Father visits Azula on the last day of the week. That's all Zuko knows. She wouldn't say anything more than that. And when Azula is stubborn, he usually knows better than to poke her with questions.
Instead, she eats the fireflakes he'd brought for her. All three bags, which he assumes has to be some new record.
When Azula has eaten all of them, he goes to throw it away. In the trash bin, Zuko finds Mother's book, as well as Ty Lee's charm. They're snapped in half.
Someone had broken them.
When the nurses finally let Azula leave the nursery, she does so with a pout. She walks right up to Zuko's room and goes inside. He's sleeping on his bed like a lazy dummy. He's not practicing.
She taps his nose. He stirs a bit. She taps his nose again. This time, more forcefully.
He wakes up in a jolt. His eyes swirl, then focus on her. "Azula? You're out?"
She nods.
"But--"
She puts her hand on his cheek and pinches it.
"Hey!"
"That's for calling me a crippled," she says.
He blinks, utterly baffled. Then he caresses his cheek, as if the pain is finally registering.
Making sure it's extra painful this time, she pinches his cheek again.
"Ow!"
"That's for not practicing, stupid."
He's obviously affronted by this accusation. "I do practice! Just not at midnight," he says, rubbing his cheek.
"Practice harder." She goes to pinch him again, but he dodges this time.
"Practice harder?" Zuko says, now sitting upright. "I did!"
"I don't care. More dedication. More intensity. More hours," Azula says.
His glare turns into a frown. Why?"
"Because I said so."
"But why?"
Because one day, stupid, I'm not going to be able to teach you anymore, Azula thinks. She doesn't say it out loud though. She can't. It causes a lump in her throat. It makes her remember Father's poisonous words.
"Understand?" She says merely.
He shakes his head. "No."
That makes her stomp on the ground. "Dummy!" She reaches for his head this time, but he stops her arm just before she hits him. Her eyes widen.
His grip is soft, but still able to hold her arm completely still. It's not like Father at all.
Zuko looks at her, his eyes suddenly darkened. "This is about him visiting you, isn't it?"
It is. It is. It is, it is, it is, it--
"Why would it be about him, dummy?" she says. "I'm just reminding you about training."
"What did he say?" Zuko says, his frown deepening.
"Nothing."
He meets her eyes. His grip on her arm tightens. "You're lying. Again."
It starts to hurt.
"Let me go," Azula says.
"What did he say?" His grip grows even tighter.
She winces. "Let me go, Zuzu."
He does immediately. He blinks at her. There's a look of horror on his face as if he just realized what he'd done. He slaps his face. "Did I hurt you?"
"A little," she says, rubbing a hand through her arm.
To say he overreacted would be an understatement. He crumples onto the bed. "Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry!"
If Father had seen this, he would've almost definitely banished him away forever. Immediately, all her pain washes away as Azula looks on with an appalled face.
She knocks the back of his head.
"Ow!"
"Get up. You're a prince, not a peasant, stupid," she says with a glare.
Zuko sits upright, a blush in his face. His hair is messed. He looks down, and up, and then at her. "Sorry. I just ... don't want to hurt you."
"Mmm." She shrugs, because she knows it's the truth. Zuko never lies. "Five fireflakes bags, then, to make it up."
"Five?" Zuko's jaw drops.
"Mhm."
"Fine."
Azula looks around. She yawns, suddenly tired. Her room is farther away. Moreover, with her leg still healing, limping over there seemed far less appealing than the soft bed staring right in front of her. She looks at Zuko. "I'm sleeping here."
He blinks again. "Huh?"
Before he can say anything, she lays on his bed next to him. It's soft, much more comfortable than the one in the nursery.
"I didn't even say yes," Zuko protests behind her.
"Can I sleep here?"
A pause. "...yes." He sighs behind her. Then taps her back.
"What?" She turns around.
"Blanket," he says simply.
She grabs it and wraps it around her tightly.
"Hey, don't take all of it, 'Zula. I need some too."
"I'm taking all of it."
"Hey!"
She smirks. Then she reluctantly gives back some of the blanket. With that, Azula shuts her eyes. Just as quickly as she'd gotten onto the bed, she falls asleep.
Azula doesn't tell him that Father knows about the secret training. She doesn't tell him that Father made the nurses let her go early before her treatment finished. She doesn't tell him that she'd limped to his room.
She doesn't tell him that Father had threatened to kill her.
They train everyday after in the dead of night. She becomes extra careful of the servants, and their noise. When Zuko asks why she's doing all of this, she tells the big dum-dum to shut up. She doesn't want to tell him the truth. It would make him too scared.
For her leg, she learns to ignore the sharp pain. She actually manages to fake a poker face well. Years of lying will do that.
