" he roars, shoving
confused generals out of his way.
"Ozai!" Iroh yells after him.
He ignores the call and runs. The closest exit to open air from the throne room is the main
entrance to the palace.
He dodges servants in the halls with less grace than he would have in his old body. This one
is larger and the muscles aren't trained to perform the seamless footwork he favors that would
allow him to alter his path quickly without costing him much speed. To the servants' credit,
four of them see him charging down the hall and catch on fast enough to get the heavy doors
open before he reaches them.
Several of the guards startle as he bursts over the threshold at full tilt. One swears.
"Ashes!"
Agni has already set for the day, and his secondary sun had dispersed just after the noonday
mark, leaving the world darker for his absence. Instead, the sky is host to the rising full moon
and its backdrop of stars. Tui's ethereal staircase stretches from the glowing heavenly sphere
and all the way to the ground, coming to an end just steps outside of the palace doors.
Waiting for him at the base of the stairs stands the spirit herself, tears streaming thick and fast
down a fourteen-year-old Katara's face with too-bright eyes and white hair. That the Moon
Spirit has chosen to wear the form of one of his friends is more than a bit disconcerting, not
least because he doesn't know if it signifies anything or is pure happenstance.
"Nephew!" Tui cries, holding out a hand.
The Fire Lord twists his sprint eastward to meet the Moon Spirit. Ozai reaches to grasp the
spirit's outstretched hand and, as soon as Tui catches hold of him, she pulls him onto the first
few steps of colored light with a strength he failed to anticipate.
Behind him, startled guards shout for a second time.
"Soot!"
"Cinders!"
"Fire Lord!"
He glances back in an instinctive wariness after regaining his footing. Guards swearing
loudly rather than under their breaths in a grumble is too-often a precursor to trouble fast
coming his way and he wouldn't have expected another round of yelling past the initial
disturbance.
"They can't see us," Tui says, recapturing his attention, "I've pulled you into a space between
the mortal and spirit worlds. It will allow us to travel faster." True to the Moon Spirit's word,
the world blurs as it speeds by them. Above them, Tui's primary physical form becomes their
only anchor point to the mortal world, still and deceptively serene even as the spirit weeps
openly in front of him.
He is so far outside of his depth.
"Tui, what's happening?" he asks, carefully folding the spirit's hands between his own,
"What's wrong?"
Tui's bottom lip wobbles and the spirit sobs again. "I forgot about her!"
Ozai feels his heart freeze in his chest. "Katara?" he asks, praying that he's wrong and the
spirit's visage has been a false clue.
Tui shakes her head, moonbeam-white hair flowing in fitful waves from the motion, and Ozai
almost sags in relief. "No," the spirit corrects, "Hama."
Ozai frowns. "Who?"
"The old compact kept me from acting, and then it was a matter already dealt with," Tui
explains as the world begins to slow, "I forgot that it would not be so now. I am sorry,
Nephew."
"I still don't know what's going on."
"You will soon." Tui gently extracts her hands and wipes her face clear of shed tears. A
steadying breath, and then, "We have arrived."
Iroh releases a quiet sigh of relief as the meeting ends. It has been many hours of simmering
tensions and barely maintained civility as conflicting visions for the nation's future had
clashed, but none of the bickering had grown hostile to the point that order became
impossible to restore and their various contributions had begun to form a cohesive plan of
action as the evening had worn on. All the same, there is something to be said for allowing
hot heads and tempers time to cool. He only hopes that two days will be enough for those on
the war council. Thankfully, Kazuya Kai and Masao tend to be level-headed individuals and
Iroh expects that tomorrow's work will progress smoother than this meeting has.
Which leaves him with one last nagging concern from this evening's prolonged war meeting,
sparked within the first moments of its birth, much to his chagrin.
Ozai had once more seated himself at the head of the table, rather than making use of the
throne and wall of fire to keep himself separate from his audience. Iroh needs to speak with
Ozai about that, particularly if his brother and Agni are set on making him responsible for
executing a regent's duties whenever Ozai is unavailable to lead the nation.
"Tui?"
Iroh glances back to find Ozai standing just over the threshold of the flame curtain, the white
fire still parted behind him.
"Isn't that the Moon Spirit's name?" Kazuya Kai asks.
It is, but Iroh is more concerned with his brother's unexplained pause than his fellow
general's confusion.
The present sages answer for him, in any case.

"Yes," Shadra and Abedni say over each other, one patiently curious and the other warily
waiting.
Misha, Agni bless him, dives headlong into a rambling explanation of the spirit. "Tui is the
Moon Spirit and closely tied to Agni as a reflector of the Sun Spirit's guiding light through
many of the hours during which Agni is not visible in the sky himself. Tui is also responsible
for the ocean's tides and helps..."
Iroh ignores the young sage's exuberance and keeps his gaze locked firmly on the Fire Lord's
back.
A second later, Ozai twists and breaks into a run across the floor, heading for the guest
entrance to the throne room rather than one designed for the Fire Lord. The spirit-touched
glow of the man's eyes has become a blaze, more closely resembling twin suns than candle
flames, and fear seizes Iroh. What games are the spirits playing with his family now?
"Move!" the Fire Lord orders, leaping over a corner of the low table. He pushes aside the
generals that are too stunned and slow to clear his path from the room in time.
"...is said that Tui's blessing is the pull half of waterbend-- Oh!" Sage Misha cuts off his own
chatter to stabilize a teetering General Haruto, and Sage Abedni likewise catches a
gobsmacked General Bujing before he can hit the ground.
"Ozai!" Whether he is unheard or unheeded, Iroh cannot say, but his brother does not slow at
his yell.
There is only shocked stillness in the moment immediately following the Fire Lord's abrupt
departure.
Then Sage Shadra chases after their fleeing monarch, slipping past frozen generals and
through the open doors.
And then they are all running, because something is obviously happening, but they do not
know what and only one man has the answers.
The palace halls have never seemed so long as they do today and muscles he has been
neglecting take little time to begin making their displeasure known over his sudden return to
physical activity. He is one of the last to make it out of the palace's front doors and onto the
forecourt, coming to a halt at the top of the stairs that descend to the wide road connecting the
palace with the rest of Caldera. Below and ahead of him, a congregation of guards, generals,
and sages surround a lone guard cautiously waving a hand through seemingly empty air.
Iroh does not see Ozai anywhere.
Sage Abedni spots him in short order, ducking away from his brother sages near the heart of
the crowd and making his way to Iroh's side. "General," the sage says once he has reached the
top of the short set of stairs, voice pitched soft to avoid drawing more attention. Or it might
be an attempt not to upset him. Iroh cannot begin to guess what he looks like at the moment.
"The Fire Lord has been taken -- or, not 'taken,' exactly," the sage rambles hurriedly, "the
guards report that he ran towards the moon and reached out -- but he vanished between one
breath and the next. Either way, signs point to the Moon Spirit's involvement, though we are
unsure why --"
Iroh's knees give out and Abedni yelps as he attempts to catch his second falling general of
the day. The sage, kind young man that he is to have made the attempt, does not quite
succeed and they both end up on the ground, though the landing is softer for Iroh than it
would have been otherwise.
"Gone," Iroh hears himself say, unable to tease apart the storm of emotions ravaging his
beaten heart, "You're saying he's gone."
He and Ozai have never been close, but with all the changes of late... Some piece of him had
hoped...
Ah. How foolish of him. He should have known better than to grow attached to a man so
clearly marked for the spirits. Their whims will always come before Iroh's needs. Worse, he
realizes, it is already too late to withdraw. The shredded remains of his heart cry out to
rebuild what little survives of his family and cling with a heretofore unknown tenacity to the
idea that he may yet reclaim the younger brother he had previously forsaken.
A bark of bitter laughter escapes him, drawing unwanted attention as the first tears fall from
his eyes.
Iroh forces himself to his feet, stubbornly ignoring the weakness in his legs as he descends
the stairs and strides through the crowd that parts for him as he approaches. "This is where
my brother vanished?" he asks of Shadra upon reaching the center of the ring.
"Yes, General."
The young sage doesn't hide his concern. Either that, or he is simply unskilled at doing so. At
another time, Iroh may have cared to discern which of the possibilities meets with reality.
Right now, he does not. Iroh nods, takes one more step into the void at the core of those
gathered, and folds himself into a seiza facing the moon that stole away his brother.
There are no guarantees when it comes to spirits -- They are governed by rules all their own
beyond any mortal's comprehension. -- but there have been times when men taken have also
been returned. Tui is most often depicted as having a gentle and generous nature, and perhaps
Ozai's status as Agni's Herald will afford him some protection. There is a chance, at any rate.
And so, Iroh settles in and waits.
Chapter End Notes

Moonlighting
Chapter Notes
Shadra pulls Misha aside. Well, as much as he can do so without calling more attention to
themselves while they remain at the center of a crowd of guards and high-ranking military
officers. It helps that most eyes are locked on General Iroh.
The majority of gazes watching the man are pitying, though a few are either suspicious or
calculating. Shadra falls in the earlier camp of pity. The older firebender appears to be an ill-
drawn breath away from crumbling in on himself. He's lost much in the last handful of years
and, by most accounts, he has only recently begun healing from the series of catastrophic
events that befell the royal family and the nation two years ago. Still, as a Fire Sage,
consoling the man is not Shadra's most pressing job. Not with a missing Fire Lord and clear
spirit meddling afoot.
...He'll do what he can for Iroh without neglecting the duties he's vowed to attend to.
"Take Abedni and gather two large metal bowls, water, and lantern oil. Candles, too, if they
can be collected quickly," he instructs his fellow sage in a soft tone just above being a
murmur.
Misha stills and Shadra can see as the other man connects the requested supplies to their
intended purpose. "That seems a bit much," Misha says with a frown, lowering his voice to
match Shadra's example, "Tui has been known to give attention to Fire Lords in the past,
even to insist on private audiences. I don't recall any instance when they were not returned
shortly after being swept up by the Moon Spirit, and never harmed. Do you really believe this
is necessary, Shadra?"
Shadra bites back a grimace. "Better to perform an appeasement ritual and it be unneeded,
than to need one and neglect to perform it. Our last contact with Tui was centuries before we
began raiding the Southern Water Tribes or pushed the Northern Water Tribe to hide behind
its wall. We can't know that Tui has not taken offense to such actions."
Misha's expression becomes increasingly troubled. "It would be a bold move for any spirit to
attack Agni's Herald," he says at last, "but you're right. We can't know with any certainty
Tui's opinion of us after so long without contact, and the Moon Spirit's ritual is simple. We'll
return with the supplies as quickly as we can."
"Thank you."
Misha nods before carefully picking his way out of the crowd. Shadra watches as he
intercepts Abedni on the forecourt's stairs. Abedni meets his eyes, offers his own nod, and
then both of his friends turn to re-enter the palace and complete his request.
Right then, time to start preparing things here.

