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zuko-always-lies · 20 hours

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Red Breath

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

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

There is red on her pillow.

There is red on the cloth in her pocket.

She tries not to dwell too much upon it.

Today is her special day.

The mirror has no mercy.

No sympathy nor compassion.

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

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

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

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

She wants to blame Mai and TyLee.

If they hadn’t chosen Zuzu…

If they hadn’t left…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Her chest hurts.

Her lungs burn.

She is afraid to die.

But she is afraid to breathe.

.oOo.

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

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

Surely she is delirious with fever.

But no, the Fire Sages are exchanging looks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She can feel the fit coming on.

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

It is bait and she should know better.

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

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

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

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

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

She glances at her right hand.

It is bloodied.

She glances at the battleground.

At two alarmed faces.

And then she sees nothing at all.

.oOo.

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

Her throat hurts and her head is woozy.

Sounds hurt.

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

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

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

Katara likes him better anyhow.

Everyone does.

“Mai and TyLee?” Azula mannages.

“They’ll be here soon.”

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

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

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

“How long, what?”

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

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

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

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

“...And you won’t drown.”

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

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

Azula nods.

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

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

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

“Because, you don’t deserve to die.”

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

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

Different.

She doesn’t particularly like ‘different’.

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

Even if ‘different’ could be better for her.

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

“Miyuki?” Azula grumbles.

“You know Miyuki?”

Azula nods.

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

Another nod.

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

“You said no talking.” Azula dodges.

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

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

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