This War of Ours: Year Two

SUMMARY: Harsh realities of war slowly seep through the Academy's walls. Old allies disappear and new ones take their place. As Katara starts her second year in the school, she is faced with secrets that are ripe to be uncovered. [Zutara AU, inspired by Harry Potter. Book Two of This War of Ours series]

A/N: Chapter title credit goes to Emeli Sandé's song, "Read All About It, Part III."

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender or Harry Potter.

CHAPTER 5

heart as loud as lightning

There were flames everywhere, and she was running.

Running away or running towards, Azula didn't know. Her breath was in her ears and all she knew was that she needed to run.

There, a corridor on the right. She had to go there. Whatever that corridor held, it was her goal.

Suddenly, she was inside the Palace, near the gardens her mother frequented. In this time and place, her mother was still around to care for the plants. It wasn't overgrown and wild, and the rush of the fountain's waters was still tinkling merrily in her ears. She knew her mother was in the gardens, waiting for her, but she can't go to her right now, not yet, not when she was hiding from something fearsome that she couldn't name.

She skidded to a stop behind a large wooden pillar. She could hear people approaching, their steps echoing in the large hallway. She knew those steps. She'd been able to read those footfalls since she was a child.

One set was deliberate, precise, demanding to be heard and followed. She'd learned to brace herself against these steps, because once their owner saw her, she had to be commanding, lethal, and perfect.

The other set was as unsure and clumsy as the other was sharp and exact. It would shuffle one moment, and pick up pace the next. It didn't walk straight lines, as though its owner was uncertain where his feet would take him.

She'd learned to pity these steps, because his apprehension could be construed as weakness.

The footsteps passed and the scene changed— she stood before her great-grandfather's portrait, but his eyes were replaced by flames.

She feared him.

But it was just him and his eyes and her, and everything else was pitch black and suddenly she was falling in the darkness.

Azula woke up in cold sweat, eyes frantically anchoring on the fringes of the gray sunlight that filtered in through the open windows and onto her rumpled sheets.

Her dream left her with restlessness— she vaguely remembered her in the mix.

Mother.

Shaking herself mentally, she swung her legs from the bed and stood up. The moment her feet led her to the vanity in her room, she stopped.

A faint memory resurfaced in her mind, a distorted recollection of her mother brushing her hair like she used to when she was just a child, but whenever she tried to recall more details she found herself drawing a blank.

She glared at the mirror and rang the bell by her bed. A few moments later, two bowing servants entered her room.

"Run my bath," she commanded them, and the older servant ushered the younger one into her washroom before opening her large closet and laying out her usual tunic and light armor on the bed.

As more servants streamed in with towels and fragrant soaps, Azula forced herself to forget the feeling of dread that her dream had brought her. After all, that's just what it was— a dream. If she let her dreams affect her reality, she would never get out of bed. And that will not do.

Today was an important day— the council meeting was too significant to miss. The platoon sent to scour the Northern Air Temple had sent a herald to her father the day before, and they were expected to arrive today with valuable cargo.

Fully dressed and fitted with her armor, Azula made her way to the war chamber, where several of her father's ministers were already seated. She smiled graciously at them as they all stood and bowed at the waist upon the announcement of her arrival— Finance Minister Chen looked properly shaken as she turned her smirk on him. She walked with her head held high to the cushion at her father's right-hand side and waited for the ceremonial gong that proclaimed the Fire Lord's arrival.

Flames erupted along the raised dais as Fire Lord Ozai swept into the chamber. The council all stood, bowed, then kowtowed as was the custom, save for Azula, who simply knelt down on one knee until her father gave the signal to begin the meeting.

"Lieutenant Hsiang," Ozai called out, his entire form shadowed by the flames, "I believe you have something… valuable… to show us?"

Hsiang stumbled as he stood, clearing his throat nervously.

