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It came out of nowhere.
Not that it was completely unexpected, of course. Azula had already mastered the basic katas in a matter of few months, and her tutors had whispered that perhaps Father’s second-born daughter would be the start of a new legacy – unlike Zuzu. He was still on the Flaming Fist, only the fourth basic form out of twelve. But even then, no one had expected that Agni himself would bless the Royal Family so soon.
Azula arched through the air, her Inner Fire roaring, before she tightly pulled it back like a whip. The Fire crackled and thinned, streaming in her chi pathways towards her open fist. No. Perhaps thinned wasn’t the right word. Her Fire didn’t grow weaker, it grew more refined, like in the factories where they melted hulking chunks of rock into glowing streams of metal. Yes, her Inner Fire was not weakening; it was getting stronger, and she could feel the burning, glowing pulse flowing beneath her skin.
Azula could not resist the grin that stretched across her face. Above all, she had to be perfect for Father, and be worthy of the title as Crown Princess. But the hidden scaffold that pushed her to practice day, after day, after day, was this. The feeling of the Sun rushing in her bloodstream as she flowed from one form to another, the exhilaration of having her Fire – a wild, unpredictable element – completely under her control, the glowing force directed with each precise move of her body. As she recoiled her palm to complete the final form of the Crouching Tiger-mantis, her molten stream of Inner Fire sharpened into a needle carrying the weight of the Sun. Azula’s toes grazed the ground. Twisting her heel, she released all that pent up energy with a thrust of a palm.
A glowing stream of azure blue pulsed through the midday air.
Bright blue, almost white at the centre. Azula almost lost her footing as the clouds spun above her; her arm numb and tingling with sudden weightlessness. But Azula never slipped. She held her form, clamped down a gasp and slid into the finishing stance. But she couldn’t stop smiling, nor could she stop the warm, fluttering sensation spreading across her body like the sunrise stretching over the Caldera.
Blue. Her fire was blue. Her orange-red flames had suddenly transformed into a brilliant blue like a phoenix reborn, and Azula was sure this type of Flame only existed in forgotten history books. She flicked her attention towards her tutors, Ko and Zi Wei, their faces chalk-white as their mouths flapped incomprehensibly. They quickly snapped out of their stupor and lowered their heads in a bow. Their shoulders trembled.
“Your Highness, we congratulate your achievement of the Cold Fire, ” Ko declared, his voice deep and reverent, “a colour like yours has - has not been seen in generations. We are truly humbled by this extraordinary sight.”
“Agni himself has blessed the Burning Throne with a wielder of the Cold Flame," Zi Wei murmured. "His Highness, Fire Lord Ozai will surely be delighted to hear of this development. Princess, your training shall end here today.”
Azula nodded in dismissal. Ko and Zi Wei bowed in tandem and shuffled away. Alone in the training ground, she frowned in deep thought. Can the blue fire only be achieved with precise concentration, like she did then? What if the Cold Flame could only come in bursts? Father will be pleased by this development, but will his contentment turn into disappointment if Azula cannot reproduce it at will? She scrunched her eyebrows, beads of sweat sliding down her neck. What use was an intricate weapon that broke upon first use? No. She had to make sure. Azula called upon her Inner Fire once again, but this time, with less thought, like she was lighting up a dark corridor at night.
An azure flame burst to life, cradled gently in her palm. Azula smiled.
On her way to Father, she spotted Zuzu looking quite glum as he trudged his feet across the polished tiles. He caught her smirking gaze, and his eyes narrowed, lips twisting into a scowl. Unfortunate Zuzu probably just had a ‘meeting’ with Father and was informed of the new development in her Firebending.
“Leave me alone!” he growled, and his steps quickened in pace.
Dum-dum. Always so quick to anger. No wonder his flames always came out spluttery and weak. He simply did not have the control and discipline as she did. She stopped his stride with a quiet leap.
“Now, where are you off in such a hurry, dear brother? Surely, a congratulations are in order,” she crooned.
Azula’s lips curled in triumph. There’s no way that he was going to catch up to her now. Their places were cemented in Father’s eyes. She was the one that was worthy of his respect. She was the one that had earned his love. Azula’s eyes gleamed as Zuzu’s flashed red.
