Chapter Text
She doesn’t know when the taste of blood became a regular one. Nor does she know when she cried all the tears she feels now dried on her cheeks, and the salty feeling that comes with them.
She used to never cry. At least no one could see her cry - she made sure of that. Crying is for the weak, she’d say; like when her cousin Lu Ten died and her uncle came home, crying, defeated. Or when Zuko begged for mercy at the feet of their father, cracking his voice to try to achieve some sort of forgiveness; weak - and stupid, she had thought; as if their father would be a merciful one.
She wondered if he cried. Like she cried, at night, in the darkness, when no one could hear her.
Now she’s grown used to it; to the dried tears and the soreness of her throat after she’s done. Long after the initial sobs become enraged screams as they always do, after the presence of her mother tears down on every wall she's put up in all her years and leaves her broken.
Father would be so disappointed if he saw.
She thought he had favoured her, cherished her, wanted her; but after his coronation she slowly realised she was only another pawn, and the revelation tore her apart. She had miscalculated, again. She was going to be the future of the Fire Nation, the greatest of its leaders, and now she’s in the corner of a dark cell with only a snippet of who she once was.
Zuko had been the first to visit her, when she still had chains and the jacket around her figure, and her lousily cut hair still hung over her eyes. Like that day.
She had told herself that if it hadn’t been for the Water Tribe peasant, she would be Fire Lord, not her brother; but even before the Comet, when her brother hadn’t yet arrived, she’d felt something was wrong.
Far from doing all the things she would’ve done to Zuko had he been captured instead of her, he merely put her in a cell. A dark cell. Pitiful. He hadn’t even considered hurting her, or letting the Avatar take her bending away like he had Father; he just chained her in a jacket and left her screaming. Leaving her to scorch her throat with every howl.
All the visits he had done were short, and she liked it better that way; if he left earlier she didn’t have to hear him talk, which was all he did these days. He and Uncle had that in common.
The first time he went to see her she attacked him, which resulted in a swarm of Kyoshi warriors all in position to protect the Fire Lord. At first it had seemed pointless, but Ty Lee’s face when she started spitting fire had made it bearable. It was nice to know fear was still on the table. Or was it pity? However, the glee didn’t last for long because as soon as she burned the oxygen in her throat - and after Ty Lee managed to compose herself - she was once again stripped of her bending.
For all her talk of not wanting to be part of a matched set, she sure was fast to become a Kyoshi warrior - and wear that dreaded paint they had to use to get into Ba Sing Se.
The Impenetrable City they had called it, what a lie. One would suppose the last city in Earth Kingdom rule would present a more exciting challenge, but it hadn’t lasted long when the three of them took it. Father had been so proud.
Ty Lee had also visited her, only one time. Azula didn’t know, but she had tried to visit her more, though she never got past the door for some reason.
She’d stood near the door almost against the wall, as if waiting for her to attack her. But Azula didn’t. She had even turned her gaze far from her, either not wanting to see her in that unfashionable fan costume, or not wanting Ty Lee to see her like this. Maybe the betrayal just hurt too much.
Maybe it was the bright torch she carried, she convinced herself.
Ty Lee was shocked at the Princess’ reaction to her presence, but between the poor light, the face paint, and the fact that Azula’s gaze wandered every inch of the room instead of her, it went unnoticed.
There was silence for some time, until Ty Lee started telling Azula about the training with the Kyoshi Warriors, and how the island was. She explained why she didn’t visit sooner - not mentioning all the times she almost entered the room - and how Suki insisted new warriors had to be trained in Kyoshi Island, like all warriors had been.
Azula made no interruptions during the taller girl’s monologue and, once she was finished, Ty Lee waited for her to answer, to make one snarky comment. But she didn’t.
“Princess Azula,” she had said softly, like when you approach a wild, weak animal.
“Don’t.” It was almost inaudible, but Ty Lee knew how to listen.
“Don’t what, Princess?”
“Don’t disrespect my title with your poisoned words,” she spat. “I’m sure she told you to do it, she’s helping you take me down, isn’t she?”
Ty Lee was hurt, but intrigue burned in her stomach, “Who do you mean?”
“Spare me the act, Ty Lee. I know my mother is behind this, she told you to come here, didn’t she?”
“Azula, your mother is not here. No one knows where she is.” Ty Lee stepped forward and the fire from the torch she carried allowed her to finally see the condition the Princess was in.
She could see the grown chopped bangs, the bags under her eyes, the gray of her aura. If she squinted and if the light hit just right, she could notice she had gotten thinner. Much thinner. Even through the thick, white jacket she could see it.
