Chapter 8: Censure comes in many forms
Azula awoke before dawn to Kota's quiet presence. Katara was already awake beside her, and the set of her mouth betrayed unhappiness. She said, "You're going."
"I've waited long enough," Azula replied. To her surprise, Katara didn't try to stop her. Maybe it was a concession to match Azula's the night before.
At the first light of dawn, Azula strode into Tazu's courtyard in full armor. Azula wondered what the noble chatter might be about her doing so; surely they would connect her armed arrival at their neighbor's estate with the attack in the street the day before. Tazu would have to think of an interesting excuse for her visit. Hopefully he would manage.
In her haste, she'd done exactly what she had hoped to do: arrive quickly enough that he was unprepared to greet her. There was no servant with a sunshade, no clean cloth for his knees during his supplication. It was a pleasure to watch ferrety Tazu rush out of his house, trip over his undone robes, and throw himself to his knees in the dust.
"Close the gates."
Tazu's servants rushed to do her bidding without signal from him. Good.
He shook on the ground, his hands raised in fists of supplication as the gates groaned closed. When Azula heard the heavy crossbeam drop, she used her right hand to draw one of the swords on her back.
Tazu's head lurched up at the rasp of metal. His face was drawn and pale, and deep bruises showed beneath his bloodshot eyes. He was close to hyperventilating. "F-F-Fire Lord!"
Azula lifted the blade.
Tazu fell prostrate, flattened to the ground, and began to heave great sobs. "I did not, Princess! I did not! I've been trying to f-f-find out who did, but I cannot, but it was not one of us. I swear it by the Spirit of All Fire!"
She believed him. He was too much of a coward to cover for any of his compatriots, and he was too much of a self-centered weasel not to have checked their every move to be sure he wouldn't be implicated by them. Of course, he could have made a mistake. She would be less sure if her own servants hadn't confirmed what Tazu told her now: the conspirators had not ordered the attack.
Azula gently set the tip of her sword on the ground next to his head. She was careful to place it in the direction that his eyes were turned. He froze at the sight of it. She kept her voice low and authoritative and reveled in the rush of righteous power that she so rarely experienced anymore. A small part in her whispered, Katara wouldn't like this. She ignored it.
"If you're lying—whether purposefully or by ignorance—I will have you falling on this sword. Then I will relieve you of your head."
He began to blubber either at her warning or by the possible pardon in her statement. He drooled a wet line in the dust of his courtyard. She was surprised and a little disappointed that he hadn't pissed himself.
Azula tapped the blade gently on the ground just to see him flinch. When she sheathed it, she settled into a crouch to speak to him intimately. She placed her hand on his bald head, and he shrank from her touch. "I get the feeling, Tazu, that you expected a quiet, docile little girl when you contacted me about usurping my brother."
Perhaps they'd heard whispers about her lack of bending, something she now knew was part of the normal rumor-mill of the nobles. Perhaps they'd drawn their own conclusions about why she remained so reclusive on Ember Island. She was beginning to realize these men had actually thought she would be their puppet if they placed her on the throne. They'd made a mistake in more ways than one.
Azula clucked gently. "I am not that, Tazu. I am a dragon."
He hissed a gasp of terror. Then he pissed himself. Azula gently patted him on his sweating pate and softened her voice. She'd already made her point, but it bore repeating, "If you make that mistake again, it will kill you."
She stood and surveyed his courtyard at her leisure, setting her thumbs in her belt. Laza, his coy daughter, lurked in the back corner of the wooden porch; her painted lips were turned up in the slightest smile. Azula met her eyes, and Laza lowered her head, not to bow but to sweep her glossy hair over her face.
Azula glanced back down at the man in the dust. He didn't attempt to rise with her. "I'll be back in three days. Have everyone here."
She turned and left, wondering if Tazu would pass her warning along or keep it to himself.
Zuko remained unconvinced of her dismissal of Tazu's involvement in the attack. "Aren't they the most likely ones?"
Azula had anticipated that question. She sipped her tea and wished he'd waited to dismiss the servants for absolute privacy. She wanted a second helping of rice. Kanzai, rice-in-tea, would have been a nice finish to her meal.
"It wasn't them."
"Do you have a good reason for believing that?"
Azula set her tea cup down and glanced over the balcony, watching the late morning sunlight glitter off the metallic plated shingles that many nobles used to accent their houses. She considered how to answer. "Some of it is instinct. I confronted the man in charge, and he wasn't involved. He couldn't lie to save his life."
Zuko frowned across the table at her. "Maybe it was related to Katara then."
It irritated her that it was the automatic assumption. Maybe she was blinded by her involvement; maybe she just wanted Katara not to have any reason to blame herself. Or maybe Azula's instincts were right, as they usually were: the only people who would think to attack her over Katara were the men she'd already excluded.
"As stupid as nobles can prove themselves to be, one wouldn't care enough that I've taken a consort to risk his own life. It was also obvious to me that those men targeted Mom."
"The fact Katara's a prominent waterbender and the daughter of the Southern Water Tribe's chief could anger people more than you want to believe," Zuko pointed out soberly. "And it could have been an attempt on both you and Mom. Or they could have attacked Mom to get your guard down. You don't know."
"I considered all that, dumb-dumb," Azula replied lightly. She studied the array of fruit on her plate though she wasn't hungry anymore. "In the event that it was an attack on me, which it wasn't, I'm not to take the throne nor can she give me half—" The term 'breed' sprang to her lips, but she couldn't say it, not even about a child that could never exist. "Biracial children. Our heirs couldn't vie for the throne—"
"There's no fine print of that. Nor any that you won't be Fire Lord. It's not like anyone cares that Iroh is your dad." He said it without a trace of envy or bitterness. They'd both come a long way on that front, hadn't they?
"If you'd let me finish," Azula said. Zuko raised his hands and leaned back, pointedly silent. "Our heirs couldn't vie for the throne because I'm not Fire Lord, and the point at which I may be would be when your children will be old enough to take the throne."
"Do you want kids?"
Azula stared at her brother, disgusted by his strange question. "Who are you?"
"What?" Zuko's face shifted into an uncharacteristic half-smile. "I was just curious about how that would work. And Mom's going to want you to have kids so you should go ahead and get used to fielding the question…and get used to fielding it a lot. Every day a lot."
"I do not want children. They're stupid, loud, destructive, and they take years to housebreak. That's only the part after I would have to force a baby out of my uterus and vagina, which is the part after I'd have to carry a parasite in my body for nine months."
Azula watched in morbid fascination as Zuko exhaled tea from his nose in an impressive display. He coughed violently. When he'd caught his breath, he laughed so hard she thought he might suffocate himself all over again.
