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Ipomoeas In His Sheath

Chapter 47: When Distinctions Fall Away

Notes:

Warning: Brief instance of animal abuse, but don't worry, nothing happens to our animal friend.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Sokka couldn't remember the last time he stepped into the prayer room with the purpose of contemplating on the Spirits. Perhaps back when he was a naive child who was fascinated by the workings of the universe, which he was taught could be explained by science, which was ultimately deemed to be a grand design of the Spirits. Over time, the prince had evolved from that child who relied on these fairytale explanations to an agnostic who threw his hands up in exasperation at the continued suffering around him despite the existence of these so-called "benevolent" Spirits. Finally, he was sucked in by the charm of skepticism, having relinquished organized religion entirely. And what a liberating decision it had been and continued to be. He could still remember the days he transitioned into full-fledged questioning, which didn't so much invoke eye-opening moments among the tribefolk as it did cause the tribe to scoff at and pity his situation; under the conservative elders' standards, he had "lost his way" and had supposedly given up on morality itself, not simply religion.

The sheer idiocy of the people, he'd scoff back, scorning their misconceptions, but he didn't let that curb his loyalty to the tribe because of the very morality that they accused him of lacking. Then again, he couldn't say with absolute clarity that he didn't imagine or, dare he say, hope, for the existence of some loving entity, supernatural or not, that was willing to intervene and change their situation for the better because who wouldn't in their most destitute, back-breaking times aspire for such a thing?

It was that hope that dwindled with time and embittered him with every disappointment, more so with each rejection he faced from other places in petitions to aid the South long term. All the leaders he'd spoken to, though merciful with temporary trade offers, were preoccupied by the prospects of their own kingdoms instead of establishing actual trading relationships with the South. Many leaders eventually became annoyed by his persistence and refused to waste their time in honoring his requests for their audience.

Sokka could not blame those leaders entirely in spite of his frustration over their infamous ethical ineptitude, nor could he fully explain the seed of idealism that persisted in him in the form of that fantasy of a loving intervenor, no matter how secretively lodged in his mind, no matter how out-of-sync with his skepticism. It bubbled irrationally within him, pouring out occasionally in his fascination for Tui— a human-made character personifying the celestial ball of light that graced the skies at night. The idealized Tui who made his head turn, cured suffering with a mere ghost of her smile, vouched for the innocent, wielded power that was capable of sustaining the world. An idea admired, contained in moonlight, like a distant, imaginary friend who never left, for the fairytales that were ingrained in him, though having rusted with time, were nevertheless alive in some way.

And right now as he stepped into the prayer room, at this very moment that seemed to question the relation between his actions and his skepticism, that fantasy was blazing forth, for it was no longer a fantasy. It had a form. A human form. She had a name, a face, a smile sporting world-sustaining mischief, a voice laced with tease and play.

"At that moment, I really thought you really were Tui."

"Come on now, Mr. Wang, we can't fall into arbitrary constructions of reality when there's always science to keep us grounded."

The idol of Tui ceased to be a sculpted fantasy; all Sokka could see was not pampered white marble but a personification of the North's princess, beaming and smiling at him. With a swelling heart, he sat across from the idol, lost in it.

Contemplating the events of the past week, he found it rather weird how quickly his thoughts had been shaped in a different way. His curiosity for the princess had been bubbling and overflowing ever since they started from the North, having progressed into a strange longing, a yearning for a deep relation. Going back home was all he would've imagined had he still entertained his reservations about the North, but now there was nothing more than a sense of regret for the way he dismissed the North so easily. After all, his grumbling self that trudged amid the South's glacial terrain, burden and discrimination sagging behind him, was more liberated that before here in this very North, of all places.

Ironically in a place that posed serious threats to morality, flowing within him was now an appreciation for love exceeding his recognition of its mushiness. A sense of renewed hope that maybe it would happen for him, too. That maybe the princess would share space with him enough to have him bask in her glory for life. He'd gone from scoffing at sappy couples to hoping there were more genuine lovers in the vicinity of the princess, for then she wouldn't give up on companionship entirely and perhaps turn in his direction. He was wading and swimming in the waters of respect. Genuine respect. If not from the angakkuit, if not from those suspicious of him given the North's circumstances, that respect and acknowledgement, that "love and affection" definitely came from the princess.

"Think of how much more we should honor someone who has kept us from the brink of starvation. Someone who would obviously work way harder than powerful deities. Wouldn't that person be a walking god? Wouldn't he be Tui and La on earth? And on that note, aren't you the 'god' of the South? A walking La, perhaps?"

For that alone, he could stay here for an eternity. Just imagining separation from the princess was painful, reminding him again and again that the seemingly impossible had happened to him: He was deeply in love. A quick, sweeping love with the best person in the world. Could one week do all of this to someone?

It was beyond the parameters of all logic. Likely because it was a matter of the heart.

