Part 1 - Playing With Fire

Marriage was often compared to being chained, but when Aang first met the woman who would be his wife, he was already in bound with iron.

She was preceded by an army of servants. The door to his cell was thrown open with a piercing scrape and the crimson-robed attendants flowed into the dark room like a blood tide. None spoke to him, or so much as looked him in the eyes; they went about their work with sureness and efficiency. Two of the servants brought lanterns hanging from tree-like stands that brought heating light into Aang's dank universe. More brought rolls of carpet that were opened to cover the stone floor that had leached so much heat from Aang's body. Several of them even worked together to gently lift Aang from his place in the center of the room- one servant for each of the heavy chains that bound his limbs to the floor- while another pair began cleaning him with smooth fabrics and warm rose-water.

It was like returning to life for Aang, returning to the feel of being human rather than an animal, and when they dried and set him down again, a plush rug was in place to sooth the ragged bare skin of his backside. They wrapped the rest of him in yellow robes, the soft material trapping his body heat luxuriously.

The finishing touches were a low table placed in front of him and a pair of steaming plates arranged on opposite sides. A single set of chopsticks lay between them like a weapon between two enemies. The warm steam rose to tickle Aang's nose with scents of rice and spiced vegetables, stirring memories in him that had been as insubstantial as dust before now.

In the midst of silent questions about his own sanity, the Princess of Fire strode into the cell and smiled at him. "Greetings, Avatar Aang."

She was the first woman he had seen since his capture. The last had been Katara, immaculate Katara, when she had just been starting to cough like her brother in the ruins of Taku. Aang had left with a promise that he would return to her with medicine, and he could only hope that she had died soon after in sick delirium rather than suffer like the rest of the world after his failure.

This woman was nothing like Katara, but she was beautiful nonetheless, a sword that moved like a flame. Yet she gave off no heat, and her voice was flint beneath the tone of silk.

Aang was the Avatar, and a proud Air Nomad, so he looked past her chill and said, "Hello. What's your name?"

"I am Princess Azula, sister to the Fire Lord." Her painted lips twisted. "Long may he live and rule."

"Are you joining me for dinner?"

"Of course." She kneeled across from him at the small table and picked up the chopsticks. "Your arms must be weary from your chains. Shall I feed you?"

"Thanks."

She lifted a sprout from his plate, and placed it precisely on his tongue. It was the first warm food he had eaten since coming to the Fire Nation, and the spices broke through years of rice gruel to nearly overwhelm him with pleasant burning. As he savored the taste and the memories, Azula's sharp voice rang out to keep him chained to reality. "You weren't surprised to hear that Zuko is now Fire Lord, and yet your guards are under orders to never speak in your presence."

Aang gave as much of a shrug as he could with his chains, and watched as Azula ate from her own plate with the same chopsticks. "Airbenders are good at listening."

"Indeed. Were you surprised at his rise to power?"

"Fire Lord Ozai wasn't an old man when I met him, and I'm still young now, I think. But things happen."

Azula nodded, and offered Aang a cashew from his plate. "Things happen. My brother left on a mysterious quest shortly after the war ended. He claimed he wanted to reacquaint himself with the Fire Nation, and traveled all the islands. It took him two years, but he came back with a family of peasants he claimed were his new servants. We have plenty of servants, of course, but something about this Noriko, Noren, and Kiyi were important to him." Azula's gaze sharpened, but the names meant nothing to Aang; he couldn't reward her clever probe. "A month after they all set up in a wing of the palace, our father was dead, and Zuko was crowned."

Aang swallowed his latest mouthful and waited for more food and information. Azula's voice was entrancing, smooth and song-like in its controlled cadence. The princess spoke like a performer, drawing out drama in subtle ways and giving excited heat to the coldest insinuations. Perhaps it was the lack of company over the years, but Aang felt that he could listen to Azula all day.

If it was day, outside, and not night.

