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Chapter 18: Mercy
They raced through the night. Zuko knelt perfectly still on the flat stone, as Toph shifted her arms in an even but rapid rhythm, tearing over low plateaus and twisting sharply to rip around those too high to pass.
Zuko could feel Katara beside him. She had not spoken a word since the cave, for which he was grateful. He wasn't sure he could have made sense of words—his mind was strangely blank. Like the aftermath of a forest fire, everything burned to white ash. All but for a few words, which repeated themselves in disjointed fragments.
It's not true.
Toph suddenly grunted. "I felt her for a second—she is going north. Fast. Don't feel the Water Tribe girl, but that doesn't mean she's not there."
She's lying.
Katara answered, voice hoarse, "I don't think she can ice slide like the others—at least she didn't during the fight. But Azula can fly on her firebending. I don't think she would want the girl there, then she would know who Azula is."
She always lies.
Toph made a short jerking motion with her shoulder, a shrug. "Either way, if she keeps going the same way we should be able to catch her. Azula's fast, but not as fast as me."
Zuko could almost feel Katara's gaze turn to him, though he still didn't turn his head. He didn't want to see the pain in her eyes. Pain as though it were true. As though there were no room for doubt.
"Zuko," Katara said softly, hesitantly. "What… are we going to do when we get there? What's our plan?"
When Zuko didn't respond, she added quietly, "I… I can try to stop her. Stop her from getting away, if she tries. I just need to get close enough."
Toph added, "And then I can pin her, no problem." She paused and, in a low voice, added with sudden unusual venom, "She's not getting away."
They were both quiet then. Perhaps waiting for Zuko to speak, to weigh in. He didn't.
Neither spoke again, and Zuko stared out into the darkness. The barren rock was turning to forest, and the silver light of the moon, now sinking back toward the western horizon, cast long shadows like inky fingers across the landscape. He reached inside his robe, to grip the small doll there, feeling the hard edges where it had been scorched.
The first thing to do when he got there—he had to find out. For certain. It had to be a trick. Azula was just trying to upset him, as she always did, it was just the sort of lie she would tell. If she was—was going to do that, then—surely she would have left the—the body for him to see—
And why would I lie? Azula's voice seemed to whisper. I wanted to get rid of her back then. I'm not like you, Zuzu—when have I ever been too weak to do the unthinkable?
Zuko's hands gripped the stone, knuckles white.
"There," Katara whispered. "I see something."
Zuko squinted ahead through the brittle trees, shriveled, perhaps from disease or drought. And he saw it too—a bright blue glow, speeding away from them.
"Toph," he said, the first time he had spoken since the cave, and his voice rasped.
The platform beneath them shuddered, then picked up speed. They were like a stone being thrown, a hurtling meteor. There was no quiet or subtlety, but they didn't need it.
In a moment, they were close enough Zuko could see into the heart of the blue flames—a figure, hands splayed, back to them.
Katara reached forward, as far as her hand would reach, straining.
Katara wasn't close enough for reliable control, yet Azula jerked in response, tripping forward, the blue flames sputtering. Without even turning to look at them, she blazed the flames anew, then turned, circling back around the trees in a wide arc, leaving a burning trail in her wake. However, the arc deposited her somewhere in the trees, and when the blazing flame vanished, she was invisible in the dark, concealed somewhere behind one of the many knotted trunks.
"Ah, Zuzu," she called out, a disembodied voice in the shadow. "You did come for me."
Zuko leaped down from the stone, a moment before Toph dropped the platform back to the earth, leaving them standing together.
"Azula," he answered, in a low, hoarse voice, only just above a whisper. His heart was thrumming in his ears. It wasn't true. It couldn't be true.
"Did you like the message I left for you?" Azula asked, her voice from a different direction this time. "I wanted something simple, but dramatic. I was so happy when I saw the doll—it was really the perfect touch."
It had to be a lie. Except—Azula wanted to hurt him. She wanted to make him strong—at least her own twisted idea of strength. To punish him for weakness, for caring for anyone. For it not to be true, for there to be a chance for him to discover it not to be true, would undo everything she was trying to accomplish. It would mean failure—and Azula, above all, would not risk failure.
Before he could think what to say, to do, Toph punched a fist. Zuko heard the ground tear upward, exactly where Azula's voice had come from. However, Toph hissed in frustration, and when Azula spoke next, she had moved again.
