Chapter 25 – Desire
In this chapter, the visit to the spa is a wink and a homage to Levannols super fanfic "Night Request" on AO3.
Those who haven't read it yet, what are you waiting for? There are only two chapters, posted a while ago, but the story is not abandoned! If you search something both funny and well-written, check it out! But not before having read my chapter though!
Also I want to thank all those who commented on chapter 23 and 24 lately. Your support means a lot and it's really what keep my motivation at a high level. Please, don't stop! Those who are registered, I try to reply in PM. If you are not, I still immensely appreciate any support and be sure I read every review you are willing to let here!
Now, place to the chapter!
One more step. Lift the foot. Rest it. Tame the fear and rest the weight of your body on your leg. Ignore the pain. Lift the other foot.
"Well done, Azula! You're awesome! Keep going, don't stop!" Ty Lee enthused.
Now it was Zuko's voice, "I knew you could do it, that's great!"
Then, Taïma's cheers: "One more step, Princess! You are almost there!"
Her face contracted in a painful grimace that must make her ugly, Azula lifted her left foot again and placed it in front of her, stifling a moan that looked like a sob.
Her legs, weakened by lack of activity, trembled under her weight and Azula clung more firmly to the bar, regretting that Taïma had taken the other one away. She staggered a little and Zuko was at her side in an instant to catch her before the inevitable fall.
She let herself be carried and put her arms around her brother's waist, taking advantage of this fleeting proximity to breathe a whiff of his perfume. She had to fight fiercely against the urge to kiss him on the neck when the scent of pine sap reached her. She recognized the toilet water he had been wearing every day since she had pointed out to him, in the most innocent tone in the world, that this perfume reminded her of her travels in the Earth Kingdom and the nights under the stars.
Azula wished it lasted longer. But Zuko had already carried her to her chair where he sat her down. She let out a small exclamation of pain when she sat up, her pelvis protesting violently.
It's in your head, Princess. Stop listening to fear.
In my head, not half! she wanted to scream at Taïma who was looking at her, a big silly smile lighting up her face, her blue eyes sparkling with tears of joy.
Ty Lee was no less exasperating, stamping on the spot, her two hands clasped in front of her chin as if for a prayer, in the very attitude of a mother who attends, amazed, the first steps of her child.
Speaking of mother, Azula noticed that Ursa wasn't there. For once her session did not turn into a disaster… This woman liked nothing better than to contemplate her daughter's decline. There was no way she would appear at such a time.
Mom would come less and less. The treatment was taking effect and Azula knew that soon she might not see her at all. She didn't really know what to think about it and besides, she didn't want to think about it. Not now that Zuko was kneeling beside her, holding onto the arm of her wheelchair and taking her hand in his to kiss it.
"You were great! Look at you, it's amazing! You have made unimaginable progress in just a few days!"
"Calm down, all three of you. I took ten steps holding onto a bar. If that's what you call a feat..."
She drove from her mind the memory of her training sessions where she performed somersaults, pirouettes and aerial tricks with the ease of an airbender. It was too painful to think of what she had lost. Her fire had gained a little vigor over the past week, but sadly it remained orange, and Azula despaired over the possibility of never seeing the mesmerizing azure hue of her flames lit up from the palm of her hand ever again.
She wondered, neither for the first time nor for the last, what Zuko really thought. Part of her was convinced that he was glad she lost that ability that had always made her so unique to their father's eyes.
"Come on, Azula, let's be honest," Taima said, bringing her back to reality. "Ten days ago, you didn't manage to make more than four steps with both bars. At this rate, in less than a month, you will be able to walk on your own, perhaps with the aid of a cane, at most."
"Great!" Azula exclaimed, straining her voice. "Going from the status of an impotent old woman to that of a physically diminished old woman is undeniable progress, especially if you think that I have just turned twenty! Really, I don't realize how lucky I am!"
Next to her, Zuko, who was still holding her hand, frowned slightly in disapproval. It was funny how much he looked like Mother in those moments.
"Azula, don't be rude. Taïma simply wants to encourage you."
It would have been so easy to say something unpleasant to Zuko, to remind him of his responsibility in this whole affair. But Azula remained determined to honor her own commitments. She hadn't made all those reconciliation efforts with Zuko to give up now. Not for something so insignificant. Especially when her brother was reacting so well and seemed rather happy with the unexpected absolution she granted him.
"Yes OK. Sorry. I'm sorry Taïma. Please forgive me."
"It's fine. Don't apologize, Princess," the healer replied immediately with her sickening kindness.
Azula often thought to herself that she and Ty Lee should have been best friends. If only she had tolerated such a thing.
I'm sorry.
How many times had she said those words in the past few days and how many more times would she have to pronounce them?
It had been humiliating enough, crawling in front of Zuzu's friends and begging their forgiveness. Crawling wasn't the right word, since she was above them at the moment, sitting to Zuko's right on the throne, her voice echoing through the great hall, between the columns looming like gigantic trees.
Zuko had held her hand the entire time, his golden eyes shining with emotion and pride, as she muttered dispassionately ready-made apologies. Luckily, years of practicing lying had made her an excellent actress, and if her words had sounded so hollow in her own ears, they must have seemed convincing to the peasants who grumbled something like assent.
The fact that Zuko explained everything to them: the poison, the false treatment, the disease, must have helped a little. If Katara and Aang had looked somewhat satisfied, Azula doubted that the same was true for Sokka who hadn't deigned to look her in the eyes when she spoke. "What insolence!" she had thought furiously. That bitch of a Kyoshi Warrior hadn't even responded to her invitation. She was resting, supposedly exhausted from the pains of pregnancy. As if Azula would believe that! She was afraid, that's all, that coward!
This one is an actress even more talented than me! she told to herself.
But the person whose presence bothered her the most was undoubtedly the little blind girl who was waiting, her arms crossed on her chest, steps away from the small group. Azula knew very well what she was doing there. Every beat of her heart, every gesture, every inflection of her voice was sifted through this human lie detector and the princess hated those blind eyes that stared at her, unable to make out her features but that seemed to read her soul like an open book.
Fortunately, Azula had years of training behind her. And lying to Father was a far more perilous and thorny exercise than pretending to feel remorse for those louts.
Azula wasn't proud of what she had done and would have given anything to make sure it didn't happen. But you can't change the past and besides, it wasn't really her fault. She wasn't herself when she attacked them. Neither was she when assaulting Kojiro. Neither was it Zuko's fault when he almost threw lightning at Sokka in the dungeons.
Ty Lee had told her everything. Zuko hadn't, and Azula was sure she wasn't wrong in assuming he never would. He was probably too ashamed of himself. Her stupid, sweet and tender-hearted brother.
