Burning Twice As Bright (ATLA Azula SI)

[midnightmissiles]

21.1; Glimpse into the Future; Toph Beifong

The waiting room was uncomfortable. They gave me a little stool to sit on, but it was too short even for me. It bothered me more that they put a mirror in front of me. I can tell it's a mirror from the way they looked into the surface, expecting to see my face, but why the spirits would they expect a blind gal like me would want a mirror?

The mirror was decked with bedazzling pieces; there was a light atop, a bunch of powders and creams, the sort of shit made from cow hippo shit (the top rank shit of shits) in all sorts of containers on the table before me, and there was a flimsy gal who fussed all over my face and hair. She sorta reminded me of mom, in a way, no doubt painting my face to look like a clown, but in the darkest, secretest part of my heart, I thought I might have enjoyed the attention, if only a little and never tell nobody, you fuckwits.

The clamoring outside dimmed after a while, though I could never get used to this sort of shit. I was Master Chief Beifong, 05 117, and I had spent the last two years crushing insurgents and imperial scum. Even if I could see that there was nothing around each corner, I couldn't help but expect there was someone—behind the curtains, around the corner, outside of the studio halls...

It was giving the jitters, even if the Commander had said everyone was safe. If there was one thing you learned on the field, it was to trust the Commander.

She made mistakes like anyone else, but some times, it was like she had a whole committee of people in that head of hers; she'd always have the right choices in mind and the best plans for action. But she also said we ought to question our superiors, that there was no such thing as a superior who never gave a wrong command, well, here we were.

Spirits damned, how long were they going to keep me here? I shuffled my ass on my stool again. There's some five thousand people outside in this rally—the first of many—and they won't stop their goddamn clapping. I was getting flash backs to enemy earthbenders doing the 'thunderclap' (a form of area-of-effect smashing of earth that disrupted footing). It wasn't even the first time and I was getting used to it, but it was damned uncomfortable.

"This is a first," The Commander always had a way of sneaking up on me. I thought it was something to do with her being the supposed Avatar—third rule of the Inquisition, you don't mention that the Commander could be the Avatar—but if I wasn't the obedient soldier that I was, I would have done something stupid, like call her 'twinkle toes' or some silly nickname. The Commander peered over my shoulder, but she didn't comment on my face, caked with powders. "You aren't out somewhere causing a ruckus, Toph."

I snorted, "I'm not that bad."

The Commander was always a bit too touchy-feely for my tastes, but the other girls always said it was her way of showing affection. So she was showing she cared now, fuck off. Weird assholes always spread weird rumors about our girls, but that's just like us saying that the men are screwing around behind closed doors. It wouldn't happen, s'all I'm saying. The Commander straightened my dress here and there, helped me with my fucking hair, and smiled down at me, "There. You look the proper lady."

"Look, but I ain't talking like one," I had enough of that shit from dad and his army of tutors back when I was a kid. I didn't need it now, though if the Commander pushed, I would give in.

Please don't push, Commander.

Seemed like she knew I was praying, because she chortled, "I'm not asking you to be someone you are not. You are here to tell the crowd who you are, what you believe it. Just remember the coaching I practiced with you."

"You know how awkward that is?" I bemoaned. It was one of my guilty pleasures; hell, it was probably all of our guilty pleasures. Who got to complain about shit to the Commander? She literally moved heaven and earth, and you could be sure as hell that she was going to be the ruler of the world before she's twenty. All the girls said so. Usually, you got a 'suggestions box', and that's good and all, but talking to the mythical, legendary Commander herself? Priceless, was what it was. "Do I gotta stare into their faces? I can't even fucking see 'em."

Her hand reached kinda low for a thing or whatever, but it seemed appropriate. Couldn't fix this damned dress without tying up all those knots. "You know people will feel uncomfortable if they can't see your face. Look at them, talk to them. Even if you are arguing with that man, he isn't why you are here."

"I know, I know, but I don't see why I got to do it." I actually did know, but you ever get the feeling of having your Glorious Leader comfort you? Fucking hell, it's a great feeling. I could get drunk on this. Not that I drank, for the record; I'm a clean girl, fuck you very much. "He's an exiled noble from Fire Nation Capital, why is he even in the race?"

I knew the reason too, but the Commander answered me anyway, while brushing my hair. Oh yesss... that felt nice. "All are equal before the law, even if the law is derived and empowered by me. Now, do you remember how you're going to be talk to the people?"

I rolled my eyes. I ain't a kid, damn it. "Sound bites, since we're being broadcast through out the whole colony."

