Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

‘Dear Azula,

I’m sorry. 

And I apologise that those two measly words, so overused by everyone in life that they’ve become flimsy bandages on open flesh wounds, will never ever be enough to contain my sorrow, guilt, rage at having to leave you behind in that place. With that man. Given everything that has transpired, I don’t think that he can be called that. It humanises him too much. Rather, he is a dark spirit bundled up grotesquely with a fleshy overcoat, but even that cannot contain the evil that threatens to burst out. He more closely resembles those rat-roaches we ran from as toddlers - which gorges itself with flimsy crudely constructed hands. Which fights and fights and fights until it collapses, a mangled mess of fur and blood.  When the sun lies down to rest behind the earth, I lie awake - staring blankly at the ceiling in that way that you make fun of me for doing. Something twisted in the bowels of my mind forces me to replay those moments over and over, relishing my anguish as all that rattles in my head is ‘why, why, why’. Crew members wince not only at the scar now, but the increasing size of the bags under my eye. I can’t imagine I look like sunshine and butterflies right now, and it was only made worse when I heard a faint ‘he looks like a walking corpse’ as I trailed away. Even if it is true, it stings. One of my ears may not work properly, but I still have another one. Rude pricks.

Despite all your lessons, I gave into my emotions and paid the price. You must be so disappointed - to have spent so much time training me, coaching me and reminding me to reign in my personality, my views, only to be forced to watch as I discarded your advice completely. But I fear too many apologies will just make you burn this letter more quickly, so I will move on. Although the memory is fuzzy and disconnected from my other memories - a puzzle piece that just won’t fit - it still exists. A small part of my life where everything is blurred and disjointed and every aspect fades in and out. A flicker of a time that only can be accessed when I force myself to focus on piecing each part together. 

I remember when you came over - taunting me about my actions. How your voice shook with each half-hearted jab. How each sentence trailed off slightly, as if you rehearsed the insults like an actor in an Ember Island play. Briefly, the sensation of a tight confine around my skull being released can be visualised in my head. It felt freeing. It felt exposing. It felt off. But I think that the only reason I even remember that specific time was the short silence that followed. A quietude that stretched for hours in my mind, but likely lasted just a few seconds. A brief whimper, a half-contained hiccup echoed in the glorified prison crudely labelled as an ‘infirmary’, before your hands rushed to confine my injury once more. I wonder what you may have seen. To cause the mask to shatter so completely that you made sounds like that. And it tears my soul in two to remember that I’ve caused you such distress. You are much more than you think you are, and deserve a whole lot more than you get. No matter how much people may say otherwise, that you are a ‘monster’ or a ‘tyrant’. Those people are fucking idiots. Though you don’t need me to tell you. 

Now that I’ve seen it - the damage, the aftermath - it took me days, weeks to recover from that moment alone. It's so much worse than I could’ve possibly imagined, and the nightmares only make it a more horrifying experience. Especially when I wake up in a cold-sweat, my heart practically lunges to escape from my body and my scar still feels like it is burning. I stumble through unfamiliar hallways, one hand grasping at the wall like it is the only pillar keeping me standing and in some ways it is. A shaking hand that only one eye can fully comprehend properly - beyond the vague oblong pale shape that it is - falls short of whatever it is aiming to grasp at. And each time it does, the hate in my heart grows just a little bit more. It’s laughable, how the prince has fallen. Pathetic. At least things are getting better. People on the ship, however much they might hate the royal family, approach me from the right more often, talk at a louder volume and, at least not to my face, don’t make fun of me when I trip or fall. Initially, it bothered me, the fact that the sheer extent of my weakness caused me to inconvenience others, and I vowed to try to face everything myself. But after a tumble caused me to sprain my ankle in the dead of night in my attempts to continue my bending practice, I am currently learning a valuable lesson.

It is alright to accept help. It is alright to not be perfect all of the time.

It is alright to scream and yell and be angry and frustrated because Agni gave us those emotions for a reason. 

