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bellatrixobsessed1 · 3 years

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Scars Of A Killer

Inspired by this art! <3

Day 3: Fire Lord Azula

Summary: Azula can be the Fire Lord, all she has to do is let the lightning leave her fingertips. It should be simple...

Zuko stares up at her, horror in his eyes. Horror, resignation, and then some sort of solemnly noble acceptance. She sees the flashing reflection of her lightning in those eyes. She is going to be the Fire Lord, she already is and in one flash she will seal the deal.

She can see it already, the crown shimmering atop her head, peasant folk at her feet. She is powerful, glorious, a sight to behold in her billowing Fire Lord regalia. Ozai, the Phenoix King stands behind her with a firm, hand on her shoulder. He is smiling, he is proud of her. But even in her fantasy, the crown is heavy and with it she wears a frown. The sun is high in the air, beaming down on her, but she feels no warmth…

Her arm shakes and she thinks that she is going to lose control of the lightning. Spirits, what if she hits herself? Would she deserve it? She thinks that everyone else would say so. She feels so very sick to her stomach.

As if to try to prove something to herself, she moves closer to Zuko, the lighting dancing just inches from his nose. It throws sparks every which way and he flinches as a few ping onto his face. They sear her own arms. He grits his teeth and closes his eyes.

She swallows hard.

Like the flashes of her lightning she can see herself running through the Ember Island tall grasses with Zuko, remembers searching for toad-squirrels with him by the palace pond, remembers him rescuing her from a hoard of angry turtle-ducks after having tossed an loaf at them. She remembers what it was like to be cherished. To be happy. To have companionship.

Agni, she is so alone.

The lightning flickers out. She lets her arm drop and with it she drops to her knees, body feeling limp and numb. She doesn’t know what’s wrong with her, she should be stronger than this. A true Fire Lord wouldn’t have hesitated. Father wouldn’t have hesitated. She is pathetic, weak. And for it she has lost her chance. Lost her dreams. Everything that she has worked for.

Zuko, still breathing hard, gets to his feet. He hesitates before holding his arm out. Impulsively, she reaches for his hand; it is the only help that has been extended to her in a very long while. He helps her to her own feet before pulling her into a tight hug. Oh, Agni, her head hurts so much.

She can’t exactly explain why she had, but she lets out a small sob and then another until she is bawling into his shoulder like a child. Today was supposed to be glorious, honorable but instead she is shamed and humiliated and she is handling it with less grace than Iroh running home after Lu Ten’s death.

No one has died in this battle and yet loss hits just as deeply. She is doubly shamed; at least when Iroh fled and cried his reasons were solid enough. What can she say for herself? That she was having a bad day? One bad day shouldn’t reduce her to this…

Zuko brushes his hand over her hair. “Let’s go sit down.” He offers.

She says nothing and lets him lead her to the stairwell.

“We can have Katara take a look at us both.”

She has a feeling that the waterbender won’t be too pleased to offer her any sort of help. Not after everything. Zuko helps her sit down.

“I was thinking that, after we’re all healed up, we can do something neat with our firebending. There’s still time and it might be nice to make the most of it.”

It sounds idealistic. Unrealistic.

Katara looks Zuko over first, healing his side and the places on his face where the sparks had landed. The worst of it, she said, was a fractured rib cage. But a little waterbending fixed that right up.

Azula winces as Katara takes her hands.

“No wonder.” She mumbles before wrapping Azula’s hands in a cocoon of water. There is an unpleasant stinging tingle before Katara retracted her hands to work with some of the bruises on her arms and knees.

“You two are horrible!” She declares upon finishing. “You both did a number on each other, you should be ashamed!”

She feels prickles and jabs of shame for various reasons and based upon the clenching of his jaw, she would wager that Zuko does too. “We’re going to make it right.” He vows. “Right, Azula.”

She shrugs. At the very least, she doesn’t have the energy to make it worse. She stares at her palms and the jagged lightning scars that run jaggedly all over her hands. They are both fresh and old and only seem to be getting worse.

She forces herself to her feet and slouches over to his side. She isn’t sure what he has planned but at this point she is willing to try anything to alleviate the hurt and loneliness. Anything to regain at least some of her dignity.

At first they only throw large balls of fire back and forth between one another, mesmerized by the sight of blue on orange and the shapes that the flames make as they erupt and disperse. And then they begin wrapping their flames coiling blue in and out of orange. And then they make pictures and put stories to those pictures until Katara is just as spellbound as they.

In one grand finale, Azula shapes a blue dragon, moves it about and Zuko accents it by giving it flames to breathe down onto the stony floor. By their show’s end she is panting lightly, she is so, so tired. Doubly so when it settles in--the reason for their rift. They are a strong duo, they work well together. Ozai is safer if they hate each other. They could have been happy. Things could have been nice.

Zuko puts a hand on her back, smiles down at her as if to say, “they will be nice.”

.oOo.

Things work differently than she had expected. Two scenarios had played out in her mind, really she thought that it could have only worked out in one of two ways; either she’d be on the throne dressed finely and with a crown on her head or she would be dressed in rags and on her way to the darkness of a prison cell next to father.

Azula is dressed in neither finery nor rags. Instead her night robe drapes around her body. It is her off week, but she isn’t sure that she is ready to take her turn with the crown. She is still so exhausted, her mind is still reeling and disoriented.

Zuko promises that she can have her turn when she is ready for it. When she is ready to be Fire Lord Azula. Right now, and until her head clears, she just wants to be Azula. She stares at her palms. At those dreadful scars. The scars of a killer.

She traces her pointer over them.

“Still staring at your hands?” Zuko asks.

She holds them up.

“You can hide them with gloves if you hate them that much.” He suggests.

But that’s just it, she doesn't hate the look of them. She hates what they represent. And she can’t hide from that. She tells him as much. “I first got them after I killed the Avatar.”

He nods. “I think that he’s already forgiven you.”

“I never asked--”

Zuko laughs, “that’s Aang for you! I didn’t ask either.”

Azula nods.

“I think that he’s just relieved that you picked the right choice in the end.”

Sometimes she still has her doubts about that, but she nods anyhow.

“Are you sure that you don’t want to try the crown on today?” He removes it from his head and places it in her palms. “I’m pretty sure that everyone’s curious about what kind of Fire Lord you’re going to be.”

“You just don’t want to attend the five hour long council meeting.” She grumbles. But she fixes the crown into her hair anyways. “The robes?”

When she emerges fully dressed and made up Zuko greets her with a goofy grin. “They’re huge on you!”

“Shut up” she grumbles again.

“I guess that we’re going to have to get you fitted for your own regalia, huh?”

She nods. “Looks like you’ll be going to the meeting after all.” Azula shrugs.

“You can still wear the crown. Just change out of you pajamas and you’ll be fine.”

She supposes that attending this meeting will probably be the best way for her to recover her shaky reputation. It will be a demonstration of her maturity, intellect, and stability. “Alright, but you’re coming with. If I have to sit through this, so do you.” She pauses. “I don’t feel like relaying five hours worth of content.” Truth be told, she just doesn’t want to be alone for her first big milestone as Fire Lord. Especially not now that she knows what the pressure and fear does to her...

“I’ll get dressed.” He sighs.

She relaxes significantly. It is easier to be the Fire Lord when she isn’t isolated and hate. It is easier to breathe and live when she has love and support. Spirits, it has been so so long since she’d had either of those. She supposes that sharing the crown is a small price to pay for it.

#Avatar The Last Airbender #Azula #Azulaweek2021 #Zuko #Azula Week #Fanfiction

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talas-starlight · 4 years

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Scarred Spirit - Zuko x fem!reader (pt.2)

SUMMARY: reader faces the consequences of interfering with the Agni Kai (emotionally and physically)

WORD COUNT: 3.9k

WARNINGS: angst. Torture, semi nudity (NOT sexually) –traumatising!! physical and some mental abuse. Violence. Mentions/descriptions of death. Crying. Swearing. Ozai being a literal nutter. Azula being nutter 2.0.

A/N: THIS IS A REPOST FROM THE AUTHOR OF THIS FIC - I had some complications with the original blog this fic was posted on so please show this some love,, ALL FUTURE CHAPTERS FOR THIS FIC WILL BE POSTED HERE!! hi friends!! Thank you to everyone who showed some love to the first chapter eep! Anyway I’m really scared for y’all to read this one, but!! I’m aiming to have the gaang in the next one so if you hate this I’m sorry but I didn’t want the story to be rushed so I couldn’t bring myself to skip this :// Please read the warnings!!

Also! In this part italics are internalised thoughts 😊

OTHER PARTS: pt1 / pt3 / pt4 / pt5 / pt6

MASTERLIST: Here!

The Fire Lords command echoed throughout the room, encompassing the crowd in a thick silence.

Zuko let out a small gasp, one only you were able to hear. After experiencing just a fragment of the physical pain he endured, you didn’t want him to make any decisions he would regret, especially if he was considering to defend you. You didn’t deserve it. Burnt, dead skin, blisters across your left side in the hot atmosphere around you. Your heart begins to tighten and rip you apart all at the same time, realising how much pain you caused for taking all of those lives.

Continuing to kneel on the floor of the duelling platform, you’re frozen, filled with disgust as you finally acknowledge the person you became. From your first commission four years ago, you were numbed to the experience of taking someone’s life. Seeing the life fade from someone’s eyes as you plunged your flame lit sword into their chest, you felt nothing. It was as if it were just a switch inside of them, nothing more. One moment they were there, the next they’re not. You recall Zemin’s reaction when you recounted the events of your first kill, and he didn’t make it seem like it mattered. His only response was to scold you for showing off because you didn’t need to light your sword on fire to kill the man.

Managing to push through the new thoughts and emotions that have awoken within you, your mind travels back to the boy behind you. Despite what you’re currently feeling, it will never amount to the emotional pain he has after being attacked by his father. Fire Lord or not.

Continuing to face the floor, you can’t bring yourself to even glance at Zuko, barely managing to croak out, “Forget who I am. Stay alive, that would be enough.”

You feel his stare to the back of your head. You wish you could turn around and say something, anything at all, maybe even hold him. Anything to get rid of the disgusting, vulnerable, and isolating feelings within you. You wanted to tell him he didn’t deserve it, even if you didn’t know who he really was. Because as much as you hated to admit it, you were afraid. So fucking afraid. Zemin never taught you what to do in these situations, especially anything involving saving the Prince’s life.

Unknown to you, Zuko’s right arm cautiously reaches out to take hold to the back of your robes. So close his fingertips graze the fabric, but not close enough. The two nearest guards rushed to grab you while everyone in the crowd stared at your figure on the duelling ground.

With one guard on either side of you, they grabbed your arms and shoved you off the platform. Hissing, and failing to shove down a pathetic sob ripping through your half-burnt throat, you fall onto your hands and knees. A moment later, the guards were back at your side, dragging you through the door you couldn’t bring yourself to walk through minutes earlier.

Freedom feels like a distant, pathetic dream.

You try to take in the palace around you as they drag you to the right. Connecting where you are to the map, you saw last night, becomes increasingly difficult as the prolonged burning sensation on your skin begins to fog your mind. It’s no use keeping your eyes open. The dark colours of the palace give you a headache. You want to pass out. Give up completely. But Zemin didn’t lock you up in a pitch-black, underground labyrinth, for three months when you were eight to learn nothing. Instincts kicking in, you allow your eyes to close and begin to count your movements, listening to your surroundings.

20 steps forward.

Turn left.

15 steps.

Turn right.

You notice the guard to your left has a weaker hold on you than your right. Possibly about of disgust for holding your arm, or maybe to cause less pain. You assume the former.

18 steps.

The guards come to a stop.

You feel the guard to your left, slightly turning her body towards you. “Hey, maybe we should stop for a bit. I think the kid passed out.”

Ah, so maybe the latter as well then.

The guard to the right scoffs at her suggestion. “Don’t worry about it. She’s not completely out yet, she managed to keep moving. Probably just weak from the pain. Stupid kid. We’ve got a long way to go, and the Fire Lord will want her towards the top of the prison.”

Still unconvinced the female guard persists, “Shouldn’t we be taking her to the infirmary? These are really severe burns.”

There’s a pause. Only for a few moments, but enough for them to weigh up their options. “We should, but the Fire Lord would end us if we did that. We’ll just send a healer to the cell after we get her there.”

The guard shakes you, forcing you to open your eyes. Guiding you out of the palace, you squint your eyes as the sun blinds you, eventually able to make out a tall tower-like building before you. Entering the darkness that lies inside it, you struggle to keep up with their pace as they wind their way further and further up the spiral. Making it to a cell, the guard to the right drops you instantly making you crumble to the floor, eliciting a subtle dig to your hip. You’d forgotten all about the dagger strapped around your waist under your robes—the one you used to kill the general.

While the guard is holding your injured arm tugs you back up, you decide to act while one of them is preoccupied. Balancing on your right leg, you swing your left leg around, slamming into the back of their knees, making them fall. You quickly take out the dagger from underneath your robes, flipping it in your hand and using the blunt of the handle to knock her out in the head. The thud to the guards’ head alerts the other ahead of you. By the time they’ve processed what happened, you ran to them, kicking them in the stomach propelling them into the cell they recently managed to open. Running towards them you drop to both of your knees, arching your back as you slide under streams of fire passing above you. Rookie move on their part. Bringing your torso back up, you send a punch to their face knocking them out cold.

You grab the other guard and drag them into the cell as well and swap your robes for their uniform. It’s too large for your adolescent figure, but its good enough. Taking the keys, you lock them both in there, closing the main door on your way out in hopes no one will notice them in there instead of you.

Breath, you still have a long way to go.

With determined strides, you make your way past other guards in the prison, praying to the spirits that for once they’ll be on your side. Following the steps you memorised in your head from earlier, you end up back at the point where they led you from the arena. From this point, you decide to go in the opposite direction to which they took you. To the left.

Stay calm y/n, you’re going to make it.

You find a door leading out of the castle, and you can see the palace gates in the distance.

Holy Spirits! So… I would have made it out in time if I left the Agni Kai… That doesn’t matter anymore, you’re going to make it out now.

Walking out into the open, you force yourself to suppress a scream of pure joy. Time began to slow down as you saw the gates coming closer and closer. So close you started wondering where you’d go once you made it through.

Those thoughts were abandoned when you hear screaming from behind you.

“Close the gates! That guard is the traitor! Don’t let her out, and close the gates!”

No. No, not again. No, no, no! Fuck!

Breaking out in a sprint, you push yourself harder and further than any training exercise Zemin put you through. You let out a painful scream as if it would make you run faster than the guards at the gates, slowly pushing them shut. Nothing could compare to how much you wanted this slice of freedom. After just a few hours of being in the miserable palace, you were convinced you’d rather walk and swim to the Northern Water Tribe without any food or water, than have to spend another moment here. Mind going into overdrive, you don’t seem to hear or even register the fact that there is a group of around twenty guards behind you, ready to take you down.

With an echoing clang, they seal the gates shut. You falter, slowing down as waves of desperation and hopelessness consume you, yet unable to bring yourself to stop completely.

No, please.

One guard managed to catch up to you in your moments of weakness, throwing a strong punch to your head before you have time to react.

WEEK ONE

It had been a week since you were caught (again) and imprisoned in the Fire Nation jail cell and quite frankly, you were bored. After your stunt when you were first brought here, they ensured that you would never have access to any sharp objects, serving food in wooden bowls with only your hands to eat. Bold of them to assume you didn’t know 21 ways to use the bowl if you truly desired to kill them. No one spoke to you, not even the healer who came in wordlessly the first night to treat your burns. You lay on your right side, staring up at the ceiling admiring the small light that came through the poor excuse of a window.

I wonder if Zemin was worried when I never came back. Would he be worried? No that’s a stupid question, of course not. If anything, he’d be annoyed that I damaged his reputation by getting caught… I still hope he got those gold pieces though, at least then I can slowly waste away in here knowing I don’t owe him any more money. Maybe he could finally fulfil his dream and go to Ba Sing Se. He used to always guilt me into learning a new form of fighting, groaning on about how he gave up the money he had to move there and start a new life with the woman he loved, to raise me. Idiot. He never had an obligation to raise me in the first place, I’m probably from nowhere, and my parents were probably mediocre people in the grand scheme of things. Who even were my-

Cutting off your train of thought, one of the guards walked up to the cell and unlocked it, another quickly grabbing your wrists, and latching them in chains. “The Fire Lord has ordered to speak with you.”

You crack a smirk, “Oh goodie, I think I’m ready for a rematch!”

“Shut it kid, you’re lucky he ordered that you can’t be disposed of… yet.”

Am I lucky? Being burnt alive and having access to a non- waterbending healer and a bowl of old rice is lucky? Oh great Spirits, thank you for gracing my life with these blessings from the great Fire Nation.

What. A. Load. Of. Shit.

Leading you to the palace, you make it into the throne room. At this point, you wanted to laugh at their efforts to scare you.

Really? Dark Lighting and a fire wall right in front of the throne you sit high and mighty? If only I were an Airbender, then I could huff and puff until you fall into the flames.

A guard standing near the Fire Lord is the first to speak. “Bow before your Fire Lord!”

Spitting on the ground, you look at Ozai in the eye. “I will never bow before you!”

He laughs.

“I know you are the one who killed one of my generals before the duel after acquiring your blade. It’s quite interesting how you managed to get to him without any bending, I must find and congratulate whoever your trainer was. Lucky for you though, the general was of no value to me and easy to replace. I will also show you mercy for what you did at the Agni Kai, only because it was my disgrace of a son you protected, and just like that general, not anyone truly valuable to the nation. Regardless of your crimes, you have already proven yourself a very great asset for a mere child. For that, I will grant you the ultimate freedom, free of any ties you have with the low lives outside of the Capital. Instead, you can directly serve your Fire Lord as my personal assassin. I will have the best swordsmen train you. Taking your abilities to new heights, you wouldn’t even begin to imagine for yourself. I will make you unstoppable. For a non-bender, that is.”