Azula watched carefully as Ty Lee inspected her, taking in her every expresion; from what she assumed was uncertainty at the beginning, to something similar to concern. And when Ty Lee stepped forward again she thought of launching onto her, but decided against it. It would only result in guards storming the room and she wasn't in the mood for that, not when this was the first time she'd felt so seen. Ty Lee could always see her, even if she would never admit it.
“Just leave,” Azula told her, dismissing the shock in Ty Lee’s face. And ignoring the feeling in her stomach that gave her nauseas. She wasn’t eating well enough to add up throwing up her meals to the list.
Ty Lee did what she asked, as usual. She took the torch with her, per Azula’s request, and left her alone in the dark cell. Having flames so close to her and not being able to firebend wasn’t the most joyous of emotions.
Her fire had changed, too. Not only her view of herself, and the state of her mind and body had deteriorated, her firebending had lost so much of its power she felt it was no longer hers.
Not to speak of lightning. She hadn’t been able to perform such a technique since the Comet. She chuckled at the irony of it. On the day she was meant to feel the most power, she’d felt weak.
No one was to know that, of course.
It was just another thought in her head. Tearing walls down. And she hadn’t needed her mother at all for that one.
.
.
It wasn’t long before someone else found their way to her cell. Merely a week after Ty Lee, according to her calculations. The Avatar had brought tea and pies, made by the Royal Cuisine, using recipes from the Air Temple Monks.
He stopped in his words realising the jacket would make it impossible for her to properly enjoy the pies, and called the guards posted outside of her cell.
“Could you get her out of the jacket,” he asked, and she shot a stare his way, unsure what his angle was.
The guards didn’t move. At least she still was frightening enough to some people.
Dissatisfied, he called two Kyoshi warriors into the room, dismissing the guards who quickly left.
She recognised Suki as soon as she entered. With her shoulders high and her head up. Proudly strolling into the cell. The other girl did not hold such a posture.
“Are you sure about this, Aang?” Suki asked him, her eyes fixed on Azula.
“Yes.”
With confirmation both Suki and the other girl - Peni, Suki had called her - approached her. And before untangling and disarming the jacket, Suki warned her. “Do not try anything.”
“I won’t.”
Suki nodded at Peni, and they took Azula out of the jacket carefully. Excruciatingly slow.
Once she was free of the restraint she stretched her arms high over her head, slowly turning to each side and massaging the joints where they ached. She then sat across from the Avatar as the Kyoshi warriors stood guard, not knowing whether she would attack.
She didn’t.
He offered her tea and a slice of each pie, and even asked which one she preferred. She ate in silence, calm. Studying the face of the young monk. He had gotten taller since the last she saw of him.
When he left she was grateful he hadn’t made the Kyoshi warriors put the dreaded jacket back on, and instead chose to leave her as she was.
She had a new routine now. As she woke up, she stretched, did some exercise. Practised her Katas - slightly bending, so the guards would not storm the cell - and rested. The Avatar showed up on her cell quite often, and offered different pies each time.
She wasn’t sure if she liked being the monk’s zoo pet, locked behind bars for his own amusement. But the pies were better than the goo they had been feeding her, and for all she could hate him, Aang still showed her decency and respect.
.
.
The loud ringing of a bell lingered in her ears for far too long, and before she could complain to any guard, two men waltzed into her cell. They shuffled the keys they had presumably grabbed from the guards posted at her door - who would most likely be dead by now - and opened the lock in the cell.
Azula remained in place, unsure of what was happening until one of the men said, “We do not have time, my Princess. Your Father has demanded your presence with him.” He held out a hand to help her out, “Come with us.”
She disregarded his hand with a soft signal, and got up. She was definitely glad she no longer had that damned white jacket. However, she still craved her neat hair and her long nails. Having them shortened seemed as what someone would treat a rabid beast. With care, but only for others’ sake.
One step after the other and the scent of burnt silk found its way to her dry throat, as she swallowed a cough. Smoke should not bother a bender like yourself, she could picture Father saying.
She wasn’t certain if she wanted to see her Father again. Not after what she had felt like in his disregard for all her work and dedication. Not after he hadn’t appreciated her sacrifice. Not after he hadn’t loved her.
Still, she followed the men, because walking to some camp was better than walking back into the cell she’d memorised in her boredom.
The walk to the camp was rocky, and tiresome. She would not show it, but the lack of nutrients in her system were noticeable. At least for her. Every step carried the weight of the world in her shoulders, sensing her feet sinking into the floor.
Halfway there, she decided she did not want to see Father. She did not want to even think of him one more second. Neither of Ursa, but that would have to be something to deal with at another time.