At least, that’s what medic Ukoza says. You would like her. She’s like Uncle Iroh, but without all the proverbs and tea. Whenever I visit for my lessons, she always manages to bring in a story from her previous life - different times when she would set people and/or things on fire. It’s nice, and I’m not only improving my knowledge on various herbs, but learning new and noteworthy curses - that I will NOT be telling you. You are enough of a spitfire without crude words in your arsenal. The doctor is helping me improve, and now my depth perception fails only just a bit over half of the time. Sure, I still wobble and collapse like a newborn deer occasionally, and when people approach me from my left side, it’s like everything has been muffled. But at least I hate myself a little bit less. I never knew the absolute gem that airbending would be in accelerating my recovery. The use of subtle winds to help me gauge distances and prevent rather embarrassing incidents. How much my balance has been assisted through the use of gusts of air around my body. It still needs perfecting, further study and definitely more notes, but it is a working concept. Already, things are going a lot more smoothly and I am kicking myself for not having thought of this earlier. All my movements are more fluid and confident, but maybe I should dial it down. Medic Ukoza narrows her eyes and purses her lips at what she calls a ‘surprisingly breezy start’. The use of the pun aged me at least five years, but there’s no way she knows. Not when not even He is in the dark. Sometimes, I regret not telling you. Then Lu Ten springs up to the front of my mind. First, smiling and basking in the sun as we play in the palace garden. Then, crushed by a boulder, blood streaming from underneath a crumpled corpse.

It was my fault.

It has to have been.

So this is why you are left in the dark.

There have been a few incidents, even an attempted murder , but we have persevered. Things are not perfect, they never were and likely will never be. But they are steadily improving. I am a prince, a banished one, but a prince nonetheless. On a ship practically brimming with citizens swindled by Fire Nation authority, it’s no wonder that the relationship I want to build with the crew is a slow-burn. But like you say, I’m stubborn. Hopefully, things will change. 

Right now, this rickety hull of metal has stopped at an air temple - the southern one, since that was believed to be the home of the previous Avatar. 

It took many days and nights of complaining crew members to arrive on the shores of a truly massive mountain, the temple being only a speck of white in the horizon. Shrouded in clouds and mystery, it resembled what I imagined the houses of spirits would be like - disconnected from humanity and practically blended in with the nature around them. Seriously Azula, you would not believe the sheer size of this mountain. Our ship was like a mere pebble compared to it. And you might be thinking that I’m exaggerating, but I promise on my favourite turtleduck that I’m telling the truth. Dread so thick that it could almost be visibly discerned as storm clouds filled the deck. Nobody wanted to go up the mountain with me. The lazy bastards. Not that I could blame them. Weeks on this ship with limited exercise made people lethargic. Lazy. Motivated to do the least work possible.  At least, that’s what I thought. Luckily two kind people volunteered to make sure I didn’t die falling off the edge or something along those lines. 

So we embarked on the journey of trekking up this geological structure. It was incredible. Soon, my companions who initially claimed to be unbreakable began to heave and pant, collapsing against the dirt ground with faces damp from near constant sweating. We weren’t even at the half-way mark. You could still clearly see the ship, and hear the laughter of the cheering crew below. So much for babysitting. By the time the temple was in full view, I was the only one to place my worn soles on the ancient tiles. 

I wish I could tell you the truth, that what I’ve seen was beyond the worst horrors that I could have conjured in my mind. When I close my eyes to rest, the initial sight of the temple envelopes my mind - never letting up even when I do manage to sleep. Then, it appears in my dreams, morphing them into nightmares like a skilled puppeteer relishing in the applause that is my horrified screaming and sobbing back into consciousness. We did this. I am an airbender, technically one of them,  but  I come from the nation that has caused them such devastation. Such grief. Such agony. I am not like them, yet I gag at the thought of being part of the Royal Family that has started all of this. Prince Zuko lies on a non-existent middle ground, not part of any nation - Earth, Fire, Water, or Air. A truly lonely outlier.That thought lurks in the corner of my mind, pouncing when my guard is let down and immediately killing any joy or happiness I might have felt at the moment. I just feel so lonely not belonging anywhere.  