Azula swallowed the last of her own food and wiped her mouth with a cloth before continuing. "I had fully intended to supplant my brother as heir, but he moved faster than I ever expected. They could never determine my father's cause of death, but the conclusion is logical, isn't it?" Her nostrils flared, and Aang had a brief glimpse of something hot and real in her golden eyes before the cool facade of perfection came back. "Now my brother wants to marry me off and be rid of me before I can make any trouble for him. The best I could do was bargain to choose my husband if I submitted willingly to Zuzu's order."

Then Azula smiled, leaned forward, and exhaled a breath so roasting that Aang could feel himself starting to sweat. "So, Avatar, will you marry me?" She reached out to caress his face, a mechanical motion that betrayed the calculations behind her eyes. Her fingers, against all expectations, were cold against Aang's face.

Was such chill an acceptable price for getting out of this cell? It wouldn't be an escape from imprisonment, because Azula wouldn't let him be free. He would simply be the enemy of her enemy, just as she would be for him. Would she turn out to be an enemy, too?

She could see his ambivalence, and withdrew her hand. "Be clear what I'm offering you. The war is over, and the Fire Nation rules all. Even the Avatar, with a Princess at his side, could not change that. But I can give you influence, and you can make trouble for my brother. Perhaps you could even outsmart me, and spin my gifts into weapons against the Fire Nation. Things happen, after all."

Aang smiled in mimicry of the taunting grins she had been flashing at him. "And what are you counting on? You're giving up a lot, if you could have married whoever you want. I'm not exactly a great catch, these days."

Azula looked away from him for the first time in the entire conversation, and Aang thought he saw some genuine warmth in her posture. The sword had become a true flame, for a moment. "It's not so much to give up. I've never been one for romance."

"I've never even kissed anyone."

"Me neither." Then the chill was back, and she sat up straight, turning her golden eyes back to scrutinize him. "So? Will you waste your first kiss on me for a chance to get revenge on the one who humbled you?"

"Not revenge. But I'll take the kiss anyway." Aang summoned all his strength, lifted the chains that had pinned his limbs to the floor for all these years, and managed to raise them off the floor just long enough to lean over and give Azula a quick peck on the lips before he fell back down to the ground. The thick rug the servants had laid down caught him easily.

Azula blinked.

"So," Aang said, "when's the wedding?"

Her eyes narrowed, and she gave a smirk that was almost warm. "Is tomorrow too soon?"

Tomorrow was not too soon.

It was a good thing Azula had already purchased a wedding gift.

The best part, though, was Zuzu's reaction. "You want to marry who?!"

His voice echoed through the throne, bouncing off the black columns and wooden floor. The ministers and courtiers who had taken to lining the walls didn't make a sound, didn't so much as breath.

This was a family affair.

Azula dipped her head. "The Avatar, my lord brother. He has already agreed." She was still kneeling, the very picture of a compliant subject.

Up on the Burning Throne, Zuko rose to his feet. "So he's still alive?"

Azula put on just enough of a smile for her brother to see it from his perch. "I certainly hope so. His lips were warm enough."

Their observers tittered.

Zuzu's fists clenched, but he sat back down on the Throne. "I will not permit this. The Avatar is a prisoner, an enemy of our nation. You would bring a criminal into the Royal Family?"

Azula raised her head and blinked innocently. "Is he? I read your reports, my lord brother, and they are clear that the Avatar only acted against us after you attacked him. He was a child when you found him, by your own words. And now it has been four years since he was chained and locked away. Are we not strong enough to give him the chance to become our servant and ally?"

"He was in contact with Avatar Roku's spirit! We have no idea what's he capable of!"

Azula tilted her head. "Well, I certainly hope to find out soon."

More laughter. The witticism distracted from Zuko's point, and the ministers and courtiers all enjoyed imagining her as a bride. She knew she was beautiful, and of course she was young, so it had to be so much more compelling to imagine her with a lover than, say, harnessing the power of a monster to murder her brother.

Zuko, as ever, defaulted to stubbornness. "I will not allow this. Choose another husband."

