A/N: I have many excuses, but you don't want to hear those. Apologies.

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For many decades, the Southern Water Tribe had maintained a well-known antagonistic relationship with the Fire Nation force known as the Southern Raiders.

It went beyond the bounds of what passed as 'ordinary' warfare as far as the Fire Nation was concerned. Because while the raiders weren't precisely the best fighting force the Fire Nation had, they were the only force with the experience and tactics geared toward combating the Water Tribe specifically. The general navy rarely ever dealt with the Water Tribe, too busy going toe to toe with stalwart Earth Kingdom defenders to the east. And on the few occasions that they did, their heavier vessels were often confused and outmaneuvered by light corsairs.

Through it, the Raiders had spent such a long time combing the southern reaches and learning the terrain, that there were no other forces in the Fire Nation better suited to fighting the Tribe. Still, none of them could fully measure up to the sailing of a Southern fleet, even if they wouldn't admit it. But that didn't change the fact that they were still the best choice against the South.

In recent years however, a great change had swept over the navy's orders, one that disrupted their patrols and instincts.

First, Prince Ozai had them begin to pull back, and steadily transferred out the Raiders' staff to other fields, severely limiting their operations. There was more than a little grumbling over this decision. Prince Ozai wasn't usually known for pulling strings in the military, due to his lack of involvement with such, and it was generally agreed that his brother had more of a place to command them. 'Surely,' The soldiers thought to themselves, 'the Crown Prince's input would be more useful to us.'

It was a sentiment that died rapidly after Lord Iroh's untimely death.

For a time the fleet made do with patrol runs and observing their enemy. And now, word had arrived that the then Prince had now become Fire Lord, due to an unfortunate incident with Lord Azulon's health. Unlike his predecessor, Fire Lord Ozai had zero interest in the South, or the navy's anti-tribe maneuvers. In no time at all, orders from central command called for a full withdrawal, citing that the Raiders' ships and soldiers would be put to better use fighting in the war against the Earth Kingdom than wasting resources on a block of ice. On paper, it read like a perfectly plausible explanation. No one really had any reasonable way of protesting against it.

But the Raiders had been hunting Southerners for generations, and not all of them were so eager to stop.

And every so often, there were little rebellions, most of which inconsequential. But one in particular was not, with much farther reaching consequences.

One soldier and one scouting mission was all it took for the balance to shift.

Under orders to stay away from clashing with Southern Water Tribe forces, a single scout–frustrated with the direction his mission had taken–took a single light boat to make a reconnaissance run. But, unsatisfied as he was, the man took the boat too far, and wandered too deep into Water Tribe territory. Lucky enough to sight shore without being spotted by patrols, the man found himself witnessing a secret the Water Tribe had been determined to hide.

Out on the ice, not far from the nearest settlement, was a young girl pulling water through the air. There was a boy watching her sullenly, but the soldier only had eyes for the waterbender and her lost art, watching fixedly through the shaking glass of his handheld scope. There hadn't been a waterbender in the South for many years as far as they knew, and the sight alone sent a strange thrill crawling up his spine. It was impossible to ignore. And it was even more impossible for him not to bring back word to his ship immediately, eager to change things.

The man turned his boat around and sped back to the cruiser with all the speed possible.

"You must be mistaken," The captain insisted when the scout relayed what he saw, "there hasn't been a waterbender here since before I took this position. I should censure you, private, for disobeying orders and then having the gall to lie about it as an excuse."

But the lone soldier was insistent, and months of inaction and slow transfers had worn him down. He described the sight he saw with utmost clarity and detail, from the way the water had bobbed and undulated in her hands to the girl's obvious youth. "Wouldn't you want to be the one captain who managed to bring back the glory back to the Southern Raiders? Their purpose?" The man spoke, bringing to mind the old days when the black ships moved with meaning, and firebenders of caliber tested themselves in battle on frozen plains against their ideal prey.

"Should have sought your true calling as an orator," The captain told him, laughing despite the way his mind wavered. He was nearly swayed to the man's words. "The Fire Lord will never believe you. And no ship will risk their standing with the mainland to ally with us even if we did act on your suspicions."

"They will when we bring in a real waterbender and prove everyone wrong," The scout insisted. "And then we'll get back the mission and respect we deserve."

Eventually the captain folded, his hunger for battle overriding the sense of caution.

The lack of attacks, the slow withdraw, both had slowly softened the Water Tribe's perimeter watch. The loops of their patrol runs had gotten steadily wider over the past few years as the Fire Nation's interest in the south waned more and more in turn. It would constitute enough of an opening to mount one real strike before the fleet could close in around them.

And it would have to be a single ship that made the gambit. No reinforcements were going to disengage from their positions to defy orders. They had only had to prove there were waterbenders still extant in the Southern Tribe, and the withdrawal had to be rescinded.

When they attacked, it was at high noon, with the burning heat of the sun protecting them. Where the warriors of the south had once been more alert, this assault took them by surprise, and the fighting immediately became a defensive skirmish on the coast. The clashing of bone spears began to ring out alongside the crackle of thrown flame. The old sight of fallen soot came back, a distant memory that some of the younger tribe members didn't even remember.