Her fire was weaker and not as meticulous as it once had been, but it’d still work against some lame second hand fanatics of her Father. He did not have the position and the masses that he once had had. Neither did she.
She loosened up the tip of her fingers, warming up as she slightly and carefully stretched her legs. “That cell did not offer enough space for a Princess to stretch properly.” She told them when she stopped to face Agni. Feeling his ever standing presence.
The only way she would beat them would be with more power that she now had. She was going to need Agni’s strength.
One of the men was about to rush her when a ball of fire flew off her right hand, burning his arm all the way to his shoulder. Perhaps his chest, too. Azula didn’t know.
The other man rushed to her, taking out a dagger and stood his ground.
Not for long.
She dropped to the floor and swept him from under, her foot up his chest as she lit her hand. “Where is my Father?” She asked.
“Why would I tell you,” he scoffed. “The Phoenix King will learn of your betrayal. One way or another, Princess.”
Azula raised an eyebrow. “Oh, no he won’t.”
She left after making sure they wouldn’t tell her Father a word of what had happened. And started a path leading far away from her Father and her brother.
.
.
After walking for three days in her disarrayed clothing, she found a set of laundry drying at the mighty rays of Agni. She took them swiftly and made her way to some thermal waters in an enclosed space. She had never visited this part of the Fire Nation, but she had studied every map there was of the territories her Father possessed.
The waters were in a circular space, covered with high rocks and plants, and she managed to clean herself for the first time in a long time. Way too long.
She heated up the waters into a comfortable temperature, and relaxed. Feeling the water’s subtle movements against her skin, for she was an intruder in the still element. She was an intruder in more places also, but she disregarded the thought as quickly as it came.
She tidied her hair into a soft bun after dressing herself with the garments she had stolen. An old brownish shirt, that had once had vibrant colours, she was sure, and some loose pants, tied with a rope at the waist.
She would’ve once scowled at such horrendous dressings, and gone about how a Princess should dress with the best garments anyone could find. And how could anyone wear such clothes with pride.
But the truth was she was comfortable. The cotton of the shirt didn’t stick to her skin as the silky clothes her Father had made for her did. And, yes, it had been worn by someone else before her, and Princesses should never wear second hand clothing. But the cotton had been softened by someone who wasn’t her, and that was nice.
The pants hung loosely from her waist and she felt free, every movement her legs made whilst practising her Katas under Agni’s watch felt free. No longer was there a thick layer of clothing restraining her every move.
She felt as if she could float.
The image of the Air bender came to her mind. He had always had loose robes. Impractical, she had thought when she first saw him. The clothing fell from his body leaving flowing patches of fabric far from himself. Someone could grab hold of him.
It was also impractical in the sense that it was light. Very light. It had no protection whatsoever. But then again, he had managed to remain unwounded - for the most part.
She settled camp down a nearby mountain in the terrains, eating some animal that crossed her path. Tomorrow she’d find good food and transport far away from the Fire Nation.
Far away from her brother and his friends, who were most likely looking for her.
And far away from her Father.
.
.
She spent some time working near a deck, to get acquainted with the sailors, cutting up fish and untangling nets for them in exchange for a spare sleeping bag in their boat.
She wondered if Zuko had had to do such beneath work in his days of being a fugitive. If he had had to end his days after hours of untangling, nod by nod, some fishing net.
It wouldn’t be so hard if the lousy sailors left it tidied up.
But then again, she had a sleeping bag and food. And what was most important, she was further away from her family.
The journey to the land of Laoshand was said to last three days — five should there be any delays from the weather.
She spent her free time gazing from the edge of the ship, admiring as Agni retreated back into the west. And how the moon rose and took his place. Ever so lightly, ever present. Merely reflecting Agni’s mighty power.
An old man joined her in her pondering. He held onto the edge with calloused hands, his arms had a tint of muscle but his face held only wrinkles.
“What’s so interesting about the sun setting, m’lady?” The old sailor asked her.
M’lady.
“Ag—,” she cleared her throat. “I like the cycle of it. Whatever happens tonight, the sun will rise tomorrow morning. And it will set in the afternoon. It will rise from the east, and it will set in the west. Same as today, same as ever.”
Routines were important in the Palace. She had learned to rise with Agni, to train under him. To follow his lead in battle.
“Ah,” the old man said. “So it is the repetition you like. The never ending repetition.” He coughed.
“Yes, I suppose it is. I grew up with quite repetitive routines. I suppose it is something I know about. What do you find interesting?” She asked before she could stop herself.
