Adult-FanFiction.org : Cartoons

The Avatar Saga - Azula's redemption	By : flamehead23a Category: Avatar - The Last Airbender > Threesomes/Moresomes Views: 6861 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own avatar, nor any character affiliated with it. Neither do I make money from writing this work. I do own The white Phoenix, though. Please don't use this story as your own, nor post it without my consent.

Chapter List
- 3
- 4
Ok, here’s chapter 4. Sorry for the wait, but I’ve been focusing on making each chapter quality, and that’s taking longer than I expected. Still, I hope you appreciate it, and enjoy the chapter. It’s long, I know, but I think you’ll like it. Oh, and I don’t own avatar, Duh!

The Avatar Saga: Azula’s Redemption
Chapter 4: Of Flashbacks and Fight scenes
By flamehead23a

FIRE NATION PALACE, FIVE DAYS BEFORE AZULA’S BREAKOUT

“ZUKO! We need to talk!” The White Phoenix stormed into the main throne room, eliciting startled gasps from the royal court assembled there. Mat was in a foul mood, and he didn’t bother with containing his tremendous internal heat. The air shimmered and radiated around him, making him look like a living mirage.

“Can it wait? I’m in the middle of holding Court here.” Zuko gestured to the multitude of Royal Magistrates and Regional Governors assembled. This was the last formal Court of the season—after this, the Fire Lord was expected to retire with Mai and the Senken until summer, to relax and decompress after a month of straight meetings and delegations.

“No, this cannot wait. I’ve been waiting for five years now! It’s time you released your sister, Zuko. It’s time you set Azula free.”

Zuko’s face grew hard. “If I recall correctly… the last time Azula walked free, she nearly killed Katara and I, in addition to almost taking over the world. Why would I willingly release something dangerous like that back onto the world?”

“Because she’s your sister!” Mat’s voice rose, along with the heat in the room. Many of the royal court were beginning to sweat in their seats, not knowing exactly how this argument would end. “You said you’d help her. To get her past her troubles, heal her. That’s the only reason I let you put her into that god-forsaken freezer in the first place!”

“Excuse me? You let me put her in the Boiling Rock?” Zuko clenched his fists, his own temper rising. “Last time I checked I was the Fire Lord, not you. I’ll do whatever I damn please in regards to my monster of a sister. As her leader and as her older brother, I know what’s best for her, not you.”

Zuko leaned forward in his chair, wrinkling his robes. “I’m warning you, Musagetes—I’ve been more than accommodating of you and your eccentricities—I’ve given you a home when you had nowhere else to go. You are the permanent guest, remember? What was it you said, ‘the perennial observer?” He leaned back, dismissing Mat with a wave. “I recommend you think on that and return to your room. We’ll finish this discussion in private.”

“LIKE HELL WE WILL!” Mat threw a fist to his side, a gout of flame bursting forth and traveling from his hand to the wall, exploding in a shower of sparks. “Zuko, you give the order to get her out of that hellhole right here and now or I’ll—”

“YOU’LL WHAT?” Zuko roared, rising from his throne and pounding his fists into its arms, the ornate chair combusting into flames. Women were screaming, men scrambling out of their chairs and calling for guards. The room had degenerated into chaos.

“Shut up… JUST SHUT UP!” Spreading his arms, Matthias absorbed all the heat in the room, instantly quelling the flames and bringing the temperature down more than thirty degrees. The sudden change gave the nobility pause. For a minute no one spoke—the only sounds were Mat’s winded panting and Zuko’s knuckles cracking in his fists. “Whatever, I don’t need your charity, Zuko. I’ve been without a home before, I can do it again. “I’m out of here—you and Aang can fend for yourselves.”

“You even look in the direction of that prison, and I’ll have every soldier, bender, and war machine at my disposal firing down your throat.”

“Don’t bother, your Majesty.” Mat’s voice dripped with sarcasm. He turned his back to Zuko and stormed out of the room. “To hell with you and your crazy sister, none of you are worth the trouble. I’m done with this world—you won’t be seeing me again, jackass.”

“We’re not done yet! You come back here and face me!” Zuko raged.

Mat slammed the door, leaving the room before Zuko had even finished speaking. The assembled nobles could only sit in shocked awe at what had just transpired. The man that had come to be known as their country’s national treasure had just openly defied their new and much-loved Fire Lord, and that point could not have been driven home more than when they heard a large explosion from the nearby courtyard, signaling the Phoenix’s departure from the palace grounds, permanently. Zuko continued to stand there, his entire body shaking with suppressed rage.

“I call this Court to an end. Return home to your providences and keep your lands stable. And if I catch even one word of what has happened here being spoken to the public, I will personally deal with whoever talked.”
……………………………………………………………………………………………

Zuko slammed the door of his personal chambers. He had stridden there directly after ending Court. Servants and guests alike scattered when they saw him coming, his face saying that now was the worst possible time to make a request of the Fire Lord.

As the door closed, Zuko sighed. He turned his head as he heard Mai enter from the bedroom, pulling a mahogany-wood comb through her long hair. “I heard the fight from all the way over here. I take it things went well.”

Zuko smiled, going to his desk and unlacing his boots. “Without a hitch. They ate it hook, line and sinker. I even told them not to say anything—with any luck that little fight will be a tavern tale in Jang Hui by tomorrow night.”

Mai moved behind her Fire Lord, massaging his shoulders. “He sent one of his little fire-hounds with a message—I put it in the drawer. How did he say he makes those things again? Metacreativity?”

“Mmhmm. One of the few classes he stayed awake in.” Reaching for the drawer, Zuko withdrew the small rolled parchment and opened it. The characters on the page were unreadable by anyone but the Senken and their closest friends; it was a language Mat had taught them to write and read after the war. It was from his homeland—he had called it “English.” Zuko translated the writing, Mai reading over his shoulder.

--Zuko. (And Mai too, probably.)

That went well. Like really well. I never knew you and Aang could be so crafty, but this plan was positively sinister—major props. We should put on a show together with the Ember Island players this summer. Comedic though, I can’t do intensity every night. I’m thinking something along the lines of, “Who’s got the Kuai Ball?”

Seriously, with any luck, Sokka’s right and this will get whoever’s pulling strings on the other side to shift attention to you at the palace. At the very least, no one will be looking for me anymore. I’m going to disappear for a few days…let the story spread and make it seem like I’m really gone. Then I’ll hit the Rock hard and fast— Azula and I should be able to sneak off into the dark before anyone gets the message out I was there. After we talked last night, my clairsentience came through much clearer—the dream seemed much more in focus. I think... no, I know we’re doing the right thing here.

I’ll bring her back to the palace, I’m sure you two will want some quality time to sort things out, and I want one more night in a bed before tearing off to who knows where to find your Mother.

Azula will come back safe, hopefully so will I. Enjoy your vacation, guys. You all deserve it.

I’ll write when I can, leave the Aviary open.

Matthias Apollon Musagetes— the White Phoenix.
………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Azula walked along the dirt path through the forest, her bare feet sore and unused to life outside a metal cell. The weight of the rucksack was reassuring against her shoulder—at least she didn’t have to worry about starving for a while. The sun had been steadily rising for several hours now, and the princess enjoyed the warming heat of the sun’s rays. She had left Mat and the campfire at dawn, and true to his word he had not stopped her. For the first hour of her journey she was constantly looking over her shoulder, expecting him to come crashing through the woods, sweeping her up in his quest to save the world.

And just slightly disappointed he didn’t.

It was not like she cared for him, or anything. She wasn’t some doe-eyed schoolgirl. Azula was never sociable like Ty Lee, constantly garnering the attention of boys left and right. Nor did she ever find herself fixated on one man, Like Mai was about Zuko. Azula had grown up finding boys as a whole nothing more than a waste of time. If they weren’t soft and spoiled nobles’ sons, caring only for the status they could gain from her, they were low-class urchins and peasants—too busy bowing and scraping, terrified of the Fire Princess’s wrath.

