The dust was still settling over the city, but Aang rested only long enough to catch his breath, and landed in front of Bumi so abruptly a guard flinched and rushed up with his spear, only to breathe with relief.
"Bumi!" Aang blurted. "Wait. If you surrender right away, then he just… keeps it. He keeps Arzayanagi."
Bumi's eyes flicked to the smoke-scarred middle tiers, then to the bridge where Lord Arza now looked like a person-shaped punctuation mark at the end of a sentence nobody wanted to read.
"I don't think I can take it from him, Aang," Bumi said, voice clipped. "And their commander doesn't seem like a very patient man."
"But maybe I can," Aang insisted, words tumbling over each other. "I can steal it. If I get it away from him, you won't have to surrender!"
Bumi huffed, a short, humorless sound. "The Fire Nation has thousands of soldiers down there," he said, jabbing a thumb toward the valley. "Even if you snatched that horrible thing, they'd still burn us to the ground, unfortunately. Most of my people already ran for Ba Sing Se. I am staying behind for the ones who can't leave so easily."
Aang's stomach clenched. He hated that Bumi sounded right.
He took a step closer anyway, lowering his voice. "I need a plan, though. I'm quick, but I don't think I'll make it just flying in and poking around for it or whatever." Aang drooped forward letting out a long exhausted breath that swirled the nearby dust away. "Is there anything you can do? Like, a distraction? Or a secret tunnel that comes out right under the commander's tent?"
"I could bend a tunnel, but they'd roast me for the trouble," Bumi said like it was a silly idea. "Ah, thank you," he quickly said as he accepted a large folded white cloth from a nervous servant. But then Bumi's gaze sharpened, like he'd just slid a puzzle piece into place and didn't love the picture it made. "Actually, maybe I could bend an even better tunnel."
Aang was hopping on the balls of his feet like he was ready to take a tunnel just about anywhere so long a Bumi made it.
"Under the palace," Bumi said. "Deep under. There's a cave."
Aang blinked. "A cave?"
"A sacred cave," Bumi corrected. "With unbendable crystal walls."
Aang stared at him like he'd said 'unboilable water'. "How can crystal be unbendable? It's… earth. Isn't it?"
Bumi's smile twitched, the goofball trying to peek back out of the serious. "That's the fun part," he said. "My theory is it isn't really earth at all. I think it's growing out of something. A crack. A gate. A leak from the spirit world."
Aang's skin prickled. The word gate felt like someone had plucked a string inside his chest.
Bumi leaned in slightly. "If you want an idea that isn't just 'run at the enemy and hope they all miss,' you go sit in that cave and listen. Spirits can hear you very well in a place like that. If any have any ideas for you, that's where you'd be able to hear them too. And I'm sure the earth-attuned spirits are quite riled after that attack."
Aang swallowed. "But how do I get there?"
Bumi shrugged. "On foot, it's a long way. Gets blocked off all the time. But lucky you, I can practically swim through the earth. Hee-hee!" He glanced toward the palace balcony where a guard was approaching with a reverently carried pair of sandals. Glittering gold and purple with large puffy fuzzballs on the toe straps. Bumi's eyes softened for just a heartbeat. "I'll drop you off on my way to wave the ol' white flag, it's the least I can do after you saved my people from getting torched in their homes."
Aang's throat went tight. "Bumi…"
"Don't look at me like that," Bumi snapped, then immediately looked annoyed that Aang had gotten to him at all. "I'll be fine, Aang. The Fire Nation still accepts surrenders without much fuss. The worst of it's already passed."
Bumi slipped the sandals on as the soldier laid them down gently before him, and they squeaked clownishly loud as he slid his feet into them.
They were… truly horrible.
Bumi beamed at them with absolute pride, making a warbling squeak as he took two steps to make sure they were still entirely irredeemable. "Ah, my lovelies, how I've missed you," he said with a deep satisfaction. Bumi cleared his throat. "Okay," he said brightly, as if he was about to show Aang a new game instead of walk into a surrender. "Come closer, Avatar."
Aang stepped forward.
Bumi grabbed him by the wrist, pulled the boy into a one-armed embrace, lifted his hand like he was bracing against an invisible ceiling, and twisted his shoulders.
The ground opened in a spiral, his feet in visually accosting sandals the drill bit that pulled them deep and fast into the earth.
Aang yelped as the palace floor became an almost freefall chute, stone flowing like water around them. They dropped into darkness that smelled of freshly turned earth, and it got cold fast, but that hardly bothered Aang. And then the tunnel smoothed, angled, and suddenly they were sliding more than falling, Bumi steering them like he'd been born to badger moles.
Aang's voice vibrated along with him. "Bu-u-u-mi-i-i, thi-i-is i-is a-a-awes-o-ome!"
"You're darn right it is!" Bumi said smugly.
The tunnel spit them out into a chamber that made Aang's breath catch.
It wasn't big. Not like a giant natural temple that had come to his mind. It was more like the earth had decided to carve out a cozy little crystal break room any passing earth bender could pop in and gather their thoughts at.
Every wall but the one they entered through shimmered with a glossy muted green.
Not the warm green of trees, or the bright green of new grass. This was jade-green, deep and glassy, with veins of lighter color snaking through it like frozen lightning. The crystal grew in plates and ridges, crawling up the walls in stubborn, angular blooms like it was searching for sunlight but didn't know it was far away. It caught the faintest of lights and held them, staying dim and eerie but navigable even without a light source.
In the center was a shallow pit, round as a bowl.
Bumi released Aang's wrist and dusted his hands. "Here."
Aang turned in a slow circle, eyes wide. "This is… weird."
Bumi nodded, pleased. "Oh yes, super weird. Been here since before Omashu was founded, so they say."
Aang stepped toward one of the crystal ridges and instinctively reached with his mind, curious.
Nothing.
He tried again, pushing, the way he'd seen earthbenders push at stone.
The crystal didn't even pretend to care.
Aang frowned. "Is it really unbendable? I haven't learned earthbending yet."
Bumi took a solid stance, punching fist forward, but only a few bits of grit from their tunneling moved, and the jade-like crystal couldn't be bothered to even shake a little. "Yep, still unbendable." Bumi leaned over the little pit and peered into it like he expected it to answer him. "Anyway, legend says Avatar Kyoshi learned something important by meditating in there."
Aang perked up. "Really?"
Bumi shrugged. "Or she just thought it was a great place for a nap. Hard to tell with that Kyoshi. The ol' girl didn't write much of anything down—completely irresponsible, if you ask me."
"I'm sure she had her reasons," Aang dismissively whispered, but crept over to the shallow pit and swallowed a nervous laugh. "If sitting in this pit is a prank of some kind I'm gonna be really mad at you."
"Hah! Wish I'd thought of it," Bumi said. He adjusted the white flag under his arm. "Well, I have to go play nice with the spear chucking maniac. You have a nice sit. Clear your head."
"Yeah," Aang's brow furrowed with sadness. "Bumi, please be careful."
Bumi paused at the tunnel entrance, looking back. For a moment the goofball drained away, leaving only a king with soot in his beard and a city in his hands. "I've lasted this long, haven't I?" he said quietly. Then his grin snapped back into place like a mask he refused to stop wearing. "Also, if that madman burns me to a crisp, please take care of my sandal collection. They need daily cleaning and reassurance."
"But I don't even know where you keep—!"
Bumi vanished into the tunnel with a laugh that echoed off the crystal and came back sounding tinny and strange.
Aang stood alone in the dim green hush, and for a few seconds he just listened.
