In truth, Azula hadn't been sleeping.
It wasn't that she couldn't sleep, or that she was afraid to sleep. The nightmares had ceased. If anything, these days Azula dreamed of her childhood, knowing full well how pathetic and sentimental those dreams were. Night after night she ran across a beach at Ember Island, or played an innocent game of tag with Zuko, or sat in Ursa's lap before she was old enough to repulse her mother…
No, Azula simply didn't feel tired many nights. She would pass the evening reading a text and would read until midnight or later before realizing the time. Then she would fall asleep for only a handful of hours, awaken, and feel energized again.
The palace was bustling with activity these days. After Iroh's defeat at Ba Sing Se, Ozai had been summoning generals from all across the nation to serve him. Some were young and inexperienced, while others looked grizzled enough to have fought in every battle of the war.
Azula sat in on most of these meetings, silently judging each of the generals from her father's right hand. It was, in her opinion, far more interesting than war councils. She could tell when many of them were lying—about their combat skills, about their pasts…
Though she never spoke during the meetings, and she was hardly ever addressed, she was still a presence, silently, menacingly there, her eyes boring holes through whomever was speaking, her gaze mild and powerful all at once.
In those ways, slowly but surely, Azula was truly becoming Ozai's right hand.
As for her training, Azula's skills were slowly honing. When she trained with her father, they concentrated on lightning, since it was clear that Azula's style of firebending was already radically different than Ozai's. When he watched her move through forms, both her own and those of her previous masters, Ozai watched with a critical eye, but rarely said anything negative.
"Your masters haven't taught you simple firebending, Azula," he said, one day in late spring, while he watched her train in the courtyard. "The way you move…your forms are taken from many different styles of bending, aren't they?"
"Yes, Father," Azula panted, focusing on a metal pole implanted in the ground as she sent flaming dart after flaming dart toward it. "Ko Shen focused on airbending forms with me. Kadija and I studied waterbending. I've been working on earthbending lately, but I'm not as fond of it."
"That's useful." Ozai turned to watch the metal bar, carefully observing his daughter's precise strikes. "It will give you an edge on benders you combat, since you may already know their forms. On the other hand—"
"—while facing down benders, if I use forms that they are familiar with, they will be able to read my moves more easily. I know, Father." Azula spun on one foot and finished the set by sending a fireball toward the pole.
"As long as you know the basic firebending moves and forms, you will be fine," Ozai said. "I trust you haven't forgotten your basics?"
"Never, Father," Azula muttered. "Shall I display them for you?"
"No. We'll move to lightning now." Ozai pulled off his heavy, ornamental outer robe for better movement. "You've been practicing meditation and working on energy flow?"
"Every day." Azula began to focus on her breathing, imagining the chi flow in her body slowing, calming, as she mentally attempted to calm herself.
"Good." Ozai circled her. "I've been thinking, and I believe I know what your problem is."
"Problem?" That stopped Azula's concentration. She hadn't been aware that she had a problem. Ozai hadn't mentioned anything like that in their previous training sessions…
"The reason it takes so much time and effort for you to generate lightning." Ozai came to a stop in front of her, holding one hand up. "That's usual for a beginner. But given your skill level and your history, I found it unusual that you've maintained the same slow rate for months now. So I started watching more carefully when you bent."
Azula was watching her father's face, so she noticed the tiniest hint there before he tensed and released a handful of lightning into the sky above her head. She felt the static easily from where she stood.
"Granted, I am far more experienced, but you should be able to bend that quickly too. Therefore, I believe your technique is basically flawed."
Azula tilted her head to one side. She was torn between anger at being criticized and an eagerness to bend with the same effortless skill as her father. "How so?"
Ozai lowered his hand. "You're producing lightning by way of focusing intense amounts of energy in your fingers, then releasing, the same process as fire, are you not?"
"Uh, yes."
"There's an easier way." Ozai's eyes drifted out of focus, as if he was struggling for the best way to say something. "Separating the currents of positive and negative energy, and allowing them to crash together at the moment of attack."
"…Oh?" Now that Azula thought of it, she could remember reading something along those lines in one of her books. The problem was just that she wasn't aware of positively and negatively charged energy within herself. She had no idea how to tell them apart. "I don't know exactly how to do that, Father."