"Good, you can parrot me. Now do you know what that means?" She asked. I thought she was done with this pampering by now, but then she started putting pins and shit in my hair. Ugh.

I rolled my eyes again. "Yes, it's for making my self-image resonate."

"Good," She backed off.

Finally! "Finally!" I stood up awkwardly, I couldn't help it, these trashy traditional dresses were too restricting for my legs. "I'll be back before you know it, Commander."

"Go get 'em," She still treated me like a kid, even smacked me forward. She was so caring, so nice, it was hard to imagine how she was when I first met her. It was hard to connect this image of the Commander to the girl who ran all the two-faced merchants of Gaoling into the ground and into the arms of the rebellion, before putting them all down like dogs, and telling everyone else to shape up. There were no executions, and not even any of the education camps of the other colonies, but a lot more happened in the background. A lot of shady shit happened, but nobody was killed and no one even fucking disappeared. When I last asked how she pacified the region with any executions, she just laughed.

Well, what was that the Commander used to say? Something about using love and fear. Fuck if I remember. Right, it didn't matter anyway. I'm just Master Chief Beifong, war hero and shit, but over all a simple girl. Sure, I might be the greatest earthbender ever, but that ain't why people will vote for me. Maybe. Probably.

"Go on," She said.

"I'm going, I'm going." I hobbled over to the stage, gave them a dazzling, practiced smile, and took my place at my podium. "Hey all, I'm just a simple earthbending girl, and I'm here to make sure you get what you deserve..."

---

Notes: I'm done. I don't wanna write anymore, momma...

 

[midnightmissiles]

Notes: It's amusing how you thought I was giving this up when I said I was tired.

20.2

There was a sort of stank in the brig, used to hold the prisoners. While the usual Fire Nation ironclad was swept with a sort of crude, alcohol-based and lemon-scented anti-bacterial, this was an ill-kept pirate ship. Originally, the pirates must have used it as something else—since they had no practical reasons for taking prisoners, as they had little in means of full maintenance. We doubted they'd been able to restock on cleaning supplies in a pirate cove, but if they had the opportunity, they obviously never used it. Instead, it was used as a storage, slave quarters, and... restroom.

Suffice to say, it was horrid.

It wasn't as if these pirates hadn't tried to be clean; the upper deck was mostly mopped up. Yet if we hadn't noticed all the half-empty bottles lying about, we'd not been able to deduce that they most probably spent as much time 'pirating' as they did spend pissed drunk.

While we had stated publicly that we were happy with our spanking, brand-new ship, in private we were a different animal. This ironclad was a pigsty, with its mismatched improvised customizations and natural musk.

This situation was not helped by the obviously moist, dark, and warm environment made by an ironclad at sea, being fed fuel by coal and firebenders.

So it was just such a terrible choir that we even had to open the door to the brig.

The man sitting in his filth opposite of us, clad in chains and irons, smiled and showed his yellowing teeth, as if he had any sort of leverage over us. And perhaps he was right, we did allow him keep his life. So he must have something we wanted, and he knew it. "What brings you to my, ah, humble abode?" He raised his chained arms in question, the sly smile never leaving his face even while half of it was swollen from the bruising we'd given him.

We made a gesture with our fingers, and a seat was brought to us. It was all a play for dominance here, to which I gave all resemblance of control over. Nevertheless, I had argued before, there was no reason not to expend the effort to be civil. "You have knowledge we want. Please, do indulge us."

"You even said the magic word!" Jolt chortled.

The smile on our face froze into place. Cold fury was a thing that Azula barely contained these last few days; we had suffered too much, too soon. It did not help that the concerns that I had for the fallen—slaves, pirates, solders, sailors and all—bled over in our nightmares.

But as soon as rage came, it was gone. This was the first of the many lessons we learned.

"No."

"No?" He blinked.

As amusing as such insolence was to the bystander, we were quite beyond that point by now. "This isn't how we're going to do this, Jolt. You will tell me everything I want to know." There was no doubts about it in our voice.

We didn't have room for doubt.

"... And who's going to make me? You?" He scoffed. "Don't make me laugh any harder than you already are, lassie. You might be a bit of a monstrous tyke in battle, but these puckered lips aren't opening for any body."

Well, this was expected, really. Disappointing, but it was expected. We closed our eyes and allowed our bending to push away the heat and stink of the holding cell and took a deep breath. "I have a certain set of skills. Skills that make me a nightmare to people like you. It does not end in the battle field."

He opened his mouth to speak—no doubt to get in a final word or to make a new jab or joke at our expense. Instead, his teeth clenched shut in sync with the clench of our fist.