Azula kowtowed. The floor of the throne room was cool against her forehead, despite the burning of the Throne itself. How odd. "My lord brother, please, do not sacrifice yourself this way for my sake!"

She didn't need to look to know that Zuzu was blinking in confusion. "Wh- sacrifice?"

"True, he is a lowborn Air Nomad, and might yet present a danger to my body, but he is my choice. Could the daughter of the Fire Lord who conquered the world settle for any less than the most powerful Bender alive? Please, do not go back on your word to let me choose my husband, just to protect me from my duty. You are the Fire Lord, our heart and our strength, and I could not stand to let you sully your word of honor for my sake."

Too much? Azula sometimes had a hard time telling.

She stayed in her kowtow and waited. She had used a lot of words, and Zuzu would need time to parse them all, especially after taking a moment to follow her shift in logic. But she had said 'honor,' and he was always a sucker for that one.

He liked people to think he had honor, that is. The one compliment Azula could pay him was that he didn't let appearances get in the way of practicality.

That made this a risk gamble for her. She was being terribly transparent, and that might goad him into making the safe choice. It really was better to have his word lose some of its luster than to let her bring an enemy into his life, even in front of the court like this.

But Azula knew her brother. Her Zuzu.

She knew what he craved from her.

He needed to be better than her, to think himself her superior. And here she was, forehead on the floor, playing desperate games just for the chance to seize a weapon that might blow up in her own face.

He found probably this view of Azula more exciting than Mai, these days.

"Very well," Zuko intoned, "I will grant your plea. Tomorrow you will wed the Avatar, but because he is lowborn and a foreigner, there will be no ceremony. He may join you in your current suite, and if he proves a loyal ally, I might choose to Recognize your marriage at a later date. Sister, you are dismissed. Prepare yourself for your 'husband,' if you judge him worth the effort."

Azula rose, keeping her head bowed, and glanced out of the corner of her eye at the courtiers watching the whole display, people who had once sneered at Zuzu before he rose to power over them. "I shall put a little extra perfume in my bath water. Thank you, brother."

Chuckles followed her out of the room. Yes, laugh at the princess, at the sister teasing the brother. Enjoy how she thinks herself so clever for getting her way, when tomorrow she will tie herself to a long-forgotten, long-defeated enemy. Surely, this is the last gasp of the defeated sibling, a little lost girl who had been stumbling her way to an early grave since the day her Father passed. A desperate ploy of using jokes and rebellion to stay alive even as she winces her way into bed with a tattooed freak every night.

Azula smiled to herself as she emerged through the curtain into the hallway. She had pulled it off. No one had noticed how clever this move really was.

They were right that it was her last, most desperate gamble. But she doubted that any of those ministers and courtiers had ever been trapped in the power of a kin-slayer.

As Azula headed back to her suite, she noticed someone watching from behind a statue of a dragon.

Her Inner Fire flared, but she didn't let any of the warmth seep its way through her body. She was outwardly cold as she turned to face the spy.

It was Noriko, the servant woman who Zuko had brought back from his tour of the Fire Nation.

Azula let some of her heat move into her fists. "What is it, servant?"

Noriko startled, but then stepped into full visibility and bowed. "My apologies for disturbing you, Princess. I merely wanted to congratulate you on your wedding. I wish you happiness."

Azula acknowledged that with a nod.

Then she hurried back to her suite, climbed into bed, and spent all night clutching the knife she had taken to keeping under her pillow. She didn't need it for protection; she was the greatest Firebender alive, and a match for any single assassin. But she liked this knife. She had stolen it from Zuzu, after he returned with the Avatar, and he never noticed. She liked to hold the solid weapon and meditate on the inscription on the blade: 'Never give up without a fight.'

She would never give up. Not as long as she still drew breath.

No one came for her in the night. She knew because she didn't sleep, didn't even let her body relax until the sun rose on her wedding day.

She skipped breakfast. Poison would put quite the damper on such a joyous occasion.