Before, she had enjoyed that fear. Like a predator, she had delighted in others’ terror, and expected that if she were to ever find a man, then he would have to be subservient to her—Azula was second to no one, save her father. But now, the thought of controlling through fear, domestically or otherwise, left a sour taste in her mouth. Azula couldn’t put her finger on it, but something about not having human contact for five years had seemed to quell her need to be feared; most likely because it was those terror-inducing ways that had put her in the Boiling Rock to begin with.

But regardless, she never needed someone before, and she didn’t need one now—her time in the Rock had shown her that. However, needing and wanting were two very different things.

No, Azula decided that her only feelings towards Mat at the moment were ones of frustration, stemming from the mystery of their mutual past left unsolved. She never liked leaving loose ends— Azula always strove for utter perfection. Perfection proved that she needed no one, that she was a power unto herself. But her foggy memories, long hazed by the frigid years of containment in the Boiling Rock, left her mind still incomplete, still imperfect.

And Azula hated imperfection.

At noon, she stopped in a small clearing for lunch. It was surrounded on three sides by trees, growing tall and thick in the fertile volcanic soil of Capital Island. Completing the clearing was a small stream with crisp, clear water. Azula could tell it was likely spring-fed, as any mountainous-flow water carried with it toxic minerals from the volcanoes, along with a strong sulfur smell.

As Azula filled the water flask and got out some jerky to eat, she admired the quiet beauty of her surroundings, as only someone who had spent a long time incarcerated could. Soon, the events of the past night caught up with her, and Azula drifted off into a light sleep.

“Well, well, what have we here? A poor little princess out all alone.” Azula started awake and spun around, finding herself face-to-face with an extremely disgusting individual. He was a man of middle age, with greasy, dark brown hair and several days’ worth of scruff on his face and neck. He fingered the hilt of his sword as he advanced on Azula, a yellowed sneer splitting his face. He was flanked on both sides by two more men, both as dilapidated and feral-looking as their leader.

Azula backed away from the three, only to find herself in the middle of the clearing, surrounded by men. They were all extremely dirty—many looked like they hadn’t seen civilization for weeks. The majority of them wore the tattered remains of Fire Nation infantry uniforms, and several, like the leader, had firebender insignias beneath copious layers of grime. All of them palmed weapons of some sort, be it a rusty sword or knife, or just a broken tree-branch. As they closed the circle, Azula counted at least thirty men—far too many to take alone without her bending.

“See, boys? I told you the info was good. Captain Kahchi’s hunch was right.” The boss snickered, his fetid breath whistling between missing teeth. “Now, why don’t you be a good little brat and give yourself up.” It wasn’t a question, and he toyed with the edge of his hilt as he said it.

“Who are you?” Azula stalled for time, thinking of ways to escape. She considered trying to intimidate the mob with an air of royal superiority, but in her current state of dress, it would have been near impossible to pull off.

“Hah! The bitch thinks she’s allowed to ask questions! All right, your majesty, I’ll give you this one.” The man bowed mockingly low, long clumps of waxy and dirty hair falling over his face. “I am Sog, of the Rough Rhino’s illustrious 3rd division, underneath the esteemed Captain Kahchi. And these…” the man rose and spread his arms, gesturing to his cohorts, “are my Rough Rhinos.”

The men began whooping and hollering, waving their weapons and shouting jeers. Azula swiftly adopted a fighting stance, drawing even more taunts from the crowd.

“Are you sure about this, Boss?” the man on Sog’s left asked. He was reedy and gaunt, looking like he hadn’t seen a full meal in days. “I hear she can burn entire units to ash.” The man licked his dry lips, his eyes darting. Several others gave pause, and seemed a bit unsure. Before she could exploit this advantage, however, the boss answered his subordinate in a voice loud enough to reach his entire group.

“That’s why I brought you along, Zas—to go in first!” Sog shoved his man into the ring, calling out to the rest of his mob: “All right, you cabbage slugs! Get in there and take her down. I don’t care how you do it; just leave her breathing after you’re done!”

As the circle began to close in, several of the more overeager charged ahead, drawing their weapons and taking swipes at Azula. She weaved and dodged, years of training taking hold of her. Ducking beneath one man’s pike thrust, she kicked straight up, breaking his spear in two. Not stopping, Azula delivered a flurry of punches to his midsection and ended the movement with a kick to the gut, sending the unfortunate deserter sprawling. Using a broken half of his spear, Azula vaulted over two swordsmen and their dulled blades to the downed man, and with quick intake of breath, sent a fireball straight at his face.

At least, that what she meant to do. Instead, her fist extended just short of the man’s terrified eyes, no trace of fire whatsoever emanating from the end of her balled fist. Both Azula and the man stared at each other for a split second, shocked at the lack of sizzling flesh and acrid smoke.

Silently, Azula cursed—she had reacted so fast she had forgotten about her bending. She cursed again, realizing that five years ago she never would have made such a senseless mistake.

The man managed to grin for about half a second before her other fist shot past the first one, breaking his nose and knocking him out.

“Well, that seals it!” Sog shouted to his horde of thugs. “The bitch can’t bend! Let ’er have it!” Emboldened, the rest of the men advanced, all trying to get a swing at the frantic Azula, who fought back with a ferocity born from desperation. Grinning at the sight of his prize steadily losing strength, Sog finally walked forward to the fight. He loosened his sword from its sheath, growling. “All right, little firebitch, let’s see just how long you last.”

Unfortunately, Azula didn’t last that long. She was a very proficient fighter without her bending, but her time at the Boiling Rock had taken its toll on her muscles. Within a few minutes of fierce combat, she was beginning to breathe heavily. The Rhinos, sensing weakness, began pressing in, giving her even less room to maneuver.

Sweeping the feet from underneath yet another man, Azula rolled with her momentum, narrowly avoiding a skewering by another bandit’s stab. Twisting her torso, she jumped to her feet and rushed forward, delivering several lightning blows to the man’s arm, causing him to drop his sword, which she caught and used to deflect a spear strike from connecting with her shoulder.

Hacking and slashing, Azula attempted to cut a way through the crowd, but for every man she incapacitated, two more filled his place. Just as she stepped forward to complete a fatal thrust, Azula’s bare foot slipped on a loose stone and with a startled cry, she fell to the ground.

Immediately, they were on her. Forsaking the swords and other lethal edges, the bandits proceeded to beat her with pole butts and tree-branch clubs, until a word from their boss stopped them. “Easy now, boys, we want her alive. You two, lift her up… I wanna see that pretty face.”

The crowd parted for Sog as two large men lifted Azula off of the ground, pinning her arms painfully behind her. Azula could do nothing but glare at her captor, refusing to show him even the slightest bit of fear—fear that was beginning to creep into her, despite her best efforts.

“You put up a good fight, highness. But it’s over now. I’ll be sending you to the captain tomorrow.” The man’s shit-eating grin became, if it was possible, wider. He pushed back his greasy hair and leered. “But I guess if I can’t cut you with this sword,” He snickered, throwing his surprisingly well-kept blade to his side, “I can still stab you with this one, right, boys?” Sog grabbed his crotch through his pants, and joined his men in uproarious laughter. Azula’s eyes widened and her mind raced at imagined horrors.

Suddenly, the sound of laughter was cut short by Sog screaming in pain. All eyes turned to the boss, his hands clutching his bleeding face, bright red claw marks etched deep from forehead to chin, the wounds smoking and filling the air with the acrid smell of burnt flesh. The Rhinos looked wildly for the source of their superior’s pain, and soon found it. A phoenix, the size of a raven-eagle, was climbing back into the air for another dive. With a savage scream, it swooped, talons stretched, for one of the men holding Azula. The mob broke and scattered, trying to avoid the firebird’s claws.

