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sabraeal · 3 months ago

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a heart felled by you, held by you; Part 2

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Obiyukiweek 2024, Day 1: Quadrille

It’s not that Suzu didn’t know Lata’s name or whatever; it’s impossible to forget when it’s stamped right across the office he refuses to use three months out of the academic year— why should I let the university know where to find me? he’d huff, stoking the forge. If they’re going to interrupt my work to harangue me about class numbers and securing grant funding, I have no interest in making it easy for them— and scrawled on every lower right corner of his notes. It’s what every colleague calls across the university atrium before he hurries to out pace the persistence hunter that is professional collaboration; and what Ryuu had tried to stutter through for a whole week when he confused formality for maturity.

But between the towering aisles of his yet-to-be-catalogued accessions, and the number of times Shirayuki— and sometimes even Suzu himself— have been left to make his excuses to professors and professionals far above their pay grade, the idea that’s he’s a noble— a capital ‘F,’ weasel-thing-rampant Forzeno— well, it doesn’t seem quite real.

Not until now, when the doors on this stately manor swing open, and—

“I thought you lived in a shithole,” Suzu blurts out, momentarily blinded by polished marble and gold filigree. He’s no expert on architecture and has only a dubious grasp on history, but even he can tell this place is old. Storied, his mental Kazaha supplies, buzzing through his thoughts like flies over an ungrammatical carcass. “Or at least, that’s what Shidan said when—”

“I said apartment.” Shidan glares at him, like it’s Suzu’s fault he spent ten highly memorable minutes complaining about the stack of specimens that almost toppled onto him that one time he tried to brave Lata’s front parlor.

“It’s a townhouse.” Lata’s all noblesse oblige now that they’re ensconced in his family’s home, acting generous and tolerant, like they’re a good friend’s dogs that he knows are going to piddle on the carpet and he’s determined to be gracious about it. The kind of patience that’s pushed out between a man’s teeth instead of welling up from some internal font of goodness or whatever. “Private land ownership is the only way to receive permission for a forge of that size. And yes, I do.”

“But why not hang out here?” Suzu peeks into one of the fancy urns lining the walkway— disappointingly empty— before letting it rock back onto its pedestal. “It’s big and fancy and there’s a bunch of people whose job is to wait on you hand and foot. I’d never leave.”

“The commute,” Obi offers, sticking his own head down some fancy pot too. “Or maybe the wallpaper bothers him.”

“That’s certainly one way to put it,” Lata mutters, steering Obi away from the crockery with a scowl. “This is family land, owned by countless generations of Forzeno since time immemorial—”

“672.” Kazaha strides down the runner with his hands clasped behind his back, like he’s the king of the castle— or like it might convince the man who is that he’s not about to have any sticky fingers. “That’s when Motouji Forzeno ordered a fitting home to be built for him within a day’s ride of the capital, which at that point was still based in Wirant, not in Wistal. That only happened once the Wisteria family inherited the throne from a series of strategic marriages over the previous three generations—”

“And in any case, not mine.” He clears his throat, shoulders pulling straight beneath the heavy wool over his tunic, looking more lordly per inch than he ever has at the university. “At least, not in name.”

For as long as Suzu’s known him, Shidan’s never been a confrontational kind of guy; Lata might duck and dodge and, if cornered, bite and rend any interference from the university’s board, but Shidan chooses the path of least resistance. Or more accurately, the path of least surveillance— he might sit and stay and sign the papers the higher up sent his way, but as soon as they had their back turned cajoling some of the more recalcitrant academics in their department, he’d slip right off the leash, doing what needed doing before the deans were any the wiser. That’s how they’d gotten into this whole orimmallys project anyhow, and that all worked out in the end. Mostly.

So when Shidan hums, all considering— the way he does when he’s about to quibble over wording on a paper, but so nicely Suzu won’t even know he’s gotten the run-around until he’s halfway to the dorms— it’s a sign. A portent, even.

“Your father gave you lease over the entire place, didn’t he?” He’s got his gloves caught in his hand, running fingers along some fancy wainscoting. There’s some gold leaf on it, gilding a few fussy fleur-de-lis, and his fingers run slow enough that there’s got to be some grit. Dust, even. “That’s what Garrack said, at least.”

Lata’s brow sours like samples left too long on the bench. “And of course, Head Pharmacist Gazelt would be the expert on my family’s internal affairs.”

“No,” Ryuu murmurs ponderously, so soft they all hush up to hear him. “But she’d be less invested in avoiding them.”

Big blue eyes blink up at his lordship, and if they were any less guileless— or maybe, if Ryuu was any less fifteen— there’d be some sort of dust up. Some flavor of raised voices and shaking fists, and maybe someone would end up with a cold ass on the big field of snow Lata calls the front lawn. But instead he just sucks in a breath, whistling like a hole in a window when the wind’s got its back up, and says, “I thought I was being quite generous offering you all a place to ready yourselves before the gala, but now I’m quite wondering just why I extended the invitation.”

“Because you’d rather be annoyed with us than risk being left alone with one of those lords?” Suzu barely realizes he’s spoken until five sets of eyes swing his way, goggling like he’s hauled off and said something out of band. Again. “Or ladies?”

A laugh’s dour cousin scrapes out from Lata’s chest as they climb what Suzu assumes is the grand stair, if only because it’s larger than the last three. “Yes,” he agrees, more weary than waggish. “Something like that.”

“Hey.” Obi hangs back, lingering on the landing with one thumb hooked over his shoulder. “Is that you?”

There’s a portrait beside him, larger than he is— or Suzu, or Shidan, or any man he’s seen living; so big that it must have taken a whole crew of footmen to install, if only to keep one of them from being crushed under a lordly boot. He’s got to squint to see above the knee, daubs of oils glistening in the gaslight, making it hard to pick out more than the curve of thick, dark hair, or the stern, squarish set the to jaw, or—

“I gotta say,” Obi hums, arms folding over his coat. “Quail hunter isn’t what comes to mind when I look at you.”

“I’m not.” Lata paces a step back toward them, then two, glowering up at the most detailed bird carcass Suzu’s ever seen outside the ruts of a country road. “That would be my father, in his youth. He had a great love of…working his will on the world, one way or another.”

“Ah…” Kazaha sighs, searching for something properly ingratiating to say. “There’s a certain, hm, strong family resemblance.”

Suzu seizes the opportunity to inform the professor, “He means that you both look grumpy.”

“That’s not what I said.”

“Right,” he agrees blithely. “It’s what you meant. Like I said.”

Lata snorts, starting back down the hall. “If you think I am ill-tempered, wait until you meet my sire. Why, I’m practically a ray of sunshine next to that old—”

“Oh, are we gonna?” Obi whips around, determined to be underfoot as he asks, “Will I finally get to meet my Knight Grandpa? Sir Grandpa—?”

“I would thank you not to call him that. And no.” Lata’s mouth thins to a line as tight as his shoulders. “Besides, if we are to take Knight Grandpa at its most literal, it would not be my father, but instead the man who was my master as a squire.”

