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Red Breath

Summary: Azula has been hiding that she has tuberculosis. Her secret comes out during the last Agni Kai.

For @the-mariachi-96 based on this post.

There is red on her pillow.

There is red on the cloth in her pocket.

She tries not to dwell too much upon it.

Today is her special day.

The mirror has no mercy.

No sympathy nor compassion.

It is a cold thing, and—had it a voice—it would speak clinically. Forward. Direct. Brutal.

In its own way it does have a voice and it speaks through images it reveals and the inner monologue that it inspires from the looker. Sometimes it is pleasant, mostly it is mundane and indifferent. These days it has been cruel; it shows Azula that she has been deteriorating steadily and rapidly.

That something that was already well out of her control has spiraled much further beyond it. Either her skin has grown sallow or the palace’s warm lighting is making her complexion look more sickly than it truly is. For certain she has grown thinner, her robes had always fit rather large on her frame for comfort’s sake. Now they are too baggy for comfort. Sleep and illness have put bags under her eyes too.

She touches her fingers to her cheek, the texture of her skin is not quite right, but that could be because she hasn’t been drinking enough. Her cheekbones are more prominent beneath her fingers.

She wants to blame Mai and TyLee.

If they hadn’t chosen Zuzu…

If they hadn’t left…

Since finding out, they have always kept her fed and comfortable.

She grits her teeth. It is her own fault for letting them care for her instead of learning to care for herself by herself.

Even if they were there to feed her, she probably wouldn’t want to eat anyhow. The sickness is getting worse and it is stealing her appetite, her comfort, her strength, her motivation, and, most pressingly, her future.

Her well kept secret is finally unraveling and she is glad that father isn’t around to witness it, that nobody is around to see it, she had made certain of that. And she starts to wonder…

She is always wondering, speculating, or overthinking about something or another.

This time she ponders exactly what is to blame for her fraying mind, the fog within it, and the things that it shows her—the things that aren’t truly there.

Can tuberculosis cause paranoia and hallucinations or was it the loss of Mai and TyLee that has put her mind of kilter. If the former is to be blamed then it might be that she is reaching her last days. And, by the spirits, it seems to have come about so quickly. She knows that she doesn’t want to be alone when she takes her last red, labored breath.

Her chest hurts.

Her lungs burn.

She is afraid to die.

But she is afraid to breathe.

.oOo.

To some degree, she wonders what the purpose is. Of the crown. Of this new title. Of anything really. Azula will be dead soon and she knows it. So why then? Why bother letting them fix the crown into her hair? A sense of duty, she decides, and to make father proud right to the very end. Her nation depends on her, especially now, with the comet barreling towards the world. Her firebending is charged, she can feel it in her core, but she is no longer certain that she could withstand its power.

The Fire Sages hover the crown just above their head, they are just about to decree that she is the new firelord. She closes her eyes and when she opens them, Zuko is in front of her with the waterbender at his side and the bison behind him.

Surely she is delirious with fever.

But no, the Fire Sages are exchanging looks.

Her already burning chest, flares with hatred. Resentment for the person who had taken her mother from her and then her friends. For the person who now wants to steal her crown—the very last thing that she has.

She is in no condition for an Agni Kai, but she will fight all the same.

She will fight to keep what is hers, fight for her nation, and fight for her honor. She will fight for her vengeance. She will fight for her friends—surely Mai and TyLee will understand then, how much they mean to her.

She rises to her feet, her head is already spinning.

Dear Zuzu has already accepted her challenge. Her fate, whatever it may be, is sealed.

She closes her eyes and hopes that her coughing will subside just long enough for her to win this fight.

She takes a labored breath and she takes a stance. She feels that breath, scratchy and searing. Like sandpaper dragging all the way down her throat. She holds herself rigid and ready in spite of it.

Zuko makes the first strike, a powerful blast of orange flames that heat her face from well across the arena. She returns with a burst of her own blue and equally as scorching, if not more so. It isn’t a fair match; not in numbers, not with her state of mind, not with her state of health. She supposes that she has made her share of sneaky, honorably questionable maneuvers. A war is a war and it will not stop because she is feeling ill.

