Vixen.
December 11.
tore open the shutters and threw up the sash


Lost Tales of Ba Sing Se: The Tale of the Pink Lotus
Avatar: the Last Airbender
by Tenshi


Prince Zuko no longer even pretended that he might have a "good" day. In fact, the closest he came to a "good" day was probably the "not completely awful" day, or possibly the "refraining from filling table seven's teapot with powered white jade blossom" day. He could accept that he had been born under a star of struggle and difficulty. He could learn to cope with the fact that the Avatar right now was so far out of his reach that the only way Zuko would catch him was probably if Aang suffered from some sort of strange tea-oriented teleportation accident. Zuko was even learning to deal (grudgingly) with the fact that he had to let old irritable customers chew him out about everything from the tea to the state of his apron and not light their hair on fire.

Prince Zuko did not have good days. He knew that, could cope with it even. After all, if he did have a good day, he probably wouldn't even know what to do with it.

Which is probably why he had to ask his uncle to repeat himself.

"I said, you should take the day off." Iroh was wiping down a chipped teapot with a kind of care usually reserved for newborns. "It's a slow day today, and I need to go down to the potter's about some new cups. I think I will close up early." Iroh replaced the worn teapot on the shelf along with its equally battered counterparts, all gleaming as though out of respect for their advanced years. "Why don't you get out and look around the city some? A young man should not spend all his time cooped up indoors in such fine weather."

Zuko's first instinct was to resist; he was not the kind to take well to any suggestion that was not his own. Fortunately his uncle was well-versed in the ancient traditional art of Zuko Wrangling, and the exiled prince found himself divested of his apron and tray, thoroughly brushed with Iroh's calloused hand, given a string of spending money and turned out on the street. When Zuko spun around to protest, he found the tea shop shuttered and bolted as though it had been locked all day.

"Uncle, shouldn't I--" Zuko began.

His uncle's voice was muffled behind the wooden slats. "Go out there and have fun, Junior! If you come back sober or before dark I will turn you out in the street!"

A ringing chorus of giggles made Zuko turn back around again. Three women in heeled clogs and elaborate face paint had stopped in the street and were getting their daily amusement at his expense.

"That's what I like, girls," the first one said, in a velvety voice that did unusual things to the hairs at the back of Zuko's neck, "a hard worker." She was tall and willowy and dressed in flowing layers of gold and green silk. She leaned in close enough for Zuko to catch his own reflection in her red-lacquered hair combs, and her skin smelled like apple blossoms. "You looking for a good time?"

"No," Zuko said, flattening back against the tea shop as though the courtesan was toxic. "No, I'm not."

The shutter next to Zuko's head popped open. "Yes he is!" Uncle Iroh declared, before leaning down to mutter in Zuko's scarred ear, "Go on! You got at least enough for an hour--"

Zuko slammed the shutter closed, ignoring the exclamation of pain from the other side, and leaned on it to keep it from being opened again. "Sorry, but I uh, I don't have any money." He glared at the jostling latch. "Just an insane old uncle that really I need to take care of like right now this minute."

"Aw, that's too bad." The courtesan ran one long fingernail down the front of his shirt, ruffling the frayed knotwork buttons "But if you change your mind, handsome..." She tucked a folded slip of perfumed rice paper behind Zuko's ear, leaning in to whisper, "come and see me."

She was gone again before Zuko had a chance to stammer a response, her clogs clattering on the planking as she joined her associates. They continued down the dilapidated street like bright pearls jumbled in a tray of pebbles.

Zuko removed the note fast enough to give himself a papercut on his temple, and unfolded it. It wasn't a note, it was a leaflet. Wood-blocked and hand-colored, it listed in seventeen perfect syllables the variety of services available at the Pink Lotus tearoom.

Zuko had gone the color of his scar all over before he got to the bottom of the page. Expecting any moment for his uncle to appear and offer some highly unwelcome advice on the optional combination packages, Zuko announced loud enough for the whole block to hear that he was going to the market, and he was not in any way shape or form stopping by the Street of Gold Lanterns.

And he wasn't.

At least, not before spending the whole afternoon sulking around the marketplace telling himself that Princes of the Fire Nation did not frequent brothels.

At least, he didn't think they did.

Did they?

He was sure Uncle Iroh could tell him about that for certain, but Zuko was not really prepared to have that conversation with Firelord Azulon's firstborn. Instead he sat down in the shade of a cabbage vendors' awning and studied the delicate leaflet for the Pink Lotus, an uncommonly thoughtful expression on his face.


Gran-Gran had once told Sokka that a pair of idle hands were more dangerous than an early thaw on an iceberg. Sokka did not exactly disagree. But then, he wasn't interested in being idle, per se. In fact he had high hopes of getting downright busy.

Katara and Toph had vanished early that morning to do something that Aang described as "appallingly girly," and the Avatar himself had sequestered himself in the guest house garden for some intense metaphysical meditative mumbo-jumbo that Sokka happily knew nothing about.

Which left Sokka's hands as idle as he could possibly want.

"So hey...!" He announced to the empty house, "If nobody minds, I think I'm gonna go out for a walk. You know. Around the town. Get some fresh air. Just me. By myself. Alooone."

His nap in the fruit bowl interrupted, Momo opened one luminous green eye and told the human boy in no uncertain terms that if he was going to talk to himself, he had best do it elsewhere. Unfortunately, his twittering lemur language was misunderstood more often than not.

