For the second summer in a row, Azula stared out at the ocean and wondered if it would swallow her.

She had just disembarked the ship and already there was sand in her shoes. Azula winced. She wouldn't mind so much if she was in her bare feet, but now the grittiness would rub wherever she walked. She would have to remember to tell her servants to clean out the shoes.

The servants were unloading the ship, though the family hadn't brought much—all they could ask for was already here on the island. Apparently one of the generals had overpacked and brought his entire wardrobe. Azula would have laughed, but she wouldn't have been surprised if her father had done the same.

Zuko joined her in looking at the waves. She wished he wouldn't. She hadn't stopped resenting him since two nights ago, when she had snuck into his room.

"When was the last time we were here?"

He was trying so hard to make everything seem normal. Azula's tone was clipped as she replied. She wasn't in the mood for conversation with her brother.

"The summer after I turned six." She didn't remember that summer well, except that it had been the last one. After that, the vacations to Ember Island ceased. "When we were still kids."

"We still are kids," said Zuko, looking sideways at her with a strange look on his face. "You especially. I'm almost a teenager."

"Oh." Azula thought about it. She didn't feel like a child. She felt ancient. The experiences of the past year and a half had shaped her more than she had ever thought possible. She was coming into herself, leaving the large-eyed, smiling girl behind her.

Leaving her friends behind her.

"I suppose we are," she said, in response to Zuko, and then she turned away.

Azula and Zuko were on their way to the mansion when a servant caught up to them, panting, running from the direction they were headed.

"Prince, Princess, I'm sorry for the inconvenience," the man gasped. "Fire Lord Ozai has declared the old house unsuitable. You are being moved to a house on the other side of the island, closer to the generals' lodgings."

Zuko and Azula traded bewildered looks.

"Show us there," Azula commanded, and they began walking behind the servant, who was still attempting to catch his breath.

"I wonder what Father found unsuitable in that old place?" Zuko wondered aloud.

"We haven't been there in four years," Azula shrugged. "Probably dusty."

"That can't be it. The servants would have cleaned up everything." Zuko was frowning as he ruminated on this mystery. Privately Azula was just as curious, but she didn't think that joining her brother in speculating on the matter would produce a good solution.

Azula couldn't wait to get there, in any case. She was sweating; appropriate clothes for the ship were entirely too hot for a walk on the beach with the sun bearing down. She was surprised that the strip of shore they were walking along was empty.

"Where are all the other vacationers?"

"Fire Lord Ozai had this section of the beach reserved, Princess," the servant said, turning backward so he could face her and bow as he walked. Azula hoped fervently and shamefully that he would trip or run into something, but no such luck. "He did not wish to be swarmed upon disembarking the ship. It will be reopened later this evening."

Azula shrugged and discovered that she actually didn't care.

Their lodgings on Ember Island were different from those at the palace, equally grand but styled in another way. The house was very open, with many windows, and rugs covered all of the floors. Silk was draped not only across windows but across the walls, resulting in a clash of color that somehow managed to look harmonious.

Azula and Zuko's rooms were just across the hall from each other; Ozai was further down the same corridor. Mercifully, Azula still had her own washroom, and she was splashing her face to cool it down when there was a knock on her door.

"What?" Azula thought it might be Zuko, but it was only her maidservants. Azula noticed Cong and watched the woman for a while before she was distracted.

The servants quickly set to work unpacking the few belongings Azula had brought, as well as setting out garments for her to wear during her stay. The added bodies in the room only increased the temperature. Azula sat by the window and hoped for breezes.

"Princess Azula, your father has arrived," one of her women said a few minutes later, glancing out the window behind Azula.

Azula ignored them all as she left the room. She thought about knocking on Zuko's door and decided against it. Ozai could yell at him for being inattentive, and maybe Azula would be able to witness it.