"I know it must be silly for you," he mumbled, casting a look at the white marble, "I don't care about spiritual mojo, yet here I am right now. I went all these years telling people there's nothing out there but science, and here I am now…not knowing what to think anymore." Shrugging, "But I know you know that even when I gave up on all of this mojo, I never stopped looking at you. It's weird, it's strange, it makes no sense, but…I never stopped looking at you."

The white marble, bathed in a ray of moonlight, seemed to glisten a tad bit more at his words.

"Every time I turn to you, she's there," he said, affection filling his gaze. "It could be a coincidence. It could be that the universe likes to mess around with me. But…I turned to you when the South was desperate. And the very next day, the princess changed our lives for the better. I turned to you when my dad was forcing me to be engaged to someone else, and she got me out of that, too." Clearing his throat, "And now, because of idiotic sentiments, people are trying to force me away from her."

The marble's sheen didn't diminish the slightest, Tui's smile for him intact.

"If it's true that you recognized my fascination for you over the years…if it's true that humans can be gods and gods can be humans…and if it's really true that you are our dronningi, and our dronningi is you…" taking a breath, "If you two have no difference whatsoever… if you're out there, and all of this is true…" And if, in an abstract way, Dronningi Yue was the moon he was fascinated with all along… "Then help me out tomorrow. Please."


Beneath the dark night laden with stars and swiveling colors, he was watching her. Just as she had on the night of the ball, she was facing the ice beneath her, moving her feet to the reflected dance of the aurora. The only difference was that this time, she was clad in Goddess regalia against a night that was ordinary on its surface yet taking on a darker hue, resembling something more cosmic in nature. The whitest of ethereal silks clung to her like wisps of swirling smoke, and long, luscious locks of her white hair meandered in the Arctic breeze, staying loyal to every sway of her body, every swing of her hips.

She looked up at him every now and then. Her lips were curled in a gentle smile. The enchanted beam on his face intrigued her, thus sparking her inviting look.

"The space next to me is empty, isumataq."

To which he grinned and stood up.

"But only come to me if you're staying."

Without a second thought, he stepped closer to her, and she stilled in his vicinity.

"I'm here to stay," he whispered. His hand flew to her cheek, cupping the skin gently, awe catching hold of his eyes and voice.

She raised her eyebrows, chiding smilingly, "The audacity you have." Shifting her gaze to the palm at her cheek, "Only La has such rights."

"Well I'm La, dronningi," he said. "I have a whole birth chart to prove it."

She tilted into his touch, her eyes vibrant, knowing. Her smile widened into a smirk, almost as if she knew the line of distinction between her and Tui was blurred, as if categories were nothing, as if she knew he was a goner in her presence. As if that was the point all along.

Her fingers entwined in his hair, grasping his locks, "Then I guess we have nothing to worry about."


"'m staying…dronningi," Sokka mumbled, nuzzling his face against the pelt he'd fallen asleep over. Rays of moonlight signified that dawn wasn't here yet, seeping into the prayer room and landing directly over his face. He mumbled away, "Staying…here…staying…"

His murmurs were interrupted with racing moccasins, a frenzy shake of his sleeping form by an excited Katara, "Sokka! Sokka, wake up!"

Trying to hold onto the image of the dronningi that was disappearing, "What…Katara, what…?"

"We're not leaving! Now get up!"

"Mmm…"

Frowning, "Did you hear what I said? We're not leaving…"

"Okay, we're not…wait…" his eyes snapping open, reality registering, "What?"

"We're not leaving!"

Jolting up on his pelt, "Are you serious? Katara, if you're joking, I swear—"

"I mean it!"

Sokka cast an excited look at the white marble Tui before curiosity took over, "How?!"

In the wee hours of the night while Sokka was out with the princess, Hakoda, Amaruq, and Kiguk had set off to find him. Well, Hakoda was the one who stormed out first, filled with rage, firing off at high speed with his leg having healed. Amaruq had struck up an argument with him in the process of convincing him to cool down; he had followed his brother-in-law out, trying to curb his anger and prevent him from causing another scene. A worried Kiguk had gone after them, hoping to calm both of them down from the heat of their arguments and hopefully make actual, productive progress in finding his cousin.

While inquiring about Sokka from a few Loyalist guards, the trio found out that there had apparently been a disruption, that all the guards were headed over to the snow forest where suspicious activity had been detected by a couple of guards. A high-level of suspicion was exercised, for it was likely a threat to the princess. Amaruq and Kiguk expressed genuine concern for the princess, but Hakoda couldn't have cared less, harboring a "good riddance" attitude. With rage continuing to bubble within him, he had scoured the snow forest separately from the guards, knowing Sokka would likely be there and hoping to drag him back home. By the time the trio got there, the incident, which was to remain confidential, had already taken place, and several criminals had supposedly been rounded up and dragged to prison.

The trio had continued to argue and simultaneously look for Sokka, racing to and fro among the three different sectors. They ended up losing their way and found themselves on a less-trodden path, which led to the inner ring as they would later discover. In thinking they were the only ones on this path, they were wrong; two shadows were rushing through a snowy thicket nearby, racing without a care in the world. It was a man and a woman supposedly.

