Chapter Text
They were sitting at the small round table on the balcony of her prison-home. The sky was cloudless and the merciless rays of Agni were heating their spot to the insufferable degree. But her unwanted visitor didn't seem to care, as he was rambling incoherently about his usual nonsense over a cup of steaming tea. She turned her head towards the still sea and squinted up in the sky, holding her palm on her forehead. All of a sudden, the view in front of her began to change dramatically – dark clouds that had appeared out of nowhere obscured Agni's face and the violent waves started to crash against the cliff below the balcony. The tea set ominously rattled, moved by a strong gust of wind; a storm was coming.
She gave him a well-practiced sneer. "Well, it seems that even the Spirits can't stand your babbling, Zuzu."
He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Sometimes even the clearest day can turn into the darkest night, but it's often the darkness that let us see the most clearly," he said, unbothered by her facial expressions and the chaos unfolding around them.
"That's ridiculous," she snapped. What was he supposed to achieve with this pathetic impersonation of their disgraced uncle? She was going to tell him – or rather shout over the howling wind – to stop embarrassing himself, but suddenly, the lightning ripped through the sky and struck him in the chest.
"No!" she shouted as he started falling into the darkness. She wanted to catch him, but it turned out that she was kneeling on the floor with her hands tied behind her back. After craning her neck she saw a silver chain wrapped around her wrists; the other end of the chain was tied to the storm drain. Then the realization struck her – she was no longer on her secluded island. She didn't even need to raise her head to know what was in front of her: their Agni Kai's arena. For a moment she was mesmerized by her brother's limp body lying on the ground, but then she noticed two dragons circling above them.
"You're pathetic," growled the Red Dragon in her father's voice. "You've let the little peasant girl overpower you!" The red bulk hovered above Zuko's body, casting a wide shadow. "What are you waiting for? You have a throne to claim," the dragon said, without moving his lips, and bared his fangs in a mocking smile.
"Don't listen to him!" cried the Blue Dragon; she recognized Ursa's voice. "You have to come home with me." The Blue Dragon approached her dangerously close.
"Stop plotting against me!" she shouted and jerked her body in a furious attempt to free herself, but it was futile.
"I was never against you," the Blue Dragon said gently, carrying a sad expression. "I love you Azula, I do."
"Enough!" she howled, fighting back the tears. Then, she realized with terror that her wrists weren't constrained by the silver chains, but by leather hospital straps. She gathered all her strength and made one last try to break the ties. This time it was successful; she immediately sprang to her feet and took a fighting stance. Her arms started to move in circular motions, almost like they were acting on their own. Without thinking, she aimed at the Blue Dragon and shot the most powerful lightning that she could generate. The Blue Dragon collapsed to the ground and burst into a bright flame. In the next moment, she was looking at the scene from above; the fire was spreading rapidly, reaching now the top tier of the Royal Palace. Soon, the whole Capital City was in flames and the smoke began to fill her lungs.
She knew that the blaze wouldn't end until it consumed the entire Fire Nation.
Azula opened her eyes with a gasp. It took her a while to take in that there wasn't any smoke suffocating her. She looked around in the darkness, seeing an empty nightstand and an opened window with fluttering curtains; slowly, her breath began returning to normal. After untangling herself from the sheets, she crawled out from her bed, lit a small flame in her palm, and moved towards the bathroom.
Just as Azula stepped into the twilight of the bathroom, she noticed that something was not right about her face, reflecting in the large mirror hanging above the washbasin. She came closer to the mirror, lifting her palm to illuminate her face better. Azula's hand froze as she clapped her eyes on the mark on her forehead. It was a strange symbol: a flame, resembling the Fire Nation emblem, enclosed in an equilateral triangle. Her fear spiked as she took a closer look and realized that the symbol was burned on her skin. When the mark started to glow in blue light, the flame in her palm went out and she let out a scream.
Azula once again opened her eyes; her heart was pounding and she was covered in sweat. She shot into an upright position on her bed and quickly looked around. The moonlight, coming through the closed window, was illuminating a scroll and a half-empty cup of tea sitting on the nightstand. She furiously kicked the sheets off and rushed towards the bathroom, not bothering to light her way. As a result, she tripped over the ottoman and almost lost her balance. Finally, muttering a curse, she got to the mirror and lit a blue flame in her trembling palm. Her forehead was perfectly smooth, as usual, so she let out a deep breath – this time she woke up for real.
