Chapter Text
The nation still slumbered in oblivious tranquility. It was before dawn; hushed and it’s eerie light crept to Azula’s study room. There Azula stood alone, perched high in the palace’s tallest tower. This sanctuary in the sky, a place of Azula’s mind to whirl around, was her refuge for both stillness and strategy.
Here, amidst ancient books and maps strewn across the room; the room with it’s tall, arched windows, offered a panoramic view of the waking Fire Nation below. This view is always a constant reminder of the realm she fiercely vowed to protect and the personal battles she waged within.
Azula lingered motionless, her eyes fixed on the horizon. The calm beauty of the dawn stood in stark contrast to the whirl of her thoughts. Usually, each morning she came here to steel herself for the day, to weave plans and bolster her resolve, but today was different. Today, she felt the weight of her own high expectations—bearing down on her like the heavy title she so often found constricting.
Azula was drifted back to the confrontation with you; Could strength always be entwined with vulnerability? Is it appropriate to wield power with both compassion and resolve without yielding to emotional frailty?
The piercing look in Y/N’s eyes flashed before her—a look that had somehow managed to penetrate Azula’s facade.
Y/N perceived my ambition as a mask for vulnerability. Yet, is it not the duty of a leader to remain in control and fearless?
Azula knew better to not yield. Y/N was wrong. Vulnerability was a luxury she could not afford, a chink in her armor that could be exploited by those who sought to undermine her authority.
True power, the divine right to rule was something you’re born with and she was born lucky, her destiny written in the stars—resolute and plucky.
It has been weeks since she had spoken or seen you. She remembered how you had politely refused Ty Lee’s invitation to the welcome party for Zuko’s return. Azula overheard your carefully chosen yet distant response. Your tone void of the warmth it once carried.
By then Azula had seized control of Ba Sing Se from the inside; and Zuko had vanquished the Avatar. In the midst of it's celebrations, amidst the victorious fanfare and the Fire Nation’s jubilation, Azula stood enveloped in her achievements—showing facts that Y/N was foolish to think that she, The Fire Princess, is weak or that she can be vulnerable. The thrill of victory, which should filled Azula with unbridled satisfaction, was tainted by an unspoken shadow, leaving her victories feeling unexpectedly incomplete.
Azula sank back into the high-backed chair, steepling her fingers as she waged a silent inner battle that left her feeling uncharacteristically vulnerable. She was no fool - the princess knew well she could not afford visible moments of weakness that her enemies would seize upon.
Yet since the encounter with you, an unwelcome introspection had taken root, tracing restless spirals when left alone with her thoughts. Something about your charming audacity, the way you alone dared meet her piercing golden stare without flinching, ignited a traitorous fascination in her that blurred the sharp lines between strength and vulnerability she relied upon.
A curt rap at the heavy double doors interrupted Azula's brooding reverie. With an irritated flick of her wrist, blue flame erupted in the stone hearth nearby, banishing the creeping shadows. Smoothing the scowl from her features, she ensured no ripples disturbed the mask of self-assurance before answering in a clipped imperious tone.
"Enter."
A guard stepped in, his posture rigid. “Your highness, reports have arrived regarding the recent disappearances. They await your review.”
Azula turned from the window. “Bring them to me,” she said, her tone leaving no room for delay. “And did my father summoned a meeting?”
“Yes, Your Highness. The Firelord awaits you and the Fire Prince in an hour.”
“Good.” She flicked her wrist to dismiss him.
The guard bowed and exited. Azula’s piercing golden eyes darted to the documents scattered across her desk, each one a fragment of a disturbing puzzle. Reports of missing citizens, vanishing guards – lives disappearing without explanation under the veil of night.
She scrutinized every parchment, searching for threads to unravel this mystery. The princess felt the weight of duty – these were her people looking to her for protection. Her sharp mind raced, deducing connections and guessing at possibilities both rational and supernatural. The pattern whispering of orchestrated forces beyond the mortal world’s conventional understanding.
