Archive of Our Own

He finds her kneeling before a shrine. “Azula,” he says gently.

She doesn’t move at first. Her methodical breathing causes the flames of the three candles burning in front of her to rise and fall. It’s part of her daily prayers, to show respect and humility to those who came before and to ask for their guidance. As far as her peers and superiors are concerned, she needs their help more than most. Azula takes a moment to steady herself and finally looks over her shoulder at him.

For some reason, she had always envisioned the avatar as a larger version of the boy she fought in the war. The man that stands before her is almost a stranger in her eyes, but she sees hints of the boy she knew. Some of his features are softer than most men. He still wears the same bright shades of orange and yellow, still holds onto a wooden staff, and still sports a shaved head to proudly display his tattoos. For all that has changed in the past twelve years, some things have remained constant. However, the familiar signs don’t ease the tension that Azula feels. The gentle expression on the avatar’s face only makes her suspect him more.

She can only imagine what’s going through his head as he looks at her. Her hair isn’t in a traditional top knot with a headpiece anymore. Female initiates and acolytes wear their hair in simple tails with red and white ribbons. Her royal robes and armor are long gone. The shade of red she now wears is brighter, and the black and gold have been replaced by white. In place of boots with pointed toes she wears socks and sandals. If a stranger looked at her, they would have no way of telling that she was once Princess Azula.

“Avatar,” she greets him with a cool tone.

He smiles, bows his head, and gives her a fire palm. She has given the traditional show of respect a thousand times to her superiors in the clergy, but hasn’t received it since her fall from grace. To receive it from him now gives her pause.

“It’s good to see you,” he responds with a familiarity that sounds odd in her ears.

“Have you come to leave an offering?” she asks, hoping to end the conversation quickly.

“No.”

“Do you wish to speak to Fire Sage Seong? Any of the initiates would be glad to show you to him.”

“I’ll gladly meet with him, but he can wait.”

She resists a sigh and stands up to fully face him. “Then why are you here, Avatar?”

His answer is brief, but hardly simple. “To see you.”

Hi-Iyashi Temple sits on an island of the same name in the southwestern corner of the Fire Nation. She had first been assigned to it shortly after completing her days as an initiate in Shu Jing last year. Upon her ascension to the rank of fire acolyte, the fire sages faced the sensitive issue of which temple to send her to for further study and training. Putting her in an eastern temple was not an option, as they were too close to the Earth Kingdom. The temples of the center islands lacked the space or the willingness to accept her as an acolyte. Hi-Iyashi is close enough to Caldera City that a messenger hawk wouldn’t take long to reach it, but far enough away to put the fire lord’s court at ease. The island’s peaceful nature and the temple’s humble standards made it an ideal choice in the eyes of the fire sages to both protect and guide the woman who once toppled Ba Sing Se.

“We’re attracting attention, Avatar.”

The other residents of the temple maintain a respectful distance, but not one of them has their eyes on their chores or duties. It isn’t every day that they could see the avatar walking side by side with their most infamous colleague. He asked her for a tour of Hi-Iyashi, and as a humble acolyte and temple maiden Azula could not refuse, much as she wanted to.

“I’m used to it,” he replies with a shrug. “I’m sure you turn quite a few heads yourself.”

She looks away from him, trying to resist a frown. The avatar isn’t a giant by any means, but walking next to her makes him look like a tower. Accepting her own short stature would be an easier endeavor for Azula if so many other people would just stop being taller than her. “That’s hardly a good thing for me, Avatar.”

He makes it clear that his interests are more with her than in the temple, even when he briefly turns the conversation towards it. “This is a beautiful place,” he says, his voice flowing like the breeze.

It is, Azula has to admit. Hi-Iyashi is guarded from the heavy winds and crashing waves by its larger sisters and the mainland. Less than a thousand people outside of the temple call the island their permanent home, though many fishing vessels and traders visit it. When the cherry blossoms started to bloom early yesterday, Fire Sage Seong called it a sign from Agni of a fortunate year for the Fire Nation. As the pink petals color her vision and scent the air around her, Azula wonders if they had sensed the avatar’s approach. Is that an ability he has that she didn’t know about? Could his mere presence cause nature to come alive? It’s a skill she has never heard of before, but Azula expects that there’s much about the avatar that she’ll never know or understand.

“Did you celebrate the Spring Equinox?” he asks.

“In a way. During the surrounding week, we receive visitors from all over the island who come to pray for the spirits of their deceased family members. People who moved away from Hi-Iyashi return to the island to spend time with their families. The Fire Nation uses the first day of spring to make steps towards personal renewal, and renewal must always come from acknowledgement of what has come before.”

“Is it true that the people here use trees as tombstones?”

It’s a question that anyone on Hi-Iyashi could answer, but Azula indulges his curiosity. “It’s not that simple. Every individual family on the island has their own ancestral tree. Hi-Iyashi lacks the room necessary for cemeteries or mausoleums, so the first residents found an alternative. After a funeral, we cremate the dead and treat the ashes in a special process. We then add the ashes to the soil of the family’s tree. Or, in some cases, we plant it with a seed in the ground for a new tree. On the days leading up to the Vernal Equinox, people will write down the names of the deceased and tie them with string to the branches of their family tree. On the three days after the equinox, they replace the names with notes detailing their hopes and plans to change their lives.”

He nods, and she thinks he looks pleased by the idea. “Using death to enrich life. The Air Nomads practice something similar in regards to death.”

“You also turn your dead into fertilizer?”

A chuckle escapes his throat. The sudden sound of it coaxes a small smile from the corner of her mouth. “Not exactly. In the old days, some Air Nomads were cremated after death, but others arranged to have their bodies exposed in the wilderness.”

“Why?”

“To let animals eat their remains.”

Azula’s eyes widen in shock, and she asks impulsively, “Why?”

He shrugs. “The spirit leaves the body after death. There’s no need to preserve it. Such a funeral shows humility to nature. Some see it as charitable, to allow yourself to be used to keep other living beings fed.”

She can’t help but make a sound of revulsion at the idea, but it only makes Aang chuckle again. “I’ll admit it’s not as pretty as being turned into a tree, but it’s a long tradition among the Air Nomads.”

“Do you intend to arrange that for yourself?”

“I don’t know. I try not to think too far ahead.”

“Says the man whose thoughts and decisions shape the entire world.”

He laughs again. The avatar’s joy is more infectious than any plague. Despite the temptation to think that he is carefree, his next question proves there’s more than just good humor in his inquiries. “What about you? How far ahead do you think?”

Training gives her an automatic response. “The fire sages say that fixating on one’s future can be as ruinous as dwelling on one’s past. It is only the present moment that matters.”

“The monks said something similar. So what does the present hold for you?”

“Walking with a man armed with annoying questions.”

His laughter is slight enough that it only colors the breath that leaves his nostrils. There’s still a small smile on his face, but his tone becomes calmly serious when he asks, “Are you happy here, Azula?”

She turns her head away from him. “Personal happiness is not the point of devotion to Agni, Avatar.”

He lets his silence speak for itself.

“I am… content,” she offers. “There is a purpose here for me.”

It is a purpose that became her raft following her recovery in the asylum.

Throughout the war, Sozin and his heirs twisted the various creeds of the Fire Nation. The fire sages became a source for justification for what the Fire Nation was doing to the world. It was they who declared that the avatar hadn’t been reincarnated because the Fire Nation had assumed their role. It was their country’s destiny to replace the avatar, as they were the only ones who could impose the needed balance. It was their responsibility to establish the new world order of peace and prosperity under their undisputed reign. They were bringing Agni’s fire to every corner of the world. The war was just a trial, a necessary hardship to ensure that the world knew of their greatness, and to prove the strength of their burning will.

One of Zuko’s many missions as fire lord has been to mend the injuries done by their family to the Fire Nation’s spirituality. Religion and state were formally separated under his rule. To appease the more traditional minded, Great Fire Sage Shyu became one of his chief advisers. It was Shyu who had thought up the idea of her joining the clergy and personally convinced her to follow through on it. A princess born of Sozin’s line devoting her life to Agni’s service, to embracing the wisdom of the fire sages, would not only help redeem the royal family for using their religion as a weapon in the war, but would also be a symbol of the new fire lord’s devotion and humility to Agni. Some of the new fire sages believed that if Azula the Conqueror could be reformed into Azula the Fire Sage, then it was a clear sign from Agni that the Fire Nation could be reformed from an empire into a peaceful nation. That idea has been and continues to be a heavy weight on her shoulders, but it is one that Azula accepts.

Her line of thought is interrupted when she catches two young initiates off to the side staring at them and talking. Most teenagers and young adults who enter Agni’s service are like them. They never make it past the rank of initiate, as there is no need for them to do so. Their time serving in a temple helps their careers, brings esteem to their families, and makes them look more appealing when their parents start arranging their marriages. This is especially true for temple maidens.

Azula knows that, whatever her own future will entail, it won’t include such things.

“A purpose is a wonderful thing to have,” the avatar says, effortlessly bringing her attention back to him. “I find that, even if a purpose is clear, it can be fulfilled in a multitude of ways. Life isn’t as black and white as we think it is.”

A low groan escapes through her teeth. “There’s more to life than giggles and sunshine. We’re not children anymore, Avatar.”

Her barbed comment bounces off him like a pebble thrown against a warship. “I understand that feeling. Everyone treats sixteen as the start of adulthood, but I’ve been twenty-five for months now and I still don’t feel like an adult.”