Zuko and Azula were among their number, for the Fire Nation had withdrawn its interest in their home well before their birth. Although they knew, both from context and the people around them, that the Water Tribe was at war (even secretly) with the Fire Nation, growing up with a Fire Nation mother was enough to unbalance their perception of the war. Even the old General the Tribe had captured never made any trouble for them, to the point where his mild behavior started to grow on people in the village (even if the elders wouldn't admit it outright). For all that Zuko was committed to defending his home from invasion, and Azula eager to see combat to test her bending against, neither of them had seen an actual Raider attack.

But if they couldn't do without seeing one, Ursa was determined that they not be involved in one. Her hands gripped tight around the children's' wrists as she pulled them away from the fighting. Both were resisting her.

"This is what we were training for!" Azula told her, her feet sliding in the snow.

"Where's Dad?" Zuko asked, his head scanning the area, "He's going to need our help!"

Ursa grit her teeth and didn't reply, too busy tugging her children out of the line of fire. Somewhere the invasion party wouldn't see them, and as consequence, find out what kind of children they really were. She remembered the threat of waterbenders and how their very existence was meant to be kept a secret. And, as if that weren't enough to worry her by itself, there was the fact that her own face needed to go hidden. Ursa had no guarantee that the Raiders' memories were any worse than Iroh's, who had known who she was immediately.

Unfortunately, Ursa was already too late for that line of thinking.

It wasn't only her face that made Ursa stick out so clearly in the village, but the drastically different colors of the clothes she wore and strikingly fair complexion of the woman compared to the villagers around her was a dead giveaway that she shouldn't belong there. And it was because of that detail, that soldiers from the attacks caught sight of her and chased her down.

The hut that the three of them took shelter inside of was no shelter at all. The moment Ursa stopped moving to take a breather, the wall was blasted open, the concussive force of heat throwing the woman and her children apart. Zuko landed on the far side of the hut, having lost hold of his mother's hand just before the attack. Now a large pile of fallen snow stood between the young boy and his family, as well as the armored firebender that was entering through the newly made wall. Zuko's eyes widened, shocked by his appearance. Before he could even think to bring forth his water, Ursa interrupted his concentration with a shout, "Zuko, go–find your father!"

"But–" The boy protested, wanting to protect his family, even if it wasn't yet within his power.

"Hurry, now!" Ursa said, "I can handle this!"

He didn't want to run away; it wasn't normally in his nature. But Zuko knew his mother was Fire Nation, and she knew more about the people there than he did. So when he did as she begged, fleeing to search for Hakoda, Zuko did so because some part of him believed that his mom could talk these invaders down. That was possible, right?

Unfortunately, the boy was wrong.

Ursa was relieved when her son obeyed her demands and fled, but there was no confidence that she could solve this peacefully. The woman was holding Azula close to her chest, nerves buzzing in alarm. The girl had been in the worst position when the wall was broken, and was knocked out cold. Hopefully, she wasn't seriously injured. But, if she could distract the soldier long enough (maybe with her Fire Nation blood), Ursa might be able to hold out long enough for Hakoda to find her and deal with this.

"Hmm?" A voice echoed out from under the metallic faceplate, giving Ursa the once-over. "Well, well, now this is a surprise. I thought my eyes might be deceiving me… I didn't expect to see more than one interesting target to chase."

More than one. What was he talking about? "Explain yourself, soldier," Ursa's voice snapped, her natural noble authority peeking through the surface of the peace she'd gotten used to.

Even through the mask, Ursa could see the sneer in the man's eyes. "Don't speak to me like you've got any power here, woman," He nodded with certainty, "I can easily tell you're not one of the Water Tribe's captives. Decided to get down and dirty with the natives, huh?"

Ursa's teeth ground together, an awful habit she'd picked up from her husband when he was upset. How disgusting. This man's behavior was vile. She remembered the Fire Nation military having more honorable attitudes than this. Unless… Unless she wasn't dealing with the typical naval forces, but something more untoward. A force specifically known for their dogged pursuit of the Southern Water Tribe, who lived–not for their homeland–but to fight. "You...you're not…" She couldn't finish. A typical commander might be someone she could try to reason with, but not men like this. The Southern Raiders were not her friends.

"Started to catch on yet, miss?" The soldier growled, stepping forward, tight fists oozing hot steam. "Try not to piss me off. I'm not in the mood to roast one of my own. Instead, why don't you hand over the waterbender, and I might decide to ignore your presence here."

Wait, waterbender? Ursa stared in shock; how did he know about that?

The woman backed away instead of standing still, and the firebender lost his already shaky patience, stomping forward and seizing ahold of the fluffy collar on her coat.

"That's enough, woman! Now just–" He stopped, blankly staring. Now that they were so close, the invader recognized something on the lady's face that didn't stick out to him before. The shade of her amber eyes, the color of her hair, and the shape of her face all told a message. One he was finally seeing. "Wait, I've seen you before," Ursa jerked in his grip as he spoke, causing the soldier to tighten his fingers enough to bruise, "you're that noble woman who went missing so long ago. A waterbender and a noble? I'm definitely getting a promotion."

