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The Alchemy of Fire - Arc I by Shadowhawke

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Chapter 12: Uphill

Your compass lies in broken glass,
Your miracles have come to pass,
Now steel yourself, for nothing’s clear,
Except that it’s uphill from here.


Two hours later, Zuko still hadn’t come down from the sheer high of it all. Then again, it probably wouldn’t have mattered if it had been two years. The sound of his people chanting his name, the hot taste of the midday sun flooding his mouth… they’d all combined into a giddy elixir that had him wanting to leap in the air and laugh like a child even as he stood and smiled and waved to his subjects. The elation hadn’t even budged when Sokka and Suki had come with downturned mouths and news of the prisoners’ hatred. Somehow, the news of yet more people who wanted him dead didn’t seem to matter so much when he knew that his people had given him a second chance. A second chance to recast himself as the Fire Lord. A second chance to serve them as their true leader and not their prince, not the banished, exiled traitor prince they knew him as.

And so even as Zuko spoke with the former prisoners and led the political waltz around his two-faced nobles and advisors, he smiled to himself. And it was a smile of such hope and wonder, he couldn’t believe it was even on his face. I won’t let you down.

But of course, all good things had to end. Not that the feeling of awe had ended, per se. No, Zuko knew that he would always carry that miracle somewhere in his heart, somewhere under the scar that Azula had left and the unseen ones that everyone else had. No, the sheer exhilaration hadn’t ended, it was just tempered now by a new feeling. Zuko couldn’t spend forever swimming through the hordes of his subjects, his heart and soul dancing unseen on the clouds above him even as he shook hands and organised new events and checked the news of messengers and acted like a Fire Lord. He didn’t even have the rest of the day - reality had set its hidden timer on him, and he’d had to obey. Because even the wary acceptance of most of his people couldn’t erase the fact that less than five minutes before he’d stepped out to meet his destiny, someone had tried to kill him.

And so now he was here, the stifling expanse of the throne room… his throne room… holding him in its embrace. And he was quickly losing his patience.

Fire, Zuko thought reflectively, could do so many wonderful things. It could dry out your clothes in the rain, heat the bathwater to just the right temperature, and even ensure that one’s tea never got cold.

It was also very good for burning somebody’s throat from the inside out.

“You’re not answering my question, General Sheng,” he said as politely as he could while the rational, newly-minted Fire Lord side of him was patiently smothering the other, more openly homicidal side. “I understand perfectly that the crowd was too large for one hundred percent security in the courtyard. I’m asking you how in Agni’s name a would-be assassin got into the palace and into the same room with me without one of your men noticing.”

Shen Li’s father was an imposing man, but Zuko was beyond imposed at the moment. Someone had tried to kill him. Again. And they would very likely have succeeded if it hadn’t been for Mai and Shen Li.

Internally, Zuko pulled a face. It didn’t help that he didn’t particularly want to think about them right now. He didn’t want to think about the command that had burst forth from his lips, nor the ramifications of their unified answer. And even aside from that, and aside from the sheer shock of having them interrupt the minutes he’d spent drowning in fear and doubt, the strange, unexplainable moment of connection between them had unsettled him. He didn’t know how to describe it, or even why, but the harsh crackle of electricity that had leapt in the air had left a bitter taste in his mouth. Whatever had happened, whatever was happening, things were changing. And there was nothing he could do about it.

If he’d been alone, he would have bit off a laugh. Like that’s something new. But of course, he wasn’t alone, and so he just sat and tried to look calm while the fire inside him threatened to escalate.

Breathe. In, out. Just like Uncle taught me. Just like...

General Sheng pulled himself up, a perfect picture of Fire Nation arrogance that would have been laughably pompous if it hadn’t been for the deadly steel in his eyes. Breathe. “With all due respect, Fire Lord Zuko,” he said stiffly. “One of my men did notice. I do believe that my son was the one who apprehended the assassin.”

In, out. Zuko’s voice grew chilly to match the impertinence. “Firstly, it was Lady Mai who dealt with the would-be assassin. Secondly, I was not aware that your son served as part of your security forces.” The Fire Lord smiled darkly. “He’s more talented than I give him credit for if he can juggle two such highly demanding jobs at the same time.”