Hakoda recognized the man's voice to be Sokka's and attempted to holler for him, his eyes bloodshot and seething with anger after realizing the woman was the princess, but even before he could call out to his son, Hakoda was caught off guard by the fierce Arctic winds that drove him as well as Kiguk and Amaruq several feet away with its intensity. They landed in the snow, and through the chilling haze, they could make out the two figures, both attempting to keep their faces covered.

"Sokka!" But Hakoda's howls were drowned out by the bleating of the winds. The three men were able to stand after a few moments, but they were shocked beyond belief once the winds knocked off the hood of the woman's cloak, exposing her face. Her beautiful, fair face along with her long, white braid, messy from whipping through the winds.

"This way," she panted, her hand grabbing hold of Sokka's as she led him out of the thicket, her other hand fiddling with the cap of her cloak.

She was a replica of Tui, the men all realized, their hearts beating at impossible speeds. Piety rained down on Kiguk and Hakoda by instinct. Even Amaruq, who was more relaxed in terms of religion and spirituality, found every part of his being frozen at the sight. They stared at the doppleganger of the famed Mother Goddess, the harsh winds no longer dictating them as they stood in the snow, their unwavering faith holding them upright through the revelation.

This was the princess? This was the Akna?

Kiguk, his palms having automatically pressed together in prayer fashion, watched on with wide eyes as Sokka and the Tui-like princess soon disappeared. The young man rubbed his eyes to make sure he wasn't seeing things, but the sight was confirmed when he turned around, only to see that Hakoda and Amaruq, who had frozen in place seconds ago, were now lying in the snow, their eyes rolled to the back of their heads.

"Everyone's out in the hall," Katara told her brother. "They want to talk to you."

Without wasting a moment, Sokka scrambled up and headed out into the hall, where everyone, still pale-faced from last night's revelation, immediately turned in the direction of the Southern royal siblings. Hakoda, holding a look of persistent shock, confusion, and slight guilt, frowned as he spoke, "You didn't tell us that was the Akna. You didn't tell us she looks like that…."

Although Sokka was fidgety from overwhelming hope, he contained the somersaults in his chest, remaining solemn from the realization that what the princess's kindness couldn't do, her appearance did, which was to bring a pause to Hakoda's constant sexist yapping. It was shallow and superficial on his parents' part to still not recognize her compassion, but at this point, he was willing to run with whatever was available, latch onto any reason to convince them to let him stay.

"Is that really how she looks? Or were we seeing things last night?" Amaruq asked, rubbing his head.

"She colored her hair," Hakoda frowned, "Didn't she? She had to have colored her hair, right? "No one is just born naturally looking like the Goddess."

"Unless if that's how she really looks," Amaruq repeated, still out of it in his surprised daze. Turning to his niece, "Katara, didn't you say that's her natural appearance?"

"It is. She was born like that," Katara said. "Her complexion really is fair, and her hair really was white from the start. She said it was likely because of a skin condition of some sort, but she was never able to figure out what. Though her skin looks very normal and flawless to me, and she doesn't seem to have any pigment issues. Her eyelashes are black, and she has a tiny freckle on her hand and everything."

Which only confused yet fascinated everyone further, confirming that Chief Arnook definitely had a basis for believing in his daughter's status as Tui.

"It was also because of her distinct appearance that Chief Arnook took special care to make sure she's hidden. So she won't be easily recognized and targeted," Sokka added.

Kya, who was still trying to process everything, turned to her son, noting the soft look he harbored whenever he spoke about the princess. She was not sure what to make of the Akna; despite her appearance, she couldn't really be Tui, could she? She was born defying all purity laws, and she continued to speak against them to this day. How could someone of an impure birth possibly be Tui?

"Why didn't you tell us?" Hakoda asked again. "You could've said something about this beforehand—"

"And what would that do?" Sokka asked tersely, "Would that change your meaningless loyalty to sexist laws? Would it make you accept her more easily? Not really since you're apparently having a hard time accepting this."

It was the truth, and they all knew it.

"And even if seeing her did change your opinion for the better…that would just be sad and pathetic," Sokka said. "Your respect for her shouldn't just rely on her appearance. She may look like Tui, but even more importantly, she resembles Tui in her thoughts and actions, the way she treats people. To me, she is Tui."

Hakoda couldn't help shuddering. It wasn't voluntary but more of an instinctual response to his foundational beliefs being toppled upside down. The princess was beautiful. Had it not been for her birth, they would've undoubtedly accepted that she was the incarnate Tui.

"See? You wouldn't see that. You're not even regretting your actions. You're nearly pissing your pants because you disrespected someone who resembles the image of Tui. You need to love and respect her in her entirety." Shaking his head, "But that's on you. Tui's no narcissist, so of course she'll continue to help us even if you don't care."

