Chapter Text
Just as the sun breaches the horizon, Ursa’s daughter is born. She heaves deep breaths, pain still rattling through her body as the midwives clean her daughter before settling the crying infant into her arms. The midwives allow them a moment, mother and daughter, before urging Ursa through the after birth.
The pain has dulled to an echo now, something Ursa is thankful for. Her daughter’s birth was different from Zuko’s. Her son had been born in the middle of the night, the pain had been intense but manageable, and when he finally took his first breath, he was quiet.
Her daughter is the opposite.
She is loud and fierce, and rushed her way out of Ursa’s womb with impatience. The midwives murmur to her about tearing, about how she must remain in her bed for several days to ensure she will heal properly.
Still, despite the pain and agony, she looks down at her daughter and feels love. Giving birth is always painful but it is always worth it.
Ozai sweeps into the room as soon as the midwives allow him to, he stares down at their daughter with a hopeful expression and when their daughter looks at him, she sparks, bright and beautiful and Ozai’s manic delight is nearly tangible in the air between them.
Her heart twists with fear.
Ursa is no fool, she is fully aware of the kind of man her husband is. Cruel. Ambitious. Cunning. Incapable of love. There is no doubt in her mind that upon their daughter’s immediate and obvious ability to firebend, that he will shape and use her to carry out whatever terrible plots live within his mind.
“We shall name her after my father, he sparked upon his birth as well,” he commands before sweeping from the room.
Ursa is relieved he didn’t linger any longer and grateful that a name hadn’t manifested in her heart already for her daughter. Her father-in-law isn’t nearly as cruel as Ozai, but he does have blood on his hands, lives taken that he had little regard for. He is not someone she would wish to name her daughter after, but Ozai will have his way even if she protests.
Her daughter squirms in her arms, restless and eager to exist in the world. Ursa can’t help but smile despite the fear remaining firmly lodged in her heart. “Can you bring in my son?” she asks softly.
The midwives nod and step out into the hall, when they return Zuko is on Lu Ten’s hip, barely awake, but the moment he sees her he perks up immediately. “Mama!”
Zuko squirms down from Lu Ten’s grip and crosses the room in stumbling strides, Lu Ten laughs behind him but soon enough both boys are perched on either side of her, peering down at Azula with curious expressions.
“This is Azula,” Ursa says. “Your sister.”
Zuko’s eyes brighten and his smile is innocent and precious and she tucks it into her mind, clings to it so she’ll always remember. In the Fire Palace, innocence and laughter do not survive. Lu Ten is still young, but his laughter stopped echoing down the halls before Zuko was born.
The midwives allow the four of them to sit together longer than they probably should have, and Ursa makes sure to remember their names so she may thank them later.
“Goodnight, mama,” Zuko’s kiss on her cheek is clumsy and wet but Ursa wouldn’t change it for the world. “Goodnight, Zula.” And then he’s climbing down from the bed and taking Lu Ten’s hand, they both wave at her before the midwives usher them out completely and shut the door.
Her earlier fear seems to strangle her and she looks down at Azula, who’s managed to fall asleep. “I will always protect you,” she whispers, a promise she knows she should not make, but does so anyway.
. . .
Father’s love feels like lightning: sharp and intense but leaves a scorch mark behind. Mother’s love feels like a fire on a cold day, steady and calm; protective like a warm hug. Zuko’s love feels like sun-warmed skin after climbing out of the sea; soothing and tranquil, but unwavering as it seeps down to her core.
She knows she is meant to love her parents, it is what is expected of children when they are brought into the world.
Love for brothers, she learns, isn’t always expected. That it is sometimes even discouraged, or stomped out whenever it creeps in like some stray elephant rat that doesn’t belong. She sees this in her father and uncle.
At first, she thinks it is the difference in age between them, that her uncle was nearly Lu Ten’s age when her father was born. But as she watches them interact whenever her uncle is in the palace, she realizes the years between their births have nothing to do with it.
When she sneaks into Zuko’s room in the middle of the night, her nails dig a little too sharply into his skin when she hugs one of his arms to her. His breath snags as he blinks awake, for a moment confusion flickers across his face but when he glances down at her, it clears and he grumbles, annoyed.
The smile tugging at the corners of his lips gives away his true feelings. (Foolish, she thinks, doesn’t he know that wearing his emotions so clearly will only be used to hurt him? )
“What’s wrong?” he asks, throat scratchy from sleep.
She takes a deep breath, then demands, “Do you love me?”
This time the confusion smears away the ghost of his smile before it could be brought to life. “What?”
“Do you love me?” This time her tone is sharp and she digs her nails into his skin again.
A breath whistles through his teeth, sharp and pained. “Of course I do? Is everything alright? Did dad say something to you again?”