“Get up! Get up, you cowards! It’s just a bird! Get up and kill it!” Sog raged, grabbing his sword and swinging wildly at the bird, blood flowing freely down his face. The phoenix fought back, plunging and diving at the man, who managed to finally catch its wing with the tip of his sword. The juvenile fire construct tumbled to the ground, right at Azula’s feet. She knelt down, hands shaking, reaching for the wounded bird. Gritty, calloused hands grabbed her again, and she was hauled to her feet.

Azula struggled as the crying animal kept crawling towards her, weakly chirping and snapping its beak at the man restraining her. With a savage snarl, Sog stepped on the animal’s wounded wing, pinning it to the ground as he hefted his sword. There was a savage glint to his eyes, and he seemed not to notice the treads of his boot smoking from the bird’s heat.

“Claw at me, will you? I hope you enjoyed it, bird, ‘cos it’s the last thing you ever did!” and with that, he stabbed the blade into the phoenix, which erupted into a burst of flame, causing Sog to fall backwards. The phoenix flared up like it was doused in lamp oil, and soon all that was left was clean a pile of ash, surrounding the gleaming blade, stuck deep into the ground.

Azula’s eyes were glassy as Sog’s men helped him to his feet. With a wave of his hand, the man holding Azula pushed forward, shoving her unceremoniously into the dirt. “Well, that was a nice little fight, my royal bitch.” Sog growled, wiping his bloody and burnt face with a grimy sleeve. The mob’s firebenders assembled at his shoulders, six in all. They looked at her with carnivorous grins, their palms holding large balls of flame. “But now your bird is dead, your spirit is broken, and your body is mine.”

“Whoops! Zero-for-three, Captain Smells-a-lot,” a voice called out from the other side of the stream. The firebenders’ flames shot from their palms in the opposite direction, where the figure who spoke was standing. The Rhinos turned, their shock almost palpable. Azula saw him, too, and breathed easier, knowing help had arrived.

“The bird isn’t dead, it’s a phoenix.” Mat began crossing the stream, every step forward causing the cool water around him to steam and hiss. “Azula’s spent the last five years in a living hell, so I doubt a little run-in with your nasty lot is gonna break her spirit.” For every step forward he took, the Rhinos took two back, leaving Azula on the ground between them.

“And if she belonged to anyone,” Mat glared at Sog, his eyes hard as flint, sharp as broken glass. “It’d be me.”

Mat knelt down in front of Azula. “You ok? Can you stand?”

Azula nodded, the cool mask of a princess sliding once again over her face. “I’ll be fine, just a little sore tomorrow. The bird?” She tried to make the question sound off-handed, but apparently Mat saw through it.

“Don’t worry about the construct, right now we need to deal with these bastards. Come on, up you go.” Mat stood, offering his hand to Azula. She took it, and the two stood together, eyeing the Rhino mob.

“Musagetes, why am I not surprised?” Sog spat the name like a curse. He glared menacingly across the clearing, his men picking themselves up and forming behind him—not at all happy their prize had been stolen. “Why don’t you do yourself a favor, and leave before we make you?”

“So you’re all part of the Rough Rhinos?” Mat asked, brushing off the threat like a falling piece of ember. “Man, fugitive life really isn’t suiting you. But I guess that’s what you get for deserting and betraying your nation. Really, though, shouldn’t you think about changing your name? You guys don’t even have Rhinos to ride on!” Mat laughed, the tenseness of the situation seemingly lost on him. “But hey, that’s what you get for following Mongke and his cronies. I guess stupidity likes to add onto itself.”

“We’re not as stupid as you think, Phoenix,” Sog retorted, giving his men more time to circle the duo, surrounding them yet again. “Even a lowly grunt like me knows that little fight you had with the fire whelp last week was staged. Nice try, but we knew you were going to try getting her out eventually.”

Mat’s grin fell imperceptibly. “Your leaders saw through it?”

Sog sneered, pressing his advantage. “Oh, we know everything about you, Musagetes. I’ve heard the captain talking to Colonel Mongke when he came to visit. You never thought about why you suddenly started having big ol’ important dreams, and not the Avatar?”

Mat looked unsure, distracted by the ramifications of what he was being told. Sog continued, reviling in his opponent’s slipping confidence. “We knew you were going to get her, it was just a matter of when. We’ve been in these woods for three days now, just biding our time.”

Sog laughed, and Mat looked at the ground, at a loss for words. Things weren’t going according to plan, and he wasn’t able to cope. Azula noticed this, and stepped in. “Whatever the circumstances, it doesn’t change the fact that your rabble are outmatched. We broke through an entire prison garrison just yesterday—bugs like you pale in comparison.”

“Those were your last words, Bitch. I’ll show you who’s the bug!” Sog yelled, slowly advancing as his men charged ahead of him.

Mat tensed, pulling himself out of his thoughts just in time to take in the odds. Azula assumed another stance, the first form of the seven stars. “You’re not going to take them all out at once? Like you did with the guards outside of my cell?”

“I was in a volcano, Princess—there was a little more heat there for me to work with. But hey, you need the exercise, and fighting with me might jog your memory.”

And with that, the two set to work. They kept close to each other—covering and filling in the other’s holes almost instinctively. Azula moved like a coiled spring, lashing out with chops to the collarbone and sharp kicks to the shin, bringing men down left and right. Mat still took no stance— he didn’t even push to attack. He let every man who came at him almost land a hit before turning away at the last moment and giving the attacker a dose of heat exhaustion.

The two of them bobbed and weaved, ducked and dodged, laying waste to whoever came within reach. Eventually, Azula picked up a fallen Rhino’s guandao and began delivering crushing blows to every skull, leg, shoulder or chest she could, crumpling bodies left and right. Mat started grabbing the enemy’s weapons in mid-thrust, heating metal swords and catching wooden spear-shafts aflame, causing their owners to drop them in pain and surprise. Soon, Mat’s battle-high came into full swing, and he started letting loose with a running dialogue of taunts, jabs, and jokes.

“Damn, you bastards are foul. Azula probably smelled you before she saw you.” Turning, he saw the mob’s leader hanging back from the pack, shouting at his men and making sure none of them broke rank. “Hey Soggy! Why are you standing back there? Come join the fun, why don’t you.”

Narrowly stopping a pike from sweeping into her leg, Azula parried the blow and drove the offending pike into the dirt before whipping her guandao back and breaking its owner’s ribs. “Maybe now isn’t the best time for goading, Mat.”

“Whaddaya mean, Princess? I’m just trying to lighten the mood,” Mat joked, dodging a sword thrust and grabbing the man’s wrist. Smoke curled from the seared hand and the bandit fell backwards, screaming.

“Besides, if my witty banter isn’t sparking your memory, maybe this will.” And right there, in the middle of a fight, the Fire-Snatcher curled an arm around Azula’s waist, spun her around, and kissed her.

The kiss didn’t last more than half a heartbeat, and before Azula had time to react, he had spun her back up and the two were fighting again. As they cleaned up the remaining Rhinos, the warmth spread from Azula’s lips throughout her entire body, its heat giving her more energy than the previous two touches combined, sending her enemies sprawling.

And she remembered.
………………………………………………………

“Kuzane! Come on, let’s go down to the docks!” One of Kuzane’s school friends waved at him from across the plaza. Their lessons had ended for the day and children were rushing out of the schoolhouse, eager to take advantage of the rest of the afternoon.

“The docks?” Kuzane asked, a bit suspicious of his friend’s intentions. “What’s there to do down there?”

“There’s a storyteller down at Dockside Tavern. They say he knows every story in the world! Everyone who listens puts a gold piece in a cup, and if you can name a story he can’t tell, you get the whole cup!”

Kuzane grinned. A chance at winning money, and hearing stories he’d never heard before? What was there to lose? “Lead the way,” he said.

