Chapter Text
On Azula’s sixth birthday, her bathtub wants to drown her.
She isn’t sure how she knows, but stood before it, staring into the water that’s so dark, so much deeper than it should be, she knows with a sudden and devastating clarity that it does. It looks at her like it’s hungry, like it could drag her down as if it were an ocean, and merely standing in its presence makes her skull start to ache.
“Princess?” Her bath servant inquires, towel in hand, unsure what to make of Azula’s uncharacteristic trepidation.
Azula grimaces, knowing that she looks weak, like a fearful child. Father would be upset if he saw her like this. It’s a bathtub, nothing more.
She takes a steadying breath and steps forward, only to hear the clink of chains echo from a sudden ripple in the water.
She runs to her room, to the shock of the servants, inconsolable that night no matter how her chambermaids try to calm her. Not even Mother, who finally visits Azula late in the night, can convince her there was nothing to fear.
From that night on, to Father’s frustration, Azula bathes using buckets of water instead of the tub. It’s a practice more suited to the peasantry, but Father’s ire is a known factor to her and one she’s well versed in; nothing like the anomalous hunger of whatever spirit haunts the palace waters.
She resolves to make it up to him with renewed effort in her classes. One’s oddities seem more excusable when buried beneath things that matter more, after all, and Azula excels in her studies, even catching up to her older brother before long. Her tutors sing her praises be it strategic theory, etiquette, or kata, and Father’s impatience towards her sudden respect for superstition is steadily mitigated over the following months. The first time Father smiles at her, Azula can’t help but smile back.
Ozai’s expectations begin mounting, but she meets them all head on and succeeds where nobody else would. She begins to see Father more and Mother less, and Azula contents herself with the situation, knowing it was always going to be one or the other. She may be young still, but even she can see the lines being drawn between the palace intrigues. Between Father and Mother, she knows which one she’d have picked.
Time passes, and any leftover trace of Father’s dissatisfaction towards Azula’s so-called ‘Sagely inclinations’ (Which Azula protests, in private. A healthy respect for the danger of spirits is rational) is forgotten entirely two weeks after Azula’s eighth birthday when her fire, already reaching advanced levels while Zuko continues to struggle with his katas, tinges blue near her knuckles for just a moment when she strikes.
Father’s favor is worth all that comes with that development; her brother’s jealous grimace, Mother’s shock, the additional training that follows, the new instructors Lo and Li, and even the look in Father’s eyes when he stares down at her with a hunger as deep and dangerous as the waters in her tub.
Azula grins and bears it, knowing it will all be worth it at the end of the day.
“Deep breaths…” Azula whispers to herself, taking her stance in front of her bedroom mirror.
She looks herself over and adjusts her footing- wider, as Lo insisted. Another breath and she begins, running through her kata with fervor, trying to keep her focus on the heat of her fire as she runs through her strikes. She lands right foot forward, gritting her teeth as her final strike flies from her fist.
A bright yellow.
She still can’t maintain blue fire. Not reliably. Not good enough. Not yet.
“Uuuuuugh!” She lets herself fall to the floor with a groan, rubbing her temples. Her firebending is impressive for her age; more than enough to satisfy most. But she’s shown her hand, albeit accidentally. If she can’t produce a blue tinted flame again, Father will be disappointed. It’s worth the extra training before bed to avoid such an outcome.
It’s to make me strong, Azula reminds herself, steadying her breaths. Even if it’s not fair. Zuzu is the one who needs more practice, not her, but he gets to lounge by the turtle-duck pond with Mother all day. Sure, Azula will come out on top in the end, but that doesn’t make the present any more enjoyable.
She glances at the clock on her wall and sighs at the time. Mother’s probably reading to him right now, isn’t she? She grits her teeth at the thought of her brother being coddled. Whatever side Zuko’s being brought to, it’s hard not to feel a bit angry on his behalf. Mother makes him weak. A weak prince will never last forever.
“Azula.”
“Mother!” Azula gasps, pushing herself to her feet. “I wasn’t-...!” she trails off, looking around the room, tension slowly leaving her. “Mother?”
Silence.
