A/N: I keep wanting to slow down to a weekly update, but then I get so impatient and want to hear people's thoughts on the next chapter xD I'm like 8k words ahead at this point
It's not a good winter for the Fire Nation.
Snow, Azula curses. Agni-damned snow.
If Admiral Zhao were alive, she would kill him all over again.
Before, the Water Tribes were a nuisance at worst. The navy weakened and scattered the southern tribals decades ago, and for almost a century, their northern cousins were content to fortify their stupid pole and stay where they belonged. But after that fool Zhao just had to lose an entire fleet (and his own life, a fate far too generous for him) in the attempt to destroy them, the tribe has taken on a much more active role in the war, surely encouraged by that pathetic Avatar child. The western seas, previously uncontested Fire Nation territory, are a lot less safe than before.
And fighting waterbenders when there's snow, frozen water, everywhere…
It's not a good winter for the Fire Nation.
"I don't want to hear any more excuses!", Azula spits. "If you can't even fight a handful of savages, I will find someone who can."
General Chenzi looks at her like he wants to protest, and it saves his life that he doesn't. It's all about motivation. As long as there stakes are low, nobody will ever give it their best. There is a solution, Azula is sure of it. It's the officers' job to find it, and by Agni, she will make sure they do. Fire is the superior element. A handful of tribals with snowballs will not stand in the way of her victory, and neither will the incompetence of the army. When the meeting ends, she ignores the generals' salutes and brushes right past them.
Katara's head snaps up when Azula slams the door shut behind her. She looks ready to murder someone, and Katara can feel her hairs stand on end. An angry Azula is a dangerous Azula.
But the expected lightning bolts and smashed furniture never comes. Instead, Azula says just one word.
"Sparring?"
Katara doesn't know how to behave in this new normal, how to deal with the hospitality and gratitude of someone who she hates, who hates her, who keeps her imprisoned. But she does know how to fight, and she's been itching to get out and do something. Anything.
Flanked by a dozen guards, they walk to the dojo. This time, there is no threatening speech about tying Katara's life to Azula – why would there be? Azula has made herself clear, and she hates repeating herself. Katara has understood, she's confident that she has. And then there's the whole saving her life thing that Azula still doesn't know how to feel about (she's under no delusion that Katara has developed any newfound fondness or loyalty for her). But she's reasonably sure she won't die today – and besides, Katara would have to beat her first. Impossible.
So they fight.
Now that Katara is no longer malnourished, mistreated, and sleepless, she gets close to beating Azula several times. It's even more of a challenge than last time, and Azula enjoys it immensely. This is what she trains for. A real fight, a fight to the death – not this time, but Katara certainly doesn't hold back. Azula gains a new appreciation for the savage abilities of the Water Tribes, or at least for Katara's specifically, in a way she hasn't had the opportunity to since the Agni Kai. Back then – she hates to think about it – she wasn't really thinking of anything but victory, of utterly destroying her enemies. But in this setting, with no stakes but her pride, she has time to take a closer look at her opponent.
With the dojo once again thoroughly thrashed, Azula's confidence in herself bolstered after ten straight victories, and the both of them out of breath and drenched in sweat, they return to Azula's rooms.
"Ugh!" Azula wrinkles her nose at the state of her clothes. "Stinks worse than the sewers."
She's about to head for her dressing room to change when, without thinking much about it, Katara curls her hand and bends the sweat right out of their clothes. Hers and Azula's. It's such a natural movement, one she's done many times, that it's only when Azula freezes mid-step, Katara realises the gravity of her actions. There is an inherent familiarity that's so utterly at odds with the tension between her and Azula.
This, and similar things, cross Azula's mind as well, but there's something else.
Waterbending is the power of the enemy. It belongs in tribal villages, practised at the hands of uncivilised savages. Waterbending is the enemy. It's what kills her soldiers, maims the survivors, sinks her ships and destroys her fortresses.
She has never thought about it in terms of utility. Domesticity. Comfort.
Without further ado, she hurries – no, not hurries, a firebender runs from nothing, she reminds herself of her father's word., A firebender is strong and confident. We are the ultimate people, Azula, never forget that. – she strides into her dressing room and shuts the door behind her. Almost as if to spite Katara, she changes into fresh robes regardless and discards the old ones for the servants to pick up.
They don't bring it up again.
The next time they spar, Katara waits until Azula has gone to change before cleaning her own clothes. With a little water from the jug, the last of the smell washes right out, and when she's done, she draws the moisture out and disperses it through an open window.
Oh yes, the sparring. After this first time – second first, really –, it takes less than a week before Azula takes her to the dojo again. To Katara, it's a little bit of freedom, a few hours away from her prison, a small space in which she is allowed to use her bending. To Azula… it's beating Katara time and again, being challenged, improving herself with Katara's help, learning to better fight waterbenders, enjoying Katara's defeats and perfecting herself – there's not a single downside to it. It's ironic, she thinks, that Katara unwittingly contributes to Azula's eventual victory over her people. Fighting against fire and fighting against water, Azula learns better than ever, is much more different than she previously assumed. Weekly becomes twice weekly. Azula has never had so many opportunities to blow off steam, to vent her frustration with the war and the small-minded court into something constructive.
Almost isn't good enough.
A couple weeks into this arrangement, when Azula comes home from another bad day, it's Katara who first suggests a match instead of Azula. It's a surprising, but not unwelcome development, and the next few hours are spent relentlessly trading blows, dancing around each other and pummeling each other, until Azula has another half-dozen wins under her belt and the guards escort them back to the royal chambers for a late dinner.