Ursa was thrashing, trying to shake him off to no avail. She dug in her feet as the man tried to yank her toward the exit, sliding through the snow.

Somewhere inside her, a panic was building. Something about the girl she had clutched to her chest. The little girl–her daughter–who bore Ursa's face. Ursa had never liked the mirror between them, of the echo of her homeland that shone from the girl's face, of the world she left behind. It brought up something flawed and bitter inside her. Something festering that stood in between the love Ursa should have shown and who should have received it.

But then, Azula didn't choose to be that way, did she?

And it was knowing that these soldiers were going to kill her for being a waterbender, another accident of birth that she couldn't control, only made the fact more obvious.

The fear and shock she was feeling before was building up into anger, leading her to strike back. "Let go of me," Ursa shouted, using one hand to claw at the man's arm. The action caused her to lose her grip on Azula, and the girl slid from her grip to land with a plop on the hide-lined hut floor.

"W-what…?" Azula's voice was strange and shaky as she started to wake.

Before the young girl was a sight she would never forget.

Ursa was fighting off an invading firebender with her own two hands, standing in between the enemy and her daughter. Her normally passive face was twisted into something that Azula didn't recognize. There was anger in those eyes she'd never seen before. But Ursa was not going to be able to overpower a Fire Nation soldier trained in the art of combat. "Get out of the way!" He snarled as the woman's struggling hands grabbed him by the faceplate, gauntleted hands curling into fists as if about to resort to fire. "I'm not leaving without the waterbender!"

Azula backed away, thinking to call forth her water. When the heat in the room suddenly blossomed, the girl thought that she was too late. She was mistaken.

"I won't let you take her!" Ursa's voice called out, more defiant than it had ever been. As she lashed out with her hand, fire followed with it. Flames undulated like a wave from the woman's palm, enveloping the man from head to toe. The burning poured into the joints and holes in his armor. Under the chest, in the crooks of his arms, and flowing into his face. The soldier screamed in pain, ineffectually trying to bend the fire out of and off of him. As his struggles weakened, the invader crumpled to the ground, cooking within his insulating shell. In another moment, the man was gone, skin popping faintly as the embers charred him black.

Ursa stood over the ruined body, shocked and wobbly. Seconds later, her body gave out and she fell to the floor as well. She'd passed out from exhaustion.

Azula hesitated, her wariness for firebenders momentarily warring with her memory of her mother's strange and incomprehensible actions. After a moment, she moved to the woman's side and sat down, unable to touch her but also not wanting to leave. Ursa being a firebender was one bombshell to drop, but that she would act like that…

Azula waited there, puzzling out what she'd seen, until Zuko and Hakoda finally found them.

The Fire Nation assault failed that day.

The Southern Raiders could not have predicted the woman thought lost long ago would stop up their plans this way. Nor could they predict the Dragon that rose in defense of the Water Tribe that day. The moment the Raiders turned their sights to the unarmed villagers, their ship was officially forfeit. By spear, bombs, and lightning, the Fire Nation battleship was broken and sunk beneath the waves, and what left of their attacking force hunted down and defeated. Those who handled the end of the battle and resulting clean-up could only ponder why the Fire Nation decided to attack them now, after so long of ignoring them.

But one family had no time to think about the implications of the attack. At least not yet.

Hakoda carried his wife in his arms and he brought her back to the Chief's abode, nervous energy clear on his face. As they walked, Zuko interrogated Azula as to what happened after he left, but his sister didn't answer him, still confused and off-balance. When the man tucked their mother into cot, Zuko instantly set himself next to her, hands tight and expression making it clear he wasn't going to be moved. "Azula, I need you to go find your grandmother and bring her here. Can you do that for me, dear?" Hakoda's voice was gentle; hesitant as though worried he was putting too much pressure on her after what happened. But Azula nodded and gratefully exited the room; it was true that she was shaken, just...not in the way her Dad thought she was.

It wasn't hard to track down Gran-Gran, but it was at least a few minutes for her to get her thoughts in order before going back to the house. Just as she expected, when the whole family was together, everyone wanted to know exactly what happened and–after a brief prodding–told them everything. The girl left out her own internal struggles though.

"A firebender…?" Hakoda stared at his wife in surprise. Though he clearly wasn't expecting it, the man was more bewildered than anything else. "All this time…?"

"Her body temperature has dropped significantly," Kanna murmured, "Ursa's bending must have taken a lot of energy out of her. She's going to need insulation or the chill will be too much for her to handle." It was true. Ursa's skin was much cooler than before. It was like all the fire she'd used to kill the soldier was supposed to be sitting inside her chest, and now that she'd pushed herself so far, there was nothing left inside to keep her warm. Kanna and Hakoda piled thick furs up around her to try to stave off the cold. And it had to be done quickly, as the sun was beginning to set for the day.

The woman woke only once before they went to sleep, confessing that she never knew she could firebend to extent she did that day, "I'm sorry Hakoda...the only thing my flame has ever lit were candles… But that's...not an excuse...I'm sorry I never told you…"

That night, the family all bedded down together in the same room, generating all the heat they could to keep Ursa intact. Azula couldn't sleep, and as the night fell she was left staring at her mother's pale face. "Why did you do that?" The young girl asked her quietly, her mind hung up on all the attention layered on her brother. She wasn't expecting to receive any kind of reply.