Based on the confident yet bored tone of his voice, you could easily assume he didn’t care. Yet his golden eyes narrow down towards your figure. Waiting. Testing to see if you dare defy his wishes. The offer is objectively easy. Technically, all he is asking of you is to do the same thing you’ve been raised to do, just under his allegiance.

Zuko flashes in your mind. Tears streaming down his face, and begging his father for mercy. “I will never kill for you! I would rather relive the burns you gave me every day than stand by your side!”

He sighs. “If that is what you wish. Maybe over time, you will learn what a great honour it is to be offered such an opportunity, let us meet again next week.”

The guards, as if they were expecting this, shoved you to your knees, ripped off the top you were wearing, and the bindings across your chest. Frozen as the warm air from the flames around you hit your chest, you were mortified. Knowing other guards present were intently watching you be humiliated in front of the Fire Lord, you forced yourself to control the urge to vomit the contents of your prison food on the floor. Quickly bringing your arms and hands to your chest, you winced at the sudden movement from your left arm.

Without any time to mentally prepare, both guards ignited streams of fire to your back. Instinctively you hunch over, attempting and failing to avoid the flames. Unbeknownst to you, everyone in the palace all the way to the kitchens, froze as your haunting screams echoed throughout its halls.

Through your tears and screams, you faintly heard the Fire Lord speak. “You will learn to agree, and you will comply.”

THREE MONTHS

Despite crying every time it happened, you became accustomed to the burnings every week you refused Ozai’s offer. You began to lose any emotional feeling when it happened, robotically going through each step.

They bring you to the throne room.

You say no.

You take off your shirt and bindings for yourself.

The guards burn you.

You cry.

Ozai watches you as if he had better things to do with his time.

Although today, hours after the ritual, you received your first guest that wasn’t a guard or a healer. You knew who they were after sensing them as they hid behind a pillar in the throne room every week. Sensing them through the body heat within them, a gift you always had since you were little. Theirs was crackled with so much anger and hatred; it was so unique to everyone in the palace, you barely had to think about it.

“What do I owe the pleasure of the one and only Fire Nation Princess being in my worthless presence?”

“Shut it scum!”

You let out a small laugh. “Ooo scum? That’s a lovely nickname, but honestly, a little bland, don’t you think? You ARE the Fire Nation princess after all, why not add a little spice to it?”

She didn’t seem to like that. “ENOUGH! You want spice?!” Shooting a streamline of fire from her fingertips, she shot at your head. Luckily enough, you weren’t in front of Ozai or defending her brother, so you swiftly dodged her shot.

Not giving her the satisfaction of retaliation, you sat in the middle of the cell, closing your eyes and crossing your legs. You began to meditate, trying to block out the irritating sense of fire within her.

She walked up to the bars, staring down on you. “I hope you know that my dear brother Zuzu won’t be coming back any time soon.”

This was the first time you’d heard about the Prince since the Agni Kai. She paused, waiting to see if she got a reaction out of you, but you were a trained assassin for Spirit’s sake, you had more control than that. Letting out a deep breath of air, you knew all you needed to do was stay calm.

“You do know what happened to him after you failed to protect him, don’t you? Oh! That’s right if I do recall correctly, you were so paralysed with what you had done, you didn’t even spare him a glance!” She let out a laugh as you remained still.

“Awww, yes! Poor Zuzu doesn’t even know what his ‘saviour’ looks like and he never will! You want to know why, scum?”

Not really but I guess I don’t have much of a choice.

“Because he will NEVER come back. He will NEVER step foot into the Fire Nation again because he was banished to capture the Avatar! It’s a bit ironic, don’t you think? All your pathetic little life, you have been KILLING to get out of here, gain your freedom, and you’re never going to get it. You’ll die in this cell. Yet, on the other hand, Zuzu wants nothing more than to come right home and stand by father’s side! That really does top it all off, doesn’t it, scum? You have trapped yourself here, to save someone who only just wants to come crawling right back. And if he ever did by some miracle, capture the Avatar? He would look you in the eyes and burn you himself for being such a traitor to this Nation.”

You tensed for a second, keeping your eyes closed you quickly regained composure. “Okay Azula, you’ve had your fun. That’s enough.”

She smirked with a sinister glint in her eyes. “You embarrassed him that day. You took away the little bit of dignity he could have had if you just let him get all his scars… Or at least let him die getting them.”

Enough.

“You will forever be a reminder of what should have been his. You’re going to die here for nothing.”

Enough.

“You thought you could do some good in this world? You were wrong! Your one poor excuse for saving someone’s life will always mean nothing! Zuko doesn’t care if you saved his life! He hates you! He hates you for taking away his dignity! You will die with him hating you! Your hope for doing good in this world means nothing because he is searching to take away the one thing that would end this war, even though they’re already dead!”

“THAT’S ENOUGH, AZULA!” Opening your eyes, they snapped from your usual e/c to a blinding golden light. The fire you trained for so long to control reached its tipping point and exploded from every pore in your body setting fire to anything in its wake. Azula rushed away from the bars of your cell as it melted around you. Feeling your hair raise in a halo of fire, you raised your right arm as a blast fired right next to her head. A warning shot.

The guards outside of the cell who have been watching you since you were imprisoned, stared in shock. Not once had you shown any indication of being a fire bender.

Generally, in this state, you were unstoppable. A force even Zemin didn’t 100% know how to train, leaving you to your own devices. However, these weren’t normal circumstances. You have been tortured weekly, barely given any food or water and countless wounds that aren’t even close to being healed. After the sudden use of intense energy, you felt yourself passing out, allowing the guards to grab you quickly.

***

Groaning as if no time had passed, you found yourself chained up on a boat. “Am I going to be executed?” You weren’t sure if you were worried or hopeful at the possibility.

The female guard you knocked out on your first day in the palace sat next to you, letting out a sigh. “No, but you might as well be in your condition. You’re going to Boiling Rock, into The Cooler.”

SEVEN MONTHS

The guards came by the Cooler to deliver your food. They usually throw it to the ground and leave, but it seems today they received news that was too good to pass up the opportunity to torment you.

“Did you hear that kid? They tracked down your poor excuse of a trainer and killed him. Figured if the best he could produce was you, he wasn’t even worth sending to Boiling Rock.”

You remained curled up in the corner, unmoving as they laughed their way down the hallway. As their laughs slowly died down, you realised how pathetic you let yourself become.

Why did people have to keep dying because of you? You wanted to scream. Burn this stupid icebox down with your hands. Set the whole place to flames. But you were tired. So, so tired. You didn’t even have the energy anymore to cry when they burned you every week. Regularly being exposed to entirely polar elements began to fuck with your body. It didn’t know how to function anymore. Physically and mentally.

Despite being four months since your encounter with Azula, her words continued to spin in your mind every day. What seemed to break you the most was that you knew even if she were right, you’d do it again. If you could go back, you knew you would jump in front of him every time if it meant he was alive. Knowing he was far away from this hell hole brought you a weird sense of peace, regardless of if he was searching for the Avatar or not.

Unlike him, you weren’t far away from this wretched place. You were helpless.

Grabbing the old and cold bowl of rice, you finished your meal for the first time in three weeks.

EIGHT MONTHS

The guards walked in to take you to the palace for your weekly offer, and for the first time, you were already standing. After placing the chains to your wrists, they took you out of your cell just like they did every week. While travelling back to the Capital, you continuously persuaded yourself, this was the only way. You knew, deep down, this was the right choice. No matter how much you tried to convince yourself otherwise.

Entering the throne room, you make your way up to Ozai. Holding eye contact as the flames burn between you.

Bowing before him in the most traditional Fire Nation bow you can muster. You bring yourself back upright, stance and face stoic, contrasting the satisfied smirk on his face. For the first time, he doesn’t bother to make his offer.

“I am at your full service, and ready to comply my Fire Lord.”

A/N: Thank you to everyone who is reading this or coming from my old blog!! please follow this one and stick around, I am currently working on the third chapter and a lil sokka oneshot :)) and to my taglist, i love you all, thank you all so much, i’m so sorry that you all have to deal with me rn and im so so sorry <3

TAGLIST:

@slythergirlimagines @mangoberry43 @eridanuswave @whiskeywinter89 @callums-keith @kaylove12 @simplyfandomish @khaleesi-of-assassins

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zukos-tsungi-horn · 4 years

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Rating: G

Summary: Zuko doesn't want to look like Ozai. After he botches his own haircut, Katara has a unique solution. Soft Zutara hurt/comfort/fluff oneshot, set 4 years post-canon

Word Count: 3499

XXX

His fingers tremble against the hilt of his dagger. His other hand is braced against the sink, where long black strands stand out starkly against the white marble. He should turn the faucet, wash them down the drain, like he wishes he could wash away this impulsive, rash, stupid decision.

At least Uncle is away, visiting the Southern Water Tribe on the Fire Nation’s behalf. If he were here, he would know exactly why Zuko had taken the knife to his long hair. Of course, it won’t grow back fast enough to hide. Agni, it won’t grow back fast enough for him to wear his crown. How is he supposed to attend the council meeting tomorrow? What will his advisors think when they see his hair chopped short and uneven?

He knows what they’ll think. He looks like—he looks like Azula, in those moments before their last Agni Kai.

He looks mad.

A mirthless laugh escapes his lips as he looks up to meet his reflection.

“Better mad than…”

He watches his face break, and looks away from his own weakness.

Better mad than a copy of my father.

His reflection is his own. The resemblance to Ozai can never quite be erased—it’s chiseled into his nose, his chin, the flecks of brown in his gold eyes. But with his hair cropped above his shoulders again, it’s less overwhelming.

He peels his fingers from the sink to brush his scar. That should have been enough of a mark to separate himself from his father.

But when Azula’s wide eyes looked at him...

“This was stupid. I’m not… I’m not Ozai,” he whispers.

He knows this. He’s been running the Fire Nation for four years now. His people respect him. The world respects him.

But he can’t forget the look in his sister’s eyes yesterday, when she took her first steps outside the rehabilitation center. When she saw him in his full Fire Lord regalia for the first time, his crown secured tightly in his topknot.

When she broke for just a moment, and thought he was her father.

Water drips from his eyes into the sink, trailing down to wet the clumps of cut hair clogging the drain. He’s being stupid. For all he knows, Azula said that just to get under his skin. She’s said worse things when he’s visited her in the center. But he really thought she was ready. The doctors said she wasn’t seeing things anymore…

But even if her moment of weakness was a hallucination, the reflected glimpses Zuko caught from his right eye weren’t. At least, he’s fairly sure.

He’ll know if he keeps seeing them now, he supposes.

He’s still trying to gather the strength to clean the sink—and the floor; he had more hair than he’d realized—when a knock at the bedroom door startles him. An undignified, strangled sound escapes his throat.

“Go away!” He shouts at whoever it is. He’d specifically asked his attendants not to disturb him when he turned in early for the night. An early rest was supposed to calm his irrational thoughts.

Instead, he’d caught his reflection in the bathroom mirror, and the dagger had been in his hand faster than he could think.

And now he’s here, hunched over the sink, shame and weakness etched into the sharp curve of his shoulders. Some of his cut hair clings to the fabric of his nightrobe, settles in his hood. No one should see the Fire Lord like this.

“Hey, I didn’t come all the way from the South Pole just to get yelled at,” an unmistakable voice filters through the thick wooden door. His eyes widen, snapping up to meet his reflection.

Maybe he really is going crazy. There’s no way.

More to confirm his sanity than anything else, he rushes out of the bathroom, crosses the bedroom in a few long strides. Flings open the door before he can talk himself out of it, before he can imagine what she’ll think if she really is there.

And there she is. Katara, standing taller than he remembers in a newer incarnation of her old blue tunic. Her long hair is braided down her back, and her lips are pursed in a narrow frown that softens at the sight of him.

“Zuko?” She speaks first, because he’s still too busy staring. Two years of letters are nothing compared to actually seeing her face. She’s always been beautiful, but now—

He winces. Now he remembers exactly how pathetic he looks.

“Are you… are you alright?” Her brows curve upwards in concern.

He’s not sure any amount of lying will convince her. If she can read his worries between this lines in his letters, she’s sure to see it in his disheveled appearance.

“What are you doing here?” He gasps out.

“Surprising my best friend, I thought,” she retorts before shaking her head. “Sorry. Uncle Iroh told me you’d want to see me, but if you don’t—”

“That’s not what I meant.” He shakes his head quickly, sending loose strands of hair fluttering to the ground. He’ll need to brush the chopped ends out if he doesn’t want to shed like Appa for the next few days. “I just… you didn’t tell me you were coming.”

She smirks in a way that’s very unfair to someone who’s already questioning his lucidity.

“That’s what makes it a surprise, silly.”

“Right.” He rubs the back of his neck. Sheds some more. He knows she’s seen him worse—Agni, she’s seen him in his old half-bald phoenix plume—but still he wishes he’d had time to prepare for her. Maybe it would have strengthened him long enough to weather that brief moment of weakness.

“You never answered my question, either,” she says quietly. Her hand reaches for his shoulder, brushing black strands from his sleeping robes, and he flushes at the contact. It’s been too long since he’s seen his friends if a simple touch like that feels foreign.

(Foreign, and wonderful, and if she’s a hallucination, she sure is a detailed one.)

“I… what?” He blinks.

She sighs heavily. Whatever she was asking, that was apparently the wrong answer.

“I asked if you were alright, but I’m going to take that as a no. You’ve been holding out on me.”

Oh. He must have missed that while she she was brushing him off.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says anyway. He just might have lost all coherent thought when he met with Azula earlier today, or right before he took the dagger to his hair, or when he first saw Katara. Regardless, he doesn’t want her to worry.

She looks him up and down, an appraising expression on her face. It’s too late to stop her from worrying, then.

“I didn’t just wake you up, did I? Your hair is still damp.”

“I’ve been awake,” he grumbles, but feels grateful she only points out that his hair is damp, not that it’s… frankly, a complete wreck.

“Well, if you’re not going to bed now… would it be alright if I come in?”

He isn’t used to the amount of hesitance in her voice.

“Of course.” They’ve just been standing in his doorway, where anyone passing by could see. Not that many people would be passing by this time of night, in this wing of the palace. The only other visitor he would expect would be Uncle, and apparently he’s sent Katara in his place. Odd, but Zuko supposes he can hear about his trip over morning tea.

(And he won’t complain about delaying his explanations for his hair a little longer.)

There’s nowhere to sit except on his bed. Maybe he should have thought that through, but thinking things through is clearly impossible today. He perches on the edge of the mattress, nodding his head for her to do the same. She leaves a small gap between them. He knows that shouldn’t disappoint him, but it does all the same.

“I’m sorry,” he begins, running a hand through his too-short-just-right hair. “I’m really glad you’re here. Honest. I just haven’t been… it’s been a rough day,” he admits quietly. There’d never been much point in lying to her. “I’m sorry you have to see me like this.”

“Zuko,” she says quietly. Her hand rests on the soft duvet, fingers inching closer to his, but not touching. “It’s times like this when I need to see you.”

“What? So you can heal me if I hurt myself?” He asks dryly. Come to think of it, the back of his neck stings. Maybe he did nick the skin there.

“No—I mean, I would, of course, but—spirits, I’m your friend. Do you really think I wouldn’t want to be here for you?”

She has a point. It would be an insult to her compassion to push her away now.

And he doesn’t want to.

“Sorry,” he mumbles. “I didn’t want you to worry.”

“Of course you didn’t.” She lets out a breath, a half-laugh, and slips her pinkie over his. The touch is so light it might be an accident, but it still grounds him.

She’s here. She’s real.

“Azula thought I was Ozai,” he blurts out. His gaze tears away from their brushing fingers, to the fist clenched in his lap. “She was supposed to be released from the rehabilitation center today, and I swear she’s lucid now, and… it’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid.” Her hand finally squeezes his. It’s like that one action draws out his tension, siphons it away. “You’re worried she’s right. That you look like your father.”

He flinches at hearing her say it out loud. She’s always been able to see right through him, but it’s still better than having to explain it himself.

“I don’t want to be anything like him. I don’t want to keep looking over my shoulder every time I pass a mirror, thinking he’s—thinking he’s there.” He winces.

Stupid. Pathetic. All the ways Ozai used to make him feel… apparently still does make him feel.

She just nods, though, as if that’s the most reasonable thing in the world.

“The haircut will help. It suits you better, anyway.”

He turns to stone when her fingers comb through the jagged ends. She must realize it, because she pulls away.

“Sorry. I just—saw some bits still stuck in there.” She blushes.

“I don’t mind,” he croaks out, throat suddenly dry. He clears it with a cough. “Actually, would you… would you mind fixing it up for me? I couldn’t see the back very well.” Not that he’d been really looking when he hacked it off.

“I’d love to.”

He feels like a little kid again, sitting cross-legged at the foot of his bed after providing Katara with the necessary supplies. Her bare feet swing down on either side of him, bracketing his shoulders.

“Hold still,” she says when he squirms, “or you’ll be getting a taste of stinky waterbender feet.” She wiggles her toes next to his face, and he laughs.

“Better than stinky earthbender feet.”

He’ll never forget waking up with Toph’s feet in his face, demanding that he carry her on his back. It was what he deserved after burning her soles that one time, but she still reeked. He was half convinced she smeared them with mud beforehand just to mess with him.

Katara goes silent. Was he joke that bad? Or maybe she’s just realizing how much of a lost cause his hair is.

“Katara?” He asks.

“Sorry.” She starts brushing out his hair. Each stroke sweeps away some of the worries crowding his mind. “I was just thinking… it’s been a while since I heard you laugh.”

It’s been a while since he has laughed. Katara and his friends always brought out the best in him.

His eyes slide shut as she combs away the snipped remnants. He shouldn’t get used to this. She’s just doing him a favor, that’s all.

(Even if she did want to touch his hair more often, she can’t. She won’t be staying in the Fire Nation long.)

(She never does.)

Scissors snip in his blind spot, right next to his bad ear. He suppresses a flinch. The one nice thing about keeping long hair was that he didn’t need anything sharp near the scarred half of his face.

“Your hair is so soft,” Katara says enviously. “Is there some kind of secret washing regimen for Fire Lords?”