Azula leaned back, eyes momentarily leaving the ominous details. “Full moons, always at night, no signs of struggle,” she muttered. The notion of spiritual interference often elicited skepticism from her. Yet in every report’s chilling account, she sensed the lingering touch of mystical sabotage.
This obscure threat would require an unconventional response. Azula’s fingers traced the documents, memorizing names, dates, locations as an uneasy frustration knit her brow. She disliked the absence of clear motives, the inability to discern the enemy’s next move. It was a smoldering helplessness, slow-burning anger she refused to show openly.
The impending meeting would demand action, answers. Azula inhaled silently, stilling any ripples across her façade of control. She would solve this mystery, by any means necessary – no mystical opponent would evade her for long. The meeting would set events in irrevocable motion. Prepared for anything, Azula waited, flames dancing in her eyes.
Her eyes caught on a name that halted her cold. Linh; The girl Azula asked to spy on your date.
Linh was desperate to save his dying brother and her hysteric mother. Out of spite, Azula had arranged her to become a receptionist as well as a momentary guard. Linh had been an unwitting participant in Azula’s intricate play of shadows and emotions, a pawn in a larger game that revolved around Y/N. The same person Azula had to banished for her overzealous action that night—a slap on Y/N’s face was uncalled far. A shame; she had potential.
The report detailed on Linh’s last known activities. Each word about Linh’s final activities seemed to pulse with urgency. One detail in particular leaped off the page; Linh’s last known interaction.
There, in the description, it didn’t say a name but it painted a picture, a brief description. Azula froze—she read it twice, in hoping absorbing the information correctly.
Y/N.
No. It can’t be.
The room felt suddenly smaller, the air around a bit heavier; this revelation was the connection she was looking for—a breakthrough. Just the kind that she was not anticipating for.
Her hands hovered over the report, feeling the surge to tear it apart. This could be a fake report—confused and ambiguous, what was real and what was not possibly blended together.
She didn’t want to admit it; the mere mention of Y/N—it was planting seed of anxiety.
Azula tried to steady herself, pacing back and forth, quickly skimming to the other reports. Just as she closed her eyes, the door swung open. Zuko stood there, looking annoyed.
“Azula, are you coming to the meeting or not?”
Startled, Azula’s gaze snapped, a glimmer of annoyance briefly crossing her features. She quickly masked it with a wry smile. “Ah, Zuzu, being punctual are we? Tell me, do they give out awards for that?”
Zuko’s posture stiffened, his expression turning more serious. “It’s not about punctuality, Azula. It’s what we might discuss...” He hesitated, then added with a hint of urgency, “You’ve heard the rumors too, haven’t you? About the Avatar?”
“Oh? Do enlighten me, Zuzu. What’s this about the Avatar?” She returned to the report, deliberately avoiding direct eye contact.
“The Avatar might be alive. We need to discuss on it in the meeting.”
“Zuzu, my dear brother, always chasing the ghost,” she chuckled as she gathered the reports. “You do realize that our current disappearing citizen are a tad more pressing than your Avatar theories?”
Zuko turned to her, “Just because everyone says he’s gone doesn’t mean it’s true. We thought that before, for a hundred years—and we were wrong.”
Raising her eyebrow, “The evidence is overwhelming this time. Even father believes it.”
He halted mid-sentence. For a moment, he seemed lost in thought, grappling the bait Azula had previously set before he knew it. He appeared to be searching for the right response either with a quick retorts or angry huff, but all he give out was silence.
“Then,” he started softly. “Why did you tell him that I killed the Avatar?”
“Call it a generous gesture,” Azula placed her hand over her heart. “I wanted to thank you for your help, and I was happy to share the glory.”
“You’re lying.”
She sighed theatrically, “If you say so.”
Zuko squared his jaw, he took a rigid stride. “But what if I’m right? What if the Avatar is still out there?”