“Maybe I should pray that Agni prods you into embracing maturity.”

“Maybe you should pray that he teaches you not to be so hard on yourself.”

Azula openly glares at him and tightens her hand into a fist. “I don’t need your pity, Avatar.”

“I’m not trying to pity you,” he quickly denies. The very air around him seems comforting, as if it’s desperate to make up for saying something she felt was out of line.

She ignores it and presses the issue. “So what are you trying to do? Just how long do you intend to stay here?” She knows in the back of her mind that she shouldn’t speak to him in such a tone of voice, that the fire priests would reprimand her for addressing the avatar this way. But they don’t know him like she does, and few in the world could sow irritation like him.

The avatar, however, deflects her hostility like water off a turtle duck’s shell. “I don’t know. Depends on how long it takes for me to accomplish my mission.”

“Which is?”

“I wish to learn more about Agni. I think you’re the right person to teach me.”

She hides her surprise behind a roll of her eyes. “You’re friends with the great fire sage. I’m still just an acolyte. What could I tell you that a sage couldn’t?”

“‘Just an acolyte?’ Don’t sell yourself short, Azula. I’ve spoken with Shyu in the past about you. Both he and Zuko are happy at the progress you’ve made.”

Her communications with Shyu are infrequent, and with Zuko even more so. Despite the seriousness with which they always approach her situation, they have far more important matters than her that require their attention. It’s a fact that Azula understands and accepts. That acceptance helps her deal with the prolonged periods where she doesn’t hear from them, when she only has her superiors and colleagues for company. She finds it incredibly comforting to know that they’re proud of her.

In an unplanned move that surprises herself, Azula braves an almost affable smile. “Avatar, if you keep encouraging my ego, you’ll undo all the work I’ve put into learning humility.”

“It’s work I’m glad to see too, Azula. But I don’t think it would be vanity to acknowledge someone’s progress and their finer qualities.”

His choice of words give her pause, but the good humor the avatar has put her in wins out. “We have a word for beings who try to tempt Agni’s followers from the path he sets out for us. They’re called demons.”

In response, Aang brings his palm in front of his face and ignites a small flame as he lets out a mock, raspy growl. The foolish gesture somehow makes Azula laugh. She can’t remember the last time she laughed, or the last time she did so for so long.

“Demons don’t make fire,” she corrects him, still laughing. “They torment people by drowning them in ice water or smothering them in sand traps.”

“Thank you, Acolyte Azula! You’re already expanding my cultural knowledge of Fire Nation religions!”

She rolls her eyes and shakes her head, but the smile stays on her face.

What little free time Azula has is spent entirely in the avatar’s company. She had become accustomed to eating her meals alone, despite how many other initiates or acolytes happened to be in the dining hall with her. To appease Fire Sage Seong, Aang eats at his table along with the fire priests during supper. Lunches and breakfasts are a different matter. On the second day of his visit, he grabs them both cups of tea and bowls of rice and asks if they could eat together under the cherry blossom trees. Azula notices the others still staring at them and whispering to one another as they walk together.

His questions are all focused on her, on her studies and what her various duties as an acolyte entail. She deflects his questions on how she’s getting along with the initiates, other acolytes, and her superiors with a quick lie. What she cannot deflect so easily is when he asks what new skills she’s picked up as a temple maiden.

“Dancing?” he repeats with surprised elation.

“Don’t get any ideas, Avatar,” she shoots back at him. “They’re special forms of firebending for specific ceremonies.”

He rolls his shoulders back as if to impress her. “I happen to know a way to firebend while dancing myself.”

“What do you call it? The Prancing Bison?”

His response to her teasing is a laugh straight from his belly. In the back of her mind, Azula knows the sound might draw an eavesdropper’s attention, but for once she doesn’t care. The avatar has a way of pushing little things like that out of her mind.

After he runs out of questions, she starts to gingerly ply him for information on current events in the outside world. She knows what the fire priests would say, that her mind should be focused on her training and duties, not on worldly matters. That fact leads her to almost rescind the request, but he’s happy to oblige her and she’s happy to let him.

“So the peace has held?”

“Yes, but not without a few scares and bumps along the road.”

The avatar elaborates on what he means. As far as Azula sees it, scares and bumps are mild ways of describing what has been happening. Disputes over territorial claims, demands for war reparations from states of both the Water Tribe and the Earth Kingdom, relocation of refugees, the fate of war children throughout the Earth Kingdom, setting up tribunals to handle charges of war crimes, a division among the leaders of the military between those who support the fire lord and those who don’t, and even the discovery of an attempted coup against the fire lord. After a hundred years of war, such a complex aftermath is not unsurprising. Azula silently thanks Agni that Zuko is still alive and sane after such a tense concatenation.

For as much as she learns of what has happened in the world while she has been secluded in her training, she learns just as much of the people she left behind when the avatar detours into personal anecdotes of the people they know. It gives Azula the impression that he’s one who will gladly take a chance to get his mind off of political matters.

“So, once again, Fire Lady Mai swoops in to save Zuko from overworking himself.”

Azula nods. Mai always did have a way of getting Zuko to not take himself too seriously. “What of Ty Lee?”

“The Kyoshi Warriors gave her permission to galavant through the Earth Kingdom with Toph. Last I heard, they teamed up with Bumi to take down some kind of cave monster.”

“When you say she’s with your earthbending teacher, do you mean with or ‘with?’”

His smile is accompanied by a half-shrug. “It took us all by surprise.”

Azula considers the news for a moment, and concludes with happiness that Ty Lee found someone. She even finds herself approving of the match. After all, Toph Beifong is an earthbending prodigy, perhaps the best earthbender to ever live. Even if she never sees Ty Lee again, it is good to know that only the best of the best is keeping her company. “Have any other surprise romances popped up in my absence?”

“Well, not many surprises, but there’s plenty of romance to go around. Sokka and Suki have already started a family, and I’m their kids’ favorite uncle. Granted, the only one I’m competing with for that title is Zuko, but it’s still nice to be the favorite.”

“And what of your Water Tribe girl? Have the two of you started planning your own family?” she asks before considering the question.

The second he looks away from her is enough for her to discern what he leaves unsaid. Guilt swarms into her mind, but her tongue turns to lead, preventing an apology from coming out. The avatar’s smile stays on, even as his sad eyes cast it in a different light. “It’s…” Aang tries to tell her, but the words catch in his throat. “It’s complicated.”

“I understand,” she replies, and tells herself never to ask about the avatar’s friends ever again.

It isn’t until the third day of his visit that he gets around to asking what he has supposedly come to Hi-Iyashi to learn. “What does Agni mean to you?”

Azula, finally glad that he’s asking about spirituality and not about her, recites the answer perfectly. After all, she’s been studying the ways of Agni for years now. “There are many different schools dedicated to Agni. Each order of fire sages traces their lineage to different philosophers with opposing views. Some see Agni as a mortal man, the first fire sage to achieve enlightenment. The Agni of this school of thought was the first firebender, the first disciple of the dragons, who taught the rest of the Fire Nation their ways. The fire sages refer to this view as Agni the Meditator.

“A similar interpretation goes for a more secular perspective. It states that Agni was actually a prince from a long forgotten civilization that existed before recorded history, sometimes called the Kingdom of the Sun. This Agni took the teachings of the dragons and used them to conquer the entirety of what we now know as the Fire Nation. Agni the Fire Lord was claimed as the ancestor of all early fire lords and their rivals as they competed with one another.

“Another school of thought proposes that Agni was a dragon from the Spirit World who taught firebending to the first benders of the west. He instructed them on the meaning of passion, of what it meant to strive to develop the will to achieve their desires. The other dragons were enraged that Agni had shared their secrets with mortals, and imprisoned him in the Earth as punishment. But Agni’s power was so great that his fires burned the land that restrained him, creating the volcanoes and islands of the Fire Nation. Agni the Creator put us on the path to where we are now.

“Some believe that Agni was never a spirit or a man, that Agni is in fact a way for people to envision and rationalize enlightenment itself. This concept is referred to as Agni the Freed.”

Aang leans backwards and rests his weight on his hands. “I feel like I just read a book thicker than my head.”

She bows her head, pleased at his praise of her intellect. “Thank you, Avatar. It’s refreshing for my work as an acolyte to be acknowledged.”

“You’re a walking library, Azula. But you didn’t answer my question.”

Her smile disappears. She speaks quickly, “There’s an old saying, that there are as many ways to view Agni as there are islands in the Fire Nation. My order states that-”

Even when he interrupts, the avatar remains calm and cordial. “I want to know who Agni is to you.”

The silence between them lasts long. Too long. Not once in her years of training did someone ask her for her own interpretation and not a recitation of the wisdom of others. Her words are awkwardly stitched together when they finally come out, devoid of the brief confidence she felt, but it’s the best response she can muster. “Agni is something bigger than myself. A means for me to do what is right, to turn my life around. A… a way to redeem myself. The philosophies of the fire sages give me something that I can put everything I’ve got into. My power, my intelligence, and what few good qualities I possess are now in service to something that betters the Fire Nation.”

His voice becomes so quiet, almost lovingly so, yet it’s still so loud in her ear. “The Fire Nation is very lucky to have someone like you putting all this work into becoming a fire sage.”

This time, Azula doesn’t let herself feel any joy at his compliment. Instead, she hangs her head. “I have so much more work to do, Avatar. So much more to learn before I’m ready to become a fire sage.”