The first time they'd went back to her garden, the flowers hadn't wilted. Zuko tells her Mother has been watering them. Azula doesn't know how to feel. She'd half-heartedly shrugged and continued on with the lesson. Though, when Zuko accidentally incinerates one of her flowers, she pinches the back of his head more than once.
He has gotten better since the last time they held a training session. Just a little. His footwork has become passable. And when he does a particularly hard spinning kata correctly, she can't help but a smile proudly. Just a little, of course.
On the third day, Azula decides to finish earlier. Partly because she's tired. Partly because she feels Zuko has already given it his all.
She brushes her legs, and stands up. "We're done."
The pale lunar light hits Zuko's eyes as he turns around. Sweat runs down his forehead. The flowers around them wave with the wind.
"Alright," he says. He walks next to her. There's the smell of sweat.
She pinches her nose. "You stink."
He grimaces slightly. "Sorry."
"Ew. You're like one of Uncle's old socks." She pretends to throw up.
Zuko smiles. "That's impossible."
"You're right." She sighs, tapping her chin. "You're more like ... one of Uncle's new socks."
He laughs, his eyes glittering. "Thanks 'Zula."
She frowns. "For what?"
He shrugs. "For training me, and stuff."
She smiles, but then sighs like Mother. "How many times have I told you? Don't add 'and stuff.' That's unbecoming of a prince.'"
"Seriously, 'Zula?"
She rolls her eyes. "You're such a dork."
"You're the one trying to correct my grammar," he grumbles.
She doesn't say anything. She waits for Zuko go next to her shoulder. Then they walk back to the palace together.
Masking the pain in her leg gets harder with each step. It's like her leg is being squeezed, and it gets sharper every time.
Halfway back to the palace in the secret passageways, Zuko stops walking, leaving her to turn back with a frown.
"You're limping." He says like it's a nonchalant observation, but the deep undertones of his voice make it seem more than that.
She tilts her head. "What're you talking, dum-dum?"
"Are you still feeling pain?"
"No," she says, mastering her face to be still. But a sharp surge of pain from her leg makes her face twitch. Slightly.
"Why do you always do this?" he says.
"Do what?"
"You always lie. Lie that you're fine when you're not." He walks over to her. "Why?"
"What kind of question is that? And this is none of your business," she snaps with a pout.
"I'm your brother. Don't ever say that again."
"It's none of your business. What're you going to do about it Zuzu?"
He rubs his hair, as if thinking about something. There's a silence that stretches between them.
"I'm carrying you back," Zuko says finally.
"Nope. Not again," she says, crossing her arms.
"Okay. Is that your final answer?"
"Yes."
He swoops her up, grabbing her legs first. Azula feels her breath catch in her throat. Before she can even know it, she's against Zuko's chest. How dare he? She thinks. She kicks her legs, but he doesn't budge.
"We can do this or the piggyback ride," he says simply. "Choose."
"I choose none!" she says, banging her hands against his chest.
"We're doing this then," he says. He starts walking.
This--! She grumbles. She kicks and squirms for a few minutes, but even she isn't stubborn enough to realize that fighting back is useless. Especially when Zuko is like this.
"Wait," she says after a few minutes.
"Hmm?"
She grunts, forcing the words out. "I ... choose the piggyback ride."
"You sure?" He says.
"Yes, stupid."
"Thank Agni." When she frowns, he says, "I don't think I could've held you any longer like this."
She gives him a good look, and she realizes: Zuko looks like he's going to pass out from carrying her.
"Jerk!" she says, slapping his arm.
"Huh?"
It takes a week for Azula's leg to finally heal. It's shorter than she expected. The sharp pain had been replaced with a dull one, which she could at least ignore most of the time.
Father has been going easy on her this week in training too. She doesn't know why. But it's definitely not out of empathy.
In the morning, when Azula and Zuko are eating breakfast, Mother says, "we have an audience with Fire Lord Azulon today."
Azula looks up, her eyes wide. "What for?"
"Your Father requested it. Drink up," Mother says, giving her a cup of tea.
"But why?" Zuko says, his face slightly uneasy.
Mother smiles, though her eyes seem weirdly sad. She runs a hand through both of her heads.
Azula isn't pleased about that. "Mother, stop," she says with a groan.
Mother simply laughs. "Be ready. Best dresses, alright dears?"
"Yes," they both say together.
Dressing in white is the easy part. Going into the throne room is actually the challenge. For one, Zuko has never been there more than three times. For two, he never wants to go there again. For three, and most importantly, it's because the fire that surrounds the throne has always made his heart beat faster than it should've.
In other words, it scares him. And as the prince of the Fire Nation, that's very embarrassing.
Zuko chooses not to worry about any of that. He goes to his room and changes into his most formal royal robes.
As he's walking through the hallway, he bumps into Azula. She's wearing white as well, with golden lines on her cuff and shoulder.