I spend a good portion of my time up there, sleeping under the stars and clouds next to this impressive feat of architecture - thinking about nothing and everything. For an empty complex of buildings, this place told me a lot. The murals, the halls and odd pieces of decoration all conveyed stories of the people who inhabited it. Tidbits about what their daily lives must have looked like, their duties in their community. I assume it was either you or uncle who packed all my notebooks, and thank you. I’ve already filled one with sketches and notes, and drew you a picture. I hope you like it. 

In less than a week, when our rations and supplies are at low point, we shall leave this temple and go to a nearby port town to restock - one that won’t destroy our ship upon seeing its emblem that is. My colleagues will rest and I shall look around, investigating rumours in a disguise -see if anything still remains of the Air Nation. All the airbenders couldn’t have died, right? I can’t be the last one  so maybe something got left behind. A scroll. A doll. Anything. I will do my best to complete my mission however I can so I will get back to you. But even if I found the Avatar I wouldn’t hand it over to Him even if he burned my other eye off. 

Everyday, I see little things that you would’ve pointed out - a jab or joke or hilariously dead-panned statement that would make my shoulders shake with laughter. I hear a viewpoint that would make that vein on your forehead bulge, and smell aromas that would have you raiding the kitchen faster than a cheetah-hare. I smile and look to the side with cheerful eyes to murmur insulting remarks, and the mood never drops quicker than when you realise a good sibling, a good friend is no longer with you. It’s like a part of me is missing - the louder and more annoying part, of course. I wonder if you feel it too.

Lots of love and hope you write back soon,

Zuko’ 

There.

Finished.

A delighted hum of relief escaped him before he could contain it.

Under the orange hue of his lamp, Zuko began to scribble out a new fresh copy - without any of the crossings out, in the code he and Azula made up when they were younger (just in case they were intercepted). Flickering flames coated his face with dark shadows, and threatened to fizzle out with its limited food supply. ‘Feed me’, the small fire seemed to plead after twenty minutes of its creator’s ignorance. ‘I’m dying!’ Yet, the prince failed to notice. Smoothing out the finished product with a satisfied motion, the young boy realised his only companion in his nightly writing was on death’s doorstep, and added more kindling.The flames grew slightly in gratitude.  

Perfect. Folding the letter neatly into a rectangle and slotting the drawing of the temple, Zuko carefully inserted the small piece of his soul into one of the few envelopes packed with his stuff. Then repeated the strangely cathartic motion with his letters for Ty Lee and Mai - both, but particularly Mai’s shorter and a bit less honest, but honest enough. He’d better stock up when they go to the port town in a while. If Azula, Ty Lee or Mai read them and wanted to reply anyway. In the morning, Zuko would talk to the animal caretaker whose name he would need to learn to let him use a messenger hawk to send them to their destination (Ty Lee’s residence, the place least likely to have his messages intercepted, and Ty Lee was the most capable in terms of distribution). Who knows, maybe she would even convince Azula not to burn his letter on the first chance she gets.

Even if his true thoughts wouldn’t be read, it was still strangely effective to write them down anyway. But now came the bittersweet moment. Raising the original copy to his orange and red friend, Zuko lowered it to the hungry flames. Ever the glutton, fire climbed up towards it, as if it could sense the food it was about to be offered. The edge of the paper began to blacken and slowly disappear as the flames gorged and gorged themselves. Travelling up the letter, consuming word after word until nothing but black powder staining his desk remained. Just as his true feelings turned to ashes, so did his doubts. 

They would reply.

They would (wouldn’t they?).

Because if they didn’t, then he would truly know that he was alone. That everyone had given up on him. 

