Chapter 33: Chapter 33
Katara
"Zuko?"
No response.
She chuckled, amused by the blank stare on his face. However, that changed when he made no acknowledgement that he had heard what she'd said. "Zuko say something…at least breathe." Katara let go of Zuko's limp hand where it fell to his side and waved a hand in front of her fiancé's face. "Seriously…you're starting to scare me."
Zuko blinked rapidly, shaking his head as if to clear something out of it. Then to her surprise, he started laughing. "I'm sorry…" He chuckled lightly, pressing a hand to his forehead. "I thought you just asked me to help you take off your clothes. Now what did you really just say?"
"I-uh…I did just say that." Katara said, blushing furiously. She turned her back to him, illustrating the threads in the back that held her dress together. There were a dozen or so, tiny little ties running down her back from her shoulder blades to tailbone. "It only ties in the back—I can't really get it off by myself."
She heard Zuko take a deep breath, and she felt his exhale on the back of her neck, tickling her spine. The sensation didn't help the sheer number of butterflies in her stomach, or her quivering limbs. She crossed her arms over her chest, as though that would help the situation any. She felt the weight of his stare on her shoulders, and she wondered what was going through his mind. The situation was awkward enough, and she hadn't told him that she wasn't wearing upper bindings. She could practically see him running for the hills if she told him that. If he did it, he would find out soon enough anyway.
"If you don't want to do it…" Katara said in a rush, her unease clear. "I guess I could find Suki and ask her—"
"I'll do it for you."
She turned around quickly, slack-jawed, a mixture of embarrassment and astonishment in her eyes. Those words…she'd never heard him say anything with more certainty. Except…during the trial…
If it concerns my future wife, it concerns me.
It was the first time she'd been referred to as such by either of them. Of course, it was universally understood that she and Zuko were going to get married, eventually…but they'd never addressed each other like that. It felt too formal, too real, and in Katara's mind, although she loved Zuko, the idea of being married to him wasn't real in her mind just yet. Katara had always known she would get married young. Her parents had gotten married when her mother was 16, and her father, 17. They'd had Sokka only a year after that, and Katara the year after. Mortality rates weren't exactly low when you lived at the South Pole. Therefore, her people married young, had many children, and – if the conditions were right, lived very long lives.
But how were things done in the Fire Nation? Did his parents get married young? Did it even matter? Did love matter? Looking at Ursa and Ozai's marriage, and the catastrophes brought about because of that marriage going bad, forced Katara to wonder if love was enough. If she was enough.
She shivered involuntarily as she felt Zuko's finger trace a line down her spine, and every thought process she had literally came to a screeching halt. He followed, tracing the path of the tight bonds from her shoulders all the way to her lower back. His touch was gentle, barely hovering over the fabric, but she felt every sweep of his nervous hand over her. His hand dropped back to his side, but Katara didn't turn. She didn't want to see his face. It was embarrassing enough to ask him to do this. Actually seeing his face right now would be mortifying.
His fingers hovered slightly over the tie at the nape of her neck before beginning. He was apprehensive in his approach, lightly pulling at the cloth, as though afraid that by unraveling her, she would crumble into pieces. Or that his touch would cause her pain. Well, she was in pain, but it wasn't really his fault. After all, if she could survive Long's torture, she could survive this. Maybe.
Slowly, almost agonizingly so, he pulled at one end of the cloth, and Katara felt a bit of her dress fall a little bit away. She felt Zuko's warm breath on her back as he let out another chuckle that sounded more like a sigh of relief. With more precision, he undid the next two swiftly, and Katara felt the warm air of the bathroom now on her skin. As more and more of her dress fell away and became looser, she wrapped her arms around herself tightly, pulling the dress up at the shoulders.
Zuko unraveled the next one with more precision, and the dress slid off her shoulders, she became more and more exposed to the warm air. With each ruffling of the fabric as it slid further and further down her skin, Katara shuddered. She heard Zuko's breathing hitch and a tingling sensation went through her blood as she realized that he now had a general look at all of the wounds on her back. Sores, cuts, gashes, and angry red lines marred her skin, her body never having a real chance to heal itself. One of the cuts had reopened, and now that the dress was no longer there, she felt a steady trickle of blood run down her back, probably staining the white fabric.
