There were many tragedies in life, humiliations and failures that remained shameful no matter how desperately one tried to salvage their name from the mud. Azula used to think that it was a fate that those of lowly birth or a predisposed inferiority were destined for, when instead humiliation had crept up as a painfully ill-conceived and unimaginative coup on the day of her coronation, and failure as the mere inability for her to control the simplest aspects of her own life. But as much as she had tasted debasement and the irreparable state of her personal honor, she was sure that this one had to be the absolute worst.
"Now look at the ink blot and tell me what you see."
Her hands had been clenched into fists, resting on the table as she very politely, and patiently, stomached the asinine monkey dance that she had been tortuously subjected to for past days. Her middle and forefinger stretched out, pressing the edge of the paper that had been presented to her, and the steel cuff on her wrist screeched against the metal table as she dragged the indecipherable, amorphous picture back towards her.
She lifted her eyes to the young doctor, letting a smile pull at her lips when she saw the wince decorating the attendant's face, and flickered back to the dark ink pool. Azula wondered musingly out of how many other medical students this one had to draw the short straw from in order to be sitting here. She was impressed. They had been looking at these childish drawings for fifteen minutes now. The man yesterday hadn't lasted five.
"These exercises are just protocol, Princess Azula." The woman said mousily, practically disappearing behind the writing tablet held in front of her face.
"So you continue to remind me." Azula sighed. "Very well, since we might as well get this over with." She narrowed her eyes and turned the picture on its side.
Behind her, there was a restless shift of heavy boots and leather armor, the ever-present reminder of another thing she had failed to accomplish. In the hospital at Wuhan, they had stood outside of her cell, always there, but mercifully out of sight. Now, they stood next to her bed as she slept, hovered during her mealtimes, and watched as she bathed. A gift from her brother, no doubt. It had been demeaning, but in the end, another thing that she was forced to live with.
"You don't have to push yourself." The doctor stammered. "If your headaches return, we can always postpone."
Azula waved her off in irritation, studying the picture with the perfect face of determination and diligent commitment, as she rotated it at different angles. She snapped her fingers. "It's rabbit-hamsters in a field of flowers and rainbows."
"Really?" The woman blinked incredulously at this apparent miracle of science, her stylus hovering over the writing tablet as she poised herself for a maddening stream of notes.
"Or the steaming organs of immolated Earth Kingdom children, I haven't decided."
The doctor looked faint.
But before Azula could thoroughly begin to enjoy herself, the door slammed open and a figure burdened with tall sacks of market and grocery purchases burst into the room, mercifully saving the doctor and shattering the beginnings of the first good mood Azula was having in months.
"Hey Azula!" Ty Lee chirped, poking her head from around the bags in her arms. Her eyes widened at the two women sitting at a table, freezing between the princess' icy glower and the doctor's wide eyes pleaded that beseechingly with her to end what had undoubtedly been a long and horrible suffering. "Oops."
"My headache is back." Azula announced darkly, placing the picture back onto the table.
Ty Lee wilted, awkwardly shuffling the bags in her arms until one of the guards dutifully relieved her and began inspecting the contents. "I'm interrupting, aren't I?"
"Yes," Azula snapped at the same time the doctor said 'no.'
"What I meant to say was," The doctor hastened to continue, all but leaping from her chair as she furiously began gathering her papers together. "We were just about finished." She said with a plastered-on smile, haphazardly shoving pictures of ink blots into her leather satchel with such speed that some appeared torn.
"So soon?" Azula lamented dryly, her eyes following the retreating woman. "But I have so many more feelings to share."
Ty Lee flinched as the door clapped shut, a shiver running down her spine at the sound of a deadbolt being thrown into place. The thought of what kind of report the woman would be writing made her heart sink.
She wrung her hands, waiting for the guard to finish inspecting the contents of her bags, finally flashing him a smile when he nodded and passed them back.
"All clear." He said gruffly, walking past her to retake his post as the edges of the room.