"Yes, m— My Lord," he said, tucking his helmet in the crook of his arm and addressing the council. "My scouts have found a certain group hiding in the Northern Air Temple. Those in nearby villages report that these people call themselves 'air walkers.' Naturally, I sent my best men to investigate."

He paused for what he seemed to think was dramatic effect, but he was met with unimpressed silence. Hsiang cleared his throat again and nodded at the two guards that flanked the war chamber's entrance.

The heavy double doors swung forward, and in marched six of Hsiang's men in a tight formation around a prisoner, their bulky armor obscuring the man.

Hsiang gave the order to present their captive to the Fire Lord, and the commandos fanned out to reveal a frail, bearded, middle-aged man who immediately buckled and fell to the floor.

"Y-Your Highness, My Lord, please, I beg of you—"

"Silence."

The Fire Lord's command quieted even the murmurs of the council, and only the prisoner's panicked breathing could be heard, echoing oddly in the cavernous chamber.

"Lieutenant Hsiang, when you sent word that you had precious cargo, I had anticipated something more," Ozai said silkily, although the curtain of flames burned brighter as he spoke. "I must say I'm quite disappointed."

"No! No, My Lord, please let me—" Hsiang strode forward quickly and kicked the prisoner's side. "Explain your presence in the Northern Air Temple, peasant!"

The man groaned and grasped at his sides before attempting to kowtow to the Fire Lord.

"Your Highness— a long time ago, my people became refugees after a terrible flood. My infant son, Teo, was badly hurt and lost his mother." His explanation came between labored gasps, muffled by his near prostrate position on the granite floor. "We needed somewhere to rebuild and I stumbled across the place. Couldn't believe it— everywhere, pictures of flying people— but it was empty. Nobody would call it home but us."

"Tell the Fire Lord about your inventions," Hsiang ordered pompously.

"Oh! Yes! At the Temple, I came across these fan-like contraptions— little, light flying machines!" The man straightened up and sat on his heels excitedly. "They gave me an idea. Build a new life for my son, in the air! Then everyone will be on equal ground! So to speak. We're just in the process of improving upon what's already here. And, after all, isn't that what nature does?"

"Nature is going back to the dingy little Earth Kingdom soil where you came from and not living off the land that the Great Fire Lord Sozin won for the Fire Nation," grumbled one of the older ministers.

"Oh, come now, Minister Rin," Azula called out with a roll of her eyes, "The Regime of Fire has kept peace in the Earth Kingdom since my great-grandfather Sozin vanquished Avatar Roku. I think we should be gracious enough to let these people live in the Northern Air Temple."

"But— Princess Azula—"

"For a price, of course," she finished, directing a sly grin at her father's silhouette. She felt her chest fill with pride as the silhouette nodded slowly and waved at her to continue. She addressed the mechanist with a magnanimous air. "Tell me, peasant— these contraptions of yours, were they the only ones you've made since you trespassed on Fire Nation territory?"

The man gulped and wrung his fingers, but he blathered on excitedly.

"No, no, Princess! I have dabbled in all sorts of things in the past years— many, many ways to take flight, you see— we do use balloons to transport food from the base of the mountain to the Temple's spires, larger balloons to transfer the sick from one tower to the next without infecting the others—"

"It seems you have quite a lot to offer, then," cut in Azula, drumming her nails boredly on the table. The man nodded vigorously as rivulets of sweat ran down his temples.

"Yes— anything, anything at all! Your Highness, Princess— I would be honored—"

"Of course, it would be in poor taste for us to not offer anything in return," Azula said smoothly, glancing down the table at the ministers, most of whom were assessing her in suspicion. She flashed them a cat-like smile before turning to the mechanist. "You said you have a son? How old is he?"

The mechanist's eyes grew wide in fear, his head swivelling between her and the Fire Lord.

"No! No! He's a cripple— I can't send him to the Academy— please, My Lord, I beg you—"

"Are you denying your son the right to have quality education?" said Azula in mock surprise. "And after we have so generously offered to let you live on land that our great ancestors have fought so hard for?"

