Epilogue: …and you lose some

The evening was blessedly cool and quiet—as the last week had been. After the pitiful coup attempt, twelve noble men were hanged by their noble necks, and their families kept their heads down to avoid any other appearance of disloyalty. The Bouli family, shadow benefactors, were also very, very quiet. They'd relocated to their vacation home in the tropical islands, and Zuko rented out their historic family home in Capital City to his new Minister of Seas. Azula wondered what had happened with all of that, but she'd had no time to inquire.

Laza—majority inheritor of Tazu's estate—had wasted no time in marrying her lover. She'd sent Azula a wedding invitation the day after Azula's victorious Agni Kai. Azula thought her wedding gifts were appropriately lavish: one of her prized mount's offspring, a traditional shadow theater mask, and three barrels of the Fire Nation's best peppery-grape wine. Whether it was the gifts, Azula's full pardon, or her somewhat open invitation to the palace for social calls, Laza had thrown her lot in entirely with Azula. She'd already sent a few tidbits of information about the noble families that had flocked to her door for rumormongering. It promised to be a profitable alliance.

Zuko had forgiven Azula for the coup de grace, so to speak, and he'd been downright pleased with the political aftereffects of the attempt on his life. The nobles were quiet, and dissent, if it did occur, was hushed. His supporters were much louder than they'd been before Azula's full backing of her brother. Things were finally getting done in the capital.

Now, on his wedding night—the real one, Mai would have argued—Zuko looked amazingly relaxed. The vows had been recited and all the private guests were plied with drink and food and music and conversation. Iroh and Ursa swayed together in a vague dance under the overgrown patio, and Sokka, Suki, and Ty Lee were tossing aiming rings for sport. They were all drunk—enjoying the last few days of vacation in good form—so it was a marvel their aim wasn't worse than it was. Zuko paused to speak as he passed the group and nearly got clocked in the head with an aiming ring.

He was grinning when he turned to approach Azula. He handed her a drink. She sniffed it.

"It's not alcoholic. Neither is mine. Mai told me she has special plans for—"

"We are not talking about you and Mai having sex." Azula exaggerated her shudder of horror.

Zuko smirked at her. "I heard that you sent your Dai Li to the relief efforts in the Earth Kingdom."

An earthquake had devastated a few cities along the midwest coast of the Earth Kingdom. It was a make-nice gesture towards Katara, who was still quietly unhappy with Azula for recent events, though Toph was the one who'd asked for the help. Before Zuko could draw his own conclusions about her motivations, she said, "Don't start thinking of me as a bleeding heart, Brother. I just want the Earth Kingdom to know the Dai Li are mine again."

Zuko gave her an uncharacteristic pat on the shoulder. "Has Katara forgiven you yet?"

They'd talked more than a few times about the reality of Azula's new position. Azula had been afraid it would turn into a battle of ultimatums, but Katara had been shockingly understanding despite her disapproval. The only thing Katara had asked her was, "Think of me and think of the impact your decisions will have on me, okay? That's all I'm asking."

Azula's eyes had been opened in more ways than one since the beginning of her trip to Capital City. She'd looked into Katara's wounded eyes and promised, "Yes."

Now Azula was relaxed enough with the truth of her answer to smile at her brother. She sipped her drink and nodded. "I think I'm well on my way."

His smile in return was surprisingly sympathetic. Then it turned mischievous. "I also heard about the trade meeting this morning."

Azula was still astoundingly pleased with her first trade meeting; she'd managed to get Mai and Ursa's public school proposition passed in a few short minutes. She'd also cowed the minister of finance into silence when she'd pointed out he was so in favor of taxing the lower class when he'd so cleverly managed not to pay his own taxes for three years. "I don't know why you complain about them, Zuzu. I had fun watching them squirm."

Zuko took a drink from his teacup. His expression shifted into vague perplexity, and then he spat his mouthful all over the garden path. "What the hell is this?" He stared down at his cup. "It tastes like Uncle's moldy sandals."