The monster inside her chest deflates.
“Would you love me even if I hurt you?”
Zuko shifts, but doesn’t push her away as he sits up properly. He gently pulls her up with him and rests his hands on her shoulders so he can look her in the eye properly. “Azula?”
The question falls between them, but Zuko’s tone is patient. He’s never this patient with anyone else, try as he might. For some reason, patience comes naturally to her brother when the demons in her mind are louder than anything else.
“I think I’m like Father,” she confesses.
Silence hangs between them and Azula wants to flee, wants to take the words back and return to her room but Zuko shifts and pulls her into a hug before she can do any of those things. “Do you love me and mom?”
The question catches her by surprise. Zuko is gentle and kind-hearted, certainly in comparison to herself and their father, so while she doubted he would push her away, she had expected him to ask her what she did that was cruel and hateful. Not this.
“Of course I do.”
The problem is, she doesn’t think her version of love is the good kind. When Lu Ten shows Zuko how to use his swords she feels a dark, twisting possessiveness. Zuko is her brother, not Lu Ten’s, what right does he have to hog Zuko’s time? Father already limits their time together as it is, it should be hers.
“Then you’re not like him,” Zuko’s voice is firm and certain, which causes her to blink. She’s never thought of Zuko as meek or slow, but he does doubt himself more often than he should. Yet when he speaks on this, he doesn’t waver.
Tears burn in the corners of her eyes and she slams them closed as she tucks her head into Zuko’s shoulder.
. . .
Zuko disappears over the ledge of the roof, a strangled shout ripping through the air for a startled second before it cuts off. She stares blankly at the spot Zuko had just been before noticing her outstretched hand—
Oh.
In her mind, she had pictured Zuko tumbling over the edge, quickly followed by a zap of vindictive glee she’d get from seeing him hurt. But she doesn’t know why she actually did it. (In the back of her mind, a voice preens at the idea of Father’s smirk when he hears what she’s done and she tries to snuff it out, to strangle the life from it.)
“Zuko!”
She scrambles to the edge of the roof, careful not to stumble over it as well. Zuko is cradling his arm, tears streaking down his cheeks. Guilt squeezes her heart when she watches him flinch as their mother looks at the damage she caused.
Mother clicks her tongue and before she can look up at Azula and piece together what happened, she darts back, her feet grazing over the tiles until she feels as though she’s far enough away.
Even at eight years old, she knows the palace like the back of her hand. Even the servant corridors and sleeping quarters.
It’s in the garden that’s used by the cooks that she hides.
Father would tell her hiding is cowardly, that only those who are weak regret their actions. The words ring in her ears and she slaps her hands over them as though that’ll drown the words out. It doesn’t help and she tries to remind herself that she isn’t like Father, that Zuko doesn’t lie, not like she does, he’s honest to a fault, no matter how many times she tries to change that.
She isn’t sure how much time passes but she hears steady footsteps and when she opens her eyes, her mother is kneeling in front of her.
“You and Zuko are far too good at hiding when you put your minds to it.” Her mom’s voice is teasing, there’s no trace of anger and Azula can’t help but be confused at the lack of it. Surely Zuko told her it was Azula who pushed him off by now.
When she doesn’t respond, her mother moves to sit beside her, arranging the skirts of her robes around her so they won’t wrinkle. (Father hates it when they look untidy, when even one hair is out of place.)
Azula refuses to look at her mother, draws her knees up to her chest to hug them. Her mother hums softly, and then suddenly Azula feels her topknot unravel. Her mother’s hands are gentle when they run through her hair and begin to braid. They can only do this in secret, away from Father’s prying eyes and spies.
“Zuko says he slipped on accident,” her mother says, and her tone isn’t accusatory but Azula can tell her mother knows Zuko isn’t telling the truth.
She curls further into her knees. If Father saw her now, he would be ashamed, he would tell her that she is being weak. Part of her wants, desperately, to lash out at her mother, to shove her away and say she did nothing wrong, that Zuko deserved to be pushed off the roof because he’s weak and needs to be taught a lesson.
The constant battle in her head is exhausting, and she’s terrified of the day she stops caring to fight her darkest thoughts.
“Why do I always want to hurt people?” Azula mumbles and prays to Agni that her mother didn’t manage to hear her.
But it was a false hope, her mother’s steady hands pause briefly before resuming their task. “I’m not sure, Azula. Minds are…” she trails off for a moment, a sigh escaping in the air between them. “Well, they’re difficult.”
Azula’s eyes burn but she refuses to let the tears fall. “But you and Zuko don’t want to hurt people.”
There’s no response for several moments, Azula sits there, poised to run if she must as her mother finishes her hair and gently ties the end of her braid with a ribbon. Her mother’s hands are gentle as they force her to unfold and face her.