"We'll work on it," said Ozai, standing back. "For now, just meditation should do. It's all about your breath. Separate the currents of energy. Eventually, you should be able to maintain a separated-energy state during battle, letting you fire lightning at will."
Azula swallowed and nodded. She didn't want to risk her father's anger by telling him she had no idea how to separate her energies.
"That's enough for today," Ozai said abruptly. "I have to prepare for the banquet tonight. I had your servants lay out a dress for you."
"Why are you throwing a banquet?" Azula asked. Ozai looked down at her, one eyebrow cocked.
"I'm surprised you don't know that. It's Fire Lord Sozin's birthday."
Azula frowned. She supposed that she might have read that somewhere, but should she really know the dates of her ancestors' birthdays? Memorizing battle plans seemed much more important.
"Of course. I will see you then, Father."
"Keep practicing your breathing," Ozai said sharply. "I want to see progress by the next time we train, understand?"
"Yes, Father." Azula bowed. When she lifted her head, Ozai was already walking away.
The idea of a banquet itself wasn't too bad, however. Azula knew that her father would be preoccupied long into the night. While talking to adults wasn't very entertaining, at least the food would be good.
Though it was still three hours before the banquet was set to start, the instant she returned to her rooms, the servants began to go to work on Azula. She was pleased to find her bath already prepared, and lounged about in soapy water that smelled of flowers while her servants scrubbed her down with sweet-smelling perfumes and soaps. When she stepped out of the bath, immediately they began wringing out her hair and drying off her body. Azula sat upright against cushions while they combed through her hair.
The dress Ozai had mentioned was red and orange silk, the sleeves embroidered with dragons. When Azula put it on, she felt distinctly royal. As the maidservants tied up her hair, Azula allowed herself to lean back and imagine that she was Fire Lord, preparing for the anniversary of her coronation day. She was so engrossed in the fantasy that she barely heard the knocks.
"What?" Azula snapped.
"We're supposed to go down together, I think," came Zuko's muffled voice through the wood. "Are you ready?"
"Give me a minute."
There wasn't really anything left to be done, but Azula liked making Zuko wait. She sat in front of the mirror and painted red over her lips until they were the brightest part of her face.
When she opened the door, Zuko was there, looking equally royal and slightly gangly in a set of robes with a sun motif. His hair was tied back in a ponytail.
"You're looking very princess-y," he greeted her.
"As I should." Azula took the lead down the hall, making Zuko have to run to catch up.
The palace was lively with sounds of chatter from the bottom floors. Even from several stories up, delicious scents wafted through Azula's nostrils.
"Are you excited?" she asked Zuko.
He shrugged. "I guess. Father will just ignore me all evening, and Uncle will be too busy to talk to me. But the food should be good."
Azula didn't mention that she had been thinking almost the exact same thing.
They arrived at the double doors that opened to one of the largest rooms in the palace. Designed specifically for parties, the room was two stories. The second floor was really just a balcony that ran the perimeter of the room. The musicians were positioned on the balcony, serenading the many tables below. A single broad staircase descended to the main level. Azula and Zuko exchanged looks before holding hands to descend.
A voice called out as they walked down the stairs. "I present to you Crown Prince Zuko and Princess Azula, children of the Fire Lord!"
The guests, both those seated and those standing, turned to watch the two descending. In their current getup and poses, they truly did look like perfect children. Zuko, in his dark red robes, looked serious but not solemn, the perfect boy to assume the throne. Azula, in her dress and doll-like face, looked prim and proper. She didn't look like a murderer. He didn't look hopelessly naïve.
The atmosphere was shattered as they reached the bottom and separated, going around opposite sides of the room to reach the dais where their father was sitting.
Several other high-ranking nobles and commanders had already joined Ozai, but the seats at his right and left hand were empty. Today, Zuko took the right-hand chair, which luckily put him next to Iroh as well. Azula was stuck sitting next to a general with bad breath. He was left-handed, and his elbows kept knocking into her while she attempted to eat.