"People think interrogation is about torture tools," We murmur, idly noting that our cute, little junior officers (who were at least a head taller than us) were in the room as well, desperately hiding the affect such a filthy habitat had on their features. This was going to spread, wasn't it? Let it. "They think if I took out rusted gardening tools and played with your sinews like a harp, you'd start singing the song I want to hear. But interrogation isn't really like that, and I think you know that, Captain Jolt. No, I might sate my urge for vengeance upon you, but such tactics would never give me the information I want. I won't bother with playing with your fears or inflicting intolerable amounts of pain, Mister Pirate Captain Jolt. We both know that isn't going to work."

He tried to hide it—the fear in his eyes as I pulled on body like the strings of a puppet, the hope that he thought he was going to get out of this debacle less scratched than he expected, the anxiety that this was all a trick—but Azula? Azula can taste such emotions in the air. It is built into her by circumstance and by genetics, by father and mother and the events that followed. He perked up, "Aye? Then why don't you just let me go, I'll promise on my honor that I'll give up piracy."

"Tsk." We raised a hand, and Mai handed us the first knife, still red and hot. Our reply came with as much sarcasm as he laced his words. "You have no honor, Mister Pirate Captain Jolt. But we can work to change that."

Again, he blinked in surprise. Was he daft, having never heard of lunatic royalty? Or was this just another act? "But I thought... you said..." Perhaps he was actually surprised.

Imagine that.

How droll.

"I don't like repeating myself, you know? Let me rephrase that, shall I?" We uncrossed our legs and stood up, sashaying idly towards the man who subconsciously pressed himself against the iron walls behind him. A certain sort of smile took its place on our lips, the sort that a cat has when its swallowed the most beautiful songbird in the garden. "I will sate my urge for vengeance upon you."

 

[midnightmissiles]

20.3

The war had gone on for almost a hundred years, but trade—trade never changed. It never stopped, and its hubs were cities that never slept. While the northern ports of the Earth Kingdom had become like Hong Kong, the city of Gaoling had become like Shanghai. The scale was, of course, greater than the cities of China since the continent was a couple sizes larger, but those five or six ports were more spread out and still technically under a single political entity.

There were dozens of small fishing villages that led up to Gaoling, many of them closer to the waters. But before this hundred years of war, the Southern Water Tribes were on no means friendly terms with the Earth provinces—they had often had criminals on both sides raid each other. Yet another reason for Gaoling being the southern hub of trade was that it was on the pulse of the imperial road—a road which led into the Earth Kingdom proper and also to various villages of the south. In being on the crossroads, Gaoling was destined to grow into a trading hub.

So why was it that we stationed ourselves away from Gaoling and its subsidiary port, which was protected by a large, natural peninsula and tight gulf?

The reason, of course, laid in the rivers of the Earth provinces. Earthbenders are unnaturally discomforted by running water, and few of them ever even bother to learn to swim. It could explain why what little navy the Earth Kingdom has is populated by what they might consider the 'lower orders', people who couldn't bend at all. Was this a spiritual apprehension of water or some deep seated, genetically inherited fear? We had no way of knowing, but their dislike for water is clear (though there are strange outliers, such as mudbenders).

The rivers, the rivers! They would rather drink well water than from the rivers. But trade travels so many times faster by water than by land. And that... is something to be exploited. It was also the reason why we landed upon a small fishing village sitting at the mouth of a river. It wasn't particularly wide, nor was it directly connected to any of the main rivers, but there was a reason why we selected this location.

Seafaring junkers were different from our ironclads; they could not simply land by running into land. The sight of one of such a beast running aground so close to their shabby, little pier must have so frightened the villagers.

It didn't help that we were running pirate colors on the open waters; it helped keep any other opportunists from seeking us out.

'To be honest, I didn't even expect there to be a village here,' Azula grumbled as she glanced about at the utterly unworthy hovels that welcomed us. It was a show of how the Fire Nation, over the course of this war, had not pursued civilian casualties that the villagers were now approaching our vessel with curiosity rather than running away in fear. Not that we shied away from such things, but it was just so inefficient.

Such a phenomenon was by no means due to our psychotic father; it was likely because we had such skilled, low-level military administrators and civil servants coordinating the war effort.

'That isn't a bad thing. We can use the manpower, as long as we do this correctly,' I replied. 'Time to put on our game face.'

Our lips twitched. 'I can handle it.'

"Ty Lee, Mai... and two of you, come, we will be negotiating with whoever is in charge here. The Captain can go bargain for supplies without us." We stepped out onto the deck, studying how closely this small piece of land mass reminded us so much of Manhattan. It would be a great central hub of power—a seat of region power—once the correct canals have been put into place. For now, it would be the base from which we would spread into the south. "Tell the rest of the girls to go camping."

