Author's note:
Hello Here we are: after 4 chapters devoted mainly to flashbacks, I finally come back to the main story.
Memento : at the beginning of chapter 1, we left Zuko and Azula, a little tipsy, wandering in the corridors of the palace. Azula is now 19 years old, Zuko is 21. I couldn't help but add more flashbacks to this chapter, I think it's kind of my signature! I apologize in advance for these digressions which I hope do not bore you. .
Before you read chapter 5, I would like to make a few remarks on the following: (well, it's up to you to read or not, eh!)
This new chapter describes the more than ambiguous relationship between Zuko and his sister. It seemed more relevant to me to tell this scene through Zuko's point of view since we already learned in the previous chapter how Azula felt for him.
I've read a lot of "Zucest" tagged fanfiction (almost exclusively in English). And a few great texts aside, I noticed that these stories fell into two categories:
First, and this is arguably the most common, the "lemon" category with explicit content. Usually, in these rather brief tales, the sex is initiated by a perverse and narcissistic Azula who uses her sexuality to corrupt a poor innocent Zuko who saw nothing coming but ultimately finds his interest in it.
Emotions are rarely at the center of these fanfictions and even if some are well written, they give me the impression that the scenario is very poor, largely neglected in favor of very explicit and rather disturbing scenes, which sometimes switch into sadomasochism, as if these two characters could not express their desire other than by violence. I find that very reductive.
The other category, on the contrary, pours into romance which, in my opinion, forgets the unhealthy aspect of incest and is a bit out of character. (Just a bit!) In general, Zuko and Azula quickly give up all scruples and their story becomes a romance like any other. Incest then seems a little free. The idea is often to create a redemption arc for Azula, and the princess often becomes a weak, vulnerable, and romantic little thing that doesn't fit the character in my mind
I don't want to criticize the authors who write this kind of story. They have every right to do so and I can understand the guilty pleasure there is! I just mean that is not what I want to show in mine.
I would like to try to write a story escaping these two stereotypes. I would like to bring up the subject of brother-sister incest in all its complexity. I don't want to turn a relationship like this into something common because it's absolutly not a normal relationship.
I want to clarify that I don't approve incest at all, particularly between ascendants, whatever the circumstances. What Ozai did to Azula is only very, very sad and disgusting. I'll talk about it again of course and give some details because that's a big part of what explains Azula's mental state in my story, but I'll try to stay subtle in talking about what happened (if I can!)
On the other hand, I find that "consented" brother-sister incest (if at all possible), has a very tragic dimension that I find interesting to explore, especially between these two extremely complex and tortured characters that are Zuko and Azula.
This chapter therefore lays the groundwork for what could become of their history, but we will have to wait a little longer before things become clearer. Here, after these reflections which, I hope, will enlighten you on my intentions without saying too much, I let you discover this new chapter.
Ah and I wanted to thank those who made constructive comments on the language. Thanks to you, I'm taking lots of English lessons! I would like to point out that I have had a difficult relationship with this language for a long time and I have only been reading texts in English for a few months. So I'm still fumbling! Thanks for your help !
Good reading !And please leave reviews !(and positive ones because I'm very sensitive! )^^
Chapter 5 – Fog
The Fire Lord was leading his sister through the palace's maze, trusting his footsteps more than his inebriated mind to lead them back to the wing where the royal family's private apartments were located.
As he was about to open the large door, which was always rigorously guarded by two armored men, he suddenly felt himself being pulled back and turned in exasperation to Azula who had stopped and was now giving him one of those predatory smirks that always made him uncomfortable. Her amber eyes shone with a rather insane and intense glow he had only seen in moments of delirium, when she was still ill.
"What's going on Azula?"
Without a word, she pulled him towards her, moved closer to him, and leaned her head to nestle it in the crook of his shoulder.
He was now a head taller than her. Since the end of the war, when he himself had experienced a remarkable growth spurt, Azula's figure had remained nearly the same as hers four years before. Although both of their parents were tall and slender, she herself was rather petite. Perhaps it was part of the genetic heritage that Iroh favored – not that she was built like Iroh in any way! Even Zuko's friends had ended up exceeding her by several inches, including the little Toph, not to mention Aang who was now well ahead of Zuko and Sokka.
He sometimes wondered if this was the consequence of her years of confinement spent in an asylum, deprivation, anemia and periods of malnutrition she had inflicted on herself.
Her small size, however, did not reduce her power and her extraordinary abilities and she remained the most formidable of opponents when she asked him to come and train with her in the large inner courtyard. He even found it extraordinary that she was able to retain such a talent after more than three years spent without practicing her firebending – except in those moments of rage or delirium when she could no longer control it.
Zuko was the only opponent she felt worthy of fighting her. The members of the Imperial Guard did not pose a challenge to her, and they themselves were reluctant to serve as guinea pigs for the mortal princess with the legendary azure flames who was said to have lost her mind for a while.
"Zuzu, I feel so funny…" he heard her mutter into his shoulder as he awkwardly put his arms around her back which he patted lightly before pushing her away gently.
Zuko swallowed hard and tried not to pay attention to the two guards posted on either side of the door who both showed an extraordinary talent at remaining perfectly indifferent to this display of unusual tenderness between the Fire Lord and his sister.
Unusual for them maybe.