“Is he gonna be here? Can I meet him?” It’s not physically possible for Obi to wend himself around Lata’s legs, but by the way he bats his eyes up at him, he’s spiritually there. “I promise I’ll be a good little knight. I’ll even bow and scrape and write poetry about women lying in ponds—”

“No.” After a begrudging pause, Lata adds, “He’s dead, actually.”

Obi pops up, shoulders suddenly soldier-straight beside him. “Oh, well. That’s a pretty good excuse. Did he die from some battle wound or…?”

“The drink,” Lata confirms. “He wasn’t, honestly, a very good master. But he was a friend of my father’s. That seemed to matter more back then.”

A laugh saws out of Obi, rough enough Suzu’s surprised it doesn’t take a bit of throat with it. “Seems to matter just as much now.”

The professor doesn’t do anything so obvious as look at Obi, oh no— he just simply clasps his hands behind his back, favoring the hall in front of him with an approving nod. “Doesn’t it just.”

“You frown the same way.” Both men peer over their shoulders, but Obi makes confusion seem casual, whereas Lata just scowls. Ryuu, for his part, doesn’t seem to notice. “You and your father, I mean.”

“Yes.” Lata surveys the hallway over his shoulder before turning back around. “It runs in the family.”

A beat passes before Suzu dares to venture, “Hey, weren’t the girls supposed to get ready here too?”

“Yes.” The professor isn’t known to smile, and he certainly doesn’t now, giving them all a disapproving glare. “They arrived on time.”

“What if” —Shidan’s clever little botanist practically froths over the vanity like a flask left too long on the hob, spilling linen and lace where she leans— “I told him I had something in my eye.”

This is hardly the first volley of hypotheticals Garrack’s fielded from that quarter; oh no, the girls had all been down to chemises when the preliminary speculation began— what if…I said I needed some air?— and now what had already been a serviceable set of natural curves has become a feat of human engineering, bolstered by a bulwark of baleen and batiste. There’d been endless layers added on; bust improvers and corsets and girdles, all requiring additional helpful hands, and it lends a weary edge to Izuru’s, “Oh, it’s a him, now is it?”

Shidan’s long-time assistant hasn’t bothered to batten down her hatches— at least, not as much as the botanist girl’s— with only enough corsetry to turn her posture from academic to appropriate. Another assurance that she’s coming along nicely, just the way Garrack always thought she would so long as Shidan’s quiet perfectionism didn’t infest her work ethic the way his little pet project did the university’s water supply.

“What next?” It has to have been ages since there was a woman in this place— heavens know Lata isn’t bringing any inamorata around here to parade around in front of his mother’s mirror— but the painted wood Izuru slumps over is pristine. Or, well, as much as whale bone lets a body slouch. “Identifying details? A name?”

“He’s hypothetical,” the botanist snaps, which almost guarantees that he isn’t. Too bad she hasn’t caked on the powder yet; even with the lights dimmed as they are, it’s impossible to miss the flush that creeps up her shoulders, pouring onto that pretty face. “He doesn’t exist. Yet.”

There’s quite a bit Izuru seems to have to say about that; her shoulder straighten, her mouth cants, and—

“Is that supposed to be romantic?” Shirayuki frowns into the mirror, hands swallowed up by the untameable beast that is Izuru’s hair. “Having something in your eye?”

“Well, not usually,” the botanist admits, undaunted by the sharp elbow of reality bursting her dreamy little bubble. “But an eyelash…that’s all right. Delicate even! Demure. And when he bends down, BAM.”

Shirayuki blinks. “You hit him?”

“Kiss him!” The girl slumps into a chair— despite all her scaffolding, she makes a better show of it than Izuru— heaving the most world-weary sigh. “I would kiss him, Shirayuki.”

It’s years since she’s been that diligent apprentice, quietly working under Ryuu’s precise direction, but Shirayuki still flushes as red as her hair at the barest mention of grown adults touching in any way but a professional handshake. Garrack would have thought Zen would handle that— three years is a quite a lot of time, and considering what some of her cohort got up to on these cold Lilias nights, she’d have expected the bar for blushing to be a few sexual acts higher. Under the clothes, at least.

“W-wouldn’t that be an awkward angle?” Shirayuki busies herself with Izuru’s hair, letting it twist around her hands as she pins it in place. “You m-might crash heads! And noses.”

“Fine.” The botanist flops on her chair, thoroughly put upon. “What about dropping my handkerchief? I let it flutter, just like this”— there’s no fabric in her hands, but she sticks out an elegant arm, turning away as her fingers go limp— “and when he bends to retrieve it, I—”

Garrack snorts. Not a soft one either; for as unintended as it is, it draws quite the audience. The pretty botanist included, one of her well-shaped eyebrows raised.

It’s a struggle to keep the laugh in her chest from bubbling out, making this whole situation worse. Or injure this girl’s more tender emotions, at least.“Listen, you really think a lord would stoop? For a botanist?”

“He will if he wants to be kissed!” she huffs, arms crossed. Quite a bit of lace froths out over them, like a puffed-out pigeon’s chest. “Which he will, since I’m going to be the best looking girl at this gala!”

There’s one of these girls in every cohort— a little too pretty for their own good, always thinking about which assistants they might be able to catch alone in the fourth floor stock room. Clever, of course— you don’t end up in Lilias if you’re a slouch in that department— but just a bit silly. Whimsical. Destined to be disappointed when they find out royals don’t marry researchers.

At least most royals with most researchers. It probably doesn’t help that the statistical outlier is in the room right now, sending her a long suffering look. “Yuzuri…”

“That’s no slight on the rest of you, Shirayuki,” the botanist— this Yuzuri— assures her, “I’ve just been planning for this my whole life. Or at least since I found out Wirant throws one of the Solstice things.”

“We’re supposed to be here for professional purposes,” Izuru reminds her, having worked for Shidan too long to believe in mixing work with pleasure.

“Oh, boo, Izuru!” Yuzuri straightens, bustling over to the mirror to fuss with the glossy fall of her hair, pinning up parts of it with her fingers and frowning at the results. “Don’t be dull.”

“It’s not dull,” Shirayuki protests, placing the last pin in hopes that this time, Izuru’s hair might not simply bend the mess of them to breaking. “It’s what Shidan’s asking us to do. I’m not saying you can’t dance too, but if you’re going to be mingling with the nobles, maybe you should try to talk to some of them about what we’re doing with the Phostyrias. Just a couple of them giving permission for us to plant the bulbs would really be—”

“Oh, fine, fine.” She waves one hand— painstakingly manicured, done up in a pearly sort of polish that wouldn’t last five minutes once she was back in the greenhouse— but undeterred. “I can chat them up a little bit too. For the project.”

Tonight might be the darkest night of the year, celebrated in the coldest, most ass-end part of the whole country, but when Shirayuki smiles, Garrack might well be back in her office at Wistal, enjoying the mild summer breeze winding through her window. “Thank you, I really appreciate it.”

