The river town had, for about three hours, been an exhausting parade of Raven refusing to discover what money means to normal people.
She'd stalked through markets and merchant lanes as "Lady Jade Beifong" with a stiff neck and a stiff smile, peeling off small pieces of her dad's twice-stolen loot like she was reluctantly picking more bits off a fancy cake and hoping it wouldn't go noticed, or at least couldn't be traced back her way. Before she could even haggle, poorer merchants blanched and surrendered to exquisite jewelry they'd have to sell their shop just to afford at a fair price, or she would withdraw with her nose upturned at the insultingly low offers they would make.
Eventually, they'd found a curio dealer with a ship moored at the docks. He'd been the first person all day who didn't look like he was about to faint at the sight of gemstones. He'd also been the only person willing to pay coin for something that would be impossible to sell locally, but the hundreds of gold coins the fancy matching jewelry sets would put him back, he had to admit, he simply did not have cash on hand for.
It was a clever substitute for good fortune when Katara awkwardly tip-toed around begging Raven to buy her a very highly priced ancient waterbending scroll. "Lady Beifong" was so fabulously wealthy, of course, that casually offering to take the scroll instead two-hundred of the gold coins she wanted for the set she was offering was a no-brainer for everyone involved, though Katara still couldn't quite believe it when she walked out of there, scroll in hand and paid for.
But as the sun slid lower and the town started to turn gold and then grey, Raven couldn't even enjoy Katara's soggy glee as she practiced some whip-like technique that wasn't altogether alien to her own.
Every time someone called her "Lady Jade," her stomach did a tight little flip. She'd managed to stop showing signs, but it was still there.
"Stupid ivory boar pin—PIECE of garbage—shoulda just, argh, why..."
It might as well have been a name tag, and unsurprisingly nobody in the ass-end-of-nowhere knew the real lady's face. She wanted out of those robes, out of that style, and to never hear the name Beifong again as long as she lived, so once trades were complete, she didn't waste a breath making for her cabin to escape it all. If the real Jade had to rot in a dungeon somewhere, the least she could do was rot in her room for bit too.
With Aang and Katara whipping each other silly, nobody was really paying any attention to Raven, and as soon as sh realized it, it felt like a stroke of luck. She'd heard soldiers talking. She knew Zuko wasn't far—even he wasn't bold enough to dock right at an enemy port, but he'd surely try something, and so suddenly she could to. Friendship, fun, and goblin closet hijinks could only distract her for so long. There was vengeance to be wrought, just over hill and ridge, scowling and marching around like it owned the place, surely.
"Spirits," she muttered, voice low and venomous, "so dumb..." and as she pulled on her most neutral and fit for combat greys and blacks, she stopped to flail her hands in mockery. "He has Arzayanagi, Raven!" And she rolled her eyes. "Yeah, I bet Arzaya's real keen on helping HIM."
She stretched her back, rolled a shoulder in the mirror, made sure nothing was stiff or snagging, but most of all she smirked at the thought that Arzaya had healed her, for whatever reason. She felt as fit as ever, and that piece-of-charcoal-walking Zuko was still black-and-blue from their previous fights. There couldn't be a better time to strike.
* * *
Zuko knew he couldn't bring his ship in. Not without getting into a messy bloodbath all over the harbor. So he waited. He watched the tiny figure in the sky do two more graceful but incomprehensibly stupid loops, like he wasn't even trying to hide or escape.
After whatever in the world happened at the Fire Temple, he wanted to just put it all aside, focus on his mission and dance around thoughts of Zhao and his men exploding into bits, but it was impossible with nothing to do. It was maddening. The Avatar was RIGHT THERE. But he forced himself to wait for night. Surely he could take the boy without much fuss in his sleep.
When the sky was as dim and ruddy orange-red as Zuko's cabin with the lanterns low, he took it as the sign to prepare. Just a short time after everyone had gone to sleep, to maximize fatigue and confusion in the enemy. There couldn't be a better time to strike.
He was halfway into his darkest wrappings when Iroh's voice came from his door, soft and dread-heavy, like he was trying to talk Zuko out of stepping into a nightmare. "Zuko," Iroh warned, hands folded behind his back, "if you are captured, if you are separated… we do not have enough men to take this town. We would not be able to retrieve you."
Zuko yanked a strap tight with his teeth and tied it off hard enough to hurt his own fingers.
"I know," he snapped, muffled for a second by cloth. He shoved it down and glared at his uncle. "I'm not an idiot."
Iroh lifted his brows in a way that suggested he had a list of evidence, alphabetized.
Zuko pressed on anyway, voice hard. "Not taking the town. Just the Avatar. Quietly." And he held up specialized needle darts that definitely contained nefarious substances. "Gift from Mai. If I cover his mouth and get him while he's asleep, nobody will know he's gone till we're on our way back to father."
He slid one sword into place, then the other, checking the weight like it was the only honest thing in the room. Iroh watched him with a sort of face reserved for realizing your nephew is kind of scary.
Zuko took it as Iroh being worried about him, pulling a glove tight and wrapping it in place, he sighed, "if it gets hot, you'll know. The men will be on stand-by to start fires, cause chaos, and make themselves look like the real threat while I make off with the Avatar."
Iroh paused. Then, as if it annoyed him a little, he nodded and admitted. "That is… a solid plan. Very risky going on your own, though."
"You think you can keep up?" Zuko smirked.
"Ah..." Iroh kindly smiled. "Perhaps not."
Zuko's mouth twitched like he was forcing himself not to say something mean, carefully settling on, "And I trust my men to watch my back, not stand by my side. None of them are cut out for, ah... quenchwork."
Iroh leaned in with a narrow gaze as Zuko slipped a tightly packed but steely strong silken rope into his belt, briefly dismayed as he quietly almost accused, "where did you even learn a word like that?"
"Mai."
"Riiiight..." Iroh sighed, that did track.
"Wish she was here, she could keep up—Raven might actually listen to her, too..."
"Speaking of..." Iroh's gaze lingered, giving his nephew the chance to protest. "I am so glad your injuries seem to have improved?" he added, a little too lightly. "Almost miraculous."
Zuko went still. The corner of his mouth tightened, and he took a deep breath before saying. "Why I'm not worried about her meddling again. She could barely stand last I saw her. A stiff shout should topple her at this point."
He was overly hurried right after, clumsily stuffing bandages or maybe a gag—in a pinch—in a pocket.
Iroh was relieved, at least, that Raven's suffering brought his nephew no joy at all. He couldn't just let it all go, though. "You were still recovering when you struck that balcony. Very hard."
"Felt like a sizzlecake still in the griddle," Zuko muttered, last word hard, buttered in the irrational shame of being vulnerable to severe bludgeonings. "That got stepped on by a komodo rhino."
Iroh sighed. "Yes. That. Your armor was, ah, not easy to remove. I am shocked you did not die, honestly... spirits be praised for watching out for you?"
Zuko hesitated, grinding his teeth as he pulled tight a hood, and finally took up his blue mask. Then, like it hurt to admit anything that made Crescent Island feel real again, he said, "I… don't think spirits protected me."
Iroh blinked.