Azula had grown more and more affectionate over the past few months, and it was not uncommon for Zuko to feel her arm slip under his as they both strolled around the garden, talking animatedly about the upcoming summit, policy or advanced techniques of firebending. Neither was it unusual when she gets up on her tiptoes to place a light kiss on his cheek as she goes to bed.
Traditionally, it was strictly forbidden to touch the Fire Lord in public without permission. Even Mai avoided displays of tenderness as much as possible when they were surrounded by people. But Azula probably felt that the common rules did not apply to her. The same holy blood was running through her veins after all. However, the princess generally reserved these gestures for the times when they were alone, out of sight. He knew her well enough to know she would have preferred to jump into a basket full of snakes than to admit that she could seek her brother's affection.
He thought bitterly that it wasn't that strange. He was the only one in the palace who did not look at her with terror or revulsion. He had given up on convincing Mai that Azula had changed and that he was safe with her. She had barely agreed to live under the same roof as her and to exchange banalities with her former friend on various subjects which interested neither of them. Ty Lee sometimes watched these exchanges with wide worried eyes and seemed a little sullen to see the coldness of their relationship.
Zuko wondered what Mai would say if she saw the way Azula was taking him by the hand and now leading him to her rooms, giggling, walking backwards to face him.
He gave the two guards a hard, cold look, as if to challenge them to comment. The two men were smart enough to remain perfectly impassive and gently closed the door behind the siblings.
With a wave of his hand, Zuko lit the torches fixed to the wall and a soft orange atmosphere enveloped them.
"A last drink?" Suggested Azula who let go of her brother's hand to walk towards a wooden trunk at the back of the room. She knelt in front of it and plunged her hand into the neckline of her dress to bring out a small copper key hanging from the end of a long golden chain.
With a frown, Zuko walked over and crouched down beside her. He gently put his hand on hers before she could lift the ornate cover.
"I think you've had enough to drink for tonight," he said softly but firmly.
"Oh Zuzu! Don't be a stick-in-the-mud! We don't celebrate the signing of a historic treaty for the future of the four nations every day!"
Indeed, the same afternoon, a treaty between the leaders of each nation and the administrators of the future ex-colonies had been signed, designating the Yue Bay as the location of the future capital of the United Republic of Nations. The dream he had made up with Aang was about to come true: the creation of a country where members of all nations, benders and non-benders, would live in harmony, without distinction.
A utopian idea, the most reactionary members of the Council had not failed to point out, all representatives of the Fire Nation, hostile to the idea of sacrificing colonies to the eccentric ideals of the young Fire Lord. At the end of an interminable summit of more than a week, bringing together representatives of the four nations - Aang for the Air Nomads of course - and ambassadors from all over the world, after hours of discussions and debates endless on whether to create such a state, the proposal was passed and won a majority of the votes.
Azula did not have the right to vote. Her return to the political scene was still a matter of tension among the members of the Council and she herself had been wise not to ask for anything, advising Zuko to be patient. Knowing that her brother supported her ideas seemed to satisfy her for the moment. She was only allowed to sit on the Council as an honorary member.
However, the speech she had given that morning in support of Zuko's and Aang's plan to the full Assembly made a strong impression and Zuko was convinced that she had been able to convince the undecided members. After all, the proposal won by a narrow majority.
At the end of the meeting, he waited for everyone except his friends to leave the council chamber and after making sure they were alone, he walked over to Azula and hugged her under the tender eyes of the Team Avatar. She gave a little cry of surprise and froze in his arms at the time; but when he had released her to hug his friends who were rushing towards him with enthusiastic exclamations, he saw her out of the corner of his eye dusting her dress confusedly, her eyes fixed on her feet, and re-styling her hair with shaking hands. Her cheeks were a deep pink, and a small smile curled her ruby lips. She had quickly regained her composure however and courteously thanked Katara and Suki who had approached her and warmly congratulated her on her eloquence.
Having her on his side in this project, possibly the most important one of his entire reign was invaluable. One thing, however, continued to bother him.
"Three nations, not four..." he corrected grimly.
The fate of the Air people was a question that continued to occupy his mind, almost as much as Aang himself. But it was well known that the Avatar and the Fire Lord, despite their deep friendship, did not share the same optimism.
As the new Fire Lord and great-grandson of Sozin, he could not help but feel responsible for the genocide of the most peaceful people the world had known.
Azula did not suffer from the same scruples. She had perfectly adopted the idea that by not having been alive at that time, she had nothing to do with the extinction of an entire nation. Zuko assumed this guilt was the burden of the rulers, even more so of those whose people were responsible for a hundred years of war.
By losing the title of Fire Lord, Azula was free to live her life without remorse as a descendant of the greatest genocidaire in history.
"I wouldn't worry too much" Azula replied. "The Avatar and his peasant woman will soon have populated the earth with a string of babies, airbenders who will soon come to stir up trouble in the palace and who will use their bending to look under the petticoats of the servants. Seeing the way, he was looking at her tonight, I wouldn't be surprised if the first air bender of the next generation is already on his way!"
Thinking of his two best friends this way made him uncomfortable for a moment, but eventually it was an amused smile on his disfigured face when he met his sister's gaze, who was visibly watching his reaction. They looked at each other and at the same time burst out laughing.
Slowly, he straightened up, leaning on the trunk, his head still spinning slightly. He extended a hand to Azula who took it gratefully and helped her up.