"Azula...I could have lost you…" Ursa whispered, her gummed-up eyes cracking open to look at her daughter. "I'm sorry." The young waterbender didn't respond, blank-faced. "I haven't...haven't been doing right...by you. My daughter…" Ursa raised a shaking hand from the furs, upsetting her intricate nest and jostling the boy tucked into her side, reaching for the girl.

That caused a reaction.

Azula bolted, throwing off the furs tangled around her body and ran outside, sitting in the snow. Why? Azula liked to tell herself that there were few things she couldn't figure out if she tried, but her mother–much as she wouldn't–probably fit into that category. She'd gotten used to the dynamic; Zuko was mother's favorite, and what Azula couldn't get from her, she could make do with her father filling the gaps. She didn't like it, but she was used to it. It made sense.

This change of heart was not expected, and threatened what Azula knew about her mother.

The crunch of footsteps on the snow alerted her that someone had followed her outside. Azula glanced up to find her brother there. From the look on his face, he'd overheard what happened inside and was mulling over what to say to her. Zuko did that more often now; her brother's temper was still bad, but he was trying harder not to rise to the bait. Their relationship could be stilted and awkward, but the siblings had fought a great deal less since the incident on the ice.

It was easier now, partly because Azula didn't call him stupid anymore. Some of the taunts and jabs remained, as did his unwanted nickname, but the fighting had lost its purpose. It didn't make her feel smart or rewarded to win an argument with Zuko and his patchwork of icy burns.

But even so, they still couldn't fully understand each other.

"Why can't you move on from it?" Zuko asked, dropping into the snow next to her.

Azula looked away. "What do you know, Zuzu?" She said, ignoring the cringe that she was sure would be on his face. "You've always been mother's favorite. You just don't get it."

"I'm just–" Zuko paused, lowering his voice from the near shout that he was building up to, "I'm just saying that...if our mom wants to make things right with you, don't you think it's worth it to at least try?" He was so unlike her. Azula had the feeling that if their places were reversed, Zuko would still be vying for their mother's favor. Even the knowledge that she was a firebender wasn't enough to dampen his stubbornness.

Even if, intellectually and emotionally, Azula knew that Ursa reaching out was something she she'd wanted, that didn't mean she was ready for the change. And Azula didn't want to talk about Mom anymore, "It's not that simple." Her voice was stoic, and somehow, he seemed to get that she wasn't interested in pursuing the subject. Instead, they sat in silence. Zuko fidgeted, clearly disappointed he wasn't able to get through to her, but as long as he didn't start bugging her, he could stay. But then, there was a much more worldly concern to the village that she couldn't forget, "That soldier–the one mother killed–he knew I was a waterbender."

"What?" Zuko whipped around, staring at her, "Does Dad already know about this?"

"I'm sure he does," She said, knowing her mother would tell him everything, "and I know that, after the attack today, he's going to leave soon." The siblings' father leaving home was a sore spot between them, going back to the day Zuko had nearly been lost. But it couldn't be avoided forever. "He's not going to stay here...after that." Zuko clenched his fists and glared down at his lap, hating what she was saying, but having no argument to the contrary.

Because she was right.

The day after the attack, they learned that the Chief of the Southern Water Tribe could no longer stand to remain home. Not when the Fire Nation had attacked them again. It was Hakoda's duty to lead his people and be active again. Even his wife's condition–bedridden with chills and devoid of the inner warmth that had no hurry to return–couldn't stop the inevitable. Ursa's condition was stable, held in check by the healers and Iroh's firebending therapy, but she wasn't getting better anytime soon. Yet, she insisted that her husband's departure was what was best.

Both Hakoda and Ursa refused to let the siblings come with.

In no time at all, the remaining vessels had gathered at the coastline, fit to bursting with cargo and crew. The cacophony of the approaching cast-off filled the air.

Azula hadn't wanted to watch (something she had no power over, no ability to prevent), but her brother insisted. So she looked away when their father hugged her brother as he cried, Zuko's tears soaking into his parka, soothing the boy's pain. And when he moved on to her, Azula froze as he kissed her on the forehead and told his daughter that he would always love her.

He loved her, but he was going far away.

Azula and Zuko watched from the shoreline as the dependable figure of normally in their life drifted away to an uncertain war, and not knowing when–or if–he was coming back.

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In a dark, metal room, waiting for his impending interrogation, was a man.

This man's name was not important, and his history was equally irrelevant. Or at least, no one in power cared for either of those things any longer except as a few measly lines to add to his eventual report. The moment he was sequestered in this prison, those details were quickly filed away as only secondary. Just another tally in the Fire Nation's record books.

What did matter was that he was a traitor, guilty of spreading heinous accusations against the royal family, and not turning tail to plead insanity to save himself. His punishment could run one of two ways: he could consent to a duel of honor–an Agni Kai–to be given the right to stand trial officially, or he could be swallowed up by whatever machinations the young Prince had in store for him. It was actually rather fitting then, that the man's crime was one that insulted the very Prince in question, and had no chance of being let go. The moment words spread of the man's actions, he was separated from the public by dutiful soldiers; treason was a very serious crime and had to be handled quickly and specially.

