Chapter Text
By the next morning, she’s effectively over her illness. But the servants still seem to be under the impression she’s ill: she’s served a cup of chai with her morning dumplings, and as she dutifully eats it alone in the balcony, her handmaiden gently asks her if she is feeling well enough to attend to her court-duties that morning. In the hazy sunlight, she has to keep herself from squinting as she takes a glance up at the girl. It’s Lin.
“How many times do I have to say it?” Azula snaps, “I’m fine. Now, if you’re ready, I need to change into something more appropriate.”
Lin nods politely and goes to grab her formal court-wear. Azula does her best to keep her servants at a distance– she won’t even talk with others in front of them, wary of whatever gossip may transpire if she does. She credits that, in part, to her effect over people. They just don’t know anything about her, and that’s how she likes it. Maybe that explains why her servants always look either bored or terrified.
“Do you need help dressing, my lady?” Lin asks as Azula steps out of the balcony and into her bedroom. She’s holding the outfit for her and Azula doesn’t say anything, just wordlessly stripping and grabbing the garment as offered. Lin only tops it off with the garment, her expression silent and stoic. That’s why Azula has a shred of respect for Lin, despite being the lowest ranking, noble or otherwise, of her staff. She never breaks; she rarely even talks.
Azula is suddenly reminded of a time when, long ago– a couple weeks in the past, in other words– servants rushed to Zuko’s side, helping him up after he’d accidentally tripped over a loose stone ( so Zuko) and he’d responded with a loud thank you as they carried him up. And it wasn’t that weird. She’d certainly heard Ty-Lee or even Mai, occasionally, slipping the occasional word of gratitude. But never the royal family. She’s not even sure if she’d ever heard Ursa do such a thing.
“My Lady?” Lin calls, “your father is requesting you.”
She’s violently thrown out of the fantasy, and, realizing she’s lost her composure, quickly regains it. “Yes, of course,” she agrees, “take the letters on the table to the Colonial Affairs Office, I don’t have time to walk over there.”
That’s a lie. But she walks off anyway, as if she’s got some divine purpose, and to be fair, she does.
Her father is not the forgiving sort. But he seems to react very little as Azula shuffles in, puffing out her chest and crossing her arms to assure him of her confidence that she is the same girl as she was before the weekend ended. To be in fact, he seems to care very little as Azula pours him a cup of tea, not a word passed between them. It’s a sign of honor to pour a cup of tea for another individual– honor to the person being given the cup, at least. She’s not sure her father has ever poured a cup of tea for another person since his own father died. It’s the sort of thing to strive for.
“Some Earth Kingdom nobles are very strange, father,” Azula starts, “you wouldn’t believe what I read last night.”
“Don’t humor me, Azula,” he shoots her down, and she curses herself internally. “What happened back there?”
“Mai and Ty-Lee betrayed me,” she simply answers, in a very blunt sort of matter that leaves her Father eyeing her up, the earth kingdom forgotten.
“I don’t like excuses.”
“I agree, Father, and I take responsibility for this incident as the highest ranking individual involved. But it seems that Mail has been hiding the true extent of her affection for Zuko for weeks, and before these troubling couple of days I couldn’t imagine she’d value him over her nation and principles,” Azula replies, sharp and easy, and Ozai considers those words. He considers them longer than Azula even anticipated, knowing at this point in the game she was most assuredly fucked and her excuses were only going to prolong the inevitable.
–But the inevitable, what? Look of disapproval?–
“Hm,” he finally mutters, “have you heard the rumors, Azula?”
Huh? Her heart gave out a little, thudding against her walls. Oh please, no, not about me– . “What rumors, father?”
“Of traitors,” he simply replies, “I’ve heard all sorts of chattering from my advisors. Information leaked that only a small amount of people could know, Earth kingdom spies and troops showing up at convenient times, bases and trade routes raided at troubling intervals.”
“I– I did not know that, Father,” Azula answered carefully, and she really didn’t. “Do we know who?”
“That’s the problem, isn’t it? It seems to be multiple who’s, if any of this is to line up,” he explains, pointedly, “and now you come to me with news that Mai was hiding… traitorous sympathies?”
Oh. He thinks– and Azula even considers it for a couple easy moments. Mai, part of some conspiracy in the heart of the Fire Nation itself. The existence of a convenient conspiracy at all. She almost wants to believe it, believe that that was what it was about, and not anything else. Not anyone else. “It could be,” Azula agrees, despite knowing in her heart Mai has nothing to do with this. Anything to cover her ass. “Father, what do you want me to do? I could–”
“Mai is being interrogated as we speak, as is Ty-Lee,” her father dismisses, “and their families have been sent away to Ember Island. I think it’s best you remain here.”