“I cannot speak for Zuko, but that is not entirely true,” her mother admits.
Azula feels her eyes widen. “What?”
“There are some people I would hurt if I needed to. If you or Zuko were in danger I would not hesitate to hurt someone to keep you both safe.”
“That’s not the same!” Azula says, clenching her fists so tight she feels the skin of her palms sting. “I hurt Zuko because I wanted to, not to protect him!”
Her mother doesn’t react to her confession, which only makes Azula tense further.
“After you pushed Zuko, what did you feel?” The words were said calmly, which is the only reason Azula doesn’t shake off her mother’s grip.
“Bad. I was…I was upset that I did it. Angry, but not at Zuko...at me.”
She isn’t expecting her mother to smile, but it’s there and it’s warm. “That’s good. You may have given into your cruel thoughts, but you didn’t let them continue to control you afterwards. That’s important.”
Her tears fall. “How?”
Her mother’s hands are gentle when she wipes away the wetness on her cheeks. “Because you let your love for your brother chase away those thoughts. I’m sorry your mind isn’t always kind to you, Azula, but where it matters most,” one of her mother’s hands drops to her chest, right over her heart, “you let love guide you.”
( Love is weakness.
Love is strength. )
Azula still isn’t quite convinced that her love is the good kind, still worries she’ll end up like Father and one day look at her mother and Zuko and see fear when they look at her, but for now, she lets herself believe she’s good.
“Do you want to see Zuko? He’s resting in his rooms but I’m sure he’d love to see you.”
(She almost says no, because surely Zuko wouldn’t want to see her after what she’s done, but a memory comes to mind, blurry at the edges but her brother’s assurances that she isn’t like Father and he would always love her is sharp and warm.)
“Okay,” she says, and lets her mother help her to her feet.
The walk to their wing in the palace is thankfully not too far and her mother encourages her to knock on Zuko’s door.
When she hears a faint “come in” she only hesitates for a moment before straightening her spine and walking inside.
Zuko’s sitting on his bed, arm in a cast, he’s frowning down at a scroll in his lap, but when he looks up and sees her in the doorway his expression clears. “Azula!”
He scrambles down from his bed, movement awkward with his dominant arm in the cast, but he’s across the room in only a few moments. “Where were you? Are you alright?”
“Am I alright?”
Zuko nods, brow pinched in worry. “You didn’t fall too right?”
“Did you hit your head when you fell?” she snaps, arms crossed so she doesn’t reach out and shake her brother. “Or have you always been this stupid?”
Zuko’s expression shifts and guilt claws at Azula’s chest. “I...that’s not what I meant to say,” she says, quiet. “Does your arm still hurt?”
“Oh, uh, only a little bit? They gave me some willow bark tea before they set it,” he says with a shrug.
Now it was Azula’s turn to frown. “I’ll have mother order them to bring you more.”
“No, no it’s fine. It isn’t the worst pain I’ve felt,” it takes all of Azula’s willpower not to flinch. They both know the reason Zuko’s been in more pain before. “C’mon I wanna show you the new play that’s come out.”
And just like that, Zuko moves past the terrible thing she did to him. She lets herself be pulled onto his bed and as he starts to excitedly tell her about what he’s read so far, she thinks: He’s going to get himself killed if he doesn’t worry about himself more. Agni, I’m gonna have to do it for him, aren’t I?
Azula carefully thinks of all the ways she’ll need to protect Zuko from Father, letting Zuko’s words become soothing background noise, but at some point, she must’ve drifted to sleep because she wakes to a hand brushing back her hair.
“Go back to sleep,” her mother says, pulling the covers over her shoulders. Zuko shifts beside her, head rolling onto her shoulder as he continues sleeping.
She doesn’t shove him away, and when she wakes properly the next morning they’ve shifted until it’s her head on Zuko’s shoulder as he snores softly. The sun is about to rise over the horizon and she should get up so she can prepare for her lessons but she lets herself remain until Zuko wakes up a few minutes later.
He only blinks once before she ruins his peaceful morning by smacking him in the face with a pillow.
. . .
“Lu Ten has been gravely injured,” Mother says in a hushed voice. “The healers do not believe he will survive the fortnight.”
The first emotion that sweeps through Azula is vindictive glee, but when she glances at Zuko’s stricken face, she is quick to squash it. Lu Ten thought he could act like Zuko was his brother, and Azula will never be able to shake the snarling jealous beast in her chest when she thinks about it, but Zuko clearly loves Lu Ten.
(She supposes she does too, though it’s a weak flicker of a flame compared to her love for Zuko. For Mother.)
Father is a heartbeat too slow hiding his excitement when Azula’s gaze flickers over towards him. Fear licks up her spine at the sight of it, knowing her father has been waiting in the shadows of the palace, waiting to strike.
