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Chapter 24: Miscalculation
Azula, in spite of Katara's work, was not going to be well enough to be moved immediately.
It was decided then that, since it might be inhumane to keep the girl Nukka imprisoned in stone for days on end, Aang, Sokka, and Toph would take her on Appa to the North Pole, to hand her over to Arnook like the other waterbenders. Aang to keep her imprisoned, Sokka to play diplomat with Arnook as he knew the chief best of anyone, and Toph because, as she told Zuko and Katara, the last thing she wanted was to be forced to play nurse to Azula.
Before she left, Nukka had been silent and brooding, glaring balefully around at them. She didn't say anything more about what she thought of what they had done—it was obvious enough from her face. That they had made a mistake, that they would come to regret it.
Zuko remained behind with Katara and his mother, keeping camp near the lake while Katara worked on Azula's injury, trying to ready her for transport back to the Fire Nation. Zuko tried to do what he could to help, though the majority of his task turned out to be mediation. Keeping Katara from changing her mind, and killing Azula after all.
"Well, we don't have any Fire Nation spices, so you're going to have to eat it like that!"
"It truly amazes me the strength of peasant stomachs," Azula commented, lifting her spoon and eying its contents the same way she might have a spoonful of beetle-worm soup. "I will eat this, because I have no other choice. But if the resulting gag reflex causes me to die of dehydration, know it will be on your conscience."
Katara was showing all the signs of being at her limit, and Zuko decided it was once again time to interfere before Azula found herself full of more ice spears.
"Katara—I think we're low on firewood again," he ventured. "Mother and I have gotten what we could nearby, but we might need to range further out."
Katara was silent for a moment, a stormcloud bunched in the anger lines of her forehead. Before at last she slumped and spat through her teeth, "Fine."
She stalked away, though as she went she muttered in a dark undertone, "If I have to listen to another speech about the proper way to prepare meat fit for a royal palette, so help me…"
Zuko watched her go, before turning back to Azula, where she was sitting, propped up against a pile of sleeping furs. He wouldn't have admitted it, but if grinding Katara's last nerve was keeping Azula happy for the time being, he'd take it. Even after all that had happened, Azula was still their prisoner, and though they had all decided against binding her hands and feet, given her limited mobility and what she had done for Mother, she could have certainly found a way to cause trouble if she wanted. However, for the time being she seemed entirely content to simply sit against the pile of sleeping blankets Katara had arranged for her, ordering Katara about like a servant and throwing out casual insults in Zuko's direction whenever he wandered too close.
Zuko approached warily. He carried a fresh drinking pouch, one of several Katara had prepared herself, purifying the water from the lake and chilling it for taste, though doubtless Azula would still find a way to complain.
"Oh, Zuzu," said Azula, glancing up at him, before her eyes returned to the stew. "You truly impress me. That you could have learned to eat like this. Every day. I'm surprised when I raided your little hideaway at the dead nomad temple you didn't let me kill you."
Thoughts of the Western Air Temple summoned to mind all sorts of memories, both good and bad, but Zuko only said, "What did you eat when you were pretending to be a Water Tribe girl?"
Azula sniffed. "That's different. I was not myself, but a poor peasant with no taste. It's called method acting, Zuzu—the only thing standing between me and death by vengeful snow peasants was my ability to sell the character, which naturally I did. I would have been fine, if not for Mother's untimely interference."
Zuko set the new pouch on the ground where Azula could reach it, picking up the old, which would now be lukewarm and stale. He sat himself down on the ground, his own bowl of soup in hand.
He could have pointed out that Azula also would have been fine if she hadn't been trying to kill Mother, but he knew that conversation wouldn't get anywhere. So he only said mildly, "Mother offered to season it with some of the herbs and spices she brought with her."
Azula wrinkled her nose. "And start hallucinating I'm being chased by purple dragons? I don't think so."
Mother had tried helping Azula at first, bringing her food and water and adjusting her blankets every so often. While it had filled Zuko with trepidation, he hadn't tried to talk her out of it—why would Azula hurt Mother now, after nearly dying to save her? However, every time Mother had tried to speak to Azula or ask her a question, Azula would pointedly turn her eyes away, as though she didn't exist, directing all her commands at Zuko and Katara instead. Whenever Mother was around, Azula would sit rigid, pulling sharply away from Mother's every touch, even when it meant aggravating her injury. So Mother had eventually taken to keeping mostly away while Azula was awake, out of sight.