She takes a step forward, cautiously moving towards the door, and peers into the hall to see nothing but the guards by the passage’s entrance.
Azula sighs, turning back into her room- and screams at the sight of her reflection, pressed against the mirror’s glass and staring back at her with a scowl.
She flies back into the hall, stumbling as she puts the mirror out of sight and yells to the guards, who are already rushing towards her.
“Princess Azula!” One shouts. “What’s happened!?”
“Check the room!”
He nods, leveling his pike as he rushes in, the second guard kneeling beside her.
“Are you hurt?”
Azula shakes her head. “Is there anyone in there!?”
“Nobody, Princess.” Comes the call from the guard in her room.
“Check the mirror!”
A moment passes. “It…seems fine, Princess.”
She rushes back to her feet, quickly moving back into her bedroom and coming to a halt a fair distance in front of the wall mounted mirror.
Her reflection meets her gaze levelly, a perfect copy.
She moves her hand, and the mirror matches it exactly.
“Princess?” One of the guards asks. “What happened?”
She takes a deep breath, shakier than she’d like, not looking away from the mirror.
Stress. It’s stress, it must be. Too much training, that the exhaustion is playing tricks on her. She recalls the medicus telling Father as much some weeks ago as he treated her burns, but she discounted it just as Father had at the time. Perhaps the man had a point, after all.
“Take me to my brother’s room.”
The guards blink, taken aback, and she wills herself to look away from the mirror to glare at them.
“That’s an order. I’m not sleeping here tonight.”
Both of them hop to attention, but look at each other with a raised eyebrow and diminutive smiles as they lead her through the halls. Azula can’t place exactly why, but finds herself without the energy to scold them for it at the moment.
Maybe Mother has something of a point with her coddling, even if she overdoes it. She’s certain Zuko isn’t subject to stress induced hallucinations, after all. Ending her practice early for one night won’t harm her progress too much, surely, and it would be worth it to keep herself healthy.
She sniffs, trying to put thoughts of the mirror behind her. Maybe she’ll still be able to hear Mother’s bedtime story tonight, after all.
Eight weeks to the day after Azula’s fire first tinged blue, she walks into the training ground and smiles at what she finds.
“Hi dum-dum~”
“Don’t call me that!” Zuko growls, breaking his kata to turn and glare at her from across the field.
“Prince Zuko!” Master Kunyo admonishes. “Concentration! Losing focus while handling fire will only hurt you.”
“Sorry Master…!” Zuko says with a sheepish look, turning back and bowing 15 degrees.
Azula snorts, smirking at him, and can perfectly picture the look on his face as he balls his fists.
Master Kunyo sighs. “So long as you learn, Prince Zuko. Take a moment to rest, and we’ll continue when you’re done.” He says, nodding in Azula’s direction.
Zuko acquiesces with a bow and hand seal, walking over to Azula with a grimace. “What are you doing here?”
“Training? It’s a training field, dummy.”
“I know that! I mean, why are you-”
“Father’s coming by today.” She interrupts, casually checking her nails and stopping her brother short.
“What…?”
“To check on my lessons. I didn’t expect you here, either.” She smirks, meeting his eyes. “Maybe he wants to compare us.”
“Not funny.” Zuko mutters.
It’s almost cute how worried he suddenly looks, and Azula can’t help but chuckle and roll her eyes.
“Mom’s gonna be there too, Zuzu. It’s fine. He just wants to check on our progress. You have been making progress, right?” She smiles and looks up at him through her eyelashes, blinking innocently.
“Of course I have!”
Azula snickers and decides to let him off the hook for now. Teasing’s most fun when used sparingly; otherwise he’ll get used to it.
“Mhm,” She says, starting her stretches and motioning towards Master Kunyo. “Well, I guess I’ll leave you to it then. We have about an hour, I think.”
“Oh, yeah,” Zuko says, turning to start walking away. “I’m learning kick blasts right now.”
“Still…?” Azula asks, unable to help herself.
Zuko’s face wrinkles. “I’ll have it down before father comes by!”
“Sure you will.”
“I mean it!” He says as he jogs away to resume his lesson.
“So do I! Good luck!”
