A/N: The writing is going well, I'm currently at chapter 29 and almost 65k words, so I can post the next chapter already. I have plenty in reserve; if I run into writer's block, I can slow to weekly updates and have two and a half months of updates locked and loaded.
"I assure you, Your Majesty, the military can handle this. There is no need for your presence."
Azula nails him down with the coldest stare she can manage. Gives him a moment to realise the insubordinate nature of his words, keenly aware that the entire generalty is watching her with eagle eyes to see how she reacts to this provocation.
"General Shinu, why are we here today?"
He swallows. "To discuss a response to the sinking of the fleet, Highness."
"Precisely. Tell me, then, what does it say of our nation's military and their capabilities that the entire Seventh Fleet couldn't hold its own against a handful of waterbenders with wooden sailing boats?"
His eyes dart to the empty chair that used to belong to Admiral Chan and she can tell he's drawing the right conclusions.
"I apologise, Your Majesty. I meant no disrespect."
Before he can sit down, she fires her next volley.
"That was not my question, General. Do you believe losing fifty ships inspires my confidence in your abilities?"
She's not just talking to him. She's talking to everyone here, admirals, generals, colonels and commanders alike.
"Of course not. Forgive my presumptions."
With a wave of her hand, she signals him to sit down, and turns to address the council.
"Their little victory will no doubt have emboldened our enemies. It is imperative that we destroy their confidence and make it clear that every life lost will be repaid tenfold with their blood. Let them know who and what they're up against. So unless anyone has further objections, I'd like to proceed with the planning."
Nobody dares to speak up.
"Since Admiral Chan is tragically no longer with us, I will take what remains of his command back to the enemy. Colonel Shen will provide troops for a land assault. We will land soldiers here, here, and here", she points out the places on the map, "and attack these outposts. Today, we are no conquerors, we are here to avenge our fallen brothers and sisters and exact retribution against those who stand upon land that is rightfully ours."
She doesn't have the troops to hold any of those fortifications, even if she could take them. But she will make the Earth Kingdom regret every having set foot into the Fire Nation's colonies. If the young Colonel Shen is any better than her father, Azula's troops will be gone before the enemy can react and leave only blood in their wake.
"In the next phase, the Second Airship Regiment will begin a bombardment of these positions while I lead an assault through the pass here. By the time they realise the distraction, they will have nothing left to defend but molten igloos."
The officers applaud dutifully.
The next morning, after breakfast, Katara watches Azula strap on her armour. The evening before, Azula had come back late, and told her she would be leaving the next day. Even after a week, Katara still isn't sure what to make of their new dynamic.
The last piece of armor clinks into place.
"This is it, I suppose."
Azula nods.
"Do me a favour and don't kill anyone while I'm gone. I'd hate to have to come back to straighten you out."
"Maybe."
Azula snorts. It's an empty threat, both of their words, and they know it.
"Wish me luck."
The moment the words leave her lips, she realises her mistake. Stupid, stupid, stupid! It's not out of any respect for Katara, but she is supposed to be in control at all times, in battle and in diplomacy. A slip-up like that would have cost her a hefty punishment if her father were here.
Katara's face hardens.
"Don't die."
It's the best wish she can bring herself to offer. Partly out of self-interest and concern for her life, partly because she means it.
I've kept you alive twice. Don't die before you've repaid me.
Two weeks later, Azula is ready to eat her own words.
A rock whizzes past her face, missing her by less than a hand's width. She barely has time to retaliate with flames before she has to jump aside to dodge the next one. Two more fire blasts take down her enemy, but by the time she's dealt with her next opponent, she can already see a blue-clad comrade drag the injured man off the battlefield. Only a warning scream from one of her soldiers saves her from being crushed to death under an avalanche, and she whips around, lightning on her fingertips, but the earthbender responsible tunnels underground and emerges hundreds of feet away to attack two of her lieutenants.
The ground cracks underneath her and she jumps away to avoid falling into the newly-formed hole. The fire flowing from her fingers scorches the earth, but when the flames subside, all that's left of her attacker is the stone wall he put up to deflect her counter. She jumps over it, ready to rain death and devastation down on him, but a tentacle of water catches her ankle instead and brings her down. Her fire evaporates the water, burning her ankle in the process, but her retaliatory attack is effortlessly dodged by the waterbender, in the same motion that fires ice shards at her. She wipes them away with a sweeping fiery whip to find the enemy gone, fluidly dancing across the battlefield to deal out supporting attacks with the earthbenders left and right.
It's time to go on the offensive. A well-placed bolt of lightning explodes in the middle of a group of earthbenders and creates an opening for Azula and a couple of her soldiers to rush into. But the advantage proves brief, and soon, she has to circle back as the Earth Kingdom army attacks the rear of her contingent, buying time for the waterbenders to secure their wounded.
"Retreat!"
It's a word Azula has uttered all too often lately.
When her troops had first landed at the beginning of the campaign, the heavy rain had ruined their surprise attacks, and she had lost many soldiers in prolonged engagements as her hit-and-run plan had fallen apart. Soon after, the first snow had fallen, and in an air filled with water, most of her airships had been brought down. She had never made it to the Water Tribe's forward outpost, and her attempts to make her stand and fortify camp on the frontline is falling apart around her.