Her father was standing in the main room of the house with his guard, speaking to Zhao. Even the captain had abandoned his armor in favor of lighter clothes in the heat. Azula thought briefly how easy it would be to send fire right at him, fire right through the heart. For an instant she wanted to raise her fingers and do it, maybe even produce lightning, but simply just to smite this man down. It was such a strong and unbidden urge that it was scary, even to her. Azula didn't detest Zhao, didn't hate him quite that much. This was cold-blooded desire, indifferent to logic and her own feelings.

"Azula, come down here," Ozai said, noticing her lurking on the balcony. Azula shivered and bit her lip, returning to control of herself.

"Yes, Father." She joined the other two and bowed to Ozai. "Might I ask what was wrong with the old house?"

There was a flash of some negative emotion on her father's face, but he returned to calmness too quickly for Azula to identify it.

"It was too old," he said languidly. "Stifling."

"Of course," said Azula.

"Well, Princess, it looks as if we're going to spend this summer together again," Zhao said, smirking down at her. The murderous urge returned briefly, but this time Azula thought it was justified.

"So it seems, Captain Zhao," she said stiffly.

"Zhao, gather the other commanders," Ozai said. "We'll be meeting on the deck."

"Yes, Fire Lord." Zhao bowed to Ozai and left the room. Azula remained by her father's side, a statue that happened to be dripping with sweat.

"Shall I accompany you there, Father?" Azula asked as Ozai began to ascend the stairs. He turned and looked at her in a way that implied he had forgotten she was there. Azula hated that feeling. She clenched her fists until her overlong nails dug into her palms.

"No. Go work on your forms. I will assess your progress soon." Ozai waved a dismissive hand her way and continued up the stairs.

"Yes." Azula bowed and remained on her knees until her father was gone. She really should practice, especially since Ozai had directed her, but she didn't want to. For once she was unable to motivate herself. Maybe it was the heat, or the locale, or the presence of the ocean, but Azula felt on edge.

She returned to her room. Her maidservants were done organizing. Azula waved her hand for them to go and they left the room obediently, leaving Azula alone with the mirror.

Azula stared at her reflection, then tilted her head and stared some more. Golden eyes stared back at her steadily. She watched a drop of sweat trail down her doppelganger's face, and then another. Her reflection blinked. Her reflection lifted a hand to the tie of her hair and released it.

A cascade of hair fell down around the shoulders of both Azula and her double. They stared at each other. They smiled in unison. In the mirror, other-Azula wrapped a strand of hair around her finger and held it there until the appendage turned purple. They nodded. Neither Azula stopped smiling.

Her doppelganger raised one hand to study her fingernails. They were long and curved, honed to a deadly point. Azula liked the feeling of having weapons built into her hand. She stared at them a moment longer. Then her reflection smiled and deliberately brought her fingers up to her lips. The other Azula stroked her mouth deceptively and then sunk the nails in.

Blood was slow to flow down the other Azula's face. She let it gather in a puddle onto her index finger and smeared it across her lips. Today, her coloring was entirely natural.

The reflected Azula smirked at the joke, words that only the two of them shared in the mind reflected there in the mirror.

What are you doing to yourself?

Azula froze, her smile slowly fading. The other Azula wasn't alone in the mirror. There was someone standing behind her, someone resting a delicate hand on her shoulder.

Azula couldn't look away from the mirror. She couldn't look away from the woman standing behind her doppelganger.

"Mother."

Azula, you must stop this. I don't want to see you hurt yourself.

"I don't care what you want. You don't get to care about me. You abandoned me. Nothing bad happened until after you left."

I do get to care, Azula. I'm your mother. I care about you.

"You're lying! You only ever cared about Zuko! I hate you!"

Azula rammed her hand forward with every intention of hitting the glass, breaking the glass, feeling blood flower over her skin and the glass make lacerations in every inch of her. But abruptly, as she was an inch away from the glass, she felt a hand steady her arm, a hand around her wrist, holding her back.

"Let go of me!"