"Aw, Momo, I know you'd like to come along," Sokka cooed, ruffling Momo's velvety oversized ears. "But a man's gotta do what a man's gotta do... and quite honestly, he's gotta do it now before anyone else comes home." Sokka tugged on his boots and paused in the hall to check his reflection in the gilded mirror. Helicked his thumb and smoothed down one errant eyebrow, which he waggled in a presumed rakish manner at himself before heading out the door. "Look out for the place and tell Aang I'll be back later, okay kiddo?"

Good riddance, Momo thought, trying to get his backside comfortable on a particularly lumpy pear.

"Oh and," Sokka popped his head around the door one last time, dropping his voice about twelve octaves in a meaningful way. "Don't wait up."

Momo indignantly snurfled a lychee nut he was warming under one cheek. People!

Eager to get started on his venture, Sokka took ten steps down the road and took several bracing deep breaths of fine spring air. That proved unfortunate; a cart rattled by just at that moment, filled to overflowing with fine spring manure. Coughing, Sokka leaned against the porch post of a fabric merchant's shop to get his breath back. He still hadn't quite gotten the hang of dung that didn't freeze hard enough to be dried and burned for fuel.

Inside the fabric shop, no one seemed perturbed by yet another of the many unique stinks prevalent in a city that was still touted as having the best sewer system in the Earth Kingdom. Sokka didn't want to smell the city that had a worse one. Maybe the residents just got used to it. The shop boys seemed too busy to bother with noisome poopcarts, running back and forth to get an order ready for a customer. Sokka watched them bustling out to the warehouse and back with armloads of fine silk and gauze, thinking how useless such fabrics would be back home.

"Will that be all for today, Lady Biwa?" The shop owner asked, bowing low to the ground and gesturing for his assistants to do the same.

A woman emerged out of the shadow of the awning, opening a painted umbrella with tiny bells on the edge. Sokka could only see her profile beneath the paper canopy of her parasol, but her voice melted him right to the middle like whale blubber in a midnight sun bonfire.

"Send it up to the Lotus, Woo Jei. Mei will have the gold for you."

"Of course, my lady."

The elegant woman stepped up into a gilded palanquin, passing by Sokka's corner of the fabric merchant's house in a wave of gold and green silk. The faint smell of apple blossom lingered in the air, obliterating the more earthy smells of Ba Sing Se and transporting Sokka to some mystical garden of unimagined delights.

"Bah!" the shopkeeper spat, once the palanquin was well away. "'Lady' indeed. You're lucky I'm willing to do business with the likes of you!"

"Hey!" Sokka shouted after him, stomping up into the shop. "That's no way to talk about a nice woman!"

"Well aren't you chivalrous," the merchant snapped back, smoothing his wispy grey beard in a smug fashion. "Don't you know about the Pink Lotus, boy?"

"Uh," Sokka said, stalling mid-heroism. "It's a uh... flower?"

"Wrong!" the merchant retorted, slapping a bolt of tufted wool down on the measuring table and sending a cloud of hairy dust flying. "It's practically the most popular brothel in all of Ba Sing Se! And for what? Creatures like that tarted up and giggling, playing their music too loud, drinking too much--"

"Sounds great!" Sokka enthused, between sneezes. "What's your problem with it?"

"Hmph!" The merchant ran one long yellowed fingernail down the fabric. "It's unnatural, that's what! Why, when I was a boy, we had real brothels with women that were--" He stopped short, eyeing Sokka keenly from under beetling brows. "You're not from hereabouts, are you boy?"

Sokka summed himself up with one hand, from topknot to bone necklace to his water-tribe dark skin. "What was your first clue?"

"Hmm," the merchant considered, drumming his nails on the wool. "You know, I keep my eye out for young men like you. Handsome, strong..."

Sokka took a few judicious steps towards the door curtain. "That's ...nice."

"Get back here!" Dark eyes glittered at Sokka as though he was a fine cut of damask. "Now then, I may not be too keen on types like Lady Biwa, but I know business, and I know the type of fella the Pink Lotus looks for. They want to attract the right kind of clientele, you know, and they give me a tidy cut for sending certain young men down that way. I think you'll do nicely."

"Well," Sokka drawled, curling one arm up and admiring his shadow on the wall. "I can't help it if women are crazy about me. Back in the Water Tribe--"

"Take this," The merchant interrupted, drawing a folded letter from his sleeve. It was heavy with several different kinds of fancy seals and looked painfully official. "Head to the Pink Lotus in the Street of Golden Lanterns and give it to them. Just tell them that Woo Jei sent you." He smiled in a way that should have been kind, but was alarming with his yellow teeth. "I'm sure they'll be happy to show you their best... hospitality."

Sokka was almost moved to tears by this act of generosity. "Woo Jei! Remind me to name my firstborn son after you!"

The fabric merchant watched Sokka stroll whistling from the shop, and rubbed his gnarled hands together. "I think the firstborn sons might not be an option, my dear boy." Chortling with delight, he turned back to his tufted wool.


It was late afternoon before Zuko had made up his mind. Too antsy to buy dinner, he still had the whole of the spending money Uncle Iroh had given him. Strung on a twist of cord were five gold pieces as well as quite a few silver, and enough coppers for making change. It was a sum not even worth mentioning to Fire Nation royalty, but Zuko had spent long enough poor and hungry and homeless to recognize the value of money. His uncle had given him several days' worth of teashop wages: more than enough for an extravagant night out.

Money earned honestly is money that deserves to be spent richly, Uncle Iroh had told him, slapping the string of coins in his hand. Zuko got the feeling that if he came home anything but broke, his uncle would have a lecture about disrespecting his own youth with too much frugality. Or something. Zuko had always known his uncle made up his platitudes on the spur of the moment, but that didn't mean he wanted to invite more of them.