"Children of fire," he addresses the crowd that still surrounds him, "Agni's Herald has gone to
visit the Lunar Court. It has been an age since last the Moon Spirit deigned to speak with a
Fire Lord and it is not yet clear what business Tui has with Agni's Herald. I invite everyone
gathered here tonight to pray for the Fire Lord's swift and successful return, as well as the
Moon Spirit's mercy and continued blessings on our fair islands. May Agni and Tui hear our
prayers and bestow upon us their benevolence and grace."
Tui steps from the ethereal staircase to the forest floor and instantly recoils before going
rigid. Ozai tenses and scans the trees for a threat but their surroundings are dark and still.
"What's wrong?" he growls quietly, fire itching at his fingertips.
"Ergh..." the Moon Spirit groans, "I had forgotten how humid the Fire Lands tend to be."
Ozai stares at the back of the spirit's head. "You used to be a fish!"
...He cannot believe he just said that aloud.
"While that is true, holding a human form in heat and humidity is distinctly less comfortable
than living as a fish in water," Tui says, glancing back at him over her shoulder with sheepish
eyes, "and my experience as a piece of my Yue was spent in an entirely different climate.
This is... I will adjust. Merely give me a moment."
"Of course," the Fire Lord sighs, joining the spirit in the forest's underbrush. The staircase
fades from sight once his feet leave the last step and the familiar mugginess of a Fire Nation
summer night rushes to embrace him. Admittedly, the change from the realm between worlds
to the mortal world is a noticeable one. "I apologize."
Tui smiles at him, expression tight, and lays a gentle hand on his arm. "There was never any
offense taken, Nephew. A certain amount of give and take has always been necessary
between spirits and men when they wish to commune. The differences between us are too
vast to bridge if either party remains unyielding in their expectations and demands."
Ozai nods and scans the trees again. Tui mentioned that they are still within the nation, but
this forest could belong to any one of a half-dozen islands in the country. He can't see much
past the thick canopy, certainly nothing he could use to orient himself, and the only sources
of light to be seen are Tui, more brightly as the moon overhead but there is also a subtle glow
coming from the human-seeming girl beside him. No obvious landmarks, no visible cities,
not even a clear view of the sky.
"Where are we?" he finally asks.
"The east-most island of the Northern Tongue," the Moon Spirit replies, fussing with the lay
of her skirt, "I believe it has been renamed Spark Island since my last visit."
Ah. Well, that's one question answered. Spark Island is known for its flint and iron deposits.
They're probably standing over a mine right now.
Tui moves on to picking at her sleeves before sighing and seemingly giving up on whatever it
was she was trying to accomplish with the voluminous fabric of her dress. "Come," the spirit
says as she ventures deeper into the forest, "We will find Hama this way, and while we walk I
will elaborate on the assistance I sought you for."
Ozai falls into step at the Moon Spirit's side. "Who is Hama?" he asks, "An ally? An enemy?
What sort of situation are we walking into?"
Tui's hands fist in her skirt. "Hama of the Southern Seas is a war victim that has turned to
vengeance."
Ozai nearly trips over his own feet. What is any Water Tribe member doing so close to the
heart of the Fire Nation? And why here? There aren't any military bases. No politically
relevant households reside on the island, either. It can't be for the iron mines. Spark Island's
iron ore is plentiful but of relatively low quality and too far away from the major refineries to
be used in their military manufacturing. There are simply too many better sources to pull
from to make Spark Island's ore worthwhile as part of the war effort. It gets sent to smaller
refineries instead and used in domestic goods throughout the country. As for the island's
residents, they're largely miners and farmers with a handful of local blacksmiths that provide
the equipment needed for the former two occupations. All things considered, Spark Island is
about as far removed from the war as any island in the Fire Nation can be, so why has it been
targeted for 'vengeance'?
"She was one of many waterbenders taken from her home during Azulon of Second Fire's
raids on the Southern Seas," the spirit continues, "Eventually, she escaped her prison and fled
here. She has since turned her bitterness upon the people of this island." Silence descends
between them for a moment, and then, "You must understand, Nephew, that while my human
memories remain close enough that I find this entire sequence of events to be distressing --
the raids, the imprisonment, the terror and pain inflicted on this island -- on its own, this
would be but mortal concerns and I would not interfere. However, Hama has developed a
waterbending technique, known to you as bloodbending, that sh--"
"Bloodbending?" Ozai demands in alarm. It feels like the ground has dropped out from under
his feet.
Tui meets his gaze and tells him bluntly, "Yes. While she did not invent it, she has been the
first to rediscover the technique after a millennium since its last use by man. Hama was the
waterbending master who taught Katara of the Southern Seas how to bend the life-waters of
other creatures and men." Katara had never told him how she learned to bend blood. More to
the point, it was a topic she avoided speaking about whenever possible. It's strange to hear
this now from a voice and face made to perfectly mimic a young version of her, if not the
mannerisms or personality of the woman. "It grieved your friend to learn such an art against
her will," Tui says, face pinched with regret.
The spirit shakes her head and continues walking, Ozai following her lead a half-step later.
"This world will not follow the same path as its predecessor," she says, "and Hama yet cloaks
herself in my power and name." Pale-blue, almost silver, eyes flick up to meet his and the
spirit growls out, "It will not stand."
"What do you need me to do?"
"You are Agni's Herald. He has entrusted you to govern his lands and people. It is appropriate
to include you in this matter. As the appointed leader of Agni's children, the authority to
determine the fate of Hama's victims and jailers rests with you." The silence following that
statement lasts for a mere breath before the Moon Spirit adds, "I know you have been busy,
but I would consider it a personal favor if you would address the operations of the
waterbender prison tonight. Either way, our journey will take us there next."
Ozai grimaces even as he nods. He hasn't forgotten about the Water Tribes or their benders,
but he had been hoping to have a little more time to focus on the more volatile warfronts
before beginning to untangle the complicated but fairly stagnant situation that is the war
prisoners and seasonal raids. Would a full week to try to get things sorted out his way have
been too much to ask? He isn't about to share that thought with Tui, though.
Ahead of them, ill-maintained hinges screech and firelight spills from the widening crack
between a large door and its frame.
Ozai freezes in place to watch and Tui waits wordlessly beside him. Briefly, he wishes for his
mask and swords before pushing the irrational desire down. If Tui brought him as Agni's
Herald, then he needs to be the Fire Lord, not a nameless thief in the night. He's just not used
to skulking through the darkness under his own identity rather than anonymity of a false
spirit.
A figure lurches into silhouette as if a marionette at the ends of an amateur puppeteer's

strings. Ozai almost overlooks the second figure standing several paces behind the first and
still shrouded in the shared shadows of the forest and the night. The first figure continues to
push open the heavy door while the second moves outstretched arms in a manner he could
never forget, for all that he rarely witnessed the form.
Bloodbending.
It looks like they've located their renegade waterbender.
Tui holds a hand in front of his chest when he moves to engage.
"Do not interfere with a spirit's judgement, Nephew," Tui warns softly, "You are here for your
people. Once the way is open, go to them."
The tortured squeal of unoiled hinges stops and Hama's victim hobbles through the doorway.
Tui strides forward with enough grace that she almost seems to glide over the forest's patchy
undergrowth. The spirit raises an arm ahead of herself before sweeping it to the side in a
smooth swoop.
The silhouetted figure stumbles and then falls back on his rump with a shocked yelp.
"What?" an elderly woman's voice demands in a shrill rasp as rigid, claw-like fingers grasp
futility for their escaped prey.
"Hama of the Southern Seas!" Tui declares, "You have wrought atrocities in my name! No
more!"
Technically speaking, Tui's Ceremony is not an appeasement ritual. The Moon Spirit has
always been known to be a gentle and forgiving spirit. One ritual, used for everything from
seeking the spirit's favor to offering praise to giving thanks, has been sufficient throughout
their history. The Water Tribes likely have more varied and detailed practices for both Tui
and La, but any such ceremonies are utterly and completely outside of Shadra's knowledge or
training. Perhaps it is just as well. Starting a ritual specific to appeasement and pleads for
mercy right after the Fire Lord's disappearance would have the potential to spark a panic.
Shadra sets the emptied jar aside and touches flame to the oil in the metal bowl. Gently, he
nudges the bowl of oil and fire into place beside its water-filled counterpart and in front of
the absent Fire Lord's brother.
Iroh stares at the circle of flames that now rests before him. "Perhaps it would be more
appropriate for you or one of your brothers to be the one to request Agni's favor," the older
man suggests quietly, using careful fingertips to push the burning bowl back around Tui's
offering and in Shadra's general direction.
The young sage is not so bold as to grab the previous crown-prince's wrist to halt the motion,
but he would be lying if he claimed he did not need to curb an impulse to do precisely that.
Instead, Shadra catches the bowl with the side of his hand and halts its movement, mindful
not to make the move too forceful, lest the burning oil spill.
"Prince Iroh --"
"General," the man corrects softly.
Shadra nods and finds himself grateful both that Iroh appears to be the patient, understanding
sort of man and that most of the crowd surrounding them is occupied by Misha's and
Abedni's work with the candles. "General Iroh," he says, "you are of Kuzon's direct line.
More to the point, you are brother to Agni's Herald. It would be wholly inappropriate for any
sage to perform such a rite when a member of the royal family is present and capable."
Iroh appears pained but resolute as he says, "I was passed over. Agni's favor does not rest
with me."
Shadra stares at the man, opens his mouth, closes his mouth, and ultimately shakes his head
in disbelief. "Sir, your bending remains strong and you acted as regent just this morning," the
sage states, "I assure you, with how present Agni has been of late, this would not be the case
if you had come under the Sun Spirit's disfavor. If my words are not enough for you, ask Sage
Abedni to tell you the story of the fire prince that betrayed the herald on a moonless night and
earned the King of Flame's full displeasure by daybreak."
Iroh shifts uncomfortably and asks, "You are certain?"
"Completely," Shadra says, "Please, accept your place tonight as our representative to Agni."
Iroh turns his gaze to the bowl of fire and sighs. "Very well."
"Thank you."
Chapter End Notes

Pull of the Tide
Chapter Notes
"Hama of the Southern Seas!" It's an odd form of address, but all that truly matters is what it
means. She's been found out. Hama barely hears, let alone cares, what else the voice lurking
behind her has to say. "You have wrought atrocities in my name! No more!"
Shock and an aging body keep her from reacting as quickly as she should, but she will not go
back! She'll sooner die fighting than be put in a cage again!
Hama twists, four daggers of ice flying blindly from her fingertips in the direction of her
unwanted interloper. The intruder is not what she had been expecting, from the second or so
Hama had to build up images of soldiers and wardens in her mind. The teenager who's
interrupted her doesn't look Fire Nation in the slightest. Hama doubts she's actually so much
as human, glowing as she is in the darkened forest.
Human or not, the girl crosses her arms at the wrist in front of her chest. In the next instant,
she throws her hands out to the sides and the ice daggers shred themselves into snow. From
there, the Fire Nation's natural heat makes short work of the remains. The patter of a
miniature rainstorm, there and gone again in but a moment, announces Hama's failure to kill
her assailant.
Another waterbender? Here? In this forsaken land of heat and fire?
"More spirits!" cries that fool of a retired blacksmith. As much as she hates to give credence
to anything Taro has to say, this time he may be correct. There is the sound of scrambling in
the dirt but Hama doesn't dare look away to check on what Taro might be doing. The decrepit
oaf is as harmless as he is useless, which is to say completely. There is a yelp followed by
Taro yelling, "Ghosts!"
Hama's other prisoners begin to make a ruckus of their own. Pitiful, croaking cries for mercy
echo through the open doorway to the abandoned mine. Usually, she revels in the sound of
the Fire Nation suffering even a fraction of the injustice they have inflicted upon her, but
tonight the futile pleas of the condemned are only an unwanted distraction.
A pair of burning eyes watching from behind the girl's shoulder shift, drawing Hama's
attention to a previously unnoticed second interloper. In another moment, those torch-bright
eyes are moving, stalking away from the glowing teen to skulk through the trees, form
cloaked by forest shadows and untouched by the illuminating light of the full moon.
No matter. The eyes alone are enough of a target, and Hama isn't about to allow herself to be
so easily flanked. She looses another cluster of ice daggers. These, likewise, never find their
intended target.
Moonlight glints off the airborne ice and highlights the changing trajectory as all four
daggers instead arc toward the first interloper. The girl all but dances around the ice, arms
extended ahead of wickedly sharp points and hands twisting over each other to set the
daggers spinning before releasing them with an upward flick. The ice falls into an orbit above
the teenager's head like a crown.
"That one," the impossible stranger declares, "is under my protection." It should be a
laughable claim from this little slip of a girl, but the proof of her abilities twinkles in the
moonlight as ice circles serenely through the air, defying gravity and its own melting point
alike, without so much as a hint of visible waterbending. "You will not touch him."
The eyes watching her from the dark narrow into a glare but say nothing. They pin her with
an unbroken stare as again the -- spirit? man? creature? -- unknown figure slinks through the
forest, if slower and with greater caution than before. The fact that the being, whatever its
nature, would dare to continue at all is itself nothing short of a taunt.
Hama has had enough of these games.
"Who are you, then?" she snarls at the girl who has caught and stolen her ice twice now,
"What do you want?" She cannot deny that this new waterbender is powerful, but Hama has
long since learned that the powerful are also arrogant. A mistake will be made. It is only a
matter of being ready to exploit it.
"Do you not recognize me, Hama of the Southern Seas?" the glowing teen asks, "Very well. I
shall introduce myself."
The stranger raises a hand skyward and performs a tight twist with her wrist. Hama finds
herself stumbling forward as her own body betrays her. All around, the forest groans and the
very trees bow to the intruder, effortlessly bent to the will of a being wearing the guise of a
child. For the first time since her early days in the Fire Nation prison, Hama's fear grows to
be stronger than her rage.
"I am pull," the being says. The second hand swings up to mirror the first, dragging Hama up
to her toes before she falls to her elbows and knees as those same hands descend with the
power of a crashing wave during a monsoon storm. "I am the change of the tide." The figure
approaches and no matter how Hama struggles to escape, the hold on her blood pins her to
the ground. A pair of glowing feet reenter her field of vision as the girl says, "I am Tui."
"No," Hama denies in a rasp before growing more adamant as hysteria comes over her, "No,
you can't be! The great spirits are gone!"
Her protestations are ignored.
"I am sister to Agni," the imposter claims, a deceptively gentle hand comes to rest under
Hama's chin and tips her face up to meet the teenager's pale eyes, "reflector of his light."
"Tui and La forsook us! You can't be --"