For a moment, Zuko let his mind wander back to an early morning several days before. His mother's wistful face as they sat together on a stone some distance away from camp, staring up at the dark sky, the sun yet to rise.
"Are you okay, Mother?" he had finally asked.
She gazed out at the craggy landscape ahead. "I… did what I set out to do. I found Azula, I told her what I had hoped to tell her. I might have inadvertently placed her in danger—but I was at least able to protect her. And now I have returned to you, and will be able to return to Kiyi and Ikem, and Azula will be with us." She paused, her eyes still distant. Before she smiled ruefully. "Yet somehow, a part of me still feels dissatisfied."
Zuko eyed her for a long moment. Ikem and Kiyi would indeed soon know that Mother was alive, if they didn't know already. Zuko had written a message, then asked Aang and the others to have it sent from the first town they saw. No doubt Kiyi wouldn't be at all surprised, but to be able to spare his stepfather or anyone else the grief even by a few days made him feel lighter than he had ever felt. Things really had resolved in a way so much better than he'd had any right to hope.
He asked, "Dissatisfied, how?"
She considered. "I am thankful for all that has happened. It is far more than I deserve, given how selfishly I have acted. Yet—I cannot deny that, deep down, I had the nerve to hope for even more." She breathed. "It has been such a privilege these last months watching you as Fire Lord, getting to know the young man you have become. With Azula, much as I have tried to learn about her, guess and glean what she really thinks and feels, I know I do not truly know her. And I am unsure if I ever will."
"There's time now," Zuko answered, placing a hand over hers. "You've barely seen her at all, but now she'll be at the palace. You can get to know her then."
The rueful smile again. "Perhaps. You know I will try. But tell me something, Zuko—do you know her?"
The question had continued to churn around in the back of his mind. Mostly because he knew the answer—if he knew Azula, he would know why she had done what she had done, in saving Mother. Maybe he would have even been able to predict it. But much as he could guess, he didn't know. Azula didn't seem to want to be known, or predicted.
Zuko raised his spoon toward his mouth to eat. However, he watched Azula, and as she took a bite of her stew, making a show of grimacing as she chewed, he found himself lowering it again.
"You don't remember, do you?" he asked suddenly, into the quiet.
When her eyes wandered toward him, he clarified, "When Mother got you out, saved your life. You don't remember any of that, do you." Mother had said Azula probably wouldn't recall much while acting under the effects of nightshade-henbane. It was potent enough to cause long blackouts in memory, and it sounded like Azula had been pretty far under.
Azula rolled her eyes. "I thought I made it clear, she didn't save my life. She placed it in danger, and then it was her responsibility to correct the mistake."
She added, "I do vaguely recall being forced to walk through nasty, icy cave water. I was able to dry most of the worst off with firebending before I came to meet you, but while you were deciding whether to kill me or not, all I could think about was how wet my shoes were. The irritating woman."
Zuko felt some of the muscles in his neck tighten, which was becoming a reflex whenever Azula talked about Mother—he had spent an entire month of pain and grief, in part because of Azula's deliberate lies. However, he silently took a long, deep breath, forcing himself to relax.
Instead, he fixed Azula with a stare. And even if he wouldn't get an answer, he was determined to ask. "Will you tell me, Azula—what it was that made you do it?" He added, "I mean, you don't even seem happy she's still here. You won't even talk to her."
Azula took another theatrically distasteful bite of her stew, and waved her spoon. "Oh, that's simple enough. But don't you know already, Zuzu? And here, I thought we were family."
Her eyes wandered over the jagged horizon. "This is slightly embarrassing to admit," she said, voice still light, yet quieter, somehow more serious. "But it would seem I might have—made a slight miscalculation."
Zuko watched her, and though he was only too familiar with Azula's usual word games, he couldn't entirely quell the rise of a sudden curiosity, hope that she might elaborate, that she might actually explain herself for once.
"A miscalculation?" he repeated carefully.
"Yes," she murmured, eyes still on the horizon. Then suddenly her gaze shifted back, meeting his. Her lips curved briefly in a tight smile. "I gave you a plan, and I told you I would save her. So if she died—that would mean I had failed, wouldn't it? Beaten, by a half wild water peasant with no gift for strategy whatsoever. I simply couldn't allow that to happen. Better one last memory of myself standing in triumph, than many more memories to come following such a failure."
Zuko felt the hope in his chest drain away, and he scowled. He turned away.