Two days later and many miles further south, she's lost another hundred soldiers, fighting off pursuing troops on the way back to the closest landing site. During her campaign up north, another occupying regiment has been wiped out behind her back, and for the entire way back, she avoids the rivers as much as possible. Too many waterbending patrols. In return, she's wiped two Earth Kingdom bases off the map.
It's a stalemate. Some gains, some losses.
The next week sees the rain stop and the front line shift back into Earth Kingdom territory. Amid maritime raids, Azula's troops push the enemy forces back, but it comes at a price. She uses the hard-won breathing room to order the evacuation of the Azulon's Glory fortress, a seaside supply depot west of Mount Makapu. Its contingent will be needed elsewhere, reinforcing the battallion of another base. Azulon's Glory is demolished, leaving nothing for the enemy to salvage.
Some gains, some losses.
She returns on the winter solstice, having achieved nothing, and the irony of admitting failure on the longest night of the year, the moon shining from the sky longer than on any other day, is not lost on her. It's like the universe itself is mocking her. This time, she sends word ahead, and the palace kitchen serves a late dinner for two when she arrives at her chambers. Katara looks up from her plate when Azula steps into the room.
"Welcome back", the sarcasm drips from her words, "done any good massacring lately?"
Translation: killed anyone I know?
"Don't ask."
Translation: it went so badly, I don't want to talk about it.
"What, no spoils of war to show off? No glorious battles to brag about?"
Azula slumps into her chair, takes a disgusted look at her food, and begins to eat, indiscriminately, without appetite, just something to fill her stomach.
"Nothing."
Silence falls as they eat, but something compels Azula to talk about the past weeks. A need to let it all out, perhaps. There's nobody else she can voice her disappointment to, anyway. She can't show weakness in front of the military or the servants.
"It's no use. Our people die, theirs get back up. Ours bleed out, theirs return. There's just too many", she catches herself before she says something unkind, "healers. Ever since your people left the North Pole, the scales have been tipped against us."
Spirits curse Zhao. The Southern Water Tribe isn't a concern, hasn't been for decades, but the Northern Tribe was so much easier to deal with when they were content to fortify their pathetic little icebergs instead of swarming out and taking the fight to the Fire Nation.
"You'll have to forgive me if I don't cry about that", Katara icily remarks, and it's the last straw, the bucket of ice water in the face, for Azula.
Sometimes it's easy to forget the stake Katara has in this war.
I've failed. My people, my nation. My father. It's not hard to picture Ozai's reaction to such a resounding defeat. Sure, she's fortified the Fire Nation's remaining outposts along the Earth Kingdom's shores, but the price is too high. She set out to teach them a lesson, and returned with nothing to show.
A failure. I expected better of you, Princess Azula.
She curses and silences her father's voice. But there's another thought.
It could be worse.
At least she's not upset with me.
It's a strange thought, one Azula would just as rather banish from her mind immediately. What does Katara's reaction matter? What does she care how Katara would have reacted if she'd told her of wiping out hundreds of tribesmen? She is the Fire Lord, Katara is her prisoner, not an equal. Her opinions are the ones that matter, not Katara's.
But some small part of her does care.
Her uncertainty isn't lost on Katara, and she's torn between pleasure about the impact of her words, and an unwanted guilty feeling about kicking her when she's down. Once they've eaten up, she changes the subject.
"A bath?"
Azula doesn't believe her ears, and even so, it's the last thing on her mind right now. She has work to do. She needs to think about how to spin the campaign's outcome for tomorrow's meeting with her officers. There's got to be something, some positive she can point to to make the results more palatable. Or perhaps someone she can blame. Perhaps Colonel Shen. Dead women don't protest. She has no time for… wellness.
"A bath. You're tense and you're dirty."
I'm not getting into bed with you like that almost escapes her lips. What a surreal thing to say. The unexpected domesticity does nothing to ease Katara's guilt over her cordial relationship with Azula.
"It'll do you good. Trust me, water is kind of my specialty."
Very funny. Anyone else would suffer the consequences for this amount of insubordination, but since she's thinking about her weaknesses… the leeway she permits Katara is definitely one of them.
"Ugh! Fine."
Whatever. Azula can think in the bath.
It doesn't take long for the staff to fill a bathtub and heat the water. As soon as she's inside, Azula has to admit that Katara is right (not that she would ever admit it): the world looks much less dark once she's warm and clean. After the servants have finished washing her, she dismisses them and sinks deeper into the water. Perhaps there is some positive outcome she can sell to the council. Anything to appear less weak.
She's halfway done preparing a speech in her head (the Shen family's reputation may never recover) when she hears the door to her bedroom open and sees Katara enter her view.
"What are you doing here?"
"Oh forgive me, almighty Fire Lord! I thought I live and sleep here, too." She turns back to the door. "I thought you might appreciate some healing, but if I'm not needed…"
"Wait!"