And so she throws blast after blast until the chills start to wrack her body. Even then, she pushes onwards. Even then she wields her fire as she always had. But the more the smoke fills her lungs, the more agitated they become.

She can feel the fit coming on.

“What, no lightning today? Afraid I’ll redirect it?”

It is bait and she should know better.

But it is an excuse; an excuse to end this match once and for all, before tuberculosis ends it for her.

Perhaps this will be the last thing that she does. She wonders if Mai and TyLee will miss her. Or if they will be relieved to know that she is gone. The lightning crackles on her fingers and the fever crackles in her body.

Both will be released, only one will claim its target.

She sends the lightning off as disease rushes forward. Her lightning falls short, it splits the ground with a rumbling crack. It launches Zuko violently towards the other end of their arena. And it launches her body into a violent fit. Her coughs come on with such merciless furocity that it leaves her stomach aching and her body hunched forward.

She can feel the blood behind her teeth. If she parts her lips, it will drip onto the ground. Perhaps not a dramatic spatter, but two or three little droplets.

She glances at her right hand.

It is bloodied.

She glances at the battleground.

At two alarmed faces.

And then she sees nothing at all.

.oOo.

Azula’s vision is fuzzy. There are figures around her bedside and she can’t tell who is who. She thinks that they are probably doctors. The same ones who have been attending her since she’d come home. The ones that Lo and Li had found for her.

Her throat hurts and her head is woozy.

Sounds hurt.

Bright light hurts as it streams through the window. A glorious light spills over her face but she has not earned glory.

The comet has passed and so to has her coughing fit. But the tingling in her throat remains as a souvenir of her suffering and her lungs don’t seem that keen on expanding fully. For it, when her lips part, her breath comes out in a labored hiss.

“Aang should be here soon, he can help with that.” It takes Azula a moment to recognize that voice as the waterbender’s. But of course. She might not be here if not for waterbending. And for the life of her, Azula can’t understand why Katara would help her. Especially when Zuko had also been harmed. Perhaps he hadn’t taken a direct hit but the lightning had fallen at his feet and the shockwaves had thrown him a respectable distance.

Katara likes him better anyhow.

Everyone does.

“Mai and TyLee?” Azula mannages.

“They’ll be here soon.”

But she can’t imagine that they will want to talk to her. They are probably coming for Zuzu, to check on and comfort him.

“I’m cold.” She mentions. But she is also terribly hot, her face has a thin film of sweat.

“You have a fever.” Katara replies. “But I think that you know that. How long?”

“How long, what?”

“How long have you known?” And then she elaborates. “That you were sick.”

“None of your…” she falters into a half cough. “Of…” another half cough. “your…” And then there is the first full cough. Finally another fit comes on in full. Silent tears leak down her cheeks, more so the product of physical strain than any emotion.

Katara hands her a glass of water. “Drink that. After you swallow I’m going to bend that water and try to soothe the inside of your throat. It will probably feel weird, but it won’t hurt…”

It wouldn’t matter if it did, her throat is already sore.

“...And you won’t drown.”

Fleetingly it crosses her mind, that maybe she would be perfectly content drowning. She drinks the glass and Katara takes hold of the water. The sensation is terribly unpleasant, like nothing she has ever felt. Like nothing she ever wants to feel again. But then her burning throat cools and the sharpest of pangs taper off.

Katara lowers her hands. “No more talking, okay? You’ll agitate your throat.” Katara says. “Just rest.”

Azula nods.

“Zuko is in the bed next to you. Both of his feet are bandaged and he’s got a concussion so he won’t be walking for a little while.” Katara informs. “Mai and TyLee and my friends are on their way. You can go to sleep, I’ll wake you up when they get here.”

But she won’t be able to sleep. Her head is too preoccupied with troubled thoughts; knowing that she had failed her people and her father, knowing that she has lost everything including Mai and TyLee, knowing that her carefully guarded secret is now in the hands of the enemy. The enemy that is fixing her blankets for her and putting a cool rag on her forehead.

“Why?” Her voice is so hoarse. Hoarse and whispery, nothing like the elegant silk it had been.