Of course, she wanted to say, but moved to let him pass, having learned a while ago that there were few people that had any inclination to listen to what she had to say.
She placed the bags on the table, looking down to see that Azula had returned to inspecting her woefully blunt nails with disgust.
"I wish you would be nicer to people sometimes." Ty Lee mumbled, removing a bundle of flowers from one of the sacks and began sorting the stems one by one.
"And you would know all about that wouldn't you?" Azula replied smartly, not looking up.
Ty Lee bit her lip, feeling the sting of the princess' remark, but concentrated on the bouquet of flowers she was arranging. She consoled herself in knowing that it was still a vast improvement from when Azula had first awoken, when after their initial meeting, the princess had lapsed into days of silence and a blatant refusal to acknowledge that the other girl even existed. The Four Nations Summit had proceeded in earnest in her absence, and Azula's trial had been successfully pushed back to accommodate the princess' recovery. They would have one last day together, and Mai's advice rang hauntingly in her ears.
Moving to the nightstand at the head of Azula's bed, Ty Lee removed the old flowers from the vase she had placed days before, primping the leaves and petals of her new arrangement.
"I told you to stop bringing those." Azula says behind her, but Ty Lee is busy turning the vase so that the fresh blossoms caught the sunlight, and the acidity of the princess' voice sloughed off with years of practice.
"They brighten the room." Ty Lee said happily, smiling in satisfaction to herself, petting a purple lilac. "It gets so depressing in here."
"Wonderful, now it can smell like a manure-field as well."
Ty Lee sighed, pulling the withering stalks of the old dying flowers together and dropping them into the nearby dustbin. When she looks back over her shoulder, Azula is still faced away from her, her shoulders hitched and elbows propped on the table.
She reminds herself that this is what she's wished for, what she's prayed for since years into the past when she was fifteen and just beginning to grasp the full weight of her actions. There are no drugs, no herbs to dull the potency of Azula's anger, no bars to contain her or chains to hold her. Even at the very start, when defeat had been new and it had still made her cry when Azula had screamed things like "traitor" and words like "betrayal" and "coward" had sounded like actual insults instead of thing she wore on her skin, it had been different. But now Azula sits at the table, clear-eyed and flexing her hands like she's trying to recall something mighty and primeval, and instead of the fear, Ty Lee feels only nostalgia.
"I got you something from the bookseller too." She continued, sweeping up fallen petals with her hands. "I was passing by the stall and then I thought that you were probably getting bored when you're here by yourself. I didn't know what you would like but then I-oh! It's on the bottom." She said, her heart leaping into her throat when she looked up and saw that Azula had broken the frigidity of her posture and was pulling one of the bags towards her.
Azula winced-barely, and completely invisible to anyone else who might have been looking. But Ty Lee, who liked to think of herself as knowing the younger girl better than anyone else in the world, saw instantly the way pain jolted from Azula's wrist, blooming inside the heavy iron cuff, and up the length of her bandaged arm.
"I'll get it." She yelped, leaping forward to take the bag back. Plunging her hands deep into its contents, she tried very hard to concentrate on stalling the flow of blood to her rapidly reddening cheeks, and not on the look Azula was giving her. "There's a lot of stuff." She added quickly. "The food here looks kind of horrible so I guess I got carried away at the market…" She trailed off.
Azula didn't reply, gingerly plucking the slim novel from Ty Lee's hand, and examining the cover. Her eyes narrowed as she read aloud, "House Amidst the Red Reeds."
Ty Lee beamed, elated that Azula had finally exhibited an interest in something and was now thumbing through the pages. "It's great! Remember when we read it in school? I couldn't find any books on military history or political science, but this kind of has something to do with all that if you think about it. It's hard to read at times, but it's this romantic and really sad story about a boy and a girl who were childhood friends who grow up and end up getting married. But something happens and the boy has to leave to fight for his country and he ends up getting killed. But the girl-" She freezes, her eyes glued to the small book that was now sailing through the air, forming a perfect arc before it landed with a resounding thud into the dustbin with the dead flowers.