His hand lands softly on her wrist. His touch should be alienating, but it’s too comforting for her to pull her hand away. Azula does nothing at first, but his intention is clear. She gives in and looks him in the eye. His smile is gentler than before. The sight of it illuminates the room. “I know exactly what that’s like, Azula.”

Her chores are interrupted when she notices a small group of initiates and acolytes crowding around the top of the temple’s main staircase. She joins them to find Aang down the hill at the bottom steps, carefully earthbending to fix the various cracks and breaks.

“How long have the priests been putting off those repairs?” asks Li Koo, the youngest of the temple’s initiates, who has tripped on those damaged steps so often that it’s been a running gag among the others, much to her chagrin.

“Three years,” answers Niso, one of the few temple residents who is also a native of the island. “Can’t believe they’re finally getting around to it.”

“The avatar has been working all day,” says Mae Chi. Azula had been wondering why she hadn’t seen him yet today. “I had no idea he was so… industrious.”

A few of them start giggling and whispering to each other about how handsome and powerful the avatar is. Azula rolls her eyes, a display caught by another acolyte, Naraza, who seizes the opportunity and grabs her shoulder. “Thanks for getting the avatar to fix our temple, Azula,” she says with a mischievous grin, as she always does whenever she taunts her. “You should have summoned him here a long time ago.”

Azula yanks her shoulder free from Naraza’s grasp and walks away while the others stare at her and start to gossip, as they often do.

She’s picking up supplies for the temple from the village at the shore when he surprises her from behind. “Here alone, Azula?” Her jolt makes him giggle. She slaps his chest in an impulsive retaliation, but he keeps laughing, even as he apologizes for startling her. “Can I help you with your bags?”

“Thank you, but no. We’re expected to carry out all of our responsibilities by ourselves.”

“I thought the initiates handled chores like this.”

“Hi-Iyashi has few initiates, so the acolytes have to step up to handle the more mundane chores,” Azula explains. She leaves the fact that the fire priests have her run the most errands unsaid.

“Can I at least accompany you back to the temple?”

“Even if I said no, would you leave me alone?”

“I respect your wishes, Azula. I just like to think after so long together that I’ve grown on you.”

“Sure you have. Like fungus.”

Aang laughs again, further cementing Azula’s view that insulting avatars is like herding cats.

On the nearby beach, the sky bison and winged lemur have their paws full with the village children. Some slide down the bison’s tail while others play keep away with the lemur’s favorite melon.

“Your pets get along better with the locals than I do,” she points out.

“I’m sure the kids here would like you too if you let them slide off of your back.”

Azula squints at him. “The things that come out of your mouth, Avatar.”

“That song you were singing earlier today,” he says out of nowhere during their pai sho game.

“What of it?”

He absentmindedly twirls a tile between his fingers. If Azula didn’t know better, she would think that his smile now has a flirtatious edge to it. “If I asked you to sing it again, would you?”

Her response is quick and firm. “No. The chant you heard is only for the shrines. It’s inappropriate to treat it like any other song.”

He respects her refusal this time, recognizing its importance to her beliefs. “If I asked you to sing a non-religious song, would you?”

She shoots him with a mistrustful look. “And why would you want to hear me sing?”

“I thought you and other other acolytes sounded pretty good.”

“I was only one voice among many. Trust me, I sound painfully average on my own. My old teachers can vouch for that.”

Aang does not accept her self-deprecation as an answer. “You told me that art is an important part of your religion, that you were taught how to dance, sing, and write poetry.”

“I did,” Azula sighs, regretting that she shared that information.

“Tell you what, I’ll go tit for tat,” he offers. “I’ll sing a nomad song for you.”

She stares at him, into his big, gray, fun-loving eyes, and yields. “Fine. I’ll sing for you. It’ll be a victory tune to celebrate how I’m about to slaughter you at pai sho.”

Aang snickers. “That’s fair.”

“And in return, you’re going to sing as a demonstration of your newfound humility and the dangers of biting off more than you can chew.”

“As you wish,” he agrees, still chuckling. 

A moment of self-consciousness delays her, but she finally chooses a quick song she first heard in her academy days. She sings for him as she moves her last pieces into victory. The avatar’s eyes aren’t down on his defeat. A sudden heat swells in her cheeks that Azula can’t explain, but she soldiers on and continues to sing. The avatar’s enraptured look doesn’t falter once while he listens to her.

She finishes, and he nods his head in lieu of applause. “If you’re painfully average, then that must mean the other acolytes have voices that can lure men to their deaths.”

Azula sits up straight and readjusts her robes that don’t need readjusting. “Fair is fair, Avatar. I expect my song now.”

“As you wish. Here’s a song I learned during the war.” Aang takes a drink of water and clears his throat, building up suspense that Azula just folds her arms and rolls her eyes at, though she begrudgingly smiles at him. He knocks his fingers against the table to give him a beat as he starts to sing. “Two lovers, forbidden from one another.”

“Azula,” he greets her in the morning, but she cuts him off quickly.

“I’m sorry, Avatar. We’re expecting a funeral tomorrow, and I have to finish the preparations with the other other acolytes.”

“Would you come see me after you’re done?” he asks, his voice oddly serious.

“Why? Do you want me to write you a poem now?” she jokes while checking their kindling supply.

“Actually, I was hoping you could show me how the Fire Nation honors those who have passed on.”

She stops what she’s doing and turns to him, her brief humor gone. “What do you mean?”

“Today is the birthday of a friend of mine who is no longer with us. I was hoping you could show me how I could observe the occasion.”

“Collect an offering, and meet me in the clearing in the grove. I’ll join you as soon as I can.”

She quickly finishes her task and fetches the necessary materials: a wooden board, two candles, four small stones, paper, a brush, inksticks, a small cup of water, and an inkstone. He’s already on his knees when she arrives. Amidst the sunlight and the trees, the avatar fits right in.

Azula sets up the materials in front of him. “Who is this for?”

“Kuzon.”

“Did he pass recently?”

“No. I met him over a hundred years ago. He died fighting in the Green Dragon Rebellion.”

Azula solemnly nods. Of course the first uprising in the Fire Nation against Sozin and his war had a friend of the avatar in their ranks. With everything in place, she kneels down at his side. “First, you must prepare the ink.”

He follows her instructions to a tee, grinding the inkstick down and carefully adding water until the ink is ready. The paper is held down onto the board by the stones at the corners, symbolizing the cairns of the ancient Fire Nation. On their left and right, he places the offerings: a jade lily and a small bowl of flaming fire flakes. Such a snack is an unusual choice for an offering on the island, but it seems appropriate. All she knows of Kuzon is that he was a friend of Aang’s, so it makes sense that he would honor him in a more unorthodox manner.

Next, Aang slowly writes out the characters of Kuzon’s name. His brush strokes are slow and meticulous, and remind her of her own calligraphy lessons as a student. From the quiet look on his face, it’s clear that he wants to do this perfectly. A mourning avatar is an overwhelming thing to see. She hopes that he’s chosen a good enough acolyte to help him.

Azula lights the candle closer to the board while Aang ignites the one closer to him. He copies the way she brings her hands together and bows her head. Azula focuses herself and begins the prayer. “Kuzon, son of the Fire Nation, child of Agni. Wherever your spirit may be, whether it remains within Agni’s radiance, or has already crossed back into our world for a new life, know that you are here with us. Your fire still brings light in dark times to those who love you.”

She gives him a moment of silent reflection before telling him, “Take the paper in your hand, and place it so that the top right and bottom right corners touch the fires.”

Aang pulls the paper free of the rocks, but hesitates to put it any closer to the candles. He eventually follows her instruction.

“Now raise your hand, and let it go.”

Again he hesitates. It isn’t until the paper is halfway consumed by the fire that Aang lets the wind take it. The rest of it burns into ashes and is taken by the breeze. They watch the pieces scatter in silence. After a moment, she braves the question, “Who was Kuzon?”

The tiniest of smiles breaks the avatar’s melancholy. “A boy I met while Monk Gyatso and I traveled through the Fire Nation. The two of us would get into so much trouble together.”

Despite the number of funerals Azula has participated in, all the people who come to the temple seeking an acolyte’s assistance in placing their offerings and prayers to the spirits of the dead, she still doesn’t really know what to say to someone in mourning. She tries her best to comfort him. “You must miss him very much.”

“I do,” he says, his voice low and soft. Slowly, Aang straightens his back and holds his head up higher to stare off into the horizon. “You’ve shared many of your teachings with me, Azula. May I share one of mine with you?”

“Go ahead.”

“A wise guru once taught me how to gain balance within myself. Part of his lessons was working through my grief. He told me that love is a form of energy. It swirls all around us. The love of those we have lost never leaves this world. Instead, it stays in our hearts, and is reborn in the form of new love. Kuzon may be gone, but every moment I spend with the friends I have now, he’s right back at my side.”

His words force Azula to remember those she has lost. She thinks of Lu Ten, the cousin she never properly mourned. She thinks of her grandfather, and how his funeral pyre served as the backdrop for her father’s coronation. She thinks of the grandmother she didn’t really know who her father once said she was very much alike. Lastly, she thinks of her mother. Azula wonders if she’s still alive, and asks herself if it matters or not. The few people she could claim embody reborn love are miles and miles away from her, and most of them might wish never to see her again. 

“That’s a comforting thought,” she murmurs.