She grit her teeth, eyes trained on the floor. She didn't want to catch a glimpse of his face. But it didn't matter. She heard it soon enough.
"Katara." He forced out in a rough voice, saying her name as though it would stop him from saying something else. His grip on the back of her dress tightened, and Katara was jerked back slightly as he pulled her closer to examine her. "H-How far do they go down?"
"All the way." She said, her voice sounding hollower than she'd ever heard it.
"…All the way." He repeated, murmuring darkly. She wasn't sure if he was talking to himself and to her. He touched one of the red welts on her skin, following its path down her back where it disappeared underneath the rest of her clothes. She hissed, arching away from him, but Zuko's other hand gripped her left shoulder, keeping her from moving. And then, all of a sudden, they were flush together, Katara angling herself slightly away from him, to keep his clothes from touching her wounds.
But Zuko, after pausing for only a moment, resumed his work on her dress. He undid each tie one by one, agonizingly slow and tentative, and as the fabric around her became looser and looser, daring to fall from her body with each breath, Katara's heart raced faster and faster. She wished she knew what he was thinking. Was he as nervous as she was?
His hands were warm on her bare skin, and she felt his soft lips kiss the area between her shoulder and her neck, before trailing upwards, their faces inching closer together. "I'm sorry if…I hurt you." He whispered against her skin, lips never leaving her body. His breath was hot and heavy on her bare shoulders, spurred on by the inner fire burning inside of him. Was the steam from the bath making the air thicker? Because all of a sudden, Katara couldn't breathe.
Even though she knew she loved him, and he loved her in return, how could he affect her like this? He caused her toes to tingle, with just a look, just a kiss. He caused her heart to race just by holding her hand. He was the only male to cause these reactions inside of her, the reactions that she'd heard women talk about before she left, and if she had to choose, he would be the only one.
This was so intimate.
When he finished, she would be alone, in a steamy room, with another person (her intended, but that wasn't the point). If her grandmother were alive to see her, she'd probably have a heart attack—no, wait, Gran-Gran was probably watching from the Spirit World—Oh, this wasn't helping at all. If any woman from her tribe could see her, she'd be punished beyond belief.
"Zuko…" The name came as a hushed whisper on her lips, barely enough sound to reach her own ears, never mind his.
They had to stop this. It was getting too far, Katara realized as her dress continued to slip further down. This sort of thing would never be permitted back home, even among engaged couples. Any interaction between members of the opposite gender was strictly looked down upon. Any transgression couldn't be forgiven. There were no exceptions to the rule. That's why Yue was exiled. Or she would have been, had her cousin not left first. If the Elders could see her now…
"Zuko?" She tried again, shame replacing the euphoric feelings once coursing through her blood. How could she have let things get this far? By her tribe's standards, she was still a child. Somehow, these thoughts just flew out the window as soon as Zuko's lips met her skin. Her cheeks reddened, and if she were paler, the blush would have traveled across her entire torso. Unconsciously, Katara's neck angled to allow him better access. What was the raw things she was experiencing? The feelings she'd never felt before, but felt now that she was here, alone, with Zuko.
"Hm?" He murmured, lips still firmly attached to her neck. His hands moved from her shoulders, to her waist where they lay securely on her stomach, directly over hers. Katara struggled to keep the dress up.
"Zuko, wait." She said, a little bit more firmly this time. He paused in his actions, and Katara didn't know whether to breathe a sigh of relief, or to feel saddened by the loss of contact. She disentangled herself from him and took a purposeful step away. "We—I can't do this."
Zuko just stared at her, a blank look on his face. "Did I do something wrong?" He asked her.
She shook her head no, about a thousand times in one second. "No…No, Zuko." She said again, repeating the word several more times, as Zuko's face looked more and more dejected each time she spoke the word. "I…I um…it's nothing you've done."