When she was standing in front of him, he made a gesture of letting go of her hand, but she refused and instead slid her fingers through his to interlock them with hers.
They stayed like that for a few quiet moments. He, staring at Azula's impassive face again. She, fascinated by the sight of their two joined hands. Slowly, she ran her thumb against the skin of Zuko's index finger. It was he who broke the somewhat uncomfortable silence that had settled between them.
"I didn't know you were hiding wine in your room…" He hadn't meant to give his words that tone of reproach, but he couldn't help it when it came to Azula's health.
"Taïma wouldn't appreciate it if she found out," he continued… "You know it's not recommended with your treatment."
"Taïma is the most annoying person I know," Azula retorted, rolling her eyes in exasperation but not taking her attention away from their interlocking fingers. "After you." she added.
Zuko considered her words for a moment. Ever since he had called the healer to the palace and appointed her as his sister's official doctor, Azula never missed an opportunity to recall how much the WaterTribe woman annoyed her.
It was not uncommon, in fact, when strolling through the corridors of the palace, to come across a furious Azula who was walking with great strides, pursued by a disheveled Taïma who shouted recommendations at her. But he knew it were just words. He was aware that his sister was, like him, deeply grateful to the young woman for having found the perfect dosage which had both freed Azula from her hallucinations and had allowed her to reconnect with those around her.
It had been a long and difficult road. It had taken months to find the perfect formula and Azula had gone through difficult stages, leading her from complete apathy, as when she had returned to the palace, to episodes of psychosis so violent that the question had arisen to have her interned again.
In the end, with Katara's help, Taïma succeeded, and it had been almost a year since Azula had become a functioning human being again, thanks to the treatment she was conscientiously taking every day under the watchful eye of the healer. Finally, in four years, she had matured and changed. If she remained proud and charismatic, she no longer manifested the arrogance with which she laced every word and every gesture in adolescence. She knew how to feign courtesy to perfection when it was necessary and although Zuko knew she was not sincere most of the time, he was at least grateful to her for trying. This new version of his sister, who no longer tried to humiliate or kill him at every opportunity, had even become pleasant company for the Fire Lord who could no longer really imagine his life without her.
However, the subject had been discussed many times with Mai. It had become tacit between them that Mai handled mail to the royal family, and marriage proposals for the Princess arrived regularly. Zuko was outraged at first, but Mai asked him to reconsider the question.
Since he couldn't refuse her much, he agreed to listen to her. His wife was torn between the desire to find a pretext to get rid of her, and the fear that a married Azula would become a threat to her brother's crown. Once she became the wife of an influential and powerful man, who would stop her from manipulating him and regaining the power she had lost? Better a disgraced single princess than an ambitious queen at the head, for example, of the Earth Kingdom.
Zuko had to admit that the idea was quite scary.
Although Azula did not openly manifest any ambition on the political level, he still detected in her eyes that disturbing glow which shone in the depths of her pupils when she managed to convince him to take a decision for the future of their Nation or when he was signing an ordinance, she had drafted for him in the greatest secrecy.
For the moment, these questions were far from his mind.
"So, if you refuse to listen to your doctor, listen to your Fire Lord."
Azula gave him a murderous look and let go of his hand.
"It would be nice enough," she said, "if someone in this palace could stop mothering me and reminding me at all times how crazy I am…"
"Stop Azula, you know it's not that. I care about you."
She raised her eyebrows sceptically. It was always the same. Every time he verbally expressed his attachment to her, it was the same air of disbelief imprinted on her delicate features. He had come to think that it became second nature to her. At least she didn't try to hurt him anymore when he tried to reassure her about his feelings for her. It was undeniable progress.
Unconsciously, he put a hand on the small scar on the back of his neck, which had been added to the indelible one on his face and to the star-shaped mark that adorned his chest, another memory left by Azula.
Finally, in front of her brother's contrite air, she abdicated.
"Ah! Very good! I give up. But first I need help with this dress."
"I'll have your maid called," he announced, turning on his heels.
"No!" She stopped him by placing her hand on his forearm. "I want you to do it…"
This time she had blushed frankly, but her amber eyes continued to stare at him without flinching and the determination he read there made him uncomfortable.
"Very well." He said slowly.
She took him by the hand and lead him to the mirror in front of which she stood.
"Help me with my hair." She ordered.
"Really? Can't you do it on your own?" he grumbled.
"Zuzu!"
"Okay! Okay!"
He moved behind her and with a cautious gesture, he began to remove one by one the many pins of various shapes that were holding her hair in an elaborate bun. The maids must have taken hours to complete this exquisite masterpiece.
She shivered as his fingers brushed the back of her neck and he suddenly felt a little dizzy. The effects of the alcohol had not yet worn off. The thick hair fell slowly in a dark cascade over her shoulders, and he helped her put it back.
"My dress, Zuzu." She pulled up the hair they had just undone to expose the back of her neck so that he could untie the knot that was holding her dress and he felt surprised when the flowing fabric fell, abruptly baring her satin shoulders and part of her back. He swallows hard, suddenly feeling the urge to run away.
Azula didn't seem to share his discomfort. Holding the dress with an arm across her chest, she turned to him and whispered, a mocking smile on her lips:
"Thanks Zuzu. You would make an excellent maid if you ever consider a change in profession."
She gave him one of her bewitching looks only she knew. He couldn't help but notice the change in her voice. It had suddenly grown deeper, almost caressing. He quickly shook his head, as if to come to his senses.