Azula raised an eyebrow. "Iroh's brew?"

Zuko turned around to raise a threatening fist to Iroh, who was laughing at him across the garden. Ursa was smiling with her head on Iroh's shoulder. While they were watching, Zuko lifted his teacup and poured it out onto the ground.

"Iroh likes it."

Zuko sighed. "Why am I not surprised?"

"Brother."

He glanced at her.

"Katara and I may retire to Ember Island before she leaves." Their anniversary was fast approaching. Azula wanted to be nowhere but Ember Island for that night. Maybe Katara would humor another walk over the ocean. Maybe she could prove once and for all that she hadn't changed during a quiet vacation.

He nodded lightly. "Just come back."

"How could I not? Lavishing on Ember Island isn't nearly as interesting as Capital City has proven to be." She paused, thinking about her pet back on Ember Island. "How do you feel about bearded cats?"

Zuko looked at her like she'd grown an extra head.

She'd kept an eye on Katara all evening. Now, the Avatar walked towards Katara with purpose. Azula watched as their greeting turned into a heated conversation. Zuko followed her gaze. "You going to do something about that?"

"I'm quite amused just watching. If I walk over there, he'll wander away and pout," she replied. She wondered what they were saying out of pure curious amusement. Whatever it was, it had Katara rolling her eyes. Katara saw her watching, and Azula wiggled her fingers in an indolent wave. Katara stuck out her tongue childishly, but the expression broke into a smile. It was good to see that smile directed at her again.

There weren't words to describe the look on the Avatar's face when he turned to see who Katara was looking at. Azula gave him a little wave too.

Silk whispered on silk as Mai slipped next to Zuko and settled against his side. "Congratulations," Azula said, lowering her head in a small bow. "You now have to deal with my brother for the rest of your life, Fire Lady."

"Ugh, don't call me that. Thank you for not ruining this ceremony," Mai replied dryly. "What are you two plotting now?"

"We're enjoying watching the—"

There was another hiss of a different kind. Then an impact that shuddered through Azula's body. Her glass shattered when she dropped it to reach up in vague curiosity towards the arrow that protruded from her throat. The bristles of the split feathers at the end flickered from the breeze created by her movements.

Her eyes turned to watch as Mai's fingers disappeared into her sleeve. Her gaze followed the path of her knives as they zipped forward and sank into a lone archer crouched atop the palace wall. The man screamed and fell through the patio as his second arrow thudded through Azula's chest.

As she turned her head, she felt the sticky arrowhead barb as it touched her shoulder. It had gone through her neck completely. The barb of the second arrow caught and ripped on the back of her robes as she turned. She didn't know what she was trying to do as she moved. It was very strange.

Azula went down on one knee before she got her leg back under her and stood. She pushed Zuko away from her, but his grip was tight around her shoulders. He was shouting in her ear quite annoyingly.

The leg buckled again, and her throat made a strange rumbling noise as she tried to speak. She managed a harsh exhale—a screaming pain against the second arrow—and a fine mist of blood escaped her mouth. There was blood in her lungs now, making it more difficult to breathe around the shaft in her throat. It was too much effort to move so she stayed in her bowed position, fingertips on the arrow in her throat.

The feathered ends were brilliant scarlet, the same color as the blood that dripped onto the ground. Both flickered to gray as her sight shifted.

She saw a dragon in the swirling line of that blood—flickering from red to gray to blue and back again. Her blood. Her dragon… Azula moved her thumb to touch it and felt the fire in it. Her blood, her dragon, her fire. Her blood, her dragon, her fire. She understood, felt certain peace, and smiled.

Someone shoved her roughly onto her backside. There were hands all around her. Someone touched the first arrow and incited sharp pain, and she seized that hand before it could touch it again. Words came at her but she couldn't process them.

Someone from behind her wrenched the arrow from that end. Azula's scream wouldn't come as much as she needed it to. Then there was a great sucking pain as the arrow was torn from her neck. She thrashed her legs at the agony and inhaled the sudden cascade of blood in her windpipe.

