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Jon knelt on the floor of his chamber, a half-filled glass of water before him on the rough wooden boards. He extended his hand toward the glass, feeling for that familiar pull he'd come to recognize as the water's presence.
Focus, he told himself, drawing the liquid upward in a thin stream. Shape it. Control it.
The water rose obediently, twisting into a spiral that hung in the air like a translucent snake. Jon's purple eyes narrowed in concentration as he guided it through increasingly complex patterns—a figure eight, then a knot, then something that almost resembled the direwolf sigil of House Stark.
"Better," came Kuruk's voice, the spirit materializing in his familiar blue glow near the window. "Your control improves daily. Now try splitting the stream while maintaining the shape."
Jon bit his lip, dividing his focus. The water wavered, threatening to collapse, but he held it steady. One stream became two, dancing around each other in the air.
"Good, good," Kuruk said, stroking his beard. "Remember, water is the element of change. It adapts, it flows, it—"
"It freezes," Jon interrupted, thinking of the melee. The memory had been nagging at him all evening. "Kuruk, what I did today... making that boy slip on ice. Was that honorable?"
The water streams wobbled as his concentration shifted to the question that had been troubling him. Father always says a man must fight with honor. But I used... whatever this is.
Kuruk laughed, looking young and handsome again. "Honorable? You were in a competition, boy. In a true fight, you use every advantage you have. Your opponent certainly would."
"Would he, though?" Jon pressed, the water still dancing between his fingers. "They were using wooden swords and strength. I used... magic, or whatever this is."
"Listen to me, young one," Kuruk's voice grew serious. "When you're in a challenge—any challenge—you don't hold back your advantages out of some misguided sense of fairness. Did the bigger boys hold back their strength when fighting you? Did the older ones slow down to match your speed?"
Before Jon could answer, another figure shimmered into existence. Kyoshi stood tall and imposing, her painted face severe in the dying light.
"Mister Hot Water speaks truth for once," she said, causing Kuruk to scowl at the nickname. "When it comes to a fight, you use every trick, every advantage, every scrap of power at your disposal. The winner lives to tell the tale. The loser?" She paused dramatically. "A corpse feeds maggots, nothing more."
"Gods, woman!" Kuruk turned on her, his expression horrified. "He's ten years old! You can't just—"
"I'm telling him the truth," Kyoshi cut him off coldly. "Something you seem allergic to, given how you prance around the subject like a—"
"I don't prance!" Kuruk protested indignantly. "And at least I don't traumatize children with talk of maggots and corpses!"
"Better he learns now than when someone puts a real blade through his—"
"ENOUGH!" Jon shouted, and the water he'd been controlling splashed across the floor in a wide puddle. He looked down at the mess, frustrated. "Thanks to your bickering, I've lost all focus."
He pointed at the puddle spreading across the floorboards. "See? This is what happens when you two start your little arguments while I'm trying to concentrate."
Kyoshi had the grace to look slightly abashed. "You're right. Apologies." She turned to Kuruk with an imperious wave of her hand. "Leave us. I need to speak with the boy privately."
"Oh, so now you just dismiss me like a—"
"Kuruk," Kyoshi's voice carried a warning that made Jon's skin prickle, even though it wasn't directed at him. "Go."
The water spirit gave her a long look, then shook his head. "We'll continue your lesson later, Jon. Try not to let her fill your head with too much doom and gloom." With that, his blue form flickered and vanished.
Jon sighed and began drawing the spilled water back into the glass, the liquid responding more easily than it had even a week ago. "What did you want to talk about?"
"Tonight," Kyoshi said, watching him work. "You're meeting with your little lady friend to test her abilities."
Jon's cheeks flushed, the water wobbling dangerously. "Wylla's not my lady," he muttered, focusing intently on the puddle to avoid meeting Kyoshi's eyes.
"Oh?" Kyoshi's voice carried amusement now. "Then why does your face turn the color of a sunset whenever someone mentions her? Why do your eyes seek her out in every crowd?"
