A/N: And, we have an Azula chapter.
I've noticed portrayals of Azula can vary widely and be a sensitive subject, so if you'd like a little bit of insight into my thought processes here and a bit of what to expect (well, sort of), feel free to see the note at the end.
Chapter 3: Allies
Azula opened her eyes.
As always, her first feeling was the shock of cold on her face. Her lips stung—split open again, no doubt. When she reached up to brush ice crystals that always seemed to form in the beads in her hair, she couldn't feel the tips of her fingers.
Azula got up from her thick fur sleeping bag, and went to the flap of the tent.
Outside was a barren field of snow in all directions, now a dreary gray in the early morning darkness. Daylight was in short supply here—the days short, the nights long. The perfect place for waterbenders to hone a new and deadly skill.
"Are you up already, Amka?"
Azula turned her head, toward a second tent. An old woman, bent with age, her weathered face framed with unkempt gray-white hair, stood outside the entrance, with a heavy, thick coat over her thin shoulders.
"Good morning, Hama," said Azula, unsmiling—Amka was always respectful, but she didn't smile much. "Did you sleep well?"
Hama chuckled in a dry, cracked voice. "Well enough. For a woman my age, any sleep is good sleep." She added, "But you're young. You need your rest if you don't want to shrivel up like an old sea prune."
Azula went to the circle of stones, which they had been using for their cooking fire in the daytime, and knelt down beside it, pulling a pair of spark stones from a nearby sack. From a flask she poured a little seal oil over some tinder she had gathered the day before. "It's hard to sleep," she said. "As we will be setting out soon."
Hama sighed deeply. "Must you do this so soon, child? These waterbenders you recruited are reasonably skilled, but—their training has only just begun. Their opportunities to practice and perfect this technique are naturally limited. I feel as though we have only seen a few full moons."
Azula did not allow her impatience to show on her face. "Three," she said. "This will be the fourth."
"Hardly enough time to hope to face the Fire Lord and all his guards," the old woman said, eying Azula with doubt.
Azula took the stones and struck them together above the tinder—not a spark. Creating fire from scratch reliably was one expected Water Tribe skill Azula had still not mastered. Yet she didn't dare help it along; the old woman might suspect nothing now, but her old eyes were annoyingly keen.
"Perhaps," Azula said evenly. "But with each passing day the Fire Lord's new allegiances with the other nations—including the chief here in the North—strengthen. And the Fire Lord grows in confidence and experience. We must strike when he is still weak." Azula struck the stones together again—still nothing.
"The most satisfying revenge takes time," said the old woman. "Patience. I know you wish to avenge your brother—but impatience may lose you the opportunity forever."
Azula struck the stones together again, with force—a single spark ignited, yet fizzled out in the cold air before it touched the seal oil-soaked slivers of wood.
"Here," said the old woman, climbing to her feet. "Let me do that, girl."
She shambled over, extending bony hands to take the stones from Azula. With a grunt, she knelt down, and with one efficient movement, struck one stone over the other. Sparks fell over the wood, and the oil caught. In a moment a thin wisp of smoke began to rise into the air.
"You'll get the hang of it, dear," she said, touching Azula's shoulder. "Be patient. It took me years to master the fire, and I expect it did for your brother, too."
As the woman turned her back on Azula to shuffle back to her log to sit, Azula watched her go. She kept her expression neutral—even as the muscles in her neck tightened. To be lectured about patience by the old crow—as though every single day in this frozen wasteland surrounded by ignorant ice peasants wasn't the most extreme exercise in patience. And now the woman thought to stand in her way—after all these months of careful strategy.
As the woman turned back, easing herself back onto the log, Azula forced herself to relax.
"Of course. I know that, Master Hama."
The old woman sighed with relief, massaging her joints as she settled back down. Then her eyes returned to Azula. "And yet, you still intend to go."
Azula opened her mouth to respond—but another voice got there first.
"We have to go."
Both Hama and Azula turned slightly, as a girl with a loose braid and dressed in tattered furs approached from the direction of the icy shoreline, a spear over one shoulder, two small fish tied just below the spear head.
She propped the spear up against one of the logs, fish dangling in the air, and dropped a sack of supplies in the snow from her other hand.
"The big ones aren't biting," she said shortly. "Those will have to last us the morning, and maybe Kanaak and the others will bring something when they get here tonight."
"I never thought I would meet a Northern girl who was such a good hunter," Hama said, with something like pride. "You are a marvel, Nukka. My old friend Kanna never did get the hang of proper ice fishing—at least, she hadn't by the time I had gone."
"Yeah, yeah," muttered Nukka, looking away, scowling, though from the way her cheeks darkened a shade, it was obvious she was pleased.