Azula tilted her head slightly, she pouted in a way of mock concern and cunning amusement. “You know, Zuko,” she began slowly, “All this glory could quickly spiral into a tale of shame and humiliation. Picture it: The returned Prince, alerting the court about shadows and specters he should have handled. What a spectacle that would be.”
She narrowed her eyes slightly. “Can you even fathom father’s response? The scorn, the derision—it would be a tragic fall from grace, wouldn’t it? He would go even further than a mere burn to your face.” She paused, observing his growing discomfort. “Agni, think of the consequences, dear brother.”
His brow creased, shadowed with the onset of doubt. Words abandoned him, knocking him out to be a pathetic statue. Azula’s lips curled slyly in his silence. She seized the moment, extending the reports towards him with deliberate grace.
“Don’t just stand there! Chop-chop, Father is waiting.” she quipped. She brushed past him, and exited the room.
The meeting chamber, steeped in the hushed murmur of anticipation, awaited it’s final members. The heavy doors swung open, Azula strode in, her presence gained immediate attention. Zuko followed closely behind, his steps echoing in the grand hall. Together, they ascended the short flight of stairs leading to the elevated seats beside the Firelord’s throne.
Firelord Ozai, sat with perfect posture upon his throne. Azula took her place to his left, she copied her father’s, a mix of regal poise and underlying menace. Zuko settled to his right, his movement slow but steady.
Behind them, the crackling flames in the massive braziers cast dancing shadows across the walls, reflecting the ever-present element that was both their heritage and weapon. The flickering light lent a dramatic intensity.
Below them, the war generals stood, circling around a detailed map, marking territories and strategic points. The air was thick with the weight of impending decisions, the future of Fire Nation hanging in the balance.
As the room fell into a respectful silence, the Firelord’s voice cut through the stillness. “Let us begin,” he signaled to a general, the beginning of this meeting that would shape the course of their destiny.
“Ba Sing Se is still under our control,” the General stood, he paced as each of his steps echoed. “However, Earth Benders rebellions have prevented us from achieving total victory in the Earth Kingdom.”
The Firelord’s brow creased deeply; jaw set rigid, it’s like something brewing within him. “What is your recommendation?”
“Our armies are spread too thin. But once the eclipse is over and the invasion defeated, we should transfer more domestic forces into the Earth Kingdom.”
Firelord Ozai hummed thoughtfully. Slowly, he turned to Zuko. “Prince Zuko, you have been among the Earth Kingdom commons. Do you think adding more troops will stop these rebellions?”
Zuko, momentarily caught off guard by the direct inquiry. He casted his eyes downward, perhaps gathering his thoughts. “The people of the Earth Kingdom are proud and strong. They can endure anything as long as they have hope.”
“Yes,” Firelord Ozai murmured. A sinister edge crept into his tone as he continued, “You’re right.” His face twisted—a brilliant plan was stimming inside his head, and Azula can feel it. “We need to destroy their hope.”
Zuko’s face turned cold. He scrambled to retract his words, but they had already set an unintended course. “Well, that’s not what I—“
“Well, I think we should take their precious hope and burn all off their strongholds to the ground,” Azula interjected sharply, her voice adding the tension, nonchalantly twirling a strand of her hair. “We leave no question about power.”
“Yes, you’re right, Azula.” Firelord Ozai concurred, rising from his throne—his presence more daunting than ever. “Sozin’s Comet is almost upon us. No bender will stand a chance against us. Like my grandfather, Sozin, I will use that day to end the Earth Kingdom. Permanently.”
His words were final. It is a declaration of the resolve of this meeting. Azula hate to admit; but it did sent shivers down to her spines—and all the spines of all present.
“We convene today to fortify our strategies for complete control. Our dominance must be absolute.” Firelord Ozai concluded. His gaze swept across the room, locking eyes with each of the Generals in turn. In those moments, time seemed to slow, each glance a silent but potent assertion of his unquestioned authority.