(He has plans for Azula, plans that never fit the role of a Princess who’s fifth in line to inherit the throne.
She is not an idiot, even at ten.
She cannot afford to be when her father is who he is.)
The next several days are a blur and Azula refuses to leave Zuko’s side until news of Lu Ten’s death or survival reach their ears. Though it seems Father doesn’t care what her cousin’s fate is, he pushes her even harder during training, expecting nothing short of perfection. The palace is in a state of limbo, radiating tension whenever one goes.
It all abruptly comes to a head when word comes that her uncle has ordered their troops to retreat.
Father strikes.
Her grandfather, despite his age, still exudes a prescenes of one not to be messed with. The flames around the throne flicker with impatience and a feeling of dread settles into her stomach when Father brings forward all of her accomplishments and demands she showcase her talents. She does so because she knows this is not the time nor place to be disobedient.
Zuko, exhausted from days spent crying over Lu Ten and Father’s punishing pace with his training, fumbles through his answers and his firebending forms.
The flames around the throne grow and the raspy voice of her grandfather demands that she, Zuko, and Mother leave immediately. All that fear that has been simmering just beneath her skin roars to life when they leave Father behind and her grip on Zuko’s wrist is bruising when she yanks him into the shadows.
“Azula wh—?”
“Be quiet.”
Something in her tone must break through the haze in Zuko’s mind because his gaze is sharp when he looks at her. He doesn’t say a word when she pulls him behind the curtains in the throne room.
Her fear gives way to terror when Father asks Grandfather to make him heir instead, claiming Lu Ten’s time is running out and soon he will pass onto the Spirit World leaving Uncle without an heir. In another life she might’ve felt excitement, might’ve gloated about how Father would be a much better Fire Lord than Uncle.
But this is not that life.
Zuko’s strangled gasp beside her is thankfully drowned out by the flames around the throne roaring towards the ceiling, snarling and angry.
“Father wouldn’t, Azula he—”
Azula runs, Zuko stumbles behind her but she doesn’t slow down to give him a chance to get his feet under him. They need to leave. Immediately. Thankfully the servants don’t blink at how she and Zuko rush through the halls. It isn’t an uncommon occurrence, thankfully, and so she knows they’ll have time before any servants begin to think something odd is happening.
When Zuko’s doors slam shut behind them, she lets go of his wrist. Her voice refuses to work, the words stuck in her throat as she grabs a travel bag from Zuko’s closet.
“Azula!” She can feel the way Zuko’s hands are trembling even as he grabs her shoulders to stop her. “What are you doing?”
“What does it look like I’m doing?” she snaps, words finally breaking free but coming out mangled. “I am packing your things so we aren’t completely savages in dirty clothes with no money when we reach Ba Sing Se.”
She tries to break free of Zuko’s grip but he doesn’t let her. “Ba Sing Se? Azula, calm down. Father won’t…he…”
“He will!”
And Azula will not give Father the opportunity to carry out Grandfather’s demand. It doesn’t even make sense that Grandfather would think killing Zuko is a fit punishment. With Lu Ten on his way to certain death and Uncle old and unmarried, she and Zuko will become the de facto heirs. There is no doubt in Azula’s mind that Uncle would name Zuko his heir after he returns with Lu Ten’s body to burn.
Azula uses Zuko’s shock to break from his grip and resume packing whatever clothing that won’t give away that Zuko’s Fire Nation royalty. It’s a near impossible task but by the time she moves onto Zuko’s valuables, her brother has begun to hand her things.
(She loves him. And if Father thinks he will take away those who are hers he is mistaken.)
Father nor Mother come to look for them even though Azula is certain dinner has come and gone. She tries not to think of what that might mean, of what is happening beyond the doors of Zuko’s rooms. Instead, she berates herself for her lack of preparation for something like this, she has plans for nearly everything else but not Father killing Zuko.
Father is a lot of terrible, cruel things, but Azula foolishly believed that killing Zuko was a line he would never dare to cross.
“We should go get your things, I think I have enough,” Zuko says and Azula feels a rush of pride when his voice sounds steady. She knows his impending breakdown is on the horizon, but that steely strength she always knew had to be underneath all the soft parts has finally emerged.
Azula nods and they move quickly.
Packing her things takes half the time since she already knows what’s in Zuko’s bag and what needs to go into hers to ensure they make it to Ba Sing Se in one piece.
“Let’s rest for a bit, we probably won’t be able to for a while after tonight.”
As much as Azula wants to argue, to push back and demand they leave right now, she knows Zuko has a point. They’re still children, for all she doesn’t feel like one, and their bodies can only go on for so long without rest.
The sun has long set by the time she and Zuko crawl into her bed, on top of the covers in case they need to leave quickly, and curl facing each other.