Rounding out the trio perfectly, Ozai was also dressed for the part of the Fire Lord. Though Azula almost hadn't thought it possible, he was wearing robes even fancier than his usual. He had a gigantic golden collar inlaid with every precious jewel imaginable, while rubies glittered at his sleeves and hemlines.
Iroh, in stark contrast to his brother, was dressed simply and looked unusually grim. Azula would have loved to savor the look on her uncle's face, but she was distracted by the necessity of making conversation with her tablemates. Several of the nobles saw fit to congratulate her on her victory in the tournament or to wish her a happy birthday. All too soon, before an hour had passed, Azula's smile was feeling fake and forced. A sick feeling was starting to churn in her stomach before dessert even arrived, and she didn't think it was the food.
At long last the servants took their plates away, and all around the room people began to mingle. Most of their table disappeared into the crowd, and a steady stream of people came over to speak with Ozai. After Azula made sure her father wasn't looking her way, she slipped away from the table.
The room had wide arches that opened into the gardens. Certain sections of the outdoors were illuminated with lights, while people walked along the stone paths. Azula walked slowly out into the garden, keeping to the shadows.
She nodded, smiled, and made pleasant conversation with the people who intercepted her, while steadily circling to the back of the building, where there were no lights or people. Azula found herself beside a quiet spring and collapsed, staring down at the water and feeling too weak to do anything else.
The scene reminded her of the night when Ko Shen had died. Looking back, hadn't that been just about a year ago? Azula stared at the water and tried to laugh the feeling away, but laughter wouldn't come. Her face, looking back at her, was painted and perfect.
Azula thought of Kadija and then of the tournament. She was a killer too. Was she any better than Ozai? But she had killed when she had other choices. One could argue that Ozai had killed Ko Shen only out of necessity.
…Was she worse than her father?
Azula leaned over and vomited into the pond, disturbing the stillness of the water. Her reflection blurred and then cleared, slowly. She hadn't eaten enough at dinner. There was barely anything to bring back up.
She laid her head down on the stone and pressed her fingers into her eyes. Throwing up hadn't eased her feeling of nausea. If anything, it had worsened it.
"Are you okay?"
Azula jerked around, wiping her mouth and conjuring a handful of fire on instinct. It illuminated her brother's face, and Azula relaxed.
"Do I look okay?"
"Sorry. Stupid question." Zuko sat down, uninvited, next to her. Azula wished he would go away and leave her alone. She didn't want to deal with him right now. "Was it the food?"
"Yes." It was easy to lie when her head was in her hands. "Go away."
He didn't. She didn't look at him. She felt a hand touch her shoulder and purposely flinched. Zuko withdrew his hand and didn't try to touch her again.
"Can I ask you something?"
"Whatever. If you bother me, I'll throw up on you," Azula said weakly. Zuko gave a nervous laugh and Azula wanted to punch him.
"At the tournament…"
Oh no. That was the last thing she wanted to discuss at the moment. Zuko was speaking slowly and carefully, as if treading on unsteady ground. In a way, he was.
"Yes?"
"Azula, when did you become a killer?"
There it was.
It was a sign of how horrific she was feeling that she didn't lash out. Azula squeezed her eyes shut very tightly and hugged herself. Why couldn't he just leave her alone?
The words stuck in her mouth. Just say it's an accident. Just tell him it's an accident. But she couldn't. He had been there when she had killed Kadija. Perhaps he had heard of Malfon and the innocent boy too.
Instead of speaking, she laughed, and ended up retching. This time, nothing came out. "Don't you remember when I pushed my teacher down the stairs?"
"Was she the first?"
Azula buried her fingers in her hair and pulled hard at the roots. Go away. Go away! "No!"
Why did she say that? Why couldn't she just lie to him? She didn't want him to think less of her. How dare he presume to judge her? He was hopelessly naïve and infinitely foolish! Older brother, perhaps, but she felt twice his age.
But there wasn't hostility in Zuko's voice. There was just…curiosity? Disbelief? Azula couldn't tell without looking at his face, and she refused to do that. "Did Father make you kill them?"
It really was a perfect out, wasn't it? Ozai had forced her to kill them. Ozai, the cruel, overbearing father, had forced his innocent, helpless daughter to kill them.