Anger flashes like lightning over the trickster's face before she spins in place. One moment a
girl stands before Hama, but in the next instant a miniature moon hangs in the air. As
suddenly as the transformation had happened, it reverts, and Hama is left to stare up into the
silvery-blue eyes that glare back.
"Do not presume to know me, Hama of the Southern Seas!" Tui warns, "You have thought of
me only insofar as the power I have granted you. And you have abused it." Tears slip down
the ancient spirit's youthful face. "Never before have my brother's children reviled me. You
shroud yourself in my strength and obscure your actions with my presence. You have sullied
my name amongst my brother's people! They speak of me with fear and contempt!"
The great Moon Spirit would visit her after the tribes have suffered untold generations of
silence, only to weep over the enemies of those that have dedicated themselves to Tui and
La?
Hama's pulse pounds beneath her skin and bile coats the back of her throat.
"What should the slurs and insults of these small-minded magots matter to you? After what
they've done, they should know the full fury of the moon and ocean! They should have
learned to fear you long ago!" Hama rages, "Tui and La are our patrons, our source! These
ashmakers invaded our lands, attacked our tribes, and imprisoned our people! Why should
such barbarians receive your protection when we did not?"
"It is humanity's nature to wage war against itself," Tui says, "You should have sought your
vengeance with your own name, rather than attempt to steal mine."
"You abandoned us!" Hama spits, "You abandoned the world! Centuries of silence and not a
trace of you to be found during even our most desperate moments of need! Where were you?
When our people died, when our land was taken, when our tribes began to disappear, where
were you? Why should a dead spirit's name be held sacred?"
Tui scowls down at her but offers no answers.
"Hama of the Southern Seas," the spirit intones, pressing her fingers to Hama's forehead, "my
blessing will be with you no longer."
The spirit withdraws her hand and suddenly the whole world seems to warp and twist before
everything fades away into darkness.
The bloodbender's second set of ice projectiles shine as moonlight reflects off their facets and
Ozai fails to produce so much as a spark in his own defense, let alone the protective wall of
flame he intends to create.
Before the Fire Lord even has time to panic, the sharpened ice swerves off to the right.
His heart pounds in his chest from the near miss and it is only due to long practice that he
keeps his breaths steady.
"That one is under my protection," the Moon Spirit proclaims, "You will not touch him."
Tui has saved him where his bending has faltered. But why had it faltered?
Heat does not bloom at his back, no steadying hands rest on his shoulders, and his eyes
remain open, but for all of that, Agni's voice is clear in his ear as he answers, "The
waterbender is not your concern. Tui alone will judge her fate."
"I wasn't going to attack her!" Ozai hisses under his breath to the Sun Spirit, but he makes
sure to keep his eyes locked on the old woman in front of him. The last thing he needs is to
be taken unaware by any incoming attacks while his bending is compromised. He tries not to
think too deeply about the revelation that Agni can apparently just switch his bending off at a
moment's notice. He can still feel the warm chi pooled in his belly, so he doubts the inability
to firebend will be permanent, but the realization is disturbing nonetheless. "I could have
died!"
"Tui would not allow that," Agni dismisses, "If necessary, there are healers in both the Lunar
and Solar courts." As an afterthought, the spirit adds, "Though Lady Jang Hui is needed
elsewhere for a time."
Why does it sound like Agni has started planning for an inevitability when the easiest way to
prevent it would be to leave his bending unhindered?
Ozai scowls. He feels a headache growing. The Fire Lord crouches lower and continues to
make his way to the open doorway still leaking sounds of misery. "I don't know if it would be
better or worse if you understood how not reassuring that is," he grumbles.
He feels ever so slightly better when the bloodbender turns her focus back on Tui.
"Who are you, then? What do you want?" the woman yells.
Tui's response rings clearly through the night, "Do you not recognize me, Hama of the
Southern Seas? Very well. I shall introduce myself."
Ozai nearly runs face first into a tree branch that suddenly sways into his path and the metal
door produces a grating squeal as it swings on its hinges. The Fire Lord frowns but quickly
decides that whatever Tui is doing, it isn't his place to question or interfere any more than it
was a second ago. He alters his course to account for newly bowed trees and reaching shrubs,
but otherwise he remains focussed on his goal. There are people that need him.
Agni sighs. "It has been a long time since I have dealt with man, child mine. I am out of
practice," the spirit admits.
"Why are you even here right now?" Ozai asks. He's almost within reach of the door. Nearly
there. "You've set for the day. You can't have seen from the sky."
"Once-Prince Iroh of Second Fire prays during a peculiar time, at a peculiar place, and
several others with him. It caught my attention," Agni says, "The choice of ceremony was
enough to prompt me to seek answers directly from Tui." Softer, the Sun Spirit adds, "It is
good to see my sibling feeling well enough to take on such duties again. You both have your
tasks in hand. I will leave you to complete them."
Ozai's fingertips curl over the edge of the door but something about what Agni has said nags
at him and his feet still. It is an odd time to pray to the Sun Spirit. Why would a whole group
of people be praying to Agni hours after sunset? It doesn't --
Ozai strangles a groan down to a hissing sigh full of steam and sparks. If he wasn't so
irritated with himself, he'd probably be relieved to see his bending returned as seamlessly as
it had been repressed. As it stands, he's left behind witnesses to a mad dash through the halls
capped off by fleeing the palace and vanishing into thin air. And this happened after the day
had already started with a pre-dawn miniature sun -- with the night before plagued by spirit
dreams -- to say nothing of how he was dropped into his current present in the first place.
Unc-- Iroh probably thinks he's been spirit-napped.
...Considering that Tui is inarguably the one deciding where they go and when, the
assumption would not be wholly incorrect, even if Ozai did leave with the Moon Spirit
willingly.
What a mess.
With his luck, the entire capital will be in an uproar by the time he returns.
A deep breath in.
A slow breath out.
One thing. Focus on just the one thing that needs to be done right now. The rest can come
later.
Ozai pushes open the door and immediately sets the brush at his feet on fire.
Hama is fortunate that Tui has a claim.
Chapter End Notes

War and Blood Spilled
Chapter Notes
The smell hits him first. The moment Ozai pushes the door aside to step through its threshold,
a wall of stench thick with human waste assaults his nose. A moment later, his eyes adjust
enough to see Hama's handiwork. Chains and hollow cheeks fill his vision. Men and women,
elders and a few scattered teens, all stare back at him with wide eyes.
He is only vaguely aware that the grass and brush at his feet has caught flame, rising and
falling with every misery-tainted breath he takes. Sparks slip past his clenched teeth and he's
rendered half-deaf by his own raging heartbeat. Blood boils in his veins and his vision tints
red.
Despite Tui's and Agni's warnings, it's a struggle not to turn back around and seek out the one
responsible with fire-wreathed hands.
Still, blinding rage isn't exactly a new emotion to him, and he's learned the hard way how
detrimental it can be.
Ozai wrestles his breathing into something slower, forcing his heart to follow suit.
Immolating the bloodbender won't help these people.
...Much.
Honestly, while it's not their most immediate need, the majority of them would probably
sleep better at night if they knew for a fact that their tormentor was dead. But Tui already has
a claim on Hama. They'll have to settle for whatever passes as justice among the spirits.
Temper successfully shoved down deep enough to let him function, Ozai takes another look
around the mine's entrance. People have been chained haphazardly to the tunnel's walls, some
by their ankles or wrists, others around their waists or necks. All of the prisoners in the
makeshift dungeon look half starved, many of them have untreated wounds that have been
left to infection. It's a good thing the Fire Nation has a fairly stable climate, seeing as some of
the prisoners are clearly dressed in the rags of their winter outfits while others are draped in
the remnants of their summer clothes. There are regions in the Earth Kingdoms where being
dressed for the wrong season can be a death sentence all on its own, but more importantly...
How long has Hama been doing this to his people?
How had he never known about this?
Why hadn't any of his friends ever told him?
"Agni!" someone swears and the curse is taken up in a ripple of shocked whispers and
murmurs around the room. The sole unchained occupant of the abandoned mine, Hama's
latest victim, hurriedly falls into a kowtow.
"K-King Agni!" the old man stutters at Ozai's feet.
Oh.
...Right.
Between the white fire and glowing eyes, is it any wonder he might be mistaken for a spirit?
Ozai extinguishes the brush fire he hadn't meant to start and raises a hand. His audience falls
immediately silent.
"I am Fire Lord Ozai, Herald of Agni," he announces, voice echoing through the man-made
tunnel, "I came here tonight with Moon Spirit Tui to address the actions of Hama." He
decides against giving the woman any identifier beyond her name. Drawing attention to the
fact that Hama is Water Tribe or acknowledging bloodbending as a bending form that others
could learn both seem like poor ideas. It isn't as if these people will need a further identifier
for their captor, anyway. "Are any of you able to walk under your own power?"
Tui watches the mortal woman collapse to the forest floor as fresh tears slip down the
borrowed face of a teenage Katara.
Despite the ignorance with which they had been spoken, Hama of the Southern Seas' words
ring true. The mortal woman could not have known how promises made under the chaotic
first charter had been rendered infeasible by the restrictions of the second charter, and yet...
And yet it cannot be disputed that oaths have been broken, prayers have gone unanswered,
and duties have been neglected. The ever growing distrust of the moon among man is
justified, and the rebuke is all the sharper for it.
Only time will tell if the third charter is capable of bringing forth a prosperity between spirit
and man that the previous charters have failed to foster. And even should it succeed, Tui must
still work to mend the wounds of a long absence and perceived indifference.
The bonds of the reforging hum at the back of the Moon Spirit's mind. The night's events
have already become upsetting and this is not yet the final leg of the evening's planned
journey. Tui's essence of serenity wavers under the strain of her heartbreak.
...Her?
It would seem there are more symptoms of instability brought about by tonight's activities
than she had previously suspected.
Tui frowns as she takes stock of her current state. A discordant note in the reforging and deep
sorrow welling up from depths left carefully unexamined. Closer to the forefront of her
thoughts swirl concepts of life, death, and suffering; of fear, anger, and cyclical violence; of
familial duties and bonds. All said, while Tui remains in control rather than lost in vicarious
memories, she nonetheless is feeling rather human at the moment.
Perhaps this explains why Agni persists in orbiting her within the Lunar Palace, dressed in
the worry of flickering electricity. Her brother -- Brother. Another human term slipping
through her mind as if it has always belonged, rather than being taken on for convenience's
sake when speaking with mortals. -- is being quite distracting, and Tui has become
unpracticed at effectively splitting her focus. It is not long before the Sun Spirit takes notice
that her attention has wandered back to the spirit world when it is meant to be on the mortal
plane.
"Tui?" Agni says, not in man's tongue, but rather in the subtle gravitational waves of their
shared native language. "I could still --"
"Agni," the Moon Spirit interrupts, "I am fine. What I need from you is trust."
"It is a situation that is difficult to refrain entering," the fire spirit insists, "and there is no
need for you to face it alone."
"If I am to reclaim my place and duties as a great spirit, I must begin somewhere," Tui
reasons, "This is a relatively minor task."
"This is two of my aligned, recently reforged, confronting unnecessary strains," the burning
sphere says in lingering disgruntlement.
While Agni's concern is valid, to put the endeavor off may as easily create greater distress in
the future, and it is too late to abandon the effort now, regardless.
"Brother," Tui says, gentle but determined, "The path may not be painless, but I am ready.
And let us not pretend between us that we are not both keeping a careful watch on Ozai the
Reforged. Your herald shall be well. As shall I."
The Sun Spirit is not so easily dissuaded, but the next offer is given with some reluctance. "If
not me, La could --"
"Agni," the Moon Spirit interjects before her fellow spirit can finish the thought. It is a
tempting option, but she will not grow by sheltering within the ocean's shadows any more
than she would by being bolstered under the sun's light. "I must be capable on my own."
Electricity crackles. The Sun Spirit's orbit dips and sways. "...I am only a call away."
"I know," Tui says, allowing gratitude to touch her words, before diverting her attention back
to the mortal world. Sorrows and regrets run deep within her, but Agni's charter has opened a
path forward and she will neglect her duties no more.
On a small island within the Fire Lands, Tui wipes shed tears from the cheeks of a borrowed
form and steels herself for what will come next.
Ozai hisses as the chains burn under his hands.
He's reclaimed some control since discovering his ability to bend Agni's white fire, but two
days isn't nearly enough time to relearn how to produce the fine, concentrated dagger of
flame needed to cut through Fire Nation steel without heat radiating throughout the material.
On the longer chains, he can cup his hands around the anchor point and blast the steel and
rock with a tight cyclone of flames until one of them gives. For the short chains, however...
There's nothing for it. He doesn't currently have the restraint necessary to keep the heat
contained through the usual forms.
The woman yelps as her chain melts and molten steel drips to the tunnel's floor.
A deep breath.
Two.
Then a third.
The glow of the metal dims and the end resolidifies into a messy collection of broken and
stretched rings.
"The end is still hot," he says, repeating a warning he's given over a dozen times now, "Be
careful not to let it burn you, and try not to grab any of the closer links. They might be hot
enough to burn, too."
"Yes, Fire Lord," the woman rasps, tentatively grasping at the halfway point of the ruined
chain.
Her name is Zira, and she is the last of those his limited triage skills have prioritized as
requiring treatment sooner rather than later. The rest will have to wait until local blacksmiths
arrive with the proper tools.
Releasing the scorched metal hurts almost as much as continuing to hold it had.
Zira glances down at his hands with a concerned frown. She isn't the only one among Hama's
victims to do so.
Ozai allows the long sleeves of his robes to obscure them from sight.
"Oh..."
The Fire Lord looks back to see Tui's pale form lingering in the doorway, eyes slowly trailing
over the scene as the spirit gradually shrinks into herself as if she were actually nothing more
than an uncertain teenager. The Moon Spirit meets his gaze and says, "This is... worse, than I
might have hoped."
"Tui?"
"Uh... Fire Lord, sir?" a boy asks. The teen is probably the youngest of Hama's prisoners.
"Who are you talking to?"
The small collection of teenagers seem to share the speaker's confusion, but are either too
polite or timid to question the Fire Lord. Most of the adults wear uneasy expressions.
"You can't see her," Ozai realizes with a sigh. He glances back at Tui without much hope for
an explanation.
Tui defies his expectations. "Forgive me, Nephew. I deemed it best to return to the space
between our worlds." The Moon Spirit gestures to the forest beyond the threshold. The
bloodbender lies motionless at the base of the ethereal staircase of light that descends from
Tui's main physical form. "These people have suffered much," the spirit appears pained as
she admits, "and they have been given no reason to see me as their ally."
"But you're here to help them now, aren't you?" Ozai points out, "This could be --"
"No." Tui closes her eyes and says, "I am not."
The Fire Lord frowns. Tui is right here. More to the point, the Moon Spirit is clearly unhappy
with what Hama has done and the harm it has inflicted on these people. What could prevent a
great spirit from doing as they wish?
"Hama's actions, made duplicitously in my name, gave me a claim. Details of my alliance