“You better,” Yuzuri huffs, twisting her hair in her hands. “Don’t think I don’t notice that it’s the girl with a guy who’s down to kiss her anytime, any place that’s asking the rest of us to consider this a work party.”

“I…” Shirayuki sputters, and hoh, there’s that blush again, with a vengeance. “Obi wouldn’t…I mean…that’s not…”

Well, well. Looks like she’s been a little behind on current events of the frigid north. And maybe not so wrong about royals and researchers after all.

“What if I asked him off into a side corridor? Or an alcove? Maybe a balcony,” Shidan’s botanist continues, saving Shirayuki a few more stumbles. “Those always have the right ambiance. And then I ask him to check the clasp on my necklace, and—”

“At that point you might as well ask him to kiss you,” Izuru is quick to point out, stepping up to help her hold a swag of hair in place. “You’re not really being subtle.”

Yuzuri groans, pins clattering against painted wood. “But where’s the romance in that? There’s got to be some uncertainty, some risk—”

“You do know,” Garrack hums, crossing her ankles on the convenient hassock in front of her. “Shidan and I are here specifically to help keep down the kissing, don’t you?”

The girl sighs, eyes rolling in her reflection. “But you’re not really going to do anything, are you, Master Gazelt? You know how silly this whole rule is. Aren’t you just going to look the other way?”

Her mouth twitches. It would be funny to see that old goat get twisted up over some twenty-year-olds playing mother-may-I with their tonsils. “Maybe,” she allows, “if I thought it was funny enough.”

It hardly seems fair to say Suzu is disheveled when he hardly ever seems, well, sheveled, for lack of a better word. But with his shirt still merely half-buttoned and flyaway wisps of blond escaping their tie with every scrape of his hands over his scalp, Shidan has little else to call him.

“Is the mazurka step-step-clap-turn, or is that the redowa?” His half-coat flaps out around him as he marks out the movements— poorly, but at least recognizable, even if Shidan would be at pains to reproduce them. “Or maybe it’s the waltz? Help me, Obi,” — he seizes the knight as he slips through the door, rumpling the black wool of his coat— “I can’t remember!”

“I’ll run you through the steps before we get out there,” he promises, detaching Suzu from his lapel with more gentleness than Shidan would, under the circumstances. Suzu is a valuable member of his team, a long-time collaborator who will perform any number of demeaning tasks to see a project through, so long as he can avoid a single shred of responsibility and complain about his sorry lot the whole time, but well— even Shidan has his limits. “It’ll all come back to you once you got the band to back you up. These things always make more sense with the music.”

Suzu stares at him, utterly blank, and Obi huffs out a laugh. “Theoretical versus practical knowledge, right?”

“Oh.” Suzu endeavors to smooth back his strays, but they only pop back up in his palm’s wake. “Right. Yeah. Of course. Easy, then.”

“Right.” Obi pats his shoulder with a purposeful sort of confidence, as if he could pass it through flesh and fabric with the ease that footrot does through hoofs. “Easy.”

That is until Ryuu glances up from his book, brow furrowed in the faintest vee, and says, “If that’s the case, then how are you and Shirayuki so bad at it?”

Obi whips around, wide-eyed with betrayal. “H-hey!” he squawks. “We’ve gotten better!”

Ryuu doesn’t reply— not verbally, at least— but the look he turns to Obi is eloquent enough to speak for itself. And what it says is: not appreciably.

“Why are you even concerned about all that?” Kazaha’s costume is so crisp carpenters could use it to cut corners, cape and coat and pants and stymieing haircut all in perfect place. “It’s not as if anyone is going to ask you to dance.”

“Why not? I’m dressed all nice.” Suzu blinks down at himself, taking in the uncuffed sleeves and half-buttoned shirt and the coat canted askew on his shoulders, and adds, “Well, I will be.”

Kazaha may cluck his tongue, may shake his head hopelessly, but even still, he reaches out, straightening Suzu’s cuffs before buttoning them tight. “Because you’re a man, idiot. Girls might inquire if you’d like to take a stroll down Pavilion Street when we’re at the university, but in a ballroom, men do the asking.”

Shidan can’t say Suzu’s ever been popular with the female population, especially among the more established academics who are already well aware of his reputation as a rather acerbic eccentric, more apt to be cozened under tables or smudged with sweat and grit from Lata’s forge than doing the more respectable pastime of benchwork. But there’s always a flush of fluttering young freshmen flouncing outside the lab each year, eager to catch a glimpse of— or even speak a word or two with— the herbology department’s most striking scholar. That is, of course, until they actually talk to him.

“Really?” Spoken like a man who has had invitations hurled at his retreating back for five years running. By Kazaha’s strangled sigh, it’s clear he’s thinking the same. “I’m very pretty, though.”

“That may help with young ladies wanting to dance with you,” Kazaha informs him, pulling his lapel into a shape somewhat approaching acceptable. “But it will be expected that you approach them.”

“Oh.” It’s startling to see that sharp face turn thoughtful. “So I don’t have to do this dancing thing at all.”

“You do.” Shidan’s order scrapes out at the same time Kazaha’s does, creating an odd sort of echo before he presses on, “We’re the guests of honor at this gala. The department is expecting us to socialize with potential donors.”

“Well sure, but that doesn’t mean I gotta—”

“You will,” Shidan promises him wearily. “And you’ll have to at least pretend to like it, if you want to continue our work in the lab.”

“And not in some tiny closet,” Obi adds, brightly. “Where you’ll have to knock elbows with Kazaha just to get a beaker on the burner.”

“Well, yeah.” Suzu slumps, waving off Kazaha’s continued ministrations. It’s too late, however— he already looks respectable. Not enough to pass for a peer, but someone well on his way to professor. “But what if I just hung out along the wall instead. Then I could talk to people, and—”

“It’s rude for young men to be idling when there are eligible young ladies waiting for a partner.” Obi’s words nearly sparkle for all their polish, but he ruins the effect with one of his slant-wise grins. “Don’t worry, I told you I’d show you how to cut a rug. It’s better than getting stuck in a conversation with one of those stuffy old—”

There is a gravitas to the way the doors open in this place, a stately creak that does not imply age so much at maturity; this manor was built long before the sovereigns of Wisteria sunk their roots into Clarines’ throne, and it would last long after they were nothing more than musty portraits in halls long forgot. For as much as Lata might chafe under the weight of that history, might complain about the burden of expectation placed upon a son— the son— of Forzeno, he looks every inch the part as he steps over the threshold, trousers tailored and coast pressed within an inch of their lives, more institution than man.

“The guests are arriving,” he intones with all the cheer of a funeral bell. “Are you through with your preparations?”

“Almost!” Obi sing-songs, helping Kazaha tug the sleeves of Suzu’s jacket straight. “There, done.”

Lata surveys them with the same sharpness as he does his specimens, assessing them as if their flaws were as easily apparent as a gem’s through a loupe. With a long-suffering sigh, one pristine glove pinches at his nose, as if it might be any help at all stemming the incoming headache.

“Passable,” he grates out, stepping aside. “Now if you would follow me, I will ensure that you all make it to the hall.”