“Thanks, you too!” He calls back.
Azula can’t help but roll her eyes and shake her head at the absolute sincerity in his voice. Only her brother could go from angry fire-ferret to placid turtle-duck in a moment’s notice. He should be hoping she flops, like Azula knows he himself will. After all, if Father’s watching, he’ll be judging, and if Zuko keeps underperforming, then-
“ AAAAAAGH! ”
Azula’s eyes flick up towards the scream- the sound of agony - and she notes with muted alarm that her brother’s face is on fire.
She reacts on instinct, fire shooting from her first with an angry shout, directly at Master Kunyo.
“Rgh!” He grunts, dispelling the sudden attack and stepping back further as she follows up.
“Get back!” She cries, turning towards Zuko to assess the damage, to find him cradling the bubbling, burning flesh around his left eye, sobbing in pain.
“Princess-”
“Get the HELL AWAY FROM US!” She screams at the instructor. If that rat bastard Kunyo made the mistake of burning her brother, it’ll be the last mistake he EVER makes-
“Azula!” Zuko says from behind her.
She looks back, and the training field is suddenly enveloped in silence, broken only by her ragged, panicked breathing.
Zuko looks down at her, unharmed and unmoving, shock and worry warring on his face as he holds out his arms placatingly, as if approaching a wild animal.
She struts forward and presses her hand to his face before he can protest, feeling the skin beneath his eye. Unmarred.
“Azula…?”
She swallows, trying to steady her breath, but finds herself unable to look away from his eye, as if all it would take is a blink and her brother would be writhing in pain once more.
But he isn’t. He’s fine.
“I’m going for a walk.” She states, marching towards the gate before Zuko runs in front of her.
“Wait- Azula, what happened? What was that!?”
She glances to the skin around his eye and keeps walking, pushing past him.
“Are you okay?”
"Yes." She says, turning back and spitting her answer through a scowl.
She’s just- stressed. She just needs a moment to herself. Father will be here within the hour, and she needs to get herself in order before then, because it was plain as day that Zuko didn’t believe her.
She wipes the sweat from her brow as she leaves, taking in a deep, shaky breath.
It’s just stress. It has to be.
But her mind flicks back to the clink of chains in her bathing tub, and the movements in her reflection, and suddenly Azula isn’t so sure.
She returns just in time for Father’s arrival and performs her katas to expectation, making a distinct effort not to meet her brother’s eyes and departing the very moment she’s done.
Azula cloisters herself in the palace library for all the free time she can scrape together after that day at the training grounds, tearing through books and scrolls at a pace even she can admit might be a tad distressing.
She’s sick. That’s something she can admit to herself now. Healthy children aren’t plagued by hallucinations or haunted by spirits, at least not according to the medical scrolls.
And sick children never last long in the line of succession.
Her only solace is that she's increasingly certain it's no bodily malady at all- though there's little comfort to be had in the knowledge that one is cursed, or haunted. Records show that royal family members who succumbed to meddling spirits were rarely met with an honorable end.
She grits her teeth in frustration, trying not to wrinkle the aged paper she reads from- a scroll on spirits in the physical world, written by a scholar from the Gonryu period. A bit more esoteric than Father would approve of, but she’s exhausted her options, and nothing thus far has proved helpful. After a somewhat abridged explanation of her symptoms, the palace healer noted her exhaustion but prescribed her only rest, calling her ‘strange dreams’ as she referred to them a result of the burden her intensive training schedule demands. Father called them meaningless. And the Sages- Whatever the Fire Sages might call them, she’ll never know. Father absolutely forbade her going to them with an inquiry, doubling down on his attempts to discredit them. Perhaps he was reminded of her sharp turn towards respect for spiritual tradition after her sixth birthday, the first time she ever knew with certainty she’d come before a spirit, and he wanted to prevent a relapse into such behavior.
Or perhaps he worries the Sages will turn his daughter against him, as he continues to doubt their loyalties.
Either way, it leaves her without answer from the spiritual authority of her nation, meaning she’ll have to do the work herself- nothing she’s not used to, at the end of the day.
It helps that it lets her avoid Zuko, as well.
