Chapter 47
This is the re-written version of this chapter. I mentioned before how I was really unhappy with the latter conversations. But as of 7/26/2018, hopefully this is fixed, and it sounds better.
I dedicate this chapter to: irishleesh93, strawwolf, doodleladi, awkwardllama, Lenny, ForeverTheValentine, jacpin2002, Rianne.o, all the anons who reviewed and everyone who followed either this story or me~
Azula
The prison, her father's domain, was a place that Azula ultimately didn't want to linger, but the turmoil within her mind wouldn't rest.
Even so, she grits her teeth and faced the grim scene in front of her.
The walls were covered in grime and soot, scorched from burning fire and the acrid smell of decaying flesh permeated the air and seemed to seep into her clothes. She walked past the empty cells, made of a gray stone that carried the blood of their previous inhabitants. She wasn't exactly sure what compelled her to come back to this place. She'd avoided it—maybe walking past it earlier this morning had brought her back—reminded her of the unfairness of it all.
The guard had looked completely baffled as she strode in, demanding to see her mother's corpse. He'd nodded at her incessantly, terrified beyond belief.
He was a skinny thing, tall and weak looking with spindly arms and quivering knees. He couldn't have been more than 17, older than she, but Azula was confident that should the situation arise, even Zuko would be tougher than this boy.
He must be new, she remembered thinking as she followed him deeper into the morgue.
Down, down the steps they went, winding and going, until all the light seemed to be left far, far behind them.
"I can give you 10 minutes, Princess Azula." The young man had looked down at her with something akin to pity in his eyes. She wanted to scoff. She didn't need his pity. But she only nodded, eyes unable to leave her mother's prone form on the high, cold table.
She nearly stumbled into the room, but she didn't, quickly composing herself— the shaky breathing behind her reminding her that she wasn't alone.
He shrugged apologetically, a small smile ghosting his face—Who is he to smile at me? "Anything more and I'll have to report it to my superiors."
His superiors. My father.
"I don't need any more time than that." She'd said brusquely, pushing past him, wanting him to leave her alone.
"Alright then." He said oblivious to her irritation, remaining at her side. She sent him a sharp, irritated look, and he quickly scurried out of the room with a mumbled apology.
The morgue smelled even worse than the cells upstairs. It was awful, dark and dank, the air thick and hard to breathe. The scent of blood, ash and rotting flesh seemed to permeate the very walls, seeping into Azula's skin, hair and clothes. The white mourning gown she wore brushed the floor lightly, in danger of being irreversibly stained.
This grisly little hole in the ground that had seen its fair of visitors; hundreds in Grandfather Azulon's reign, perhaps even triple that in Great Grandfather Sozin's time—but now there was no denying the trickle of visitors of the past 3 months had been more than had been seen in decades.
First there was Jin, King Bumi's granddaughter, framed for a death that Azula herself had indirectly caused—but it wasn't really Azula's fault—Mai had gotten jealous, letting her emotions ruin their carefully concocted plan. The girl was innocent, of course, but she'd decided that Jin was expendable in the terms of the endgame. If she'd died…it wouldn't have changed her life—even though it would have changed the world. Emotional and psychological scars aside, Azula was confident the girl would recover—and hopefully speak to no one about what her mother had caused-or the torture her father had inflicted.
Though Azula often threatened violence, it had been a long time since she'd physically hurt someone just for the fun of it.
Jin's imprisonment had been an outcome that Azula had not anticipated, and in truth it seemed like the start of her mother's downfall.
Azula always thought Uncle Iroh was a crazy old man who drank too much tea and was entirely too optimistic for his own good. But whatever he was, whatever the nobility or the common folk had to say about him, Azula couldn't deny that his death...her father's actions…seemed...unnecessary.
The next visitor was Katara herself, if the rumors around the capital and the scars on her back were to be believed.
Her father had taken the girl, so she couldn't interfere, just so that she couldn't restore Uncle Iroh to full health, then she too was poisoned like Uncle Iroh...She felt a sense of almost…pity for the Water Tribe girl, merely for the crime of being who she was.
That too was unnecessary.
Finally, the last visitor was her mother. Her mother had entered this pace in death and would leave this place in death as well.
Azula, at least, would leave here alive.
She approached the corpse steadily, inching ever so closer. Her mother's face was so serene that she could have been sleeping, lost in some deep, drug induced, rest. But there was no rise and fall of her chest, she was hollow. Inky black lashes, so long that they brushed her worn, papery cheeks—and her hair, tied into a thick bun at the top of her head was dirty and limp, missing the glossy luster and shine that it had during her life.
Her mother could be cruel with words, and she'd never been overtly affectionate towards her, but Azula had not known her to be a violent woman...until the Hana Matsuri started.
She'd caused the plague on Kyoshi to test the poison meant for Uncle Iroh.
How many corpses lay at her mother's feet?
Hundreds?
Thousands?
Had she truly known her mother at all?
The turmoil in her stomach threatened to burn her from the inside out. She gripped her thigh tightly, pale fingers bony and trembling to avoid reaching out to touch her mother's face.
I wanted to be her, but I'm not.
I'm not her.
Her mother's once ethereal beauty had been preserved for a short while, at least, though the image now was pale in comparison to her former beauty. Her mouth, thin and red was turned down in a permanent frown of dissatisfaction, the lines around her mouth and bags under her eyes deeper and more prominent as her skin began to sag in death, unnaturally elongating her displeasured appearance into a more somber expression.
It was unlikely that Lu Ten would go through the. extensive measures that full preservation required.
Lu Ten could be just as petty as his mother when he felt like it.
In her last days, Tiang had become foolish. Too ambitious for her own good.
'Useless', her father, Prince Ozai had called the woman he'd once proclaimed to love.
Bitter resentment building, Azula found she hated both of her parents now, for what they did, and how they didn't care.