“Oh, I find many things interesting. I suppose I enjoy the crashing of the waves. The rise and fall of the tide. I’ve lived my entire life by the sea, that is all I’ve known.”
“So you like the pattern as well,” she observed.
“Yes, yes. One could say that, I imagine.”
He sat by her side in a crooked chair, and watched as the waves crashed into the side of the boat. Azula didn’t hate this.
They arrived two days later, and she directed a nod towards the old man. Baro, his name was. He smiled her way.
The crew of the ship would leave in the morning, even before Agni rose. They would continue on their journey, going where the fish go. She would not join them.
She used the last hours of Agni’s light to find a place to sleep, and some food to eat. Back to hunting, it seemed.
There was not much in Laoshand. It was a mining village, once a Colony for her Father’s Nation — although not conquered by him. It had been her Grandfather Azulon’s army.
The land was a grey shade of green, perhaps opaqued by the setting sun. The people, however, were all kinds of colourful. They ate and laughed under the moon’s soft light, a few candles also shining.
She watched as a tall, bulky man laughed at his daughter's joke. Putting a hand over his mouth, trying to keep his food in.
She watched as a mother gave her little boy a second dish of duck. Smiling softly as he offered a third of it to a Koala-Sheep.
She watched as a short boy gave his little sister half his bread, and threw a cloak over her shoulders.
The people of the Earth Kingdom are proud and strong, her brother had said.
Familial, he’d forgotten saying.
She heard a loud rumble by her back and turned fast. Had her brother found her so quickly? Had her Father?
She made her way towards the noise, minding her step. This time of the year, the dry leaves would give away her position instantly.
She hid behind a low hanging tree and waited. The tiredness of her limbs grew larger by the second, and she wished she had stolen some food before this.
Whatever this was.
She saw a boy.
Not much taller than her, and probably not much older either. His hair flowed free over his forehead. Short on its sides and back. The Earth Kingdom brown that was so characteristic.
Loose cream trousers and a green shirt. A little too big on him, and worn out. Old. Too old for him. His feet were bare, and his stance was one of a bender.
A novice.
“Fi, darling. Come help with the setting.” A female voice called from a house nearby.
“Coming,” the boy – Fi – said. Continuing his bending.
His foot struck the ground hard, and a piece of earth floated in front of him, as his fist sent it forward, towards a rock wall.
He laughed and cleared the sweat in his forehead, moving his hair back and forth. He put on some sandals and left for the house.
Azula left. She’d have to find somewhere safe to sleep and something to eat. She hoped the market was still open, and for her few silver pieces to afford some food.
She rose before Agni, another chunk of ground hitting the rock wall, she deduced, and made her way towards that house.
She cleared her throat, “Isn’t it too early to be practising…” Such foul bending form. “…Earth bending.” She bit her tongue.
The boy was startled, putting his arms in front of him.
“Oh, hi. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake anyone.” He said, lowering his arms.
Had she lost her menacing looks, for a boy to lower his guard in front of her.
“I haven’t seen you around,” he said.
“And? It’s a big world.” She defended.
He chuckled, “I suppose it is, yes. I’m Fi. What’s your name?”
“Zaya,” she said, after a second.
“Pleased to meet you, Zaya. Would you care for some breakfast? Given how I woke you.”
“I suppose I could accept some breakfast. Given how you’ve woken me.”
She didn’t mean to make acquaintances, but her stomach was growling, and she was in need of good, sufficient food. She hadn’t had that in a long time.
Fi guided her towards the house, leaving the door open behind him.
“Tea?” He offered, holding a kettle.
She nodded, and he focused on making the tea, leaving his back to her and the door. The open door.
She could attack him. Rob him of all food and garments she could carry and continue on her travels. Vanish before he could even wonder what’d happened.
But she didn’t want to.
The boy was nice enough, and she needed breakfast. The company was also nice. Talking to herself or picturing what her Father would say of her current state was hard to endure.
And she was tired of it.
“Do you want anything to eat?” He asked, turning to her with a soft smile.
“I’ll have whatever you have.” She said, nonchalantly.
He nodded and put some bread over the fire, humming a soft melody until the kettle made a hissing sound.
He poured her tea, and served her two breads with fruit jam. He did the same for himself.
“So where are you from,” he asked with a mouthful of bread. Downing it with some of the tea.
“Yu Dao,” she said, without skipping a beat.
Her great grandfather Sozin had conquered the Island, and many Fire Nation’s citizens had settled there. It was an easy out to the distinct qualities of the Fire Nation she had.
“Hm, what’s it like there?”