But hearing about this feat had changed everything. Ever since she found out, Azula had come to love her brother even more fiercely. An almost animalistic devotion drove her towards him. The idea of Zuko bending lightning, once a cause for displeasure and jealousy, was now a source of fascination and desire. Even more knowing that he had done it for her.
From then on, it was impossible for her to feign anger one more minute.
It was really upsetting. This revelation came when Azula had finally decided to exercise better control over her feelings. How to make Zuko believe that she no longer thought of him in a forbidden way if she dreamed that he ripped off her clothes every moment they shared?
Since then, she had been plagued by desire. She, who was still blushing with indignation, a few months earlier, when Ty Lee had explained to her how to make a man happy, only dreamed of that now. She was discovering a sensuality that she thought was reserved for others and that had nothing to compare with the attraction she already felt for Zuko before that.
Sometimes Azula regretted not having won little Beifong's friendship. She could have known then if Zuko was sensitive to her and if he pretended, like her, not to be devoured by this destructive attraction.
If he was lying, he was doing it well. He did no longer refuse her his tenderness when she expressed the need for it. But he always made sure, when he touched her, that his gestures couldn't be interpreted in the wrong way. She sighed for caresses that never seemed to come and her heart sometimes felt like it was withering in her chest.
"Your progress is indisputable," Zuko finally decided, getting up, eager to put an end to the awkward silence that had settled in the room. "But I want you to rest now. I'll take you back to your room for a nap."
Before she could protest, he pushed his chair towards the exit, leaving behind them Taïma and Ty Lee who must share embarrassed glances.
"Please, Zuko! Stop treating me like a baby!" She protested as they walked down the hall. "I am twenty! I don't take naps anymore!"
"You're going to do one this afternoon. It's not negotiable."
His tone was adamant, but Zuko was seriously mistaken if he thought he could make her abdicate so easily. All his friends had dispersed after the meal they had shared in a tense atmosphere. And Azula intended to use their absence to spend time alone with her brother.
It was Azula herself who had insisted that they all have lunch together at noon, after this masquerade in the throne room. All this to prove to them her sincerity. Toph sneered at the thought and if Zuko hadn't put a hand on her shoulder at the time and she still had her prodigious gifts, no doubt there wouldn't have been more of that loudmouth than a heap of smoking ashes.
Well at least, she knew thanks to this new ritual, that Iroh was going to be away, probably to visit some member of his secret organization, that Sokka and Suki were planning to go relax at the beach. Why were those two goons, as useful as a used pair of boots, still hanging around the palace? Aang and Katara had planned to go into town with Toph to patrol the working-class areas, where they were most likely to stumble upon a clandestine gathering of the Sons of Agni.
Azula was relieved that Zuko had finally started to take the threat posed by these fanatics seriously. And if the movement did not weaken and its success was undeniable, the reinforcement of police patrols in the neighborhoods where they usually raged at least dissuaded them from appearing in public. The fact that the Avatar himself had officially declared his rejection of their movement must have contributed to calming their ardor. No scabrous murder, no suspicious disappearance was to be deplored for five consecutive days. Not to mention the new edict that Azula had suggested to Zuko, and which prohibited any gathering of more than ten people in the public space and which imposed a curfew as soon as night fell.
The measure was certainly unpopular, but even the Fire Sages had not been able to oppose it given the climate of insecurity that reigned over the city. Azula couldn't believe they were all so timid that they hadn't thought of it sooner. The thirst for freedom that had won this new world since Zuko's coronation sometimes made them lose all discernment. Fortunately, she was back, in full possession of her mental faculties, to guide her brother on the path to greatness. There would always be time to find other ways to extend his power and force all his opponents to bow before them – before him, she corrected herself.
But there was still a lot of work. Zuzu was too chilly too and it was always with horrifying hesitation that he agreed to her arguments. Azula had not yet been able to convince him to put in place heavier sanctions against agitators and political opponents who dared to proclaim their inclinations of sedition in public.
Not to mention that brute Lu Fang who had the audacity to continue his odious blackmail! Despite Zuko's efforts to spare her this additional source of worry, Azula knew about the letters that kept coming, repeating the same sterile threats over and over again, never followed through. Lu Fang had found a clever plan to instill fear in Zuko and knock him out of his mind. She herself had used this kind of psychological manipulation often enough in the past to know exactly what kind of game Kuei's minister was playing.
With a smile, she remembered Zuko's fury when he had found among her scrolls, the last letter from Lu Fang that she had intercepted with Ty Lee's help.
Ty Lee was the legs she couldn't use anymore. More precious than ever, her friend now showed unfailing devotion. It was only a matter of time before the acrobat agreed to help her carry out more personal projects.
Zuko had put on that little scowl that amused Azula so much and waved the letter in front of her nose while yelling at her. Azula only had to feign a few tears and stammer an apology in her smallest voice to appease his anger and extinguish the embers smoldering in Zuzu's gaze.
Azula didn't really like to go to such extremes. It was humiliating. She had a reputation to uphold. But Zuzu couldn't resist her tears and it had turned out to be rather useful since he had agreed to talk about it with her. And it was always a good opportunity to spend a few delicious minutes in his arms. But the coward had remained deaf to her pleas when she suggested that he send more troops to burn down some Earth Kingdom villages in retaliation. If he didn't do it for her, he should think of all those innocent evacuated settler families who had to leave their homes and their land because of that weak Kuei, unable to control his Minister of War.
"You don't have to shed blood," she insisted. "Just burning down a few houses to send a strong message, it's not that bad!" she had tried to convince him.
But Zuko had refused outright and cut their evening short. Since then, Azula avoided exposing her bellicose views to him.
But there remained the problem of the Fire Sages.
Azula had been positively startled when, a few days later, head bowed and red cheeks, Zuko had confessed to her for the reformation decided by him and the Avatar at the beginning of his reign.
"You did what?" she had shouted, her voice rising higher than usual. "Tell me that again!"
Zuko had just confessed the unthinkable to her as she pressed him with questions about why he wasn't cracking down on the anti-settler protests growing in town.
"I've offered the Sage the power to control possible excesses of the Fire Lord… They have a right of veto on a certain number of laws and can demand my abdication if I take measures going against the fundamental rights of citizens, or against the moral order, he repeated obediently without looking at her. I did this...because I didn't want any of my descendants to become like Ozai...or me to become like him."
"Reassure me, Zuko. This reform was not included in the Constitution?"
Zuko hadn't answered.
Even now, Azula felt like slapping her forehead when she thought about it. Stupid Zuzu with his tender girlish heart!
"Why not directly propose to the people to elect the next Fire Lord themselves?" she'd burst into a mirthless laugh, slapping him on the arm. "You gave away our power for stupid philosophical ideas you don't even believe in!"
"I'm sorry, okay? Stop overwhelming me with this and caricaturing everything! Father has taken care of it enough. What's done is done. I didn't expect things to turn out like this, okay?"