"Azula, I've knocked like ten times—"

Zuko froze at the unusual scene that greeted him, Azula leaning forward, a twisted expression on her face with a single hand raised an inch away from the glass, blood streaming down her lips, hair streaming down her shoulders.

"Azula-?"

Ursa was gone from the mirror. Azula felt the weight lift from her arm. She lowered her hand very, very slowly, took several calming breaths, and turned to face her brother.

"What?" she asked, as calmly as she could manage.

"I was…well, I was just wondering if you wanted to come swimming with me?" Zuko's voice trailed off, his eyes still wide and trained on her face. It took Azula a few seconds to realize that blood was dripping down her chin. She wiped it away hastily and gave the cut on her lip several licks, hoping it would stop bleeding.

"Uh, swimming?" she echoed distractedly.

"Swimming? We go to the ocean and get wet?" Zuko was either being timid or sarcastic, and Azula wasn't paying enough attention to discern which.

Azula pressed a hand to her forehead. Was she feverish? She couldn't tell whether she was hotter or colder than normal. She was certainly breathing fast, but…

"Yeah. Right. I'll meet you outside," she muttered, not wanting to be trapped alone in this room with the mirror and her own bleeding face.

When Zuko had left, Azula found the beach clothes the servants had brought to her and pulled them on. She was careful not to look in the mirror, but couldn't help watching it out of the corner of her eye. She thought she might have seen movement. Surely just a trick of the light.

She left the room with a final glance at the glass.

My…imagination…


"Azula, it's more fun if you actually come in the water," Zuko called. Azula frowned at him from her safe spot on the shore. She was just close enough that the seafoam lapped at her toes with each wave. It felt nice, but not nice enough to convince her to submerge.

"I'll take your word for it."

Zuko shrugged and splashed back under. Azula watched him disappear under blue-green water and wondered what would happen if he didn't come back up.

He did, of course, in a shower of droplets. Azula was only watching him out of the corner of her eye. She was looking up at the sky, squinting because of the sun, and trying her hardest to stop thinking about things she didn't want to think about.

"Please, Azula? You're just sitting there."

While she had looked away, Zuko had emerged from the water. He sat on the sand by her legs. Azula moved away in distaste in case he felt like dripping on her.

"I don't like the ocean, Zuko."

Zuko was rapidly becoming irritated; she could see it in his face. "Why did you even bother coming if you just want to sit there?"

"Just relishing in the sunlight." Azula tried and failed to not sound overly sarcastic. "It's like recharging my firebending power."

"That's a total lie," Zuko said crossly. "Even I know that. You can't store up fire like that."

"Oh, you're right. You've got me there, Zuzu." Azula trailed a nail across her calf, just hard enough to leave a white line. Zuko watched her finger as well. He appeared to be contemplating something. For a few more awkward moments they were both silent.

"If you don't want to swim, can we at least go for a walk?" he asked finally.

Azula frowned. "What if Father needs m—us?"

"That's what servants are for. Come on." Zuko stood, apparently taking Azula's lack of immediate denial as acquiescence.

Azula sighed in resignation and stood, brushing away sand that stuck to her legs.

The walk was even more awkward, because Azula was silent and constantly staring at the sea, while Zuko leaned around her in an attempt to make eye contact. Eventually he gave up and began dragging his feet. Azula pretended not to notice and purposefully walked faster.

"Look, people," Zuko said, after they had been walking for quite a bit. Azula glanced away from the ocean—sure enough, there were groups scattered along the sand ahead of them.

Azula made a noncommittal noise. Part of her wanted to turn around. She didn't know whether anybody would recognize her, and she was equally afraid of both possibilities. She didn't want to be treated like anybody else, but she didn't feel like putting on her princess act. Abruptly, Azula was feeling tired. Her lack of sleep in recent weeks—recent months-seemed to be bearing down on her at long last.

They kept walking. Azula put one foot in front of another and another and another, paying attention only to the sand. It was taking her effort just to walk in a straight line. She used Zuko's feet as her guideline.

