Author's note: Content warning for in-universe racial slurs.

Chapter 26

Azula stood on the ship's deck long after General Fong and his people returned to shore, peering west into the changing sky.

Would Aang be proud of her, she wondered. Surely he'd say she did the right thing. Though she had wanted nothing more than to burn that general alive, to cut a bloody swath across the continent, or at least to throw a spectacular tantrum, she had chosen peace. She fulfilled her promise. In her jacket pocket she found the picture of Minato, one of the soldiers whose life she had just purchased with her disgrace. If Aang hadn't interceded for them with the Earth King, Fong might have killed them just for spite before she even had a chance to negotiate for them. And now, thanks to his word and her sacrifice, they were coming home. She might have felt glad, or at least relieved, except that her training had taught her that at this moment she should feel the deepest shame.

Her fingers brushed the back of her head, as she marveled at the different texture of her hair at this length, with the ends so close. Would Aang like her hair this way? He had described airbender women with partially shaved heads, but this was not the same style.

The wind tumbled Azula's short, loose, uneven hair, even touching her scalp, nearly bare on top. That was a new sensation for her. She recalled how Aang had begged to be allowed to shave his head, waxing eloquent about exactly this feeling. It felt nice, she had to admit. It felt free.

Her assistant Joshu approached timidly. She welcomed the sight of him because he reminded her of all the work she had to do, and she desperately needed a distraction. She began to give him some notes to take down.

"We must order another review of the textbooks," the Fire Lord dictated. Her voice sounded odd to her, disconnected. "Probably the first wasn't completed yet. That's good. Economical."

"What must the textbooks say?" Joshu asked softly, taking out his notepad.

"The war was an unjust atrocity that Sozin, Azulon, and Ozai inflicted upon the world. It was wrong from the beginning. It is something we should be ashamed of and must never repeat." On pain of five thousand deaths, the general had extracted from her a pledge to change her culture at its root. The pressure he'd put on her was unfair, and that part of their agreement was completely unenforceable. But it was strange. Though she had given up her honor, she still felt honor bound to complete her side of the bargain. After all, the soldiers were coming back.

She heard a gasp behind her and turned. It was the captain. As soon as she met his eyes, he fell to one knee, holding up the crown she had handed him in exchange for his knife.

She couldn't help laughing at his overdramatic display. He offered her symbol of office, but she wasn't sure she was worthy of it anymore. "Captain, I've no hair to hold that thing on my head."

He stood, his face red. "Perhaps the royal jeweler can alter it?" he suggested sheepishly. "And Peony can…help even you out."

She agreed, and they went in search of her maid, a girl trained to perform various beauty treatments. When they found Peony, the girl burst into tears at the sight of her mistress's mutilated head.

The captain gave the maid a handkerchief and whispered to her, so that she pulled herself together.

"I'm sorry, my lord," the girl sniffed. "Let us go down to your cabin, and I will help you set the new hairstyle trend."

Raiden entrusted the Fire Lord to her maidservant, confident the cheerful, skilled girl would be able to help Azula handle the changes to her appearance. Right now, she was still in shock, so he had specifically instructed Peony not to let Azula see a mirror until she looked positively regal.

But her looks were not the focus of his concern for her recovery from this loss. He knew that, like every noblewomen he'd ever met, Azula was vain, but she wore her beauty lightly, took it for granted, knowing she had so many more skills beyond simply acting as an ornament. Her hair had certainly been beautiful, but her other features were so striking that losing her hair might only accentuate them. (Luckily, those two tendrils that framed her face had survived the knife untouched. He felt personally grateful for that small mercy.) Azula would find something to appreciate in her altered appearance easily enough, he was sure. Besides, hair grows.

What mattered was the meaning of this haircut. That was what would really cause the Fire Lord to struggle. It was also what made her utterly transcendent to Raiden, unkempt tresses and all.

When he heard what she said about the textbooks, the captain had been even more shocked than he had been by her decision to cut her hair in the first place. She meant it, he realized. It wasn't just a show. She's going to change everything.

He still felt a bit ridiculous for kneeling to give her back her crown, but he hadn't been able to help his automatic reaction. He was overcome with admiration for the queen she was becoming before his very eyes. Azula was able to give a few brittle laughs at his overly formal gesture, adding to his optimism for her adjustment.

That comment about not being able to wear her crown anymore troubled him, though. Given her upbringing, surrendering her honor that way must have been the hardest thing she'd ever done. Azula had acted under duress, not out of conviction, but it was a beginning, a change that might stick. When she made that choice, she was still steeped in her father's ideology, which made it both painful and laudable. To endure this "disgrace," she would have to reject everything she'd ever been taught. The cognitive dissonance she must be enduring right now would rip many lesser brains to shreds.

But Raiden was more committed than he'd ever been to helping her, and he had an idea for getting her through that process of reappraising her beliefs. Or at least, for making her feel less alone.

That night he called his guards together in the ship's galley. They gathered around the tables where they'd eaten their meals during this journey and waited for their captain to address them.

"This is an informal gathering," he began. "I thought we should talk about what happened today."