"How could you do such a thing without consulting me? I had the right to know! I am your heir!"
"You weren't at the time!" he roared. "You were... you were..."
"What was I? Go ahead, say it!" she had urged him, real tears shining in her eyes this time.
"No… Don't make me say…"
"The fallen princess? Your enemy? A weirdo? A hopeless case? You hated me, so say it!"
Zuko, who had contained himself all this time, suddenly let out of his hand, which he was holding closed in a fist, an orb of incandescent fire which exploded against the wall, knocking over a pedestal table adorned with an ancient vase. Everything caught fire before their eyes and with a wave of her hand, Azula made the flames disappear. When she turned around, Zuko had fled.
As always, it was up to Azula to make up for his mistakes. Since this admission, she had used all her intelligence to find a way to diminish the unimaginable share of power that her dumdum of a brother had naively conceded to these old, decayed men. Unsuccessfully so far.
This scene had taken place three days earlier. That very same evening, Zuko had come back to see her, and the argument had been forgotten in affectionate embraces and grandiloquent apologies.
However, a strong tension persisted between them. But this afternoon, she had other plans for them. She also was tired of their endless arguments and needed a truce. A little relaxation would do them some good.
"Please Zuzu. After all these efforts in the rehabilitation room, I'm afraid of waking up full of aches if I don't relax first. A massage would do me good. Would you take me to the royal spa please?"
She matched her request with a pleading look that she hoped was perfectly irresistible and didn't forget to put her hand around Zuko's wrist. Her brother sighed in exasperation and replied:
"Okay okay. But promise me you'll rest after that."
"Anything you want, Fire Lord."
She made sure that Zuko couldn't see the smile that stretched her lips. She couldn't have hoped for better than the privacy of the royal baths to convince her stubborn brother that there was nothing wrong with spending some time alone with his little sister. He might be more easily influenced after a massage with essential oils. Perhaps she would dare to ask him to make hers himself? A shiver of pleasure ran through her whole body at the thought, and she felt her cheeks flush. No. She would never have the audacity… With a little wine, perhaps? But Zuko was worse than Taima. He closely watched everything that entered Azula's room and alcohol was forbidden to her.
No matter. She would find a way to make Zuko stay. A massage was a good opportunity to reveal her ivory skin and she knew that her brother would appreciate it. Men are a bit silly when it comes to this, aren't they?
She couldn't quite remember who had taught her that. Was it Li and Lo? Ty Lee? Or...
Zuko now pushed her into a long corridor whose walls were lined with huge mirrors with gilded and ornate frames. Turning her head towards one of them, she saw Ursa's reflection. She reappeared in each of the magnificent mirrors, shaking her head from side to side, a look of deep disappointment imprinted on her almost-erased features. Each time, her silhouette seemed more distant, but the volume of her voice increased as she poured on her sassy daughter a shower of reproaches.
Azula's smile faded. Cunning and shenanigans wouldn't be enough to guarantee her a private moment with her brother. Or she would have to find a way to trick her own mind.
The candle flickered in its little glass globe. Sometimes a draft would lift the parchments stored on the small oak desk. From the outside came the noises of the street: the rumble of carts passing in front of the window left ajar, the clogs pounding of the mounted police, the laughter of the strollers, snippets of conversations of which he could only heard a part.
He would like to sit there during the day and listen to these life fragments. He enjoyed reconstructing the people's history from these scattered crumbs. He would imagine the reason for an argument when two voices raised outside, or wondered if this hurried, naive-looking young man was going to meet his fiancée on the next street corner.
All day, Kojiro remained hidden in the shadows, behind the blinds where he could see without being seen. He would fill the void in him by the spectacle of this teeming life unfolding under his single eye, like the little drawings on those sorts of optical toys he loved so much as a child. When you twirled the little drum in your hand and looked through the slits cut into its surface, a succession of still images gave the illusion of movement and the little figure seemed to magically come to life.
Similarly, the people in the street gave Kojiro the impression of discovering a secret, of contemplating a story, of capturing slices of life. He had to because his own life no longer belonged to him.
He had to stay well hidden, not show himself. Not to impose on others the disaster that was his face.
Kojiro only looked at himself once. Under cover of the night, taking advantage of his father's absence, he had gone to the bathroom which adjoined the Commander's bedroom. It was the only room in which the mirrors had not been removed.
The vision the glass had sent back to him was indescribable. Kojiro hadn't even screamed. Only a low stifled moan, closer to gurgling than complaint, had pierced the deathly silence that filled the room.
Kojiro had sneaked back into his bed and rolled up in it, hidden under his sheets.
The next day, when he came home, his father found the bandage covered with pus and scabs at the foot of the stone tub over which he had come to refresh his face. He tried to make his son speak, in vain.
To say that Kojiro was able to speak was a presumptuous assertion. Many sounds came from the boy's mouth. Hiccups, rumblings, wet yelps. And those inhales and exhales, like the purring of a coal-powered machine. His hoarse and guttural breathing, this buzzing which sometimes drowned out the words of his father or of the healers who came to his bedside. To hear them, Kojiro had to hold his breath and he sometimes choked on his own mucus. Air rushed in waves through the breach that had once been a straight, neat nose. Kojiro sometimes put his hand there, fascinated by this absurd orifice which had transformed a once advantageous face into a minefield. In the same way he caressed with his fingertips the bone of his cheekbone which was visible on his cheek. There was something magnetic about the soft, smooth touch of the bone, and he kept coming back to it like a lover's hand on his mistress' breast.
Women…
Agni, how badly he missed women! Knowing that he would forever be deprived of their sweetness, their intoxicating perfume and their sensuality frequently carried him to the height of despair. It was ironic that what he regretted most about his previous life was precisely what had put him in hell. If he had known that the last woman he would caress would be the cause of his torment...
He had been told everything. Hikaru had come. As well as the Avatar and his fiancée, the waterbender. He knew who had made his face a field of ruins and his life an endless ordeal.
The Blue Flame Demon was aptly named finally. Kojiro confusedly remembered the details of this disastrous evening. The amber eyes and red lips of his torturer haunted his nights.
Of the minutes preceding the attack, there was almost nothing left. Only a few flashes that crossed his memory like lightning, terrible visions and memories of maddening and irrational pain.
Kojiro couldn't stand having a flame near his face anymore. Despite his father's sermons, he refused to emit even the smallest spark. Kojiro didn't want to hear about fire anymore.
The sunlight streaming through the shutters' gaps was all the light he could tolerate. He often wore a mask to rest his still open eye, which was now protected only by the light, almost transparent veil that had once been his eyelid. But the cord that held the mask around his head gnawed at his bruised flesh and sometimes had to be taken off for several hours to give his soft, oozing skin time to forget the burn of the elastic.