"Well," he said, "whatever it was. You kept your promise, Azula. So—I'll have your new room prepared for you as soon as we get back. And I'll have the sages come and make your appointment official." Sighing, he added morosely, "And Mai's probably going to break up with me again when she finds out what I'm going to ask her to do."
"Appointment?" said Azula, eyes half-lidded, wandering from the soup to out over the lake. "And what appointment would that be?"
Zuko wondered how Azula, even reveling in her victory, could somehow make it even more aggravating than expected. "The deal," he said through his teeth. "You kept up your side, so I'll keep up mine."
"Oh, that." Azula flicked her fingers dismissively. "I was just testing you, Zuzu. To see how much of a spine you have—you failed miserably, incidentally. I don't want your room. I'm sure it's drafty and full of annoying paperwork to sign. And I'm sure I'll be seeing more of Mai's lack of personality than I want to, now that the two of you have apparently patched things all up. As for being appointed advisor—well, the truth is I'd rather just make you listen to my advice because you realize it's better. Making it official would take all the fun out of it."
Zuko stared at her, as Azula once again took a bite of her stew—evidently forgetting to pretend it tasted bad, as she soon followed it up with another.
What Zuko was thinking now—was dangerous. He knew that. Azula could be telling the truth—that she had saved Mother's life purely to avoid failing. But he couldn't push away the sense that saving Mother had been her intent all along. If she had wanted to let Mother die, surely she could have easily found an excuse for that, too. Save her? I never had any intention of saving her, Zuzu. You were a fool for trusting me.
But letting himself think that way, consider the possibility, was perhaps as dangerous as leaving Azula unbound when they had searched for Mother back then. More so. Because even if Azula was lying to herself as much as she might to him, had saved Mother out of some need she couldn't quite tamp down, if anything Azula was likely more dangerous when her humanity glimmered through, than when she was at her coldest, most calculating, most in control. Because if Zuko had learned anything from his years of banishment, trying to reclaim his honor and prove his worth, it was that the moments when he felt weak that made him most want to make up for it. To be strong.
Maybe Zuko did know her after all. If just a little.
Zuko didn't press her, didn't try to convince her that she might have done what she did because some part of her did love Mother, or wanted to love her, or wanted Mother to love her. Because maybe for now it was better for Azula to be able to make excuses to herself, than the alternative.
Instead he said, "Well, what do you want then? I'll give you something, within reason."
Azula raised her gaze to look at him over her soup, eyes glittering. "Oh, maybe I just want you to owe me a favor, Zuzu. Just the thought of you and your honor, twisting itself all in knots, knowing you are in my debt—it brings a smile to my face."
Zuko took a deep, steadying breath through his nose.
He stared out at the sky, the sun shining high above the mountains. Reflected in the nearly still lake below, only occasionally rippled by a light breeze. For the moment, he felt strangely at peace. He knew who he was a little more now, now that he had faced the worst, and decided he still didn't regret his decisions. In a way, he had Azula to thank for that, even if his conclusions hadn't been what she had intended. He was back together with Mai, Azula was in custody, as were the members of the Water Tribe she had used, and everyone was all right.
He had many more years ahead, years no doubt filled with more difficult decisions, decisions he might make that others would not agree with. But for the moment, he just sat near his inscrutable sister, and breathed.
A/N: Being Azula's caretaker, always a fun time.
Well then, there it is—the end, minus the epilogue. Just a couple more notes before we move on, to explain a bit of my convoluted thinking.
So, I didn't kill Ursa, and I also didn't kill Azula. I decided in the end to include the content advisory on possible character death at the beginning anyway mostly because in context of the story you really are supposed to believe that Ursa is dead through those chapters, as it's an important part of Zuko's arc, and I know major character deaths can be traumatic for many readers. It's also possible there will be more parts following this story (more on that next chapter), and from the ideas I've explored some could still involve major deaths, so I wanted to make that advisory on this series clear early.
For the record—I don't intend to kill anyone that we know to be alive in Korra (at least for what content has been released at the time of this writing), since I want there to be some continuity with LoK if possible. I probably won't kill Azula either, partly because I've already killed her in writing before, and for this series I think she's more interesting alive than dead, especially since I feel like her decision at the end of this story, far from being an unequivocal redemption, raises more questions than answers. (Also Ursa's probably pretty safe now, because fanfic double jeopardy laws say killing her twice would be a bit much.)
Thanks so much for reading! Epilogue should be going up soon—if you have a moment, let me know what you thought, and hope to see you there!
Posted 9/23/23