"So then what's the problem?" He asked. He held up his hands tentatively. "Did I hurt you?"
"I'm not supposed to be doing this." She said in a rush. "Any of it actually. It escapes my mind when I'm with you. All logical thought just…goes downstream."
"Doing what?"
"I-I'm not supposed to be in a room, alone, with you while you undress me." Katara said, the words flying out her mouth in rapid succession, and just saying them was enough to bring back memories of the ceremony when she was twelve. All of those people, all of those faces… "When I asked for it, I wasn't in my right mind. I wasn't thinking clearly."
"Katara, we're as good as married." Zuko said, arms extended outward. But his eyes were nervous, hesitant, searching her face for emotions that she couldn't bear to. "I would never force you, believe me…but honestly this isn't really that big of a deal."
"In the Fire Nation." She murmured, cutting a wayward glance at him.
"What?" Zuko asked.
Katara folded her arms over her chest and narrowed her eyes at her fiancé. "Physical contact between a man and a woman isn't such a big here, but where I come from, marriage is a pretty big deal, and so are all of the traditions that go with it. Including no touching before marriage."
"But you've never complained before."
She reddened, remembering several moments, several thoughts, several dreams that she'd had where they'd kissed, and so much more. "I know, but…I should have stopped myself. I should have had more self-control. Being alone with you makes control…difficult."
Zuko chuckled and opened his arms to her. "I get that, but you're not in the Water Tribe anymore. You're in the Fire Nation. And here, it's perfectly normal for couples to do stuff like this." Zuko shrugged. "Besides, I'm pretty sure that Song and Lu Ten have already—,"
"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" Katara's eyes narrowed further. "Because if it is, you're doing a poor job of it."
She didn't know why she was being so hard on him. It's not like he knew her tribe's rules or restrictions or any of its traditions. But maybe he should have. After all, she'd come to the Fire Nation on his terms, even if they weren't exactly his; was getting married soon, despite the fact that she did want to marry him; and she was prepared to uproot her entire life just to be with him. She'd been tested, tortured, all for him, and yet…maybe, just maybe she wanted him to give something of himself in return.
"Katara—,"
"Do you know why the Water Tribe frowns on concubines?" She asked, turning away from him. "Why the people of the village would have been upset if they knew that Tiang and Azula even existed?"
That brushed the smile off his face. "No. But Katara, this is our reunion after forever apart. Why would you want to bring them into this—?"
"I'll tell you why." She continued. Her eyes were full of tears, "Because no man in the Water Tribe has ever had a concubine. Concubines are things of legend. Marriage is a practically sacred affair, because half of all the children born in the Water Tribe die before they can reach the age of five. Whether they freeze, or slip from the ice, or wander too far from the Igloos, our tribe is small." She shivered, but the temperature in the room was so high, it wasn't from the cold. "And it always has been. Every man and woman are needed to preserve our Tribe's population. We can't afford to waste it on meaningless flings and one-night stands. And that's why it hurt so much when Yue left. The priestesses are so important because they need to perform the blessings that help keep our tribe alive."
"But Katara," Zuko said, stepping closer. "That isn't us."
She shook her head. He just wasn't getting it. "But it is a part of me. Of my history. I thought you'd understand that." But Zuko still didn't understand her, and she wrapped her arms tighter around herself. "Look, I don't know how far you got with Mai—,"
"Mai and I were never together like that." He said adamantly, fervently, eyes blazing. But Katara knew him well enough to see when he was trying to hide something, and unfortunately, she knew what he was trying to hide.
"But you almost were. I can see it in your eyes." Katara said, her voice sounding sad and depressingly bitter to her own ears. She refused to look at him, eyes more focused on her own feet. "I can picture it now. You loved her, and what better way to celebrate that than with—,"
Zuko's eyes grew sharp, and he glared at her. "You can't possibly be comparing yourself to Mai. There's no contest."