It was code for setting up shop somewhere more in-land. While we drilled our girls in the art of law and finance throughout the trip, their survival training (mandatory in schools approved by the Fire Lord) had not been forgotten.

While injured, Lin was no longer in critical condition. She would be our administrator for this expansion, since she could still perform admirably in all situations outside of battle. "Commander, would you like to choose the location?"

"No," We studied our nails lazily as the villagers below gathered the courage to approach more closely. The old man in the middle of the small crowd seemed like their mayor from the way he was being deferred to, but we could be mistaken. "I'll leave that to your judgment, Private Lin. I want to see a hill fort complete at the week's end. A good, strong, and defensible location will do. And do attempt to keep the pretense that you are merchants, would you?"

"Of course, Commander."

We were going to turn towards our much reduced entourage, but Ty Lee chose that moment to hug us from behind. The action sent our spine into a ramrod as we nearly shot lightning in all directions. "Why so serious, Azula?" She giggled. "This is our adventure! Come on, I've been copped up in that ship for too long!"

"It's only been a week," We attempted to retort. It was a futile effort.

"Oh my gosh! A whole week?" She babbled.

"... We're going down now. Come on." We sighed mentally. "Our hosts are expecting us. Mai... help me. She's not letting go."

Mai took one second to make eye contact, in which she turned away, clearly not interested in becoming tangled up in Ty Lee's limbs. After a moment, when she thought we had turned our attention elsewhere, her lips twitched upwards for a second. We saw it!

Knowing that this was another exercise in futility, we walked down the steps in defeat with a Ty Lee-shaped 'backpack' on our back. "Come on, girls. Parade formation, let's give a good show."

Of course, it helped that this whole silly display connected with our troops in some odd manner. Some of the sailors even chortled. But they always did it when they thought we weren't able to see them. It was better this way, after all. Something, something... fear and adore us at the same time, something, something complete, wouldn't you think? Mai certainly picked up on that, in that uninterested, dissatisfied tone of her's as she whispered her observation out of the corner of her lips, "You're enjoying this."

"My dear Mai, you might well think so, I couldn't possibly comment," We whispered back with equal lack of outward reaction.

Our eyes made a cursory glance over the village.

'It's pathetic.' She was not impressed. She had all rights to be. There were less than thirty hovels here, more than half of them made from some sort of flimsy looking wooden material. The worst were made of mud and on the verge of collapse. The few at one end of the village (the far end away from the pier) were of brick. It was the classic display of income inequality, even before we go into detail about how the brick houses were built on a hill looking over the rest of the village. And no doubts all traders who pass by will stop at the affluent homes, further increasing their wealth.

Squinting, we noted the family name-plate carved artistically into wood above the gates of the largest residence. Again, there were little doubts that this would be the name of the mayor.

I shrugged at her mentally. There wasn't anything to disagree with, and to be honest, it might have been better to start with nothing than with something that might be hard to cleanse of later. A bad foundation was much more detrimental than having to start with nothing, after all. 'There's about twenty to thirty families in this village. At least a portion of them will be somewhat unhappy. Feel out the sentiments of the youthful, yet able. As a village of such a size, it's most likely that to keep order, the stability and happiness of the majority is at least somewhat sated.' We paused and blinked. There were many ways to find sympathizers. 'Divide and conquer.'

Our eyes rolled, 'Stating the obvious again? Silly me. There are many ways to go about this. I know better than to simply go about roughing them up, you've been repeating it too many times already. Diplomacy, intimidation, spirituality, ideology, bribing and financing... why not use them all?'

'Why not indeed?'

 

[midnightmissiles]

Note: Please discussion. Lack discussion make sads. Sads make slow write. Slow write become no write.

20.4

People often thought that it was resources that the Fire Nation lacked after such a long period of strife. That was not exactly wrong—we were ever hungry for resources—but we did not lack it. What we wanted and did not own, we took. In doing so, it fed into the Fire Nation war machine and fueled further expansion in search of more resources, fueled by our taken resources. This was a cycle that would eventually come to an end, but to what end? If we stayed stagnant then it would lead to the downfall of our nation. Yet we were not a nation of idiots; unlike the tribes or the empire, we saw that we must adjust and we adapted. Technology will eventually take the place of resources, we would grow to be more efficient with each year.

Yes, this was improvement not just on the efficiency of economy and bureaucracy, but also in the art of killing. Nevertheless, it was efficiency that we prized, and thus resources have become less of a problem as we developed throughout the years. Development came in other forms as well. The majority of the Earth still used wood for fuel in its most primitive form; the Winter Palace of the Earth King was heated by the systematic chopping and burning down of a small forest each year.