Nukka was the only one among the waterbenders that Azula had recruited who stayed with them the days round. Unlike the others, who had homes in the Northern capital of Agna Qel'a or in nearby settlements, she apparently had no family. Only an older brother who had no interest looking after a younger sister when their parents had died, who apparently spent his time running with friends and pursuing whatever amusements he could find. As a result, the girl had grown up as something of a wild child, learning to live off the frozen land, mostly through fishing and scavenging, and occasionally stealing from the city vendors.
The girl had tried to teach herself some combat waterbending, with little success until Azula caught her using her crude waterbending to slip some imported lychee nuts into a bag in the capital market, and brought her to Hama. The girl still struggled with most of the basic forms, but she had taken to Hama's technique with vigor, and already she exercised it with more power and finesse than any of the others. As though with every rising full moon she were channeling into it years of wasted potential.
Azula went to the spear, carefully picking it up by the shaft.
"You shouldn't cook those," the girl said bluntly. "It will give us more energy longer if we eat them like that."
Azula had to work to suppress a shudder—supposedly the Northerners were the more civilized of the two tribes, but sometimes it was difficult to tell. Not that she didn't like the occasional dish of rare meat—when properly prepared, preferably picked from the Fire Lord's own choice stock, basted in subtle yet perfectly balanced spices and served on a bed of Zankan cherries. But there was something wantonly bestial about breaking teeth on half frozen fish just caught out of an ice hole.
Fortunately, the old woman intervened with a chuckle. "I wish I could, believe me, but I've lived too long on dainty Fire Nation fare that I don't think my stomach could take it. And you know Amka here lived most of her life on the Earth Kingdom south islands."
Nukka didn't reply as Azula went to the fire, removing the fish from the spear and instead spitting them on sticks Nukka had fashioned earlier. As Hama went to work drawing moisture from the snowy landscape into a large crude wooden bowl, then splashing a few vegetables from a supply sack into it in preparation for a thin stew, the girl went to sit on a log. Picking up a stick from a nearby pile, she drew out a small bone knife and began whittling away at it, with short, impatient strokes.
"I agree with Amka," Nukka said again into the quiet. "We have to go soon."
Hama eyed the pair of them silently. At last her eyes shifted down to the bone knife, and she said, "Why don't you use a knife of ice for that instead? It would be good practice."
Nukka hesitated. Then, reluctantly, she set the bone knife down on the log beside her. She tugged off her glove, as she often did when she was hoping for more precise control, then raised it above a patch of snow on the ground beside her. She pulled upward, and a bit of the snow responded, rising to hover in front of her. With a short breath, she slowly drew her fingers together, and the snow extended outward, then hardened—into a misshapen blob.
The girl flushed deeply and, setting the stick down, brought up her other hand, and liquified the object. With one hand she held it in place in the air, a floating ball, and with the other she shaped it, pulling the end to a point. It froze, and she reached out with her gloved hand to grab it by the handle before it could fall. It was still crude, but now vaguely resembled a knife.
As she hurriedly pulled her other glove back on, and picked up the stick again, she didn't look at Hama.
The old woman watched her for a moment. "You're not ready."
"I don't need regular bending," the girl retorted, face still a shade darker than usual, eyes staring down at the stick as she held the knife hesitantly above it, as though unsure if the knife would be sharp enough. "The others can handle that. And it will be a full moon."
"I'm not saying it because I don't want you to have your revenge," said the old woman. "I'm saying it because I do. I want you to succeed, and come back safely."
Azula had picked up her water flask to drink. It took her a moment of tugging to pull out the cork, but when she did she noticed it was nearly empty anyway. Though her fingers were numb, she gripped the neck, tighter than usual.
The old hag—Azula would not have thought her a danger of ruining Azula's plans, through sentimentality of all things. Azula could not afford to have them wait any longer, but the others may not want to go without the old woman's blessing; some of them had a slightly more nervous temperament. If only she didn't still need the woman for her waterbending expertise, and to lend credibility to a yellow-eyed girl's place among waterbenders. Then, if the old woman interfered, Azula could simply do away with her quietly. Unfortunately, that would be far too suspicious.
At long last, the old woman let out a rattling sigh. "I suppose I can't stop you. But when you go, there's something I want the both of you to remember."
The tension in Azula's shoulders eased. She half turned. "Yes, Master Hama?"
"It was bloodbending that allowed me to escape that wretched prison. But the thing that led me to discover bloodbending was anger. Hatred of those who had taken all I loved from me. Hating them gave me strength—and so now I tell the two of you. Do not rely on bloodbending. Think of those you've lost... and you, too, rely on your anger."
Nukka, who was still holding the imperfect ice knife, was quiet. She stared deep into the crackling flames.
"Anger... hatred... is strength," Azula repeated slowly, as though testing the words out.
"Yes," said the old woman.
Azula nodded once, and the woman cracked a hint of a smile.
Azula turned away from them. "I'm just going to go wash up. I'll be back soon."
"I'll watch these while you're gone," the woman replied, gesturing at the fish.