Dockside was a flurry of sights, smells, and activity. The heavy soot and bits of coal from Ironclad Fire Navy ships sprinkled the ground, and sailor’s left footprints in the ash, as if they were walking through dirty snow. The stink of tar and pitch from Earth Kingdom Jong vessels mingled with the meaty smells of penguin and seal from Water Tribe Sloops. All around sailors were moving, cursing, sweating and shouting. Kuzane nimbly dodged around two fruit merchants before moved with his friend to the tavern door.

The first thing Kuzane saw upon entering Dockside Tavern was Storyteller.

He was sitting on a tall stool at the bar, an old man with eyes like coal and the body of a driftwood scarecrow. He was thin and weathered, with thick white hair on his face and no hair on his head. The whiteness of it stood out from his deep brown tan, making him look like a darkened candlestick with a white wick. At his feet was a smattering of children, at least twenty of them, all of different ages.

Mournfully, he looked at an empty cup next to him on the bar, and cleared his throat. Children surged forward, pressing gold pieces onto the bar. Once they had all been scooped into the mug, Storyteller nodded slightly to the barkeep. “Autumn's wind, please.” Deep amber liquid filled and frothed the mug, the colors of changing leaves.

Taking the drink, he took a small sip, cleared his throat again, and rumbled with a voice like far away thunder, “So, what would everyone like to hear today?”

“The Tale of Two Lovers!”

“I wanna hear about the moon spirits!”

“Storyteller, tell us about the dragons!”

“I wanna hear about the Avatar and the drill!”

“I want to hear the Phoenix and the drill.” Kuzane’s voice cut through the crowd, his performer’s projection serving him well.

“The Phoenix and the drill… not one of the usual tales.” Storyteller cleared his throat again, casually casting his gaze across the room until it settled on Kuzane. “Not many know that he was there, the day the Avatar stopped the drill from reaching Ba Sing Se. How did you come to know that?”

“He told me about it himself,” Kuzane boasted, his pride only slightly diminished when he caught his friend rolling his eyes and heard several children’s snickers. Kuzane’s stories were well known among the children of the town.

“Well, I don’t know if I can match a first-hand perspective… but I’ll try my best.” Storyteller smiled, and took a long pull from his drink. “Gather round, you children, and hear a tale of pride meeting power, of guile meeting genius, of Phoenix meeting Princess.”
…………………………………………………………

Aang stood outside the cave at the end of the Serpent’s Pass, looking out over the inland sea. His autumn colored airbender tunic flitted in the breeze. He stood there, enjoying the feel of the wind against his face. The rest of the group was celebrating the birth of Hope, daughter of Earth Kingdom commoners Thang and Ying. Suki and Sokka were quietly saying their goodbyes, as divergent destinies pulled them away from each other yet again. Katara, still drained from helping with Hope’s delivery, approached the lone airbender.

“You look like you’re doing some serious thinking, Aang. Want to talk about it?”

Aang turned and smiled, his childlike face belying his unexpected maturity. “…Seeing this family together, so full of happiness and love…it reminds me of how I feel about Appa… and how I feel about you.” Tears found their way out of Katara’s eyes, and she wiped them away, smiling. The two embraced, no more words necessary. Still without Appa, Aang wasn’t whole again, but he was finally beginning to heal after the theft of his best friend and lifelong partner. They parted as the group approached.

“I promise, I’ll find Appa as fast as I can, I just really need to do this.”

“See you in the big city.” Sokka grinned, clapping his friend on the shoulder. Toph gave him an affectionate punch, grinning in his general direction.

“Say hi to that big fuzz ball for me.”

“You’ll find him, Aang.”

“I know. Thank you, Katara.” Aang prepared his glider, his lemur spreading wing next to him. “You ready, Momo? Let’s go!” He took to the skies—the last airbender rushing to his best friend’s rescue.

Gliding through the clouds, Aang and Momo circled up and up, riding the thermals till they reached the top of Ba Sing Se’s tremendous outer wall. The sun had just reached its peak—and the serene blue sky, specked with pure white clouds, gave Aang hope that he would find his partner soon.

His optimism was cut short however, when he gazed across the horizon and a terrible black machine, bigger than even a Fire Nation Warship, came into his sight. It was headed straight for the wall, and that could only mean one thing.

“Sorry, Momo…” Aang turned to the winged lemur as it landed on his arm, chattering its disappointment. “Appa’s gonna have to wait.”
………………………………………………………………

“What’s wrong with him? He doesn’t look injured.” General Sung, one of the Earth Kingdom’s Council of Five, and defender of the outer wall, was standing with the Gaang around one of his elite Terra Team troopers, currently being healed by Katara.

After flying back to his friends and rushing them to the great wall, they were met by the eccentric general, and together they had witnessed the Terra Team’s embarrassing defeat at the hands of two feminine figures. They were gathered in the wall’s infirmary— struggling to come up with a plan to stop the drill.

“His chi is blocked,” Katara answered. She looked down into the earth brown eyes of the soldier, the instinctual concern of a healer coming through in her voice. “Who did this to you?”

“Two girls ambushed us,” he gasped, each word a struggle. “One of them hit me with a bunch of quick jabs… suddenly I couldn’t earthbend, and I could barely move. Then she cart wheeled away."

A spark of recognition lit Katara’s eyes, and she turned to Aang. “Ty Lee. She doesn’t look dangerous, but she knows the human body and its weak points. It’s like she takes you down from the inside.”

“OH OOH OOHH OOH OH!” Sokka exclaimed. Jumping to his feet and shooting his hand into the air.

“…Yes?”

“What you just said, that’s how we’re gonna take down the drill. The same way Ty Lee took down all these big earthbenders.”

Toph grinned, catching on to what Sokka was planning. “By hitting its pressure points!”

Aang walked to the window, looking out at the approaching drill. “We’ll take it down from the inside.”

“Not a bad idea, Sokka. Mind if I help?” a voice came from the doorway. The Gaang turned around to see Mat leaning against the threshold, obviously proud of his well-timed entrance. His dress was more casual, white pants and a white t-shirt over a black long-sleeved shirt. His ever-present grin was different too—much more cocky and less self-aware—the product of coming into his position at the tender age of sixteen.

“Matthias!” Katara smiled. “Where did you come from? We couldn’t find you after the siege of the Northern Water Tribe.”

“Eh, when I saw the moon come back, I figured you guys had it under control.” Mat strode into the room, the assembled earthbenders giving him strange looks. “Besides, I had somewhere else to be. Yours isn’t the only world that needs saving, ya know.”

“Who’s the loudmouth?” Toph asked critically, unsure about her friend’s familiarity with the stranger.

“Toph, General Sung, this is Matthias Musagetes. He’s a friend,” Aang said, bringing Mat into their circle. The young Mat began to nod at Sung, but from a look to Katara, turned it into a bow. Sung arched an eyebrow—this boy didn’t know how to properly address an elder, it seemed.

“He helped repel the Fire Nation when they attacked the Northern Water Tribe over the winter,” Sokka filled in, clapping his friend on his shoulder. “He’s not a bender, but he can control fire and stuff.”

“…Fire and stuff?”

“You must be this ‘blind bandit’ I’ve been hearing about. Is it true Aang here kidnapped you?” Mat turned to the Toph, his grin not faltering at seeing her stony face. “Wow, I didn’t think he had it in him.”

“He didn’t kidnap me—I came along to teach him. And what makes you think we want your help?”

“…Uhh, sorry? I just figured that since that thing is longer than a football field—”

“What the heck is a football? Where did you even come from? I didn’t hear you walk along the wall at all.”

“Ahem, children,” General Sung cleared his throat, garnering the Gaang’s attention. “I hate to interrupt, but do you all recall A GIANT DRILL GETTING READY TO BORE THROUGH MY WALL?!?”
…………………………………………………………………………………

“Once I whip up some cover, you’re not going to be able to see, so stay close to me,” Toph instructed. They were crouched behind a trench at the bottom of the wall. “Bird-boy? You don’t get too close.”

“Actually, I was gonna meet you all under the drill.” Mat cracked his knuckles and grinned. “I want to try out some new tricks I’ve learned on those tanks.”

