Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“I’m sorry, but she’s gone.” The palace doctor fiddled with his sleeve, looking up at me through his spectacles. Azula lay comatose on a cushy bed, hair splayed all over the pillows and her face pale. The lanterns hanging from the ceiling cast a red glow on her face. Her lips, usually donning a crimson smirk, were a lifeless peach instead.

Trembling, I uttered “No… it can’t be.” I gently took her hand and ran my fingers across her cold knuckles. I slowly placed my hand on her wrist, praying to Agni that there would be a pulse. It didn’t even need to be strong – just there, and if it was weak we could figure it out later. But the tiny bit of hope I clung onto was mercilessly shredded.

Azula was gone. She was gone. And she couldn’t be brought back again.

Picking her hand up again, I held it to my forehead. My thoughts were going a mile a minute, and it was almost as if I was stuck in some sort of haze. I didn’t know what to do next. I took a step back, anxious to even disturb Azula in the hopes that maybe she would wake up, that this was all just a bad dream, and Azula was just tricking me as she usually did. I could feel my friends hesitantly walking up behind me – was it even my friends? I couldn’t tell. My entire reality had shifted and the lines were blurred. “Zuko…” a female voice began, perhaps Katara’s, and wrapped a tan arm around my back. She lingered for a moment, and retreated back into the shadows. I stayed still, not daring to move.

Then the itch of a tear began to emerge. My throat was swollen and I found it hard to swallow. With no energy and nothing to hide, I relented, sinking down to the floor. Each tear, more tender than the previous, cascaded down my jawline. I let out a wail, the echo prevalent in the small room. I hiccupped through each sob, drowning out any sort of noise within the room. I was an absolutely sticky mess of tears, mucus, and saliva that dripped down from my wails. Sokka came up behind me this time, wrapping his arms around me. I allowed myself to lean back, as one was supposed to when being comforted in a time of crisis, but it did nothing to deter my emotions. I forced myself to allow the warmth of my friend to penetrate the cold defenses I had built around myself, but it was no use. Nothing, absolutely nothing, could heal the pain of losing my sister. My tears, which now landed into my hands, were stained red with the reflection of the lanterns.

Red, the color of blood, the color of a burn, the color of flames as they thrash into a person.

And there it was again. The tumultuous spin of emotions that wrecked my insides. Kept hidden away for so long, I felt everything bubbling back up again. At that point, the pressure building within me left no room for tears. Rather, it opened the gates for my anger to come rushing through. The word “furious” couldn’t even begin to describe my rage, which ascended until it reached up from my gut through my arms and then to my face, whose color was already deepening. I shoved Sokka away, jumping up to my feet, and he scrambled off to the side as if he knew what was to come. “It can’t be!” I shouted again, my ears growing hotter. This couldn’t be happening. It had to have been a lie. Yes, that was it. The doctor lied to me, and Azula was alive, just cold. That was all a big prank, one my friends played on me, that I would yell at them for later.

Almost immediately, the rage of a thousand suns reached into me, pinched me, plagued me.

I threw my fists up in the air and immediately assumed a fighting stance. The power of the sun flowed through me, energizing every part of me until I was blinded by anger. I was a firebender, one with the sun, one with the flaming sphere that envelops the world in a healthy dose of its anger. As the flames trekked up my arms, I aimed right between the man’s eyes. I could see the fear in them for myself. A flame licked at my fingertips, pleading to be released.
Stepping forward, I shot a line of fire towards a table, cluttered with salves and potions. A tube with purple liquid inside seemed to hiss, surrounded by fragrant steam. Lavender, maybe. But the scent of a potion was the least of my worries. The table went up in flames, spraying glass and other debris everywhere. Satisfied with my work, I took another step, swiping the contents of another table onto the floor. The doctor seemed to back away with each step I took, nervous about what I was going to do to him.

I felt the thrash of water, Katara’s element, trying to deter me from my objective. But the water quickly turned into steam as I engulfed it in flames. Aang’s attempt at bending my fire away from me was ultimately a failure. He persisted, and I resisted. Sokka, who was closest to my stature, tried dragging me away, out of the line of the elements Aang tried to penetrate my fire with. But I kept myself grounded and shoved him away. Toph began to hurl boulders at me from behind in a last resort attempt to get me to stop. But the pain of the bruises they created on my back was nothing compared to the pain of losing a sibling who I knew could change. And that only fueled my rage further. I would avenge Azula, no matter what. And no, I couldn’t be stopped - I could do anything I wanted, with the power of the sun deep within my blood. Anything I so desired.