The nights should have been a relief. But that was counting sans the apnea attacks which roused him from a restless sleep and forced him to sit up suddenly to spit out a viscous and greenish substance, a sort of accumulation of what he involuntarily inhaled through the gaping orifice in the midst of his face.
Because of all these things, Kojiro preferred to be left alone in the dark. Anyway, the healers had strictly forbidden him to expose himself to the sun until the tissues had healed. And even after that, he would have to wait years to get out safely. He didn't really want to. Hikaru's terrified gaze, Father's shifty eyes were enough.
Only this healer, Katara, looked him in the eye – his only eye. All he saw in her sapphire eyes was benevolent compassion. Kojiro had started thinking about her at all hours of the day and the memory of her coppery skin helped him through the dark nights. He had gleaned enough information to know that she was the Avatar's bride. And a friend of the Fire Lord. From the brother of the one who had done this to him.
Father had told him about the accident that had almost cost the princess her life, a few weeks after her attack. She had survived and according to him, her face was intact. Their informants described to them the progress of the young woman who every day regained her strength a little more. They had also told them of her brother's solicitude, who watched over her and forbade anyone to come near her.
Before Kojiro regained consciousness, it seemed that the princess had been imprisoned. Her accident seemed to have absolved her of all her sins.
She was said to be crazy when she attacked Kojiro, suffering from a mental illness that made her lose all discernment. It wasn't her fault, Taïma repeated, you have to understand.
But when Katara had spoken to him, he hadn't been able to prevent himself from reading the same doubt in her eyes where the waves of the southern seas seemed to dance.
Father had gone out of his mind. And if Kojiro could have spoken while emitting anything other than unintelligible glairy sounds, he would have asked him to calm down.
Kojiro was sometimes exasperated with the anger that boiled continually in his father. He would have preferred him to stay at home with him rather than see him fidgeting, leaving the house at night for some secret meeting. Kojiro thought he knew what Father was doing outside after curfew. He feared that he would put himself in danger for him. A lost cause.
Kojiro heaved a deep sigh and he felt something wet vibrate on the mucous membranes that lined his throat and a slightly sour taste spread on the burnt edge of his tongue.
He leaned forward to spit into the basin resting on his knees, which lack of exercise and food had made gnarled. And it was there that he saw between the shutters the car pulled by two ostrich horses parked in front of the house opposite.
He approached the window and saw a man come out. He was tall and dressed in a hooded cape that hid him completely. With the discretion of a ninja, he walked the few feet that separated him from the Commander's house and disappeared from Kojiro's sight. He didn't know why but something had struck him in this man, like a reminiscence.
There were three knocks on the door.
His father was home for once and Kojiro heard him order the servant to open.
Kojiro's chest was heaving at an abnormal rate and his hoarse breathing totally drowned out the sound of their words. He jumped when the door to his room opened quietly and his father entered, followed by the tall man he had seen outside.
"Kojiro," the Commander announced, "You have a visitor."
Panicked, Kojiro turned his head in search of a sheet, a piece of clothing, anything that could cover his face and hide it from the stranger's eyes.
As if reading his thoughts, the man approached him and spoke in a soft, melodious voice.
"Don't be afraid Kojiro. You don't have to hide from me. Your father told me what happened to you. I am here to help you."
"I'll leave you," Tsuneo said, walking backwards out of the room.
Kojiro looked up at him in a pleading glance, but his father walked out without looking at him.
He found himself alone with the man.
The latter remained silent and walked around the chamber. Kojiro watched him wander through the room and examine the paintings adorning the walls. He stopped in front of a portrait of Kojiro, commissioned a few months earlier and which showed him in his soldier's outfit. Tsuneo had this portrait made when Kojiro had received his first military uniform.
The proud-looking boy depicted on the canvas had nothing to do with the miserable half-human creature who sat silently in a chair, his heart pounding with apprehension.
"How sad…" the stranger muttered to himself but loud enough for Kojiro to hear. "Such a beautiful boy… with such a bright future."
Kojiro kept silent. Something in that voice, in that gait, in the way the man moved and spoke was inexplicably familiar to him.
The man suddenly turned to face him and Kojiro immediately looked down at his wasted legs. With his good eye, he saw leather boots approaching his chair.
"Kojiro. I came to find you because I heard your story. I can't bear to hear that a son of fire like yourself has to endure such suffering. And that by the fault of a family who is full of traitors to their race."
Those words rang something in Kojiro's memory, and he shifted slightly in his chair, uncomfortably.
The stranger then knelt beside him and brought his face close enough to his, as if to force him to look him in the eye.
"Look at me…"
"No! No! Don't look. I'm awful!"
These were the words he had wanted to say. But what escaped his swollen lips was more like, "Hon, Do' yook. Am awfu'"
"No Kojiro. You're not. In our eyes, all the sons of Agni are beautiful and deserve to appear in the light. Your time has come. Your father came to find us. Your ordeal ends from this day. You will leave the darkness to which the Blue Flame Demon has condemned you and you will shine in the light."
The Sons of Agni… Now Kojiro knew where he had heard that melodious and seductive voice. The last time, he had heard it from a stage mounted on trestles, one beautiful summer evening, haranguing an overexcited crowd.
And just an hour later, he... he...
"No! 'Let me a'one!" he shouted as the man placed a finger under his chin to force him to look up at him.
"My dear Kojiro, my boy. Do you know what I see when I look at you?"
A monster. An abominable creature with a mask of darkness. When Kojiro thought about his face, it was superimposed on the picture of the horrible ghoul that terrified him so much in the bestiary he loved to watch as a child.
"I know what you are thinking, my child. You believe that your place is here, in the shadows, away from your peers. But you are wrong. The terrible thing that happened to you seems like a nightmare to you today. But it is a blessing. A godsend that transcends individual tragedy. I know you have suffered a lot, but Agni sent me here to show you your true destiny. And when you know it, you will thank the spirits who put you on the road to this demon of amorality."
What nonsense was this man spouting? Fate? A gift from heaven? This guy wasn't the one who coughed up mucus half the day into a basin or had to hide in the dark so the sun wouldn't burn his skin or his only eye.
"You don't yet see the beauty of your destiny. I'm here to show it to you. The Sons of Agni need you Kojiro. You have to agree to let go of the previous Kojiro, the handsome boy destined to follow his father's prestigious career. And put on your real identity to be worthy of the role that Agni intends for you."
Kojiro abruptly lowered his chin to avoid the man's gaze.
"No, you are wrong. I'm a monster. My life is over. Nobody wants a monster."
As if a prompter had repeated Kojiro's unintelligible words in his ear, the man seemed to understand everything he said. His father himself sometimes asked him to repeat his words, looking embarrassed, so Kojiro had got into the habit of writing what he needed on a square of slate that he always kept within his reach, and to which was attached a chalk.