Zuko scowled harder, as if that would make the admission less humiliating. "The gold. That stuff on the floor. It smelled like… like really good gravy." And harshly added, "Zhao was annoying! I missed lunch!"
Iroh made a sound that was half cough, half choke, half spiritual regret.
"Zuko," he hissed, palm to his forehead, "I believe I know what that was, to EAT it was beyond reckless."
"Reckless?" Zuko snapped. "I felt better. Almost immediately. I think it still kept healing me, even after I uh... I feel like I might have died? Not long... something put me back together."
Iroh stared at him as if trying to decide whether to scold him, pray for him, or physically shake sense back into his skull.
Zuko's voice dropped, tense. But it all just spilled out, like it was his last chance and he had to, "it also explains why that spearman stabbing her—was that really Arzaya? Like, Raven's... goddess? How is she real, aren't they all just crazy?—whatever, her wound closed instantly." And he flickered up at Iroh like he just caught up with what he'd said. "Wait, you think you know what it is?"
Iroh's eyes went distant for a moment, like he was seeing the temple again. The mask. The darkness. The dead men who came up the stairs. He didn't think Zuko really looked at them, saw how wrong they were, but he didn't want to put anything else on the boy, so he let that part go, at least.
"Dragon's blood," Iroh said quietly, "and not just any dragon."
"Dragon's blood heals you... is gravy made of dragon's blood? Wait, no, gravy doesn't heal you, that's stupid. Uncle—"
"Prince Zuko."
Zuko shut up. For once.
"If I remember the legends, what you tasted was the blood of Fire Lord Nagi, last dragon king of our nation in ancient times—of a line of great and terrible beasts who were more spirit than man or animal!" Iroh emphatically regaled, but took in a seething breath after. "Known for his blood that heals wounds, but..."
Zuko leaned in, eyebrows raised. "What? Come on. What's the catch? Like I get I shouldn't be able to even stand up after... that." And he darted his gaze over to his rather compacted armor still in pieces on the floor.
"But the slightest overdose is poison, and INSTANTLY lethal!" Iroh shook his head, jaw hanging in disbelief. "I believe, my nephew, that Arzaya did you a favor when she smashed you to bits on the balcony. If she hadn't... killed you." It hurt him immensely to even say, such that he had to stop.
Voice caught in Zuko's throat, but he gravely nodded, before whispering, "the blood would have." And he stood up, taking a deep breath. "Sheesh. Well, that's over with. Let's stop talking about it. Avatar. Go capture Avatar."
No wise words of caution would stop Zuko from reaching the deck outside, where the night wind bit at soldiers at attention... who saw the dark figure with swords and a blue mask and instantly leveled spears with a sharp, frightened bark. "A spy!"
Zuko's voice cut through them like fire through paper. "It's ME, you idiots!"
The spears wobbled, then lowered with awkward hesitation.
Zuko shoved past them, furious. "Do you think my uncle takes evening strolls with spies?" Turning back like he meant to really lay into them, but he say the least bit of disappointment on his uncles face, and he cooled ever so slightly, choosing to merely dismissively throw up his hands before letting it go.
"Good. Everyone's here." Zuko pointed at the ramp, jaw tight, but had to shoot a glare at a spearman loudly yawning. He sharped up when he met the prince's eyes, snapped shut with a click. Zuko began again. "Good. Everyone ashore. Stay on HIGH ALERT." He demanded, leaning in very deliberately towards the yawning one.
They hesitated only a fraction.
Iroh stepped forward. "You will obey your prince," he said, calm as a stone.
Zuko's glare did the rest.
One firebender cleared his throat cautiously, and like he didn't think anyone would want to, he asked, "sir… are we engaging with the Earth Kingdom forces? Are we meant to retrieve you if—"
"Don't get cut off," Zuko snapped. "Don't get trapped in town. If they rally and face you in force, retreat immediately. The only body I want out of this is the Avatar's, and alive, so just make noise and fire to distract them if I signal. I can handle myself."
That confidence, sharp and ugly, shut the man up. But Zuko scanned them, like he was daring anyone to question him again.
The same firebender swallowed, finger lifted a bit timidly, but honestly he was the only one willing to ask, "and… the lady of House Arza, sir? If she's there…"
Zuko let out a vicious, humorless laugh. "Just step around the dumbass, she could barely stand before," he said, and his voice had teeth. "She won't be a problem."
He stepped onto land like a shadow given weight. Silent and precise, followed by the raucous clatter of armored spearmen and firebenders, making due with mere candlelight in the at least not-quite-moonless night. By the time the men were assembled on the beach, Zuko was already invisible amongst the shadows, speedily hurrying through the brush and trees towards a ridge that largely led right to the town, the just on its far side to stay out of sight—just in case. He reminded himself again and again that he had to maintain absolute discipline, and not firebend unless it was the last possible option, for as soon as the town's night watch saw flames springing where they did not belong, they'd be on high alert and the mission would be a bust.
"ZUKO!" raged his betrothed. "HYAAH!"
Zuko's head snapped, eyes wide behind the mask, and a huge blast of flame erupted around him, lighting brush instantly. But he rolled hard, dirt and ash scraping his arms, but swords in hand as he hopped up with a bounce, ready to bend aside the powerful but predictable second blast, which glanced off to bathe the brush around them in lasting orange.
The ridge was bright as a bonfire. Smoke curled. Leaves hissed.
Stealth? Dead.
Plan? Dead.
Patience? VERY dead.
Raven? Doomed.
Zuko sprang up, furious, and screamed into the crackling brush where her gone mad face loomed, floating in and out of sight in the flickering. "RRR-AHHH!! How did you even KNOW it was ME?!"
Raven's silhouette shifted through firelight, already in a stance, circling and already grinning like she'd been eagerly waiting all day to ruin his. "I've been watching you since before you came ashore," she called back, smug and lethal.
Zuko's rage spiked so hard he almost choked on it. "You RUINED everything!" he shouted. "Now the whole town is going to be on alert!"
"That won't MATTER when you're DEAD!" Raven snapped back, and then she moved.
She jumped, kicked one leg up, then the other in rapid succession, sending sweeping waves of flame skimming along the ground. The fire raced toward Zuko, then burst up in hungry columns meant to catch him from below.
Zuko recognized the move. He didn't retreat.
He lunged forward instead, sprinting straight into the gap before the flames could rise beneath him. The heat chased his heels as a great inferno erupted where he stood, blasting the whole uneven and precarious arena at ridge's edge with an almost evening light.
Raven was not shocked. She met him close-range with steady flood. Her palm open, she leaned far into it. Her grey attire, not far off in style from his own, turned a steady dull yellow-orange as her shadow stretched thrice her height into flame-licked leaves.
Zuko answered with his own sharp thrust, trying to break her stream as he'd done before. But she was a quick study. As his flat hand jutted to disperse her flamethrower blast, she was already spinning away, straining her shorter legs to send her lunging as far around and behind him as she dared with loose gravel around. Whip in hand before her stream's last flicker faded, she desperately wrenched her body, throwing every mote of force into the lash. It was all in a split second, but adrenaline pumped, and her heart lurched. Please hit! She screamed to herself as she felt her balance go, and knew she had to roll or she'd faceplant.