Obi’s mouth twitches, threatening a smirk. “Can’t trust us to get there on our own, eh, sir?”

“I have been an academic for nearly as long as you have been alive.” The fit of his coat already has Lata at his full height, but he lifts his chin for good measure, just to give his glare a few more momentum before it meets Obi’s grin. “And there is not a single scholar alive that can travel from one point to another in a straight line.”

Both brows raise now, scrunching the scar right to his hairline. “Not even you?”

Lata clears his throat. “If you would all come this way please. In an orderly fashion,” he adds, when Suzu traipses after him, elbows nearly colliding with Ryuu’s nose as he comes up behind. “I would prefer to avoid any accidents before we even arrive.”

Obi slinks closer, like a cat approaching a precariously placed cup. “But not after?”

A heavy sigh flares out of Lata’s nostrils. “I would prefer you not. But ‘after’ is not part of my purview.”

For all that Obi enjoys dogging the professor’s irritable heels, he makes no move to follow him. Instead, he lingers just inside the door, watching as first Suzu, then Ryuu, then Kazaha pass. Being polite, Shidan assumes at first, but then the moment for him to fall in line comes…and passes, utterly unmarked, save for the amused glance Obi turns his way, gold flaring in the lamplight.

He’s a different man than the one that appeared with the snow, all those years ago. Even more so from the boy that simply manifested in the university’s library, slotting himself between the two royal pharmacists with an ease that had Shidan squinting even then, trying to figure out how such incongruous pieces could fit. Lilias drew all types, it’s true, but even so— he’d never seen one quite like this: a knight with a thug’s scar cut into his brow, swaggering through the stacks like they were old enemies.

Don’t be fooled, Garrack had written him once, loops spiking tight with barely restrained humor. He might look a little rough-and-tumble, but that kid cleans up well.

He sees it now— the strong line of his shoulder accentuated by the cut of his coat, the belt at his waist complementing the taper of his torsi, the loose trousers that only barely obscure the acrobat’s body beneath. There’s no way to cover the scar, not even with a judicious application of pomade, but there’s no need— not when it only makes him look roguish, like a man who might sweep a girl into an alcove and teach her the sort of things proper young ladies only learned from novels. Still dangerous, but not deadly.

Worrying, really, considering. Shidan doesn’t make a habit of listening to scuttlebutt, but, well, he does have eyes of his own. And red is hard to miss. More so than the black he always finds bent beside it. “Obi, if I might have a word?”

That brow of his pitches up, amusement apparent in every angle. “You academics really will do anything to keep from having to go where you’re told.”

Shidan blinks, confused, before shaking his head. “I only thought I might remind you, that er…” There’s no delicate way to put it, not when he’s already wearing a smirk that would set every fine young lady’s fan fluttering. “That this year there is to be no Solstice kissing. By Lata’s request.”

“So I’ve heard.” Obi’s head cocks, curious, though when he takes in the emptiness of the room, the pointedness of the request…the slant his brow takes is clearly…confused. “Is there any reason you’re telling me, specifically?”

It’s a romantic sort of night, he might say, and it’s easy to forget yourself in the moment. Or maybe, you already stand so close I couldn’t fit a paper between the two of you, all it would take to close it is a well-timed trip. Or perhaps more accurately, you’ve been together so long all you need is an excuse. Trust me when I say you should take it.

But Shidan knows better than to speak, not when silence is all the more eloquent. The mind, he finds, often finds the most pressing reasons all on its own. Especially when one's thoughts never strayed too far from them anyway...

“Hey!” Obi presses a hand to the placard of his coat. “I haven’t caused trouble for years.”

It’s a feat worthy of song that Shidan keeps from reminding him of the last time him and Shirayuki rode through these gates. And yet, there’s no graceful way to admit that he hadn’t been talking about that sort of trouble anyway.

“Months, at least,” he relents, grudgingly. With a few moments of thought, he adds, “I’ve been really good this week.”

Shidan, with the patience of a saint, restricts his reply to simply, “If you’re sure.”

Obi does him the courtesy of hesitating. “Well, none of that’s been of the kissing variety, anyway. Not like any of the ladies here are going to be looking to make time with a guy like me tonight.”

He gives him another one of those charming grins, and Shidan sighs, resigning himself to an evening of being pointedly unobservant. “So you say.”

#obiyukiweek24 #obiyuki #akagami no shirayukihime #snow white with the red hair #my fic #ans #finally i have gotten to revisit this fic I worked on last year with annie #the draft has been sitting in my WIP folder forever #and finally i've gotten to take out a chunk of it #i think there should be...one more full chapter and an epilogue #hilarious that i thought this whole project would be 9K #looks like it might well be between 15-18K overall #but maybe i'll get to sneak out another bit of it before the new year #love to get something wrapped up for once 😅

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masterghandalf · 4 months ago

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MG Reads Embers: Chapter Thirty-One

Note: This is a continuation of my reread and commentary of Embers by Vathara, originally posted last fall and winter on my Dreamwidth account.

Chapter Thirty-One We open on the Suzuran as it sails away from the battle, with Jee still amazed by what Zuko did to get them free. Even from someone of the royal line, he didn’t expect that. Now, Jee is watching Zuko trying to explain his techniques to the ship’s other firebenders, including Iroh and Teruko. Like waterbenders, this style of firebending relies on rhythms, but unlike the tides, it’s not safe – and even a healing can be a kind of fight. Nobody said healers have to be nice. Jee is impressed at how Zuko has matured, and privately credits Iroh. Sadao manages to get it briefly, but Zuko compliments him nonetheless – this takes a while to master, but he’s making good progress; Sadao is clearly pleased by his praise. Jee goes to talk to Iroh, who explains how the style of firebending Zuko uses for healing is very different from his own, but still can’t believe he missed it. Jee hints at what Teruko believes about Zuko’s heritage; Iroh agrees with her, especially in light of Aang mentioning Shidan as Kuzon’s dragon companion. Whatever the reason, Zuko has now stood his ground against some of the most dangerous forces in the world and survived. Iroh promises Jee that they have hope again, and will find new allies, glancing up at the moon as he does. Jee doesn’t believe it, but Iroh tells him the Water Tribes believe waterbenders are blessed – as Yue has blessed Zuko. The world may hate the Fire Nation, but the Moon Spirit is shielding them. Now they have to trust in her tides. We cut to Sadao, practicing, as Zuko joins him. He explains he knows how Sadao feels, and how difficult this is – fire wants to burn, and making it do anything constructive can be hard. It’s good that Sadao’s intimidated by it. Zuko knows what sort of crew the high-ups would have given Jee, but he also knows Jee’s turned them into a good crew even if they haven’t realized it. And Zuko is not going to let Sadao be a failure.