"B-But— I— We—" He grappled with words for a moment, before throwing himself to the floor in a deep kowtow. "I humbly accept your graciousness, Your Highness."

Azula smirked in satisfaction.

"Good."

"I thought you said you were all packed," griped Sokka as he entered their hut. "What's that?"

"My gift for Yue," Katara explained, pulling back the hide wrapping to show her brother the two water skins inside. Sokka crossed his arms and frowned at her petulantly.

"Oh great, you got her something. Now I'm gonna look like a jerk for not getting her a wedding gift," he groused, sitting down on his pelts and rummaging through his packed bags. He stopped midway and shot Katara a furtive glance. "Unless— d'you think it's a good idea, me giving her something?"

"That's really up to you, Sokka." Katara didn't even bother to look at her brother, choosing instead to finish tying up the twine around her gift.

"I guess," Sokka muttered, hesitating for a moment before dislodging everything from his bag. Katara gasped at his sudden movement.

"Sokka, what are you doing?" She asked, chasing a wayward ball of socks that tumbled from the pile. "We're supposed to leave in, like, half an hour, and it takes you a whole day to pack properly!"

"Just gimme a sec! I know it's here somewhere..." Sokka insisted, burrowing into the bottom of his knapsack. He emerged, disheveled, holding aloft a piece of carved wood triumphantly. "Ha! I knew there's a reason I didn't throw it away!"

"What is it?" Katara asked, peering curiously at the misshapen thing, but Sokka was already rifling through her leftover hide and twine.

"It's this fish I carved for her back in the Academy," he explained, bundling up the wooden 'fish' and struggling to keep the hide closed with twine. "I ended up not giving it to her because that was the night she told me she was engaged, but— I dunno, it's just something to remember me by, y'know?"

"That's— kinda sweet, I guess," Katara said hesitantly, and Sokka beamed proudly at his haphazard wrapping job.

"So, are we gonna hand these to Pakku or what?" he asked excitedly, stuffing his things into his pack at random. Katara rolled her eyes and pointedly folded some of his clothes until he slowed down.

Once her brother was done properly packing, the two of them hefted their bags onto their shoulders and carried their gifts out of the hut.

Sokka went on ahead, asking a couple of Northern warriors where Sifu Pakku was, but Katara hung back and took one last look at their small home, knowing that three of those four pelts would not be warmed until who knows when, that the cookfire in the middle of their home would now only serve Gran-Gran, that there was a very real possibility that she won't be back here until she was out of the Academy for good.

It was quite the reversal of how she felt the year before, and oh, how she wished she was still the same naive girl who thought she was going to the Academy to simply learn how to bend.

Katara blinked back tears as she let the tent flap close.

"Sis, keep up!" Sokka shouted from a few paces away, waving at her while pointing beyond the crowd of Northerners. "These guys said Pakku's talking to Gran-Gran, for some reason."

Katara hurried to her brother's side, and together they crossed the village center to the longhouse, where both their grandmother and Pakku stood, seemingly in a heated discussion.

Sokka raised his eyebrows at the scene, then at Katara. Wordlessly, they scurried to the closest side of the longhouse that could hide them, crouching low and peering around the corner to listen in on the two elders' discussion.

"...see no reason why I wouldn't, Kanna," Pakku was saying with a miffed look on his face, "She has more potential than any student in my class."

Katara's jaw dropped. Were they talking about her?

"Oh, because it comes so easily for you to subvert your precious traditions," Gran-Gran replied dryly, her back to them. "Pakku, be straight with me. I cannot have you toying with my granddaughter's hopes simply because of our history."

Katara and Sokka shared curious looks before crouching closer to hear more.

Pakku huffed and folded his arms into his sleeves.

"I assure you, Kanna, the past had nothing to do with my decision," he said. "Yugoda pointed out your resemblance only after I have taken her on as my student."