“I just use whatever my attendants set out for me.” That probably sounds spoiled, doesn’t it? It’s not like the palace servants will allow him to go out with his hair unwashed.

Agni, even they are going to kill him if Katara can’t get his hair under control.

“Well I’m stealing it.”

He grins at that, though he should be intimidated. It’s hard enough to resist touching Katara’s hair as it is. Any softer, and it’ll practically be a magnet pulling him towards her.

Bits of hair fall on his shoulders, litter the red towel spread beneath him. He’s surprised she’s found that much to cut. He doesn’t have a mirror right now, so he can’t check to see how it looks. He’ll just have to trust her.

Luckily, he’s still used to that.

“Thank you, Katara.”

“Don’t thank me just yet. I might still give you a warrior’s wolftail by accident.”

He smiles, picturing it. “You say that like it’s a bad thing. The looks on the council’s faces would be priceless.”

She laughs. “You could start a new trend. Bring Water Tribe fashion to the big city.”

He’d like to bring more of the Water Tribe here than just that. But he knows he can’t ask Katara to stay. He’d said it right all those years ago: she rises with the moon, and he rises with the sun. They share the sky for just long enough to catch glimpses of her, before she disappears back to the bottom of the world.

He’s spent too long in the theater scrolls again, if he’s waxing this poetic. Better turn his thoughts to more practical matters.

“Would a wolftail be able to hold up my crown?”

“Theoretically,” she says between snips. He doesn’t flinch at them anymore. “But, I mean… were you being serious?”

He blushes, suddenly unsure. After all, he’s not a Water Tribe warrior.

“If I’m allowed to,” he admits quietly. “I don’t know what the rules are, if it’s like a phoenix plume, or if I have to be judged worthy to—”

A loud snip, and a chunk of his hair falls to the ground. She curses under her breath; it almost makes him laugh. She’d never been one to curse when they’d traveled together.

“I don’t think I have much of a choice. I cut this part too short; I’m not sure anything else will work now. I’m so sorry.”

He risks a glance over his shoulder. She’s biting her lip, glaring down at her scissors like they should glue his hair back together.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine, Katara. You really couldn’t make it any worse.”

“I could’ve made you bald.”

This time he does laugh. “Well, you didn’t. But even if you did, I wouldn’t be upset. No one could say I look like Ozai anymore.”

Her brow creases in pity. It’s not what he wanted—he’d been trying to reassure her.

She reaches down to brush his remaining bangs away from his face. The touch shocks through his system like ice.

“You’re nothing like him,” she says softly. “I wish I could make you see that.”

His lips won’t move to speak. Some incoherent noise might have passed through them, but Katara doesn’t point it out. She just combs his hair back, and removes the tail of her own braid to bind his hair at the back of his skull.

“Almost done.”

He has to face her for this last part, where she shears away the hair along the sides of his head, above his ears. It’s difficult to look anywhere besides her blue eyes. He tries to, though; he doesn’t want her to feel him staring.

“Is this weird?” She asks, her hands steady as she sends bits of hair fluttering down to his shoulders.

He almost shrugs before realizing it might mess her up. “Yujin—one of my attendants—usually cuts my hair for me. She’s great, but… I like this too,” he admits. “You’re very talented.”

“Thank you, but that’s not what I meant.” She smirks.

“Then—what did you mean?” His brow furrows.

“You’re kneeling.” Her eyes flicker down to his legs, which are tucked beneath him. “I just meant, since you’re the Fire Lord, you probably don’t do this much.”

“How else were you supposed to reach my head?”

She pulls the shears back and laughs. When her eyes open again, they’re soft as water.

“You haven’t changed. I didn’t think you had, from your letters, but it’s still good to see.”

“Thank you?”

“That is a compliment, I promise.” She smiles, coming her fingers through the ends of his new wolftail. It feels thicker and stubbier than a phoenix plume, and a little itchy on the sides, where his hair is much shorter now.

Hasn’t he changed? He never felt like he was going this crazy before. But strangely… after sitting here with her, he finds some of his worries aren’t as loud. Maybe it’s that he can’t see long strands of black hanging in the corners of his vision. Maybe it’s some kind of waterbending healing she worked in while his eyes were shut. Regardless, a new energy fills him as he accepts her hand and rises to his feet.

“Come on. Let’s make sure you like the Water Tribe look. If not, we can always do you up like an Air Nomad.”

He winces. “I don’t think I could pull off a shaved head as well as Aang.”

“I’m pretty sure you could pull off anything,” she mutters.

“What was that?”

Her eyes widen, and he has to hide a smirk, even if he knows it’s not true. He sure didn’t pull off the shaved phoenix plume. But it’s still flattering that she thinks he could.

“Let’s just get you to a mirror.”

She drags him to the corner of his room, where a gold-rimmed standing mirror reflects their forms. Even trusting that she did a fine job, he finds himself afraid to look at his face. It took him years to be okay with seeing his reflection at all, to not flinch at the wrinkled red skin on his left side. Lately, it’s the unmarred side that causes more problems.

But he does look up. And he looks… nothing like he expected.

A wolftail lies closer to the back of the head, unlike how a phoenix plume would sprout from the middle. And this wolftail in particular is barely long enough to stay in Katara’s hair tie. His black hair sprouts up like a tiny circle of grass. The ridiculousness of it almost makes him laugh.

“You like it?” She asks when she catches him smiling.

“I love it.” His hair might look a little silly, but he’s not lying.

Now, instead of thinking of Ozai when he sees his reflection, he’ll think of her.

“Thank you so much, Katara.”

He folds her in a hug. By the time he worries about it being too much, she’s already squeezing him back, burying her face into the crook of his neck. The scent of her hair wafts up to him, salty and sweet. Why did she ever want to borrow his hair products? Hers feels soft as a turtleduck against his cheek.

“I’m always here for you, you know. Next time, ask me before you go swinging your knife around, alright?”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he says carefully, “but you’re not always here. And I don’t expect you to be. You have family, and friends, and obligations…”

“Zuko.” She tugs on the collar of his robe until he looks down at her. “You’re one of my friends. So for now, get used to it.”

He blinks. His heart picks up a stuttering rhythm, one he hasn’t felt since the day he lay in the palace courtyard, pulsing with lightning.

“You—you’re staying?”

“I’ve already talked it over with Uncle. He said there are some rivers that have dried up, and I might be able to help divert water to towns that need it. Besides, the South Pole has so many waterbenders now, I was starting to feel redundant.”

She’s staying. At least for a little while, she’s staying.

He hugs her again. He couldn’t have stopped himself if he tried.

“Looks like I was missed after all,” she laughs.

He smiles against the top of her head.

“Always.”

XXX

The next morning, he arrives at the council meeting with a crown in his wolftail, and a waterbender’s palm in his hand.

#zutara #zuko #katara #atla #atla fic #fic tag #tali writes #yeah its been 84 years #found this half-written in my google docs and decided to finish it lol

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yuna-dan · 4 years

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Comfort Drink

It’s been ages since I’ve written something for this fandom but I was super thrilled when I got this comission, it’s also my very fist comission!!!

It got longer than the stablished “1550″ words, so I hope you don’t mind?

Thank @thealphabetmurders for this comission! And I hope you like it as much as I enjoy writting this.

Warning: Mention of violence. Swearing. Kinda Katara bashing but not on purpose, she’s doing her best.

Summary: Five Times Zuko went to a coffeeshop and didn't drink anything and one time he did."What are you doing here?” He asked, only to rethink his words, “Not that I’m not thrilled to see you, spirits, it’s been…” “Five years.” Zuko ended the sentence for him

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Buy me a kofi? | Masterpost | Comission Info

“Sorry we’re closed.” Sokka said, without even looking at the person, closing the door with his keys. He wanted nothing more than to take a shower, get the coffee beans out of his apron and stayed up all night watching Netflix.

The man hasn’t moved, so Sokka guessed it was either a junkie, a jerk or someone homeless. He gasped in surprised when he turned around only to see him there.

Zuko was staring at him, his mismatched eyes seeing everything but his face, “Hi.”

Sokka cleaned his throat, “What are you doing here?” He asked, only to rethink his words, “Not that I’m not thrilled to see you, spirits, it’s been…”

“Five years.” Zuko ended the sentence for him.

Sokka felt as if the air on his lungs was airbended out of them, five years since they graduated highschool, five years since he had seen the possible love of his life Zuko, and now they were here, outside his shitty job wearing a grey suit and his hair now was long.

He had so many things to say, but in the end he just said.

“Neat.”

Zuko chuckled and look away. For a moment he thought he was making a fool of himself, but then again, this was Zuko, his highschool sweetheart.

“It was nice seeing you again, Sokka.” He finally said, and bowed, the motherfucker had the audacity to bowed when they’ve known what their mouths taste like.

Then he left, leaving Sokka was once again with a lot of questions on the tip of his tongue.

Later, much later when he was texting Katara he brought it up.

What do you mean you see him?

Even on text he could read how mad his sister was, he texted with only one hand as he brushed his teeth with the other.

I was closing the coffeshop and he bumped into me, I think it was just coincidence.

He snorted when he saw his little sister’s response

It better be

Sokka hoped it wasn’t, but then again, life didn’t work like he wanted to.

It wasn’t coincidence, or at least twice in the same month would be a very slim coincidence, but here was, the ex-heir of Ozai’s fortune standing in the line, wearing his peasant clothes.

He wanted to ask, what are you doing here? But it came out as a “Welcome to the White Lotus, what can I get for you, Zuko?

Zuko was nervous, at first glance it wasn’t obvious, but Sokka knew this guy, he noticed small things like the way his marred cheek was twitching or the way his left hand was doing small circles.

“It’s good I get here before you close…” Sokka smiled, because goddammit, Zuko was terrible at small talks but he was trying.

“Well, more coffee shops close after 10 p.m.” He replied, leaning against the counter. He was very glad today wasn’t so busy, “but tell me Jerkbender, what can I get for you?”

“A jasmine tea.”

And of course, Sokka already knew this, Zuko continuously expressed his hatred toward tea but Uncle Iroh had rubbed into him. Whenever Zuko was sad or missing home, his comfort drink was jasmine tea.

The nonbender bit his tongue, are you okay? he wanted to say, but it came out as a “Coming right out you, Zuko.”

Sokka entertain himself making the tea, and when he called Zuko’s name, nobody came.

It wasn’t the first time Zuko left unfinished something, and this time, it didn’t hurt that much.

He drank the tea, and the moist on his eyes was due to the steam, and nothing else.

That night he crashed into Toph and Suki apartment, because he missed his friends, not because he felt lonely. He decided on not telling the rest of the gaang he’s seen Zuko, but for some reason he guessed Toph already knew.

The next time it happened, Sokka wasn’t even there.

It was Katara who told him what happened, with her smug face as if she was proud on what she did. Aang kept eyeing him, ready to break the possible fight.

So, according to his sister in went like this:

Zuko was sitting on a table, alone minding his own business when Katara went, and scared the shit out of him, “You have to order something for you to sit here.”

Aang later told Sokka that Zuko’s face was for a second of happiness, and then it turned out into a mixture of pout and sadness, “Katara, it’s good seeing you here.”

Katara narrated how she screamed at him, “I don’t want to see your pathetic face here, why you don’t run with your father?”

That’s when Sokka interrupted his sister, “You told him what?”

“To go back with his father.”

Which was low, because yes, what Zuko did in highschool was rude but that was a low blow, “You told the guy who’s dad burned his face, who spent a long time waiting for his approval and practically ruined his life to do what?”

Katara did look ashamed for a split second, but retorted anyways, “He abandoned you without an explanation.”

And of course Sokka knew, he was the one who spent almost three months laying on his bed wondering why he wasn’t enough for Zuko, why his boyfriend left him without even breaking up. “And? That’s my fight, Katara, not yours!”

She frowned, “He is not even here and no we’re fighting because of him.”

Sokka hit the table with his palms, out of frustration more than anger, “No Katara, we’re fighting because you shouldn’t fight my battles that took place over five years ago, because no matter how angry or mad you are, you never attack a person on battle wounds.”

He left in the middle of his shift and went directly to his apartment. He logically knew that Katara meant well, but it was all over the situation where she took a role that wasn’t hers.

It wasn’t until he came out of a hot steaming shower and grabbed his phone that he realized some things. He owned Yue a shift, since she covered his after he stormed out fuming.

And that he had three missed calls from Toph.

Without even thinking he dialed her number, hoping it was just her dramatic ways and not something important. For some reason he didn’t understand, it was always Toph the one who break bad news to him, so his reasons to be nervous were on point.

He heard three beeps on the other side of the line before the earthbender picked up her phone, and without missing a beat she said, “I was the one who told Zuko where you work, he needs to tell you something.”

So, her dramatic ways, apparently.

It took him a moment to understand what was happening, “What?”

He heard how Toph coughed on the other side, he guessed either Aang or Suki was with her forcing her to come out clean, “Yeah, I-Huh,” she cleaned her throat, “We’ve been talking for a couple of months, and he said he wanted to tell you what really happened five years ago, so I told him to man up and to do it.”

“Why?”

“Cuz you’re both assholes who have been suffering for five years?”

“No, I mean…” He laid on his bed, the wet towel still on his hair, “Why are you still talking to him?”

“He’s still my friend, and y’know, us rich disinherit kids stick with each other.” Sokka knew that for Toph, it still hurt how much their parents overprotection lingered on her, so he understood. Not in a direct way, of course not, but in a I was there when everything happened and I’m your friend way

“Oh.”

“Yeah, he’s still an idiot when it comes to communication though.”

“Yeah, he is.”

Sokka definitely didn’t went to Zuko’s Instagram and Facebook, he was smarter than that.

Except he was smart, but he was still a man who loved gossip, so putting aside his mental health he purposely went to Zuko’s pages. He found four main important things.

A. Uncle Iroh was still around, and god did Sokka’s heart relaxed at that. That man was pure gold. Iroh posted a photo of himself and Zuko a month ago. They were both smiling, Iroh broadly as always and Zuko with a shy but genuine smile. Behind them there was a small house. B. There were photos (two of them) of a small child and a woman who looked like Azula, but older. C. He was still in contact with Mai and Ty Lee, which wasn’t relevant to be honest. D. He didn’t seem to have any relationship, and for some reason his heart did a small flip at that.

He was lost on his thoughts when he noticed his gloomy ex sitting on the sidewalk in front of the shop. Katara would say that what he did next was without thinking, but they were mad at each other right now, so her opinion didn’t count.

So he flipped the “Open/Close” sign and went to sit next to him.

“Gathering courage?” He asked as he sat down, grabbing his phone to pretend he was busy.

He heard the firebender laughing, “Kinda. You see, five years ago I made a mistake and I’ve been trying to talk to him, but apparently I’m still as socially awkward as I was five years ago…”

“You hair got longer.”

Zuko snorted, “I’m sorry, for real.”

Sokka wanted to say something but it got lost when he decided to kiss Zuko right there.

Sokka decided that Zuko wasn’t ready to tell him everything, just the my mom wasn’t really death and when she came back Ozai tried to kill her, so we had to run away was enough for Sokka to stop and rethink everything. Even Katara, was ashamed when Zuko told them (again, not all the story).

Zuko was sitting on a small couch inside the coffeeshop, once again without ordering something, “You need to order something in order to sit here.” Sokka said, as a joke when his shift was over.

“Ozai died last year.” Zuko said instead and that took Sokka by surprise.

“That’s rough, buddy.” He found himself saying, and for some reason it was okay.

Zuko was sitting on a chair near the counter, reading an essay on economics for his class. Sokka dropped a soft kiss on his hair, “Zuko I have a question for you.”

“Mmm?”

“You never order a thing, why?”

Zuko look up and stared into his eyes, “I don’t like giving you orders.”

Sokka burst into laughter, and decided to buy his boyfriend a jasmine tea, after all it was Zuko’s comfort drink.

---

Thank you so much for reading, yes I finished writing and editing this at 3:30 am, so points for effort, i guess? I won’t tag anyone but Roz cuz this is not my main fandom (for now) so I won’t spam y’all.

Thanks again for comissioning me!

#yuna's fic #Avatar The Last Airbender #atla #atla fic #zukka #sokka x zuko #aang #zuko #katara #sokka #toph #yue #idk how to tag in this fandom y'all

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laulink · 5 years

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Helena is the new Avatar and I really don’t get why people are so mad about it

Like, honestly. Helena chose to not kill her abuser. She chose that. As Aang chose to not kill Ozai so his soul would remain pure, Helena chose to not kill the Witch Queen because she didn’t want to kill anyone anymore and she knew that death was not a punishment to Witch Queen. Honestly, what’s the point of killing her if she’s ready for death, welcoming it ?

Witch Queen is an abuser and a Nazi-level monster, I think everyone can agree on that. How and why she turned out like this, we don’t know (which is sad) and not knowing makes it easier to see her as nothing but that : a monster. Therefore, I understand that there was no uproar when she died in the other routes : she wasn’t as strongly connected to the LI and her link to MC was barely developped in the other routes. In the end, she was just the physical manifestation of evil that the heroes needed to defeat in order to achieve peace. But for Helena ? It’s an entirely different story.

Helena wasn’t a hero at the beginning of her route. She was a weapon, a sorceress, a wretched creature, every hurtful description you can think of Helena heard it in her childhood or later and came to believe it. And who made her that way ? The Witch Queen. The Witch Queen who tortured, broke and shaped her back into a form she could use to do her biding. The Witch Queen who made Helena believe her abuse was love. The Witch Queen who tried to reclaim Helena after she left with MC, to bring her back into her clutches to start this cycle of abuse all over again. The Witch Queen who did all this because she can’t stand not being in power. The Witch Queen who, at every chance she got, tried to convince Helena that she was nothing but a weapon and could do nothing but kill. Hell, Helena’s natural magic is about draining things and people around her, THAT’S the reason she believed she was a monster for so long !

So what do you think Helena would have felt if she killed the Witch Queen ? Happiness ? Relief ? At proving her abuser right one last time ?! Seriously ?!