"That's not—I don't—" Jon sputtered, the water sloshing. She's just a friend. The first real friend I've ever had who knows what I can do.
"Mmm," Kyoshi hummed, clearly unconvinced. "Regardless of your feelings, you need to prepare yourself for tonight. The chances of her being able to bend are... minimal."
"I know that," Jon said quietly, finally getting the last of the water back into the glass. "But maybe... maybe she'll be different. I've been praying to the old gods that—"
Kyoshi's scoff cut him off. "The gods?" She shook her head. "Child, the gods cannot help you in this situation. Either the girl can bend or she cannot. You could pray for a thousand years, and it wouldn't change what is."
Jon bristled at her dismissive tone. "My father told me when I was young that the Old Gods watch over the North. They hear our prayers, see through the weirwood trees. They—"
"Your father told you a comforting story," Kyoshi interrupted. "Let me share a truth I learned in my very long life: when two people fight, the winner doesn't prevail because they prayed to some god. They win because they were stronger, faster, or more cunning than their opponent." She leaned forward, her painted face intense. "Put a sword in the hands of a high septon who's spent his life in prayer, then tell him to fight a common bandit. You'll see exactly how much those prayers are worth when steel meets steel."
She's wrong, Jon thought stubbornly, but he didn't want to argue further. "Fine. Let's... let's talk about something else." He began drawing the water up again, forming it into a small sphere. "Actually, keep talking while I practice. I need to learn to bend even when distracted."
"Oh? And I'm a distraction now?"
"The best distraction I can think of right now is the tall, blue, scary lady in front of me," Jon said with a slight smile.
Kyoshi's painted lips quirked upward slightly. "Scary, am I? You haven't seen scary, little wolf."
"So educate me," Jon challenged, splitting the water into three separate streams while maintaining the conversation. "Tell me something impressive."
"Very well," Kyoshi settled into a more comfortable position, though she still looked ready to fight at any moment. "There was a time I fought an entire army using only my airbending and waterbending. No earth, no fire—though those were my strongest elements."
"An entire army?" Jon asked skeptically, the water streams beginning to weave between each other. "How many soldiers?"
"Three hundred," Kyoshi replied. "They thought numbers would overwhelm me. They were wrong."
Three hundred. Jon tried to imagine facing that many opponents. "How did you—"
"I turned their numbers against them," Kyoshi explained. "Water whips to disarm them, air blasts to knock them into each other. In tight formation, soldiers become their own worst enemy. One falls, trips three others. A weapon sent flying strikes friend instead of foe."
Jon nodded, processing this while shaping the water into increasingly complex forms. His concentration split between the conversation and his bending, but somehow it felt easier than before, more natural. The water responded to his will even as his mind engaged with Kyoshi's words.
"That actually makes sense," he admitted, then pulled the three streams together above his palm. With a quick motion, he shaped them into three perfect daggers of water. "Like this—multiple attacks from unexpected angles."
He focused, and the water crystallized into ice, the daggers becoming solid, deadly sharp. Without breaking eye contact with Kyoshi, he flicked his wrist. The three ice daggers shot out in different directions—thunk, thunk, thunk—embedding themselves in the wooden walls at perfectly equidistant points.
Kyoshi's eyebrows rose. "Impressive. You maintained form while distracted and executed a complex technique. You're learning faster than expected."
"That was excellent!" Aang's cheerful voice suddenly rang around the room as the Airbender formed on the other side of the room as if he was trying to avoid being near Kyoshi. "Your progress is remarkable! Though you know, there are other applications for waterbending beyond making weapons. Healing, for instance, or—"
"Aang," Kyoshi's voice turned sharp as a blade. "Nobody asked for your opinion. Go meditate on a mountain. Or better yet, go eat grass with the sky bison you're always babbling about."
"That's not very nice, Kyoshi. I was just trying to—"
"Trying to interfere, as usual. The boy is learning combat applications because that's what he'll need to survive. He can learn to heal papercuts later."
Jon saw Aang looking a little annoyed, but then he waved at Jon in a friendly way before disappearing.
