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muffinlance · 1 year

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Zuko, banished, no crew, no uncle, no quest for the avatar. Says "fuck this" aka, if I can get back to caldera maybe I can convince my dad to take me back. Horribly wounded thirteen year old finds dragons, starts a civil war by accident

Zuko didn’t think he was still delirious. The Sun Warrior’s healer hadn’t wanted him to leave yet, but—

But he’s standing here, back in the throne room, and the room is set up again for another war meeting so maybe he should have waited before coming in. But the guards hadn’t even asked him—or anyone inside—before they’d thrown the double doors open, so. He’d thought father wasn’t busy.

The general he thought he was going to fight at the Agni Kai is here, and so are all the others, even uncle. And father, at the head of the table, standing.

Father is the only one standing. Everyone else is... They’re kneeling.

When he’d come back to the palace, the servants in the courtyard he’d landed in had hurried to open the doors for him, all the way here. And the guards had let him in. And now the whole room is kneeling except for father who—

He doesn’t look like he did on the Agni Kai field. Father had been… he’d been so calm, then. He’d been doing what he had to do, to instruct Zuko, to correct him.

Now he just looks angry.

So. So Zuko is screwing this up, too. He practiced his speech the whole way home, it was a good speech, he’d based it on the one the Stone Prince made to his father the Mountain Emperor when he’d come home to beg forgiveness, bringing the treasures of the Ice Spirit with him as tribute. But Zuko doesn’t remember how he was going to start. And the flames behind father are getting higher, and hotter, and Zuko is okay now with flames that flicker with purples and golds and greens, but red flame is—

It’s so hot against his face—

“Father,” he croaks. “Father, I’ve returned. With dragons.”

He is so, so stupid. Ran and Shaw have flanked him from the courtyard, have wound through hallways paralleling his path, are snaking between the pillars of the room until coils of red and blue dwarf everything here. Ran breathes her own flames out, and the fires before the throne shift from Ozai’s reds to the shimmering rainbow-sparks of dragonfire.

“A sign from Agni,” Uncle Iroh says. He’s bowed like the rest, but Zuko can see his eyes, and there’s the same glimmer there that father and Azula get before they do something Zuko should have seen coming.

“You dare,” father says, and Zuko isn’t sure if it’s him or uncle he’s talking to. But when he takes a step forward it’s towards Zuko and when he raises a fist it’s towards Zuko and when he makes the fire it’s towards Zuko and—

(And Zuko cowered the first time the dragons tried to show him their flames. It was all around him, swirling, and he hit his knees and shoved his face against his arms because he’d learned better than to look up.

The fire stopped, and a whiskered nose nudged him, and then there was a huge scaly coil loosely wound around him until he was done crying, so at least the Sun Warriors below hadn’t seen how pathetic he was.

After that, it was… they made it a game. Little puffs of flames, the kind of sparks he used to make to keep Azula from getting fussy in her crib, until she was old enough to climb out and go exploring with him instead.

He flinched at first, a lot, but they didn’t hurt. Didn’t even hit him. And then it really was a game, where he would spin their colors in with his own flames, and send them back, and they’d keep playing as the flames got bigger and bigger but somehow they never got scary again.

When he’d stopped flinching at all, when he wasn’t a coward around his own element, he knew he was ready to return home. Grandfather had once welcomed uncle home with honors for killing dragons. So father would accept his apologies if he brought home two live dragons, right? Making friends with dragons had to be harder than killing them.)

Father’s flames were… they were just red. Zuko didn’t realize what he was doing until the war ministers were gasping. By then he was already spinning father’s flames with his own, mixing in all the colors father’s had lacked, and.

And sending them back.

(Batting fire around with dragons had not given Zuko a realistic grasp on the heat tolerance of the average abusive father.)

Uncle was not the first to bow, when Zuko had first entered. This time, he is.

“Fire Lord Zuko,” he says.

The war ministers are not prepared to countermand the Dragon of the West. Or literal dragons. They never left their knees, and they don’t start now. Foreheads touch the ground.

Zuko… Fire Lord Zuko’s first order is to take his father to the healers. He’ll let him stay there, longer than Ozai let Zuko.

(You can read this and other prompts at AO3. And longer stories, too. <3)

#his second order of business is to let Azula ride a dragon #because he is not interested in assassination attempts #and he did bring back TWO dragons #Azula: hmm. I get to be the crown princess AND have a dragon?#you’ve successfully one-upped father’s offer #continue to do so Zuzu #and we won’t have any problems #Avatar The Last Airbender #atla #Zuko #Ozai #Dragons #Ran and Shaw #ficlet #Hello Dragons Here

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bellatrixobsessed1 · 6 years

Text

Azula Ship Challenge

Week 6: Blood

Ship: Azutara

Song Rec: Iiris’ Dragon Song

Azula saves a baby dragon from a hunter, but in the attempt she is hit. Katara heals her and makes fun of her for landing herself in such a predicament.