If Uncle Iroh wanted Zuko to waste their money on idleness, then that was exactly what he would do.

The Street of Golden Lanterns was aptly named, at least in part. Much more like a district than a single street, the swinging lamps cast a golden glow over the whole pleasure quarter, from the bawdy noise of the nameless whorehouses all the way to the delicate lattice gates of the Golden Plum Bough, where only the elite could afford to linger.

The Pink Lotus was somewhere in the middle, though more on the elegant side. Affordable enough to be popular, it was still a high-end establishment capable of lifting a piqued eyebrow when it was mentioned.

Zuko made his way though a mostly inebriated crowd, the whole social strata of Ba Sing Se crumbled to nothing in the mixed company of the streets. Under the Golden Lights, the only rank that mattered was rank you could pay for. Zuko found the thought oddly comforting.

"I like the scar!" A woman called down to him from the porch of a house with evocative doorposts. Behind her there was tuneless singing and the sound of dice being thrown. "You got any other pretty ones?"

"Sorry," Zuko said, picking up his pace to get past her. "This one was enough."

"Hey hey, don't be that way," she purred, plucking at his sleeve. Her robe was undone practically to her navel, and up close Zuko realized she was old enough to be his mother. "Where you in such a hurry to, handsome?"

"The Pink Lotus," Zuko said, jerking away, but not before he saw her heavily painted face go hard and ugly.

"Ha! I see how it is." Her voice made Zuko think of the sea vultures that had ghosted their raft in the Artic. "Come back here when you need someone to make you a real man!"

The crowd swelled up against Zuko and he slipped into it, grateful to disappear. Deranged old harlot. Probably jealous that Zuko was shopping for someone without paps hanging to her knees.

When the crowd cleared at the end of Silver Koi Lane, Zuko realized the source of the woman's bitterness. The Pink Lotus looked more like a wealthy lakeside home or teahouse than a seraglio; only the latticed front porch where passersby could peruse the wares revealed the true nature of the establishment.

The garden beyond the gate made a pang of homesickness pass through Zuko's gut. Instead he turned his attention to the young ladies fluttering their fans and eyelashes at him through the gilded screens. They were as different from the old prostitute as firebending was from water arts, inviting Zuko closer for a pleasant chat, or a cup of tea, or perhaps a sporting game of pai sho. If Zuko had not known better, he would think himself at a dinner party in the Fire Palace capital, with his best manners and best robes, fumbling over his napkin while Azula earned their father's glowing praise just by breathing.

The woman who had dropped the flyer was nowhere to be seen, but there were more than enough flowers nodding for his attention. Now that he was here, Zuko felt as awkward as he had at those royal fetes. He had no idea what to do with a woman, much less one had had to pay for. He hung back and watched as an Earth Army officer selected one of the girls towards the front, blushing in his beard as he stepped into the house proper.

Zuko squared his shoulders and clenched his jaw. He wasn't going to let some soft-bellied Earthbender get the better of him. Skimming the array of young ladies gathered, he found his gaze drawn again and again by a young woman sitting apart from the group, her head bowed, her hands folded delicately in her lap. There was something familiar about her, her coloration and the angle of her jaw.

Realization landed home with a jolt like redirected lightning. The Avatar's Waterbender! What was she doing here? Had the Avatar's quest failed as badly as Zuko's own, that Katara would be indentured to such a fate? Or had the Avatar abandoned his escorts for reasons of his own? Zuko did not think that to be the case; any man who regularly rescued his enemies would not cast aside his friends. Some other misfortune or ploy must be afoot. Whatever it was, the girl would know.

Pulse quickening with something that was not desire, Zuko stepped up to the elderly house madam and indicated his choice in companionship.

"Shall I send up tea, my lord?" she asked in a querulous voice, counting out his coins.

"Don't bother," Zuko said, smiling tightly. After all these weeks, the trail of the Avatar was hot again, and it burned in Zuko's lungs like unexhaled fire. "I want to get right down to business."


Sokka had had bad days before, but this one really took the fishcakes. Usually his bad days let him know early on they were going to be bad by use of clear and irrefutable signs, such as people trying very hard to do him large amounts of physical harm.

But some bad days snuck up and whammied him in the guise of a good day.

Today was certainly one of the latter.

The fabric merchant's letter tucked securely in his belt, Sokka had no trouble at all locating the Street of Golden Lights, even in the daytime. It was subdued without the cover of night, most of the establishments shuttered until evening. Still, Sokka got more than a few suggestive hellos from the second-story windows and screened porches of the brothels he passed. He strode on, undeterred. As far as he was concerned, the Pink Lotus needed a man like him, and he wasn't going to waste his time with anything less.

On locating the house, Sokka was suitably impressed. Yes indeed, this was a fine, respectable establishment! The garden gate gleamed with new paint, the front steps were freshly swept, and the scent of apple blossoms wafted from the garden. Somewhere inside, someone was playing a guitar of some sort and filling the air with elegant music. Sokka could not mistake that voice; Lady Biwa was singing of love as though just for him.

Sokka felt his cheeks go comfortably warm. Manure-carts aside, this was considerably better than living on an ice cube in the middle of nowhere. He went up the steps to the front entrance as though Lady Biwa's singing had laced a silk towing-rope around his throat.

The inside of the teahouse was even more graciously appointed than the exterior. In the main room, pretty girls in simple hanbocks and aprons tidied up the sitting area, fluffing cushions and dusting lanterns while chattering happily. When Sokka entered they fell silent at once, stopping their work and greeting him with bows and shy smiles.

