The Avatar Saga—Azula’s redemption
Chapter 8: Of Enemies and Enigmas.
By Flamehead23a

Disclaimer: I don’t own avatar, nor any character affiliated with the show, I do own The White Phoenix, however. Please don’t use this story as your own, nor post it other places without my approval. Reviews welcome, critiques scrutinized, and flames absorbed and redirected with twice the power. Please, Enjoy!

“With the other gods I lived on Olympus, and the times were good. Eventually our adherents faded, and with them our influence on the world. I was one of the fortunate—faith in me continued under the children of Romulus. There I was called Phoebus, and my power endured.”
“This is a history lesson for the insane, isn’t it?”
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The town of Yi Jing—outer Fire Nation, 105 ASC. (After Sozin’s Comet) –Year of the Ox

“I have heard enough.” The speaker wasn’t loud, but he might as well have shouted. When Storyteller worked, any interruption was like chewing a grain of sand in a mouthful of rice. From door of the tavern, two men in black armor came toward the bar, one tall and heavily bearded, one short with blood red Yu Yan war paint around his eyes and face. As they walked, Kuzane saw the feared insignia emblazoned over their hearts. Rough Rhinos.

Worse—behind them walked another man, taller than anyone Kuzane had ever seen. He moved without a sound, save for the dull thumping of his Iron leg and the metallic squeaking from his prosthetic arm. A strange tattoo adorned his forehead, in the likeness of a third eye.

Kuzane wasn’t the only one who saw the men. Children were trickling out the door. The older ones tried to appear casual, but the youngest broke into a run before they got outside. Against common sense, two boys stayed—Kuzane and his terrified school friend.

“I believe we have all heard enough,” the taller of the two Rhinos said with a quiet severity. He was barrel-chested, with small hazel eyes that stared out from deep sunken sockets. A long spear was strapped to his back, adding to his already fearsome profile. Quietly, Kuzane’s friend slipped out. “You seem to know valuable information, old man. You’ll be coming with us. Won’t he, Vachir?”

“Yes, Kahchi, I believe he will,” the other Rhino spoke. He had a Yu Yan helmet, and his quiver bristled with black-fletched arrows. He signaled to the metal-limbed mute. “Bind him.”

The silent man did so with rough efficiency. Storyteller endured the whole thing amiably, without saying a word. The two watched their associate tie Storyteller’s wrists, then turned away, as if dismissing the man from their minds. They took a long look around the room, their inspection finally ending with the bald, aproned man behind the bar.

“F-Fire’s heat warm you!” the owner of Dockside tavern stammered, his voice much too loud in the quiet of the room.

“It does,” Kahchi said simply. He took another long look around the room. Finally he turned his head to the archer who stood back from the bar. “Vachir, would a fine place such as this be hiding useful informants from our organization?”

“Anything is possible, Kahchi.”

“Ahh,” the spearman said softly and looked slowly around the room, once again ending with an inspection of the man behind the bar.

“C-Can I offer your honors a drink? If it be pleasing?” the owner offered quickly.

There was only silence.

“I mean… a drink for you and your soldiers. A fine barrel of rice wine? Sure I had no idea he had such tales to tell. If I knew it was of interest, I’d have come straight to your honors…” his voice broke, leaving the room suddenly quiet. He swallowed, the dry click of his throat reaching all the way to Kuzane by the door.

“A generous offer,” Kahchi said finally.

“Very generous,” echoed Vachir.

“However, strong drink sometimes tempts men to wicked actions.”

“Wicked,” Vachir whispered.

“And as a captain, I can’t knowingly give my men that opportunity. I must refuse.” Kahchi’s voice dripped sublime regret.

“You would think,” Storyteller’s voice rolled out like buzzard-wasp honey, “deserters like you would be more concerned with the Fire Lord finding them than with detaining the elderly and terrifying honest men.”

Turning, the Rhino Captain snatched a clay cup off the bar and dashed it against Storyteller’s head, shattering it. “Do not speak in my presence!” he said. “You know nothing!”

Storyteller shook his head a little to clear it. A trickle of blood worked its way down his driftwood face, seeping into his white beard. He seemed to address the air in front of him. “You should run, Kuzane. I have friends who can help me, but there’s nothing you can do here. Go.”