She means to stay away as long as possible to make sure Father doesn’t slip in and kill Zuko while she sleeps but the next thing she knows is her mother shaking them awake. It takes several, too long moments to blink the sleep from her eyes but the moment Azula registers her mother’s expression she bolts upright.
Zuko is much slower beside her, still half asleep and she mentally tells herself she’ll need to have him work on that while they’re on the run.
“Mom?”
Mother’s smile is a wretched thing full of love and sadness and determination. Azula hates it. “Remember that I love you both so much,” Mother begins. “And everything I’ve done has been to protect you both.”
No. No. No. This is all wrong.
Mother’s hand trembles when she reaches up to cup Azula’s face. “Mother, no.”
Zuko makes a confused noise beside her, reaching out to grip Azula’s hand tightly as they both look up at the only person who has ever loved them unconditionally within the ratsnake pit that is the Fire Palace.
And she’s going to leave them here.
Alone.
“You can’t leave us. You can’t!” Azula doesn’t let her voice rise above a whisper but she pushes as much authority into her tone as she can. “Take us with you!”
Finally, her mother seems to break as tears fall down her cheeks. “I can’t do that, Azula.”
“Why not?” Zuko blurts, and Azula’s heart twists at how upset he sounds.
“You both belong here. I can’t stay, even though I desperately want to. I want to remain with you both but it’s impossible now.”
Something clearly happened while they were sleeping and Azula curses herself for not letting Zuko rest while she snuck around the palace until she found Father and spied on what he was up to. What Mother was up to as well.
( “If you or Zuko were in danger I would not hesitate to hurt someone to keep you both safe” )
If Father was dead, Azula is certain that her mother would remain in the palace. Grandfather is fond of Mother for the same reasons he is fond of Uncle. Their soft hearts. Which Father doesn’t have so Grandfather wouldn’t banish Mother for getting rid of the son he couldn’t stand. So that only leaves one other person Mother could—
“We were going to run away.” Azula says, cutting her own thoughts off before they can spiral too far. “I can’t protect Zuko if you and Uncle aren’t here. Father is—Father will— You can’t! Even if you leave us behind we’ll still run away!”
This, thankfully, shocks a reaction from Mother. “What?”
“I heard! I heard what Grandfather demanded of Father. It’s not safe for Zuko to be here. Even if you leave and we stay it still won’t be! Father hates Zuko!”
Zuko flinches so harshly beside her Azula fears he’s been slapped. She hates telling Zuko what he’s always feared is the truth, hates that it hurts him so much and she hates her Father even more for taking Zuko’s love and turning it against him. But Mother needs to understand and she doesn’t know how else to get her point across.
“Azula—”
“He might be safe now after whatever you’ve done but he won’t stay that way!” her voice is hoarse, throat irritated despite the fact she hasn’t spoken above a whisper.
Tension burrows beneath Azula’s skin as she stares at Mother while gripping Zuko’s hand so tightly she’s certain there will be bruises there come morning. Regardless of what Mother says, Azula is going to get Zuko out of this palace. She hopes though, that the three of them can run away together.
(A small part of her mourns the parts of her life in the palace that were good, but sacrifices must be made.)
Finally: “Okay. We’ll leave as soon as you’ve both packed some things.”
“We…we’ve already packed,” Zuko murmurs.
Mother’s hand falls from her face as she pulls Zuko into a fierce hug. “Oh, Zuko…” Zuko clings to their mother like she has all the answers in the world. Azula knows no one can be all knowing, but if Zuko needs to believe Mother is then she’ll remain quiet.
“Grab your things. We need to be quick and silent.”
They take the servant corridors, tucked away behind the main hallways so nobles don't have to see those who manage the day to day tasks of the palace. Azula always thought it was a pointless use of space but tonight she is grateful for them.
Zuko struggles to keep up with Mother’s swift pace and Azula admits within the safety of her own mind that she is too. Her legs are the shortest of them all and despite her stamina from training the palace is massive.
Finally, they turn down the last corridor if Azula’s memory is correct (which it always is) but Mother stops abruptly and shoves her and Zuko behind her.
“I thought we had an agreement, Ursa.”
Azula freezes.
No. No. No—
“The conditions of our agreement have changed. Step aside, Ozai.”
She doesn’t dare look around her mother’s skirts, doesn’t dare draw Father’s attention directly to her.
Father’s laughter is cold, and a primal instinct zips up her spine. Run. Run. They need to—
“Changed? Very well.”
The air ripples with heat and Azula’s mind blanks.
(Mother isn’t a bender. Zuko’s bending is no match for Father’s.)
It takes all her strength to throw up a wall of fire to block Father’s attack. Immediately, exhaustion settles into her bones but she can’t let that win. Not when they’re so—
“Oh, Azula…if you think you can win against me, then you’re not as intelligent as I believed.”
