#time for a good fight and a return to a healthy dose of mistrust

[careless-with-your-heart]

Lay you in the Ground (WIP Chapter 12)

Lying is bad.

But he lie so good, tho.

“You’re lying to me.”

Blaine raises his chin, but he doesn’t answer the accusation. Because, of course, she’s right. She feels it.

“I’m worried.”

Kitty scoffs as she shoves clothes into her duffel bag. “Worried about what?”

“Worried that you’re in danger, Catherine”—Ooh, she flinches when he uses her full name, with a hard edge that holds none of the softness that rounds his regular use of Kitty—“and worried that I’m going to come up those stairs someday and find you hurt. Or worse. You told me about Vegas, and I brushed it off at first. But I regret that. Last night, I said I would protect you, and I will. I know I’m not some sainted soul, standing at your door with roses and sweet promises. But I do care.”

“Oh, you care?” she says sharply. “So he feels things, after all. Regret. Worry.” Her movements become even more aggressive with each word, until she yanks the zipper pull on her bag. She looks up into his stricken expression. “How human of you.”

His arctic eyes darken. She reaches for the few toiletries she’s gathered at the end of the bed.

“Can you stop—Kitty? Stop fucking packing.”

She swings to face him, pointing at him with a hairbrush. “Can you stop—Blaine? Stop fucking lying. Or is that not fucking likely?”

“I’m not lying to you.” Blaine takes another step closer, his knees bumping the opposite edge of the bed. His gaze is so steady that she nearly believes him.

“Then who’s the corpse in the alley? What’s Clive going to find out when he IDs the guy?”

Blaine shrugs, infuriatingly nonchalant. “I don’t know. Do I look like some kind of detective?”

“You look like a man who lies so fucking much that he wouldn’t know the truth if it bit him in the balls.”

[firelxrdsdaughter]

A Foolish Undertaking Chp 9

Read it on A03!

Azula learns that she isn’t likely going home any time soon. (this one’s...really long gais. so I am putting it up here but might be easier to read on A03).

“What makes you think I will ever be a member of this secret…pai sho society of yours?”

IX

Azula

“The breaks are bad, but they are clean.” The tingling, cold, sensation of the water that has been circling over her wounds dissipates, and Azula watches in fascination as the relatively old woman returns the water to the basin at the corner of the room. At her core she is, of course, mistrustful of the water bending peasants who generally lie at the furthest reaches of their borders. She’s never fought any of them save the Avatar’s travelling companion, and the girl had been deadly…

And even Azula could see that she was far from polished at the time.

None of this mistrust means that she does not find interest in other bending styles, however. In how they can be manipulated to fit into her own style, and surprise her enemies. None of this means that she doesn’t wonder, briefly, if fire bending could be turned to such purposes as healing, just as water bending has been.

She decides it’s probably silly. Even if it could be, and there were practical applications for such a technique, it is more prudent to continue studying it to fight, rather than turning her attention away from martial skills for an unknown amount of time.

Especially if she wants to keep her father’s attention.

“I’ll re-splint them with something proper,” the healer, Master Kana, continues, “bandage them up good.” The old woman glances at Azula, her light blue eyes not unkind, the princess thinks.

“She’ll need something to walk with,” she adds, turning back to Iroh, “when she does walk. Of course it’s preferable if she were to rest and not put undue strain on the breaks too early. If she does not wish to cause permanent damage.”

“I am most certain that she does not,” Iroh answers evenly, “but unfortunately we do not have the means to stay in one place, as yet. I would not wish to overstay our welcome, and I think that staying in town would only invite trouble.” He strokes a hand through his salt and pepper beard, humming thoughtfully to himself. Azula observes the familiar stitch of skin at his brow only briefly before she returns to studying the healer’s face.

She wants to commit her features to memory.

The old woman is lean, far leaner than is likely healthy, all skin and bones and hardly any fat. Her Earth Kingdom clothing hangs off of her frame, her white hair pulled back from her face in Earth Kingdom style, though she is so clearly Water Tribe. Her dark skin holds wrinkles and folds that speak of her endless years amongst the living.

She is far older than Uncle Iroh. But the old woman shows him deference, as though he were not in a peasant’s rags. It’s strange.

But then, so was their greeting, and her uncle’s sudden decision that she would be the preferable healer over another more reputable healer in town.

