The moon hung in the sky like a sharp sword, its cold light cutting through the shadows that gathered over the broken rooftops of the city. The war had left deep scars, but none more marked than those who survived, those who still struggled with what was left of themselves.
Atop a crumbling terrace, Aang stood alone, in complete silence. His yellow and orange robes fluttered gently in the night breeze, like a drifting flag. His eyes, normally so full of a calm light, were empty, lost in the stars, trying to find something to anchor him to a world that was crumbling around him.
A sharp sound broke the stillness of the night: the soft creaking of the terrace's loose door. Aang didn't need to turn around to know who had arrived.
Azula.
She made no noise as she walked. She didn't need to. She was like lightning, fast, precise, wrapped in an air of arrogance with every step she took. Her uniform, black and gold, was impeccable as always, but there was something about the way she moved that betrayed the tension she held within.
Azula didn't stop when she saw Aang. She approached, her gaze fixed on him, her golden eyes shining with an intensity that seemed capable of burning everything in her path. But something about her bearing wasn't the same. It was as if she were walking a tightrope, each step a small challenge to the void.
"You're late," Aang said, his voice soft but marked by a burden of sadness, as if he had been waiting for something that would never come.
Azula looked at him with a cold smile, that smile so perfectly molded on the face of someone who had learned not to let anything touch her, not even her own feelings.
"I don't have to explain myself, Avatar," she replied, her tone venomous, like a dagger hidden in an elegant hand.
Aang rose slowly, his movements gentle, as if the very idea of moving might shatter the fragility of the moment. His grey eyes searched hers, as if trying to understand the storm brewing behind her mask of coldness.
"What if you worry me?" he asked, his voice soft but persistent, as if that were the only snare he could still cast on her.
Azula blinked, as if those words had struck her with the same force as a bolt of lightning. She didn't say it, but for a second, her gaze wavered. Aang noticed it, though she quickly hid it under a veil of indifference.
"Worrying about me is as futile as trying to put out a fire with wind," she said, her words imbued with the same ferocity as an out-of-control flare. But there was something else in her voice. Something that was breaking, something that didn't want to be seen.
Aang took a step toward her, without thinking, his eyes shining with a softness that only he could show.
"I don't want to put out the fire, Azula. I just want to understand it."
Azula took a step back, her posture upright, but her face paled slightly. She couldn't let him see her vulnerable, she couldn't let him understand her. That would be the last thing she could tolerate.
"Understand me…" she repeated, as if those words caused her physical pain. She struggled to maintain her composure, but the air between them was beginning to tense, as if they could both feel the emotions on their skin threatening to spill over at any moment.
Aang didn't look away. He took another step toward her, and this time his hands met hers, gently, as if he feared that any sudden movement might make her disappear. Azula didn't pull away. She couldn't, though her fingers trembled slightly under his touch.
"I know you don't understand," Aang said, his tone calm, but filled with desperate sincerity. "But… don't you see that you are more than just fire, too?"
Azula looked at him, her expression as hard as steel, but in her eyes shone something she had never allowed herself to show: vulnerability. A chink in the armor she wore.
"You don't understand!" she exclaimed, her voice breaking the silence, and the venom in her words grew more pronounced. Azula pushed Aang's hands away, but didn't take a step back. The rage inside her bubbled, her chest rising and falling in rhythm with her quickened breathing. "I'm not a child, Aang. You can't save me. No one can."
Aang took a step back, feeling the intensity of her words pierce through him like an arrow. It was as if he were looking at someone who didn't recognize herself, someone who had been shaped by the flames of hatred and despair.
"I don't want to save you, Azula." Aang's reply was a whisper, but there was an unwavering determination in his eyes. "I just want to be with you."
Azula stood still for a moment, her golden eyes shining with fury, but also with something else, something she couldn't deny. Suddenly, the distance between them narrowed as if an invisible bond drew them together, and in that very instant, Azula kissed him. It was a fierce, urgent kiss, as if there was no room for anything else, as if the world would fall apart at any second.
But after a few seconds, she pulled away abruptly, her breathing ragged, her lips almost trembling. Azula's gaze darkened even further, and a torrent of emotions she couldn't control appeared in her eyes, but she didn't say anything.
"You're an idiot," she muttered, her voice cracking, though she tried to make it sound dismissive.
Aang smiled slightly, the sadness in his eyes barely concealed. He moved closer again, without hesitation.
"I'm your idiot, Azula."
Azula closed her eyes, her body tense, her hands clenched at her sides as if she couldn't contain the storm that was overflowing within her. Then, without another word, she stepped back and walked away from him.
Aang stood there, looking at her, his heart pounding, but with a peace only he could have. He knew he wasn't ending anything. This had only just begun. But something in the air, in the way Azula had looked at him before she left, told him that no matter what happened... she would return.
