"Is something wrong?"

"No," he says quickly before picking up his teacup and gulping down whatever's inside. It's not like home, but it's good.

"Are you sure?"

"Why do you care?"

Azula narrows her eyes like he's just told her something she hasn't been considering. "I . . . do care."

"You're not my mother."

"You're my responsibility and it would be remiss if me to let you wallow like this for no reason whatsoever, rather than do anything practical with your time —"

"Who are you trying to convince?"

She sighs even those she doesn't quite know why. "Is there an issue I need to be addressing in court?"

"No," Kaz grumbles. This time he picks up a pastry with some sort of custard inside of it. It's different from home, is less sweet and more salty. "Everything is fine."

"Oh, for Agni's sake. It's quite easy to see that something is amiss here and I would like to help you solve whatever problem it is."

"Surely out of the goodness of your heart."

She winces and he's not sure why. "Whatever you want to believe."

"It doesn't matter at all," he scoffs, picking apart a bread roll. "And it's pointless. But today is my birthday."

And now Azula looks scared, for whatever reason. She probably doesn't believe in birthdays and thinks they're meaningless. It would fit her character to absolutely detest what they stand for. And yet at the same time he feels like she must love celebrating herself. She puts her own cup down and purses her lips. "I see."

A second passes and she looks out into the sky, suddenly ignoring him. "That's it? You could have at least said happy birthday."

"Yes, yes," she puts her hands out haphazardly. "I'm trying to recall what I did for my fifteenth birthday, you see. Actually, I don't think I did anything. It was after I'd won the war and I didn't have time for frivolities. But perhaps my earlier ones —"

"You celebrated your birthdays?"

"Of course," she raises her eyebrows. "I was born lucky, and you are too. Of all people in the world we are the ones who should be celebrating these days. We're gifts to everyone."

He wants to blush at that importance even though it does feel sort of contrived. "I've never had a celebration or anything. It just was me and my parents." I'm missing them. He can't tell her that but he's sure it's obvious.

"If I'd been aware of this we could have had a court celebration and a party of some sort. This is why Fire Lords have consorts," she groans.

"Didn't you have Aunt Ty?" he peeps up because it's his birthday and his right to piss her off, to elicit some sort of reaction from her that isn't this strange almost kindness. He's ready to be blasted back but she just puts her cup down and looks almost sad. Then she smirks and her regularly maniacal expression is back on her face, even if it does seem less intense.

"I can get one of your servants to orchestrate a dinner. We'll invite all the noblemen and have the kitchen plan a long meal. It's important that they understand your importance," she ignores him and before biting her lip. "You should have told me this before, Kaz. Events such as these are important for image."

The half-eaten roll falls out of his hand and crumbs splatter across his robes. "I don't want a dumb state dinner."

"I'm sure you don't. I didn't. But that's how our life works."

Maybe it's the way that today isn't as hot as usual, maybe it's the way his aunt looks less than harmful as she tries to be nice to him, maybe it's the way his heart's pounding with homesickness. "Did you have parties with your friends? When you turned fourteen or whatever?"

Again, he braces to be burned, but she looks melancholy. "I never had very many friends. And the ones who I did have betrayed me."

"At least you had some," he mutters. "I'm not very good at people."

"I —" she pauses. "I dislike to admit it, but I suppose I'm not the best either."

Azula has the same expression on her face, the one she wore when she first saw Aunt Ty. His hand stills where it's trying to dust off his robes onto the cushions below. "I'm sorry."

"There was this time, once, when my two friends and I went to a houseparty, undercover. I was fourteen at the time and nobody knew me by face. And they were talking to others, having others interested in them. And yet I wasn't able to command that attention."

"You probably just intimidate everyone."

"Yes, I do," she sighs and then stands up, waiting for him to join her.

"I'll go . . . back to training now, or whatever," he mutters. If he was with Mom and Dad today they'd be at the zoo or out for fancy food, or Dad would teach him an exciting thing to do with his bending. They'd both give him a present, an amalgamation of their skills. It would have been nice but he doesn't want to think about it. Maybe sparring will remove that uncertainty from his mind. "Have fun with your council."

Azula has started to insist on taking breaks every mid-morning for a few moments. She doesn't preside over his training anymore. Ostensibly this is for her to check in with him without others watching. It would be nice to think that she doesn't mind talking to him, but she was right that time, days ago. She's not his mother.

He's looking back at his robes again, giving up on cleaning them — he's going to change out of them anyway — when he sees a hand in front of his face. "Get up, Kazou."

"Why?"