"That was harsh," Jon observed, pulling the ice daggers from the walls with a gesture, melting them back into water that flowed into his glass.
"That was necessary," Kyoshi corrected. "Too many voices, too many opinions, and you'll learn nothing properly. Now," she stood, preparing to fade. "Remember what I said about tonight. Be prepared for disappointment, but..." she paused. "I find myself hoping to be proven wrong."
With that, she vanished, leaving Jon alone with his glass of water and his churning thoughts. In just a few hours, I'll know if Wylla can bend. If she can, everything changes. If she can't...
He pushed the thought away, focusing instead on the water, shaping it into a miniature version of Wylla's face. The green hair was impossible to capture in clear liquid, but the smile—that he managed perfectly.
Please, he thought, not sure if he was addressing the old gods, the new ones, or whatever forces governed this strange power. Let her be like me. I don't want to be alone in this.
The water-Wylla smiled up at him, and Jon carefully placed it back in the glass, intact and waiting.
Just like his hope.
Later
The corridors of New Castle were quieter at night, lit only by flickering torches. Jon moved through them without making much noise. His soft leather boots barely whispered against the floor as he made his way toward the godswood.
What am I doing? he wondered, pulling his cloak tighter. Meeting a highborn girl alone at night... if anyone sees us, the rumors will spread faster than wildfire.
"Stop fretting like an old woman," Kuruk's voice suddenly filled his head, making Jon nearly jump out of his skin. "You're going to teach the girl, not ravish her."
"Would you stop doing that?" Jon hissed under his breath, glancing around to make sure no one saw him talking to himself. "A little warning would be nice."
"Where's the fun in that?" Kuruk chuckled. "Besides, you should know something important about tonight. Look up."
Jon paused at an arrow slit window, peering out at the night sky. The moon hung full and bright, so luminous it cast shadows nearly as sharp as daylight.
"The full moon," Jon observed. "So?"
"So? Boy, did I teach you nothing?" Kuruk sounded genuinely offended. "During the full moon, a waterbender's power increases threefold. If the girl has even a drop of bending ability in her, tonight's when it'll show itself."
Jon's purple eyes widened. "Three times stronger? Why didn't you mention this before?"
"Because you never asked," Kuruk replied smugly. "The moon and the ocean, push and pull, they're the source of waterbending's power. When the moon is at its fullest, we—you—become capable of feats that would be impossible otherwise."
"Is there something similar for the other elements?" Jon asked, continuing his walk but keeping his voice low. "Something that makes them stronger?"
"Oh, aye," Kuruk confirmed. "For firebending, it's when a comet passes close to the earth. Makes a firebender ten times more powerful, maybe more. Turns them into walking volcanos."
"Ten times?" Jon nearly tripped over his own feet. "That's... that's terrifying."
"Indeed it is. As for airbending, well, that young fool Korys told you true—the higher you are, the stronger your connection to air. Mountain peaks, tall towers, that sort of thing."
Jon remembered Korys's words about learning to fly, and felt a flutter of excitement. But then something in Kuruk's tone made him pause. "You don't like Korys much, do you?"
There was a long silence before Kuruk answered, his usual jovial tone replaced by something more cautious. "Let's just say... be careful around him, Jon. Not everyone who teaches you has your best interests at heart."
"What do you mean? What's wrong with—"
"Ah, looks like you've arrived," Kuruk interrupted quickly. "And what a lovely sight awaits you."
Jon had indeed reached the entrance to New Castle's godswood.
And there, sitting on a stone bench beside a small reflecting pool, was Wylla.
She'd let her green hair down, and it cascaded over her shoulders like seaweed. She wore a dark blue cloak over her dress, and when she heard his footsteps, she turned with a grin that made Jon's heart skip.
"Maester Jon!" she called out cheerfully, standing and dropping into an exaggerated curtsey. "I'm ready for my lessons in the mystical arts!"
Jon felt his face burn. "Don't call me that," he muttered, approaching slowly. "I'm no maester."