Azula stands up and walks away, popping her neck muscles with a content sigh as she rolled her shoulders and moved to the bed. Pulling at her metal collar with an annoyed grimace, she laid down with her back at Ty Lee, signaling the end of the conversation that had died before it even had a chance to start.
Ty Lee retrieves the discarded book, brushing it off and straightening the pages that had been bent in its fall. Even with the guards at the edges of the room and their faces hidden by the shadow of their helmets, Ty Lee's cheeks flush again when she feels their eyes boring into her. She doesn't want their pity, like she knows Azula doesn't want hers.
She places the book on the nightstand , neatly next to the vase, watching the stiffness in Azula's shoulders.
This is the part when she's supposed to leave, to gather her things and say goodbye until tomorrow. Her visits are short, she never stays longer than they can both tolerate. Ty Lee likes to think that she's learned the difference between stupidity and hope.
Azula's window is barred, like the one at Wuhan. When Ty Lee looks beyond it, she can see the rooftops of the shopping district and the little figures of people milling in the streets. The air smells like charcoal from the street-vendors, the faintest hint of the turning seasons, and the summers of bygone years.
Azula dealt with people with a methodical calculation of wit and cunning, Mai did it through a cold measurement of odds, but Ty Lee has only ever followed the paths that others had laid before her. Mai's words haunted her, and staring at the stoic figure on the bed, Ty Lee knew that her friend had been correct as well.
After following through with Zuko's wishes, the hospital pulled all medication from Azula's regimen. It entailed a powerful and fierce withdrawal, of which the last vestiges the princess was just emerging from. Ty Lee had watched how as with any other hardship, Azula had endured the sickness and feverish delirium unflinchingly and with a staunch determination that bordered on rebellion. It reminded Ty Lee that even so far from where they had started, some things never changed.
Ty Lee wasn't clever or underhanded, and it was hard for her to see beyond what was apparent. But some things remained plainly clear, even if only to her. Sometimes Azula could be so horribly obvious.
"Come with me to the Summer's End Festival." She said with her hand against the window frame. She doesn't turn to see Azula's reaction, but she knew that the other girl had heard, and with the sound of the soft rustling of bed sheets, she knew that the princess was looking at her. "It'll be nice."
There was a faint clinking of metal, and a voice that was surprisingly even and not entirely unkind, "And what would possibly possess me to do something like that?"
"Well I talked with everyone-" Everyone being Mai, the doctors, and an obligatory appeal to Zuko, but Ty Lee didn't think that it would have been smart to mention any of that. "And they said that it would be a great idea! It's been so long since you've been outside, and it'll be good to get some fresh air and your strength back up. We can look at the vendors, see the city, catch the fireworks- "
"Are you completely stupid?"
The breath catches in Ty Lee's throat and she think she's been doing pretty well so far, so she doesn't feel guilty about needing to swallow to get the dryness out of her mouth. "I thought it could be fun. I wasn't trying to be pushy or anything. If you're still tired then we can hang out here. I thought that you would be worried about the trial tomorrow and it would be good to get your mind off-"
Azula surged out of the bed in less a heartbeat, and Ty Lee realized that she had never really appreciated how tall Azula had become until their faces were mere inches apart, and the younger girl stood towering over her ominously. Again, Ty Lee comforted herself knowing that lesser people had stood where she was today, in less favorable circumstances, without guards that looked poised to try rescuing her, and had still lived to tell about it.
"What do you want, Ty Lee?"
Mostly, anyways.
It was mysteriously hard to meet Azula's eyes. The best she could think about was the pitying look that Mai had given her when they last spoke, and the varying degrees of truth that she knew were inherent in the girl's candor and uncharacteristic honesty. It cuts deeper than any look Azula can pin her with, poisoning the façade she used to fall back on so easily.