The thin blade of searing light found his sword, glanced off, and caught the side of his mask, shattering it to smoke-trailing bits as he cried out. She grinned instantly with glee at his pain, preparing to lunge again, crouched low, but the bastard barely flinched as smoke caught on and rushed in streams around his nose and brow. He was the one lunging at her, head shaking off his smoldering and flame cut hood, she couldn't believe his speed with how exhausted he ought to be.
All she could do was meet him and pray, even Arzaya could help, she didn't mind. Their flames collided and bloated into a smoky, sooty burst that slapped both of them back and filled the air with stinging ash. But...
Raven coughed, blinking fast, eyes watering, and her vision spun
Zuko cricked his neck, snorted smoky flames and simply ate the pain for dinner as his swords found their sheathe and he barged up to her like she was a misbehaving child and she was in deep shit this time.
Somewhere down the ridge, Zuko's soldiers raced along the edge of the town, igniting anything in sight, and chasing anyone out late to make them scream for the guards, exactly as planned, not that anything was left of Zuko's to save. Either way, he sneered as he glared unblinking at the impossible girl, it would buy him plenty of time to put Raven down for good.
Raven had lost sight in the stinging smoke, she panicked, backing up and stumbling on that damned gravel. She threw wild flames, defensive bursts that ignited more brush and did nothing to stop him closing the last few feet.
She got lucky, a bit. She struck his face with a sharp crack, but the flames were lost somewhere over his shoulder. She turned his cheek aside, but she saw his eyes locked on her, utterly focused as bits of porcelain dust felt from his now full head of short black hair. Her heart skipped.
Raven gagged. Her throat ached. Zuko had slammed her back against a tree, bark sputtering a hundred candle flames, his forearm to her neck, pinning her hard enough that she couldn't get the breath to firebend properly. It felt like an iron collar, sizes too small.
Raven snarled and thrashed anyway, furious even while trapped. Her boots scuffed the gravel, she tried to claw at him, was batted away, and found her arm locked back painfully, making her strain and rasp out a cry as she writhed against him.
"Fine, then," he growled, looming over her as she gnashed, but she halted at his voice, staring back in brief silence. "Fine. The Avatar can wait. You wanted my attention. Well you GOT IT."
Her face twisted up she wrenched against his grip. She could barely move, she could barely glower at him as he pressed harder, and she gagged again, her fire sputtering, with only a wisp of smoke through her teeth. It seemed maybe, perhaps, for just a moment, she had gone loose, she'd stopped struggling.
Up close, soot on both of them, firelight pulsing on their faces, Zuko leaned in and spat the words like poison. "YOU ASKED FOR THIS, DUMBASS!" he roared. "IS IT EVERYTHING YOU WANTED?!" And he slammed his weight against her, leaving not even an inch for her to slip away as her chest ached, her lungs screamed for air, breathless from the fight as she already was, and he relented just a bit with his choke-hold.
Raven's eyes were wild. Her grin was feral. She could be startled, for sure, but she didn't look scared at all, face to face with might well be her death.
"It's... GREAT!" she gasped, voice ragged with fury and wheezing. "I... LOVE... IT!"
Zuko's jaw twitched, rage and something else colliding in his chest like a bad idea. He knew he wasn't going to let her go. She was NOT going to get another shot at this, she would never meddle in his affairs again. But getting yourself to choke a girl unconscious? Even the most annoying idiot in the world? Easier said than done. At least for him.
So they froze for one breath, the world narrowed to heat and smoke and the rough scrape of bark behind her shoulders.
His forehead nearly touched hers, his eye twitched, if she just provoked him, one last stupid whiny bratty outburst, and he wouldn't let up again. He knew it. Suddenly she jerked forward, his grip tightened, expecting her to try to wriggle free, but...
"Nnghmmph!" wide-eyed Zuko tried to gasp.
Her lips... were on his. Soft, warm, just like he'd remembered, even though they'd scarcely had the chance for such things before. Utterly frozen he was, as she stayed locked on him, her eyes closed, even squeezed shut after a breath like she knew she was out of her mind, but she didn't stop. For just long enough to register, he was out of his mind too, and kissed her right back, forearm still pinning her throat to the tree.
Zuko finally flinched. He staggered back, like she'd slapped him.
"What is WRONG with you?" he snarled, and in that split second his grip loosened without him noticing. "HOW are you TURNED ON right now?!"
Raven was free, he'd lost track of everything, and he cringed, expecting it was a ploy, but she just stumbled aside, glancing him up and down, stark white and rigid, horrified with herself, but she forced it all down with a twisted grimace, and took a single step towards him, not in a bending stance, but bold nonetheless.
She caught his beet red face, and scoffed hard, "Hah! Don't act like you aren't." As if that absolved her.
"I WASN'T—AGH! I'm NOT!" Zuko shouted, stepping forward, pointing at her like it was an accusation that could physically injure her. "YOU are OUT OF YOUR FUCKING MIND! Do you want to kill me or not?! What is this?!"
Raven scoffed again, because scoffing was her shield. "This is all YOUR FAULT!" As if he ought to know better.
"YOU kissed ME!" Zuko roared. "You DUMB. ASS."
"That's not—" she started. Momentary confusion struck, her mind raced, and her gaze narrowed. "You SLAPPED my ASS, you...!" Raven roared back.
Both hands gripping his head, ready to rip out his newly grown hair, his jaw hung open, then gave a bellowing, "that was DAYS AGO!"
Amongst their just yelling, fight on intermission, soldiers of the Earth Kingdom bravely rushed towards the flames. The ones down in town, as they caught only the armored backs of Fire Nation raider. To Zuko, it was nostalgic, their fight turning into an argument with the flames still in the background. Just a normal day being the unlucky boy promised to the crazy bitch. And then it was over.
Raven first by an inch, they fell back into stances again, circling, breathing hard, soot-streaked and furious.
Raven's voice dropped, grim. "I'm still going to kill you."
Zuko's shoulders sagged with tired confidence. "Not in a million years, you little brat."
The word hit Raven like a spear. Her face twisted. Her teeth bared. She lunged. She didn't even see his smug grin.
He waited until her momentum committed her body, then pivoted and threw her, using her rage like a lever. Raven's scream ripped out of her as boldly as a split-second late burst of flames, and she... went sailing right over the ridge, with enough time to feel like an idiot mid-air, wildly throwing another orange jet back up at his firelit silhouette, his pitiless gaze briefly lit and unflinching.
She crashed down through treetops below in a flailing, furious tumble of branches and curses.
Zuko stalked to the ridge and peered down into the dark, breathing hard, hair wild without the mask. There was silence just too long.
"You still alive, idiot?" he called lazily.
"FUCK YOU!" Raven's voice came back, strained and pained, followed by a bolt of fire that shot up and fell short, sputtering into the brush. "Don't... agh! Don't you DARE run!"
Zuko's mouth curled, dark and satisfied. "Don't worry," he called down. "I'll be right back."
Raven's answer was a wounded, furious shriek of incoherent insults, ending in a sputtering cough. She tasted blood, just a drop, but that was never ideal. She watched, and Zuko turned away from the ridge, already scanning the dark for the right shape of metal corners and and straight lines.