The prisoner was given no quarter; his wrists were caught by tight shackles that left bruises on his skin, and the lumpy cot was too poor to get a good night's sleep. And he was not even given the chance to acclimate to those quarters before the metal door was thrown open with a bang, allowing a set of guards to stride inside, accompanied by a shorter figure wearing a hood. Though it was early in the day, the Fire Nation had much to do before the hour was done, and there was no need to use up too much of it on one doomed man.

The guardsman on the left didn't even spare the prisoner a single glance as he unrolled a scroll, and began to read aloud from it, "Middle Class Lee Hae, you stand accused of spreading treasonous slander regarding the Prince of our Great Nation, creating unrest and besmirching the honor of the Royal Family. Do you understand the charges against you?"

"Nothing I said was a lie!" The man bit out, a harried, defensive look surfacing in his face.

The escorts sighed tiredly, as though they already knew where this proceeding was going and had no interest in hoping otherwise. Still, the lead man still recited the next part of his job, "We'll give you one more chance to avoid the worst. Do you recant, and admit your telling is false?"

Still boldness wasn't gone from him yet. The prisoner shook his head in denial, "I heard it from his own mouth. The kid–I mean, I overheard the Prince saying that he couldn't even produce a spark. He's a deceiver!"

The guardsman arched a brow imperiously, "And do you think the rest of the family couldn't find this information out on their own, and would have already acted on it if what you were saying were true?"

"I'm certain he could have hidden it, or have done it for him, like that wo–"

Another voice cut the man's voice off before he could continue, "Think very carefully before you speak, traitor. I hope you're prepared for a second sentence on that head if you're daring to make accusations about another member of the Family on top of what you've done already. And I would remember that any accusations against the Lady of the Family will incur the wrath of the Fire Lord." The hooded figure stepped forward, tossing back their shroud to a reveal a much younger face with glimmering amber eyes glaring down at the prisoner. "Now I've heard your thoughts for myself, there's no reason to delay judgement anymore.

The traitor's face gaped with a tint of panic, losing his bravado by the second. For all that he could dare to level slander on a nonbender Prince, anyone knew full-well that Princess Katara was a true firebender. Even at the age of twelve, her flame was already highly developed, enough to drive fear into the benders who incited her anger. And she was not afraid to use it.

"I've heard enough," The Princess announced, turning to the soldier on her right, "take him outside and we'll see if his bite is as bad as his bark."

The guards on escort wasted no time barging into the cell and pulling out the prisoner, taking no special care with his person. It would be fair to say that personal feelings might have helped influence their treatment of him. The nobility fostered a well-known and years old resentment of the Fire Lord's wife, but they were far too intimidated to speak a word of that where the Fire Lord could find out. His defensiveness of his wife's reputation was near-brutal.

But, to counteract the poor reception Kya received from the upper class, she was far more popular with the common-folk. And that in turn affected how they viewed the royal children, in spite of how little the people saw them. Most of the negative rumors about the pair (especially the Prince), were borne from the nobles and middle to upper class. Though...it was rare for one of them to be bold enough to make open accusations. Like the man they had detained now.

But as the man was hauled to his feet, dragged up the prison steps and into the entrance hall, there was already the other royal sibling there waiting for them.

Katara stepped back in surprise, "Sokka? What are you doing here?"

Her brother was conversing with the prison watch just inside the doors when they emerged, one of the royal guard standing at his side with a leather-lined case under his arm. The Prince was impossible to miss, even when compared to his sister. With the eye-catching bright red of the cloak draped around his shoulders, the polished gleam of his regalia, and his brilliant golden eyes. Even his hair was well-groomed into a topknot with a noticeable glossy shine. Between the two of them, Sokka was always the one who made sure to look his best; Katara suspected it had something to do with father, but her brother clammed up whenever she tried to pry.

It was a contrast to him in the workshop away from prying eyes, grease stains on his arms.

Upon seeing them, the Prince's face assumed a flat and annoyed expression, "I should be asking you that, Katara. Last I checked, I was the one to order this man's trial and arrest." He cast a glance at the loyal men at his sister's side, who hesitantly avoided his eyes.

"His crime is a dishonor of the highest order, Sokka." Katara crossed her arms, her behavior taking on a lecturing tone, "A duel of honor is the best way to showcase his weak character."

"The only way?" Sokka replied. "You're still not thinking outside the box. I already have a better option. There's no need for you to waste your energy with that."

It was at that moment that the prisoner in question jerked at his bonds and the soldiers holding him in place, spitting venom at the Prince, "Why don't you duel me yourself? I'll gladly challenge the Prince one on one, with no substitutes!" Sokka rolled his eyes in response, clearly not taking him seriously. With a sharp gesture of his hand, calling his aide up to his side, Sokka took the case from the older man into his hands. The prisoner immediately recognized it, "Wait that's...that's mine! Where did you get that?"

