A/N: quick trigger warning - click away at 'azula slipped through the window silently' if you're bad with gore. Hope u enjoy!
Azula wakes up in midsummer with a feeling like her inner flame is being chilled.
It will be a long day, and she is certain she will be struggling not to yawn by the end of it. Firebending is a gift from Agni and she has so clearly been blessed by Him but it can, when she is forgetting to count her blessings like Mother always says she should (as if she doesn't know that she is spirit-blessed), be a tiny bit tiring.
She is halfway down the hall to Zuko's door before she remembers.
"Dad's going to kill you."
She had tried to warn him.
She's still in silk sleeping robes when she cracks the door to Zuko's rooms. They're as large as hers, but less empty. Zuko has what Mother calls 'sentimentals', trinkets and keepsakes from various places they've visited. Azula never saw the point, and adopted Father's scorn while cultivating her own spartan rooms. There is no lump in the bed, perfectly made with smoothed out sheets. Azula practices her breathing exercises until the squeezing in her chest relents. It takes two degrees of the sun. Once her lungs have returned to the way they should be, she crosses silently to the bed and crouches, reaching underneath to the loose corner of tatami underneath. One more careful breath steels her and she lifts it up.
Zuko's dual dao glint up at her.
Azula's stomach twists.
She took the outcry of her grandfather's death as an opportunity to slip away unnoticed from the places she shouldn't be. It didn't take her long to return to her own rooms and change into simple training robes. A servant was sent to collect her. The rabbit-mouse made its voice up in sympathy and announced Azulon's death. Azula shaped her face into a false smile with too many teeth and smiled for real when the rabbit-mouse flinched.
"The court has requested your presence, Princess Azula."
Azula nodded, as if she had expected this, and stood.
"Send someone in with appropriate clothing." There was a pause, where the rabbit-mouse neither moved nor spoke and, most importantly, did not follow her order. "Is there anything else?"
Something like disapproval - or maybe pity? - flashed across the servant's face. "It is an emergency meeting, Princess Azula. Your presence is requested immediately."
Azula let her smile drop and raised an eyebrow. "Very well." This should mean that everybody would be in similar states of disarray, at least. She could stomach the imperfection for now.
'Similar states of disarray' was not quite accurate. While Azula took her place at Father's side, she took stock of the rest of the council. Father was fully dressed in formal robes (he'd known this was coming) (Grandfather was the picture of health yesterday, Azula had seen him), not a hair out of place, with the prince's crown in his hair. Azula could at least, while the smoke cleared and she began to understand what had happened, appreciate the boldness of Father's most recent move. The rest of the court looked mildly unsettled and were mostly in their sleeping robes, hair still loose, some of the non-benders stifling yawns as they shuffled through papers and forgot names. Azula's training robes and neat topknot looked like high fashion in comparison.
Azula watched in complete silence, fixing her grin in place, with no particular recipient in mind. The meeting was called to attention. She kept an eye on the head speaker, but mostly watched as Father performed.
(It was not a convincing performance, but the cards had fallen such that it didn't have to be.)
Father smiled a smile of teeth and lies.
(The cards may, upon further reflection, have been very carefully placed.)
Ozai played his games. Azula pondered.
The narrative was inconsistent. Father had wanted the throne, and to please Grandfather, who had ordered him to kill Zuko, so Father had killed Zuko (which was fine, and his own stupid fault because she had warned him well in advance) and then Mother must have gotten involved somehow because she cared about Zuko too much, so now she was dead too, but how and why had father killed Azulon? Or, if he had killed Azulon, why had he bothered with Zuko and Mother? Clearly, they were dead, unless they weren't, except they had to be because if they weren't dead then where were they.
It was not a long council meeting. Azula had never been to one before, but she could tell.
Fire Lord Azulon's funeral was as long as it was gaudy.
Azula sat silently in the front row and contemplated.
There was no fanfare for Zuko.
"Father," Azula began at Dinner, after waiting carefully for all of the servants to be dismissed, "will Zuko be joining us?" Ozai's chewing stopped for a moment as he turned to his daughter.