After a respectful moment, Azula rises to leave. She still has much work to do today. She gives Aang a fire palm and starts to step away from him. His voice catches her before she can go. “Azula.”

She turns back and finds him rising to his feet. As soon as he’s standing upright, he bows at the waist and gives her a fire palm. “Thank you for this.”

Her voice catches in her throat for a moment. “You’re welcome, Avatar,” she mutters.

“What I’m about to tell you is to remain private between us. Do you understand?”

“Sure, Azula, but why are we on the roof?”

“Because it’s the only place where I know we can talk without someone looking at us. And keep your voice down.”

Aang nods in agreement. There’s no written rule that acolytes aren’t allowed on the temple roofs, but Azula can imagine they’d write one down just to penalize her for this rendezvous. It’s a beautiful night out, with the moonlight mixed perfectly with the torches and the first fireflies of the year buzzing throughout the temple. In Azula’s current headspace, she can’t appreciate any of it. She takes a deep breath through her nose and releases it through her mouth. The little exercise, first taught to her by Lo and Li, and reinterpreted by her doctors, calms her and gives her focus. She’ll need both for what she has to say to the avatar, whose eye contact she avoids for the sake of her confession.

“You asked me the other day who Agni is to me. You were the first person who wanted to know my thoughts on the matter. All my teachers ever wanted to check was that I knew what they thought, what fire sages and priests of the past thought. The truth is… I think I know Agni. I know the histories, the prayers, the rituals. I know the words of the chants, the steps of the dances, and how to always conduct myself like one of his acolytes. I know the beliefs of my order, and those of the other orders. I know what Agni means to my house and to my nation. But... I don’t know if I understand Agni.”

“What do you mean?”

“Before I started training as an initiate, Agni was just… a thing in my life. I was never religious as a child. When the fire sages conducted ceremonies at the palace, I had to attend so that the family could maintain the traditions, so that we could be seen as devout. My mother used to try to teach me old histories and how to make offerings, though her own beliefs differed from what was typical in the royal family. Like most of her teachings, I rejected them in favor of what my father offered. I would play the part for the sake of appearances and pleasing him, but I didn’t care about religion. I certainly never saw my abilities as gifts from Agni. Even when the fire sages would say as such to my father, I just heard another way to pride myself over others.”

She pauses to release the tension built up by such memories before continuing. “When Shyu made his offer, I thought he was crazy. But after he laid out his argument and gave me time to think about it, I realized that maybe it was the best solution. Perhaps the faith I had ignored for so long could give me the answers I wanted. Maybe becoming a fire sage would be the best destiny I could hope for. It’s why I’ve always gritted my teeth in the face of hardship.”

“What do you mean by hardship?”

Azula bites her lip for a moment, but releases it just as quickly. She’s come this far already. What harm would it do to let the avatar know more? She still keeps her eyes fixed on anything but him as she speaks. “Most initiates become acolytes after three or four years of training. I wasn’t accepted into the position until I completed nine years.”

Aang puts into words what she has thought for years. “You think your elders have been holding you back?”

Her hands grip her knees tightly until she forces them to relax. Even small acts of self-harm cannot be allowed, as her doctors told her. “I know I’m not the friendliest person in the world, and I know that others have good reason not to trust me, but I’ve been good. I watch what I say and how I treat others. I carefully plot out what I’m going to do each day in my head before doing it. I’ve even kept up the self-care routines that my doctors showed me. And yet, even twelve years after the end of the war, I still feel that there’s all this inner bullshit that’s screwing me up.”

Azula hangs her head. “Ever since I joined the clergy, part of me has worried that the others are right to suspect me, to think that I’ll suddenly revert back to the person I used to be. I fear that the sages and priests are right to make me work twice as hard to receive half as much as the others. Hell, you proved that yourself.”

“How?” he asks in confusion.

“You asked me to describe my faith in my own words, and I struggled to say more than a few sentences. If I don’t even fully believe in what I say, how can I think of my faith as anything other than weak?”

He tries to console her, as she has come to expect from him by this point. “I’m sorry that you feel this way, Azula. For what it’s worth, I don’t think that doubt is a sign of weakness. If anything, I think doubt can make faith stronger.”

For all the turmoil she still has, it does give her a small measure of comfort that at least one other person knows her true feelings and sympathizes with her. While his kindness is appreciated, his sentiment on the relation between faith and doubt rings strangely in her ears. She finally looks at him and asks, “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“What do Air Nomads believe?”

For all the wisdom he has, for all the experience he has with the new Air Nomads that he’s taken under his wing, his answer comes across less like a seasoned sage’s and more like a passionate student’s. “Freedom. My people believed that in detaching ourselves from worldly concerns, we can find peace and freedom. It’s how the monks before me achieved enlightenment. It also gave us our sense of humor. The problems that the world can throw at us seem pretty small and laughable when you can see them from a bird’s eye view.”

“Do you detach yourself?”

Aang shakes his head. “No. I’m the avatar. My sole duty is to the world. I can’t help it if I’m not attached to it. I must always put the safety of the world before my own needs.”

There’s a certainty in his words that’s unmistakable, but Azula hears something in his cadence, as if he’s repeating another’s words. The contradiction between the avatar and his people is surprising, and she asks the first question that comes to her. “Doesn’t that bother you? To feel like you can’t work towards the ultimate end goal of your people’s beliefs.”

He gives her a slow, solemn nod. “Sometimes. Whenever I think about the new Air Nomads, I wonder if I’m teaching them the right way. I know I’m doing the best I can, but I keep asking myself how can I expect them to do and to accomplish what I can’t.”

“Have you come up with an answer to this question?”

He shrugs half-heartedly. “No, but isn’t that the point of religion? That you continue asking questions so that you can keep learning?”

She has to shake her head. “There’s no certainty in questions. Only in answers.”

“But how do you arrive at the answer without asking the question first?”

Azula tries to think of a response, but her mind offers none but quotes from long dead sages about keeping one’s mind open to new wisdom. Aang offers more of it in spades. “The way I see it, religion is more than what you know. It’s also something you feel. It’s something that you do, both the little things and the big things. Religion is the people around you. That was one of the unexpected treasures of finding new people who wanted to become Air Nomads. Teaching them my people’s culture has made me feel closer to it than I have in years.”

“Then it’s no wonder why I’m failing. Even after all this time, I still can’t trust my own feelings, and the people I’m with fear and mistrust me.”

She expects him to praise her progress again, as if her meager advancements are enough to fill the void she feels. Instead, he places his hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry that you’ve been treated this way, Azula. It must be a terrible thing to go through.”

Azula closes her eyes, consciously trying to steady her breathing. Between his hand on her wrist the other day and now this, the avatar has been her sole source of physical comfort in over a decade. “Thank you, Avatar.”

“For what it’s worth,” he adds, “I know that Zuko and Shyu don’t feel that way about you.”

“They’re not here, Avatar. And they weren’t with me in Shu Jing either.”

“I’m here, Azula. I’m not afraid of you.”

His kindness is too good for Azula to believe. “Do you trust me?” she asks with an uneasy tone. “Can you trust the woman who did all those terrible things to you and your friends?”

The avatar does not hesitate in his response. “She isn’t here. I can trust the woman in front of me.”

She stares at him for a moment in silence. The gray of his eyes catches the moonlight in a dazzling manner. It almost makes Azula forget herself. When she speaks, her voice is low and wary. “Some might call that faith a risk, Avatar.”

A smile returns to his lips. She finds the sight of it comforting. “Isn’t that what religion is all about, Azula? Taking a leap of faith?”

That night, she dreams of the last time she saw him before his return.

“It seems my brother doesn’t trust a ship to escort me to Shu Jing.”

“I was in the area,” the avatar retorts. “Zuko asked me to take you to the temple.”

He offers a hand to help her into the saddle. She accepts it only because the bison might throw her off if she tries climbing up by herself. He places his free hand on her waist, and before she can object to it they’re in the air. They float down like feathers onto the saddle. She steps out of his grasp with an accusatory glance. “I see someone had a growth spurt.”

From his vantage point of a few inches, the avatar returns with half of a smirk as his hands fall back to his sides. “I see someone didn’t.”

Azula responds with a low growl, but says nothing. She prefers her memory of him, of the taciturn avatar who faced her in battle with the ferocity of a dragon. At least back then she was taller than him.

The flight is far too slow for her liking, and Azula is not afraid to voice her displeasure. “I thought this thing could fly faster.”

“Appa is flying at a comfortable speed. Shu Jing isn’t far. Besides, you’ll get to enjoy the view.”

“I’ve flown in air ships, Avatar. This is nothing new.”

“But with the wind in your face, and the knowledge that you’re in the care of one of the original airbenders? Nothing man-made could ever compare to seeing the world from a flying bison’s point of view.”

She meets his unusual jovialness with a restrained sardonicism. “And here I thought a monk would be humble.”

“Oh, I’m plenty humble, Azula. It’s my friends and family who I’m exceedingly proud of.”

Much of the trip is spent in silence. Despite his natural affability, the avatar does not go out of his way to engage with her. She doesn’t blame him, given their history, and so breaks the prolonged quiet herself. “You must be happy to see me shipped off to a temple.”

“I’m happy that you’re not threatening anyone anymore.”

“Is that it? Is that your only opinion?”

Even with his back to her and his attention on the sky ahead, Azula can discern enough from his controlled body language. “I trust Shyu’s judgment and the word of your doctors. If they say you’re ready for this kind of life, and if you’re serious about it, then I’ll gladly go along with it.”

