Chapter Text
Zuko stared at the flaming wreckage of the bay, trying not to wince. All those years wishing to return home, this was not how he had imagined it. Quietly, he had always known that there was something wrong with the image of his Father gladly welcoming him back, but he still hadn't thought he would be stuck at the back of an invading fleet, four frightened kids stuck to him like glue, and one alarmed leader of the Earth Kingdom.
“What on earth is that smell?” Kuei asked, a handkerchief held over his nose, turning slightly green.
“Corpses,” Zuko said flatly. The Day of Black Sun had been the day before, Zuko given strict orders that no matter what happened to their troops, he was still a prisoner. Kuei had frowned unhappily, but since they were on a Water Tribe ship, under the command of Chief Arnook of the Northern Water Tribe, he wasn’t fool enough to argue. He had no jurisdiction in regard to them.
At least Uncle had been kept aboard Chief Hakoda’s ship. Something about being part of a group with the renowned Jeong Jeong. Zuko didn’t want to know.
“Oh.” Kuei was quiet after that as they sailed gently into the bay. The wreckage of the submarines was there, the harbour buildings smoking and broken. Above the gates to the harbour, even the watchtowers had been taken out, shards of glass stuck in them.
“And you claim to have not partaken in war, Prince Zuko,” Chief Arnook commented. For someone who claimed such a title, he didn’t seem in much of a hurry to lead from the front. It grated on Zuko that he couldn’t be with his people and Kuei had no combat experience. Arnook, however, claimed importance as the reason not to fight with the rest of his warriors.
Even Hakoda had sneered at that, pointedly putting himself in the front line, in front of even Sokka. Arnook had coloured but turned away.
“Ever been thirteen in a part town, Chief Arnook?” Zuko asked pleasantly. “You’ll find it wasn’t the Fire Nation kidnapping girls and young boys for brothels.” Kuei winced. Arnook scowled. Clearly, he was still unforgiven for his daughter’s fate.
Kasumi huddled in as far as she could get from the man, dragging her brother with her.
“Have they won?” she asked quietly, clutching his arm close, her eyes wide. Zuko shrugged.
“I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “I think so.” He desperately tried not to think of what that meant. Tried not to think what would have happened to Azula or his father.
“Does this make you Fire Lord now?” Junichi asked, bouncing Mami. The poor baby had been seasick the entire journey and was sleeping quietly on her brother’s shoulder.
“Not yet,” Zuko said plainly. “The Fire Lord must be dead or defeated. And then I would need to be crowned under Agni’s first rays.” Junichi nodded.
“It’s not like how I remember it,” he admitted. Zuko said nothing, thinking the same.
They drifted to a stop beside the submarines, men grabbing hold of the ropes and hauling them ashore. Arnook leapt out first, boots crunching on the sand. Zuko resisted rolling his eyes, instead turning to take Mami. Noriaki was just tall enough to only need watching while descending the ladder, but the toddler was too small and Junichi had no experience with ships. Three years at sea had Zuko far more prepared than the kids under his care.
Kuei had offered for them to stay in the Earth Kingdom, guests in his palace until the invasion was over. None had taken him up on it, staring in horror at the thought of being split up. Zuko privately thought Kuei was right- children had no place in the remains of a battleground, but he wouldn’t take the choice from them. So, with him they went, clinging to him the entire way, frightened and pale but determined.
Hakoda was waiting for them, his Uncle nowhere in sight on the beach as they finally left the ship. Water Tribe ships were lighter and smaller than even the small ship Zuko had captained. Those unfamiliar with the movement of the waves soon turned green, even Kuei, Zuko having to haul him back from danger when he almost toppled into the sea three days ago. He seemed relieved to be off the ship as much as Mami.
“Chief Hakoda!” Kuei gasped, face still half hidden behind the handkerchief. He seemed afraid to remove it. “I take it the invasion went well?”
“There were some problems,” the Chief stated, “but the day was won in the end.” His gaze landed on Zuko. “The Avatar went to confront your Father. I have heard no news from the Palace since.” Zuko swallowed.
“We have to know,” he said quietly. I have to know. Even if... even if Uncle is all I have left. He didn’t think he could bear another missing family member. Hakoda nodded.