The moon continued to look down from above, witness to a love as dark and as bright as fire itself.
Azula walked silently across the terrace, her footsteps echoing like a sentence. Aang stood there, watching her walk away, his mind flooded by a sea of conflicting emotions. He felt the distance between them growing, even though she was still so close. The darkness of the night enveloped the city, but Azula's silhouette, with her imposing and majestic presence, seemed to be the only light at that moment.
The wind caressed his face, but he couldn't take his eyes off her. He watched her walk, her slender and confident body, so arrogant in her posture, so invulnerable. But he knew. He knew that beneath that shell of fire and pain, there was a broken woman, one who struggled to keep her world intact while everything crumbled around her. How could he not see that? Aang saw her clearly, beyond her fury, beyond her contempt.
Aang took a step towards her, then another. He followed her, not out of obligation or desperation, but because he felt he couldn't let her go. He couldn't let her give up what little of her soul she was letting out.
"Azula," he called, his voice low, but with the firmness of someone unwilling to give in.
She stopped dead, her back tense as a wire. She didn't look at him, but Aang saw how her shoulders rose, her breathing became faster, as if she were about to explode.
"What more do you want?" she asked, her voice cold, sharp, full of ice. But it wasn't a question for him. It was an internal cry, a demand for herself.
Aang took a step closer, and his tone, although soft, carried a contained desperation.
"What I want is the same thing I've always wanted. For you to let me in. For you to let me see what you really are."
Azula turned slowly, and her golden eyes flashed like flames that never go out.
"What do you know of what I am?" he asked with controlled fury. His lips curved into a bitter smile, as if it were impossible for him to understand. "You only see what you want to see! A clean soul, a pure heart. But I… I am the daughter of fire. I am what war has made of me. I am the mask I have been forced to wear so I don't fall apart."
Aang stared at her, a deep pain surging in his chest. Each word Azula said was a dagger thrown at him, but he didn't back down. He couldn't. He didn't want to.
"I'm not a fool, Azula," he replied, his voice firm, despite the pain he felt in each word. He stepped closer. "I know what you've been through. I know what you've suffered. But you don't have to carry that burden alone."
Azula looked at him as if she were looking at a stranger. His eyes were shining with fury, but also with something else. Something she couldn't acknowledge, or maybe didn't want to acknowledge. Aang reached out his hand, slowly, almost afraid that she would reject him immediately. But Azula didn't look away.
"You don't understand," she murmured, her voice shaking. Aang noticed it. Even if she tried to hide it, it was there. The vulnerability. The weakness she was so afraid to show. And, in that instant, he realized what was happening.
Azula was trapped. In her own fears, in her own feelings. She wanted to run away, yes. She wanted to deny what was happening, but something inside her, something deep and painful, was forcing her to face a truth she didn't want to accept.
Aang took a step closer, his breathing ragged. She didn't move, but something in her body seemed to give way, as if the heavy shell of ice that always surrounded her was beginning to crack, if only a little.
"What are you afraid of?" he asked softly. His eyes shone with a light Azula didn't recognize, but which she wanted as much as she feared.
Azula closed her eyes, her breathing quickened. She was fighting. Fighting the storm that was raging inside her. The fear of being vulnerable, of being seen, of not being enough.
"You… you are the Avatar," she said, almost like a plea. Her words were harsh, as if she were spitting them out. Aang watched her in silence, letting the words hang in the air between them. The distance between them narrowed with each beat of his heart.
"Yes," he replied, his tone low, but filled with a truth so deep that Azula could barely bear it. "But I am not just the Avatar. I am someone who sees you, Azula. Someone who understands you."
A tremor ran through Azula's body. Her golden eyes flashed with something new. Pain. Desperation. And maybe, though she didn't say it, a glimmer of hope. But she couldn't let it show. She couldn't let him get this close. Not without destroying what was left of her.
Suddenly, with a swiftness that surprised Aang, Azula took a step back, away from him. Her eyes were shining, but not from the anger or fire that used to be her refuge, but from a mix of unshed tears and raw emotions.
"Don't come any closer," she said, her voice shaky, but filled with desperate firmness.
Aang didn't back away. His heart was beating with overwhelming force, but he couldn't let her go. He couldn't just let her go. He stepped forward, but this time Azula stopped him with a look of pure ice.
"I'm warning you," she said, her voice sharp. "Don't try to save me. Don't let me entangle you. I'm not for you."
Aang, however, smiled, a soft, sad, loving smile. He didn't say anything. He didn't need to say anything. Because he knew he couldn't save her. It wasn't his mission to save her. He just wanted her to know. He wanted her to know that, despite her fire, despite her storm, he was willing to stay.