with Agni allow me a secondary claim to you. Beyond this, my ability to interact with the
Fire Lands and Agni's children will be limited until such a time as the war has been brought
to a complete end. As is the case for the other great spirits.
"We nearly destroyed this world a dozen times over while under the first charter, and
interference in all of man's conflicts has been forbidden since the second charter was adopted.
Even now, what allowances the third charter provides in regard to mortal wars are carefully
restricted."
"This is one woman's sadism!" Ozai argues, "It's not part of the war!"
"Is it not?" Tui asks. "Her personal vendetta aside, Hama is a warrior of her people. She is
here only because she was taken captive by her enemies before escaping her imprisonment.
Over these past years, she has continued to strike at those she considers to be her people's
enemies. It sounds much like war to me."
As much as he hates to admit it, Tui may have a point. A platoon cut off from the higher
command structure is still a military unit. A soldier separated from their unit remains a
soldier. And he's seen for himself how far afield a war can reach beyond its frontlines.
"I see." He doesn't have to like the presented facts in order to accept them. "I've sent runners
to the nearest villages, for healers and blacksmiths and any others that might be able and
willing to help."
Tui nods. "I am sure Agni will send healers from the Solar Court to assist. I am sorry,
Nephew, but this is the most aid we can offer in this matter." The spirit glances around the
tunnel and the anxious faces imprisoned within it. Weariness and regret cloud the Moon
Spirit's expression. "Come. We have one more stop to make before I return you to the
palace."
Tui leaves him to offer his farewells and doesn't look back.
Right. The waterbender prison. He'd almost forgotten that Tui had mentioned it earlier in the
evening.
"Help is on its way. You'll be taken to nearby villages to recover until such a time as you are
ready to return to your homes," he announces, "I'm sorry I can't stay with you longer, but
there are other matters that require my attention and they can't be delayed."
He makes perhaps three strides toward the door before the croak of an old man's voice stops
him. "Fire Lord! Please, wait!"
Ozai turns to face the speaker. He thinks his name might have been 'Hanzo'?
"What is it?"
The old man glances around warily before gathering up his courage to continue. "If you're
dealing with the moon, be careful. Hama likes to boast it's what gives her the ability to turn
people into her puppets."
The woman beside Hanzo snorts. She's one of the prisoners in better condition but too weak
to safely make a trek through the nighttime forest on her own, and so remains chained to the
stone behind her. "The witch claimed she was the moon's curse on the Fire Nation.
Retribution for the Water Tribes' suffering over the last hundred years. Crazy old crone. Like
the moon cares about our little island."
"If Tui didn't care, I wouldn't be here," Ozai says, "The Moon Spirit is the one who has
brought an end to Hama's kidnappings. You won't have to worry about her after tonight." He
decides against trying to explain any further. "I need to leave."
This time, nobody attempts to stop him and he meets Tui at the base of the celestial stairs.
"Before we go," Tui says, "we should tend to your hands."
Ozai suppresses a flinch. He's been trying not to think about them. "Do you heal? Like the
northern waterbenders?" he asks as he lifts his hands with the palms upturned.
The skin is badly burned, raw and deformed into overlapping imprints from the chains. Blood
and some clear bodily fluid that he has no ready name for weep over the melted flesh from
ruptured heat blisters. As bad as the burns look, the smell is worse. It had been buried under
other scents in the stagnant air of the mine, but there is nothing to distract from the smell of
burned flesh now that he is out in the open forest. It doesn't help that the smell of burned
flesh never fails to trigger memories that leave him feeling nauseous.
"A waterbender's gift is push and pull in balance," Tui answers, "I am pull alone. However,
even without La at my side, surface wounds are within my capabilities to relieve." A
concerned furrow develops in the center of the spirit's brow as she examines the damage he's
done to himself. "And I had assumed I would be the foremost cause for Agni's anxieties this
night," the Moon Spirit sighs, "This will be uncomfortable, but please attempt to be still."
Tui waves a hand over both of his and bits of metal tear away from where they had
resolidified over his ruined skin. Ozai bites off a hiss at the sting. Steel pebbles rain down to
the earth as Tui releases the refuse from her influence.
"Agni didn't seem that worried when he checked in earlier," Ozai says, if only to distract
himself.
Tui glances up at his face and the spirit's lips purse into something dangerously close to
becoming a pout. "I was not aware Agni had contacted you directly regarding tonight's
endeavor," Tui admits, "but I am not surprised he withheld his concerns."
"What concerns?" Ozai asks, suddenly invested in the conversation. Anything big enough to
give Agni pause is more trouble on the horizon than he wants to think about, but better to
face it and be prepared than to ignore it and be overwhelmed.
Tui hovers her hands just above his own and blood wells up from the burns to coat both of
their palms and fingers. True to the Moon Spirit's words, the sensation is uncomfortable, but
Ozai wonders if Tui is at all aware of how disturbing the imagery is. Do spirits bleed?
The red liquid begins to glow and the light it casts is eerily similar to the night Zhao killed
the moon. If the sight disquiets Tui as much as it does Ozai, the spirit gives no indication.
The chill of waterbending-style healing is almost lost beneath everything else calling for his
attention.
"The binds of a reforging can be strained by discordance between existence and perception.
Emotional upset can promote thoughts that create such a discordance." The Moon Spirit
looks up to meet his eyes and tells him, "I am not my Yue, although I grew with her for
sixteen years and carry her memories. Nor am I the Tui that came before me, but rather a
glimmer of a much larger whole that has been lost. And yet, although I am a new creation,
they are my foundation and remain a part of me still. To forget the past would be unwise. To
cling to it could destroy me. I must accept both what I have lost and what I have gained
through my reforging.
"You are likewise a new creation reforged from two entities. While Yue and Tui were aligned,
it is my understanding that Zuko and Ozai were irreconcilably opposed. Incompatible souls
and mortal bodies demanded consideration, and so you are of Zuko's soul and Ozai's body.
This necessary concession leaves a clear division within your being and renders your
reforging brittle. If you pry at the seams, you might find the separation comes too easily.
"While your reforging should strengthen as it sets, I would counsel you not to dwell too
deeply on the past and its pains until such a time as you can fully accept yourself as you are
now," the spirit says with sympathy-filled eyes, "When the past beckons you, do not forget
that there is yet a future before you and you alone can choose which will receive your focus."
Tui withdraws.
The Fire Lord's blood drips to the ground from two sets of hands.
Agni had told him that he'd nearly died from Liukshi's actions, and the Sun Spirit had become
enraged after learning the contents of his dream. Is this the reason? Why hadn't Agni
explained this to him?
Fingertips brush the smooth skin under his left eye. The unexpected slick feeling of the
habitual motion reminds him too late of the consequences inherent to such actions when
performed with unclean hands.
The Moon Spirit is staring down at her own red-painted palms, fresh tears gathered in her
lashes.
"Tui?"
The spirit closes her eyes, allowing the new tears to fall, before looking at him. Tui takes in
his thoughtlessly smeared face and allows her posture to sag.
"Perhaps we should make a short detour," the Moon Spirit admits.
The world blurs as the staircase brings Tui, Ozai, and Hama to their next destination.
Chapter End Notes
I don't normally get through writing, editing, and proofing a scene before deciding that it
doesn't work, but that's exactly what happened to the original version of Tui's and Agni's
conversation. The two versions remain very similar in the end, but there are some
notable changes. Should that be something that sparks your interests, you can read the
original version on Tumblr.
Happy reading!