The cave had a voice, and it wasn't from wind. It wasn't dripping water or creaking rock. It was a low, almost-subsonic hum, like the crystal was just a little bit alive. Aang stepped into the pit, sat cross-legged, and closed his eyes. That's where the hum was the loudest.
He tried to breathe and meditate like Monk Gyatso had taught him.
In.
Out.
In.
Out.
The war is not in here.
The smoke is not in here.
The spear is not in here.
Ploop.
Aang's eyes snapped open.
A single droplet of water fell from a jade-like stalactite overhead and hit the crystal with an unreasonably loud and distracting sound.
He closed his eyes again.
Ploop.
Aang popped one eye open and stared at it like it was personally insulting him.
He tried again, forcing his shoulders down. "I swear that wasn't there before," he whispered, rolling his eyes at his foul luck. "Just ignore it, Aang, you're the Avatar, you got this, you can totally meditate and stuff."
Ploop.
His closed eyes twitched.
He raised a hand and flicked his wrist, intending to airbend the jade spike dry at least for a moment. Nothing happened. Aang blinked. He tried again. A sharper motion, a stronger breath. Nothing. He stood up quickly, suddenly chilly. Even his breath control to keep his body temperature stable wasn't working. He couldn't feel the air the same way. It was there, but he wasn't touching it somehow.
His stomach tightened. "What? Bumi, if this is a prank," he whispered like maybe something hungry could be listening for him.
Aang looked down.
His body was still sitting in the pit, cross-legged, perfect posture, eyes closed and airbender tattoos faintly glowing.
"…whoa, cool!" he breathed, and then immediately clapped a hand over his mouth like he'd said something too loud in a library. "I guess... I did it?"
The cave actually looked different now that he was paying attention to it. The crystal wasn't just on the walls now. It was everywhere. It had crawled across the ceiling like a frozen tide, thickening into ribs and spines, turning the chamber into something that felt less like a room and more like the inside of a detailed work of art. Light didn't behave normally either. It smeared. It haloed. The edges of things glowed as if to point themselves out. Nothing looked quite real to him anymore.
And the droplet sound… it wasn't really from the iridescent water running down the jade spike. It was all around him.
Ploop.
Ploop.
Like something was patiently tapping a finger to his temple, waiting for him to answer back. Aang took a cautious step toward the cave entrance, then stopped, whipping around to see his empty body when he felt another presence. A rush of wind whipped through the chamber, clearly unnatural and similar to airbending at least. Dust and fine crystal grit spun up around his meditating body, forming a tight little cyclone.
Aang stumbled towards it. "Hey! That's my body! Knock it—ah, what the?!"
His body's head lifted, still looking serene. Then his eyes snapped open. They weren't his anymore, but he still felt like he knew them. They glowed with a pale, steady light that the jade green crystals greedily sucked in, glowing just a bit brighter every breath.
When his mouth moved, the voice that came out was a woman's. Low. Commanding. Powerful and sure of itself in a way that made Aang's skin crawl even though he didn't know why.
"You came earlier than I expected," the voice distantly said, like he was eavesdropping from behind a door.
Aang's heart kicked. "Kyoshi?"
She moved his body in the pit like a puppet to face him. He smiled slightly at himself. It was crooked and strange like whoever all was in there didn't know quite how to move his muscles properly. It was all a bit unsettling. Well, it was deeply unsettling, but he wasn't going to complain at his own past life.
The voice said. "Please listen, my power here fades fast."
Aang quickly said, "I need to steal Arzayanagi, can you help!?"
The word made the cave hum shift, like the crystal itself had leaned in.
"Not steal," the voice corrected, reverent and sharp, not quite cross with him. "It already... belongs to you. To us."
"It does? Er..." Aang frowned. "Okay, but how do I get it without getting roasted by a whole army of firebenders?"
"Arzayanagi is anchored," the voice said. "It exists in both realms at once. A metal shell that can contain spirits—can also be touched by them. It will always be real to you, even when nothing else is."
Aang's throat tightened. "So I can just carry it like this? As a spirit?" But his face brightened. "And they couldn't see me or stop me or anything, could they! Kyoshi, that's so simple it's brilliant! Thank you! Oh, this is perfect!"
"Yes," the voice said with mild impatience, as if it were obvious. But it was also ebbing away, drowned out by the crystalline hum as she went on, "once you have it... you can... bend... in the spirit world."
Aang perked up. "Really? I could airbend without my body?"
The voice paused, and within the slightly translucent crystals he saw an orange light rush past, dancing around under the surface, and the voice grew louder again.
"No... only fire."
Aang blinked. "Firebending? But—"
"Yes," the voice insisted, and there was an edge of eagerness that didn't fit the calm cadence. "Arzayanagi carries fire with it here... without it you are… we are... defenseless."
Aang shifted uneasily. "But I don't even know how to firebend!"
"Get Arzayanagi..." the voice said, dismissive like he should just do as he's told. "I will... guide... teach... once you have it."
Aang stared. "You can teach me firebending? Oh wow, that feels like cheating! Let's totally do that." He laughed aloud, delighted at the idea of learning from his own past life.
Aang's body in the pit tilted its head, he had to lean in close as it was getting very strained just to hear the dry whisper. "Listen... for this... for my voice... Arzayanagi binds us..."
Aang's chest fluttered with sudden hope. "That is amazing! I don't even have a firebending teacher yet. If I could learn from you, that could help me stop the war sooner, kick the Fire Lord's butt in time for dinner! Stop horrible stuff like what happened above. You're the best, Kyoshi! Thank you so much!"
The smile returned, thin as a blade.
"Yes," the voice agreed. "Fire... Lord... will pay... listen... for me..." and the voice faded completely, with his body going inert again.
Aang hesitated. Something about the way she said that was deeply menacing, but the Fire Lord had done terrible things already, at least. Either way the presence of a past Avatar was chilling, but exciting, he just didn't really process the intensity of her power until she was gone. But the image of Omashu's middle tiers disappearing under a rain of fire spears slammed into his mind again, and the awe-inspiring moment snapped away.
"Okay," Aang said quickly. "Got this. Can't even lose." And he marched off proudly, then stopped after three steps. "Er... where am I going, actually. Kyoshi...?" he tried, but she was definitely gone this time. The whirling dust devil that marked her coming had collapsed in on itself. Aang stood there for a heartbeat, listening to the cave's hum, to the much quieter ploop of spirit water, to his own thoughts thundering around his skull.
He shrugged and tried to go back up the rough stairs Bumi had tunneled them around, but in the spirit world they weren't stairs anymore. They were buried in tons of that jade green glossy crystal, choking the path completely, jagged and stubborn in a way that had to be deliberate. It seemed the cave didn't want uninvited guests from the spirit world.
Aang pressed both hands against it instinctively and tried to bend. He had to at least try.
Nothing, of course. Not like he even really knew how. He turned, panicked, and nearly tripped over his own meditating body. "Okay, think," he whispered. "I'm a spirit. I'm… a spirit. Spirits can…"
He stared at the wall where Bumi brought him in, smaller but looking smooth and untouched by bending on this side of reality. It was just a patch of normal rock, dull and gray amid all the green crystal, but it was the only thing that stood out. Aang reached out to touch it, but his fingers slid through like it was smoke.
His eyes widened. "Oh!"
He stepped forward before he could consider any dangers, and the wall swallowed him up.
The sensation was like walking through loose snow, frigid and crumbling, but it would not truly bar his way. For a second he couldn't tell up from down, and swam as much as he climbed hoping he was going towards the surface in the pitch black. At least he didn't feel a need to breathe.
Suddenly he stumbled out into the light. He was outside Omashu. Or at least sort of Omashu.