Father moves, quick as lightning and Mother grips her shoulder, tries to pull her back behind her but Azula shifts her stance until she’s as grounded as she possibly can be. Zuko stumbles beside her, adding his flames to hers, a whirl of blue and orange clashing against their father’s.
It’s not enough. She’s only ten. Zuko’s only twelve.
Father’s flames are searing against her skin as her back slams into the wall, she hears Zuko call her name over the roar in her ears. Mother is shouting and then Zuko yelps, a horrid sound she hasn’t heard him make in years.
Her vision clears in time to see Mother crumpled on the ground behind Father and Zuko struggling against Father’s grip.
“I will keep your brother alive,” Father says, his free hand dancing with flames as he turns his gaze towards her, “But if you step out of line ever again I will kill him. Today’s lesson is that there are consequences for trying to go against me and Zuko will bear your punishment, Azula.”
No, no, no—
“No! ”
Zuko screams.
Tears burn a path down her cheeks as she watches Zuko try to fight their father and then abruptly go limp. But before he can burn Zuko’s eye clear out of his head, he makes a strangled noise before dropping Zuko and collapsing to the ground beside him.
Mother stands above them, a fire iron in her hands that drips with Father’s blood from the blow she delivered.
(She prays to Agni that Father is dead but she knows it’s a foolish wish.)
Azula sobs, scrambling onto her knees as she crawls over to Zuko. It takes all her strength not to empty the contents of her stomach the moment she smells his burnt flesh. “Zuko! Wake up, Zuko! Please!” she begs, hands as gentle as she knows to make them as she shakes her brother.
“Azula,” Mother’s voice is thick with tears of her own as she pries Azula away. “We need to go. It’s better for him to…to not feel the pain right now.”
She needs to calm herself, but she can’t help the way her sobs continue to wrack her body when Mother gently picks up Zuko into her arms, flinching and swaying as she does. Zuko looks utterly lifeless and Azula can’t, can’t, can’t—
“Azula!”
Mother’s harsh tone snaps Azula back to the present. She stares up at her mother with wide, tear-filled eyes in shock.
“There you go. Good girl,” ah, okay there’s Mother’s familiar softness. “We need to go. Now. There’s a boat waiting, we’ll treat Zuko’s…burn then okay?”
Azula nods as a numbness settles into her bones.
Later.
Later.
Later.
She’ll deal with her emotions later.
They run. Zuko’s blood soaks through Mother’s cloak and she realizes halfway down to the docks that their bags were left behind at the palace. Everything they would need to get to Ba Sing Se safely…anything that could help Zuko’s burn.
There’s a seedy looking man on the deck when they arrive and he looks at each of them with a sneer. “I was told there would only be one.”
Mother straightens her spine. “Plans have changed.”
The man’s sneer deepens. “I can only get you to Kyoshi then. You’ll be on your own after that. Take the brats below deck and stay out of my way until we arrive.”
Azula balks at the way the man is speaking to Mother, to them, but she keeps her snarling words locked behind her teeth. Getting Zuko somewhere safe and tending to him is far more important right now than her pride.
“Very well.”
Mother walks, confidence never wavering as they head below deck. It isn’t until they’re tucked away in some storage room that Mother’s mask cracks and shatters.
Zuko groans in pain when they set him down on a straw palette and all of those ugly, gut-wrenching emotions bang against their cage and Azula does her best to ignore them as she reaches out to grab Zuko’s hand.
Mother leaves them both for several long moments, and distantly Azula is hears Mother dig through boxes and barrels behind her. When Mother returns it’s with a rag that looks like it’s had better days, tattered bandages, and a canteen of water.
That’s all she could…?
Fear stabs through her chest. “Mother—”
“I know, Azula.” She falls silent. Mother has never sounded so…tired and broken before. “It will have to do until we can find a healer.”
“That could be—!”
“Azula.”
Zuko doesn’t wake when Mother cleans his burn, just whimpers weakly.
All either of them can do once Zuko’s burn is wrapped up and he’s fallen into a restless sleep is pray. Mother pulls her into her arms and Azula finally allows herself to break.
...
Kyoshi Island is bustling as Azula remains beside Zuko on the dock they arrived at. Her brother is feverish and barely conscious as she holds onto his hand. Somehow though, he manages to grip her hand tightly, as though she’s the only thing anchoring him to this world.
Azula’s eyes remain fixed on the crowd, refusing to miss the moment Mother reappears with a healer in tow. She doesn’t know how much longer Zuko can go on without proper care.
No. Zuko will not—
Mother re-appears in the crowd just as Azula shoves the thought to the back of her mind. Her eyes scan but there’s no one walking beside or behind Mother. And when Mother nearly reaches them Azula nearly jumps up in a rage.