Her hand moved to brush along her mother's sallow cheeks, trying not to look at the way her eyes had sunken into her face and the dark circles that stained her skin. Her papery skin was ice cold, even in the summer heat.
"Why did you do it?" Azula croaked out, aware of how the guilt and shame burned in her throat. "Was it for me?"
Her mother didn't reply. The lips remained as silent and still as they had been since she died.
What was Azula even doing? Her dead mother could provide no answers, no closure. There could be no benefit to this. No way to recover Azula's honor. She would live forever as the reminder of her mother's sin, a stain in the eyes of all who loved Uncle Iroh.
She saw it in Lu Ten's eyes every time he glanced in her direction, the new Fire Lord's eyes full of hatred and ire. Her father too, had all but ignored her now, though whether he was trying to distance himself from his mistresses' crimes or he was punishing her for trying to run away with Jet, he hadn't spoken to his only daughter in a week.
"It was for him, wasn't it?" She asked, now vaguely aware that she wasn't alone, that there was a lone guard standing just outside the door. Her voice dropped in volume, but the words were desperate, pleading for an answer that she would never get. "You didn't need it. With him you had everything, stupid, stupid fool."
There was frustration and pain as hot tears burned her vision. Nobody cares about you, Mother. Azula thought bitterly, wiping away one traitorous tear.
And so, no one cares about me.
Everyone said that her mother had committed suicide, poisoning herself before she could be caught and forced to serve the Fire Lord's justice. But her mother was too vain to end her beauty that way, too vain to die by her own hand, too arrogant to think that she would be caught in the first place. Lu Ten likely would have executed her himself, to soothe his overindulgent ego.
But there was something...off.
Azula's hand trailed down her mother's arm, paler than her own from blood loss in the skin. She felt papery, waxy, abnormally dry, which it should not have been by now, not this early in death. And upon looking closer, leaning over her mother's form, the red from her lips wasn'tlipstick. It was blood that had dried around her mouth that no one had bothered to wipe off. Azula reeled back in shock as her mind began to work.
She was poisoned, this I know. But what poison?
When Azula snuck into her mother's poison supply, the only poison she had in stock was the supply she'd kept hidden. The same poison that had been used on Kyoshi, the same that had been used for Uncle Iroh. But that poison, the deadly nightshade, didn't leave these traces.
Tentatively, she reached up and pried open her mother's mouth. It too was dry, a thin film of dried mucus coating the flesh. There were no sores on the back of her mouth, no evidence of black bile...what did she use?
Unless...it wasn't her poison.
Could someone else have?
"Guard!" Azula called sharply, and the young man waiting just outside the door snapped to attention and rushed to her side, stammering. He coughed once at the pungent smell coming from her mother's corpse through her open mouth. She fought the urge to laugh at how miserable he looked.
"Yes, Princess?" He said, fingers twitching, itching to hold his nose.
"Who found the traitors body?" Azula asked plainly as the young guard blinked back at her in confusion.
She could never call this woman "Mother' again.
"Um...Princess Ursa, your highness." He said, gagging once, seemingly wanting to leave or run away.
"And was there an official cause of death?" She asked. And he stared at her, wondering how she wasn't bothered by e air in here. It wasn't that she wasn't bothered, Azula just didn't care.
Now he did cover his nose. "There wasn't any official cause, Princess, though the physician said she did smell of bitter almonds…not sure what that meant." He said, and she understood, though the words were hindered slightly by the hand he had clamped over his face.
She sniffed again. Agni, he was right. It was faint, diluted from time, but how had she not noticed?
"I can call him here, if you like." The boy offered but Azula stood up in a rush, nearly crashing into him.
"N-No, I know what it means." She said, hurrying towards the door.
Bitter almonds...
Katara
The sun was much higher now at midday, and the sky a beautifully clear and crystal blue with a few white puffs of clouds scattered about. The breeze was calm, cooling, providing a nice reprieve during the hottest part of the day. The party of four walked along one of the palaces outdoor walkways towards the garden proper. Her grandfather strolled alongside her now, Katara's mother on her right, while Zuko followed along in the back, sullen, quiet and pensive, lost in his own thoughts.
Earlier, she and her mother tried to engage him in conversation, but he only responded with a series of one-word answers and basic shrugs. When he'd arrived, Katara's grandfather had asked him questions about firebending, but Katara didn't know if that just made his sullen mood worse., because then he'd stopped answering all together. She wanted to face-palm. If this was the way he intended to make a good impression, he wasn't doing it right. Though it wasn't really his fault.
Her mother and grandfather had looked at Katara quizzically, but she only shrugged in response. He was brooding, and he would be in a funk for a while—until she could bring him out of it—somehow. She hoped this walk would make him feel better—it was why she'd suggested it. Staring out at the garden as they walked along, watching the birds flit through the trees, hearing the gentle sounds of the turtle duck quacks drifting on the wind relaxed everyone, except him.
His mother's absence was obviously bothering him—he was hurting—she wished she knew what to say to make him feel better.
She was thinking about him and didn't even notice that her pace had eventually slowed to match his, walking solemnly next to him.
"Katara!"
She jumped, startled. Zuko's eyes flashed to her face for a few seconds before she looked away, and back towards the person who'd called her. She felt like a small child caught with their hand in the cookie jar.
"Y-Yes?" She said, heart beating.
"Did you hear what I said?" Her grandfather asked, arms behind his back, dark blue eyes peering down at her.
"I didn't. I'm sorry." She said, heart slowing as she looked up into the old man's eyes. Despite herself, her eyes flickered to Zuko's once more.
Pakku hummed irritably, looking at Zuko with a sort of disdain. Pakku leaned into her further, so close his beard brushed her shoulder. "I asked, 'Have you been practicing, Katara'?" He repeated sternly, hating to repeat himself. Pakku's perceptive gaze of both teacher and grandfather was sharp, ready to pierce through any lie she might tell to save herself.