The world in the spirit realm wasn't a copy, it was more like it was enhanced in spiritual places and dulled in most others. Colors were washed out, edges blurred, everything wearing a thin, hazy veil like it was being viewed through old glass. The distant army camp glowed with faint ember-light, but the tents were more like shadows with warm outlines, and the smoke above Omashu looked like wet paint just dragged across the sky.
He was close enough to feel something pulling his attention as he bounded light-weighted but without bending across the desolate plain between Omashu and the camp. He could feel Arzayanagi now like a bright beacon. A bright, hungry thing calling to him, demanding an owner. He hurried across the spirit-hazy ground in the camp, feet making no sound. Nobody looked up. Nobody reacted. Aang confirmed with a dizzy little thrill that he was indeed invisible.
That thrill lasted exactly one second, because he spotted Katara and Sokka.
They were behind some rocks just off the road, and the weirdest part was that they weren't hiding like they ought to be. They were just sitting there. Calm-ish. Maybe a three out of ten on the scale of perturbedness. Strangest of all, they were in plain view of marching Fire Nation soldiers, and nobody seemed to care. Had they turned invisible too somehow?
Aang slowed, fully baffled, and crept closer.
"Katara?" he tried as he waved in front of her face, but there was no reaction at all in her eyes. "Sokka?" he tried again, but... he couldn't talk to them. His voice didn't seem to carry the same way here. At least he could still hear them.
"I swear, if Aang doesn't get back before Appa wakes up, we're rhino food," Sokka hissed.
Katara whispered back, tight with nerves. "He will. He has to."
"I sure hope he didn't blow up when that guy did that thing." Sokka made a miserable noise. "This is the worst."
Aang's stomach flipped. He forgot Appa was still asleep. It hadn't been very long since they arrived, but somehow Sokka and Katara were waiting—pretending somehow they weren't enemies of the army all around them. He needed to hurry. It was only a matter of time before Sokka said something stupid and the jig was up.
At least he didn't have to look for Arzayanagi. It almost impatiently called to him, flashing brighter in his periphery if he dared look away from its direction, almost like it was jealous for his attention. Aang turned away from the two, had to just accept they'd be okay, and strode straight into the army camp.
It was like walking through a forest of sleeping beasts. Komodo rhinos lay in huddles, their breath fogging in pale puffs even in the spirit realm. Soldiers marched past in muffled lines, armor clinking softly, but the sound lagged behind the motion as if the world couldn't keep up with itself. Somewhere, someone laughed. It sounded underwater.
Aang followed the spear's pull to the biggest tent, a sprawling thing with heavy poles and banners that just looked like lifeless blank shadows. The tent's canvas was just a suggestion he was free to ignore and walk through. Inside, the light was warmer. It instantly dispelled that uncomfortable chill he'd picked up the instant he left his body, and the air felt thick with power.
Lord Arza sat at a table littered with maps and reports. Even hazed by the spirit realm, he looked… more solid. Rooted. Like a strong enough bender left more of an imprint on the other side.
Arzayanagi rested on the table beside him. Just sitting there. Not in a case, or guarded by dragons or anything. In the spirit world he could see flickering hints of the wraiths within dancing all around the spearhead, angry and impetuous to lash out, but he expected that already. It would be fine. Kyoshi said it would be easy, so it really ought to be.
Aang swallowed and stepped closer. He reached out, eyes darting to Lord Arza just sitting there scratching his beard. No concept of any ghostly boys lurking in his tent. The instant his fingers touched it, something slammed through him. It was a sensation so strong it made his knees threaten to fold.
Not fear.
Not pain.
Ownership.
Aang's breath caught. For a dizzy heartbeat he felt, impossibly, like the spear recognized him too. Like it had been waiting for his hand. Like it belonged there, in his grip, more than his glider staff ever did.
"What…?" Aang's eyes went wide. "This is... mine! I... I made this?"
He hadn't been led astray in the cavern, for he could lift Arzayanagi, feel it's weight diminish as he pulled it closer, like it wanted to make it easier for him. The spear rose smoothly into the air, floating in front of Lord Arza like a deliberate gesture. There was no way he would miss it.
Lord Arza looked up, but oddly slowly. He didn't reach for it. He didn't shout. He simply went still, eyes tracking the spearhead with a kind of intense focus that made Aang's skin prickle.
"Yes, my lady?" Lord Arza said quietly.
Aang blinked. Lady?
Lord Arza's gaze didn't flick to where Aang stood. He couldn't see Aang. He was speaking to the spear itself, like it was a person?
Arza spoke again, low and reverent. "I did not expect you to move on so soon. You're certain?"
Aang couldn't hear any reply. Not a whisper. Not a spirit voice. Just the hum of the tent, the faint crackle of the spear, and the distant muffled war. Who in the world was the madman talking to? Anyone at all? But Lord Arza's expression did shift as if he was expecting something.
Aang thought he should just leave, but had a ridiculous thought: Maybe I can just… nod?
He tilted the spear down slightly a couple times.
Lord Arza nodded once. "As you wish."
Aang laughed with relief, catching himself but remembering no one could hear him anyway. It was working! Somehow! He didn't know precisely what he was doing, but he was doing a fantastic job. Did Lord Arza think the spear was just going to get up and wander off on it's own? It was certainly convenient, Aang smiled smugly.
Lord Arza continued, still calm, still speaking to a weapon like it was royalty. "Do you need me to come with you? Send anyone?"
Aang panicked. No! No, don't do that!
He shook the spear quickly, an emphatic no.
Lord Arza's shoulders eased, just a fraction. "As you wish." He said again.
Aang stared, stunned. He had fully expected to be tackled by six elite guards and possibly swallowed by a komodo rhino. Instead, he was… winning a conversation using interpretive spear motions. This was the weirdest day of his life, and that was saying something.
To anyone else, Arzayanagi drifted toward the tent opening of its own accord.
Lord Arza stood, hands folding behind his back. He watched it go like it was leaving the nest; just a tinge of sorrow, but he had to do what was best for it. "I shall await your return, my lady," he murmured. "Our faith in your fire shall never waver."
Aang did not like that last part, but he was fine with nobody trying to stop him. He floated the spear out through the open flap. Outside, a nearby cluster of soldiers spotted Arzayanagi gliding past, they glanced to Lord Arza in the doorway to his tent, giving an affirmative nod.
The gilded House Arza soldiers immediately dropped to one knee. "Arzaya..." they whispered with reverence, like the terrible fiery wraiths, it was not pronounced quite like the spear's name. Aang really didn't like that he was missing so many pieces of the puzzle, but nobody was stopping him?
All heads bowed as he passed. Aang slowed, blinking.
One soldier whispered, clear enough even in the hazy spirit muffling, "She's awakening…" like he was excited a play was about to start. "It's really happening," he smiled at his fellows, who glared at him until he respectfully bowed low like the rest.
Aang carefully floated the spear around them like it was a very pointy guest at a party who needed space, but he gave the guy who spoke out of turn a quick nod to let him know he wasn't too mad about... whatever he was talking about. The soldiers didn't react further but for a few quiet gasps. They just stayed bowed until it passed.
Aang's skin crawled. They really, really like this Arzayanagi thing. Like wa-a-a-ay too much, he thought. Not normal at all. Definitely extremely creepy. And who are they going on about? It felt like he had forgotten something about the name Arzaya, like he knew it but someone interrupted him and it fell out of his train of thought, but it just stayed that way on the verge of understanding and refused to budge.
He hurried out of the camp toward the rocks where Katara and Sokka waited. None of the House Arza soldiers dared follow. The moment the spear's tip rose over the ridge line, Sokka popped up, saw it, and immediately did exactly what Sokka always did when confronted by something he didn't understand.