There was a pause, and then the crackle of tension between them leapt into the air. A fifty year old general and a seventeen year old Fire Lord... and it was the former having to answer to the latter. Zuko could almost hear his Minister for Security grinding his teeth, but then the unthinkable happened.

“I...” General Sheng exhaled through his nose and then dropped his shoulders. As tense as he was, Zuko watched impassively as the shadows across the other man’s face suddenly deepened, accentuating the weary lines etched into his skin while his entire demeanour seemed to sink to the bottom of the ocean. Internally, Zuko had to suppress a shred of admiration for the acting. And then the General slowly crashed to his knees, and the cynical appreciation turned into genuine surprise.

“I am sorry, my Lord,” General Sheng said hoarsely. “I failed in my most important task; to keep your person safe.” As he talked, his left hand moved to his scabbard, and though Zuko tensed, the man didn’t look up as he raised the blade above his head, its surface balancing across his two palms like an offering. “If you will have me forfeit my life, then I...”

Zuko’s eyes widened fractionally, and then he laid a hand on the flat of the sword. “There will be no forfeiting of lives,” he said sternly, and then hesitated slightly before continuing. “I summoned you here to make sure that such a thing never happened again. From now on, everything has to be airtight. No more assassins bypassing what should be the best force in the Fire Nation. No more uprisings without at least some warning of trouble.” A sudden thought struck him, and he shook his head. “Have you even begun questioning the prisoners responsible for the disturbance in the Eastern square?”

The other stayed low and stiff. “My men have not found out anything of use as of yet, my Lord.” He paused. “We are hoping, however, that one of them will crack soon.”

Zuko’s lips tightened. “I shall visit the Tower tomorrow,” he decided, and then looked down at the man at his feet. A sudden wave of distaste rushed over him, and some of it found its way into his voice. “Are there any other failures I should know about?”

He regretted the words as soon as they left his lips, and yet inside the royal side of him sat up proudly. Whatever Zuko’s natural inclinations towards forgiveness for what appeared to be only carelessness, and he was having rather suspicious thoughts about that, nothing could erase the fact that a man had almost managed to kill him two hours ago. Perhaps the success and arrogance brought by the war had made palace security slack... but then again, that was no excuse whatsoever.

General Sheng did not move. Zuko counted the heartbeats, the breaths, until finally the other man spoke. “Do you have any personal thoughts on how the system could be improved, my Lord?”

Everything unspoken said it all. “I want you to check the origins of the poison they used today and the poison they used in the uprising. Then I want your forces to check the origins of our prisoners. Their families, where they live. Then I want someone to dig up the old codes and rules of conduct for our security officers and have everyone learn them again.” A sharp, sarcastic smirk twisted his lips. “If you run out of ideas, perhaps you could engage Lady Mai.”

General Sheng rose, and then dipped again in a bow. “Thank you, my Lord,” he said neutrally. Zuko nodded once, and then watched the man turn and stride stiffly down the length of the throne room,

When the door had closed, Zuko sat still for a while, the only companion beside him the crackle of his flame. Finally, he stood and dismissed them with a wave of his hand, and watched thoughtfully as they sank back down to the ground and vanished.

“Well, Chief Advisor Hui?” he asked to the air. “What do you think?”

From the far corner of the room, the old advisor melted out from behind the flame embroidered hangings, his step as quiet as ever.

“You are a forgiving man,” he commented neutrally. “If your father was still Fire Lord, General Sheng would have been lucky to escape with his health, let alone his position.”

The smirk dropped off Zuko’s face. “I know,” he said crisply, stepping down from the throne and following the route his Minister for Security had trodden not five minutes ago. “That’s why he’s a very lucky man.”

Or maybe I’m just a very stupid person.

The thought made him frown. Had his time with the Avatar and his friends made him soft? He hardened his stomach. He couldn’t afford to be soft.

And yet... he couldn’t afford to not be himself either. He had seen where that path took him, and he had no desire to go down it again. Zuko sighed, and felt his internal flame rise up and down in his chest. Balance. He’d just have to keep his balance.

But how?

The thought stopped him in his tracks, left the new Fire Lord cold and nerveless as he leaned against the door. And outside in the corridor, General Sheng’s eyes narrowed, unable to stop the words from echoing in his head.