He’s been concerningly tenacious in his efforts to speak with her lately, where before he’d grumble and groan at the mere sight of her. It might even be nice to have him so eager to find her, if it weren’t because he must surely be concerned for her sanity after her episode at the training grounds. All she can do is research, and figure out how to appease the spirits at her heels so that everything can go back to normal.
If she can ever find a reliable source to help her, that is.
Azula sighs as she rolls up for the scroll, and, for the first time in her life, wishes her Uncle were here. As much as she respects Uncle Iroh’s prowess as a general and looks up to him and his distinguished career, he was always staunchly traditional in spiritual matters to the point of annoyance. With how much of a fuddy-duddy he can be, he’d surely know something to help, and she could really use that. Grandfather Azulon may have a healthy respect for the spirits himself, but with the war ever raging, his focus had always been temporal, and the library’s contents reflect this. Any study on spirits is old, and written in a script she can only barely understand. Still, she flits from section to section, checking for anything of relevance.
“Azula…”
Azula’s breath catches in her throat as she turns to the entryway.
“Here you are.” Ursa sighs. “Zuko’s been looking for you, you know.”
Azula shrugs uncomfortably as her Mother quickly glances around with a raised eyebrow and a look of slight trepidation.
“What are you doing here…? Is this where you’ve been disappearing to lately?”
“Sometimes…?” Azula offers. “I was just studying.”
A moment passes in a strange silence, Azula refusing to meet her Mother’s gaze. She knows Mother is watching her, trying to figure her out with that draw in her brows. Always looking concerned, where Azula’s involved.
Zuko barging in on her would be infinitely preferable to this.
Ursa sighs, walking further into the library and pulling out a chair, sitting and wordlessly patting the seat beside her.
Azula lets herself be cowed for fear of prolonging this- talk? Intervention? Whatever this is. Zuko’s had to have let her know by now that his sister’s gone mad, and Ursa does have enough authority to make things happen, rare as it is for her to use it. Azula takes her seat, and wishes a fire would start to get her out of here.
“Zuko spoke to me the other day, you know.”
“He tends to do that.”
“Azula…” Mother says with another soft sigh. “He was worried about you. Is there…anything you’d like to talk about?”
“No.”
…
…
Ursa shifts slightly in her chair, getting comfortable, and Azula groans.
“I’ve just been stressed. Lo and Li are brilliant instructors with high expectations. It takes effort to meet them. Rare is the person who calls diligence a fault.” She bites out, a tad bitter.
‘You’re ruining my brother, now leave me alone’, in other words.
“‘Stressed’ doesn’t have you seeing things, Azula.” Ursa says, carrying on even as Azula narrows her eyes to a glare. “Your father is taking things too far.”
“Father isn’t the one at fault!” Azula growls.
“Don’t use that tone with me.” Ursa commands, and Azula is forced to oblige, as much as she hates it.
“Azula…” Ursa continues, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I know things are difficult for you. My goal isn’t to make them harder. I hope you believe me when I say that.”
Azula nods, tiredly watching her fingers tap against the desk.
“I mean it. You’re a very talented girl…and that’s something to take pride in. But there are other parts of ourselves we must cultivate as well. The strongest person is rounded, and knowledgeable.”
“I was reading earlier.” She mutters.
“You know that’s not what I mean. You…burn very brightly. I don’t want you to burn yourself out. Please, rest now and then. You need that time, just as anyone else does.”
“I’m fine…” She weakly protests.
“You will be. You’re a very strong girl. But only if you rest. And no-” Ursa chides as Azula opens her mouth to argue. “Studying is not a break. Don’t try that, or you’ll wind up with a second trip to the healer’s."
Azula actually looks up sheepishly, at that. “...you heard about that?”
“Please don’t think I have no interest in you, Azula.” Mother says, sadly.
“...sorry.”
Ursa sighs, and in a quiet moment reaches over, smiling as she runs the back of her fingers over Azula’s hair. “I never get to see your hair down anymore.”
Azula doesn’t know how to answer, or if Mother even expects one.
“...I know I haven’t always been there for you.” Mother says softly. She seems to want to say more, but no words follow, and the two of them sit in silence for a full minute.