Then, one day, about three or four weeks later… Katara wins.
It's a fight like any other, although after their many, many sessions, it's become more like a dance. Azula has learned to anticipate Katara's movements, the way she will turn any defense right into a counter-attack, so much more fluid and dynamic than most firebenders could ever hope to achieve. But in turn, Katara has learned the same about Azula. The raw power she is able to channel, the absolute precision with which she fires off her blue flames, the ruthless nature with which she exploits any mistake.
Katara has learned Azula's movements like Azula has hers.
It's their most intense duel yet. Where water and fire meet and destroy each other, steam rises, and Katara uses it to her advantage. More than once, Azula thinks she sees movement in the vapor and fires at it, only to find Katara attack from somewhere else, having bent the droplets to her will to fool Azula. Katara herself has caught more than a handful of small burns, just as ice has cut open Azula's arms and hands in a dozen spots. It's exhilirating.
Azula is close to victory when the unthinkable happens. Katara feigns, dodges, and a water tentacle catches Azula's leg.
Perhaps Katara is better. Perhaps Azula is sloppy. Either way, in the end, it's Katara who sits on top of Azula, one hand pinning down both of Azula's, the other holding an icy blade against her throat.
Ten guards and Azula tense up.
For the first time, Katara sees fear in Azula's eyes. For the first time, Azula fears, and someone who has long since become a regular part of her life is a threat again for the first time in a long time.
Surrounded by guards with drawn weapons and flaming fists, Katara trembles. Can't decide. Ten guards and Azula fear for Azula's life. Katara and Azula lock eyes, stare each other down for what feels like hours.
I could end this right now.
Katara knows what would happen. The moment she slits Azula's throat, she will die.
But would it be worth it?
For my home? My people?
My friends?
Without Azula, what will become of the Fire Nation? Whoever succeeds her is unlikely to be any better, but will they possess Azula's strategic mind? Her manipulative tendencies? Will it be a blunt instrument, or a surgeon's knife?
Would it be worth it?
I could end it right here.
Her thoughts are written all over her face. Azula can tell. She can feel her pulse beating against the blade, one small movement away from breaking her skin.
Is this how I die?
In the end, Katara relents. She couldn't kill Yon Rha. She's killed so many since, necks broken, blood spilled, hearts stopped, in desperate attempts to regain her freedom; a pile of bodies whose size she can only imagine. But here, Azula helpless underneath her, she realises she can't bring herself to do it. It's not in her nature. And Aang – thinking of him almost makes her tear up, not knowing whether he's alive or dead – Aang, up until the last time she saw him, resolved not to kill Ozai, either.
The blade melts in her hand and splashes on the ground. She nearly collapses as the tension leaves her body and the realisation that yet again, she hasn't had the strength to do what's necessary hits her. Strong hands grab her shoulders, pull her hands behind her back, and she allows herself to be dragged off Azula. Like through a haze, she hears Azula order that she not be harmed.
Somehow, she ends up back in her room. And there, she loses it. She cries, sobs, for how long, she can't say. Once again, she has failed her people, and the world. Betrayed their trust, failed to put an end to everything.
I'm sorry.
Forgive me.
When Azula returns, after putting in some more solo training, blasting the dummies in the dojo to shreds out of anger, she can hear Katara's breakdown, and it stirs something inside her. The choked out sobs, the bawling, the cries wrenching itself from Katara's throat, primal and base. It's hard to bear. Part of it reminds her of the last time she's walked in to find Katara crying like that. She pushes those thoughts aside.
Katara misses dinner.
Late the next morning, much later than usual, she wakes up with a headache, eyes still red and swollen from crying through the night. She can hear Azula already up, dictating orders to some servant or other, for once not away shortly after sunrise.
I could have silenced that voice forever.
The room seems so much smaller now than the day before. The ceiling that she wakes up staring at so much lower. The walls closer.
It's a prison.
When she drags herself out of bed to eat (she's not hungry), Azula sits at the huge table, writing. Katara stares down what's left of breakfast, a lump in her throat and a pit in her stomach.
Eventually, voice hoarse, she asks the question that's been on her mind for the past nineteen months.
"What's happened to the others? My friends?"
Azula looks up from the marching orders she's writing. The question comes out of nowhere, but it's not unexpected. She's expected Katara to ask it at some point. But where previously, Azula was determined to refuse it, to not give her prisoner hope she doesn't deserve, something comes over her that compels her to answer truthfully.
"I don't know."
Deafening silence.
"They might be dead", Azula adds. "Nobody's seen them, and trust me, if they are still alive, we will find them. But, as much as I wish I could say otherwise, if anything has killed them, it wasn't the Fire Nation."
Katara nods, thoughtfully. She picks up a fork and begins to eat.
Nobody's seen them since my father disappeared.
As much as Katara has been burning to know what has become of her friends, Azula is burning to find out what's happened to her father. In a way, she hopes the Avatar killed him. It would be merciful. She can't really imagine Ozai as a prisoner. He would rather die. She would rather die.
A/N: As I never tire of saying, please feel invited and encouraged to comment, whether that's a short "loved it" or longer feedback. Concrit is also explicitly welcome.
Edit January 13, 2025:Due to a little oversight, one paragraph and important plot point were missing from this chapter. I went back and added it back in.