"I think the alcohol went to my head. If you don't need me anymore, I'll go to bed."
"What? Already? For once we're just the two of us, I was hoping we could chat a bit..."
Zuko frowned suspiciously: "We already spend hours discussing politics, laws and diplomacy every day!"
"I thought," she said, approaching him slowly, "that we could discuss other things. What could a man who is not the Fire Lord talk about with his little sister?"
The feigned naivety she expressed was perfectly infuriating.
It was new.
Since when did he and Azula behave like normal siblings? Their relationship had never been normal, and the way she was behaving tonight told him that there was definitely something deeply disturbing about the way they interacted.
An old resentment, which he had always associated with Azula's presence in his life, suddenly resurfaced. Why was she not behaving normally? What did she expect from him? In his head, the voice of reason, which sounded like his uncle's, told him to run away, to return to his rooms and to find Mai who must have been asleep for a long time, to bury his head in her hair and forget everything he had just seen.
But for the moment, influenced by the alcohol, he couldn't take his eyes off his sister as she moved with deliberate slowness towards the screen, her back and shoulders still bare, like an invitation to follow her.
He sighed in relief when she disappeared behind it.
"Please give me my kimono, Zuzu… on the center by my bed."
He did so and put a hand in front of his eyes so as not to look when he approached her to hand her the garment.
"Don't be so prudish Zuzu!" she said in an amused tone, snatching the kimono from his hands. "There is nothing wrong about bringing her pyjamas to your sister... It's not like I'm asking you to help me put them on..."
Zuko didn't answer. He thought he detected a proposition in her last sentence.
He was still silent when she came out from behind the screen, dressed in a simple red kimono edged with a gold border at the base of the neck which advantageously enhanced all her curves.
She stood in front of the mirror again and lifted her arms above her head in an affected gesture, conspicuously stretching her back and straightening her chest as she brought her hands to her head to gather her hair between her palms. She had a hair stick stuck between her teeth.
When she was done knotting her hair in a sloppy bun, she planted it conscientiously, not letting go of the reflection of her eyes.
Zuko stood behind her. His reflection appeared in the mirror, and he was sure she had looked at him for a moment, as if to make sure that he wasn't missing a thing from the show.
She had never been very good at combing her hair and when she placed the spike in the night of her hair, he noticed the few rebellious locks which managed to escape, and which fell back in a loop around her neck.
Looking at her, he thought back to one particular night, over four years ago, when he came to confront her in that same room after finding out that she had lied to her father about the Avatar's alleged death. He thought about the way she acted that night, how she sat up in bed, how she moved around the room, circling around him, stretching with a lascivious air that had shocked him.
When she walked over to him and whispered in his ear, he felt the warmth of her breath against his cheek and an unpleasant shiver ran through his whole body. He had then returned to his room, deeply disturbed by the display she had given him. He felt the same discomfort that night.
The outfit she was wearing was identical.
She left the mirror and walked to the couch that sat in the middle of the room and settled down comfortably, revealing two white legs with perfectly smooth skin. For a moment he wondered what it would be to touch them.
What's wrong with you? Stop thinking about such things right now!
Finally, he supposed that the fatigue accumulated after a week of heated meetings and debates had affected him more than he thought. Not to mention the alcohol.
"Come sit down, Zuzu," she invited him, patting the place next to her, where the couch formed an angle.
"I thought you wanted to go to bed," he said with a scowl.
"Oh, would you rather go to bed? You're right, we might be more comfortable. But I'm afraid that might not be very appropriate for a brother and a sister... "
Zuko was fuming. He suspected Azula was having a lot of fun.
"No way!" And he crossed the room to join her on the couch and settle in the place she had appointed him. He sat up and put his arms behind the back of the couch, in a position he wanted to look perfectly relaxed. It was without counting on the rushing beating of his own heart. It was pumping blood through his body at such insane speed that he was sure Azula could hear it. Azula never missed a single detail. She was the eyes and ears of the palace. Nothing escaped her acute mind, and the Fire Lord was no exception.
He tried to look perfectly indifferent when she slipped closer to him, her legs stretched out in front of her, brought together, and she laid her head in the crook of his shoulder, resting a hand on his chest, just below his heart at the point from which his star-shaped scar spread.
"I wanted to tell you," She began in a caressing voice, "how wonderful you were today."
"At what moment?"
"All the time. You had the attitude of a perfect Fire Lord: inflexible, authoritarian, confident… You sent a very clear message to your opponents."
Zuko's face darkens. "This bunch of old debris will do us a great favour when they finally go into prolonged retirement..."
"They are elected for life," Azula reminded him. Her hair and the tip of her nose brushed his chin as she raised her head to look up at him.
"I was thinking of something more definitive actually," he said, gritting his teeth, a cruel sneer stretching his lips.
Azula chuckled. "You know we can't. I know you hate them because they represent everything you want to deconstruct."
"They are the remnants of Ozai's reign," he said.
As always, he felt his sister's body tense at the mention of their father's name. Almost unconsciously, he brought his arms back from behind the couch to hug her. He felt her shiver against him at the touch.
"They embody everything I have always hated in power: corruption, the hegemony of the ruling castes, reactionary ideology. I don't understand why I still burden myself with them! They tarnish the image of the nation I am trying to build."