“Because, you don’t deserve to die.”

It is a simple and impersonal answer. But it is just as well.

“I think that things can be different.” Katara adds. “Now that the war is over.”

Different.

She doesn’t particularly like ‘different’.

She thinks that she might be afraid of ‘different’.

Even if ‘different’ could be better for her.

“Get some rest, okay. I’m going to keep waterbending and I’ll have Sokka reach out to this herbalist that we met in Taku; she’s very knowledgeable and she has this troublemaking cat.”

“Miyuki?” Azula grumbles.

“You know Miyuki?”

Azula nods.

“Does that have anything to do with how Miyuki got in trouble with the Fire Nation?”

Another nod.

“That’s a story that you’re going to have to tell.”

“You said no talking.” Azula dodges.

“Later on.” Katara replies. “Right now, just get some rest. We’ll figure out how to treat your tuberculosis.”

Azula nods once more. Perhaps she will get to live a full lifetime afterall. She just isn’t certain of what sort of life it will be.

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avatarfan11 · 4 hours

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Sleepless - Tokka prompt fill

This was meant to be a prompt fill but, for some reason, I cannot seem to find the ask I was meant to respond to. So here I am, trying to repent by just posting it with the original prompt, which I luckily saved.

Prompt: Fic request?: Domestic tokka with sokka doing household chores and taking care of lin while toph rests bc she just gave birth to suyin and them just being a happy little family? Thank you!

...

Having a baby was a chore.

Well, not that Sokka had any first-hand experience having a baby, but he knew what a toll it took on the person who did all the wombing and growing and pushing. It was the very same toll that he saw Toph had taken since giving birth to Su. And he couldn’t stand it.

Toph had always been the kind of person to never take something lying down. She was constantly on her feet, not letting even a stubborn cold keep her down, much to the dismay of those around her. Even throughout this pregnancy, which was rougher than her first with Lin, she was trying to do field work and training at full capacity. That is, at least, until Katara mandated bed rest, something Toph, naturally, didn’t take too well or seriously for that matter.

After giving birth not even three days ago, Sokka found Toph trying to force herself to keep awake, trying to be there whenever Suyin Beifong wailed for her attention. And despite Sokka being there and his insistence on wanting to help and tend to their baby, even in his own exhaustion, she wouldn’t relent, opting to do it herself.

What bothered him the most, though, was the fact that she was very clearly drained and she wouldn’t let him do much of anything about it.

But that ended today. Right damn now, actually.

Watching her actually sleep after a long night of Su and her crying, Sokka smiled at her tranquil expression, her mouth half-open, drool dripping out of her mouth, and their daughter laying on top of her mama’s chest, ear pressed to Toph’s heart. It was the most relaxed he’d seen them both since Su was born and he couldn’t help but melt at the sight.

Carefully, he reached out to caress Toph’s cheek with the back of his hand, feeling her cool, soft skin against his before doing the same to Su. Four years together in the more-than-friends way—on and off until recently, of course—and he still couldn’t quite believe this was real, his life with the woman he loved and his baby girls was real.

As if on cue, the bedroom door crept slowly open, revealing Toph’s eldest, Lin, who was his in every way that counted since Kanto’s untimely death. From where Sokka lay, he could only see a portion of the side of her face, one green eye, and a bit of her unruly black hair.

“Psssst,” the girl hissed. “Sock.”

His smile widened as he adjusted his position in bed to face her. Then, he brought a finger to his lips to make sure she kept quiet as he slowly slipped out of bed, dropped a soft kiss on both Toph and Su’s cheeks, and shuffled over to Lin, making sure to shut the door quietly behind him.

“You’re up early,” was the first thing out of Sokka’s mouth as soon as he was in the hall. His voice was still low, careful to not wake the sleeping beauties he’d just left behind. “Missed me that much, huh?”

The six-year-old rolled her eyes, looking too much like her mother. “I’m hungry. And I couldn’t sleep.”

He frowned, crouching down to her eye level, then nudged her shoulder gently with his fist. “Did Suyin keep you up?”

“Monster kept me up.”