Azula nodded again, before starting off down the icy path.
Azula knelt down on a crop of ice beside a dark pool. She hesitated barely a moment before she cupped her hands, and splashed a handful of icy water on her face. A wracking shiver tore down her spine.
She stared down at her reflection. Her hair, looped in beads as always, trailed in a high braid down her back, while her loose bangs, frayed at the ends, hung around a face red and raw from the elements. The water had washed the caked blood from her desiccated mouth, but she could still see the red line, slightly off center, where her lip would no doubt bleed again.
Azula had decided she despised the cold. She hated how it sapped her strength, and made her normally dexterous fingers too stiff and unwieldy to do something as simple as open a water flask. Ordinarily she could have simply used her inner fire to keep herself comfortable, even without the use of open flame, but even that would be a foolish risk in front of the old master, or anywhere the old woman might potentially sneak up on her.
Hatred is strength—at least the hag did have some useful words of wisdom to offer on occasion. Hatred could indeed be a strength. Or, more accurately, a weapon. One Azula intended to use to its fullest extent.
A memory of a voice whispered at the back of her mind. "A Fire Lord must be strong as well as kind. You, Azula—you could help him learn that strength. Your destiny, Azula, is to aid Zuko along his long and arduous path to be the Fire Lord he was always meant to be..."
"Yes, I know, Mother," she breathed into the quiet. And Azula smiled—because her mother's words were only a memory, not a real voice. The voice had stopped. Azula was, as always these days, in full control of her mind.
She gazed down at her own reflection, drinking it in. In spite of the lack of makeup, the splotchy red and white patches over her nose and cheeks, the unkempt hair and bead of blood now welling up from the crack in her lip again—it still couldn't fully conceal the natural perfection. It was a face meant to be looked at, just to be looked at.
"Azula..."
The voice was so faint, she barely heard it over the whistle of wind across the barren landscape. The hair rose on the back of her neck. As she stared down at her reflection again, the face seemed to shift, for just a moment. The hair wasn't as dark, the sharp eyes softened.
Azula stood up abruptly from the ice. She was imagining it. Her mother couldn't speak to her now. That was their deal. It wasn't as though Azula were about to break it—well, not really.
Azula turned her back on the water. "You have nothing to worry about, Mother," she murmured, just under her breath. "I'm doing as you wish. I'll help your favorite find his strength. I win, you win—you and I, we're allies now."
"Azula..."
Azula shook off the chill and walked briskly away, refusing to look back.
A/N: Another chapter down, we're starting to get somewhere.
So then, Azula. The ever controversial topic. (A war to rival Zutara vs. Kataang any day, at least in my mind.)
With what canon material has been released, I think there are still many different possible interpretations of Azula, based on assumptions of things we don't fully know that have yet to be explored. The main thing I'll say about the interpretation here, which may already be clear from the previous part, is that we'll be taking for granted Azula's ruthlessness and lack of qualms in achieving her goals. (I don't think we've ever actually seen Azula kill anyone in the show or comics, but here that will be taken as the writers simply creating a context where either she was foiled or it wasn't to her advantage in some way, rather than a way to show something about her character.)
Azula redemption—this is something I've been asked about since Part 1, whether it will be an Azula redemption story, and it's a fair question. Just like a ship like Zutara or Kataang, we often seek out fics looking for something specific we want to see happen or explored.
The main reason why I've chosen not to brand this story as either an Azula redemption or Azula-as-always-the-villain fic is that, for me as a fan of the series, what appeals to me most about the possibility of Azula being redeemed is the true uncertainty of it, the fact that sometimes it feels almost possible, but never promised. Smoke and Shadow demonstrated for us that Azula is capable of a fairly radical change (Azula abandoning her own personal pursuit of power to make Zuko into someone powerful instead is still unimaginable to me in the show, even while it feels completely believable), but I also loved the finale of Book 3 equally well for its harshness of reality, that we see Azula's humanity glimmer through, yet that still not necessarily enough to lead to true remorse or a change of worldview, as it did with Zuko.
This to say, it's totally fair if you would rather read a story where you have a clearer idea of where it's headed, or if you would rather wait until this story has been posted in its entirety (maybe around September or October, we'll see, no set plan yet, but should be before the end of the year if all goes well) and skim the ending before you decide whether you want to read it or not. As always when I write, my goal is aiming toward the nebulous moving target of what I might want to read and what fits my views of the characters, which often shifts with context and mood and what feels most natural to me at the time. I like that approach, but it does make things unpredictable.
Well, that's the last chapter for this week, I wanted to get the first few up pretty quickly. No set post schedule for now, there may be a delay before the next couple of chapters, reading over them again for final edits I realized I might want to give them more work than I thought. (Either I'll try to fix them, or you'll get a note of apology and a promise to fix them someday.)
That's it for now. If you have a chance, let me know what you think so far, and hope to see you in the next one!
Posted 5/5/23