Author's Note: Content warning for one brief incident of self-purging.

Chapter 19

In Azula's dream, she battled the waterbender again. This time she was in an arena at night, amazing power surging through her every time she called fire. She was about to strike to kill, when suddenly she was surrounded by ice, frozen in place. Then the water around her arms, only her arms, liquefied just enough to allow movement, and they were pulled behind her. Just when her lungs were about to burst, the ice thawed in an instant, water crashing down to expose her, chained to the ground.

She looked up, and there was Aang. He spoke to her with utmost gentleness, his tone infused with a kindness she had only ever known from him, and her mother. "I'm sorry you're all alone now. But you have to understand, Azula: you are simply unloveable. Being married to you would be torture for anyone."

She started crying, and then a girl with short, spiky black hair pointed at her and started to laugh. She looked past the girl and saw a huge crowd filling the arena's stands. They were laughing at her as well, uproariously. She yelled at them to stop, but it only spurred them on. She was trapped, an object of ridicule, a loser, pathetic.

She woke with tears on her cheeks, breathing hard. She barely had time to realize she was conscious, when her voices continued the nightmare.

"They're right, you know," Mai deadpanned, sharpening a knife. "Your failure is perfectly hilarious."

"Your firebending is mediocre at best. Worse even than Zuko's. I should have left everything to him instead," Father sneered.

"Aw, Azula, you're still a good firebender, even if Katara did wipe the desert with you," Ty Lee reminded her, her tone sympathetic. "And the real Aang isn't as mean as the one in your dream. Sure, it's true, but he'd never say it."

"You're not helping," Azula snapped.

To prove to herself that her dream had no basis in reality, she went directly to the training field, not even pausing to change from the clothes she'd worn since the confrontation in the desert.

She alternated between bending and non-bending exercises, as she usually did. Hot squats, then shuttle runs. Fireball tosses, then gymnastics passes. Wall of fire, then kickboxing a dummy. She noticed her aim was off, and realized she had unconsciously adopted a goal of simply expending as much energy as possible. The precision she prided herself on was gone. Assuming it would return as soon as her emotional upheaval had passed, she gave up on accuracy and focused on producing the biggest, hottest fires she could, the hardest hits and highest jumps. She thought that once she got out the worst of her rage, the cold, calculating, calm certainty that allowed her to command lightning would return. But it didn't. Her strikes had none of her usual exactness. Though their overwhelming magnitude attested her raw power, they were no more sharp or skilful than the average well-trained firebender's. Maybe the problem was that her aggression simply had no bottom. Or Aang's rejection had broken her somehow, emptied her of her characteristic prowess.

Four hours later, after some of the hardest, most frustrating and demoralizing practice she'd ever done, she was bent over, catching her breath. Her father leaned over her, berating her for her mediocrity, and she struggled to block him out, while a part of her whispered that his taunts were just realistic descriptions of her performance.

That was when one of her trainers gently suggested she take a break to eat something. The man was right, of course. Azula's stomach had been empty so long that she didn't even notice hunger pangs anymore. She tried to recall the last time she'd eaten, and realized it must have been in the desert.

She made her way to the dining room, where servants had laid out a spread including komodo rhino steak, noodle dishes, and various fruits. She filled a plate and began to eat.

As soon as her body stilled, she realized that her hard training session had been only a distraction. Aang's words came back to her. I do care for you, Azula, but as a sister, and nothing more. Her stomach heaved, so that she regretted eating. The hopelessness, the futility of it made her want to tear her hair out. You can't break us up, Azula. Not even if you send a spy to make friends with me and try to make me doubt her. He was telling her there was nothing she could do to change the situation, and she absolutely could not accept that. His voice echoed in her head until one phrase in particular caught her attention. Not even if you send a spy.

How did he know that? How had Aang known she had sent Yoshio into the Resistance? Surely her man hadn't blown his cover on his own. He was a veteran of multiple missions, with all the skills he'd need to manage his clandestine assignment. His own sense of self-preservation would have kept him loyal to her.

There was only one other explanation: she had a spy of her own.

She looked down at the half-eaten steak on her plate. If there was a spy in the palace, then the kitchen staff might also have been compromised. Her food was not safe.

Azula put down her chopsticks and went to the bathroom, where she made herself vomit the poisoned meat. Then she stalked to her office, summoning her spymaster. She raged at the man for their plan's failure for a solid hour, reducing the wily old secret agent to a cowering heap. He begged for his life, accusing Yoshio, her guards, random members of the palace staff, for her plot's exposure, anything to deflect blame. His pleas were tiresome.