Clearing his throat, "Father,” Zuko said, “There are rumors of the Avatar's return. Should we not consider it in our planning?"
Azula’s attention shifted to Zuko, she observed him with faint intrigue. The prince, tried to composed in the face of authority, now seemed to unravel slightly under pressure. He rustled uncomfortably, his movements betraying an uncharacteristic nervousness.
There was something childlike in his fidgeting, a stark contrast from the banished boy in search of the impossible. Zuko appeared younger, stripped of the layers of resilience and defiance he had built over the years. This display of vulnerability bordered on the pathetic, a far cry from the strength and decisiveness expected of a prince. It painted him as weak.
“The Avatar is a relic of the past. Our focus is the Earth Kingdom’s total submission.” Firelord Ozai retorted. It was a conclusion that left no room for further debate.
The General, who had been presenting reports, nodded in agreement, "Indeed, Firelord. Our military might is unparalleled. The Avatar is no longer with us, Prince Zuko. He poses no real threat to our conquest."
Zuko faltered at these dismissals; teetered on the edge of visible distress. Azula could tell that just a slight push, he could unravel completely with unguarded emotions he so often struggled to conceal. But Azula recognized that look in Zuko’s eyes; it was one of utter loss and resignation, an echo of the defeat he had faced in the Agni Kai.
She remembered purposefully averting her gaze from his face that day, her attention entirely captivated by the sheer power exuded by their father. The memory was vivid, almost intoxicating in it’s display of dominance and strength.
Now, as she observed Zuko’s dejected demeanor, she was disgusted; she felt a twinge of something she couldn’t quite place. It was unsettling. It was inappropriate. Feelings that had no place in the halls of power; a wasteful distractions.
“While we speak of external conquest,” Azula announced. “We mustn’t overlook internal matters. The recent disappearances of our citizens are alarming. Our citizens gone missing under mysterious circumstances.”
The General, slightly puzzled, “Missing citizens?” he said almost in a mocking tone. “Surely, that’s a matter for local authorities, not the war council.”
“This isn’t a mere banditry. The pattern suggests something more orchestrated.” She signaled to Zuko of the reports. “Ignoring it could lead to unrest, or worse, an unseen threat within our borders.”
“An internal threat?” Firelord Ozai’s expression hardened. “What do you propose, Azula?”
Azula unfurled from her seat with lethal grace, the shadows playing across her sharp features as she gathered the scattered military reports into an orderly stack. Turning with precision towards her father, she extended the documents, temporarily obscuring her cunning eyes.
The General startled imperceptibly as Azula whipped a single leaf of paper to his chest without glancing his way, the faintest curl of a smile on her red lips the only indication she noted his reaction.
“A twofold approach,” she began, “This is a matter of national security. I say, we continue our external show of force, but internally, we launch a discreet investigation.”
Her eyes locked with Linh’s file report. She recoiled at the sight; she was sure she had abandoned that report. Then her eyes naturally fell on the last bit of the report, Linh’s last interaction.
“I propose a thorough private investigation,” she proclaimed without wavering, “We must root out this threat quickly and silently.”
Azula’s gaze shifted to her father, the only person whose approval was essential. She knew she had to tread lightly, her words carefully chosen to persuade without threatening his ego. The stakes were high, and the consequences of overstepping were not something she wished to contemplate.
“It could potentially weaken our position and undermine our efforts,” she continued, even as her father’s attention wavered between interest and irritation. “Stability at home ensures strength abroad. Perhaps these disappearances are linked to rebel elements, or worse,” she eyed Zuko, feeling a twinge of disgust for her brother’s naïveté. “It could be the work of the Avatar’s allies.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she could feel Zuko’s staring; like prey ensnared, powerless and confused. Azula knew she was gambling. But she knew he could be useful. His presence in the palace served as a constant source of amusement, an easy target for her more mischievous impulses. Whether it was his frustrated outburst echoing through the palace corridors or his childish cries about father’s approval.