Since he wasn’t looking at the boy when he spoke, there was a moment of confusion. Kahchi gestured and the silent man struck Storyteller a blow to the back of the head. His eyes rolled back, and his head lolled forward. Kuzane slipped out the door, onto the street.

He took Storyteller’s advice, and was in an alleyway before they had even left the bar.
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“Hah Ha! Hot damn I love a good fight!” Azula and Mat stood amid a field littered with groaning bodies. Those conscious were softly voicing their pain, the best off trying to crawl away. Matthias turned to Azula, the high of battle dulling his senses and his power almost completely tapped. “So, Princess, was it good for yo—”

Azula’s open palm made contact with his cheek before he had completely turned to face her. He saw stars, while she stood there quietly seething.

“Oooww… so I guess you remember now, huh?” Mat beat a hasty retreat back across the stream, Azula throwing punches and kicks with ferocity.

“You conceited, puerile, arrogant…peasant! You’re the boy from the drill! The Avatar’s friend. You… you kissed me! Right in the middle of our fight you had the gall to kiss the Crown Princess of the Fire Nation! How dare you even show your face to me after all that you’ve done?”

“Oh, so you remember more than the drill, huh? All those other times too?”

Azula paused. Her memory was suddenly jogged—images previously blocked came flooding forth. With a primal growl, Azula advanced again, her voice dangerously low. “Oh, now I remember. You were there in the catacombs, when Zuko and I defeated the Avatar. Our vacation at Ember Island, you were there too. And you were at my brother’s escape of the Boiling Rock!”

“Don’t forget the invasion of your palace, Princess—I fought with all those elite troops you had stationed there.” Mat quipped, immediately regretting it as several lightning blows sent him stumbling into the stream.

“And every time we fought, you’d end it the same way! You’d…you’d…”

“Merely my—oof. My way of showing appreciation for dueling such a skilled combatant.” Mat was cut off when Azula’s leg sweep sent him crashing into the frigid water.

He crab-walked, stumbling over both the slippery ground and his rushed apology.

“Alright, hey, I’m sorry, okay? I was young and stupid and drunk with power and you were pretty and I—”

Mat flinched as Azula lashed out once more. He opened his eyes to see her foot between his legs, inches away from a very sensitive spot. He looked at her unreadable face, then quailed as she brought the foot up and in-between his pants. Hard. He gave a sound, halfway between a whimper and a whine, and lay there in the stream for several minutes. Eventually he regained some semblance of composure, and slowly picked himself up off the ground, wincing.

“What can we do to them?” Azula had turned back to the defeated Rhinos, suddenly finding herself with a store of pent up aggression, and desperately wanting to vent.

“Ahhh, let’s just leave ‘em.” Mat dried his clothes with a flash of heat, still cautious but fairly confident the danger had passed. “When we get back to the palace, I’ll tell your brother where we found them, and he’ll send some troops to root them out.”

Azula took a moment, channeling her anger out in deep breaths. With deliberate restraint, she spoke. “And what makes you think I’m going back to the palace?”

Mat cocked his head. “You heard Sog. Somehow, they know my fight with Zuko was a ruse. They were prepared for us, anticipated our breakout. We’ve got to go back and re-group, hope Sokka comes up with a better plan. Besides, I don’t want both your brother’s forces and whoever these people are out hunting us.”

“What do you mean, ‘Whoever these people’? We know who they are—Fire Nation Military deserters.”

“I’ve got a feeling they’re just the tip of the iceberg.” Mat drew Sog’s sword from the firebird’s ashes. He hefted the weapon before throwing it to Azula. “Look at this sword, tell me what you think about it.”

Azula caught the blade by its hilt, knowing volumes just by its weight. “This is an Earth Kingdom sword. It’s relatively clean, only just starting to rust… Sog got it after the war, he couldn’t keep a sword like this in good shape for any length of time.” She turned the sword over, inspecting the seal at the base of the blade. “It’s a master’s sword, uniquely made.”