"Who is Zuko, my dear?"
A feeling like dry fabric on teeth rushed along her spine. Father had never called her that before. It took her a moment to catch up to what he'd actually said.
"My brother, Prince Zuko." Azula examined her father's face, watching for a crack in the mask.
None came.
"Princess Azula, you don't have a brother." Ozai was not a good liar, not to her. So why did it look so much like he was telling the truth? Honeyed concern dripped off his words. "Are you feeling ill? I know that your grandfather's passing must have been a shock to you." Azula twisted her lips into the most unsettling smile she could muster.
"I don't care what happened to him, I'm only curious." The perfect balance of venom and boredom made for a flawless lie. (Could she still tell the truth? She wondered too much, sometimes.)
Ozai reached out to her, cupping her cheek in his hand. Azula was careful not to flinch as she felt the unnatural warmth spread across her flesh.
Gold eyes met gold. The heat began to sting. She did not look away.
After a few moments Ozai spoke, loudly enough to be heard in the corridor outside.
"Guards." The doors opened quickly. Ozai dropped his hand. "The crown princess is feeling unwell. Please escort her to her chambers."
The guards stared for a little too long at her face, as if she couldn't feel the pinkish handprint he had left there. It would fade by the morning. For now, she bared her teeth in a blank smile. One of them actually shuddered.
(Azula ignored Mother, wondering about what was wrong with her. She knew what she was doing. Probably.)
The streets of the Caldera were warm, even at night. One of the younger sages had once told Zuzu it was because Agni had blessed the city when the first dynasty had settled there. Zuzu had believed him because he was a dumb-dumb who didn't pay attention to their history lessons. He'd just stared out of the windows and tapped on the tatami while Azula took notes and memorized everything she was told to cover for him later. Not that he was ever grateful.
(She didn't need him to be grateful this time, she just needed him to listen.)
Azula clutched the dao closer to her chest and took a shortcut through an alleyway. The swords were heavy and cumbersome because they'd been made for Zuzu, who was taller than her and stronger (though she could still beat him) and who'd left them behind because he was a dumb-dumb and he was always forgetting things. The theater mask was hidden away just fine on her back, underneath the dark cloak that kept her out of sight of the common-folk.
Whenever Azula and Zuko had gotten a chance to sneak away to the festivals in the lower Caldera, Zuko had made her agree to one thing. They would meet by the fire-flake cart if they got separated, and immediately return home. Often, Azula had thought it pointless and dull, but she was finally finding a use for it.
("If you get lost, come to the fire flakes stall, and wait for me to come find you, okay Lala?"
"I'm not going to get lost, Dum-Dum.")
(Of course Zuzu would get lost.)
Even without the cart there, she knew the corner of the marketplace on sight. Zuko wasn't there.
…He might be hiding. Or late.
Azula laid down Zuko's swords very carefully. Even if they weren't as good as firebending, they were very well crafted and, as all good weapons did, deserved her respect. She lowered herself to the floor with a lot less grace. No one was there to see. Well, except Zuzu probably, but she had about eight years' worth of blackmail on him so he didn't count.
It was warm, but the cloak offered better camouflage, so she kept it drawn close around her, curled up in the corner (because it felt safe) so that no one could sneak up on her.
Azula had been awake and active since dawn.
The sun had set a few hours prior.
Azula woke to Agni's rays on her cheek, a crick in her neck, and a feeling that she had forgotten something. She stretched a hand out and hit a stone wall.
Every curse word she had ever learned came to mind. (It was still quite a short list, so she added a few of Zuko's made-up ones for good measure.)
Azula could be fast, when she wanted to be. The way that the heat of the early morning shimmered and warped the Caldera before her, everything seeming closer than it should have been… well, she wasn't about to complain when she made it to the outer wall of the castle in barely over one degree of the sun. She was more noticeable in the daylight, but if she undid her topknot she could sneak in through the servants entrance and make it back to her rooms through the secret passage she'd found last winter.