Guilty. She hadn't trained. Not like he would have wanted. Pakku didn't consider healing to be real bending. But any other kind was near impossible. The Hana Matsuri wasn't conducive to hard training. In those early weeks, she'd been sitting, exerting herself wasn't deemed "proper" in the Fire Nation, not when she had princes to impress. Azula could get away with it because she wasn't a part of it—Azula…could do anything she wanted.
Besides, she'd been unconscious and weakened more times than she could count—she'd used her waterbending—healing—but it drained her, tiring her out. Besides, Pakku wouldn't understand. It was too much to explain, too soon—Grandfather knew that Fire Lord Iroh was dead, but he didn't know how hard she'd tried to save him. A small knot formed in the pit of her stomach.
Guilt.
Failure.
Fire Lord Iroh was dead because she wasn't there.
"No. I haven't." She said, and he looked away from her, sniffing dismissively and grumbling.
"I see." He said, and spoke nothing more, a grimace on his lined face, white eyebrows narrowed towards her.
"What's wrong with that, Pakku?" Katara's mother, Kya, asked from her other side.
Sweat beaded on her mother's face, running slightly over her temples. The thick cord of hair that usually ran down the entire length of her mother's spine had been coiled into a low bun at the base of her neck, but it too looked tired, with strands threatening to escape. She was wearing the lightest fabric she could manage, but the color was a dark blue, but in the Fire Nation summer sun, Katara's mother looked positively miserable. Pakku also looked maladjusted to the stifling humidity and heat. Katara, on the other hand was fine.
The Water Tribe clothing she'd put on, a simple long dark blue tunic over even darker leggings, the slit in the side something that Gu Zhi would call 'scandalous', but Katara didn't care. She wasn't wearing the typical mourning clothes she'd worn yesterday, she would return to her heritage today, and her people wore dark to honor the dead. The only brightness shone from her mother's necklace, the pale blue stone glittering in the sunlight. Her father had done an excellent job in carving another—one larger and more ostentatious.
"Nothing, Kya." Grandfather Pakku answered archly, dismissively turning his nose down at the ornately ostentatious red and gold décor of painted and carved dragons and extravagant floor-to-ceiling tapestry. He sniffed again, as though something rancid were in the air, though all Katara could smell were Princess Ursa's blooming roses and chrysanthemums. "I merely wondered if this place has turned my daughter into a simpering girl who's forgotten her people."
"What are you talking about Pakku?" Kya stopped, and Katara stopped with her. Zuko's boots came to a halt not long after, though he was close enough that she could nearly feel him on her back. He was warm, warmer than the stifling air, and she almost thought she could feel his knuckle brush against her spine—but it could have been her imagination.
"—What happened to my granddaughter, the girl that made mistakes, but learned from them?" Then his eyes shot past her, to Zuko's face. Of course, he despised Zuko. She could feel Zuko tense behind her. Her grandfather sounded almost wounded.
"You haven't learned anything from your nonsensical relationship with Hahn."
What was he talking about?
"You're being used." He ended finally. Tight with his anger, yet somehow his body was untensed. Loose, swaying, like a cobra ready to strike.
Katara still couldn't look at him, though her grandfather's words rang in her ears and the tears pricked at her eyes, threatening to fall. Her throat closed, and she swallowed heavily, willing the tightness in her chest to go away, but it didn't, and she couldn't breathe because everything he was saying was right. She'd become someone else. She wasn't the same Katara and she knew it. Her mother may tolerate the differences, but Pakku? He wouldn't deviate from tradition. Not for anyone.
Not even for her.
"What are you talking about? I've just…adapted." She started to say, and she heard him scoff. If she looked up, he'd probably be rolling his eyes. So, she tried to through his words back at him. "You once told me that the best waterbenders have adaptation down to an instinct."
"Not if you lose yourself in the process." He said dismissively.
"Pakku, leave her be." Kya sighed, almost exasperated.
He waved her off. "Stay out of this, Kya." He said, brushing her aside. "This is between myself and my granddaughter."
"I haven't lost myself!" Katara interrupted him, fiery, near enraged, hands on her hips.
He dismissed mom so easily.
The stubborn old man's eyes widened, and his lips turned upwards for half a breath and then resumed their frown. A few servants passed by, carrying bolts of dark red cloth. They bowed quickly, then continued on their way.
She would have been cautious about the servants seeing—she should have been. But she didn't care. She was too irate to feel embarrassed.
She nearly yelled at him, only managing to keep her voice level with an amount of willpower that was probably unsustainable in the long run. "It's been nearly impossible for me here! Everything changed. I wasn't allowed to waterbend and if you only knew what I've been through—,"
Now Pakku's lips did curl upward, but the smirk on his face was mocking.
"But you're still here, because they need you." And he sounded almost proud, but it was so quick she could have imagined it. And then the severity was back. "Last night I stayed in an inn—I don't trust this place—and I heard rumors in the streets. That the only reason why you're still here was because the family needed you to save Iroh. And now he's dead."
You think I don't know that? It's tearing me up inside.
But he seemed unphased by Katara's obvious discomfort.
"So now, you'll be coming home with us—miserable as Hahn said you were. Why else would you rush to marry this boy?"
She opened her mouth to speak, but it was Zuko that answered in her stead.
"If it's her bending that's in question, then I argue that she's done more here than she's ever done before."
He was behind her—so close she could feel his breath on the back of her neck. Warm. And then suddenly he was next to her, not quite touching, but close enough she could feel him. He stared her grandfather down, pointed chin raised and his sharp eyes bordering on insolent. He doesn't have to—but he's going to do it anyway.
Pakku wasn't intimidated by the 17-year-old in the slightest.