"Nothing, I-" She swallows again, the hollow of the princess' neck suddenly becoming very interesting. "I just want you to come to the festival with me."
The room freezes, and for a second Ty Lee thinks that Azula really is going to strangle her for daring to lie to her face. But eventually the moment passes, and Azula backs away, and in the corner of her eye, Ty Lee can see the guards sagging in relief. She finds herself releasing a breath she hadn't realized she was holding.
It was surprisingly easy to obey the commands that Azula wordlessly made. It's somewhere between a bad habit and an end she feels destined to make.
"I know what you're trying to do."
Her words are soft, almost whispered. Azula looks more disappointed than she does angry. It bothers Ty Lee, who would rather deal with the princess' ire, disgust, or anything vaguely relating to what she's used to. But Azula won't stop looking at her, and Ty Lee's skin grows hot underneath the collar of her shirt.
"Honestly, Ty Lee. I expected more. Even from you." Especially from you, she seemed to say.
The feeling of fear is still strangely missing. She wonders when she stopped being afraid, when she stopped living off the legacies they've built up for themselves, and when she started to think for herself. She wonders if it started the day she saw Azula's bloody body come screaming back to life on the morgue table, or when the sight of the princess naked under bandages and threadbare hospital shifts forced her to see Azula as something less than an invulnerable conqueror of nations and as something more like a human being.
"I'm not going to the festival with you." It's said with a finality that lets Ty Lee know that the matter was beyond discussing. It tells her that Azula has always been stubborn and that for as long as she can remember, Azula has always gotten what she wanted.
Azula brushes past her, reaching the door and calling sharply for the guards waiting on the other side, echoing a request Ty Lee hadn't made about leaving and going home.
But the door opens, and between the faces of the sentries who blink at her in open confusion, and Azula who waits impatiently for her to be gone, she remembers the pity that had come so easily from the princess' ever-present wardens and caretakers. In a moment of hesitation, she looks back and through Azula's new window she can see the rooftops of the city again, and the sounds of the people below. The air smells like charcoal from the street-vendors, the faintest hint of the turning seasons, and the summers of their youth.
And she gets an idea.
"What am I doing at the festival with you?"
Azula simmers with outrage, but Ty Lee is having the time of her life. Behind them, Azula's pair of guards shuffle awkwardly through the crowd, trying their best to simultaneously keep them moving through the street while deflecting the curious gazes of passer-bys.
"Don't worry, 'Zula. We'll have lots of fun today!" Ty Lee beamed.
The festival is even brighter than she had anticipated, glowing in the excitement of the city's party-goers and thrill-seekers. She noted that the decorations this year weren't quite as vivid or well-thought out as the previous year. In fact, some parts of the festival looked downright shabby, and there was a noticeable decline in the number of attendees as well. Not that she was complaining. Less competition for the lines and all.
Ty Lee had surprised herself with how easy it was to play into the sympathies of the guards, to sway their hearts with well-timed illusions of sadness and strategic appeals their masculine sense of honor and chivalry. Apparently that was all it had taken to recruit their assistance in taking Azula out for "one last day of fun and adventure" before the upcoming trial.
"Best idea ever." She hummed happily to herself.
"What did you say?" Azula glowered darkly.
"Oh look, spice apples!" Ty Lee exclaimed before detaching herself from the entourage and bravely plunging into a practically revolting mass of people gathered near the street vendors. She hoped privately that by the time she made it out of the line, the princess would have resigned herself to her fate enough for them to properly enjoy the rest of the season's celebrations. By the way things looked as Azula was being led away to a secluded corner of the park, it would take significant doing.
But the day was still young, and Ty Lee was determined to be positive.
Ten minutes later Ty Lee emerged from the tumultuous rabble with the hot, sticky treats in hand, balancing the sticks between her fingers as she ducked and weaved through the crowd. She finds the princess sitting on a park bench, flanked by her escorts, and glaring.