Looking at her feet, she didn't notice when they began to walk through the people until she heard voices. She looked up, mouth curved into a frown, to survey the beach ahead.

She didn't notice the group of teenagers playing some game involving running after each other to recover a ball.

She didn't notice, in fact, until the ball flew over her head and someone slammed into her.

Blood flooded her mouth—had she bit her lip?—but the only thought racing through her head was that it had been stupid of her to walk so close to the water. She was too small to resist falling, so fall she did, until her mouth and nose were underwater and her hands were waving uselessly in the shallow depths.

She accidentally breathed in, and her lungs were on fire. The water really was salty, she thought, her head spinning. She tried to open her eyes, and they burned and stung, so she closed them again. She didn't know which way was up or down. She was positive that she was going to die, in water more shallow than her bathtub.

Somehow, without intending to, she managed to put her hands down and lift herself out of the water.

It really wasn't very deep at all.

"Azula, are you okay?"

Azula saw a hand extended by her face—Zuko's—and ignored it. She pushed herself up. The sea lapped at her legs, benign once more.

A few of the teenagers had wandered over. The one guilty of slamming into her had a hand behind his back, looking sheepish as he held the ball in his other arm.

"Hey, sorry about that," he said, grinning lopsidedly. "You are okay, right?"

As Azula slowly turned her head, it became clear that she was, in fact, not entirely okay.

She supposed it would be a frightening sight, this ten-year-old child, dripping and with black hair streaming down around her face, teeth bared and hollow golden eyes narrowed in rage, slightly hunched over as if she was an animal.

"You're going to regret that," she growled, and one hand filled with fire. All the rage she had intended to pour into the mirror was going to pour into him instead.

He was backing up, mouth moving, but either no words were coming out or Azula's ears had stopped working. She took a deep breath and stepped forward, ready to throw all her might at this unfortunate—

"Azula, stop it!"

Zuko dissipated her fire. Azula's eyes widened in astonishment, her teeth still bared in that inhuman snarl. How dare her brother interfere, how dare he? She was going to punish him next, punish him, punish all of them for what they had done to her—

What are you doing?

The rational voice in the back of her mind was quiet, quizzical, almost laughing. It froze Azula there, and she took account of herself.

She was not an animal, and she could not allow herself to behave like one. She had lost control, foolishly, so foolishly, when she should have been calm.

Had it been the water? Or had it been her leftover emotions from seeing Ursa in the mirror? Were they directly related, her delusions of her mother and her loss of control?

Azula sucked at the spot where she had bit her lip, tasting blood and more blood. She straightened her shoulders, closed her eyes, and pushed her hair back behind her shoulders.

"I am fine," she said quietly, turning to look at the boy who had hit her and not meeting his eyes. He didn't deserve her eye contact. "Through no help of yours."

"Azula, you dropped this," Zuko said, holding out the royal crest that usually stood in her bun. Azula took it from his hand and clenched her hand around it, feeling the gold heat up under her fingers.

"Wait, you two aren't—" The teenager glanced back and forth between them, a light of realization coming over his face. "The royal siblings?"

"Yeah, that's us." Zuko glanced sideways at Azula, as if checking to make sure she didn't go berserk again. It irritated her.

"Oh, Agni. I did not mean—if I had known you were the Princess—I'm very sorry."

He gave a rather feeble attempt at a bow.

"You shouldn't be running into people whether they're royalty or not," Azula said, her eyes narrowed. Her head was throbbing. The taste of salt was still heavy in her mouth. "I'll let you go today. Tomorrow, you won't be as lucky."

The boy nodded, wide-eyed, and Azula wondered whether he had actually heard her.

"Go away," she concluded, flicking a spark from her finger for good measure.

This time, he got the message, and headed back up the beach, probably to tell his friends about how he had just met royalty.

"We're going home," said Azula. She turned around and started back the way they had come. Zuko didn't move.