"Just need something that doesn't burn," he muttered to himself, voice cold. Ropes fit for the Avatar would only be fuel to her. By the sound of it, she maybe broke a bone down there. He hurried, just as much as he wished he'd brought manacles, but most of all, he was furious at himself for being worried about her, despite her best efforts.
* * *
The sea hissed at the black rocks below the ridge, and the partial moon threw a pale road across the bay just beyond the river town. Fires blazed in hands or on torches, Zuko's soldiers hustling their damned selves back to his cruiser, and leaving the Earth Kingdom soldiers too busy quenching flames to chase as the caught breath before the lowered prow ramp.
"Your highness! You escaped!" a firebender called out at first sight of him sliding down a gravelly embankment.
Zuko had a certain menace to his stride that gave even his rage-tempered men more than the usual pause. He glared, head tilted back and eye's wide with a fire quite new even to him, and he powerfully commanded. "Hold the line. I'm dealing with 'Lady Raven' PERMANENTLY this time."
Teeth clenched all around at his tone.
"She's injured—just over the ridge. Just need—hahh—a moment," he growled and sucked in air, seeing his men glancing with worry at the orange glow of smoke blending into black with the night sky over the briefly raided town. "Give me those! Now!" he pointed at a spearman, and the metal manacles on his belt.
Aaaand... Raven broke through the brush, just around the foot of the embankment, a streak of grey and pale white skin as she flocked the the light, brushing soot and sweat matted hair off her cheek, and her boots skidding on needles, but simply refused to fall, and she definitely wasn't going to come quietly. "Zuko... you... coward... stop... running..." she huffed, rolling the shoulder she fell on, shaking the soreness off the matching foot.
"Thanks for making it easier!" he scoffed, motioning firmly to the spearman with the irons, who fumbled for them.
Every helm on the path twitched. None stood to bar her, or him, and they all but forgot the burning town over yonder.
Iroh, amongst the soldiers, slowly approaching the furious tow, hands raised. "Oh, little miss, if you could stop and just—"
"I am NOT a child," she snapped, without looking at him.
Iroh tensed up, glancing at Zuko who was way, way past boiling, the pot dry over flames at this point. "You should have run," he growled lowly, still utterly furious at her interference and even more obnoxious refusal to stay at the bottom of the cliff he'd flung her off only moments ago.
"You'd know all about that!" she downright barked at Zuko.
Zuko didn't shout. Anger had been his steady companion for so long; tonight it was tempered. She was done. She just didn't know it yet.
"Not again," he said, dry and certain, but he spoke up loud, firm and clarion, "we're never doing this again, Raven! No more 'Agni Kai', no more of your little AMBUSHES. No more BULLSHIT." And he yanked the iron manacles away from the spearman, stuffing them haphazardly to hook on his own belt, and stomped right for her, growling, "I should have done this at the Southern Water Tribe." Then he sneered, "none of your little friends to help this time, BRAT."
Zuko's soldiers started forming up, at least to face her, still lost on why the two betrothed teens were fighting, so none were in a hurry, and most of all Iroh had an exhausted impatience, like he'd been waiting days for his chance to speak, but it wasn't going to ever come. It was so bad he actually handed his teacup to the nearest spearman.
Those spears and the men that held them meant nothing to Lady Raven Arza, glossy back hafts unsteady well before she simply grabbed them and pushed them aside, not through strength, but status alone saw the men recoil in self-preservation.
She was catching breath from the sprint, but her hands were steady, fingers already flexing with showers of sparks in each grasp as she barged right past, even furious Zuko halting, wondering where she was going, till she planted her feet in the wet sand, depressed and displaced by the prow ramp. Voice low and very controlled, she said, "you don't run from this."
He just scowled at her. He didn't need to say 'idiot'. But he did nod to his ship and say, "I've a nice frosty cold cell for you up there, give up now and MAYBE I won't put you in there naked." He patted the weighty manacles with a heavy clatter.
The soldiers silently wanted to be elsewhere.
But she instantly scoffed, looking at the men who overheard that. "Y-you!" and she waved her hands, arcing up a display of flames at anyone else daring to still be present. "Get out of the way, you buffoons!"
The spearmen and firebenders fanned out, away and around the two, just close enough not to be charged with desertion. Iroh, however, wasn't having it, and stepped between them with a tense smile like a peace banner holding a knife. "Let us assume there is a… misunderstanding. PERHAPS we could all—"
A red arc cracked off Raven's palm—not aimed to maim, but close enough to hiss in front of Iroh's feet. The soldiers flinched as one. Not one moved.
"Stay OUT of it, general!" Raven reinforced, actual jets of flame between her teeth for a puff. A heavier wave crashed up to kiss her heels as if to emphasize her malice.
Zuko's eyes cut toward the men. "All of you, whatever happens," he told them. "She's Lord Arza's daughter. You touch her, you'd be lucky to ONLY to be banished." His mouth twisted. "I'm handling her myself."
"You won't," Raven said, and came at him. "And why aren't you still injured?!"
He just looked at her with disappointment, throwing up his hands. Somehow she was disregarding her own much worse injuries having vanished miraculously, so he gave her only, "really good gravy, Raven. What does it matter." And he dropped to a ready stance.
Her first sweep was even more textbook than usual: low, heel-led, a crescent of heat that ate shadow off the path and cook every drop of moisture from the salt-laden sand. Zuko stepped through, elbows out and riding the edge of her flame to shear it apart on both sides, then snapped a jab that would have cracked a lesser block. Raven met it palm to palm in a flash of white, pivoted, and the surprise of her actually blocking him flawlessly for once left his guard down just enough. She launched up with a knee, too close to dodge, it was take the hit or eat the flames. He swept his hands, let the little girl have her tiny, insignificant win, and he grunted as the fire died to wisps, but he slid back from he force.
Raven saw it, urgency of a rare moment where she had him stumbling, but had solid footing herself as she landed like she could do no wrong into a perfect lunge after him again. A quick narrowing of her hazel eyes came with her mad grin.
"Oh," she said, a knife of satisfaction. "Got you pretty good, HUH?!" she blurted out, her breath igniting as she used the strongest bending kick she dared sacrifice speed for.
Despite the flames bathing around him, Zuko still grunted, "that was luck and you KNOW it!" He lost two more steps back, shook embers from his sleeve in a halo of smoke as he couldn't quite bend it all away. "Gah!" he breathed out, not loving that burst of searing pain at all, but he'd repay more than full...
She wasn't going to be baited, she bit her tongue, and held the advantage. Still close, and the bastard in no position to just grab her, she cut a short, brutal kick at his ankle, throwing a loud cracking burst of explosive flame, throwing him back enough to have to roll to his feet. It strained her throat as she sucked in air, trying to keep the bending combo ignited, and settled for the ease of her House's signature move. Zuko didn't read her quite in time for once, her streak of 'luck' was lasting, she beamed with vile joy, and swept the searing thin lash as hard as she could, not even caring where it hit him.