“It used to be very poor… I heard. I mean, when my… Father was a boy, he once told me, the streets were roaming with poor people. No food.” She remembered reading, “But the Colonists settled an industry that thrived on metal. I never saw anything different than that.”
“I’m sorry.” He said. “The Fire Nation also settled here for some time. Encouraged the mining in search of strange minerals. My grandfather died in one of the mines.”
“And your father,” she asked. “Is he alive?”
His smile dissipated. “Who cares about him,” he shrugged.
She hummed while she drank her tea.
“What about your father?” He asked her.
“I- I’d rather not talk about him.” She said with uncertainty in her voice.
“Great then,” he said, continuing his breakfast.
The boy ate in silence, often closing his eyes and savouring the tea. Azula wondered how he could be so at ease with her presence, comfortable enough to invite her in. Comfortable enough to feed her. Comfortable enough to lower his guard and close his eyes before her.
Her thoughts were interrupted when a woman walked in through the open door frame, “You’re up early, Fi.” She smiled at him before setting her eye towards Azula. “Who’s your friend?”
“This is Zaya, mother. I may have accidentally woken her up while practising.” He smiled.
“Hello,” Azula said. “He made up for it with breakfast, so we are even.”
“Well, in that case, welcome Zaya.”
The woman was slightly taller than Fi, and her hair matched his perfectly. Cut just by the shoulders, some strands of hair fell over her face when she moved but it didn’t seem to bother her. She had kind eyes, and small wrinkles grazing her features.
Azula smiled.
The house was welcoming. Decorations hanging from the cream-painted walls with crooked frames, and colours that did not match the furniture in a way Father would have never allowed. A small fireplace by the wall, a collection of stones atop of it and traces of dust around them.
The wooden table had stains and cuts, and she could trace the outline of a cup someone left unattended long enough to leave a mark. Father would have burned it to ash at the first cut. She would have too.
Around the table sat five chairs, only two matched, and even in those, there were parchments that made them so very distinct. Azula wondered when had been the last time she had seen unmatching furniture so very on display, and she concluded she hadn’t.
Still, she didn’t hate the house. Every scratch on the floor, much more prominent in the corner of the table without a chair, every line on the wall. She concluded it looked as if someone had made sure every inch and corner of the room poured with love and life.
Nothing like the Palace. Nothing like the sombre dark hallways covered in deep red curtains and lit by carefully measured torches. Nothing like the giant dining hall where she had sat with Father the last three years of her stay there. Too big of a room for two people and posted guards by the entrance. Even with Zuko and Mother it had been too spacious.
No, Fi’s house was vibrant. The light from the window filled every corner and bathed her in Agni’s rays. But it didn’t make her feel powerful for some reason - obviously His rays filled her and reminded her of His power. But she felt… Small.
Like a little girl, loved too little. Cared for too little.
Fi’s eyes on her interrupted her, but she swallowed her insults and the indignation in the name of a Princess, as well as she swallowed her newly fallen tears, and she accepted the napkin the boy handed her.
“Are you… okay?” He muttered.
Azula raised her shoulders. Princesses don’t cry, she remembers Father’s scolds.
She dries the tears and composes herself, “Yes.”
She expects him to ask her if she’s sure, like Zuko would. Intruding that he sees she’s not fine. Insinuating he knows better than her. She readies a witty remark before she can be surprised, but Fi doesn’t say anything. He just nods and smiles slightly at her.
Which surprised her, still.
Fi stood shortly after, taking with him the plates from the breakfast, and nodded in Azula’s direction softly.
She watched as he carefully cleaned the cups, mumbling a song. She watched as he took the knife and dipped it in the water, scrubbing with a rag the excess of fruit jam.
He cleaned carefully and without rush, and when he finished he sat by her side again. A question on his lips.
“What?” She snapped.
“Yu Dao is not so close by,” he observed, not taken aback by her bluntness. “Where are you staying?”
“I’m travelling.”
“Where are you headed?”
“Away.”
Far away. Away from her brother. Away from the Avatar and his friends. Away from Mai and away from Ty Lee. Away from Father. And even if Mother’s image was in her mind, she wanted to drift far away from it, too.
She focused her gaze on Fi, who awaited patiently for her to elaborate, but did not ask for it. “I must continue. Thank you for the meal.”
He looked hurt, “Of course. If you ever find yourself in Laoshand feel free to stop by.” He offered.
Azula nodded, and thanked him. She raised from her seat, and extended her hand towards the boy, shaking it firmly when he took hold of it.
She left the house shortly after, and gazed back only once, to see Fi’s stare focused on her. She smiled to herself, and thought where to go next.
She hadn’t hated the boy. Or the mother. Or the strangely decorated house.