Sokka felt like an imperial prince. He was so busy admiring the view that he didn't even notice the wrinkled old plum at his elbow until it started talking to him.

"We're not open yet, boy. What do you want?"

Sokka started; the old woman seemed to be nothing but sagging skin with tiny black beady eyes wedged in. Her tidy black robe and disapproving scowl were as sobering as a dip in artic waters. Something about her expression reminded Sokka of the fabric merchant, only not as friendly.

"Uh," Sokka began, his train of thought lost. A slender beauty by the window had just winked at him. "I was uh--"

The old woman jabbed him in the belly with her walking stick. "Just wanting a free glance, eh? You'll have to wait till nightfall for that, and you'd better have some money on you too. This is a brothel, not a charity operation!"

Her poking dislodged the fabric merchant's letter, and Sokka brandished it triumphantly, striking a pose. "I think you might be mistaken. I was recommended to your establishment by an esteemed merchant by the name of Woo Jei, who seemed to think you might need a man like me."

The old woman's manner warmed immediately as she took the letter from a mollified Sokka. "Ahhh, I see. That makes things different." She fingered the largest of the seals, laughing in a burbling sort of way. "You'll be needing to see Lady Biwa herself then."

"That's right." Sokka drawled. "Lead the way, my good woman."

The old woman drew back a brocade curtain and bowed Sokka towards a flight of narrow stairs. "Right this way, sir."

Sokka strode upwards towards the sound of dreamy singing, failing to notice that the girls behind him had gone oddly silent.


Zuko was pacing. The madam had brought him to a small room with two seating cushions and a small brazier for the tea that had been sent in spite of his orders. A screen divided the room, painted with suggestively writhing figures among even more suggestive trees and fungi. Beyond it was a sleeping mattress that was clearly not intended for sleeping. There was only one window, and while open, it was too small to do much about dispersing the smell of perfume and oily, opium-laced pipe smoke.

It had been too long since he was properly on his mission, and Zuko's thoughts had become disordered while he was distracted by his own survival. Capture of the Avatar and returning triumphantly home was always in his thoughts, but now he had to plan and act accordingly. Tactics needed to be assessed, advantages weighed. It was possible Katara would be desperate for any means to escape her predicament, and Zuko could buy his information by aiding her. Somehow though, that seemed a little bit too easy. The water tribe girl was proud; she would not be simple to bargain with.

Zuko's glance fell on the teapot. Glad his uncle wasn't around to see such a wasteful act, Zuko picked up the iron pot and poured the contents into the gutter outside the window. Katara would probably not have her bending water, and Zuko did not want to give her a weapon. Getting lashed with ropes of boiling hot tea was not on his list of pleasant activities.

As the minutes snailed by, Zuko grew more and more impatient. What was taking so long? The conspicuous noises from adjoining rooms were starting to get on his nerves, and he spent a long time feeling superior for having a loftier purpose than his own loins. Still, self-righteousness could only occupy a man so long, especially when his goal was so near at hand.

When the door opened at last, Zuko spun, eyes blazing with anticipation, only to meet the cool dark gaze of the woman who had given him the flyer earlier that day.

"So it seems you changed your mind," she purred, eyeing Zuko coyly over one sleeve. "I'm Lady Biwa, the proprietor of this fine establishment."

The fire in Zuko's eyes went instantly to cold ash. "Where is the girl I requested?"

Lady Biwa closed her fan apologetically, her painted face contrite. "I'm afraid she's very new, sir, and might not be able to give you the kind of service we pride ourselves on here."

"I don't care," Zuko growled, unwilling to have yet another barrier placed between him and the Avatar. "Send her up here at once."

Lady Biwa sighed extravagantly. "Oh, come now young man. I don't offer my services to just any customer. Certainly not for the cost of a new girl."

"I want the water tribe girl." Zuko's words came through gritted teeth, and he was prepared for more difficulty before something shifted in Lady Biwa's expression. "...What?"

"I see how it is," she murmured, knowingly. "You like them that way. New and untried and innocent..."

"What?!" Zuko said, forgetting his cover. "Of course I--" he checked himself, realizing he had just been handed an opportunity. "--Do. Yes. Ah, innocent. Right. So send her up."

"Very well," Lady Biwa said, her eyes crinkling. "But if she's very naughty, don't be too stern with her." She giggled girlishly. "Well, not any more stern than she likes."

Zuko was starting to feel a little queasy; he sensibly blamed the side effects of opium smoke. Certainly it had nothing to do with Katara and the courtesan's misperceived notions of the situation.

"Though I warn you," Lady Biwa said, with a parting wave, "she's quite... spirited."


By the time the door opened again, Zuko was calm. He had spent the rest of his wait breathing in meditation and focusing on his task; he would not let his own impatience get the better of him this time. He was running out of resources and did not know how many more chances he would have. This had to count. Katara would not get him off his guard. She would find not a paramour but a warrior, an implacable prince of the mightiest nation on earth. She would recognize him immediately, so he must take advantage of her surprise before she had a chance to react.

The door closed, and Zuko sprung.

Whirling through the air he caught the waterbender by her wrists, twisting her underneath him in a blur of blue silk and landing astride her amid the cushions. "I have you now! Perhaps it's time we finished our rematch, Katar--" Zuko's voice died in his throat.

"Seriously? I can't say I'm surprised this place is your type of hangout, Zuko. But the fantasy about my sister is kind of skeeving me out."