“What? No, that’s not part of the plan.”

“Maybe Toph’s right, Mat.” Aang said, having to speak up over the noise of the drill. “Are you sure you can handle those things?”

“Yeah, I got to absorb a lot of heat during my last job. I’m totally good to go.”

“And anything he can do to keep that viewing tower from focusing on us is a good thing,” Sokka chimed in.

“Pshh, whatever. Let’s just do this.” The blind earthbender jumped out of the trench, concentrating on her element.

“Is she always so… resistive?” Mat whispered to Katara.

“Well, it comes with being an earthbender. Give her some time—she’s got to get to know someone before she can get along with them.”

An explosion came from above, and the air filled with dust. “COME ON!” Toph yelled, charging into the thick cloud. The gaang followed the blind bender, trusting her feet to guide them. Mat grinned, and jumped out of the trench as well. Taking off towards the line of Fire Nation tanks on the other side of the drill, Mat raked his thumbs across his fingers, flames springing to life in his open palms.

“Sometimes, I really love this job.”
…………………………………………………………………

The gaang emerged from Toph’s hole, right beneath the drill. They ran its distance until they came across a gap in its belly.

“Where’s your friend?” Toph asked.

As if on cue, Mat came blasting across the ground towards the drill, yelling at the top of his lungs. He had his elbows locked and his arms straight out behind him, and was firing long jets of flame from his palms. He looked like a red-headed fire-arrow, flying just above the ground at a ridiculous speed.

“WHOOOOOO HAAAAAAA!” he sped closer and closer, showing no signs of slowing down. At the last minute, he cut the fire and whipped his arms forward, blasting a huge amount of heat directly in front of him, stopping his motion instantaneously and dropping him just a few feet from his friends.

He didn’t stay still for long, though, the adrenalin kept him moving. He ran around his friends, intoxicated by his own ability. “GOD DAMN! I forgot how much of a rush that was!!” He turned to Aang and the group, horrendously out of breath and grinning like a madman. “Tanks’re gone, no need to thank me.”

Katara fixated him with a critical eye. “Was the victory lap really necessary, though?”

“Oh, Katara, you hurt me. You know how fragile my ego is—I’ve got to do something to keep my spirits up.”

“Uhh, guys? We’re kind of on a time crunch here,” Sokka said, gesturing to the hulking machine steadily moving above them.

“Sokka’s right—let’s go!” Aang jumped into the hole and hung from a pipe, his arms dangling. He helped Katara, then Sokka into the machine. Toph didn’t move.

“Toph, come on!” Sokka poked his head out of the drill.

“No way am I going in that metal monster. I can’t bend in there! I’ll try to slow it down out here.”

“Okay, good luck.” Sokka turned his head. “Mat, you coming?”

“Sorry, I’ve gotta catch my breath. I think I’ll stay out here to help slow it down, get to know Terra Terror over there.”

Mat managed to get the last part out before a column of stone surged beneath his feet and sent him flying.

Sokka and Aang grinned at each other and left, disappearing into the drill.

Toph squared her feet, and with a heave, sent a pillar of earth into the drill, trying to stop its forward motion. Grunting, she was pushed back from the force of the machine. Gritting her teeth, she shot a glare over to Mat, who was panting on the ground, seemingly oblivious to her effort.

“…So… got any good stories about Aang and Katara?”

“…ugh… shut up…”

……………………………………………………………………………………………………

“Umm… Azula? Are our tanks supposed to be all twisty?” Ty Lee had her head pressed to the drill’s periscope. “They look cute, but I don’t think they’ll work with their tops all melted like that.”

The gymnast was in the drill’s control room with her two friends. Mai sat next to her sideways in a high-backed chair, her legs flung over one arm. She wore a bored expression, and was passing the time by twirling two stilettos between her fingers. Azula was watching the progress the drill had made towards the wall, still rolling the nagging mystery of the giant dust cloud that had appeared minutes before around her steel trap of a mind. She stood tall, cold and calculating—an imposing figure to each and every officer on the bridge, despite her young age. She whipped her head around at Ty Lee’s question, her cool mask showing hairline cracks—revealing slivers of red rage beneath.

“What? Get out of my way.” Azula pushed her friend off of the viewport and looked through the periscope. “First that dust cloud, now fourteen tanks are reduced to slag! War Minister, I am not impressed.”

War Minister Qin paled, the thought of the Fire Lord’s daughter acting on her displeasure not appealing in the least. And he knew that as the commanding officer on the drill, he was in just the position to take the brunt of that displeasure. “I-I assure you, your Majesty, this machine is unstoppable. No force alive could stop us.”

“We’ll see. Keep your eyes on this periscope, Qin. The tanks mean nothing if the drill doesn’t succeed.” Azula spun on her booted heel, exiting the control room and leaving behind an extremely nervous War Minister, her two friends falling in line behind her. “Let’s go, girls, we’re going hunting.”
………………………………………………

“And then, Sokka asked for my advice about what to do with Yue and I was all like, ‘Come on, dude. You’ve got Suki waiting for you back on Kyoshi, leave the ice-princess alone.’ And he was all, ‘Nooo, man, I might never see Suki again. Besides, I really feel this connection to Yue, you know?’ and I just sighed, and said ‘Fine but jus—‘”

“Ugh. Hah…Hah…Mat, I know we haven’t known each other that long, but I want you to listen carefully…” Toph gritted her teeth. “I. Don’t. Care.”

“Well, fine, what do you want to talk about, then?” Mat was lounging on the ground, idly watching Toph struggle with her stone pillar.

“GAH! I don’t want to talk; I want to stop this thing! And as annoying as you are, it would be really nice if you got off your butt and helped!”

“Okay, okay, sorry.” Mat got up and dusted himself off. “Here, put that rock-stick away and take a break. I’ll hold it for a while.” Toph just grunted and kept holding her pillar in place, turning her head and sensing what her peculiar new acquaintance was up to.

Mat snapped his hands and rapidly opened his palms, forming two spheres of intense plasma. He pushed the two together, doubling its size. Carefully, he folded the sphere in on itself, again and again, until what was originally the size of a Kuai Ball had been compressed into what looked and felt like a miniature sun—barely the size of a lychee nut.

He turned to Toph and cocked a tired grin. “I just learned this little number before I got here—It’s called Metacreativity. Please, hold your applause.”

With care, he pushed the newly made fission-ball into the ground, ahead of one of the drill’s treads. The ball sunk into the stony ground, liquefying it and turning the surrounding area into magma. Toph dropped her pillar as she watched the tread sink into the molten ground.

“If you could give me a hand… I can control the heat, but have trouble with the earth.” Mat said, gesturing to the pool of magma. His brow was perspiring, and the sweat was quickly evaporating off his skin, almost making it look like he was disappearing into steam.

Toph nodded, and together they moved the searing, viscous rock around the drill’s tread, covering it. Mat put his hand to the magma, quickly absorbing the heat out from the rock. Rapidly cooling, the end result was an entire tread fused together with several feet of cold, solid stone.

“That should hold it for a while. Now come on, tell me about yourself.” Mat turned to Toph, panting from the effort of drawing up that much heat, trying his best to suppress the ingrained bumptiousness from his demeanor. Toph smiled in spite of herself, feeling his nervous heartbeat. “Aang, Katara and Sokka are the only people in the world I know… and glad I’m to see they’ve made a new friend.”

Toph opened her mouth to speak, when a sharp crack caused them both to turn their attention back to the tread. Fissures had begun forming along the stone, quickly widening and splintering, much to Mat’s amazement. Within a few seconds, the tread broke free, sending shards of rock exploding in all directions. Toph quickly brought up a wall of stone around herself and Mat, saving both of their bodies from resembling swiss-cheese.

Mat turned to her, his eyes wide and his body shaking. Toph turned back, grinning at his terrified heartbeat. “Tell you what,” she punched him in the arm. “Let’s do that to a couple more treads, and then we’ll get all girly and share secrets and braid each other’s hair, deal?”