When Aang woke up that morning, he had a moment where he was convinced that it had all been a dream. But then he registered the smooth silk and cushioning rug that cradled him into wakefulness, and sweetly scented lamps that covered the dank chill of the cell.

Azula was real. Her proposal was real.

Huh.

And yet, without her here, the artifice of her gifts was more visible. The rugs just looked silly on the moldy stone floor, and the lantern-trees stood out as too large for the size of the cell. Even the little dinner table, still sitting there right in front of him with a lone shred of cabbage left from the night before, was an ostentatious affection that was transparent in its purpose.

Was this what Katara had seen in Aang's little gifts to her, in his attempts to impress her with his tricks and adventures?

Aang wondered if he had matured, here in this cell, or simply lost his ability to see the beauty in life.

Well, he had recognized Azula as beautiful. That was something, at least.

The door of his cell squeaked open, revealing another group of servants- perhaps the same group from last night- who all bowed as they entered. The man in the lead said, "Avatar, we are here to prepare you to your wedding. Best wishes on this blessed day!"

Then the warden came in with a key in his hand.

Aang couldn't help but groan in relief when his chains finally fell away.

A wheeled chair was brought in, and the servants lifted Aang into it. They brought him out of his cell, through hallways that brightened as they passed until Aang could feel the air- fresh air, for the first time in forever- moving around him. He almost cried when saw the first window.

He couldn't help but wonder, briefly, if he had gone mad in that cell. It hadn't just been the confinement, the filth, the sicknesses, or the solitude. It wasn't the weight of the chains on his arms.

It was the weight of his failures that truly threatened to crush him.

For the first week or a month or decade he hadn't been able to think about those failures- about first getting frozen for a hundred years while the world burned, and then falling for Zuko's masked-rescuer routine when he finally had a chance to restore peace.

But that first week or month of decade passed, and that's when the voices had come, along with the first questions about his sanity. The voices hadn't spoken in words but he took their meaning anyway, and the sounds weren't quite familiar but neither were they entirely strange. He eventually suspected that they were his past lives, speaking to him as best they could through the blockage of his self-pity. He also thought it possible that they were the ghosts of the people he failed to save, generous enough not to forsake him as long as there was still the smallest hope.

Either way, they had guided Aang on a journey inward. A journey of survival. And now survival was accepting the marriage proposal of Princess Azula of the Fire Nation.

The servants let Aang use an actual bathroom in the prison, before leaving, and he thought it was the greatest luxury of his life. Then they wheeled his chair out of the building and into the sunlight, and he made himself think of what he would have to do today as he basked in the open air and golden shine.

The light stung his eyes, forcing him to look down at his lap and the gifted silk robe he was still wearing from last night, but he welcomed the warmth. It banished the lingering chill of the prison's stone walls.

Would he be wearing this robe for his wedding? He liked the yellow color. It reminded him of home.

Then he realized that he had never seen a Fire Nation wedding. Air Nomads didn't have them, but he had attended a few Earth Kingdom weddings, during his travels with Gyatso, and knew that the details could vary even between neighboring villages. He had snuck questions to Katara and Sokka, camouflaged by other queries about their home and culture, and so learned all about Southern Water Tribe weddings.

Hopefully, the Fire Nation didn't do a ceremonial consumption of meat.

That had worried him, whenever he had imagined marrying Katara. But Katara was gone now, hopefully dead.

Aang inhaled deeply as he was moved, wheeled chair and all, onto a palanquin. The redundancy made him laugh, but the servants carrying him didn't look up.

They kept their eyes down as they walked the path to a nearby volcano, and Aang began to understand their lack of humor when he saw that there was a city in the dead caldera. As they passed through the main gate and into a sedate thoroughfare, Aang leaned over towards one of the servants and asked, "What is the name of this place?"

"The full name is Royal Caldera City. Most simply call it the Caldera."

Well, that would be easy to remember.