"It is precisely because they embody a not insignificant fringe of the people that you claim to lead that you must keep them in their position. Our father's supporters did not magically disappear the day he was defeated. The whole nation is not behind you Zuko, no matter how noble your ideals are. You have enemies in the Fire Nation."
She must have felt his frustration as her voice softened after that:
"If you want to be worthy of the trust of your nation, you have to worry about the diversity of opinions, even the most antagonistic and the most nauseating. As long as they don't try to destabilize your power, you have to accept them. They must feel represented Zuko. It's on this condition that you will be a good leader. It is not by muzzling your opponents that you will achieve the ideal of democracy that you and the Avatar dream of."
Zuko listened to her, caressing her shoulder and arm absentmindedly. He never ceased to be amazed by the radical change that had taken place in his sister's mind over the last few years. When had the megalomaniac and fanatic young girl, who once suggested to their father to raze an entire kingdom without shuddering, become this shrewd and temperate fine diplomat ready to fiercely defend his ideals?
"Even when you're drunk, you're right…" he told her in a calm tone that bore a mixture of irritation and admiration.
"I'm always right, dumdum… You're just too stupid and too stubborn to notice it."
"When I think that these are the same fools you are defending who also oppose your return to the political scene..."
"It's because they know all the horrible things that I will do to them once I have usurped your throne."
He looked down at her. And despite the smile she gave him, the slightly insane glow was back in her eyes, and he swallowed hard.
He wondered when the doubt would stop nagging at him about his sister.
"Who will take care of your hair if you get rid of me?" He joked to hide his discomfort.
"I spoke of usurping your throne, not eliminating you. I'm ashamed to admit it but I got a little used to you. I will make you my lackey to keep you near me."
He couldn't help but smile and he held her closer to him in an embrace he meant to be purely brotherly.
A rather pleasant silence settled. Zuko absently began to play with one of the curls of hair at the base of Azula's neck. He wrapped it and unrolled it around his finger, thinking about everything she had said to him. Azula had closed her eyes and was smiling serenely against his shoulder.
Drunkenness suits her, he thought, looking at her.
He took advantage of her not being able to see him to study her face: the slightly protruding cheekbones, the perfect curve of her well-defined eyebrows, her mouth painted red and the hem of her full lips, the luminous and even complexion, her swan's neck which descended to her uncovered throat. The neckline of her half-open kimono that yawned just enough to reveal the top of her breasts...
He was neither fool nor blind. It had not escaped him that his sister was a very beautiful woman. The trials she had been through in recent years hadn't taken anything away from the grace and delicacy of her features. He shouldn't have been surprised to find the letters asking for her hand which had all ended up in ashes or crumpled up in the basket of his study room before reaching their real recipient.
However, her complex personality, her taste for domination and cruelty, her cunning, the simple fact that she was his sister, but even more so her madness, had made him forget it.
For him, malice, lies and perversion had always had the visage of elegance, grace and beauty.
Azula's visage.
But that night all he saw was a gorgeous girl, drunk and half asleep in his arms and he wondered if it made him a monster to have imagined for a moment that he could enjoy it.
As if she had read his mind, Azula stretched and pressed herself against him a little more. She began to gently run her hand over his chest. Her nimble fingers played with the collar of Zuko's tunic for a moment, tugging on it lightly, as if she wanted to invite him to remove it. She lifted her head slightly and her gaze fell into the golden irises of her brother whose chest heaved rapidly to the rhythm of his increasingly hasty breathing.
Slowly, he brought a hand to Azula's face and brushed the back of his index finger over her pointed chin and up to her jaw. Then he slowly let his hand down to her neck and finished its run over her throat where he laid it flat, letting his fingers spread over the entire surface of her skin.
Eyes closed, Azula accompanied the gesture by lasciviously throwing her head back, as if to better appreciate the caress. When she opened her eyes, it was to plunge them into his.
Her face was perfectly impassive, her expression indecipherable.
The tension in the room was at its height and Zuko realized after a moment that he had been holding his breath for several seconds.
As if to justify his inappropriate gesture, he pinched between his fingers the thin gold chain adorning Azula's neck, plunging into her cleavage. He pulled on it and pulled up the key that was hanging from it and held it for a moment right in front of Azula's nose, a cunning smile on his lips:
"I'll have a last drink in the end..."
And without waiting, he pulled on the small key and picked it up. Azula smirked back and he was struck by their resemblance at that moment. As if it had just clicked, the thought motivated him to push Azula back a bit to get off the couch.
He stood up and walked over to the trunk, key in hand. When he was far enough away to be sure she didn't hear him, he finally exhaled the air he had been holding in his lungs for a while, relieved to have finally moved away from her.
He glanced behind him and saw Azula straightening up and sitting down, readjusting the collar of her kimono, her cheeks a little red. He opened the trunk and looked at its contents. Several bottles of wine, all great wines according to the labels, were carefully lined up. He recognized several wines from his personal reserve. Some were well started and Zuko's face darkened at this observation.
He didn't want to start an argument now, but he vowed to tell Taïma about it the next day.
He got used to the idea that she stole his things. It had always been that way and as long as she didn't try to take his crown from him, he thought he could live with it. But the way she neglected her own health infuriated him. He wouldn't let Azula's vices compromise three years of effort.
He selected a bottle that he thought was suitable and closed the trunk. When he stood up, he felt a light touch on his back.