Mat laughed at the dig and cracked his knuckles, taking a deep breath and pulling more plasma into existence. “Deal.”
………………………………………………………………………………

“Good work, team Avatar!” Sokka cheered as Katara and Aang weakened the last brace inside the drill’s inner workings. “Now Aang just needs to—Gaaaugh!” Sokka flinched as a blue fireball came whizzing past his face, almost taking off his nose. The three turned to see Azula, Mai, and Ty Lee rushing onto another brace above them. Azlua punched and sent another fireball hurtling down, which Aang deflected with a shield of wind.

Ty Lee’s eyes found Sokka’s. She raised her chest, giving more definition to her slight build—the natural flirt in her going on automatic. “Wow, Azula you were right. It is the Avatar… and friends.”

Sokka barely managed to get a “Hey” out before his sister dragged him away. The three raced for the cover of a maintenance tunnel, Aang throwing a gust of air behind him to stall the dive-bombing Ty Lee.

“Guys, get out of here! I know what I need to do,” Aang called, splitting from his friends and making his way to the top of the drill.

“Wait,” Katara threw her water skin to the Avatar. “You need this water more than I do.”

The group split up, closely followed by Azula and her friends. She kept it hidden, but Azula was furious. They were on her drill, trying to stop her plans. She had had enough of this child-monk and his friends. “Follow them,” she commanded. “The Avatar is mine.”
………………………………………………………………………………

Toph and Mat sat back-to-back, catching their breaths. They had managed to fuse several more treads, slowing the drill considerably. However it kept moving forward, despite their best efforts.

“Hah…hah…man…I really shouldn’t have wasted all that energy flying over the ground like that…” Mat gasped. “There’s got… hah… got to be a better way to travel… I’m… hah… pretty much tapped out. How much longer…hah… before they stop this thing?”

“I dunno, it can’t be much long—wait, do you feel that?” Toph straightened up, looking back towards the end of the drill.

“Not all of us have Daredevil sight, Toph.”

“What? Oh, never mind, just look back here.” Toph grabbed Mat’s head and pointed it in the right direction. “I could have sworn I just felt Katara and Sokka come outta the back of this thing.” Recognition dawned on her as she felt two familiar bodies pick themselves up, wiping off slime from the slurry expulsion pipe they just fell from. “It is them!” she frowned. “I don’t feel Aang anywhere. Where could he be?”

“You go back there and help them, I know where Aang is.” Mat stood and held his hand out to help Toph up. As she took it, she was surprised to feel warmth flow from his hand through hers. A blush tinted her cheeks, and she looked up at Mat with a surprised expression. He just smiled, embarrassed. “Yeah, sorry. Don’t exactly have complete control of my powers yet. It freaked Sokka the hell out first time we high-fived.”

Realizing he was still holding her hand, Mat quickly released it and ran from underneath the drill, hiding a growing blush he forgot Toph could sense. Spying a maintenance ladder, he moved for it, calling over he shoulder, “And Toph? …Thanks for talking with me.” And with that, he used a short burst to jump onto the ladder, slowly making his way to the top of the drill.

Toph turned and began running to the back of the drill, a small smile gracing her young face. “Any time, Bird-boy… any time.”
……………………………………………………………………

“What I’d give to be a metalbender,” Aang said, wiping sweat from his brow. He had scarred the outer hull significantly, and had just a few more minutes of work left before he could deliver the final blow. From his shoulder, he heard Momo chatter, and he turned, his eyes filling with the wave of blue flame rushing towards him. He brought up a swift current of wind, but it wasn’t necessary as the torrent of flame abruptly changed direction and swept to the side, over the edge of the drill. Into Mat’s waiting palm.

“Looks like you could use some cover, Aang.” Mat finished climbing up the ladder, feeling slightly energized from the heat. He stood between the Avatar and a surprised Azula. Aang nodded and turned back to his objective, bending the water rhythmically against the drill’s thick hull.

They circled each other, each hunting for a weakness. Mat was the first one to break the silence. “So I guess we say names now, right? I’m Matthias Musagetes, the White Phoenix.”

Azula ignored him. She could care less about names, or titles. Azula only cared about results, and as long as this peasant was going to keep her from the Avatar, she didn’t give a passing thought to his identity. She was set exclusively on the act of destroying, and it brought her great inner peace knowing that.

“Charmed I’m sure.” Azula replied, sarcastically.

“And you are?”

“As if you didn’t know.” Azula sunk into a firebending pose, lifting her arms and focusing on her breathing.

“No, I don’t. I’m not exactly from around here and—” Mat had lifted his hands up as a sign of peace, his palms open.

It was the opening Azula needed.

She pounced, flipping head-over-heel and sent a furious ring of blue flames at the frozen Matthias. With a slight smile, Mat pushed his palms forward. The flames diverted again from their path, flying into his waiting hands and dissipating into nothingness. “Thanks, I needed a pick-me-up.”

She didn’t know how he did it, but he had somehow neutralized her bending. Worse, she realized, this urchin was actually better off for it. She briefly wondered about the potential in such an ability, then decided it didn’t matter. He was still an obstacle, just one more thing to overcome on her path to power. And even without her bending, Azula was still a force be feared—more than capable of taking a single fighter.

So she chose a different tactic. Azula charged forward, quickly closing the distance between her and her opponent. Bending blasts of fire from her feet, she leapt high in the air and swung her flattened hand down, intent on bringing it crashing between Mat’s neck and shoulder. She smiled—she had attacked before her opponent had been able to adopt a stance. She’d end this in one blow and then get back to stopping the Avatar.

Mat watched Azula charge, following her movements with seeming sluggishness. It was like he had been taught—give his opponents a false sense of superiority, and they’ll make a mistake.

In reality, his mind was moving a mile a minute—he saw the heat of the electrical impulse move from Azula’s brain, down her spine, and to her legs and hand. The thick padding of her armor made it difficult, but before she even left the ground, Mat had figured precisely how high she would jump, where she would land, and just how hard her bladed hand was meant to come crashing down onto his collarbone.

And so the hand came crashing down. Just inches before it connected with devastating force, Mat dropped his shoulder and twisted slightly, watching with a grin as it sailed harmlessly by. Azula allowed herself a split-second of disbelief, before she landed on the ground and spun her leg in a fast arc. Mat’s grin was quickly erased as her boot caught a glancing blow to his side before he had even finished dodging her first attack, and the battle began in earnest.

The two of them moved faster than most could follow, shifting and flowing around each other in a lethal dance. They moved like liquid mercury sliding on a table—their light steps spanning the length of the drill. Both fighters never moved farther than an arm’s length from the other, and they blocked off the outside world, bringing their entire focus to the fight at hand.

Eventually, Mat’s fatigue became apparent. Even if he could read her movements, he found it harder and harder to react fast enough. He tried to hide it with breathless quips and requests for her name, but Azula saw through the ploy—reading him like she read everyone—and pressed her advantage.

Her pointed nails raked his face, and he stumbled backwards, breathing heavy. She spread her stance and moved her arms in a wide circle, first one, then the other. Static energy snapped and crackled around her, gathering at her blood-stained fingertips. She stabbed forward, the lightning arching from her hands to its target, sizzling with heat, moving straight to his heart.

The lightning connected, and moments later, a clap of thunder echoed off the great stone wall of Ba Sing Se. Azula walked over to the smoking body, prodding it with the curved tip of her boot.

“I’m Azula, Crown Princess of the Fire Nation. Tell that to whomever you meet in the Spirit World, peasant.” She turned her attention on the Avatar and had started towards him when she heard the unmistakable sound of a very human, very alive, chuckle behind her. She rounded on the voice and saw Mat standing, his grin wide as ever. His short hair was standing on end, and he regarded the scorch mark on his chest gingerly, patting at the smoking hole. Aside from that, however, he looked fine—energized, even.