"It's not like the leak made any difference," Mai rolled her eyes.

Appearing at her friend's side, Aang nodded. "Even if we hadn't found out about Yoshio, I still would have trusted Katara over anything he told me."

"Your attempts at espionage were only the most amateurish part of your ridiculous plot," Father spat contemptuously.

"It's not his fault your plan failed," Mai went on.

"Don't kill him. You can be better than that," Aang pleaded.

Azula sighed, unable to resist his entreaty. Besides, she knew this bumbler's execution would do nothing to ease her pain.

She turned away from the spymaster. "You're fired. You have ten minutes to clear your things and leave the palace. Don't ever apply for government employment of any kind again."

After he left, bowing and scraping in thankfulness for her mercy, she looked at a clock and realized it was too late to question anyone else today. Her sweaty, dusty clothing also caught her attention, and she realized she hadn't showered or changed since the desert.

A bath, then bed, she decided. She went to her room and sent away the hovering servants. She'd have to question them, but not until tomorrow. She filled the tub herself, and allowed the hot water to soothe her tired muscles. Then she remembered it was the element of her rival, and her pleasure soured. She finished quickly, combed her wet hair, then put on her oldest, most comfortable pajamas.

But as soon as she lay down in her silk sheets, Father started whispering his venom in her ears.

"The problem was that you wanted him to choose you," he explained to her. "Why should you care what he wants? You're Fire Lord: you take what you want with no apologies, and everyone else just has to deal with it."

"I wanted him to love me," Azula whispered.

"Your mother never loved me, and I didn't care," he retorted. "The boy's feelings only matter to you because you're weak. Your soft, needy heart made you lose that battle too. You should have killed that waterbender, but she defeated you. You're pathetic."

As she continued to cry, Ozai went on, criticizing, plotting, warning. Though she longed for her other voices to contradict him, they stayed quiet, allowing her father's onslaught to blast her uninterrupted.

"So what if you're alone now? If you're tough enough, you don't need anyone!"

"You should take your revenge on the waterbender now. Wipe out her entire tribe. The long days of the Southern summer would give firebenders the advantage."

"Don't close your eyes! When you sleep, you're most vulnerable. The spy in the palace might have been ordered to murder you in your bed. Even at your best, you couldn't defend against a knife in your throat while you dream, and you're far from your best now. There is no one here you can trust."

Azula stared at the ceiling, wide awake, for hours.

Raiden watched as the third servant girl left the Fire Lord's office in tears. Azula had spent the entire morning questioning them one by one, looking for the spy. Guilt filled him: he was the traitor she was searching for, the one responsible for the interrogations these innocent young women were enduring.

He had to do something to stop it. He thought briefly about confessing, but that would go against his orders from Piandao. More importantly, he had promised to help Azula, and in order to do that, he had to maintain his position and her trust. He could do no one any good from jail. And, beyond his conscience, there was a larger reason he couldn't allow this to continue: Piandao had also commanded him to contain the collateral damage that the Fire Lord caused, implying that if he proved unable to do so, he'd have to kill her himself. There was almost nothing he would not do to avoid that.

A scapegoat? Raiden wondered. One man came instantly to mind. Among his guards, Zentai was the one who gave him the most trouble. Not only was he lazy, he believed fervently in Fire Nation supremacy, and tried actively to convert the younger guards. In addition, the way he talked about women was disgusting, and he had proven impervious to all attempts to re-educate or correct him. Zentai was close to retirement, without family, so no one else would be hurt if he were blamed for the leak. Raiden knew Piandao would approve, if he framed the older man for his own spying. He often remarked that the army would be better off without such men.

But he found his own conscience could not abide that kind of lie. It would violate his responsibility to the soldiers he commanded. Zentai was a substandard guard and a terrible human being, but technically he had broken no rules. Even though getting rid of his least favorite subordinate would make Raiden's life more pleasant, doing it this way didn't feel right. Luckily, the other guards were decently enlightened, and he was already doing a good job limiting Zentai's bad influence. The real problem was that the current rules tolerated bigotry and misogyny, so Raiden resolved to advocate for those changes, and hopefully that would result in a long-overdue discharge.

Besides, he knew that he needed a more obvious scapegoat. It would be much easier to shine a slightly different light on the facts than to fabricate evidence to implicate someone who was completely uninvolved. Yoshio knew what he was getting into, he rationalized. He had to trust that the spy had the skills to evade capture. At the least, he had the advantage of distance. If Yoshio was smart, he had turned his coat and joined the Resistance as soon as he'd been exposed. Raiden thought Aang and his friends were likely to be merciful.

