When Azula opened
her planner one winter morning in the middle of the month of Mutsuki,
on the first day of the week, she found the gold ribbon dedicated to
the day in the wrong place. It did not mark, as it should have
Sunday, the 8th of the month, but many more weeks into
the future. Moreover it was doubled back, the end stuck back into the
calendar several days ahead.
The monthy, and the
weekly ribbons were not in their places either. All were far ahead of
the current date.
Azula frowned, held
the book in her hand as if the cover might disclose what was going
on.
She and she alone
used the book. She would take the notes from her secretary and copy
them into her book, adding personal notes to the entries, review the
week ahead. This way she always kept abreast of her social
engagements.
Clearly someone had
tampered with the journal. But who? Even the children knew not to
fool with her books.
She grasped the edge of the red
ribbon and pulled, opening the monthly calendar: Satsuki. Splashed
across the days numbered 11-18, written in bold black ink were these
words:
RESERVED: Sokka and Azula.
She pulled grasped
the blue ribbon; splashed across the same period:
RESERVED:
Sokka and Azula.
She smiled as she
flipped through the diary open to the places marked by the gold
ribbon, knowing what was marked on each one.
RESERVED: Sokka and
Azula.
Sokka leaned over
her and kissed the top of her head, then tapped the entry with his
finger.
“Hmmm. Looks like
we can’t get out of this one.”
“It seems pretty
official to me,” Azula agreed. How long had it been since the two
of them were out alone anywhere together? Between work and social
engagements, the children’s needs, family obligations they hadn’t
been away together in almost
“Twenty-six
years,” Sokka said softly, finishing her thoughts. “That’s the
last time the two of us were alone together for any length of time.
“Oh a few hours here and there when your mother would watch the
children so we could take in a play or musical. Dinner for two on the
boat.”
“But what about Arya and Umay, she’s just
eleven!”
“Arya is fourteen and can do without us for
a week, and so can Umay; she’s very independent.”
“Too independent,”
Azula said with a frown. She was the baby of the family. Weren’t
baby’s of the family suppose to be more independent? But Umay had,
from a young age, wanted to “do it self”.
“Your mother is
still quite capable, and Dabi will have been back home by then for
two months.” Dabi was graduatuating a full 2.5 years ahead of time.
“He’ agreed to take charge of everything.” Dabi was the most
reliable. He said he would do something then unless nature conspired
against him he did it.
“But …”
“No
‘buts’ Azula. Cami’s not due till the summer, Tommen will still be in
college and the twins will be by your brother learning about Fire
nation culture, as you wanted.” All their children spent a year
with the Water Tribes and a year in the Fire Nation, to learn about
the respective cultures, coming home for the holidays and the
summer.”
Azula looked down at the journal.
“It
says right here that we get a week together, and that is your law
book.”
“But where do we go?”
“Anywhere you
like.”
Azula frowned, then
lifted her head toward him. “Surprise me.” She said.
The weeks flew by,
there was always something pressing, something that needed doing,
some dignitary that needed his feelings soothed, or her crisis
attended to. There were council meetings which lasted till morning
and emergencies among the staff and servants. The children fought,
lost their homework, and had meltdowns.
But finally the week
came. Azula had begun to wonder if Sokka had forgotten, but after
supper the evening before the big week she had come into her bedroom
to find the maid handing several suitcases to one of the servants to
take onto the boat.
“Master Sokka says
that you’ll be spending the night on the boat, Madam.”
“On the boat?”
“Well we have to travel to our destination somehow.”
Sokka had entered the room after her. “So go down, everyone’s
waiting in the foyer to say goodbye.”
“But …”
“No
buts. I’ll be down in a moment.”
And before she had much
time to think she was on their boat, headed down the channel to the
open sea.
It wasn’t a large
boat, meant for family outings to transport the family to and from
respective home towns, it had a nice deck for sunning on, a kitchen,
a family meeting room for rainy weather, three bedrooms, and a staff
section.
No one was on the
boat but herself and Sokka.
Sokka, frustratingly
enough, refused to even give her a hint as to where they were going.
They sat together on
the bridge of the boat as they maneuvered out of the channel and
headed southwest.
Now she knew.
“Roku’s island” she said confidently. No one had reinhabited it,
but the volcano had grown quiet and the land had begun to flower
again.
“Nope. Not even
close.”
Azula frowned. “Ember island?” That wouldn’t
have been getting away though, as Zuko frequented the island. But her
brother would have cheerfully lent the house to her for a week or
more.
“Nope.”
Her confidence began
to falter as she named one island after another, all meeting a
resounding “no.”
“Are we headed for the Water Nations?”
Sokka laughed.
“No, no and no.”
“But …”
“No buts remember?” he told her, then, pointing to the moon, high in the sky he said “It’s near midnight. You go to bed. I’ll be down
soon. When you wake, will be there. Please?”
Azula nodded,
slipped her arms into her crutches, gave her husband a peck on the
cheek and took the lift down to their bedroom. In a few minutes she
was asleep.
Sokka was still
sleeping when she woke the next morning, the sun shining in through
the portal. Nothing to see though but the lapping of waves. She
bathed and dressed quickly, then went upstairs, walking from aft to
stern, from port to starboard.
Nothing but sea.
“Well?” Sokka
said from behind her.
“Where are we?”
“About 200
kilometers from the furtherst island of the Fire Nation.
“But there’s
nothing here!” Azula exclaimed.
“That’s where you
are wrong my dear Firebird, no buts about it. Here is everything in the world I need
right now.. A refrigerator full of food, many fine bottles of wine, a
cozy bed, and you and me.” He scooped her up into his arms and
swung her around. “And no one and nothing to take us away from each
other.”
“Well,” she
said, curling her arms about his neck and kissing him. “When you
put it like that. I like being wrong.”
He smiled, and
carried her back down below deck.
Fanwright 