Zuko hid Mami’s face in his shoulder, Kasumi keeping her hands firmly over Noriaki’s eyes as they walked through the harbour and into the Caldera proper. The port was a mess, bodies strewn about the kill grounds, red, green and blue alike. Moans filled the air, some calling for mercy, others for water, some even for death. One Fire Nation recruit, all of seventeen, was praying to Agni, his left leg missing.
Both Junichi and Kuei had to pause to be sick.
“There were bombs,” Hakoda said grimly as the pair retched almost simultaneously. Kasumi hid her face in Zuko’s back with a sob. “Your people upgraded the war balloons.” Zuko winced.
“I see.” He paused, then handed Mami to Hakoda. “Stay with them,” he whispered to Kasumi. She stared at him, pale, nodding. He left them to approach the recruit.
“Agni, please, shine your light eternal over my family...” the boy was whispering, voice faint and scratchy. Zuko laid a careful hand on his shoulder, gripping the hand reaching to the heavens. Medics were tending to the Earth and Water Tribes first. He tore a strip from his own robe to make a tourniquet for the boy’s leg, just as Jee had shown him.
“What’s your name?” he asked quietly. The boy stared at him like he was a spirit sent from Agni to save him.
“K-Katsuro,” he whimpered, eyes glazed over in pain. “P-please... I want my mother...” He was weeping openly. “T-The F-Fire Lord’s d-decree...”
“We’ll find your mother, Katsuro,” Zuko said quietly, not knowing if he could keep the promise. “How old are you?”
“S-Seventeen...” Zuko wondered how long he had been neglected. How long his people would have to suffer until a medic would see them.
“My name’s Zuko,” he said, holding him close. Blood had splattered on his hands, his clothes, his boots. He ignored it even as the stench of blood filled his nose. Most likely, no one would come to help Katsuro before he bled out, even with the help Zuko had given him.
“L-Like the P-Prince?”
“Yeah,” Zuko murmured. “Like the Prince.” Katsuro sobbed.
“M-Mother s-said he was b-brave,” Katsuro babbled. Talking was good: it meant he was alive. “S-Said he would b-be a good F-Fire Lord.” He was shivering.
“She sounds like a good woman.” Zuko barely cared that he was crying too. A shadow fell over them.
“S-She makes the b-best r-ramen,” Katsuro stuttered. His voice was getting quieter, fainter. “B-Best noodles in the c-city, F-Father said.” From the rasp in his breath, Zuko was betting a rib had pierced a lung. Someone was shouting for a medic above him. A strong hand was on his shoulder.
“I’ll have to try them sometime.”
“I w-want some n-now,” Katsuro sobbed. “I w-want to b-be b-brave for h-her. L-Like the P-Prince.” He was quite literally gasping for air now. A blood-stained medic crouched before them both, taking one look at Katsuro, then at the person above him, shaking his head.
“I’m not that brave,” Zuko whispered to the dying boy, ignoring them all. “You’re far braver.” He swallowed tears. “Agni will welcome you with open arms for your bravery and honour this day.”
Katsuro shuddered in his grasp. Then he fell still, eyes open and unseeing. Zuko closed them.
Kuei was staring at him, wide eyed and pale, as he stood, gently lying Katsuro’s body down. The person standing over him was Hakoda- it appeared he had handed Mami to the Earth King in a hurry from their startled expressions. He kept a firm grasp on Zuko’s shoulder.
“He was seventeen,” Zuko said numbly, uncaring of the blood and dirt on him. “A conscript.”
He flinched when Hakoda pulled him into a hug. He hid his tears in the man’s armour.
The kid was stalling going to the Palace, Hakoda could tell. That, or he enjoyed making himself miserable. After the first boy, Katsuro if he had caught it correctly, Zuko moved from one Fire Nation soldier to another, holding them close until they breathed their last, of offering comfort as a medic came to tend to them. Those with only minor injuries fell to their knees before the bloody and dirty figure walking the battlefield, pressing their heads into the mud. Even stubborn Commanders who had fought to the last, even in the face of defeat, offered their respect to a sixteen year old boy, with the eyes of a soldier.
His people, Hakoda thought, following him quietly. They offer him more respect than the Fire Lord. They look at him like a Great Spirit or a God. The awe in their eyes denoted nothing else, shaken and defeated as they were. Shouts followed the boy everywhere he went, all across the battlefield, one long cry.