The palace loomed large from the very center of the Caldera, but Aang paid more attention to the crowd gathered around its outer walls. There were people in armor and people in robes. Some were old and some were young. All began whispering as Aang's palanquin passed through their center, and all of them stared at him. Some had eyes that flared with hatred, and more than a few shied away in fear. Children laughed and pointed at his tattoos.

The palanquin was carried through a pair of massive doors that closed behind them to seal off the rest of the world.

As he was set down, a new group of servants came forward. "Avatar, the baths have been prepared for you. Allow us to bring you there."

Aang was starting to worry that he could get used to this kind of thing. "Sounds good!"

Azula stared at the choices that had been laid out on her bed.

On one side, robes of white and gold were spread, symbols of the death and rebirth a woman was expected to undergo. Nearly transparent veils would shield her face from her husband until he lifted them to remove all barriers between them.

On the other side of her bed was black armor, trimmed with gold to proclaim her royal station to all.

The armor had been made special for her, fitted to hold her with the familiarity of a lover, but she had never worn it into battle. The fighting was all over before her father could find a task for her.

Now she was fighting a war in which armor would do her no good.

So would she take up the guise of a bride?

Making her choice, Azula elected to forgo the help of any servants and began to undress.

Once he was bathed and oiled and wrapped in a new set of yellow robes, they brought Aang to his wife-to-be. He gripped the armrests of the wheeled chair as he laid eyes on her once again in her chambers.

The Princess Azula was a picture of strength in polished black armor, the only soft thing about her being the sheer white veil that hung from the flame-shaped crown in her topknot to cover her face. "Ah, my betrothed has arrived. I trust that you are still agreeable?" She came over, as the servants retreated, and kneeled beside his chair.

After a moment, she lifted up her hands and plopped them on top of Aang's.

Her skin was cold, and her veil as opaque as ice in the sunlight that poured in through the windows, hiding all but the shape of her nose and chin.

Aang made himself smile at the void. "Nothing has changed for me. But I don't suppose I could get a little something to eat, first? Maybe some tea? I never realized a warm bath and some grooming could be so tiring, but I haven't gotten much exercise lately."

Azula's hands twitched on top of his. "Clearly, I have much to teach you. Would you trust anything that came out of my brother's kitchens?"

"If I can't, then this is going to be a very difficult cohabitation."

Azula's head tilted just enough for him to make out the shadow of curving lips beneath the veil. "If my brother displays no need to prevent the wedding, then we will be safe enough after we're married. Unless we push him too far."

"Isn't that the point of this?" Aang moved his hands to capture hers. He felt her tense, but she made no move to pull away as he intertwined their fingers. He could feel his warmth being leeched away.

"Hm, yes. But I wouldn't want things to be spoiled before we've had the chance for some fun. We'll eat after the wedding, and then see what we can do to get ourselves poisoned."

Aang laughed, even though he knew she wasn't really joking.

A guard stepped into the room. "Your highness, the magistrate as arrived. Shall I bring him up?"

Azula nodded, and there was almost a tone of regret in her whispering of, "This will be rather minimalist, I'm afraid. Zuzu refused to give us a proper ceremony, so we'll have to fulfill the legal obligations right here."

"That's fine. I'm just a simple monk." Azula's hands felt warmer now, or perhaps Aang's had just been made as cold as hers, so he let go of her. She stood up immediately and moved out of the direct sunlight, turning her veil transparent again. "But so that I'm not surprised, what kind of legal obligations are we talking about? Just to make sure there won't be anything to go against my vows."

Azula blinked down at him.

Her cheeks went red beneath the veil.

Aang realized what she thought he was asking, and his own face began to warm in a way that had nothing to do with sunlight. "I was thinking of how Water Tribe weddings have a special meal of meat. I'm a vegetarian."

Azula blinked again.

Then she laughed and strutted past him. "Don't worry, Avatar. I'd never do anything to make you uncomfortable." She tried to put an extra twitch of her hips at each emphasized word, but it was too precise to fluster Aang any further.