Zuko was the perfect foil for her schemes. For now, at least, he was a puppet she was willing to keep around.
Firelord Ozai, finally nodding in agreement, appeared convinced by her argument. “Very well,” he decreed. “Oversee this investigation personally.”
Azula suppressed a smile as she watched her father turning back to his throne. The ease with which she had swayed her father was almost disarming.
"Prince Zuko," the Firelord added abruptly, "I want the results of these disappearances, and I want them quickly. We cannot allow shadows to linger in our nation."
Azula froze. Is it loss or humiliation—which is which she can’t differentiate; it resonated through her being. She knew the risks of standing against him, yet it still compelled her to speak.
“Father, if I may,” Azula steadied her voice. “I proposed the investigation. Let me lead it.”
Firelord Ozai’s eyes was sharp and quick. “You have a role for the invasion plan, Azula. I can only entrust you to do it.”
“I know the invasion is crucial,” Azula pressed on. “But, this pose an immediate threat to our internal stability. I assure you I could solve this mystery quickly.”
There was a brief silence, a tension-filled pause. The Generals exchanged uneasy glances; somehow this was a delicate volley of power play, tossed from her side to his.
Azula went on, “My involvement in the invasion plans won’t wane. I can delegate the necessary tasks and take both operations.” She felt the faintest nod from him; Azula grasped onto that silver of hope.
Firelord Ozai’s face was unreadable as he sighed. “Your confidence in your abilities is noted, Azula,” he said, excruciatingly dragged. It was drawn out with painstaking care and Azula hated it.
“However, the plans for the invasion require your full attention. They are your priority and within it; the survival of your father’s. Defy your Firelord for a nobody, and face the direst of consequences.”
Azula’s heart sank. The sinking feeling was more than disappointment; it was poignant and sharp. This could be the only thing to see Y/N again. Informally.
With a loud crack, an aide burst into the room, his entrance abrupt and breathless, turning all heads to him. “Forgive the interruption, Firelord, but there’s urgent news. Survivors of the recent disappearances have been found.”
Azula, almost gasped; her surprise quickly giving way to a steely resolve, demanded, “Survivors? Where were they found?”
The aide, struggling to catch his breath, replied, “They were located near the outskirts of the capital. They are disorientated, but safe. They’re being escorted and will be ready for questioning soon.”
Azula's eyes darted towards her father, seeking a hint of approval, but he remained oblivious to her silent plea. She turned to her father. “Allow me to question the survivors. I can use it for improving the invasion plan!”
Firelord Ozai sneered her down, he was considering for a moment that seemed to stretch into eternity. Then, slowly, he shook his head. “No, Azula. You cannot afford distractions.”
Azula felt as if the ground had shifted beneath her; a fusion of frustration and disbelief clouded her eyes. “But father, this could be vital to our security—“
“It is decided,” he barked with a wave of his hand. “Prince Zuko will do the questioning. You have your orders.”
The finality in his voice was like a door slamming shut. Azula's shoulders tensed, her fists clenched at her sides. A storm of emotions raged within her, but she masked them with a veneer of composure. She bowed stiffly, her voice barely more than a whisper. "As you wish, Firelord."
As the council dispersed, Zuko caught her eye, his face mirrored was tinged of pity and worry. Azula turned away, the sting of the rejection still raw. She had been so close to taking control, to stepping out from under her father's shadow. But now, she was reminded of her place, of the expectations and constraints that bound her.
The game had change; and she ought to find another way.
Deep in the forest; under a moonless sky, you found yourself enveloped in a world of near-total darkness. The stars, as if shy, barely pierced the thick canopy of leaves overhead, offering a faint of light. Around you, the trees loomed like giants of the night; the earthy scent of the forest floor was both comforting and slightly oppressive.
You moved cautiously, taking light steps on the leaf-littered ground. You were concealed in the dense foliage. Tonight was the perfect time and the only time you can’t mess up.