Even if “anything” means killing a doctor who tried to heal my sister but ultimately failed. My vicious, callous, deranged sister. But she was also my misunderstood, confused, and damaged sister. The realization that she was gone forever nearly broke my balance. If I wasn’t planted firmly to the ground with my teeth gritted, I would have sank down longing for a sibling who was never there – at least, in the way I needed her to be. But above all, she was my sister, and no matter how she tried to kill me, she was still the lesser of two evils. And she was able to change, I was sure of it. I had thought she would recover from her mental illness someday. That one day, she would realize that I forgive her, and that her mental breakdown was the result of being cast aside by Mother and manipulated by Father.

Perhaps my dear sister never hated me at all and was just scared. Perhaps it was Father’s favor towards her that convinced her that his word was right and the truth was a lie. That the Fire Nation was the supreme nation, and all of the others needed to be removed from the face of the earth. She was young. She didn’t know. I had Uncle Iroh to protect me, and all she had was my malevolent dictator of a father who convinced her that wrong is right and right is wrong. I was fed tea and wisdom, and she was fed praise and lies.

For a moment, I considered retreating, sinking back, and letting the doctor go. He did nothing wrong, after all.

With a flick of my wrist, the flame went straight to the doctor’s forehead. He let out a piercing howl. Ragged, shallow breaths began to emanate from the man, as the flame continued to spread through him. The smell of burnt flesh and hair singed my nostrils, his blackened skin pulling away from the site of the burn. He slowly sank down to his knees, struggling to even do so as the flames consumed him. My strength, the power of the sun, tore through every layer, every fragment, every area of his body. Panicking, the two nurses beside him leaped out of the way so as to not be met with the blaze of my fury. The doctor made a futile attempt to get back up onto his feet. But the pull of death and the burns of rage whisked him downwards, and so his charred remains collapsed straight into the ground.

Only then did I realize what I had just done. I sank to the ground, trembling in disbelief. I was a firebender, and I was supposed to use my power for the greater good. In fact, I swore I would. Instead, I used it to kill an innocent doctor. I looked at my hands, slowly turning them to face me. I had used those very hands to murder a man.

I was a monster. That’s what I was. A force not to be reckoned with, and yet so miniscule I was hidden deep in the ground.

Chapter Text

The howl of the sun woke me from my slumber. As the rays of daylight threatened to pierce through my blankets, I begrudgingly pulled a crimson blanket over my face and rolled over. No, not today. I idled for a few moments, unsure whether I should let the sun in or push it away.

Well, it was either assault by sunlight or asphyxiation. And I would for sure have taken the latter.

As the chirps of the birds outside began to ring, I pushed the pillow off my face and hesitantly sat up to the discontent of my body. Hissing in pain, I scrubbed my hand over my face. I ached all over, and I had a splitting headache. But I was not going to let that stop me. I slowly got to my feet and began to assume my usual kata, with difficulty – until I realized that I couldn’t bend. Force of habit, I suppose.

After my episode in which my rage consumed me and I killed the palace doctor, Aang had taken my bending away. Even thinking about it was painful. Not only was an integral part of my identity stolen from me, but it had caused an immeasurable amount of pain – both physically and mentally. Months ago, I never could have fathomed the loss of my power, my element, my fire. And yet here I was, alone with not even a trace of fire coursing through my veins. I found myself missing it deeply. Firebending had always been such a sophisticated art. To raise a minute ember into smoldering flames, to be free to manipulate the flames however you wish, to have them rise and fall at your will.

That was something my father understood completely when it came to Azula.

But that was something I did not understand at all, because how could I ever consider myself a firebender when I was incapable of creating a single spark?

Perhaps I deserved to have my bending taken away. No, I’m sure I did – Aang was right for what he had done to me. Killing a doctor, a doctor who did the best he could in order to save my sister? Despicable. He had a wife to go to, a wife who bore his children, a family of his own. What would his wife think, knowing that her lover was burnt to ashes by the Fire Lord? His children, their father? Again, I was the damn Fire Lord. It was my duty to protect and serve my people. And instead I had killed an innocent man out of my own anger of losing my sister.