Azula could taste the copper on her lips, it bubbled up so fast and stained her lips red. She could still feel the arrow imbedded somewhere deep in her stomach. She was afraid to speak lest she spill more blood. She could probably only have managed a wet gurgling sound anyhow. It served her right for trying to be noble when she had no business doing so. Even she knew that she’d done something foolish, and she was paying for it. She watched the baby dragon half-leap half-flutter into the bushes. It didn’t even stick around to show gratitude. She couldn’t quit blame it though; it probably thought that the hunters were still lurking about, it couldn’t grasp that they knew that had to run. It was that or stick around and finish her off. Accident or not, they’d face pretty hefty consequences, even though it was technically her own fault for taking the arrow for the beast. She grumbled to herself, considering that maybe she deserved that arrow for being so quick to jump in its path. She struggled to sit herself up right, each movement set a flurry of furious jabs spiderwebbing across her torso. She brought her fingers to the wound wondering if it was a good idea to apply pressure in this instance or if that would only drive the arrowhead in deeper.

Her hopes perked up at the sound of footsteps. Perhaps the men had the decency to turn themselves in and get her some help…more likely they were coming back to finish her off. Instead, what approached her was the baby dragon with a mouth full of berries and a sprig of them in its claws. Azula sighed. It offered her the twig as if that would make up for anything. With a throaty squack, the dragon came to curl around her arm staring at the splotch of red that was slowly expanding. Giving her a quick sniff and dropping the branch into Azula’s hand, the dragon darted off once more. She frowned; while the sentiment was nice, she couldn’t even eat the berries with an arrow lodged in her belly.

She couldn’t tell how much time had gone by, but she was growing dizzy and delirious. Her hand was wet and sticky from getting too near the wound. She worried about infection…not that she’d still be alive to get one. It was becoming too hard to keep herself up right, so she found herself pitching sideways, her hear smacking the ground. She felt a branch or two slice her cheek—the last thing she needed was another escape point for her blood.

“Azula?” a voice cut through her delirium. “Oh God, what happened.”

She could only mummer in response, an intangible sound that offered no explanation whatsoever. She felt something fall on her arm. The dragon, she realized, as the sensation of pittering claws scuttled up and down her arm. What an oblivious creature, she thought, almost envying its ignorance.

“Hold still.” The voice instructed, implying that she could do anything but that. “I’m going to pull the arrow out and stitch this up.”

“Right here?” Azula struggled to ask.

“Yeah, it’ll at least hold you over until we can fix it up better. I have some water so that should make this easier.” Azula recognized the voice now. It was Katara. Any reluctance she had ebbed away like the blood from her body. Katara pressed a soft kiss to Azula’s cheek before cautiously rolling her onto her back. She healed the cuts on her cheek first, to save her at least a little strife and then got to work on the arrow.

Azula couldn’t help but flinch as Katara yanked the arrow out. She didn’t dance around it and hesitate like others would have. And she gave no warning, she only winced and apologized after she had removed it and Azula cried out.

She worked quick though, alternating between needle and water. She’d tie three or four stitches and then apply water, bending it skillfully to fill in the cracks and soften the blows. It stung a bit, but eased the pain in the long run.

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” Katara asked as she stitched.

“Not really.” Azula grumbled.

“Does it have anything to do with the dragon that led me here?”

“It might.” Azula replied as the creature unfurled its wings and nuzzled against her arm.

“You have to stop doing this.” Katara frowned. “One of these days I won’t be able to heal you. I don’t know what I’ll do then.” She took Azula’s hand. “There, now all we have to do is wait for Zuko to come with our ride home.”

Azula shifted positions, flinching as a fresh droplet of blood prickled from the new stitches.

“Careful!” Katara scolded and dabbed the blood away. She scooped the dragon up and placed him in Azula’s palms, hoping that it would keep her busy and from hurting herself.

Azula stroked the dragon’s head and peered up at Katara. “Thank you.” She paused. “For the healing and what not.”

“Hopefully I won’t have to do it again.” Katara replied.

“They would have killed him.” Azula pointed out. “There aren’t many dragons left. I couldn’t just let them hunt this one.” She held him out to Katara. “Even if you think it was a dumb thing to do, you can’t tell me that you’d have let this precious creature be killed.”

Katara sighed, knowing full well that Azula was right. She’d have taken the arrow for the baby dragon too. “I guess we’re both idiots then, huh?”

Azula snickered and took in a sharp breath as another sting flared up. Katara squeezed her arm. “At least this time it was worth it.” She muttered. She let Katara stroke her back in comforting circles as the dragon bounced from one of her shoulders to the other. It finally found a cozy spot, nestled in her hair, circled, and lie down in a nest of fine black hair. She didn’t bother to shoo it off.

“Yeah, we’ll have a new pet dragon named…”

“Bloodbath.” Azula filled in sardonically. “His name is Bloodbath.”

Katara rolled her eyes, “alright, fine his name is Bloodbath.” She paused, “but only because I named our last pet.” She lifted Azula’s shirt again to make sure the wound was staying closed. “Looks like you’re gonna live.”

“Well that’s anti-climatic.” Azula shrugged.

Katara gave her arm a light punch. “It means I did a good job.”

“If you say so.” Azula offered a slight grin. Despite the remarks, she was grateful. More than grateful. She couldn’t count how many times Katara had offered her a good healing session; be it for something like this or for something as simple as tired muscles after a long day of training. Some water and a few perfectly placed kisses put most all of her disarrays back in order. She was going to thank her again and tell her just how much her healing meant. But she held her tongue. They may be three months into their relationship but Azula wouldn’t for a second let Katara think she had gone that soft.

#AzulaShipChallenge #Azula #Katara #Azutara #Fanfiction

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