"You don't get to talk about our culture, boy." He arched a white eyebrow, arms crossed over his chest. "Besides, I find that hard to believe."
"It's the truth. Even if you disregard what she did for my Uncle." Zuko replied simply.
But I
Pakku frowned at the mentioning of healing, which he'd always considered a lesser form of bending. She cringed too, he wasn't winning Pakku over with that argument, and perhaps Zuko could tell that.
"Ah yes," Pakku replied archly, "There's a reason why I stayed in the tavern—you learn the truth that way. You and your people have used her talents for your own gain."
"It's not like that." Zuko fired back, his cheeks flushed.
"Isn't it?" Pakku didn't look convinced.
"People gossip, they tell stories that twist the truth."
"And What's the truth?"
Zuko looked nonplussed, with only mild irritation flashing over his features, but he calmed for a second, taking a moment to think before speaking next. Pakku waited patiently with mild interest. There was a look of fear that flashed across Zuko's face for the briefest of moments.
"I... when I came to the Southern Water Tribe 3 months ago…I wasn't entirely whole, so to speak. My…my firebending had been…taken from me."
This was painful for him to say out loud, she knew. His hands balled into fists; his lips were pursed as his golden eyes took on the far-away look of someone that had only known pain could experience. Breaking the links of his chakra alignment must have been painful, and for him to go through it as a boy of fourteen must have been near unbearable. Even so, three years later, repairing that damage had not been easy either, but it must have hurt less. Hadn't it? Either way, it was probably much too soon for him to be talking about this, but if he wanted to, Katara was hardly going to stop him.
"How old were you?"
"14."
"Hm." Pakku just…nodded, as if he understood perfectly, the horrors of exactly what had been done to Zuko. Katara still couldn't wrap her head around it or understand it really. In some ways, that she'd fixed it at all and restored his bending had purely been a result of luck and instinct. It was pure chance that she hadn't made anything worse. And who knows what effects lingered from his bending being suppressed like that. A part of him, his very being, stripped away as painfully as it might have been to lose an arm, or a leg, just…gone.
"And she gave it back to me." Zuko finished telling his tale, looking down at her. She heard her mother's shocked gasp next to her but didn't turn to look at her. Though his eyes were tight, he smiled at her, and she smiled in return. "It was painful, but if not for Katara, I would have been lost years ago."
Again, Pakku nodded, but he didn't speak.
"And if you think she's turned her back on her people, you're wrong." Zuko added, and he reached for her hand without taking his eyes off her grandfather. If Pakku was annoyed by Zuko's insolence, he didn't show it. The old man remained almost irritatingly calm as he spoke, that stern look on his face.
"She's fought for you every step of the way—She's defended her people, her family, to me, my family and the rest of the other girls since she first arrived, and she will continue to do that, because that's the kind of girl she is."
He was irritated, tense now. She could hear Zuko clench his teeth as the biting words came out. She was worried—she wanted them all to get along—Zuko was a part of her now, but she couldn't let him go, not now, not after all they'd been through. If she was forced to choose, if they asked it of her…she…didn't know what she would do.
"I know that I…was silly with Hahn." Her grandfather nodded, acknowledging her naiveté. "But Hahn was a disrespectful jerk that only wanted to become Chief. Zuko isn't like that, Grandfather. He's…so much more than Hahn could ever be." Now there was pressure from his hand on her lower back, comforting and soothing in slow circles. She shook her head., trying to clear it, hoping the tears that had once threatened to fall would disappear. As she spoke, she felt lighter, more relieved somehow.
"It might not be tomorrow, or even this year, but I…I'm serious about wanting to marry him. Being here hasn't been easy, and living here probably won't get any easier, but I…I love him."
There was a breath.
"Like how you loved Gran-Gran."
She tried to pour her sincerity through her words, hoping that her grandfather would somehow understand what she was saying—and her mother was smiling, the cerulean eyes so much like her own were reflecting the summer sun. While she'd talked about Hahn before, it was the childish dreaming of a lovestruck girl. She wanted to show that this, what she had with Zuko was more than that. That she wasn't the same girl she had been. Pakku's eyes softened towards her…finally.
"Good." He said simply, nodding sharply at the pair of them before walking away, a little tick in the corner of his mouth.
Wait what?
"Was that just a test?!" Zuko asked irately, before she could. He was clearly upset, mouth open, his fingers twitched, hands clenching and unclenching in anger. She too was in disbelief about what he'd said to them, more specifically that twitched in anger
Katara sputtered, blinking, unable to comprehend what just happened. "Why?!"
Pakku turned back to her, fury in his eyes. "To see if you'd become as foolish as my other granddaughter."
"Yue?" Katara almost gasped, her irritation forgotten for the moment. "You know about Yue?"
Pakku snorted. "I know too much about Yue. She disregarded tradition, our culture, got herself pregnant and now she wants to run a country. Preposterous."
Zuko coughed under his breath. "I agree."
"It's not exactly like that—," Katara started to say, giving Zuko a mild chastising look, but Pakku interrupted her.
"If you think she's not going to manipulate that young Fire Lord you're just as foolish as she is, Katara." He snapped at her, glaring, though Katara could tell the anger wasn't directed at her.
Katara threw her hands up in the air in exasperation. "So, what would you have me do?" She was irritated now, why was the blame for her cousin's actions being laid at her feet? "Why is this my fault?"
"She's too absorbed in her own narrative, Katara." Her mother added, speaking for the first time that afternoon. "From what Princess Ursa told me, it seems as if the girl truly does believe that Lu Ten loves her. She's absolved herself of our protection, she's got no one. You're just as much an outsider in this place as she is—she needs to hear this from you."
"If she doesn't, it's going to get her killed."
Katara tried to explain it to them—exactly how stubborn Yue could be. Her pride was beyond Katara's influence. "I've tried to tell her this. Believe me, I have. But she just wants to be Fire Lady. She doesn't see that she's got a huge target on her back that I can't save her from."