Then, blessedly, there was nothing.

The funeral pyre was set alight by flint-lit torches. As a non-bender, the dead deserved nothing but natural fire to turn into ash. There were no mourners; those there to watch did so to make sure death was absolute.

Self-proclaimed Phoenix King Ozai didn't rise to begin anew.

He had been hanged an hour before in the gray dusk. He'd deserved no sunlight to warm his skin in those moments between the non-death of paralysis and true-death from suffocation. Now his body was burned in the night to render it to ashes, not to send him to the afterlife.

Azula watched from where she sat between Katara and Zuko. She'd imagined what it would be like to tell Ozai that his only child was the son he hated, the son who had risen up to take the throne in the way he'd bitched about for years. That the child he'd raised and taught as his daughter was fathered by the man he hated most in the world.

But Ozai had taken even that option from her. The first arrow that he'd ordered his spy to put through her had taken her words from her; the second arrow had taken her breath.

They had also taken the last hope she'd ever had for regaining her bending. After battling back to life from the wound in her throat, she'd fallen to pneumonia. She was still recovering from that—possibly would never recover. Her breath was weak; her chest was tight. Her throat ached every day, every breath. Even if she managed to find the fire in herself again, she would never be able to wield it again.

And to think she was fortunate the arrows had not struck her spine or heart… She was lucky to be alive.

What she'd wanted to ask Ozai was: why?

He'd had the loyalty of only one man in this nation—Li, the man Azula had stupidly promoted as Ozai's warden—and in his last stand he'd used his every resource to kill Azula for taking a foreign consort. Zuko had been right with his concerns after the attempt on Azula and Ursa in the royal district; it had been about Katara. The men involved had been ordered to kill Azula and her companion, which they'd assumed would be Katara, not Ursa.

When that attack had failed, Ozai's man had sent an archer to put an arrow through Azula's heart. Thankfully, he'd hired a man who missed twice…a man who hadn't hesitated to give up Warden Li and Ozai in exchange for a quick, honorable death by beheading.

Even more fortunate was that the archer's last arrow—meant for Katara—was never loosed. Azula owed Mai a great debt.

Azula still couldn't understand it. Taking Katara as her consort was nothing, nothing at all in the scale of what had been done in this nation since the war ended. They'd given up their colonies, given money to the Water Tribes and the Earth Kingdom, raised taxation and pushed much of that money back in social programs: all things that Ozai adamantly opposed in his rule. And yet Azula's lover was what had tipped Ozai into action.

Iroh and Ursa's hands fell to her shoulders. Zuko put his hand on her arm. Katara's fingers threaded through hers and squeezed gently. Azula couldn't force a smile or thank her family, but she did return Katara's squeeze.

Katara was the only reason she was alive. Katara was weak herself from the frequency and skill she'd put into her waterbending to heal Azula day in and day out. She'd refused to let another healer touch Azula through those first hours, that full first week even. Their anniversary, which Azula had hoped to spend on Ember Island, was all agony and waterbending healing and fever and drowning in her own fluids.

Azula's care had even delayed Katara's return to the Southern Water Tribe. Azula knew her consort missed her home desperately. She'd wanted to bring Azula with her, but the royal physician had vetoed it with a single statement: "It will kill her."

'Go,' Azula had written a week ago. That one word had only made Katara as angry as she'd ever seen her.

It was a strange impasse, one to match the ennui Azula saw in herself. She had a vague thought that Katara might leave her and simply not come back again. Azula had wondered at it deep in the night, tracing her fingers through Katara's hair. She wondered what she might do if that happened.

But for now, Katara was here beside her. She would take what she could now and do what she needed to later.

One measured step at a time.

-end part 2-

Book 3 to follow. This has turned out longer than the original write so my 120k projection isn't right anymore. I'll post a couple of side-stories in the next few days.