Yet we moved from wood to charcoal and to coal. We had little doubt that we'd be moving onto petroleum and electricity within the decade... yet the older fuels still had their place.

There was a type of oak native to the southern provinces of the Earth Kingdom (that we did not know the local name for, but was called the ubame in the Fire Nation), which produced perhaps the finest form of charcoal known to the Fire Nation engineers at the moment. Yet such a processed product could then be used to make soap, shampoo, and various cosmetics products as well, in addition to fueling our newer ships and trains. It was underused, but we could change that—creation of a new market was one of my specialties, as it were. And yet this was but one of ten resources we were here to exploit.

But that wasn't why we were here, and that wasn't what the Fire Nation lacked.

In such an efficiency-focused society, pushed to the brim, we required only really two things. One was resources, which was seen to, and the other was manpower.

Indoctrination and training that made the soldiers of the Fire Nation so feared throughout the world required both supplies and time, both of which we had little of. But we could save time by having the unindoctrinated produce our supplies, couldn't we? We would then save manpower for where it was needed and—if we controlled the right channels—can create the indoctrinated society over time. That was not taking into account that the creation of such a society is an argument for the eventual takeover of the world... but that could wait.

We were here, in essence, not for their beautiful oak or their unused saltpeter or their misused sulfur (as much as we would be taking such stuffs for our use), but for their people. We were hungry for it. Greatness hungered and we would take their men, women, and children, and they would thank us for it.

And why wouldn't they?

"Hello, I am Executive Lee, but my friends all call me Ty Lee," Our deliciously cute mouthpiece spoke for us. She hopped on over ahead of the entourage, dressed in dab colors of dirt and grass—the colors of Earth. We all were, yet she made it look good.

That was her duty and her purpose. Appearances, as they say, were everything.

In the same slightly naive, yet polite tone, she continued, "This is Secretary Mai and her assistants and servant. I represent the South Earthen Trade Company, from north of here."

Mayor Cheng, a portly man (in comparison to his citizens) with a graying, short beard and obviously in the age of having grandchildren, hobbled forward and nodded. He was used to people deferring to him, without a doubt, but 'from the north' could be anything between the next village over to the Imperial Court in Ba Sing Se. It would be rude to ask for clarification, but such was the way of communication in China, Korea, Japan, the Fire Nation, and the earth Kingdom. Such things were typical of such a similar culture. Instead, he fiddled with his beard and smiled kindly, "And I welcome you, Ty Lee. I am Cheng Deng Bin, mayor of Fishing-in-the-Cape Town. Please, come to my home, so that we may have a proper feast." The smile might have been kindly, if he wasn't rubbing his palms together and all but seeing money in his eyes.

What a dick, 'We're renaming this place Capetown after we're done.'

"Aren't you a little young to be a boss?" The mayor began immediately.

"Aren't you a little short to be a mayor?" Ty Lee replied, but without a hint of the displeasure we might have colored our words with. As well as we might be able to control ourselves within, it was Ty Lee who held the greater acting talent. And more so, while we might inspire with overwhelming charisma, Ty Lee has a certain charm that soon became obvious.

For the mayor, who was just about equal to Mai while his back was hunched, his height might have been a sore point. Many of his townsfolk were taller than him. Yet perhaps it was the way Ty Lee put it, or perhaps it was because she was actually shorter than him, it caused him to laugh so heartily, we knew it could not be faked.

'Worthless small talk,' Azula narrowed our eyes.

Our shoulders shrugged, 'Perhaps, but it lubricates our business, so it is necessary. The mayor is not ambitious, and he does not lust for many things. In such a village, he is like a king. In doing so, he is more willing to preserve what he has rather than to seek for more.'

We sighed and turned away from the scene as the crowd followed Mayor Cheng and Ty Lee towards the largest compound in the village. '… And so he would not be receptive to our method. I understand.'

But it felt like pulling teeth—more so because what she felt, I did too.

The mayor's inquiries into our business and such matters would come later, of course, during dinner. Of course, it would be Ty Lee who would do this job, though she knew well what she was doing. She was experienced in such talks, and perhaps even more so an experienced actor than us. Maybe. No compromises, no deals, or anything of the matter would be made, proposed, or settled then, but both sides would use the opportunity to feel each other out.

And as it were, the four entered the household while I was left outside, to dine with the peasants.

It seemed that this Mayor Cheng was a stickler for traditions... but that too was within our projections and plans. Mai and Ty Lee were to push our deals for raw material and land usage forward, test the weaknesses within the Mayor's household, and all sorts of silly, drama-filled intrigue... the sort of thing Azula delighted in so much.