It’s not as if I hadn’t killed a man before. I had done that hundreds of times in the past. Soldiers of other nations. Soldiers of my own nation. But that was in the past, when my father was controlling the strings. I was a puppet, led to believe that my destiny was to capture the Avatar and restore my honor. I soon came to realize that my destiny was what I chose for myself, and nobody else could decide for me. And in that way, I restored my own honor.

Only to shatter it once again. I’ve asked myself a hundred times over, “Was it worth it?” and the answer each time was “No, it wasn’t.” It all amounted to nothing in the end. And here I was, all by myself. Completely alone. I remembered the horrified looks on my friends’ faces, especially Katara’s piercing shriek, as I burnt the doctor to a crisp. His howls of pain were prominent in my mind, and they continued to play back days after the incident. My head and my heart both continued to battle each other, the former concerned about my nation and the latter concerning me. I had always believed that I must acknowledge the past to move forward to the future. But this step forward, becoming the Fire Lord and promising peace to my nation, ended up moving me three steps back.

Because of me.

My overpowering thought was that I had brought this upon myself, as I always do. Everything happened because of me. The palace doctor died because of me. Aang took my bending because of me. Azula died because of me. Everything was my fault, and I couldn’t do anything to fix it except dig a hole in the deep earth and bury myself inside until the oxygen ran out and I died. Maybe then nobody would have a Fire Lord to be mad at, and my friends could continue living their lives the way they did before I joined their group. Everyone would be happy that the new Fire Lord, who had promised an era of peace and restoration, was dead. Because he abandoned his morals to go after someone innocent. Maybe the doctor’s wife would be happy to know that the man who killed her husband killed himself, and that there was no need to avenge the former. The thought of ridding the world of myself was almost enticing, as if it was forbidden.

Maybe it was forbidden.

But my nation could vote to power a new Fire Lord – beginning a new dynasty. My friends could find a new firebender. Uncle Iroh could have a new nephew. One who wasn’t such a screw-up, one who didn’t push him away when he was right all along. My nose began to sting and my throat began to swell, the self-doubt washing over me. I was starting to become dizzy, and I fell back onto my bed. A tear began to seep out, and I willed the rest to stay put. No, I didn’t deserve to cry.

Not after what I put so many people through.
...
After a very, very, long session of sulking, I quietly swept open the curtain of my bedroom and peeked out into the hallway. There were no guards nearby; they had been protecting the palace outside from intruders. After all, I knew I would have a bunch of people on my back.
Dark cherry curtains cascaded along the walls. Up on the ceiling were meticulously placed lanterns, offering a gentle amber glow as far as the eye could see. An intricate rug on the floor scratched at my feet. I trudged down the hallway, nearly tripping over myself multiple times.

When Aang took my bending, it took a physical toll on me, and I needed to be on bedrest for a few days. Therefore, walking around proved to be somewhat difficult for me. And so was having a clue about what exactly I was doing, because I quickly realized I had no idea where exactly I was going. These same halls, I’ve seen thousands of times. There was nothing different about them beyond the way the ceiling beams looked extra weathered. As if they were wet.

I immediately ended my stroll and glanced in both directions. At the same time, I knew it was pointless to even try and check that nobody was there. It’s not like I had any defenses for myself. Bending? Gone. Dao swords? I didn’t have them at that moment. Hand-to-hand combat? I was barely strong enough to walk, and I had no energy to fight. So in that way, leaving my room seemed like a really bad idea. But I wanted to see Sokka. He was the only person who didn’t give me a dirty look every time he saw me. All of my friends were staying in the guest rooms in the palace, and he seemed to be the only one I saw outside of them.

After going through a winding hallway and agonizingly climbing and descending several flights of stairs, I reached the guest wing. If I remembered correctly, Sokka was staying in the room behind the second curtain. But I immediately hesitated. What if he didn’t want to talk to me? Because I desperately needed someone to talk to. Someone to confess my fears, my desires, my emotions to. Nobody had visited me at all during those first few days beyond the servants. I almost decided to just abandon my plan and walk away.
“Sokka?” I called, my voice shaking.

“In here,” he replied. I followed the sound of his voice – to the third curtain. Warily, I pulled the curtain aside. Four heads whipped up, Sokka’s included. They all sat around a table on the floor, playing pai sho. Almost immediately, Sokka gestured for me to stay put. He kicked his legs around under the table and stumbled in my direction. “Come on, man.” He gave me a half-smile. “Let’s talk outside.”