We cut to Bato telling Hakoda that Suzuran is gone, and their Earth Kingdom “allies” are getting twitchy. Meanwhile, it’s time for Hakoda to have words with Katara. He finds her comforting Aang, telling him that “he” was lying; Hakoda deliberately misunderstands and agrees with her that Colone Mohe was lying. The Earth Kingdom respects noble blood; it would be easier to justify breaking a truce with Zuko if he was a bastard. Aang knows that’s not what Katara meant, and Hakoda agrees – but he needs to talk with Katara now about how she almost made them break the truce. If he ever meets Pakku, he’s going to have a long talk with him, too. Aang insists that Katara wouldn’t do that, and Pakku may be cranky but he’s still a great master. Hakoda says Pakku is a northern waterbender – a southern waterbender should know better than to interfere with a chief’s decisions. He also thinks that Zuko has hunted Aang and his friends across the world for half a year; he knows them better than anyone by now. Hakoda thinks to himself that Toph and Zuko clearly already have an understanding, and Toph seems to know what’s going on already. Katara protests that if she’s angry, she’s got a right to be – and after what the Fire Nation has done for the last century, so what if some of them die? Hakoda feels hate for the Fire Nation surging in him and tells Katara to stop it. Aang realizes that was Katara doing that all along and can’t believe it – someone could’ve gotten hurt! Katara blames Zuko, and Toph tells her if she finishes that sentence, someone will get hurt. Bato says the men can’t learn what she’s been doing – there are no other women here to judge her, but that doesn’t mean the men won’t if they feel it’s necessary. Katara stares in horror, but Aang can’t believe everyone is fighting like this when there are more important things to do. Hakoda, though, insists that Katara tried to make them break a truce. How could they have lived with themselves if they’d done that? How could they have gone home with that sort of shame? Aang says Katara was banished and that worked out; Hakoda is taken aback, so Aang and Katara explain how Sokka threw them out of the village after they went to the Fire Nation ship. Katara says a bender has to conquer fear, but Sokka says literally any other way would have been better. Still, Aang talked Katara into going back, Gran-Gran let it go, and Sokka thought that was the end of the matter.

Hakoda isn’t so sure. He asks what happened when an Air Nomad did something unforgivable; Aang doesn’t know what that would be, but Sokka reminds him of all the skeletons around Gyatso. Aang, clearly distraught, admits he knows you sometimes have to do bad things when fighting for your life, but he also can’t shake the image of Kuzon going to war in a Fire Nation uniform. Toph breaks in to let him know Iroh told her Kuzon managed to use his status as lord of Byakko to avoid serving in the army, and he didn’t fight – though he did sneak around some. He spent his life trying to find Aang – but promises are important to the Fire Nation, the Earth Kingdom, and the Water Tribes. Aang says he knows that, and Hakoda says he should understand why Katara’s actions were wrong. She tried to force them against their will to break their word. For now, though, they have an opportunity to take the fight to the Fire Lord – Hakoda wants to know if Aang will come with him and says that Katara can serve better as a healer than a fighter. If he does, he and Katara will be watched. Aang says Katara was sorry, but Hakoda wants to hear it from her – she says she was trying to do what was right. Hakoda just repeats that she’ll be watched – and if she does it again, he’ll have to act. All he’s asking is Katara to leave their emotions alone. Show them she’s a waterbender who can be trusted. He also tells Aang that Bato told him about taking them all ice-dodging, and that Aang qualifies as an honorary member of the Water Tribe – and that honor comes with responsibilities. Can Aang prove to the world he’s the kind of Avatar who can be trusted? Aang says he’s trying; Hakoda knows and wants him to keep trying. A moment later, Asiavik, Hakoda’s healer, comes over – he says Xiu is back, and she’s brought a message.

We cut to Aang reading the message – it turns out to be an old airbender letter from hundreds of years ago, written by a monk named Yuan-ti. Watching him, Sokka is rueful about how quickly Aang bounces back – at least Katara seems to get that Hakoda’s angry. Xiu can’t believe how old Aang is, though she knows Kyoshi lived to be over two hundred and Kuruk apparently lived even longer; Aang admits he spent most of that time in an iceberg. Sokka wants to make sure Xiu doesn’t send word back to the Fire Nation that Aang’s alive – or at least, anyone else in the Fire Nation. Xiu’s seen the bounty on Zuko’s head – she knows he’s not going to be telling anyone. Meanwhile, Xiu herself seems to have broken up with her boyfriend – apparently, he was overprotective and she didn’t like that, so they had a fight. Not helping that he didn’t tell her what the army was going to do. Sokka gets that he didn’t trust her, and Xiu is pleased he noticed. Sokka, though, knows that Azula had Kyoshi Warrior outfits, and is suddenly worried about Suki. Meanwhile, Xiu is continuing to explain how whenever a firebender comes up with a new technique, they teach it to as many people as they can – so the Earth Kingdom tries to kill them as soon as possible. Now Zuko has the Earth Kingdom and the Fire Nation after him. Katara can’t believe she still feels sorry for him after what he did during the fighting, but Xiu says her dad taught her you should always fight to survive – or you might end up somewhere like Chin Village, who want to kill anyone connected to Kyoshi for what she did to Chin the Conqueror. Sokka admits they were there, and they end up explaining how they got out alive. Aang can’t imagine that would have really boiled him, but Xiu assures him they would have – her father always told her that given the choice between Chin Village and the Fire Nation, go with the Fire Nation. They boiled a fisherman alive just last year. Aang says violence doesn’t solve anything, so Xiu tells him to keep reading. Aang doesn’t get it – he’s just talking about visiting the Western Air Temple – but Sokka points out a reference to “smoke from numberless pyres” and to the destruction wrought by great waves. The Fire Nation was telling the truth about Kyoshi. Aang can’t believe it, but Xiu tells him the Fire Nation pirates killed Kyoshi’s son. Apparently, she tried to warn the Fire Nation, but the Earth King – who hated the Fire Nation, and hated Kyoshi for forcing his father to create the Dai Li – made sure that warning never arrived. Anyway, the people of Chin still hate the Avatar for what she did to one man who deserved it – but could anyone deserve what Kyoshi did the Fire Nation?

Sokka thinks back to all the times he’s seen Aang in the Avatar State and the kind of power he had. You can’t fight power like that – except Azula did. Most people are too stunned when they see the Avatar State to do anything about it, but not her. And somehow, she got through, even though nobody’s ever touched Aang in the Avatar State before… suddenly, Sokka remembers Aang telling him about Koh, who claimed to have had a grudge against the Avatar for nine hundred years. He wonders if this is all bigger than he’d realized. Katara says that the Fire Nation didn’t deserve it then, but they do now – Aang wants to fix things, but Katara doesn’t think they want to be fixed. Aang says Kuzon wasn’t like that, and Iroh isn’t – Sokka adds that they can defeat the Fire Lord first, stop the real bad guy, then deal with fixing everyone else later. Looking back over the letter, Sokka spots a reference to “renegades” and wonders if that meant Byakko – and something called “Harmonious Accord” and “bearing nuns.” Aang says that means the nuns were pregnant – new airbenders had to come from somewhere. Apparently, some of the nuns were distressed about the deaths in the Fire Nation, so the letter said that they had to be brought back into “Harmonious Accord” to learn that mercy and compassion are illusions that tether you to the world, and they must learn to let everything go, even that which is most precious. Sokka, reading between the lines, asks if Aang’s parents gave him up; Aang says that all Air Nomads did that, and they didn’t really have parents the way other peoples do. Girls stayed with the temple they were born at, and boys were split between the north and south – and he suddenly realizes everyone is staring at him in horror. Aang doesn’t understand – he’d made no secret that Gyatso raised him, and even Zuko knew he wouldn’t know about fathers, though that’s not entirely true, since Aang had travelled around and seen how other people lived. He just doesn’t know his own father. Toph says most people don’t study the Air Nomads anymore; Sokka says he’s going to go get snacks, while Aang starts telling Katara all about Gyatso.