"'Zula, walk with me?" He says.
She nods. They walk down to where Mother is: the garden.
As they do, Zuko asks, "why do you think Father requested an audience with Grandfather?"
Azula shrugs. "Your guess is as good as mine." She flicks a strand of hair back. "You said Mother and Father were arguing when I was in the nursery?"
"Mhm." They turn to the right.
"It could be about that." She ponders for a few seconds. "We should be ready then."
Zuko frowns, not understanding what she's trying to get at. "Ready for what?"
"Anything."
When he realizes she won't say more, he grunts. Confusing as always. He grabs his left hand, which is cold, and realizes: it's trembling.
Azula seems to notice this too. She stops walking abruptly, then turns to him. "Are you scared?" She says.
"Maybe." His eyes dart everywhere but her gaze.
"Of who? Father? Grandfather?" She scoffs at that. "No way. He's just an old man, Zuzu."
"It's no one," he says. He closes his eyes, wishing he wasn't ever this weak. "It's just ... "
"Just what?"
He grimaces. "The throne room has a lot of fire."
Her eyes turn into a narrow gaze. "You're scared of fire?"
"...yes."
"Seriously, Zuzu?"
He feels his face grow hot. "Listen, a lot of fire scares me. I don't know why. It just does! Don't make fun of me."
"I'm not," Azula says. She sighs dramatically. "Though, you do know we're in the Fire Nation right?"
"Obviously." He grunts. "I thought you said you weren't going to make fun of me."
"Just checking."
She grabs his hands, her fingers interlacing with his. They're warm. They're much smaller than his, but he knows it's a facade. Azula's hands hold much more power than his.
"There," she says. She looks at him. "Did you stop shaking?"
"Not really," he mumbles.
"Oh." She frowns, as if she'd actually expected that to work. Maybe Azula can come up with dumb plans once in a while. "Well, we should go to Mother then as quickly as we can."
"I don't want to embarrass myself in front of Mother, too," he says.
She gives him a good look. "Zuzu. Mother watches you embarrass yourself everyday. Trust me, she'll know how to make you feel better. She always does."
It's mean, but Zuko grudgingly admits that Azula is kind of right.
"Come on." Hand still holding his, she leads the way to the garden.
Mother is sitting on a bench near the fountain. Her dress is white as well, and it makes her look a lot more elegant than she already is. When she sees them, she rises.
"You two are almost late," she says seriously.
"Sorry, Mother. Zuzu got scared," Azula says.
"Yeah," Zuko says, blushing.
Mother frowns. "Scared? Of what, dear?"
"Fire."
"Really?"
He nods.
Mother keeps her frown for a second. Then she crouches down, putting a hand on his shoulder. She tickles him in the stomach.
"Hey!" He tries to recoil. But it's futile. In a moment, he's laughing to the point of tears.
"There? Scared now?" Mother says, smiling.
"No!"
She laughs, then grabs his hand. "Come. Azula?"
Azula takes her hand, though with a pout. "Don't even think about trying that on me, Mother," she says.
Mother simply laughs again. "I wouldn't dare, dear," she says, her voice sweet and smooth like honey.
The throne room is hot. Fire consumes the entire surrounding.
As they bow to the Fire Lord Azulon, Zuko has to adjust his collar with his hand. Azula sits next to him. Though her face doesn't show it, he can tell by her sweat that it's getting hot for her too.
Mother, on the other hand, is completely poised. Father's next to her. He's smiling. It has a slight edge to it.
A sharp nudge from Azula makes him realize they're supposed to rise. They do, and he finally gets a good look at Azulon.
Azulon looks old. By far the oldest person Zuko has ever seen. He makes Uncle look young. He sits above them in a great chair surrounded by terrible walls of fire. His eyes are watching.
"Prince Ozai, you called this summon. Why?" He says. His voice bellows through the room. The vibrations rumble under Zuko's feet.
"Please, Father, with due time," Father says, his voice low. "May I, at first, show the prowess of my child, especially ..." a pause, "as you may have heard, my daughter."
Azulon's face is impossible to read through the wall of flame. He waves his hand. "What would you show me?"
"Azula," Father says. "Show your grandfather the move you showed me."
"Good luck," Zuko whispers to Azula, who doesn't look quite surprised by this request.
"Thanks," she whispers back. She gets up and stands in front of Azulon. With a small bow, she spreads her stance wide. Zuko immediately recognizes this kata. It's one Azula said was one of the most advanced.
If she can pull it off here...
Azula weaves fire like it's an extension of her hand. Zuko's eyes can't look away. Her fire moves so smoothly around her. So fluidly. It's like silk. A silk dragon dancing among her.
Father's smile gets wider, but Zuko notices Azulon still wears the same blank expression.
When she's done, she bows again, then returns to her seat.