“Well?” Azula beckoned.
Zuzu averted her gaze. “It’s not fair!” he spat. “You - You always get everything! While I– ”
He had the gall to shove her as he marched away. A hot spike of anger burned through her chest, but she smothered it out. Azula put a smirk back on her face, spinning on the balls of her feet. “I’m sure that you know Zuzu, that now, more than ever, you and I are on completely different– ”
Zuko whirled around, his eyes blazing gold. “Shut up! I don’t care about your stupid flame! It’s freaky and weird!”
He took an immediate left turn and slammed the double doors behind him. Azula blinked and almost set his ponytail on fire, before a foreign weight curled in her stomach. Freaky? Weird? She had practised non-stop for eight hours every single day for the past few months, and the fruits of her labour only revealed themselves today! No, not only for the past months. Years. While Zuzu was frolicking off with Mother feeding some stupid turtle-ducks, Azula had been alone, practising each form again and again–
Mother. Looks like Azula’s head was bubbling with too many unwanted thoughts today. But still, the questions clung to her like a parasite. What would she think? Mother had never shown love or appreciation for her bending prowess. She had never shown much love or appreciation for anything other than turtle-ducks and Zuzu. She vaguely remembered the time she bent her first flame at the age of three. While Father lavished her with praises, she couldn’t remember what Mother thought. She tried to conjure up a clear image in her mind, but she could only picture down-turned lips and narrowed eyes.
What is wrong with that child?
Her stomach clenched again, and she willed her mind blank. No use thinking about old ghosts. However…
If Mother could see her today, would she be in awe of her new ability? Surely even Mother would be able to recognise the value of a once-in-a-generation wielder of the Cold Flame? No, no. Whatever Father loved, Mother hated. Azula scrunched her nose and finally shoved her useless thoughts into the recesses of her mind. She looked at the doors Zuko barged through and swiftly turned away, heading towards the Burning Throne.
Father’s flames pulsed steadily around the throne, his face shrouded in shadow. Even so, she could see his lips curling up in pleasure. Azula kowtowed, forming a smile of her own.
“My daughter,” Father rumbled. “You have done well. I see your consistent training has not failed you.”
Azula forced down a full-blown grin. “Thank you, Father.” she said. “I will continue to make you proud.”
She looked up, restless in her bow. Azula relaxed her jaw and let the full extent of her joy be known, a rare grin stretching from ear to ear. Father’s face was still covered in shadow, and the quiet crackling of his flames echoed through the hall. Normally, Azula would wait for his address, but today she felt as though her heart was about the burst from her chest.
“You wouldn’t believe it, Father,” Azula said, straightening up a little. “I’ve never felt so connected to my Inner Fire. The flow of my Chi was the smallest as it had ever been, but the intensity, the weight– ”
Father lifted up a single hand and Azula stopped; the sentence caught in her throat. His eyes gleamed like twin suns.
“You are truly my daughter, a worthy heir to the Burning Throne.” Father stepped forward and rested his hand on top of her hair.
Azula stilled, then leaned in towards his touch. A joy she had never felt before bloomed inside her like a fire-lily during the summer. Not even moments later, the warm touch lifted. Somehow, her head felt heavier than before. Red-orange flames spat and roared.
“Show me.”
Azula took her joy and cast it inwards, tempered it, and reshaped it into something focused. Deadly. Something like Father, and his gleaming, prideful eyes. She shifted into the Crouching Tiger-mantis and leapt. A streak of azure arched through the air, and Azula grinned. This was her favourite bit. It wasn’t just the fire. It was her, flying towards the sky, powerful and ferocious, and Azula briefly wondered if this is what it was like to be a Phoenix. Wreathed in blue, she glanced at Father and –
– saw nothing.
Her Fire fizzled, but Azula managed to complete the sweeping kick and swung back into form. She didn’t even need to look down. Her feet were too close together, pivoted slightly too much to the left, and that kick ended much too quickly. Not enough momentum to carry out the form perfectly. Azula slowly raised her eyes. If she noticed, Father must have noticed too.