The Prince smiled and actually had the gall to laugh. "Where do you think? Someone who's accused of treason shouldn't be expecting much privacy. You're just one engineer out of many; don't expect to have special treatment. But since my dear sister is so impatient to see justice done, maybe we should have an impromptu trial right here," Sokka stepped over to the front desk and dropped the case on top, abruptly enough for the warden to step back in surprise, an anxious look on his face. Katara tried to catch his attention, frustrated with how he'd side-lined an Agni Kai and stolen her thunder, but her brother simply brushed her off. Ignoring protestations from the accused, the Prince produced a thin piece of shaped metal from a pouch at his side and fitted it into the lock on the case, bypassing the obstacle and popping the case open. The young Prince whistled, "Well, well, what do we have here?"

Carelessly upending the case onto the desk, a sheaf of papers scattered haphazardly across the area. Among them was a handful of papers blotched with red ink letters: The Fall of the Family. Loyalist papers. Ever since his father had taken the throne, a small and ineffectual group spread weak-hearted slander–in the wake of his uncle and grandfather's demise–that Fire Lord Ozai was an ill-omen for them all. Despite the heaviness of the statement, the Loyalists (or so they called themselves) lacked any real support for their doom and gloom claims, and being exposed as one made them little more than a pariah to be mocked. "Ah-ha, I was looking for this!" As if the papers weren't damning enough, Sokka pulled a set of distinctive journal pages and sketches from the pile, marked with his familiar shorthand scrawl.

Not only guilty of slander, insulting the Fire Lord, but also stealing from the Prince as well.

The weight of that dishonor was far too much to be graced with the chance to undergo an Agni Kai, and the man knew this, judging by the way his mouth flapped desperately like a fish above water. Permanent exile was the kindest fate this man could experience now.

Katara watched him flounder with a cold feeling, noting the very real panic break out on his face. And she realized that it was entirely possible, even probable, that their prisoner wasn't actually a real Loyalist at all.

But by no means did that mean that she actually pitied him.

Far from it. The venom and fury Katara spat in his cell was very real, and had fully intended on scarring him with her own fire in public eye for his crime against her brother. It was the direct way, the way of respect, and it was by her flame that justice would be done. And though she more than cared for Sokka–the highs and lows in his behavior notwithstanding–his fascination for dirty tactics and manipulation often grated on her nerves. This incident was no different; it reeked of Sokka's brand of behind-the-scenes machinations. The only question left was whether the criminal had only been framed as a Loyalist, or if the theft was just as ingenuine. Though in all honesty, it didn't matter either way. The end result would be the same.

Sourly, Katara crossed her arms and waited in impatient silence as the Prince directed the guards saying, "Get this traitor out of my sight, and out of the capitol." Exile then. A good enough punishment then, even if it was achieved in an unsatisfactory way.

But when the prisoner–newly fallen apart from Sokka's plan–was dragged off, he managed to shout one last insult before being taken away. "I know what you really are, Prince of Ash!"

Ash. Dead flame. It was a hateful nickname she'd heard once or twice before. Katara would have hurt the prisoner right then and there if the guards hadn't already followed their orders. Sokka's expression then was dull and unreadable, showing no response. Said Prince turned around to find his sister staring him down, he groaned and marched outside. She followed him quickly and the young boy bit out, "Oh, great, we're doing this again?"

"Really, Sokka? A frame job? What happened to the honorable path?"

"Don't talk to me about honor, Katara," He spat, the armored escort struggling to catch up to their fast pace. "Answer me this question then… I don't try to tell you how to firebend, so why do you think it's okay to tell me how to do my job? That man hated being an inferior designer to me so much that he was willing to expose the 'nonbender Prince' to the world. Now everyone will know that he's nothing but a joke to be dismissed and ignored. Not worth the effort of a duel."

That wasn't enough for her. "You should have let me burn him," Katara nearly hissed, and her brother froze in his tracks. "It's nothing more or less than an eye-for-an-eye. Justice. A public punishment for a public crime."

Sokka looked over his shoulder at her, gloved hands tight, "There are more effective, and useful, ways to break a man than fire."

.

.

.

Before Katara could even think of responding, there was a shout of recognition that effectively distracted them both. Lightly jogging over from the direction of the palace was a man that they realized was the family bodyguard, Fei. Keeping pace at his side were two much smaller figures. Two young girls. Kids known for their place as guests of the royal family.

As soon as they got closer, the girl wearing all bright reds and pink flung herself at the Prince in an excited hug, causing him to stumble back with a surprised grunt. Her friend only situated herself next to the Princess, a wry look on her face. Sokka caught his bearings, stepping back to let the girl back down on her feet, "Ty Lee?" She gave him a wide smile, cheeks faintly pink. He cast his gaze over to the black-haired girl, "Mai? What are you two doing here?"

Fei saluted instantly, the upward curve of his lip betraying his fondness, "I'm afraid that was my doing, my Prince. The young ladies insisted on being escorted to the two of you. I'm sure they just wanted to talk before the big event later today," The man explained, lifting his shoulders.