“And what of your friends?”

“Does that matter?”

The question surprises her, so he clarifies. “If you’re doing this for your own good, for your well being and to make up for your past actions, does it really matter what the rest of Team Avatar thinks of this situation?”

She presses her finger harshly into her thumb before stopping herself. “No. I guess it doesn’t.”

Another silence between them follows. It isn’t until Shu Jing comes into view that the avatar breaks it himself this time. “I once thought Zuko didn’t deserve a chance to join Team Avatar. He proved me wrong. I’m not going to lie, I have similar doubts about this. But maybe you’ll prove me wrong too.”

His cautious faith weighs heavily on her as they begin their descent to the temple grounds. As soon as the bison’s feet hit stone, Azula leaps down from the saddle. The sight of the temple and its awaiting fire sage and priests makes the short path between her and the main gate seem like a mile. Before she takes her first step, she states, “Avatar.”

He says nothing, but he hasn’t flown away either. She can feel his eyes on the back of her head, waiting for what she has to say. She peers over her shoulder and tells him, “Thank you.”

The surprised Aang gives her a single bow of the head and even a little smile. “You’re welcome, Princess.”

The entirety of the temple’s residents gather in the main hall for Fire Sage Seong to lead them in one of their communal prayers before the roaring flames of the main pyre. Avatar Aang is invited to not only observe but to also participate in the ceremony. Following the last of the chanting, Sage Seong pulls a piece of the great fire into his hands. He passes a piece of it to Aang, and both increase their fires by adding some of their own bending.

They start with the fire priests first, passing pieces of the fire into their waiting hands, before moving onto the acolytes and the initiates after them. The few non-firebenders in the room hold candles made of red wax to receive their flames. Azula’s breathing is steady as he takes care of the line of fellow acolytes to her right, taking his time as he goes one by one. As soon as he steps up to her, her breath skips a beat, and she prays he didn’t notice what she herself cannot explain.

His expression is peaceful and welcoming. It’s the same look he’s given to everyone else, the face that the others will etch into their memories forever. He places her piece of the fire into her waiting hands as delicately as he would a sleeping infant.

The Lady of the Emerald Hearth is a statue of Lady Toyotama, the first woman from Hi-Iyashi to become a fire sage. Sculpted from bronze, the statue had turned green over time from contact with the ocean air, though some said the change in color was due to the Lady herself. The hearth at her feet is kept constantly lit by the residents of Hi-Iyashi Temple. Tonight, it is Azula’s turn to tend to the fire. It is a lonely responsibility, and she will not be relieved of her watch until the morning. It’s more than enough time to accomplish what she’s planning.

It’s strange for Azula to see wisps of her blue in the hearth’s fire. It’s a flame that’s been burning for centuries, and now it’s her role to keep it going. There’s a cold wind tonight that beats against her, but Azula is confident that she can maintain the hearth. She occasionally takes a respectful glance up at the old statue, whose fire casts it in an almost ominous light. In life, Lady Toyotama was a guardian for the young women of the southwestern isles. Her statue maintains her watch from the highest peak on Hi-Iyashi, and Azula hopes that the Lady will see her tonight. She waits until the fire steadies before stepping away to prepare for the ritual.

She begins by cleansing herself, as one must do before speaking to a spirit. She pours water onto her left hand, then her right, and rinses her mouth before drying herself off with a cloth. Azula then lights two sticks of incense along with seven candles, positioning them so that the wind doesn’t blow them out. Lastly, she pulls a small pouch from her robe and tosses its contents into the fire. To match the decor and the original story, those who come to pray before the Lady of the Emerald Hearth will toss copper powder into the flames, turning them green.

Azula bows twice at the waist to the Lady with her hands in a fire palm. She claps twice and bows again before kneeling down, her hands fixed in another fire palm. The prayer begins easily with a recitation of an old chant, one almost as old as Lady Toyotoma, followed by a humble introduction. Tonight is her first time praying to the Lady like this, after all. 

“Great Lady of the Emerald Fire, Fire Sage of Hi-Iyashi, I am Azula, formerly of Caldera City, now an acolyte of Agni. I come before you to ask for your guidance. I am not a native of this island, which you protected in life, but I have served the temple here for over a year now. I cannot adequately express my gratitude for the wisdom I have been blessed with during my time here, or for the many chances to serve Agni and his people that I have received.”

The wind suddenly howls and blows her hair furiously. Azula struggles to ignore it and presses onward into her prayer. “I ask for your counsel, my lady. I… I am committed to my duties as a fire acolyte, of course. One does not enter this life without a solemn resolution to uphold such… such great wisdom as that of the fire sages. Agni’s teachings have been a lifesaver, and I’m grateful for the chances to show his knowledge to others. It… it…”

Azula’s words, drilled into her by her many mentors, crack until her voice gives out entirely in a disappointed sigh. A painfully awkward moment of silence follows. When she resumes speaking, she can hear her tone starting to shake. “I have done everything perfectly. I wake up early, and I work late into the night. I study the texts, learn the dances and songs, and memorize the names, dates, and prayers. I even talk to the people who visit the temple and ask for my help, and anyone can tell you how much I suck at relating to people.”

She weakly laughs at her own joke. The statue’s face does not change, and Azula feels stung by her own awkwardness. She bows her head in submission again. She opens her mouth to speak, but the words don’t come at first. When they do, they’re far more desperate than she originally wanted them to be. “It’s been years. I have followed the path for ten years. Haven’t I earned some shred of certainty? Some kind of sign that I’m doing well? How… how long do I have to keep going like this? How much more do I have to endure to prove that I’m serious?”

Nothing changes. Azula had hoped, and continues to hope, that the spirit of Lady Toyotama will appear to her and give her the answers she is so desperately seeking. That is how it’s supposed to work. Through prayer and ritual, through speech, offerings, and firebending, a follower of Agni could earn the company of a spirit of one of his followers or even an ancestor. Communing with spirits is one of a fire sage’s greatest responsibilities to their people, a task performed by them since the beginning of recorded history. Azula knows she’s done more than enough to deserve an audience. So why won’t the Lady speak to her? Why hasn’t any spirit come to offer her counsel? She’s put in all this work, only to be rewarded with suspicions and reprimands from the sages and priests, and hushed whispers from the acolytes and initiates. There’s a voice screaming in her head to get it together, to act like a proper acolyte. As her lip starts to quiver, the voice of reason grows quiet.

“Agni…” she whispers before catching herself. Despite their many differences, the various orders in the Fire Nation agree that it is improper, even sacrilegious, to directly pray to Agni himself. A follower is expected to pray to the spirit of a venerated ancestor or a fire sage, so that they could beseech Agni on their behalf. The impurities of the physical world cling to all but the fire sages and the avatar. As such, only the enlightened dead possess the purity of spirit to entreat Agni for the one who offered up their prayers and gifts. It is a blasphemy that, as a tear rolls down her cheek, Azula chooses to risk the consequences of. “Agni, please tell me. What am I missing? How am I coming up short?”

Her only company is the wind, her meager offerings, and the fire that has turned back from green to orange. Her mind, always at war with her, conjures images of one answer as to why Agni and the spirits do not visit her. It destroys what little confidence she has left in her prayer, and leaves her voice at the level of a whimper. “My mind should only be on you, I know this. So why do I keep thinking about him? Why do I feel better around him than I have in so long? Why is he the only person in the world who makes me laugh?”

The statue and the fire go unchanged. No spirit comes to give her an answer. Agni remains silent. Like always, Azula is alone.

“Is everything alright, Azula?”

She does not look at him or stop tending to the temple’s rock garden. “Yes, Avatar. What makes you ask that?”

“I can’t help but feel like you’ve been avoiding me.”

She has been. Two days have passed since the night she spent up the mountain. She skipped the breakfasts and lunches they ate together and shot down his every request to spend time with her with short excuses, as she does now. “I’m a fire acolyte, Avatar. I have many duties that keep me busy.”

“You also have a duty to yourself,” he replies calmly.

She breathes in sharply through the nose, then slowly forces herself to relax and continue raking the gravel. “My first duties are to Agni and my order. Anything less is unbefitting of a temple maiden.”

The avatar does not move or speak. She decides to weather him out like a bad storm. Exasperation stains every moment of her rake. Despite her willfully icy shoulder, the avatar doesn’t move. He’s as speechless as she once wanted him to be, but his silent, stubborn presence only chips away at her resolve. The worst part is that she can clearly see the look on his face in her mind, all soft and overcome with concern for her, but tenaciously so. In this regard, the avatar is more than a storm. He’s like the very air around her: always present. She speaks with some measure of control in her tone. “Avatar, sometimes you just have to accept that a person will have bad days. Whether they want them to be or not.”

She stops raking when he steps forward and places a wrapped piece of cloth on a nearby rock. “Only if you accept that there are people willing to help you through such bad days,” he says before taking his leave.

She waits until he’s exited the garden before checking to see what he’s left behind: a large piece of mochi. Knowing Aang, he must have made it himself. Azula takes a bite and stashes the rest for later. She’ll thank the avatar and make it up to him tonight.

The next day, Azula knows she’s in trouble when Longnu surprises her from behind and orders her to follow.