Every bit of what Sokka said was true, but Pakku's influence was a persistent ghost that refused to leave them. And yet, all of them, especially the Southern leaders, were now both craving to see the princess— Hakoda for a second time, and Kya for a first.

"But what do I know?" came a nonchalant shrug, "I'm just the gluttonous idiot of the household."

Hakoda winced. Kya softened her eyes, a jolt in her heart, "Sweetheart—"

"Sokka—" Ki'ma followed, "That's not true, sweetie—"

But he retreated to his room, leaving behind his highly-conflicted parents and relatives. None could see him nearly waltz his way to his room afterwards or the dopey grin that had taken hold of his lips, but for the millionth time, in spite of the guilt that lingered from Hakoda's slip of tongue, the Southern leaders did ask themselves: How could such rare beauty resembling the Mother of the tribe stem from ritual impurity?


A young, newly-appointed priest, who was yet to be traumatized by the actual toxicity that was the Great Temple of La, swallowed down his disapproval for the lack of Tui in the building. He distracted himself by watching a penguin-sparrow that had made its home in a corner beneath the arm of the original half of the temple's La idol— the half that had been separated from its Tui half and was taken out of the Moon Temple several years ago. The famed half that gave life to the Akna, who was to remain a distant anomaly of society, never to be a subject of conversation. The young man sighed, sprinkling a few crumbs before the sparrow, but it only blinked at him before it tended to its eggs again. Only when the man moved away did the sparrow poke its beak at the crumbs. It seemed to have wanted more, and when it didn't receive any, it lingered by its eggs for another moment or two before flying out of the nearest window.

The young priest, who had basked in the calm, suddenly felt his heart seize up in a jolt when the doors of the Great Temple of La burst open. Several other Nationalist priests, who were forbidden from going home until their leader arrived, turned in the direction of the entrance as an infuriated Khasiq, axe in hand, barged his way inside. Everyone froze in place, helpless, and chanted within themselves La, La, La, thus invoking the aid of the very god they were about to betray under the intoxication of fear. The young priest scrambled over to the others, eyes wide and bloodshot with fear.

Khasiq slammed the doors to a close behind him and issued a demanding look in the direction of the main priest, who gestured to the massive donation box in the corner. "I-I have the key, s-sir," the trembling old man managed to say, but Khasiq ignored him, grabbing his axe and impatiently jamming it down on the donation box, denting and splitting it open. In spite of its contents being accessible, Khasiq continued to vent out his frustration by repeatedly slamming the ax against the box, shredding it to pieces and making all the coins spill out onto the ice. He was silent for the most part, however, exhibiting a cold-blooded stare at the scrunched bits of metal.

The reasons behind his frustration were obvious. He was forced to exercise more professionalism under the White Lotus's watch; being expected to nearly wet his pants in front of "a bunch of grey-haired fools" under the cloak of "respect" was not his cup of tea. Not to mention that his other forms of profit were nonexistent by this point thanks to the princess's involvement in tearing down his trafficking empire overnight. And with the White Lotus additionally freezing his other transactions for investigation purposes, sanctions thus still pending, the only thing that was keeping Khasiq away from total doom is the fact that his allies were out destroying the evidence needed to prove his other atrocities. Even so, Khasiq feared the looming possibility of becoming penniless, begrudgingly seeking refuge in his only remaining asset: the Great Temple's donations.

"How hard is it to preach an apocalypse?" he hissed at one of the priests, his voice tight but still relatively calm compared to the commotion the ax was making as it pounded away at the donation box, "Make more rituals up if you need to. I better not see any slacking."

A few of his closest allies, who had recently trickled inside the temple, were unsure of how to approach the seething Nationalist. Nevertheless, they knew they couldn't hide their latest defeat. The more courageous one in the group stepped up to Khasiq, spilling the details of their soiled plans and the unexpected involvement of the Gentleman.

And as soon as the Gentleman's mention caught Khasiq's ears, he froze in place, casting them a glare. "Kinji's slayer?"

"He proved yet again that he's our enemy, sir," an ally stated. "He risked his life to save the princess."

"Our men had been close. So close."

"The prince has apparently followed her, too. It seems likely that he alerted the guards. Several of our men have been arrested."

With nothing left of the box for the ax to keep mutilating, it hit the ice wall after being slung across the room by the Nationalist leader. Several of the priests cowered and ducked out of the way, quivering together in a corner and double-checking to see if their heads were still atop their bodies, watching the ice crack and alarmingly rattle the part of the wall that was struck severely.

"So we have two pimps licking the ground she's walking on," Khasiq muttered, running his hand through his hair, letting out a deep groan. It was not to say that he had been unprepared for this result; although he'd expected more from his men, he had determined a backup plan of having them shift the responsibility over to the prince. Then again, based on how the Southern prince jumped in and played hero, the captured men's responses would likely be ignored or questioned in the very least. "Fucking knights in armor… Who the fuck is that Gentleman anyway? And that prince, damn him, it's because of him that I'm stuck in the investigations!"