But he simply raised his still well wrapped arm and let it connect, accepting the fast and weak blow shredding and eating his sleeve to give him time to find footing. "That it?" he sneered, sending a hot blast back at her feet, although at least she nimbly hopped away, and didn't have to scramble.
Her teeth clicked. "Die."
Iroh sighed, very softly. "Spirits give me patience."
"Uncle!" Zuko snapped, not taking his gaze off Raven.
"Not now!" she agreed.
"Exactly now..." Iroh murmured, mostly to himself. "Just try not to kill each other…"
"You're so fucking sure of yourself." Raven circled, boots grinding gravel. "You've gotta little quip for everything, huh? So cool, so calm, bet you think you look like damn hero to those gawking fools," she nodded to his soldiers keeping a distance. She made a quick step forward, a direct blast. He leaned, bent the rest, threw one back, she ducked. She took a deep breath, he took the brief moment to close with her again. They both knew it was over if he got his hands on her again, but she held her ground anyway, and spat, "bet you can't say her fucking name straight." He paused, head tilting just a smidgen. She grinned, she knew it would rattle him, she KNEW it. She grinned, wild, and demanded, "say Asha's name!"
Zuko stared, not understanding and not trying. "How would THAT prove anything?! Gah, you're so... nuts!" And he had complete confidence as he advanced at her suddenly again, she reeled as if he meant to grab her, but instead he threw blast after blast of well formed and well timed fire to shred her guard and ruin her stance as it pushed her back into the unreliable tides, creating a cloud of hissing steam from the wet sand. She blinked, bewildered, thinking she'd thrown him off, but she was the one trying to find her feet all the sudden!
But she finally caught one. She saw the chance, took it. Her foot barely raised in time. "Stop calling me CRAZY!" The flash was brilliant, painting the ship and beach white, turning each soldier pale as a ghost, and searing beam shot his way too fast to dodge... if he hadn't expected it, having hopped aside before his flames even met the sole of her boot.
"You ARE crazy!" he bellowed back, rushing forward, foot sliding in damp sand but he didn't give a damn, because landing that counter of hers took her ages to recover from. His kick shot hard against her chest, she caught the fireball, struggled as is turned molten and dared splash right over her. Her feet splashed heavily in the waxing tide as she turned silhouette in a brief cloud of steam from it all. "Asha!" He snapped. "Asha, Asha, Asha! Wow, I'm amazing! I hope you just LOVE never seeing her again when I LOCK you in a damn CAGE!"
Her composure fractured, jaw shaking. "Agni… burn… you," she got out. "Have you no shame at all!?" she rasped, she managed to get out between throwing aside each mighty burst of flames into the sizzling shallow water, the rage making it easier again.
"Raven," Iroh tried again, stepping closer, "if Asha—"
"Stay OUT of this!" both of them barked, perfectly in chorus, but his voice was a deafening roar, and only he went on, "back on the ship! ALL of you!"
Despite her urge to call him a coward, something had changed—something tenuous in his gaze, searching for meaning, had finally found it, and was very, very certain. Her skin prickled from head to toe. Just the ocean wind nipping at her from behind, surely. She knew Zuko would only ascend that ramp if she did, and she was proven when his heel left the sand at the first scarce flicker of her turn.
Steaming sand gave way to packed gravel and hardy grass under her heels, every step a risk as sight failed in the tangled streaks of almost pitch black, with ghost grey brush and trees, and she heard his right behind. Neither even checked if his men had followed orders, the dim lowest lights on the cruiser only visible in weak embers through the dry bark of old windswept forest. He was hunting her, whether she was truly running or not. Her heart skipped a beat as she wasn't sure, not that she'd admit it, but the heat of her rage overtook it and she swung herself around.
She skillfully spun round and sliced her palm as if to drive away his attack, but no light came to bend away. For a moment, her eyes danced in the dark, grasping for what the dim outlines meant, then locked on his breath. It was an almost meditative, long pull, and his utter stillness of expression, sinking slightly as he exhaled, was wreathed in embers and orange-hot smoky wisps from his slightly parted lips, and his closed but no longer clenched teeth.
She was looking right at him, he surely could barely see her, she was in a ready stance and he stood almost off-guard, and yet when she moved...
"AAAAGHk!" she cried out, raspy and pained.
That slice of her palm, she'd turned smoothly and stepped into an open palmed blast, but it puffed as smoke when he hooked her wrist, rolled it, she felt something pop under his grip and pain shot up her arm. He'd never hurt her like THAT before, and again it made her heart skip. She froze for a moment, only able to stay on her feet as he barged forward and she had to stumble back, her hand still in his possession and twisted. There was something careless about it, like he really had always been holding back—until now. It was only a breath as the thought struck her, and it just made her... so fucking mad.
"RrrrRRAAAHH!" she bellowed, pushing back as he nearly slammed her to the ground, perhaps just catching him in an ideal position to break his hold, she jerked that throbbing hand again and burst flames, after terrifying seconds of almost pitch black.
It was just in time to see his other hand, and she flung her body aside too. Jets of searing hot fire went just past each other's cheek, both like only one of them was walking out of this patch of woods. That rage of hers disregarded his killing eyes, but she knew he wanted his hands on her, so slammed her elbow into his chest with a burst of flames just strong enough to set them smoldering.
Back only one step, Zuko did lose her hand, but he just gave a breathless cruel laugh, sneering as she furiously rubbed her throbbing wrist, and he said, "you're not getting away." So flat and thin it slipped between her ribs, and it burned.
She twisted up, tried to think of anything, just wanting to hurt him any way she could. "Do I look like a bald kid in the dark?" she snapped back. "Your eye giving you trou—"
He instantly stepped into a sweeping kick, the orange arc washing over her, leaving flickers on sooty bark and turning tall grasses into candles, but she parted it.
"You will be shutting up now," he said as fact, as he barged up to her in the now at least dimly lit environs, wreathed in a vague circle of flames.
The light made it clear she'd gotten herself into a biiiit of a dead-end of thick brush leading right up to a crumbling bank of loose turned earth that her heel was already slipping on slightly, so she lunged forward, half trying to get past him, but the impulse to attack him still clung on for dear life, and in the end if was a mess of movement he easily blocked on all accounts and clenched hard on her still good wrist, but she still pressed as if to break right through him.
He raised his eyebrow at her unmitigated failure to even struggle properly, her eyes flickering as she dug deep for something mean to say at least, and he intoned, "looking for another kiss, Raven?"
The flickering stopped, her eyes met his. She did not kiss him. "That was just to throw you off! And it worked, huh?!" she shouted, mad as all hell and utterly unconvincing.
He just raised that eyebrow a little higher.
He didn't even bother calling her on it.
They both knew.
Her face burned red, for once, with more shame than rage, and he gave her the oddest look, like... he pitied her? Whatever it was, she hated it, and felt his grip loosen just enough. She STOMPED her foot down while he had her half-way grappled. The toe of his boot roasted as he pulled back, the burst of flame giving her space again, but still nowhere to run. Her heart wrenched in her chest, and her stomach, hell just about everything in there was trying to abandon ship at the sight of him smoothly taking a stance, with absolutely certainty he had already won. That way he looked at her like he knew her better than she knew herself. It always made her SO MAD. So it would give her the fuel she needed to at least get past him, surely, at least.