"Isn't there?" Katara wondered. And despite Mai telling her that Zuko loved her more than he'd ever loved anyone else…"They say you never forget your first love."
"No." He said firmly, one hand on her shoulders, the other simply a finger under her chin and lifting it up to look into her eyes. "I love you."
But Katara couldn't see him. Her eyes were blurred by tears, and there was a knot in her throat that made the words difficult to form. "I know you love me. But we don't know each other. I don't know what your favorite color is, or what your favorite hobby is!"
"Of course you do…" He said confidently, but then he paused for a moment. "Okay, it's gold. And my favorite hobby is…well…um…"
"See?" Katara shook her head. "I know we love each other, but we barely know each other. The Hana Matsuri, the time where we were supposed to get to know each other, we've been so distracted…between with fighting each other, Fire Lord Iroh's sickness, Tiang's plots…I feel like I barely know you Zuko. And what's more…I feel like you barely know me."
"Fine then," he said, determined now, more than ever. His grip on her shoulders tightened. "What are the Water Tribe traditions? We will do them, all of them. You have my word."
"But it wouldn't mean anything Zuko. You'd only be doing them so I'd stop being mad at you." Katara huffed, breaking free from his grip.
"Oh, you're mad at me now?" Zuko said sarcastically. "I'm sorry, I could hardly tell. What with you basically insinuating that my love for you is meaningless." He sounded hurt. And Katara almost wished that she could take her words back.
Almost.
But she was of the Water Tribe, and she would give her homeland the honor that it deserved.
"Zuko that's not fair." Katara protested, her hands clenched into a fist.
"Isn't it?" He asked, betrayal written all over his face.
"No it isn't!" She snapped at him. "I can't—and shouldn't be expected to give up my traditions for yours."
"Katara…" Zuko said softly, but his eyes were still wounded.
The tears fell from her face now, and her voice was broken and in shambles, and it would take her a while to recover, at least now. She blinked rapidly, trying to free her clouded vision so she could look clearly in Zuko's eyes.
"And even t-though you'd never a-ask me to…" Katara sniffed, wiping her eyes on the sleeve of her dress. "I'd do it anyway, if it meant that I could be with you. Because that's how much I love you. Do you think I would have stayed if I didn't?"
"Katara, I know that but really, you're taking this much too seriously." Zuko said.
"I'm not Mai, Zuko." She told him, and Zuko frowned. Katara shook her head, smiling sadly. "I'm not selfish enough to let you go when things get too difficult, to spare myself the heartache. I'm not selfish enough…to give you up. But in the Fire Nation, in a country where everyone is the exact opposite of me…where they hate me…because of the way I look, where I come from, I need to keep who I am."
Zuko didn't say a word. He merely stared at her, and she wondered if she'd gone too far. After a pause that felt like an eternity, he bit out. "I'll leave you to get cleaned up."
And Katara could only stare at the bath that Zuko had prepared himself, looking between that and his retreating form, willing him to turn around. To say anything. To lose him now, after all they'd been through…would be tragic. She'd even apologize if he'd only turn around.
But he didn't.
He just kept walking away from her.
Katara allowed herself to break down only when she heard him slam the bedroom door shut.
Azula
I have utterly lost my mind. Azula said quietly. That's the only explanation that I can think of for why I'm acting like a lava-brained love-struck little girl!
As soon as Azula entered her suite of rooms, she'd practically torn it apart in a fit of rage. Her servants were nowhere to be found, and yet. She didn't want to burn any of her possessions, and yet that's what she really felt like doing. She was too high strung, too full of…emotion over what she'd just done.
Father is going to kill me!
She stormed over to her couch, hands reaching to the closest shelf to her, searching for something, anything to keep her mind active, and away from Jet. She'd found her answer in a scroll on basic bending forms that she'd read as a child over a dozen times. Letting out a deep breath she sat on the couch and unrolled the idiotic thing, trying to keep her mind straight.
It worked.
For all of three seconds.