"Oh, but you're teaching me, aren't you?" Wylla's eyes sparkled with mischief. "That makes you Maester Jon, keeper of secret knowledge, bender of elements, and turner of the most interesting shade of red I've ever seen."
Kuruk's laughter boomed in Jon's head. "Oh, I like this one! She's got you, boy. Look at you, red as a beet!"
"Shut up," Jon whispered.
"What was that?" Wylla tilted her head.
"Nothing!" Jon said quickly. "Just... clearing my throat. Should we begin?"
"Lead on, Maester," Wylla said with another grin.
Gods give me strength, Jon thought as Kuruk continued chuckling. Between the blue people in my head and Wylla's teasing, I'm going to die of embarrassment before the night is over.
But as Wylla moved closer to the pool, moonlight catching in her green hair, Jon found he didn't really mind. Embarrassment was a small price to pay for not being alone.
"So," Wylla said, kneeling by the water's edge. "Where do we start?"
Jon knelt beside her, trying to ignore Kuruk's continuing amusement and the way the moonlight made Wylla's eyes shine.
"First," he said, "let me show you what's possible."
Jon stood at the edge of the small pool, extending his hand toward the water. With a gentle pulling motion, a sphere of liquid rose from the surface, moonlight refracting through it like captured stars. He shaped it into a ribbon that spiraled through the air, then split it into droplets that danced around each other before reforming into a perfect orb.
"Gods," Wylla breathed, her eyes wide with wonder. "It's beautiful."
What am I doing? Setting her up for disappointment?
"Can you actually teach me to do that?" Wylla asked eagerly, already reaching toward the water.
"Wait," Jon said quickly. "First we need to figure out which element you can bend—if any."
"Yes, you mentioned Water, Fire and Air."
"Four elements," Jon corrected, settling onto the grass beside her. "Water, fire, earth, and air. Most people who can bend—" if there are any others "—can only bend one."
"But you said you were able to bend fire, but now you can't, but you did bend air yesterday, that makes two elements at least? So, how can you bend Water, Air and Fire, if soemone can only bend one of them?" Wylla asked eagerly.
"I'm... different," Jon said lamely. "Special circumstances."
"What kind of special circumstances?" Wylla pressed. "Jon, how do you know all this? Who taught you? Where do these abilities even come from?"
From blue ghost people who appear in my head and call me something called an Avatar, Jon thought. Out loud, he said, "It's complicated. I promise I'll explain everything once we know if you can bend. Can we focus on that first?"
Wylla gave him a long look, clearly unsatisfied, but nodded. "Fine. Keep your secrets, Jon Snow. But I'll have answers eventually."
"Right," Jon said, relieved to move on. "Let's start with air—it's often the gentlest to sense." He stood and demonstrated the circular arm movements Kyoshi had taught him. "Airbending is about circular movements, redirecting energy rather than opposing it. The key is to feel the air currents around you."
Wylla stood and mimicked his movements, her face scrunched in concentration. "Like this?"
"Good form," Jon encouraged, though he could already tell nothing was happening. The air around her remained stubbornly still. "Try to feel the wind, even the smallest breeze. Imagine guiding it, not forcing it."
For several minutes, Wylla continued the movements, her green hair swaying only from her own motion, not from any controlled air current. Finally, she stopped, slightly out of breath.
"I don't feel anything special," she admitted. "Just... air being air."
"That's okay," Jon said quickly, though disappointment was already creeping in. Three more elements to try. "Not everyone connects with air first. Let's try fire."
"But you can't make fire anymore," Wylla pointed out. "You told me it stopped working."
"I can still explain the technique," Jon said, remembering Roku's lessons. "Fire comes from the breath. It's about controlled breathing and inner heat." He demonstrated the breathing pattern—in through the nose, hold, out through the mouth. "Fire is life, energy, passion. You have to feel it in your core and push it outward."
Wylla sat cross-legged and placed her hands on her knees, copying his breathing pattern perfectly. "Am I supposed to feel warm?"
"Eventually, yes. Like there's a sun inside you trying to get out."