“...Are we done?” Azula asks, uncomfortable.
Ursa chuckles. “I suppose…it’s just been so long since we actually talked. Maybe I got a little carried away. You promise me you’ll take care of yourself?”
“If you care that much.”
“I’ve always cared.” Ursa says, nearly whispering. She brings her hand to Azula’s cheek, gently turning Azula’s downcast face to look at her. “I love you, Azula.”
Azula’s eyes widen at the touch and words, and she stills, her blood running cold.
For a moment nothing happens, but she can feel the hair on her arms stand up and the goosebumps cover her skin as her senses scream at her that something is wrong.
She stands suddenly, urgently, backing away from Ursa’s touch.
“You’re right.” She states, voice strained. “I’ll go back to my room now, and rest.”
“Truly?” Ursa smiles at her, so sickeningly sweet. “I’m glad. I hope you rest well, Azula.”
“I will.” Azula says tersely, quickly moving towards the exit whilst keeping Ursa in her sight.
She backs through the library door and slams it shut, turning and marching down the palace halls, working hard to control her breathing.
Minutes pass before she finds what she’s looking for.
“Zuko.”
“Azula!” He says, surprised and nervous for her to have come to him. “I-”
“Where’s Mother?”
He blinks, taken aback, but jabs a thumb behind him. “By the turtle-duck pond- I was just getting more bread. We-”
“I don’t care. How long has she been there?”
Zuko goes quiet, observing her for a long moment before turning to check the shadows from the sunlight in the doorway. “About…forty minutes? Why?”
She growls, pushing him out of the way and marching to the door, peering out, and is unsurprised to see Mother sat there, idly brushing fallen flower petals from her robe.
“...are you okay?” Zuko asks from behind her.
She turns to face him, and he’s uncharacteristically quiet, hands at his side and worry on his face, watching her like he needs to be careful not for his own good, but for hers.
She walks away without answering, and for all that Zuko’s been trying to corner her lately, he makes no move to stop her, sensing that now’s not the time.
Azula pads slowly down the palace halls in silence, stone faced and with a storm of emotions roiling in her gut. She goes back to her room, having learned what she believes could be the most valuable lesson of all, going forward.
Spirits are cruel.
One full week passes before Zuko seeks her out again, and when he finds her this time, he latches onto her like an elbow leech, dragging her from her bed where she’d collapsed from a particularly grueling morning lesson with Lo and Li. She groans, but offers no resistance, finding herself unable to summon the energy. Not after all the training, or with the mild but wretchedly persistent headache that’s refused to leave her lately.
Now that Zuko’s decided it’s ‘okay’ for him to hunt her down once more, he’s done so with redoubled effort and the tenacity and accuracy of a scented Shirshu. She finds there’s no point in resisting the inevitable. Besides,
“You’re so…!” Zuko grunts, trying to keep her upright as he half carries her through the hall. “Annoying…!”
It’s funny to watch Zuko try to carry her as she limp noodles.
Zuko grits his teeth as she giggles, but continues dragging her along to…wherever. Probably the turtle-duck pond. The dum-dum’s far too attached to those things.
“...is Mother there?” She asks, causing Zuko to still.
“...are you okay if she is?”
Azula sighs through her nose and rolls her eyes. “I’m not a porcelain doll, Zuzu. Yes. I’m just asking.”
“Yeah, she is. But I thought we’d just play on our own for a while.” He grunts again as he carries her forward. “Why are you so heavy!? You’re eight!”
“You’re just weak, Zuzu.”
“And stop calling me that!”
She chuckles as he makes a turn- carrying her towards the enclosed garden, because yes, she knew he would. “Only you could get more offended by a nickname than being called weak.”
“I’m not weak.” He mutters. “I’m just learning. You’re the only one that calls me that stupid nickname, though!”
“Mai did too, once.” Azula says, snickering at the way her brother’s face contorts and blushes.
It’s not quite a palanquin ride, but Zuko does manage to drag her to the garden without incident, and Azula waves at Mother as they enter, watching Ursa’s face go from pleasant joy, to surprise, to resignation all in the span of a second.