Chapter Text

Too many weeks had passed since Zuko’s banishment. Days and days without one of her closest friends, who shared in her interests and confided in her about his worries and insecurities. A person who didn’t laugh in the face of her dreams, or try to convince her to warp her body and life to please a society which doesn’t even see her as anything more than an object. An eternity had dragged by where the hole in their little friend group was more blatant than ever. Mai continuously refused to meet up and hang out, pretending she didn’t care in that way that made the would-be acrobat want to scream at her sometimes. Azula didn’t help the situation - constantly acting like a rabid wolf bear, snarling at the two and spitting out comments that hurt much more than usual. Less like playful jabs and more like actual knives digging into the young girls’ arms again and again, threatening to pierce their skins and souls with their ferocity and alarming sincerity. The princess’ aura darkened with such alarming speed that Ty Lee worried that it would come to a point where nothing could bring it back to its normal fiery red. To a certain extent, Ty Lee could forgive her. She just lost her brother. As a sister, Ty Lee could empathise with the immense pressures and volatile feelings that Azula must be going through. But there comes a breaking point. 

Being hurt does not give you the right or the excuse to hurt others. After this incident, she feared that everything would continue in its downward spiral. 

Then, for once in a long time, something good happened.

Arriving in a bad mood after her least favourite teacher gave them a surprise test on Fire Nation history (Ty Lee got the gist, Fire Nation good, other nations bad), there were few things that could lift her spirits. Being the bubbly sweet friend who always had a smile on her face was draining, and all she wanted was to sleep for a week. She and her bed had a date, and she was not going to miss it. First, it missed a beat, then her heart sank into her stomach at the sight of her mother near the front door, clutching at something with her perfectly manicured claws. Oh Agni, what was it now? Please, please let mum go away. She was one more jab away from screaming and yelling, and Ty Lee hated being so out of control of her emotions - consumed by anger and frustration and grief and sadness that blended together into an unfathomable mix that frequently led to her hiccuping into her pillow. Attempting to prevent the unravelling sensations in the girl’s recovering heart was like trying to cover the whole sky with just her hands. It made her aura sour, become dimmer and lifeless. Her mum didn’t help, with the unrelenting pressure for Ty Lee to be part of her little matched set with no personality, no voice of her own and no free will. Just an object for her mother to line up with the rest and show off with a sickening ‘don’t they look adorable?’. Ty Lee, you have to act like a lady. Ty Lee, you don’t want to be an acrobat. Ty Lee, stand up straight. Ty Lee, Ty Lee-

“Ty Lee.” Those two words, her own name, were enough to drive the stake further into Ty Lee’s. You didn’t have to be a firebender to have an internal flame, in the young girl’s opinion, and right now she could feel hers start to grow dangerously tall. ‘Calm down, calm down, calm down,’ she willed at it, wincing at the fact that that phrase only made the emotions double in their intensity. What did she want? Please, just leave me alone, I just want to be alone, why can’t everyone leave me alo-

“You got letters.”

“Huh?”

“‘Huh’ is not part of a distinguished young lady’s vocabulary,” her mother cut in, staring at her long thin fingers and the rings that adorned them like a preening cockatoo. “Now, come take your letters. I have better things to do than act like a common messenger.”

“Yes, mother.”

Gingerly plucking the three envelopes from her mother’s loose grip (still glued shut, thank Agni), the young girl raced by and darted into her room - consciously ignoring the barks that followed urging her to not run inside the house. In fact, the crack in her mother’s shrieking made her giggle a little. Identically confused faces peered out of cracked open doors, some sneering slightly at Ty Lee’s wrongdoings while others owlishly stared at the exchange like it was one of those dramatic plays their family was so fond of watching. 

“Seriously, Ty Lee?”

“Keep it down!”

“What do you have there?”

“Ooo, are those letters ? Let us read them!” 

“No!” Ty Lee hugged the pieces of paper to her chest, sticking her tongue out at the offending sisters. “They are mine!”

“You don’t have to be such a stick in the mud about it,” a snide high-pitched voice mumbled. 

The young girl slightly creased the letters under her tight grip, clamping her mouth shut to the point where blood trickled from where her teeth sunk into her lip’s flesh. It was OK, the pain kept her grounded. Sharp. Jabs like that were a trap, a ruse to get her to bite the bait so she would do what they say out of guilt. No matter how much the urge to yank a lock of her sister’s hair clean out of her head, she had to stay calm. 