"Try again." Her mother implored, reaching for Katara's hand. Her eyes pleaded with Katara, "She's your family. If she suffers, we all do."
"Fine." Katara shook her head, grumbling under her breath. "I don't know where she is."
"Katara." Zuko called her name, softly. She looked up at him, and he pointed to under the redwood tree in the center of the garden, its leaves providing shelter to the lone figure with white hair seated on the blanket underneath the shade. Two servant girls stood a few meters away, just within earshot.
Katara sighed, looking around at her family, knowing that she most likely had no choice in the matter. "I'm going, I'm going."
Yue
This is nice. She thought as she reclined on the blanket, I could get used to this.
She rubbed at her stomach absently. Life certainly was good when you were carrying the Fire Lord's baby. They couldn't hurt her. She was to be Fire Lady. She didn't need Katara after all. There was a soft pillow at her back and a cool drink on a small table next to her.
She downed the last of it. Yue smirked at one of the girls nearest her. "Refill." She said loudly, directly. "I would like a refill."
She didn't, but the girl couldn't tell her no.
The girl nodded, scurrying over to do her bidding. "Of course, my Lady."
"She's not, though." a voice said from above her. Yue frowned, she recognized that voice.
Yue looked up into the judgmental eyes of her cousin.
Sighing, Yue waved the girl away. The servant bowed before backing away, though the girl glared at the former priestess as she did so. Yue resolved to remember her face, to savor revenge later.
"Enjoying your newfound luxury?" Katara asked, and Yue didn't answer. "Mind if I sit?" Katara asked again.
Still Yue didn't answer, but Katara sat down anyway, not seeming to care.
They sat there, in silence for a few moments. Yue exhaled slowly, as the wind blew slightly stronger, the waves lapping at the shore turning suddenly violent. The shade wasn't so peaceful. "What do you want?"
"Believe me, I almost want to leave you to your fate." Katara said quietly, and Yue raised an eyebrow—she was safe. "But Mom and Grandpa have asked me to talk to you—again. Don't think I'm doing this of my own free will."
"Hm." Yue snorted, thoroughly unconcerned.
They were silent for a second. Perhaps Yue could return to her peace.
"Were you even going to say hello?" Katara asked quietly. "They're right over there, you know."
She huffed derisively. "Wasn't planning on it."
"After what happened with your parents, they raised you, Yue."
"If you say so." Yue said, and the summer wind rustled the leaves on the trees but provided little relief. Spirits, this heat was stifling. "I don't need you to preach to me, Katara. Rana tried doing that, and as you can see, I didn't take kindly to the temple."
"I'm trying to help you, for all the good it's doing." Yue's younger cousin snapped sharply, voice harsher now.
"I don't need your help." Katara rolled her eyes, but Yue continued speaking. Harsher, irritated by the summer sun." I admit that I needed your help at one point in time. But not anymore. Lu has provided me with—,"
"Provided you with what, Yue?" Katara's angry eyes flashed to hers with a viciousness that Yue had never seen before. The young girl was fuming, almost livid, face reddening.
Yue could only watch as Katara's face twisted in her anger, morphing into something ugly, something that Yue didn't want to deal with—and Prince Zuko wanted her?
After what seemed like minutes, Katara looked as though she'd calmed down, opening her mouth once before closing it again. With a quick glare in Yue's direction, she looked up at the servants waiting just within earshot.
"Girls," she said, and both their heads snapped to attention "Leave us."
They did so immediately, something that rankled at Yue's insides more than the 19-year-old wanted to admit.
"What's your point, Katara?" Yue asked. "Why are you here, talking to me. Shouldn't you be with Zuko?"
When Katara spoke next, her voice was much more level, more even than Yue thought it would be, given the incensed look on her face.
"My point is—" Katara exhaled heavily. "–That I've been here longer than you have. If you think that Song is going to let you have any political power, then you haven't been paying attention like I told you to."
"I have been paying attention." Yue defended, sitting up straight. The ground was hard under her butt now, she wanted to go inside and lay down, Katara was so irritating. "It doesn't matter what she does or doesn't do to me. Ten loves me, and he'll keep me safe."
Katara chuckled, but it was the chuckle of someone who knew a secret that you didn't. "You have to keep yourself safe! You can't rely on Lu Ten, not right now. His father has recently passed away, his mother is probably crazy, his uncle is trying to dethrone him, and his two wives are trying to control him.
"I'm not trying to control him!" Yue gasped, affronted. "Song is, though. She's manipulating him—
"You want him to focus on you, and only you." Katara pointed out with a superior arch to her voice that nearly drove Katara insane."
"I'm carrying his child." Yue argued with her, and Katara rolled her eyes.
"Get real, Yue. How easy would it be for anyone to fake your death and have Song raise your child as her own?"
"Not if the child looked like me."
The princess scoffed, muttering under her breath. "Details like that don't matter—the child would treat Song as their mother. And if they inherited—,"
"If?" Yue wanted to laugh. "My child will be the next Fire Lord."
Katara hugged her knees to her chest, resting her chin on them, looking out at the pond. "Just because Song isn't pregnant, doesn't mean she won't be in the future." Katara added, "Besides, Song already has more power than you. How much longer until she takes complete control of everything?"
"I thought Song was your friend, Katara." Yue said pointedly.
Katara shook her head, ignoring Yue's attitude. "She is—She was—I mean, I don't know. The person I thought I knew isn't the same now. She's not a bad person, just different…. But that doesn't mean she isn't dangerous to you." The words were direct, pointed.
Perhaps…perhaps she's telling me the truth. Perhaps I should listen.
But then Katara continued, with a nonchalance to her voice that was very unsettling, making Yue almost shudder.