There was a pause, in which Kanna simply stared at him while Pakku averted his gaze.

"You lie," she said. Pakku blinked at her in surprise, but she forged on. "She wears the necklace, Pakku. Surely even your old eyes would have recognized it."

Katara's hand immediately clutched the carved stone at her throat— what did her mother's necklace have to do with all of this?

"I did." Pakku swallowed audibly, shaking his head in defeat. "And even without it, I saw your spirit in her, Kanna. I cannot deny that it got me thinking about… us. About what could have been."

"What in the frozen hell is going on?" hissed Sokka, but Katara quickly shushed him as Pakku continued in a quieter tone.

"If you had stayed, we could have had a little girl, just like her," he murmured, and Sokka and Katara nearly fell out of their hiding place in shock. Pakku sighed. "But, no matter her potential, she wouldn't have been allowed to explore her prowess in the North. Just as you couldn't. I finally understood why you left, Kanna, and it was heartbreaking— in a wholly different way."

Their grandmother stood still for a moment, before bowing her head solemnly.

"Thank you, Pakku," she said, before straightening up. "For no longer seeing the world through the North's twisted morals. And for giving my little miracle a chance."

"Of course, Kanna," Pakku said, a brief smile flitting over his face, so incongruous with the sour expression he usually wore. "I still know not to cross you. Your son's men had told me all sorts of stories about you training them to handle a spear."

"Gran-Gran? With a spear?" Sokka whispered incredulously, but Katara covered his mouth with a mittened hand before he could talk more.

"Oh, those riffraffs knew what they were getting into," their grandmother chuckled. "Hakoda grew up knowing who the better fighter was between his parents."

"I have no doubt in your skill. I just wish I hadn't belittled it back when you were still in the North." Pakku said with a thin smile. "And as for your request to keep your granddaughter safe— I would try my best, but it seems that she has a knack for getting herself in trouble."

"She is my granddaughter," laughed Kanna, and Katara pouted in displeasure. "But do not worry so; her brother will keep her in check."

Sokka nudged her and shrugged in his 'I told you so' way, and she responded by shoving him back into a snow pile. Sokka launched himself at Katara with snowballs in his fists, making both of them tumble out of their hiding spot and right below Gran-Gran's and Pakku's stern faces.

"How many times have I told you two that it's rude to eavesdrop?" said Gran-Gran exasperatedly, and Sokka and Katara stood up and shook snow off of themselves abashedly.

"We didn't mean to interrupt!" Katara said, smiling sheepishly. "We just wanted to hand over our gifts for Yue before Sifu Pakku's ship left for the North Pole."

She continued to grin widely as she held out her damp parcel. Sokka nodded vigorously beside her, gesturing to his own package, the twine holding it together knocked askew. Pakku appraised the bundles disdainfully, yet he held out his hand for them all the same.

"I will make sure the princess receives your… gifts," he told them, tucking the parcels under his arm.

"So, uh—" began Sokka, scratching the back of his head, "What— what were you guys talking about? I'm only asking 'cause we weren't eavesdropping at all—"

Katara elbowed him hard on his side, making him gasp in pain. Gran-Gran simply watched their interaction with a flat expression.

"We were discussing how trouble always seems to follow you two, actually," she replied dryly before turning back to Pakku and bowing deeply. "I'm afraid this is where I must leave you, Pakku. Have a safe voyage."

She placed a firm hand on her grandchildren's shoulders, steering them away from the waterbending master.

"Alright, you two better head on to the docks before your father sends out a search party," Gran-Gran told them, but Sokka just made a disbelieving noise from the back of his throat.

"Oh, c'mon, Gran-Gran, you gotta tell us what was up with you and Pakku," he pleaded, ducking out of her grasp and making silly kissing sounds. "Do you love him?"

He swiftly got a smack on the upside of the head for his antics.