A quick one-two punch like motion, open palmed, her small quick jets of flame he flicked aside. She knew she needed to follow up instantly, duck low, feint a sweep, get just enough space to get off her one-two kick as well. Bring flames up under him. Force him to move aside. Even if he saw it coming, she could get past. He noticed the delay—her stiff jerking down, but back up. He knew she was uncertain. He can't know that. He doesn't get to. Absolute panic.
"Don't make me seriously hurt you, Raven." He told her like he was scolding. She felt for an instant very, very small. "Give UP," he demanded.
"N-never!" she bit. Her voice warbled. Why? She wanted to curl up under the smoking leaves and die. She wasn't even afraid, she was... well, 'angry' wasn't quite right anymore. Her chest fluttered so hard it hurt, and she gulped awkwardly to force it down. "Don't give me that smug look!" she growled.
She ignited her whip, a blazing line of cutting vengeance springing forth from her clenched hand—the one that still worked—raised over her shoulder with the near electric tip snaking and skirting in volatile leaps across gravel and sizzling patches of rapidly wilting grass. He just took a breath, grimaced, and moved for her like it amounted to nothing.
She lashed high across him. He ducked low, flickering a glance at the seemingly reckless arc. He stepped closer.
Raven's hand went above her head, she took in a deep breath, puffing out her chest. His gaze flickered down. Her face burned. Her whip fell. He jerked ever so slightly, but didn't quite dodge, nor block. Her hand trembled with the sputtering whip, barely still entwined, and he just looked at her again like he knew fucking everything all over.
"You ASSHOLE!" She shouted. It carried, but it was a shriek, lacking the menace she wanted...
She swung her whip, again and again, five, six, maybe seven times. One of them maybe, almost accidentally hit him. He largely ignored her flailing. She didn't even try to turn and run as he seized her. He clenched her still good wrist, and the whip dangled, flickering and wisping, and it curled the tattered fabric of what was left of his grey-burned-black sleeves. He had her other wrist too, and she felt herself falling back, the whump against the embankment not as painful as it was jarring, at least, winded by it her whip finally sizzled and popped out of existence with a trail of thin smoke, drifting into the almost golden orange patch of woods.
His face was right there, again. She HAD to look him in the eye, she forced herself to. He wasn't even struggling. She writhed under him, pinned down completely, her boot sliding down his leg and finding no purchase. "I HATE YOU!" she bellowed, all the anger she wanted coming back to do her bidding at once.
He took in one deep breath, lips pursed, then teeth bared briefly. "I KNOW." He shouted back, like it was the most frustrating thing in the world.
Every part of her face twitched. What the hell was she DOING? He moved closer, why, no, don't do that, he can't do that, because then she'll... do it too.
Raven's lips met Zuko's. Neither was surprised this time. Neither fought, nor pulled back, they couldn't if they wanted to. And that just made it all the more infuriating.
* * *
(censored find it elsewhere)
* * *
Raven's first visit to her betrothed's warship could have gone better. She wasn't as covered as she would have liked as he dragged her like fussy luggage up the ramp, nothing she could do but make it known she struggled as she gave a glare that turned every soldier's gaze away without a word. The steel of the deck made for loud footfalls, each one too loud in the dark.
"We're leaving! Now!" Zuko shouted, and his men scrambled.
He knew exactly where he was going, apparently, as he didn't so much as pause a step on his way to the thick metal door below—something she couldn't easily blast down.
She grumbled quietly, still topless as he forced her to walk ahead of him, down stairs, then more, deeper to the lowest deck just against the cold sea where the air marked breath quite clearly. Those bulkheads took in cold with reckless greed, and at first, at least, the frigid air felt good on her blazing hot skin.
Until she hit the deck hard enough to rattle her teeth.
For a second she didn't even register that she'd been thrown. Her brain was still somewhere above, snagged on a tangle of burned fabric and scorched skin and the humiliating memory of how much he'd made her lose her mind with him. Rage had always been reliable. Rage had always been clean. But now it had failed her, so completely she'd never live it down.
"Not taking chances with you," he growled, grabbed her ankles before she quite realized what was happening, and her fit of kicking came to late as more metal bound her, and she was left only able to squirm on the ice cold floor.
He had no regard for offense as she blinked to see in the dim light, looked around, and found he hadn't even graced her with the brig. He'd stuffed her in little more than a closet, at the bottom of the ship, with nothing for company but metal bulkheads and indignation. Her bare arm burned against the cold iron, but she refused to turn, refused to reveal herself to him ever so slightly more. At least he'd pulled her pants back up. Such a gentleman.
She could still feel him inside her. It made it very, very difficult to come up with clever retorts.
Zuko let out a long sigh like he was relieved to finally have her where he wanted her, and despite it all she was ready to snap at him when he surely at least smirked at her, but to her rising irritation, no trace of a smile crossed his face. It made her heart pang right after as he looked down at her, and she tried to place it in the darkness. Pity? It was so out of place it made her sick.
"Why... don't you just kill me," she slowly said, an accusation, or maybe just a bit, it was a plea to escape from it all.
"Raven..." he breathed out like it hurt to say. It made her writhe and jerk, but all it did was clang and rattle the manacles on the metal floor, echoing over-loud down the narrow corridor outside the tiny, absolutely freezing room. But he stood tall again, chest filling as he loomed over her, and the menace returned as he said, "it's over. We're not fighting. We're not arguing. I don't care anymore. Don't. Bother." And he knelt down, just briefly, her craning her neck to sneer at him as hard as he could, "get over it, stop being a brat, or stay here till you freeze."
She opened her mouth, rage instantly building again, but he pointed his finger, so far he poked her brow. She tried and failed to bite it. He just looked disappointed. She wanted so badly to scream, spit, make as much a fuss as was left to her in her sorry state, but she just felt so scrambled, from top to bottom she couldn't make sense of it all: not her, not him, not his betrayal, not what... they just did. She could scarcely know what was real in that moment, and she felt a flicker, the faintest hint. Doubt. What the hell was she doing... he killed her. She knew it. Everyone did. He murdered Asha in cold blood, left her lifeless in a pool of blood in the halls of their father's estate. Even Arzaya knew it. It just made it even more maddening the crazy old witch let him have the spear. She WASN'T crazy. Not... this time. Her lower lip trembled, but she wouldn't cry, not in front of him. She hated that he could tell she was about to.
Her face was so heated, but it was nothing to do with bending. As he stood tall again, as he turned to just leave her there, to get away with EVERYTHING, she finally found the words, "I am not a fucking prize." He gave her a glance back, unaffected, and she spat, "if you think you can hold me... prepare to wake up dead."
He just rolled his eyes, and walked away. She couldn't even make him mad anymore. She wanted to die... just not by his hands. Anything but that. The weighty reinforced door swung shut with a loud and carrying noise that made her wince, but there was still a tiny gap at eye level where she could see his golden gaze.
"Not here, Raven. This room will bleed you dry. It's only going to get colder on the open sea," he flatly told her.