“Azula. Why is your brother carrying you like that?”
“We’re playing. He’s an ostrich horse.”
Zuko huffs and releases his grip on her arms, letting her slide off his back and to the ground.
“A faulty one,” she intones from the grass. “He’ll have to be butchered soon for a holiday. Clearly he’d be of no use in war.”
“Azula!” Ursa admonishes from her seat in the shaded patio. “Don’t talk about your brother like that! We don’t suggest such things about family.”
Azula smiles, glad to be back in familiar grounds. She pushes herself back to her feet, stretching her arms across her chest. “So, what’s the plan, dum-dum?”
“Azula.” Comes another word of warning from Ursa, at the same time Zuko kicks the dirt with a mild hum.
“Um…well…do you, wannaaaa…”
“You have no plan at all, huh.”
Zuko shrugs sheepishly, and she takes pity on him, darting forward to tap his chest, pushing him back. “Tag~” She calls back, already running.
Zuko blanches before gritting his teeth and running after her.
It’s not the fairest game since Azula knows she’s a better runner than her brother, but he has longer legs and manages to catch her enough times to make the game fun. It’s not long at all before they’re both laughing. Even Mother chuckles, watching them.
Though Azula wins, of course, darting into the tree and watching Zuko try to figure out his angle of attack, gripping the very first branch when Ursa panics and calls an end to the game before they can get hurt.
Zuko grumbles, but ultimately acquiesces, and Azula climbs down the tree with a snicker.
Zuko chooses the next game, and they pass back and forth for a while until Mother stands, letting them know she has to go inside and will be back soon. She lingers in the doorway though, to remind them to ‘be safe, and no dangerous games while I’m away.’
Azula scoffs, but doesn’t see the issue, as she lays back in the grass. Her headache is worsening anyways from all the running, and she doesn’t have the energy to move around much more today.
Zuko flops back next to her, and she marvels at just how long it’s been since they’ve done this. Not years or anything, but things have gotten so much busier since Father switched her instructors. And then with everything happening with the spirits, she just…
“Mai and Ty Lee are coming over next week.” Azula mentions casually, folding her hands across her stomach as she watches the clouds. “We’ll be busy in the morning, but if you wanted to join us in the afternoon, you could.”
“And hang out with a bunch of girls?” Zuko asks incredulously, propping himself up on an elbow.
“Zuzu. It’s Mai and Ty Lee. Mai doesn’t care, and Ty Lee would whine for weeks if I didn’t invite you.”
Zuko still looks skeptical, and Azula can’t help but laugh.
“I could drag you to us the way you dragged me today, if that helps.”
He grimaces, knowing she would, if only to embarrass him. “Fine.” He says, feigning resignation. And Azula knows he’s faking it, because he’s an absolutely dreadful liar. Another one of his disappointing charms.
The two drift into silence and Zuko stares at the pond, at the mother turtle-duck fussing over the little ones. This batch born some weeks back, if Azula remembers correctly.
“Hey!” Zuko says, turning to her with a smile. “Do you wanna feed the turtle-ducks with me?”
“Not really."
“Aw, c’mon! You haven’t seen her babies this year.”
“She doesn’t like me, Zuzu.”
“That’s ‘cause you threw a rock at her.” Zuko deadpans.
“It has a shell. It should be fine. It wasn’t even a big rock…”
Zuko stares at her, judging, and she relents with an exaggerated sigh.
“Fiiiine. You feed them. I’ll watch.”
Zuko smirks, reveling in his rare victory as he bounds over to Mother’s pack, returning after digging out a small container of…
“Are those purple berries?” Azula asks.
“Oh, yeah. Mom read that bread wasn’t very good for them, actually.” He explains, sitting by the waters edge as Azula leans against the tree, a healthy distance from the water body.
He tosses a few berries by the shallow edge of the pond, clicking his tongue to get the animal’s attention, and Azula admits, it’s pretty amusing to watch a gaggle of small creatures all quacking at her brother.
“Do you wanna pet them? They like me, maybe she’ll let you.”
“I’ll stay over here,” Azula sniffs. “Thanks.”
