A/N: Look at me, managing to not post a chapter two days later because I'm so impatient for reactions! Almost having something like an update schedule here!
Got a couple longer chapters than so far in the pipeline :)
Azula misses a time when people knew their place.
When the five oldest, richest families of the nation 'humbly' requested the honour of her presence, Azula assumed that something was up. And here she is, proven right. Of course those miserable old sacks would be plotting something. Of course. They always do.
Oh, they disguise it as a kindness. The Fire Lord should be able to focus on leading her nation, focus on crushing the enemy once and for all, and if they, as her humble servants, could contribute to that by taking some administrative work off her hands, they would feel honoured to have done their part in supporting the glorious leader of the nation, bla bla bla.
She knows what's up. They want power.
It's always power.
They never would have dared to bring this to my father, Azula quietly fumes. Her father would have had all of those traitors arrested and publicly executed on the palace steps. But of course with her, the new, inexperienced Fire Lord, the little girl too small for daddy's throne, they think they can get away with it.
Fucking leeches.
They hide it well, but the old nobles have never forgiven her great-grandfather, and with him the entire royal family, for taking away their pathetic little fiefdoms. They're just itching to style themselves dukes of their little estates and islands again, to collect taxes from the people, from her people. To make their own little laws. And if some of those taxes go missing on the way to the capital… well, who can blame the Fire Lord's humble servants?
Over my dead body.
Her father would have them arrested, but Azula can't afford that. Not while she's fighting a war that's not going the way it should. Not while some of her own subjects dare to reject her rule. The people who own the factories that equip her soldiers – of course, everything they own, Azula ultimately owns, but it's the lords and ladies that the workers report to –, the people whose sons and daughters command the battallions that Azula relies on… she can go to war with the old families, or she can go to war with the Earth Kingdom. She cannot do both at once.
Oh how she's itching for some executions. How she misses a time when people knew their place.
It makes her want to kill something.
"Hunting?"
Katara can't believe her ears. One moment, she's sitting at the window, drawing the palace gardens yet again; the next, Azula storms in and declares that they're going hunting.
"Yes, you little imbecile, hunting. What part of that isn't clear?"
Katara jumps to her feet. "The 'we' part, for one thing. I told you, I'm not going to be your playmate. If you want someone to entertain you so you can act like you have friends, find someone else."
"Oh don't flatter yourself", Azula shoots back. "If you think I'm taking you with me because you have endeared yourself to me with your hatred and your pathetic defiant attitude, you're the one who's deluded." She shrugs. "You're a capable healer and a hunt is dangerous. That's all. You're coming."
"The hell I am."
"I wasn't giving you a choice. Plus, aren't you just a little bit dying to get out of the palace for once?"
That, Katara can't argue with. But it's the first part that weighs heavier. Unless she's prepared to fight the entire palace to the death… she considers it for a second. She's got the scars to prove the damage she can do is immense, but she's also got the scars to prove she might not win.
I can't let her win. If I go along, this won't be the last time. I can't let her pressure me.
"I'm waiting", Azula insists, and there's a quiet, deadly quality to her voice that makes it clear she's not willing to have her patience tested. The tiniest spark appears between her fingers, and Katara imagines she can feel her scars tingle.
There will be another day to draw lines. Not over something this insignificant.
"Fine", Katara spits. "Have it your way."
She's not sure what to expect, really. At home, the village hunts to eat. It's a communal activity. Elders teach it to their children. Fathers take their sons, and sometimes daughters, out for their first hunt. Entire groups sail out to hunt a whale. But here? Azula doesn't need to hunt for food, and Katara isn't sure what to think of hunting for pleasure. It seems pointless. Spoiled. And they're probably not gonna let her anywhere near a boat, either. Somehow, Katara can't picture the Fire Lord getting his hands – Fire Lord Ozai, that is – getting his own hands dirty. Azula, she's not sure about. Is she gonna have her servants do the hunting for her, just deliver the last blow herself? It would fit these decadent people.
Azula disappears into her dressing room, and when she returns, she's changed into a leather uniform, less pompous than her court robes, but more practical, more padded, with smaller armholes that allow more movement. She sizes Katara up and then tosses a second set at her.
"Here. You're roughly the same size as me, you can wear this."