Azula supposes a more reputable healer might be more inclined to report Iroh to the authorities. As a matter for their reputation.

What does some little old woman healer with a Pai Sho tile for a sign have to lose?

“I’m certain I can find something sturdy enough to get you through to somewhere safe,” Kana offers with a wave of the hand.

“That is very kind,” uncle replies. The old woman shrugs, smiling at him, as though pleased with the praise.

“Anything for the Grand Lotus, of course. The Order passed along the news of what happened nearly as soon as it had occurred,” the woman continues in conversation, “Everyone has been wondering when you would surface.”

“It has been difficult to come for help. I put a rather large target on my back.”

Azula frowns, confused not for the first time since they’d entered the little hole in the wall practice and been seen through to the examination room. Grand Lotus. The Order. She stares long at the two elderly people and wonders what connects them. What this order is.

The woman knows who Azula is, that much is clear from their conversation. So much for her plan to tell Kana of her plight while Uncle’s back is turned. To ask her to send for help. Soldiers to come and ‘rescue’ the princess from her horrid uncle and violent brother.

She will find no such help here.

Azula clenches her teeth, and turns the puzzle of this new information over and over again in her mind’s eye, inspecting it.

“And your niece is…uninitiated?”

“That is correct. For now.”

Azula’s attention turns to Iroh and Kana once again, her gaze intense and suspicious. For now? Her uncle’s intentions once again blur and become unclear. By now she has usually figured out those who she spends an inordinate amount of time with. Her uncle continues to elude her. Her hand curls into a fist, nails biting into her palm.

“Unlike my nephew,” Iroh continues, “she has a better appreciation for the finer things in life. For the cryptic arts. Given time, perhaps she may even come to appreciate what the world has to offer when it is in balance.”

“She is right here,” Azula finally snaps. The older folks turn to look at her, eyebrows raised, and Azula feels her glare deepen.

“Apologies,” the old woman says, stepping in before more vitriol can be tossed around. “Of course you are here. You are to take it easy.” The old woman crosses to her, reaching over to a table next to the examination slab, plucking up a nondescript bag and folding it between her age-softened hands. “This herb is for the pain. You only need very small doses. Your uncle will be able to measure and brew them for you.

“It will make you groggy,” Kana warns, “but, at least you will not be in so much pain.”

Azula’s lips press into a thin line, but she nods. Right now, there is no pain in her leg, but she knows that this will likely not last. Much as she requires a sound mind, she also requires rest to make her mind work. She will take the herbs when she needs to sleep, she resolves, no more often than that.  

Her uncle comes forward, helping Kana sit Azula up. Her vision swims momentarily, but settles, and the princess looks between the two old people with a delicately raised eyebrow.

“I’ll fetch that walking stick and the splints,” Kana announces congenially, wandering off to do just that.

Azula looks at her uncle then, left alone with him once more in the quiet of the healer’s hut.

“The Order,” she tries then, expression questioning. Uncle only smiles cryptically. Azula scowls at him, huffing.

The old woman comes bustling back, a thick walking stick and her other supplies in hand.

“This will have to do,” she says to them. “It’s not ideal but — I don’t suppose much about this situation is very ideal to begin with.” She hands the stick out to Azula. The princess takes it, moving her hand up and down briefly, testing the weight of it. Kana takes her wounded leg in hand and sets to work.

When the healer has finished her work, Azula’s grip tightens around the curved top of the hard stick, and then she sets it sturdily against the floor, using it to lift herself from the bed she’s been languishing within. Even with the splints she can feel the rush of blood back into her foot, throbbing sharply in her ankle. Azula sucks breath in through her teeth unbidden, closing her eyes as she breathes through the pain.

It settles slightly after a few moments, but her breaths remain infuriatingly shallow to compensate for the pain. Clenching her jaw she takes a tentative step forward with the help of the walking stick. Uncle is going to have to carry her again, she knows. She eyes him silently.

He looks to be deep in thought.

“I have a few more questions for you, Master Kana, if that is alright,” Uncle says then. Azula raises an eyebrow once more. “Azula why don’t you wait outside under the awning in the shade. I will join you momentarily.”

