Author's note: I hope you enjoy this series as much I've enjoyed writing it.
Azula, Fire Lady regent of the Fire Nation, regarded the disused dirt road in the pre-dawn light with a dubious eye. Cut through some of the most densely forested and mountainous regions in her homeland, the road seemed to struggle against the encroaching wilderness; a wounded animal cornered by a pack of ravenous wolves. Azula fancied she could hear the existential howls of weeds, vines, and saplings as the road's demise grew nigh. Once, she would have relished such thoughts, but time heals all.
Time. Love and care. Sweat and tears. These gifts, shared freely, brought her more joy than she ever thought possible. And now, with Aang's passing only a few short days ago, Azula had lost her soul. She felt emptier than she'd ever felt in those early years. To never see that smile, hear that hearty laugh, rub that bald head of his. Memories flood, unbidden and overwhelming: Aang tossing the children high and catching them with his bending. Their delighted screams as he chased them around the palace. So many appearances to their adoring countrymen and woman. Kyala's, their daughter, mastery of air bending. Bumi melting a bronze statue to impress daughters of some visiting dignitaries. A few assassination attempts here and there, but that was to be expected in good reign.
The royal carriage's sudden jolt brought her back to the this moment. Her face wet with tears and her body shook.
"You're ok," she murmured to herself. In this moment, right now, she needed to be in control.
Azula unclenched her hands from her silken robes. Deep crimson lined with golden threads with hints of blue and green. It's Aang's favorite. She would wear it for him. He always wanted it when they went dancing in the palace gardens underneath the stars. He said she shone more brilliantly than any star in the sky. The wind blowing through her hair. His smell as she laid her head against his chest. She'd look up and let herself get lost in his eyes.
A quiet gasp and a knock at the back of the carriage brought Azula back to the present, again. Azula glanced back and Aang's steel grey eyes peered at her through the carriage's back window. "Aang?" her voice cracked.
"Mother?" Kyala asked, her face conveyed intense anxiety and sadness. Aang's grey eyes and Azula's dark hair. A delightful mix of their personalities. "Mother, what are you doing away from the palace? You should be resting. You should be grieving. This isn't right!" Kyala glanced over the carriage's roof and whistled to the driver. "Halt, by order of Fire Lord Bumi."
Damn. The driver halted the carriage. Azula could see the man, her own personal valet, take a verbal lashing from her daughter. Her driver had a good foot on Kyala and more muscle than brains, but he cowered before Kyala. Her daughter stood firm, slight and powerful. A coiled serpent. Every muscle tensed. The gold Azula paid him for this unscheduled excursion would not be enough after this humiliation. She decided to double it. Trustworthy, no questions asked help was hard to find.
With the driver properly chastised, Kyala turned her attention to the carriage. Azula wiped her eyes and composed herself before her daughter could get a proper look. The carriage door opened and Kyala stepped up and inside. How confident she looked, even in her grief, worry, and barely contained rage.
"Explain yourself, mother. Why aren't you at the palace? Dignitaries arrive from every town, city, and kingdom by the hour. They expect to share their condolences with you," Kyala wiped a tear from her eye, in spite of herself, "Why aren't you with us while we grieve for father? The funeral is in two days and you're not at home with us. Why did you leave? Why did you leave in the dead of night?"
Before Azula could answer, Kyala's face crumpled and so did she, sobs wracked her body as exhaustion and sorrow overwhelmed her anger. Kyala collapsed into her mother's arms. Azula stroked her daughter's short, wild hair.
"Sssshhhhh," Azula cooed.
"Why did you leave us, mother?"
Azula gave a knowing, if tight, smile, "For someone who regularly sneaks into my secret meetings and reads every spy report I receive, you certainly like to play the fool. It doesn't suit you."
Kyala frowned and sat up, "But I haven't. Not since…" her voice trailed off.
"Of course you would. How else would you find me so quickly?"
"I asked the stable boy. The driver told him where your destination in case something happened."
Azula quirked an eyebrow. Perhaps a second bag of gold wasn't warranted after all.
"I am," Azula searched for the right words to convey the truth of the matter before her. The gravity of it all. None came. "One of your father's friend's, one we thought died the day of Sozin's comet, has suddenly turned up. If my sources are to be believed, the herbalist is but a few miles to the North."
A quizzical expression crept over Kyala's features. "The herbalist? Aang's herbalist? Miyuki?"
Azula laughed despite herself. "Miyuki was the cat. Just a regular cat. The herbalist is Piro. I spent decades of searching, employed spies the world over, and the old crone eluded me." Azula's features darkened, "And within hours after Aang's last breath, my spies find her in my own backyard, mere hours from the capital."
"A coincidence?" Kyala mused, she recalled spy reports filled with dead ends and apparitions in the night.
"Unlikely." Azula frowned. "In any case, I have questions that only she can answer."
"Which questions?"
Azula punched the ceiling of the carriage to signal to the driver to start again.
"Why things went so wrong."