She tossed the accursed thing to the side, before reaching up and unclasping the diadem at the crown of her head. Her hair tumbled down straight, stopping just above her elbows. Azula ran her hands through the straight locks, irritated with her perfection. Curly hair was rare in a Fire Nation girl. Mai's hair, Like Azula's was straight, and could ever be anything but. Tylee's hair was curled, because her grandmother was born in Ba Sing Se, a fact that Tylee's father tried to hide. Azula scoffed. She almost wished she had Katara's hair. Because then she'd be different. She'd be meaningful…she'd be…
Someone other than herself.
Someone other than Princess Azula of the Fire Nation.
Sometimes…she wanted to be someone different. To not be cursed with the life as a daughter of a concubine, especially now that her mother was disfavored…and her father… Well, after her father witnessed that display, it was highly likely that she'd be disowned by him soon enough.
How could she be so reckless, so stupid?
If she'd just sat there calmly, it would all be over. Katara would be ousted back to the Water Tribe, Mai could marry her brother, her mother would've stopped her incessant whining, and she could still face her father with her head held high. But she could no longer do that. She'd succumbed to the thing she'd been trying for most of her conscious life to forget. The ability to emote. To feel. She should have gotten rid of her emotions long ago. She should have and would have if Jet hadn't come in and undone everything.
Jet, who she had feelings for. Jet, who she couldn't bear to see die. Jet…who even the mention of any torture applied to him practically drove her mad. Why was it him? Why of all people she had to choose him? She barely knew him! Why? Why did she have to choose an Earth Kingdom bound, stubborn, irritating, common boy! Why couldn't it have been one of her father's stupid lackeys that obeyed his every whim?
I would have been miserable. A sneaky little voice said in the back of her mind. She shook her head. But Father would have been happy. Isn't that what matters after all?
"Well don't you look merry…you're practically the epitome of happiness." A voice said from her doorway. She didn't even know the door opened. Azula frowned. Her reflexes were fading. "I hope you're not thinking about me with that frown on your face."
Azula didn't look up. "Since when did you know what epitome means?"
"Since you called me the epitome of a filthy peasant." Azula looked up, and there was Jet. Smirking, smiling, stupid Jet. Shaggy-haired, brown eyed, loveable Jet. "I'm poor, not stupid."
Azula raised an eyebrow. "Perhaps my views have changed since then."
"Perhaps." He smirked, coming into the room.
Azula was suddenly aware of her appearance. The bandage that hid the cuts that marred her perfect skin must be shining so brightly in the candlelight that it was all that Jet was probably looking at. Don't look at me, I'm hideous. Wait, why would I think that? It never mattered before.
"You… can't come in here." She said quickly, reaching for the discarded scroll, feigning reading it. She was trying to put a physical barrier between them, if she no longer had a mental one.
He looked around in surprise. "What did you do to this room?"
"T-That's none of your business." Azula snapped at him, but without the intensity, it had no meaning. "What are you doing here anyway? It's prohibited for you to be in this part of the palace." She raised an eyebrow at him, but Jet didn't answer at first.
Instead, he only stared at her more.
Feeling the awkwardness in the room rise, Azula turned back to her scroll, but her mind was definitely not on ancient bending forms. Jet coughed loudly, causing her to look up again. Her eyes raked him over slowly, he'd been given fresh clothes, and all she could think about was that red did suit him. He carried a satchel on his back that sagged heavily with the weight of gold.
Jet's cheeks reddened. "The Fire Lady gave me some new clothes… they're a bit tight. And some money too…I guess I'm a rich man now."
"How wonderful for you." She said, trying to keep her voice nonchalant.
Jet cleared his throat inelegantly "I…um…I'm leaving the palace now. Actually…I'm leaving the Fire Nation soon, I'm going to try and head to the Earth Kingdom, make my fortune over there." Jet coughed again, "I thought I should let you know."
What? So soon? She mumbled incoherently to herself, trying her hardest to sound indifferent. "Good for you." Azula snapped, not looking up from her scroll. But she thought she felt something break inside of her at the thought of him leaving. "You shouldn't even be here, anyway."