When her brother had finally calmed down, Azula continued, "In the impossible event that I change my mind, it would be a matter I would discuss with my consort, not my brother or my mother." She took a dainty sip of tea. "You reminded me a great deal of Toph Bei Fong just then."
"For someone who doesn't want my job, you came pretty close to having to take over." He pounded his chest with a fist and cleared his throat, still grinning. He sobered after a moment. "So you don't think the assassination attempt has anything to do with Katara. Wouldn't the only other possibility be because of the rebellion you're planning—which you also don't think is likely?"
"Once again, it was an attack—"
"You don't know that for sure."
Azula sighed. "For the matter of argument, I'll address that pointless question." Azula refilled her teacup and poured Zuko the rest. "The attack was only by two men, who were novice firebenders. They've been identified as street thugs. That suggests a petty displeasure, not that of someone who has any wish to follow up. I'm sure you've noticed that I have the talent of igniting tempers. All of these facts point to this being a petty attempt caused by petty anger. Obviously I want to determine the source of the attack, but I refuse to batten down the hatches and become a recluse out of fear of another attempt that will probably never come."
Zuko put on a more usual face and frowned at her. "It doesn't feel right. I don't care about your stupid pride; I want you to tell me if you feel like this conspirator thing is putting you in danger. As much as I'd like to show the rebels up in public, I'd rather arrest them than you get hurt again."
"But, Zuzu, I'm having far too much fun!" she responded coyly.
"Azula."
She sobered, aware of the sentiment in his request. "I'll keep that in mind, Brother. But I'm telling you—"
"Sure, it may have been against Mom specifically, but you were there and you were the one who got hurt."
"I'll be cautious." It was the second time she'd promised it. This time, she actually meant it.
"Let me look at it."
Azula started. She'd been enjoying the cool, rainy breeze that swept into her sitting room and had accidentally fallen asleep on the settee only to awaken to Katara's command. Azula shifted the scroll from her lap and blinked up at Katara, who hovered above her with her arms crossed. She didn't know why Katara wanted her scroll, but in her frame of mine it was instinctual to obey. She handed it to her lover.
Katara lost some of her apparent indignation as she took the scroll. "You're really cute when you're just waking up."
What had she done to cause that insulting statement?
"I want to look at your wounds. Not…" Katara cocked her head and studied at the scroll. It was in the old language of the Fire Nation so she couldn't read it. "What is this?"
Azula couldn't hide her yawn. "Rice cultivation techniques."
"I used to think you were a rebel. Now I know you're just a dork." Katara gave her a look of exasperated affection.
Azula adopted her most righteous tone. "Contrary to what you seem to believe, reiterating a lie doesn't make it truth."
"Stop! You're not going to distract me. Let me look at your side."
It had been a full day since the attack. Azula didn't know what else Katara could do. No amount of good healing could erase the normal tenderness that came with a recent wound. "I'm fine. Your healing is excellent."
In the next moment, Katara had wrestled Azula's tunic open and pushed it past her side. Katara's warm hand felt over the vividly bruised flesh along her ribs, and Azula jerked at the sensation of sharp coolness. Katara's healing gradually soothed what pain she'd caused, but the second healing left her affected tissues stiff if not closer to a normal color.
"Please give me more warning before doing that." Azula winced as she rubbed her side. She refused to admit Katara had made a difference; Katara would be insufferable.
"You are the worst patient I've ever treated," Katara mumbled as she untied Azula's sleeve and dragged it off. Azula gave up and sat half naked, her only modesty her breast support. Katara's cool healing felt wonderful on the still overheated burn on her arm. After the healing, Katara's fingers barely stroked over the tender skin on Azula's arm.
Her eyes met and held Azula's in a long moment. She was sober and intent as she said, "Thank you for staying last night."
It didn't hurt Azula's pride nearly as much as she expected to admit, "You were right. It was better to leave it until this morning." She brushed a strand of Katara's hair over her ear. She didn't like the lines of worry on her lover's face, and she could easily guess what was causing them. "It isn't your fault, Katara."
Katara wouldn't meet her eyes. "I should have gone with you."
"There was no way to know—"
"I was just avoiding your mother—"
Azula framed Katara's honest face in her hands and pressed her thumbs to Katara's mouth. "I wasn't hurt badly. And you have every reason in the world to want to avoid my mother. I do it all the time."
The joke didn't garner a smile. "But you couldn't firebend in the district. I asked Zuko about it, and he said with your flame the whole place would have gone up like tinder. If I had been there, you wouldn't have been hurt."
Azula had clung so desperately to the secret that she couldn't bend. She didn't want Katara to think her weak; she didn't want Katara to blame herself; she didn't want pity. What use was it for Katara to know at all? Yet no matter how she rationalized it, she knew Katara should know. Azula just couldn't stomach saying those words: 'I can't.'
In the past it had been no matter to lie. Excuses were easy, especially when Katara was gone more than she was here, especially when Azula was careful not to perform her fireless katas when Katara was visiting Ember Island.
For her part, Katara rarely asked her about her lack of bending; Azula didn't know if it was because Katara was ignorant of firebending training or unwilling to talk about a subject that often made Azula's temper short. She had always pretended her touchiness stemmed from a tangential reminder of how she'd lost the war, and Katara, apparently guilty for the part she'd played in that, had let the matter rest. That had been a hot prick of guilt for Azula, but not enough of one to coax her to tell the truth. It was a lot easier to lie and much easier to lie by omission when there had been no reason to bring up firebending in the first place.
Now Azula hesitated. "Katara—"
"I would have killed them; I wouldn't have hesitated." Katara's voice was like ice. The tears in her eyes didn't quite mask her anger. "I wanted to kill them myself when I heard they'd attacked you. And they hurt you." She shook her head. "It scares me. I've never felt so much anger, not even about the man who killed my mother."
Azula was careful with her words. "I know you ascribe to a different moral system than I do, but if a man attacks you or a loved one, his death by your hands is justified."
"It's not the killing, Azula." Katara shook her head. "I'm not a pacifist. It's the anger. I'm angry at myself."
"You will not blame yourself."
Katara blinked, and her cool tears slipped between Azula's fingers. She offered a wan smile. "It's just like you to command me to stop feeling something." She leaned close and accepted Azula's kiss.
"No guilt," Azula said.
"No guilt," Katara affirmed with a shaky sigh.
Azula pulled her closer, and deepened the caress of her mouth. Katara carefully straddled her hips, accepting her unspoken request. "What about the servants?" she whispered.
"They know not to interrupt."
"We should go to your bedroom."