He tried to fight it.
"Katara, it knows!" Sokka hissed, yanking his boomerang up like he was about to slap a backtalking ghost with it. "It's coming to get us!"
Katara grabbed his arm. "Sokka, don't!"
"Stupid spear of doom!"
Aang swerved the spear away before Sokka could throw, and he hesitated. They still couldn't see him. He couldn't talk to them, but they could see Arzayanagi! He needed a way to say, 'It's me, please don't whack the angry killer spear'.
Aang looked down at the sand—an idea clicked. He lowered the spearhead to the ground, the tip kissed the sand and it sizzled, bubbled and went to the translucent orange of molten glass. That was some hot firebending, Aang clenched his teeth. He'd have to remember not to touch the tip.
A thin line of glass formed where the point passed, black at the edges, gleaming line down the middle. Sokka and Katara both froze, staring.
Aang drew quickly.
A nice round head.
"Wait, is this spear charades?" Sokka questioned with a wary frown. "Why's the spear of doom playing spear charades?"
"How should I know? What is it—wait!" Katara started, getting frustrated but suddenly realizing.
A smiling face. Very bald, cartoonish ears, arrow front and center.
Katara's mouth fell open. "Aang?!"
Sokka leaned in, squinting, but went wide-eyed with horror. "Wait... did the spear eat him? Oh no!" he hissed.
Katara's eyes went huge. "Sokka stop being silly! Aang's trying to talk to us somehow!"
"Why are you so sure it didn't eat him!?" Sokka whipped his head around like he expected invisible Aang to wave. "Er... either way... how are you doing that?!"
Aang couldn't answer and he didn't really want to write out his life story while he hoped no suspicious Fire Nation soldiers came to check what was going on, so he made it quick and simple. He drew another arrow pointing the way and floated the spear toward Omashu.
Katara immediately grabbed Sokka by the sleeve. "Come on!"
Sokka stumbled after her, still staring at the spear like it might suddenly decide to bite. "Okay, sure, yes, we're following the now also haunted spear of doom, we are going to live to be soooo old doing such smart stuff all the time! It's great!"
"Just follow the stupid spear," she grumbled. "It's clearly Aang doing it. I'm sure we'll be fine."
Aang led them back toward the city, toward the place his body sat in a jade-green cave with its eyes closed, and he felt a chill as he wondered who or what Arzaya was, and why it felt like he should already know but forgot. All-in-all, though, it was a very successful spearnapping.
* * *
Raven made it back to her ship the way a kicked rock makes it down a steep hill.
Not gracefully. Not quietly. Definitely not without leaving scorch marks of frustration.
Her feet were wrapped in fresh bandages and her boots had become too much like sleeves to usefully wear after that last blast, so she'd been forced into a pair of borrowed Kyoshi Village sandals that felt like they'd been carved out of their hardest wood just to spite her. Every step sent a hot complaint up her legs, mild burns on the soles of her feet to the strained muscles all the way up to her waist. Her cloak was nothing but a few scraps of charred cloth still stuck to her now very sooty and tattered noble attire. Her brown hair was a mess, hazel eyes half-closed. She was too tired at the moment to even pretend her pride had survived the encounter with Zuko.
Lo Pei and the crew were still waiting on deck when she limped across a plank she nearly tumbled off into the rocky water.
They looked at her like she might bite, but she just didn't have the strength. She met their gazes with only exhaustion, keeping them guessing what may have happened, and she just kept going. Down the corridor. Past the cramped cabins. Past the smells of too much fish in not enough salt, and old wet fabric and coal smoke. The last challenge was the step over her doorframe, that had become remarkably challenging now that she was so close to rest, so close to where her luggage had colonized every available surface. Her feet really didn't want to move in ways other than shuffle, but she made it over the four-inch high little metal bastard eventually.
A comically large stack of trunks and cases sat against one wall like she'd been planning to flee the country, adopt a new name, and have a spare disguise for every day of the year. Clothing spilled out in neat, expensive layers: folded silk, travel leathers, ceremonial pieces she hadn't worn in years, and accessories that could have outfitted a small noble family in a pinch. A tasteful tapestry hung crookedly, as if it too had been injured in battle. Books were stacked near the bed with the rampant chaos of someone who read to manage stress, but never actually calmed down.
And there, like a small altar to sanity, was her stash of Fire Nation snacks.
Raven shuffled to it, fished out a handful of fire flakes, and stuffed them in her mouth with the grim devotion of a soldier taking medicine.
Crunch. Spice. A tiny flare of heat that reminded her of easier days.
"Grmfghrrghmeh," she astutely stated around the flakes.
She kicked her borrowed sandals off, aiming for the open door with the kind of precision that suggested she'd been practicing this maneuver for years.
They skidded out into the hall.
"Away with you," she said with a dry rasp, as if to the sandals themselves. "If we meet again, I'll show no mercy," she flatly went on.
Her bed was somewhere under a loose pile of blankets and pillows that had never and would never be arranged tastefully. The instant she was close enough, Raven decided gravity had earned the win today, and tipped sideways into it like a stiff plank. The pillows accepted her with a soft, smug whumph, and she bounced only slightly before sinking into fluffier depths.
Raven didn't move after that. She stared at the ceiling and let the pain register in layers. Feet. Ankles. Shins. Hips. Back. Shoulders. Ribs. Everything felt like it had been ripped out of her and stuffed back in upside down.
From the hall, Lo Pei's voice drifted in, cautious as a hand approaching a sleeping dragon.
"Lady Arza," he said, "do you have orders? A destination?"
Raven rolled her head just enough to speak into the air. "I have orders," she said flatly. "My order is: Ouch. Argh. Why. Pain."
A pause.
"Respectfully," Lo Pei tried again, carefully, "the crew is getting very bored."
Raven's eye twitched.
"It doesn't matter where we go!" she snapped. "Zuko's gone. He escaped." She said it like she hadn't been the one who'd hit the ground smoking. "And even if we caught up, I'm too tired to fight him. Damn it..." she gritted her teeth, letting out a breath that came with free heat waves.
Lo Pei tensed, like he had decided his own breathing might be unsafe. "Ah... but—"
Raven's frustration boiled over anyway. It always did. It didn't have anywhere else to go.
"Why are you still asking?" she lashed out. "Go somewhere... useful! I don't know, what does it matter. Go literally anywhere. Take us over a waterfall. I don't care."
She heard his inhale just as she tasted smoke.
Raven's own breath had come out hot, too hot. A thin lick of flame rolled off her lips and died against the air in a mildly embarrassing flash. A faint curl of smoke ghosted toward the ceiling. In the hall, Lo Pei went very, very still. She could practically feel his terror through the doorframe.
Raven slowly, deliberately squeezed her eyes shut. Her anger wasn't for him. What was she doing? She stared into the air for a long moment, chest rising and falling, jaw tight.
"…Lo Pei," she said, quieter.
"Yes, my lady," he answered immediately, like the words had been pre-loaded.
Raven swallowed. It hurt even more than usual, which was not fair at all.
"Sorry," she muttered, and the word looked uncomfortable on her tongue. "I'm not trying to intimidate you, I'm just... really pissed off. Not at you." She quickly clarified.
Lo Pei didn't answer, as if he wasn't sure whether acknowledging that apology would lead to further danger. Raven exhaled carefully. No flame that time. Progress.
"Take us north," she said.
Brow raised. "North, my lady?"