"Nothing to say, Zuzu? Don't tell me I miscalculated. Maybe you didn't care about her so very much."
Something finally seemed to punch through the haze. He turned toward her voice. A single tear stung his eye—then coursed down his face.
"How could you?" he whispered. Then bellowed, "HOW COULD YOU?"
The tears fell in long cold trails, pooling in the burned skin of his scar. "All she ever did was love you, want to help you. How could you? Did you really—hate her that much?"
The forest was silent for a moment then. At last, Azula answered, almost musing, "Hate her? Hardly."
Zuko blinked, startled, as suddenly Azula emerged from the forest. She didn't ride on flame this time, only walked, striding in steady but unhurried steps. Until she came to stand in the center of the clearing, lit in moonlight. Her clothing was that of the Water Tribe, a light blue tunic hemmed in white, her black hair fixed in beaded loops, all slightly damp from cave water.
Katara immediately raised her hands, fingers bent in a bloodbending form, but Zuko, without turning, without ever moving his eyes from Azula's face, raised a palm to stop her.
Azula's eyes met his, and they were calm. Her lip curled ever so slightly, and with derision she murmured, "She was nothing, only an instrument for your growth. To demonstrate to you what a mistake it is, to ever show an enemy mercy…"
Zuko gritted his teeth. Reaching into his robe, he took out the half burned doll, then extended it toward Katara. She accepted it gingerly, and he felt her eyes watching him, though he didn't turn to see her expression.
Voice shaking, he whispered, "I challenge you, Azula. To an Agni Kai. You wanted a rematch, you have one." A battle, like before—only this time, one of them wouldn't walk away.
Azula's eyes wandered about the clearing, bored. She checked her nails. "Well, I don't accept."
Her eyes flickered back up to him, then narrowed, and for the first time, her face hardened. "You still haven't learned your lesson, Zuzu. You have no reason to challenge me to an Agni Kai here. You have me outnumbered. That girl can use bloodbending. You can't beat me the way you are now—I'd just kill you. The way I did mother."
Zuko snarled. His fists clenched at his sides, and flames erupted from them, like swords of fire. He repeated, in a hard, deadly voice, "Azula, I challenge you—"
"No," Azula snapped, and she turned to face him fully, her hand falling back to her side. The remnants of flame flickered in the forest behind her, as bright as the moonlight, casting her face in deep shadow. "I have already been generous enough to spell out your situation for you—I will not do so again. Cling to your useless honor, Zuzu—your weakness—and you will fall to me, as you always do. Is that so hard to comprehend?"
She advanced—step by step. Zuko felt Katara tense again beside him, but she took no action, waiting for his signal. Toph, too, stood very still, just behind him to the left.
Azula paused, stopping just before the ends of the fire blades, which continued to burn from his fists. Then she stepped carefully around them, until she stood just next to him—like those days at the palace after returning from the conquering of Ba Sing Se, when she saw him doing something foolish, and wanted to offer him advice. Even if it was just because she didn't want him making her look bad after she had brought him back, he couldn't deny even now that her advice back then had been sound.
Her face softened. Her eyes drifted away from him, toward the empty landscape beyond the trees. In a voice so low he barely caught it she said, "I didn't… want to kill her. She is… was… my mother too, after all. Can't you understand? It's my destiny to help you be who you need to be. This was the only way I knew to do it. I had no choice."
A part of Zuko wanted nothing but to scream at her. That she was insane, that mother was right, that she was a monster and they had always known it. But he didn't—instead, pain bent his head ever so slightly, and the flaming swords shrank by a fraction.
Azula suddenly moved—like a lightning strike, a leopard-cobra. White-hot blue flames exploded from her palm, tight and controlled—straight at Toph's face.
Toph reacted, but Katara was faster. Both Azula's arms snapped back violently, breaking the firebending form and dispersing the flames before they could fully form. Her feet dragged along the stone ground, hauled backward by wrists bound with invisible restraints. Katara took a step forward, and slowly lowered one hand, fingers splayed.
Azula's arms were now locked firmly behind her back, and she sank with Katara's movement, until she knelt on the ground, her head bowed. Her hair was beginning to fall loose, her bangs and beaded hair loops half obscuring her eyes from view. And yet, her mouth was still visible, as the corner turned up in a chilling smile.
"Always the same, Zuzu," she whispered. "Always falling for the same tricks."