'So why is it that we have to go the other way? Why this... game?' She was unhappy, not only with the loss of the sensation of superiority, but also with the whole charade. It was natural, but inevitable.

'You know why,' We had worked on our plans for weeks.

'I want to put the Mayor in his place,' She changed tactics. Still, it was a bit unreasonable for me to expect the ten-year-old Azula to have the same mental fortitude and resilience as the fourteen-year-old who infiltrated and took over the Dai Li, the most powerful shadow organization in the continent.

But she was getting there already. 'A man like the mayor cannot hold the town, once it grows. He will be insufficient. He will prove inadequate. Think of this as a game... as much fun as the business show that Ty Lee will have put on, it is only that and a simple thing. We won't be missing out... after all, we too are here to create an image.' That any contracts would be null once he was replaced and us remaining the village's suzerain master was perhaps the last thing on our mind.

Perhaps.

Many of the worst leaders in the world used this method to get what they wanted. It allowed them to reach for what might have been absolute power in their eyes. As we knew well, power corrupts.

We might have tried to justify ourselves, though why would we?

These were the steps taken to greatness, the road we willingly took. What was building a cult of personality around us compared to the steps we would take afterwards? And it wasn't as if we wouldn't enjoy this...

 

[midnightmissiles]

Notes: Slight tonal change due to change of perspective and vague references to unhappy things.

20.5

Interlude – Yu Fei

Fei brushed back the salty grim upon her brow as she tugged the day's catch off the boat. It wasn't her boat, and it wasn't her catch, but it meant she would be eating this night. It was a good day. It seemed like a lifetime ago that she thought about what she might have been doing this day if her life had not taking the strange turns it had, but all she could do now was be thankful she wouldn't be sleeping cold and hungry.

Life seemed dull, gray, and monotonous. Everyday was the same repetition, and as much as she tried to put on a mask of a smile on her face—just to survive and be a part of the village—it never felt real.

How many lifetimes ago had it been since she saw the world in color?

It seemed so long ago, when she had just budded onto womanhood, when the realities of war truly hit her. They lived in a small fishing village south of Yu Island without a name, where the war was nothing more than a faraway concept. It was something that happened to other people, surely. Father, Mother, and Little Sister... she couldn't even bring herself to remember their names.

And then the Fire Nation attacked.

Was it really the Fire Nation?

It was late that night when the sounds of wails and dragged footsteps fell on their doorstep. Some of the people from the north who did not want to live under the Fire Nation's colonization companies left their homes and their belongings to sneak out into the night. It left her numb, why did Dad let the strangers share their home? It was supposed to feel nice helping someone in need, but she couldn't help but feel like it was the beginning of something worse.

Not a week later, the Fire Nation came into their village. The old mayor was a wise man of great integrity from what she could remember of her childhood, and he gave up without a fight. It was useless to fight, he had said.

Those soldiers in red who bent fire to their will left soon after, seeing nothing for them to take.

But in their wake, others came. Company men who sought only wealth, mercenaries who followed the armies' conquests, stragglers, bandits... martial law was in effect, yet the only law was 'don't cause trouble for us'. And sometimes, it was the enforcers who caused the trouble. On some days, it was the Fire Nation soldiers. On other days, they were rebels. Yet other still, they were Earth Kingdom soldiers, bandits, or someone else. They all acted like they were in charge, but who was the law?

There were sounds of fighting, of metal clashing, of earth rumbling and air burning into the night, everyday, all day. There was no peace in this world that seemed to lose color with each passing day.

Weeks passed, but they did not leave. It seemed like they were there to stay. The refugees hid under their floor boards, unable and unwilling to leave. Were they fugitives from the law? Were they deserters? Why did they harbor them?

She was young then, and she didn't understand.

When the soldiers came, she was the good girl, but it was the refugees themselves who gave themselves away. Their child could hold it no longer, and cried as he had done in many nights. Oh, he didn't have his one, favorite toy. Oh, when will he be able to eat again? Oh, oh...

They were dragged out, and she never saw them again.

The next day, more soldiers arrived to the village. Some, she thought were almost familiar, perhaps they were pushed back and beaten? Sounds of conflict haven't left in what might have been forever.

Houses of the village, which were once at least respectable, were now in ruins. Some because of the abuse laid on by soldiers, some because they were salvaged for war materials, and some due to the fighting.

She had begun staying in doors during the day some days ago.

It wasn't as if she had the strength to walk outside anyway.