As I already said, Witch Queen made it a point to always remind Helena of the blood she has on her hands, to make her feel awful about her past crimes and the people she was killing in the present. She tried to make Helena believe she was still a monster, even though she had left Witch Queen’s side. And you wanted Helena to do what ? Give the Witch Queen one last opportunity to rub it in Helena’s face that, up until the end, she did nothing but kill ? That she doesn’t know how to do anything else ? Do you even understand the entire point of this route ?!

Of course Helena wouldn’t kill Witch Queen, because if she did, it would break her. She would have regretted it for the rest of her life. She would have never had a chance to prove, to her and to others, that she can win without killing. And, as I said in the beginning of this post, dying wouldn’t even have a been a punishment for Witch Queen. She was ready to die, as she stated in the episodes themselves : “You will all die here with me. Even if Helena survives, she will live knowing that she could have saved you but instead chose a pointless fight.” It was her goal all along, to make Helena feel awful with herself for the rest of her life. Which is why the end that the author chose is the best, in my opinion. Because :

- Helena gets to live free of her abuser, to enjoy her life knowing that the Witch Queen will never come back AND that she didn’t have to kill her. Helena gets to live knowing that she is more than a killer, that she doesn’t need to kill to win a fight, that she is better than what the Witch Queen made her out to be. And that is priceless.

- Witch Queen didn’t die the way she wanted to. She still chose to die, but she didn’t have the option of making Helena feel awful about it or herself. She died to escape what she considered Hell on Earth, she chose the lesser of two evils, but she did NOT reach any of her goals. Not only that, but we got to see the Witch Queen as a human, for the first time ever maybe. Stripped of her powers, throwing her own dignity to the wind, she cried and wailed and lost control over everything. She was human, not a goddess ; she was a mess, not fighting ‘till the bitter end ; she was pathetic, not still cloaked with her dignity. The powerful abuser, always in control, stronger than anyone, was no more. And we never got to see her like that before. We saw her human side and she got to die, but not according to her plans. It wasn’t a victory for her : she ran away.

This was AMAZING to read through. Honestly, big thumbs up to the author for this last fight because it was incredibly satisfying to see the Witch Queen fall down and Helena rise above her and what Witch Queen made her out to be. And to all the people who are whinning because “Bou-hou, Witch Queen had the last word, she stripped Helena from her agency !” or “Bou-hou, why didn’t Helena kill her, she had a right to !” first : fuck you, and second : not only did Helena’s decision make a lot of sense, Witch Queen’s DIDN’T strip Helena of her agency : Helena had decided she wouldn’t kill Witch Queen and she didn’t. In the end, the only one Witch Queen’s decision impacted was herself, as the world is going to forget her anyway, she just won’t be here to witness it.

#lovestruck #love & legends #helena klein #discourse #I can't wait to see how much hate I'm gonna get from Helena stans for that #come at me dumbasses I'm ready

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mozart-the-meerkitten · 4 years

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Ask and you shall receive I guess. Since two of y’all got so excited and sent me messages within 30 seconds of me posting, “if you want me to go off on the weird stuff in Marvel I can” then sure, I suppose I can dredge up the energy to write out some stuff. @kansascity-elffriend and @philiptthinksaboutthings

For my first post, have something I wrote most of a few months ago after watching Endgame and finally wrote the ending to last night while exhausted. Hopefully it makes sense! (this is long, so it’s under the cut)

Why Thanos is an Unsatisfying Villain in Infinity War/Endgame

To understand this, we have to journey back to the first Avengers movie at the end of Marvel’s Phase One. This was the group of movies that included the first two Iron Man films, Thor 1, and Captain America; The First Avenger. It’s interesting to note that Marvel handles this crossover, well, marvelously. Each character gets significant screentime, they all have some fantastic lines and scenes, and none of the main characters die (well, technically Coulson does, but we know he comes back). But the very end of the movie is what I really want to look at.

By “the very end” I mean the first end credits scene, the one with Thanos. This is the first time we meet Thanos and, in my opinion, this is his best scene in the entirety of the MCU. “To challenge them is to court death” is a line that sent chills up my spine for years, because as some of us know, Thanos is the god of death. It is dramatic, poignant, and should have been the last time we saw anything but shadowy outlines of this guy until Infinity War.

Because this is an excellent setup for a villain. In fact, all of Avengers 1 is. Until that end credits scene we don’t see Thanos, but Loki talks about him, and his… spokesman? I don’t know, he reminds me of the Mouth of Sauron, so usually I think of him as The Mouth of Thanos. Anyway, that dude gives us the vibes that Thanos is very evil as well.

So, here’s my first point: Thanos’ entire motivation for being a villain undergoes some sort of massive overhall at some point between Avengers 1 and Infinity War. How do I know this? So glad you asked!

Throughout the movie Thanos is referred to basically as a warlord/emperor figure. “We look beyond the Earth to greater worlds” and other lines are not something that would be said if Thanos had originally been motivated by population control. Loki and the Mouth of Thanos all but say that Thanos means to take over the universe. This is supported by the “to challenge them is to court death” line, because why would Thanos be trying to challenge Earth if he just wanted to wipe out half the population? Later he fights for the Infinity Stones, but everything in Avengers 1 points to him wanting to take over the universe. Even his appearance at the end of the movie shows us this; he is girded for war with a gilded helmet, he smiles at the challenge of conquering Earth.

The type of villain that Thanos started out to be is not only traditional, it is tried and true, and can be incredibly well done. Examples: Emperor Palpatine, Sauron, Firelord Ozai. In the MCU itself, two of Thanos’ pawns are this type of villain- Loki and Ronin.

So why was this changed? Because it’s traditional. Villains in stories are almost always motivated by one of two things (or both); Revenge, or world domination.

Now, recently, the writers of movies and TV shows have been saturating media with anything unpredictable they can think of. Tradition and predictability have become the enemy, everything must be impossible to guess until it is revealed. If this is not the case, then you are a bad writer. Examples: Once Upon a Time, Voltron, Game of Thrones (Note that I’ve never watched that last one, but I’ve heard enough to think it fits in this category).

This is a horrible trend and I hate it. Stories must have some level of predictability to be good. If a story is headed in one direction and then suddenly switches gears in the last act, there are gonna be things that just don’t make sense. This is one reason why the entirety of Infinity War/Endgame are so confusing. I mean, they had a villain who was going one direction for at least half of their movies (though it’s actually more like every movie until Infinity War) and then suddenly, with no foreshadowing or anything, he just has a totally different motivation than the one we’d been made to believe he has (and it’s a really lame one at that. Who just kills half the population of the universe and then becomes a gardener? That’s pathetic. Imagine if Sauron had conquered Middle Earth and then just been like, “Alright, good then, I’m gonna go play Solitare in Barad Dur now, have fun guys!” like, what??). Like, did they not think that was going to throw off the mood they had been creating for this movie for the past ten years?

So, yeah, there’s one needlessly confusing thing about Infinity War/Endgame. (There are loads more, but there’s one)

#marvel #mcu #avengers #infinity war #endgame #thanos #story analysis #character analysis #mcu is messed up #I didn't actually expect y'all to want this #but alright #if you need me to clarify something just ask

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seyaryminamoto · 7 years

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Azula Ship Challenge: Day 3 - You Miscalculated

OTP: Sokkla ; BroTP: Azula & Mai

Rated: T

Weddings were supposed to be the most blissful events of all, where everyone was excited to see the happy couple committing to each other forever. There was dancing, drinking, feasting, as many wonderful things as there could be, in order to celebrate the happy union.

Some people were clearly enjoying this wedding. The Jasmine Dragon was the celebration venue, and Iroh was showing off his skills with the tsungi horn while excited couples danced to his beat. Toph was quite busy gobbling down food and showing her bending skills to any admirers who were star-struck by her talent and beauty. Zuko was red in the face, perhaps because he’d already had too much to drink, and beside him, Suki couldn’t seem to stop smiling as she draped an arm around his waist. She had convinced him to dance with her briefly, and while the Fire Lord had been embarrassed to do it, he had done it for her anyways. They were the epitome of a happy couple.

Hakoda as well was quite pleased, joking and laughing with his new son-in-law. Aang had never smiled more brightly, not ever, and Katara had been thrilled too that her father and husband would be bonding as they were. Ty Lee had snuck up on her, though, and the two girls were talking about all the efforts Katara had made to ensure the wedding would be just as she had dreamed of it.

Everything would seem perfect, if you didn’t account for the two moping, miserable people at opposite ends of the shop. Mai sat by the bar, sipping on sake silently and wondering if the drink’s effects would ever kick in properly. Maybe when it did she would stop feeling distraught at the sight of Zuko happily entangled with Suki.

The pair had only been together for a couple of months, and they were happier than Mai ever remembered being with Zuko. She didn’t really understand why, but she had the painful notion that somehow, Suki had always been better suited for Zuko than her. Maybe he had needed someone with a gentler heart, maybe Mai just wasn’t what he needed. Or maybe she was… but Zuko didn’t want her anymore, anyways. They had rekindled their love after the conflict with the New Ozai Society, but it had fallen apart all over again after years of struggling with the same problems that had always caused their break-ups. Zuko loved her, but he hadn’t changed: he still didn’t want to burden her with his problems, and Mai still had no patience for his reserved behavior.

It hadn’t been over two months after their final break-up that Zuko and Suki had told everyone they were an item. Mai had been shocked, having thought Suki and Sokka were still together. But as she gazed across the room at the miserable councilman, who had grabbed a bottle of sake of his own, it became apparent that the story between those two might have been eerily similar to the one between Mai and Zuko.

She never thought she’d feel bad for Sokka, of all people, but she found she did. Of all those in attendance today, he was likely the only one who understood just how depressing this large reunion could be.

“You should get even, you know. Hook up with him?”

Mai cringed at the sound of that voice beside her. She glared at Azula, who was smirking mischievously at her.

“No, thank you,” she snapped. “He’s not my type.”

“Which should be a good thing,” said Azula, her smirk widening. “Your type leaves a lot to be desired, Mai. First Zuzu, then that loser, Kei Lo…”

“Shut up,” Mai snapped. Azula smiled and looked at her sympathetically.

“Come on, Mai. You’re really going to spend all the evening drinking and doing nothing to get back at my brother for dumping you for her? Truly, your lack of initiative is baffling. Where’s the girl who betrayed me openly, risking death just to save that fool’s sorry ass?”

Mai sighed and shook her head. She glared at herself in the reflection of her drink.

“You have no idea how many times I’ve asked myself the same question.”

Azula frowned. Mai’s disappointment towards herself seemed to be eating at her. Maybe she was feeling worse than Azula realized…

“Do you want to… talk about it?” she asked, awkwardly. Mai scoffed.

“If I did, I don’t think I would talk about it with you,” she said, skeptical. “Not to mention, I’m dead sure you don’t care to hear this. If you do, it’s only to mock me for being pathetic.”

“Now, now, Mai, you know full well that I’ve always had high hopes for you,” said Azula, sitting beside her former friend. “I thought we would become sisters, in time. I hoped for it, even. Being sisters-in-law with the Kyoshi Warrior grosses me out more than watching the blind earthbender picking her nose.”

Mai sighed and shook her head.

“You don’t have a choice, though” said Mai “It’s Zuko’s life, and we don’t get to choose whom he dates. Not anymore. Truly, Azula, he’s hurt me enough that even if he wanted to get back together with me, I’d reject him for good this time. I’m done with being your brother’s wallflower.”

Azula gritted her teeth and lowered her gaze. Mai sipped her sake and finished the glass, pouring some more of the liquor for herself, without offering any to Azula.

“I can’t argue with that. I wouldn’t want you to be unhappy,” she said, with a sing-song voice that Mai interpreted as sarcastic. “Nevertheless… why not some payback, Mai? The water peasant is moping back there, so miserable… you really could get back at Zuko’s new wallflower this way, couldn’t you?”

“I don’t care to, Azula,” said Mai, huffing. “Unlike you, making other people miserable isn’t my hobby.”

“You say it like it’s such an awful thing,” Azula smirked. “Please. It’s just a bit of fun. Healthy, wholesome fun…”

“At the expenses of your brother? How is that healthy or wholesome?”

“How is it not?” Azula asked, raising her eyebrows. Mai sighed.

“Some things never change. Doesn’t matter if he forgave you, doesn’t matter if the Avatar thinks you’re trustworthy for some reason… you just won’t ever stop tormenting him, will you?”

“Well, in all fairness, I’m trying to convince you to be the tormentor this time,” Azula said. Mai snorted.

“So you can sit back and enjoy the show? What is it, are you that bored?”

“Possibly,” said Azula, glancing about herself and watching the many guests dancing, eating and drinking.

Air Acolytes were chatting with the Earth Kingdom boys who Azula recognized as former members of the Day of Black Sun invasion force, and the metalbending students from Beifong’s Academy were busy trying to make a demonstration for many wide-eyed spectators. Iroh was laughing now as an older woman, with some gold ornaments on her hair, complimented him for his singing. Aang and Katara were kissing, and Zuko was listening to something Suki was whispering in his ear. Azula huffed and shook her head.

“Truth be told, it’s all cringeworthy,” she said. “So many people, all of them the picture of absolute bliss… I can barely stand looking at them.”

“You want to make everyone else as unhappy as you are?” Mai asked.

“I don’t know. Maybe,” said Azula. “Or maybe what passes for entertainment for the lesser minds just won’t cut it for me. Dancing, watching as some rookies bend coins, sighing because the happy couple is oh so beautiful? Give me a break.”

“So you just hate to see people so carelessly happy, huh?” said Mai, smiling a little. “I suppose that’s one of the reasons why we got along in the first place. We were never the types to enjoy conventional socializing…”

“Which is why I’m aching to see you go for it, Mai,” said Azula, almost begging her now. “You know he deserves it…”

“I know I have better things to do with my time than piss off your brother, or listen to you,” said Mai.

“Sure. And that’s why you’re sitting here, alone, drinking sake.”

“That’s indeed a better thing to do, whether you realize it or not,” said Mai. Azula snorted.

“You’re just a coward. You don’t think he’ll go for it,” said Azula. “He’s a smart guy, you realize. I’m sure he would agree to it, if you conveyed your true purpose…”

“I am not interested, Azula,” said Mai. “Besides, if you’re so bored and so eager to see someone hooking up with Sokka, why don’t you do it yourself?”

“Me?” Azula asked, raising her eyebrows. “Well…”

“Are you still hopeless with men, perhaps?” Mai asked, a small smirk appearing on her face. Azula frowned.

“You should learn to hold your tongue once in a while, Mai. You never know when someone will cut it off, or burn it down, either way,” said Azula, shaking head. “Fine, if you’re that much of a coward, I’ll do it myself. It may just offer me some entertainment from this pointless party, after all.”

“Good luck,” said Mai, her smirk widening. Azula shook her head again and made her way across the room. Mai’s sharp eyes followed her as she took off.

The Princess of the Fire Nation strode confidently towards the man sitting on a windowsill. He was gazing outside with a wistful look on his face, and given that there was no one within three meters near him, it seemed nobody was going to bother approaching him while he was drinking his woes away. Azula stopped beside him, with a sly smirk.

“I do hope you’re not contemplating jumping from here. It’s only the second floor, you’d never die from just that.”

“Huh, came to give me advice on how to kill myself?” Sokka asked, looking at her skeptically before pointing a finger at her “I’ll have you know… I wouldn’t kill myself. I mean, I won’t. It’s just too noisy over there with everyone else, you know?”

“Oh, tell me about it,” said Azula, sitting at the other end of the windowsill, looking at him skeptically. “I’ve been trying to avoid most everyone for the same reason. I’m glad there’s still someone sensible around these parts… you always were the one with the brains, clearly.”

“Not brainy enough to end things with Suki when I should have, though…” he whispered. Azula raised an eyebrow.

“Did she… cheat on you?” she asked, tentatively. Sokka scoffed and dropped his head against the wooden window frame.

“Nah. Well… maybe. Might have cheated on me with her imagination, you know?” said Sokka, shrugging. “I could tell she fancied him, but I thought it was a passing thing. I figured she’d get over it, you know? She was with me, after all. But, heh, nah. No way. Zuko’s so much better than me anyways…”

“Better than you at what?” Azula asked, looking at Sokka skeptically. “Last I looked, he has half a face and half a brain, whereas you happen to have a decent-looking face and a surprisingly good brain, so…”

“Woah, woah, woah… are you flirting with me, Princess?” Sokka asked, a slow smirk spreading on his face. Azula tensed up, her cheeks reddening before she could help it.

“I… could be. If I were, would you go for it?” she asked. Sokka snorted and laughed before sighing sadly and shaking his head.

“Probably not. Wound’s still too sore. Come back in like, uh, a month or two?” he asked. Azula smiled and shrugged.

“If you want me to, I might. But alas… it’s kind of boring to wait that long when we can cause a scene right here and now.”

Sokka frowned and Azula smirked. He huffed and looked at her with disappointment.

“Yeah, I knew you couldn’t like me that much,” he said. “You’re just trying to have fun at everyone’s expenses, aren’t you?”

“Now, don’t be so dramatic, only at my brother’s,” she said, beaming. Sokka chuckled.

“Yeah, well… it’s still my sister’s wedding and she’s still going to be really upset if I do anything stupid with you. I don’t want to ruin her day just to piss off Zuko,” he said. Azula scowled.

“Really, first Mai and now you? What is it with you people and your morals?” she said, shaking her head. Sokka laughed again.

“Yeah, truth be told, I wonder the same thing sometimes,” he said, glancing down at the lights in the city during the nighttime. He sighed. “Why the hell do I even bother? No one’s sparing my feelings, so why do I spare theirs? But at the end of the day… I guess it’s just because I care about them. Even though Suki dumped me for Zuko, I still don’t want them to be unhappy…”

“Well, you’re a fool,” she said. Sokka smiled.

“Agreed,” he said, lifting his bottle towards her before taking another swig.

“You’re sentencing yourself to smiling awkwardly and sitting through weddings and weddings, pained by how everyone’s finding a significant other except for you, and watching how others go through several lovers, even, while you sit there wondering what on earth is wrong with you,” Azula determined, glancing out the window too.