Matt nodded. “Which means he must have got it from someone high within the Earth Kingdom military, because merchants sure as shit don’t sell weapons like these.” Mat watched as Azula roughly pulled the scabbard from Sog’s unconscious form. She stifled the bandit’s protest with another kick before sheathing the sword and then shouldering it. “I think we’ve got enemies on all fronts, and worse, I think they’re all working together. That’s why we’re heading back, Princess. To come up with a new plan of attack.”

Azula crossed her arms under her breasts, fixing Matthias with her hardest stare. “Obviously Zuzu’s peace isn’t as whole as he and the Avatar think it is. Now what happens if I say I’m not going with you?”

“Then I’ll respect your wishes, let you go, and probably get myself killed trying to stop every possible person who would do you harm before they find you.” Mat looked up from the bird’s ashes, returning Azula’s hard eyes. His light humor was gone; there was steel in his voice, as unyielding as her new weapon. Azula knew her fate was sealed, and hated it. Still, she knew Mat would do just as she promised, and despite how angry she was, she didn’t want her fresh start marred by sending a man to his death. She found some small comfort, however, in sensing remorse behind Mat’s gruff tone.

“We have to cut this problem off soon, or else it will just escalate and innocents will get hurt.”

“What do I care if some villagers get their houses raided?”

“Well, you’re still the princess. Doesn’t part of your vaunted mandate of heaven come from your protection of the people?”

“Mandate of heaven was thrown out the minute I landed in Boiling Rock, Mat. Besides, I’ve never cared for the peasantry—I don’t need the approval of the unwashed masses to rule.”

Mat sighed, tired of her confrontational attitude. “Listen—The Rough Rhinos used to be just five guys. Now they’re a sizable and organized criminal organization, and I’ve got no doubt that their leader is one of the guys working to plunge this world back into chaos. We’ve got to stop them, and according to my dreams, both you and your mother factor into this whole conflict.”

“You mean your dreams, which may or may not be true? Or even your own?”

Mat’s jaw tightened, and he spoke through the growing doubt in his voice. “Those dreams were real. The things I saw…I felt…they have to be real.”

Azula turned away, refusing to argue. After a while, she helped Mat gather the scattered remains of their food and supplies. Eventually, the two came together around the ashes of Azula’s phoenix.

“…It died saving me…”

“Oh, it didn’t die. But I was impressed it swooped down for you like that. The most I can ever get outta these birds is help delivering a message.”

“If it’s not dead, then how—”

“Princess, simple constructs are one thing, but when I make phoenixes, I make them to last.” Matthias removed errant sticks and pebbles from the pile of ashes, tossing them aside and squatting on the ground. “Listen close. Any time this guy goes all burn and smolder on you, just remove any foreign objects from his remains, then give him a little spark of heat and…”

Mat snapped his hand, and placed the flame sitting over his thumb into the ashes. The pile of soot began to glow a dull orange, then red, then finally a pure white. The ashes burnt away completely, leaving behind the small form of the phoenix, back to its newborn state. It looked up at Azula and peeped happily, waddling over to her bare feet. She bent and scooped the firebird into her arms, smiling as it voiced its pleasure at being held. Mat shook his head with a rueful smile.

“Simply amazing. It’s a good thing for Sog he attacked you when he did. If he had waited till nightfall that bird would have been triple the size. They grow fast. You gonna name it?”

“…Fenghuang.”

Mat nodded in approval. “Virtue, duty, grace, faith, and mercy. Something to aspire to, I suppose.” He ignored Azula’s sour glare. “I’m pretty sure it’s a girl, too. Or at least, as much of a girl that a metacreated plasma-bird can be.”

The firebird swiveled its head to its creator, clacking its beak together sharply as if to admonish him. Then giving one last chirp to Azula, it took off into the air, rising on the afternoon’s thermals and soaring out of sight.

“Well, we’d better get moving. That village I got food from isn’t much farther away by foot; we can reach it and get a balloon to the capital.”

Azula nodded, and the Phoenix and the Princess walked together, traveling to the first of many places, on the first of many days.

                                            Here ends episode 3
                  Ανδ Σο τἑ αδυεντυρε βεγινς...τἑ φιρστ μυσε φινδς ιτ'ς Φοενιξ...
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