“Prince Zuko! Fire Lord Zuko! Blessed of the Spirits! Dragon of Agni!” Hakoda didn’t know what half of them meant, didn’t know what honour they thought he had. But, he could respect a man willing to get dirty just to offer one last piece of comfort to dying men and women.
Eventually, pale, bloodied, covered in dirt, there were none left for Zuko to see. A crowd had formed to follow him, wounded guards lining up to form a sort of honour guard around him. The boy seemed surprised by this, shocked and tired and exhausted by the day. He remembered the tears the boy had hidden, right after Katsuro’s death. How he had not cried since for the others. Katsuro was the youngest they had found, but one had been twenty begging for his parents, another nineteen, screaming in shock at the loss of an arm.
He tried not to imagine Sokka in any of their places. Neither of his kids had returned from the Palace yet.
“Your Majesty,” one of the guards said, dropping to the ground, pressing his forehead to the floor. “Please, let us take you to the Palace.” Zuko blinked, face startled, unsure.
“I... If you want?” he said. It came out like a question. Hakoda found himself painfully reminded that Zuko was yet younger still than Katsuro. And he had just witnessed enough death today to last a lifetime, let alone a single day. And the worst may yet to come.
Kuei still had hold of baby Mami, the girl hiding her face in his shoulder. Kasumi had taken to hiding behind Junichi, the older boy pale and shaking. Hakoda realised that despite running from conscription, until recently, none of these kids had seen violence before. That their first time had been the death of their mother... at his hands.
He tried not to think on it too hard.
Sparky was taking forever to walk himself up the volcano. Toph found the Fire Nation fascinating. All the ground bubbled under her; hot magma far closer to the surface than anywhere else she had been. But finding it fascinating, and fighting on it, was distinctly different. She had to be careful not to pull up too much from the earth, too deep and she risked making a whole new volcano in places. Especially within the Fire Lord’s Palace.
Fire Lord Ozai did not make a pretty corpse apparently. Aang, in all his pacifistic glory, had attempted to talk his way out of the eclipse, Sparky’s notes on the underground bunker allowing them to bypass Azula entirely. Toph is your greatest asset down there. Use her he had stated very clearly. Only Sokka seemed to listen to the advice, but it helped. They had found their way to Fire Lord Asshat, listened to him spout something or other, Aang lapping up every word for ‘peace’.
Toph had smacked the man into a wall before he could spark lightening, once all eight minuets were up. Sokka had been a beat behind her, sword swinging down, and the Fire Lord was no more. Katara had her hand on Toph’s shoulder to stop her stepping in blood.
Aang had immediately tossed his cookies. Toph didn’t really blame him- he thought all life was sacred, but this one most certainly wasn’t.
They were unfortunately stuck here because of Azula, however. The battle was apparently a success on the ground, the balloons grounded, despite having an upgraded version. The ground had rattled a while due to the bombs. However, Azula didn’t seem to realise she had lost her support- her father was dead, her friends were gone and the guards were quietly sneaking away. Uncle was still sneaking around the Palace, talking to the servants and Generals and anyone he could get his hands on. Soon, Azula would have nothing, but the fire at her fingertips.
She'd be far more satisfied, if the girl weren’t shrieking on the other side of the door.
“I really wish Sparky would hurry up and get him butt down here,” Toph said out loud, loud enough to be heard over Azula’s screeches. “She might shut up then.” Katara didn’t seem to agree with the statement. Aang made a strangled noise.
“You didn’t have to-” he started again. Sokka shut him up with a look.
“Aang, I don’t have Toph’s lie detector feet, but even I could hear that he was lying through his teeth. There is no way a man who burnt half his own son’s face off, would want peace with the rest of the world.” Sokka was gripping his sword tight, barely hanging on to his own lunch. She had the feeling he had never killed a person before. “Everyone knows how you treat your family is how you treat your nation.” Katara flinched, glancing away.
She had really wanted to believe that Zuko was still evil and cruel. She had lost that privilege very quickly.
“Sokka’s right Aang,” she said quietly. Toph let her hold on to her, as the rug was swept out from under her. Sugar Queen hadn’t been helping herself these days, but she had her heard screwed on right for this, at least. “He was too dangerous to be left alive. And I don’t think he would be stepping down voluntarily.” Aang turned away, crying silently.
Sparky finally set foot above them. Impatient and uncomfortable, Toph yanked earth down, dropping even the kids. Someone squeaked.