Then the guard returned, trailed by a man in the unmistakably tall hat of a Fire Nation official. "Your highness, this is the magistrate, but- uh, you have additional guests-"

And that's when Fire Lord Zuko stepped into the room, pulling a ghost of a woman at his side.

It was the first time Aang had seen him since he had been locked away, and despite wearing the robes and crown that had once adorned Ozai, it didn't seem as though the years had been kind to Zuko. He still had to be young, but lines etched a permanent glare on the unscarred side of his face, and he was thicker in a way that didn't seem to be muscle.

Zuko had not lost any of his intensity, though. Even beneath the robes and crown, even with the pale half-asleep woman at his side, his body was taut and he emanated an angry energy that teased Aang's love of pranks. Zuko still had a blazing fire within him, but Aang knew that such fires could burn their vessels out.

The older couple that followed the Fire Lord into the room seemed more normal, with their nervous smiles and plain clothes, and the teenage girl who brought up the rear- young and gawky and bouncing with a much cleaner kind of energy than Zuko- seemed like the type of person Aang would have once wanted to make into a friend.

When she first saw Aang, she grinned widely and waved at him.

He waved back.

Azula, meanwhile, was bowing. "My lord brother. Mai. You honor me with your presence and Recognition."

Zuko's voice turned out to be unchanged, despite the years. "I have come to observe. Not to Recognize. And of course Mai is one of your oldest friends. She should be at your wedding."

The woman at Zuko's side said nothing. Her eyes flicked to Azula, and then back down to the ground.

Aang was guessing that this Mai was no longer Azula's friend.

The princess didn't seem to care much. She motioned at the older couple and the teenager. "And them?"

"Witnesses," Zuko bit out. "Legal, unbiased witnesses."

The teenage girl bowed at the waist to Azula. "Hi, I'm Kiyi. You look very strong and beautiful."

Azula said nothing.

Kiyi's face flushed. "I- I wasn't sure if you knew my name."

Azula still said nothing.

Aang suppressed a groan. "Well, I'm Aang. Pleased to see you again, Zuko. And it's wonderful to meet everyone else. Mai, Kiyi, and..."

The older couple nodded to him, and the woman said, "I am Noriko, and this is my husband Noren. We are servants to the Fire Lord. Kiyi is our daughter, and a Palace Maiden to Lady Mai."

It was then that Mai spoke for the first time. Her voice was low and harsh and lacking any life. "One big happy family."

Zuko startled at her words, but said nothing.

Then Noriko produced something golden from a sleeve. "I found this one day while cleaning the old rooms." She held it up in the sunlight, Aang recognized it as a crown similar to the ones in Azula's and Mai's hair. "It belonged to the Princess Ursa. I'm sure she'd be honored if her daughter wore it for the wedding."

Aang had never heard any mention of Zuko and Azula's mother. Ozai had always been a singular figure in what whispers echoed their way to his prison.

Through the gauzy barrier of the veil, Azula's face scrunched. "Why would I want to honor the woman?"

Noriko's shoulders had sagged, and she fumbled the crown back into her sleeve. "My apologies, princess."

Zuko yanked his arm free from Mai. "Don't speak ill of our mother, Azula."

Aang blinked. "But Azula didn't."

Azula nodded. "He's right. I'm not a child any more, Zuzu. I haven't thought about Princess Ursa since before your rise to the throne. I have neither ill will towards the woman nor a desire to involve her memory in this ceremony. Speaking of which, let's get on with it, shall we?"

Zuko's fists were clenched at his side, so Aang decided that his bride had the right idea. He put on his biggest smile. "Well, thank you all for coming to my wedding. Sorry to rush things, but being chained up for years hasn't left me with much stamina. Let's get started!"

Kiyi clapped.

Azula had already memorized the ceremony, so she had no need to listen to the magistrate's words. There was all the usual talk of fire and alliances and strength, all good wisdom but nothing Azula hadn't already internalized. It was a bit tedious, but the Fire Nation valued endurance, and anyone who couldn't get through a bit of drawn-out ceremony without being murdered by rivals had no business getting married.