"I—I don't know," she struggles, her eyes looking much less composed than usual. This might be the first time he's ever heard her doubt himself. "What do you like doing, Kaz?"

He takes the hand and gets up so not to leave her hanging in the air. It's an odd question. "I. Uh, I like training. And I like bending."

Is that a soft smile? Yes, he's once again terrified. "I do too. Surely there's something you enjoy, would like to see."

She almost looks happy and he blinks blankly. Whatever she sees on him takes her out of that spell and she steps away, seeming almost unhappy. "Nevermind. I misstepped," she sounds like she's chastising herself and not him.

"Wait. Do you want to . . . do something with me? Like, for fun?" He's a little amazed. And is she blushing? She's not blushing.

"Forget it."

"No, wait," he steps forward, completing the distance easily. He's still taller than her. "I . . . that's nice."

She turns around and crosses her arms at that. "I'm not nice. So? Is there something you want to do before tonight?"

"I don't know. What did you want to do when you were my age?"

"My father never let me stop my training while I was here. I suppose that party was supposed to be fun. I do recall . . ." she clenches her eyes shut for a moment

"What?"

"Nothing," she shakes her head and stares back at him, her eyes once again glinting dangerously. He wonders what she was thinking of beforehand, the thought that left her almost vulnerable. "We did end up destroying the party, though. That was probably something like fun."

"Destroying stuff . . . was fun?" he frowns. "I would feel bad about that."

He probably would. Probably.

"It's releasing and it's nice to have people fear you."

"Everyone already fears me. Because I'm me," he points out. And yeah, it's true. Most people here haven't seen him bending or with his swords. They're just scared of him because of who he is.

And then her face grows devilish. "And that's the fun part, isn't it? Scaring people without them even knowing who you are?"

He thinks about that. "Back in Ba Sing Se — well, I guess people were still scared of me because of how I looked and my family and stuff. They weren't scared of me. But I don't think I'd want them to be scared of me. Or . . ." he's realizing that he's live-ranting to his tyrannical aunt but that isn't stopping him. He hasn't had his walls broken down in the longest time. Who knows what will happen when he goes back and sees Iroh tomorrow? And now he's feeling bad that he's hiding his escapade from Azula. But he shouldn't. "But that wasn't what I wanted. I wanted to make friends here."

"Trust me. Friends are overrated. Fear is much better."

He almost flinches, but her tone is so awfully resigned. "I think . . . yeah, maybe, I get that."

Her eyes suddenly brighten, and the way she looks at him — like she's seeing herself in him — makes him feel much better than he has been today. He might not have his family or any friends to celebrate with today, but he unexpectedly has Azula, who's almost talking to him like she's his age now, not his aunt, someone older than him. And she's always been like this, even if she can be abrasive at times. So maybe she's not his mother — at least she's never lied to him. She can be his friend.

"Come on."

"So. Let me get this right. You're stealing from yourself?"

"We're stealing from ourselves."

"This makes literally zero sense."

"It makes complete sense," she snaps. "I'm not nice, but neither am I exactly going to steal from my people. We're not in need of more pointless gold for lavish ceremonies or anything like that. And fighting my own soldiers ensures that they stay sharp. Can't have them lazy, can I?"

He scratches his head. "Aren't they going to complain about this to you?"

She continues over him. "And we can tell where we need to tighten security. No, I'll be sending this one over to . . . you. You can handle this one."

Kaz knows he's aghast. "But I won't be able to solve who did it!"

"Of course. You're going to place the blame on this ship's commander. For holding a mutiny or being weak. It'll cement your place, and we'll have it done before tonight. You can put him in jail as we eat dessert."

She sounds much too happy about that prospect, and it slightly blows his mind. "That's . . . wrong?"

They're behind the palace, near the waters, and near where all the royal family's private seafaring ships are kept. She ignores him once again and pulls out a tiny one from underneath one rock. It's blank, innocuous, and doesn't look at all like the others spread across the small cove, large and ominous. This could belong to a fisherman and it's out of place. "Do you do this a lot?"

"No," she huffs and places it on the shore, a part of it in the water. "But I think it's a great idea. Oh, and happy birthday."

He hadn't known much of the sea before he came here, crossed the oceans and arrived at the Caldera all those months ago. He's sure his mother would have loved it — it's her element, and there isn't much of it in Ba Sing Se besides the rivers which run through the dry land. When they'd made their brief trip a few years ago they'd seen some bodies of water as well, but she'd never bended near them. For the first time, he realizes that they were all a little trapped in that city. Him, his parents, and even Aunt Ty and Zuya.