“Dad!” Sokka had never sounded so relieved. He and Katara both rushed over to him, launching themselves over for comfort. Sparky stood stiff, head angled towards the corpse on the floor.
“Was it quick?” His voice was tight. Toph took hold of his hand herself. It was caked in blood and dirt.
“Yeah,” she said quietly. “Sokka didn’t let him suffer.” She had so wanted to, wanted him to feel the same pain everyone else had felt, feel the pain he had put on his son. But, this was better, she realised. Because Zuko still cared about the man, despite everything that had been done to him.
“He saved me from drowning once,” Zuko whispered, shaking. He was refusing to cry, she could tell. “I was five and tried to rescue a lobster-crab but got washed out to sea. He dived in after me.” She squeezed his hand. “And yet he also... he was...” Zuko lost his words. She didn’t pressure him. He took in a deep breath, straightening as much as he could. “This is going to break her.” And spirits, he sounded broken.
There was nothing she could say to that.
Zuko let go of her hand and marched to the door. Before anyone could tell him no, he wrenched the thing open and Azula’s shrieks stopped. Zuko wasn’t standing in the doorway, wasn’t obstructing her view of their Father. She stood deadly still and silent, shocked to silence.
“The Fire Lord is dead,” Zuko said with the liveliness of a corpse. “Will you challenge for right of conquest?” Azula was silent, stumbling into the room without her usual grace. She wasn’t gloating, wasn’t saying anything. Toph wasn’t sure if she was breathing.
“You killed him,” she said blankly. Zuko hesitated to offer a hand, one arm raised, uncertain if she would accept it. “He’s... dead.” That wasn’t the tone of a warrior, or the ruthless girl that tried to kill Aang.
It was the voice of a lost fourteen year old.
“Azula... your wrists...” Zuko sounded so sad, his gaze drawn by something else, something she couldn't see. Sometimes Toph really hated being blind.
“He’s dead.” She didn’t sound as if she believed it, despite the evidence before her.
“Thank Agni,” Junichi said bluntly, sagging in some relief. He wasn’t the only one with that sentiment, but the only one to have spoken it out loud.
Azula dropped to her knees, heart tripping wildly.
“Do it,” she spat, twisting to face her brother. “End the line of monsters. You know you want to.” Zuko stared at her in mute silence a moment.
He crumpled to join her, pulling her close.
“You’re my sister,” he said brokenly, one orphan to another. “Mom told me to look after you no matter what. I’m sorry I’ve been rubbish at it these last three years.” Azula squirmed, uncomfortable and stiff as a board.
“As if I needed your protection.” Her words were a sneer, but her heart tripped in terrified fear. It was the most open Toph had ever felt her.
“Who else was going to make you look good to Dad?” Even Chief Hakoda froze at that, the statement given like that was normal, like kids had to earn the right to be loved. Like... like Zuko and Azula had been competing for Ozai’s black heart. And neither had gotten it.
Azula slumped into Zuko’s shoulder, hands resolutely in her lap and hiding her shakes in Zuko’s. Hiding her tears from the world at large.
The coronation was a small affair. Zuko was too wrung out by the day, holding himself up by sheer will and the need to hold up Azula too, without looking like it. Iroh remembered the time he told Zuko that the girl was crazy and needed to go down. Remembered all the years ignoring her over the clearly underappreciated Zuko.
Wondered exactly how much he had missed.
The Southern Water Tribe insisted on staying in the Palace, chasing away Arnook and the majority of his warriors. They had been the bloodiest in the battle, second only to How and his earthbenders. The full force of the combined Earth and Water forces had been enough to counter the Fire Nation’s superior weaponry, even the aerial attacks. Iroh was glad to see the back of the man- it was tragic that his daughter had died, yes, but so had many others in the war and they didn’t feel the need to inform their underlings to wipe out the Fire Nation in cold blood.
He passed far too many wailing parents, men and women mourning their loved ones. Children crying for adults who were never coming home. He offered what comfort he could, but few accepted it, too distraught. He knew that feeling too.
And yet, on every pair of lips, was a single whisper. A title given by nothing more than the people’s gratitude. “Dragon of Agni,” the people were calling his nephew, despite never killing a dragon. Honoured for the loyalty and bravery shown in the aftermath of a battle bitterly fought, both within a Council room three years prior, and today. A spark of hope for the future.