Push Come to Shove
Chapter Notes
The sound of the ocean is a near constant roar as wave after wave crashes over a black sand
beach.
Tui circles her hands around each other in front of her chest until she holds a suspended globe
of sea water between them. The spirit nods to him. "I expect our unscheduled arrival will
cause a stir as it is. Appearing while covered in mortal blood will only add unnecessary stress
to the situation."
Salt water isn't ideal for cleaning, but it's better than nothing, and he can worry about
washing up properly once he's home.
"Thank you," Ozai says as he submerges his hands into the globe of water. Red wisps away
as he scrubs at his palms, leaving unblemished skin behind. It's a relief to see. There had been
a moment while he was freeing prisoners from chains when he'd started to suspect he might
be doing permanent damage to his hands, and he still isn't sure what capabilities the healers
of the Solar and Lunar Courts have, nor what rules the spirits in question might hold to.
Tui waits for him to finish before washing her own hands, the water twisting over itself with
every rotation of her wrists.
Ozai swipes a thumb over his cheek and hopes he's at least cleaned off most of the blood he'd
accidentally painted his face with. "Why..." he licks his dry lips and tries again, "Why didn't
Agni tell me that... being 'opposed' to my father created a... divide and brittleness in my
reforging?"
He hopes he's saying this right.
He hopes he understands what it is he's saying.
"I know my brother well, Fire Lord, but even I could not claim to know every thought of
Agni's, nor all that his many schemes entail." Tui's brow furrows as she thinks. "I suppose, if
I were to guess, Agni might have judged it best not to bring up the matter, lest the knowledge
itself became a source of distress. You have adjusted better than I did to the initial changes
inherent to a reforging. It may have been his hope that it would not become an issue, but...
allowing you to remain ignorant would have its own dangers."
"So, both options presented dangers, but you and Agni disagree on which path is safest."
Tui steps down to the beach, spins, and releases her orb of dirtied sea water as if from a sling.
The water separates into a scattering of globules before splashing onto the sand. The next
wave washes away any red tint that might have been hidden by the night and the dark color
of the volcanic sand.
"That is my guess. For a true answer, you would have to ask Agni directly."
Ozai watches in shock as a rogue wave surges up to tower over Tui before just as suddenly
breaking to crash onto the beach just short of reaching the Moon Spirit's bare feet. A man --
No, a spirit. He must be. -- stands tall as the waters retreat. No further waves dash themselves
upon the beach as the sea calms to an unnatural still.
"La," Tui greets, caught somewhere between affection and long suffering exasperation.
"My moon," the Ocean Spirit returns with an undeterred smile full of literal shark teeth.
Ozai blinks in surprise, and then he wonders why some part of him still expects spirits to be
more human, let alone the Ocean Spirit. The first time he'd ever seen La, the great spirit had
been a gigantic, glowing fish-monster made of salt water. Unsettlingly sharp teeth might just
be La feeling cordial.
The spirit masquerading as a tribesman glances over at him, and then Hama's still form, with
eyes as dark as the depths before turning his attention back to Tui. "I see your errand goes
well," La says.
"Yes," Tui confirms, squaring her shoulders.
La tilts his head to the side. "Ah," the Ocean Spirit says as if caught by a sudden epiphany,
"Peace, my moon, I am not so fretful as Agni, and I have not come here to meddle. If you
believe yourself ready, I will yield to your judgement." The spirit shrugs. "Though if you find
yourself in need, I will catch you."
"Oh." Tui relaxes. "Thank you."
"Mm," La hums in acknowledgement. "Agni's new spark seems to be adapting quickly."
Tui literally brightens at that remark. "Would you meet him?"
"I would whatever might please my moon," La says.
He's about to go through official introductions with an angry Ocean Spirit ready to put him
down like a rabid armadillo-dog. Oh, and La is also fully aware that he's responsible for a
series of islands.
...Great.
Oblivious to his thoughts, Tui returns to the staircase only to capture his hand and tug him
down to the beach to stand before La.
"Nephew, I present to you La, Master of Seas," Tui says, "Beloved, this is Ozai the Reforged,
Herald of Agni." The Moon Spirit looks happier than Ozai has thus far witnessed through
their limited meetings.
"I know this one," La says. The grin he levels at Ozai is amused but not friendly. La's eyes
are swallowed by darkness as he leans forward and the Fire Lord forces himself to hold his
ground in the face of the looming Ocean Spirit. "Three years of shouting from a rusting little
boat seeking to imprison Raava, one night of particular foolishness in the Northern Seas, and
a week of bitter words from a small raft."
Tui dims. "I had not considered your... past associations."
"Hm," the Ocean Spirit hums. La cocks his head to the side before withdrawing. His eyes
return to a mostly human appearance. As do his teeth, for that matter. "My attention was
elsewhere after organizing favorable currents for the raft. This," La says while pressing a
single finger against Ozai's chest, "is not the first the King of Flames has schemed to preserve
you."
"...Agni arranged for our passage?" It makes sense in hindsight. Making a voyage through
arctic waters on a raft with limited steering capabilities should have ended in their deaths, one
way or another. It also seems like it might be the safest direction to steer the conversation,
considering the current company.
"Yes," La confirms, "and spent much sway to do so. This latest scheme had a deeper cost
still. You should be careful, child of fire. Agni is a great spirit and holds high status among
us, but even great spirits can run out of favors to leverage." The Ocean Spirit's face softens
unexpectedly, like jagged ice melting into a reflective pool. It's far from warm, but at least La
no longer appears one excuse away from drowning him. "I... begin to understand the King of
Flames' investment."
Tui perks up. "Yue?"
"The patronship prompts unanticipated tendencies," La admits. Dark eyes slide over Ozai
again, measuring and judging, but whatever the ocean's verdict is, it goes unvoiced. "The
hour is late. Yue of the Northern Seas rests. This spark should be returned to his hearth before
the sun finds more to fret over. Be swift, my moon."
That's two spirits now that have mentioned Agni's anxiety over this outing, despite the Sun
Spirit's apparent calm when they spoke while Tui was dealing with Hama. Spirits may not lie,
but how much does Agni hide behind misdirection and silence?
Ozai frowns, recalling how Agni had allowed Iroh to assume his vision of a Fire Lord and
Avatar performing a kata alongside dragons was some ancient ritual rather than an event that
took place only a few years past. It doesn't seem to be based in the sort of malicious nature
that his sister's lies so often were, but he can't help being a bit perturbed by the realization,
either.
"That is my intent," Tui promises while allowing La to take hold of one hand.
The Ocean Spirit presses a kiss to the back of her fingers before his form dissolves into sea
foam. A new wave crashes onto the shore seconds later as the ocean resumes its natural
rhythms.
Tui sighs. "That did not go as well as I had hoped," the Moon Spirit says, "but perhaps
introductions have still concluded better than they might have."
His mind's eye conjures an image of La as a glowing tower of water, so tall that it eclipses the
sun above Caldera. The imagined spirit proceeds to crash down with all the might of a
tsunami, destroying everything on the island. Ozai allows a grimace to cross his face.
"Honestly, so long as the ocean behaves more or less as it always has around the Fire Nation,
I'll have no complaints," the Fire Lord says.
"...If it is of consolation, the same charter that prevents Agni from providing greater
assistance likewise restricts La's actions," Tui offers.
"That's... something," Ozai says for lack of a better response.
"Come," Tui beckons, "The prison resides at the top of these cliffs." The Moon spirit gestures
to the sheer wall of black rock beyond the beach. Perched high above them is a steel building
pulled from the night's shadows by the full moon's light and a handful of thin windows.
Ozai nods and joins Tui once more on the spirit's celestial staircase.
"There is little I will be able to do here," Tui informs him as they reach the top of the cliffs
and come to rest nearly a hundred feet from the outer walls of the waterbenders' prison, "The
authority to make changes rests with you, Nephew."
Ozai frowns up at steel walls and nods. "Let's get this done."
The Fire Lord leaves Tui's stairs of light for the barren rock surrounding the prison. He lifts a
hand, using his bending as a beacon in the night, and bellows, "Guards!"
The reaction is more or less what one might expect when showing up at a high security
prison unannounced and unscheduled. Fireballs fly from the top of the wall, creating a rough
circle around him. Before the fire even has a chance to burn out on the stripped stone, a
tighter circle of arrows surrounds him.
A Yuyan squad? He wouldn't have thought there would be any stationed here.
"Stay where you are!" a voice yells as a large set of doors open, "Do not move!"
Guards pour from the compound. One team heads directly for him while another four spread
out to search the area. "Identif--" the team leader almost chokes on his own words as he gets
close enough to see Ozai more clearly, "F-Fire Lord?"
"It's true!" one of the other guards gasps, the declaration muffled by his helmet, as the team
falls into formation.
"I am Fire Lord Ozai," he answers as he evaluates the team. All sergeants, not a single private
among them, though that's not unusual for a war prison important enough to be located within
the Mother Islands. The team consists of three firebenders and two spearmen. It's a fairly
standard composition for a team, outside of specialized branches, balancing weapons
specialists with benders for flexibility.
He can't be sure what exactly is going through the mind of each guard, but most of them
glance none-too-subtly above his head before bowing. Ozai spares a moment to be thankful
that Tui sought him out at his last meeting of the day rather than after he'd been prepared for
bed. While it's not the full regalia he'd be wearing for most public displays or duties
performed outside of the palace, it's a lot more convincing than showing up with unbound
hair and dressed only in loose pants would have been.
"We weren't expecting you, sir," the team leader says, still bowing over the sign of the flame.
"Rise," Ozai commands, "I wish to speak with the warden."
"Yes, your majesty!" the lead guard says, dismissing one man with a quick hand gesture, "Is
there anything else we can do for you until the warden arrives?"
"You can signal the all clear," Ozai answers bluntly, "The company I keep tonight won't be
found through the usual search methods."
"Yes, sir!" the man says before pulling a whistle from his belt. The team leader stops just as
he is bringing the small tool to his lips. "...Er, the sound can be unpleasant, your majesty, and
loud," he warns.
"Proceed."
It is loud, but he's spent enough time on ship and at port to grow used to the noise created by
a military whistle. He also knows the patterns. Rather than the 'all clear' he had ordered, the
team leader signals 'hold fire; allies.'
The meaning is close, but willfully amending a superior's orders is a potentially disastrous act
of insubordination and it carries an equally dire punishment. It could be argued that the
guardsman had chosen a better message to relay, one that provided more information, but the
problem is that the man hadn't offered that alternative to Ozai. Instead, the guard had
substituted the Fire Lord's words with his own.
"That will do, Sergeant," he says as the team leader returns the whistle to its designated
pouch, "The next time a superior gives you an order to sound an all clear, I expect you will
sound an all clear."
All four of the remaining team members immediately still, betraying their sudden tension
through the armor of their uniforms. "Y-yes, sir," the lead guard manages in a rasp, bowing
low in apology, "...Y-you mentioned company?"
"You may rise," Ozai says before he looks over his shoulder at Tui and asks, "Will you join
me as I inspect the prison?"
Tui stares up at the prison with a furrowed brow, but she soon meets his gaze. "Yes," the
Moon Spirit confirms and spins, abandoning Katara's form for that of a middle-aged man,
though the stark white hair makes him -- Him? ...Trying to impose consistency on a spirit of
'changing faces' sounds like a quick way to drive himself mad while accomplishing nothing.
'Him,' it is. -- appear older than the borrowed face likely is. It takes Ozai another second to
place the new face as Chief Arnook of the Northern Water Tribe. The Moon Spirit lifts Hama
with a little more than a wave of his hand before settling the unconscious woman over his
shoulder.
The four remaining guards startle as Tui returns to the mortal world but all of the men keep
their heads well enough that there are no attempted attacks on the spirit. Belatedly, it occurs
to Ozai that he should probably come up with a better way to introduce spirits other people
can't see or hear. Some handle shock better than others, after all, and his luck guarantees
trouble sooner rather than later if he doesn't figure out a solution.
"This is Moon Spirit Tui," Ozai says, burying the embarrassment he feels over his own
lacking foresight. One nice thing about being Fire Lord, however, is that his social blunders
are rarely commented on.
After a moment's hesitation, the team leader bows as if greeting a visiting noble and the
others swiftly follow suit. "Welcome, Moon Spirit," the guard says, "You honor us with your
presence."
"Do I?" Tui wonders, "This visit is a necessity, but hardly pleasant."
"I... regret to hear that," the team leader says, clearly out of his depth by this point.
The sergeant and his team are saved from further conversation by the warden's arrival.
"Fire Lord!" the older man greets as he hurries to join them, the missing member of the guard
team trailing him dutifully, "A pleasure to see you well, and an unexpected honor to have you
visit us this fine night! Welcome to Kitaika Prison. I am Warden Masaki." He and the
returning sergeant both bow upon reaching the odd group. "Please, what can we do to further
serve the nation?"
Chapter End Notes