Or didn't she? The surroundings still seemed somehow delusory to her. Azula looked into the mirror with fear – was she descending into madness again? The princess almost could feel the suffocating tightness of the straitjacket and the pain of leather straps cutting into her body; she rapidly turned away from the mirror, rushed back to the bedroom, and threw her silk gown on. Then she headed to the balcony that was attached to the living room. The cool night breeze brushing against her face partially restored her grip on reality. Azula walked past the small round table, rested her hands on the railing, and looked ahead; the sea was still.
***
The war had ended long ago. The retired general was looking at the panorama of the great city of Ba Sing Se, supported on his tea shop's terrace railing. It was a gorgeous spring evening and the setting sun was casting its golden rays on the sea of crimson rooftops. The extraordinarily quiet air was filled with the sweet fragrance of blossoming cherry. The general closed his eyes, raised his chin, and took a deep sniff. He was trying to commit the view to memory, together with every surrounding sound and scent. Soon, the memories were going to become all he had left of this place. A sad smile spread across his wrinkled face. Iroh, of all the people, should've known better that nothing is given once and for all – his gaze instinctively wandered to the western outskirts of the city – and shouldn't have let himself get attached to this place so much.
And yet, he did. He wondered how much of this silly attachment could be blamed on his beloved nephew. After all, walls in Jasmine Dragon were the silent witnesses of Zuko's pivotal points: his spiritual metamorphosis, celebrations of his transition from a banished prince to the mighty Fire Lord, his tough but fair decision on breaking up a long-term relationship, and finally, the beginnings of a new relationship, the one in which he could be true to himself. Thoughts of his nephew's happiness warmed the old general's heart, but then he reminded himself that he had little time left. He reluctantly turned away from the view and went back inside.
His last customers, loud, self-assured, and unaware of the fate that had awaited them, vanished no more than half an hour ago. They left behind a lot of the decorative teacups spread over the tables; Iroh started carefully carrying them to the kitchen. There was nobody else in Jasmine Dragon, he forced all of his employees to take a paid leave, strongly advising them to spend it outside Ba Sing Se. They were all rather pleased about it, all except for Hiko. She was fiercely opposing, arguing that Iroh couldn't unload the new shipment of supplies by himself, but he didn't leave her a choice. He knew that the delivery of supplies – as well as the redecoration of the dining hall and garden works on the patio – wasn't going to happen. Well, probably some sort of "garden works" and "redecoration" would happen after all, but the results certainly couldn't please anybody's eyes.
Iroh put the last cup on the drainer, wiped his hands on a small, green towel, and left the kitchen, still filled with a faint scent of jasmine and lychee. After one last look at the dining hall, he stepped through the main entrance, pulled out the keys, and thoroughly locked the door, even though he knew it wouldn't help much. Then, with his hands in his sleeves, he slowly descended the stairs leading to the patio and passed the square pond with a fountain, leaving its rustling behind. The city was immersed in an unusual silence; the old general knew that it was the silence before the storm. Just like he had known it a few years ago, but then he had failed to convince his nephew to change the course of their ship and as result, they had to save themselves by heading to the eye of the storm. This time the Dragon of the West was heading in the opposite direction.
The retired general wasn't at his destination yet, when he heard the rumble of cannon fire ripping through the air. He stopped and looked towards the Upper Ring; it began.
***
One year later.
When Sokka reached the square pond with the idle fountain, he was aware that he was a little bit late. It was not his fault, he did everything he could, but – as usual – life and the new Earth Kingdom's regime were determined to stand in his way. Resolved on not losing any more minutes, he was hopping two steps at a time. This was his last meeting during the visit and the only one he was looking for. Besides, he didn't have a chance to drop in since the place reopened – he didn't even know its new name – and he was dying to see how it looked now. Sokka stopped at the top of the stairs to read the gray sign with black letters, located above the entrance. "Workers canteen" the sign was saying; Spirits, those guys were really creative, no doubt about it. He popped inside and immediately froze, dizzy with the stale air and bewildered with the number of tables that they were able to cram in. It took him a while to scan the dining hall, but finally he concluded with disappointment that she wasn't there yet.
For some reason, most of the customers, crowded around square tables, were stuffing themselves with a cabbage soup. Was it some kind of chef's special? The soup could be worth a try then, but Sokka was really hungry and needed something more substantial; something meatier to be precise. The rumble in his stomach and the long line of people waiting to be served convinced him to take his place in the queue. He rushed to get behind the last in line – a middle-aged man with a gaping tunic, which was revealing his abundant chest hair – and had to quickly take a step back, repulsed by the odor of sweat and half-digested alcohol. Sokka's shoulders sagged; this was not exactly what he had imagined when he had heard that the Upper Ring's venues were now open for all citizens.