Azula was right behind him, two stemmed glasses in one hand, the other resting flat on his spine. He turned to face her and uncorked the bottle of wine. A sharp snap was heard as the cork popped out. Azula handed him the two cups without a word. The movement brought the flared three-quarters sleeves of her kimono up to her elbow. Zuko's eyes automatically fell on the scars and old cuts that marked her forearms and wrists. The sight gave him a violent pang in his heart as painful memories surfaced on his mind.
Azula had started inflicting injuries on herself a few weeks after his second visit to the asylum, when he fired this torturer Huan-Li and replaced him with Taïma and Doctor Tanaka. After the most spectacular and violent nervous breakdown that Azula has had since her mental collapse on the day of the comet.
Zuko still sometimes dreamed of this terrible scene. He shouldn't have touched her, or rushed her like he had, but the need to silence her horrific screams, to reason with her, had prompted him to act. He would never forget the terrified look she had cast on him then, her terrified howls and the convulsions that had rocked her whole body at the end, nor the trickle of saliva that had flowed from her lips just before she falls unconscious in his arms and he releases her in panic, letting her cranium hit the head of her bed.
He never knew what had triggered this psychosis. When he described the scene to Tanaka, the doctor thought he recognized the symptoms of a severe episode of mental dissociation. By physically forcing her like he had done, he thought Zuko had brought up a deeply traumatic memory in her. A memory her mind must have obscured until then.
These marks on her forearms and wrists, she had made them with the help of her toothbrush that she had managed to steal at the end of her evening bathroom visit, taking advantage of a moment of distraction by the male nurse.
Curled up at the leg of her bed, one night, in secret, she melted the material from which the handle was made with her bending and moulded it until the brush was as sharp as a needle. Zuko had expressly ordered the medics responsible for her to force her to wear a straitjacket only in situations that really demanded it. She was therefore free to move around in her cell at night.
So, every night, once alone and shielded from the scrutinizing gaze of the nurses and the battalion of guards who constantly watched her, she would carefully pull the tool out from under her mattress where she had hidden it and began to scarify herself meticulously, facing the wall to make sure no one could see her through the hole in the door. It was her nurses who discovered the mutilations and who warned Taïma and Tanaka who both apologized in front of a very upset Fire Lord and promised him not to give the princess an opportunity to harm herself again. The weapon was found concealed in her mattress and it was removed.
After that, despite his reluctance, he allowed them to drug her at night and ordered an extreme vigilance at all times of the day.
But Azula found other ways to harm herself: one day one of the two nurses who supervised her daily reported that she started screaming in the middle of her shower. Still naked, she had run away to the corner of the room and started rubbing and scratching her body with so much force that the skin was raw in some places.
When Taïma questioned her a few hours later after giving her a sedative, Azula told her that it was not water that had come out of the shower, but gallons of blood. They had cut her fingernails flush after this incident.
Other times she would bite the skin of her wrist until she bled, or she would bang her head against the wall, refuse all food for weeks... To be completely honest, her state had worsened. Her life had become hell despite the precautions and efforts taken by Zuko to improve her daily life. It didn't matter that he gave her more freedom than she had with Huan-Li: her mind was her prison. She lived there, locked in with her demons, trapped in memories that haunted her and from which she could no longer extricate herself.
Six months after her internment, Azula was at her lowest, and Zuko had to resign himself to the idea that she might never get well. When he asked her about this period, Azula claimed to have no recollection of it. It was rare for her to take up the hot topic of her three years in the asylum anyway. Even with Zuko. Only her doctors, his uncle and a few trusted friends knew the truth.
Rumors circulated in the palace and the streets of the Caldera. It was whispered that the princess had lost her mind. Others claimed that Zuko had killed her or had her locked up in a prison whose location was kept secret. Others imagined that she had managed to escape and that she was secretly plotting against Zuko, plotting a coup to overthrow him along with Ozai's followers.
On her return, Zuko simply informed his ministers and the Council that Azula was back in the palace, that she had served her sentence and was now under his care. He issued a royal edict stating that anyone who tried in any way an attempt at his sister's life would be charged with high treason.
When he thought about it, it seemed amazing to him that she had been able to regain her health so much. At that time, he would never have imagined sharing a glass of wine with her, much less chatting quietly with her, curled up on the sofa in her bedroom while Mai was waiting for him in her bed a few rooms away. Mai was either sleeping or furious with him, he guessed.
Why take the risk of waking her up or causing an argument when he could extend his evening with Azula who seemed to seek his company. After all she had been through, after her efforts to complete his project for the capital in Yue Bay, he wanted to be there for her.
When the two cups were filled, she handed him his and with a nod of her head invited him to follow her. He did so but didn't dare join her when she sat on the edge of her bed and crossed her legs, revealing a thigh as white as porcelain for a moment. She stealthily placed the kimono material on her leg and gave Zuko a look indicating that she knew he had noticed. She didn't seem embarrassed at all, on the contrary.
Blushing, he looked away and hid himself behind his glass, which he drank in one gulp. The wine might be a grand crû, but at that moment it tasted like ashes.
Azula was still staring intently at him. He wished he had left when he still had the chance. She hadn't touched her glass yet and watched him fill his own cup a second time before quietly dipping her lips into hers.
"Don't you want to come and sit down?" she asked gently, gesturing to the place next to her.
"No, it's fine, I'm okay..."