Through it all, Zuzu remained standing off to the side with his little team of traitors and murderers. Azula heard him shifting from foot to foot throughout the ceremony, occasionally giving an exasperated sigh. It must have been a habit he had picked up from Mai. Yet Mai herself remained completely silent and limp; whenever Azula glanced at her old friend, she found Mai's eyes focused on nothing at all.

Was she remembering her own weddings? The first one to Minister Qin, and then her second to Zuko?

Or was Mai remembering her one week as a widow, after Qin's sudden and unexplained death?

It was the servant woman, Noriko, who seemed the most invested. She dabbed at tearful eyes and hung on every word of the ceremony. Azula wondered if the woman was drunk.

Still, none of it was able to take away from the moment of victory when the magistrate finally said, "Your highness, if you accept this man, Avatar Aang of the Air Nation, as a flame to burn with your own, if you would raise him to the level of Prince of the Fire Nation by bond, kneel before him."

Azula did so, looking through her veil at Aang. Their faces were even, with him still in his wheeled chair.

This was the only possible way Azula could ever imagine herself kneeling before a foreigner.

The magistrate turned the Aang. "Avatar Aang, if you accept this woman, Princess Azula of the Fire Nation and current Heir to the Flaming Throne, as a warmth to add to our own, raise her veil and look into her eyes."

The Avatar smiled as he did so.

Azula met his unobstructed gaze, because that was what the Pledging called for, but she focused her hearing on some sign that Zuko or one of his minions was about to attack.

The magistrate said, "And so I declare you husband and wife under the sun. Princess Azula, Prince Aang, please rise and greet the world as one."

Azula held out her hands, and Aang placed his in them. She supported his arms and practically lifted him out of his chair, taking his weight on her own as they stood and turned to their guests.

Azula looked to Zuko, first. He scowled at her, and then immediately turned and stomped out of the room, a perfect non-acknowledgement from a perfect non-Fire Lord.

There was the sound of a sniffle, and Azula was surprised to find that Noriko was crying. The old woman dabbed at her eyes as Noren put an arm around her.

Kiyi was grinning. "That was wonderful! Can I clap again?"

Azula wanted to tell the little rat to go find some cheese to take back to her hole, but Aang chuckled and said, "I don't see why not."

Kiyi proceeded to applaud, and then added a cheer-like squeal. "Congratulations! I hope you two will be happy!"

Was this simpleton unaware that she had just witnessed a political marriage? Azula considered several withering retorts, but eventually decided that the stupid girl wasn't worth the effort.

Then she at least turned her gaze to Mai.

Her old friend shrugged and finally spoke. "I guess we're done here." There was none of the usual sass, the usual hint of challenge.

Azula nodded. "I suppose that you are."

Mai stepped out from behind the servant family and guided Noriko, Noren, and Kiyi out of the room. Finally.

Azula turned to her new husband. "Now we can eat."

By the time they finished the meal- a few vegetarian dishes ordered straight from the Royal Kitchens, eaten right on the couches in Azula's receiving parlor- Aang could barely keep his eyes open.

He fumbled his chopsticks for a last bit of cauliflower. His fingers weren't used to working them, and as his consciousness faded it became all the more difficult.

He startled back to wakefulness as Azula plucked the sticks from his hands. "You should sleep." She leaned over him, taking the plate out of his lap and pushing him down on the couch. "It's been a while since you've done more than sit in the dark." Her lips quirked again, and her warm breath splashed across Aang's head as she added, "You'll need to build up your strength again before we start really vexing Zuzu. You'll need to be able to run away, at least."

Aang half-laughed, half-yawned. "You're funny."

"Thank you for noticing." Her voice was more distant now, and Aang could no longer keep his eyes open long enough to look for her. "I'll make sure your apartment is ready by the time you wake up."