Outside, Xiu, Toph and Sokka are all shaken – they can’t wrap their heads around the Air Nomads and can’t believe Aang didn’t think it was wrong. That scares Sokka almost as much as the Fire Lord. He blames Zuko for leaving and dumping this problem on them – Toph reminds him that Zuko’s never lied about why he’s after Aang, and he’s always been straight with them, but he’ll never be their friend. Xiu thinks they must be braver than she is, to be Aang’s friends. Sokka then goes to find Hakoda and tells him aribenders aren’t what people think. Sokka explains but can’t believe Aang doesn’t know what a family is… or why they’re fighting. Toph wonders if Iroh’s right about why the war started and explains what he told her about airbenders and hurricanes. She knows he said that Iroh thinks Sozin kept the airbenders from warning the Fire Nation about the big hurricane… but maybe the Fire Nation had good reason to believe airbenders would do something like that. Toph also has something she wants everyone to know – Zuko’s not hunting Aang anymore. He told her to keep quiet about it, and Beifongs keep their word, so she did. But Zuko really was trying to help Aang, and he really did help her free Appa, since he wanted to stop another North Pole from happening. But he has a plan. Toph doesn’t know what it is… but she does know Aang isn’t the only one who’s had run-ins with spirits. Toph knows something else about Zuko too… but it’s not her secret to tell. Hakoda is pleased with her honesty and has decided that if they don’t want Ba Sing Se to hear about what happened here, they need to leave soon, even if it means sailing at night. Apparently, ever since the moon went dark… they’ve been seeing something in the water at night, accompanied by a wind from the north…

We cut to someone named Langxue as he thinks he should be running the other way. Apparently, mutilated corpses have been washing up on the shore after dark lately, and children are to stay away – but someone named Saoluan is in danger, so Langxue has no choice. Apparently, most people think he’s bad luck, but Saoluan took him under her wing and showed him some moves. But Langxue has been an orphan ever since his family died, and while he’s passed from family to family, no one has taken him in. Except for Saoluan. And so now he’s looking for her, hoping she’s still playing pai sho and away from the water. We learn this is a small cove on Kyoshi Island, well away from the main harbor; down in the water, something is thrashing about. An Unagi, with a giant leech-like creature clinging to its neck. Langxue recognizes it as a jurenzhi, though he doesn’t know why it’s here – no one has offended the Ocean Spirit that much, not even Suki when she left to join the war. He spots Saoluan hauling a fisherman to safety, then starts waterbending at the leech. Saoluan asks if he’s alone – apparently all the adult waterbenders are off purifying themselves in a sweat lodge to try and soothe the Ocean Spirit. Saoluan is annoyed – she can tell the spirits are angry, but still they could have spared some benders to do something useful! Langxue says the whole village has to do it or it won’t work; Saoluan is darkly amused, thinking it’s just their luck. Meanwhile, the fishermen don’t want to let the leech have the Unagi; Saoluan thinks its lucky as the last one, six years ago, which reminds her of the story of why all the current crop of Kyoshi Warriors are Suki’s age. Saoluan promises to tell the story later, but for now she has a plan. The leech starts untangling itself from the Unagi, and their struggle causes a wave that crashes down onto the shore; Langxue only barely waterbends himself out, and Saoluan challenges the thing to fight her instead. Langxue bends at the leech, trying to help her, but only gets its attention.

He’s swept into the sea – and wakes up to find an old man with a mustache looking down on him. He thinks he’s dead – and then a young man in a Fire Nation uniform approaches; Langxue flips into a fighting stance Saoluan taught him, but the newcomer asks him to calm down. He says they’re all friends here, even if it’s been a while and then tells “Hyourin” to wake up. Langxue is suddenly inundated with memories not his own and recognizes Kaze. He doesn’t know what happened; Kaze explains that they stopped something terrible from happening, but Koh got away, and things went wrong – now, for a thousand years, there haven’t been any spirit healers. Which means no yaoren. Now, though there are two – maybe three, if Shirong learns fast enough. When Langxue wakes up, he needs to head north, and he’ll figure out what to do along the way. He realizes what’s happening to him but wants to be sent back to save Saoluan. Kaze says he’s sorry about one more thing – and Langxue can feel Agni’s presence, and the Moon Spirit’s. She explains that Agni has to yield his claim, and the balance must be maintained. Langxue seems to piece together what this means, but Yue stresses that he still belongs to her. Gyatso thinks that what they’re going to do will break Aang’s heart, but it’s necessary to restore balance to the world. Hyourin was a killer – but so was Kyoshi. Gyatso says Aang wasn’t responsible, and this will only lead to the deaths Yangchen sacrificed herself to stop. Kaze tells him he missed the point – air is freedom. Gyatso won’t help, and Kaze says this is why the Earth Kingdom let the Air Nomads die. Langxue says that if he won’t help, he won’t – Yue says the world has forgotten what it means to be Yaoren, but she has not, and calls on the power of the spirit of the sky to be their fourth. Langxue blacks out.

He wakes up on the beach to find Saoluan tending to him. He gets her out of the way, then uses waterbending to freeze the leech. Saoluan says they need to go, but Langxue draws his sword. He says that the longsword is water, the saber is earth, dual swords for fire… and katanas for air. He releases a blast of wind that blows the leech apart. Saoluan is stunned and tells Langxue she’ll handle it; he tells her to never give up again. He calls her his big sister, and then passes out; she picks him up and carries him down the beach. She tells the fishermen to burn and break the leech’s jaws, and hopefully they’ll have some breathing room before another one comes. For now, she’s not going to let the village blame Langxue for this. He’s a waterbender, but he’s also a kid… and now they’re going, but she won’t say where… We cut to Mai, thinking she hates secrets as she haggles with a brush maker who reminds her of Iroh. She thinks that he may be Iroh’s contact, but Iroh won’t come back here any time soon, with Azula in charge. Min is in a cell now, and Mai mentally berates Zuko – covering for the Avatar wasn’t worth his life! Mai half listens to the merchant as she goes over his supplies, and then catches something he said and purchases an ornament. Walking the streets later, she thinks how eerily quiet it is, much more than Omashu, and decides Long Feng broke these people before the Fire Nation ever got here. But as much as Mai hates Azula, she is truly Sozin’s heir and is following his motto – build something stronger from the ashes. Still, Mai means to defy Azula, at least in part for Min’s sake. She arrives at the cell where he’s kept and bullies her way past the guards. Apparently, prisoners under Ozai and Azula’s power have committed suicide before – she wants to check on him. Inside, she has Min breathe and assures him Azula doesn’t have his family. Fire calls to fire – firebenders are strongest in a clan, especially headed by a great name. Azula couldn’t take Min because he was fueled by someone else, and they were loyal to someone else. Mai thinks it would take a strong firebender to lend Min the strength to resist Azula. He starts rambling about what Azula wanted to do to him – Mai realizes Azula wouldn’t be this cruel without a reason and thinks she’s probably trying to panic someone enough they try to rescue Min and expose the whole resistance to her.