Katara did not approach her, only remained at Zuko's side, slightly behind. She leaned close to say in a low voice, "I know you don't want to hear this, Zuko. But—she's right. If you fight an Agni Kai now, she'll win. What… do you want to do?"
Zuko stared down at Azula, subdued for the moment, yet still smiling that strange smile.
He focused, trying to think past the fury, the flames burning in his mind. They were—right. He couldn't beat Azula, not like this. And perhaps if he was being honest, he knew, deep down, that fighting her here had no purpose. He felt the tears continuing to stream down his face unchecked, and he knew that even if he threw at her all his hate and rage, they wouldn't stop. The rage would just make the tears burn all the more.
For a moment, the flames of fury faded, leaving him cold.
Still, almost on instinct, he stepped forward, and numbly raised the two fire swords as though they were real swords, crossing them together. He held the very edge of the flames where they crossed to Azula's neck, not close enough to burn, but close enough that the very slightest twitch of his hands would end her.
He gazed down at her—and he found a strange certainty creeping over him. His sister he had grown up with, his family. Who had been as much warped by their father and his evil as he had once been. To kill her now, in this place—
It would not be wrong.
He felt it, as strong as he had felt how wrong it would be to kill her in the warehouse, to let her fall over the cliff with the letter. Azula was beyond help—and he was the Fire Lord. This was his duty, to protect his people. He had done everything he could to avoid this, to give her a chance to change, to find another path. But a line had been crossed that could not be uncrossed. She was his sister, but she was also a criminal, a murderer, a menace to those around her, who would never accept the world as it was now.
"Princess Azula…" he began, slowly, in the even tones of a ritual. "Daughter of Ursa, and daughter of former Fire Lord Ozai. Granddaughter of former Fire Lord Azulon. Firebending prodigy, conqueror of Ba Sing Se… For your actions against the crown, and against the people of the Fire Nation—I declare your life forfeit. Do you have any final words?"
Azula's eyes closed, and she smiled, looking strangely more at peace than Zuko could ever remember. Satisfied. "I don't," she replied.
"Then, in the name of the Fire Nation—" Zuko shifted his weight, ready to surge forward—but he stopped.
"...I still would have loved you all the same. And I love Azula, too."
The flames from his hands extinguished. He collapsed to his knees. A strange sound tore itself from his throat, as the ground blurred beneath him.
He couldn't do it. Not now—perhaps not ever.
The clearing was silent, but for his hitched breathing, the rustling of cloth as his shoulders trembled. The pressing weight of grief no longer a scream in his ears, more like the heavy silence of a crypt.
Neither Toph nor Katara spoke—they had neither tried to stop what he was about to do, nor tried to push him to act now. Footsteps approached, and a moment later Katara dropped to kneel beside him. However, her hands were still raised to hold Azula, and she didn't touch him.
"What are you doing?"
Zuko still couldn't see properly, but he felt Azula watching him, and the cold in her voice was sharp as a knife.
"Are you a fool?"
Zuko took several deep breaths, then worked to wipe away the tears from his eyes, even as more fell.
In a broken whisper, he said, "Maybe I am." He swallowed, and when he spoke again, somehow he managed to make his voice steady. "Mother… loved you, Azula. She came to find you. We tried to keep her safe, protected. But… she wanted to see you, more than anything. She was willing… to face whatever she had to face. For you."
Azula didn't reply. He still couldn't see, his vision blurred.
He added in a whisper, "And, Azula… whatever you've done, or might do…"
He closed his eyes, wiping away the tears. In a voice he could barely hear himself, he completed, "...I love you, too."
In spite of the pain, he felt strong too, if only for a moment. He opened his eyes, and he could finally see again. He looked on his sister, so twisted and cruel—and everything he might have once become himself, without his friends, without his uncle, without the intervention of fate.
Azula's face had changed. Gone was the placid amusement, the content. Instead her eyes blazed with hate, her face twisted and marred like a feral beast, as it had been during the comet, in the very depths of her madness.
In something between fury and disbelief, she hissed, "You really are… incurable." Her body began to shake—her arms, locked behind her back, trembled, and in spite of Katara's bending, began to come away from her body, back around the sides of her torso. Her fists clenched and unclenched, fighting for control. "Everything—everything I've done for you, and yet you still—"
She screamed, and a ring of blue flames exploded out from her in all directions. Zuko barely had time to jump backward, swiping a hand sideways, dispersing it around him and Katara. Toph raised a shield of earth.