Surrounded by guards they're walked to a huge courtyard, where an airship is waiting for them. One of the few to survive the day of Sozin's comet, Azula grimly thinks. Whatever the Avatar has done to her father, it's downed sixteen airships. Several more have been lost in battle since. This one is the Fire Lord's personal vehicle, though.
They board and their luggage – Azula's luggage – is stored away. The guards pull up the ramp and they take off while Azula and Katara are led into Azula's personal quarters. They're not as glamorous as the ones in the palace, but it's the only airship in the fleet that's even remotely adequate for her to travel in.
Katara thinks it's a bit pathetic.
The velvet pillows, the golden trimmings everywhere. The silken sheets, the giant bed. She's basically lived on Appa's back for a year, and Azula can't even spend week-long trips without those luxuries?
(When she's given a guard's cabin, with a simple metal bed and no window, she suddenly has a lot more appreciation for her bed back at the palace.)
They land a few hours later, and right away, it becomes apparent what Azula means by "hunting".
The royal hunting grounds are massive. Even from above, Katara can't begin to estimate their size. It's like a huge park, a garden the size of a large town, entirely owned by the Fire Lord. Azula hasn't been here in a long time, not since before Zuko was banished and her father made her his second-in-command.
The last time I was here, I wasn't old enough to hunt with the others.
She wipes the memory away. She's not here to reminisce, she's here to forget the nuisances of palace life. She's here to blow off some steam.
She's here to kill.
After an hour, Katara basically stops being medic and starts being a hunter when Azula calls upon her to help her draw out a komodo-tiger. When the animal knocks out two of Azula's guards and charges Azula, Katara pushes it off course with a wave, and the dam is broken. She's part of the hunting party.
(She still heals the guards' concussions.)
Trained by weeks of sparring together, Azula and Katara quickly become a team, a well-oiled machine. They move in tandem, flanking, baiting prey, one driving animals into the arms of the other. It's exhilirating; Katara hasn't felt this alive in… well, years, really, and neither has Azula. By afternoon, they're both drenched in sweat, and the armour has been bunted by horns and tails more than enough. Where Azula's flames burn bushes to chase animals out, Katara's water puts out the fires. Where Azula excels at attacks, Katara reads trails.
By the time dusk falls, they've brought down not just the komodo-tiger, but also two pig-chickens, a moose-boar, and a gecko-squirrel. Guards carrying the bounty in tow, Azula leads them to a log cabin. Some of the soldiers set up a fire and start skinning and butchering the animals while Katara and the rest of the guards follow Azula inside.
"My family's hunting lodge", Azula explains at Katara's questioning glance, as if that's obvious. "Usually, we wouldn't bring as many guards, but since you're here… I'm afraid there's a slight shortage of rooms."
The leader of her entourage – a lieutenant, Katara sees – salutes. "The rest of the men will stand guard outside, Your Highness. Shifts will change at midnight, wake up the next group, and rotate beds."
"Very well. Dismissed."
It's a surreal place. Without waiting for Azula's permission, Katara wanders around a little. There's the usual red and gold everywhere, the precious metals, decorative braids and trimmings. At the same time, the rustic appearance, the roughly-hewn logs, and the fireplace give the cabin – house, really, it's too large to be called a 'cabin' – a commonplace look.
A rich man's house made up like a poor one's. A farce.
Did you come here often, Katara wonders, aimed at Azula, to play commoner?
The bedrooms aren't much different. While there are smaller ones, furnished with simple beds and no decoration, the largest room features an enormous double bed, along with two smaller ones, just as luxurious as the ones in the palace. Although the cabin appears to not have been used for years, everything is clean. No dust on the floor, no spider-fly webs over the windows.
Someone must come here reguarly to clean, Katara realises. Just to keep it tidy for when the Fire Lord wants to visit. What a waste of time.
"Mealtime!", Azula calls from the main room, and Katara hurries back. Through one door, she can see a kitchen, but not a cozy, homely one – it looks more like she imagines the palace kitchen to look. Inside, two of the soldiers, having traded their armour for aprons, are busy, putting finishing touches on the food.
Of course the Fire Lord doesn't cook. Of course someone else does. Can't get our royal hands dirty.
It really is a small palace.