"You're wrong," the man repeated, putting his hand on Kojiro's scratched cheek, indifferent to the horrible sucking noise that resulted in. "Through this ordeal, Agni stripped you of your artifices and everything that linked you superficially to the world of men. Here you are as you really are and as you should be. You are the chosen one we've been waiting for, my boy."
Kojiro looked up and for the first time, glanced at the man in front of him. Sunken eyes rimmed by fine gold edgings stared at him in a waxen face. His words escaped from his closed lips and two orifices cut into where the nostrils should have been, let the air pass behind the mask.
Kojiro didn't understand the nonsense that this masked fanatic mumbled but something in his voice was strangely comforting. And in the honey-coated words he spoke, Kojiro couldn't help but feel a je ne sais quoi that felt like…
Hope.
"Wha' you wanna?" he mumbled, making a consequent effort to articulate correctly.
The man pretended not to have heard him and continued:
"Your life before would have brought you many satisfactions: an ambitious career, a beautiful wife, sons as brave as you… But your new life… Oh! Kojiro! You still don't know how important you are. You will save the Fire Nation. By your efforts and your purity, you will cleanse it of the brood that is gnawing at it."
Kojiro would have liked to tell him that he didn't believe in this nonsense, nor in these absurd racial theories, but he didn't feel the strength to do so. The few questions he had managed to ask had already exhausted him and he felt his throat becoming as dry as an arid desert. Besides, there must be a reason for Father to introduce him to this mysterious man. Commander Tsuneo was known for his progressive ideas. Wasn't he one of the two heroes who had opposed Ozai's imperialist project, who had rejected his supremacist views?
So, he grabbed his square of slate and wrote this word in chalk: "How?"
He guessed that under his mask, the man must have smiled. He got up and walked around the chair where Kojiro was sitting. He felt two hands rest on his shoulders.
"You will have almost nothing to do, my friend. We will be your family. We will be your friends. We will be the society from which you were so obnoxiously torn. By joining us, you will have everything your heart could desire. You will be powerful. You will have wealth. The crowd will worship you and erect statues to your glory: Kojiro the Martyr of the New Order. You will have all of this and more. You may no longer have your previous face, but the new one will be known to all: loved by our allies, feared by our enemies. You were once a handsome boy, it's true. But your name and your faces were confused in the crowd. It was only a second skin, a mask. The face you wear now is your true face and it is with it that you will fulfill your destiny. By staying here, you condemn yourself to a life of darkness and loneliness. But if you join us, you will shine in the light. Agni welcomes among his community the poor and deprived ones.
We teach our disciples the virtues of modesty and simplicity and repress the failings of vanity and pride. Of all the vices the royalty of our beautiful nation is cultivating.
At the mention of the Fire Lord and the madwoman who served as his sister, Kojiro raised his head and involuntarily inhaled a puff of air which, suddenly rushing into his throat, triggered an uncontrollable fit of coughing. Very quickly the cough turned into grunts of rage and frustration, then into long complaints that echoed in the darkened room.
"So, you don't mind spending your days here, in the dark watching people go by, while she sleeps in silk sheets at the palace? To know that her brother, not content to have freed her from the prison where she was to roast, welcomes her into his bed and caresses her every night?"
Tears escaped from Kojiro's single eye. Some trickled down his cheeks, blocked in their tracks by his furrowed skin. Others fell into the hole where his nose should have been and landed directly in his throat, triggering another fit of coughing.
The man firmed his grip on one of his shoulders and put a hand on Kojiro's ruined cheek. Then he whispered in a caressing voice filled with solicitude:
"Kojiro, my poor friend. Agni has heard your sufferings and you will be rewarded for the courage you have shown. Tell me, he added in his beguiling voice, squeezing his hand like a claw around his shoulder, what would you be willing to do to hold a woman in your arms again?"
Zuko couldn't sleep. He had changed his position a hundred times, swept his pillows, tried to read but nothing helped. Every time he tried to clear his mind, the latter dragged him back to the small massage room of the royal spa where, that very afternoon, he had visited with Azula.
When he closed his eyes, he only saw her ivory skin and her ebony hair, which she swept over one shoulder to allow the masseuses to relax her sore muscles.
It had become their ritual for a few days. After the rehabilitation session marked by dazzling progress, he would take his sister to the royal baths where she ordered a massage that she received from the delicate hands of the best masseuses in the whole kingdom. Zuko would remain seated in front of her, and they chatted pleasantly about this and that, avoiding heated subjects, anxious to keep from fighting, taking advantage of the presence of the servants who forced them to a certain restraint.
Zuko knew that the rest of his friends and his uncle didn't share Azula's beliefs, and he was tired of having to contend between the humanistic, utopian values of the Gaang and Azula's increasingly imperialistic views.
Certainly, his friends and Uncle Iroh would have disapproved of the discussions that kept him in the royal family's living rooms or in his sister's apartments every evening.
Here at least he could settle for being Azula's brother and enjoy her company.
Zuko refused to think about what the others would have said. He no longer wanted anyone to warn him against her influence. He loved his sister and although their ideas often diverged, he enjoyed spending time with her.
The spa was the perfect place to spend some time with her. The constant presence of hairdressers and masseurs in these places protected them from gossip and it was a good opportunity to take advantage of a quite pleasant view when the white towel placed on Azula's body revealed all her curves.
A man has the right to dream. But he also has the right to watch, right?
Once Zuko had also ordered a massage, but he hadn't asked again. The glares Azula was giving to the pretty masseuse who was taking care of him had dissuaded him from asking for more. As much as the sulky silence she had forced on him in the hours that followed.
This afternoon again, she had insisted that he stayed with her. She was in a bad mood. Although she had made amazing progress over the past few days, the exercise session hadn't gone very well. Standing on crutches, she had fallen several times and the session had to be ended a little earlier.
Usually, Azula would take off her clothes in the antechamber, helped by two maids and joined him in the massage room, wearing a long white linen peignoir which she modestly removed behind a screen stretched between her and her brother.
For some obscure reason, that day, she had deviated from this little ritual and after having refused the screen that a servant was carrying at arm's length, she had undressed in front of him. Zuko had hurriedly closed his eyes to see nothing when, without warning, she began to remove her belt and the bathrobe that covered her.
Unable to fall asleep, Zuko replayed the course of this session once again.
"You can open your eyes."
Obediently, Zuko opened his eyelids to discover his sister lying on her massage table, on her stomach, a simple white towel covering part of her back up to mid-thigh.
The masseuse, standing next to her, was coating her hands with scented lotion and rubbing them together.
As if hypnotized, he watched her place her hands on Azula's white shoulders and begin her massage.
Zuko was wondering what it would feel like to be in her place when Azula's voice rose loud and clear in the small, incense-scented room.