"I figured." He said dejectedly. And then there was silence. Azula looked up to see if he'd actually done what she'd asked. But Jet in reality had made no actual motion to leave, coming into her room, leaning against the doorframe. He offered her a confident grin, and Azula felt her breath catch in her throat.
"What—," She started, but he spoke before she could say something,
He walked closer to her, and with each step he took, Azula could feel her heart beat faster and faster, the rhythm indescribable, the feelings coursing through her veins unbelievable. She looked around rapidly to see if any of her servants were here, even Smellerbee would do, but he caught her gaze as her eyes swept around the room. His eyes met hers, brown and gold. So warm, so much like her own. Yet…so different.
"There's no one here but us." He said confidently, smirking at her. "Smellerbee took care of that. She knew I was coming, you see." He offered by way of an explanation.
Azula suddenly cursed herself for giving the little imp power over her other servants. "Traitorous little—."
Jet broke through her tirade. "Come on, princess." He said, now so close to her, she could feel his breath on her face. But she didn't break eye contact. She wouldn't lose to him.
"Tell me to leave. Order it."
"L-Leave." She bit out, but it lacked the fire she normally possessed. Besides, she knew in her heart, that she didn't want him to leave. And she knew it showed in her voice.
"Fine," He smirked at her, turning around to go.
"No wait." She said, catching his arm. He turned to her. And her scroll was forgotten. As she stood it tumbled to the floor with a soft clatter, but Azula paid it no mind. "Don't go."
He wagged a finger at her. "Is that how you ask nicely?" He grinned.
"Oh, shut up." She dropped his arm. "Just get out of here if you're going to be rude."
"You're the one that's rude, Princess." He said, and Azula raised an eyebrow in mild surprise.
"Me?"
He nodded. "Yes you." He backed away, and it only took her a second before she realized that she'd subconsciously followed his movements, walking towards him, not allowing him to slip out of her grasp.
"What are you talking about?" Azula asked, rolling her eyes at him.
Jet blinked. "Never mind, that's not important. What'simportant, is how you just left me in the arena. Especially after what you said. What you did."
Azula felt the cuts on her cheek twinge as she blushed at the memory. Again, her walls were crumbling further into the abyss of her mind. "Well what was I supposed to do, just wait around and do nothing?"
"No," He agreed. Then all of a sudden, he was close, too close for comfort. "What you should have done is waited around and let me kiss you right there in front of your family."
Azula couldn't believe what she was hearing. She let out a sardonic laugh. "Oh yes, that would have gone well. My father—,"
She was cut off as his lips pressed against hers with more force than necessary, and the last of her resistance crumbled away as she clung to him. She held onto his arms for practically dear life…as she had no one else. And their lips moved together, in unison, as though she'd known how to all of her life. Now that she'd known him, his taste, his personality, she would never be the same again. There would be no one else for her in this lifetime or any other. And even if they couldn't be together in this lifetime, somewhere, sometime, she'd find him. He had become her rock. He was suddenly now more important to her than he should have been. And she, Azula, daughter of Ozai, would never be the same again.
Daughter of Ozai…
"No…No I can't!" She said roughly, breaking their contact and pushing Jet away. Jet staggered backwards due to the unexpected violence. "I can't do this. I can't let this happen." She gestured wildly between the two of them, separated by mere feet.
"Let what happen?" He still clung to her, but they were separated now, and she no longer looked into his eyes, which would help considerably.
"My father will hate me for this. I hate myself for this. And it's entirely your fault!" She shouted at him, and he actually staggered backwards, surprised by her outburst. But she couldn't be contained. Her walls were collapsing, breaking apart with each heated breath she took, each time he stared into her eyes.
Rebuilding her walls just might kill her. But she'd have to try.
"My fault?" Jet asked angrily.
Azula marched up to him, and although she came up to his nose, she felt like he towered over her. "Yes, your fault." She poked in the chest with her pointed nail, punctuating each word she spoke. But she couldn't hold his gaze for long. Because his eyes were searching, desperate to understand her. And she hated that she actually wanted him to understand her. "Don't you get it? Because of you, my whole world is falling apart. I betrayed my mother for you. Because I couldn't let you die."
