Chapter Text
One of her first memories was of her father’s smile.
Azula must have been around four, for Zuko had not yet been born. Her father had been a distant figure then—towering, imposing, angry, rarely glancing her way. Her mother was no closer—not so intimidating, but the woman seemed to shy away from Azula’s chubby hands when the girl reached for her, Ursa’s face a beautiful, sad mask.
In lieu of parents, Azula had been brought up by an army of nursemaids—low born noblewomen and merchants’ daughters seeking to elevate their family station. They treated the young princess with a mix of doting care when her parents were watching, and bored disinterest when they were alone. Even at three, Azula could pick up on the difference, and it would make her lip curl with irritation. It would be years before she would understand the concept of loyalty—particularly the loyalty she, the princess, was due—but she was clever enough to see when she was being cheated. To spite her maids, she would give them the slip whenever their interest waned in her long enough for her to scuttle away, and she delighted in the sounds of them searching for her in increasing terror.
On this particular day, she had slipped away from them while they were gossiping over the comeliness of her cousin, Lu Ten. They were too busy tittering over the handsome young man to notice her crawling away through a crack in the stone wall beside them, and Azula waited just long enough to hear them panic as they noticed she was gone before crawling further towards freedom.
Her escape route had put her near the training grounds, a place expressly off limits to proper young ladies such as herself. Delighted to break two taboos in one day, Azula crawled forward, following the lively sounds of battle.
She broke through the bushes onto a balcony overhanging the training grounds. Below, her father stood in a circle of green-clad men. Azula frowned. She’d heard very little about the war, so far, but her nursemaids had told stories of the evil and brutality of the green-suited Earth Kingdom men. And sure enough, two of them moved, and suddenly the ground beneath her father’s feet was roiling, a chunk of rock ripped from the cobbles heading towards him. Azula tried to scream a warning—
But the rock exploded into scarlet flame, burning ash raining down on the Earth Kingdom men. Her father had moved so quickly she’d barely seen it, and now a ring of flame burst out from where he stood. The men in green screamed, scattering. Some tried to throw up stone walls, but it was useless; her father was less a man than a force of nature. They fell one by one, until Ozai stood alone amongst the blaze.
High above, still hidden in the trees, Azula stared in wonder. Never, never in her life had she seen such a display. Not from her sad, distant mother, or her tittering, silly maids. Not from the firebending tutor that came by once a week to teach her half-hearted basics, like breath control. That was something real, something primal.
She crawled backwards through the trees until she reached an empty area of the training ground. There, she paused, staring at her tiny hands. Her tutor and her dreadful old uncle said that firebending came from the breath, but father’s flame ring had been triggered by the motion of his hands. Azula waved her arms, trying to copy the gesture…
Nothing happened. Curling her lip in a pout, she plopped down in the dirt in frustration.
There was no point in crying—sound might get her caught by the maids, who would pull her back for more boring lessons. She would get no help from those women, nor from father. He had rarely looked her way before, even during the limited times they’d been in the same room. But…if she mastered his firebending technique, maybe…
Azula imagined herself at his side, fighting the green-clad assassins. Not afraid, not alone, but an unstoppable team—
A little red flame burst to life in the center of her palm.
Azula’s eyes followed it raptly. It certainly wasn’t the first time she’d ever created fire. She’d made a lot of accidental blazes before, and been punished for her lack of control. But this was the first time she’d done it on purpose, without her tutor monitoring her every step of the way.
Something felt special about this flame, like it was more alive than the others, more real. She imagined it bigger, stronger—and as if in response to her thoughts, the flame grew. Now it was the size of an appleberry, with streaks of warm gold at the base.
Azula grinned. Slowly, she fed the little flame, growing it until it was a glowing yellow orb, like a tiny Agni in the palm of her hand. Delicate curls of fire licked out from its sides, playing gently over her skin but never quite making contact—warm, but not burning. A faint crackle filled Azula’s ears as she stared into the heart of the flame. It was so bright…
“Azula!”
She jumped at the noise. The flame almost went out, but she held it steady, then waved it in front of the approaching maid. The woman stopped dead, her face red with anger.
“We have been searching for you all afternoon only to find you in the dirt playing with—put that out at once—“
“Put it out? Why?”