Zuko stared. The girl underneath him looked like Katara, even with the elaborately braded wig askew. But there was no mistaking that voice. "You-- You're--"

"It's Sokka, in case you've forgotten," the girl said. Only it really was Sokka under the layers of fashionable silk and the gilt hairpins. Though the makeup had been done to utter perfection, Zuko was holding wrists too thick to be a girl's, and there was something both familiar and totally unladylike in the Ice Tribe Warrior's scowl. "And thanks to you, you've just managed to make the worst day of my life even more bad! Congratulations. Now get off me."

"What are YOU doing here?" Zuko snarled, not releasing his hold. "Though I've had my doubts a few times, I was pretty certain you were a man."

"Of course I'm a man!" Sokka growled right back. "And in case you haven't figured it out yet, everyone in this place is!" Sokka struggled without success to get out of Zuko's hold. "The gimmick here is boys dressed up as girls, and apparently it caters well to uptight military types like you."

"I'm not the one who works here, so don't accuse me of your sick hobbies." Zuko snorted. "But even if you're not Katara, you can still give me what I want." Zuko paused as Sokka's eyes widened in something like panic. "Okay, that came out kind of wrong."

"You know," Sokka said, really struggling now, his voice rising, "I've changed my mind. I weighed my options earlier but I really would rather die, come to think of it. I was expecting some hairy earthbender guy, but somehow, this is worse."

"Hold still!" Zuko managed to keep his grip on Sokka, but just barely. It involved clamping the other boy's legs down with his own in a way Zuko would prefer not to think about. "Do you think I'm here for romance? I'm only interested in getting the Avatar. And you're going to tell me where he is. Right now."

"Yeah, keep dreaming, squinty." Sokka had managed to roll over, knocking his wig off entirely but unable to escape. Zuko had to shift his weight to keep from knocking the brazier over. "I'm not telling you a damn thing--"

"Fine. Then I leave you here."

Zuko grinned; Sokka had gone limp and wouldn't look at him. Zuko's voice was almost sympathetic in its misleading softness. "They don't know where you are, do they? All your little band of loyal friends. Nobody's coming to rescue you." He fisted one hand in the tuft of Sokka's ponytail and leaned in close, satisfied at the popping noise of Sokka's spine as it was bent back unnaturally. "Nobody but me. Tell me where he is, and maybe I'll get you out of here."

"I can get out of here myself!" Sokka shouted, getting leverage at last and sending Zuko flying back into the painted screen. "As it stands," he said, brandishing his rescued wig, "I happened to be formulating an escape plan already!" He plopped the now considerably messy hairpiece back on as though it was a general's helmet, and scowled at the window in determination.

"Fine," Zuko said, picking himself up off the floor and dusting off his shirt with feigned nonchalance. "I'll just go then. I hear that on average you have even odds of getting the clap within the first month, but most physicians agree that castration pretty much clears up the problem. The earth king maintains something like forty household eunuchs. I'm sure if all else fails you could get a position there." Zuko nodded his head pointedly at the inspiring suggestions on the screen. "Probably several positions. When I catch the Avatar-- and I will, with or without your help-- I'll be sure to tell your sister and friends about your brilliant career change."

He was almost to the door when Sokka swore, with great feeling and involving large quantities of whale excrement. "All right! All right!" Sokka impatiently tugged his dress straight. "I'm kind of in a tight spot." He measured a miniscule amount of air between his palms. "Just a teeny one."

Zuko allowed himself a smile, leaning back against the closed door and examining his fingernails. "I'm listening."

"The owner here, that Lady Biwa guy--"

Zuko looked up, more alarmed than he wanted to admit. "Guy?"

Sokka tugged at his lopsided wig-braids in frustration. "Weren't you listening? I said everybody here was a guy, and I meant it! Everybody but that little old lady! Biwa's a guy, and not just that, he's an earthbender. An earthbender with pecs the size of Omashu!"

"Earthbenders don't frighten me," Zuko demurred, resting one hand lightly on his hip. He didn't have his swords, but in a crowd of transvestite prostitutes, he figured his knife and subterfuge skills would be enough. "We'll be long gone before he can catch up."

"This one frightens me, buddy," Sokka jabbed Zuko in the chest with one painted fingernail. "You wondering why nobody ever tries to escape from this place? Well let me tell you. As soon as they get you in here, they knock you out. And by the time you come to, they've already got you."

Zuko swiped Sokka's hand away. "Got you how? And stop touching me."

Sokka made a circle with his thumb and forefinger. "Nothing really, just a little bit of jewelry. A jade ring. When you're unconscious, they put it around your...you know." He waved a hand at Zuko's midsection.

"Stomach?" Zuko suggested.

"YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN!" Sokka thundered. "I just don't want to think about yours, thanks. And what's jade? It's a rock. You so much as take two steps toward the door and--" Sokka closed the circle of his hand into a fist. "Squish. Welcome to the Royal Eunuchs!"

Zuko studied Sokka, the tight line of his lips threatening to turn into a smirk. "You're right. That is a teeny tight spot." Sokka swelled, and Zuko held up one hand to stall his outburst. "Spare me your defensive details. So you need someone to take out Biwa who's not going to be incapacitated in the first two seconds."

"Exactly!" Sokka said. "So whaddya say?" He clasped his hands and fluttered his eyelashes in a way that was meant to be effeminate but only managed to be sort of disturbing. "Going to be a noble warrior and rescue the heart-of-gold prostitute from bondage?"

"Don't ever say the word 'bondage' to me again. Not while you're wearing rouge." Zuko rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "If I help you escape, you are my prisoner and as such you will tell me everything I want to know. Is that clear?"

"Ahhh...." Sokka stalled.

Zuko went for the door again. "Otherwise, no bargain."