Father’s eyes were not fixed on her misplaced feet, but were anchored above her. His face was stone, but his eyes still gleamed with something that Azula could not quite place. Father’s flames roared higher, pulsing a deep orange, like a ball of energy trying to burst out of its shell. Then Father’s eyes shifted downwards, and his flames lowered too.
“What use is your Fire if you cannot master the basic forms? Again.”
Azula tasted blood. Her cheeks grew hot with shame. And she did it again. This time, properly, without a single hair out of place. Azula’s whole body burned, her eyes hazy with pain. The glow from her fire had faded, and her arms and legs felt like they were laced with lead.
But it was not enough. If Azula knew it, Father knew it too. And so, she did it again.
The sun was yawning behind the horizon when something grabbed at her wrist.
“That’s enough for today.” Father lowered her arm to rest against her hip.
Azula wrenched her body into a bow. Dull throbs pulsed in her bones like a beat of a drum. It was only when Father’s footsteps started to echo did she realise he was already out of the hall. Then the footsteps stopped. A pause. “Excellent work, my daughter. I expect yet greater things from you.”
Azula’s head snapped up. The dull ache faded, and the sticky sweat that clung against her skin felt like a fresh sprinkling of morning dew.
“Psst, ’Zula! ’Zula!”
Azula groaned, and flicked a stream of fire in the direction of the annoying buzz. The voice yelped and she heard the stream fizzle and crack.
“Wha’ are you doing in my room? ‘M tired. It’s th’ middle of th’ night. Get out or I’ll burn your hair.”
The ache in her muscles had catapulted back with full force, and she had just drifted to sleep before this annoying parasite sneaked into her room. Azula didn’t care about anything else. She just wanted to sleep. Azula heard Zuzu shift his feet, and after a few seconds, she was ready to leap out of bed and burn his ponytail off.
“Can I see?” Zuko blurted out suddenly.
Azula blearily opened her eyes, propping herself up against the bed frame.
“See what? Have your brains finally mushed into fire pudding? What are you doing here in the middle of the night?In my room? ”
Zuko looked down. Even in the darkness, his ears were glowing pink. “Your flame.”
Azula blinked, and gave a disbelieving huff. Unbidden, a self-satisfied smirk pulled across her face. “Oh? Didn’t you see just then? When I almost zapped your face off?”
She heard Zuko’s jaw clench with a click. “That didn’t- I was too busy blocking to notice what they looked like - ”
“So you actually managed to block it? Impressive, Zuzu. Probably was a fluke.”
“Azula - you! - Be quiet! I don’t want anyone to know- ”
“You’re doing most of the yelling, Dum-dum.”
Zuko looked like he was about to burst, but miraculously, all Azula heard were three more clicks of his jaw. “I don’t even know why I came here. I’ll just- ”
“Fine, fine,” Azula waved her hand. “Since you’re my dear, sweet brother and I love you so.”
“Azula! ”
Azula took a breath, felt her Inner Fire flare, and unfurled her hand. An azure flame roared to life, hissing in the dark. She smiled, lips curled in contempt. “Do you see now, Zuzu? You’ll never catch up.”
“It’s beautiful.”
The flame spluttered. Softened. Fluttered, like a baby bird.
“What?”
Zuko’s eyes shone bright, his face bathed in an ethereal blue. His hands hovered around her flame and cradled it, almost like a child. “The colour. The blue. Don’t know. It’s just so pretty, ’Zula.”
His whispers rang as loud as a bell. Anything Azula was going to spit out died in her throat, and she could only stare at her big brother, his excited smile glimmering in the dark, looking at her flame like it was the only thing in the world. Azula clenched her hand, and a cloud of smoke burst out between her fingers. Zuko reared back, startled, coughing with a face full of soot.
“Hey! What did you do that for? Gah, this always happens with you! I’m leaving!”
Zuko furiously rubbed at his face. He wrenched open the double doors before he seemed to remember it was the middle of the night, and quietly stumbled out into the hallway. Azula snorted and fell back onto her bed. She summoned her flame again, watching it pulse with the rhythm of her chi. When the sharp flame melted into a blurry blob of blue, Azula finally extinguished it and shifted onto her side.
She drifted to sleep in a matter of seconds, a slight smile tugging at her lips.