"One for you." Ty Lee smiled good-naturedly as she made her way over and slipped spiced apple sticks into the hands of the guards. "And one for you."
"And one for you, sweet sugar cakes." Ty Lee said in a very poor impersonation of a teenaged male, hoping that the memory of their last shared social activity would rouse positive feelings of nostalgia. Judging by the way Azula's face was a mask of pure indignation, it hadn't worked.
"How delightful." Azula deadpanned.
"Oh come on, Azula." Ty Lee said, patting imaginary dust from the park bench before taking a careful seat next to the princess, taking care to make sure there was a measured space between them. "You loved these when we were kids!"
The younger girl sneered. "Over-seasoned junk food, I don't think so." She said and in a single motion, pulled a bundle of paper napkins from Ty Lee's hand, upended the spice apple into it, and shoved the whole mess into the chest of one of the guards. The poor man who had been doing his best to finish his snack as fast as he could, sputtered as the princess' actions upset the delicate balance of weaponry and foodstuffs, wilting as his apple plopped pitifully to the ground.
"This is the sorriest excuse of a festival I've ever seen."
Ty Lee licked diligently at the candy coating of her fruit, her eyebrows furrowed as she remembered how hard these things were to eat. "It's not so bad. I think it's kind of nice." She offered, determined to keep an air of optimism between them, but knowing that the last time Azula had seen any sort of public celebration, the Fire Nation had been prosperous and the wealth of their empire innumerable.
There was the beginnings of a sneer on Azula's lips, but she didn't reply. She was staring into the high vaunting of the buildings, the long planes of rock, wood, and mortar that loomed over the market and the people. Her eyes floated over the faces of the festival patrons, following up with the lines of the houses and tracing the cracks in wood and peels of varnish, trying to find the city she knew in a country that seemed so determined to forget her.
"They should be bowing down to me." Azula said a little while later, still looking at the skyline, and Ty Lee glances back at the masses of festival passersby that wreathe the landscape of twisting streets and shops.
Their glassy faces and the uniform colors of the festival gave them a glazed look of ubiquitous anonymity as they marched pass the park and the bench the two girls rested on. Soldiers are everywhere now, and no one spares them anything except passing glances to Azula's guards before moving on.
The city rises above them, the shambled skeletons of a dying age. If there was a time their nation had been great, if the Fire Nation had been proud and its people driven and devoted to a destiny of greatness they had been promised to achieve, it wasn't who they were now.
The world passes through them, the reanimated figments of an ancient city reflected in the molten steel of Azula's eyes.
"They don't recognize you, 'Zula." Ty Lee says quietly. "You look different."
Azula doesn't reply, and for a long time they both sit watching the festival and the ebb and flow of the market. The gentle murmuring of the streets is a soft drone in the distance, already disappearing into time, and Ty Lee imagines that in another place far away, it's transformed into the whispers of adoration for a princess with unfettered limbs and unbroken shoulders.
Home used to mean warmth, a light that shone behind her and guided her travels with a security that came with knowing that something would be waiting when everything was finally over. It used to mean running through the fields of her family's villa with the sun in her hair, reveling in the carefree days of training at the academy, and knowing that there was some place where she belonged. But now whenever she thinks of the Fire Nation, she thinks of bodies lying in mass graves, and how the red of their flags now stood for the blood of their fathers who died so the rest of the world could remember their shame, while the bones of their children rotted away, forgotten in foreign lands.
Ty Lee wonders later if despondency can be taken for a false sense of security, and the sudden prickling in Azula's posture is only a split-second warning before a familiar voice jars her harshly into reality.
"Ty Lee?"
Her heart plummets, all the hopes of having a pleasant evening outing with Azula vanishing with the figure that materializes from the crowd. Suki's face is a mask of white when she spies the other figure on the park bench, and Ty Lee's head is running a hundred miles a minute and she suddenly feels very nauseous.