“Mother!” she hisses with all her anger instead.
Mother shakes her head as she drops into a crouch in front of her and Zuko. “We can’t stay. Not even long enough for a healer to see to Zuko.”
I’m going to burn their village to the ground, how dare they— “Why?” she practically spits out.
“Kyoshi has remained neutral the entirety of the war,” Mother begins with a sigh, “And taking in the three of us when we’re clearly Fire Nation will put them at risk, at least, in their minds.”
Azula’s two seconds away from getting to her feet and marching into the village to demand the healer see her brother, hands in flames so they will take her seriously. She does not care if they see to Zuko because of fear and not because of kindness.
But then— “Zula…no.”
Her gaze snaps to Zuko and his gaze his clouded over with fever and pain still but his mouth is pinched in that familiar frown he gives her whenever she needs to reign in her temper. So she knows he’s lucid enough to have followed their conversation.
“You’re too nice,” she snaps as she gently forces the good side of Zuko’s face back down onto her shoulder. “But fine. I won’t burn their village down.”
“Good,” he sighs before falling silent again.
“What now?” she says to Mother.
Another sigh. “They have offered to allow us onto one of their trading boats to the Souther Water Tribe.”
“They want us to go seek sanctuary from savages?” she nearly screams but remembers at the last moment to keep her voice at a whisper.
Mother’s expression sours, turning sharp and disappointed. “Azula, enough. They are not savages. And that’s exactly what we’re going to do. It will be the last place your father will think to look for us.”
“But what about a healer for Zuko!”
"There will be a healer in one of their villages who will be able to help. They are…familiar with how to treat burns from a firebender I’m sure.”
Azula’s stomach drops like a stone as she remembers her tutors boasting about the Southern Raids, how the Fire Nation successfully captured all of the dangerous waterbenders in the south at last. How the world was one step closer to peace.
She’s never felt anything but pride about her bending, her tutors and Father all praised her for her natural aptitude for firebending. But she glances at Zuko, at the bloody bandage around his head and feels sick.
Who’s truly the dangerous ones in the world?
It used to be the Airbenders, then waterbenders…
“Come. The ship is leaving at midday, we need to get Zuko comfortable before we disembark.”
She remains quiet as they shake Zuko awake enough to at least stumble between them as they walk towards a ship that barely looks like it’ll hold itself together through even a mild storm at sea. Everyone looks at them with a range of distrust and anger and Azula ignores all of them.
"Don’t you dare give up yet,” she whispers to Zuko as she pulls a ratty blanket over his shoulders. “I will never forgive you if you do.”
...
It’s immediately clear even before they reach the Southern Water Tribe that Mother and Zuko are both underdressed for the weather. The sharp cold chills Azula, but she’s able to at least regulate her internal temperature enough to not fear frostbite will set in.
Mother isn’t a bender and Zuko’s in no state to regulate his temperature either.
The last days of the journey, Azula spends most of her days keeping both of them warm so by the time they reach the Southern Water Tribe no one’s in danger of losing any fingers or toes. She’s exhausted and doesn’t even put up a fight with Mother when she’s pulled into her arms.
When she wakes, there’s loud voices outside their room. One of them sounds like Mother and Azula sits up, head spinning as she stumbles to her feet.
“Please,” she hears Mother beg. “My son…he needs a healer. If he doesn’t see one he’ll…please. I’m begging you as a mother.”
It’s all Azula needs to hear before she yanks the door open and stumbles into the narrow corridor. There are men standing at the bottom of the stairs that lead up to the deck, dressed in thick parkas lined with furs. Their expressions are harsh and furious but Azula notices almost immediately how the man in charge wavers when he catches sight of her.
“How old are your children?”
Mother latches onto the man’s momentary hesitation. “Just ten and twelve. Please. We mean no harm and will leave as soon as my son can travel if we cannot remain longer.”
The man’s expression remains conflicted and Azula gathers all her strength to appear as non-threatening as possible despite the anger that licks through their veins. If Father hadn’t—
They’d be halfway to Ba Sing Se by now. Safe. Or well, as safe as they could be on the run.
“Let us see the boy and then we’ll make our decision.”
The beast in Azula’s chest roars at the thought of these savages getting anywhere near her brother in such a vulnerable state but she cages it quickly when hope flickers across Mother’s expression. She will not ruin Zuko’s chances because of her demons.
Mother nods, “very well, he’s asleep and feverish so he won’t be able to answer you if you speak to him.”
The man follows Mother into the small room and Azula hears the way his breath stutters in his chest at the sight of Zuko, weak and ravaged by infection. She knows they have perhaps another day at best before it’ll be too late.
This is Zuko’s only chance and Azula will ensure he lives no matter what she must do.