"Bonehead," muttered Katara with a roll of her eyes. "Gran-Gran, we're really sorry we eavesdropped on you and Sifu Pakku. But— we did hear some pretty— um, pretty weird things, I guess?"

Gran-Gran shook her head in defeat and tucked them both under her arms, ambling slowly in the direction of the docks.

"In the North," she began, "It is custom that young women go to the matchmaker at the age of fourteen. I wasn't exempted from the rule, of course, and because of my family's status— your great-grandparents were fairly recognized in the society— I was paired with a dignified young man."

"Pakku?" Sokka guessed, and Gran-Gran nodded.

"We were meant to wed on the full moon after my sixteenth birthday. He carved me a betrothal necklace the day we got engaged," she lightly touched the stone that hung from Katara's necklace, a far-off look in her eyes, "He promised me a long, happy life together, with many children in a warm home where I had little to want.

"But it was not enough for me."

Gran-Gran stopped in her tracks and shook her head.

"This was during the height of the rebellion against the Fire Nation, and while the rest of the world strove to fight the Regime of Fire, the North Pole was building thicker walls and isolating itself." She pursed her lips and exhaled forcefully, her breath coming out in a stream of fog. "Pakku shared the majority of our kin's idea of tucking ourselves into our small corner of the world instead of fighting for freedom. But I didn't. I snuck away on the eve of our wedding, boarded a ship to the Earth Kingdom to join the resistance, and never looked back."

"Gran-Gran…" Katara struggled to find words to— to do what? Comfort her grandmother? Express how much she admired her? Confront her for not telling them about her past? All of it seemed inane, and not enough.

Kanna looked sorrowfully at her and Sokka.

"It was only after I settled down with your grandfather and had a child of my own that I learned that some battles are not worth fighting," she told them. "This is what worries me about you two. As with your father, you both seem to have inherited my unfortunate habit of running towards danger instead of away from it. You, Katara, more than anyone."

Sokka snickered on Gran-Gran's other side and Katara narrowed her eyes at him and discreetly bent a snowball at the back of his head.

"You will be staying in the heart of the Fire Nation," their grandmother continued pointedly, walking them firmly through the crowded marketplace. "Nothing guarantees your safety there, except your trust in each other. Remember that."

"Of course, Gran-Gran," promised Katara, a lump forming in her throat. She stopped in her tracks and threw her arms around her grandmother's middle, and after a few moments, she felt Sokka follow suit.

"We'll take care of each other," vowed Sokka, his voice muffled by Gran-Gran's parka. "I won't let Katara do anything stupid, I swear."

"And I won't let anyone kill Sokka for being a hopeless idiot," added Katara.

Their grandmother laughed dryly at that and patted the tops of their heads heavily with mittened hands.

"Be nice to each other," she reminded them one last time, before nodding at the gaggle of Hakoda's men that had gathered around one of the Southern Water Tribe's ships. "It is time to go, my brave warrior, my little waterbender."

"We'll write you all the time," said Katara, grasping her grandmother's hand firmly. Sokka nodded in agreement beside her.

"Yeah, as much as the Fire Nation would allow us," he said, not quite as jokingly as he hoped.

"And I will pray to Tui and La for your safety," Gran-Gran replied, tracing half-moon figures on their foreheads solemnly.

"There you are," Hakoda's voice called out to them from the crowd. He smiled sadly at his mother before turning his attention to his children. "A hawk arrived for you two."

"A letter?" asked Katara, taking the proffered bamboo tube and examining it for a tell-tale seal. It didn't seem to show any indication where it came from, aside from the tag that addressed it to her and Sokka.

"Just in time, I'd say, otherwise you wouldn't have gotten it at all," their father said. "But you might have to write your reply when you get to the Academy. It's time to go."

He exchanged a brief look with Gran-Gran before his mother reached up and traced the same symbol on his forehead with a sigh.

