I, with the princess of the Fire Nation herself and the son of the governor feel like this is far less real than anything I've done so far. I can barely believe I'm doing this.

I planned none of this.

I will fuck it all up.

The question is, in a good way?

...

And there, there I see Bumi putting down some firebenders, O-Ting at his side.

Our ride progresses smoothly. So smoothly, in fact, that the explosion a few measly metres in front of us should be expected.

Both Azula and I escape the debris by vaulting over the side of our 'cart' onto another set of roofs. Where firebenders await us. But, recognising their princess, they hesitate. That's all I need to knock them out with a sharp yank of their saliva to the backs of their throats where the impact is hard enough to make them fall unconscious.

There are perhaps four or five more of these encounters before we reach the city gates.

Where we meet the resistance leader.

This time, it's my presence that stalls them, and I'm forced to quickly find an explanation. "Some of the others are holding out in the palace, practically holding her friends hostage, the princess has agreed to come with me."

It's so much bullshit in one sentence, I don't blame him for looking like he wants to strangle me along with her. "And where-", he cuts himself off, and a glance towards Azula's suddenly burning hands tells me why.

She's staring at me with murder in her eyes. "Spirits, princess, work with me here", I hiss, and she realises what I'm doing. She and I, both rather insane and looking like it, turn towards the resistance leader as one. "We're going on a little fieldtrip. Good luck!"

And we just… move past him through the blasted-open gate.

His face! His face!

...

( Pakku POV )

If he had to describe his life in one sentence, he would call it a series of unfortunate circumstances.

He'd been born to a married couple, certainly. That guaranteed a certain status for him. An arranged marriage, in time, and the possibility of a promotion high enough in standing for him to have a say in the city a bastard child would never attain. Yet, his father's unyielding and unending demands for perfection did not make for a happy childhood. Emotion was only a tool for better mastery of bending, and only who had mastered their own self, their own emotions through discipline and constant control, was even acknowledged. The prestige of their family line made it imperative that Pakku live up to these expectations.

His mother, never quite at the height of her strength after his birth had put an unbridgeable distance between Pakku and her. He inferred that with the demands of her husband, caring for Pakku was a weakness she would not permit herself. Instead, she began to resent her own child for taking her strength from her ageing body. The child grew to understand not to seek affection from his parents.

She died of a worsening illness that even she as a healer could not cure when Pakku had just turned five. He had only felt the lack of a burden for a moment, before he realised what her death meant for him. His otherwise bleak existence became even less colourful without her slightly moderating influence on his father.

Every hour of every day of his life was dedicated to bending. There was no time for him to play with any friends he might have had, long forgotten when he himself began to believe in the words his father spat at him. 'As expected of my son.' 'Do better tomorrow.' 'I expect you to have mastered this by sundown.'

And Pakku did everything demanded of him.

He was engaged to Kanna at the age of thirteen. A girl he thought he could come to love, in time. She was kind, and warm, and his exact opposite. He felt she perhaps could thaw the ice his father had nurtured around his heart. As they spent more and more time around each other, his hope grew into a conviction. He would love her, and she would love him and they would be happy raising a family together.

Then, his father, having taken more and more patrols under his command farther and farther into dangerous territories, returned home slightly injured. For reasons he did not disclose to his son, he did not seek out a healer. The wound festered, and he died shortly after. Not the honourable death his forefathers had gotten. Pakku never would understand, having had to train within an inch of his life at the very least every other month, and so honed his will to survive into a sharp current of water. It was all he knew, and so he stood by his father's teachings.

Still reeling from the sudden loss of the man who controlled almost every aspect of Pakku's life, he sought out Kanna, to speak to someone about it. Unable to find her, he found out from her own father, who was much like his own, that she had packed her things and left.

Without a word of good-bye.

And Pakku felt his icy heart shatter.

There was little else to do, but finally become a Master waterbender, and go to war.

Yet, even as he recognised his father's mirage in his actions, he did not die. He killed. And killed.

He saw his comrades die. He witnessed atrocities, and slowly but surely, he felt himself become a mirror image of his father, and avoided looking at reflective surfaces. He began to subtly bend all water around him so that if he did glance its way, he would not have to see his father's face.

Though he did his best to avoid it, the day came that he took on his first student. He was a promising young boy, talented in every way but the art of recognising when he'd pissed Pakku off royally. It turned out, that his teaching methods, more punishments than anything else, were very effective, and another was sent his way.

When his two students finally became Masters Pakku had the standing needed to take command of the waterbenders of the Northern Watertribe. He, without family, and little else to distract himself from the shards of his very being, he took the post. Not long after, his first student died as a result of his recklessness in battle. Pakku was sombre at the funeral, stone-faced even as his student's mother screamed in his face.

With two more students, despite this public display, and the duties he carried out, his work became his life.

He did not mind it. Less emotional demands were made of him, and his station prevented any annoyances from bothering him.

Until, one day, he heard about a two-year-old boy born to non-benders flinging himself from an icy canal without any kind of prior training. Naturally, he went to meet the child.

The brat was cheeky, yet Pakku felt confident he could beat the insolence out of him.

He had raw talent, a mischievous spirit and a kind of oddly twisted intellect Pakku had never encountered before. The boy would grow, still disrupting lives around his with regularity, and he would grow on Pakku without his notice or permission.

The day the boy finally took it too far, dumping the princess and her bodyguard of the day in the canal, Pakku felt a kind of punishment was in order. What Kaito, free spirit of the ocean that he was, despised most was boredom. So then, he was more often than not forced to read up on history, tactics and guard duties. Endless registers of names to be recited.

It never did take. Pakku's methods were not for the boy.

And while he still figured out a way to mould the boy into something respectable, his father died.

Kaito, devastated, threw himself into bending, while also caring for his mother. Pakku was slightly glad for the power his position afforded him, so that he could give the boy an allowance for their living expenses. He did not interfere any further, but he did try to impart some wisdom however possible.

He found that this new enthusiasm for the art of bending, for the kind of fighting and flexibility of the mind required, finally betrayed Kaito's genius. The day Pakku allowed him to spar against him, he found that with more guidance, this boy would one day become his match. He began to pass on his legacy.

The reasoning was simple. He would never have children. His line of prestigious benders would end, and he had not found a single person worthy of the family teachings, until now.

Kaito, of course, had no idea what he was being given. Yet he took to it as though he'd been born as Pakku's grandson instead of a warrior and his wife.

He'd chosen well.

...

Don't forget to throw some power stones :)

...

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