She knows when she is being dismissed. She likes it no better from her uncle than she does from her father. Still, she obeys, hobbling carefully from the house and out into the dust of the street. Azula garners a few passing glances from those on the street, but no more. She finds a low stool and lowers herself onto it carefully, leaning back toward the door.

She listens. Her uncle’s voice can be made out but not understood through the wood. Kana’s replies are even more muffled. Frowning, Azula presses her ear a little closer to the frame, hoping to hear what they are conspiring over.

“-ong-ong…us…” It’s no better really. Her uncle’s laughter is unmistakable, however, and is followed shortly by the tinkling laugh of the healer before she can hear him making his goodbyes and coming closer to the door.

Azula leans back hastily, schooling her expression to boredom, making certain to look as though she were simply staring at the passersby the entire time that she waited. Her uncle’s portly figure trundles through the door, and he casts about for her briefly before realising that he merely needs to look down.

“Done flirting,” she asks flatly. Azula’s mouth tucks up into a lopsided curve. Iroh snorts at her.

“Come on, we’re going to find an ostrich-horse.”

“Oh?”

“I figure that it will be easier on both you and me if we have something to carry you around that isn’t my old, aching, back.”

She scoffs, “Inspired.”

“I certainly thought so,” he agrees. Iroh reaches down a hand to assist her. Azula takes it with a roll of her eyes, eased to her feet with her uncle’s help. They start into the street, Iroh’s hand around her arm.

There is companionable silence between them for a time. At least — as companionable as it can get between herself and her uncle. He seems pleased with himself when she glances at him out of the corner of her eye. She presses her mouth into a line, and then finally gives in to her curiosity, closing her eyes for a breath.

“What is the ‘grand lotus’, and why are you it?”

Iroh’s heavy brow lifts high, stitching to wrinkles as his attention diverts back to Azula. She is careful to show as little emotion as she can force from herself, expectant.

“Do you really want to know,” he asks. Azula rolls her eyes yet again,

“If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have asked.”

“I don’t know about that…but alright. Since you asked. The Grand Lotus is my title within the Order of the White Lotus.”

“White Lotus…?” Wasn’t that a pai sho gambit? And an old one at that? “So you’re…in a pai sho club?”

“It’s a little more complicated than that,” he says after a chuckle, “but essentially? Yes.”

“Why am I not surprised?”

“Now, now. Don’t be so quick to judge what you do not understand, princess Azula. I thought you of all people would know better than that.”

Azula huffs.

“Well, it’s obviously given you connections. I assume it has to do with more than just pai sho, since you felt safe enough bringing me to that healer that you didn’t really need to watch me. Not to mention, she appeared to be aware of our situation without any need for explanation.”

“There you see? You are a very perceptive girl.”

“I have my moments,” she answers dryly. “So it’s some sort of secret intelligence society with networking across the world. Or at least across the Earth Kingdom.”

“More or less,” he answers easily.

Azula’s eyes narrow.

“Why would you tell me that then? I could tell my father about your secret society of information gatherers.”

Her uncle looks cheerful when he answers her.

“I don’t think you’ll tell him.”

Something inside of Azula clenches at the words, despite his cheerful demeanour. Him not believing that she would tell her father could mean so many things. It could mean that she isn’t ever going home, for instance. She wonders if her uncle is truly above ridding himself of her entirely. Certainly if she were in his shoes she would have done something to take her permanently out of the game by now. She would not have brought her all the way to the Earth Kingdom. She would not have kept her alive on that ship.

Perhaps he hopes that he can get through to her. Or, perhaps he is merely waiting for the opportune moment. Certainly to keep up appearances he could not have killed her in front of Zuko. It would have given him away.

That’s probably it.

Azula steels herself internally.

“Here we are. This is the place that Master Kana described.” Her uncle makes certain that she can stand on her own before leaving her side. Azula puts all of her weight on her good leg, waiting as he barters with a stern looking man over the price for a sturdy mount. Her uncle comes away with one that looks a little ruffled around the edges, but otherwise healthy. It comes with a saddle and bridle already attached.

She’s uncertain where he got the money for the beast. Perhaps the healer.

“There. Come and step into my hands here, I’ll give you a boost so you can sit side saddle. I’ll lead the ostrich-horse for you.” He kneels next to her, hands cupped, ready. Azula sighs wearily, hopping over to her uncle and pressing her good foot into his palms. It requires her to compensate with the bad one. She digs her walking stick into the ground hard to keep as much of the weight from it as is possible.