She can ask for his forgiveness later because at least he’ll be alive to be disappointed in her.
“Are any of you benders?”
Mother hesitates and Azula nearly beats her to the lie when— “Both of my children are, yes. But I swear to all the gods that none of us will bring any harm to your village. We’re simply seeking refuge and safety.”
The man mouths the word ‘refuge’ like he doesn’t quite believe them but then he turns to face his men. “Go get Kya. Tell her there’s a boy with a badly infected burn. The rest of you start unloading the crates.”
For a single heartbeat, none of them move but something on the man’s face must spur them into action because in a matter of moments it’s just him remaining with her, Mother, and Zuko.
There’s still tension in his shoulders but Azula doesn’t feel the need to remain alert.
“Thank you,” Mother whispers, and all the pride she usually carries around shatters, leaving behind a woman Azula barely recognizes. “I know you have no reason to believe me but…thank you. We will do our best to honor your kindness. You have no reason to give it.”
“No. I don’t. But no matter how I feel about the Fire Nation, children are still children. They didn’t ask to be brought into this war-torn world.”
Mother nods and Azula moves to Zuko’s side, a barrier between him and the man should he decide to change his mind. She refuses to believe that they’re truly safe, and probably never will until Father is dead and gone.
There’s a murmur of voices down the corridor and a moment later a woman around Mother’s age appears. She looks at the man, who gives her a nod, before turning to look into the room. The gasp that leaves the woman, who must be Kya, at the sight of Zuko settles some of Azula’s tension.
“Tui and La, he must be around Sokka’s age,” she whispers before looking to Mother for permission to enter. Mother nods and steps aside, shooting Azula a look to do the same. “Just a child,” she whispers.
Kya’s hands move with practiced ease as she carefully peels back the bandages. Several curses spill into the air at the sight of the burn and Azula has to look away lest she throw up what little food she’s been given to eat the last few days.
“Hakoda, go get the stretcher. Bato has it up on the deck.”
The man, Hakoda, hesitates to leave Kya alone with them and Azula wants to sneer at him but Mother’s hand on her shoulder ensures her face remains carefully blank.
“Now, Hakoda.”
Hakoda leaves with only one more glance at Kya before disappearing above deck.
“How long ago did he get this burn?” Kya asks.
Mother moves to settle on the other side of Zuko, gently grabbing his hand in her own. “Two weeks.”
Kya’s head snaps up, gaze sharp. “Why was he not treated for this in Kyoshi?”
“You know why,” Mother says, never taking her eyes off Zuko.
“Because we’re Fire Nation,” Azula snaps, breathing life into the truth that all the adults seem to dance around. “They wouldn’t even look at him. Just sent us here.”
Kya sighs. “That does not surprise me. He is strong to have made it here. I will do everything within my abilities to keep him in this world with you both. Though I must warn you...if he survives the infection his recovery will be long and difficult.”
Azula looks away and closes her eyes. “It’s my fault.” The words leave her mouth without permission. "It should’ve been me…”
“Azula. No,” Mother says, reaching across Zuko to grab her chin and force her to open her eyes. “You are not at fault for what your father has done.”
Kya sucks in a sharp breath. “His father did this to him?”
Azula looks away again and Mother’s hand falls back to her side. “Yes. He is why we had to flee the Fire Nation.”
Well. Grandfather too. And some of the blame falls onto the earthbenders who fatally wounded Lu Ten, giving Father the opportunity to make a grab for the throne, something Azula’s known he’s wanted for years.
Before Mother or Kya can continue, the sound of footsteps reach their ears. Azula turns and sees Hakoda and who she presumes is Bato walk down the corridor with a stretcher between them. The rest of Azula’s tension drains into the dirty floor, washed away by the water below.
“Don’t jostle him too much,” Kya commands before turning back to her and Mother. “We’ll get you both properly dressed as well and some warm food.”
Azula can’t bring herself to say or do anything other than lean into Mother’s side as Hakoda and Bato lift Zuko off the straw palette and onto the stretcher. Zuko doesn’t make a sound, the only indication he’s alive is the pinch in his brows and a shallow breath.
“Thank you,” Mother says again. “I will never be able to repay you.”
Kya looks away from Zuko to glance at them. “There is no need. He is only a child and as a mother myself, I can only imagine what you’re feeling right now.”
Mother nods and pulls Azula closer. “They’re everything to me.”
Kya nods, a sad smile tugging at the corners of her lips. Azula wants to tell the woman to take her pity and drown it in the ocean. But exhaustion has taken a firm grip on her mind and she sways dangerously when the ship rocks sharply with a wave.
“I understand. Let’s get you both some rest. You’re safe now.”
Azula is asleep before her head hits Mother’s shoulders as she’s lifted into her arms.