"Oh! You clumsy woman! Pay attention to what you are doing! You have just pressed a node!"
"Forgive me, Princess, I don't… "
Azula propped herself up on one elbow, the towel slipping off and accidentally revealing a glowing breast that ended in a delicate rosebud. Zuko looked away sharply, his cheeks immediately turning bright red.
"Forgive you? You alone are paid more than half the masseurs in the damn country and all you can say when you hurt your princess is 'Forgive me?' What have I done to deserve such incompetent servants?"
The masseuse, a short young woman with her hair tied in a long ponytail, took a step back and, her head bowed, tears streaming down her round face, clasped her hands on her thighs in an attitude of contrition.
"Please, Princess, I-I will do my best to serve you…"
"Serve me? I fell thirty feet high! My pelvic bones and ribs broke! I still can't walk without the help of a cane. And you say that I should accept a mean, numb-fingered masseuse sabotaging the only thing that makes me feel better, just because she begs me to? Zuko, how can you tolerate such an..."
"That's enough!" Zuko intervened authoritatively, fearing since the beginning of this distressing scene that his name would be pronounced. "You, get out of here!" He ordered the young masseuse, in a sharper tone than he had intended. "You have nothing to fear. My sister is just tired. Her efforts during her rehabilitation session left her exhausted. Please excuse her rudeness."
"Of course, Your Majesty, thank you for your clemency. My apologies again, Princess."
After a quick bow, she slipped away without asking for her rest. Zuko watched her as she walked quickly towards the antechamber.
Behind his back he felt Azula's smoldering gaze and could have sworn that the temperature in the room had just increased by a few degrees as well as the amount of steam emanating from the hot stones on the floor, as if someone had just poured over it a full bucket of water. Finally, he turned around, a little anxious about what was to come.
Azula stared at him, stunned, her half-open mouth betraying the deepest indignation.
"How-" she stammered, "how dare you contradict me in front of my servants? You can't discredit me like this! Exhausted? Did you tell her I was exhausted? I am the greatest firebender of my generation! I masteredthe techniques of more than seven martial arts. And a simple walking session would have exhausted me? What will they believe now?"
"They're not your servants, Azula," he snapped. "They are mine. I have only one word to say and access to the spa will be forbidden to you!"
Azula closed her mouth, but her gaze became more ardent than ever and Zuko was suddenly happy that she had temporarily lost her ability to bend lethal lightning.
He advanced, forcing himself to maintain a regal attitude. Azula watched him approach, her thick black hair pulled back over one shoulder freed her throat which revealed her breasts pressed right against the table. The towel was pulled up slightly and Zuko could see the top of her thighs.
As he passed, he took the side of the napkin between his fingers and placed it on her thighs, at a height he deemed more appropriate.
Azula still said nothing, but her cheeks had taken on a crimson hue that clashed with the whiteness of her skin.
Zuko pulled out a chair and pulled it closer to the massage table to face his sister who averted his gaze, visibly furious.
"I want you to treat my servants well, Azula," he said in a softer but firm tone. "I'm serious."
He reached out to grab Azula's hand, which was hanging to the side, but she refused and pulled it away quickly.
"Azula, you don't understand. I say this for your safety. You have already been almost poisoned by one of them..."
"In case you didn't understand, he wasn't a real servant, but a spy hired by none other than your dear wife to harm me! Trust me Zuko, I learned my lesson! And if I have to be suspicious of someone, it is towards the top of the pyramid that I will look to."
Her amber eyes flashed at Zuko, and he suddenly felt stupid.
"Azula…I…I"
"If you hadn't been blinded by your love for that traitor, none of this would have happened! Don't blame me for everything that's going wrong in our nation when it's you and your cruel lack of discernment who are responsible for this carnage!"
She was right of course but it cost him too much to admit it. Since she agreed to talk to him again, there was nothing Azula would spare him, and she kept pointing out his mistakes and inconsistencies. He had accepted some of her advice. The curfew and the ban on gatherings of more than ten people in town had been introduced after she had suggested it to him.
Admittedly, this had brought some calm and serenity back to the city and criminal acts had been reduced by half according to reports provided by the police.
Still, it wasn't pleasant to be told, all day long, that he was doing wrong by a girl who had nearly killed three people simply because they had offended her. In spite of the evidence gathered against Mai and her mysterious servant, not everyone had been as willing as him, Ty Lee and Taïma to excuse the princess' actions.
Though Zuko preferred this Azula a thousand times to her sulky version. At least he was rewarded with affectionate and tender gestures when they weren't arguing.
Azula's authoritative voice broke the silence again.
"I came here to get a massage and you dismissedthe only available masseuse. My muscles are still stiff, though."
"Sorry. I'm going to send for someone else," he announced, making the gesture of getting up.
"– No! Stay here," she commanded imperiously. "I don't want to deal with these failures. You may as well take care of me. After all, it won't be worse than with that elephant-fingered poor thing."
Zuko blushed furiously.
"I don't think that's a good idea, Az..."
"-The oil is on the table," she said, pointing to the small piece of furniture filled with various bottles and burying her head in the hole made for this purpose in the massage table. By these gestures, she meant to him that it was useless to argue.
A wave of confused emotions swept violently over Zuko. This orderly request might seem inappropriate, but the tone she had used was beyond dispute. It didn't really look like an invitation to share an intimate and sensual moment. He could therefore execute her orders without risk.
After all, it wasn't a crime to help his younger sister feel better. She wouldn't have needed it if he hadn't been so negligent over the past few months.
He let out a deliberately audible sigh to make Azula understand that she was inflicting a painful chore on him there. He didn't want to let her believe for a minute that he was obeying her for any reason other than to have peace. He was already showing too great a submission towards this capricious girl.
So he got up and coated his hands with the smelly lotion the masseuse had used earlier and rubbed them together.
Zuko had never massaged anyone except Mai who had quickly learned not to make such requests anymore. He remembered how they both sometimes laughed at his poor skills in this matter and for a moment he feared that he would cause Azula's ire if he failed to satisfy her.
He leaned over her and raised both hands above her half-naked back and waited.
"So what? Won't you just stand there like a dumdum? What are you waiting for to start?" his sister asked impatiently, heaving a big sigh of frustration.
Zuko immediately complied. Two weeks of silence and contemptuous looks had been enough for him. He was too happy that Azula spoke to him again and showed tenderness towards him. He would no longer take the risk of displeasing her. But he had also made a promise to himself not to fall into her traps again, to remain insensitive to her charms and her tricks.
But how to keep this futile promise when his face was only inches from her black hair from which an intoxicating smell of jasmine emanated, when his hands tasted the softness of her satin skin?
"Mmm… yes, that's it Zuko!" she moaned the second he put his hands on her shoulders. He hadn't even begun to knead them that she was already heaving a deep sigh of contentment.