"Tui and La guide you, my son," Kanna murmured, and Hakoda managed to crack a reassuring smile at her before leading his children to his ship.

All around them, sails were being unfurled and courses were being set. The Northmen's vessels looked ready and raring to go, while the men of the Southern Water Tribe were still littering the docks, saying their goodbyes to their families.

Sea salt sprayed Katara's face as she and her family made their way up the gangplank. Below them, Gran-Gran waved one last time before disappearing into the throng of well-wishers.

"Ready?" Dakkel called from his spot near the mainsail.

Hakoda shielded his eyes from the harsh reflection of the late afternoon sun on the frozen tundra.

"As ready as we'll ever be," he muttered, sparing his village— his people— one last glance before giving the command to set sail.

The bar was rowdy, smelled like rabaroo dung, and, from what Toph's feet could tell, nearly falling apart at the seams.

Toph liked it here.

The other patrons didn't even care that there's a tiny, twelve-year-old blind girl in their midst. They continued to holler at each other across the filthy room in such crass terms that would've made her mother faint. The barkeep still wouldn't let her taste some lager, though.

But that's okay. Toph wasn't here to drink (even though that would've been fun). She was here to find a sailor— and if her father's sayings about sailors and cursing were true, it was a safe bet that Toph was surrounded by them.

"Hey, you," she called to a particularly large man who didn't seem quite as inebriated as the other ones, "You know anyone who sails outta here?"

"Where ya goin', half pint?" he slurred back, the contents of his mug sloshing onto the table.

"Anywhere but here," shouted Toph over the din. The big guy guffawed loudly.

"What, ya runnin' away, ain't ya?"

"Yep," Toph replied bluntly. "So, know anyone or not, Big Guy?"

Big Guy belched heartily and snorted.

"Might know sum'one. Could introduce ya," he said, and Toph could sense him leering over her. "For a price."

"Fine," she relented, because for all her bluster and experience with huge dudes like this one, she couldn't help but feel a tad bit uncomfortable. She dug a coin from her pocket— she'd gotten rid of Xin Fu's box back in her tunnel— and slapped it on the table. "That enough for ya?"

Big Guy's heart rate sped up as he took the coin. Good. Any twelve-year-old hanging around sleazy bars with this kind of pocket money shouldn't be taken lightly.

The guy cleared his throat and stood unsteadily.

"C'mere," he told her, before earthbending a hole in the wall.

The smell of urine assaulted Toph's nose the minute she stepped outside. Trying to hold back a gag, she went after Big Guy's stumbling footsteps along the wall of the pub and into a small alley.

She paused for a minute, assessing her surroundings. This part of town was filled to the brim with shanties stacked on top of each other, following the gentle slope of the street. Heartbeats upon heartbeats upon heartbeats crammed each one, and Toph couldn't tell which shack Big Guy was leading her to.

Oh well. I could take them if he tries to screw me over.

Big Guy finally stopped and knocked loudly on a ramshackle sheet metal door. The noise set off a couple of yowling cat owls, making Toph flinch— the sound of their sharp claws scratching across the tin roofs set her teeth on edge.

The door in front of them finally screeched open. One set of footsteps— or, at least, one foot and some sort of foot replacement that Toph couldn't identify— trudged out of the shanty and the unwieldy metal door slammed shut behind him.

"Whaddya wan'?" The owner of the mismatched footsteps asked gruffly.

Seemed like his feet aren't the only mismatched parts of him. From what Toph could feel, the old man also had quite a few gold nuggets stuck up his gums.

"Got sum business for ya, Burado," replied Big Guy, motioning to Toph. "Kid wants ter run away."

"Kid better run back to 'er parents," Burado spat. "Whatcha thinkin', Muscle? Koh's balls, I ain't no nanny."

"She got the dough, Burado," Muscle whispered, thinking Toph wouldn't hear, "Paid me a gold piece just ta take her to ya."