"Did you know she had that in her?" Takeo wondered.

"I was as surprised as you were, trust me," he shook his head in wonder.

"When will the five thousand come home?" inquired another guard.

"They'll board a ship tomorrow, and we'll escort them back."

"What will people think at home? Will there be a revolt?" Saburo, one of the youngest, asked, with some trepidation.

"It's possible," his captain acknowledged.

"She's not the first Fire Lord to lose her topknot," Naoki protested.

"No, but those other situations were very different." Raiden recalled past Fire Lords who cut their hair because they lost a bet or duel, broke a marriage vow, or a promise to a family member. A couple had even been strong-armed by a rival clan, but he could not remember any international incidents in history that had resulted in such dishonor. "Besides, there is already opposition to ending the war. When the terms of the treaty are made public, there might be protests. We should be ready for that."

The guards nodded at each other, resolved to do their duty.

Raiden surveyed his guards, giving them a moment to speak up again before he went on. "If you don't have any other questions, then I'm ready to let you know the main reason I called you together. I want you to see me do this." He pulled scissors and a razor from his pocket and set them solemnly on the table. They knew instantly what he meant.

"Raiden, you don't have to…." Takeo objected.

"I know I don't have to. I want to." he affirmed. "I didn't start the war, or give orders that continued it, but like every Fire Nation citizen, I was complicit. The dishonor of this war does not fall only on our leaders."

"You're just as bad as she is," Zentai, Raiden's least favorite member of his guard, burst out. "Blood traitor! Mudlicker!"

Raiden grinned. Gotcha. "Private Zentai, you're relieved of duty, pending your court martial."

"What?" The older guard gaped.

"You know that language is no longer tolerated." Raiden was grateful his proposal for changes to the code of conduct had been approved, setting strict consequences for the use of certain words. It felt like he had set a trap for the older man, and he'd walked right into it. He never would have thought being called a slur would feel so satisfying. He couldn't resist digging in a little. "I appreciate your saying it in front of plenty of witnesses, though. Should make it easy to take away your pension."

"Fuck you, Captain. The Fire Lord has made you her little bitch." He gave a nasty chuckle. "Mud isn't the only thing you've been licking."

Raiden felt his neck heating up, and he gritted his teeth. "Thanks for letting me add insubordination and sexual harassment to your charges."

"Shall I escort him to the barracks, Captain? Takeo asked, drawing himself up to his full height next to the offender.

"No need, kiss-ass. When the New Ozai Society takes back our country, you'll be among the first to fall." Zentai spat at the captain's feet and stormed off.

Looking around to see his men's reaction to the disturbance, Raiden realized that Zentai had done him another favor: by acting deplorably, he had subtly pushed the rest of the guards in the opposite direction, closer to Raiden's position. Zentai was unpopular among the younger, more enlightened guards, and none of them wanted to align themselves with him, even though some probably found their captain's ideas a bit too subversive. Truthfully, they were all happy to see him go.

Calling their attention back to his purpose, Raiden looked down at the scissors and razor, ordinary objects that took up an inordinate amount of space in the room.

"If you cut your hair, are we expected to do the same?" asked a pale new recruit.

"No. I would never give you that order. It's entirely your choice." Raiden assured them. "But if you do choose to follow me in this, it will send a powerful message to the whole country. It will not be easy for the Fire Nation to accept this defeat, but we can help lead the way."

"You mean it will help the Fire Lord." Naoki pointed out.

"Yes, it will help her," he agreed, aware of what his friend meant. She thought he was doing this because of his crush. That was only because he didn't talk politics with her, so she didn't know the depth of his sentiments regarding his country's actions in the world. "Our support will bolster both her public image and her own morale. But, please, don't cut your hair unless you agree with why she cut hers."

"She did it to save the soldiers. She never would have disfigured herself that way if their lives weren't on the line," one of the younger guards declared.

"That's true. Do you think she did the right thing?" the captain inquired.

Nods and murmurs of understanding passed through the group. Of course they sympathized with the captive soldiers. Raiden could feel them turning.

"That earthbender general is the one I blame," Saburo burst out. "He didn't have to make such an unreasonable demand. He disrespected our entire culture!"

An even stronger wave of agreement swept over the guards. It felt good to identify an enemy.

"And it was totally unnecessary. She already gave him everything he wanted! All that territory, all those ships and tanks!" Saburo's roommate concurred.

"I thought you were going to slug him when he called himself The Barber!" Takeo elbowed the captain.

Raiden shook his head in agreement, jaw tensing. He thanked Agni that he wasn't hotheaded by nature. Restraining himself in that moment had not been easy. "That bastard's gloating was nasty, and inexcusable."

"Not to mention inaccurate. He didn't touch her hair at all." pointed out a particularly literal-minded guard.

"It went beyond disrespect. He was daring her to react. Trying to provoke her. And us." Saburo fumed.

"He is so lucky she walked away. She could have burnt him to a crisp. You've seen what she does to those dummies in training. Just fwoosh." The youngest guard gestured enthusiastically, sketching an instant conflagration in the air.