All right, she wanted to play. He would show her that he was not the fool she believed. He was going to give her the most professional and least sensual massage in history. He would make sure to stay cold and distant and not give in to temptation. He was determined!
Of course, it had been a resounding failure. His beautiful resolve was put to the test from the first seconds. Thinking back to it, hours later in his bed, he still felt deep confusion and turmoil. When she had asked him to lower the towel just above her loins to massage her lower back… Oh, Agni!
"Yes Zuko. That's perfect," she had approved in a warm voice, swaying her hips a little. "Warm up your hands a little, please."
He obeyed. A soft warmth quickly radiated from his palms and melted the cream he was applying to her skin, while rolling his thumbs to relieve her lower back. She expressed her approval with moans of satisfaction and deep sighs.
He was relieved that the position didn't allow Azula to discover the overwhelming evidence of his arousal.
The water vapor and incense enveloped them and gave Zuko a pleasant feeling of vertigo. Funny thoughts crossed his mind. He thought, for example, that the table on which she was lying was lucky. If he had been the table, he would have felt her belly and her breasts pressed against him too.
Zuko remained resolutely silent, hoping that she would interpret his silence as an indication of supreme indifference. He wanted to show her that he could touch her or be close to her without losing his sense. It was all too obvious that Azula was testing him, and he wouldn't give her that satisfaction.
Control yourself, control yourself, he thought as he pressed his hands to either side of her waist, tugging the charmingly rosy skin under his fingers.
Finally, the massage ended. Azula had enough restraint to know she couldn't decently ask him to pursue any lower and released him.
"Oh, brother dear! If I had known that you were such a talented masseur, I wouldn't have wasted all these years explaining to you how to be a worthy leader of the nation!" she joked, passing her bathrobe over her naked body.
Zuko had his back to her, supposedly to rinse his hands smeared with cream and scented lotion in the stone tub. But he stayed there longer than necessary, the time for him to be able to turn to her without feeling ashamed.
He felt two arms wrap around his waist and he turned around abruptly. A devilish smile stretched the scarlet lips of his little sister. Before he had a chance to ask her how she got there on her own, she grabbed the low-cut collar of Zuko's tunic with one hand and looked up at him, then said seductively:
"I wonder if this talent is hereditary and if I also received this prodigious gift at birth. But if you're interested, I'll be more than happy to practice on you."
Zuko felt totally disoriented by this sudden closeness. It was always the same! Why did she always take him by surprise? He could restrain himself as long as he was in control of the situation, but not when she came sneaking up like that!
"It's nice Azula of you, but I'm fine, thank you. I am perfectly relaxed."
"Are you sure?" she said, placing a hand over his chest, just above his heart which was pounding furiously against his ribs. "You seem nervous. I don't mind playing handmaiden for once. You know I would do anything to please my king."
"Azula," he managed to articulate, grabbing her gently by the wrists and forcing her away from him. "You- you make me feel uncomfortable."
She let out a small chuckle.
"Oh, really? Forgive me, Zuzu. I think the fumes and incense have gone to my head."
She pretended to move away but suddenly her legs, which seemed to have miraculously regained their vigor, gave way under her weight and she nearly collapsed. She caught herself just in time in the arms that Zuko held out to her.
"Oh...I think your massage was a little too effective and made me feel too confident. Do you realize that I walked that far, without my crutches!"
"It's...it's wonderful, Azula!" he swallowed. I'm going to help you sit in your chair now."
"Oh no," she cooed, affecting a little annoyance. "I was hoping to enjoy a hot bath after this wonderful session. I know it's not proper for a man and a woman to share a bath, but since there's no one around, maybe we could skirt that rule a little," she finished with a mischievous look by running the tips of her fingers along Zuko's chest.
"No," he answered a little more firmly, dismissing the paradisaical vision this suggestion evoked in him. "I don't want to take a bath. And then I have work. I have to go to a council meeting now. They must already be waiting for me. I'm sorry, Azula, but that will have to wait until next time. I'll take you back to your room."
Azula's attitude had changed drastically after his rejection. Her face closed and she grew sullen. When he had leaned in to kiss her cheek as he was leaving her in her room, she had refused the gesture, humiliating him a little more in the eyes of the chambermaids and companion ladies who waited silently behind them for their king to leave the room in order to help Azula get dressed.
"What are you looking at, you silly!" She had launched at an innocent Sanae who had looked at them fearfully for the time that this pathetic scene had lasted. "Don't stand there and bring me my dress!"
Zuko had slipped away before the poor teenager could stammer something. Fortunately for her, Sanae was from the nobility, which would no doubt save her from the wrath of the capricious princess.
Zuko tossed and turned in his bed, the springs of his mattress creaking.
There was no doubt for him that Azula was doing better. Her irascible attitude towards the servants was irrefutable proof of this. That didn't make her bad mood any more pleasant.
Azula was tired of being stuck in her chair and only getting around with crutches or a cane, like an old woman. Sometimes she came to watch his training in the yard, and he read a great frustration on her features.
He also supposed that all the efforts she made to be nice to his friends sometimes had to overflow all this negative energy that she poured out on other innocent victims right after.
Feeling rejected by her brother when she was actively trying to seduce him didn't help either.
But Zuko couldn't let moments like the one they had shared that very afternoon happen anymore. He would have been unable to explain why she had gone so suddenly from her sulky silence to this versatile attitude oscillating between simply cordial moments and terribly ambiguous instants like this improvised massage session.
He wondered for the tenth time at least, what would have happened if he had accepted her offer to bathe with her. As he couldn't sleep anyway, he had allowed himself to let his mind wander a little, but even those few minutes stolen from his reason hadn't been enough to stifle his desire to join her.
Behind him, the secret passage seemed to steal all the air around and he wouldn't have been surprised to hear the haunting voice of the blue dragon, the one of his dreams, rising in the night.
Even though the heat wave that had peaked at the time of Azula's accident had dissipated, it was still summer, and it would still take at least a month before the nights brought a comforting coolness. Zuko was sweating profusely.
You wouldn't be in such a state if you hadn't imagined all those disgusting things earlier.
"That's enough! I can't take it anymore!"
And angrily throwing his sheets over the bed, he leapt off the mattress, pulled a short-sleeved tunic over his bare chest and a pair of pants. Then, barefooted, he left his room, supremely indifferent to the astonished gaze of the two guards who were guarding his door, doubtlessly wondering where their king was going in such a hurry just a few hours before dawn.
Finally, perhaps he thought he needed this bath.
The sky was revealing all the enigmatic beauty of night endings. A deep, melancholic blue persisted and fought valiantly against the first rosy gleams of day. The morning star, brighter than a lighthouse in the night, seemed to brood over the still sleeping earth.