Azula was bent like a charging animal, her hair falling over her face. "...disappoint me."
Her eyes burned. "You dare waste my time—I will kill them all, one by one. Everyone you have ever loved. And then, Zuzu—you will forever regret your weakness."
She twisted suddenly, taking a rooted stance. Raising both hands, a wall of blue flames burst to life, so high it seemed to fill the clearing. It surged toward them, burning the dry plant life, the trees, the brush, leaving nothing but black scorched earth in its wake.
Katara bent forward, hands raised, reaching for Azula again—but the wall of flame was already fully summoned, already in motion. And she was forced to pull back to avoid it, leaving Azula free to leap backward, out of range for reliable control.
Toph stomped a foot, and a thick wall of earth erupted from the ground just in front of where Zuko and Katara stood, reshaping itself into a curved surface like a shield. Snuffing out the closest flame, deflecting it around them. The heat blazed around them.
The ground shook, flames roared. Zuko raised his eyes above the shield, and was startled to see Azula, suspended in the air, riding a column of blue flame. For a moment she hung high above them, like a Fire Lord on her dais, ready to mete out retribution to her rebellious subjects. Then she punched downward, raining down balls of blue flame, each one exploding the ground around them like meteors.
Katara raised her hands, reaching for her, but Azula was too far away, and she had to jump backward to avoid a massive fire blast. Zuko deflected another, but was forced back a step by its power.
The column of flame was moving backward now, away from them, further from Katara. Azula was going to get away, just like last time. Cold clenched his chest as he wondered who she would kill next—
"Toph!" Katara shouted. "I need you get me up—high!"
Zuko wanted to argue, to shout a warning. Toph couldn't see where Azula was, wouldn't be able to see the flames she was shooting to move Katara out of the way if she needed. But they didn't give him a chance, as in answer Toph stomped a foot, and a pillar of earth tore from the ground beneath Katara's feet.
The rock shot into the air, long and thin like the darting tongue of a chameleon frog, so fast Katara collapsed to her knees atop it under the force of the air ripping past her.
But Azula had seen what they were doing, and with two fingers she sliced a wave of flame across the sky. It cut clean through the rising pillar, and the top half began to tilt. The pillar no longer rising, the ground falling out beneath her, Katara hung suspended in the air for a moment. An easy target.
With a tight smile, Azula extended her fist for a final blast.
However, Katara had now drawn nearly level with Azula, and though she had nothing beneath her to support her, she extended both hands.
Azula's fist froze. She jerked once, then twice, before her hands both twisted back once again. The pillar of flame beneath her died out.
They both plummeted toward the earth, Katara's arms stretched out in front of her, the distance between them never changing as though Katara gripped an invisible tether. Azula twitched and struggled like a fish caught in a net, her eyes blazing, but Katara was too close, and she couldn't pull free. Katara didn't even glance toward the ground rushing up beneath them, eyes focused on Azula, hard with determination.
"Toph!" Zuko shouted.
"I know!" Toph answered with a grimace. With a series of elaborate hand movements, the ground in front of them liquified, reforming as a powdery substance like sand, like a circus net. Encased in a bowl of stone like a chalice, it rose into the air to meet the falling forms. Toph couldn't see either of them, and Katara, teeth gritted with the effort of keeping Azula completely contained, couldn't afford the breath to shout to alert her, but the area was wide enough.
Katara hit the sand first, landing hard on her stomach, the breath knocked from her lungs despite the forgiving surface. Azula's landing was soft by comparison. She drifted down on her knees, still held under Katara's control.
Stone fingers erupted from the sand the moment Azula touched down, closing around her, engulfing her hands and feet. As the sandpit sank back to ground level, it held her in place.
Katara forced herself up to hands and knees. "Okay," she panted. "I think we have—"
Azula's mouth opened, and flames erupted in a deadly explosive stream. Katara only had time to raise her head, eyes wide.
But Zuko was there. He swept an extended palm to one side, diverting the blue flame into the sand. It exploded in all directions, coating his clothes in a fine layer of grit, leaving a smoking scorch mark of melted earth.