Your objective was clear: to converse with the survivors, without raising suspicions from the ever-watchful gaze of the guard. You knew the urgency of subtlety and timing. If not, you would be taken to the presence of the Firelord, or worse, Azula herself.
Taking a deep, steadying breath, you emerged from your leafy hideout. “Stop!” stepping onto the road, you were like a stone thrown into a still pond, instantly disrupting the caravan’s progress.
“Halt! By order of the Fire Nation Council, this caravan must stop!” You screamed your lungs out, hoping your disguise as a Fire Nation officer would be convincing enough. The guard escorting the survivors eyed you suspiciously, his hands inching to firebend you out of the way.
“I need to conduct a preliminary investigation with the survivors. It's crucial for national security.”
The guard, a burly man with a scar across his cheek, narrowed his eyes. “We have strict orders to bring them directly to the palace. Who are you to countermand that?”
You met his gaze without flinching. Your mind racing like possible fireballs that the guards might fly off to you, if only you were unconvincing.
“I am an agent working under direct orders from the higher echelons,” she tried. “The Firelord himself is interested in this matter.”
Playing The Firelord card should be effective, right?
Your voice sharpened, continuing, “Any delay in my investigation could be seen as treason. Do you want to be responsible for that?”
“The Firelord?” he scoffed. "He wouldn't send a lone guard, out of the blue, to countermand his very own orders to escort these prisoners to the royal palace."
Prisoners? Seriously? How absurd. But you were not surprised. This twisted regime had the thought to synonymized ‘survivors of a near death experience’ to prisoners.
“Oh,” you chuckled dryly. "Do you really believe the Firelord would reveal his every move to every rank in the guard? Some matters require discretion. He operates in ways that are not always apparent to everyone. Are you willing to question his methods and risk the consequences?
“Who are you to begin with? You have nothing on me.”
You sighed. “You’re a good guard, you know that?”
“Sure I am. You’re a horrible bandit yourself.”
“See, that’s where you’re wrong, buddy,” You swiftly unfurled a scroll and summoned your messenger hawk, one bearing the distinct markings of royal service—a royal hawk. You watched his face bleach of all warmth, eyes blown and round as marbles.
“Dear Princess Azula,” you began to write, or pretending to write. It’s impossible to even recognize a letter in this ungodly hour. “I am to say of a suspiciously uncooperative guard. They don’t take kindly to potential traitors. Which is good and hence why I want him to be promoted! Such a good guard. I’d like to appreciate him so that his next promotion is a one-way ticket to the happy Boiling Rock. I hear they’re short on crew members, so why don’t—“
“Stop!” he yelled, hands clenched into fists, with fire mere moments from igniting towards you. With a strained grunt, he reined in his firebending, fully aware of the consequences of harming you.
“Make it quick,” he said through gritted teeth, “Tomorrow’s a full moon.”
You gave him a big smile, genuinely proud at him; so easily scared to lose his honor. It was endearing but also exploitable.
Yet you wondered to your own concept of honor. In the Fire Nation line of work, honor was a badge worn proudly on the chest—only not to you. Your honor was a shadow that flickered in and out of existence. Your sense of honor, much like your identity, would likely not be found if there were no Azula. And if, without mentioning her name earlier, you would be left nothing but a mere wisp of smoke.
You approached the survivors, skillfully unlocking the cage that had been their moving prison. You greeted them with a reassuring smile, subtly promising safety. Your eyes met a pair of eyes— frightened and defensive, it’s body tensed and drawn inward. Among them, You saw only two: a short, old man and an unconscious teenage girl. A pang of disappointment hit you; there was no sign of Linh
“Hello, fellow survivors,” you began warmly, taking a seat in front of them. You leaned in closer, your voice a hushed whisper, “Play along, okay? I’m here to help, not harm. I can assure your freedom if you trust me, alright?”
The old man’s eyes, clouded with confusion. He nodded almost imperceptibly, his weathered hands gripping at his sides. He looked at the girl, still unconscious.