The captain was in a situation where there were no good options, only more or less objectionable paths he could choose. It was at times like these that he was especially grateful for the teachings of the White Lotus. The secret society's philosophy emphasized pragmatism, and directed its adherents to reduce harm when it was impossible to eliminate it. He felt this solution would fulfill its guidelines.

When the next shellshocked girl exited the office, he ducked inside, gathering his wits.

Azula sat behind her imposing desk, hands folded with chilling calm. "Send in the next girl, Captain," she ordered.

He knelt quickly, then stood at respectful attention. "My lord, I must beg you, please stop these interrogations. Your servants are faithful, and would never tell your secrets to your enemies."

"How would you know that?" she snapped. Then her eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Unless you're the one….."

"I am not a spy. I am loyal to the Fire Nation." Raiden stated his untruth firmly, with complete conviction. He realized that this was not a matter of treason and statecraft to Azula. She was reacting this way because discovering treachery in her house felt to her like being stabbed in the back by a friend. After all, she had already lost her closest companions in similar circumstances. To calm her anxiety, to feel safe in her home, she needed strong, dependable, even devoted, reassurance. So he stepped closer, into personal territory. "I would never betray you," he vowed, his voice low and fervent.

She stared at him searchingly for a full minute after his assertion, assessing him. He held her eyes, concentrating on the grain of truth in his words to keep his body from showing his bald lie. Yes, he had spied on her, but he was not only, not even primarily, a spy. As far as he was concerned, his most important mission was her wellbeing, and that included preventing her from doing harm to others. He was indeed loyal to the ancient ideals of the Fire Nation, which Sozin had trampled when he began to conquer other countries. He was holding true to his resolution to help her, to save her from herself, so in that sense he had not betrayed her, and he fully intended to keep that promise. His personal loyalty went far deeper than she could see in this moment.

She seemed to buy it. At least, she didn't directly challenge his declaration, but questioned him from a different angle. "If you, and your guards, and the servants and staff, are all innocent, then how did Aang know about my spy in the Resistance?" she demanded.

"My lord, I ask you, what is a more logical explanation for what happened?" Raiden inquired pointedly. "That one of your loyal palace employees, all of whom passed a background check at hiring and are subject daily to high level security measures, found a way to pass sensitive information through border control all the way to another continent, while avoiding the Fire Nation soldiers stationed there? Or that a spy you never met in person, who was chosen by a man you just fired for incompetence, was unable to maintain his cover while surrounded every day by members of an organization so sophisticated that they've evaded capture by the best army in the world for years?"

She stared at him in silence for a solid minute. He held her gaze again, with more confidence this time. It was another lie, of course, but a much better one. Not just an assertion, but a sensible argument. Each second she stayed quiet made him relax a little more, in the growing certainty that she still had enough reason to recognize the strength of his defense.

Finally, she looked down, her mouth screwed up with chagrin. He'd seen her make the same face when she missed a target in her recent practices.

Raiden knew then that he had the advantage, and decided to build on it. His voice lowered and he leaned in, speaking confidentially. "My lord, I know you're upset by what happened in the desert. You're not sleeping well, and I don't think you've eaten anything in days either. But taking it out on the staff doesn't help anyone, especially when the real traitor is far away."

"The Resistance probably already killed him anyway," she whispered with a sigh.

"Probably," he feigned agreement, secretly delighted to hear her make this assumption. If Azula presumed the spy dead, she wouldn't even bother going after him. Raiden's choice to protect himself (and her, and the other palace employees) by blaming Yoshio would be a safe, bloodless one. The relief he felt was nearly overwhelming. He tempered his grin of triumph into a soft smile of gentle encouragement. "You've got to take better care of yourself, my lord. That's what really matters now."

To seal their agreement, he reached into his bag and pulled out a roll, one of the sugary, jelly-filled kind that he had noticed she liked. Her eyes widened, and she swallowed; he could tell the mere sight of the pastry was making her mouth water. He extended the roll to her, but she leaned away from it, as if it were a snarling animal.

Knowing she feared poison, he ripped the roll in two, and took a bite from half, to prove it was safe. Then he offered her the other half.

So quickly he barely saw her move, Azula stood and reached over the desk to grab the piece he had just bitten out of his hand. Before he could even react, she stuffed the entire thing into her mouth.

Author's Note: I hope you liked this chapter! Please leave me a review!