The line was not moving at all and Sokka began to contemplate the new interior design of the former tea shop. The walls were, as before, divided into sections by green wooden pillars. Each section of the wall was decorated with its own painting. A horrible, horrible painting. Half of them were showing ruddy, beefy farmers happily cropping golden wheat together with their well-endowed female counterparts. In the second half, the equally happy males and females in gray factory uniforms were... Well, they were doing something, whatever it was, with their tiny, deformed hands. Sokka nodded sympathetically; he knew from his own experience that hands were always the hardest to draw. At that moment, the memory of post-war's self trying to commemorate good times at the Jasmine Dragon brought an ashamed smile on his face. He began to wonder how he would react if somebody had told him then what his life would be like in five years.
Sokka was still lost deep in his thoughts when loud and rude "Next one!" reached him; it was coming from a sullen woman that was standing behind the counter. After a quick glance at the modest menu, written in chalk on a blackboard behind the woman's back, Sokka made a decision.
"Can I get a plate of pig-hen noodles?" he asked.
"Pig-hen noodles ran out," the woman barked. Zuko as a waiter must have been the epitome of kindness in comparison to her.
"In that case, can I get a plate of crab puffs?" He tried, despite the fading hope.
"Ran out."
"Is there anything that didn't run out?!" Sokka asked, raising his voice, but he already knew the answer.
"Cabbage soup."
Looking at the long line behind him, he resolved to act in advance and took two bowls. Then, still overcome with the memories of the good old days at Jasmine Dragon, he went on to ordering drinks.
"Do you have jasmine tea? Or ginseng? Or lychee?" Sokka couldn't decide, causing the whispers of dismay in the line behind him.
"We have tea. Or water."
At least the price was reasonable. Maybe it was his lucky day after all because he noticed that a small table – placed under something that had to be a mandatory shrine of the Supreme Leader – had freed up. After settling down, Sokka took a sip of the tea and twisted his face. Mental note: add the replacement of Jasmine Dragon with Workers Canteen to the list of crimes of Kuvira's regime. In the wake of the tea experience, it was not a surprise to him that the cabbage soup was cold and bland. He pushed his plate away and got lost in his thoughts again. How could he deliver all the information that he had gathered to the Fire Lord insomniac without further disturbing his majesty's sleep patterns (and Sokka's, as a side effect)? He was definitely going to omit this blasphemy of his uncle's tea shop that he was sitting in, but it couldn't help much. This time he was snapped out of his reverie by a painful punch in the arm, which could only mean one thing.
"Toph! It's been ages!" He jumped to his feet and pulled her into a tight embrace. Her hair was tickling his face, they were longer and somehow even wilder than the last time they had met. "Take a seat, I ordered you a cabbage soup," he said when he finally released her.
"Sweet!" exclaimed Toph, settling in the chair and lifting her legs to cross them on the table, which exposed her soiled feet. "They have the best cabbage soup in this part of the town," she added, taking the bowl from him. Sokka was waiting for her to spit the soup after the first spoon, but she continued to tuck into the dish with an appetite. He decided to give the soup a second try.
"You are quite late, you know," Sokka said after a while in a hurt voice. "I began to wonder if you would come at all."
"Thorry, had a buthineth to thinish," Toph mumbled, chewing on an undercooked cabbage. "By the way, the Grand Lotus sends greetings."
"Wait a minute." He squinted at her up from his plate as he started to connect the dots. "Please, don't tell me that this business of yours has something to do with..." he said in almost a pleading tone, leaned over to Toph, and lowered his voice. "...my boyfriend's uncle?"
"Maybe it has," she said smugly. Sokka gasped.
"But you're not part of them, part of the..." He lowered his voice even more. "...you know, crazy old people gang, are you?"
"Nah, their membership fees are way too high," she replied with a dismissive wave of a hand. Sokka choked on his soup. "Kidding!" Toph helpfully slapped his back. "Let's say I'm just doing them a favor. But being a part of a hierarchic organization is not my cup of tea," she said, grinning.
"But seriously, should I be worried about you?" Sokka grabbed her wrist. It was a gesture that became his habit, after what they had survived on the Fire Nation airship.
"Nope, comrade Snoozles, you have enough worries of your own," Toph said, freeing her wrist. It clearly turned their thoughts in the same direction. "How's Aang?" she asked after a while, with a solemn expression.