Azula's shock about how quickly she caves complements Katara's satisfaction about it. Katara is not the only one who's gotten weak around her enemy. As it turns out, a lost campaign, pain and wounds, and a debt of life go a long way towards breaking Azula's pride. For the first time, mixed feelings about the former princess coalesce into a realisation for Katara.
This goes both ways.
I can handle her.
If such manipulative thoughts were in Katara's nature, the phrase 'putty in my hands' would occur to her as she draws some water from the tub and begins to work on Azula's shoulders. The combination of healing bending, warmth, and a gentle massage relieve not just the tension in Azula's shoulders, but she can almost feel herself melting. Getting weak as she leans into Katara's healing touch.
The facade cracks.
"We're facing defeat."
It takes all of Katara's restraint to stay cool at this unexpected admission, to not show any glee, any excitement that might discourage Azula from telling her more.
"Or at least, a very costly war. The losses are mounting. I don't know how much longer we can sustain this pace. We lost one and a half regiments just last week. I've had to abandon one of our bases to save another. Even if we just want to hold the front line as it is, the price will be high."
"Is that what you want?"
Who do you want to be? Your father's legacy? Or someone else? It's a question that hasn't left Azula's thoughts for every night the past weeks, and hearing Katara repeat it is the last straw.
"I don't know."
The comfort of the tub, the gentle touch of Katara's hands, have weakened her, and the admission is out before Azula can prevent it. But it's the truth.
I've lost control.
The realisation is terrifying.
I've lost control of the war. I've lost control of myself.
Father would be furious. Worse than with Zuko.
What does it matter? He's not here. I am.
And yet…
I can imagine what he would do to me.
Control yourself. Stop thinking about him; he's not here, you are. It's your nation, your throne. He doesn't have a say anymore, so what's it to you? You are the master of your own thoughts.
Then why can't I stop thinking about him?
The first tear leaves her eye before she can stop it, and with that, the dam is broken. More tears follow, and with each, her anger at herself, at her inability to control herself, only worsens and causes her to cry harder. Katara helps her out of the tub, wraps her into a towel while she doubles over sobbing, and without Azula intending to, it becomes an embrace of sorts, Katara holding her while Azula cries and cries. She can hear Ozai in her head, pathetic, weak, and the harder she criticises herself, hears him criticising her for this undignified display of weakness, the more the tears flow, the more she imagines his rage growing, the more she cries.
They end up sitting on Azula's bed, Azula wrapped into the towel, still wet and shivering, exhausted and leaning on Katara's shoulder. Katara gently bends the water off of Azula and discards it into the tub. The casual display of care does nothing to lessen Azula's feeling of weakness, and the spark of gratitude she feels at the reassuring nothings Katara whispers into her ear, the 'it's okay's and 'don't worry's neither. This isn't her, not the strong leader she is supposed to be. It's unbefitting of her position, her heritage, her upbringing. This isn't the standard she measures herself to. She resents it, resents the warmth of Katara's comfort and how much she needs it in this moment.
When the tears eventually subside (or perhaps she's just run out of tears, or out of energy to sustain the sobs that shake her entire body), she raises her head from where she's buried it in Katara's shoulder and comes face to face with Katara.
Face to face with the scar.
With her emotional control, her self-worth and discipline thoroughly shattered, for the first time, Azula is overcome with regret. Her hands shake as she raises them to Katara's face; her heart breaks when she sees Katara flinch ever so slightly. Her fingers find the scar and she feels the rough texture of the burnt skin under her fingertips as she cautiously traces around the outline of the hand. Her hand. The sobs begin again, interspersed with choked-out, barely intelligible words, until she feels like the tears threaten to suffocate her.
I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. I'm sorry, please, I'm sorry.
The words are mangled as she contorts herself in tears, buries her face in Katara's shoulder again. But they are heard.
When the tears at last subside for good, she can't bring herself to meet Katara's eyes. Fights for minutes, whether to force the words out of her mouth or to keep them in, she can't tell. Both.
"Can you forgive me?"
Katara isn't quite sure how to deal with all this. With Azula's breakdown in general, with her scar in particular. She can't help but feel a little satisfaction at this belated justice, but at the same time, seeing Azula torn down like this, completely dismantled, breaks her heart more than it should.
But she knows the answer to that question.
"No. I can't. Not like this."
The answer is brutally honest, and something inside Azula breaks when she hears it. If she were thinking clearly, she would expect it, but right now, feeling like the only thing she needs in the world is Katara's absolution, the refusal feels like an ice-cold stab through the heart.
"One day, maybe. But right now? When you are out there, murdering my friends, destroying my home? How could I ever forgive you as long as I'm still your prisoner?"
Desperation turns into anger. Comfort turns into disgust. In one swift motion, Azula separates herself from Katara, slides off the bed, steps back and straightens her posture. The armour is back on and the venom returns to her voice, even as residual tears roll down her cheeks.
"Fine. Have it your way."
She spits the words at Katara, and just like that, Katara's guard is back up as well. This is the Azula she knows. Without another word, she leaves the room.
They sleep in their own beds that night.