However the food, once served, is indeed delicious. From the taste, Katara guesses it's the moose-boar, with strips of pig-chicken on the side, with a delicious bean milk fire sauce (So someone restocks the kitchen, too? What happens when the food spoils because nobody visits?) and fried rice on the side. The Fire Nation's cuisine leans on the spicy side, unsurprisingly, and Katara finds she has actually developed quite a taste for it.
After eating, Azula retreats into the main bedroom. It's not until she condescendingly asks what's taking Katara so long that she realises Katara has no idea where she's going to sleep.
"Hurry up, dum-dum", she calls. "What, did you think you'd be sleeping on the floor?"
In all truthfulness, that's exactly what Katara expected.
Azula takes the big bed, of course. It's large enough for two people – the Fire Lord and his wife, or in Azula's case, the Fire Lord and any husband she might take in the future –, but the thought of sharing it doesn't cross either of their minds. Katara gets one of the small ones, and although they're more likely intended for children, their luxuriously large size leaves enough room for her. She briefly wonders who slept in this bed before: Azula? Or Zuko?
Before they go to sleep, Katara steps into the adjacent washroom. There is no plumbing here, not like in the capital, but there is a washtub, and she undresses and draws some water from the tub to clean herself up with. When she returns, she finds Azula by the window, gazing out into the night.
"I haven't been here in years", Azula says, out of the blue. "My father would take us, but I wasn't old enough to hunt, of course."
It's her first hunt?
Apparently, Katara says that out loud, because Azula laughs.
"And what a hunt! We make quite a team, don't you think?"
For once, Azula doesn't speak to Katara like a prisoner. She almost sounds like she's talking to an equal. Or at least like a Fire Lord to a noblewoman. Katara doesn't quite know what to say.
"Yeah", she eventually answers. "I guess."
Without further words, they both fall into their respective beds, tired like only people who've sweat all day can be, and soon, a dreamless sleep takes Katara. Azula, however, remains awake much longer.
The next morning, Katara wakes up to the sound of Azula putting on her armour, just as the sun's first rays creep over the horizon. While the guards begin packing up, they eat (the rest of the moose-boar, stuffed with gecko-squirrel bits). Next to the last night's campffire, two of the men skin the komodo-tiger when Azula and Katara step outside.
"Their pelts are highly sought after", Azula explains. "It's a shame about the meat."
"What do you mean?" It takes Katara a second to catch up. "You're just leaving it here?"
Azula shrugs. "The game keepers will dispose of it. It would just spoil on the way back."
The sheer wastefulness of it all renders Katara speechless. Once she regains her composure, however, there's no stopping her.
"You can't be serious! That's at least half a ton of perfectly good meat there! A family could eat that for weeks!"
"So? There's enough in the palace kitchens. We don't need it."
"We've hunted it", Katara insists. "We should eat it. It's disrespectful to the animal to kill it for nothing!"
She's angry enough to forget for a moment who she's talking to and Azula is quite taken aback at it. Katara… is scolding her. Scolding the Fire Lord.
Since having Katara banished or publicly tortured isn't an option (and oh how her fingers itch to fire off some flames!), she settles for verbal sparring.
"This", she gestures at the woods around them, "is the royal estate. This is my nation. These are my animals. If disrespecting them hurts your feelings, I'm not going to lose any sleep over that. But please, if it's so important to you, feel free to take that carcass back with us. I'll make sure to tell the chefs you'll be bringing some rotten meat."
"Who said anything about rotten?", Katara shoots back. "I can preserve it."
With a flick of her wrist, she pulls water from a nearby trough and encases the meat in ice, and suddenly Azula feels really fucking stupid (although the sight of the soldiers jumping back at the sight of waterbending is almost entertaining enough to make up for it).
"Fine. Whatever." She waves one corporal over. "Wrap that up. We're taking it with us."
By the time they've walked back to where the airship is waiting, Azula's anger has vanished. What does it matter? Of course she should have expected that Katara would have a more practical attitude to hunting. Those tribals probably hunt for food all the time. Clearly, Azula's life – palace, chefs, hunting for pleasure – is a little beyond Katara's limited imagination. If anything, that makes letting her take the meat back with her a generous gesture on Azula's behalf. She's permitting the poor peasant to live out her primitive customs.
Put like that, it already sounds better.
A/N: What'd you think?