“I’m Y/N. Not your usual investigator, I guess. But, you know, extraordinary times, extraordinary measures, right?” You offered a small, uncertain smile, hoping to break the ice.
“I’m Ding.” The old man simply replied—that gave the air back to your lungs. You almost choke to your death; holding your breath as if you were a statue while waiting for his answer. “On ji here is my granddaughter.”
You nodded as you observe them keenly. You noticed that, surprisingly, there were no obvious signs of struggle, no torn clothes or defensive wounds that might expect from an abduction. However, there were some light bruises on his knees, as though he had been kneeling or possibly fallen down repeatedly.
You met his eyes, although tired and slightly unfocused—it had a certain alertness to them, as if he was constantly scanning his surroundings. A behavior typical of someone forcefully taken from their homes, likely by guards. You wondered what had caused the capture of them to the royal palace, who had ordered their transport, and why?
But that’s for future you to worry about. Now’s the time to seek answers.
“Alright, Mr. Ding,” you began, “So, about this… well, adventure you’ve had, being a survivor and all,” You stalled, fishing for the right words. “I understand this must be disorienting for you and your granddaughter. Would you mind sharing some details? Any strange rituals, or maybe a good look of the spirit? Anything that stands out?”
“Didn’t catch sight of any ghost of spirit,” he spoke slowly. You could sense a slight softening in his tension. “But somethin' weird did happen, felt like I wasn't in charge of my own body no more.”
He nodded to On Ji, “Thing is, it started pushin’ me, sorta compelling me to walk toward that mountain over yonder. I tried puttin’ up a fight, but it was like I was a puppet on strings. On Ji followed me and it got her too. Nearly got us into a cave up there.”
Ding’s eyes drifted off, as if reliving the moment. “I remember lookin' up at the full moon, thinkin' that might just be my last bit of light ever. But then, lo and behold, the sun starts peekin' up. And just like that, We were back in the driver's seat. Didn't waste no time, high-tailed it outta there as fast as we could.”
The idea of an unseen force compelling them toward the mountain was unsettling, yet fascinating. The vivid imagery of him standing under the moon, contemplating his fate, lingered in your mind. Was it merely psychological, a trick of the mind under extreme stress, or something truly otherworldly?
The way he described regaining control at sunrise – it felt significant, almost symbolic. Could there be a logical explanation, or was it a clue to something deeper; something ancient and historical?
“That was brave of you.” You said. “It couldn’t have been easy. Did you notice anything about your captors? Anything at all?”
“Well, my eyes aren’t the best to see clearly in the dark.”
“But did they speak?”
“Nah,” he rubbed his chin thoughtfully, “But I remember seein’ dying Fire Lilies as we ran.”
You absorbed Ding’s words; dots after dots must have it’s connection. It all seemed like pieced of a larger, more complex motivation underlying it. You made a mental note you should pay the library a visit. It may have a connection to local legends or folklore. Or maybe there were some kind of hallucinogenic plant in the area?
“Where did this—“
“Alright, your time’s up,” the guard announced abruptly.
Startled, you looked up. Your thoughts derailed as the stark reality of your surroundings crashed back into your awareness. Time is not a luxury you didn’t possess—and it all hit you afresh.
You glanced at Ding, seeing a faint, worry in his knitted eyebrows; a quivering lips and hopeful look to you.
“He needs to pee.” You quickly informed, turning to the guard.
“What? No. He can hold it.”
“Oh for Agni’s sake, let the poor man pee,” you persisted as the guard groaned. After getting the ‘fine’ respond, you ushered Ding to exit.
“It’s just a quick stop. He won’t be long—“
With a swift and silent movement, you reached for a small pouch in your pocket, containing a fine powder. You blew it towards the guard to temporarily disorient.
The guard inhaled the powder and staggered. His eyes blinking rapidly as his vision blurred. You dodge the sloppy fire he sent to you. You stepped forward, striking precisely the base of his neck with a sharp blow. The guard crumpled to the ground, unconscious but unharmed.