“Lin—”

“She’s so loud, Sock,” she complained, throwing her head back dramatically. Sokka had to keep himself from laughing at how much he’d rubbed off on her throughout the years. “She’s like the warning bell at school—loud and nannoying.”

He held back a snort. “Annoying?”

“Whatever.”

“Uh-huh.” Sokka chuckles, standing up and offering his hand out to her. “Brush your teeth?”

“Done.”

“So how about we make up for the lack of sleep with some breakfast?”

She grinned. “Hotcakes?”

“We’ve had hotcakes, like, twelve times this month,” he said, jokingly complaining. “You’re going to start looking like a hotcake.”

“I like hotcakes,” Lin replied easily, pulling him into the kitchen as she skipped.

Upon entering the room, he paused, looking around the space. To put it simply, it was a mess. There were toys scattered across the floor, books hanging open off the back of the sofa, furniture out of place, crumbs all over the counter, and he wanted nothing more than to pass out.

Sokka stood in the kitchen, surveying the chaos around him. It was very evident that the household was still adjusting to their new addition.

He glanced over at the clock on the wall, noting the time with a sigh. The morning was slipping away, and there was still so much to do. Breakfast needed to be made, Lin needed to be entertained, and Toph... well, Toph needed rest.

With an exhale, Sokka set about making breakfast, his mind buzzing with plans and ideas and schedules as to how to make the day work without waking Toph until she rose on her own (or at Suyin’s next wail, which was likelier than anything else). He whipped up a batch of hotcakes with practiced ease, the smell of sizzling batter filling the air. Meanwhile, Lin sat at the kitchen table, her eyes wide with excitement as she watched him work.

He nodded at her when he noticed her watching. “Like what you see?”

“Sock, can I help?” she asked, her voice filled with eager anticipation.

Sokka smiled warmly at his daughter, his heart swelling with pride. “How about you set the table while I finish up here? I’ll make Mama some as well and keep them aside for when she wakes up.”

Lin nodded eagerly, jumping down from her chair and darting over to the cupboard to grab the plates and utensils using an earthen stepping block in order for her to reach them. Sokka watched her with a fond smile, his heart overflowing with love for his family as he slid the food onto their plates, dabbing an overly generous helping of sweet cream over them.

The two settled down at the table together, their movements and voices careful not to disturb the morning's tranquility. For a while, Lin pretended to dislike the meal, making faces, and shaking her head when Sokka continually asked her how good she found it. Eventually, however, she had to give in and ask for another serving, much to Sokka’s satisfaction.

“Full?” Sokka whispered from across the table as he began to clear the plates.

“Mhm.”

“Great, now you can help me clean up this pig chicken sty, huh?”

Lin giggled. “It’s not a pig chicken sty.”

“It’s really messy, then,” he amended quietly, smiling at her as he quietly set the plates in the sink. “But come on. Help a Sokka out, pick up the toys, and put them in your room. And be careful about it because you don’t want to wake—”

“No waking Monster. Got it,” she stage whispered, shuffling off to gather her toys, taking them to her room in bunches as quietly as she could muster. It wasn’t very quiet and he winced every time she dropped something, but she did her best.

As Sokka and Lin worked together to tidy up the living space, they moved with effort to maintain their quiet, mindful of not disturbing Toph’s much-needed sleep. Lin would occasionally shoot him a proud grin whenever she successfully managed to transport a handful of toys without making too much noise, and Sokka couldn’t help but snort.

It took them about an hour to get everything in the kitchen and living room sorted, including a bottle from the breastmilk they’d stowed away for Su, and they did it all with little noise. Sokka tossed a damp rag into the sink and settled his hands on his waist, giving the spaces an appraising look. The room looked much more like a living space and less like a battlefield. He glanced at Lin from where he stood and she flashed a smile at him of her own, one that lacked one of her front teeth, and he returned it before rushing towards her, picking her giggling self up, and collapsing onto the couch.

Spirits, did he feel exhausted.

In combination with the clean-up, he’d barely slept himself last night or the past few days. He was just mostly concerned about Toph, so he wouldn’t go to sleep until she did and awoke whenever she did. It was a job for both of them; he refused to leave her alone.