Raven felt like an afterthought as Zuko ordered guards, "don't open it, don't go in, if she somehow gets free come get me. Even like this, she'll kill you stone dead."
The guards gave quiet affirmations, and it made her teeth grind.
Yanking her body up, straining and twisting uncomfortably just to get on an elbow, she snapped, "I don't kill people just for getting in my way, you asshole!"
No response. Just boots on metal as he left—as he just fucking got away with it.
* * *
The cold had stopped being sharp—that was the problem.
At first it had been a knife, all edges and cruelty, the kind of cold that made you grit your teeth and swear just to prove you were still alive, rolling back and forth from bare shoulder to bare shoulder, trying to prop herself up until giving into discomfort, until it was all just too exhausting. But now it was… dull. Not quite numb, but she felt too heavy all over, and so spent was her bending that warming herself with breath alone—something she had gotten quite a bit better at with her own ship being less than delightfully insulated—wasn't easy.
Raven's breath came in shallow, uneven pulls, and it was like someone scraping their nails inside her throat, more vicious each time. She focused, welled up the least bit of stamina, allowed every ounce of heat to sap from her limbs no matter how much it felt like giving them up for good. She had to wait until she was on the brink of consciousness, until her chest burned and it felt like her ribs would crack from the pressure, if she wanted to really feel warm again even briefly.
"Asha..." she croaked, breath still held in. She'd never cried over her. She wouldn't let herself get over it. Relief was her bitter foe, worse than the cold, and the last thing she'd let in. Twisting her neck, rolling her battered, frozen shoulders, the raw passion boiled just behind her eyes. It threaded anger through her veins like venom. It was so painful it could break her, she knew letting it in made her sink into madness that might never come undone. That... she let happen.
If the guards were looking, they would have seen the pulsing glow of a forge at the back of her throat, but staring at the topless Lady Arza sounded like a great way to die very slowly, so they didn't so much as glance even when curiosity came knocking.
It wasn't enough though. Raven saw her own willpower like it wasn't her—like a spoiled, blubbering child who needed to grow the fuck up. She'd poke, prod, stab or strangle it till it did what she said. If she failed, it would be because her body broke first, damn it. That passion roiling in her mind sank low, pulled into her chest with everything else just to fuel her breath of fire once more, and for a brief instant her head spun.
A flash of sunny, grass fields. Somewhere exotic on a windswept plateau, with azure horizons behind clouds that dipped so low they kissed the broad yellow leaves of the treetops. But within a familiar field of fluffy white flowers, a pale girl with long black hair and a white dress glowed in the brilliant sunlight. A soft sing-song humming. Asha? No. NO. Don't. Think. About. Her. That. Way. She wasn't ready yet—to release the breath, of course. She forced her hazel eyes open, breaking the salty frost on her lashes, and stared at the walls almost blue with frost, and the orange rust underneath like old bloodstains. Perfect. She'd seen the pool of blood. Her pretty dark hair matted in it... that fucking look on her face, like she'd died crying and begging, completely alone.
Something snapped in her. She squeezed her eyes shut, opening again to vision that shifted worse than when on the root, the colors growing brighter, the blues more icy and almost clear, the orange rust more red, bright, and then dripping like a fresh kill. She could almost taste it.
"Arzaya-a-a-a..." she groaned. "I. Know. You're. There."
And it was true. Arzayanagi wasn't far at all, just above her somewhere, the heat of it pulsing just out of reach, just far enough she couldn't quite touch her fingertips to the blaze, and it was infuriating. Raven didn't care if that psycho bitch got what she wanted, so long as she wanted it too. She'd NEVER forgive her, but she wasn't stupid. She knew it was her only way out.
"Don't let him WIN," she demanded.
She heard the rustle of the soldiers. They didn't dare look. They wouldn't have seen what she did anyway. The walls weren't metal anymore.
A cackling, wicked laughter swept down the halls of ice and stolen lacquered wood. The queen was practicing her awful, mind-shattering bending with the girl again, it seemed, but something wasn't quite right. The girl was laughing too? That had never happened before. Koani was not the kind of queen who told jokes that children laughed at. She hurried and found others already gathered, having noticed too that something wasn't right, and it wasn't just the kid's voice, but some horrible feeling just like when the pirate queen clawed into your mind, but faint, though still causing panic, pounding hearts, and clenched jaws. The dark-skin of the fur and leather armored men handing out spears and knives was painted here or there in blue tattoos, their weapons and markings more glorious and rich all according to their ranks... or perhaps just their brutality.
Everyone was whispering, building each other up to actually approach, to turn the last corner to follow Koani's voice. They finally did it, it wasn't clear who lifted their heavy, stained boots first, but they all moved nearly as one like a school of fish. Numbers were safer.
The corridor outside Koani's bedchamber had been carved straight through ice, polished by years of boots and spilled seawater, and reshaped again and again with her masterful bending to intricate, but grisly designs that she painted with blood. It held onto screams like a conch shell held the sound of the ocean.
Her men, pirates but loyal, gathered there because it was louder than usual, and not the right voice, nor tone. Not at all.
At first it was just laughter, both of them, but that was all. Koani's bright and triumphant, the one that usually meant someone inside was bleeding and she was really starting to enjoy herself. But just as chilling as when it had been blood, the girl's voice rolled through the crack under the door too. The warm, breathy bursts were almost familiar enough that a few of the cultists relaxed on reflex.
Then it… shifted.
The pitch went wrong. The rhythm stuttered. The laugh hit a high, strained note, as if it had snagged on pain and couldn't decide whether to become a sob. It turned sharp, then ragged, and for a heartbeat it sounded like someone trying to laugh with a mouth full of river stones.
A shiver ran through the men closest to the hatch, just as Koani's laugh broke into a shriek.
Not the theatrical bellow she used to scare recruits. Not the angry kind she used when someone failed her. This was terror with its throat ripped open and gushing. It cracked like the daggers of ice she sunk into her victims, sputtered into all too familiar incoherent pleading, and every so often it pitched back up into another mad little burst of laughter like she couldn't stop herself no matter how hard she tried.
"Stop—" Koani's voice came through, choked and wet. "Stop, how... how?!"
But another sound threaded through her broken words, no longer a mimicry. A girlish laughter: too young, too light, too bright, but laced with poison unmistakably. It was so wrong even in those unhallowed halls it felt like a nightmare.
"Just be quiet and get over it," the girl's voice rang, disturbingly composed for something that still had softness at the edges. "What's wrong? That's REAL willpower, isn't it?"
Their wicked queen's own words echoed back at her. Every throat tightened, wondering what the hell was happening, but too tense still to so much as whisper. They jolted when Koani's scream hit a new register, something between fury, humiliation, and raw animal panic.
"Don't give in too quick!" the girl eagerly, loudly continued. There was vengeful delight in every syllable, careful as a knife tip. "Obedience is sooooo boooooring, hahahaha!"
Again, so wrong coming from anyone but Koani herself, not from that room. Her loyal pirate cultists stared at each other, frozen more than the now very claustrophobic beautiful and bloody walls. They'd all seen Koani 'discipline' the girl, she made sure they did. It was a reminder for all, and deliberate humiliation for her. Most of them had heard the queen coo about breaking her like a seal pup, about teaching her to be useful. Some of them had helped hold the girl down when Koani told them to. They'd all watched that small, furious but eerily patient face stare in silent defiance while Koani ripped into the girl's mind.