"We can't do anything else, sir. People will be suspicious. And forming a wedge between Arnook and the Southern family is both easy and difficult…Well, even if we manage to drive the families further apart, the prince and princess seem inseparable. They have great respect and trust for each other. The princess didn't believe the men when they made the point of being sent by him."

Contemplating on the statement before, "Then we will destroy that trust. I can't get my hands on that peasant princess and her corpse if he's consistently in the way." And after another moment of thought, "Have our men been questioned yet?"

"Yes, they're currently under interrogation. As you've directed, they're planning to shift the blame to the Southern prince, but as we've said—"

"Sneak in and finish them."

Khasiq's minions seemed surprised by the order. "Sir?"

"Finish. Our. Men."

"B-But…but sir, they're our men—"

"Don't you get the logic?" he barked. "If you're silenced after a truth is out, then the person you accuse in your truth is often the perpetrator. A reasonable person would likely think the prince arranged for their demise in retaliation. To wipe away the evidence." With a deep breath as he kicked aside the metal remains of the donation box, "This will be our argument before the White Lotus. We finish off the men, but the prince and his family are thrown into the spotlight."

"But sir, they've been loyal to you for many years," one of the minions spoke up.

"That's why we will not be suspected. If any Lotus bastard raises a brow, all that takes is a few tears and a simple, 'Why would I kill my own men?'"

"Sir…that's not really what I…It's just…our brothers have mouths to feed. They've done everything you asked them to. They've defended the Nationalist party on several occasions, and—"

"And they will do this as well. This is all that's left for those idiots to do." Casting a look at the distressed minions, "If they had so much of a rice-grain's worth of intelligence in their brains, they would've figured out ways to be careful and successful in their attempts. Instead they got their asses kicked by two traitors and a bitch."

"Sir, our brothers' families will be abandoned and thrown into the streets—"

"Alas, La's care is rough sometimes, isn't it? But at least their families can be happy that their breadwinners are enjoying all types of comforts in La's heaven," he spat sarcastically. "Those imbeciles have done nothing useful for me. They will prove their loyalty and worth by laying their lives down, and this is final." Squinting his eyes at the distraught minions, "Unless if you all want to prove your loyalties, too. I can always add more to the list."

At which all sympathy froze on their pale faces.

"Fraternity only goes so far. If we want to seize this empire for ourselves, we must also be willing to sacrifice," Khasiq said. "But if your grief is getting in the way of your loyalty, why not earn a place in La's heaven for wiping out those who are not loyal to him? Join your 'brothers' there?"

"Our apologies, Master."

"Y-Yes…we will do just as you say."

"Then quit lounging around and take them out," he ordered, to which some of the minions bowed repeatedly and left the building, still wearing distraught on their faces. Others stuck around, keeping their attention on their leader. Khasiq stepped beside the metal remains and knelt down. He thumbed aside the sharp metal pieces and reached for the currency, shoving everything in his pockets.

"I'm guessing we aren't going to get our salaries this time, either," a young priest whispered, his voice drowned out by the clatter of the coins.

"Forget the money. Just be happy your head's still where it needs to be," said an older priest.

"Is he really going to kill his own men?" another piped up.

"Not a surprise if he does. Who even cares? As long as we're not his targets."

The young priest shook his head with a sigh, "When I came to work here, I thought this was an actual temple. I didn't think it was hell on earth."

"Essentially this place is a business," one of the older priests told him. "It's only built to look like a temple. We're not priests. We're salesmen. We've been raised and taught to worship, but here, we're only receiving worship." Turning to the idol of La behind which they were seeking shelter at the moment, observing the face of the handsome deity, the gleam in La's eyes when the moonlight escaped inside and flooded over him.

"What even is religion anymore?" the chief of the priests wondered, numb. "Do we even have that anymore? That man over there thinks he's sent by La. That he's on a mission to wipe out everyone but himself, basically. And those men he's going to kill in a few minutes, they were only pawns. Now I am in no way defending those men. They sought to violate a woman. Karma spares none, and that is La's great law. But if you look through the lens of Tui, compassion at its most radical, could you say that they on their own volition chose this job? Are you going to say they were not at all influenced by the gunk that man has been spitting out?"

"La himself is a tired man, and he's not going to do anything," the other priest interjected, keeping his eyes on the genuine half of the La idol, watching the manufactured other half wobble with lack of stability. "He was stolen from his home, stolen from Tui, literally ripped apart from the other half of his body, and to this day, he has nothing to look forward to but the moon. Just look at him."

The priests turned to the black marble, the authentic half whose hollow eye took in the moon's rays. Like a tortured prisoner basking in the slightest trace of light, dreaming of freedom.

"If La himself is helpless, what are we to do? Like Him, we must wait for Tui. But at least our La is a stone and can love her openly. We're only human; we need to pretend to hate Her."