His nephew was sitting by the pond within the Palace, the very same place his mother had once fed turtleducks. He was showing Mami and Noriaki how to feed them, Azula sitting on the very edge of the group, in what appeared to be a staring contest with Kasumi.
Those two would be a force to be reckoned with one day, Iroh realised with a shudder. If they ever learn to work together. He wasn’t sure he wanted to think on the ramifications of that.
Toph was lounging under the tree, Aang sat within it playing with Momo. Chief Hakoda and his children were located on the opposite side of the pond, discussing something with Kuei. Only the Earth King seemed happy during the ceremony outside of the Fire Nation citizens stood within the square.
His niece noticed him first, eyes narrowing. Unlike previously, she was dressed in pink. He had never seen her dressed in the colours of a young girl. Ozai always had his children dressed in reds and blacks, the colours of the Fire Nation military. A sign that his line was strong or something silly like that. Ursa may have once dressed her daughter in simpler colours before she started bending, but Iroh had not been around as much when she was a baby. Yet another failing on his part.
“Uncle,” she said politely, barely blinking. Kasumi turned to stare at him too. Junichi, who until that point had seemed content to lounge with Toph, glanced up, frowning.
“Where were you?” the boy asked sharply. Iroh had not endeared himself towards the children somehow.
“Passing on a few messages,” he said, settling down on the other side of Noriaki. The boy glanced up at him with deep hazel eyes.
“Zuko’s showing us how to feed turtleducks,” he proclaimed to the stranger next to him. Iroh blinked, even as everyone in the courtyard stiffened in shock.
“A wonderful hobby,” Iroh agreed, unsure what the issue was. “Princess Ursa loved to feed them too, if I remember correctly.”
“I like it here with Zuko and Azula,” the boy said, turning back to the pond. Zuko smiled as the boy scooted closer, a turtleduck sat in his lap. Azula preened with smugness as Kasumi shot her a dirty look.
“What isn’t to like?” the girl sniffed, turning away from the ten-year-old. Iroh was lost on what had just happened. But if it made Zuko smile like that, that was all that mattered.
Kuei was not a fan of Azula. Which, in fairness, not a lot of people in the room were. But Zuko needed her here, surrounded on all sides by enemies not only for her political prowess, but her sheer presence. No one was afraid of the kid who wandered battlefields and cried in front of others. He had shown them too many weaknesses. Azula, at the very least, gave him an edge and gave her something to do.
A bored Azula was a dangerous Azula.
He and his sister were not the closest of siblings, he knew that. She had been left with Ozai for three years alone. He knew what it was like to have the man watch your every move, to critique each and every decision you made. How it felt for him to wrap a hand around you in a familial gesture, only for him to suddenly set his hands on fire.
She hid her scars in her sleeves, the pink skin melding with the pink robes she wore. She still painted her lips blood red, still gave her signature smirks, but she wasn’t the same as she had been when chasing them. Father would not have been happy with her failure in Ba Sing Se, doubly so that she hadn’t gotten the full details of the invasion plans. And only he had noticed that, much like the scar on his face, they were in the shape of hands.
How was the most vocal about the concessions he wanted from the Fire Nation, however there was nothing he could do. Zuko and Kuei already had a treaty, which was now in place and could only be changed by him and Kuei renegotiating it. Instead, Arnook would occasionally chime in and say these were concessions he wanted for the Northern Water Tribe as well. That just amused Azula.
“I don’t think damage done seventy years ago is as severe as that which was done to the Earth Kingdom this year,” she commented, picking lint from her robes. Zuko would have rolled his eyes if he could at her antics. “It is hardly proper for a Tribe who ran and hid from the war until it knocked on your door to insist upon such harsh reparations.” Arnook scowled at her, simmering in the background.
“I understand you have suffered, Chief Arnook,” Zuko said calmly, giving his silent agreement with her. Azula had been rather surprised that half the fight had already been won- she hadn’t expected that and while she didn’t think much of ending the war without a clear winner, she didn’t say it was complete idiocy. Which was practically praise. “However, we have all lost something personal in this war.”
“My people were attacked this year,” Arnook argued. “My daughter is dead because of your people.”
“Admiral Zhao was suitably punished by the Ocean Spirit during the Siege,” Zuko said firmly. “And I personally have lost both parents, my grandparents and cousin to this war. I know the personal cost and have paid it in full.”