This could not be happening.
It was easier to believe Koani was laughing at her own humor, even through pain. Easier to believe the screams were a new game, some test or even joke?
The lieutenant closest to the door swallowed hard, hand hovering near the latch. He was one of Koani's most trusted knives, old enough to have scars carved in every sea, and he still looked like he'd rather face a polar bear-dog barehanded than find out what was happening in the queen's room, on the other side of the rich lacquered door and frame fixed right into the glacial ice, which had coins of gold from all over the world frozen within. But... obedience demanded he push it open and check.
It swung inward with a tremor and scrape, releasing a breath of warmer air that smelled, as always, of blood, sweat and smoke. For a moment, the lieutenant simply stood there, squinting into the chamber as if his eyes refused to accept what they were seeing.
Koani was on her bed.
Not reclining in her soft grey silks. Not lounging like a queen, despite her thousand golden trinkets. She was sprawled at an angle, many-ringed fingers clawed into the furs, spine arched as if an invisible dagger had sunk into her back. Her face was contorted in a smile so wide it looked painful, but tears streamed down her sweat-sheened sunkissed cheeks. Her grey-blue eyes were wild, gone utterly to terror.
In front of her hovered a pale girl in a simple white dress, as if standing on a cushion of air, her bare feet—red like they'd been sunk in snow—suspended inches from the bloodstained painfully cold floor, never to touch it again. Hair loose and dark against pale ice walls. Barely twelve and like a picture of innocence but for her face: too open, too hungry, too delighted in Koani's pain.
The black-haired, girl turned her head toward the doorway with slow, theatrical ease, like she'd been expecting an audience. The memory of a humming song in sunny, fluffy fields long gone.
The lieutenant's voice came out strangled. "Uhh… my queen, is everything alright?" Even though he already knew it wasn't.
The girl's eyes flicked toward him, then toward the cluster of stiff faces behind him. Koani, ever the essence of power, was trembling helplessly, babbling between her sudden wails and sobs, the forced laughter over now with the girl's attention elsewhere.
"Don't worry," the girl said, in a tone that belonged anywhere but the voice of a child. "Mommy likes it rough. Remember?"
The smile widened, impossible on a child's face without looking like a mask. She tilted her head back, laughing as if this were the funniest thing in the world, and her voice carried into the corridor with bright, lunatic cheer. As her gaze moved over them, taking in their shock like a savory meal, the dark-skinned water tribe men in the doorway went near to pale as her.
Her expression sharpened, annoyed. "Oh," she huffed. "NOW you're scared?"
No one answered. Not even a blink. The corridor was packed with bodies, armed men and waterbenders, but the air around the girl felt like death incarnate, and nobody dared breathe it. She hovered forward, drifting until she was near the doorway, higher till she was level with the grown men. The casual defiance of gravity—airbending so precise it left no trace—was wrong all by itself, a gentle violation that made the skin crawl. How long had she been hiding that kind of power...?
"Not as much as you should be," she said, and held an imperious sneer.
Her lips twitched as if she were fighting another laugh.
"Next time you hear my voice through the door? If I'm not calling for you?" the girl's smile returned, too sweet. "Don't open it."
She paused, as if remembering a funny detail.
"Oh, and… hmm-hmm!" She giggled, then her eyes went cold. "When I'm MAD? Remember to RUN."
The words were barely out before her arms twisted. Not a punch. A style they'd only seen Koani use, but so, so much more intense. She was using Koani's mindbending... but how? She'd never teach it to anyone. They knew that. The girl's shoulders rolled wrong. Her elbows snapped into angles that made the lieutenant flinch, because it looked like she was breaking herself, like her bones were dislocating under invisible hands.
The closest man in the corridor, a battle-hardened ruthless pirate, collapsed to his knees. He made a tittering, strangled sound and clutched his head like something inside it had caught fire.
Another dropped.
Then another.
Before the furthest could fully turn their heels, they all fell—some flat on their faces. The hallway became a mess of bodies quivering, buckling, collapsing in terror and pain as if their own minds had betrayed them. Some tried to crawl away. One frantically drew a battered knife, but it wasn't for the girl. He sunk it into his own throat, digging and twisting and gurgling, and he fell limp. Only two managed to stay on their feet, but even they were lost to wide-eyed shrieking insanity.
And at once, she released them, and all collapsed like their strings were cut. A moment of stillness... then the corridor gasped as one. It was SO much worse than Koani. It wasn't even close. Not everyone got up again, not everyone took another breath.
"I'm in charge now," she flatly stated, as if it was an obvious fact. The girl faintly gestured, pointing her finger as if taking attendance, and she said in a vicious but almost conversational tone, "and if any of you don't like that...?" She trailed off, her darkness looming over them as the few that could stared, and couldn't look away. Her upper lip twitched, teeth slowly gliding, not quite tense, and she warned, "you better bring a fucking army."
The crude language sounded wrong coming from such a young mouth, which only made it worse, because she wore it like she invented it, like Koani's filth had stained her tongue forever.
One trembling man, among Koani's top lieutenants who still breathed, managed to push himself upright. He was shaking so hard his teeth clicked. He bowed low, then lower, until his forehead touched the ice.
"Hail… Queen Arzaya," he whispered.
Arzaya hummed, tasting it. Her smile softened into something almost pleased, almost playful.
"Hm," she said. "I do like the sound of that." But she snapped into a warning, "but I'm no queen—" and she went on, but her voice changed, her lips moving, but like she was underwater, and incomprehensible. Either way she looked like she was scolding him, then smiled almost peacefully, and ran her bloody fingers along her cheek, swirling them into an oddly precise, dripping mockery of Koani's own tattoo.
No one dared question it, not even to themselves.
"You get to live," she told the man, as if granting a treat. "Whatever your name is."
The man lifted his head a fraction, trembling so hard his lashes shook. "I'm—" he started.
"I wasn't asking," Arzaya said firmly.
The man's mouth snapped shut. His nod was tiny and obedient.
Behind Arzaya, Koani's breathing rasped, fast and desperate, the way one did when they dragged themself barely out of drowning. For a moment, Arzaya's attention taken elsewhere gave Koani a sliver of sanity.
Her eyes found her men, bowing to someone else. She was frantic and furious. "Kill her!" Koani croaked, voice raw. "And you're all rich men!"
The offer hung in the air. No one took it. The silence was a verdict.
"You think you can stop me with MONEY?" Arzaya asked, and her laugh was high. Mocking. Gleeful. "Like I can't just demand whatever I want from fools whose spines you already took?"
Koani's face contorted. Rage flared in her eyes, but the instant Arzaya turned, terror came again. Arzaya hovered back into the bedchamber, so calm and blissful it chilled their blood.
"Now," she said, voice almost dreamy, "where were we…"
The door swung closed, all on its own.
The fallen pirate queen's word broke through, incoherent and desperate. "No, no, Arzaya, please! N—" and stopped, making way for only screams.