At first, they shared food. But soon everyone ate from the same bowl, and then days afterwards, they ate what herbs and berries they could find.

The world outside wasn't safe.

She found she couldn't even react to the sight of Little Sister's face covered in the green mess from her eating grounded grass. She didn't have the strength for it. It didn't help that all she had on her mind those days were how tired, hungry and cold she was.

Soon, even herbs were hard to find.

Mice were raw, but they had more taste than stale rice.

How did the children have the strength to cry? Maybe if they didn't have to give the children all of their food, they would not... maybe... maybe...

She couldn't believe she was contemplating such things. She wasn't a bad girl. She couldn't be.

Fei died once inside her heart then.

The soldiers came that night, smelling of putrid alcohol and of piss and sweat. They were stragglers from the fighting to the west, and after kicking open their door, they fumbled around the house, taking whatever they pleased.

Her heart seized and she felt numb, shivering, and she felt so cold while huddled in the dark corner of the house with Father, Mother and Little Sister.

A soldier walked into the room they hid in, and grunted unintelligibly.

Words were exchanged, and she found herself being pried out of her fetal state by Father. Then Father handed her to the soldiers. She couldn't remember Father's name, but she could remember those words. "Please... please have mercy. Please spare us..."

She tried to struggle, she tried to scream, but gagged and dragged, she left the house.

There were five of them.

They smelled as if they had not bathed in months. Their rotten, yellowing teeth shone in the dark, under the single strand of light from the moon made by the door ajar. Unshaven and unclean, they held her down.

She felt as if she died again that night.

She was broken, unclean.

With streaks of tears not yet dry, she struggled to stand. Her knees gave and she fell to her feet. One of the drunk soldiers came back, and the abuse did not relent, simply because she was too loud. He wanted to sleep, he said, as he left her, bloodier than before, but no more bruised than she already was.

Shaking and hating herself with every fiber of her being, she wanted to kill them. Then she wanted to kill herself. But she couldn't find the will or the ability to do so.

Was it cowardice to snatch the soldiers' coins and run away?

She spent a night in the mountains, wishing and praying to the spirits of her ancestors, of the mountains and the rivers, and of the village's protectors to deliver her from this world that didn't make sense. This had to be a dream—a nightmare—so when was she waking up? Why wasn't Father or Mother coming to wake her?

Still covered in rags shredded by the brutish hands of the common soldiers, skin purple and red from abuse, she crawled home.

Nothing stopped her... but she had done something, hadn't she? She had the soldiers' gold, and didn't the refugees often lament that they could not go further without coin? She could save her family then. Fei had such hopes, as bleak as they were. It was addicting to hope, she felt.

But that way lied despair.

The door was ajar, just like the hovel the soldiers used when they used her.

There was a stench of blood and shit.

She found Little Sister's body first, mangled and cut up on top of a pile, with Father and Mother underneath. She had nothing.

Nothing to live for, she tried to cry, but no voice came out. Her throat was too hoarse from the nights previous. It had hurt so much to cry, so all she was able to do so uncontrollably was shake as the whole world was pain.

She had no tears left, no family left, and nothing was all she had.

Fei had thought about just ending it right then, but she was so... indignant. She felt angry and powerless, why should her family suffer when the soldiers, whoever they were, got away?

Revenge drove her like the hounds of hell, but she found surviving wasn't so easy either. Her goals felt lofty and out of reach; how could she possibly grow strong enough to fight back and sate her rage?

She moved south for a time, towards the great fortresses of the Earth. She sought the strength they had, but the road was perilous.

To survive, she had to steal. Sometimes, it was an old couple living with their only child. Sometimes, it was a family like hers used to be. Sometimes, it was a young couple, or a pair of siblings, or...

For food, for clothes, for supplies, she did things that made her feel dirtier than a thousand soldiers could ever make her feel. The coins only brought more trouble. There were thieves to escape at first. But as people found out, she found she had murderers and bandits on her heels.

The first time she killed...

She had to do it, didn't you see?

She had to, because it was either him or her. He was going to hurt her, he was going to... and she needed it. She had not eaten in two days, and the rock was so conveniently just within her grasp. When he pushed her down, she grabbed it with both hands and she did not relent in her fury until she collapsed, ragged and tired.

The food didn't even taste good. It had no taste, despite being covered in spices. The world felt dimmer by the day. It always looked like it was about to rain.

She ran and ran, but she couldn't escape the nightmares. She couldn't leave the sounds of battle, and she couldn't leave the wailing cries of the dead and dying.

Was this war?

Why did people want to do something so...

It felt like she was trying to climb up a mountain side with nothing to hold onto.

With each step, she fell more than she could rise.