Azula watched him, her eyes filled with inner conflict, her body vibrating with uncontrollable energy. And before she could stop herself, she was quickly gone, fading into the darkness of the night.
Aang stood there, motionless, his heart pounding in his chest. The moon still shone brightly overhead, bearing witness to his pain. But one thing in him was clear: as long as she walked away, there would always be a part of him waiting for her, waiting for her to return.
Azula disappeared into the darkness, her figure dissolving into the shadows, as if she had never been there. Aang stood still, a faint glint of sadness in his eyes, the echo of her words floating in the air. The night breeze felt colder now, as if Azula's departure had taken away all the remaining warmth.
The wind blew away the dry leaves that fell from the nearby trees, and silence enveloped the terrace again. A heavy silence, as if the entire world was holding its breath. Aang, for a moment, let it all swallow him up.
It was funny how a single person, someone so consumed by her own fire, could leave him so cold, so empty. As if just being near her had burned something inside him, something he still couldn't quite understand.
Aang plopped down on the edge of the terrace, looking out at the distant lights of the city, shining in the distance like tiny points of hope in a sea of darkness. The stars above him felt distant, oblivious to the storm raging inside him. Why did he make it so hard? Why couldn't Azula just open up, let go, let him help her heal?
His mind came up with no answers. But what he felt, he knew that much. No matter how desperate, how broken she was, he couldn't let go. Aang closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, as if breathing could somehow make the emotional burden he felt pressing down on his chest disappear. But he couldn't. The pressure was still there, stronger than ever.
Azula walked through the empty alleys, her mind a whirlwind of thoughts that dragged her to dark places. The energy of the fire still burned inside her, but this time it wasn't like before. It wasn't the heat that used to give her power. No. It was a stinging, corrosive fire that devoured her from within.
Every step she took took her away from Aang, but also brought her closer to herself, to the reality she was so afraid to face. She had felt it, that connection. That small spark, so easy to ignore, but impossible to erase. It was as if Aang had touched a place in her soul that Azula had sworn to keep sealed, protected. And now, that place was beginning to burn, asking for something she couldn't give him.
Azula stopped in front of a wall, leaning against it, her breathing labored. She didn't want to think about him. She didn't want to think about what she felt. But his words kept resonating in her mind, like an unbreakable echo.
"I'm not a fool, Azula. I know what you've been through. I know what you've suffered. But you don't have to carry that burden alone."
The wind blew around her, gently pushing her, but Azula didn't move. Her eyes shone with suppressed fury, but also with pain. Why did what he said affect her so much? Why did just hearing his voice, so soft, so full of hope, make her feel so weak?
She ran a hand over her face, trying to wipe away the tears that threatened to fall, but something inside her stopped her. She couldn't allow herself to be weak. She couldn't allow herself to be vulnerable, not after everything she'd done. Not after what her family had done to her.
Was that the reason for all this? Why did her soul feel so broken, so incomplete? Was it the fear of not being enough? The fear of being rejected, even by him?
Azula squeezed her eyes shut, gritting her teeth. She forced herself to stand firm, not to slide. But the emotions kept building inside her, like a wildfire out of control. The rage, the confusion, the pain, the fear. And in the middle of it all, something even stranger: a need.
She needed him to understand her. She needed someone to understand her. But she couldn't, she shouldn't let Aang see her like this. She couldn't let him see her fragility. She couldn't give in.
In the distance, Aang's silhouette appeared in her mind. Images of his face, of his eyes so full of light, so pure. But that only made her feel more lost. Aang wasn't like her. He hadn't been forged in the fire of hatred, he hadn't been raised to destroy everything he touched. And yet, there he was, telling her that she didn't have to carry it all.
Azula pressed her hands against the wall, fighting to control the emotions that took over her. Everything she had been, everything she had built, seemed to crumble with every thought, with every word from Aang.
Back on the terrace, Aang stood there, staring at the horizon, waiting. There was something that told him Azula would return. Not that instant, not at that moment, but she would. Somehow, he knew Azula's fire couldn't be extinguished so easily.
His breathing calmed slowly, and he allowed himself to smile, though the smile was sad. It was an impossible love, a fight that had no guarantees. But something inside him told him it was worth it. Because he wasn't trying to save her. He just wanted to be a part of her story. Even if that story had an ending he couldn't predict.
The wind blew once more, pushing his hair back, like a last whisper fading into the night. Aang closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them, he saw the stars again. But they weren't so distant anymore. They weren't anymore.
Night had already fallen completely, the starry sky stretching over the city, like an infinite blanket covering everything. Aang remained on the terrace, his eyes fixed on the stars, but his mind elsewhere. Although the wind had ceased, the weight of his heart was still there, as heavy as before. He knew it, and perhaps he had always known it: love was not always an easy path, and in his case, the route seemed soaked in shadow and pain. But there was something that kept him firm, something that made him believe that each step he took was worth it, even if the end was uncertain.