Finally, after Mai plays the whole scenario out in her mind, Min tells her to never give up without a fight, and she gives him the pin she bought – which has diamond wire inside, which can cut through steel, given time. She reminds him to not give up and leaves. She decides to feel out Ty Lee, then Quan – to see if they can help her do the impossible. We cut to Jee and Teruko, looking over a map of Ba Sing Se with Zuko and some of the other officers. They don’t have enough room to fit three thousand people on their ship, or enough resources to start a new colony. Iroh knows that, but they started making their plans before they found Suzuran. For now, they need to get a lot of people out of Ba Sing Se under Azula’s nose. Azula will anticipate any plan they make – but she’s a perfectionist who surrounds herself with exceptional people. To slip under her notice, Suzuran needs to look completely unremarkable. They can head in, pretending to be a routine prisoner transport, pick up Shirong and anyone who can’t make it overland. As cover, they can report the location of Hakoda’s fleet, which the Fire Nation would figure out eventually anyway. Jee thinks it will work, since no Fire Navy ship has ever deserted, but Azula will suspect something eventually. They’ll have to figure out some way to handle her. Not to mention, if they set up a domain outside the Fire Lord’s control, that will violate Kyoshi’s decree – but Iroh says an exile is beyond the Fire Lord’s authority. And Kyoshi never said an exile couldn’t rule a domain. Teruko thinks there’s clearly a lot of dragon in Iroh’s side of the family – that’s why dragon-children aren’t supposed to marry each other. You don’t want to be too dragon… and Zuko gets it from both sides. But she’ll deal with that later. After the meeting Teruko corners Zuko, telling him he isn’t expendable. Iroh is a traitor, but not an exile. Zuko’s the only one who can rule their domain, so he needs to stay alive. She thinks nobody should have to deal with a mess like this – but Zuko’s a great name, and that’s what they’re born and trained for. Zuko apologizes – he realizes that most people don’t have luck as terrible as he does, but sometimes he forgets it. He lays out some documents and prepares to go off to bed, but Teruko catches sight of one of them and demands to know if that’s what she thinks it is. Zuko explains about the argument on the beach, and about Katara – she’s a waterbender, she needs her family to love her, and he just set that family on fire. Teruko thinks a teenager couldn’t have been that ruthless – then corrects herself that he’s a teenage dragon-child who’d been chasing Katara and her friends for half a year, so yes, he could.

Zuko admits he regrets doing it on purpose – he knows how his father handles the court and all the manipulation and threats he uses. But he had to make everyone else turn on Katara so they wouldn’t turn on them. Teruko tells him not to worry – he has good instincts. He won without fighting, turning a dangerous opponent into a liability for the other side. She thinks to herself she needs to have a talk with Iroh, and especially to make sure he tells Zuko he’s a dragon-child. Nobody expects good diplomacy from a dragon-child. Sure, Zuko may have antagonized the Avatar, but the Avatar was never going to deal honorably with the Fire Nation. She trusts Zuko; this stuns him, which makes Teruko all the more certain his father is an idiot. Zuko admits he had to turn Katara and Sokka against each other, and he’s not proud of it. Teruko realizes that for waterbenders, family is like clan – fire is loyalty and power, water is family and community. She was the only waterbender in her village, and Teruko thinks she can understand a bit of what that must have been like. Ozai may have hated Zuko, but at least he saw who he was – everyone just saw Katara as their perfect waterbender who could do no wrong. But if Katara ever knew Zuko felt sorry for her, she’d rip his heart out. Still, now he’s made Aang see part of her he’d avoided, and now he might well throw her away because she actually hates her enemies. Teruko realizes Katara thought she was honorable, by Water Tribe standards. Zuko doesn’t trust her, but he does agree, so he’s going to do something for her Aang won’t. He won’t let her get revenge on the whole Fire Nation, but he can get her justice. Teruko realizes that the Avatar is supposed to keep balance between the nations and Zuko’s going to rub this in his face – she thinks Shidan will love him and wants to know how she can help.

We cut to Katara, watching Aang and Appa but still feeling alone and cut off like she hasn’t in a long time. She wonders how Xiu is doing; she doesn’t like her, since she took Zuko’s side, but it was still better than listening to Aang talking about how all the monks looked after him, so he was fine not having parents. Sokka brought food back for Aang, but not her, and Xiu told her she’s seen how Aang looks at her – if she doesn’t want to give up her children, stay away from him. Katara thinks that she can’t leave Aang, since he’s the Avatar. Toph comes over, complaining that she hates wooden decks – Katara thinks she’d prefer a metal Fire Nation ship, and Toph admits she would. On a wooden ship, she has nothing to bend. Toph tries to talk Katara into ditching the guys and doing their own thing. Katara insists she’s fine, but Toph knows she’s lying. They talk about things benders do when they’re angry, and Toph wonders if Katara was controlling people on purpose. She admits she didn’t, and Toph says it wasn’t her fault, just like it wasn’t Zuko’s fault when the knot in Aang’s back blew up in his face and he blasted Bato by accident. Katra is outraged, and Toph explains that the lightning wasn’t his – it was Azula’s power that’s stuck in Aang, and Zuko had to draw it out and apparently slipped up. It wasn’t what either of them wanted. Katara remembers wanting to kill Azula, and Toph thinks Aang broke his deal with Katara by not having her back during the fight. Katara may not think of it as a deal, but it was. Airbenders may not kill, but other benders do, and Aang belongs to all the elements. How can they help him if he won’t listen to them? Katara doesn’t want to make him give up who he is, but Toph thinks he may have to in order to save everyone else. Aang doesn’t need to be just like her, but he does need to be willing to stop the bad guys. Katara thinks it’s not fair… and Sokka spots a message hawk. The hawk lands nearby, and Sokka starts reading – the letter is for Toph but includes a message for whoever is reading it to her. Part of the letter is for Katara, too. She takes it and starts reading. First off, Zuko explains how serious an insult “bastard” is for a great name in Fire Nation culture. Zuko struck back, but now that he’s away from the fight and calmed down, he understands the seriousness of Katara’s actions and knows she’s not stupid. He’s learned some things about her culture recently and wants to share some things about his. First off, he knows every firebender is dangerous, and some firebenders have done shameful things in the war. He also knows that he’s a threat to Aang – Aang scares him, not because he’s powerful, but because he’s an idiot. Azula carefully controls the damage she does, but Aang doesn’t. He didn’t know there was a dangerous spirit loose in Ba Sing Se, and such spirits are fueled by unhallowed deaths – and because of his actions at the North Pole, thousands of unhallowed corpses are now drifting through the ocean. Zuko is happy to stand in the way of the person who caused that.