When she finally gets into the saddle it is on her belly and, exasperated, Azula grunts as she pulls herself in further using her arms, settling awkwardly in the warmth of the leather seat. Her uncle recovers the walking stick where it’s fallen to the dirt road, rubbing at it with his sleeve before he hands it back up to her.

The wood is still warm and smooth under her palms.

“Don’t fall off now,” Iroh says with that same gentle cheerfulness he has affected for most of their journey to the healer. Even carrying her on his back as he’d done for most of the way his tone of voice hadn’t changed. She purses her lips.

“I have never fallen from a saddle in my life. I’m not about to start now.”

He grunts mirthfully, and the ostrich-horse bounces into motion. Azula winces when her splinted leg hits the side of the animal with the movement of its gait, holding it out steadily after that to avoid a repeat offence.

It’s some time before they speak again. Silence their comfortable companion, they disappear into the forest with the beast. It rises around them like a tide of green, late sunlight filtering through here and there to the forest floor in dappled spots of brilliance.

“What makes you think I will ever be a member of this secret…pai sho society of yours,” she asks finally, sudden after the long silence. His words to the healer have been nagging at her. And your niece is uninitiated? Yes. For now. Her voice is hushed in the close press of the foliage. Uncle Iroh turns to look up at her in surprise, eyebrows hitting his hairline.

“Well…” he sighs, his head inclining to the side as he considers his answer. Azula watches from her perch, silently expectant. “You are intelligent, and diligent. You are dedicated to your craft, and adept at many things. I suspect that you like the traditional arts more than you let on, and that you respect the traditions of the other two remaining Nations despite your life’s purpose of putting them on their knees. In short, I see much of myself in you.”

Azula snorts, unable to help herself.

“Yourself?”

“Yes. When I was a different man. Before I lost Lu Ten and had to find myself. I was a lot like you when I was younger. The Dragon of the West, in truth, is not the same person that I have become.

“I don’t doubt it.”

Iroh nods slowly at her remark. Azula watches his expression with care.

“There was a time when i was possessed of the same ruthless drive with which you execute everything, Azula. I am not proud of that man. He was smart in many ways, but still naïve in others. I did not know what the world could truly offer back then, though I called myself cultured. I did not consider the other side of the argument all that often, except where it would serve me in my military position. I was blind to the fact that my son was not ready to be on the frontlines of a war that we had been fighting for nearly a century.”

Iroh grows quiet, looking sad. Azula cuts her gaze away from the naked show of emotion on his weathered features, concentrating on the slithering underbrush below her. She hears him take a steadying breath.

“I merely hope that you do not grow up and have the same regrets that I do when this whole war is over.”

Azula frowns and looks back at the old man.

“What will I possibly have to regret?”

He’s silent for a moment. “If the Fire Nation loses, what will you lose, princess Azula?”

Her lips press closed, a thin white line, and she observes the old man down the length of her nose, expression cold as the inlaid gold of a crown.

“You think that the Fire Nation will lose?” It’s a possibility, of course. One of many. The Fire Nation is at the height of its power, however, and their technological advances far out pace those of the other two Nations. In her estimation, it is very unlikely that the Fire Nation will lose this war. With the return of Sozin’s Comet, too, they will have a once in a century opportunity at finally conquering the Earth Kingdom and the Northern Water Tribe both. They are going to win this war. They are.

“I sincerely hope that it does.”

Her brow draws low, and she looks sharply away from her uncle, back to the path they are forging through the sea of green before them.

“That’s treason,” she informs him flatly, “and a foolish hope at best.”

“Perhaps it is, but I have already kidnapped the heir to the throne. So what’s a little more treason?”

“Huh. You don’t take anything seriously do you,” she asks blandly. Iroh rasps out a laugh.

“Sure I do. But treason is the least of my worries, at the moment. If you want to talk about treason, I would be glad to point out all of your father’s treasons from the brief moment before he took the throne.”

It’s Azula’s turn to laugh, but it sounds bitter.

“So this is about him usurping you.”

“I did not say that. I merely wish to point out that no matter what I do, he would have eventually found an excuse to jail me, or worse. I might have helped him to grow up, but it is clear that your father feels no filial duty toward myself or any of the rest of us. He serves only himself and his own interests. He wanted to be the most powerful man in the world, and now he is.”