"Same." Sokka shrugged and ducked his head. There really was nothing new to tell, but nonetheless, he began to fill Toph in with everything he had heard from Katara recently. Suddenly, his uneasy monologue was interrupted by a loud thud. It turned out to be coming from a broad woman in a headscarf, who decided to casually join their table. "Hey!" he said. "You could at least ask if it's taken!"
"Yeah!" Toph agreed. She pounded her feet on the floor and sent a wave that nearly tripped the woman's chair. "Learn some manners!" exclaimed the earthbender; the woman stood up, looking very offended. Then, their unwanted companion drifted away to invade another table, mumbling something under her breath.
"So..." Sokka shifted in the chair and took the opportunity to turn the conversation from the painful subject. "I've heard that they had outdone themselves with the celebrations of the anniversary."
Toph put her bowl down on the table with a loud clank. "If not the speech, I'd say that it was a festival of lameness."
Sokka raised his eyebrows in disbelief. "You were there? I thought you hate such things."
"I do." Toph snuggled down into the chair and clasped her hands behind her head. "But man, that Kuvira could redeem me from my misery at any time," she said, sporting a dreamy expression, unaware of the ominous presence of the Supreme Leader's face above her head.
"Toph!" Sokka hissed, knitting his eyebrows. Tui and La, the offense of the Supreme Leader was no joke in this country and she knew it. Sure, Toph always had been audacious, but when the heck did she become borderline reckless?
"What?" she asked and raised her chin in defiance, crossing her arms in front of her. "Are you the only one who can bang a young, hot ruler?"
Sokka pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. That was it. For a moment he thought that he could hear AIA agents preparing to slam into the canteen in order to drag him and Toph to Lake Laogai, to administer them something far worse than the innocent brainwashing. But when he picked himself up and finally looked around, all he saw were gloomy people hunched over their bowls, fixated on the cabbage soup like it was the most interesting thing in the world. His dread eased up a little bit.
"Speaking of crazy, murderous chicks..." The mouthy brat was going to change the subject, but judging from her mischievous smile, he wouldn't like the next one either. "How are you getting along with your sister-in-law?"
"First of all," he said and raised his finger. "You know that formally she's not my sister-in-law, never will and... That's actually a plus of our situation." Sokka rubbed his chin; he never thought about it from this angle. "Second, thanks Spirits, I didn't have to deal with her since the eclipse. What I have to deal with instead is Zuko's mood after his weekly visits," he said with a deep sigh.
"Why? Is she threatening Sparky? I have a solution to that." Toph cracked her knuckles to make her point.
"Thank you, Toph, but it won't be necessary." Sokka smiled. "It's... I don't know, rather the opposite?"
"Sparky's threatening her?" For a moment she lost her confidence and a look of confusion painted on her face.
"No! It's like..." Sokka struggled to find the words to outline the state of Azula's mind, as described to him by Zuko, making indefinite hand gestures that weren't helping at all. He was saved by another self-invited companion joining their table, a short-haired young man, a boy even, wearing a factory uniform, who sat on the edge of a chair, next to Toph. "Seriously, what's wrong with you people?" Sokka asked, more amazed than angry this time. But the guy ignored him.
"I see you're a tourist, are you in Ba Sing Se for the first time?" the boy turned to Toph.
"I've been here a few times," she said and Sokka noticed that her relaxed back straightened slightly. He felt an urge to interfere, but a small voice in the back of his head told him not to.
"I live in Ba Sing Se, with my mother, near the Green Plaza. They sell the best chestnuts there." Their new companion gave Toph a pointed look.
"Kenji says they are the most delicious in the autumn," she replied, without losing a bit.
"He sends you a fresh batch." The boy almost unnoticeably handed her something under the table and immediately rushed towards the exit. She turned it over in her hands, it was a scrap of paper with the White Lotus sign on top of it.
"I'm blind, you morons!" she shouted towards the messenger, waving her hand in front of her eyes, but the guy was already gone. "Will they ever learn that 'Blind Bandit' is my code name for a reason?" Toph handed the scrap over to Sokka, crossed her arms on her chest, and ducked her head. She looked like an angry child at that moment, which in fact she kind of was. What was Iroh thinking? Toph might have been the greatest earthbender in the world, and a mouthy one on top of that, but she was still a kid. Next time Sokka would have to...
"Read it!" the kid impatiently demanded.
"Alright, alright..." Sokka looked at the message and his chest tightened with fear.
"What is it, Snoozles? Your heart behaves as if you're going to have a heart attack."
"Toph," he said in a weak voice and stood up. "I need to go back to the Fire Nation. Immediately."