Aang burrowed his head against the cushions. "I'm not staying here?"

"Ha. You have your own sense of humor, it seems." Then there was quiet, and everything began to fade away. Perhaps it was a dream, but thought he felt a pat on his head that was somehow both heavy and hesitant, and a voice he thought he should recognize say, "Sleep the sleep of the strong."

Aang's didn't know what that was, but he did dream. He could fly once again, up in the sky above the concerns of the world, where he could trust the winds to hold and support him.

The truth intruded in the form of voices, not the ghosts who haunted him in the prison, but voices so lack in emotion that they could only be real.

Aang forced his eyes open. On the other side of the parlor, someone was leaning through the door, a shadow backlit by the orange glow of the hallway beyond. He heard Azula's whisper, and then an unfamiliar, bored voice. Aang blinked, and then the door was closing, the shadow moving into the parlor, angling for the bedroom.

Aang waved a hand. "What was that?"

The figure stopped. It remained still in the darkness, one with the quiet and cold air. Then it moved towards him, drawing close enough for Aang to recognize his wife in the moonlight. She was no longer in her armor, no longer styled for a political fight, but merely a woman in a robe with a tired face and hair pulled back in a practical ponytail.

She crossed her arms. "Did I wake you?"

Aang shrugged. "Probably. Are we in danger?"

She stared at him for a moment, and then huffed and gave him a smile. "No more than usual. That was just a servant with a bit of news."

"Do I get to know what it is?"

Azula tilted her head one way. Then the other.

Finally, she said, "I suppose so. It is meant to be something of a wedding present for you, but I wasn't going to wrap it, anyway. That servant just unknowingly passed on a coded phrase that means the former Admiral Zhao died this morning. He slipped and fell off the cliffs near the estate where he's been spending his retirement."

Aang remembered the arrogant man who had locked him up, only to have Zuko steal 'the Avatar' out from under his nose. And as much as Aang kind of hated the man, he didn't like the way Azula phrased the news. "And why would you need a coded phrase for that?"

Azula leaned over and dropped a kiss on the top of his head with cold, limp lips. "I hope you like your gift, my husband."

She rose and turned back towards the bedroom-

Aang snapped a hand out and grabbed one of her arms. "That's terrible! I never wanted him dead!" It was close enough to the truth to be worth saying. "I never asked you to kill him! But-" He blinked, and felt the strength leave his arm as he thought things through. "But you didn't even know I was going to marry you until last night!"

"Yes, I had to start arranging things ahead of time. But I though the risk worth the payoff." She didn't even turn to look at him. "Why are you upset? He was a worthless man who hurt you."

Aang could no longer stand the touch of her. He let go and flopped back down onto the couch. "Someone would have to do a lot more than just hurt me to make me want them dead. Feelings like that don't do anyone any good."

She finally angled her head to look back at him. "Is that Air Nomad philosophy?"

Aang shut his eyes so that he wouldn't have to look at the way her golden eyes palely reflected the moonlight. "I thought you didn't want to get Zuko angry yet."

"Zuzu doesn't care about Zhao. He tired of that little victory years ago. And by all accounts the death is an accident." In a whisper that was hot and cold at the same time, she added, "If you don't want to hurt anyone, how do you expect to fight my brother?"

Aang wanted to cover his ears so that he could no longer hear her voice. "The right way."

"Hm." She stepped slowly so that she was behind the couch, looming somewhere above him, and he thought he felt a heat coming down onto him. "Is this marriage over before it really begins?"

Aang was tempted to say so, but he wasn't under any illusions about his options. "No. But I'm not going to let you murder anyone. Not anymore."

"Well, then, you're going to be playing with fire." The heat went away, and Azula's footsteps drifted back towards the bedroom. "You agreed to marry me, Av- Aang. Any burns you get are your responsibility. Try to learn to enjoy the pain."

He knew no more sleep, that night.

AND THUS THE AVATAR AND THE FIRE PRINCESS BEGAN THEIR LIFE TOGETHER