They've both changed into light robes as the sun heightens over the horizon. He hasn't worn clothes like this in a long time because they're inappropriate, but nobody saw them leave anyway; they'd gone through the back. He's wearing airy pants and a light shirt, and his aunt has her midriff exposed. He's unsure if that's an amazing idea but she's flexible enough and she isn't exactly going to get burned. They have cloth to hide their faces so that nobody realizes it's them — luckily they don't have very distinctive features in the first place, not like the scar.

He can't believe he's about to do this but some part of him is excited as she steps onto the boat and gestures for him to join. A quick outreach of her hands propels them out of the cove and into the Fire Nation's bright blue waters, and he frowns at the flames. "Isn't our fire really distinctive?"

She just grins. "Control," she says, and when she opens her hands again her fire is orange in front of his face. He frowns.

"How do you do that?"

She gestures to the bottom of the flame, which is still blue. It's hard to tell from the smallest distance. "Just a bit of control. Your fire is you. I haven't often needed to hide my flames, and we won't need to use them very much," she gestures to the blade attached to his back. "You can use your sword if you can't do it."

"I can do it," he insists, and she crosses one hand over her chest as the other propels them forward, raising her eyebrow in a silent challenge. He hisses and concentrates for a moment, and when his fire exits his hand again it's still blue. "What?"

"Control," she almost sings and he grunts before thinking about the stupid staff and the answers he needs from Iroh and . . . how much he misses his parents. His fire fizzes white and she looks intent. "That's fine, for now."

"Whatever," he settles down against the metal railing of the small craft. "Where are we going?" he asks to no avail.

He has to admit that the Fire Nation's scenery is breathtaking, even if the humid weather makes him sick. They cross rocks covered in moss and the very air seems alive, moist and with churning waters. And yet it's also dangerous; Azula's flames help with direction, and without them fueling the waters he feels like he would have definitely hit something now.

"You should be doing this," she sighs as she makes her way around another part of the cliff. "But today is a celebration of you, I suppose."

"I do like training. I can do it!" And sure, this is a new skill. She looks at him strangely, peacefully.

"It's irrelevant now. The ship should be around this rock, according to the naval reports."

He scratches his head and carefully rises as they come to a stop. He's lucky he doesn't have seasickness. "Wait, so what exactly are we doing?"

"This ship carries . . ." she fishes a piece of paper out of her pocket, "our rice supply."

"Rice is heavy. How are we going to give people rice? Shouldn't we give them, like, money?"

She rolls her eyes. "You must be learning something from your tutor. We can't just hand out money. We'll take over the boat and leave it at the harbor. It'll cause chaos."

"Isn't that . . . bad?" he frowns again. "And on my birthday, too."

"It'll be fine, Kaz. It's great, actually. Shows that you've got enough importance to merit our nation being attacked."

"But we're attacking ourselves."

"Every person who's in power is attacked, Kaz. That's unfortunately how Agni has it work. It's better to control the collisions, at all. Which reminds me," she frowns. "I haven't scheduled an assassin for myself yet."

"What?"

"A perfect example, Kaz. I hire my own assassins and kill them. And then that puts off the softliners and hardliners on my council so they don't kill me."

She's smiling. "You're utterly insane," he tells her, and when her expression doesn't change he starts laughing until his breaths turn to coughs. "You're crazy," he repeats, and he wonders why he doesn't even mind. Why doesn't he feel terrible right now?

"This will be fun," she says, like she's reliving something again. "Oh, and try not to kill anyone. I normally don't mind but we can redelegate them to an easier position. I don't want to hire more soldiers." And that killed the mood.

"Why do your soldiers run your rice ship?"

"Because soldiers man all the merchant ships, and ours are taxed differently. You should have learned this."

"I haven't exactly learned everything yet," he notes as they turn the corner again. "When are we — won't they see us?"

But Azula has her hands behind her again, pure power and energy rocketing them forward until they're in the ship's blind eye, under the hull. He hadn't realized how close they were. And suddenly he's unsure about this. Besides the fight at Ba Sing Se he hasn't actually fought much, especially with his formerly broken arm. "Aunt Azula —"

She's jumped up and is latched onto one of the holes in the ship's side. "Hurry up!"

Dumbfounded, he reaches up and starts scaling the walls as well. He's not nearly as accomplished as she is when it comes to stealth and the art of moving in general, but he did learn a decent amount with his father and all he does now is train. "Ow," he grunts as his elbow hits the metal and the impact reverberates through his body.

Azula smirks at him before reaching out a hand and flipping herself onto the top of the ship. "Happy birthday!"

He's so, so confused, but he almost smiles back as he launches himself up.

As always, if you're reading I would absolutely love to hear what you think :)