"I thought I wasn't in danger when I got here too, just like you do—but Zuko's girlfriend tried to kill me. And then I got arrested, tortured and put on trial, just to keep me out of the way. Then, I was blamed for Fire Lord Iroh's death—which happened while I was poisoned. I'm obviously skipping over a lot of details, here—but I hope you understand my meaning.
Sometimes they'll make it look like an accident—other times you'll just be in the wrong place at the wrong time."
"Is that true?" She couldn't believe
Katara's eyes snapped to hers aggressively, and there was a strange look to them, a bitterness and resentment that Yue couldn't understand. The young princess clenched her teeth.
"You think I'd make this up just to trick you? Do you want to see the scars on my back?"
"Katara…" Yue mumbled, but she didn't think the girl heard her.
No. No I don't want to see the scars. Scars mean that it's real. That it happened.
Wordlessly, she shook her head no. Katara scoffed again and turned around, looking back to where she'd came from. Something she saw in the distance caused her back to stiffen, but she relaxed after a moment, turning back to her cousin.
Yue, though she noticed the behavior, remained silent. She tried to crane her neck around the tree to see what had unsettled Katara so, but she couldn't see, her view blocked by the thick tree trunk. So, she sat. Processing. Weighing her options.
She jumped back into the present when Katara started talking again. "If you think that I hold the key to your salvation, you're sorely mistaken."
"Won't Lu Ten—?"
Katara didn't even let her finish the question. "As he is now, Lu Ten will probably struggle as a Fire Lord."
"Katara!" She gasped., affronted on her love's behalf.
"It's just my opinion." Katara said, justifying her words. "He's been coddled and hasn't struggled, Yue. He's been born into luxury and doesn't know the price that people pay to lead. That Mom and Dad have, He doesn't know what it's like to have a village near starvation because of a bad decision that he made. I agree that is should be Lu Ten on the throne, but if he listens to Song, his mother, Prince Ozai or even you, he'll be ruined one way or another."
Yue didn't think she'd be Lu Ten's ruin. Far from it as a matter of fact. But with the others competing for influence…
My voice must be stronger.
"Even so," Katara was saying. "Zuko is committed to seeing his cousin succeed, and I want it too, not only for Lu Ten's sake—he has so much potential. But because by helping Lu Ten, we'd be helping ourselves too."
Katara seemed to melt, to give way to this look of hollowness, of desperation that seemed alarmingly out of place on her young face. "See? Even I'm starting to play the game."
"I'm not sure what you mean."
"If Lu Ten believes even for a second that Zuko and I are a threat—like his mother does—who knows what would happen to us?" Her eyes narrowed, and she looked to her feet, but the girl's face was dark. "I love Zuko, and he's the only reason I haven't gone home—no matter how many times I wanted to—but the longer I stay, the bigger the target on my back grows."
"But you? I still don't think you understand exactly how much trouble you're in. Since you've arrived, you've been petty, and naïve and selfish. Lu Ten might be affectionate towards you, and he might want your body, but he doesn't love you. I don't know if he loves Song the way he claims. But you can bet that she knows what's at stake more than you and will play the game better than you will. And she'll win."
No. No that's not true.
"He does. H-He said—" But she was grasping at nothing—because Katara was making sense, because maybe, doubt had started to creep in that he truly loved Yue only out of obligation—for his honor.
Katara nodded, a hand reaching out to cover her own. The smile that Katara offered was almost sympathetic., but she still looked sad "I know what he said. He's protecting you now because he also bears part of the blame. "I
Yue sniffed. She could feel the tears coming. But she didn't want to cry—she couldn't cry. Not in front of Katara. "And you believe that Zuko loves you?"
"He does." Katara shrugged. "If he didn't why would I still be here?"
"Hahn—,"
Yue brought up the example of the boy that Katara had loved, who hadn't loved her in return to show that Katara didn't always know what she wasn't talking about, that she couldn't be right—but again the young princess shook her head.
"Hahn was the crush of someone who didn't know any better." There was a pause. "You've heard people call you 'another Tiang'?"
There was an amused lilt to Katara's voice, melodic and high. She sounded smug. Still, Yue nodded slowly, the confusion from earlier this morning resurfacing as she recalled the name.
"Tiang was Princess Azula's mother. She surpassed Princess Ursa in status. Prince Ozai claimed to love her more than he'd ever loved Ursa. Much like Lu Ten will probably do for you." I image that you're out here because your new room is being prepared, right?"
Yue nodded. "I've seen a bit. It's nice."
Katara nodded in agreement. But there was still that self-satisfied attitude. "I imagine." She murmured. "But it's in the on the other side of the palace, right? Not quite in the Concubine's Quarters but close enough, correct? I imagine right next to the garden."
Yue shrugged "Song picked out the room—and the clothes—and the jewelry."
"I bet she did." Katara said again, that arrogance in her voice again. "Just close enough so you don't feel snubbed, but I can guess that her room is much closer to his, much closer to the throne room."
Lu Ten had to make her happy.
That was all true. Song was in charge, and it was likely that the room situation played out just as Katara had said—Yue knew that if she were in the same position, she'd do the same thing to Song.
Katara cleared her throat to get Yue's attention. "Anyway, Tiang was just as prideful as you, and now she's dead. Azula turned on her own mother in the end, sealing Tiang's fate. As much status as Tiang had, she lost. She was just like you."
"You don't know that" Yue snapped. But there was no anger in it, because perhaps, deep down, she knew it to be true. "I can learn."
"Not quickly enough. You're going to need help, and I'll be the only one left here that you can trust.
"I can trust Lu Ten."
Katara groaned, a hand coming up to tap her forehead lightly. "Who knows what he could be saying to Song or his mother when you're not there? You can't know everything." She muttered under her breath, though her voice rose steadily in irritation. "But I don't have to help you, Yue. And with the things you've said to me, I don't even want to help you."