"Our bedroom. This is our sitting room, and we can do as we like. This is our home." Azula drew her closer, her hands sliding against the soft skin of Katara's backside. She squeezed, and Katara softened against her immediately.
It was a soft though desperate union, and the depths of her emotions and her body's reactions shocked her. They moved together for a long time, enjoying their embrace too much to hurry towards completion. Azula's orgasm was almost inconsequential except for the fact that Katara gasped in completion at the knowledge she'd brought Azula such pleasure.
After they'd stilled, Azula held Katara close until her lover relaxed and lay down on top of her. Her body was a warm, welcome weight. Azula tucked her face into Katara's hair and breathed in her earthy fragrance: the smell of love and warmth and so many soft emotions that she'd once vowed never to feel…and here she was, reveling in them.
Katara asked her, "Did I hurt your wounds?"
"No, darling."
After she readjusted the throw over their bodies, Azula stroked her palm across Katara's back. She wound a coarse curly lock of Katara's hair through her fingers. Lying here, Azula forgot her obligations, her planning, and the many things she would need to complete in the coming days. She'd planned for a busy day, but it was so easy to shift her priorities when she realized Katara was in no hurry to get up either.
Lying naked in the sitting room, they talked quietly about nothing and everything. Azula spoke of ancient myths of Agni and of dragons, and Katara drew parallels with the Water Tribe deities and legends. There was no defensiveness about their differences, only quiet communion of their people's beliefs.
She dozed off to the sound of Katara's voice and awoke with Katara settled on her elbow watching her. Katara smiled softly and touched her face. The lines of worry were still there, but Katara's quiet desperation was gone. She said, "I don't know what I would do without you."
Azula kissed her hand. "There's no reason to fear them."
"They, whoever they were, came close, Azula. As much as you don't want to admit it." Katara hesitated. "Was it related to that thing that you're doing…that I'm not supposed to talk about?"
"I've ruled those suspects out."
"I'm worried, Azula."
She spoke a little more firmly to get her point across. "They're the equivalent of whining children, and they deserve none of your thought or worry." Azula summed it up with: "They embody nobility."
Katara frowned at her. It wasn't a judgmental expression but one of perplexity. "Why do you hate the nobles so much?"
"I don't hate them. I just don't have any regard for them." Azula saw that Katara wanted her to elaborate and considered her answer. "The citizens of this nation are proud and strong. Many risked their lives during the war to bring glory to us—whether you agree with the actions of the military or not. They are honest, hardworking people who dedicate their lives and a portion of their wages to the continuation of the Fire Nation and the protection of their neighbors.
"Nobles are not those people. They may win glory in battle, but they do so far away from the front lines. They build their legacies on the backs of common soldiers. They refuse to pay what they owe as citizens of this nation, in battle or in wages. They believe they're entitled to profiting as a citizen of the Fire Nation without paying back simply because of their noble blood. They don't realize that noble blood is just as red as anyone else's."
"Entitlement?" Katara's blue eyes narrowed slightly in mild reproach. "Azula, you're the most entitled person I've ever met. If Ozai hadn't taken the throne, wouldn't you just be a noble?"
Azula was too calm to take offense. In a way Katara was right. Ozai had been everything Azula had learned to despise about the noble class: he had never won a battle yet he touted himself as a warlord; he had believed brute strength made up for his lack of finesse as a firebender; he had held everyone else up to a standard of excellence he himself never attempted to achieve. The only thing he had done right was to teach Azula the burden she had to bear as a Princess of the Fire Nation.
"I'm entitled because I earned it. I forged my name by shedding my blood and fire in battle, as is only fit for the Princess of the Fire Nation." She softened her tone to something far less serious. "And since there is no war anymore, I uphold my status by paying my taxes in full, on time."
Katara was watching her now in soft surprise. She turned her eyes away to finger a lock of Azula's hair. "They can't all be that bad."
"Oh, you can be assured exceptions exist. Zuko has snatched up most of those exceptions to serve him in important posts, as they should. We have no choice with the elected council, unfortunately."
"What do you mean?"
Azula had taken for granted that Katara would inherently understand the government of the Fire Nation. Even after all of her biyearly visits, she'd apparently never learned. But why should she have? Katara hadn't even had the right to vote before she'd become Azula's consort. Azula tangled her fingers gently in Katara's hair and studied the carved dragons along the balustrade bordering the balcony as she framed her answer.
"The councilmen are elected in their district by adult citizens who exercise their right to vote. Unfortunately, the officials are generally voted into their office because they have the money to spread their names through their district, not because they're the best suited man or woman to take the job. No doubt some of them illegally pay for votes towards their name. It's no surprise that most of those people also don't seem to understand the oath they take in accepting their station: that they sit on the council to represent the best interests of their district. Agni forbid Zuko will put his foot down and put them in their places."
Katara shook her head. "I still don't understand how the government works in this country."
"Quite frankly, Katara, I don't either. Yet it chugs along year after year."
They settled into silence, and Azula closed her eyes. She dozed off again and awoke the next time to Kota quietly entering the study. To Azula's amusement, Katara drew the throw more securely around them. Kota kept her eyes turned away as she quietly informed them that Ursa wished to have dinner with them.
"What do you think?" she asked Katara after Kota left. "We can decline."
"I think she needs to see you." She rubbed her cheek against Azula's shoulder and sighed. "Ursa and I talked yesterday."
"Oh? What did you talk about while I was in a drugged stupor?" There was no anger in her voice. Her worry hadn't come through either. She hoped that whatever their conversation, Ursa had made good on her promise to be more supportive.
"She was being a good mother."
"Explain."
Katara lifted her head to kiss Azula softly. "She asked me if I was serious about you. If I had any plans on living here—and why I couldn't year-around. She also asked me if I had a husband or wife at the Southern Water Tribe. She asked me if I love you."
Azula already knew the answers to all those questions. "I suppose I'll have to suffer those same questions when I meet your father."
Katara snuggled closer into a position where Azula couldn't see her face. It took her a moment to reply. "Give me a little more time with him. I don't think he's ready to accept us together."
That was certainly not an invitation to travel to the South Pole; it was a vague disappointment that Azula took no cares to evaluate. "No? We've been together for five years next full moon."
"Next full moon, hm?" Katara shifted against her. Her voice was colored by amusement for some reason. "How many days is that?"
Azula considered. "Twenty six."
"Sometimes I really think you're romantic. But you're such a dork about it."
Azula lifted her head, surprised to hear that dig again.
"Anyway, I'm Dad's baby girl, and you're the princess of a nation that oppressed my tribe and killed my mother. That's how he looks at it. I've been trying to change his mind. Sokka's even tried."