"It's alright, I'm sure they didn't leave you much of a choice," Katara told him, relaxing. The four kids and their detachment started heading back towards the palace, talking all the way.

It was so easy for the pair to defuse the tension building up between the siblings in that moment, even though it was clear neither of them were really aware of what was going on mere minutes before. Ty Lee placed her fists on her hips and pouted while the Prince avoided her eyes awkwardly, "Why didn't you tell us ahead of time that you were going to leave today?" She spun on her heel, ponytail swirling through the air, addressing her friend in a 'can you believe this' tone of voice, "I thought we agreed to throw a big party as a send-off. Tell him, Mai!"

"That is true," The quieter girl admitted, "You did say that." Her tone was so much more measured than Ty Lee's. An utter opposite. But there was still a faint smugness hidden in it.

"You really didn't tell them when you were going?" Katara's disbelieving voice piped in.

On the receiving end of two pushy stares and his sister's blank look, Sokka gave in, rubbing at his forehead. "You're right, you're both right, I should have said something. But...something came up and I was busy trying to deal with it before it became a bigger problem."

"You're always busy," Ty Lee whined leaning close to his side. "Show us something you made!"

Sokka sighed, defeated. "All right, might as well show you what I'm bringing with me."

The group of them returned to the palace, dismissing the guards to their stations as the Prince led the way down to his workshop. Fei excused himself as well, stating that now that he'd had the girls meet up with them, he had to return to Lady Kya. "Your mother is finishing up another meeting with the governor of the Taiyan region. Hopefully we can get him to fold our terms this time. She'll be back in time to catch up with your activities and see you off," The man smiled, leaving the group and heading out. Sokka hid his frown as he watched the man leave.

He hadn't told his mom how he was keeping people quiet, and had no intention of doing so. What mom didn't know wasn't going to hurt her. Anyone could see the Lady Kya was already dealing with enough from the nobility as it was. In truth, Father probably hadn't told her either.

With Sokka pausing in the corridor, Katara strode passed him into the workshop. Only to jump back in surprise as a shrill cry stopped her in her tracks. A large, crimson bird had flapped its wings in her face and shrieked in an alarm cry. The Princess cringed, sidestepping the wind buffeted at her and glared at the animal. Taking his cue, Sokka pushed his way in front of her, "Hawky, guests!" The red bird immediately calmed on command, alighting on the master's shoulder with an easy gesture that spoke of an easy familiarity, "I taught you well, didn't I?"

"Stupid bird," Katara mumbled, fixing her hair. Hawky had never got along with her. "You're using him as an alarm system for the workshop now?"

"Just for short trips, when I have to duck out for something sudden. Hawky doesn't like the dark very much," Sokka ended his sentence with an affectionate scratch to the hawk's soft neck. "Anyway, come take a look this." He led them over to his work table, where a sizable metal object had been placed, surrounded by dirty tools. The object was the length of Sokka's forearm and as thick around as a blacksmith's anvil, rectangular shape rounded off on the edges. Of note was the perfect circular hole visible on side. Without pause, Sokka hefted the object up and attached it to his hip with a harness and belt, resting roughly the way a saber would on a guard's scabbard. After a moment of thought, Sokka directed Hawky to a perch near the door, "Alright, now keep in mind this is a prototype…give me a bit of space."

The girls unhesitatingly gave him a wide berth. It was true that Sokka could make a lot of great things, but it also wasn't unheard of for them to blow up in his face.

The Prince lowered his left hand to his side, resting it in an indentation on the side of his creation, where a few important switches were resting.

As he depressed the first one, in less than a second a length of gray chain headed with a wicked-looking triangular hook rocketed out of the casing, smashing into the opposite wall with a crash. The speed and force of the blow left a visible crack on the masonry. With a click of the second switch, the chain was dragged rapidly back into its casing, hook compressing as it did so. The momentum caused Sokka to stumble back for a moment before he righted himself, flexing the fingers on his left hand, skin tingling. The kickback probably would have hurt worse if it weren't for the fact that he had some dead nerves in his hands.

"A grapple?" Mai asked, distracting him, "Did you pick that idea up from the tanks?"

Sokka huffed, "I wish I knew who made those, but yes. There's still balance issues I need to fix, so there's just this one, but haven't you ever thought about an everyman being able to get around like this?" He gestured widely, fishing for compliments with a grin.

Katara held up her hands and smiled, "You're smart, Sokka, but I prefer my feet on the ground."

"Have it your way. Doesn't change the fact that my way is the way of the future!"

The group had a lot to talk about. They spent the next hour there, with the Prince showcasing a number of tools and tricks he had packed onto his ship for the approaching voyage. Everything he suspected would useful if he got into a fight with the Earth Kingdom, or the Avatar. Sokka would be gone from the capitol for a long time; he hadn't excluded the possibility of being away for several years before his 'expedition' was complete. He had to cover his bases.

Soon enough though, the time wound away. It was almost dusk.

Sokka whistled, calling Hawky back to his shoulder, and they filed out of the workshop. The Prince took one last look at the room before shutting the door, expression dull. There was nothing about the space in particular that made it special, beyond the fact that when Sokka was working, there was no pressure to maintain his mask.