Father had often said she was 'born lucky'. It stuck with her, as she noticed little things that went easier than they might have, regardless of her station. She was lucky in the way Agni's Blessing came easier to her than it did to others, in the way that she never spilled or knocked things, and in the way she always managed not to be noticed when it mattered.
She was also lucky, today, in the way that everyone had been looking for her in the Crown Prince's chambers. She still didn't have time to bathe before training, but she was counting her blessings like Zuzu always had.
(He had, hadn't he? She hadn't imagined it.)
(She hadn't imagined him.)
Azula blinked away her thoughts, arranging them carefully into her 'ignore' pile, and tried to concentrate on getting her topknot back into place. She needed her topknot to be perfect or someone would notice and she would be caught (and at least then maybe someone else would acknowledge Zuko, or even Mother, but say something about any of it) and why weren't her fingers moving the way they were supposed to why couldn't she get that last strand in what was happening to her why was the room getting bigger all of a sudden what was so wrong.
Azula met the eyes of her mother's reflection in the mirror and screamed.
The glass shattered.
"Princess Azula." The woman in the doorway bowed perfectly and waited for permission to enter. Azula didn't want to give it.
"Come in."
The servant's face softened into an expression that reminded Azula eerily of something she'd seen a long time ago, in an illustrated scroll about a girl who got lost from her mother, and had to journey through the spirit world to return to her. Azula remembered wondering why it was her mother never looked at her that way, and then remembering not to bother with her mother anyway. (She had still felt a little jealous at the end of the play, when the daughter had been swept lovingly into her mother's arms and cherished for the rest of both their lives.) (Azula had decided then and there that she hated happy endings.) She was almost completely distracted by the fact that the servant was holding food and spirit intervention or not she had still run across half the Caldera on nothing but fire flakes and adrenaline.
"I've brought your breakfast, your highness." The servant pretended not to notice the broken mirror. Azula made a mental note to have her promoted.
The mirror was in several large pieces on the floor and Yua had heard the scream, but the rest would remain a mystery. She focused on ignoring it (and the princess' bare feet) for the time being, and set the tray down in the silent way she'd learned from a woman who was visiting sick relatives.
The princess had that awful smile fixed in place, the one that always looked out-of-place but never unusual.
"I was instructed to inform you that your training has been cancelled for the day. You are free to do as you wish while your masters have been called away to emergency meetings." It was a half-truth. The Fire Lord, in all of his infinite wisdom (that had never included child-rearing, for some reason), had ordered that his daughter be kept 'out of the way' for the day while she recovered from a sickness only he could see.
"I wish to go down to the lower town," the Princess announced. There was a shadow of a question in it, as if she expected the Fire Lord to jump out and lock her into her room for even suggesting it.
Maybe she did.
When Yua did not respond, the Princess continued.
"You will accompany me. I won't need guards." She took a step forward and suddenly flinched quite violently. Yua's attention was drawn suddenly back to the forgotten mirror. "Leave me to dress, and return in twelve degrees of the sun."
Yua kept her face carefully blank. "Of course, your highness."
Pulling glass out of her feet was not as difficult as Azula had thought it would be. It hurt a little, but not nearly as much as cauterizing the small cuts they left behind. She handled it. It wasn't exactly the first time she'd been burned. It still hurt to walk, like the ache from an pressing into an old bruise, so she practiced walking around her room until she was certain no one would notice.
The marketplace made it easier. Every stall was filled with distractions from her feet. There were great clusters of intricate jewelry lining every stand, glittering in the sunlight like the sea on Ember Island, bright fabrics woven with strands of sun and shadow, tapestries depicting the more frivolous scenes from Azula's history classes. They were greatly exaggerated. (Azula has seen Uncle Iroh's old sketchbooks.)
"The tapestries are beautiful, aren't they?" Until that moment, Azula and her chaperone had walked in silence. Azula looked up at her.
"They're inaccurate," she told her quietly, to keep her voice from wobbling as much as it wanted to. Yua made a questioning sort of hum, as if to prompt an explanation. "Great-grandfather was much uglier than that." (It's not treason if he's dead, is it?)