“And yet, you allow the Lightening Witch a pardon.” Zuko scowled himself at that.
“So, you will punish a fourteen-year-old girl, a girl younger than even your own daughter was, to pay the price for something done by a man long since dead?” He resisted the urge to leap across the table and throttle the man. “And besides that, I am sure the Southern Water Tribe would wish for reparations from yourself and I, considering that you abandoned them for a hundred years.” Arnook stiffened, as did Hakoda. The man had been quiet, looking very much like he didn’t wish to be there.
“Fire Lord Zuko has... a point,” Hakoda agreed reluctantly. “And unlike yourself, he has been to the South Pole to see the damage the war has done.” Arnook shot him a betrayed look. So much for Water Tribe solidarity. The man claims to respect the Southern Tribe, yet still treats them like the lower class. Zuko almost wanted to snort at the Chief’s increasing audacity.
Yue would only get him so far.
“I believe that this meeting is at an end,” Zuko said, standing. “I am sure that Princess Yue would not wish to witness her death being used as a weapon for her father’s gain.” Azula’s lips twitched at the verbal slap. Arnook bristled.
“I’m with Zuko on this one,” Sokka suddenly piped up. Arnook looked doubly betrayed. He glared at the man. “I loved Yue, but she wouldn’t want her memory to be used like this.” His own fists were clenched, and he had sat on them the moment Arnook started talking. “I thought, as her father, you would understand that too.”
He followed Zuko and Azula out of the room. The moment they were out of sight, he punched the wall.
“Ah, such a peaceful man,” Azula felt the need to note. Zuko elbowed her.
“Shut up,” he said. “I’m sorry he brought her up.” Sokka blinked at him, almost owlishly. Zuko shuffled awkwardly. “She was a brave woman,” he continued. “She didn’t deserve what happened to her, nor what Zhao did to her tribe.”
“You couldn’t make that any more awkward, could you?” Sokka asked, as if he didn’t really note what he had said. Azula snorted.
“Oh, that was normal. He was far less eloquent as a child.” Zuko wondered if he ought to point out that they were still technically children. Sokka let out a huffing laugh, seemingly despite himself.
“This day just gets weirder and weirder.” Zuko could agree with that statement.
Azula was rather impressed with what Zuko had achieved. A deal with the ridiculous man calling himself the Earth King, wriggling their way out of reparations, putting down the Northern Water Tribe Chief by twisting his words against him. It was almost enough to make her wonder if he had somehow grown a brain while in exile. Except, this was all sickeningly Zuko.
Zuko was always the one who cared about people, the one who cried if even a mouse-rat died in his room. He was weak and soft and... and the only one who had never looked at her and called her monster.
Mother called her a monster and stared at her in disgust. Father called her a monster and revelled in her cruelty. Uncle called her a monster and had abandoned her the moment he could for Zuko. But Zuko... he was such an idealist, so naïve he thought he had ever been able to protect her from Ozai. As if she would even need that.
Apart from when she did.
Ozai had not been happy with her failure at Ba Sing Se. She had been sent out to succeed where Zuko and Iroh and Zhao had failed. Capture the Avatar, eliminate him if you have to. Any damage done along the way was an added extra, double points if she killed either Zuko or Iroh. Azula had always been ambitious. She had aimed for all of those and more.
And for a brief moment, she had done so. For a week, she had done what Iroh failed to do and taken Ba Sing Se.
But then her plan had backfired, the Avatar turned up, Zuko wasn’t there, Uncle fought back and she had been overwhelmed. Mai and Ty Lee had sacrificed Long Feng to the Dai Li, one of whom must have sensed the tides turning and betrayed her, then squirreled them all out of the city. She wasn’t sure where they were now- they had gotten separated as they left, for safety, but she had a sneaking suspicion it was an excuse to also get away from her. Abandoned and hated by all, she had crawled home, with none of what she had promised.
Father had burned her for her failure. Not too visible, not too deep to create irreparable damage to her bending. But enough, to remind her of the lesson always.
With Father dead, she wasn’t sure of her place in the world anymore. She hadn’t been quick enough to stop the Sages from crowning Zuko, even if she could. Ozai had never officially removed him from the line of succession because, until recently, he couldn’t convince the Fire Sages to do so. With them imprisoned and Zuko lost in the Earth Kingdom, there was little point in forcing the issue right away. They had plans to prepare for.