Sokka frowned and glanced at her. He wasn’t quite drunk yet, so he was sharp enough to realize that Azula, the ruthless Princess, wasn’t the type to display this much empathy towards anyone. Was she being empathic at all? Or…

“That’s how you feel?” he asked. She cringed. “Well… now you’re not alone in that, I guess…”

“Heh, small comfort, the one fool who understands me is the one who refuses to do anything about it,” she said, with a small grin. She tried to steer the conversation away from her feelings, though. She didn’t come here to quell her loneliness, just to have a bit of fun.

“Come on, really… you just want to rile them up and it’ll cause a scene, and a scandal, and my dad’s right there, you know?” said Sokka, grimacing. “Things are bad enough as it is…”

“No, things are only bad for you, for me and for Mai,” said Azula, raising her eyebrows. Sokka’s eyebrow twitched. “They could get better for us if we make everyone else miserable, for a change.”

“What does Mai have to do with this?” he asked. Azula shrugged. “Azula?”

“I may have told her to do what I’m doing now,” she said. Sokka snorted. “What? It’s not my fault she didn’t have the guts. Kept saying you weren’t her type… well, you’re better than her type, seeing how her type is my brother, so…”

“You’re probably the only one who thinks that” said Sokka, smiling weakly. Azula smirked.

“Well, that’s exactly why you to take me into your arms right now and kiss me for everyone here to see. I assure you, the scandal will be most amusing…”

“You really are into this, huh?” said Sokka, chuckling. “Why? Been that long since you were last kissed?”

“That is neither here nor there,” she snapped. Sokka laughed.

“You really thrive off chaos, then,” he said, smiling at her. “Part of me is kind of intrigued about what might happen, I can’t lie. But…”

“But it might be messy, yes,” said Azula, truthfully. “Still… have you ever heard of a good party that didn’t have a surprising development? Predictable, boring parties like these… they aren’t memorable, are they?”

“Not really, I guess,” Sokka agreed, chuckling. “Goodness, am I really considering this? Maybe the alcohol is getting to me.”

“Or maybe your natural curiosity is,” said Azula, smirking. “Come on, what’s one kiss? We obviously won’t need to do more than that…”

“I know, I know…” said Sokka, sighing. “It’s still a little scary.”

“A brave guy like you, daunted by something as silly as kissing a girl?” she asked, with a mischievous smile. Sokka smirked.

“A girl, you say. You’re a woman, Azula, and a very dangerous one at that,” he said. She smiled proudly.

“Now, really, you flatterer… I’m already offering to kiss you, you don’t need to butter me up like that,” she said. He laughed as he set down his bottle, running his free hand through his hair and looking at her in disbelief.

“I do have fair reasons to be scared, but… really, what’s the worst they could do to us?” he said.

“People always do crazy things in weddings, after all,” Azula said, enigmatically. Sokka snickered.

“They do indeed,” he said.

They were leaning closer to one another on that windowsill. As they fell silent they grew conscious of the short distance between them, but they didn’t pull away. Azula’s smile waned, though, and she looked at him meaningfully.

“Well?” she asked. Sokka smiled.

“One kiss.”

She smiled again. He leaned closer, readying himself to kiss the lips of a new girl, for the first time in years.

He touched her softly with his mouth before pressing his lips to hers. Azula felt herself growing nervous momentarily, acutely aware of the fact that she was being kissed in public. That had never happened before. Her heart pounded in her chest as she responded almost shyly, wishing she weren’t feeling overwhelmed by the circumstances. That way she might actually do a good job at this…

Sokka pulled away, and Azula felt the urge to keep going. It had been far too brief, and she really wanted to do better. He would be disappointed, surely…

She opened her eyes to find him staring at her. His cheeks were red, and it didn’t seem to be because of his drinking.

“Uh…” he said, clearing his throat and glancing around them.

Nobody had noticed them. He grimaced, his face falling.

“Are we that easy to ignore?” he asked, his eyebrow twitching as he looked at Azula. She was blushing too, and she sighed in defeat.

“I guess?” she said, before smiling a little. “Well, it was worth the effort…”

“Oh, no, you’re not getting out of this just like that,” Sokka said, pointing a finger at her. Azula stared at it with raised eyebrows before looking at him.

“Come again?”

“Oh yeah, I sure am going to do it again,” he said. Azula’s eyes widened.

“W-wait, you are?” she asked. He blushed again, but nodded.

“You promised me a scandal. Well, a scandal it is!” he said.

He raised a hand and cupped her face with it. Azula’s face was burning by now.

“Unless you’re going to let this party stay boring, of course…?” Sokka asked. Azula gulped.

“Are you sure you don’t want another round just because you miss kissing someone?”

“Is that any reason to stop doing this?” he asked, looking at her with unease. “Sure, if you want to stop we can stop, but…”

“I’m just… surprised you’d do it again,” she admitted. Sokka chuckled.

“Well, maybe I did miss kissing someone. But I think I like that it’s you, I’ll admit… There’s something thrilling about it, somehow.”

Azula lowered her gaze but couldn’t keep from smiling. Well, if he liked kissing her so much, why not make the most of it?

“I felt the same way, but of course, it could have been just because we’re doing something so very wrong…” she said. Sokka chuckled.

“Well, I don’t mind doing wrong things with you. It’s certainly making this party a lot livelier,” he said.

She smiled with uncertainty as he leaned closer again, his head cocked to the side. He didn’t interrupt their eye contact even as their noses brushed again. Azula’s hand found its way to his neck, and she closed her eyes as she brought their lips together once more. Sokka hummed, and Azula sighed. It was strangely pleasant, closing their eyes and wandering into this crazy, light-hearted entanglement. At least they worked well together, it seemed. Sokka angled his head expertly, knowing just how to capture her lips with his own, allowing her breath to seep between the small gap them so he could breathe it in.

He decided to dare tease her with his tongue, letting it slip between his lips and to touch hers, not expecting her to imitate him, or to go further as she deepened the kiss fully. Her tongue was the one teasing his, and he responded by humming and changing his angle again.

He wasn’t surprised when she would bite him lightly: he couldn’t have expected otherwise from Azula. He responded likewise, and got a moan in return for his troubles. Her fingers were sliding over the side of his head, brushing the short hairs and reaching to massage his scalp gently. He allowed his hand to move to her waist, where it settled for now even as he felt the urge to touch her more daringly. The kiss was already all-consuming, though, and it was easy to lose himself in the way their mouths mingled together.

She had never enjoyed a kiss quite like this one. It wasn’t a kiss under false pretenses: she knew why they were kissing, and so did he. But they were completely into it, discovering in each other a remarkable kissing partner. Inevitably, Azula wondered if this could escalate any further: weddings were supposed to be the best way to find one-night-stands, from what many people had claimed. Was he going to be one for her? If he was as good at sex as he was at kissing, she wouldn’t mind that.

Her body started to burn with the longing for more. Wanting him to touch her in all her private places, to forsake all his gentlemanliness and take her as she was, filling her with himself and giving her his best performance… as those thoughts materialized in her mind, Azula leaned closer and closer to Sokka, soft and inciting moans leaving her throat. She wanted to feel him, to take this to new heights…

Her sounds were driving him mad, he realized, as his body started reacting to hers in all the right ways. He wanted more, too, and he dared reach for it. The hand on her waist slid further back, palming her lower back before moving to her bottom. Azula’s approving hum made Sokka smile between kisses, and he decided to caress her further, as she seemed to like it so much.

Her hand found his, the one at her neck, and she guided it downwards. Sokka gasped, knowing what the Princess was doing, and knowing he would gladly touch her breast, but here? Now? Sure, he was already touching her ass, but wouldn’t that be too much?

She didn’t seem to think so, though. Wherever he touched her, fire burned in the most pleasant of ways. She wanted more. She needed to feel him closer than this, with no clothes, no restraints, no irksome onlookers who might intrude…

“What the…? HEY!”

Katara’s voice barely fazed them, busy as they were with their lips locked. Sokka was shifting closer to Azula, his groin sending him a very specific message about what he ought to do next, but when a hand yanked him away from Azula he was forced to forsake his organ’s orders.

He fell inside the room, knocking over the liquor bottle and feeling a terrible sensation of loss when Azula’s delectable, full lips were no longer pressed against his. It took him a moment to register that he had bumped his head on the floor.

He grimaced and pushed himself up weakly as Azula stood from the windowsill, not knowing why on earth did she feel guilty when this was exactly what she had been going for. But Katara had pulled her brother back forcefully, and now everyone else had caught on to what was going on. A quick scan of the crowd told her that Toph was grimacing with distaste, Ty Lee had paled and was looking at Sokka as though she felt sorry for him, Aang was partially panicking, and Zuko and Suki were utterly shocked, even as they were making their way towards them.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Sokka?!” Katara bellowed. Sokka grimaced and looked at her nonchalantly.

“What people do in weddings, I guess…?” he shrugged. “I mean, damn, you got married and I’m supposed to be all alone? Seems unfair to me…”

“You don’t have to be alone, you just… don’t have to be with HER!” Katara exclaimed, as Zuko stopped next to her.

“What’s going on here?” he asked. Katara looked at him in utmost indignation.

“Your sister was…! She was making out with my brother!”

“Wait, what?!” Zuko exclaimed, as Sokka stood up and raised his hands defensively.

“You know, nobody was doing anything they didn’t want to do, there’s no need for…”

“Sokka, why would you…?” Zuko asked, eyes wide. Suki, beside him, looked at her ex-boyfriend with horror. Sokka grimaced.

“He needs an intervention, he had too much to drink!” Katara declared, grabbing her brother by the arm and dragging him away before he could protest.

“B-but Katara!” he stumbled, glancing back at the others.

His eyes could have found Suki, and he could have glared defiantly at her, showing he would move on, as she had. They could have found Zuko, too, to sneer at him for what he’d done: if Zuko could get together with Suki, why should Sokka stay away from Zuko’s sister?

Yet his eyes latched onto Azula’s, onto the blush on her face, and the unexpected expression on it. She seemed to be at a loss. It pleased Sokka to see that: it was how he felt, too. Something unexpected had sparked between them, and he felt hard-pressed to find out what it was.

“Why did you do this?”

Azula jumped when Suki asked her that question, her voice shaky. The Princess stopped following Sokka with his eyes as Katara dragged him downstairs, and instead she stared back at the Kyoshi Warrior with skepticism for a moment. Soon enough she was smiling and shaking her head.

“Why, you ask?” she said, raising her eyebrows. “Because this party was getting rather dull, don’t you think?”

She walked away just as confidently as she had earlier, no matter if her makeup was smudged now, her appearance mildly disheveled. It had been a hell of a kiss, really. She only wished it could have lasted longer, or that they would have done it for the sake of it, rather than to cause a scene in the party. The things they could have done if they’d had privacy…

She didn’t realize her feet were taking her right back to Mai. And her eyes widened when she saw her old friend smiling with a streak of pure mischief that Azula hadn’t seen in her eyes for a very long time.

“That was quite the scene indeed,” said Mai. “I truly didn’t think you had it in you.”

“You ought to learn not to underestimate me by now, Mai,” said Azula, raising her eyebrows. “It would seem you’re the one who miscalculated this time…”

Mai’s smirk became soft laughter now. Azula was surprised to find herself smiling, too. She couldn’t quite believe she had said those words again, after all this time, without feeling not even a pang of bitterness over them. Mai had spoken them to her for the first time so long ago, and unleashed fury Azula hadn’t known she could experience. This time, Azula spoke them and brought Mai to laugh in a way she had never seen her laugh before. It seemed those words were rather handy when it came to triggering unexpected reactions.

“Fine. You win” said Mai, smiling still and reaching back to grab a clean cup for sake.

As she poured it, Azula bit her lower lip and made to sit beside Mai once more. She accepted the drink, even though it was far from her favorite. But it was a gesture of peace from the most unlikely source: she’d be a fool to reject it.

“I’ll say, that was some fine entertainment,” Mai chuckled again, raising her cup as to toast. Azula smirked and met Mai’s cup with her own.

“You know boredom is never in my schedule,” she said, proudly.

The two old friends drank together, to old days and new ones, sitting side by side before the Jasmine Dragon’s open bar. Eyes still leered at Azula warily, for everyone wondered what on earth had she been up to with Sokka, but Mai was warmer than she had ever been. Sometimes rekindling a friendship could be just as satisfying as starting a brand new romance.

The Jasmine Dragon was still boisterous and loud when Azula and Mai took their leave, barely a half hour after the chaotic scene had unfolded. As they weren’t too close to either of the newlyweds, the two of them wouldn’t be needed for now. Chances were people would have more fun without worrying about what Azula might pull next, anyways.

“I would head to the inn Zuko is staying at, he had booked a room for me…” Azula confessed, as they walked down the stairs, on their way to the exit. “But I’m afraid I don’t care for hearing what him or his girlfriend have to say about the stunt I pulled earlier.”

“Here I thought you had pulled it just to hear what they’d have to say,” said Mai, smirking. “Was it that good, then?”

“It was… decent.”

“Oh, of course it was only decent. That’s why you were moments away from straddling him in front of everyone, no doubt.”

“I was not.”

“You were and you know it. I was watching it all along, Azula…”

“It doesn’t mean that I was…” the Princess rebuffed, but as they stepped out into the street, she found there was someone sitting by the small water mirror before the teashop.

It was him. Her eyes widened when she noticed he was soaking wet, surely because of whatever his sister had done to him. Despite Azula had mostly wanted to rile up Zuko, clearly the more upset sibling hadn’t been hers.

Sokka raised his eyes and saw them, noticing the almost apologetic look on Azula’s face. He smiled and shrugged.

“What can I say? My sister has a temper,” he said, gesturing at the water mirror behind him. “Tossed me in there, said I needed to cool down if I thought you were hot…”

“You… said I was hot?” Azula asked, as Mai’s smirk widened with amusement.

“I didn’t say it, she inferred I thought so. And… I usually hate saying my sister’s right, but she is. I do think so,” Sokka admitted, truthfully.

The blush on Azula’s cheeks was so strong Mai could only snicker as she looked at her. It earned her a glare from her friend.

“Well, I was going to offer you the chance to find a room in the inn I’ll be staying at…” Mai said, crossing her arms over her chest. “But something tells me he has a more indecent proposal for you.”

“I wasn’t…! W-well, I didn’t…! I mean, if you want to, I…” Sokka stuttered, blushing too, but Mai had no time for his bumbling.

“Cut to the chase, you two need to get it on and I won’t stand in your way,” said Mai, looking at Azula with a proud grin. “Go get him, Azula.”

“I… shut up,” Azula snapped. Mai laughed as she took her leave, and Azula rolled her eyes while wishing she weren’t blushing so strongly.

Sokka gulped as Mai walked away, but he looked at Azula nervously, his head slightly bent down.

“So…?” he said. Azula looked at him with uncertainty, before sighing and smiling weakly.

“Are you really going to proposition me?”

“Do you want me to?”

“That depends on how you do it, I suppose,” she said, smirking now. Sokka snorted.

“Well, what can I say?” he said, shaking his head “Truth is, you’re too good a kisser. I wanted more up there, and I just hope you did, too. So… if you’re willing, maybe we could do it without an audience this time.”

“Hmm, maybe,” said Azula, smiling and moving closer to him. “And maybe we could do other things that don’t require an audience, yes?”

“If you’d like that…” he said, smirking too. Azula laughed.

“Well… it would be too irresponsible to leave you in those wet clothes, now, wouldn’t it?”

Sokka laughed in agreement as she leaned closer and kissed him deeply, without restraint this time. He held her under the stars, the water mirror behind them calm again as it reflected the two lovers and the field of darkness spreading above them, that covered them like a mantle and kept their budding affair safely protected from any prying eyes this time…

#azulashipchallenge #sokkla #azula #sokka #mai #brotp #no lies this is one of my favorite Azula brotps #these two are fun #fixing their friendship makes me happy

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kdinthecity · 7 years

Text

Confessions of a Teenage Sugar Queen: Soulmates

Zuko retrieves his laptop bag from his room and heads for the kitchen table. I linger in the hallway, trying to focus long enough to make sense of his mom’s article, but the words are blurring together.

Damn you, tears.

I take a minute to collect myself before joining Zuko in the kitchen. He fishes something out of his pocket and places it on the table while he types in his login password. It’s a tube of chapstick, and I would be lying if I said I haven’t noticed that slight bulge in his pants before. He must carry it with him all the time.

I’m so wrecked. If I don’t kiss Zuko soon, I might die of thirst. I don’t like the taste of his particular brand of chapstick, though.

I figure this moment is yet another lost opportunity when he snaps the cap off, but it isn’t chapstick at all.

It’s a USB drive. Oh, yeah. He was going to show me something. Right.

When it loads, I can’t help but say the name out loud, “Ursa.”

“These are my mother’s files I found on my father’s—“ Zuko presses his lips together like he always does when he’s said too much. His hand is shaking when he double clicks on the disk icon.

I read through the folders, silently this time. “Anthology… Articles… ENG101... ENG110… Grades… Lectures… Notes… Painted Lady…”

“What’s in the Painted Lady folder?” I ask, ignoring the lump that has formed in my throat.

“I can’t open it. I’ve read through everything else on this disk, but that folder is password protected.”

There is only one other folder, “Pictures,” and it piques my curiosity. “What’s in there?” I point at the screen.

A deep sadness passes over his face, making the scar seem more pronounced than ever. He obliges and opens the folder to reveal one single image entitled “Beach.” It’s an artfully composed silhouette of a woman and a child walking along the beach at sunset. I can only assume it is Ursa and Zuko, but the figures are too shadowy to tell.

“That’s it?” Surely he has more photos of his mother somewhere.

“There were at least a hundred photos in that file. But that’s when the data transfer was interrupted. That’s when… I got caught.”

This is the story of the scar. I just know it. But I have no idea what to say next.

I don’t get a chance before he redirects. “Katara, I’ve tried every password I can think of to open this file—my name, Azula’s name, our birthdays, Mom’s nicknames for us, and all of that in every combination. I was wondering… what if the file came from your mom? What if… do you know of a password she might use?”