She continued for several minutes, her breathing steady and controlled. Jon watched hopefully for any sign—a wisp of smoke, a hint of heat shimmer, even just her hands warming slightly. Nothing.
"This is harder than I expected," Wylla said, opening her eyes. "I feel the same temperature as always. Maybe a bit silly, sitting here breathing dramatically at nothing."
She's trying to stay positive, Jon realized, noting the slight slump in her shoulders. But she's starting to worry.
"Two more elements," he said with forced cheer. "Earth next?"
They found a large potted plant near the godswood entrance, its soil dark and rich. Jon knelt beside it, placing his hands flat on the ground beside the pot.
"Earth is about being solid, unmovable," he explained, remembering Kyoshi's words even though he'd never successfully bent earth himself. "You have to be stubborn, forceful. It's the opposite of air—direct force, no redirection." He showed her the firm, rooted stance. "Earthbenders move in straight lines, powerful strikes."
Wylla adopted the stance, looking slightly ridiculous in her dress but determined nonetheless. She thrust her palm toward the pot with a grunt of effort.
The soil didn't even tremble.
"Maybe if I actually touch it?" she suggested, placing her hands in the dirt. She pushed and pulled, her face reddening with effort, but the earth remained unresponsive to anything but physical manipulation.
"I'm making a fool of myself, aren't I?" she said quietly, brushing the soil from her hands. "Standing here grunting at plants like a madwoman."
"You're not a fool," Jon said firmly. "You're brave for even trying this." But I'm the fool for letting you believe it was possible.
"One more element," Wylla said, her optimism now clearly forced. "Water. That's what you're best at, right? Maybe it'll be mine too."
They returned to the pool, and Jon's stomach twisted with guilt. Throughout all the attempts, the spirits had remained completely silent. He'd almost hoped one of them would appear and tell him he was teaching wrong, that there was some trick he'd missed. But their absence felt like confirmation of what he'd feared all along—Wylla couldn't bend.
I should tell her now, he thought miserably. Before she gets her hopes up about water too. Tell her it was all a mistake, that I was wrong to think anyone else could do this.
"Jon?" Wylla's voice pulled him from his thoughts. "You look like you're about to be sick. What's wrong?"
"I just..." He looked at her eager face, still hopeful despite three failures, and couldn't bring himself to crush that hope. Not yet. "I want this to work for you. So badly."
"I know," she said softly, touching his arm. "But even if it doesn't, even if I can't bend anything, you still trusted me enough to try. That means everything to me."
Jon calmed himself.
"Water is different from the others," he said, his voice thick. "It's about flowing, adapting. Push and pull, like the tides." He demonstrated the flowing movements, his arms moving like waves. "You have to work with the water, not against it. Guide, don't force."
Wylla knelt by the pool, her hands hovering over the surface. "What should I try to do?"
"Start small," Jon suggested, kneeling beside her. "Just try to make the water in your palm move to the center. Don't think about lifting it yet, just... encouraging it to gather."
The water in Wylla's cupped palms remained still as glass, reflecting the full moon overhead like a mirror. Jon watched, his heart sinking with each passing moment. Nothing. Just like the others. I've been such a fool.
"Maybe I'm doing it wrong," Wylla said, though her voice had lost its earlier confidence. "Should I be thinking something specific?"
Jon glanced up at the moon, its pale light washing over the godswood in silver. If there was ever a time for the old gods to prove they're listening, it's now. He closed his eyes briefly. Please. Not for me—for her. She deserves this.
"Try putting your hands directly in the pool," Jon suggested, his voice carefully neutral despite the dread building in his chest. "Sometimes direct contact helps."
Wylla shifted to the pool's edge, immersing her hands in the cool water. "Now what?"
"Focus on the water touching your palm," Jon instructed. "Don't try to lift it yet. Just... encourage it to gather in the center of your hand. Like calling it home."
She closed her eyes, her brow furrowing in concentration. Jon watched the water in her palm, expecting nothing, preparing his words of comfort for when—
The water trembled.
Jon's purple eyes widened. Had he imagined it? No—there it was again. The slightest movement, barely visible, but unmistakably unnatural.