He had used the firmest tone he was capable of. He needed to stay in control. He was the reasonable person here.
He emptied his second glass just as quickly as the previous one.
"You look nervous, Zuzu..."
"I'm fine," he lied.
And he turned on his heel so as not to meet her fiery gaze, then quickly paced the huge room to put as much distance as possible between them. His mind totally clouded by the two glasses he had just finished in quick succession. He walked as best he could to Azula's desk and pretended to be interested in the pile of parchments left on the dark oaken surface... The carefully calligraphed characters drawn by his sister's hand danced before his eyes, devoid of any meaning.
He rested his hands on the two opposite corners of the desk, in the pose of a general examining the advance of his troops on a map. His fingernails dug furiously into the soft wood, and he concentrated on taking a deep breath.
Azula was driving him crazy. He didn't know what little game she was playing with him. Her intentions and motives were completely beyond his alcohol-clouded mind. He was deeply irritated with her, and furious with himself for having been able to think for a moment that maybe he could… with her!
He almost let things get out of hand and he wondered what was wrong with him. His head turned a little and he wondered if he was going to be sick.
Meanwhile, Azula had approached him, stealthily. He hadn't heard her coming but suddenly he had the feeling of a presence behind him. Although his reflexes were dulled by the drink, he whirled around, and his arm banged against the still half-filled cup Azula held in her hand. All of its contents spilled over him, and his jacket was soaked. A dark stain began to spread over the already scarlet fabric he was wearing. The cup ends its fall on the stone floor as the sound of broken glass echoes through the room.
He cursed, "Damn it, Azula!"
Caught off guard, Azula stared at him with wide astonished eyes, then her expression changed, and a familiar grin formed at the corners of her lips.
"I just wondered if it was wise to finish this glass. That settles the question. Thanks, Zuzu," She smirked.
Zuko continued to curse as he watched the stain spread across his chest. "This outfit cost me a fortune!"
"It's annoying," she replied, "What a pity that you aren't the ruler of the most prosperous Nation in the world and that you have nothing else to wear..."
He answered her with an inarticulate growl.
"Come on, come with me to the bathroom, dumdum. We'll fix it."
He followed her obediently, still muttering unintelligible words.
They crossed the room and went to the adjacent bathroom. There, Azula grabbed a clean towel, leaned over the tub and activated the pump. Fresh, clear water immediately gushed out and she soaked the fabric.
"Take off your jacket," she told him.
Zuko did so and pulled the garment over his head, trying not to get his hair dirty in the process, then he casually threw it on the black marble floor.
Azula turned and found herself face to face with him. Visibly surprised by this unexpected closeness, she froze, wet towel in hand, and her gaze fell almost immediately on the impressive star-shaped scar that adorned his chest, just below his heart.
"Thank you," Zuko muttered, taking the towel from her hand.
He started to dab his chest where the wine had dripped, highly aware of Azula's gaze which was locked on the old wound she was responsible for. A little embarrassed, he froze.
Very slowly, Azula approached it with her hand and brushed her fingertips over the scar, exactly where the lightning had entered his body four years earlier. The expression on her face was difficult to interpret: Zuko hesitated between curiosity, remorse and fascination. Zuko didn't push her away and even consented to let her wrap her other hand around his wrist.
Azula had always been one of the few people who didn't make him uncomfortable when she looked at the scar that disfigured him. When her amber eyes rested on his face, he saw neither fear, disgust, nor embarrassment; and even less the pity that was usually reserved for him.
For Azula, that scar was part of him, and he sometimes wondered if she would have looked at him the same if it hadn't been there. It was testimony of Ozai's tyranny, of the abuse of a father over his child.
If Azula had no visible mark of these abuses, he knew her mind bore the stigmata. Ozai had ruined her soul even more surely than he had ravaged his son's face.
Sometimes when his friends or when people he met showed compassion, he thought that he might be luckier than his little sister after all. Her injuries were not visible. But they were there, inside of her, still open, as indelible as his own scar. Azula probably wasn't even aware of it.
Sometimes he felt an unpleasant shiver when he thought of the years Azula has spent alone with their father, away from their mother, away from him, away from her only two friends. When he remembered that he had once envied the relationship between father and daughter, he wanted to hit himself and a deep sense of guilt gnawed at his guts.
Azula hardly spoke of this period of her life, and he had resigned himself to never knowing the unpleasant details.
All he could say was that whatever Ozai did, he had some responsibility for Azula's inexorable descent into madness.
He thought, as Azula's fingers ran gently along his chest, that she must see in her brother's wounds a reflection of her own. His scars were a very real sign of an unwavering bond between them. Pain, love and hatred too… She was the cause of that scar on his chest, that she couldn't take her eyes off.
A part of her had entered with the lightning which had almost killed him. It was the proof of their rivalry, of their jealousy, of the impossible reconciliation of two beings born to love and support each other but raised in mistrust and resentment.
They were very close to each other now and he could hear his sister's heart pounding in her chest, to the same frantic pace as his. Her second hand which still held his wrist let go and joined its twin. She applied them both to the old wound, as if trying to protect it from outside aggression.
He didn't feel like he was drunk at all. On the contrary, he had rarely felt so aware of the world around him. All his senses were sharp. Time seemed to have stood still.
"Does it still hurt you?"
Azula's voice was barely higher than a whisper. She still didn't look him in the eye.