Longnu is five years younger than her and has spent half as much time in the clergy, but she’s far outpaced Azula’s progression, having been chosen as the head of the temple’s acolytes. It’s a wonder how such a holy genius is stuck with her on a backwater island like Hi-Iyashi. Many of the messenger hawks who arrive at the temple’s rookery bear messages for her. Part of Azula wants to assume they’re from sycophants looking to get on the young prodigy’s good side before she eventually ascends to becoming a full fire sage, but she can recognize her young colleague’s abilities. The two of them are actually distant kin, having a shared great-great-great-great-grandfather. Blood, however, isn’t thick enough to tie them together. Longnu proved on day one that she had little patience for Azula and expected her to follow into line quickly. In turn, Azula has no love for the young relative who is higher up the chain than her, who possesses intelligence, perception, and an ability to speak and act with precision and ruthlessness which reminds Azula too much of herself as a child.

However, she always obeys the instructions that the head acolyte gives her, as any other fire acolyte or initiate would. Longnu leads her into the fire sage’s office, bows to him, and closes the door as she leaves. Azula remains still, bowed and with her hands in a fire palm, until he gives her leave to stand at ease.

Fire Sage Seong, head of Hi-Iyashi Temple, is as old as her uncle, though time has not treated him as well. His often dour expression is obscured by the deep wrinkles on his face, his thick beard and mustache, and the liver spots on his wide forehead. Long ago, he was assigned to Hi-Iyashi Temple after a private dispute with another fire sage who was a favorite of Fire Lord Azulon. When she first arrived as a new acolyte, he had drly remarked, “This place will humble you too soon enough.”

She’s unsure what to make of the look on his face. She hasn’t done anything recently to deserve a reprimand, but perhaps he found a reason on his own. It’s an occurrence that Azula has gotten used to. “Have a seat, young acolyte,” he says, gesturing towards the chair across his desk. It is a rare thing for an acolyte to be allowed to sit in a fire sage’s presence. It does little to curb her anxiety.

He waits until she’s sitting to speak again. “I’ve been told that you’ve been spending a lot of time with the avatar.”

“I have, sir,” she replies, keeping her eyes on the desk between them.

“Hi-Iyashi is blessed by the avatar’s presence. That he’s stayed here for so long is as unexpected as his arrival in the first place.”

Azula silently nods in agreement. 

“What…” There’s more to Seong’s hesitation than just the slowness of his age. Azula can hear the suspicion thinly leashed by tact. “What is he doing when he’s with you?”

The question startles her, but she keeps a straight face. “The avatar asks for me so that I can answer questions he has on spiritual matters. He’s also very curious as to the life of fire initiates and acolytes.”

“And he only asks for you?”

“He’s spoken to the others.”

“But he calls on you the most, does he not?”

Azula is unsure what to say, what he wants her to say. She doesn’t know how he’ll react to the truth. She herself doesn’t even know what to make of it. “I suppose he does, sir.”

Seong runs his fingers across his snow white mustache. “The old stories say the Air Nomads had… funny attitudes towards a number of subjects. Proprietary was one of them.”

The choice of words sends a shiver down Azula’s spine. She lifts her head slightly so that she can look at him. One of the things she has learned about the older members of the clergy is that they firmly believe that only the guilty have something to hide. Fire Sage Seong leans forward in his chair with a grave look on his face. “Is your honor intact, acolyte?”

“Yes, fire sage,” she answers without hesitation, bowing her head again for good measure.

“I was almost in trouble because of you.”

“The cool kid kind of trouble?” he asks, looking up at her from his laid back position on the sand.

She can’t help but laugh at him. Trouble would only begin to describe what would happen if someone notices that she isn’t asleep in the acolyte quarters at such a late hour. A young acolyte caught red-handed in a cave on the beach with only the moon and an unmarried man for company, who also happened to be the avatar, would be the most scandalous thing to ever happen in the history of the island. “How would you even know what that kind of trouble is?”

“I once spent a few days undercover as a student in the Fire Nation.”

He’s made a habit of telling her things that should, if logic mattered, be tall tales or exaggerations. She learned quickly not to rely on assumptions or conventional wisdom when it comes to him. “The avatar disguised as an ordinary student? Oh, you must have been a terror in the classroom.”

“Oh, I was a real rebel,” he brags before listing off his bad boy accomplishments. “I won every fight that the bullies tried to pick with me, I marched in band practice, I messed up the national oath, I contradicted the teacher’s lesson plan, and, to top it all off, I arranged a secret dance party for the whole school.”

She shakes her head and laughs. “Of course you did.”

Aang rotates to face her, placing his left elbow on the sand and his head in his hand. His heavier outer robe is gone. His shirt exposes his right arm, shoulder, and some of his chest. In an outfit like his, Azula can almost understand why some would have the wrong impression about them.  “Can I ask what happened?”

“Fire Sage Seong summoned me into his office and asked if my honor was intact.”

“I wasn’t aware that being around me was grounds to question you like that.”

It’s a joke, but she can hear the concern in his voice. “The monks who taught you clearly had widely different sensibilities than the fire sages. I can’t exactly call myself a temple maiden if I’m not a maiden, or if others don’t think I am.”

“How have the others been since I arrived?”

Azula knows that Aang talks with the others, and that he’s smart enough to put two and two together, even if they hold their tongues when talking about her to him. Still, like always, he wants to hear her thoughts. “Ever since I came here, people have been walking on eggshells around me. Some try to avoid me entirely. Others have to restrain themselves from glaring or saying something unbefitting a follower of Agni. Then you come back into my life, and suddenly people don’t think I’m quite so unapproachable or detestable. Shizu even worked up the courage to ask me if one of the rumors about me was true, if I had been the one who defeated you in Ba Sing Se.”

He reacts better than she hoped. The memory of the Battle of the Catacombs doesn’t break his smile. “What did you tell her?”

“I told the room full of initiates and my fellow acolytes that the avatar would have to be a madman to willingly seek out the company of someone who injured him like that.”

He clutches his chest as if an arrow had pierced it. “You wound me, Azula,” he retorts with a giggle.

She smiles, but the laughter doesn’t come out. The good mood sours as she reflects on how the world knows what she did, even if they see it as only a credible rumor. “Doesn’t it bother you? Being around me?”

“No.”

She knows he’s not lying, but she can’t believe it. “Do I really inspire no anger in you? No hate? Not even an ounce of trepidation?”

He looks away for a moment, and she can see he’s choosing his words carefully before releasing them. She can’t help but brace herself for a confession that he does, in fact, hate her for what she did. At least a hostile attitude would be more warranted than his constant affability. “During the war, before he joined Team Avatar, Zuko’s face was what I saw when I envisioned the Fire Nation. Even after seeing portraits of the fire lord, even knowing that it was my destiny to face him, Zuko was the enemy closest to me. There were moments where I thought that it was tragic that he and I were on opposite sides of the war. I didn’t hesitate to stop him when he was doing something wrong, and I didn’t hold back in our fights, but I used to wonder if… if I was somehow able to turn Zuko around, would I be able to turn the whole Fire Nation around? Even as a kid, I knew that restoring balance to the world would demand that I see to the Fire Nation’s troubles as well.”

“Is that what I am?” she asks, an uncomfortable sensation prickling at the back of her neck. “A trouble of the Fire Nation that needs tending to?”

He shakes his head. “No. The Fire Nation has many troubles these days, but you’re not one of them. If anything, I think you would be a big help in solving the issues that Zuko and I deal with.”

His answer surprises her. “What makes you say that?”

“I know what you’re like when you meet a challenge head-on. I never had an opponent like you before or since. Even though Zuko was my first, you really changed the nature of the war. It wasn’t just the fact that you were a better firebender than him. It… just by seeing you on the battlefield, I felt like I had to fight harder, move faster, think smarter. Zuko was someone I could dance around, misdirect, or even evade entirely, with a handful of exceptions when I had to meet him head-on. You refused to fall for any of my old tricks. When I fled, you flew after me as fast as an airbender. You were always thinking three moves ahead, so I felt like I had to think at least four steps ahead just to keep up with you. Hell, you almost got me because I thought I could mess around with you.

“I still remember that fight in the ghost town, when I almost tricked you into falling through a broken floor while I sat on my air scooter and waved. You caught your balance while Zuko charged right in and fell. After that, it didn’t take long for you to pin me underneath some rubble. You always demanded that I throw everything I had at you. Anything else felt… disrespectful.”

The choice of his last word echoes in Azula’s mind. Calmly, Aang summons a nearby rock to his hand and swirls it around in the air. His eyes stay on the stone as he keeps talking. “You were the first person I ever used earthbending against. You were so good that, even though I was a master airbender, I felt like I needed something as strong as earth to endure you.”

He drops the stone, but his gaze stays on the sand. “Sokka even told me once that I seemed different when I fought you, like I was angrier than normal, that there was more force in my strikes. I lied and told him it was just the heat of the situation, that you had gotten in my head. He knew what that was like and dropped the subject.”

Aang takes a pause before looking back up at her and finishing. “I never hated you, Azula. Angry? Yes. Hateful? No. Even after what happened in Ba Sing Se. It does no good for a sailor at sea to be afraid of a storm, or to scream at it in anger. Rage and fear can lead him to make stupid decisions. He has to take what he knows and face the storm. But the sailor always has to remember that if he slips up, even once, it could cost him his life. Storms demand respect, and will inflict a devastating cost on those who underestimate them.”

Azula takes a slow breath to calm herself. Shreds of her long abandoned pride vibrate at hearing such an appraisal for her skill. Not only were they true, as she would see through any lie, but they come from an unblemished source.