"Keep going," he whispered urgently. "Whatever you're doing, keep doing it."
"I'm not doing anything," Wylla protested, eyes still closed. "I'm just... asking it nicely?"
The water in her palm began to move more noticeably now, swirling in a tiny spiral toward the center. Jon's heart hammered against his ribs. Is this actually happening?
"Wylla," he breathed. "Open your eyes. Slowly."
She did, looking down at her hand. The water had gathered into a small mound in the center of her palm, and as they watched, it began to rise. A single droplet, no bigger than a pearl, lifted from her skin. It hovered there, an inch above her palm, perfectly spherical and catching the moonlight like a tiny star.
For a heartbeat, neither of them moved or even breathed.
Then Wylla screamed.
"I'M DOING IT! JON, I'M ACTUALLY—"
The droplet fell, splashing back into the pool as Wylla's concentration shattered. But it didn't matter. They both knew what they'd seen.
"You're a waterbender," Jon said, his voice full of wonder and relief so overwhelming he thought he might cry. "Wylla, you can bend water!"
"BY THE SEVEN HELLS, THE GIRL DID IT!" Kuruk's voice exploded in Jon's head, so loud Jon actually winced. "AND ON THE FIRST BLOODY TRY! Do you know what this means? She's got real talent! Oh, this is brilliant!"
Wylla launched herself at Jon, her arms wrapping around his neck as she knocked him backward onto the grass. "I can't believe it! I actually did it! Did you see? It was floating! The water was floating!"
"I saw," Jon laughed, his own relief making him giddy. "You're like me. You can—"
She kissed him.
It wasn't like the stories described—there were no fire, no swooning. Wylla's lips were cool from the night air and slightly chapped. She tasted faintly of the lemon cakes they'd had at dinner. The kiss lasted maybe three heartbeats before she pulled back.
Jon's face went scarlet. He was acutely aware of everything—the grass beneath them, Wylla's weight against his chest, the way her green hair fell around them like a curtain, the sound of his own heartbeat thundering in his ears.
"HAH!" Kuruk's laughter boomed in his mind. "THE BOY'S GOT HIS FIRST KISS! And from a fellow waterbender no less! Oh, this is better than when I won that drinking contest against those Earth Kingdom sailors! Wait until I tell the others...especially Aang—"
"That's your reward," Wylla said, her own cheeks pink but her eyes sparkling with mischief. "For being such an excellent teacher."
Jon's brain seemed to have stopped working properly. All he could do was stare up at her, his mouth opening and closing like a landed fish. Finally, he managed, "I... rewards are... good."
Wylla giggled. "Are they now?"
"Very good," Jon said, finding his voice at last. Some combination of relief, joy, and Wylla's closeness made him bold. "I look forward to earning more."
"Oh gods, he's actually got some charm!" Kuruk crowed. "There's hope for you yet, boy!"
Wylla laughed, a bright, delighted sound that made Jon's chest warm. "Careful what you wish for, Jon Snow. I might hold you to that." She sat up, pulling him with her, both of them grass-stained and grinning like idiots.
They stood together by the pool, hands clasped, looking down at the water that had revealed such an impossible truth. The full moon reflected in its surface seemed to wink at them, as if it too knew what had just changed.
"I'm a waterbender," Wylla said softly, testing the words. "That's what I am now."
"That's what you've always been," Jon corrected. "We just discovered it tonight."
She squeezed his hand. "We. I like that. We're in this together now, aren't we?"
Jon looked at her—this brilliant, brave girl with green hair who'd just kissed him under the full moon after discovering she could bend water—and felt something shift in his chest. For the first time since his powers had manifested, he wasn't alone. Not truly.
"Together," he agreed.
They stood there for a moment longer. The pool before them was still now, but they both knew it would never look the same again.
"So," Wylla said eventually, her practical nature reasserting itself. "When do I learn to make waves like you did?"
Jon laughed, and somewhere in his mind, Kuruk joined in.
Everything had changed indeed.
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