"Why does he think you're with me?"
Katara laughed and met her eyes. "I don't know. Brainwashing or something?"
Azula scoffed. "As if someone with a head as hard as yours is even susceptible."
"Thanks. I think."
"It was a compliment, darling."
"Thanks, dork."
Eventually, they got up and dressed to wait for Ursa on their private balcony. When Ursa arrived, she drew Azula into a long hug. "Humor me, sweetie," she whispered, breathing into Azula's hair. "There's nothing as terrible as seeing your child almost killed."
"I certainly wasn't almost killed," Azula protested.
"It's like going through childbirth again."
"What?" Azula's voice betrayed her confused disgust.
Ursa patted her cheek. "One day you'll understand."
Azula didn't deign to respond to that implication. Zuko was right. Apparently as soon as she and Katara were legally bound, Ursa decided to start hinting towards children. Azula would put up with it if it meant Ursa accepted Katara. She motioned for her mother to take a seat on the balcony. It was a cool damp evening after the afternoon rain. The soft setting sun wasn't enough to light the table so Kota lit several rose scented oil lamps.
When Azula sat down, Katara took her hand under the table. Azula remembered their joining earlier and threaded their fingers together. They shared a quiet smile.
"Are you healing well?" Ursa asked.
"Quite," Azula replied, glancing over at her mother. She was in a good enough mood to add, "Katara is an excellent healer."
Katara smiled at her. "Despite you being a terrible patient."
"The royal physician has always been polite enough not to mention it."
"I'm not the royal physician."
"For that I'm thankful. He has more hair in his nostrils than on his head."
Katara broke down into giggles. Azula was surprised to see Ursa's smile directed at Katara. Ursa turned her eyes back to Azula, and her smile slipped away. "If you go out, Azula, please take guards with you."
"Yes, Mom," Azula recited as she privately vowed to do no such thing.
Ursa accepted the tea Kota placed at her elbow and scented it with a smile. It was her favorite brew, per Azula's request. "When will you start planning the wedding?"
Azula expected the question, but her sarcastic reply was stunted by the coughing fit Katara abruptly had; apparently she'd partly inhaled her sip of tea. Azula swallowed her laugh and said, "I think you can take that as an answer: we aren't."
"Planning should start soon, of course," Ursa said.
Katara was uneasy as she responded. "Ursa, I don't think at this point that's feasible. I won't be in the Fire Nation long enough to start planning anything that intricate."
"And I refuse," Azula replied calmly. Unless Katara asked her, she supposed. Katara's hand once again returned to her palm.
Ursa accepted the dish of breaded fish and rice and tore a steaming flake from it. Instead of pressing the issue, she said, "You must at least have a portrait to commemorate your consortium."
Azula sensed that Ursa had just gambled down on purpose and shot her mother a glare. "I think all royal painters are busy with this incumbent wedding."
"Actually," Ursa said. That single word sent a tremble of dread up Azula's spine. She hated sitting for portraits. "We'll be posing for a family portrait—"
"Excluding Ozai, of course." She only said it to make her mother angry.
"Obviously," Ursa's tone betrayed a small amount of shortness; her sharp stare communicated she knew exactly why Azula had said that. "Your father and I, your brother, and you. And you and your brother will pose separately. Why not go ahead and have a painting done of you and Katara to commemorate your joining?"
Katara snickered uncharacteristically. "I'm not sure that would be appropriate to hang in the royal palace hallway."
"I thought you said you wouldn't entertain thoughts of a third presence," Azula teased wickedly.
Her lover's expression was dark as her cheeks flushed. "Actually, darling, I was referring to the expression you'll probably be shooting the painter." Despite her tone, her fingers traced a gentle pattern on Azula's palm.
Ursa cleared her throat. She was also flushed in clear embarrassment; that alone made what Azula had said worth it. "That was something I didn't need to know."
"You have sex with Iroh," Azula shot back. "I'm not sure how you can be embarrassed or disgusted by anything."
"Iroh is a very sexy man," Ursa replied daintily.
Katara burst into laughter. Azula mimed pushing away her plate.
"Actually, Azula, your father wanted me to let you know he wants to speak with you."
"About what?"
Ursa gave a half-shrug in reply. It was a lie that Azula had learned. She'd also learned never ever to hint that she thought her mother was being untruthful. "I'll be by tomorrow, though it may be late."
"You've been out and about a lot recently," Ursa said primly. Her question was thinly disguised.
"Zuko asked me to help drum up some support for a few of his proposals." Azula was much better at lying than her mother, and Ursa accepted her fib with a pleased smile. She wondered if she would ever get used to the sting of guilt she felt lying to her mother—even about a matter such as this. "By the way, what did you drug me with yesterday?"
By the time Azula had a moment to herself the next day, it was approaching evening. While Azula preferred to meditate and train in the morning, Iroh preferred the evening sun. She sought him out and found him in his meditation circle in the western palace grounds.
"Mom said you wanted to speak with me?"
Iroh opened his eyes and looked up at her. He didn't smile. At his gesture, she settled in lotus position facing him.
"Ursa told me about the attack." He frowned unhappily. "She also told me you didn't firebend."
Despite that she'd partly expected the observation, it stung to have her failure pointed out. Azula was ashamed that she'd not been able to protect her mother as well as she should have. "Yet I defeated them anyway."
There was no blame in Iroh's voice when he said, "After a debilitating injury that required a waterbender to heal you."
She could have said 'debilitating is a matter of opinion' or 'I could have healed naturally without a waterbender's attention' or any number of snide brushoffs. Instead, she asked, "What do you want me to say, old man?"
Iroh sighed. "Please let me help you."
"How will you help me? Meditate with me? Ask me to do katas? Make me sit in the sun and do breathing exercises? I'm already doing all those things. I've read every single text on restoring firebending that exists, and I've done everything logical that I can do." Her frustration sharpened her words.
Iroh, of course, had a useless answer. "You need to find peace with yourself. You'll never find your fire again if you can't find satisfaction with who you are."
"I'm al—"
"And with the losses you've suffered. Losing that final battle of the Hundred Year War wasn't a weakness or deficit."
She hated him for pointing it out at all. She hated him for belittling it.
"It was a loss," Azula snapped, looking away. "I fail to see how it could be anything but a weakness."
"It shaped you to be who you are now. You have a lover now. You're friends with your brother now. You have a father and mother who love you. Family, Azula. These things would never have come to pass if you'd killed your brother and Katara in that last battle and taken the mantle of Fire Lord."
She was silent, taking his meaning and disagreeing with it in her core.