A perfect out…except for the fact that it wasn't true. Every person dead at her hands was a person Azula herself decided to kill. Ozai was only setting the example. Azula was the one to follow in his footsteps. She was the one with blood on her hands.
"It's all part of training, Zuzu," she said abruptly, standing. Her face was blank but for a sweet smile. Zuko couldn't see her fists clenched so tightly her nails dug into her palms. "I suppose I'm just advancing at a quicker rate than you."
"That's not fair!" Zuko took the bait, dropping the subject in favor of defending himself. He really was so predictable, thought Azula sadly.
"Is that the only reason you followed me out here? To interrogate me about my death count?" She was able to say it so lightly. It was easy for Azula in her own mind. It was only when others confronted her that she wasn't so confident. "I thought you would be glued to Iroh all evening like usual."
"Uncle and I aren't always like that," Zuko said. It wasn't defensive; he was stating facts.
"You are when I see you," Azula said.
"Well, we haven't really seen you lately," Zuko said. "You're always locked up in your rooms or training."
"You could do with a little more training, Zuzu," Azula snapped. She couldn't believe she was being forced to defend herself to him. To him!
"I never said I couldn't!" They were nose-to-nose, then, and glaring at each other. Zuko was taller, another fact that constantly irritated Azula. She wanted to tower over him, not the other way around. "Besides, Uncle's leaving in a week, and I'm not going with him."
"What?" That was interesting enough that it almost snapped Azula out of her bad mood. "Where's he going? Exile?"
"Of course not! I know you don't respect him, but he'd never betray the Fire Nation!" Zuko stomped on the ground as if to accentuate his point. "I don't know where! He just said he was going on a long journey, and he wanted to be alone."
"Alone? So you're not staying home by choice?" A smirk wormed its way back onto Azula's face. "Uncle rejected your offer of company, huh? Turns out you're not a good replacement for Lu Ten after all?"
"How can you say things like that?" Zuko was glaring at her, and the expression on his face wasn't just hurt feelings. Was that…disgust? Azula felt the anger growing inside her again. How dare he look at her with disgust? He didn't know the first thing about what she had been through!
Right?
He was still speaking, unfortunately. "You know how hard Lu Ten's death was on Uncle! How can you mock it like that? I'm not a replacement!"
"Keep saying it enough and maybe you'll believe it." Azula began walking away. As far as she was concerned, the conversation was over. She had successfully managed to steer it out of dangerous waters, and that was really all that mattered to her.
As she was leaving, however, Zuko grabbed her by the shoulder. "I'm not a replacement!" he insisted. Azula turned her head just enough to meet his eyes. There was no smirk this time.
"Don't touch me. I will burn you." The threat was issued so calmly that it would be difficult not to believe it. Zuko's eyes widened, and perhaps his mind flashed back to their previous conversation.
Azula the murderer.
But even as she walked away from him, Azula was churning over what Zuko had said in her mind. So Iroh was leaving in a week for who knew where? On the one hand, it would be absolutely delightful to get rid of that thorn in her side. On the other, though…
The fact remained that Iroh was the only other lightningbender she knew. If Azula didn't want to admit to Ozai that she needed help with the technique, Iroh was presumably the only person who could help her. And she knew that her uncle, however irritating, wouldn't threaten to hurt her whenever she failed. The only question was whether he would help her.
The thought of asking that man for assistance was close to causing Azula physical pain. But, after all, the thought of physical pain was much better than whatever Ozai would do to her, should she disappoint him once more.
Azula rejoined the party in the large ballroom with reluctance. She wasn't feeling ill anymore, which made the crowd somewhat more enjoyable. Still, she didn't exactly want to mingle. She sat down back at her table—which was otherwise empty—and scavenged a leftover sweet rice cake. Azula was nibbling when a noblewoman joined her. It took Azula a few seconds to recognize Mai's mother. Her heart sank.
"Princess Azula!" The woman bowed as best as she could while seated. "May I join you?"
It was a moot point, as she was already sitting down, but Azula nodded anyway.
"I'm so sorry that we haven't seen you at our house lately!" The woman's smile was strange. "Please, if Mai did something to offend you, I will certainly discipline her."