“Aw c’mon. Look at them!” He lifts one of the babies, holding it up as the mother quacks at him repeatedly. “You scared?”
“Psh…as if.”
“Azula’s scared of turtle-ducks~” Zuko sings, probably making a mockery of some tune she used to taunt him once upon a time.
She huffs, walking next to him with only a passing glance at the water (far darker than it should be), dropping to seiza.
“You just gotta pet with the back of your fingers, like this.” Zuko says.
“I know how to pet a turtle-duck.”
“Like you know how to feed them?”
“You.” She says, narrowing her eyes. “Are awfully sassy today.”
“Must have something to do with being your ostrich-horse.” He says with an eye-roll, and Azula feels a sliver of pride. He can learn.
Mother would be horrified.
She snickers, holding her hand out to the turtle-ducks, careful not to touch the water. Slowly, a few babies break off from the rest of the group, expecting food from her as well.
“They’re not the worst.” She says imperiously, after a few minutes.
“High praise.”
Azula snorts, lightly shoving Zuko. “Agni save you, I’m influencing you.”
He giggles and pushes her back, and Azula sticks out a hand to catch herself, startling when her fingers break the water’s edge. Just barely, but-
As she tries to pull her hand back, something grips it- an impossible sensation that latches to her fingers in the water, and quicker than Azula can comprehend, she’s falling, yelping as the ground around her turns to water that she breaks with a splash.
She hasn’t been submerged in water in a very, very long time. She’d almost forgotten the sensation. But when she opens her eyes after falling beneath the surface, she’s met with ocean.
Light filters down from what must be dozens of meters above her, dark and endless depths extending infinitely in every other direction, the heavy clank of chains echoing all around her in the otherwise empty abyss.
It’s not real, a part of her mind shrieks. It can’t be real.
But Azula’s known spirits to be nothing short of malicious, and when she opens her mouth and feels water fill it, she knows it doesn’t matter. The water spirit’s stolen her, finally seizing its chance.
She swims with all her might towards the sunlight breaking through the surface- the last whispers of Agni reaching out to her as a lifeline- but as she feels her lungs start to burn, something- no, the water itself grabs her arms, locking them in place behind her back, the tune of laughing metal echoing through the ocean as chains of water wrap themselves around her.
She grits her teeth, thrashing, kicking, doing everything in her power to rise higher towards the surface as her headache threatens to split her skull, and her lungs verge on collapse.
She’s still ten meters below the surface when the water grips her legs, dragging her down, down into the depths at unfathomable speed, the last flickers of light fading far above her.
She opens her mouth as the last of her air runs out, and screams.
And then the water above her shatters like glass as arms drag her from the pond, leaving her coughing as she thrashes in their grip- Zuko’s grip, as he pushes her forward onto solid ground where she scrambles far, far back from the waters edge, vomiting water and sucking in harrowed and desperate breaths of air between violent hacking coughs that rack her body and wet the dirt beneath her.
“Azula!” Zuko shouts, kneeling next to her, a hand on her back as she tries to expel the water from her lungs. “What happened!? How did you- How- What-”
She blindly jabs her hand at him, desperate to shut him up- her head is pounding and her body’s cold- far, far too cold for a firebender.
Her brother rubs her back, standing for just a moment before kneeling down again, seemingly in indecision.
A minute passes and Azula’s coughs slowly sputter to a stop as she revels in her breathing, Agni's light warming her.
“Zula…”
“You just had to bring me to the water, didn’t you!” Azula shouts the accusation with venom in her voice, hoarse as it is. She smacks her fist against the ground, fighting back tears. “You- you- you wanted this, didn’t you!?”
“What!?” Zuko says, taken aback by her anger.
She rounds on him, jabbing her finger to his chest. “You’re not- Why!? What the hell do you want from me!? I- Urgh…!” She grips at her temples in a futile attempt to quell the pounding headache.
Zuko places a hand on her arm and she spasms, pushing him away.
“Don’t touch me, you idiot!”
“What’s wrong with you!?” Zuko asks, an odd mix of fear, concern, and anger, and oh- isn’t that the question.