... perhaps you could engage Lady Mai.

Lady Mai. He remembered a tall, slender, weapon of a girl, whose shiny black locks framed a heart-shaped face which still somehow managed to be as sharp as the knives she wielded. He remembered her standing with his son behind his new leader, both tall and proud and breaking tradition as if they were meant to. And he remembered the prickle that had crept across his skin at the sight. There had been something in the way she’d walked like a predator, something in the way they’d moved together...

With an abrupt twist, General Sheng began striding down the corridor, his blood-red cloak flowing behind him and his mind lost in thought. Yes... the Governor of Omashu’s daughter. Who’d betrayed Azula, yes, but who had also shredded three targets in the practising yards after Fire Lord Ozai had officially announced Prince Zuko’s treachery.

Seen only by the afternoon sun, General Sheng’s mouth curled upwards in a predatory smile. Perhaps he’d take his new Fire Lord’s suggestion after all.

8 8 8

Mai stared ahead into nothingness as she moved, her eyes resolutely ignoring they boy at her side. He should have been behind her. Both of them knew that. True, he was from a noble family as well, but at this moment he was acting as the person appointed personally by the Fire Lord to be her escort.

Then again, it wasn’t as if they hadn’t broken enough traditions today. And so Mai just ignored him as they walked together, side by side, down the bustling roads and the brick-paved lanes which closed around them in their solitude. Neither had spoken since the words that had bound them to their ruler had left their lips. And yet enough hung in the air to make them uncomfortable.

Mai hitched a long, annoyed, breath. She was starting to get sick of it too. And yet she wasn’t going to say anything. Silence was more familiar to her, after all. She could deal with silence. And despite the confusion in her stomach wanting words, wanting explanations... You. You were the boy with the wires... a part of her also didn’t want to hear them. The part that quailed with realisation that they were walking towards her house. That she was walking from the arms of one prison... into another.

“What did you mean back there?”

The words sounded ridiculously loud given the background noise of the Fire capitol, but Mai didn’t miss a beat. She kept walking instead, her eyes still focused on a non-existent horizon and her body never betraying the sudden gratefulness that he’d broken the silence and her thoughts. “What are you talking about?”

He didn’t miss a beat either, not even shifting as he caught the bait and tossed it right back at her. “You promised to follow him. Less than five minutes after you just wanted to ‘get it over with’. What did you mean?”

She deflected the spoken blade with ease, flipped it around her knuckles, and then spun it back. “Why do you care?”

He smirked, opening his mouth like his wires and stopping it before it punctured his skin. “Because I’m Fire Lord Zuko’s Chief Bodyguard, and I know what I meant.”

Now that was unexpected. The rhythm of the battle broke, and Mai had to hide the stumble under the folds of her clothing, the rebounding dart barely missing her heart. “You’re Zuko’s Chief Bodyguard?”

He inclined his head with a measured bow, but never stopped moving as he blocked the counter-strike of her gaze and turned it back with a spark of sliding steel. “Yes. And you’re Zuko’s future Fire Lady.”

Her lips curved. “No. I’m just Lady Mai.”

She watched with an amused satisfaction as the dart slid under his guard and burrowed into his chest. Shen Li’s eyes opened wide. “But... I thought.”

“Well, you thought wrong,” she shrugged, and although she didn’t consciously want to, she felt something inside her smile at the victory. They were almost at her house, there wouldn’t be time for him to even the score. After all, it wasn’t a very long walk, from the palace to her home...

Mai frowned as she suddenly realised that her feet had somehow taken them the long way back, and her companion saw it. Regaining his composure, he raised an eyebrow. “Something wrong?”

Mai flushed. “Nothing,” she retorted, too quickly for her liking, and the verbal dagger missed him by a mile. She turned away from him in disgust, her failed shot taunting her in the shape of his grin. But when the familiar walls of her home approached, she glanced back and saw it fall from his face.

What it left there was startling. Since the lessons of her childhood, she’d always been careful to hide behind her carefully schooled blankness. And she was sure that he’d gone through something similar with his family’s position. But now, she could almost read his thoughts as he shared her frown, his brow knitting as he stared up at the gates of her family’s house. Gates which closed the likes of him out for now, and she...