Here. Of course. “Yes, father.”
There’s a pause.
“But I heard, Princess Azula,” her father adds, as the silence has begun to fill the halls, “that you uncovered a secret ruler in the Earth Kingdom. What was his name? Feng?”
“That’s correct, father,” Azula nods. “He had taken control of the Earth King. Made it particularly easy to defeat from within.”
“I realize,” her father answered, “nearly a hundred years of war, and that is what broke them. An uncurling from the inside, right underneath their noses.” He takes a breath. “That worries me, Azula.”
“You do not wish it to happen here?” Azula guesses. And of course this is the sort of thing Ozai would worry about— of all the things.
“Hm.”
“Father, I would be more than happy to look into it. You know of my… clean reputation. Nobody would ever have to know your suspicions and things would otherwise run smoothly. I’ll make sure of it.” Nevermind they give hints to any traitors by launching a public investigation, should they exist.
“That would please me very much, Azula,” Ozai agrees, smiling. “I’ll send you the information given. But do me a favor– I don’t want any prying eyes in the room with you.”
“Of course, Father,” Azula agrees, despite her doubt that this is anything at all. The conversation effectively over, she bows and requests that she may leave.
Ozai nods, and she turns around one last time to make her exit. Her feet tamper slowly to the doors, the metal of the cuff hitting the floor with a thud with every step she takes. It’s only as she’s about to exit that grand old court room, the fire flickering in the reflection of her father’s portrait, that he calls out to her.
“Princess Azula?”
“Yes, father?” She startles, not looking behind herself less she has to bow again.
“I know Zuko didn’t kill the Avatar.” He took a sip of tea, “Do not lie to me again.”
It’s the first time in a long while she has figured out a way to get rid of all her handmaidens. They seem to cluster around her, no matter her need for privacy, and for the most part she’s happy to ignore them entirely, especially if she’s got nothing of importance going on. But today, she needs it more than ever. The moment they all leave her alone to attend to something else she’s jumping to her writing table, sitting with her legs crossed in an odd sort of formality. She lights a lamp beside her just so she can write with the curtains closed right after checking every nook and cranny underneath her bed and furniture like some sort of crazy person. By the time she’s settled, the silence in the room is palpable.
She opens the scroll with a release of air, its contents sealed in such a way Azula has to heat up her hands before she can properly break the wax holding it together. It seems oddly well prepared, as if someone has spent a long while collecting evidence. There’s sheets of trade data, taxes, reports of special military operations and ruined plans. He wasn’t kidding when he said coincidences. But that’s all it seemed to be: coincidences. Hardly evidence of some grand plan.
But the more she read, the more it just kept going. She went down the list already provided and even found new ones herself. It had to have numbered in the hundreds by the time, near midday, she put the paper down to take a breather.
Because sure, every trader in Bailing just happened to pack shop the day before a surprise tax collection, and the militias along the Yellow River just happened to station there the day the fire nation would be passing, and the fire nation soldiers from last month just happened to raid a base the moment they conducted their ‘nighttime training.’ Whoever this was, Azula realized, her father was right, despite his occasional paranoia: a single person could not have done this.
And, suddenly, the lackluster reaction earlier seemed inappropriate. This was most definitely something. If anything, her father wasn’t worried enough— a thought Azula kept to herself. She’d handle it. The Firelord commanded it.
But coincidences is about where the paper trail ends. There’s a short list of names of people who could have possibly been privy to the knowledge, but Azula almost immediately dismisses it— it’s all opportunistic capitalists who had much more to gain by staying loyal. But it makes sense this is the list her father’s advisors would come up, stuck up in their castles all day. So that’s what she’d have to work with, for now.
And now. Well, this is probably the point she’d ask Mai and Ty-Lee to take initiative. Get the people on the list in front of her. But they weren’t here, were they? And why is that, Azula?
She shakes it off. Not today. Without even a second to spare, she makes a quick decision: it won’t be the same, but maybe it’s about time she does not confide so closely with her assistants. And anyone more qualified to serve in their spot would run the risk of being the traitor themselves. She needs— someone who nobody would ever believe. Hm.
A moment later, she rings the bell just hidden under her bed’s banner, waiting for Lin to bow before dropping her request. She always liked Lin, after all.
“Yes, your highness?” Lin asks, the flicker of the candle light in the dimly lit room creating a much needed dramatic effect.