It is too much. I am suddenly my nine-year-old self sorting through a box of Mom’s stuff that Dad has refused to touch since she died. All I ever wanted was something like this—a collection of her writing, notes, and pictures. Instead, all that came back from the coroner was assorted jewelry, cosmetics, and other typical items from a woman’s handbag.

“Katara? Are you OK?” Zuko breaks through my reverie.

No, I’m not. I can’t do this right now. “It’s getting late. I should go.”

His shoulders drop in disappointment, but when our eyes meet, we come to a silent understanding. It’s the tide pool scene all over again but with our roles reversed. The impact of the triggered memory hits me hard, and it is easier to choose distance and distraction over the pain of pushing through it. I no longer blame Zuko for his reaction that day.

I also acknowledge that he did try to talk about it. And neither of us has to bear our burden alone. We have each other.

I tell myself that only this moment is lost, not everything—not yet. And then I leave.

I refuse dinner and hull up in my room. I can’t exactly describe what I’m feeling—confused, yes, and maybe a little angry. Or perhaps I’m just jealous that Zuko somehow ended up with access to my mother’s work when all I’ve ever gotten is my father’s gruff response, “Katara, just let it go.”

I’ve read all of her articles in back issues of The Modern Times, of course. Gran Gran secretly gifted me with an online subscription last year. Dad makes comments like, “It’s old news anyway, so we need to focus on moving forward.” Sokka says that Mom’s writing will probably always represent suffering and loss for our family.

Sometimes when I feel… like I don’t know what to feel, that is when I write. But that hardly seems like a therapeutic option right now given the circumstances, so I decide to watch Netflix instead. I really should catch up on Crossroads of Destiny because the new season starts later this month. I don’t want to miss out on Uncle Iroh’s premiere party.

When did I start referring to him as Uncle?

This episode is about Phaethon, son of Helios, the sun god. As his tragic story unfolds, I wonder if this is the plotline Zuko had confused with Icarus. The boy certainly tries to prove himself to his father and to the world, but only brings fire and destruction, eventually falling from his chariot in the sky to his untimely death. I can’t handle the images of scorched landscapes and dried-up riverbeds in my fragile state, but before I turn off the show, the earth goddess says something that strikes me.

“Help us, great Zeus! Is this the end of earth? Even the heavens are burning. The past turns to ashes, and the future is fire!”

The future is fire—the slogan for Ozai’s company. I don’t even know what Future Fire Technology does, despite Azula’s constant bragging. She asserts it’s the “way of the future,” whatever it is. So, I look it up on my phone. They make virtual reality components such as headsets, gloves, and even a full exoskeleton for an “immersive experience.” The website is vague on what their products are actually used for, though.

I regret leaving Zuko. I should have tried to help him with the password instead of freaking out. Our mothers are obviously connected somehow, and he put himself at risk just to get those files. Mom took all kinds of risks to get information in her line of work. I never wanted to be a journalist, but I do want to be like her.

Before I even realize what I’m doing, I’m pulling the box of her things out of my closet. I used to look through it nearly every day, but I haven’t now for a few years. I wipe the dust from the lid and carefully lift it to reveal an odd collection of treasures. I hold up a pair of pearl earrings, and a shaky sound escapes my lips, almost like laughter, but not. I remember begging Dad to let me pierce my ears so I could wear them. He said I had to wait until I turn 16. Here I am, almost 16, and I don’t really care about that anymore.

Next, I run the pad of my thumb over a necklace I had also hoped to wear someday. The pendant has a wave carved out of whalebone, attached to a blue velvet ribbon. Dad gave it to Mom when they got married, and I’ve always figured it would be too painful for him to see it again. Maybe I could ask him.

Maybe I could ask him if he knows Mom’s password, too. I will have to explain that I’ve found a file of hers, and he might not like that. I understand if he doesn’t want to dwell on the past, but surely he doesn’t want to forget everything?

Finally, I pull out a tube of bright red lipstick, and this is when I lose it. It was her “power paint,” she called it. When I pretended to be a warrior princess as a young girl, she would paint the Aleut symbols on my face and tell me stories of our people.

“Katara, are you OK, dear?” Gran Gran calls from the doorway.

I sniff and wipe my face with Zuko’s sweatshirt. Yes, I still have it. “I-I-I’m fine, Gran Gran.”

“Can I make you some chamomile tea? Or run you a relaxing lavender jasmine bubble bath? You’ve been working so hard lately.”

“No thanks. I’ll just… go to bed early, I think.”

“OK, dear. Just let me know if you need anything.”

“Thank you, Gran Gran.”

“Oh… and Katara? Your mother would be very proud you.”

I wait until she leaves before fully releasing the tears I’ve been holding back. I suppose a good cry is long overdue. I throw myself on the bed with Zuko’s sweatshirt balled up like a pillow. I don’t realize that I’m still clutching the lipstick. The cap pops off which means I’m probably making a huge mess on my sheets, but I don’t care. Besides, I’m a laundry expert. Mom even used to call me Moonpeach.

I wake up the next morning drowsy and disoriented. Strands of my hair are stuck to my face and my throat is raw—this is why I hate crying. I stand up and brush the wrinkles out of yesterday’s clothes. Mom’s lipstick falls to the floor with a clank, and I say out load to no one in particular, “OK, I’m awake, I’m awake!”

I groan when I look at my phone. Zuko will be here in thirty minutes to pick me up. I scoop up his sweatshirt and laugh. At this rate, he’s never getting it back. I give it a squeeze, a pathetic part of my morning ritual these days. As I scan the room for my shoes, a glint of silver catches my eye.

No. Fucking. Way.

Mom’s lipstick is a USB drive, too. All this time I never knew.

I am cursing our old school computer for how long it takes to boot up. My stomach churns so violently with nerves that I consider calling in sick today. I even taste bile in the back of my throat when the icon “Kya” shows up on the screen.

I don’t know where to start. The “Pictures” folder? There is one called “Fiction,” too. Did my mom write stories like I do? There is also “Case Files,” and that one scares me a little. My hand hovers over the mouse, paralyzed by indecision.

Then, I see it. “Blue Spirit.”

And after years of wishing I had all the rest of these files and only weeks of knowing Zuko, that is the folder I decide to click on first.

Of course. Its contents are encrypted and require a password.

“Zuko is here, dear!” Gran Gran calls from the entryway.

Shit. I can’t process any of this, so I quickly eject the disk and secure it in the zippered part of my bag. I haven’t even changed clothes, but at least I’m in uniform, so it’ll have to do. Both Gran Gran and Zuko eye my disheveled appearance with some concern, but I simply brush past them and head toward Zuko’s car.

I don’t talk to Zuko right away, and he respectfully heeds the silence. He probably thinks I still need my space after yesterday which is partially true. I’m actually dying to tell him what I found, but I’m also reeling from it. His mom has one of my mom’s files, and my mom has one of his mom’s files. What does this mean?

After I fix my hair into my usual braid for the day, I text Dad to ask him if he knows Mom’s password. He confirms what I already suspect—that it should be derived from my name, nickname, or birthday just like Zuko suggested.

I cast a sideways glance at Zuko who unsurprisingly has a death grip on the steering wheel and laser focus on the road. He always does that when there is something left unspoken between us. Is he this easy to read to everyone… or just me?

“Hey Zuko?”

Predictably, he lets out a huge sigh of relief since I finally broke the tension. “Yeah?”

“Can you come over after work today?” I ask.

“Sure.” He stares straight ahead, but a smile tugs at the corner of his lips.

I look down at his lap to confirm he still has the chapstick in his pocket. No, I am not ashamed of this in the least. “Great. And can you bring your laptop?”

He tilts his head in my direction and nods, but I don’t acknowledge this because I am still groping him with my eyes. OK, I may have a problem.

My problem is that I’m a fucking waterworks these days. I cannot stop crying! The bus driver keeps looking at me like I’m a dam about to bust.

Depending on the outcome of Zuko’s little meeting, I’m gonna bust someone’s ass for sure.

I can’t believe he’d agree to go meet with his sister! Ever since I connected the mysterious Ursa files with Zuko’s scar, I don’t trust the Kasai family at all. Except for Iroh, of course. Wow, how did the apple fall so far from the tree? In my Google search last night, I read an article about corruption within the company when it was an arms dealer under Zuko’s grandfather, Azulon.

Zuko says he will call me later. I text back that he should just come over. To pass the time, I read through a few of my mom’s short stories. Hers are not fantasy like mine, though. More like melodrama… and more than I can take right now. I pace between the kitchen and living room. Gran Gran gives me worried looks. I imagine Azula stabbing Zuko with skewers, and Ozai using him as a punching bag. I cry some more. I double check the freezer to make sure we have icepacks. Of course we do. Sokka lives here after all.

Dammit. I even miss Sokka, the big oaf. When we were younger, I had a stuffed penguin, and he had a stuffed otter. If I were crying at night because I missed Mom, he would put on a show to cheer me up—The Adventures of Otter Penguin!

I’m in the middle of composing a text to Sokka, complete with otter and penguin emojis, when Zuko calls.

“Hey, sorry it’s so late.” He sounds very tired.

“Are you OK?” I sound very motherly.

“Um, yeah. Mostly.”

Hmm, not the answer I wanted to hear. “What did Azula want?” I growl.

“She offered me a job at Future Fire. She said things were… how did she put it? Heating up. She could use the help… or something like that.”

Oh no. “Did you—“

“No, Katara.”

“OK, good.”

“It’s not good. I told her I’m happy at the Marine Center, but Azula doesn’t want me to be happy. I told her I’m already doing what Dad wants, but if she thinks I have his favor for any reason, she’ll fix that. She’ll report some bullshit story back to him. He’ll come by the Marine Center to check up on me. I’m so fucked.”

I can’t stand how defeated he sounds, so I deftly change the subject. “Hey, about that password…”

“Yeah? Did you think of something?” His tone changes completely—thankfully.

“Well, you could try Katara082800 or maybe KataraAugust2000 or something with my name and birthday which is August 28, 2000.”

“OK. Just a minute.”

Soon I hear his furious typing in the background. “No luck.”

“You could try Sokka’s, too. His birthday is September 6, 1998.”

I wait for what seems like forever. His frustration mounts with the continuous beating of the delete key.

“What about a nickname, Katara?”

I was afraid he’d ask this. “Don’t laugh, OK?”

“I won’t.”

“It’s… Moonpeach.”

A pause.

“Shit. Holy shit. Katara! That’s it!”

The silence that follows is deafening.

“Zuko?”

“Sorry.”

“Is it… stuff from my mom? In the file.” Because, dude, I’m dying over here.

“It’s uhhh—“

I have an epiphany. “Zuko, what’s your nickname?”

“What?”

“What. Is. Your. Nickname?”

“Oh, umm. Turtleduck.”

“Turtleduck?” I laugh but only because it sounds like a creature that would fit perfectly in my fictional world.

“Hey, I didn’t laugh at yours!” he whines. “It’s because I loved that Christmas song when I was a kid but called it a turtleduck instead of a turtledove, OK?”

I’m half-listening because I just typed “turtleduck” for the password, and the “Blue Spirit” file on my mom’s disk is now accessible.

Seriously, what does this mean?

“Zuko, if I can access my mom’s files with your mom’s password, and you can access your mom’s files with my mom’s password, do you think… were we supposed to find this together?”

Were we supposed to find each other?

Zuko doesn’t answer.

We should be doing this together.

“Zuko, can you come over?”

“I… I’m not sure if that’s a good idea.”

“What? I think… it was meant to be! How else would you explain it?”

“It could just be a coincidence. Maybe they used each others’ passwords to ensure no one would find out ever. Maybe we’re not supposed to know any of this.”

I don’t know what this is because I haven’t read anything, yet. I realize I want him here with me because I’m scared.

“Zuko, please…”

“Even if our moms wanted us to know, my father absolutely doesn’t. It’s too… dangerous. I shouldn’t… you should stay away from me.”

Another epiphany.

“Zuko, did your dad hit you because of me?”

“No! It was… I broke curfew.”

“You’re lying.”

Zuko lets out a noise of frustration, something I’ve never heard him do before. “ARRRRRRGGGGHHH. He just said it was a reminder. To not dishonor the family. He’s a fucking psychopath, Katara. Just let it go.”

I hate that everyone keeps saying that!

“No! I think… Ozai knew that our mothers were working on something together. Something big. A scandal perhaps… maybe it involved your father. So when he found out you were seeing me, he forbade it. And then beat you as a reminder.”

“Katara, have you read any of your mom’s files, yet?”

“No.”

“OK, so read them. And we’ll talk in the morning.”

Chpt. 1 | Chpt. 2 | Chpt. 3 | Chpt. 4 | Chpt. 5

#zutara week #zutara week 2017 #zkweek #zkweek2017

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zutaraverse · 7 years

Text

Chapter 6: Spilt Blood and Water

Guys disclaimer: From here on in this is for MATURE audiences only.. In both good and bad ways. R rated ok. Trigger warnings for torture, rape, murder, swearing, sex.

Katara hugged her knees to her chest and tried to calm herself down. Zuko, unsure of what else to do, sat on the floor leaning against the wall and he waited for Katara to start. He was feeling nervous, and not a little frightened. If there was some danger he could see then it would have been simple; but he had a suspicion that everything was in her mind. A chill ran down his spine. Last time he had seen somebody lose their mind it was his little sister. He could not let something similar happen to Katara!

Katara took a deep breath and focussed on a patch of wall above Zuko’s head so she wouldn’t have to endure his reaction.

“I had recently arrived in the Fire Nation, intent on locating at least some sources of information. I took up rooms in an inn just over the border, and for a couple of days managed to gain my bearings,” she started, her voice growing stronger as she lost herself in her memories.

“The inn was pretty busy, but I always got a little table in the corner for my dinner. One night I was eating, not paying attention to my surroundings, and this man bumps into my table, accidentally spilling my drink. He apologises profusely and looks genuinely worried that he had wasted my drink and insists on getting me another one. When he returns he insists on sitting with me and talks and talks and talks about nothing in particular. I remember thinking, as I was sipping my drink, that I would have to find a way to get rid of him soon or I might die of boredom.” A bitter smile played on her lips before she continued.

“He must have slipped something in my drink. It didn’t take long, but soon I could feel the control of my body going. My mind was hazy but present, but my limbs were harder and harder to move. When I finally collapsed on the table, unable to shout or run, he convinced the inn keeper that he was an old friend of mine - and since they had seen him buy me a drink and talk to me they didn’t doubt it. He made it seem like I was drunk and he would put me in my room - so they let him take me upstairs.” She paused to brush away some tears.

“I knew what was going to happen. Knew it the moment he pretended to be my friend in front of the inn keepers. And the lock clicking in the door was my sentence.

“He removed my clothes, dropping me a couple of times. I was horrified that I could still feel pain, I just couldn’t react to it. I couldn’t bend. Finally he placed me on my bed and said - “ her voice broke “well… it doesn’t matter what he said.” She took a deep breath.

“By this point he had an erection - actually I think he had had it for a while. And he decided that… sticking it down my throat… would … anyway I choked. A lot. I thought I was going to die from all the gagging and the bile and I couldn’t… just couldn’t get away! I tried, really, really hard, to combine gagging with movement and managed to bite down.” She smiled wistfully at her little victory.

“It wasn’t hard, I doubt it hurt. But he wasn’t taking any chances. That’s when… he decided to burn me.” Tears sprang to her eyes once more as she remembered the searing pain on her ribs and her inability to scream and heal herself - her complete helplessness and the way she prayed for unconsciousness, the smell of burning flesh turning her stomach. She didn’t need to say that the burns she was referring to were the ones Zuko noticed while training.

“Then he - well - he was not gentle. It went on for so long. Every time he was close he would pull out and burn me some more and then continue.” She took a shuddering breath.

“Finally he finished. I was in so much pain everywhere. But he just left and I still could not move. I thought - I thought I would never be able to move again. I couldn’t even lift a finger - “ she sobbed, but then seemed to recollect herself.

“It wore off the next day. Thankfully his seed hadn’t - erm - implanted. I would have got rid of it if it had, but I’ve never done that before and I don’t really know how… I healed myself all I could but much of the damage was done. I ran. Now that I could use my legs, I ran as far and as fast as I could. I avoided humanity for a long time, sleeping outdoors just like we used to when we were travelling. But that didn’t help. Every twig, every scrape, every bird cry or wolf howl or frog chatter had me on edge. I could only sleep when I was too exhausted to stay awake, and I often forgot to eat. Sometimes I would go a few days or even a week without food, only my fearful exhaustion for company.

“I decided I needed towns - small ones with thin walls and people who all know one another. There I could secure my room and sleep. I would eat alone, I would talk to nobody, I would accept nothing from anybody. I had no direction, I just wondered for … I don’t know … a long time. I had given up. On everything. I was a wreck of a person, I couldn’t hold myself together. I let myself down by not being able to defend myself.

“In my angriest hours I knew that Hama and I were not that different. I could have unleashed everything Hama told me was possible ten fold on him at those times.” She spread her hands out and all the vases in the room cracked, sending pieces of pottery and water flying in all directions. “If she went through anything like that - who am I kidding, she did go through things like that - she endured for years, I can understand! I would do the same… well… birds of a feather I guess.” She calmed herself from her violent outburst, and started again in a quieter tone.

“Eventually I heard of Ka’Bei, a little island with only Fire Sages on it. I reasoned that they would probably respect me enough to do me no harm - and even if they did, I would drown them and their temple with all the fury of the sea.

“I didn’t have to. They saw I was broken and they helped me regain my calm, they helped me accept fire as not purely destructive. I did not tell them what had happened, but they sensed that I needed them. I stayed with them two and a half months - I managed to live a semblance of normality, threw myself into meditation and research so my mind would not return to my dark places.

“When I first created fire there was only joy. I felt like I understood it, I felt like I had defeated him! He made me fear my own campfire, abhor the flames heating tea, avoid red like the plague. But here I had mastered it and he was wrong. The way he used it was wrong! And he would never learn the true meaning of fire because he was not worthy of it - like a butcher using broadswords. He made me scream at the slightest sound, run from any sort of physical contact and become a stranger to peace. But there I was, surrounded by the fire sages who cared, able to hug and brush hands without feeling sick, and finding an inner peace in meditation.