"When did you become so cynical?" Yue had meant it as an insult.
And Katara paused, her face absolved of all emotion, lips opening slightly into a small 'o'. Yue heard a sharp intake of breath. The seconds seemed to turn into minutes before Katara seemed to come back to herself. When she did, there was something behind her eyes that was melancholic and somber.
"You know, I'm not sure myself." She mused, almost to herself.
There was silence.
Yue was left with her own thoughts, an uncomfortable mess rolling in her stomach. She felt sick.
And then Katara said, "But I will help you. Because you're my family. Family and pride are the backbone of our people and I won't turn my back on those."
Despite herself, Yue looked away, something cruel and hateful bubbling in her chest, but she pushed it down. She didn't want to admit that she needed Katara's help. Not yet.
As if she could read her thoughts, Katara shook her head sadly at her cousin. Yue raised an eyebrow at her.
"Your pride is based on selfishness and it's going to get you killed."
Yue sat in silence, mulling over the words that she'd just heard. Was she stupid? Selfish? Prideful? There was no shame in confidence, but had she really bordered so far on arrogance when she had once despised such a trait in other people? Damn it. What if what Katara was saying was true?
There was no reason for Katara to lie to Yue.
Be annoyingly smug about the whole thing, yes, but Katara would never lie.
She didn't want to rely completely on her—no she could only rely on herself—and Lu Ten—although, maybe not even him. She chose him. She loved him. And yet Song would have him, only because she was a Princess. It wasn't fair.
But since when was life fair? Especially for girls like her.
But…if Yue could use Katara to help ease her way into Lu Ten's good graces, show him that she was the better wife, then maybe, just maybe, things wouldn't be so awful. Then Yue could banish Song, and keep her barren, ensuring that their baby—she rubbed her belly—would become the next Fire Lord.
"What would you have me do, Katara?"
Katara laughed again. "You mean besides realizing that the world doesn't revolve around you and that it's not supposed to?"
"Uncalled for, but yes." Yue felt like she was whining, but Katara wasn't done. She was still mocking.
"Go home." Katara said simply, and it was all Yue could do to just stare at her, mouth agape at the ludicrous idea that the princess had suggested.
"You're kidding me." Yue laughed now too. "You want me to leave when I've finally found luxury?"
"If you want to live, then yes."
"Oh, oh and I suppose you get to stay here and live with Prince Zuko, I assume? Don't take me for a fool, Katara."
"No, Yue." And Katara shook her head again, like a mother scolding a child who just didn't get it. "I'll be trying to survive."
Azula (Simultaneously with Katara's conversation)
He was still looking at her, she noticed. His eyes watched Katara speak to her cousin in low, hushed whispers with almost unwavering attention. Azula was waiting for Zuko to finally look at her, her arms crossed over her chest and she shifted her feet impatiently. For a moment, she was almost glad that he didn't look at her right away. She was feeling off—not quite herself—a hollow pit had formed in her stomach.
She walked up slowly to where Katara's mother, grandfather and Zuko were standing, leaning on the cool stone railing, talking quietly with each other. She felt almost bad for interrupting their conversation. Eventually, Chieftess
Kya looked up at her, but Zuko's gaze didn't follow.
This was a bad idea.
I should have left with Jet.
But he would have died if I had.
Finally, he did look at her, and Zuko looked so unimpressed, so apathetic that her heart dropped into her stomach. Why? She'd never been nervous in front of her brother before, usually it was the other way around.
"May I speak to you for a moment?" She asked, trying to keep her voice level. There was too much inside her.
She offered Cheiftess Kya and her father-in-law a small nod of acknowledgement as Zuko made his way over to her, face twisted and suspicious of her, like she had an ulterior motive. She beckoned him into a small alcove that they'd used to hide in when they were kids, before things turned awful between them. He probably didn't remember those days, she barely did herself. Those memories were from another life, in a different family.
"What's this about, Azula?" He asked, a single eyebrow raised, staring down at her. When she didn't answer right away, his eyes flickered again to Katara and Yue, before landing on her face again. Azula knew how she must look, twitching with the anticipation of it.
She didn't know what to do with what she knew—maybe he wouldn't know either.
She decided to get to the point. "I think—no, I know—that your mother killed mine. After my mother killed Uncle Iroh, that is."
He leaned backwards, mouth parting slightly, clearly unexpecting her start off like that. He blinked at her for a moment, before Azula started speaking again, the words coming out faster than she could stop them.
"Before you say anything—and I know you're going to say something—I wouldn't tell you if I wasn't sure." She said quietly, quieter than she'd been in her entire life. "I—My mother is, was, too vain to kill herself, she'd never harm her own body. And she was cowardly, afraid of pain. She'd run before she would commit suicide. "
She continued.
"The poison that killed her, it wasn't hers. It was…it was cyanide, something my mother never would have used. My mother considered it an easy poison, killing victims too quickly to enjoy their suffering—The sign of someone weaker." Azula frowned. "She found out too late. Cyanide might kill quickly, but it is a painful death."
"And you think my mother did it?" He asked, arms folded over his chest.
Despite the skepticism she heard in his tone, Azula could tell there was a part of him that believed her, that he suspected the same thing. Zuko's hand came to run over his forehead tiredly, pinching bridge of his nose and he heaved a heavy sigh.
He's becoming defensive, closed off—change tactics.
She nodded, "Giving someone a quick death is exactly your mother's style. Quick, barely any trace, but agonizing. I can bet that Ursa didn't shed a single tear at the news."
Footsteps.
Zuko quickly looked around for any passerby, and aside from two girls she didn't recognize leaving the garden, carrying a pitcher of tea, they were alone, far away from Katara's family.
"Why would you tell me this, Azula?" He asked, sounding positively exhausted.