“YOU’RE what’s wrong!” She shouts. “You- and Mother, and- and-” and whatever spirits are ruining her life, she doesn’t say. “Just leave me the hell alone!” She says, yanking her arm from his grip when he tries to stop her from leaving, and pushing him back.
“Azula!” Zuko says, rushing back to her.
She pushes him again, hard, and he falls to the ground as she continues to storm away.
“Wait!”
She looks back one last time, and-
She reacts on instinct to the columns of fire she sees rushing towards her, gasping as she throws a panicked fire wave back in retaliation, stumbling and falling back while scrambling to shield her face.
And then the torrent of flame washes over her painlessly, and Zuko is the one who screams.
“ZUKO!” Mother shouts, rushing down from the patio steps, out of breath- she must have heard the commotion and come back running. She cradles Zuko’s arm as tears well up in his eyes- his forearm bearing a rather heavy burn from his poor deflection of Azula’s unexpected fire strike.
“AZULA!” Mother growls at her. “What did you do!?”
“I-” She opens her mouth to scream- to argue- but swallows her words at the sight of Zuko’s sleeve seared to his skin. “H-he started it!” She says to her Mother imploringly.
Ursa blinks, taking in Azula’s soaked close before looking her in the eyes, disbelieving. “This is over water!? ”
“No! He FIREBENDED at me!”
“Azula-!”
“I’m not LYING!” She shrieks, eyes wet. “I SAW it! I’m not-!”
Zuko sobs, and she swallows thickly, looking away.
“I’m not lying…”
Ursa takes a sharp breath and composes herself, lifting Zuko in her arms. “Go to your room, Azula. And stay there. We’ll talk about this later.”
Azula helplessly watches Mother carry Zuko in the direction of the healer’s, emotions swirling and head thrumming.
The tears come unbidden as Ursa turns the corner, out of sight, and Azula makes no effort to stop them as she turns and runs out of the garden.
It’s not fair. This isn’t fair. The water, Mother, her visions, none of it. It’s not her fault she reacted- he did firebend at her.
She swallows, slowing her run and falling to her knees in the palace hall, wetting the floor with still soaked clothes and dripping tears.
He didn’t.
He didn’t do that. He wouldn’t, not ever, not Zuko- he could never bring himself to hurt her.
Only fitting then, that she hurts him without even trying- and with a burn that’s absolutely going to scar. It's her fault. Her losing touch with reality.
Azula bawls, pressing her head to the floor and curling in on herself. Mother is right not to trust her.
Why is this happening? Is she cursed, or sick, or broken? The water was more than threatening- it wanted her dead. If Zuko wasn’t there to pull her out, she would’ve-
She hiccups, the burning in her lungs still tangible.
Knock
She stills, sniffling, and is left in the silence of the palace halls. No servants are nearby. Nothing.
Knock
She winces, the noise accompanied by a pounding in her head.
Anomalous. A sound only for her. A spirit.
She stands, wiping the tears from her eyes and taking a deep breath filled with grim resignation. She looks around the hall, waiting.
…
Knock
Azula slowly strides towards it, following where the sound seems to echo out from. It doesn’t take very long at all to figure out where it originates- she knows the palace like the back of her hand. So when she comes to a halt outside her bedroom door, she’s not surprised, and far less scared than she thought she’d be to know for a fact that there’s a monster in her room.
Her hand rests on her door, and the tone in the air is one of finality. Something that was always coming.
Knock
She takes one final breath and pushes her door open, looking around.
Knock
Her hands ball at her sides, nails cutting into the flesh of her palms. She steps further in, eyes on her mirror, unblinking as the glass pane comes into view.
It’s not Azula’s reflection in the mirror. She knew it wouldn’t be. In Azula’s place, a bedraggled fire nation girl in military armor sits on her knees, eyes closed and arms held securely behind her back, leaning against the mirror’s frame as if trapped in a prison. She- it, rhythmically knocks its head against the glass, as if bemoaning its state.
Azula stands across from it in awful silence, and the Spirit’s knocking stops, its forehead pressed languidly against the mirror’s glass.
It lets out a long breath through its nose, and opens its eyes, staring into Azula’s soul with golden orbs that match her own.
“Hello, little girl."