“And I was getting so much better.

“Then tonight he walked into your reception room. I just couldn’t contain it Zuko, please try to understand, please don’t think of me as pathetic - although I probably would deserve that. Everything spiralled back,” she sobbed, burying her face in her hands. “I’m sorry I’m like this, I’m sorry you had to see this… I promise that I will - I WILL get a grip … I just need time … and I know he didn’t see me but I’m terrified he will find me again, Zuko…” She lifted her head from her hands and forced herself to look at him. She thought she saw smoke coming from his nostrils.

Zuko slowly stood up, fists clenched, and turned towards the door.

“ZUKO? Where are you going?!” she cried, panicked at the thought that he would abandon her.

“To commit a very long and painful murder.”

“No Zuko, you can’t!”

“Yes, I can,” he growled, turning to face her. “Tell me what he looks like.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t want you to have his filthy blood on your hands! And you promised to stay here with me!” her voice was rising with panic again. Zuko winced.

“Katara, I will be able to cover it up - Ozai’s guests had a tendency to disappear too… I can get rid of this problem!” Zuko was trying to keep his anger at bay before he set everything on fire. It was one of the greatest tests of his newly developed self control. But Katara needed him. And she didn’t want fire.

“No. You are not Ozai. And you promised to stay here with me. I won’t tell you what he looks like.” She was speaking softly. She didn’t need to shout, she knew her voice would penetrate his conscience. He had promised, and if she knew one thing about Zuko, it was that he was a man of honour.

Zuko blew out more smoke and turned to look at Katara, and old anger ignited inside him on her behalf. He clenched and unclenched his fists, trying hard to stay put. Katara watched him, having pulled up the bed covers to her chin, the silver moonlight catching in her deep blue eyes.

“Please, Zuko,” she whispered again, her voice threatening to break.

She was the moon, and she commanded where he was pulled. Everything was water - all life was water, and right now, the water that surrounded him was caught in a current pulling him to her. With that voice and those eyes his will was irrelevant. He would do anything in that moment to please her and comfort her. For the first time, Zuko decided to do nothing.

He hung his head in submission and walked towards her, retaking his place by the wall so as not to scare her. Katara exhaled in relief.

“You don’t need to stay on the floor, you can sleep on the bed - it is big enough for four. Just… please don’t touch me…”

Zuko blinked at her in surprise. After all of that, she still offered him a place in her bed?

“Are you … are you sure?” he stammered.

“Zuko, I trust you. I know you wouldn’t do anything. I’m not scared of you,” she gave herself a pensive half smile, “at least, not anymore.”

Zuko grimaced thinking of himself as the angry child who had chased them around the world. Various incidents entered his mind; when he crashed into her village, when he tied her to a tree, when he knocked her out in the North, when he had her alone under Ba Sing Se. In all of those situations there were people who would have taken advantage of her - but he would never have dared consider it. For the first time he realised how unbearably lucky they had all been to have found one another as enemies. Somehow they had scraped through, hardly hurt, from a war that could have taken so much more. How ironic was it that when she had been a helpless little girl she had been left alone, and now that she was the most powerful water bended and blood bender in the world she was hurt.

Zuko stood up, brushing ceramic bits from his clothes, and crawled into bed on the far side from her.

“You’re safe with me,” he whispered.

Neither slept well. Katara woke herself up screaming three times throughout the night, and eventually fell into an exhausted sleep towards morning. Zuko, however, could not get her screams out of his head, and they fused with the sounds of his own screams when his father had burned him in his dreams. He felt increasingly more useless as the night went on. In one nightmare he was watching it all happen, just as she had described it, except she could scream. He was running running towards her as fast as he could, but in front of him stood Ozai, with his hand gloved in flames held out before him. Zuko knew, he knew that to get to her he had to let Ozai destroy his face. He hesitated only a moment, but pushed forward and felt all the pain from the burns again.

He did not sleep after that.

Katara was sniffling and every so often her limbs would jerk out as if she were trying to break free of something, but at least she was sleeping. Zuko tiptoed to the door at first light and moved the dressing table as quietly as he could, and, by waiting for footsteps to pass by the room he ordered a servant to go to his rooms, fetch the clothes for the day and bring them here. By the time the servant returned, Katara was still not awake.

Zuko bit his lip. He did not want to leave her but he had to change. And wash. He could do everything in her bathroom, but she had to know where he was or she might panic when she woke up. Zuko returned the dressing table to its place guarding the door, and approached Katara. She was sleeping on her side, curled up in a now very crumpled light blue dress. Her hair stuck to her face in nighttime sweats, and dark bags blurred into smudged make up surrounded her eyes. Her face was more pale than he had ever seen, and had a greenish hue, as if she was going to be sick. But he had never felt so much affection for the girl lying before him.

“Katara?” he called softly.

Her eyes fluttered open, not quite focussing in front of her.

“Zuko?” she asked in a voice still muffled in sleep.

“Katara I’m going to wash in your bathroom. I am right here though, if you need me just shout. I’m not leaving you, alright?” She blinked at him, trying to make sense of the words he was saying in her confused mind. Slowly, she nodded and he walked towards the bathroom.

Zuko had not washed and dressed so quickly since he was in exile. He did not want to leave her on her own, and he hoped she was still asleep when he returned to her room.

However, he was surprised when he saw her changed, her hair brushed and her face powdered. The dressing table had been moved back to its original place and the ceramic pieces from the vases swept to one side. The bed had even been made! He stood, gaping at her from the doorway.

“When does the meeting start?” she asked. Her voice was brave and steady, but the red rims of her eyes betrayed her.

“There will be no meeting, there will be a hearing and then there will be a lifetime of jail for one man - that is unless you’ve changed your mind and you are willing to let me kill him.” There was no way Zuko was just going to ignore everything that had happened! Even if she wanted to pretend like nothing was the matter, he was most definitely not playing along.

“You are not killing him. There will be a hearing, but only after the meeting.” Her voice remained steady and resolute.

“You… you’re going to the meeting with the man who made your life a living hell? Katara! Absolutely not!” Was he going crazy? Was he hearing her correctly?

“Zuko… when your father burned you and banished you, you did everything in your power to go back to him. You thought it was to please him but that was not the real reason; he destroyed your self confidence. It had nothing to do with him, it had to do with yourself. You had to go back to prove to yourself that you had not been destroyed. When you had proved that to yourself then there was no reason for you to stay.

“This is the same thing. I need to show myself I can continue, that I can function even if he is there. I will do it to spite him and because I need to believe in myself. Can you understand that?” She was so calm. She was too calm. It unnerved him.

“No. I won’t allow it,” he responded stubbornly, crossing his arms over his chest. How could he sit there with Katara and this monster and talk about trade? This was insane!

“You really don’t have a choice Zuko. You don’t even know who it was. And until the meeting is over I won’t tell you.” She lifted her chin in defiance and walked out the door towards the meeting chamber.

He saw how she was getting through the meeting. She was either staring at the papers laid out on the table or above the heads of the guests. She did not look at anybody’s face throughout the whole thing, and resolutely ignored the snide comments made about having a woman in the meeting chamber. Zuko, however, found it near impossible to concentrate. He looked every man in the face with an anger hardly concealed behind his golden eyes, and, in retrospect, that was probably what made them concede to his and Katara’s plans in the end. There was a lot of grumbling, and vows that they would regret not placing the army everywhere.

They all got up to go, leaving their empty lunch plates by their places. It was almost sunset. Zuko fixed his eyes on Katara. All he needed was the smallest sign of recognition and he would act. And he still wasn’t sure if the man would make it to his hearing alive.

Katara, however, kept her expression neutral and started walking towards the doors. There were a few snide comments, but she reacted to none of them, keeping her head held high.

Then one grabbed her wrist. Zuko’s eyes narrowed and he pushed though the throng of people to get to them.

“Let go of me right now.” Katara’s voice was icier than he had ever heard it before, but it brought him the greatest relief. All her calm and composure was unnatural, but this iciness was what he needed to hear. He stood, just behind a couple of people watching it play out. She was not drugged now and he dearly hoped she made all his blood drain from his eyes as Hama had described.

“Aw come on, its like fate has thrown us together once again. Don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy last time.” His voice was low and slimy and Zuko made a mental note to cut off his tongue as well as his hands and his dick. If he didn’t know how to use something, then as far as Zuko was concerned, this man didn’t deserve to have them. The man stepped closer to her. He realised who it was; a Captain in the navy, the one that had been most condescending about their solution. Even his commanding Admiral had taken more of it on board! Zuko smirked as Katara didn’t back away but glared at him straight in the eyes.

“If you don’t let go of me right now, I will make you regret it,” she said through her teeth. By now other people had realised that something was happening. The Admiral looked from one to the other and frowned.

“What could a little girl like you possibly do to me? As I remember it last time you didn’t put up a fight,” he said with a wicked smile snaking over his lips. He was still under the impression nobody was listening to him, but both Zuko and the Admiral were paying close attention.

“Agni Kai,” she said quietly, eyes narrowed in determination.

“What?” he laughed.

“You heard me. Agni Kai. Right now, you and me. Or are you scared of water?” she mocked. By now the whole room could feel the tension between the two of them and they had formed a shambled circle around them. The man seemed to realise everybody had heard her and looked around him in a moment of fear before smiling.

“You better start running little girl. This time I won’t take mercy.” He throw her arm back down by her side and looked around in grinning.

The Admiral hesitantly stepped forward.

“Lady Katara, I do not know what you understand of our customs, but it is unheard of to challenge somebody to an Agni Kai for merely touching you,” the last thing he wanted was the girl’s death on their heads. Katara’s infuriated eyes locked onto his.

“Believe me, Admiral, I know much about your traditions. I challenge this vermin to an Agni Kai because he touched me without my permission, and because last time we met he drugged me, raped me and burned me when I was completely helpless. Unlike him, I give my victims a chance to fight back. I just hope he can swim.” And with that she turned on her heel and stalked out the doors towards the outdoor arena.

Zuko stayed long enough to hear the Admiral’s dismayed gasp and notice that the Captain’s face had lost some of its smugness. He obviously had not been counting on her revealing what had happened. Zuko reasoned that a lesser being than Katara would never have had the courage to speak out or fight back. They would have self destructed. Zuko hurried out after Katara, instructing the guards of what was to happen and ordering them to escort the vile man to the arena immediately.

“Katara?”

“Don’t even think of trying to stop me Zuko!” she snarled, turning on him. He raised his hands.

“Believe me, I only wish I could be in that arena with you. But… just don’t do anything you regret, alright? And for the record, you are allowed to kill him in an Agni Kai,” he said quietly. A wicked grin grew on her face.

“Don’t worry, I will only bend water. But I don’t think I will kill him. I don’t know. We’ll see.”

Many of the palace staff heard of the Agni Kai taking place, and within a quarter of an hour the stands around the outdoor arena became almost half full. The captain of the guard at the palace was in control, and he stood in the middle, holding up his hands for silence. An eerie aura of expectation descended on the arena.

“The rules of the Agni Kai are thus; you may fight your opponent in the duration of the match using only physical blows or bending. Usually this takes place between two fire benders, but today we have fire versus water. Water comes from behind Lady Katara. The first to make their opponent kneel on the ground before them, or end the other’s life, wins. If the opponent is still alive at the end, the winner chooses their fate.” His eyes flicked from Katara to the Captain and back again. He walked to the edge of the arena and scrambled out. “Begin!”

The Captain immediately started on the offensive, throwing fireball after fireball at Katara’s face. She parried with water with hardly a flick of her wrist. He moved to try and get other angles, growling with the effort he was putting into each shot, while she hardly moved from her spot. At most she shifted her weight slightly.

Without waring, her parries were coming closer and closer to him. The audience were confused as to how she knew where he was aiming - of course they were ignorant of her own fire bending training. All he needed to do was place a foot in one direction and she could tell where he was aiming. It was pathetic really. Zuko’s lips turned up in the corners.

The Captain found himself surrounded by water and spun around, shooting fire from his palm until it all turned to steam and floated upwards. He grinned maliciously.

“Is that all you’ve got, little girl?” he snarled, igniting his fists once more. Her expression did not change at all as she condensed the steam that he himself had sent above his head into thick ice daggers the height of a man. The audience gasped as they saw them form above his head while he mocked her.

Suddenly, she dropped her wrists and they implanted all around him, trapping him in a circle made of six massive icicles. He growled and blasted at one until it melted, but he had forgotten that water does not disappear, and within seconds it returned to its position, thicker and taller than before as Katara fed more water into her prison.

He was too slow; she could create faster than he could destroy, and soon the walls were curving above his head.

The audience watched, shocked, as Katara brought her hands closer together as if they were holding a ball - and the ice responded by melting instantly to water and encasing him in a matching sphere. He could not retaliate from under the water, and in his shock let out the air he had in his lungs.

Katara lifted the ball of water encasing the Captain into the air, so that even if he were to escape he would fall a long way. The audience watched, horrified, as he started involuntarily breathing in water and thrashing about - they were watching him drown!

However, before he could drown, Katara released the imaginary ball she was holding, and accordingly the water ball ceased to exist; all the water and the man contained inside falling to the ground. There was a sickening crack as he hit the floor, but he rolled onto his hands and knees and started coughing up water from his near-drowning. He did not notice as the water around him rushed to cover his arms and legs and solidified to ice again.

Katara raised her gaze to the captain of the guard.

“I believe this means I win?” she asked calmly. The audience exploded in mutters as they realised what position she had frozen him in. He was kowtowing to her! The captain of the guard regarded her with not a little fear.

“Ladies and gentlemen, the winner is Lady Katara!” he boomed as the crowd hushed.

“I think you will find her title is Master Katara of the Southern Water Tribe,” said Zuko, standing up and projecting so nobody would misunderstand him.

“Of course! Apologies my Prince! Master Katara of the Southern Water Tribe, what do you wish to be this man’s fate?”

Katara stared at the man still incased in her ice, her eyes narrowed in hate.

“I want him to be put in a place where he will never see sunlight or another woman again,” she called so that all would hear her. She then released him from the ice with a flick of her wrist as members of the guard made their way into the arena to arrest the man.

However, as soon as he saw Katara start to turn her back, the Captain staggered to his feet and aimed a fire whip at her. Somehow, Katara sensed what was happening, and she dropped to the ground, balancing herself on her arms, and kicked out in a typical fire bending move. It was water, however, that responded; a pulse of the liquid that was still on the ground shot towards the unsuspecting man, battering him in the stomach and sending him to the floor a few feet back.

He emitted a sound akin to a roar and made to stand up and lash out again, but suddenly stopped. Something quick flew through the air in a blur of grey and implanted itself into the side of his neck. Instinctively he drew the dagger out of his skin - but that was the wrong thing to do. It had found its mark on his main artery, and within a few seconds he was surrounded in a pool of his own blood, his eyes glazing over and finally his breath ceasing.

Katara looked to her left, to the point where the knife had come from, and she found the Admiral standing, looking down on the scene unsympathetically. Catching her gaze, he bowed in her direction.

“Impressive aim, Admiral,” she called out, nonchalantly.

“Thank you, Master Katara. Betraying his honour by not following the Agni Kai was the last mark against him. I could have waited to court marshall him afterwards, but I believe this fits both our purposes, does it not?” He turned his cold gaze to the people sitting around him. “I will draw up a report immediately recounting his crimes, if anybody is interested in reading it to justify my actions, please do not hesitate to ask.” The members of the crowd glanced at one another and many shrugged. After hearing how he treated Master Katara and seeing how dishonourable his conduct was even when she had spared him his life, nobody really cared.

In the meantime, Zuko had made it down to the arena to get Katara. When he turned around he noticed all eyes trained on him. For a split second he remembered standing in the same spot refusing to fight years before. He shook the memory away.

“Let this be a lesson to all my citizens,” he started, commanding everybody’s attention. “What this man did made him a worthless excuse of a human being. The law thus far in our history has been lenient on the violence many men show towards women, or indeed towards other men, because it was somehow made excusable by war. I am telling you all now that this will change. There will be no mercy shown to anybody who treats another human being like that.” He let his words sink in. “And I never want to hear protests again when a woman is present in any meeting. Judge a person on their intelligence, on their potential, on their achievements, but not on their gender. We have come out of a war badly damaged, and we all deserve, man and woman, to follow our own paths. If you miscalculate how you treat your fellow citizens - or foreign citizens alike - you might end up against somebody like Master Katara.

“Have a peaceful journey home. Do what you want with the body.

“Dismissed!”

#zutara #zutaraverse #blood chi and full moons #atla #avatar the last airbender #katara #zuko

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bellatrixobsessed1 · 4 years

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Athazagoraphobia (Part 20)

She doesn’t speak as they emerge from the alleyway, she isn’t much in the mood for talking anymore. “That poor boy.” She hears Li mumble. “Are you alright, princess.”

Azula shakes her head, she feels thoroughly ill and anxious. She wonders how many others are dragging around husks of bodies, vacant of both spirit parasite and soul. She wonders it that will soon be she and Li. She leans heavily against the wall of a crumbling building, her head dizzy with nerves.

“That was badass!” Declares a voice. A wave of annoyance comes over Azula like a chill down her spine. The girl is tall with two long and messy braids and a dusting of freckles on her muddy cheeks. “I’ve never seen someone blast a hole through someone’s chest before.”

“Shut the hell up!” Azula snaps. “Are you trying to draw a larger hoard?”

The girl shrugs. “They aren’t doing anything.” She glances over her shoulder. “Not since your trio got here.”

“What are you trying to imply?” Azula asks.

She shrugs again. “Nothing. These things are freaks, I don’t know how they work. If I did, I’d still have the rest of my group.”

The implications here are clear. “Unless you have something to offer my group, we’re not taking on any extra baggage. I’ve got enough of that on my own.” Her grip on her crutches tightens. She leaves it unsaid, that she simply doesn’t want to be responsible for another person.

“You’re whole party is infected?” Ozai asks.