Azula reached over, closing the door. Lin just rolled her eyes back enough to see what was going on, turning back to Azula immediately. “I need a summon for these individuals,” Azula explained, showing her the list, “and I need a response hand-delivered. They can’t know who requested it. Understood?”
Lin barely blinked. “I’ll keep it silent, my lady,” she agreed, “I’ll have it for you by midday.”
Azula gave her approval, and off she went. Maybe she could just make this work— even without Mai and Ty-Lee. Especially without Mai and Ty-Lee.
In another part of the world, although maybe not even fifty miles away, Zuko was nearing his breaking point. Actually, he neared it everyday, but today felt different, watching the little blaze slowly grow out of control as Aang tried to blow it out with airbending.
“What are you doing?” Zuko groaned, more than a little bit proud of himself that he didn’t completely lose it. “Aang. Think!”
Aang looked back at his pitiful attempts to put the fire out, giving him the most dorkish side eye he’d seen since Azula got caught sneaking mochi from her mother’s personal reserves. Clearly unsure of what thinking Zuko wants him to do– or maybe forgetting what thinking is at all– he makes the air colder, which, well not actively feeding the flames, does absolutely nothing. The fire only grows as it ignites more shrubs on the forest floor. Maybe this was a bad spot to practice firebending– not, it was, and Zuko knew it, but Aang hadn’t wanted to risk the structural integrity of the Air Temple.
“No, not like that,” Zuko snapped, “use your firebending!”
“But I don’t know how!” Aang protested, and then a huge gust of steam blew into Zuko’s face as an angry Katara took matters into her own hand.
“Zuko, what did you do?” Katata yelled, and Aang rushed to defend him, as usual, leaving a more than slightly angered Zuko to retreat further into the steam so the other two wouldn’t see him try to get his impulses under control. Goddamnit, why couldn’t she just–
No, Zuko, bad. She’s right to be angry, he reminds himself, even if she’s really unreasonable with how she does it. Even if he’d just gotten back from saving her father. Ah, there he went again–
“Zuko?” Aang called, “are you okay?”
Zuko is abruptly pulled out of his thoughts, a not so uncommon occurrence for someone with his levels of theater-kid-itis. “I’m fine,” he gruffly answers, and it undoubtedly comes out harsher than he wanted it to be. But Aang smiles anyway, and suddenly he feels a little bit better.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Aang asks. Katara seems to have disappeared.
“Talk about what?”
“Something seems to be bothering you,” Aang answers, “I mean, I figured, since you fought your sister and all. That couldn’t have been easy. I don’t know much about it because I was raised in a monastery, but it seems that’s pretty important, if Katara and Sokka are any sign.”
Zuko has a feeling that announcing out loud he doesn’t give a damn about his sister is a bad idea. And maybe that is sad on its own, that this is what it's come to. Still. His heart warms from the thought that Aang actually cares enough to notice at all, no matter how misplaced. “Maybe,” Zuko answers instead of telling the truth, “I haven’t thought too much about it.”
“The monks always said that some troubles are hidden from us,” Aang wisely says, with that sort of preschool appropriate advice– a sign of his limited philosophical education, taken from his home so young. Zuko tries not to think about it, although he probably should. “Maybe you need to…,” he trails off, before admitting, “I don’t know.”
“Reconcile with her?” Zuko sarcastically suggests.
Aang says nothing for a moment, realizing how stupid it sounds. Finally, he adds, as if it's some logical puzzle he’s happened across, “Do you think anyone can change?”
“What, like me?”
“Yeah! Like you. I mean, look how far you’ve come.”
The unspoken thought of why you and not Azula hangs over them both, and to Zuko (with his scar and firebending and record of failures) it seems more than obvious. But Aang– and these kids– don’t know anything about him, and none but Katara seem perceptive enough to have extrapolated the obvious about the nature of Zuko itself. “No,” he finally decides. “Not everyone can change, Aang.”
He looks almost disappointed when Zuko says this. As if he’d let him down. And something about that lingers with Zuko for the next couple of days as they start to run low on supplies, and it becomes more than inevitable that some of them will have to make their way down to the nearest Fire Nation village and buy some. Zuko more than happily provides the money, happy to be useful for once, and as Toph and Sokka– who wants to go shopping– pack their bags, he asks Toph for a little bit of a favor. There’s no return address, she won’t know who sent it, he explains, and the little earthbender girl gets that gleam in her eye, as if thrilled to finally get in.
No problem, Sparky! She chirps, and asks if this means he’ll take her somewhere next time. No, he answers. Don’t ask again.