“A princess, huh? Well, I’m honored to be in the presence of royalty. Ready for round two?”

Then the two were back together, trading blows and looking like nothing less than two sides of a coin. Mat’s cheerful grin was contrasted by Azula’s mask of cold fury. He was fueled by instinct—giving into the moment completely, let his opponent’s movements dictate his actions—everything was reflexive, spontaneous. She was fueled by thought—planning every move five steps beforehand, always probing for a weakness, trying to find the chinks in his armor. Every blow traded was remembered, categorized, and put towards the next attack.

They were completely opposing, yet balanced.

Mat jerked his head to the side, dodging Azula’s fist but straining his neck in doing so. The movement was minute and cocky. Mat had used it before to frustrate and stall his opponents. It didn’t work this time—Azula never got frustrated—and he took a solid hit to the gut for his trouble. Mat stumbled backwards, rubbing his stomach and grunting in pain.

“I gotta say—you’re better than almost anyone I’ve ever fought before. I have to work harder against you than I did against Zhao’s entire navy!”

Azula advanced, keeping up the pressure. “You were the one who destroyed the Northern Navy?”

Mat launched himself over her leg sweep. landing behind her, he fell into a roll—one that passed just beneath her swiping arm. “Naw—Aang did that. I just stalled for time while he did his spirit-world thing. It’s not my place to win the big fights; I’m just here to help keep the party going.”

Azula thought on this as she pursued the tumbling figure. Here was a man of obvious skill, both with fighting singly and against large groups. And more than that, he seemed not to have any machinations of his own—it appeared he fought for the thrill of it, nothing more. He held loyalties to whomever could provide the best fight. Azula kept her face passive, yet she felt a small surge of satisfaction—she had found another tool to be used, another instrument to further her goals. He merely needed to be convinced… or pressed into service.

“Why aid the Avatar, then? You could fight all you want if you served the Fire Nation.”

“Why, Princess, I’m flattered. But I enjoy the whole underdog archetype. You know, David and Goliath? ”

Hhmm, intimidation then. “And just how is a juvenile demi-god and his afternoon adventures supposed to bring down the mightiest nation in the world? He’d have to defeat my father, and even I pale in comparison to his power. Your Avatar really has no chance of success. Underdog or not, he will be crushed, and you along with him. Better you come now, willingly, than in chains.”

“You know, he’s more your Avatar than mine; after all, you live here.” Besides, your daddy’s just a little too passionate about world domination for my taste. Heh… and speaking of passion…” Mat shifted unexpectedly, his feet sweeping forward. The surprising tactic threw Azula off balance—it was his first non-reflexive movement of the fight.

Jumping at the chance, Mat twisted his foot around hers and sent her falling backwards. He quickly curled his arm around her slight waist, and bringing his knee down and to the side, spun her into a low dip. Before she even knew what was happening, Matthias Musagetes lowered his lips, and kissed her.

It was completely unexpected, and for a moment Azula was stunned into inaction. She lay there in the teen’s arms, feeling warmth swell through her. When their lips touched, it felt like a spark traveled from her ruby painted lips through her entire body, sprinting through every nerve, electrifying her with unexpected emotion. His heat raced through her—like someone was filling her body with liquid gold. Her toes curled in her pointed boots and her golden eyes fluttered. Her body had just begun to respond, her lips just beginning to press softly back against his when she remembered where she was and what exactly was going on. Passion, curiosity, rage, embarrassment, and a gambit of other emotions swirled and collided in the pit of Azula’s stomach. Her hand balled into a fist, and over that fist, a blue flame sprung to life.

But before she could even start to swing that fist, Mat had spun her back up and was dancing away—his step light and his face split into a wide smile. It was all she could do at first, just stare at him and his self-assured grin, her cheeks burning hotly.

Matthias put his hands in his pockets, enormously pleased with himself. Behind him, Aang was dive-bombing a stone spike he had wedged into the metal of the drill, driving it deep into the inner machinery. Slurry sprung from the rivets of the contraption and surged towards the two figures. Right before the muck connected, Mat got one last repartee out.

“Well Princess… was it good for you?”
……………………………………………………………

“I have heard enough.” The speaker wasn’t loud, but he might as well have shouted. When Storyteller worked, any interruption was like chewing a grain of sand in a mouthful of rice. From door of the tavern, two men in black armor came toward the bar, one tall and heavily bearded, one short with blood red Yu Yan war paint around his eyes and face. As they walked, Kuzane saw the feared insignia emblazoned over their hearts. Rough Rhinos.

Worse—behind them walked another man, taller than anyone Kuzane had ever seen. He moved without a sound, save for the dull thumping of his Iron leg and the metallic squeaking from his prosthetic arm. A strange tattoo adorned his forehead, in the likeness of a third eye.

Kuzane wasn’t the only one who saw the men. Children were trickling out the door. The older ones tried to appear casual, but the youngest broke into a run before they got outside. Against common sense, two boys stayed—Kuzane and his terrified school friend.

“I believe we have all heard enough,” the taller of the two Rhinos said with a quiet severity. He was barrel-chested, with small hazel eyes that stared out from deep sunken sockets. A long spear was strapped to his back, adding to his already fearsome profile. Quietly, Kuzane’s friend slipped out. “You seem to know valuable information, old man. You’ll be coming with us. Won’t he, Vachir?”

“Yes, Kahchi, I believe he will,” the other Rhino spoke. He had a Yu Yan helmet, and his quiver bristled with black-fletched arrows. He signaled to the metal-limbed mute. “Bind him.”

The silent man did so with rough efficiency. Storyteller endured the whole thing amiably, without saying a word. The two watched their associate tie Storyteller’s wrists, then turned away, as if dismissing the man from their minds. They took a long look around the room, their inspection finally ending with the bald, aproned man behind the bar.

“F-Fire’s heat warm you!” the owner of Dockside tavern stammered, his voice much too loud in the quiet of the room.

“It does,” Kahchi said simply. He took another long look around the room. Finally he turned his head to the archer who stood back from the bar. “Vachir, would a fine place such as this be hiding useful informants from our organization?”

“Anything is possible, Kahchi.”

“Ahh,” the spearman said softly and looked slowly around the room, once again ending with an inspection of the man behind the bar.

“C-Can I offer your honors a drink? If it be pleasing?” the owner offered quickly.

There was only silence.

“I mean… a drink for you and your soldiers. A fine barrel of rice wine? Sure I had no idea he had such tales to tell. If I knew it was of interest, I’d have come straight to your honors…” his voice broke, leaving the room suddenly quiet. He swallowed, the dry click of his throat reaching all the way to Kuzane by the door.

“A generous offer,” Kahchi said finally.

“Very generous,” echoed Vachir.

“However, strong drink sometimes tempts men to wicked actions.”

“Wicked,” Vachir whispered.

“And as a captain, I can’t knowingly give my men that opportunity. I must refuse.” Kahchi’s voice dripped sublime regret.

“You would think,” Storyteller’s voice rolled out like buzzard-wasp honey, “deserters like you would be more concerned with the Fire Lord finding them than with detaining the elderly and terrifying honest men.”

Turning, the Rhino Captain snatched a clay cup off the bar and dashed it against Storyteller’s head, shattering it. “Do not speak in my presence!” he said. “You know nothing!”

Storyteller shook his head a little to clear it. A trickle of blood worked its way down his driftwood face, seeping into his white beard. He seemed to address the air in front of him. “You should run, Kuzane. I have friends who can help me, but there’s nothing you can do here. Go.”

Since he wasn’t looking at the boy when he spoke, there was a moment of confusion. Kahchi gestured and the silent man struck Storyteller a blow to the back of the head. His eyes rolled back, and his head lolled forward. Kuzane slipped out the door, onto the street.