You quickly checked his pulse to ensure he was only knocked out, not dead. You then turned to Ding, already carrying On Ji. “You know where to go?”
“Yes. Thank you, Y/N.”
“Good, let me know where you’ll go,” you said as you maneuvered the unconscious guard’s arms over your shoulder, taking him to the caravan, ensuring he remained unseen.
“We live near the market, at that village near the mountain. You’ll find me at the market eventually.”
“Alright, see you there tomorrow.”
Ding gave you a nod and a toothless smile. He adjusted On Ji’s position in his arms, ensuring she was secure. He was pretty strong for an old man, but you doubt it won’t take them far. He turned and flight once again for their life.
'“Alright, let’s get you hidden somewhere, buddy.” you murmured to the caravan, your hand gently patting it’s side. As your fingers traced the engraved Fire Nation symbol, a sense of nostalgia washed over you. You still cherished the symbol but you can’t help feel the stabbing pain.
But that does not matter now. Azula did what she will always do. And here you are, trying to mend her stupid games to her own citizens.
After confronting Azula, you rushed back to the mother, who was a bundle of nerves and worry. But Azula told you the truth, she was serious about the quality of medical care she had managed to secure for them.
Then there was Linh. The kid with a quick hand a sharp tongue. But that day, when Linh came back to her mother and brother, she appeared so diminished. It was almost disconcerting. You had cautiously broached the subject, trying to peel what might distress her (and you’ve forgiven her, of course). She gave you a humorless laugh and said, “I’m banished by the Princess.”
From then on, you have been taking the necessary means to aid the helpless citizens. You found yourself increasingly disillusioned with the Royal Palace and how it works; it’s obsessed with expansion and conquest, snatching peace from others while their own nation lay in ruins. This blatant disregard for the well-being of their people ignited a fierce rage within you.
The more you thought about it, the more you questioned the history of your nation. The tales you had grown up with spoke of the Fire Nation’s fascinating motivations and honorable deeds. Yet, now, these stories seemed to clash with reality you witnessed daily.
Was there a gap in the historical narrative you had been taught?
Were these tales part of carefully orchestrated indoctrination?
A brainwashing notion to design a false image of national pride and glory?
The world around you was hushed; It was just you and your thoughts— a rare opportunity indeed. You steered the caravan through the serene embrace of the night. The rhythmic motion of the caravan and the huffs of the ostrich seemed to sync with your contemplations. This was the life.
Until something rustle the leaves. The air around you seemed to shift, its every movement magnified in the hushed darkness. Your eyes darted across the shadowy expanse before you, vigilant for any hint of movement, any clue as to what lurked in the unseen.
The unsettling rustle seemed to whisper secrets as it came from the direction of the Royal Palace. What could possibly be approaching at this late hour, stealthily making its way from such a significant location?
Your grip on the caravan’s reins tightened, you tensed as a figure on a lizard drew nearer. A silhouette that was both enigmatic and familiar. Was it a friend—who sought refuge in the night, or a foe cloaked in deception?
You quickly put on the guard’s helmet as the figure neared. The caravan’s light source revealed subtle yet telling details. It was unmistakably a woman, her features shrouded beneath the red cloak.
“A little late for your shift, aren't you?”
Her words reverberated through the air, startling birds into flight above them. As the birds soared away, you pondered their freedom. If birds have wings for their escape, what recourse do you have?
“In the Fire Nation, punctuality is as important as loyalty,” she continued. “It appears sloth had began a growing trend among the guards these days.”
The sinister edge, the ominous inflection, the threatening undercurrent—It all clicked. Knowing it sparked an involuntary tremor down your spine. This was an unsettling reality.
Why now (of all time) would you face the presence that you most dread for?
“Princess Azula,” you intoned, your voice dropped an octave lower and faking a surprise. “To what do I owe this unexpected visit?”