Blurred Lines and Reflections
Chapter Notes
Kallik watches the door through too-long hair.
"What do you suppose has the gull-pipers flocking?" Hanta asks from his cage two down and
across the catwalk.
"Dunno," Nuniq grumbles from the cage directly facing Kallik's own, "Nothin' good for us.
Never is."
"Tch!" Hanta chides, "This place is depressing enough without your pessimism."
Nuniq answers only with a halfhearted shrug and a grunt.
"Quiet!" Aput hisses, located far to Kallik's left and closest to the cellblock door, "Boots!"
A second.
Two.
He can hear the ring of hardened soles on steel floors for himself now.
Four.
Fi--
The door opens and several guards swarm into the room. Torches are lit in rapid succession,
the light harsh on eyes that have grown used to the prison's evening darkness.
So much for any hopes that the ruckus would pass them by.
Ozai has never actually met Warden Masaki before. He hadn't had the time to personally see
to the release of the Southern Water Tribes' benders, between the pressure from the Earth
Kingdoms to decolonize the Eastern Continent's western shores, and the Fire Nation's own
reluctance to accept the results of the war's end. Still, there hadn't been any reported problems
transferring custody of the prisoners to Chief Hakoda and his warriors to be taken back to the
South. There shouldn't be any reason for Masaki to cause any trouble this time, either.
"Rise," he commands. "Politics in Caldera have been changing rapidly, including the course
of the war. The waterbenders held here are of particular interest to Moon Spirit Tui."
"I... see," Warden Masaki says as his gaze slides over to Tui, seemingly taking in the Moon
Spirit properly for the first time. Ozai isn't sure how. Tui literally glows in the dark. Even
standing within the ring of light from Ozai's sustained firebending, the Moon Spirit shines
brighter than white silk alone can account for. "Forgive me. We received word that the spirits
had grown active in Caldera, and we witnessed for ourselves Agni's second sun over the
capital this morning, but we had not considered that the Moon Spirit may come to visit us...
here."
Ozai lifts an eyebrow. "Is there a problem, Warden?"
The man opens his mouth, hesitates, and then admits, "Quite possibly, my lord."
"Warden?"
Masaki's eyes glance over at Tui again before he answers, "I am uncertain these concerns
should be discussed in present company, your majesty."
"Warden Masaki," Tui cuts in, "I am not unfamiliar with war, nor with man's cruelty to their
fellow man."
Masaki's expression turns grim as he says, "...While I do not doubt your words, great spirit,
you are the patron of my prisoners. Your presence alone could insight a riot. If not tonight,
then perhaps in the future."
"I do not seek to inspire conflict," Tui assures.
"Tui is here at my invitation," Ozai says before the warden can try another carefully worded
objection, "Any issues that result from my decision will just have to be dealt with as they
materialize."
"Of course, your majesty," the warden says, though his misgivings remain clearly painted
across his features. "And the... third member of your party?" he asks, gesturing with an
upturned hand at the limp form slung over Tui's shoulder.
"A returned prisoner," Tui says, "Hama of the Southern Seas."
The warden suddenly appears pale as death. "...the witch?"
Ozai hopes he's managed to better disguise his own surprise at Tui's words. "You aren't taking
her back to her tribe?" That had been his assumption when he'd seen that Tui had spared the
bloodbender's life, but apparently that is not to be the case.
"I cannot. Ferrying mortals across the boundaries of man's wars is forbidden under the
current charter. The exceptions created by right of my claim allow me to return Hama of the
Southern Seas to the place where she first abused my name, but no further," Tui speaks
firmly, but the spirit's eyes hold regret, "With our arrival here, the completion of my
judgement and claim are nigh. Beyond that, her fate, and that of all the waterbenders housed
within this prison, will lay under your authority, Fire Lord."
"I see." Just to be sure, he asks, "Then you likewise will not be escorting the other
waterbenders back to their nation tonight?"
"No." So much for the easy option. Tui dips his head and holds Ozai's gaze as he says, "I
would, however, be most grateful for any mercy you might extend to all who I will be
leaving in your care."
Ozai glances at the still unconscious woman that has caused so much suffering. He can't help
the scowl that steals across his face but he nods all the same. "I understand."
Warden Masaki clears his throat but his voice is still strained as he asks, "The prisoners are
scheduled to be released, then?" The man doesn't take his eyes from the bloodbender.
"No schedule yet, but there are plans to return them to the South," Ozai corrects and barely
keeps himself from slipping into a grumble as he adds, "Once I can arrange transport for
them." He's not sure how he's supposed to accomplish that without causing an international
incident -- at best -- but he'll figure something out. "For now, let's start with a tour of the
facility."
"If I may?" the warden interjects a bit desperately, "Perhaps we should secure that one first, if
the prisoners are not to be immediately relocated?"
"That may be necessary," Tui admits with a sigh.
If both Tui and Masaki have reached the same conclusion, Ozai isn't about to argue with
them. "Lead the way, Warden."
"Yes, your majesty!" Despite his words, Masaki hesitates before visibly forcing himself to
turn his back on the incapacitated bloodbender that so obviously unnerves him.
Ozai refrains from commenting on the man's apparent and persistent fear over a single
waterbender. It isn't as if the agitation is unjustified, given what Ozai has witnessed of
Hama's actions thus far. The remembered image of dirty faces with hollow cheeks is chased
by the stench of waste and decay. If that is what Hama is capable of doing with her freedom,
what must she have been willing to do to break her chains?
Ozai doubts the answer is one he wants to hear.
The steel is unyielding, heavy, and familiar. What is not familiar is the timing. Firebenders
rarely do anything under the full moon other than patrol or sleep. They certainly do not feed
or bathe waterbenders at such a disadvantageous time.
"What happened?" Kallik asks the guard securing him in shackles, "Why are we all being
chained?"
Sergeant Yasu glances at him briefly, but the other man says nothing. Kallik would not expect
otherwise. He likes Yasu well enough, considering that they each belong firmly on opposing
sides of a generations-long war, but the young man is unfailingly serious in his tasks.
After the last manacle is fastened and locked, Yasu answers in a lowered voice, "A man
claiming to be the Fire Lord has come to Kitaika. Apparently, he wields the white flames.
The warden has gone out to meet him."
"The Fire Lord?" Kallik wonders. That has never once happened in all the years he has been
held captive in this building of unfeeling metal. What could have prompted such a visit? "I
hope I'm presentable enough," he jokes. He must have been the last of Yasu's responsibilities
to secure this time because the firebender lingers long enough to listen to his response.
"This is precautionary. I doubt the Fire Lord, current or ascendant, will bother to check in on
the prisoners personally." Ascendant? Has the throne come into question? Could this be the
reason most of the guards had been so distracted all through the day? "And you look as well
as you ever do," Yasu dismisses curtly, but he scrutinizes Kallik up and down with pursed lips
before reaching out and straightening the shoulders of Kallik's prisoner tunic. Brusque but
careful hands push Kallik's hair back from his face. "I can't help you if you let it slip forward
again."
Kallik allows himself a wry huff rather than the chuckle he knows would ruffle the feathers
of an easily embarrassed chick. Not for the first time, Kallik thinks of how Yasu might have
benefited if he had possessed a few more friends during his childhood years. Regardless,
attempts at kindness should be acknowledged, and especially in places like this. "Thank you."
The young sergeant offers a stiff nod and walks away to tend to whatever his next duty is to
be tonight.
Masaki does not much care for the padded isolation cells nestled at the heart of Kitaika, but
there are times when they have proven necessary and he has never been more grateful for
their existence than he is now. With the return of the blood witch, he is not sure where else
she could be placed, let alone held. Unfortunately, they aren't designed for long-term
detainment. He's going to need to come up with something else sooner rather than later.
Regardless, an isolation cell will have to do until at least the full moon is past them.
He oversees Sergeants Hiroto and Michi as they fasten the restraint jacket with more
attention than he has given to any procedure performed in the prison before it. He pays
similar attention to the locking of the door. Only once the cell and its occupant are secured
does some of the tension begin to leave his shoulders, but even then the relief is minimal.
He knows the blood witch -- 'Hama,' according to the Moon Spirit's words. -- solely by the
stories she left behind. The report written by his predecessor (left at the top of everything,
like a warning, or a premonition) had recounted the results of Kitaika's lone successful escape
attempt with a deceptively concise bullet point summary followed by pages of ruthless detail.
Three guards had been slain by the night's end, another four were crippled for life, and one
inmate had been murdered. The inmate's death had been particularly chilling. Her lungs had
filled with her own blood and she'd drowned in her still locked cell before the chaos had
settled. Every interview Masaki had conducted upon accepting his current position as
Kitaika's warden, both formal and informal, whether with surviving guards or less reticent
prisoners, had only confirmed and further built upon the previous warden's assertions. As far
as Masaki can tell, as harsh and rigid as Warden Akira is reputed to have been, the man hadn't
deserved his forced retirement, nor the dishonorable mark on his military record that had
come with it.
And now a Fire Lord wielding Agni's Flames and a great spirit have seen fit to return the
blood witch.
Masaki has never particularly enjoyed his job as a prison warden, but he cannot recall another
time when he has so fervently regretted not resigning from the military after completing his
years of mandatory service. He should have gone back to work the family farm while he'd
had the option. If he had, he wouldn't be here, wondering whether death or dishonor would
find him first.
"This is the nearest occupied cellblock," Warden Masaki explains, opening a door that looks
much the same as all the others in the prison, "There are four-hundred and seventeen
prisoners currently interned in Kitaika. Each block has a maximum capacity of fifty inmates.
The standard cellblocks are all uniform in their construction and the procedures followed, but
I can escort you to each of them if that is your desire, Fire Lord."
Ozai barely hears the other man speaking. His gaze traces over hungry faces with too-
attentive eyes and he wishes that this wasn't precisely the same sort of tableau that he'd
become suddenly familiarized with in an abandoned mine scarcely an hour ago.
"Worse than I might have hoped, but better than I had most feared," Tui sighs, sounding tired,
"It seems to be the unfortunate pattern this night is destined to follow."
"I'm sorry," Ozai finds himself saying in a hoarse voice. It is an entirely inadequate offering
for the wronged spirit standing beside him, let alone the people caged and shackled in front
of him, "I didn't realize..."
He'd meant to leave them like this until he'd had the warfront stabilized. That goal alone
might take him months to accomplish, and in the meantime these people would have --
A hand falls to rest on his shoulder. Ozai looks over to discover sympathy on Tui's face.
"You had no part in this. Not the construction of the building nor the orders to imprison my
people within it," Tui says, "And I have faith that you will act with compassion where your
ancestors have shown only cruelty. You owe me no apologies, young Fire Lord."
Doesn't he?
Ozai swallows past the horror and shame before giving Tui an accepting nod.
"I'll fix this," he promises.
Chapter End Notes

Political Prisoners
Chapter Notes
For a brief moment in time, Ozai had assumed Hama to be a unique kind of monster for her
displayed skill in human misery. He should have known better. One look around the room not
only finds him disabused of that naive notion but leaves no doubts as to who her teachers had
been.
Is it better or worse that the soldiers here act only on their superiors' orders rather than active
vendettas?
The answer eludes him, but it was a pointless question anyway. Regardless of who has
perpetrated the greater wrong, people under his authority have suffered.
The Fire Lord forces himself to walk through the doorway and face the results of his nation's
actions.
Kallik watches as the new arrivals enter. The two men must be important, because Warden
Masaki personally holds the door open for them.
They make for an odd pair, a living study in opposites highlighted by their underlying
similarities.
The first to step into the cellblock is clad in the typical deep reds and black of the Fire
Nation, complete with pointed shoulders and shoes. His black hair is collected up in the
nation's standard fan-like topknot and decorated with a golden, five-pronged flame. Is this the
Fire Lord, then? Despite his fine clothes, Kallik discovers that he is underwhelmed by this
stranger. The guards always speak of their lord as if he were a god among men and Kallik had
built up a few expectations over the decades. This man appears to be little different from any
other firebender that Kallik has encountered. The most noteworthy feature about the man is
his golden eyes, which catch the light of the torches oddly and almost appear to glow.
The second man moves with an eerie grace and soon stands shoulder to shoulder with the
first. He is dressed as finely as his companion and of a similar height, but what captures
Kallik's attention is his dark skin and pale blue eyes. Does he belong to one of their tribes?
What is he doing here? Why does he walk free while surrounded by soldiers? Whatever the
case may be, he stands out starkly from his surroundings. The man is dressed entirely in
white, styled in looser draping shapes compared to the precise, harsh lines favored by the Fire
Nation, and bare feet peek past the long, wide hems of his pant legs as he walks. His hair and
beard are as white as his clothes with the longer locks that frame his face neatly threaded
through round, luminescent beads.
"Benders of the Southern Water Tribes," says the man with the golden flame in his topknot, "I
am Fire Lord Ozai." That is one question among many answered, at least. "Herald of Agni,"
he continues, because the Fire Nation loves creating endless titles, "and Nephew of Tui."
That causes a stir. His fellow prisoners bristle at the claim, guards shift uncomfortably, and
the man dressed in white looks away with one hand poorly concealing a smile.
Across from him, Nuniq sneers, "Keh, liar." Thankfully, the other man has enough sense to
keep his voice low and none of the guards appear to have heard the muttered accusation
directed at their nation's sovereign.
"I realize you have little reason to trust me," Fire Lord Ozai says with barely a pause to
acknowledge the tension in the room, "but I mean to end the war between our peoples, and
one of the first steps I am taking to mend the relationship between our nations is to return you
to your homes. I know this will not be enough, but I hope you will allow it to be a start."
And then the Fire Lord bows.
If that was not enough of a shock, Kallik realizes it is not the high, pointed sign of the flame
he offers to complement the action. Instead... Kallik is almost certain the Fire Lord is bowing
over the sign of the wave.
It's wrong of course. The Southern Tribes collectively use and recognize the sign of the moon
when dealing with any outsider to their home tribe. The sign of the wave is used by their
northern cousins. Still, the differences might be easily overlooked by foreigners, and he can
only assume this is a genuine attempt at respect.
Respect is a good indicator of a man's character, but better still is his reaction to correction.
What happens next will inform the tribes to what degree this Fire Lord should be trusted.
Kallik dearly hopes a few more of his expectations will be proven wrong.
"If I may, Fire Lord," Kallik says, raising his voice to be heard but mindful to keep the tone
respectful. There's no need to make the test too aggressive a provocation. He's only looking
to gain an initial measure of this Fire Lord, after all. "It is the Northern Water Tribe that bows
over the sign of the wave. We use the sign of the moon."
If the room had been tense before, the frost in the air could not be cleared with a torch now.
A flush steals over the monarch's pale cheeks and his eyes lock onto Kallik as the perpetrator
of his embarrassment. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize... I don't know the sign of the moon," the
Fire Lord admits. The man's long sleeves fall to cover his hands as he straightens.
The man in white laughs softly. "Like this, young Fire Lord," he says. The possible tribesman
begins by folding his hands into the sign of the wave. "Rotate the fist ninety degrees, just the
same as it would be for the sign of the flame," he narrates along with his demonstration, "The
left hand's fingers should be kept together. Anchor the heel of the hand under the small finger
of the fist. Cup the left hand over the fist's fingers to approximate the shape of my crescent
phase."
The Fire Lord takes direction well and soon forms a passable sign of the moon, but Kallik is
a bit stuck on the man in white's odd phrasing. His 'crescent phase'? Who is this man?
"My apologies," Fire Lord Ozai says, bowing over the correct sign this time, "I'll be sure to
remember in the future."
The words could have been ominous, considering who had spoken them, but the humility
with which they are offered renders them promising instead. Azulon's son seems to be a
different sort altogether from his father.
The Fire Lord rises from the second bow he has given to the war prisoners and meets Kallik's
gaze again.
Kallik bows his head, the most he can offer in return with his current restraints, and says,
"Your consideration honors us." It's not the typical phrasing the tribes would utter amongst
themselves for such a sentiment, but the words should translate well to Fire Nation ears.
The Fire Lord turns his attention to Warden Masaki. "Release them. Let them bring the news
to the other cellblocks themselves. Send guards with them as an escort and to release the
other prisoners as they go. Have the cooks prepare meals that are easy to keep down. Small
portions, but served many times a day until the waterbenders regain their strength." There is a
brief pause, possibly hesitation, and then the Fire Lord commands, "Start with broths."
Broth? To be sipped unshackled? It seems he is not the only one presenting a test of
trustworthiness tonight. How many waterbenders does the prison still hold? Will they all be
punished if some of the warriors choose vengeance over the promise of freedom?
Masaki looks nearly ill as he bows and says, "Yes, Fire Lord."
Kallik could almost sympathize with their latest warden. He and his allies are the ones set to
be newly armed and his nerves are buzzing like the summer mosquito-bee swarms at just the
thought.
The unknown tribesman clears his throat. "I would relish the opportunity to free some of the
Southern Seas' waterbenders myself," he says, "This block, at least, if it meets your approval,
Fire Lord."
Kallik isn't sure why, but the implied request causes warden and Fire Lord alike to freeze.
Masaki appears ready to pass out.
The Fire Lord drops his voice from the clear projection of a man used to giving speeches and
commands to a speaking voice that cannot quite be called hushed. With the room silent aside
from the forced air, his voice still carries to most of the ears present. "What exactly do you
intend to do?" he asks cautiously, as if he is decidedly not the most powerful man in the room
despite having the permission of his authority entreated. "I know I said I'd free them, Tui --"
The stranger claims to be the Moon Spirit? Is he crazy? "-- but I also don't have anywhere
else prepared to house them tonight -- probably not for several nights -- and it will be months
before the weather will allow us to send any ships south."
"Just the outer locks, then," the mad heretic bargains, "as a show of good faith. Would you
believe yourself to be anything other than a prisoner as long as locks remained on your
door?"
Fire Lord Ozai's eyes flicker across cages and shackles as much as they do prisoners before
he sighs and says, "Do as you will."
The man in white laughs lightly and clasps the Fire Lord's shoulder. "Worry not, Nephew, I
will keep the mess to a minimum, and the steel can always be reforged to a new life."
Fire Lord Ozai squints oddly at his companion and supposed uncle. "Was that purposeful,
or..."
The heretic chuckles as he walks further down the hall. "You might recall that there was a
certain young warrior that I was once quite fond of," he says in answer.
The Fire Lord tips his face down and pinches the bridge of his nose. "Purposeful. Very, very
purposeful," he decides.
No further explanation is offered and the next moment ensures that Kallik forgets every one
of his half-formed questions about the exchange.
The heretic spins toward Aput's cage, hands close together before being thrown wide in what
might be some foreign bending form. Neither water nor fire are summoned by the move but
everyone flinches at the deafening screech of the steel as it shears apart, pulled by an
undeniable force in opposing directions. A sweep of two arms leaves the torn metal to orbit
the head of the very-much-so-not-human being dressed in white. A second later, the being
spins and dances with all the grace of a master waterbender to his next target.
The most terrifying thing, however, is not the impossible metalbending. No, what scares
Kallik far more is how his chi is tugged toward the white-robed stranger with every lock torn
asunder.
The being in white is no heretic.
For reasons and timing unknown, Tui has come tonight to free them.
Have other great spirits returned?
What does this mean for mortal men?
How is one meant to greet the spirits, again?
Kallik struggles to remember boyhood lessons and hopes fervently that the spirits will be
merciful to a people that had believed them dead.
The guards all flinch with every new shriek of shearing metal. Ozai can't blame them. The
sound makes a military whistle seem pleasant by comparison. At least Tui seems to be having
a good time, under his growing crown of destruction. Considering what the consequences had
been the last time a patron spirit of the Water Tribes had turned their attention on a target
made of Fire Nation steel, Ozai is more than happy to let Tui rend as many locks as the spirit
pleases.
Of course, the waterbenders seem as wary of Tui as the guards are. He might have to find a
way to suggest Tui behave a bit less obviously spirit-like around people who don't spend their
vacations traveling with the Avatar. Not that he has the first clue how he's supposed to say
that tactfully.
"Try to relax, Warden," he says, eyes still tracking the twirling spirit.
Another lock, another round of flinching from guards and prisoners alike. The sound really is
awful.
"Forgive me, my lord," Masaki says, voice reduced to a croak, "This is a bit...
overwhelming."
It would be for the uninitiated, he muses. He's been chasing spirit tales since he was thirteen,
and living in one since turning sixteen. Granted, he used to have time to breathe between
encounters with Aang, be it as foe or friend, and the chaos the young Avatar was constantly
surrounded by.
"One thing at a time," he advises, "Trying to think about it all at once can be too much, so
breathe and focus on one or two things you can make progress on. After the storm in your
mind clears, you can reorient yourself and focus on the big picture again."
"A storm of the mind? I can't say I've heard that one before, but it's an accurate descriptor,"
Masaki says. The warden waves a few of the guards closer.
Ozai's brow furrows. Who had he first heard that turn of phrase from? It's an old memory,
clouded by age and relative unimportance, for all that a piece of it has stuck with him through
the years. He knows Aang had used the phrase on occasion, but the Avatar hardly belongs in
his early childhood memories of the palace.
"Start unshackling the prisoners behind Moon Spirit Tui," Warden Masaki directs.
"Yes, sir!" the guards chorus, some voices shakier than others, before moving to obey the
command.
"The cells will have to suffice in the short term, but we'll need to provide better housing for
them until we can return them to the South," Ozai muses aloud. If Masaki happens to latch on
to it as his one thing to focus on, so much the better for them both.
"I'll have a few guards begin scouting the island at daybreak for suitable building sites,"
Masaki says, "I doubt the waterbenders will prefer to remain inside the compound if given a
choice."
"That's not a bad idea. Tents would be fastest."