"Azula, after you were imprisoned, did those guards violate you?"
The change in subject was startling enough to draw her eyes to him again. He was watching her sharply. On rare occasions, she saw a bit of Ozai in Iroh. This was one of them.
"Violate me? Other than taking my hair and fingernails? No. Why would it matter? Those men were all executed." She'd only learned of it years after the fact. It still surprised her that Ursa had demanded the fingernails and hair from those men for Azula's mistreatment. It shocked her even more that Ursa had then demanded their heads.
"Because it would be better for you to tell someone than to keep it inside."
"I wasn't raped, Iroh. I wasn't touched inappropriately. I hardly think of it. I hardly thought at the time it happened, actually," she said with vague bitterness. Azula didn't understand why he was bringing it up now.
"They shouldn't have treated you that way."
"But they did, and none of your pointless anger is going to change that fact."
He seized on her statement. "As your anger—or whatever negative emotion you feel towards yourself—won't change the fact that you lost on the day of Sozin's Comet. Nor will it change the fact that you were affected as you were by the comet. You should feel no shame."
"You have a great deal to say about what I should and shouldn't feel." She couldn't temper the bitterness in her voice.
"I want you to be happy, daughter. And I think some of that happiness will stem from you regaining your bending." Iroh smiled ruefully. "As a firebender, I know the joy you felt wielding it. I can empathize with the sorrow you feel without it now."
Azula spoke before she could think better of it. "It's a hole in my spirit."
Iroh held out his hand. Azula hesitantly placed her hand in his grip. His palm was rough and it dwarfed her own. As he curled his fingers over hers, she realized she'd inherited his tall lunulas.
"You have to let it go."
"Tell me how." Her voice was thick with betraying emotion.
He smiled tightly. "You're like your mother. You care too much about too many things."
It was the most incongruent statement she'd heard in years. "Tell that to the people who claim I don't care enough."
"Let me restate that. You care too much about too many of the wrong things. And caring about a loss that happened seven years ago is the wrong thing." He squeezed her hand. "I wish I could tell you how to let it go, Azula, but I can't. You must sort out your own priorities."
He sat there and smiled at her until she uncertainly returned his smile with one of her own. He squeezed her hand again. "And right now, that priority is tea. Come, let's drink."
"No Pai Sho."
"No," Iroh agreed. "Not tonight."
At her next meeting with Tazu and his cohorts the following week, the first question posed to her was: "When shall we strike during the wedding?"
Coordinating this coup was turning out to be more difficult than Azula had at first imagined. She knew when the best time to strike was: in the middle of the ceremony, when likely everyone would be asleep on their feet listening to the Fire Sage drone in the ancient language. But dragons forbid they have to stand through the damn thing a second time. She wondered if any of the men knew enough to think she'd be a fool if she asked them to strike at the end of the ceremony, after Zuko and Mai were officially wed, when all the noble invitees would wake up in anticipation of the feast and alcohol provided by the royal family.
"The final clause," one of the younger men said. "The one that asks for anyone who has a claim against the Fire Lord."
"It has a certain poetic ring," Azula breathed wistfully, checking her fingernails. Why she bothered trying to sound smart while posing stupid ideas she didn't know. They did that for her. "The onlookers will be paying attention to see the glorious moment, and with all pieces in place, there should be no repercussions from waiting."
Beside her, Tazu's daughter stilled. Azula shot her a sharp glance, and Laza lowered her head and continued pouring Azula tea. She offered it with her stupid coy smile and a fluttering of her long, dark lashes. The tea was sharp, almost bitter. Laza had let it steep too long.
Azula didn't know why she kept her voice low when she spoke. "This is disgusting."
"Tea ceremony was never my best class," Laza said with a fake giggle.
"Nor mine," Azula muttered irritably. "Go away."
Laza bowed her dark head and escorted herself out of the room.
"What of Zuko's guard?" Tazu posed the question as he watched his daughter leave the room; his ferrety face was dark with anger. Daddy was disappointed by his daughter's performance, apparently. Did he actually entertain the hope that Azula would choose his vapid daughter as her lover? Disgusting and insulting. Tazu mopped at his sweaty brow, met her eyes, and flinched.
Azula sneered at him. "Zuko's guard doesn't exist. They're my guard now." The lie fell from her lips easily. Another thing on the list of items she needed to discuss with Zuko. "It has been discreetly done, and those who remain loyal I will have neutralized and replaced."
"Just like that?" arrogant Lam asked. He'd started to grow a mustache and looked all the more pompous for it.
"I assure you, it hasn't been 'just like that'." Azula pinned him with a pointed glare. Lam lowered his head in an impertinent bow. "I had hoped I wouldn't have to say the obvious. I've been working in the shadows to facilitate a coup for years, pretending to make nice with my foolish family in the meantime. They'll never suspect until Zuko's life blood spills upon the dais." She stretched her lips in a wicked smile.
"What if the nobles decide to protect their Fire Lord?" another man asked.
"Unlikely," Lam replied with a wave of his hand. "Discontent is enough to stay even the loyal hands."
"And if any hand is raised, I will cut it off," Azula said.
"Forgive me, my Lord."
Azula glanced over at Tazu, who was sweating even more. "What is your question, Tazu?"
"What of the Avatar?"
She grinned at him sharply, deep enough into her role to almost believe she could kill the little pissant. Tazu went white in fear. She said, "Leave him to me."
"Princess, Lady Laza, daughter of Lord Tazu, has requested your audience." Kota hovered nervously in front of the stall that housed Azula's prized mongoose dragon mount as she delivered the news. She looked like she was a moment away from sprinting out of the royal stables.
From inside the stall, Azula considered her servant's words. Laza? How interesting. She'd been to a fairly productive meeting with Tazu a few days before; surely this wasn't a message from him. Azula's mongoose dragon hissed and snapped at her. She flicked her whip in warning, and he turned his head, raising his third eyelid submissively.
First: "Kota, I believe my sleeve is untied. Would you see to it?"
Kota's eyes went so wide Azula wondered if they would pop out of her head. Azula glanced down at her arm carelessly. "Oh, never mind. I was mistaken. You may bring Laza here and make arrangements for a carriage to Ozai's compound."
Kota flinched when another mongoose dragon reared up in its stall nearby. Azula enjoyed the discomfort of her usually unflappable servant and nearly laughed when Kota forwent the appropriate bow and rushed out of the stables.
Azula spoke into the empty stables. "Listen and take note of what she says."