Her father’s compliments always came as a reflection of his own ego, as if her skills were only possible because she was his daughter, his good child who followed in her father’s footsteps. Her successes were a welcome sight because, as he saw it, they served his ambitions. 

Lo and Li’s positive assessments always came with caveats. Even ones as small as a hair out of place.

There must have been some real admiration in Ty Lee’s praises that wasn’t affected by the fear that she inspired in her. Or, at least, Azula likes to think there was.

But Aang, who has no fear, no hate, no pity, and no agenda, sees her for what she is: a master who demands respect. Not once in the days they’ve spent together has she ever gotten the impression that he thinks that she’s going to slip up and turn back into the person that she used to be. It’s what separates him from almost every fire sage, priest, acolyte, and initiate.

She hides how touched she feels. “It seems I provoked some real firebender aggression in you.”

Something about her response must hit a particular note with him. When he speaks again, it is with a new, unusual tone in his voice. “I want to show you something.”

He holds his right hand out between them and ignites a flame. He keeps it small, so as not to give them away to any passersby. It’s a brilliant mixture of orange and yellow, perfectly controlled with a consistent burn. Its light, warmth, and coloring suits Aang perfectly in her eyes.

Then, Aang surprises her, as he is wont to do. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath in through the nose as the muscles in his arm start to tense. Before she can speak, the flame in his hand shrinks, narrows, and darkens in color, changing into a rich sapphire.

Her jaw drops, stealing the air out of her lungs.

“I can’t do it as well as you can,” he admits, opening his eyes to look upon his handiwork and her reaction. “I can see why blue fire is such a rare technique.”

“For starters, you’re trying too hard,” she lectures him, taking his arm in her hands. The subtle, toned strength of it astonishes her, but she pushes herself to move past the detail. “Try to relax.”

“Easier said than done.”

“The only thing easier done than said is silence. It’s easier for most people to stay quiet than to talk. Then again, you aren’t most people.”

He bursts out laughing. She giggles even as she shushes him. Aang settles, and Azula moves from his eased muscles to his little blue fire. She places her hands on the sides of it, moving her fingers carefully like a weaver with needle and thread. The mixture of her chi with his makes the fire brighten in color, turning it to a sky blue.

“Only a true prodigy can bend blue fire,” she says, mesmerized by what they’ve created.

“Fitting that it comes so naturally to you, Princess.”

Azula freezes. It’s the first time she’s heard her old title in ten years. With one word, the good feelings are gone. She pulls her hands away from their fire and rests them on her knees. For good measure, she straightens her back and tucks her chin to her chest. She knows he’s going to ask what’s wrong, so she speaks first. “I wish you wouldn’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Compliment me like that.” Part of her tells her that it’s disgraceful that she can’t look him in the eye, but protocol guides her. Acolytes, after all, should keep their heads bowed and their voices low when speaking to a superior, whether it be a fire sage, the fire lord, or an avatar. “It’s inappropriate.”

He tries to mend the sensitive matter with his flighty charm. “I didn’t mean anything bad by it, Princess-”

“I’m not a princess anymore!” she snaps. The sound startles him, but the fire in his hand remains. The echo from the cave lasts too long in her ears. “I am a servant of Agni. A student of his fire sages. I learned long ago to accept my new place in the world. Then you come along to threaten that progression. You come back into my life after more than a decade and act like we’re friends, as if I wasn’t your enemy.”

Azula turns her glare on him and sees that she has finally stamped out his smile, and that he’s desperate to apologize. “Azula, you’ve changed. I can see that. You’re not that person anymore-”

“What makes you think you know anything about me!?” she roars at him, but he doesn’t flinch. “You have no idea the amount of work I’ve had to put into everything I am now! The things I’ve had to unlearn, the techniques I had to memorize. You don’t understand any-”

“Azula, do you even want to be here anymore?”

His interruption takes her completely off guard. “What?”

“Do you want to keep being an acolyte here?”

Her eyes widen, and she can feel her jaw clench. In her rebuttal, Azula forces herself to grin at him angrily. “I think I was right to call you a demon, Avatar. Here you come, trying to put ideas in my head that this isn’t where I belong, to sabotage all the work I’ve done, to lead me off the path-”

“Answer my question.”

His gaze is firm, a silent declaration that he’s going to hold his ground. No amount of yelling will make him relent. They stare at each other for a prolonged silence. Azula blinks first and lowers her eyes to the sand beneath them. “I have to do this. I have to make up for what I did and restore my honor. This is for the good of the Fire Nation. It doesn’t matter how the others treat me, how I’m constantly watched for signs of failure or regression. Even if I’m stuck as an acolyte for the rest of my life, it’s better than what I used to be. After all the pain and misery I caused, this is better than what I deserve.”

She thinks he’s going to take the hint and rescind his hand and flame. Instead, he refuses to empty the space between them and keeps both in place. “The monks taught me that I shouldn’t focus on what I believe I deserve out of life. Some people fixate on what they feel they deserve instead of working towards something healthy or being content with the good things they already have. Their lack of inner peace with the world around them breeds envy and resentment, and they create their own suffering. Others are so beaten down that they accept their lot in life as their just reward, even if there’s a better path waiting for them.”

A breath of derision escapes her nostrils. “Are you contradicting the offer Great Fire Sage Shyu made?”

“I think Shyu made you a great offer, and I think that your time with the fire sages has been overall positive, Azula. Nothing yields wisdom quite like experience. That’s why wisdom is a journey, and not a destination. But if on the journey you keep thinking to yourself, ‘I should be further along than where I am now,’ you’ll lose appreciation for the distance you’ve already traveled. If you define the world in black and white, you’ll have no idea what to do when the world throws gray, red, blue, or green at you. As I said, a purpose can be fulfilled in a multitude of ways.”

She looks to the nearby entrance of the cave, her anger deflating into despair. “Where else in this world can I be if not in a temple of Agni?”

“Wherever you feel like you can fulfill your destiny.”

She sighs and finally looks him in the eye again. “What exactly are you trying to say, Avatar?”

“You keep talking about what you think you deserve, what you feel like you’ve earned. Maybe life isn’t a matter of earning, or at least not basing our worth on what we think we’ve earned. An avatar should know when to give someone what they deserve, but also know when to give them something that they need.”

“And what is it that I need?”

The sound of the waves crashing into the nearby rocks seems louder than before. The wind is colder against her skin, but she refuses to let herself shiver in front of him. In the dark cave, the little blue flame that illuminates them both now seems too bright.

“You tell me, Azula.”

The next day, she goes about her duties as normal. She works until noon before he does something to interrupt her. Once again, a crowd has formed, even larger than the one last week. In the wide eastern courtyard, Aang shows off his firebending for the amazement of the crowd. Even the fire priests and Sage Seong have come out to watch him. It’s a form that she doesn’t recognize. The steps and arm movements are wide, with sweeping motions that lack firebending’s typical ferocious strikes. Despite the anger and uncertainty that lingers from last night, Azula can still admit to herself that she enjoys watching him firebend.

He finishes with one brilliant, dynamic move that sends a massive fireball skywards. Its light and heat are so great that they briefly outshine the sun. Everyone but her erupts into applause. His next question silences them. “Would anyone care to join me for a friendly sparring match?”

Despite their admiration for him, no one has the confidence to accept the avatar’s friendly challenge. Naraza speaks up with her usual instigative tone. “How about Azula? She is the best firebender here, after all.”

Aang sends his excitement her way. “What do you say, Azula?” 

All eyes are on her, but she directs her unimpressed gaze only at him “You’re not worried I might burn you, Avatar?”

His smile turns to a goading smirk. “Only as much as you’re worried that I might burn you, Azula.”

She takes only a moment to consider the proposal. “Shizu, hold this,” she says, passing the initiate the box she was carrying.

Azula takes her place on the opposite end of the yard. She gives Fire Sage Seong a fire palm, then turns to face Aang. Their eyes meet. The smile on Aang’s face takes on a new meaning, asking her to do what he always did for her: to come at him with everything she had. Azula cracks a smile right back at him, and makes the first move of the match.

By the time they’re finished, they’re out of breath and completely satisfied.

An unexpected heavy rain comes in the afternoon, forcing Azula to hurry and shield the offerings that visitors under her supervision had left in the open areas. The water quickly seeps into her clothes. Her sandals sink into the mud, as do her knees when she gets down to move a ruined plate of seaweed cakes that a fishmonger left in the morning.

The rain suddenly stops falling on her. She looks up to see him standing over her, his hand held up to give them a shield from the rain. Azula chuckles, “Who needs an umbrella when I have the master of all four elements?”

He laughs right back. “Need a hand?”

She accepts his help this time, even though Longnu and her other superiors would lecture her on letting others help carry the weight of her duties to Agni. With his aid, she manages to save the exposed offerings from too much water damage. With the task done, they rush for a side entrance of the main temple building, taking shelter in a little alcove. “Where is everyone else?” asks Aang.

“Probably in their quarters or sheltering in the main hall.”

“Well, I don’t want to offend anyone by tracking water and mud any further in.” A gentle motion of his hands draws the excess water out of her damp clothes, though they still cling to her body tighter than usual. An additional swipe rids her knees and sandals of the mud. As soon she’s taken care of, he waterbends his own attire and tosses all the mud and water outside through a nearby window.

Azula fiddles with the loose ribbons in her hair as she says, “I’d have offered to dry you off to return the favor, but I doubt you want my fires that close to you.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure.”