"A gold piece, huh? Hrmph. I do have a shipment goin' to Harbor Town tomorrow," mused Burado, before finally addressing Toph. "Kid, it's fifteen gold pieces for yer ticket to freedom."

"Nah," Toph shrugged blithely. "Ten pieces."

"Fourteen."

"Twelve and I won't yank out those gold bits outta your skull," Toph pressed, and both adults let out barks of laughter.

"A'ight, but only 'cause I like yer spunk, kid," Burado relented, still chuckling. "We leave at dawn."

"Perfect."

And with that, Toph tunneled into the ground again— faintly, she heard Muscle and Burado laughing at her before the earth closed out all sound— and made her way towards the approximate direction of her parents' house to pack her stuff.

Heart racing in her chest, she carefully made her way to her usual sneaking out spot, timing her climb up the wall right after her father's guards finished circling the courtyard. She rushed up to the second floor on a stone platform and paused by her window, feeling around for any servants that might be lurking— then her hand met something unfamiliar.

They'd put metal bars on her windows.

Her breath hitched in her throat. No, no way. She couldn't climb in now. She couldn't sneak into any other place in the house— the risk of running into servants (or Koh forbid, her parents) was too high.

Belatedly, she felt a stab of anger towards her parents. They were obviously under the impression that she'd eventually return to them, and this was their response? Her father really wasn't kidding about locking her up twenty-four seven.

Toph mulled the bars in front of her. She'd always felt an affinity with metal, like she had with earth. But could she even bend it? She never got to try with the spoon she stole; if she tried now and ended up making a ruckus, she had no doubts her father would have even worse ideas to lock her up.

No, she had to try metalbending another time. Right now, she would have to risk going into the kitchen right below her room.

Her stomach rumbled at the thought of sneaking into the kitchen. Yeah, packing food would be a good idea, too.

She slid down the brick wall and slammed her feet into the ground. No one around; this was easier than she thought. She bent herself a small hole to crawl through and emerged on the other side undetected.

The kink in her plan surfaced when she realized she couldn't exactly steal food that she couldn't see. She knew there were wooden shelves somewhere filled with puffs and cakes, but Toph never really bothered to learn where things were— the servants just handed stuff to her.

Never mind. She could just buy food later.

Ignoring her rumbling stomach, she paused by the doorway and listened. Two guards to her left were chatting idly as they approached. Toph quickly ducked back into the kitchen as they passed her.

"...completely delusional," one of the guards was saying. "A blind kid as sheltered as that, she could go off with any stranger without even thinking about it. And with the Beifongs' money…"

"Yeah, we would've caught her getting out," agreed the other, "I mean, could you even imagine her fighting? She couldn't even lift a spoon on her own! They shouldn't believe everything the Fire Nation tells them."

"Oh, I know, but you know how these nobles are with the Fire Nation. Got their noses so far up their flaming asses..."

The conversation drifted away as the guards walked farther down the hall. Toph rolled her eyes and stuck her tongue out at them before hurrying upstairs and swiftly slipping inside her bedroom.

It was easier now to find things that she could pack. Her clothes hung where the servants usually went when they dressed her; her slippers were right below them, she knew, but she wouldn't be taking any of those; and her carved walking stick— a gift from a nobleman who wanted to strike up a wedding deal with her parents— laid near her bedpost.

Tucking her rougher tunics under her arm, she shucked the blanket from her bed and dumped her clothes onto it. Two knots later— at least, she hoped they were knots— and she was hanging her bag of clothes on the end of her walking stick, all ready to go.

Toph grinned to herself, her heart thumping with adrenaline.

Freedom was so close, she could smell it.

A/N: This took me so long to write. I'm too excited about the events in the next chapter that I wanted to just skip this lol.

Anyway, a side note on the name: "Burado" in Tagalog means "erased," which I think is a pretty cool name for a pirate-slash-bagman.

Tell me what you think of this chapter!