Raven stared at the ceiling like it had personally betrayed her. "Some clown girl in Kyoshi told me the Avatar's heading to the Northern Water Tribe. For a master. So if I can't catch Zuko here, I'll catch him there. Or I'll catch the Avatar. Or whatever. There will be catching, damn it."
Her voice tightened with a bitter little laugh. "I almost had him."
A pause, then Lo Pei's relief seeped into his tone. "As you command." He graciously bowed and backed off a step.
But Raven reached one arm off the bed, groping blindly until her fingers found the edge of a sealed crate she'd shoved beside the bed earlier. Black lacquer. Gilded filigree. Decorative enough to look like it contained a cursed artifact or a very fancy tea set—you never knew with House Arza.
She hooked it with two fingers and dragged it toward the doorway in slow, miserable increments.
"I have another order," she grunted, shoving it again scarcely an inch. "Come take this."
Lo Pei edged into view just enough for Raven to see the whites of his eyes. "My lady, I…"
"It's an apology," Raven said, voice flat with embarrassment. "Making you all wait, scaring you." She sighed in disappointment at herself, and pushed the crate one last time until it bumped his boot. "Please don't quit."
Lo Pei stared down at the crate like it was a living thing.
Then, cautiously, he knelt and unlatched it.
The lid lifted.
Inside were dozens of squat, elegant earthenware bottles, each one glazed and stamped with a seal that looked expensive even to someone who didn't know what they were looking at. The scent that escaped wasn't strong, not yet, but it had a sweet, rich bite to it. Each had a very official looking seal from Ba Sing Se on a fancy bit of card paper hanging from delicate silver and green string tied around the necks.
Lo Pei's face did something Raven had never seen before. He brightened. Not politely. Not as a mask to please her. He brightened like someone had just handed him a pot of gold coins and assured him they were his to keep.
"My lady," he whispered, almost trembling, "this is…"
Raven squinted at him. "Just some wine," she said, having no concept of the value of such things. "Grabbed loads of my dad's loot to trade or sell when I left. Dumb jerk. Not like he paid for it anyway."
"The seal of the Earth King's royal sommelier..." his voice cracked like he might cry as he flipped over one of the little cards.
"Somme-what now?" Raven breathed out and flapped her lips as she let her face sink into the blanket pile. "Whatever, I don't care, just take it."
Lo Pei's hands tightened on the edge of the crate. His smile grew sharp at the corners, like he was trying to keep it respectable and failing.
"I accept your apology," he said, voice suddenly very sincere, very fervent. "Gladly."
And then he began dragging the crate backward into the hall with a determination that made the box scrape and thump like it was being hauled toward a shrine. He had just as much difficulty with that little four-inch bastard of a step, nearly tipping the box over after getting it caught, then hastily jerking it over the lip until it clattered in the hall, but it didn't sound like anything broke.
Raven watched him go, baffled. "Easy there," she called after him.
Lo Pei just beamed and nodded at her with a silly grin, and pushed the crate along the floor with a discomforting screech that rallied much attention from the crew above. He must really like fancy wine, she figured. Whatever. At least he wasn't going to quit. That was something going her way...
Raven let her eyes close, and her pain softened into a heavy, warm blur, but some small thread of her conscious train of thought survived as she left the waking world. It would have been jarring if it had been the first time, but she had experienced it once before.
The floor beneath her feet was polished, glassy, and inlaid with delicate engravings beneath a perhaps resin layer, the air smelled faintly of incense and forge work. The hall around her was vast, gilded beyond practical, not exactly but in the vein of a House Arza kind of showy splendor: gold spearhead motifs worked into every surface, obsidian columns that drank the glow of torchlight, sheer grey and white silk hanging in long, perfect banners that looked so ethereal you'd be surprised if you didn't pass right through them.
It was beautiful and familiar, too much in both regards—the last time she saw this place in her sleep, her grandfather had passed guardianship of Arzayanagi to her father, and shortly after succumbed to his injuries. Her heart may have panged with urgency to check if he was still alive if such visceral physical feelings reached her in that place, as much as he was frustrating her, she didn't want him dead, and feared she was about to be handed a very fancy spear she was not even remotely ready to be responsible for.
Raven moved forward without deciding to. Ahead, a throne waited. Empty and unwanted. She cursed to herself, she knew how it worked, but she felt like an imposter even thinking for a second she'd ever have the faith and loyalty that her father does for Arzaya, even if she wanted it. But Raven could not escape her own blood, so she drifted ever closer to the glittering diamond encrusted golden stairs up to the throne. It looked so damned heavy, solid metal and lined with dragon-like teeth on the back.
Halfway there, the dream shifted. Memory snagged in her ribs.
She recalled her father and grandfather standing there, face to face before the throne. Any of Arzaya's line would be made to witness the exchange, to always know who their leader was—who was answering when she beckoned. At least that's what she was told was happening, she'd never seen her before, not even in that previous vision.
Raven's pace faltered. There was no one else there, but she felt enormously watched. She suddenly recalled that there had been such pageantry, grand epic orchestra playing as fiery long-dead Arza firebenders knelt in respect, but it was like she had arrived at the wrong time, and it felt like she was doing something blasphemous, or at least disrespectful just by being there.
A voice spoke behind her—her father's voice! She couldn't make out the words, only that it was him. The tone was polite, calm. It felt very out of place, like a trick she shouldn't turn to look at, but the whole encounter was giving her an icy chill despite the waves of heat all around.
Despite herself, Raven turned.
A figure was moving away around a corner, tall and familiar, gray-black armor catching light. She took a step as panic crawled up her spine, a sudden fear that she was too late, that something had already happened, that she shouldn't have hesitated. Worried about what was around that corner… she didn't want to think about it, she had already suffered so much loss. She squeezed them shut and tore her eyes away, back toward the empty throne.
But the room was no longer empty. Instead of some frightful nightmare, it was just a smiling boy? It was the Avatar. It was Aang standing in front of it. She could think of no hushed family tradition that would explain what she was seeing, and had to consider she might just be having a dream that mimicked the past vision—her brain playing the prank of the century on her.
Aang looked calm. Blissful, even, like standing around doing nothing at all was rather rewarding. But Arzayanagi was in his hand, held upright with casual confidence, and his glider staff rested in his other like an old habit.
Raven's blood went cold. Had Aang... defeated her father? Avatar or not, that seemed incredibly unlikely given he was on campaign. She got a terrible feeling Arzaya wouldn't like that one bit, not one bit at all, and she'd heard of the horrors that happen when the wrong person claims her family's sacred treasure. She started forward, slow and careful, every instinct screaming to warn him, to pull him away, to shout at him until he understood that nothing about this was safe and he should drop that deadly thing immediately, but her throat tightened in the blazing hot air of the grand hall.
Aang still noticed her; smiled, gave her a little wave. This wasn't a chance encounter at the market, Aang... she tried to speak again. No sound came out.
Behind Aang, something moved. She pointed immediately, but Aang was off in his own little world. She barely knew the boy, but she dreaded what fate worse than death might be in store for him if he didn't pay some spirits-forsaken attention to what was going on around him.
It rose from the throne's shadow, silent and gliding.
A woman. Tall and unreal. She'd never seen her before, but knew instantly: Arzaya. Founder of her house and until this moment, Raven wasn't totally sure she was actually real. Perhaps her father wasn't just rambling to himself alone in his office all those years...
Her form was liquid gold, molten and translucent at once, as if she had been poured straight from a furnace into the room. Her clothing clung and flowed in slow, wrong ripples that fell too slowly. An elaborate mask crowned her face, and within the mask a younger woman's face had been molded with perfect detail, beautiful and expressionless, the kind of beauty that felt like a threat.