He took Storyteller’s advice, and was in an alleyway before they had even left the bar.
…………………………………………………………

“Hah Ha! Hot damn I love a good fight!” Azula and Mat stood amid a field littered with groaning bodies. Those conscious were softly voicing their pain, the best off trying to crawl away. Matthias turned to Azula, the high of battle dulling his senses and his power almost completely tapped. “So, Princess, was it good for yo—”

Azula’s open palm made contact with his cheek before he had completely turned to face her. He saw stars, while she stood there quietly seething.

“Oooww… so I guess you remember now, huh?” Mat beat a hasty retreat back across the stream, Azula throwing punches and kicks with ferocity.

“You conceited, puerile, arrogant…peasant! You’re the boy from the drill! The Avatar’s friend. You… you kissed me! Right in the middle of our fight you had the gall to kiss the Crown Princess of the Fire Nation! How dare you even show your face to me after all that you’ve done?”

“Oh, so you remember more than the drill, huh? All those other times too?”

Azula paused. Her memory was suddenly jogged—images previously blocked came flooding forth. With a primal growl, Azula advanced again, her voice dangerously low. “Oh, now I remember. You were there in the catacombs, when Zuko and I defeated the Avatar. Our vacation at Ember Island, you were there too. And you were at my brother’s escape of the Boiling Rock!”

“Don’t forget the invasion of your palace, Princess—I fought with all those elite troops you had stationed there.” Mat quipped, immediately regretting it as several lightning blows sent him stumbling into the stream.

“And every time we fought, you’d end it the same way! You’d…you’d…”

“Merely my—oof. My way of showing appreciation for dueling such a skilled combatant.” Mat was cut off when Azula’s leg sweep sent him crashing into the frigid water.

He crab-walked, stumbling over both the slippery ground and his rushed apology.

“Alright, hey, I’m sorry, okay? I was young and stupid and drunk with power and you were pretty and I—”

Mat flinched as Azula lashed out once more. He opened his eyes to see her foot between his legs, inches away from a very sensitive spot. He looked at her unreadable face, then quailed as she brought the foot up and in-between his pants. Hard. He gave a sound, halfway between a whimper and a whine, and laid there in the stream for several minutes. Eventually he regained some semblance of composure, and slowly picked himself up off the ground, wincing.

“What can we do to them?” Azula had turned back to the defeated Rhinos, suddenly finding herself with a store of pent up aggression, and desperately wanting to vent.

“Ahhh, let’s just leave ‘em.” Mat dried his clothes with a flash of heat, still cautious but fairly confident the danger had passed. “When we get back to the palace, I’ll tell your brother where we found them, and he’ll send some troops to root them out.”

Azula took a moment, channeling her anger out in deep breathes. With deliberate restraint, she spoke. “And what makes you think I’m going back to the palace?”

Mat cocked his head. “You heard Sog. Somehow, they know my fight with Zuko was a ruse. They were prepared for us, anticipated our breakout. We’ve got to go back and re-group, hope Sokka comes up with a better plan. Besides, I don’t want both your brother’s forces and whoever these people are out hunting us.”

“What do you mean, ‘Whoever these people’? We know who they are—Fire Nation Military deserters.”

“I’ve got a feeling they’re just the tip of the iceberg.” Mat drew Sog’s sword from the firebird’s ashes. He hefted the weapon before throwing it to Azula. “Look at this sword, tell me what you think about it.”

Azula caught the blade by its hilt, knowing volumes just by its weight. “This is an Earth Kingdom sword. It’s relatively clean, only just starting to rust… Sog got it after the war, he couldn’t keep a sword like this in good shape for any length of time.” She turned the sword over, inspecting the seal at the base of the blade. “It’s a master’s sword, uniquely made.”

Matt nodded. “Which means he must have got it from someone high within the Earth Kingdom military, because merchants sure as shit don’t sell weapons like these.” Mat watched as Azula roughly pulled the scabbard from Sog’s unconscious form. She stifled the bandit’s protest with another kick before sheathing the sword and then shouldering it. “I think we’ve got enemies on all fronts, and worse, I think they’re all working together. That’s why we’re heading back, Princess. To come up with a new plan of attack.”

Azula crossed her arms under her breasts, fixing Matthias with her hardest stare. “Obviously Zuzu’s peace isn’t as whole as he and the Avatar think it is. Now what happens if I say I’m not going with you?”

“Then I’ll respect your wishes, let you go, and probably get myself killed trying to stop every possible person who would do you harm before they find you.” Mat looked up from the bird’s ashes, returning Azula’s hard eyes. His light humor was gone; there was steel in his voice, as unyielding as her new weapon. Azula knew her fate was sealed, and hated it. Still, she knew Mat would do just as she promised, and despite how angry she was, she didn’t want her fresh start marred by sending a man to his death. She found some small comfort, however, in sensing remorse behind Mat’s gruff tone.

“We have to cut this problem off soon, or else it will just escalate and innocents will get hurt.”

“What do I care if some villagers get their houses raided?”

“Well, you’re still the princess. Doesn’t part of your vaunted mandate of heaven come from your protection of the people?”

“Mandate of heaven was thrown out the minute I landed in Boiling Rock, Mat. Besides, I’ve never cared for the peasantry—I don’t need the approval of the unwashed masses to rule.”

Mat sighed, tired of her confrontational attitude. “Listen—The Rough Rhinos used to be just five guys. Now they’re a sizable and organized criminal organization, and I’ve got no doubt that their leader is one of the guys working to plunge this world back into chaos. We’ve got to stop them, and according to my dreams, both you and your mother factor into this whole conflict.”

“You mean your dreams, which may or may not be true? Or even your own?”

Mat’s jaw tightened, and he spoke through the growing doubt in his voice. “Those dreams were real. The things I saw…I felt…they have to be real.”

Azula turned away, refusing to argue. After a while, she helped Mat gather the scattered remains of their food and supplies. Eventually, the two came together around the ashes of Azula’s phoenix.

“…It died saving me…”

“Oh, it didn’t die. But I was impressed it swooped down for you like that. The most I can ever get outta these birds is help delivering a message.”

“If it’s not dead, then how—”

“Princess, simple constructs are one thing, but when I make phoenixes, I make them to last.” Matthias removed errant sticks and pebbles from the pile of ashes, tossing them aside and squatting on the ground. “Listen close. Any time this guy goes all burn and smolder on you, just remove any foreign objects from his remains, then give him a little spark of heat and…”

Mat snapped his hand, and placed the flame sitting over his thumb into the ashes. The pile of soot began to glow a dull orange, then red, then finally a pure white. The ashes burnt away completely, leaving behind the small form of the phoenix, back to its newborn state. It looked up at Azula and peeped happily, waddling over to her bare feet. She bent and scooped the firebird into her arms, smiling as it voiced its pleasure at being held. Mat shook his head with a rueful smile.

“Simply amazing. It’s a good thing for Sog he attacked you when he did. If he had waited till nightfall that bird would have been triple the size. They grow fast. You gonna name it?”

“…Fenghuang.”

Mat nodded in approval. “Virtue, duty, grace, faith, and mercy. Something to aspire to, I suppose.” He ignored Azula’s sour glare. “I’m pretty sure it’s a girl, too. Or at least, as much of a girl that a metacreated plasma-bird can be.”

The firebird swiveled its head to its creator, clacking its beak together sharply as if to admonish him. Then giving one last chirp to Azula, it took off into the air, rising on the afternoon’s thermals and soaring out of sight.

“Well, we’d better get moving. That village I got food from isn’t much farther away by foot; we can reach it and get a balloon to the capital.”

Azula nodded, and the Phoenix and the Princess walked together, traveling to the first of many places, on the first of many days.
………………………………………………

Mmk, there you go! Not much really happened, I know. I’ll be doing retcons like this in oneshots from now on, so I don’t have to take up space in the main series. Like to thank PtC, Myles, Hammer, Cardinal, and everyone else who I pushed my horrible writing on. Thanks for reading, and reviews would be very much appreciated!
- 3
- 4
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

The Avatar Saga - Azula's redemption