There’s no thought that goes into what she does. Her body moves on its own. She steps forward and raises her head up, filling the short gap between them. As soon as the skin of her lips brushes against his, reason returns to her and she snaps her whole body back.

He’s staring at her, mouth agape, eyes wide, and cheeks turning red. It’s a subtle expression compared to the stupefied look on her own face. Azula turns her head from him as she scrambles to apologize. “I’m sorry! I wasn’t thinking just now. I’m so sorry-”

“Don’t be.”

Her whole body freezes. The touch of his finger on her chin is so gentle, but its impact is enormous. He turns her head so that she has to look up at him. The look in his eyes inflames her cheeks further, but she can’t turn her head to hide her shame. His smile is so soft that Azula fears that touching it again would somehow damage it. His finger moves from her chin and is joined by the rest of his hand until his fingertips are on her cheek bone, her blushing cheek in the palm of his hand.

She knows she shouldn’t. Even if she hasn’t taken any oaths yet, she knows such a transgression would be seen as a severe violation. Acolytes were not to fraternize with anyone, let alone the avatar of all people. The scandal of a princess turned temple maiden kissing the avatar would reverberate throughout the entire world. Azula is only an acolyte because Zuko and Shyu vouched for her. Acting in this way now would risk dishonor on them and on her. Fire Sage Seong could easily order her transferred to another temple, and perhaps even petition Shyu for her dismissal from the clergy altogether. What would happen to her then? She could not return to the palace, regardless of Zuko’s brotherly instincts. The Earth Kingdom knew her as the dagger that split open the walls of Ba Sing Se. She wouldn’t be Princess Azula or Acolyte Azula. She would be nobody.

Another kiss was a risk she knew she shouldn’t take, and yet...

The myriad of thoughts that denounce the idea and conjure images of all the negative outcomes that this decision could set into motion grow quieter and quieter as she continues to stare into his eyes. Were his eyes always like that, she asks herself. Since when could the color gray look so beautiful? His soft features have a definition that she didn’t see before, showing wisdom and strength as well as joy. When did his shoulders become so broad? How could hands that wielded such power have such a soft touch?

They’re still alone, Azula realizes, and she decides to let the impulse carry her. Besides, since when does a firebender hesitate to take what she wants?

She closes the gap she shouldn’t have let form in the first place. His lips are ready for hers this time. She’s ready for him this time.

“Sir, the avatar is requesting a private meeting with you.”

Seong nearly springs out of his seat with an energy uncommon for his age. “Let him in!” he orders the initiate and quickly tidies up his desk. The avatar strolls in and cordially greets him. Seong can’t help but think of his old rivals, long dead, and regrets that they didn’t live long enough to see him receiving such respect from the avatar. 

Avatar Aang accepts the seat he offers him and quickly gets to the matter at hand. “As the fire sage of Hi-Iyashi, I thought it best that I tell you that I’ll be leaving tomorrow.”

Seong bows his head. “We are honored that you stayed with us for so long, Avatar. Hi-Iyashi’s doors are always open to you.”

“Thank you, Fire Sage. Before I leave, I was wondering if I could ask you for a favor.”

Of all the things that Seong was anticipating or hoping for the avatar to say, that was not one of them. “A favor?”

“Yes. I have an important matter at hand, and you’re the only person who can help me.”

His ego thoroughly tickled, Seong has to resist the urge to lean forward in his seat. “I’m honored, Avatar. Please, tell me how I can help.”

“It’s become clear to me that I need someone by my side who can counsel me on Fire Nation culture as I travel throughout the country. Fire Lord Zuko and Great Sage Shyu have so much on their plates that I couldn’t possibly ask for their help. It seems even an avatar can have trouble staying in touch with his friends.”

The fire sage folds his hands together. Given the news that has reached even an island like Hi-Iyashi, of dissension in both the military and even in the clergy, it’s no wonder why the avatar would need good counsel in regards to dealing with the more traditional minded of the Fire Nation. The only question to ask is, “And how can I be of help in this regard?”

“I’d like for my adviser to be Azula.”

Seong’s smile widens into a painfully awkward display of his shock. “Is there another Azula here that I don’t know about?”

“Nope,” the avatar shakes his head, his smile still on his face. “There is only one Azula.”

The fire sage can think of no better question to ask than, “Why?”

“She’s intelligent, dedicated, and fiercely loyal to those she cares about. Her opinions are so precise in how thought out they are, and so blunt in the honesty with which she shares them.”

Racked by confusion, Seong admits, “Yes, the former princess has been studious, even in matters that she wasn’t expected to learn. She knows not just our order’s beliefs and practices, but also those of the other orders as well. If I remember correctly, the sage of Shu Jing did mention how much of a passion she has for history and modern culture.”

“Azula has taught me much about the Fire Nation. In the twelve years since the end of the war, I’ve spent so much of my time in the Earth Kingdom, Water Tribe, and among my new Air Nomads. I need someone like Azula at my side as I continue to travel throughout the Fire Nation.”

Seong slowly shakes his head. “It’s not that simple, Avatar. Acolytes cannot leave the temple they’ve been assigned to.”

The avatar is quick to contradict him. “They can if they have the written consent of their fire sage.”

He looks away from Aang for a second, stung by the reality of the technicality. It’s a maddening thought, but Seong feels that he has to try and dissuade the avatar himself. “There are others who can give you the knowledge you seek. Acolyte Longnu is the finest temple maiden we’ve ever had. At the rate she’s going, she’ll be elevated to fire priestess by the end of the year.”

“I’m sure there are, and yes, Acolyte Longnu is an exceptional temple maiden, but none of them are like Azula.”

Seong can’t help but run his fingers through his mustache, as if it will give him some insight as to the avatar’s insane request. “Why would you want her at your side?”

“A good leader needs good counsel. They need allies who they can trust, ones who have differing perspectives. Someone willing to say not what the leader wants to hear but what they need to hear. I think Azula is exactly the person I need.”

“I say this with respect, Avatar, ...but some may question the wisdom of this decision.”

“I’m sure they will.”

“They may even call you mad.”

Avatar Aang lets out a brief chuckle. “As a friend of mine once said, I can’t be afraid to think like a mad genius.”

Fire Sage Seong looks away from him for a moment in contemplation. During her time here, Seong has only spoken to Azula once or twice. Her arrival was more noteworthy in his eyes due to the sizable donation from the fire lord that came with her. Despite how little he cares for Azula, there is some esteem in knowing that his temple was the one trusted to handle her training as an acolyte. However, on such a small island, there is no way for him to enjoy such esteem. “In what way can I expect this favor to be repaid?”

Aang’s smile remains unchanged, but his gaze takes on a knowing quality. “Shyu is looking for replacements for his council of sages at the capital. Two of the older fire sages are retiring this year. A man of your experience and wisdom could find a comfortable place in Caldera City.”

Seong’s jaw drops. “You can get me a place at the great sage’s side?”

Aang nods. “I could have the letter written and sent with a messenger hawk today.”

Hungry to escape Hi-Iyashi and for the prestige of the capital, Seong grins. “I’ll have the papers ready by tomorrow.”

She has no possessions but her clothes and the ribbons in her hair to take, and Hi-Iyashi has nothing she wants to serve as a souvenir.

Aang is waiting with Appa and Momo in the courtyard, but she has to go through a sea of the other temple residents to get to them. By the size of it, it seems that everyone has come to see her leave. They part before her to let her pass, and Azula walks through them with her hands folded and her head held high.

She steps free of them, but as she reaches the midpoint between the crowd and Aang, she stops. Remembering her lessons in courtesy, Azula turns back to face the crowd and gives them a fire palm and bow at the waist. A few of the initiates slowly reciprocate the gesture. One by one, they’re joined by the others, until even Fire Sage Seong returns the fire palm.

Aang waits until they stop before giving them his own fire palm, sending the crowd into another wave of bowing and fire palming. With his farewell complete, he takes Azula by the hand and shoulder and lifts her with a gust onto Appa. From his seat in the saddle, Momo gives Azula a curious look, as if confused by her presence. She doesn’t blame him. The two sit side by side on Appa’s head, where Aang takes the reins in his hands and shouts, “Yip yip!” With a slap of his tail, Appa launches them into the air.

“Are you going to miss it?” Aang asks as soon as Appa puts a few miles between them and Hi-Iyashi.

She reflects on the answer only for a moment. “I think my time there has been educational. Even formative. But no. I won’t miss it at all.”

Aang nods his head. He releases one of the reins to reach into his bag, and pulls out the scroll from Seong, guaranteeing her freedom to travel at will. Azula takes it and holds it tightly to her chest. She’s so caught up in her new freedom that it takes her a moment to notice Aang’s open hand hovering at her side. She raises a single, devilish eyebrow at him. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Trying to hold your hand,” he freely admits.

She lifts her chin up in a feigned display of piety and gently smacks his wrist. “Keep your hands on the reins, Avatar. A gentleman should respect a temple maiden’s honor.”

“You’re not in a temple anymore, Maiden.”

She gives tit for tat in her retort. “You can take the maiden out of her temple, but you can’t take the temple out of the maiden.”

Aang bows his head and holds his hand up in surrender. “Of course, Acolyte.”

“You don’t have to call me that in private.”

The avatar’s full flirtatious abilities are on display as his expression turns downright amorous “If not Acolyte and if not Princess, how would you like to be addressed?”

With a wide smile on her face, she tells him, “Azula,” and steals a kiss on his cheek. He turns his head to let her steal the next one on his lips.