"I don't know about all of that. All I know is that I can't keep living like this," the young priest murmured. "We're betraying La. We're letting that man take all of La's donations. We're not even giving La any actual offerings. If we don't rise up and do something about this—"

"What are you going to do?" a priest challenged. "How old are you even?"

"Seventeen."

"You think you have what it takes to go against him and his minions?"

"Obviously I won't do it by myself—"

"That doesn't matter. You have a wife, don't you? What would you do if his men went after her next?"

The young man froze, a look of alarm crossing over him.

"We don't mean to offend you. This is the reality," the priest said, earning nods from the others. "Of course, it's no hard and fast rule that he spares our women even if we obey him, but there's a better chance that he will if we obey."

"It may be sin to give away the temple's donations," another priest added, "But if I want to keep my wife and children, I will bear that burden."

"Yes. I don't want my wife and daughters to take to the streets. Like those mens' families are soon going to do. Nor do I want to find them in his bed. La forbid."

"But how hard is it to outnumber a single man?" the young priest persisted. "If a large percent of his supporters don't actually believe in him and are supporting him through fear, how hard can it be for us to rely on each other and get rid of him for good?"

"This is not a battle we should fight, boy."

"You think we can handle a war with the Spirits, then?"

"We may be betraying Tui and La, but the Spirits know not to take it personally." A sigh following a look to the black marble, "They are the all-seeing Eyes of the tribe. They've been watching over us all this time. They'll free us one day, I know it."

"How are you all so confident about this?"

"Because I know that Tui is very much real, and she is very much here," spoke the senior priest. "I have seen her."

The young priest raised his eyebrows, "Sorry?"

"It was several years ago," the man elaborated, thankful that the minions' conversations and the clamor of the coins kept their voices unheard. "I remember when Khasiq cut my salary off for a month. We had a lot of expenses in our household. It had gotten to the point where my household didn't have enough to eat. My father had been ill, and most of my expenses were spent on his medications. My wife was pregnant with triplets at the time, and she had gone into labor one night. The midwife told me to fetch someone more experienced because of serious complications and…I didn't have the money for the healer's fees and... The maid we hired was a bit experienced, but she had left early that day because I hadn't been paying her, and…it was just a mess all around." Sighing, turning to the idol, "I remember coming here very late that night. It might've been past midnight. I was overwhelmed, in desperate need of money. I remember making up some ritual earlier in the day, and I'd hidden my collections in a little spot just outside the temple to take care of the situation. I knew it wouldn't be enough but I wanted to try anyway and…" shrugging, "the money I saved was gone. Just disappeared. And I remember breaking down and crying. I had no one else to turn to but La. I came inside thinking everything was over, thinking I'd lose my wife and the triplets..."

And it was then that the senior priest saw her: a woman of milky complexion and snowy hair clad in a white robe, her smile completely divine as she cast it in the direction of the idol. She had arranged several offerings for the idol and was supposedly talking to it.

"The white hair, the complexion, the beauty, the regality and grace and…it was her, I swear!"

Tui had frozen when she saw him, and he had paled considerably, goosebumps trailing up his body. And in that moment, the man had hollered and howled in agony and a desperate need for help, piety overcoming him as he bowed before Tui, nearly banging his head against the stairs of the altar.

She had not spoken a word to him, but she listened as he cried and cried and poured out his heart, expressing his sins of making up rituals and submitting to the fraud that Khasiq was forcing him to commit. He had rambled to her about the fate of his family, apologized countless times for his cowardice and helplessness, begged for mercy before banging his head repeatedly against the altar several times, ignoring her attempts to stop him. Repeating Tui's name and hitting his head hard enough to draw blood, he had fallen unconscious, his blood mixing with his tears.

"When I woke up, she wasn't there. All I saw was mist and the dishes that had been offered to La. I saw that I was healed completely, and next to me was a pile of money that could last me three whole months…" the senior priest dried his eyes as he spoke. "I remember my faith in the Spirits being confirmed on that night. I remember running to get a healer, still hoping I wasn't too late. Turned out, an unknown woman had already gone to my house and helped my wife in time. My wife was healthy, our babies were healthy. The complications had passed."

The priests all reveled in the senior priest's story, moved to tears, feeling their hearts melt from the recognition of the Spirits' mercy.

"I learned on that day that the Spirits are not looking to actively punish us. Rather, they are looking out for us. They sympathize with us and understand our helplessness. To this day, I was never able to come out and tell the public I worship Tui. There are entire days where I am forced to preach against Her very existence. But She is still merciful, still kind and understanding. My family is doing well thanks to Her grace and mercy." Turning to the young priest, "I know we are being forced to do things we shouldn't, but I don't want you worrying about sin. Focus on keeping your family safe. La lives through Tui just as She lives through him, and they are witnesses to all that is happening to us and the tribe." Turning to the idol, "And this idol in particular...It's not some ordinary artwork; it has given life to many in its own way. It is quite literally a piece of the Tui-La being, and in its own way, it's alive, I tell you."