The leaves of the red maples planted all around the small pond surrounded by smooth stones were quietly stirring in the morning breeze. Zuko found here the freshness he so desperately needed to calm the effervescence bubbling in his body and brain.
Thanks to a bunch of keys, under cover of darkness, he had entered the royal spa, deserted at this hour, and had crossed the different rooms to the ornate gold arcade which gave access to the outdoor pools. This haven of peace and beauty allowed members of the royal family and their eminent guests to come and bask in pools of clear water, hot or cold, while enjoying the view of the surrounding trees and plants which offered a shimmer of various colors changing at the pace of the seasons.
At the end of summer, maples had begun to cover themselves with red and gold wreaths.
Zuko removed his clothes and immersed himself in the nearest pool. The coolness of the water made him heave a deep sigh of satisfaction. With a wave of his hand, he lit up the wicks of the lanterns that surrounded the waterhole, giving to the place a somewhat mystical atmosphere. He closed his eyes, happily welcoming the pleasure of emptying his mind. In the distance he heard the constant croaking of a cane toad calling for its females.
Zuko sank into the water up to his ears and closed his eyes.
After a while, he started thinking of Azula. She was with him in the pool, and he was picturing with an excitement barely mixed with remorse all the things he could do to her. It was always easier to indulge in these fantasies at these indecisive hours of day. A man has the right to dream, he repeated to himself over and over again to prevent the growing discomfort that was swelling in his chest from spoiling his pleasure. He could almost feel her breasts pressing against his chest and her white legs wrapping around his waist; her ruby lips plunge into his neck and bite down gently. His hand would wander a little and she would moan in the hollow of his ear.
He was about to surrender completely to his reverie when the sound of a door and a slam like the sound of a cane being tapped regularly on a marble floor woke him up.
He immediately left the basin as discreetly as possible, so as not to betray his presence, reluctant to the idea of being discovered here. Although he was alone, he was certain that the intruder, whoever he was, would unmask him and guess that he was dreaming of loving embraces with his little sister.
He had already pulled up his pants over his still wet legs and reached the edge of the small maple forest when the door creaked open.
Heart pounding furiously in his chest, he realized he had forgotten to extinguish the lanterns that continued to burn lazily around the pool.
The intruder approached, an instantly recognizable petite figure, leaning on a pair of wooden crutches.
It was Azula.
She was alone, dressed in a simple white nightgown which hugged all her curves and which the light of the candles made almost transparent. How could she... Would the guards have let her leave the safety of her chambers? Or had she used the secret passage, taking advantage of Ty Lee being asleep to slip away?
Azula froze, noticing the lit lanterns and turned her head around, her eyebrows furrowed a little. Zuko held his breath. Finally, she must have thought that the last occupant had simply forgotten to put out the candles and, leaving her crutches against a large rock, her back turned to Zuko, attentive witness to her every move, she undressed.
It was one thing to imagine her naked. It was another to see.
The sight of this perfect body filled Zuko with a dissonant mix of emotions comparable to that one experiences in front of religious idols or any manifestation of the sacredness. The embarrassment, the guilt, the fact he knew that he shouldn't have seen her like this... These feelings fought the fascination and the desire to possess her, immediately, without delay. For him alone.
Azula turned around and Zuko's eyes immediately slid to the fine black down of hair on her pubis. Captive, he could no longer take his eyes off it, thinking of the delicious promises it concealed. He noticed a little above, on the right hip, a strange shadow whose contours he hardly perceived. It could have been a bruise – but when and how would she have gotten it? He never left her and the bruises resulting from her fall must have all faded since then. Or was it a burn?
He tried to convince himself that it was curiosity that had prompted him to take a few steps forward between the trees. The natural curiosity of a caring brother who discovers a wound on his sister's body. Her naked and incredibly desirable sister.
He didn't immediately realize that he had started touching himself again. Not before a growl escaped his throat. Horrified at himself, he immediately released his erect member and took his hand out of his pants.
Maybe stroking himself while thinking of her was okay. But to do it by really staring at her, without her knowing it… He felt like a pervert and a deep disgust washed over him.
Further on, Azula sat down at the edge of the pool, dipping her white legs in the clear water. He gazed for a moment at the small folds of skin that the sitting position formed on her belly, then her breasts. Her breasts that he had dared to touch and kiss once and that he dreamed about almost every night. He wondered what the two rosebuds sticking out of them tasted like. It would have been so easy to find out.
They were alone. There was no one around them. The trees, the stones and the last stars would be the only witnesses of their forbidden love. What prevented him from joining her, from slipping near her, from pressing his body against hers. After the surprise of finding him here, he would have been more than welcome, he was sure of that. Just a few moments of pleasure, this bath stolen away from the accusing eyes of their friends. And why not, after all?
As he advanced, he cracked a branch under his foot. Luckily, that was the very moment Azula chose to immerse herself in the turquoise waters and the sound of her body entering the pool drowned out the noise he had made. This snapped him back to reality and he stepped back into the shadows.
The water hid from him the spectacle of the coveted body, but the little he could still see – her delicate shoulders, the curve announcing the beginning of her breasts, her gazelle like neck, excited him even more.
"How frustrating it must be to live under the same roof as such a creature and be the only one who can't enjoy it."
Lu Fang's sour words at the Emergency Council weeks ago struck his memory with the force of a fireball. And he knew. He knew he couldn't do anything. If he succumbed now and joined Azula, he would trigger the cogs of a machine of which he would quickly lose control. Rumors of incest, when they hadn't done that much, had spread at breakneck speed. What would happen when they learned that the Fire Lord had a real secret affair with his mentally deranged sister?
Walls have ears and the palace staff would soon discover their secret and spread it. And worst of all, he feared that on her side, Azula would make no effort to keep their relationship a secret. Zuko would lose his throne, the Gaang's friendship, and his uncle's love.
If he joined her in this basin, there will be no redemption. Were a few minutes of happiness worth widespread chaos?
He crouched down and waited in the shadow for Azula to finish her bath.
She didn't come out of the water until the day was completely up and the sky was covered with faded pastel colors.
He allowed himself one last look when she emerged like a nymph from the turquoise pool. He was amazed at her grace, even when she staggered a bit to grab a towel and wrapped it around her waist, hiding her body from view.
Finally, Azula disappeared under the arcade and Zuko waited a little longer. He knew he couldn't fight this overwhelming desire forever. He had to find a way to exorcise it, and fast.
In the next chapter, Azula and Zuko are going to take some vacations!
The tone is a little lighter in this chapter and the last (except for Kojiro but it's hard to make him a humorous element!). Enjoy it before the angst returns.
For those who haven't had their dose of tragedy, you can read my new story: "A Small Bed of Saffron Flowers".
But I must warn you that it is highly depressing...