It wasn't the last time she had to kill to live.

Eventually, she learned to fight. She learned to defend herself. She wasn't the best, but she thought she could kill her tormentors. Maybe then, the voices would stop accusing her of terrible things in her sleep. Maybe then, it'll all end.

She spent months tracking down the soldiers who ravaged her village.

She learned the way the Fire Nation and the Earth Kingdom both organized their troop movements. She learned how to read just to find the records of who went where. She followed the trails, watched from afar, pretended to be someone else, just to get closer to her prey.

The whole affair was monotonous and mechanical. By then her rage had burned out and left her empty. She had thought, after seeing the faces—or faces of those who she thought were they—that the ember of life would return to her heart.

Something akin to recognition might have sparked within her, but little else.

Perhaps, maybe, if she could just get her hands around one of their necks...

And then King Bumi brought a mountain down on the whole platoon. Well, it wasn't a literal mountain, but it was a hill larger than his city of Omashu. It literally rolled down one end of the valley and buried the men, making them finer than paste.

She hadn't fell on her knees in so long, but she did then. What was she to do?

Fei thought she'd have felt something like happiness. She thought she'd at least get a sense of joy. Yet this was... like ants struggling at the feet of a god, and she felt emptier than before.

Fei wanted to hate, but she couldn't bring herself to do so.

Looking back, was it because she took the coins that the soldiers returned and kill her family? Did they always plan on it? Why did Father offer up? The questions she never thought about came at her, even though she just wanted to forget it all.

She was tired of life and struggling, and she wasn't even a mother! She laughed herself hoarse that night, without a single shred of amusement. She laughed so hard that she felt as if tears might fall, but none did.

So she bore the cries in her nightmares and left.

She was used to it by now, and they fell to deaf ears, even if she still knew they were there.

She had escaped to the farthest reaches of the world, to a village so like her own.

Maybe here, she would start life anew?

Maybe she could feel again.

Yet in the nights, after she had worked herself to the point of exhaustion, she found she couldn't do anything but contemplate ending it all and cry when she found herself unable to do it. Why was she such a coward, she wanted to ask herself. She couldn't even voice the question aloud.

She shivered as the ocean winds picked up.

"Cold?" A voice asked from behind.

Fei turned about, and found a girl whose composer was so much like Little Sister. There was a similar mischievousness in her eyes that flickered about, just like Little Sister, before the war came to their village. "I'm fine," she replied.

How many times did she say that a day? A hundred? She ought to be below the concerns of others. She wasn't worthy...

"I don't think so," The girl drew uncomfortably close before Fei could react. "Your lips are so pale. You aren't eating well. Well... hey, you want to see a trick I learned recently on a ship?"

"Huh?"

The girl didn't stop rambling, not even bothering to show that she did notice how uncomfortable Fei was to be cornered like this. "Learned it from a pirate, from a certain point of view. Come here," she grasped Fei's wrists before adding, "Out of five hundred tries, I got it right four times. It's almost a 1% success rate!"

It had been three years since anyone held her hands. It send her into goosebumps and shivers down her spine, and she tried so very valiantly to pull away, but it was almost as if a golden glow had grown around the girl's brow and her hands that kept her from struggling. It was almost blinding, and...

She cried for the first time in those three years. She hadn't thought she could, after the last time. She thought she was out of tears.

The golden flame beckoned, and she felt the fire inside her veins.

Inside her heart.

"... How?"

It would have seemed haughty of the girl, if she hadn't just done what she did. She turned aside as if in triumph, wiping a hand across her brow. "Bodies are not so hard to play with, once you've gotten around to learning what's where and what does what. It did take a few trials and errors, but it's all in the name of learning!" After a pause, she added under her breath, "Couldn't do anything about the cuts though. Still, makes for quick interrogations at least."

"Huh?" Fei blinked, not quite understanding anything the girl was saying. Nevertheless, she felt captivated by the... by... by this...

As if compelled, she fell to her knees, and her lips twitched upwards into an uncomfortable smile, as the unused muscles in her cheeks were once again in action. Euphoria and heat flooded into her body as if she were literally alight. She couldn't keep her eyes open any longer, so blinded by the golden light and tears.

"Never mind that," The words came as her wrists were released, but the corona of the golden halo never faded. "I'm bored, what do you do for fun around here?"

Fei couldn't hold out against the onslaught of unbearable weightlessness any longer and her eyes rolled to the back of her head. Her body shuddered from being so brutally forced to feel... anything... again, it was pain and pleasure rolled into a convoluted veneer of golden light. Before she passed out, she saw the little silhouette before her grumbling something inaudible...