While the priests soaked in the sight of the idol, Khasiq kept spilling all the coins into the vast pockets of his sweeping robes, ignoring the stare that the idol of La seemed to bore into his eyes. The Nationalist leader huffed with disregard, continuing to loot the donations without a care in the world. He then caught a glimpse of a few remaining coins that had ended up in a corner, specifically the corner where the penguin-sparrow's eggs were seated.

The Nationalist leader's hand reached out, aiming to push the eggs out of the way to gain access to the coins when he suddenly heard enraged tweeting from behind him. The mother penguin-sparrow had swooped in at the nick of time and landed between the Nationalist and her eggs, using her sharp beak to hammer down on the man's hand.

"Aagh!" he wiggled his hand out of its grip, glaring at the bird as it tended to the eggs.

"No peace of mind," Khasiq hissed. "Not from you, not from your princess…" He wrapped his palm around the bird's neck, ignoring its screeches that followed. "Mother of the tribe, hm?"

The priests turned away from the sight, horrified, the mother bird's cries reverberating through the hellish chamber. The bird flitted its wings rapidly, unable to get out of the Nationalist's grip. It was then that the altar began to rattle for a reason that the priests couldn't point out, but what followed next was a display of La's violence; the authentic half of the Moon Temple idol broke from its loosely manufactured half, and as it fell over the top step, it fell right on top of the arm that was choking the bird, blocking the bird and its nest from Khasiq. A sharp dagger that had been sculpted at La's belt came crashing down, stabbing through Khasiq's dominant arm in a swift motion, piercing the flesh and drawing extensive blood. Rivulets of the despicable man's blood splattered and coated La's face.

"AAHHH!" the walls rattled from the wails of the Nationalist as his bloodied arm rendered his grip around the bird useless. The bird escaped from his hand, seeking shelter behind the sculpture, and in the meanwhile, Khasiq struggled to get the statue off of him and free his arm, crying out in extensive pain.

"Master!" called out his minions who had stayed behind. They raced over to the Nationalist, brushing aside the coins that were now bathed in blood. Some of the minions grabbed hold of the statue and tried heaving it off of Khasiq, but La's dagger was persistent. Even when the men managed to get most of the dagger out of Khasiq's arm, the statue slipped their grasp and fell forward again, piercing Khasiq yet again in a different part of the same arm, demanding a sacrifice of the perpetrator's blood.

"FUCK, AAAAAHHH!"

The priests gawked wide-eyed at the sight, wincing at the pained wails that escaped the Nationalist leader. Inwardly, they felt a degree of satisfaction seeing Khasiq in pain, and apart from that, they were drawn to the thought of La punishing the man.

"I SWEAR, sometimes this thing has a mind of its own!" a minion huffed in frustration, succeeding in yanking the idol off of a writhing Khasiq, but he may have pulled at it too much, for the idol fell on top of him next, not necessarily stabbing him but besmearing him with Khasiq's blood.

"GET ME A BENDER!" Khasiq screeched, banging his uninjured hand against the floor. It was obvious that blood loss was becoming more severe, and yet, it seemed that La had not had his fill yet, for the authentic half kept wobbling. The young priest, who had been highly satisfied by the sight, feigned concern as a minion yelled at him to hold the wobbling half upright.

"This idol in particular...It's not some ordinary artwork; it has given life to many in its own way. It is quite literally a piece of the Tui-La being, and in its own way, it's alive, I tell you."

And as the young priest took a look at the bird that had recovered from Khasiq's act and settled into the nest with its intact eggs, he smiled, basking in the confirmation of La's mercy.


An hour before the crack of dawn with the moon still glimmering in the sky, Yue submitted to the fact that it was to be yet another day of her running on four hours of sleep. She found herself ambling around the Moon Temple, tired beyond belief as she went on with her cleaning duties. For the seventh time since she came here, her attention flew to thoughts of her friends, who were bound to leave soon. Her thoughts also flew to the Southern prince, perhaps more so than her friends.

They must have started leaving already.

Maybe they're running late.

No, the ship was likely on time.

They probably crossed the gates by now.

They probably crossed the inner glacial boundary.

They probably crossed the outer boundary at this point.

They must have officially left the Northern premises.

Maybe he stayed behind.

No, there's no way his parents would agree.

She paused in her cleaning, a huff leaving her lips. She took her seat on the steps of the altar. It's for the best. I didn't want him risking his life in the first place. And she closed her eyes and leaned against the wall nearby, tempted to fall asleep, unable to understand why the Southern prince's face kept popping up in her mind. So what if he left? At least he'll be safe in the South. His company was enjoyable, but he had to be alive to share his delightful company with more deserving folk. What was here for him in the North? What did he have to look forward to other than violence and the filth of politics? It wasn't like he had any incentives to stay behind. It wasn't like he had anyone here he could call family other than their Southern Revivalist friends, who were also headed to the South anyway.