There was something about that feeling that was comforting.

And the next stop was dockside.

Sokka's ship was visible well before they reached the dock, a cluster of soldiers standing on salute around the wharf. It wasn't that the Prince's vessel was particularly large; in fact, it was a bit smaller than the average battleship, but sleeker and more streamlined in some places. But, if everything functioned the way it was designed, Sokka's ship was more deadly the norm. For all that he viewed his grapple as an accomplishment, the design of his ship was a crowning glory.

It was the harbinger of the Avatar's defeat.

Sokka blinked as movement on the wharf caught his eye. An escort was setting down an exquisite palanquin near the dockside, a beautiful transport meant only for the royal family. As he drew closer, a hand drew aside the curtain and out of the confines stepped Lady Kya, his mother. Years of trying to improve things for the people had left stress marks in the form of a faint streak of early grey that had appeared in her hair and the precursor to lines under her eyes. Yet she was still beautiful and beloved by the people, at least, those that mattered.

"Mom!" The royal siblings recognized her quickly, picking up the pace. The other girls backed off to give the family some space. They'd be waving the Prince off shortly anyway.

As soon as the woman caught sight of her children approaching them, her face broke into a full smile, "Oh thank goodness, I wasn't too late after all." Kya embraced Katara first in a gentle hug, before turning to Sokka, grasping his shoulders and looking over him. "You're getting taller every day," Kya laughed. "I asked Jee to be your captain for the voyage. Remember him?"

"Oh, isn't that the name of Fei's partner?" Katara spoke up quickly. Sokka nodded, arms crossed. He remembered the name, but he never met the man.

Well, he'd have plenty of time to get to know him after he set sail.

"Yes, I'm sure I caught him off-guard when I asked him to transfer to your ship, but I've heard lots of good things. And the man Fei chose would be trustworthy…" Their mom sighed, her expression concerned, "but...this is still so early… Are you sure you're ready for a trip like this?"

"Mom, I promise, I'm prepared for this," The boy assured her, far more patient and relaxed than he had when Katara tried this tactic on him. When his mother said it, her words sounded more genuine. Coming from Katara, Sokka felt like he was being treated like an invalid, made extra intolerable given that Sokka was older than her. Only his actual Mom was allowed to 'mother' him. "Hey, didn't you say once before that I would already be training to fight if I lived where you did?"

"I...I suppose I did, but not overseas," Kya looked thoughtful. Despite her obvious doubts, Kya had discussed this with him before, at length, and with Ozai. And she trusted his guards. Her deep blue eyes–strange and unusual in the Fire Nation–met his. It was piercing. As though Kya could see through him, and see the poisonous thoughts that infected her son, driving him to dark extremes. But she didn't know. Sokka made sure of that. "Sokka, I know you've already made your mind up, and your father gave his permissions. As long as you follow the route, and stay in touch, I'll be alright. It's just that...well...mothers like me, we can't help but worry."

Sokka felt a bitter sting in his throat. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Katara eyeing him with her disapproving stare. He looked away. "Of course Mom, I'll just stick to the route," Sokka lied.

Kya sighed, seeming relieved. "That's all I ask for. Be careful out there, my little warrior." She hugged him goodbye, holding on to his false promise for assurance.

It was time to cast off.

In moments, Sokka was stepping up the gangplank, guards flanking him at every step. Once on the deck, the young Prince looked out over the dock, seeing his sister, mother, and friends waving him goodbye. All but one ignorant to his true mission. Sokka showed them his strongest face–burning eyes projecting confidence and purpose–before turning away and going below deck. After that, when Hawky had taken his place in the aviary, and the Prince broke away to shut himself alone in his chambers, Sokka finally let his shell crumble to pieces.

His father didn't show up.

The Prince yanked off his gloves, and replaced them with his newer armguards. But he paused, staring at the ugly skin underneath as the last words Ozai said to him played over and over again in his mind.

'Going on an expedition, are you? I hope you're not planning on using this as an opportunity to slack off from your job… Going to use the bird to keep us up to date? ...Good.

'Remember, Prince Sokka, your orders of secrecy extend beyond our borders as well. Your projects have been useful to us so far.

'I'd hate to have to lose you.'

Come back with your alias intact, or don't come back at all.

Ozai hadn't even looked at him. Every day that passed, his father was drifting further and further away from him. All of his effort to bridge the gap falling apart. Sokka felt like he was metaphorically drifting out to an infinite sea, and Ozai was standing on an all too distant shoreline as he disappeared, watching inland.

That ended today. Prince's Sokka's hands tightened into fists, twinging uncomfortably.

Sokka wanted the old Ozai back. The one who taught him to paint, and looked at him like there was something like real strength in him. Not a child to be worried over, or a helpless invalid to be protected.

And he didn't want to be an object, made to churn out tools and weapons. He wanted his Dad.

Fancy toys and machines were not going to cut it if Sokka could change things. They weren't even close to the real prize. If Sokka had to offer up the Avatar to him, the Bridge Between Worlds, on a silver platter to win it all back...then that was what he was going to do.

And if he became a hero to his homeland in the process, well, that was just a bonus, wasn't it?

...