Azula, on the other hand, walked in the darkness of the empty streets, as if her soul was being dragged by a whirlpool she could not control. Her steps were fast, frantic, but her thoughts still followed her. Aang had said that she should not carry her burden alone. And yet, everything she had built, everything she had believed about herself, told her that she could never allow anyone else to share that weight. She couldn't. She shouldn't.
But as the shadows grew thicker, and the cold night breeze caressed her skin with the softness of a whisper, something inside her began to break. She couldn't run away anymore. Not from him. Not from what she felt. And, without realizing it, her steps took her back, to the place where it all began, to the terrace, to Aang.
Aang was still there, standing at the edge of the terrace, looking out at the horizon. As if the world had stopped for a moment, as if there was only him and the vast night sky left. He hadn't expected her, he hadn't expected her to return, but something inside him told him that she would. That the wind that had carried his soul back would bring her back as well.
Azula appeared in the doorway, her silhouette outlined by the faint light of the stars. She didn't see him right away. She was lost in her own thoughts, in the constant struggle between what she wanted and what she feared. But in an instant, he saw her, and the calm his presence offered was like a balm on her torn soul.
"Azula," Aang said, his voice soft but firm, a deep longing seeping into his words.
Azula looked up, her golden eyes shining with a mix of insecurity and suppressed fury. But something had changed. There was a different gleam in them, as if, finally, she had decided to face what she had been avoiding. She approached, slowly, as if the simple act of walking toward him was a declaration of surrender, and at the same time, of resistance.
"What do you want from me, Aang?" she asked, but her voice didn't have the hardness that usually characterized it. This time, it was empty of defenses, of masks.
Aang looked at her, deeply. There was no fear or regret in her face, only a silent love that resonated louder than any words. He approached her, step by step, until their bodies almost touched. The air between them vibrated with the intensity of the unsaid, the untouched. The distance that had been an insurmountable wall now seemed to fade away, to dissolve into nothingness.
"I don't want anything but yourself," Aang replied, his voice shaky but sure. His eyes shone with the sincerity only he could offer. "I just want you to know that no matter what happens, I'm not leaving. No matter what you think of yourself, of what you've been, I… I won't leave."
Azula swallowed, her chest rising and falling rapidly. It was as if his words were penetrating deep into her being, touching the most delicate fibers of her soul, those she had kept locked away for so long. Why did his words hurt her so much? Why did everything inside her scream that she shouldn't, that she couldn't, but at the same time she wanted to give up?
"Aang, I…" Azula began to say, but the words caught in her throat, as if something inside her was holding her back.
Aang raised a hand, not to stop her, but to caress her cheek with the gentleness of someone who knew his touch could break a barrier that even the most intense fire couldn't melt. And when his fingers brushed Azula's skin, something inside her broke, and the barriers she'd built up her entire life began to crumble.
Azula closed her eyes, her breathing coming in ragged gasps. She didn't want to feel this. She didn't want to feel what he was giving her. But she did. Every word, every look, every gesture of his dragged her further and further into a truth she wasn't ready to face.
Aang watched her with infinite tenderness, as if he understood her better than she could ever understand herself. And then, with a slowness that seemed to last an eternity, he held her. Not in an impetuous or urgent way, but with the gentleness of someone who knows that the soul of the other person is fragile, brittle, but still, worthy of love.
Azula tensed at first, as if she were going to pull away, but something in the warmth of his embrace kept her there. She closed her eyes and, for the first time in a long time, allowed the tears to fall without trying to stop them. It wasn't a cry of defeat, but one of release.
She didn't know how much time passed, or when she stopped resisting. All she knew was that, in his arms, the fire inside her no longer burned with fury, but with the gentleness of a love she never thought possible. And, for the first time, she wasn't afraid of being seen, she wasn't afraid of being broken. Because in that embrace, in that surrender, she found the acceptance she had longed for, and the compassion her heart had sought all her life.
Aang held her tighter, and Azula, at last, allowed her soul to merge with his. A soft whisper escaped her lips, more of an exhale than a word.
"Don't leave me," she said, barely audible, but enough for Aang to hear, enough for him to know that, at last, she had allowed herself to open up.
Aang tightened his hold on her, saying nothing. He didn't need to say anything. Because in that moment, words no longer mattered. Only what they felt mattered, what they gave each other. Love, so feared, so forbidden, now flowed between them like an invisible current, more powerful than any fire Azula could have unleashed.
And, though the future was uncertain, though they didn't know what fate had in store for them, in that moment, in the embrace of the moon and the stars, all that mattered was that, at last, they were together.