And on her part, she needed to keep herself together. So Prince Sokka was delightful, but that didn't mean she should fall apart and avoid the reality of inevitable separation. It was for the best that he left now than instead of a year or so later; a longer duration of time would mean a greater chance of attachment to his friendship. She never had a problem saying goodbye to people, so why now? Like she always does, she needed to keep herself calm, remind herself of the good that came with people keeping their distance from her. She needed to maintain dignity, a lack of passion and desire for friendship if she was to be a good leader who wasn't going to put others at risk—

"Dronningi!"

"Isumataq!" Yue nearly shrieked as she jolted out of her thoughts, noticing that the distinct call was accompanied by frenzied banging against the front door. Forgetting her resolve as well as all grace and restraint, she reciprocated the frenzy on the other end of the door by scrambling over to the door and prying it open. Standing before her was the isumataq, looking excited and…like quite a mess, actually. The man had seaweed and sea foam clinging to his poor attempt at a wolf-tail, and he was drenched from head to toe. He was panting heavily as if he'd been running for a long time for a long distance, his knees slightly bent with exertion. The only thing he managed to keep dry was his boomerang sheath, which he'd hidden beneath the thick layers of his overcoats. The man was shivering, too.

Yue blinked at him with wide eyes, "Why in the world are you this wet—?"

"I'm staying!" And in a bout of excitement, he wrapped his hands around her and went as far as picking her up, surprising her. A chuckle left her when she caught the look of realization taht dawne dover him. He widened his eyes and put her down immediately, a flush taking over, "S-Sorry, dronningi, I kind of got excited…"

"You're lucky you're my friend," she said in playful reprimand, nevertheless pulling him in for a hug that was wholeheartedly returned, "This is so wonderful!"

Several moments and breathless laughs later, they were seated beside the altar with the princess bending him dry, thumbing away the wads of seaweed sticking to his hair, and dabbing away at the sea foam on his face. He apparently swam all the way here, taking a long ocean route to get around the "ridiculous congregation of supply-carrying buffalo yaks" that had blocked the skimpy sidewalks.

"Where was the need to rush?"

"I just wanted to see you," he said, batting innocent eyes at her, accompanied by a wide ear-splitting grin. "So I can relieve you from your pining."

"Pining?"

"You were pining for me, weren't you, Princess?"

"And who told you that?" she nearly flushed, "I wasn't pining. I knew I was going to miss you, but I wasn't pining."

"Oh, come on, princess, you could've at least pretended to pine for me," he gave a dramatic pout, "I would've felt a bit more loved, you know."

She flashed him one of her rare smiles again, her fingers sieving through his locks, attempting to straighten them and bring them together to constitute a proper wolf tail. "What made your parents okay with you staying? There weren't any fists flying, were they?"

"Well for one, they didn't leave."

"Why not?"

His smile widening, his voice deepening, "One doesn't just insult Tui and get away with it."

With raised eyebrows, "Tell me honestly."

"Well…they happened to see us. They as in my dad, uncle, and cousin. You know, when we were escaping the woods earlier." Dropping his teasing tone a little, "They saw you without your mask and headscarf."

Blinking, "Oh…"

"So now they're low-key terrified and high-key fascinated by you." With a slight frown, "They still haven't changed, but…now, they're kind of…they can't make up their minds. They're guilty, yeah, but I wouldn't say they're guilty for all the right reasons; they're kind of freaking out about Tui's wrath…"

"Ah," she finished tying up his wolf tail, "Disrespect to the divine image."

"Yeah, exactly that."

With a dry laugh, "Well, if I knew this would work, I could've been walking around playing Goddess in front of them much earlier."

"They should respect you regardless of your appearance, dronningi," he said, his tone taking a sincere turn. "You resemble Tui beyond your looks."

And Yue could've sworn she didn't hear her heart beat for the next couple of seconds. She kept blinking at him before slowly pulling her mask up, just in time to hide the tint of pink that graced her face. "Well…that's…that's sweet…"

"Oh, I almost forgot," he slung his sheath to the front of his body and reached inside, pleased to find that the moonflowers he brought remained dry and fragrant. He held them out to her with a beam, and her eyes crinkled from her smile as she took them.

"You'll never guess what I did, dronningi."

Taking in a whiff of the ipomoea fragrance, "What?"

"I prayed to Tui last night."

"Say what?"

"And I must say it works wonders," he practically glowed as he said it, his eyes glazed over with moonlight.

"I'm over here trying to separate religion from our education system with you as my inspiration," she placed a hand on her hip, shaking her head, "And you're over here praying? Get with the times, isumataq. One doesn't just get whatever they want by praying to statues." With a smirk, "If you convert to a pious tribesman, what will happen to the world?

Feigning a frown, "Sounds to me like you're just an ungrateful disbeliever."

Her peals of laughter chimed through the chamber, melting him into a puddle of joy.

Notes:

I know this one was kind of a filler. The next chapter will be more eventful. Who knows, we may be hearing wedding bells.