When Laza approached, she was alone. She wore beautifully embroidered red robes that emphasized the blackness of her hair. The woman carried herself with an air of grace and coy sultriness that grated on Azula's every nerve. Azula wasn't sure if her disgust stemmed from Laza's apparent assumption that Azula would find her airs attractive or from the fact that part of Azula did. She blamed all those young, beautiful instructors at the Royal Academy with their snide condescension towards their students; those were formative years in her sexual development apparently.
Azula had vaguely wondered a few times whether Laza could have been the origin of the attack in the streets of the noble district. Her gut told her no—as had her servants—but her gut also told her Laza was more than she seemed. Maybe the noblewoman would finally show her hand. Hopefully she would do it without giggling and batting her eyelashes.
Laza's eyes flickered to Azula's mount. "What a beautiful creature. Is this Whip of Flame and Lightning?"
Azula had been twelve when she'd broken Whip; her naming skills at that time left a little to be desired. "Yes, it is my mount. To what do I owe this pleasure?" Azula dragged the appropriate dressage over her mongoose dragon's body. "A proposition perhaps?"
Laza laughed as she leaned against the stall door. She looked beneath her stained black eyelashes at Azula. "You're beautiful, Princess, but I'm not suicidal. I imagine if I entertained such a notion, a certain Master Waterbender could easily strip me of my blood and leave me as dust."
The thought pleased Azula; perhaps Laza had gambled on that with her too familiar statement. It would be interesting to see this snooty woman atop a mongoose dragon. "Join me."
She expected discomfort or fear, but Laza's eyes lit up. "If I may, Princess."
Azula motioned for Laza to take the smaller female across the barn stall. Before a ubiquitous groom could rush forward to see to the mount, Laza had stripped out of her outer robe and entered the stall with whip and dressage fearlessly.
A groom took Azula's prepared mongoose dragon out into the yard for her to mount. Before Azula followed him, she paused to watch Laza snap the whip and pull the harness on her mount with little difficulty. The little female was fairly docile as far as mongoose dragons went, but a docile mongoose dragon was still fierce and violent with an independent mind.
Laza stepped aside as another groom entered the stall to lead her chosen animal out for her to mount in the yard. Her bare arms were tanned by the sun and defined by slender muscle…a complete surprise. The more Azula saw of this woman, the more she seemed an enigma instead of an open book.
"Do you ride?"
"My…" Laza paused in a moment of consideration. "A close acquaintance of mine is a breeder. I've been riding mongoose dragons for years because of that." She blinked in the sunlight, her coy expression back in place. "These grounds are beautiful, Princess."
Azula ignored the worthless comment and quickly mounted her mongoose dragon. Whip spun in a sharp circle, hissing in protest to her weight on his back, and she snapped her whip and wrestled him back into submission. His body was a coil of tight muscles as he settled down, his tongue flicking out to scent the air.
Laza mounted with ease and went through her own power match. She handled the reins easily and the whip with discipline and soon proved to her mongoose dragon that she was in control.
Perhaps Azula's morning ride wasn't interrupted after all. She turned her mount around and let him have some lead. He burst into a whip-like run. His feet only whispered across the grass even at a full sprint. Whip scented the water of the lavish royal fountains—a long, rectangular body of water only a meter deep and over one hundred meters long. She let him go there and gave him more freedom to top out at full speed as his feet struck the water in soft steps. He carried her across the top of the water as easily as on earth.
Some zoologists theorized mongoose dragons had innate waterbending ability that allowed their mass to transverse on top of water, defying the principles of physics as scholars knew them. It was not a theory Azula could dismiss offhand. Part of her liked the thought that a species evolved from the Fire Nation islands could make use of a different element than fire.
She drew her mount up short and watched Laza's smaller, slower mount skitter across the royal fountain. Laza was grinning, handling her mongoose dragon easily. She drew up next to Azula breathlessly, looking around at the inner royal gardens with wide eyes. By her expression, she'd never been this far into the palace grounds.
"Why are you here?"
Laza jerked her head around. The coy expression was back on her face as seamlessly as if she'd put on a mask. "I'm not as stupid as you think, Princess. I just wished to let you know you have my support."
How inane. "I am aware."
Laza continued, "You, whether or not that aligns with the plans of my father."
This caught Azula's attention. "What are you insinuating?"
"Nothing, Princess." Coy, too coy, even as her mount jerked beneath her and required a quick show of the whip.
Azula supposed it made sense, from a noble-eat-noble standpoint. If Tazu was found a traitor or died as one, Laza would have a bid to inherit his fortune; even splitting it evenly with her two sisters would leave her wealthy for life. Tazu's money was perhaps enough to offset the tarnish to his name in such an event. And Laza would be free to do exactly as she wished. What that was, Azula didn't know nor could she guess. Azula didn't like that thought.
They continued their ride at a more sedate pace. "Then tell me, how do your father's friends enter his house?"
"There's a cellar entrance."
One of the possibilities she'd considered, simplistic and still rather surprising to hear confirmed. "Leading to where?"
"The cellar of an alchemist across the way. Who has another few tunnels, one to Lam's family and one to the Ling estate."
"Who owns that establishment?" Azula cocked her head and regarded Laza. The other woman was not coy; without that expression on her face, she looked almost intelligent.
"The Boulis."
Bouli, a family name that honestly surprised Azula. They were an old clan, distant cousins of the royal family. The Bouli family had no particular scandal to them other than the normal who's-sleeping-with-whom noble chatter. They were well-to-do, and they threw their lot in with Zuko unreservedly after the coup. Well, perhaps with more reserve than anyone had believed.
"And they understand said use of said cellar passage?"
"I can't say with any knowledge, but it would shock me that such an affluent family would be so careless with their properties. And happen to be connected with three families who are…up to no good."
"Be careful, Laza. I might consider that statement impertinent on another day."
Laza batted her eyelashes. "Me, impertinent?"
Azula needed to put this woman in her place. For the moment, Azula considered the information she'd just received. A shadow benefactor, the Bouli family, trusted allies who were not allies at all. The thought added all the more danger to this little coup. And Laza, another unknown piece.
That was, if she was doing this independent of her father. Tazu didn't seem to be the type of man to set up a faux double-cross to test Azula's loyalties. Stranger things had happened though.
"I can show you when you visit next," Laza offered.
Azula flicked her fingers in dismissal. For now she would consider the mystery solved. She turned her mount around, and they returned to the royal stables in little time. Azula dismounted and left her animal in the hands of the grooms, motioning for Laza to do the same. After she'd retrieved her outer robes, Laza took Azula's offered arm.
They walked around the edge of the stables and along a stone pathway to Ursa's gardens. From here, Azula glanced up towards the balcony of her own apartment. A servant was fussing with the curtains. Katara wasn't in sight. That morning she'd mentioned delivering a noblewoman's baby, surely an all-day affair. It was good; Katara would not approve of what Azula was about to do.