“And you didn’t?”

“…When I was young, perhaps…But once my son was gone, I found that all of my desires and ambitions had turned to ash in my mouth. What good was there in conquering? None. How many loving fathers had I deprived of their sons?” He gestures vaguely at the air.

“They feared you,” she says, and thinks that that is infinitely better than being chased down and used as a pawn in father’s plans. She will never be anything but fearsome to those around her. It’s for her own good as well as theirs.

“My name was feared, yes, but that did not bring me joy then, and it does not bring me joy now. It was a lonely life before, even though I had my son. He was the centre of my world. When he died, I was left with nothing that I cared for.”

“So you went wandering,” Azula guessed, sighing tiredly. It was an old story. Uncle and mother had disappeared at around the same time in her life. When father was rising to his place on the throne. When she went from the daughter of the second prince to the daughter of the Fire Lord. Sister of the heir to the Fire Nation throne. The heir in her own right though it was not official at that time.

He doesn’t respond.

“The camp is not far now,” he tells her instead.

Azula settles into the saddle a little heavier, back slouching.

They smell the camp before they see it. Zuko’s gone fishing and has pieces of cod scorching over the fire on a makeshift spit. Others he’s left out in a sunny patch with a generous helping of salt scattered on the skins so that they’ll dry out to jerky. He stands in one swift motion when he hears their approach, sheathing his swords when he sees that it’s them. He eyes the ostrich-horse in surprise.

“Well?”

He doesn’t look at Azula, cutting his gaze down before their eyes can meet. He concentrates instead on their uncle.

“Her leg will heal, and she will live,” Uncle answers cheerfully. Azula rolls her eyes for what feels like the thousandth time that day.”

“Good. Then we can move on,” Zuko says, sitting back down before the fire heavily.

“Well…We do need to wait around here for just…a little longer,” Iroh replies slowly, reaching up for Azula as he speaks. She sighs shortly, accepting his assistance and sliding from the saddle gingerly.

For his apparent level of fitness her uncle is surprisingly strong. He eases her down with the strength of his arms and settles her on the ground so lightly she might have been floating previously.

The clearing has heated noticeably in response to the shift in Zuko’s mood.

“What do you mean two days,” Zuko demands, “we can’t afford to stick around here that long!”

“I don’t think we need to worry about camping out for two days,” Iroh answers calmly. He reaches out a hand to help Azula. It comes gently around her bicep, and she wrenches herself free before he can firm his grip. Iroh glances at her briefly before retracting his hands back to himself.

“The Fire Nation is on our heels!”

“We are in Earth Kingdom territory now,” Iroh answers placatingly, “they will be forced to be more careful. It will work in our favour.”

“Why do we have to stay here anyway,” Zuko demands in turn. Azula is wondering the same thing.

“I am waiting for word on the whereabouts of an old friend. I believe that he can help us, if only we can make contact with him.”

So he’d been setting up this meeting while Azula had waited for him outside of the healing hut. She closes her eyes, and swallows against the sudden wave of nausea brought on by the pain of her broken ankle and knee. She leans heavily on her walking stick, breathing out between her lips and teeth.

“And if we can’t make contact with him,” Zuko questions.

“Azula, settle yourself down and I will make some of that tea,” Uncle invites. She shakes her head only slightly, looking sidelong at Iroh once again.

“No tea.”

He purses his lips at her, eyes narrowing.

“You are clearly in pain,” he tells her, “there is no reason that you must be in pain when we have been provided with the means to keep you comfortable. Sit down. I am making you the tea. And you are going to drink it.”

She huffs at him in outrage, limping briskly to her bed roll where it’s been set cradled within some tree roots. It’s more comfortable than it looks.

“Zuko help your sister sit down,” Iroh instructs.

There’s a pause, annoyance at being ignored, and then Zuko stands with a long sigh of his own. His hand is at her arm a moment later. They don’t look at one another as Azula is eased to the bedroll. Zuko shrugs off his outer robe, rolling it up and stuffing it at her back without a word before he stalks off back to the fire. She frowns as he goes, settling her spine against the bunched up fabric.

Forced to take the tea. Forced to stay at this campsite for the next two days. Azula closes her eyes and crosses her arms. She thinks of home.