Azula and the maid both gasped at the same time. Father was striding across the courtyard, flanked by his guards and attendants. He’d thrown a silk robe over his bare chest, but Azula could see traces of dirt, blood, and ash still smeared across his skin from the fight. The maid fell forward, prostrating herself with a terrified sigh. Azula stayed where she was, not wanting to move too much and let the flame go out.
“A yellow flame the size of a grown man’s fist,” said father, and a thrill of terror ran up Azula’s spine to see that his golden eyes were locked on her. “And a perfect orb. A level of control that some benders spend their lives searching for.” His eyes flicked back to the maid. “And you would have her put it out? To hide your own mistake in losing track of my daughter for hours at a time?”
The maid gave a terrified yelp. “My lord, please, I beg you—“
Father jerked his head, and his attendants peeled away from his side like silent shadows. They grabbed the maid under her arms, pulling her out of the courtyard. Azula tried to follow them with her eyes, but father crouched between them, obstructing her view.
“When my wife delivered a girl as my firstborn, my brother had the gall to say that perhaps Agni did not smile upon my line,” said father softly, his eyes on the flame. Azula forgot about the maid and her manners. Her face fell into a deep scowl.
“He’s a dumb old man,” she snapped, petulantly. She hadn’t cared for Iroh before that and liked him even less now.
Father stared in shock, and a chill ran through her—oh, she’d gone too far, the maids were always warning her of this—but then father threw back his head and laughed; deep belly laughs that made his black hair flow like waves down his shoulders and his eyes twinkle like little flames.
“Perhaps you are right, little spark,” he said, tapping the end of her nose. “He seems to have been wrong about you.” He smiled at the flame in her hands, then at her. “Tell me, what else can you do?”
Azula considered it. She could feel the little flame at the edge of her fingertips, as acutely as if it were an extension of her hands. It was warm, and alive, and part of her. It breathed when she did—maybe firebending did have something to do with breath after all. Huh.
Experimentally, she bounced it a little in her hands. She could still feel the tenuous link between herself and the flame, could still exercise control…so, as father watched approvingly, she tossed it up into the air.
The fireball left a beautiful, glittering arc, then landed safely in her palms. Azula was certain her face was glowing with joy, but better still was her father’s smile. Big and broad, with his eyes crinkling at the edges…she’d never seen it before. Iroh looked at Lu Ten like that, sometimes. But no one had…
“Toss it to me, now,” father called, and Azula nodded quickly. Eager to please, she carefully molded the little flame into as round a shape as possible and sent it across the space between them. She felt her connection to the ball fray and snap, and a sudden, momentary terror as its bright heat disappeared. Father caught it nimbly, sending it back to her, and then it was hers again, warm against her palms. The sense of fear disappeared—she understood the game now; they were playing catch.
She laughed brightly, sending it back. He grinned, returning it. Azula caught it, cocking her arm back to throw again—
“Ozai! What in Agni’s name are you doing?”
The sudden shriek knocked Azula off balance. She put too much spin on her throw, and it went sideways. Horrified, she watched father—who had also turned towards the sound—try to grab the fireball, only to wheel backwards with a snarl of pain. He doubled over, and when he was standing again, Azula could see that part of his silk robe had blackened and burned away to reveal a shiny red burn.
“Dammit, woman! You know better than to sneak up on a firebender!” Hissing in pain, father turned to glare balefully over his shoulder.
Standing at the entrance to the courtyard, heavily pregnant and pale as death, was mother. “Ozai, I didn’t mean to—I’m sorry, I just—“
“Just felt like causing trouble?” Father snapped. “You shouldn’t even be out of bed. You certainly have no place here. A nonbender—“
“I heard Azula was missing,” mother said softly, and Azula’s ears perked up. Azula didn’t know the woman even got updates on her, much less acted on them. “She’s my daughter too. And it’s my responsibility if you’re endangering her—“
Even at four, Azula knew that was the wrong thing to say. Father strode forward, eyes full of rage as he took mother’s wrist.
“She is my heir,” he hissed, and even in the awful circumstances something in Azula’s heart actually galloped with delight to be described in such a way. “And I will raise her as I see fit. You are not a firebender and your opinion on her education means nothing. Now, get back to bed—I must see the doctor about this wound your meddling has caused me…”
They strode off down the hallway. No one came back for Azula.