"All right, fine." Sokka growled. "I'm your prisoner, you have me at your mercy, yadda yadda yadda. Can we get a move on?" He wrestled with his sash for a moment. "Frankly I'm not sure how girls wear underwear like this."

Zuko was already planning. "Biwa made me an offer a little while ago... I wonder if that still stands. An Earthbender can't bend if they're unconscious."

Sokka folded his arms over his carefully padded chest and wrinkled his expertly powdered nose. "Yeah, the prospect of making out with you would make most sensible people pass out cold."

Zuko cocked his eyebrow at him as he listened to the door. "I'm glad we both agree they'd be overwhelmed with their good fortune. Come on. It's clear."

"That's not what I meant, and you know it." Grumbling and hiking up his skirts, Sokka followed the exiled prince into the hall.

From downstairs came the sounds of music and laughter, the clink of teacups and the dim murmur of foot-traffic from the street. On the upper floor, the atmosphere was considerably more earthy. Zuko took comfort from that fact; everyone was far too busy to wonder what they were doing.

"Which way is Biwa's room?"

Sokka pointed down the hall. "All the way to the end, around the corner, and up the flight of stairs."

Zuko sighed through his nose. "It's never just the next door over, is it." He waved Sokka forward with two fingers. "Come on. Let's get this over with, and don't forget our bargain."

They made their way down the corridor, and it seemed things would proceed smoothly. Zuko was already wondering what he would tell his uncle once he had the Avatar, when he was interrupted in his pleasant thoughts by an unwelcome noise. Someone was approaching from the cross-corridor, and coming their way.

"Aw, man!" Sokka hissed, as loud as he dared. "It's that little old lady! If she catches us out here we're dead!"

"She didn't seem that threatening to me," Zuko said, weighing their options all the same.

"She might ask a few questions we can't answer." Sokka hunched one shoulder in a fair imitation of the ancient woman. "Like 'you aren't going up to clobber lady Biwa and escape, now are you?' Trust me, that woman is a rat. If she so much as sniffs something funny, she'll go up and warn Biwa and then we'll both be wearing granite overcoats."

Zuko skimmed the hall and felt just the barest flicker of concern. They were too far down now to backtrack without being obvious, and it was clear that all the rooms along the hall were quite enthusiastically occupied. There was a small shrine niche nearby, just between the two closest doors, but there was no way they could both hide in it. Even an old woman would see them. Zuko could probably go straight up the wall into the rafters, but that would leave Sokka in the hall. Even if he had the skills to follow, he couldn't do it in ankle-length yards of fashionable silk.

The shuffling footsteps drew closer. "A plan now would be good!" Sokka said, his voice escalating.

Zuko nodded to the alcove. "Get in there and--"

The old woman's shadow was just visible at the edge of the corridor.

"Ah, dammit," Sokka said, as though he was facing his own doom. "I hoped it wouldn't come to this."

"Come to wha--?" Zuko got no further as he was dragged into the alcove and kissed with every sign of ardent passion on Sokka's part. Shock wiped Zuko's mind blank; he was only dimly aware of the old woman chortling as she passed them by.

"Heh heh, I'm sure there'll be a room open in a minute," she cackled, swatting lightly at Zuko's backside. "If you can wait that long!"

Zuko's response was luckily muffled.

The stairs creaked as the old woman headed down them on her rounds, and Sokka pulled away from Zuko with an audible pop, slightly green under his makeup. "Eugh, I think I'm gonna be sick."

Zuko scrubbed at his mouth with the back of his hand, trying not to think too hard about the most recent minute of his life. "Believe me, the feeling is entirely mutual."

Sokka smacked a few times, his nose wrinkled with disgust. "Bleah. Is that firebending or something? You taste like something cremated."

"At least I don't have breath like a diseased rhino."

"You'd know, wouldn't you, Zuko? Kissed a lot of 'em?"

"I wouldn't know, I never met your mother."

It almost came to blows before the ominous sound of footsteps came back up the stairs as the old woman returned, tea tray in hand.

Zuko and Sokka stared at each other, two men faced with the grim realities of survival.

"Just so you know," Sokka whispered, "I really hate you."

"Likewise."

The old woman cleared the stairs, and Zuko closed his eyes and thought of the Fire Nation.


"I think the groping was unnecessary," Zuko said, when the ordeal was finally over and they were moving back up the stairs.

"I do what I have too. She'd never believe we were still at the kissing stage." Sokka was holding out one hand as though it was covered in something foul. "I have to keep this hand for the rest of my life, you know!"

Zuko had definitely moved from growling to an outright snarl. "I'm sure I could remove it for you if you wanted."

"Those are the stairs!" Sokka said, indicating a narrow flight of steps at the end of the hall. "See if you can find my stuff while you're in there."

"Right," Zuko said. "You stay in the hall and I'll go in and distract Biwa. Once he's down, we'll see if we can get out on the roof." Zuko loosened the knife in his belt. "And don't you even think about sneaking off and getting away from me. One bad move on your part, and I'll have the whole house after you, including Biwa and all his earthbending. Is that clear?"

"You know, I have heard that the female pronoun is preferred when--"

Zuko shot Sokka a glare.

"One bad move, you get nasty, yeah yeah." Sokka fluttered one sleeve at Zuko. "Go get 'em, loverboy."

Zuko ascended the stairs with a sense of dread usually reserved for the sight of his sister, and knocked lightly on the elaborately painted wooden door at the top. He had a split second to consider the fact that really he was a terrible actor before the door was flung open and Lady Biwa stood in the opening, haloed with lamplight.

"I've never known a boy to change his mind as much as you," she said, lounging provocatively against the doorframe.