Suddenly, the openness fell away, and Mai was left blinking as he shifted and spoke.

“Well, I guess this is where I leave you,” he said.

“I guess so too,” she responded emotionlessly, her eyes flicking away from his face to stare at the building. Home, she thought. It’s home.

Somehow the thought wasn’t as comforting as it should have been, and Mai sighed as she brushed the thread of the bell. Above them, there was a recognising shout, and the gates began to open. She watched the widening gap with dead eyes, preparing to walk through them and back into her own specially constructed prison of boredom. When it was large enough for her to fit through comfortably, she began to move, not even throwing a second glance back at the boy behind her. There was too much to think about, too much tension in trying to keep herself from screaming in despair as the memories of her life forced her to acknowledge that the awakened feelings from the Boiling Rock had no place beyond these walls.

And then he spoke again.

“I’ll be back, you know.”

Her eyes widened, and she spun around. “What?” she demanded, her voice sharp with surprise.

He smiled at her, and a little part of her mind registered that it was a nice smile, a type with which she was unfamiliar. It wasn’t the reptilian smile of the politicians her family had always mingled with. It wasn’t even the blithe, carefree smile of other teenagers she’d met who had no concept of a world outside their own. It was knowing, a smile whose owner had seen as much of the world as she had, and yet it was also broad enough to suggest a freedom that she was only just beginning to realise how much she was hungry for.

Mai blinked, and then he was speaking again. “I will come back, Lady Mai,” he smiled again, and she was about to utter a vicious retort when he finally relented and explained. “Despite your protests, I think I know Fire Lord Zuko well enough to know that he’ll ask for you.”

“So what?” Mai asked, trying very hard to force the boredom back into her voice. She gave up after less than a second and drew herself tall instead, staring at him as if he were nothing but a servant born to bow at her knees. “You’ll come down here and fetch me?”

The smile dropped from his face, and he gave her a measured look. “I doubt it will be quite like that, my lady.”

The gate was completely open, and she didn’t have to turn her head to know what lay beyond it, waiting. Under her sleeves, her hands suddenly shook. “Well I don’t care,” she said, her eyes hard as their gazes met. “Tell Zuko I don’t want to see him. I’m sure that the Fire Lord has better things to do with his time.”

And with that, she walked proudly away, her chin high in the air. And it was only when she heard the gate swing closed again with a shudder, blocking her from his view, that she let her shoulders fall and the reality of her imprisonment sweep over her again.

8 8 8

Free.

That's what he'd said, that's what they all said, but she still couldn't quite believe it. Kama breathed in the wonder of it all as she laid her wrinkled hand down on the bedspread. The silk was soft... so soft she needed to touch it again to make sure it was real. Needed to glide her skin across it until it wrapped around her fingers like the cool ribbons of her element. She closed her eyes and breathed. Never, never had she remembered such opulence. Not in her cherished memories of the South Pole, not on the ships that had brought them here, and certainly not in the black, ugly dungeons that had caged them for so long.

Kama’s fingers tightened on the blanket briefly, and then she released it. Turning around, she opened her eyes and found her smile anew. The room was probably only medium sized compared to some of the others in the Palace, but compared to the cramped cells she’d been trapped in for over thirty years, it seemed like a mansion. The ceiling was light and airy, arcing protectively over the two large wooden beds plumped with pillows and down. Another two beautifully carved wooden chests stood at their feet, their depths filled with what were probably elegant yet simple clothes, but which to her feasting eyes seemed like finery. The floor itself was richly carpeted, so that when her bare feet walked across its surface she felt like she was sinking into the comforting cushion of finely ground sand and seaweed. The covering stopped at a door, which was slightly ajar enough for her to realise that it led into a bathroom, which was lighted like everything else by the massive windows that rolled down from the ceiling to the floor, letting the sun pour in like liquid gold. There was also another door, she noted. One that led outside into the courtyard that their room bordered upon. It was draped with golden coverings that shaded the garden beyond from her view somewhat, but already her palms were itching to see. If everything, everything was so exquisite, she was sure that nature itself could only be more so...

But of course, in the far corner, there was also her sister.