Clear skies, Ty Lee, clear skies. Your room is just around the corner, and when you lock the door, you will finally have the solitude you crave.

Bursting into the safe haven she had been dreaming about all day, a hazy ball of pink and red landed onto the softness of the bed in front of her with a decisive thud. Letting out a sigh that contained all her negative emotions, Ty Lee took the time to look at the letters properly for the first time. All were decorated by a familiar scrawl of her name on the scratchy surface - with all too familiar symbols next to each one.  

A knife. 

A flame. 

An aura. 

It hit her like a komodo-elephant. These were letters from Zuko. He was alive and well and sending letters to her for all of them using the system they concocted when they were nine. Ripping open the one she knew was hers with shaking hands, Ty Lee’s eyes combed over the words sprawled across the paper - each letter a slightly different size and style from the previous one in that signature way that made it so Zuko. Giggles erupted from her throat at the introduction. An awe-filled gasp came next at the revelations so simply put in the following paragraph. There was a former acrobat on Zuko’s ship, who was teaching him everything she knew! Oh Agni, she was so jealous! But before jealousy threatened to consume her, the next sentence had her throwing the flimsy sheet across her bed - blood rushing to colour her face a rosy pink. Zuko had told this woman about her, who despite knowing nothing about Ty Lee, complimented her . All her anger, grief, sadness vanished into thin air as she finished reading her letter - smiling so widely that her cheeks hurt at the strain. For the first time that day, her grin wasn’t fake. Tucking the piece of air and light back into the envelope, the young girl contorted her torso and slipped under her bed. Uncaring of the clumps of dust logging themselves in her plait, a skinny hand moved its appendages and located its mark: a loose wooden board supporting her mattress. This was perfect. Inserting the envelope between the plank and the mattress in a way that it couldn’t be seen, the youngest sister smiled widely at her conniving ways and moved back towards the other two letters.

Tomorrow, she will see Mai for a project. It would be the perfect time to give it to her. But Azula…

Ever since the banishment, she had been busy. Busier than usual that is. The bags under her eyes just kept on growing, and that perfect topknot threatened to fall with every erratic movement the princess made. It made her uncomfortable. Uneasy. Just like her, Azula was one action away from cracking entirely. 

But she couldn’t give up. Wouldn’t. Azula needed this letter. She would get this letter. Because it might be the only thing that could not prevent, but at least slow down Azula’s descent into a whirlpool of anxiety, dread and needing to be perfect Crown Princess Azula.  

Placing the other envelopes with her own, Ty Lee made herself comfortable in bed. Afterall, she couldn’t carry out her plan without a proper night’s rest.

She would need every minute she could get

Chapter Text

Stage one of her plan went smoothly at first. Mai, whatever her mother might think, was really quite sharp and quickly got hold of her letter. Shoving it at lightning speed into the folds of her outfit, the two continued their ‘conversation’ and went on with their project - an essay on the complete life of Firelord Sozin, from birth till death. In Ty Lee’s honest opinion, within thirty minutes of reading the various scrolls - her drowsiness kicked in. Who knew that historians could make such an interesting historical figure sound so unbelievably dull and lament about the most useless drivel? Ty Lee knew how everyone viewed her: the pink bubbly airhead. That’s what made it so hilarious when the test scores would come out, and those classmates that would sneer and heighten the pitch of their voices to imitate her would go crimson at the sight of Ty Lee’s name always second on the scoreboard - no matter the subject. Ty Lee loved learning - and history was her absolute favourite. She just didn’t understand why the authors of all these scrolls didn’t show their passion in their work and just kept going on and on and on about the most boring aspects. Each time she ‘rested’ her eyes became longer and longer and longer-

A hand connected with the top of her head, shocking the younger awake with a start.

“Hey!” Ty Lee frowned, not truly mad but just a little annoyed as she rubbed at the sore spot with a tentative hand. “That hurt!”