"Uh." Zuko began, but got no further as a powerful hand grasped the front of his shirt and hauled him bodily into the room.

The door slammed shut.


Several minutes had passed before Sokka began to worry. The old woman might come by at any moment and ask what he was doing out in the hall. Sokka considered that he could probably brain her with a tea tray or something, but that hardly counted as subterfuge.

And he hadn't gone so far as to kiss Zuko just to blow the cover now.

Sokka shuddered at the memory, and scrubbed his mouth out with the trailing end of one sleeve. What the hell was taking Zuko so long? Sokka pretty much considered the guy a loser, and a big pain in the backside, but surely he was capable of taking out one earthbender in less than fifteen minutes? Unless he had stopped to have a little fun first.

Sokka wondered for a second if maybe that thought alone had made him choke. It was only when his cough turned into a gasp that he realized there was a thin haze of smoke in the air. Oozing between the cracks of Lady Biwa's door was a grey veil of smoke. It didn't take Sokka's nose long to recognize the cheerful smell of burning hardwood.

"Way to go!" Sokka grumbled under his breath, heaving his skirts over one arm and taking the steps two at a time, "Freaking pyromaniac!" The door was tightly locked but not hot to the touch, yet. He backed up on the tiny landing. "My boomerang better not be charred or I'm gonna be really frosted."

Sizing up the door, the smoke, and the distance across the hall, Sokka charged.

He was half a step away from the door before it opened suddenly, too late for him to stop. Sokka got a flash of wide gold eyes--one considerably wider than the other--before he collided with Zuko at top speed and sent them both flying across the room.

"Knocking!" Zuko said, shoving at the not-lightweight watertribe warrior sprawled on top of him. "It's called knocking, in civilized countries, where we have doors and not igloos."

"That's not the only thing you do in civilized countries," Sokka said, eyeing the trashed room. The curtains and an ornamental table were charred and smoking faintly. The bed hangings had been flung everywhere, teapots and cosmetics upended and smashed, and Biwa was snoring peacefully right in the middle of it, wig gone and lamplight reflecting off a bald pate writhing with snarling dragon tattoos. Zuko was in almost as bad a condition as the room was. His scarred eye looked worse than usual, the skin around it purpling in a way that promised a fantastic black eye. Some of his more fantastic injuries turned out to be a large quantity of the courtesan's makeup, smeared all over Zuko's face and down his chest. His tunic was in tatters. "What the hell were you doing in here?"

"Let's just say he was almost more woman than I could handle," Zuko said, going rather pale under his colorful injures and deftly upending Sokka off his chest. "I'd hate to think what he would have done if he thought I was really attacking him. Now let's get out of here."

"What about my clothes and boomerang?"

Zuko brandished a bundle of familiar blue fabric. "You'll get them back after we're clear, and I've got my information." There was a muffled whoosh as the curtains ignited on the smoking remains of furniture; Zuko ripped them down from the window and stomped out the flames, unflinching. "Out the window."

"Can't believe you were dumb enough to firebend," Sokka said, struggling to heave himself over the windowsill. The hem of his dress had snagged on a nail. "Dammit."

"I didn't firebend, he knocked over a lamp when he was trying to--" Zuko broke off, prodding thoughtfully at a few purpling spots on his throat. "Nevermind. Just move."

"I am stuck, thank you very much," Sokka said with great indignance, yanking at his dress. "Some play this would make! Can you unhook it, I don't want to--" Sokka stopped. "Did you just snort?"

Zuko turned around just in time to see a large, bald figure rising up from the floor. Biwa apparently had given up on the beauty sleep. "Move!" Zuko shouted, shoving at Sokka. There was a loud tearing sound and Sokka unraveled right down the steeply sloping roof. Ignoring the sudden roar behind him, Zuko grasped both sides of the window frame and flung himself down after. It only took a backwards flick of his wrist to coax the smoldering curtains back into a shimmering wall of flame that shot out of the window at his heels. A jar shattered after him, splattering him with sake, but Zuko was gone before the alcohol could ignite on what was left of his clothes.

Sokka had landed rather ungracefully in an ornamental apple tree, showing blossoms down on the grass like premature snow. His flowing robes had become considerably more revealing.

"Come on," Zuko said, dropping down from the gutter and landing in a crouch. "We have to get out of here."

"Oh, sure," Sokka said, tugging the remains of his robe down to cover at least a little more of his thighs. "This from the guy who's not wearing heels."

"Just run!" Zuko hissed, scattering blossoms behind him as he pelted across the garden and vaulting the back gate. From the brothel were cries of alarm as well as the sounds of breaking crockery and hurried footsteps. Sokka minced after Zuko as best as he was able, and the two of them disappeared in the dark back alleys as the flames rose high into the night.


"I think it's far enough," Zuko said, as they came to a halt in an abandoned street some distance away. In the distance, the conflagration was now just an orange glow above the rooftops.

Sokka slumped against a rain barrel, one hand to the stitch in his side. "I'd be complaining about the blisters from these shoes, if I wasn't too busy wondering how I'm going to ask Toph to get this jade ring off me."

Zuko wiped a hand across his sweating forehead, smearing the soot and Lady Biwa's lip-prints. "I think that once our business is finished, we can agree that none of this ever happened."

They looked at each other a long moment, at their utterly disreputable condition. Sokka had somehow managed to hold onto his wig through the whole thing, though it was smoking faintly, and Zuko had several conspicuously-shaped bruises as well as what looked like rope burns on his wrists. It was probably Sokka who started grinning, but there was definitely a smile under dirt and nightingale cream on Zuko's face. Sokka chortled and Zuko snickered, then there was a ringing sound of outright laughter, both of them leaning on each other and laughing until they couldn't breathe, tears streaming down Sokka's face and Zuko's good eye.