Yua snorted and jerked forward, slapping her hands against her mouth. Azula blinked. She had never thought of herself as funny before. It almost brought a smile to her face, entirely unbidden, but she forced it away the moment her lips began to curve. Princesses (crown princesses?) did not betray their emotions when in public. (Azula was better than them; she knew never to do so. Someone was always watching.) Still, Yua's muffled snickers provided food for thought. Azula wondered what the political uses of humour could be, and decided to make a trip to the library after the market. There were still several scrolls on political history that she hadn't read.
The princess' silence worried Yua. She could reason it away as confusion, or grief, but it was still unnerving to watch her stare blankly at the fine silks and jewels around her.
How one little girl could look exactly her age and eons older at the same time was beyond her. It was a conspicuous balance she kept, but royals always were raised for court.
(Her brother had been terrible for it. Yua hadn't even been surprised when she was woken to the news and strict instructions not to mention it.)
(The kitchens had been chaos that morning.)
Following after a seemingly aimless nine-year-old wasn't the most entertaining thing in the world, but it was surprisingly uneventful. The princess found some sense of purpose the moment they crossed into the lower market, marked by the overwhelming increase in noise. She tugged her hair out of its high topknot and marched over to the fireflakes stand.
The effect was shocking and, Yua realized suddenly, facilitated by the dark, unassuming training uniform she wore. She had gone from a princess to a forgettable merchant's daughter in moments. Watching further, the Princess' lie was flawless, supported by a childish grin and warmer voice.
"Could I have a cup of Fire Flakes, please?" The stall-worker smiled back, easily endeared.
"That'll be two bronze pieces." Money changed hands and the act had dropped by the time the Princess turned back, face blank again. She looked less severe with her hair down. Yua smiled lightly and followed her to a bench, watching as the Princess' eyes flicker over the people around her. Her head drifted from side to side as she watched the market-goers. After a few moments of peaceful people-watching, her gaze lingered. Yua turned, trying to spot what it was she was looking at.
When she looked back to ask, the Princess was gone.
Yua found herself in a situation colloquially known as 'up shit's creek'.
He was right there Azula had seen him why was he hiding from her when she was the only reason he was still alive where was he why couldn't he just do what she wanted for once-
Azula rounded a corner into a brick wall and fell flat on her back, breathing shakily.
(She'd seen Mother in the mirror but she couldn't have really been there.)
(Was she going to start seeing Zuko in shadows?)
Azula didn't know how she ended up in the teashop with a warm cup between her still-shaking-wouldn't-stop hands, couldn't really see or hear much beyond muffled voices above her head.
"... had a bit of a shock… lost, I think… home…"
Azula stifled a yawn and ignored it, reheating her tea to steaming before she took a sip. A vaguely familiar face slid into her line of vision.
"How are you feeling?" It was a good question. Not one Azula knew the answer to, but a good question.
"Warm," she settled on, because she might as well be a teacup.
Yua smiled in the way that made Azula's throat go twisty-tight-lumpy and she looked down at her teacup. It had a little lotus pattern around the rim in grey and white. "Would you like to go home when you're finished with your tea?" Azula laughed at the phrasing, like she had a choice.
"I have to." The world was coming back into focus now and it made her head hurt. She had no idea why people cried, it was awful.
"Well, then, take your time with the tea. We've got plenty of time, Princess." It wasn't a particularly good lie but the edges of the world were still fuzzy and Yua could take the fall if she wanted to. Azula drank more of her tea and tried not to fall asleep.
"What's even going on? Where's Gumi?"
"Sick relatives. The Fire Lord didn't like his sushi."
"Who else?"
The kitchens fell into silence as Lady Huian filled in the gaps in their lists. Friends were mourned as quietly as rumours were whispered. Yua would miss Sakura.
They'd used to do laundry together.
"So what d'you think actually happened? To the prince and his mother?"
"The Fire Lord…" Chen didn't finish, so it wasn't treason. He didn't have to. There were plenty of other half-baked conspiracy theories floating around. Ursa and Zuko had plotted to kill Azulon, and Ozai had had them executed for it. The Lady had fled with her son, but Ozai had kept her from reaching her daughter. Both of them had been sent away due to a threat on their lives, and would be back soon enough. (That last one was only for the children, the ones that ran around quietly and tried not to hear the gossip.)