Azula's smile turned sickly. Did this woman honestly appreciate the status brought by having the princess over more than her own daughter? Disgraceful. "No, nothing of the sort. I've been very busy."
"Well, Princess, know that you are welcome in our house whenever you wish."
Azula's only response was a sarcastic smile, but Mai's mother didn't seem capable of taking a hint. The woman only settled further back into her chair, folding hands across her lap.
"Oh, there she is now!" Mai's mother lifted a lazy hand to point a few feet away. Azula followed the hand and abruptly felt her stomach in her throat.
Indeed, Mai was making her way over to the table, accompanied by her father. They weren't alone, however. If only they had been.
Ozai had a firm hand on Mai's shoulder and was steering her through the crowd.
Azula tried to force herself to take deep breaths in and out. Was she hyperventilating? Was her fear showing on her face? Was Mai's mother babbling about something? Who knew? All she could hear was the pounding in her ears.
Had Ozai recognized Mai? Identified her? Targeted her?
Her thoughts were escalating. Grim images of Mai's body burning flashed through Azula's mind. She tried to keep breathing calmly. If she thought, if she used her head, there would be a way out of this. Besides, perhaps Ozai had just picked Mai by chance.
"Good evening, Father," Azula said, standing so she could bow and not bothering to sit again. Mai's mother, apparently taking her cues from the princess, followed the lead.
"Azula," Ozai nodded. His eyes were fixed on hers and not moving. She didn't look away. Her perfect smile didn't crack. She was beginning to feel nauseous again. Perhaps the rice cakes hadn't been such a good idea. "I happened to see this girl from across the room. She's one of your friends, isn't she?"
Was Azula imagining the added weight behind those words? Possibly. Probably not. "We went to school together. Mai, it's good to see you."
"And you, Princess." Mai inclined her head. Azula was relieved that Mai was smart enough to play along. Had it been Ty…but then, Ty's enthusiasm didn't stem from stupidity. It stemmed from her personality.
"I was speaking with Mai's father, Azula," Ozai continued, "and Takiro is actually one of my ministers of finance. Why did you never mention knowing his daughter?"
Because the only time you expressed interest in my friends was when you were threatening them. "I'm sorry, Father. I should have said something."
"Ah, well. I'm sure you had your reasons for not sharing." If Mai's family was disturbed by the protracted eye contact between father and daughter, they weren't showing it. "But how nice. Perhaps you could have Mai over sometime."
What was he playing at? It took serious control for Azula to keep her face still. It occurred to her that, perhaps, her father wasn't quite sober. "I don't think so, Father. I have my studies, after all. I don't want to be distracted."
"You are very studious. It's a good quality." Ozai finally broke the eye lock. Azula still wasn't able to breathe normally. She was only praying she had said the right things.
"Mother, I'm tired," Mai broke in suddenly. "Can we go home soon?"
A look of displeasure crossed Mai's mother's face, but the woman seemed determined to not appear troubled in front of the Fire Lord. "Of course, dear, but you wouldn't want to be rude to Fire Lord Ozai and Princess Azula, would you?"
Azula heard the edge in the woman's voice. For once, it was Ozai who came to the rescue.
"No, don't be bothered on my account. Go ahead, take the young lady home." He smiled down at Mai. It was a smile that sent chills down Azula's spine.
"Thank you, Your Majesty," said Takiro, bowing again. It wasn't as if Mai's parents were about to refuse such a comment from the Fire Lord. After murmuring more apologies and compliments, Mai's mother took her daughter by the shoulders and the family swept away. Ozai turned to watch them go. Azula felt frozen to the spot.
"Truly, what a lovely family," said Ozai. He wasn't looking at Azula. He didn't look at Azula again before he swept off to go speak with more of the guests.
Azula sat down and tried desperately not to vomit again.
A/N: ...Hellooo? You guys still there? You've been awfully quiet these past couple of weeks. Now, the numbers tell me you're still reading, but I don't know what you think unless you let me know. I'm lonely out here! Your guys's reviews are a bright spot in the dull march of school life. Anyway, not much to say today, but I hope you've had a great summer! See you next week!