He also knows Katara wants vengeance for her mother. He’d never keep her from that, but he’ll define what vengeance is. It doesn’t involve him, Iroh, or anyone in his crew – they didn’t do it. The Fire Nation values vendetta, but only against the person who actually wronged you. Zuko did some digging with Iroh and Jee and has given Katara the name of her mother’s killer, and a name she can use to travel the Fire Nation incognito searching for vengeance. It’s not a gift – Zuko is just helping Katara fulfil her right to vengeance. But Zuko knows Aang won’t approve. The Air Nomads didn’t believe in violence… but they could just fly away from all their problems. Aang won’t support Katra’s vendetta, even though it’s just… but the Fire Nation’s conflict with the Avatar has always been about justice. Now Zuko has given Katara a chance for justice. She can still hate him, if she wants. Aang is left horrified at the contents of the letter – doesn’t Zuko know revenge is dangerous to both parties? Katara has to forgive, and let it go. But Katara can’t do that. Her mother is gone – Aang doesn’t understand, but Zuko of all people does. She stares at Aang, tells him she doesn’t know him at all, and then passes out.

We end with an author note. A/N: "It is better to be hated for what you are, than loved for what you are not." - André Gide. Lángxuě (Snow Wolf); Sāoluàn (bedlam, disorder, havoc, roughhouse, TEMPEST). ...I just know someone has recognized who those two are based on. Heh. jùrénzhì = giant leech; I gave it a Chinese name, but this is an actual monster out of Cherokee folklore. Though I've fiddled with it a little. What Sāoluàn uses is called the "precordial thump". Just in case anyone's wondering, do not do this without advanced medical training. (Check Wikipedia for more details.) Sometimes, it works. General note on pinyin: I use 'em when I can find 'em. Until recently, I didn't have a good source that displayed them accurately. Now I seem to have found one, at www .mandarintools worddict. html So I plan to keep using them. On Katara: someone that badly hurt, that stuck in old childhood patterns, takes time to fix. Time, and a nonjudgmental ear - which Aang, the Water Tribe fleet, and Sokka (much as I love the sarcastic one) are not. They've only been out of Ba Sing Se a few days, and Toph has just been putting together how bad the situation is. Give her a little time to work. MG’s Thoughts Okay, some big things going on in this chapter. First off, the Katara-bashing is still going on, though I think this is about the point in the fic where it peaks, for lack of a better word – after this arc, the Katara-bashing doesn’t go away, but Vathara does start allowing her a somewhat more sympathetic presentation. Though not without getting an implicit death threat from her own father if she doesn’t change her ways; yuck. And of course, there’s her letter from Zuko at the end of this chapter, and, okay, I have to admit to being kind of uncomfortable that Zuko, a prince of the country that killed Katara’s mother, has taken it upon himself to set the terms for when and how Katara is allowed to have revenge while explicitly speaking in a semi-official capacity as a Fire Nation noble. And what weirds me out even more is that Katara is receptive to it, when I think even canon!Katara (pre-“Southern Raiders”) would probably be furiously tearing Zuko’s note up at his presumption, much less Vathara’s “the Fire Nation in general and Zuko in particular all deserve to die” version, though maybe that’s just me.

On the other hand, the Katara-bashing ebbing a bit is accompanied by an increase in Aang-bashing and Air Nomad-bashing. The Aang-bashing is a bit different; Vathara doesn’t seem to think Aang is a bad person, just that he’s immature and naïve and has no idea how to properly wield the power he has without hurting people, but she’s not going to let it go (also, pretty sure in canon Aang and friends knew exactly what the people of Chin Village intended to do to him – they were just happy to get out of there alive and put that place behind them). And then there’s the Air Nomad-bashing, which starts in earnest this chapter. For one, it’s clear Vathara does not approve of their ideals, mostly reducing them to hollow, childish platitudes every other character shoots down with little effort. And on the other hand… well, part of me can’t shake the idea that Vathara just can’t get over that the Air Nomads dared to raise their children in a way other than nuclear families, since she choose to take and run with the most sinister interpretation of that possible, and then has everyone, no matter what nation they’re from, react with revulsion. Making it worse is that the fic comes, IMO, perilously close to hopping the line from “Sozin was able to deceive the Fire Nation into hating the Air Nomads and wanting them dead” to “Sozin took advantage of the fact that the Fire Nation actually had good reasons for wanting the Air Nomads dead,” which is obviously a much more troubling thing. And, IMO, both of these points are going to get much worse as the fic goes on. I got some pushback on my original review that it had misrepresented what the fic actually said about the Air Nomads, but even so… a lot of what Vathara does with them makes me very deeply uncomfortable.

Finally, this chapter is really where we get the fic’s actual big bad clearly identified, even if we don’t know what he’s up to yet – Koh the Face-Stealer. It’s a decision I don’t much like. Part of my reasons are personal – when I was writing my own A:TLA fics years ago (around the time Vathara was writing Embers, actually – time flies!), for about five minutes I considered making Koh the big bad of my Azula Trilogy, before coming to my senses and realizing it was a terrible idea (I ended up creating an OC spirit instead). I just think Koh works much, much better as the secretive, dangerous keeper of eldritch knowledge than as an active bad guy; I also very much didn’t want to risk my own fics taking the onus for the war and the general state of the world off the Fire Nation and putting it on someone else, which I think Embers does (with Koh and his ally, the fic’s other main villain, really ending up overshadowing Ozai as the big threat). It also feels a bit too pat to me; like the bit about Kuzon being connected with Zuko, and a few other plot points that are coming, it feels like another symptom of the idea that character and worldbuilding details can’t just exist. Koh was the biggest, meanest spirit Aang met in the original show, so obviously he has to be the Avatarverse’s equivalent of Satan or something. I wonder if this interpretation, bugged the show’s original creators, too, because later installments of the Avatarverse would establish that Koh is far from the worst thing the Spirit World has to offer – Korra has Vaatu, of course, but the Kyoshi novels also have Father Glowworm dismiss Koh as a “chatty little upstart,” too (on a tangentially related note, it amuses me that Vathara decided Kuruk lived longer than Kyoshi, when the Kyoshi novels would eventually make it clear that Kuruk died young – for anyone, not just an Avatar - and the fact that he didn’t leave a solid legacy behind caused a lot of problems for Kyoshi). I also don’t think the fic does a great job of foreshadowing Koh’s involvement (he’s gotten a fair few mentions so far, but almost entirely in the form of people swearing by him or mentioning him as a legendary figure, not as someone who’s actually behind things in the present), though I might be more forgiving if I liked the plot point in general better. I’ll doubtless have more to say on this as we go on.

#avatar: the last airbender #embers #embers critical #mg reads #critical #mg reads embers #cw: controversial issues #cw: violence #cw: racism

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