"But the princess?"
"The Fire Lord needs an heir." Yua spoke quietly. "She's so young."
"Don't get soft," the Head Chef said sharply. "Even baby dragons can breathe fire."
Yua thought of the broken mirror and pursed her lips. "Only when they're scared."
"Dangerous words, girl." Yua didn't particularly care. What was said in the kitchens stayed in the kitchens.
"She's nine and the Fire Lord is ruthless."
"Yua."
"She's nine." A lot of people stopped talking and set to work.
Nuan chopped the head off of a fish and glowered at her. Yua huffed and left for the laundry room.
"Were they laid to rest?"
"Whatever do you mean?"
"Zuzu and Mother. Did you lay them to rest?"
"Are those nightmares persisting, Princess Azula?"
Azula took a deep breath and pushed harder. "How did you kill them?"
"Azula! Watch your tongue." Why did he sound like Mother? Was she hiding somewhere? When had he gotten so good at lying to her? "Now eat."
Azula hesitated.
"Eat." Father sounded angry, which was exactly where she needed him. If he would just let one thing slip then she would… she would know. She would be sure.
"Not until you let me see the bodies." It's the worst thing she could think to ask, fuelled by that morbid curiosity Mother was so fond of. The flames around her flared at Father's sharp inhale. What more could it take? The thought was fleeting, but she caught it and considered. It was worth a try. If it didn't work, he wouldn't notice. Azula exhaled slowly and the lamps dimmed again.
She heard it before she felt it, still didn't really feel it as her head turned with a loud crack of flesh against flesh. It was numbing, more than anything else. It probably shouldn't have been, but it was a relief.
Azula pushed herself up from her chair and didn't feel satisfied.
She just felt numb.
There were servants in the corners. They didn't look up from the floor.
Azula copied the movements from the scroll, leaving her chi at rest while she did. Complete control.
Azula breathed in, out, felt her chi flowing through her body. In, out, flow.
In, out, flow.
Azula let go.
The air before her lit up in blue.
Azula felt numb.
Azula slipped through the window silently.
Ozai stood from her bed, but didn't turn to face her.
"So, Princess Azula, why is it that you are not where you are supposed to be?"
The torches outside pulsed with Azula's breathing. She forced herself into seiza and prayed to the only god she knew.
"I was merely investigating the flaws in the palace's security, my Lord." Her shin was stinging from the burn pressed against the floor. It wasn't too bad, just a quick flame that had caught her unawares when Ozai had ambushed her during her training, but it still hurt.
"Were you." It wasn't a question, and she knew better than to answer as footsteps padded across the floor towards her. Her breathing stuttered ever so slightly, and the torches returned to their flickering. "Stand up." Azula did as she was told, wobbling slightly on her burned leg. "What was that?" Azula kept her gaze on the floor.
"My leg was injured during practice yesterday, my Lord." He knew that, but he expected an answer. Ozai hummed pensively.
"If it was injured yesterday," he pressed his fingers to Azula's chin and tilted her face upwards, "then why is it still a problem today?" His hand felt cold on her face. Azula held his gaze.
"It's not, my Lord."
Ozai's hand slid upwards to cup her cheek. Azula bit back her shudder and stayed perfectly still.
"You weren't checking any 'security', my dear." The words stretched out between them, hanging in the air like something dead, twisting away into nothing at the lack of Azula's reply. Ozai's face sharpened in the torchlight. "Sentimentality. You were out looking for your brother." Azula kept her face still, trying to get her mind to wander anywhere else but where it insisted on staying. "Pathetic." She knew that. She knew. "You'll thank me, one day, for this."
It was the only warning she got.
In the same palace, in another world entirely, a thirteen year old boy will beg and plead with his father for forgiveness, and scream when he does not receive it.
In this world, a ten year old girl waits for the blood to bubble up between her teeth before she starts laughing.
There is no fanfare.