That had been a mistake on Father’s part.
So, instead, she was forced to simper to Zuko’s ideas and schemes. Forced to, but not... sickened by it. The children he brought with him were annoying, all but perhaps the older girl. The baby was too young to decide what she was yet. She was useful only for inspiring the firebender to be useful. And Zuko would never let her do that.
Zuko was... an unconventional Fire Lord. After the disastrous meeting with the Chief of the Northern Water Tribe, the man had decided to leave. He would have shut his borders too, to the rest of the world if it didn’t look like the temper tantrum it was. Zuko spoke with the servants, dressed himself, served himself tea. The people talked of his actions on the Day of Black Sun, how he held soldier after soldier as they died, leading them to Agni’s Light when He turned His face away. Azula had never been popular with the people, nor had Ozai or even Azulon for that matter. She wasn’t sure she had ever read of such a popular Fire Lord as Zuko with the commoners.
And yet, it was an approach that worked.
Even before the world leaders left, some idiot from the North by the name of Hahn, had tried to kill her brother. She wasn’t even needed- the guards snapped his arm, his machete and his pride before he even reached the right corridor. Half had taken to hiding behind pillars on a rotation, all clamouring the guard their young leader. She didn’t know if Zuko knew how devoted his guards were, how he inspired his men and his people.
It was almost inspiring watch him flail about.
She was accosted by Kasumi a few days after the assassination attempt. The girl was tenacious, Azula would give her that, and smart. Smart enough to know that Azula was simply using Zuko.
“You weren’t there to protect him,” she accused her, eyes narrow. She had vested herself of her own useless brother, no doubt dribbling over Zuko or something. She didn’t really pay Noriaki attention- unlike his sister, he was not very vocal, nor as smart. And neither were benders or had started training early. What are they teaching children these days? She sneered mentally.
“All those guards, what did he need my help for?” she dismissed her. Respect was not a free pass to be stupid.
“But what if they had actually been competent?” Kasumi snapped, following her down the hallway. Well, she was certainly brave to follow the Lightening Princess in such a manner. “What if he had hurt Zuko, or killed him?” Azula paused a moment.
Logically, Zuko dead was a good thing. He would be out of her way, the Dragon Throne open for the taking. But the Sages would do anything to get her out of the way, perhaps even accuse her of doing the job. She told herself that was the only reason she kept Zuko on the throne.
“I heard of this Hahn from the reports from the North,” Azula said, continuing on her way. She ignored the twinges of guilt buried deep. She had no reason the buckle to this child’s view of the world. “He’s an idiot. No need to interrupt my own sleep when the guards can deal with one measly non-bender.”
“But you would if they were more dangerous? If they posed an actual threat?” She was like an annoying lion-puppy, following along and wagging its tail. She wondered if she would run if she burnt her.
Her wrists burned at the thought.
“Are you asking if I would stand aside if someone were trying to kill my brother?” she asked, somewhat curious herself. “Why would I do that? If I catch them, then they’re being sloppy. If Zuko catches them, perhaps they might have had a chance.” Kasumi blinked, head cocked. Azula shrugged. “He always did prefer sneaking around in the dark.” It was why he had passed for so long so well in the Earth Kingdom, where she had not. He was willing to degrade himself to a lower level.
“You care about him.” It wasn’t a question. Azula froze, turning to level her with her most dangerous glare. The girl smirked. “You care about your brother.” It was said in a sing-song voice, deep satisfaction sparkling in hazel eyes.
“Do you wish for a matching scar?” The girl didn’t back down. Instead, she turned and ran down the corridor.
“Azula cares for Zuko!” she screamed as she went, at the top of her lungs. The guards jumped, glanced at her in nervous anticipation, unsure whether to laugh or run. Azula stood frozen in shock. A moment later, she chased after the little devil, snarling.
“Be quiet!” Lightening sparked at her fingertips, but went nowhere. Zuko would not be happy if she friend the brat. But a small zap shouldn’t hurt...
Kasumi cackled the entire way down the hall, laughing as a child should. Despite herself, Azula found herself smiling even as she chased the little hellion down, past a startled Zuko, past the stupid Southern Water Tribe who stared with open mouths, past the still sulking Avatar who jumped out of their way and into the garden where Toph, the cretin, slid earth around to help Kasumi get away.
The laughter stayed for a long, long time.