Katara raised both hands again, forcing Azula's head to twist back, away from them. "Toph—"
"On it," Toph said grimly. She had torn something small and dark off her arm—her meteor bracelet. It turned itself to a needle and shot through the air. For an instant Zuko thought she was aiming for Azula's exposed neck, but then at the last moment it melted to something more like a square of hardened gauze, affixing itself over her mouth.
For a moment all was still. Azula knelt where she was, encased in her stone bindings, her beaded loops falling loose, tangled hair in her face.
"Okay," Toph said. "I think we actually have her now."
Azula raised her eyes, and cold rage burned in her features. Yet, Zuko was startled to see a furious tear trace its way down her face, beading against the meteor gag.
Zuko closed his eyes, and breathed. Then they opened again.
"Everyone stand back," he said quietly. "Toph, if you could—take the gag off for just a minute. I… have to ask her something."
Toph's hand, still raised, didn't move. "I'm not sure that's a good idea."
"It's okay," Katara said, palms raised. "I can stop her lungs if I have to. She won't take me by surprise that way again."
Toph hesitated, and though her unseeing eyes weren't turned in Azula's direction, her face was set in an unusually hard expression. Then she reluctantly shifted her hand slightly, and the meteor came away from Azula's jaw, though it held its shape, ready to reattach itself at a moment's notice.
Zuko approached, though not too close. He gazed at his sister, where she knelt, imprisoned in stone.
"Where… is she?" he asked in a rasp. "What did you do with her?"
Azula's lip curled in derision. She looked away.
Zuko stood there, before he finally let out a long, slow breath. He supposed he hadn't really expected an answer. He started to turn.
"I incinerated her."
He turned back to see Azula staring at the dark horizon, eyes narrow. She continued, "I was going to leave her on the shore, for the otter-rats to feed on, for you to find. It would have been so much more dramatic. But then…"
Her mouth twisted in bitterness. "That woman always had a way of ruining my plans."
Zuko noticed the tears that had fallen from one of Azula's eyes had not yet begun to dry. They coursed again, falling onto the sand, even as she continued to glare at the horizon.
He wondered if she felt any remorse at all—any sorrow. Even if she refused to allow herself to acknowledge it. It was true, the only thing that could have enraged him more than what he had found already was to see Mother disrespected, desecrated. But Azula had been unable to do it, and instead given her an almost proper Fire Nation sendoff. He would choose to see a glimmer of good in that, even if there was none.
Zuko felt a gentle hand on his shoulder, and turned to see Katara. Her eyes were slightly red, gleaming with unshed tears. She pulled him into a hug, and though his arms felt like lead, too heavy to lift them to return it, he closed his eyes.
When she pulled back again, she hesitantly reached into her sash and extended something toward him. Zuko glanced down.
Kiyi's doll lay across her palm. One of its button eyes was half melted, the sackcloth of its face blackened and charred. Rice filling leaked from the hole through its stomach, trickling into the sand. It was the first doll of Kiyi's Zuko had ever seen—with a pink dress, and hair too short from Kiyi's failed attempt at a haircut. His mother had made it herself, Kiyi liking it so well she had named it Kiyi after herself.
Suddenly the weight of grief seemed so many times heavier, pressing against the back of his head. Because someone would have to tell Kiyi, and Ikem too. He knew only too well exactly what she would feel now—the same pain he had known, when he had lost his mother the first time. He wanted to be the one to tell them, in person—however, something still needed to be done about the waterbenders, and keeping them in the dark for as long as it took them to go to the North Pole would be even crueler than breaking the news by messenger hawk. He could only hope Suki or Mai could… do something for them. Until he got there.
But then, maybe neither one of them would want to see him. He had allowed this. It was his fault, in so, so many ways.
He was vaguely aware as Toph once again raised another stone platform beneath his feet, stepping onto it. Azula hovered in front of them in her stone trapping, and after a moment Katara joined them on the platform, standing in front of Zuko, hands out, ready to act should Azula try something again.
Zuko didn't know exactly when he had sunk to his knees, but now he knelt, both Katara and Toph standing in front of him like a shield. He let his head bow under the weight. His throat burned, his eyes burned. And, for the moment, he gave himself over to the pain.
A/N: A bit of a shorter one this time, just the way it worked out. (Also still so many emotions.) Hoping to get the next chapter out by the weekend, we'll see.
Thanks for reading! If you have a moment, let me know what you thought, and hope to see you in the next one!
Posted 8/28/23