Kama sighed, and then turned to approach her younger sibling, her feet sinking wonderfully into the carpet. Even as she focused on the tightly clenched curl of her sister’s shoulders, the white-knuckled hands crossed over knees drawn up to her chest, she couldn’t help but luxuriate in the feeling. So different, so different from the stone and the chains.

She shuddered briefly and then reached her arm out tentatively. “Kata?”

There was no response. Kama’s face fell. Even before their years in the dungeons, where each moment they had managed to snatch for themselves had been treasured, they had always been close. She couldn’t remember the last time her sister had shut her out like this. She couldn’t contemplate it. They’d needed each other so much to simply survive, and now... “Kata... please.”

“Please what?” Kata snapped suddenly, and her sister stepped back at the rage she saw. It wasn’t because she’d never seen it. It was because it instantly threw her back into the cage that had been her world for every tortured second of the last three decades. Her lips drew back over her teeth in recognition. Rage. Hatred. They’d lived on it when they’d been in prison. Survived off it. They’d had no choice; it was the only thing strong enough to keep them breathing as around them, their fellow waterbenders were tortured, were raped, were beaten. There could be no hope in a world where everyone they loved sickened slowly and died, until it was just the two of them left hanging from their chains while the metal-clad, blood-coloured soldiers beat them and smiled. When life was only the passing of minutes counted by the way the chains rubbed against bleeding flesh and re-scarred skin, anger and loathing were the only things they could cling to. 

Kama swallowed, trembling just a little on the inside. “Kata, please, just...”

It faltered, sank, and then the plea died on her lips. What could she say? Please stop hating? Please stop raging? She couldn’t, because she hadn’t herself. She didn’t think she ever would either; the headstrong, hopeful, loving teenager she’d been when she’d been taken had been beaten and drained out of her, wrung from her heart like the water had been from her nerveless fingers.

But now... they were out, at least. They were out, and she’d heard his words. Words of change. He’d even invited them to dinner in two nights time, and the former Earth Kingdom prisoners would have their royal meal in three. She would have laughed at the notion if it wasn’t so ridiculous. After thirty years of chains and hatred and insanity, the Fire Lord had invited them to dinner.

But then again, as that strange, scarred youth had shown, he was not the Fire Lord who’d imprisoned them.

Kama wavered. The hatred still bubbled in her blood, ready to encompass her at any moment. And yet something else also ran through her now, a tiny thread of something that she’d thought had died a long, long time ago with her best friend. Kama bowed her head briefly in remembrance and honour. Aisha hadn’t deserved to die like that. Not slumped against cold stone, her blood and kindness running from her lips as the soldiers had come to drag her away.

No one deserved to die like that except for the Fire Lord...

The Fire Lord. Confusion swept in her again as she remembered the new Fire Lord, the one whose words and upturned face had stirred up that feeling in her veins again. She didn’t even dare name it, she was so afraid that it was all a dream. But it was there, whether she named it or not, and now every particle in her body was screaming for her to nurture it.

Hope.

Kama raised her head and looked at her sister, the only source and carrier of love she’d had for the last three decades, and felt the silence go away.

“Please. Please start living again,” she whispered, and her hand was on the other’s cheek before she could think. “You haven’t said anything since he spoke.”

Kata flinched away. “What would you have me say, sister?” she asked bleakly, and at that moment she looked like she was seventy, not a woman of fifty-five. Her eyes swept scornfully over the room. “How pretty everything is? Anything’s pretty after thirty years of hell.”

Kama bit her lip, the coldness in her sister’s voice making her legs shudder away. But just as quickly as the weakness had come, the strength came back and she steeled herself as she walked over to the door leading out into the garden. Kata had always loved the outside. It was probably what had broken her so much when they’d been caged. But now.., now...

Kama peeked past the hangings, and what she saw through the glass made her heart leap suddenly with joy. “No,” she breathed. “It’s beautiful.”

And it was. Whoever had chosen their room had chosen it well, she realised. Probably with them exactly in mind, and she could help but feel overwhelmed with wonder at the thought. And then the joy was buoyed by pure excitement, sheer delight, and she suddenly couldn’t contain it anymore “Dear La, Kata, it’s beautiful! Please, please, you have to come see the...”