“Maybe you should do less sleeping and more reading then.”

She maturely stuck her tongue out in reply, waving two neatly printed pieces of paper with perfect notes on all aspects of the project to taunt the black-haired girl.

“Don’t need to,” she retorted, wagging her finger right in front of Mai’s face in a way that was surely flirting with death. “Now, we can focus on more important things-”

“I don’t understand what you’re on abou-”

“Why won't you talk to me anymore?” Ty Lee cried, her face invading more and more of Mai’s personal space, in an expression that the black-haired girl did not find cute and immediately wanted to squeeze, no she didn’t know what you were talking about. With each sparkle in the acrobat’s eyes however (how did that even work?), her resolve lessened, and lessened until-

“I do talk to you Ty L-”

“No you don’t! You never want to hang out, and I practically had to beg you to let me come over-”

No, it wasn’t like that.

Grey eyes started to fill with tears, glistening under the faint light permeating from the sunset outside. “And-and I don’t understand why everyone is pushing me away when I just want to help and-”

Agni no, please don’t cry.

Sobs coursed through her body, causing it to lurch and jolt and shake with every heave. Unending rivers of tears stained the scrolls but Mai could care less at that moment. Someone could get murdered in front of her right now and she would still only have eyes for a crying Ty Lee. Despair gripped at her, freezing her in place as she watched sunshine incarnate weep and curl into a ball. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. How could she do this, how could she make her cry ? Ty Lee, who she liked more than anyone else, even herself. And why wasn’t she doing anything to help her? Do something, she howled at her body, Move, say something, say anything! 

“Is-is it me?”

No.

“No, Ty Lee.” Finally, her body moved and Mai surprised herself by pulling her friend into a tight hug, tucking the plaited girl’s head into her shoulder. “It isn’t you. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you. I’m sorry I pushed and pushed everyone away and you suffered for it.”

Whatever the murmurs into her robes were, she ignored them and kept going.

“I understand that you are upset with me, and you don’t have to forgive me. I just want you to know that if you ever need anything in the future, you can come to me.”

“I’ll be there for you, no matter what.”

Howling into her shoulder, Mai could feel the fabric of her robe getting more and more damp.  Yet she just tightened her hug (when had she last given someone a hug?) and rubbed circles into her friend’s back - hoping to Agni that the soothing action she saw her dad doing to her mum when she learned of her sister’s death would be of some comfort to Ty Lee. Please let her not completely fail at emotional gestures. It seemed to be working, when the sobs slowed down into fainter cries and then the noises of distress stopped at all. 

Untangling herself from Mai’s robes, Ty Lee raised her head like a shy rabbit cat - and the latter had to physically prevent the ‘aww’ from escaping her throat. Against the swollen redness, her eyes, the colour of silver, stood out even more. Rather than the stormy clouds that her distress made them to be, this time they were clear and calm like an ageing calm sea. Brighter than usual, which Mai didn’t think was possible. A smile threatened to make Ty Lee’s trembling lips curve upwards. As her black eyebrows met together in an irritated furrow, a thought immediately sprang to the forefront of Mai’s mind. Even when she is sad, she is beautiful. 

“Thank you,” a soft voice whispered, pulling her into the signature warm Ty Lee hug. “Thank you.”

Agni, help her, why was her face burning up so much for a non-bender. At least this hug prevented the other from seeing just how much her face had heated up.

“Do you think you could help me with somethin-?”

“Yes.” 

‘Mai, you stupid idiot you didn’t even wait for her to finish, how desperate could you be?’ her mind chastised her, all the while being a hypocrite as it knew that there was nothing she wouldn’t do for her. 

Pearlescent grey eyes that diamonds could only dream of imitating softened, conveying admiration and forgiveness and happiness and with each passing second Mai could feel her heart hammering faster and faster. ‘You better stop!’ she wanted to scream at the faulty organ. ‘I don’t know why you are making me feel this way, but you better stop!’ The black haired girl’s panicked eyes flickered away from Ty Lee’s gaze and strikingly fixated on her lips and for the life of her she couldn’t look away and-

Oh, shit.