Aang didn't look back. Raven's mouth opened again. Still no sound. She tried to run up to him, despite her trembling at the mere sight of a myth manifesting before her eyes. Her legs were heavy, like the air had turned to syrup around her. Damned dreams...
Arzaya in her golden, molten regalia drifted closer to Aang, almost playfully, but with her gaze locked on Raven's, she placed one almost fluid hand on his shoulder. The molten gold did not stop at her fingers. It began to ooze down him, slow and patient, crawling like a living glaze along his arm, his chest, the curve of his collarbone, like it meant to... consume.
Aang still didn't react. He just smiled at Raven again, gentle and warm even as his entire arm turned to lifeless gold.
Arzaya lifted one finger to her lips.
"Shhh."
It was the only sound uttered since the distant muffled voice of her father. Raven's throat strained, desperate, furious, terrified, at least wanting an explanation from the terrifying old ghost. She'd haunted her line for over a thousand years. But... nothing. No voice. No fire. No sound at all. Raven was helpless, and it tore her insides as much as claws or teeth.
Aang was up to his neck in gold, about to drown, but still utterly unaware, with only the whisper of molten gold sliding over his skin until she heard the pitter-patter of droplets. But it wasn't the gold dripping. Arzayanagi was stained red, dripping on the floor.
"Wait... please! No!" she heard in a sudden burst of sound just beside her ear, a young girl, her sister—?!
That world snapped. Raven jolted awake to a violent lurch that threw her half off the bed and yanked a fresh, vicious complaint out of her bandaged feet.
"What in the... Asha...? Why?" she croaked, voice thick with sleep and despair. But the jolt was real. Books fell from her carefully selected chaos, the walls groaned, the tapestries fluttered.
Had they... hit something? Above her, the ship screamed a cry of metal on metal—hull grinding against something hard. A second impact hit like a rogue wave. The entire cabin shuddered. Trunks rattled. The rest of her books slid and slapped or clattered on the floor.
From the deck came shouting, and enough laughter that she was immediately pissed off. "What... idiot is breaking my ship?" she growled as she dragged her fiercely rebelling body out of bed.
Raven lay there half on the floor trying to hold onto the dream. Aang. The spear. Arzaya herself, at least she was pretty sure. Her father's voice. The details slid away like water through fingers. The dread stayed. Raven had to push herself to the stand, jaw clenched so hard her teeth ached.
Another shake rolled through the ship, smaller but sharp, like the vessel was being shoved free of whatever it had kissed. Her vessel she secretly saved up for, over a year of scheming and somehow not getting caught. Her patience was gossamer thin accompanied by her sore limbs.
There was another hoot of laughter above, followed by more distant shouts.
"Lo Pei," she called, low and deadly, as she limped toward the door, "what is going on up there?!"
She yanked herself through the door frame, stepped into the hall, and took a deep breath in preparation for much shouting.
* * *
Raven hit the top deck like it was a rude heckler, ready to start ejecting problem sailors into the ocean for waking her up early. Very early, as cold night air slapped her back in the face, salty and sharp, and the darkness was broken by lanterns swinging on hooks, their light wobbling across wet boards and rope coils and of course the totally expected hulking black wall of metal directly in front of her ship, which itself was more than a little crumpled.
"What... am I looking at." She blinked, craning her neck, trying to step back to get the full picture but finding only below deck to return to.
She finally made sense of it, seeing a railing above, and nodding slowly. They had rammed an Empire-class battleship.
It loomed over her little cruiser like a very disappointed parent, plated in dark iron with red trim and Fire Nation insignias that caught the deep red lantern glow. The angle of impact had been off center and stupid—obviously an accident. Her ship's prow was pressed up against the battleship's side with a sound like teeth grinding.
On both decks, Fire Nation soldiers swarmed. On her deck, half of Lo Pei's crew were in the process of being tied up, hauled upright, or shouted at by rudely woken marines. The rest were... stray as a herd of cats, being chased without running as hard as they ought to, not that there was anywhere to go, until being tackled and pinned.
Bong Li waddled his husky and unsightly self between two marines trying to restrain other crewmembers in the chaos, knocking one over as he gave Raven a dopey smile and held up one of those fancy earthenware wine bottles. "Quicksh, drink da resht of da boozsh, miss Lady Arsha," the sailors slurred, trying to point at her and missing. "Dey found out we wuz ssshneakin' a few nips here an—" and he burped so forcefully Raven took a defensive stance. He stood staring blankly like he forgot what he was saying as the two deeply impatient Fire Nation marines came up behind him, one swiping the bottle out of his hand and hurling overboard to shatter against the black iron battleship, and the other whacking him upside the head with a club to absolutely no effect. "Whoopsh, there she goesh..."
"I thought you already tied him up!" a Fire Nation marine snapped, yanking Bong Li's his wrists behind him.
"I did, I don't know what—oh..." the second replied, finding Bong Li's wrist to end in not much of anything, and his wooden hand had popped off and gotten lost somewhere.
Then both finally noticed Raven with her chin all the way down on the floor.
"Looks like they had a captive!" the first marine yelled out, and he gave her a second look like he was horrified by 'what they had done to her'. "Stay in sight, miss, we'll get you out of here," he went on but didn't stick around as he and his fellow dragged Bong Li back to the encircled mass of captured crew.
"Uh-um..." Raven muttered to no one's attention.
Raven noticed movement above her, and saw bare feet dangling there. Taking a step out onto the deck, she turned to see Lo Pei himself was sitting there and staring ahead at the battleship like he was trying to make something out. He was swaying like tall grass, cheeks flushed, eyes half closed, and his hair was wet and matted with something dark—his grin so wide he could swallow one of those bottles whole.
He suddenly noticed her. "LADY ARZA!" he bellowed, voice loud enough to wake plankton. He leaned down with unexpected flexibility to get just above her as he whispered still very loudly. "I tfffhink shomeone hit ush! Don't tell the kkkh-aptain I waszh drinking aghkain."
Raven stared at him.
Then she stared at the battleship.
Then she stared at him again, as if repeating the sequence might cause reality to flinch and correct itself.
"Arzaya, take me back please," she flatly stated, to no one's understanding.
Lo Pei saw her dismay, and tried to cheer her up by saying, "ish okay, the Fire Naszhion iszh here to arressht the piratesh. We're shafe now." It did not work.
"Lo Pei," she said, very softly, in the tone people used when they were about to snap a pencil in half on principle. "Stay there and wait for me to come kill you."
He blinked at her like he had to process the concept of "oh," then nodded gravely. "Yesh, I shopposhe thash fair." He did actually stay sitting up there.
A marine on her deck pointed his spear up at him. "Back, pirate! Away from the hostage!" he spat, eyes flicking over Raven's damaged noble clothes and jewelry and immediately narrowing. "You sick freaks, she's just a girl!" And like he was shocked she hadn't already, he barked, "move it! Away from him!"
Two more marines pivoted toward Raven with spears lowered and hands out. Their posture said rescue. Their faces said they'd follow up by skewering a few of the crew for subjecting them to the thought of what they might have done to her. It was all happening so fast, Raven had to just go along with them for a moment to take a breath and figure out how to untangle this maddening new net.
"It's alright, miss, come this way," one of them said as she resisted being pulled more than a couple steps.
The other let out an awkward single laugh. "Think she's scared stiff. Poor little thing."
Raven's exhaustion evaporated. Not replaced by energy, exactly. More like replaced by a spiteful inner engine that ran on burst of outrage.
"I am not scared, nor a hostage," she said sharply. "Both of you stop talking immediately," she said in a dire tone that delivered on its own the message: 'I am nobility and you live, for now, because I allow it.'