Lin rested her head on his chest after her fit of soft laughs dissipated and her breaths began to slow just as his own eyes began to feel heavier and heavier and—

It started as a soft whimper, barely audible, but quickly escalated into full-blown crying. Sokka’s eyes flew open, and then he released a sigh, knowing what was coming.

The sound of Lin’s groan filled her ears as she lifted her head tiredly. “Again?”

Sokka nodded, his expression was troubled as he looked at the clock on the wall. “She’s probably just hungry. It’s about time for her morning feed.”

Together, they stood and entered the bedroom where Toph lay sleeping, Su nestled against her chest. The baby's cries grew louder as they approached, her tiny fists clenched and her face scrunched up in distress.

It wasn’t until then that Toph began to stir, groggily opening her eyes. Softly, she ran her fingers down Su’s face to feel her expression before sitting up and scooting backward, the baby in her arms, as she got ready to breastfeed.

Sokka knelt beside the bed, gently lifting Su into his arms. “I can take care of it,” he said, caressing his daughter’s face. “I got a bottle ready a bit ago; Lin can go grab it.”

Toph nodded, rubbing her eyes sleepily. “Thanks, Sokka.”

After quickly retrieving the bottle from the kitchen counter, Lin hovered nearby, watching as Sokka settled into a chair with Su cradled against his chest. With practiced ease, he began to feed her, murmuring soothing words as he rocked her gently.

It relieved him that Toph wasn’t trying to take over. She must’ve been too tired to realize that she’d finally relented. He spared a glance at her, watching her nod off with one foot on the ground to keep track of him and the girls, then looked down at Su.

The baby was gulping down her milk, the sound audible and one that Sokka always found himself smiling at, and her eyes were shut. Lin gently crept over, clearly wanting a look at her baby sister.

“She’s so small,” she commented in a whisper. “And quiet.”

Sokka nearly barked out a laugh. “You were like this once.”

“I’m so sorry,” she replied, eyes wide with horror.

Again, he had to hold back a loud laugh as he continued to feed Suyin. After a while, though, the gulping stopped, and Sokka slowly stood to not disturb Su or Toph.

And yet, Toph roused herself fully suddenly, pushing herself upright in bed with a tired sigh. “I’ve got her,” she said, stretching her limbs as she reached out for the newborn.

“She’s knocked out, T,” he told her softly, moving Su over to her crib beside the bed. “And you need rest—”

“I’ve gotten enough rest.” She waved him off, walking over to him anyway and setting her hand on the side of the crib. “I’m good.”

“T—”

“Would you quit hovering? I said I’m good.”

Sokka inhaled and deadpanned. “I can see that now.”

Clearly not helping it, Toph chuckled, tired smirk on her face as she wrapped her arms around his waist, resting her chin on his chest so her face was inches away from his. “I’m good,” she repeated. “Thank you.”

“Hm.”

Her voice dipped as she got on her toes, her lips brushing his. “Do you need me to show you?”

“Oh.” He cleared his throat, nervously glimpsing at Lin, who was still in the room making a face of disgust at her parents. “You are well-rested.”

She gave him a peck—one little peck—before dragging her feet over to Lin and ruffling her daughter’s hair. “I am. And I had a dream you made hotcakes; smelled them and everything.” She poked Lin’s cheek. “It was a very realistic dream.”

“Sock made hotcakes, Mama!” Lin exclaimed, earning a shh from both Toph and Sokka. The girl blushed then repeated more quietly, “Sock made them.”

“Well,” Toph said to him, taking Lin’s hand and pulling her towards the kitchen without turning back, “are you just going to stand there or are you going to give me my hotcakes?”

Sokka couldn’t help but chuckle at Toph’s playful demand, her exhaustion momentarily forgotten all of a sudden. With a grin, he followed his girls into the kitchen, warming up her serving. Toph leaned against the counter, feeling him move and work with a soft smile, while Lin eagerly hopped onto one of the stools, swinging her legs back and forth in anticipation.

And, spirits, he felt so whole.

—

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