"Your mother was wrong, Azula." He said, disbelief evident in his tone. "You could have let Katara die, but not me?"
She turned her back to him, and her voice was cold. "Of course, I could have let Katara die. I don't need her. I…feel like I…I need you." Suddenly she whirled around, and her eyes were wild. The calm, cool and composed Azula that had once been her entire existence, her solace, was gone. And she didn't know what to do.
"But that's the point!" She cried out to him. "Ever since I met you, I've been…feeling…these things—,"
"Don't call them things, Azula." Jet said, his voice cross, "What I feel for you, and what you feel for me…is not a thing. It's tangible, it's substantial…it's—
"A thing! Oh honestly Jet, what am I supposed to call it if that's what it is?!" She explained, and she wondered how she must look. Hair wild, her eyes near tears, and it was all she could do to hold herself together. "It's a thing that I don't need! A useless thing, a stupid—,"
"What, an emotion? Is that what you don't want to say?" Jet snapped at her, and his arms were around her wrists and he pulled her to him. Ordinarily she'd burn anyone who dared, but Jet was different. He always had been. A few tears escaped her eyes and she hurriedly rushed to wipe them away with her free hand, but Jet caught it just in time to stop her. "Everyone has them, Azula. You shouldn't want to be rid of them."
She wondered how she let herself be so weak. Jet shouldn't be able to affect her like this, but he did and that wasn't fair. Never mind the fact that he was more common than a sack of potatoes. The more mystifying conundrum was this; what power did he have over her that she knew nothing about?
"Like I said, you don't understand. But I honestly shouldn't expect you to." She sniffed, and the tears were falling freely now. Her face was red and splotchy, and her eyes puffy. Her hands shook, barely being able to contain her tears. Ugh, now she remembered why she never cried. It made you look disgusting. She forced out through her crying, "I have to be rid of these emotions. Emotions make you weak. Emotions—,"
"—Are what make you human." He cut her off again, and this time she had to look up at him. Their eyes met and Azula took in a deep breath, ragged and rough. She felt like she couldn't get enough air into her system. "Your father might want to turn you into his mindless machine— to be void of all emotions and feelings…"
"He wouldn't." Azula protested automatically, but deep inside, she had to ask herself, was that really true?
Jet continued as though she'd never spoken. "But please, please. If you forget everything about me after today, remember this." She waited. "The first time I saw you…I felt something. And I know you felt something too, no matter how small."
"I—,"
"Are you really going to lie? To me?" Jet smiled, and he pulled her closer, arms now on her waist. "You've never been able to lie to me."
Azula thought about that for a moment before deciding he was right. She smiled, a rare occurrence for her, and Jet would be the only person she would smile for. Only him. "Since you've learned to see right through me, you must know the question that I'm going to ask."
"Of course I do." He said confidently before breaking out into a wide grin. "Okay, I actually have no idea."
The sound burst from her lips, strange and foreign and Azula at first didn't realize what she had done. It was only when Jet made a similar sound that Azula realized what actually happened. She'd laughed. She actually laughed. At something he'd said. At this rate, Azula was looking at a total and complete loss of her identity.
She kissed him then, something so unlike her that it threatened to unravel every fiber of her being. When they broke apart, both gasping, he rested his forehead against hers after he peppered her face with little kisses, staying away from the bandage that hid the painful cuts.
"Am I ever going to see you again?" She asked quietly, their lips were impossibly close now. Their breaths were melding into one, an experience that Azula never had, and an experience she'd hated Mai for. "Since you're leaving the Fire Nation…" She trailed off.
"No." He said, sadness his voice. "No, probably not."
"Then…like I've said before. I'm an incredibly selfish person." Azula smirked, imagining the look she was about to cause on Jet's face. Her arms hooked around his neck, fingers curling in his untidy hair. "I can't force you to stay…but I'd better satisfy myself while I can."