The two just glanced at each other with drawn faces, no idea what they'd gotten themselves into. But a boot struck the deck on the battleship above, crisp and deliberate, at the other end of the boarding plank she wouldn't let the men escort her across.
Commander Zhao strode arms crossed and disgusted like his battleship had stepped in something foul. His cloak fell cleanly, his armor immaculate even in lantern-light, a stark contrast to the mess that was Raven. He looked about ready to cut his losses, turn back and abandon his marines who were now tainted with the blight.
Then his eyes landed on Raven. Recognition flickered across his face, quick and sinister to behold. "The state of you," Zhao called down, voice carrying like a blade, and his grin carried a too-pleased chuckle. "Do I spy Lady Raven Arza under there?" he asked like an insult.
Raven's jaw tightened as she reflexively wiped soot off her brow with her scorched sleeve. She didn't know Zhao well, but she knew he was one of the Fire Lord's officers. He had the energy of a man who was eagerly looking for more puppies to kick.
"Commander Zhao," she bit out. "My ship seems to have… crashed directly into yours."
Zhao's gaze dropped to her bandaged feet, her limp, the singed edges of her clothes, the bruises that made her look like she'd been shoved down a lengthy series of staircases. Zhao's expression hardened.
One of the soldiers from earlier who had dragged Bong Li off stood ready as Zhao stepped begrudgingly onto Raven's deck, and the man reported, "they had her prisoner down below, filthy dirt munchers."
Zhao's expression hardened further.
Raven slapped her palm to her forehead. "No, Commander Zhao, that's not-... spirits not again."
He was already turning away. He looked at Lo Pei's crew, flailing and giggling and getting tied up, and something sharp flashed behind his eyes as he clenched his fingers.
"You brazen scum," he said coldly, as if piecing together a story that offended him personally. He loomed over the crew, some of who noticed him there. "Earth Kingdom's garbage flushed out to sea, aren't you all. Savaging a Fire Nation noblewoman? You dare lay hands on your betters? Oh, you'll pay dearly for this."
Raven's brain just about fried at the fiction Zhao was spinning while ignoring her. "No, Commander, they didn't-" she sighed as she remembered she was actually pretty much beaten to a pulp regardless, and she wheezed and coughed as some sharp pain shot up her side from taking a step.
"Hi, Lady Arshza," Bong Li looked her way with a fully red-faced smile. Zhao's boot immediately struck the side of Bong Li's head, tipping him over but his expression scarcely changed.
"Do not address her, you rat!" Zhao bit the air, and he slowly turned his gaze to Raven, oddly more genuinely incensed than she expected over how he believed she'd been treated. Zhao seemed amused at first when he saw her sorry self, but now Raven paused at how oddly protective he was being.
There was a yelp and a thud behind them all. Lo Pei had finally been dislodged from the door overhang, and was in a loose pile on the deck, catching everyone's attention for a moment.
Raven sucked in a breath, felt pain, ignored pain.
"Stop," she commanded. "Stop all of this. Right now. Nobody savaged me. I'm not a prisoner."
Zhao's eyes narrowed. "Lady Arza, you can speak freely. They're no longer a threat. No need to say what they told you to."
Raven stared at him. The marines stared at her like she was about to break down crying. It was all very annoying.
Lo Pei waved at Zhao cheerfully as men dragged him to the group. "Ish true, big guy!" he shouted. "We're piratesh! I mean-hic-not piratesh! We're... uhhh..." Lo Pei trailed off like he'd forgotten the entire universe, and then smiled like he saw a lovely butterfly.
"Seriously, they work for me," Lady Arza sounded ashamed to admit, face in the palm of her hand again for good measure. "They're not pirates, they're idiots."
Zhao didn't look impressed. "Really."
Raven clenched both fists at her sides, then immediately regretted the movement because her arms also hurt, of course they did. "Give me... one moment," she said through her teeth, and turned too quickly on her heel, giving her a nice spike of agony to go with the embarrassment.
She limped across the deck, cleared past a knot of marines who seemed afraid to touch her, and nearly tripped over a coil of rope because someone had left it out like an act of sabotage. She made it to a small lockbox bolted near the cabin entrance, found someone blessedly forgot to lock it, so yanked it open, and began pawing through papers with shaking fingers. Her ship's purchase documents. Her bill of sale. The registry stamps. The seals. Aaaand crew manifest.
She hated paperwork.
Her father loved paperwork.
Which was the only reason the papers were perfect.
Raven turned back, held them up, and was just used to the pain by that point, so limped a little faster.
"Right here," she said, voice sharp enough to cut the night air, "this is my vessel, these are my employees, that pile is my captain," she jabbed a finger at Lo Pei, whose limbs came from the bulk of him all tangled up at angles that didn't seem possible. "All legal... except the collision."
Zhao's marines glanced at Zhao uncertainly, like they weren't sure if they should skewer the crew or not. He snatched the papers from her, quickly glanced them over, up at her, then back to confirm.
His mouth twitched. Not amusement. "I see," he stated.
"Then why do you look," Zhao said, "as though you've been..." and he carefully chose the word: "tortured."
Raven's lips peeled back from her teeth. "That would be Prince Zuko's handiwork," she grumbled.
Zhao's expression sharpened instantly. His eyes flashed with a hot little satisfaction that didn't belong in a man who was supposedly calm and disciplined. "Zuko?" he repeated, like the name tasted delicious for all the wrong reasons. "What, is he trying to complete the set?"
Raven's head jerked. "No-what?" She was a bit aghast.
Zhao's smile was thin. "What did your family even do to him to bring this on, anyway?" he said, and his tone made it sound like he already had some ideas in mind. "I heard he wasn't happy about the betrothal," he uttered like he was back to being amused again at how through the ringer she was. He shrugged and weakly gestured her way, "but this is overkill."
Raven's rage surged so fast she actually saw white for a moment.
"Do not presume to speak of my personal affairs, Commander!" she said, too sharp probably. "And he didn't 'attack' me like I'm some helpless little—" Her voice shook, but she forced it steady. "Whatever. I'm hunting him. Fighting him. For vengeance. He keeps escaping." And she sneered as her lip twitched. "Coward," she bit.
Zhao looked her up and down again, from bandages to limp to soot. Then he stated his level of faith in her:
"I see he let you live."
Raven's fingers curled like she wanted to grab the air and strangle it. "I almost had him," she hissed.
"Mhm," Zhao replied, an audible shrug in human form.
Behind Raven, one of her sailors tried to sing a patriotic Fire Nation marching song and got the words wrong in a way that apparently offended someone: a marine who backhanded him so hard he actually stopped singing, despite the crew's stubborn drunkenness.
Raven sighed, and raised her voice. "Please stop striking my crew, that's my job."
Raven pointed at the battleship's scraped plating where her ship had bumped it. The damage was… minimal. More embarrassing than catastrophic. Still. She had to just suck it up. "Commander, I will pay for your repairs," she said quickly, voice shifting into the crisp, noble tone her tutors had beaten into her. "I don't care what it costs. Send the bill to House Arza, you know it will be honored."
Zhao's eyes gleamed faintly.
"True," he said. Then, with a small, satisfied tilt of his head: "I'm sure Lord Arza will be pleased next time you meet."
Raven bristled, but before she spoke she felt a prickle on her skin, and calmed herself. This was important. "My father doesn't need to know about this. Let's say I owe you a favor if this never happened."
"A favor?" Zhao wondered, genuinely curious.
Raven rolled her eyes, looking away briefly as she said, "I'm bribing you," out of the corner of her mouth. But she glanced nervously around, confirming no one was paying attention after it was already too late. "It's just a personal matter. Not an illegal bribe."