"Come on, Zuko," she said impatiently. Still he didn't lift his feet, no matter how forbiddingly Azula's eyes flashed at him.

"Go back by yourself," he said finally, staring her down. "I don't take orders from you. Especially not after something like that."

Something like—was Zuko honestly going to throw a hissy fit about Azula's dislike of being tackled into the ocean by strangers? This should be good. Azula narrowed her eyes at him, turning to face him completely, tapping a bare foot in the sand.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You can't just threaten strangers over an accident!"

Azula raised an eyebrow. "Watch me."

"I just did!" Zuko took a deep breath, stopping his rage before it came too close to boiling. Azula watched him with interest. What was he going to tell her next, she wondered? Was he going to bring up her murder at the tournament? Or perhaps Kadija, dead on the stairs? She looked into his face with a still calm. He could throw all the words he wanted at her, she wasn't going to budge.

"Azula, you were lucky I was here," he said finally, glaring at her.

Well. "Elaborate." Her tone was clipped.

"How do you think people will view you if you just attack strangers? They're going to get the impression that the Fire Princess is some kind of—"

She saw the word formed on his lips and smiled in response. His words were echoing in her ears, and she could hear their meaning, but they simply weren't penetrating. She didn't want to hear this, and not from Zuko, but he was not going to see that in her face. Azula noticed he had lowered his voice. Some people on the beach were still watching them, but from a distance.

"Monster? But aren't I, Zuzu?" She stepped closer. His face contorted. She hoped it was fear. Azula walked to his side, lifted her lips to his ear. She liked the way he shuddered. "You've seen me kill before, haven't you?"

"That's not the point, Azula!" He stepped away from her, and this time his voice was too loud—people looked.

"Then what is the point, Zuko? You don't like me showing off? You don't like my constant reminders that your little sister is a better bender than you'll ever be?"

"That's not true!" Zuko said loudly. Azula smiled. It was so easy, so easy. Zuko wore his heart on his sleeve. To Iroh, that was probably an advantage. To the rest of the family, it was nothing but weakness.

"Why so defensive? I was just wondering," Azula said, giving him a wave of her hand to indicate that the conversation was over. She walked away, back down the beach, thoughts of the mirror and her lack of control gone.

She was still in charge.

She always was.


For the first time in weeks, Azula prepared for bed at a reasonable hour. Fresh from the bath, she stood looking out the window. The ocean was nicer at night, she thought, when it was dim and dark with only the reflection of stars to indicate its vastness. She liked it less when she could stare down into its depths, stare and stare and wonder how far it went down.

With the breeze blowing in off the sea, the night was notably cooler here. She stood at the window a few seconds longer just to enjoy the wind playing over her skin, before she turned away to get into bed.

In the crack between the bed and the wall, there was something on the ground. It was just barely visible, a corner sticking out on the dark wood floor. Azula leaned down and felt something crumble under her fingers. She managed to grab it and brought it up to observe.

It was a small scroll of paper, ashen around the edges and with holes in the center. The writing was nearly indecipherable, but Azula could make out a handful of words.

Princess…-customed…dosage increased.

Azula finished the job of burning it herself.


A/N: Hello, everybody! I hope school's treating you guys well, provided you have it. I've fallen a bit behind on my writing schedule (eep), but worry not. Provided unforeseen bodily injury or such, I will continue to update.

Thanks to everybody who sent me writing prompts last week! I am working on them! I have no promises as to when they'll be done, since I do have school to worry about, but I will finish them and send links to those who requested.

Aurelia le: It's true that, in The Ember Island Players, Zuko says that "[Ozai] hasn't been here since before our family was actually happy." In the context, I assumed that this line referred to the beach house, given that's where the conversation takes place and what they were talking about. I thought it meant just that house, not the whole island. So, that's an explanation.

So I hope you guys have a fun week as we enter October with a probable US government shutdown! Fun times, fun times. Love you all; see you next week!