"No, he replied in the same tone of confidence she had used.
He hadn't expected her to break down in tears, mortified, gnawed by remorse, or even try to justify herself, let alone apologize.
He didn't know what he had expected, but certainly not what she did next.
He froze when she gently placed her left hand on his shoulder, as her right hand continued to trace the outline of the scar, and she leaned forward to press a furtive kiss on his neck. Paralyzed, dazed, he didn't even think of pushing her away when she pressed herself a little more against him for a second, more insistent kiss that in turn gave him a violent shiver.
The towel he still held in his hand hung unnecessarily to the side. Pearls of water were falling to the ground and each time a new drop crashed on the marble floor, the sound was covered by that of Azula's lips who pressed more and more eager kisses against his skin.
Unable to analyse what was going on, Zuko tried to think quickly. And it didn't escape him that what Azula was doing was more than inappropriate, yet he couldn't find a satisfactory reason in him to stop her.
Zuko felt his breath dying in his throat as she placed both hands around his waist and slowly began to move down his chest, not interrupting her kisses.
"Azula..." he breathed out in an almost pleading whisper that could have meant something quite different.
This was the only objection he was capable of before she sat down on the edge of the tub in front of him, her face just at the right height for her lips to rest delicately on the scar where they lingered, placing wet, hot kisses where the marks were deepest.
Zuko thought for a moment to push her away, but his arms refused to obey him. Instead of pulling her away from him, he let go of his towel and ran his fingers through Azula's hair. With an almost unconscious gesture, he removed the spike that held her bun. Her hair cascaded over her shoulders, but she ignored it and pressed her face against him even more; her sharp fingernails entered his flesh on either side of his waist.
Each of her kisses seemed hotter, more greedy than the last. Zuko closed his eyes and let his fingers run between the dark strands he was tangling without thinking.
He was vaguely aware of the growing bulge in his pants and wondered with both shame and desire if Azula could perceive it too.
He made a funny noise between growl and moan as Azula's nimble fingers slid down his stomach and caught on the hem of his pants before tackling the knot that held it around his waist.
Azula slid gracefully off the edge of the tub and fell to her knees in front of her brother. She was still kissing him, but her lips had let go of the scar and continued their way down, lower and lower, until they came to his belly button, her fingers still working on the hem of his pants.
He opened his eyes for a moment, as if to reconnect with reality and they accidentally fell on the large mirror that was to his left against the wall a few steps from the tub.
The scene he saw reflected in the mirror was like a dagger in the heart. The obscene sight the mirror presented to him horrified him.
He was there, standing, his hands entangled in his sister's thick hair. Azula was kneeling at his feet, her eyes closed, her lips pressed against his stomach, her chin already brushing the hard protuberance that distorted the crotch of his pants. Azula's mouth went down a notch again and that was probably what prompted him to react.
The fog he felt in his brain from the moment she invited him into her room instantly dissipated. Eyes wide, he stepped back while brutally pushing Azula away, which made her head hit the tub. With an exclamation of indignant surprise, Azula opened her eyes again, ran a hand across the back of her head to massage the spot where her cranium had hit the edge of the tub, and looked up with two large, astonished eyes in the direction of her brother's face.
He saw behind the surprise, the hurt and the disappointment. He could have felt guilty. But for the moment, the disgust he felt for her and for himself ruled out any other feeling.
Azula knelt there, on the ground, like a scared and lost little animal, a glimmer of incomprehension shining in her amber eyes. Zuko looked around, to make sure he wasn't dreaming and when his eyes fell on Azula at his feet, he swallowed hard, a grimace of revulsion distorted his features. With a furious exclamation, he brought his hands to his temples in an angry gesture and finally turned on his heel, and hurried out of the room, abandoning Azula on the marble tiled floor of her bathroom.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her still kneeling figure slowly sag, her head tilting forward, on her two hands which she had placed on the ground, as for a prayer, a curtain of black hair hiding her face.
He quickly crossed the room and didn't stop when his boots stomped on the shattered remnants of the glass Azula had dropped.
He stormed out of his sister's apartments and suddenly found himself in front of the guards who immediately stood to attention when they saw their Fire Lord emerge from the room. It was only then that he realized with horror that he was still shirtless. His jacket must still be lying on the bathroom floor, next to an Azula he imagined furious or curled up on the floor, head in her hands, rocking back and forth, tortured, no doubt aware, like him, of the terrible mistake they were about to commit.
He turned to the guards, watching their reaction.
"Is everything all right Sire?" one of them asked, stepping cautiously in his direction.
Zuko opened his mouth to answer but no sound crossed his lips. The words he had wanted to speak remained stuck in his throat. Finally, he managed to stammer out a vague explanation:
"M-my sister is asleep… I-I spilled a glass of wine on my jacket…" The two guards looked at him with wide eyes, perhaps expecting further instructions. But Zuko couldn't think of anything more to say and scampered down the halls.
He walked around the palace towards the Throne Room, which was empty at this hour. The door was not even guarded. He stepped inside and closed the door behind him. Looking around with a desperate expression, he clenched his fists and, unleashing his rage and frustration, he sent two powerful jets of orange flame towards the throne - lost in the darkness - which exploded a little further.
Then, suddenly exhausted, he leaned against a pillar along which he let himself slide. When he was seated, he buried his head in his hands and let out a cry of rage that echoed for a long time in the sleeping palace.