Zhao's smile widened by a fraction, like he'd just watched a fish bite a hook. "I have always wanted a vacation home on the glittering isles," he said mildly, in reference to the islands in the Fire Nation under House Arza's domain, where outsiders were rarely welcome. He smirked the instant she looked like she thought he was pushing his luck, and he said, "my humor is in poor taste, I see. I don't care nearly enough to 'tell on you' to your father, my lady."
Raven deflated with relief, and was too tired and in too much pain to feel embarrassed over trying to bribe him when it wasn't even necessary... but she did appreciate he wasn't trying to squeeze anything out of her. He probably could get that vacation house if he was a real bitch about it.
"Just... please untie my crew, I swear they're not usually like this." Her voice strained as she gazed down at them still drunk out of their minds and watching her and Zhao like the two in charge of deciding their fate were just a play for their amusement.
"Your 'crew'," Zhao said, sounding faintly disgusted, "does not seem fit to serve you."
"That," Raven said tightly, "is debatable."
Zhao leaned on the rail, considering. "I could arrest them," he offered, tone almost casual. "Out of sight, out of mind." He paused, then added, like he was being generous: "I'd give you a few replacement sailors. Competent ones."
Raven's heart kicked hard. Competent Fire Nation sailors would be useful. But competent Fire Nation sailors would also talk. She forced herself to keep her face neutral. She'd been shoulder to shoulder with the Avatar, and with no mind to chase him down, which would fly in the face of Fire Nation sensibilities, to say the least.
"No," she said, and made it sound like pride, not panic. "They… put up with me at my worst. I'll give them another chance."
Zhao's eyes narrowed, like he didn't buy it, but couldn't quite see the full shape of what she was hiding.
"Then take an officer," he pressed, voice smooth. "One. Someone to keep them in line. Someone who can ensure you don't collide with anything else.."
Raven imagined a Fire Nation officer writing cheerful reports about where she sailed, who she met, and why she kept turning up near the Avatar. She smiled with her teeth.
"No," she said again. "I appreciate the… kindness. Truly. But I can handle my own ship. And it's my responsbility, House Arza's that yours is damaged. I'd like to come out of this with at least a pinch of dignity," she went on and verged on a bit of a pout. It certainly sold it.
Zhao watched her for a long moment anyway. Then he gave a short, dismissive gesture to his marines. "Untie them," he ordered, as if bored of the situation now that it wasn't going to end in anything horrible happening to anyone.
The marines hesitated, more over what chaos the crew would get up to if unbound.
"But sir—"
"Lady Arza has presented proof," Zhao cut in, voice like iron. "They're her problem, and not pirates."
Begrudgingly the marines started loosening ropes. Lo Pei clasped his hands together the instant he could, beaming. "My lady," he whispered loudly, "you are… so striking in the firelight." He was looking at Bong Li.
Raven glared at him. "Lo Pei. Stop smiling. Forever," she said back like she was fed up with a bratty little brother.
Lo Pei nodded enthusiastically. "Yesh. That sheemsh reashonable, mmm-hmm."
Zhao was handed one of the empty earthenware bottles by a lieutenant who whispered something to him. He turned it in his hand, and read the seal. His eyebrows climbed, and he glanced at Raven. "Do you have any idea what your crew just drank?"
Raven shrugged. "Wine," she said, flatly. "Fancy wine. My father looted it in the war. Who cares? It's not like he paid for it."
Zhao stared at her for a moment, then laughed. Not loudly. Just once, sharp, disbelieving. He turned to leave like that was as much absurdity as he could handle, but his attention returned to Raven just as he was moved away, and his tone shifted into something that almost sounded like helpfulness. "So you want Prince Zuko, right?" he said.
Raven's head snapped up. "You know something?"
Zhao's smile went faintly predatory, just for an instant. "He was heading to refuel at the Mo Ce Sea Prison," he said. "His engines needed repairs. You might catch him if you head straight there."
Raven's breath caught. A trail. A real one. Assuming he wasn't lying. But why would he? She hated how grateful she suddenly felt.
"I- thank you, Commander Zhao," she said respectfully, and meant it. "I'll remember this."
Zhao inclined his head slightly, as if receiving proper tribute, but still had to say, "let's avoid meeting like this again, though," as he strode confidently back up the ramp to his battleship.
Raven blinked, then frowned. "That's not—" she started, but lowered to a whisper, "oh, whatever, I don't care." And she slowly turned her now quite baleful gaze on her naughty crew.
The marines retreated to the battleship, the deck lights shifting as orders were barked and ropes were hauled and the two vessels were finally pried apart with grating, groaning reluctance. Raven stood on her deck as the Empire-class ship pulled away into the dark invisible but for the lights—scarcely the length of her own ship away. Only when the immediate urgency was gone did she let her knees wobble, and she slowly, unevenly lowered herself to a plop on the now tipped sideways case the wine came in.
Lo Pei's crew began to sway in place like reeds in a storm, eyes clearing by slow degrees as cold air and fear dragged them closer to sobriety. Their sea shanties were getting more coherent and nervous in equal measure with every phrase. One of them, Bao, a broad-shouldered older sailor with a currently split and bleeding lip, looked at Raven with dawning horror.
"My lady," he croaked. "Um… we... really liked your gift."
Bong Li remembered pain exists at that exact moment, grabbed his own head where Zhao kicked him like it might fall off. "We accidentally the whole case already?" he whined in a weirdly airy tone.
Lo Pei's grin finally cracked, turning sheepish. He blinked himself into a moment of slight clarity. "We thought," he whispered, "um... well, L-lady Arza. We... uh... hmm. My head's spinning," and he keeled over sideways before even getting up to his feet.
Raven stared at them. Her anger tried to rise again. It should have, she thought. It wasn't like it wasn't deserved... but she had only one place she wanted to focus that emotion anymore, so it misfired and just left her feeling apathy, then perhaps irritation as she glanced at the crumpled prow. She pinched the bridge of her nose and regretted existing.
"You all cannot be trusted," she said, voice flat.
They all flinched like chastised dogs.
"Aww... are we getting fired again?" Bong Li continued to whine, looking ready to cry.
Raven let out a long, ragged breath.
Every part of her wanted to scream.
Every part of her was too tired to scream.
"No," she said, deadly quiet. "You all cannot be trusted with drink." She glanced at Lo Pei's wide eyes, there was recognition there now. "Keep alcohol off my ship from now on, and this did not happen."
There was a chorus of frantic nods from the half of the crew sober enough to follow what was happening.
"Yes, my lady."
"Of course, my lady."
"Sorry we didn't save you some, my lady."
"She gave it to us, sponge-for-brains!"
"Oh, right..."
Lo Pei pressed a hand to his chest. "I think... I really should have said no to that gift." He was still smiling, but it was pained now.
"Yyyeah," Raven drawled back.
Raven pointed toward the bow. "North," she ordered. "To Mo Ce Sea Prison, and fly my house flag when we're close or they'll sink us."
Lo Pei stretched his back with his hands clutching his waist, a glimmer of fear and competence returning. "North," he echoed. "Yes, my lady. On it. Right now. Here I go." He rambled like he needed to boost the confidence of his feet to carry him. "Everybody, stations!"
The crew scattered off in various speeds from guilty scampering to still drunken stumbling, but the worst of it had worn off. Raven watched them go, chest tight, mind buzzing.
Zhao was unexpectedly accomodating. He'd given her a trail: Zuko. Mo Ce Sea Prison. She finally felt that drive come back, since she'd dragged herself off of Kyoshi Island. It wouldn't be long now before she faced him again.