"I hear most of the tribes use tents in the South, anyway, for months at a time if not year-
round. Perhaps the familiarity will be a comfort."
Ozai hums in half-agreement. "They're different from ours and not so uniform as you might
imagine. There's a lot of variance by tribe in the size and shape of their tents. Most of them
use hides as coverings rather than canvas."
Masaki doesn't answer.
Ozai glances over at the warden to find him staring.
"Is something wrong, Warden Masaki?"
The man turns butter-beet red and offers a hasty bow. "Forgive me, your majesty! I hadn't
expected you to be well versed in Water Tribe subcultures. They haven't been of political
interest in decades."
Ozai looks away as he feels a flush of his own take over his face. He's grateful that nearly
every eye in the room is locked on Tui at the moment.
"I do know something about the Southern Water Tribes, if clearly not everything," he says. In
retrospect, he probably should have realized that Katara, having trained under a Northern
Water Tribe bending master, had in turn taught him a Northern-style of bow. He wishes
Hakoda or one of the other Southern warriors had mentioned it to him at some point, though.
This has not been how he would have preferred to find out he was mimicking a culture
literally a world away from the one he had meant to honor. At the last second, the Fire Lord
remembers to tack on, "You may rise."
After a moment's hesitation, Masaki asks, "What kind of tents should we requisition for
them?"
Ozai shrugs. "Barrack tents will be the most practical, initially, but get a few of each type. If
they decide they'd rather have a different style than the barracks or some other lodging
entirely, we'll do our best to accommodate them. Send the requisition request directly to my
office and note it as urgent. I'll ensure it gets approved swiftly."
"Yes, Fire Lord. And..." Masaki lowers his voice, "What should be done with the returned
prisoner?"
Ozai grimaces. At least Warden Masaki has the discretion to ask such a question while Tui is
distracted and simultaneously creating an effective distraction for everyone else. But then, the
warden had obviously been concerned with such from the beginning.
"You can't keep her in that padded cell, can you?" he asks.
"A maximum of three-hundred-sixty degrees at a time," the prison warden confirms, "For
long-term use with a single prisoner, it is recommended one-hundred-eighty in and one-
hundred-eighty out. Greater isolation has led to... disturbing results in the past."
Well, that sounds ominous. "You'll have to elaborate on that."

"The reports mention prisoners either going feral or quiet. Most recovered, but recovery time
got longer for each prisoner with repeated exposure."
He was right. That's nothing short of nightmarish.
Ozai takes a steadying breath and says, "Please tell me we haven't been driving waterbenders
insane for the last century."
"No, my lord. The reports are from the first five years of Kitaika's operation. These days a
strict policy is enforced across all prisons against extended isolation and robbing inmates of
their minds. But that leaves me with few options as to how to contain the blood witch."
"Right," Ozai sighs. "...Bloodbending is only possible under a full moon, and the full moon is
usually only three nights of a given month. You said the isolation cells can be used safely in
half-day cycles?"
"Mostly. There can be some minor effects, depending upon the individual prisoner, but they
don't deteriorate so far as to be mindless, at least."
Great. It will have to do. Masaki is the prison warden and has likely been stewing over this
exact problem from the moment he realized who Hama is. If he can't think of a better
solution, then there is little chance that Ozai will come up with something in the time he has
before he needs to return to Caldera.
"No more than seven nights per month, warden," he decides, "That gives you two nights on
either side of the full moon for margin if you misjudge it. She'll have to be let out during the
days, but she'll be nothing more than a strong waterbender so long as Agni is shining."
"'Let out'?" Masaki wonders, "Do you not mean, 'moved to a standard cell,' my lord?"
"Tui asked for mercy," Ozai answers, not particularly happy himself with the thought of
Hama wandering more free than not, "and he clearly expects Hama to be returned South with
the rest of the waterbenders. Hama will be treated the same as any other waterbender except
as precautions around her bloodbending are required."
"I --" Masaki rasps, "That is not possible, my lord. The blood witch -- Hama cannot be
allowed to mingle with the other waterbenders."
Ozai turns to face Warden Masaki fully. "Explain."
"They'll kill her."
Chapter End Notes

Contemplations of the Moon
Chapter Notes
I've been poking at some new endeavors and distractions since the last update, but the
details can keep until after you've had a chance to enjoy the chapter. For now, I'll stick to
a quick bullet point list.
Started posting SToFLO to Royal Road.