"Good job," he whispers to her.
She nudges his elbow, flashing him a satisfied smile.
"She's a true prodigy," Father says, his voice now high with pride. "She's just like her grandfather, for whom she's named--"
"And what of Prince Zuko?" Azulon says, his voice echoing.
Father's smile drops immediately. "Him?" His voice is void of all the punctuality of before. Father coughs to hide it. Then, he looks straight at Zuko, making his skin chill. "Well then. Zuko, rise."
Zuko freezes. Ignoring Mother's concerned look, he does as he's told. But he doesn't even know what to do. What kata could top what Azula did?
He decides on doing a kata he's been practicing with her. It's not advanced, but it's at least something.
He breathes in. Out. He goes into the stance, remembering to plant his feet solidly on the ground. Fire comes out of his hands. Then comes the second hardest move. The kick.
He kicks the air.
And falls.
It isn't the shameless-but still poised-type of fall. It's the utterly embarrassing type. Where he falls face-first onto the wood floor, and grunts.
A gasp behind him. Most likely Mother.
Zuko lifts himself immediately from the floor. The shame from Azula's disappointed look would make him feel too guilty. Nor does he want to make Mother sad.
So he doesn't give up. Do it again, he tells himself. Come on! Breathe in. Out. He does the kick perfectly. Then comes the hardest move of this kata. A forward dash and kick with a backflip. It's a combination of various moves. Moves Zuko hasn't mastered.
But he can do it. He can do it. He's done it before. He can--
He falls. Again. Azulon's face is still expressionless, though his eyes narrow.
Zuko hears footsteps behind him. It's Mother. She puts her hands on his shoulders.
"I failed," he whispers.
She shakes her head. "No. I loved watching you. That's who you are, Zuko."
"But--"
"You're someone who keeps fighting even though it's hard. Understand?"
He doesn't, but he doesn't say anything. He swallows.
"Enough!" Azulon yells above them. "Tell me what you want, Prince Ozai. Everyone else, leave."
Mother brings Zuko up to stand. Azula's behind them. She's frowning. Her eyes are locked on Father.
Mother goes first out of the dark entrance to the throne room. Just as he is about to as well, Azula grabs his hand.
"--Azula?" He says.
"Shut up, dummy!" She whispers.
They run somewhere. She stops behind a pillar, and nudges his body next to her. He's confused, then he realizes what they're actually doing: eavesdropping on Father.
"'Zula, why?"
"Shh!" She glares at him.
"--Father, you must've realized, as I have," Father was saying, "that with Lu Ten gone, Iroh's bloodline has ended."
Azulon makes no remark at that, though his eyebrow furrows. A silence rings across the room. One that lasts too long. Zuko can hear Azula's slow breaths against his ear.
When no other remark is made, Father speaks again.
"After Lu Ten's death, my brother abandoned the siege at Ba Sing Se. Who knows when he will return home." He pauses, as if to gauge Azulon's reaction. A smile grows on Father's face. "But I am here, and my children are alive."
"Say it is what you want," Azulon bellows.
Father flinches a little, but keeps his smile. He rises up, standing.
Zuko can feel Azula's sharp gasp. Rising before the Fire Lord without permission was a slight, reserved only for one who had a wish to die.
"Father, revoke Iroh's birthright. I am your humble servant, here to serve the nation. Use me."
A silence. Then Azulon yells. It's so loud that Zuko feels Azula grab his hand. The fire wall grows twice as high, almost reaching the ceiling. His heart races.
He has never seen anyone yell at Father like this before. What was going on?
"You dare suggest I betray Iroh? My first born?" Azulon roars. "Directly after the demise of his only beloved son?"
Father's smile is completely wiped from his face. "No--"
"I think Iroh has suffered enough! But you ... your punishment has scarcely begun!"
"Punishment?" Father's voice rises.
"You will know what it's like to lose your firstborn!"
"My firstborn?" Father yells, clenching his fist. "You mean to make me to kill my own son?"
"For dishonoring Iroh, yes!"
"But--!"
"My word is final, Prince Ozai! If you even want to stay as a prince, you will do this. Now leave!"
The flames burst again. A surge of heat hits the room. Zuko takes a step back. Then back. And back. Leaning against the wall, his body falls down by itself.
Kill ... him? No, Father wouldn't ...
Coldness rushes into his face. He pinches himself, and feels nothing. His hands tremble.
A terrible thought rushes through his head: Father would, wouldn't he? He would do anything to maintain his power.
Not him. No. For the first time, a new feeling emerges inside of him. It's worse than fear. Any fear. It's the fear of death.
Azula's frozen too. She's standing still. Slowly, she turns back to him. Her face is pale.
"Zuko," she says, looking at him square in the eyes. "We need to run."
AN: Finally crossing roads with canon :)