Raiden could sense that the men could have talked all night about their resentment of the general, so he held up his hand to redirect the conversation. "Two things can be true. Fong went too far by threatening the soldiers and by exalting in the Fire Lord's disgrace. And he also had a valid point about the war. Perhaps if you put aside his reprehensible actions, you can understand from his point of view why he demanded satisfaction in that particular way."

"Maybe he sees our honor culture as an advantage in war, like our technology," Takeo mused, thinking aloud. "We dominated his continent for decades because of what failure meant for us. So he wanted to break us of that way of thinking, so that we'll give up more easily in the future."

"Well, let's not anticipate another war," Raiden cautioned. "But there might be something to that analysis."

"If the Fire Nation had been invaded, I wouldn't want peace on any terms but the other country's complete subjugation," Naoki murmured thoughtfully. "So you could say Fong let us off easy."

"But still, I can't believe the Fire Lord just gave in like that. To lie down and let herself be sheared like a koala sheep, it's…..such a degradation." Saburo judged, his lip curling with disgust. Raiden couldn't blame him, not entirely. He was merely voicing the instinctive revulsion they all had been trained to feel for short hair, and the disgrace it signified.

"Would it have been worth five thousand lives for the Fire Lord to keep her hair?" the captain asked, trying to be as pragmatic as possible, knowing how hard it was to detach these symbols from their meanings.

"Her honor is the nation's honor," argued Saburo, lifting his stubborn chin.

"Then the question is whether you feel the war was dishonorable." He looked into each of his guards' eyes and lowered his voice. "I know that most of you served in the Earth Kingdom. Are you truly proud of what you did there? Did you feel like a hero, or a bully?"

In silence they all remembered some things they would rather have forgotten.

"I'll do it," Naoki was the first to agree. "As long as I don't have to sing about it."

The guards laughed, and a few of them began singing, "Fire Lord, my flame burns for thee," just to tease Naoki. Some good-natured shoving ensued, beers were opened, and they got to work.

The guards helped each other shave their heads, to varying degrees of closeness. (Three declined, and retired to bed, with no hard feelings on either side.) The severing of the topknot was all that was strictly necessary for the sake of tradition, but it left the hair uneven, so they trimmed the remainder at least to the length of the shortest pieces. Raiden went completely bald. Only a couple others went so far; most left a spiky stubble of about a finger's width. Naoki and the other women kept about three inches length.

Raiden surveyed his newly shorn guards, ran his fingers over his own bare scalp, and recalled the quick, sure stroke of the Fire Lord's knife over her own head. There was a warm feeling in his chest that it took him a moment to recognize: he was burning with pride.

The following morning, the captain showed up for duty in her stateroom without his topknot.

Azula gaped at him, then protested. "Why on earth did you do that, Captain?"

"In solidarity with you, my lord, and the soldiers your sacrifice freed." He bowed.

"That was not necessary."

"Your royal guard goes above and beyond the call of duty."

He meant he wasn't the only one. There was something pious about his words that rankled her. "People will think I ordered you to do it. That I wasn't content to dishonor myself, but insisted that an entire regiment of blameless guards share my shame."

He paled, and it seemed he hadn't thought of that. "Well, not all of the guards chose to follow my lead. Surely if you had mandated this action, you would have mandated it for all."

That was reasonable enough, she had to admit. She gazed at him, assessing. Was he some kind of sycophant, hoping to win favor by flattering her? Surely this was too extreme a measure to take just for advancement. It seemed more likely that his choice issued from genuine conviction. She had detected a hint of radical politics in their few discussions of Fire Nation history. Well, she supposed people would think she was a radical now, too. What was that like, she wondered, being a radical?

"I don't understand you, Captain," she stated flatly, hoping he would elaborate.

"I told the other guards that the shame of the war does not fall only on the Fire Lord, but on the entire nation," he explained.

She cocked her head at him quizzically. "We have an absolute monarchy, Captain. It's not as if Sozin held a referendum on the genocide and the people voted in favor."

"Nevertheless, my lord, some of us felt we had things to atone for. As citizens and as soldiers." he answered, his spine tall and straight.

It was true that warmongering sentiment was rampant in the Fire Nation, and that prejudice against the other countries of the world was widespread. The prosperity her citizens enjoyed had been won at the cost of suffering in other parts of the globe. If the guards felt guilty, then maybe that meant she should too. She blocked out the thought of some of the orders she'd given during her campaigns in the Earth Kingdom.

The ambassador approached and did a double take when she saw the bald captain. But rather than commenting, she got down to business. "Excuse me, my lord, I have word about the ship carrying the soldiers."

The captain began to back away. He had a tactful way of fading into the background when he wasn't needed, but somehow he also always managed to be there whenever she needed him. The ambassador's message was clearly more urgent, so he was about to make himself scarce.

But before he left, Azula called after him. "Captain." He looked up at her, his shaved head catching a gleam of sunlight. "Thank you."

The captain bowed, clicking his heels smartly as he turned to go.

Author's Note: What did you think of Raiden's action here? Let me know in a review! Thanks for reading!