"Escorting me out so soon?" Laza asked when they approached the palace.
"I'm taking my own leave," Azula replied lightly. When they entered the cool, dark interior of the palace, she placed her hand over Laza's firmly and asked, "Do you think your gender gives you a measure of safety from my temper?"
Laza stiffened; her smile was abruptly brittle.
Azula slowly tightened her hand. Laza gasped and tried to pull back instinctually when Azula's grip became painful. Azula squeezed until Laza's knuckles popped and the noblewoman couldn't suppress a cry of pain. Azula ducked her head to catch and hold Laza's gaze. Laza looked back at her, for the first time with a completely honest expression on her face: pain and fear.
"If you're lying to me, I'll take your head from your neck. Do you understand?"
"Yes!"
"I am your Royal Princess. Do you understand?"
"Yes!"
Azula released her grip, and Laza cupped her abused hand, gasping and blinking back tears. Azula offered her arm again and was pleased that Laza hesitated before taking it. Azula placed her hand back over Laza's, and her flinch was satisfying. They walked silently through the hallways and stepped out into the sunlight. In front of the palace, Laza's palanquin waited beside Azula's carriage. Azula saw her off, saying, "I enjoyed our little meeting, Laza daughter of Tazu."
Laza's pale face didn't shift in a smile. She bowed deeply in true respect. "Princess."
Azula drew aside the curtain on Laza's palanquin and lowered her head slightly to bid her goodbye with personal satisfaction. She doubted Laza would be coy with her again…nor would she ever believe she could get away with it. As far as the impact to her honesty, Azula couldn't guess one way or another.
"What are you doing?"
Azula was startled by both the words and voice. Her surprise darkened the aggressive anger; she wished she could physically strike to release it. Instead, Azula turned slowly and studied the Avatar where he stood a combative five meters away. Had he been spying on her? What a childish pastime.
"To what do I owe this uncharacteristic verbal exchange?" Azula asked him, adopting a droll tone.
The Avatar's face tightened, and his voice trembled with naked anger. "What are you doing?"
She was too angry to roll her eyes; her voice was hard. "Apparently I'm standing here, wasting my time talking to you. Rephrase your question so that I may answer and we can return to our malevolent silence."
"That woman," he said. "What is she to you?"
Did he mean Laza? Had he really seen them innocently walking together and assumed Azula was sleeping with her? What a low opinion. Nothing she said now would change his views of her, and for some reason, that made her anger redouble. Her emotions were so sharp that she blurted her first thought: "We fuck occasionally."
The lie almost startled her, but it ended up evoking satisfying righteous rage from him. Let him believe she could keep Katara while sleeping with someone else; let him stew on that bitter root.
The Avatar's hands were shaking. "How could you do this to Katara? She loves you! I knew she couldn't trust you, but she didn't believe me—"
Why not play into his preconceived ideas of her? Azula laughed. "Do you think she doesn't know?"
The Avatar paled further, stalled into silence.
"Does that hurt you?" she needled. "That she knows of my infidelity, is hurt by it, but stays with me anyway? That she loves me that much more than she ever loved you?"
His eyes abruptly went glassy. His voice was quiet. "You're a horrible person. I just want her to be happy."
"She is. Mostly. We are certainly very sexually compatible." She winked as she stepped into the waiting carriage. "As stimulating as this conversation is, I have someplace to be. Good day, Avatar."
"Wait!" he called, but the carriage was already moving.
Azula closed her eyes and took a deep breath, held it, and released it. Her heart's heavy beat slowed slightly. She might regret that exchange in the future, but his anger had be so satisfying.
Kota sat on the bench across from her. When Azula opened her eyes, her servant's gaze skittered away nervously. Then Kota's stare centered on the large man in servant's clothing sitting next to Azula on the back bench.
Azula didn't look at him. Her mind slipped back into business. "Is it as she says?"
"Yes, Princess. A crude tunnel to the alchemist. There is also a branch to the Lam family estate cellar and a branch to the Ling mansion."
"Observe the Bouli estate. Begin observation of the other families involved." She'd erred in not putting them on it earlier, especially given the Bouli involvement.
"Any other orders, Princess?"
"Are there any leads on the assassination attempt?" It was their main assignment.
His shoulders rounded down. "No, Princess. I deeply apologize for our failures. With your permission, we can begin questioning possible suspect individuals that—"
"'Questioning'?" Azula asked quietly. Her anger spiked. "As useful as torture, I'm sure. Let it rest and concentrate on the traitors. You're dismissed."
He crouched, gave what bow he could in their tight quarters, and stepped out of the moving carriage. Dust from their wheels seemed to multiply, and Azula didn't have to look to know he was gone.
Sitting across from her, Kota had taken a defensive posture: she sat with her arms crossed and her feet side by side.
"You don't like them. Why?"
Her servant was silent for a beat. "Cloak and dagger, Princess. Usually someone gets stabbed in the back."
"Yes. But I will be doing the stabbing," Azula pointed out. "Tell me, why might Tazu's youngest daughter seek to depose him?"
"To marry, Princess."
When Azula had asked the question, she'd expected a vague answer or theory. She hadn't expected such a quick, certain statement. She gave her servant her full attention and commanded, "Explain."
Kota shifted unconsciously. "My cousin's husband works with her lover. They've been together secretly for years, but Tazu keeps trying to marry Laza to noblemen. They're good matches, but they fall through probably on purpose on her part."
"Her lover isn't a good match?"
"A commoner. Her family is rich, but they're tradespeople."
"A woman." Azula was surprised. And a little more at ease because she now understood Laza's motivations. If Azula became Fire Lord, her word would overlay Tazu's own command; as a lesbian, Azula might be more inclined to allow her to marry. If Tazu was deposed, Laza would be able to decide for herself whom to marry. If Laza's coy sultriness had been purposefully exaggerated to repel instead of attract, the woman was cleverer than she appeared.
Azula interpreted her conversation with Laza in a different light. "Is her lover a mongoose dragon breeder?"
"Yes. I would have mentioned it, Princess, but I didn't connect them together until I saw Lady Laza for myself today."
Azula waved her hand in dismissal. She knew now. That was good enough.
And now… Now she would have to think of another matter altogether and not a happy one. She had delayed visiting Ozai for weeks partly because there had been little time. Predictably, he had responded by breaking a bauble she'd gifted him for his comfort and happiness in the attempt to gain her attention. This time, the bauble he'd broken was a prostitute named Hazana who visited him weekly.