She liked Ty Lee.

Oh, Agni was laughing up in the spirit world wasn’t he?

‘Oh, shit’ was right.

When Ty Lee finally left, a spring in her step as one of her friendships had been restored, the other noble was sitting on her bed - clasping her head for hours. Wondering how she missed it. Opening her letter from Zuko, pouring over his words and wisdom, she was shocked how often he talked about Ty Lee and asked how things were going between them. Oh, let the spirits have mercy. Zuko knew her own feelings before her? How obvious had she been for the boy who took three weeks to notice his mother’s new hairstyle before her? 

Oh, brother.

She was a mess.

Chapter Text

Azula was tired.

A simple, short sentence. One lacking vivid imagery, metaphors, alliteration or any other literary devices to illustrate the girl’s feelings. One that an author clearly hasn’t revised one, two, three times to find grammatical errors, to find better ways or similes to capture the scene in all its glory. One that clearly shows that the author didn’t google synonyms for a particular word and selected the one that looked the most sumptuous or grandiose. Yet sometimes there is no need for further detail. 

Because that simple sentence fully encompassed Azula’s entire experience thus far. That’s what everything boiled down to anyway. What the crux of the princess’ life was. 

Tired is an interesting word - with two different meanings. One, in need of rest or sleep - the other, bored or impatient with. And she felt both with such intensity, such vigour - that this parasite of a sensation devoured all her other emotions - happiness, excitement, empathy with glutinous satisfaction. Until only a few remained and solidified themselves into her personality.

Anger.

Sadness.

Contempt.

Fear.

Apathy.

Each day, the hollowness inside her consumed and consumed and consumed in its never-ending hunger, and she feared whatever control she thought she had had vanished completely. What exactly was this sensation? She didn’t know. Azula prided herself on her arsenal of knowledge - in history, literature, firebending and reading others like children’s books. Yet she couldn’t read this hollowness despite her fevering desperation. It had been her eager companion ever since she realised her father loved ‘Azula the puppet’ more than ‘Azula the person’. Ever since her mother began her blatant favouritism of her brother, the subtle narrowing of eyes and shivers as she tried to play cute like Zuko to get attention. Ever since whispers travelled like the plague amongst the palace staff, calling her a ‘little monster’ and ‘tyrant’. 

What was so wrong with her to deserve this isolation?

This loneliness?

How was it, in a palatial building, filled with servants and cooks and the remnants of her family, she couldn’t feel more abandoned? 

The only family she ever really cared about - who truly loved her, acknowledging her flaws, quirks and embraced her regardless, was gone. And she didn’t know if he was ever going back. Azula got a singular chance to say goodbye. To say something, anything while her brother fought for his life against infection and disease on a bed she wouldn’t wish upon her least favourite servant. Yet all she did was spit out cruel words and make everything worse. 

Typical Azula. That’s all she ever did.

Poking and prodding until she pushed everyone away.

Once with Zuko, now with Ty Lee and Mai. 

Now, she was getting what she deserved: a self-constructed prison of her own design. Barred behind a mask of the ‘Firelord’s perfect monstrous daughter’. Clinging with whitening fingertips to her last string of sanity proved to be getting harder and harder, but who was she fooling? At this point, she was grasping at thin air. That minute thread had long since lost itself in the winds of despair and hopelessness. 

How pathetic. 

“P-princess Azula? This is the time that you are supposed to meet with Lady Ty and Lady Mai at the palace gardens.”

Of course.

With what limited free reign she possessed over her own life, this was the only period of the day she could meet with her friends. Was friends the right word to describe one who screams and yells insults at those who are trying to help? Unless it was, Azula wouldn’t use that word to describe her relationship with those two girls. Ty Lee and Mai were nice. Truly good people at heart who don’t deserve to be with a corrupting influence who would only drag them down to the abyss with her. The sooner she scares them off, the sooner their lives will improve. At least they can escape.

Ζuko never got that chance.

“Fine.”