It ended rather abruptly with Zuko's knife at Sokka's throat, shared laughter wiped from his face as though it had never been there. "And now," he said, "you will uphold your half of the bargain. Where is the Avatar? Is he in Ba Sing Se now? Perhaps he already has the ear of the Earth King? Tell me now, or die here."

Sokka looked at the knife, at Zuko, and sighed. "Ya know, it's a real shame. I think you could be a fun guy to hang out with, if you weren't such an utter asshole."

Zuko's eyes flashed uneven, furious gold. "Tell me where he is!"

"A deal's a deal," Sokka said, with a defeated shrug. He opened his mouth... and screamed. Loud and long and girly, shrill enough to shatter glass, and unexpected enough for Zuko to flinch back in alarm. "Heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeelp! Oh, somebody help me!"

"What the hell are you doing?" Zuko snarled. "Do you want to bring the whole Dai Li down on... us..."

Sokka, still screaming bloody murder, winked. There was a sudden cacophony of booted, running footsteps heading in their direction.

Zuko was almost apoplectic. "You son of a--" He lunged forward but was pinned back against the wall almost immediately by the immobile clay fingers of the Dai Li's projectile hands.

Sokka put his face in his hands as though overcome, and they were very quickly walled in by an array of impressively tidy green uniforms.

"Is this man bothering you, miss?" The squad captain asked Sokka, smacking a struggling Zuko on the head for good measure.

Sokka fumbled in his sleeve for a bedraggled fan, which he held up to his face to cover for his deteriorated makeup job. "Oh, thank goodness! My house in the Street of Golden lanterns was evacuated for fire! This man said he would help get me to safety, so I fled with my few belongings only for him to try to rob and murder me! I think I might faint!"

"I heard the fire already burned three brothels and a gaming house to the ground," one of the Dai Li muttered to his companions. "We were just on our way down there."

"Bear up, miss," The captain said. "We'll take care of this ruffian." His associates roughly divested Zuko of Sokka's bundle as well as what was left on the string of coins, which they presented back to a dotingly grateful Sokka. "Give us just a moment to deal with this one, and we'll escort you down to an inn."

With the swift and merciful justice so common in a Sing Se, they proceeded to beat the crap out of Zuko. His last glimpse of the Watertribe Warrior was a toothy grin and coy wave as Sokka disappeared down the alley.


A thunderous knock on the rickety door of the apartment roused Iroh out of a pleasant dream of a certain curvaceous bounty hunter. Grumbling at the lateness of the hour and the fact that he had just been getting to the good bits, Iroh groped for a robe and lamp. He opened the door and squinted at the two Dai Li standing on his front step. Sandwiched between them-- sulky, dirty, beat up, and reeking of smoke and cheap alcohol-- was Zuko.

"Sorry to disturb your sleep, old man," the first guard said, professionally gruff, "Is this your nephew?"

Iroh sighed. "Really, Li! To disrespect your poor dead parents this way! If your father was here I don't know what he'd say."

Zuko looked at Iroh as though the old general had gone insane, but Iroh had already turned to Zuko's captors. "You have to overlook him just this once, I beg you. He's a good boy, but after his whole family was killed in the war--" Iroh put his face in his elbow and took a deep shuddering breath.

Zuko rolled his eyes.

"There there, old man." the second guard said, moved by Iroh's performance. "I think he might have learned his lesson, but if he runs into trouble with us again, we might have to give him a night in a cell to think things over."

"Better keep this until he can learn to use it for a good cause." The first guard said, handing over Zuko's knife while the second one used earthbending to remove Zuko's stone handcuffs.

"You're too kind. Can I offer you a cup of tea?" Iroh tucked the knife in his belt and gave Zuko a stern glance as he skulked by.

"Sorry sir, but we're needed for crowd control in the street of Golden Lights; there's been a terrible fire."

The second guard brightened. "But we'll stop by tomorrow." He elbowed his partner. "This is the place with the lychee mango green tea I was telling you about."

"Take care now," The first guard said, touching the edge of his hat as they turned and marched smartly away down the street.

Iroh found Zuko in the main room of the cramped apartment, his entire head immersed in a bucket of water. Coming up for air, it was apparent which of his injuries were real and which were just paint, as brightly colored rivulets of watery rouge ran down between his lacerations.

"I don't want to hear a word about it," Zuko said, snatching his knife back from his uncle's hand. Unexpectedly, his uncle gathered him into a fierce hug, his eyes brimming with tears.

"I am so proud of you, nephew!" he said, as though Zuko had just won some sort of good citizenship award. "I didn't know you had it in you!"

Zuko cringed; his ribs were bruised pretty badly.

Iroh stepped back and beamed. "And here I was thinking you didn't know how to have a good time! Ha! Looks like you had almost too good of a time."

"Oh yeah," Zuko complained, cradling one scraped elbow. "A real blast."

Iroh nodded happily, sarcasm rolling off him like water off a turtleduck. "Good! Good! Now, go lie down and get some rest, and I'll get some salve for those cuts."

Zuko nodded, stumbling off to his futon without protest. His uncle's voice penetrated the exhausted haze in his mind, still cheerful in spite of his words.

"Oh, and by the way. This doesn't mean you're getting away without being grounded!" Iroh rubbed his beard thoughtfully. "I think a week will do."

Zuko groaned, sticking his head underneath his pillow. His days never were good or bad after all, just measured by how much, precisely, he hated his life.


::fin::


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