The girl nods. “‘Cept for me.”

“And how did you survive?” He questions further.

“I’m quick. Quick and agile.” The girl says with a swift demonstration.

Azula exchanges a look with her father. “I suppose that we can use someone with speed.”

The girl smiles, she is missing a tooth. “I’m Zirin.”

.oOo.

The girl chatters a lot, a steady stream of pointless conversation that begins with where she had been when the world ended (trekking up the rocky side of the volcano’s outer rim for sport) and ends with the death of her party. Apparently they had gone scavenging when a cluster of hosts ambushed them.

Azula isn’t particularly interested, she only half listens as Ruon’s bloodshot eyes haunt her imagination. Night is going to be hellish if she can’t even keep his rotting face from her mind in the day time.

“So what is our goal?” Zirin asks.

She will leave it to Li to answer. She is so tired. So tired, and itching to ask her father to hold her. But this world has no room for childish inclinations. No room for comfort.

“Where have you been taking shelter?” Li asks.

“Nowhere.” Zirin answers. “We never stopped for more than an hour.” That explains the massive bags under her eyes. Azula can’t fathom how the girl is still teeming with so much energy. She thinks that the girl has reached that manic point where tiredness gives way to erratic vigor.

Azula massages the bridge of her nose. “The port is only a day away. We can get there if we walk through the night and sleep during the day.” She pauses. “We can sleep in one of the boat houses and sail after a period of rest.” She can’t see herself able to get any sound sleep tonight, she might as well be productive about it.

“I need my rest, princess.” Li points out.

“We can leave you behind if it is a problem.” Ozai responds.

Feeling cross and moody, Azula states plainly, “you will carry her, father.”

“Have I been in prison long enough to make you forget what happens when you talk to me that way?”

Wholly exhausted, it strikes her that she doesn’t have the energy to care. She almost tells him that it doesn’t matter, that he can do what he will to her because she is dying anyways. “Things are different now.” She says instead.

“Spirits, you guys are an intense lot.” Zirin remarks.

.oOo.

Azula closes her eyes and takes measured breath after measured breath. Her head is pounding furiously and she is hot all over… Feverish.

She rolls onto her side and clutches her head. She is completely drained, her body yearning for sleep. But her mind won’t let her get there. Each time she falls into even a semi-state of sleep, she can hear the screams and whispers. Moments and memories blend together in ways most hellish; Bujing scowls at her as she tugs at chains. “Pathetic. Dead weight.” Her skin sloughs from her bones. The hosts with their dead eyes topple the gates and swarm her. Her hands aren’t her own, they are Ruon’s. She is now Ruon. She wakes in a sweat to the sun beaming on her face through the cracked windows. Ozai sleeps like a babe next to Li who is out cold. Granted the woman had slept through the night in Ozai’s arms, but she has had enough strain to keep her asleep for days.

Zirin snores in the corner on the opposite end of the room, leaving Azula the only one troubled and awake. She puts her head down again and only begins to drift off when she is thrown into another unpleasant situation; The palace is burning, she can see human silhouettes within the flames. A hand reaches out and grabs her robes. “Why?” Chan’s face is contorted in pain. In a flicker, it is Zuko who is burning away. “Why’d you do it?” She doesn’t know what they are referring to. She can’t ask because his eyes have gone milky white and begin spilling down his cheeks. In another flicker she is looking at herself; bound again but to one of the throne room pillars. Her crown juts from her throat. She wakes for a second time and sleeps for a third; her face is decaying, a mush slides down it. Her face pressed against the grate, she watches blood droplets and chunks of skin slip through the holes and into the rushing water below. This time when her body jerks awake, she doesn’t force it back to sleep.

It is somewhere around midafternoon when she rises. There is a burning sensation on her chest, her head is spinning, and her stomach is lurching violently. She doesn’t have time to gather her crutches before she succumbs to the nausea. She hasn’t eaten enough for anything to truly come up so she isn’t surprised to feel her throat burning and see a mess of blood on the floor. Assaulted by trembles, Azula drags herself to the cracked mirror on the other side of the room. Hesitantly, she tugs the collar of her shirt down.

Her head reels in double time. There is a raw and angry patch on her chest. It is rimmed in black and weeping blood and pus. Silver-blue wisps submerge and resurface excitedly in the discharge. She stifles a gasping sob. They haven’t claimed her mind, but Agni, her body can’t handle hosting them.

She tries to keep herself from crying too loudly as she quickly recovers the festering patch of rot. She crawls back into her corner and props herself against the wall as another burning sensation shoots up the back of her calf. She squeezes her eyes shut.

“That don’t look good at all.” Zirin comments.

Azula stiffens.

“Do they know?” She nods at Li and Ozai.

“Li does…” Azula trails off, she wonders if the old woman is going to wake to the same burning.

“You gonna tell him?”

Azula shakes her head. “He doesn’t have to know yet.”

“Shit, that’s why they act different around you, ain’t it.” The girl mutters. “So are you contagious?”

“I’ve been traveling with others like this for a while now. They didn’t get infected until the swam got to them.”

Zirin nods. “You think that they’re going to let you into the Tribes like that?”

Azula presses her mouth into a thin line and says nothing.

#Avatar #Azula #Ozai #Lo & Li #Zirin #Fanfiction

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bellatrixobsessed1 · 5 years

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Swift As Karma (Part 14)

It was a bleak and dimly lit place. The torches blazed so low and weakly that they may as well not be there at all. But it was best to keep the prisoners out of the light.

Out of hope.

“Uncle, please.” Zuko was well aware of the whine his tone took on but he couldn’t seem to keep it out of his voice.

Still, Iroh’s shoulder remained more frigid than the tribes.

“I really need your help.” When his uncle didn’t turn to look at him, much less speak, he pressed on. “Father made me his right hand man.” He paused. “That’s exciting right?” The shaky laugh he let out held more hystria than joy. “It’s what I always wanted. I should be happy. I guess I’m just never happy am I?”

With each sentence ignored, Zuko’s rage hiked higher and his spirits sunk lower. His voice shook. “He wants me to capture the Avatar.” He waited and longed for confusion to take over, for his uncle to ask what he meant by that. The old man simply coughed and stared--presumably--at his palms. “Father wants me to catch Azula.” Again he yearned for Iroh to implore. “She’s the Avatar.” Uncle had to turn around, he had just dropped impossible news.

“I’m not making it up. She’s the Avatar, but she can’t bend...something about spirit energy.” Zuko thought that Iroh turned slightly, but it might have been the product of wishful thinking. “He wants me to bring him to her so he can…” Zuko trailed off, he hadn’t said it outloud yet. He’d rather pretend to be ignorant. That he didn’t know what would happen to his sister. “Kill her and steal the Avatar powers for himself.”

He took a deep breath. “I’m gonna do it!” He declared boldly and pridefully, hoping to bait his uncle into a wise speech about how he shouldn’t hurt family. Maybe there was a hitch in his voice that betrayed his false bravado. Maybe Iroh simply knew him better than that.

Because he still faced the wall.

“I don’t want to do it.” He knew that his voice hitched that time. Tears threatening to break free. “I don’t want to do it.” He repeated, resigned to that he was going to do it.

He had to.

.oOo.

The rundown outskirts of the town were cruel. It smelled of human waste and rotting food. Of rust and of factory byproduct, coal and metal. Azula dreaded how it was probably ravaging her lungs.

Worse, she feared the poison seeping into her wounds. Worse still, she feared the grime of the streets. Dirt and mud and Agni knew what else was beginning to build upon her skin and on TyLee’s. Even the formerly chipper girl was looking bleak eyed and hopeless. She should have left the girl at home, but Agni, she needed company.

Among other things, she could add selfish to the last of things that she was. To the list of things that haunted her guilty mind.

This whole ordeal was making her potently aware of the sort of person she was and the more she thought about it, the less she found that she liked herself.

She curled herself in a fetal position in the corner of an alley. TyLee sat in the opposite corner, legs drawn up to her chest, head going from facing the wall to tucked in her knees. How pathetic they were.

They’d crafted their little shelter of discarded scraps of metal that they’d stolen from the industrial park’s rubbish stack. It kept the rain out well enough. They’d scavenged other things, discarded clothing and eating utensils and washed them in the closest lake.

In that week alone, TyLee had swiped food from unsuspecting vendors and Azula a pickpocketed a dagger (after deciding that her blue fire was no longer smart). She clung to her pouch of coins, longing to use it, but know that she needed that money to get her to the Earth Kingdom should her initial plan find a hiccup.

She could almost laugh at the state that they were in. More than once she found herself on the receiving end of a disgusted stare or a remark about how street trash needs to be gotten rid of. On one occasion she met back with TyLee to see a man spitting on the girl.

Between the stress and her repressed anger, she shoved the man to the floor, kicking him repeatedly until he rammed his own foot into her gut. She had let out a horrific scream as the burn flared.

She hadn’t been feeling the same since, reduced to clutching her middle in agony. She was almost certain that it was infected. She felt nauseous and hot constantly, a cold sweat made her already sticky, grime coated skin, that much worse. And in turn the infection blossomed.

Nevermind her father killing her, the infection would do that for him.

Her only source of solace is TyLee’s hand rubbing her back and a very faint, tingling pulse of chi at the base of her spine as she drifted in and out of sleep. The pulse was somehow pleasantly cool, radiating small fingers of energy that offered her a mild distraction from the pain.

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to dwell on that point alone.

Trying not to cry.

.oOo.

It was easier to find his sister than he anticipated. Yet again, he has grown to know some of her strategies. Perhaps if Zhao were still around and Ozai had sent him, things would be different. Most of Ozai’s men would start with the harbor and branch out. But Zuko knows her better than that. He knows that she knows that they will search the boats, balloons, and trains first. But not him, he and Mai and the squadron of guards that he had requested--what a thrill it was to hear father say yes!--scoured the city from the immaculate inner capital the gritty outerparts.

Zuko left Mai to the inner city while he returned to the slums.

He almost didn’t recognize her with her hair so matted and dirty and her skin so ill-kempt. He was almost certain that she’d lost weight, leaving her with a frailer look. It had only been a few weeks or so, was it possible for someone to grow so small in such a short amount of time?

And TyLee. She broke his heart. Her eyes had been so lively...and now they were empty and lined with bags. Her own hair was tangled and dusty looking. Her clothing faded, tattered, and spotted with grime. “Hi, Zuko.” She greeted with none of that special TyLee perkiness.

Azula didn’t speak at all. He wasn’t sure that she could. She shifted positions, with a visible effort to keep the pain from showing on her face. In the effort, her shirt hiked up. Zuko almost wandered out of the alley to vomit. The wound had gone septic and was weeping quite terribly in colors that ought not to be seen on the human body. His stomach lurched.

She eyed him with eyes even bleaker than TyLee’s.

Zuko swallowed. Was he really going to drag her back to father?

He couldn’t imagine that she was going to put up too much of a fight, her body wouldn’t allow for it. He had a feeling that her spirit and will-power wouldn’t allow it either.

He looked at the burn. That horrible burn.

And he thought of his own.

.oOo.

“I’m sorry, Azula.” He mumbles. He can’t seem to meet her eyes. “But I can’t get banished again. I-I can’t be the disappointment again…”

That hit her in a way he hadn’t meant it to. She knew that he was speaking only of his former situation, but, Agni, the implications of his words.

Her heart constricted further because she wanted to be furious, she wanted to be wholly enraged. But all she felt was empathy, a very foreign sense of understanding. She was familiar with the fear and longing their father instilled.

It was why she tracked Zuko and uncle so far. It’s why she had done much of what she had.

She could no longer bring herself to be angry.

She supposed that it didn’t really matter anyways. She hadn’t the strength to execute her plan nor to flee. Concerning, even to her, the thought of her father stealing her life away brought with it a sense of relief.

“It’s fine…” Her voice was stronger and clearer than she thought it’d be, yet it held no power and less volume. “Just get TyLee home if you will.” She supposed that she might as well try to do one good thing, fix one mistake, before she died.

“Please don’t take her to him, Zuko.” TyLee shot him a dreary look. “Don’t let her die.”

Zuko glanced at her and she loathed the pity in his eyes. It brought a sense of deep embarrassment to an already humiliating situation. She noticed his Adam’s apple bob. “There’s a healer on the edge of town, I went to see him when father burned me.”

TyLee nodded and moved to scoop Azula up. Thin as she’d grown, TyLee hadn’t the strength to carry her. She heard the sharp intake of breath. Her torso seared as he lifted her into his arms. She still wasn’t certain if he was taking her to the healer or to their father.

Oddly, she hoped for the latter.

There was still a teeny, childish part of her that thought that her father would lay eyes upon her feeble condition and regret. Regret in the same way she regretted killing Aang. That seeing her so beaten and mangled would ignite some sort of fatherly instinct. The kind that she still craved so desperately.

#Avatar #Azula #Zuko #TyLee #Fanfiction

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bellatrixobsessed1 · 7 years

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Azula Week; Day 3-Modern AU

Fair warning, this one is pretty angst and a little graphic. Also if you don’t like reading about car crashes, you might want to bypass this one.

Azula is tired of being there, hooked up to machines and wires with various fluids pumping through her veins. She is in horrid pain and can scarcely breath, let alone open her mouth to speak. Yet Zuko and Mai, and TyLee keep talking. They all visit her, sometimes as a group (when Zuko and Mai could stand to be around each other) and sometimes in turn. TyLee usually enters with the latest high school tall-tales and drama. She makes everything seem so annoyingly normal. As if Azula hasn’t been in the hospital for months, just awakened from a coma she wasn’t supposed to have.

With Mai comes the truth. Mai always tells her exactly what the doctors mean, not the sugar-coated bullshit they say to her face. The nurse would come in, smile, and promise that, “it’ll be over soon, maybe a week or so.” Mai would follow in suite and as soon as the nurse disappeared would state, “they’re thinking that it’ll be a few months at best.” Azula was thankful for it, she doesn’t like to be babied or hear pretty lies.

Zuko always comes in silently. He leaves a bouquet of flowers or some stuffed animal or—if she’s lucky—smuggled in junk food that she’s not supposed to have. He doesn’t say anything to her and it stings. He’s still angry.

Very angry.

Azula turns over. This time Mai had managed to sneak in a mirror. Apparently, the doctors thought that those would be too distressing for her. And they were right. Azula didn’t show it to their faces, or to Mai’s, but what she had seen in the mirror has had her stomach churning in the most unpleasant way for the past few hours. She covers her slashed mouth with her hand to keep the sobs from escaping. Feeling sick with self-pity, she struggles to keep herself together. That glance in the mirror told her why she was having trouble seeing, the accident had taken her left eye and left multiple deep lacerations all over her face. She bites her lip. Despite what the doctors say and not having heard anything at all from Mai about the matter, deep down she knows that she’s never going to be the same. That those wounds will never heal. Walking down the halls of her school, she’d become the kind of gossip TyLee always bought to her. It’s a bitter taste in her mouth—knowing that she had everything. That she was that girl, the one everyone aspired to look like. The one who was always voted as the owner the best hair, the best smile, the prettiest eyes. That had been ripped from her in a single collision. With her hand she covers the space where her eye should be. Part of her wishes she had lost the other too, so she would be spared the sight of her new self. The self that was created in a frenzy of screeching tires, cracking glass, and shrieking metal.

Her hands are a disaster too. The tops torn and shredded by shards of glass and the palms charred from pushing against smoldering metal. She is lucky they say…strong. The only reason she survived is because she weathered the pain and freed herself from the burning husk of a car. Chan, Roun-Jain, and his girl didn’t have it in them to put their hands on the burning doors to push them open.

Chan.

The name is completely sour.

Not because he had been the one to cause the accident in the first place, but because he had waited for her to do the hard work before making his own escape. He didn’t even go back for his girl—apparently, she was nothing more than a ‘side hoe anyways’, as he puts it. Azula would have gone back for her, had she not collapsed into her coma first.

And yet Azula can’t be mad at him. They are teenagers. Teenagers do stupid and reckless things, and she was as drunk as he that night. All four of them were. Perhaps she wasn’t as drunk, but she was damn near close.

No, she blames herself.

She has no one else to be mad at. She should have called her father, stammering drunk, and endured the berating and harsh screaming. Instead she opted to try and sneak in. Now Ozai won’t even look at her. If only she’d just called him, she’d have been able to patch that over with some sweet-talk and the excellent grades she is known for. But she can’t patch this up.

Her sobs grow in volume. She feels as shredded inside as she looks on the outside—perhaps more so. She buries her ruined face in her hands, with just enough care to not make the injuries worse. She sobs harder knowing that Zuko would normally be here with her. If only she didn’t piss him off before getting piss drunk.

She should have kept her mouth shut, but she thought she owed it to Mai (after years of the introvert bearing the pains of being in the limelight for her) to tell her that Zuko was getting it on with Katara after football games. Mai had always been upfront with her, so she returned the favor. And where she earned brownie points with Mai, she threw a gaping hole in her already rocky relationship with Zuko.

There are just so many should have’s and should not have’s swirling in her head. It makes her weeping that much more intense. But above all else the thought that she once had it all, weighs most heavily on her aching heart. She wishes she didn’t pry herself from the car. Most of her wishes she was just another ‘side hoe’ for Chan to say wasn’t worth saving.

Someone drops onto her bed.

She brings her pathetic cries to an immediate halt and looks up at her new companion. Zuko has his hand on her back, rubbing in comforting circles. For once she doesn’t flinch away, she lets him be the older brother he wants to be. After a few moments, he stops. With a lopsided and mischievous smile he pulls something out of his pocket.

He sets the eye patch in Azula’s hand. It’s the most elaborate thing she has seen in a while. It is completely covered in jewels that are—without a doubt—the real deal, and the most wicked looking studs. Designer brand too, had to be custom.

Zuko gives her a look that seems to say, “you’re welcome, dad’s gonna kick my ass for using his credit card to get this.” Instead he looks her in the eye, smiles reassuringly, and says, “thought that maybe you’d like to start a new trend.”

#Azula #Azula Week #Modern AU #Fanfiction #Zuko #Avatar The Last Airbender #Mai #TyLee

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