Slamming the door open with enough force that it ricocheted off the body of the maid, the princess promptly made her way over to the garden. Switching into the role of the tyrant with disturbing ease. Was it just a role, or was this just part of her now? Had the mask she donned since birth become too ingrained into her skin, too latched onto her soul like a blood-sucking leech to take off? Immediately, the show began. Barely registering the crude insults leaving her poisonous lips until Ty Lee’s face was wet with tears and Mai’s usual resting bitch face sharply contorted into a disgusted grimace. Yes, that was the right reaction.

Go away. Go away and never come back.

Eventually, the one sided assault transformed into a raging battle between her and Mai, infernos flaring with malice and abuse burning scars on both sides.

“Silent bitch who never contributes until it’s too late!”

“Psychotic traitor who kicks turtleducks to feel something!”

“No wonder your own mother ignores you and dreams for a son!”

“No wonder your mum left you!”

“This wasn’t supposed to happen,” Ty Lee howled from the sidelines, clutching something to her chest. “This wasn’t the plan.”

“Well, screw the plan Ty Lee!” Mai snarled. Snatching the envelope from the crumpled girl, she stomped over to the crown princess. Shoving it into her chest with all her soaring rage, hatred, sorrow. “If you want to be alone Azula, be alone for all I care! Αll we came here to do was talk and give you this.”

“We’re leaving.”

Azula watched the two walk off, a mixture of relief and sorrow settling in her stomach. This was what she wanted. She won. Hadn’t she? Would a winner feel shattered if their opponents didn’t even turn back, to catch a glimpse of her as they disappeared from view? 

Did she even mean anything to them? Was their entire friendship just one lonely monster clinging to two girls who just wanted to get away from her the first real chance they got?

Clenching the letter with a vice grip, her eyes roamed over its crumpled surface. Going over the faded crown in the corner three times before it registered. Before it clicked.

At that moment, the hollowness felt generous, and graced her with emotions.

Hope.

Happiness.

Carefully folding it into her sleeve, Azula walked to her room with as much restraint as she could. Refusing to make eye-contact with the help, to hear whatever filth and dirty gossip about her they used to make up for the monotony in their pathetic lives. Only when the door was closed and locked, then checked a reasonable four times, did the young girl bounce on her bed, ripping the envelope open with a pearl dagger.

Scanning over the letter with uncomfortably warm hands, the young girl took in her brother’s words. His messages. His partial truths and lies. Because Azula had known Zuko for long enough to be able to discern his tells, even in writing. Only after she had fully taken it all in did she set the letter down, crinkling the fragile paper with her grip and staring at the candle that illuminated her experience. An unwilling participant in this uncertain event - when the future could vary from screaming to destroying the candle to a pile of wax. It was the usual Azula stare, a clear blankness in her eyes that almost no one could read. Hiding whatever happiness, sadness, anger hid behind that rigid mask. Nothing but the lone flame on the candle moved, nervously jerking from side to side. Trembling in trepidation, fear, anxiety and dread, then violently started when the girl’s eyes became glassy with tears. Yet no water cascaded down her cheek, all contained in a sheen that blurred her vision like rain on a window pane. Blood trickled from where a canine punctured her lip, but even the stinging didn’t stop the water starting to stream. A trickle became a river and then a tumultuous ocean of relief, frustration, happiness and relief. Eyes roamed over a serene picture of a surprisingly well drawn temple perched on a mountain top. Carefully, she peeled back a poster of Firelord Azulon to slot the drawing behind it. Azula couldn’t believe it.

She wasn’t forgotten. She wasn’t completely alone.

Her brother may be keeping secrets from her, the bastard, but she had secrets of her own. Pinching the letter containing light and air from a world so different to hers, Azula held onto it like a buoy in a storm.

Then, in one quick motion, she fed the letter to the candle’s flame - surprised by the sudden food source but happily gorged on the oh-so flammable paper. Τhe princess watched as the scribbling was quickly consumed and turned to ash in mere seconds.

While art can be viewed by many, not all letters are meant to be read.