She wondered if perhaps her own selfishness had caused her to ruin's Zuko's life again—and not on purpose this time. She felt miserable, so by extension she had to make him miserable too.
No. This was important. He had to know.
She narrowed her eyes at him, voice growing rougher, willing him to understand her train of thought.
I'm always two steps ahead.
"Because you and I both know that Lu Ten has no clue what he's doing—and those two wives of his are going to control him and run our country into the ground." Zuko sighed again, but the look in his eyes was one of agreement, even if he didn't say anything. "We also know that Father would see us all rot before he would let that happen." She shook her head. "He used my mother. He's using yours too."
"You think I don't know that?" Zuko snapped at her.
Azula was almost taken aback. She'd never taken into consideration how much Zuko already knew. Did he know everything? Including her own part in the plot?
"My mother made her own decisions, just like yours did. He called for her today—and she went—no matter how much I protested." His eyes flashed towards Katara once more. She was now holding Yue by the arm and dragging her over to where Chieftess Kya and Katara's grandfather were standing. They were all apprehensive, unsure. She wished she could eavesdrop.
Zuko turned back to her.
"The only thing I can do is keep Katara and I safe. Surviving. That means helping Lu Ten be the best Fire Lord he can—even if he ignores my advice." At her incredulous look, he added.
"You aren't worried that Father will brand you a traitor?" She asked.
Zuko shrugged, not seeming to have an answer. "I don't know. Katara, doesn't think so. She believes that he considers us useful somehow, so he won't get rid of us."
"Useful?" She repeated, not looking at her older brother. The 16-year-old princess remembered her father's words about why he'd abandoned Tiang so quickly. "And if we're no longer useful?"
"I…I don't know." Zuko answered, seeming to understand her fears.
She didn't want to tell Zuko, but she couldn't help it. It came out and she couldn't' stop the words, no matter how hard she tried. The fear and anxiety creeped into her voice steadily at first, but by the end of her words she was near tears, the pain tingling behind her eyes as her throat closed and she choked. This was so unlike her.
"I haven't spoken to him since Uncle Iroh died—He still hates me for trying to leave with Jet—He hates me because my mother was useless, and stupid and he sees the same things in me."
What?
When she'd finished speaking, he'd wrapped his arms tightly around her and the sensation was so strange, so unfamiliar, she didn't know what to do at f His arms were tight, unbreaking around her and it took a few moments for Azula to react, to return the hug with a hesitant raise of her arms and a tentative touch on her older brother's back. He was warm too, she'd been feeling so cold, so icy, lately. Maybe she'd gotten her brother all wrong. She hardly noticed the tears had fallen until she sniffled and felt the wetness on her cheek.
"That's not going to happen." He whispered into her hair, voice low. "Azula, you're Father's pride—his joy—I'm the one with something to prove."
The words were sincere. She'd never heard something more genuine in her entire life. Why? Why did he treat her this way after all she'd done to him?
"If you say so." She mumbled, but it was into his shirt, so she wasn't sure if he could hear her. "T-Thank you, Zuko." The words were heavy and unfamiliar, bizarre on her tongue.
When they'd separated, she realized that his eyes were shining too.
The tears had fallen, and the stain of her makeup left an ash gray mark on the pristine front of his white jacket. She wiped her eyes ungraciously, probably smearing more of it across her face, but she didn't care. Let them gossip.
"Even if nothing happens with Father, Lu Ten's probably going to send me away soon." He looked at her quizzically, wiping away an unshed tear on his sleeve. Azula shrugged. "I'm 16, old enough to marry, and I'm a constant reminder of the woman that killed his father. It's only a matter of time at this point before I'm sent to live with some aristocrat on the other side of the country, probably so derelict I'll never have children."
"Azula…" Zuko said, preparing to contradict her, but she shrugged.
"And you? Honestly, Lu Ten probably views you as a threat too. He'd never actually say it to your face, of course." She added when Zuko looked positively affronted. "But you're marrying a bloodbending Princess, so getting rid of you isn't that easy."
"A blood—," He started to repeat, but the words broke off as a horror-stricken look made its way across his face.
She'd meant it as a joke, a bad one—not that she ever told jokes anyway—but he didn't respond for a moment. After those few words, he didn't even blink, he only stared off into the distance before looking at Katara again, to where she and her family had moved, she laughed with her mother, while her grandfather interjected sporadically, though Yue sulked on the side—what was that conversation about? But Zuko was afraid in his eyes. He took a step forward, towards Katara—stopped—and then turned back towards her.
"That's what he wants. He wants—," Zuko started to say, before he was cut off by a voice that Azula had both longed for and dreaded at the same time.
Her blood chilled, and she didn't think that it was possible.
"Well, isn't this interesting, Ursa? Both of my children together?"
Azula turned, following the sound of the voice, and she stood face to face with her Father, and his plain, barely pretty, murderous wife.
They still wore both a mourning white, though the robe her father chose to wear had a dark red trim along the collar sleeves and hem. A way of snubbing his brother, without being accused of blatant disrespect. Ursa smiled at them both, but it wasn't a kind one. She looked cruel, almost, the look on her face eerily similar to one worn almost permanently by Azula's own mother.
"F-Father." Both siblings stammered out, wondering just how much he'd heard. While Zuko then addressed his mother, Azula didn't. She didn't trust Ursa, not with anything.
But Ursa would still address Azula, anyway.
"Good morning, Princess Azula." Azula huffed and turned away, looking out towards the garden, even as Ursa continued in a light and airy voice. "And yes, I agree, Ozai, this is peculiar."
Their father smiled at them both. It was neither comforting, nor reassuring. "Is everything alright?"
No. No it is not.
Okay, that took way longer than I wanted it to. It's currently 3:00am and I have an early flight tomorrow and ugh I want to melt into my couch and never wake up. I apologize for any typos, please let me know if there are glaring errors.