Built a dedicated Discord.
Ran some silly numbers on SToFLO's stats based on AO3 tags.
See you in the end notes! Happy reading!
Surely he's misheard.
"What?"
"They'll kill her," Warden Masaki repeats. "Or she, them. Either way, there will be
bloodshed."
"Why?" Ozai demands.
"The remaining inmates from her cellblock view her as a traitor. She left them behind when
she escaped," Masaki explains around his growing grimace, "She also killed another inmate
when she left, along with a guard they favored for her kindness."
"She killed an inmate!" Ozai hisses in disbelief. He isn't surprised to hear about the guard, but
for Hama to go after another waterbender... Somehow, this whole situation has managed to
become that much more complicated than it already was.
"Yes," Masaki confirms, "Even if by the mercy of the spirits there are no attacks on my men,
reuniting Hama with the other waterbenders would guarantee some manner of violence."
Ozai feels a headache starting to build.
How is he supposed to show mercy to a woman that will kill her own as readily as she kills
enemy guards? ...and civilians, probably. Thinking back on the conditions of Hama's
improvised prison, he wouldn't be surprised if there was a list as long as his arm of victims
that had died while under her care. Just because he hadn't seen the bodies doesn't mean there
had never been any.
Carefully banked anger flares high again. Showing mercy to Hama spits in the face of every
victim left in her wake and treads callously over their suffering. He would swallow the
injustice of it all in the name of peace, but now it sounds like the Water Tribe would demand
Hama's blood, too. Personal request from the Moon Spirit or not, the effort to spare Hama the
consequences of her own actions is becoming an increasingly intensive and ever more
unpalatable project.
"I'll have to bring this to Tui's attention," Ozai decides, "I don't think he knows."
"There is one more problem with allowing her contact with the other inmates," Masaki
warns.
Great. "Out with it."
"Many would reject it, because they forbid it for themselves, much as we do the Living Wick
--" Ozai suppresses a shudder. Just the idea of it... "-- but there are some that might seek to
learn how to bewitch the blood. Hama proved how deadly the technique is utilized by a lone
bender. If there were to be a handful of them... They could slaughter everyone on this island
in a single night."
Ozai pinches the bridge of his nose and, unlike the last time when he was fighting back a
treacherous amusement, breathes out steam in genuine frustration.
He should have seen that particular problem coming. Hadn't he avoided calling Hama a
waterbender when addressing her captives for that exact reason? Bloodbending is
troublesome enough limited to one woman with a vendetta. If the only waterbenders that
would deign to learn the technique are also of a character willing to violate their cultural
taboos in the name of power and revenge... This either needs to be contained before the
technique can spread, or they need a counter to quickly shut down new bloodbenders.
"I understand. Your office is secure for private conversation?"
"Yes, Fire Lord."
"Good. Once Tui is finished, the three of us need to speak."
"...Yes, Fire Lord."
Ozai barely registers Masaki's reply. He's already busy trying to devise a solution to the
growing list of problems Hama represents. A dark part of him wonders if La would be
willing to -- No. No, Tui hadn't wanted the Ocean Spirit involved when La showed up earlier,
and Zhao is a still-breathing corpse because of La. That isn't a fate he's willing to inflict on
anyone, regardless of their crimes. Better to keep La out of any situation that isn't already
entangled with the Ocean Spirit.
"Nephew? Are you feeling unwell?"
Ozai opens his eyes to find Tui in front of him and drops his hand from where it had made a
home for itself trying to halt the growing tension headache's advance. Beyond the spirit, the
last handful of prisoners are being unshackled at the far end of the cellblock.
"I'm fine," Ozai assures, but apparently not well enough.
The Moon Spirit's brow furrows in concern before a cool hand is pressed lightly to Ozai's
forehead. "Nausea? Lightheadedness? Headache? Difficulty breathing?" The hand is
withdrawn but the spirit still asks, "Other symptoms?"
"No, I --" Ozai frowns and corrects himself, "There's a building headache, but I know what
it's from. I'm fine."
"Are you certain?" Tui presses. "Agni will be justly displeased if I have allowed your
reforging to weaken while I was distracted."
"I'm sure, but the warden has brought up an issue that needs to be discussed. Privately," Ozai
says, "Warden Masaki, please, lead the way."
Masaki manages to hide most of his unease as he says, "If you will follow me, Fire Lord,
Moon Spirit."
"Very well," Tui says with a brief glance at Masaki.
Warden Masaki leads them through a few different halls and up two flights of stairs but,
overall, it is a short trip. Tui's gaze lingers on Ozai for the entirety of the journey.
"What is it that must be discussed?" the Moon Spirit asks as soon as the door to Masaki's
office closes behind them. The question is technically given to the room at large but it's
obvious that, after a quick scan of the room, Ozai continues to possess the bulk of the spirit's
attention. "Particularly while hidden away in such confined quarters?"
Tui isn't wrong about the status of their location. The office is notably small for an officer as
highly ranked as a prison warden, especially for a prison as important, if secluded, as Kitaika.
A single, narrow window lets in moonlight, but it does little to ward off the claustrophobic
feeling of largely unadorned steel walls and too many bookcases crammed into an already
tight space.
"Please, forgive the discomfort, Great Spirit. Kitaika was not built with visitors in mind,"
Warden Masaki says while hurriedly lighting sconces, closing sliding shutters over their
vents, and double-checking pipe covers, "The room is secure, Fire Lord."
Ozai holds back the sigh that wants to escape. "The situation surrounding Hama is more
complicated than I thought when I agreed to offer her mercy. I'm not sure I'll be able to send
her south with the other benders."
The furrow in Tui's brow deepens. "How so?"
"She killed another waterbender."
Tui's expression flickers through surprise before twisting with grief. The Moon Spirit is silent
for a long moment before simply stating, "I see."
"I can extend mercy on behalf of the Fire Nation," Ozai says, "but I can't control what her
tribe will do, or what returning her might do to the unity between the Southern Tribes." He
scowls as he realizes he has somehow become responsible for preventing two potential civil
wars from erupting, on top of the global war he is already attempting to end. How does he
even get himself into these situations?
"No, you cannot," Tui acknowledges, "and I would not ask it of you. I will speak with the
waterbenders. Perhaps they will accept my judgement as sufficient, perhaps they will not, but
I will not attempt to hold you accountable for the actions of a people that do not belong to
you. If the only mercy for Hama is the allowance to be judged by her own rather than by her
enemies, then it is enough and I will abide by the result."
That's a relief, but it does beg the question... "What was your judgement, Tui?" Ozai asks.
Tui blinks at him. "She abused my name and power," the spirit explains, "so I withdrew the
privilege. Hama of the Southern Seas no longer carries my gift."
"You took her bending?" Ozai can't keep the shock from his voice.
Masaki makes a noise Ozai doubts was purposeful. The warden's eyes are wide and he
doesn't seem to be breathing as he stares at the Moon Spirit. Ozai can't decide if the man
looks more terrified or hopeful.
"Yes, though not in full," Tui says, "My gift comprises only half of a waterbender's power,
and it is La's half that tethers a bender's connection to water. Hama of the Southern Seas is
now push without pull, but she remains a waterbender of sorts."
And just like that, Ozai finds himself reconsidering the possibility of involving La. It would
make things so much easier... Ease doesn't equal right, though. Too bad things around Hama
have gotten so twisted up he's having trouble figuring out what the right thing to do is. He
wishes his friends were here to offer their own perspectives.
"Can she still bloodbend?" Ozai asks.
Tui frowns. "I would not expect her to succeed if she were to attempt the feat, but I cannot
say if it would be impossible for her to relearn a portion of the ability given time. While
Hama will no longer receive the boon of my strength as I wax and wane, there have been
masters in the past able to bend the life-waters of men and creatures without the power
granted by my full phase. None have done so with a divided gift, and few that were not
skilled and devoted healers, but the future holds mysteries to us all and I cannot promise
Hama will not be the first to overcome such obstacles."
"Bloodbending can be achieved outside of full moon nights?" Ozai demands. It's not a
comforting thought, as illustrated by Warden Masaki's paling face.
"Yes, if the waterbender possesses the skill and power for it."
That is not what Katara had told him, reticent as she had been in sharing details about the
technique, but he's starting to understand how ignorant of her abilities and limitations Katara
had been. Even after attaining her mastery as a waterbending warrior, she had still grown up
without any daily knowledge or a single model in her village to learn from. Old guilt rears its
head but Ozai pushes it aside. He's actively working to fix that problem and he has a more
pressing issue in front of him that needs to be dealt with first.
If Hama is unlikely to bloodbend for the rest of her life -- as disturbing as the slim but
persistent possibility that she could reclaim the ability is -- then the next most important
question needs to be asked. "Could she teach others to bloodbend?"
"It would be possible, but difficult," Tui says, "Learning to bend life-waters without example
or experience is no easy task. There is a reason the art has been forgotten for a millennium."
Masaki makes a choked noise. "N-not 'forgotten,' Moon Spirit Tui," the warden says,
plucking up the courage to interject into the conversation, "The waterbenders I have spoken
with do not call it 'bloodbending,' but they do remember the practice and not one I spoke to
described the technique as anything less than forbidden. Absolutely."
"Forbidden?" Tui's face grows confused and troubled. "When did this happen? Why has a
portion of our gift been cast aside as unwanted?"
Ozai shares a glance with Masaki but it's clear the other man doesn't know what to say any
more than he does and the warden is twice as reluctant to try. Unfortunately, dealing with
foreign powers, up to and including spirits, apparently, is the Fire Lord's responsibility.
Warden Masaki has every right to cede the task to Ozai.
"It's... disconcerting, to have control of your body stripped away," Ozai explains carefully,
"Especially if that control rests in the hands of someone you don't trust."
"An unpleasant abuse of our gift," Tui acknowledges, "but the corruption of power is a
common occurrence with humans." Ozai wonders if the spirit's statement should be taken as a
condemnation of his kind. The words say 'yes,' but the tone is closer to factual than
contemptful. Either way, it's not what he needs to focus on in the current moment. "While the
disgrace to my name was the reason for Hama's judgement, do not think the misuse of the
powers granted her was not a factor in the severity of her punishment. I am not blind to the
suffering her actions have inflicted on you and your people."
"I know, Tui. Thank you," Ozai says and takes a steadying breath, "As for why bloodbending
might be forbidden... My guess is that someone else -- maybe more than one, actually --
abused bloodbending long before Hama, and the Water Tribes refused to let it happen again."
Tui looks down at his folded hands with a frown. "That is troubling," the spirit says before
meeting Ozai's eyes. Grief paints the Moon Spirit's features anew. "Both that, if this event
truly did happen, I missed it, and that the art has been discarded. My waterbenders once used
it to great effect. Healers saved many lives, halted blood loss, set broken bones, turned
inverted infants in the womb, restrained the disoriented to prevent injury. The art has been
used to catch food, escape or slay predatory beasts, and rescue victims from fatal falls. I will
not pretend every instance of its use was so benign. It has been used as a tool of war and
bloodshed before, but that alone would not be reason enough to abandon it. The Frozen Seas
are not gentle lands. Relinquishing any tool comes with a high cost. If the art has truly been
forbidden rather than forgotten in both the Northern and Southern Seas..." Tui falls silent as
distress creeps over his face.
"...I kept a mortal form to be close to them, but I missed this," the Moon Spirit says in a
hushed, horrified voice, "What else have I missed?"
"I don't know," Ozai says, placing a hand on the distraught spirit's shoulder, "but you're aware
of the situation now. That means you can start thinking about ways to resolve it. And you're
here. There's nothing to stop you from speaking with the waterbenders and getting answers to
your questions."
Tui sighs and covers Ozai's hand with his own. "Thank you, Nephew," the spirit says, "It
would seem there is more work ahead of me than I had realized."
"I'm familiar with the feeling," Ozai says wryly.
Tui huffs a singular laugh and allows Ozai to withdraw his hand. "Yes, I suppose you are no
stranger to setbacks." The Moon Spirit studies Ozai's face for an extended moment before a
sad smile touches the spirit's lips. "I begin to understand Agni's confidence in your
reforging."
Ozai raises his eyebrows in a silent question but Tui only shakes his head. "Another time,
perhaps, young Fire Lord," Tui says.
Right. There are other things they need to take care of sooner rather than later.
"What do you want to do with Hama?" he asks. They've spent enough time dancing around
the issue without reaching any conclusions. A decision needs to be made.
Tui's expression pinches. "Would it be possible to keep her from the other waterbenders for a
day?" the spirit asks.
Ozai looks to Masaki.
"It can be arranged," the warden confirms.
"And you are not opposed to my continued presence as my people are prepared for their
return to the Southern Seas?" Tui asks.
"Your assistance with smoothing the peaceful transfer of waterbenders to the South Pole from
the Fire Nation would be welcome," Ozai replies, because he does have some experience
with political maneuvering after three years on the throne.
"We are honored by your consideration," Masaki adds, regardless of what his true opinion on
the matter is.
Tui nods and examines the man's office with a frown. "Do you not possess a large mirror?"
"Er... No, Great Spirit," Masaki says, "I could have one brought in, but it would be some
days."
"No matter," Tui decides and approaches the office's exit, "This will do." The spirit does not
open the door, instead Tui lays a hand on the steel.
Ozai and Masaki watch as the metal is polished to a mirror finish and the spirit's hand falls
through the metal. Tui proceeds to step through the reflective surface and, as soon as the
spirit has a foot planted on the other side, the Moon Spirit's surroundings transform into pale
stone walls and white silk curtains. The ceiling seems to disappear in a gradually darkening
fog full of stars and streaked through by auroras. Tui turns and holds out a hand.
"I would appreciate your assistance in returning to the mortal plane, Nephew," Tui says, "It
can be a laborious process without help."
Ozai approaches the spirit world portal curiously. Can all great spirits do something like this?
Tui clasps his forearm in the Water Tribe style and steps back through. The polished steel
mirror reasserts itself and the connection between their worlds is sealed away once more.
Tui holds Ozai's gaze and says, "If it is agreeable to you, Fire Lord, I would request that
Hama be kept secluded from the rest of my people held here until the next moonrise. I would
like for them to have this night to accustom themselves with the prospect of reclaiming their
freedom and returning to their homes before placing the burden of such a heavy judgement
on their shoulders. Tomorrow night, with your permission, I will return here to inform my
people of Hama's presence and my judgement of her. I will also tell them of what actions I
know her to have taken while away from the eyes of the tribes. At that point, Hama of the
Southern Seas will be subject to the will of the people to which she was born. Will you allow
this, Herald of Agni?"
Ozai doesn't answer immediately, instead asking, "Warden Masaki, is there anything in the
Moon Spirit's request that we would be unable to accommodate?"
"No, Fire Lord."
Ozai nods. "I will allow it. May it be done just as you have proposed," he says. It feels
strange to utter something so formal in a cramped prison office rather than a throne room or
court of some sort.
"Thank you," Tui says, "May I make one final request for the night?"
Ozai steels himself. "Speak it. I am listening."
The spirit smiles. "Will you join me and mine for a meal before I must return you to the
palace, Nephew?"
Well, he hadn't started the day expecting to end it with a midnight snack in the heart of a
prison, shared with a great spirit and hundreds of half-starved ex-prisoners while anxious,
wrong-footed guards linger in the periphery. But Tui looks hopeful and there hasn't been
much about this evening that Ozai has expected. He's been hours away from Caldera at this
point. A few more degrees to model peace between nations for the waterbenders and prison
guards would not be time ill spent.
Ozai returns the Moon Spirit's smile with a wryly amused smirk of his own and shrugs a
shoulder.
"Sure."
To think, two days ago he had thought it strange for a great spirit to help him with a simple
haircut. At least he can't claim his life is boring.
Chapter End Notes
Right, let's add some more detail to that bullet point from the opening notes.
I've started posting SToFLO to Royal Road! It's currently scheduled to gradually catch
up to where we are/will be on AO3. If anyone reading has an account over there, I
would greatly appreciate if you would spare a moment to leave a click-the-stars rating or
possibly a full review for the story! (By the by, if you'd like to help proofread posted
chapters, RR has a handy highlight-to-suggest feature!)
I also built a Discord for SToFLO in the interim and I think it's now ready for launch! If
you'd like to come hang out and chat, I'd love to have you!
Finally, I did some tag adding/cleaning on SToFLO and had some fun checking where it
fell in a few of them. You can read more about my pursuit of tomfoolery here.
And that takes care of the announcements! Happy reading!

Works inspired by this one
You did well, Little Dragon by malistaticy
Changing faces by ArtByPoison (PoisonousCephalopod)
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The Spirit Tale of Fire Lord Ozai

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/38420449.

Now posting on Royal Road! Come leave a review!

Inspired by Just like your father by Eye_of_Purgatory

"Agni?" he questions weakly.

"So I am," the spirit responds.

The spirits have condemned his entire family to death.

"No! Please, I can --"

"My moon," La says, offering a hand to Agni's reflection, "let us begin."

Chapter End Notes

Ask Spoiler Questions | The Author Elsewhere

Zuko groans and runs a hand over his face.

...Wait? What? How?

His scar is missing.

For that matter, his whole face feels wrong.

She even sounds like... "Azula?" he asks.

Zuko's stomach promptly relieves itself of its contents.

Screams fill the courtyard.

"Father!" two terribly young voices cry.

"Medic!" Iroh bellows.

Zuko hardly hears any of them.

Ozai. He's in Ozai's body.

He is also six years in the past.

"Fire Lord? Your majesty?"

"Spirits?" Iroh questions.

Uncle's eyebrows climb high on his forehead. "It will be done."

For now, he has a war meeting he needs to prepare for.

Chapter End Notes

Writing advice/correction welcome!

Ask Spoiler Questions | The Author Elsewhere

But to what end?

"Yes, Fire Lord," both guards respond dutifully.

There is a movement in the mirror behind him.

"I will. I had the clerks clear my schedule for tomorrow."

"One thing?" Agni presses.

"Us?" Zuko asks.

"Probably," Zuko admits wryly.

"As I was saying, you may come in, General."

"I'm afraid I --"

"What did I miss?" the man behind him asks warily.

"Oh," his child breathes.

"Thank you, Agni," Ozai says and offers a deep bow.

Chapter End Notes

Writing advice/correction welcome!

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"Oh?" Iroh asks in a carefully mild tone.

"I see..." Iroh murmurs.

"I have not --"

Chapter End Notes

Writing advice/correction welcome!

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Could Agni have meant a stray inner flame?

"Yes, my lord," the servant responds, "Princess."

Chapter End Notes

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"Y-yes," the sage of the right finally speaks.

"What are your names, sages?"

Chapter End Notes

Writing advice/correction welcome!

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"Send a hawk!" he snaps.

"I am afraid that is not an option."

The older man's silence is confirmation enough.