“It’s probably locked,” Kata interrupted bitterly, refusing to even lift her glance. “Stop fooling yourself, we’re still prisoners.”

A chill wind seemed to bite into her heart, and her eyes narrowed. “We always will be.”

There was a beat, just long enough for her to recognise what her sister was saying, and then Kama froze. Despite the fact that it was only a few hours past midday in the Fire Nation, she suddenly felt like they were back home again, in the South Pole. Her fingers, which had been resting on the innocuous looking handle, suddenly dropped and she stepped away. “You sound like Hama did,” she said flatly.

Kata lifted her chin. “Good,” she snapped back. “Hama got away.”

It was enough to make her see red, and the glowing warmth of the beckoning sun from the world outside turned cold. Kama whirled around. “Yes, Hama got away... and left us all behind!” the old betrayal seemed to seep up through her skin, choking her with its bile. “You saw what she did, Kata. In the end, family meant nothing to her. She turned into one of them when she forgot us. Don’t you remember?”

The words rose up desperate in her throat, and suddenly she was a little girl again, a little girl at her mother’s feet. “Don’t you remember what we were taught, the ways of our tribe? To always love, because there was enough harshness around us in the ice. To always be kind, because that’s how you beat back the snow. And to always treasure our family, because that’s all we have!”

Her sister said nothing. Kama felt her words die away, the echoes swallowed up by the carpet and the high ceiling, and helplessly she clenched her fists. The silence was in the air again, and Kama hated it. Prison had been silence - locked away in separate cells and only knowing the tearful gazes of your loved ones as the guards rattled on the bars and told them to shut up. And they were no longer in prison, so she broke it. “Don’t... don’t you remember?” she whispered.

And with that, Kata suddenly cracked. “You want to know what I remember?!” she demanded, leaping to her feet with wild eyes. “I remember hearing the screams of the raped and dead. I remember how they chained us so our arms almost ground out of their sockets. I remember the sound of your ribs cracking when they broke them. Don’t you remember? I do! I do, and I couldn’t do a thing about it! I could only scream...” she choked, “And that made them beat you harder.”

Kata felt the sobs, low and childlike, seep up into her throat. “I love you, Kama. I love you and they beat you, they hurt you, they nearly killed you. And I had to watch while I dangled from my chains. I don’t remember anything else, Kama. I can’t. I just remember your face, and their fists, and the blood.”

The old waterbender took a deep shuddering breath, and it felt like a knife in her chest. “Don’t ask me to remember home, Kama. Because I can’t. Not after what they did to us. I just can’t.”

There was a silence. Deaf to the world, Kata heard nothing but the raspy sounds of her own breathing, the boiling heat of her hatred. Across the room from her, her sister bowed her head, and Kata was so wrapped up in the trembling of her veins that she didn’t even register that the door to the small garden was open.

“Do you remember this?” Kama asked inaudibly.

Kata blinked. It took a second for the water to soar through the air, and less than that for the delicious, refreshing cold of it to soak through her clothes and into her skin. But it took more than a minute for her to realise what had happened.

Kata blinked again. Her sister was smiling - the shining, beautiful smile she remembered when she was younger, so full of love and hope. It was different now. Its lines were tired, and it was old and broken and unfamiliar... but it was there. 

And its owner had just thrown a ribbon of water at her.

Kata looked up, slowly. With new, water-soaked eyes she finally noticed the garden for the first time, the open door, and the small stone fountain in the center. The small fountain where water, clear, pure water was bubbling with gentle abandon.


And two minutes later, the two sisters were completely drenched. Laughing and squealing like the girls they’d been, they spun around the courtyard splashing water at each other. Anyone who happened to share a window out into the small garden would have been shocked at the sight - two women wizened by torture, starvation and imprisonment past their years dancing arm in arm around streams of water surging exultantly through the sky. But Kama didn’t care. They were free, they were together, and they had their element back. The world of prisons, war, and confusing Fire Lords faded out until it was just them, them in their water and in the grass, them stepping free in air unconstrained by chains and guards. And as they twisted in circles, spinning around like a whirlpool, she didn’t recognise the pattern they’d unconsciously picked up.

White and black.

Yin and yang.

Light and dark.

... life and death.



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