Azula had learned of his behavior that morning when the prostitute had sent a polite request to Azula's majordomo for the wages she would lose during the time her face healed from Ozai's blows. At least he hadn't knocked any of her teeth out. That would have been much more expensive to fix, and Azula was contracted to pay for any damage to Hazana's body caused by Ozai.
Azula didn't like to reward Ozai's childish behavior with her attention, but she needed to travel to the asylum in person. She wasn't going to punish Ozai because there was little point. Azula was far more irritated that Ozai's caretaker hadn't informed her of the incident. That matter required her immediate personal attention.
The sun was at its hottest point by the time the carriage rolled in front of the small oasis that housed Ozai. Long palms on the surrounding trees rustled in the wind. Her driver unhitched the ostrich horse and led it to the trough of fresh water provided by the household. It was still gulping greedily when Azula entered the compound.
When she strode into the front of the building to speak with Ozai's caretaker, she was greeted by the sight of the warden snoring with his feet up on his desk. Kimo was a big brute of an old man who'd served Azulon faithfully for years and had been demoted in Ozai's reign. Azula kicked his desk sharply enough to send his heels crashing onto the floor. The warden awoke with a yelp. He saw her and his eyes went wide.
She didn't wait for him to wake up fully to ask the sharp question: "Why was I not informed that Ozai decided to assault his prostitute?"
Kimo blinked in dismay. "He did?"
Azula stared at him in slowly escalating anger. The warden was a loyal man, but he was as dumb as a rock. Clearly it was time to fund his retirement and replace him with someone more intelligent. She was angry enough in that moment to consider the man's retirement by her fist. "You are here to monitor every aspect of Ozai's care. How exactly are you unaware of this matter?"
If he had told her that the prostitute was lying or that he had been protecting Ozai from her anger, she might have believed him. However, the man only gaped at her. He looked caught.
Her anger escalated until her sight flicked to red as she realized the truth: this man hadn't been here.
Azula's voice was clipped in her barely controlled temper. "Let me understand this correctly. You are being paid a handsome sum to live at this compound and oversee every aspect of Ozai's care. It is written into your contract that you may not leave this compound without permission and without an approved second to take your place. Do you remember signing that?"
"It was only one afternoon!" he protested feebly.
"It was also in your contract that you forfeit your wages for the year if you broke those terms." Azula looked at him sharply, too angry to take satisfaction with his sudden nauseated expression. "If you had requested to leave this job, I would have donated funds to your retirement. Now you will have nothing. Leave. Now." The warden hesitated. "Now!"
He tripped, went to his knees, and scrambled out of the building and out of her sight.
The warden's second, a man named Li, was in his hot cramped office in the corner of the front building of the compound. Li was a younger man—perhaps in his late thirties—than the warden. He was fairly plain looking but not unattractive perhaps only because he was well-groomed. He was quiet and immediately proved he was far more intelligent than his superior. For one thing, he was awake.
He received her in his office with wide eyes and scrambled to clear off the chair covered in scrolls in front of his desk. Azula didn't deign to sit in that chair. She settled her arms behind her back and asked him, "Why did you not inform your superior about Ozai's behavior with his prostitute?"
Li frowned at her. His gray eyes were soft in confusion. "Forgive me, Princess. To what behavior are you referring?"
"Were you not here as well then?" Her simmering anger was almost too much to contain.
"I always visit my family in the capital on the days of the prostitute's visits," Li said; he lowered his head in deference. "I wasn't informed of a problem."
He appeared to be telling the truth. She glanced at Kota, who gave a faint nod in confirmation of the man's first claim.
"How long have you worked here, Li?"
"Three years, Princess."
"How would you like a promotion?" she asked him.
He didn't smile, but he bowed in thanks, flashing the thinning patch of hair on the crown of his head. "It would be an honor, Princess."
This man had two thoughts to rub together and was the right mix of confidence and humility; he would do at least for now. It was an extemporaneous decision on her part, but she didn't have time to worry about juggling candidates for the post of Ozai's warden. They shared weak tea and discussed his responsibilities and settled on the terms of his contract. When Azula finished with her meeting with him, she was in a marginally better mood to face Ozai.
Li himself led her to the gated entrance and unlocked the two doors into Ozai's patio. He bowed as he closed them behind her.
There on his patio sat Ozai in the sun. He was bare to his waist. His chest was covered in white hair, his beard was bushy gray, and the hair on his head was black and white stubble. He's gone to fat; his belly hung over his belt. By his obvious odor, he was drunk. Ozai did not acknowledge Azula's presence.
"How are you?" she asked him.
He was silent, gazing at the wall.
"Why did you decide to put your fist into Hazana's face?"
No answer.
"In any case, she will not be returning to you for six months. Use your fist on her one more time, and the only sexual company you'll receive again is that fist."
That vulgar rudeness didn't even garner a response.
"Has someone cut out your tongue?"
That finally coaxed him to speak. "Why do you pretend to care about me? You're happy to let your own father rot here while you enjoy freedom and watch your brother destroy this nation." His voice was low and hoarse and very angry.
Azula curled her lip. "Oh, is that all?"
He didn't like her sarcasm. His lip curled as well; she'd learned that disdain from him. "And now you've taken a savage as your consort."
Her anger was sharp, but she held it back. She didn't like—but wasn't too surprised after her revelation about Ozai's recently retired caretaker—that Ozai was receiving news that she'd not approved. "Katara has been my lover for years."
"Lover? It's shameful enough that she shares your bed, but at least she did so as your whore—"
She wasn't aware that she'd moved until she had Ozai's throat trapped between her forearm and the building behind him. He gagged against her arm. Azula's voice was low and tightly controlled in contrast to her raging emotions. "I am the only reason you're still alive. I'm the only reason you didn't sit in that prison cell and rot in your own shit. Make no mistake. You're making it tempting to throw you to the dragons, Father."
When she let him go, he put a hand to his throat and rasped, "You're not my daughter."
She almost told him the truth. She knew he didn't know that Iroh was her father, not when he still spoke to her and behaved like a spoiled baby to gain her attention. It would be so easy and so vindictive to tell Ozai to his face—'Iroh is my father.'—especially when he was looking at her in such a wounded way.
Even after all this, she couldn't do that to the man who had raised her. Instead, she said, "Yet I'm the only friend you have, old man."
She turned on her heel and left him there, knowing she would not be back. She would fund his care, his alcohol and opium, and his sexual needs until he died, but she would not grace him with her presence ever again. Some strange darkness slipped from her shoulders like a weighted cape with every step away from Ozai. She'd finally burned that bridge.
The thought didn't dissipate the ball of tension that sat in her throat.
-TBC-