Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Ugh, Zuko—have you always been this shitty of a driver?” Azula snaps from the passenger seat.

Zuko groans and rolls his eyes, but says nothing.

Truth be told, he’s doing fine. Maybe he slammed the brakes a little too hard at that light, but Azula has to admit to herself, her main reason for that comment had nothing to do with Zuko’s driving. She’s just not sure how to break this…weird tension between them. This whole getting along like healthy siblings thing is entirely foreign to her.

Azula can’t believe how much has changed. Just over a year ago, she was basically a local celebrity; a foreign exchange student from the Fire Nation—the daughter of one of the Fire Nation’s top business moguls, no less—and top of her class. She’d been on the cover of a magazine before. Everyone admired her. Or they hated her. But either way, they recognized her for her ferocity and her strength…just the way Azula preferred it.

She stares out the window at the people meandering down the sidewalk, wondering what they think of her now. Or if they even know who she is anymore. Zuko had assured her that he’d kept things as low-profile as possible, and for good measure, Azula agreed to stay with him in his apartment. It’s away from the city, in a quiet suburb where they’d be less likely to be recognized.

Zuko had told her with a smile that Uncle Iroh lives nearby in the suite above his restaurant, and that hardly anyone in town knows he’s Ozai Sozin’s brother. Azula once scoffed at that. It was just like Zuko and Uncle fuddy-duddy to throw away greatness to chase a pathetic quiet lifestyle. Unlike them, Azula had come to Republic City to stand out, to make a name for herself, for her own ambition. Or rather…Ozai’s ambition.

Azula knows now her father was a shitty person. She feels like an absolute fucking moron for not seeing it sooner.

Ozai had always complained that Republic City was too multicultural, but even he acquiesced that the university’s premier business school in the heart of the world’s technology hub was the most prestigious place to send his little valedictorian prodigy for an education. Azula didn’t realize at the time that the separation from Ozai necessitated by the move was the best thing to happen to her.

In an ironic twist of fate, just like her brother.

Being like Zuko had always seemed like the worst fate imaginable to Azula. Ozai certainly reinforced that idea whenever he could. Zuko was useless. Zuko was a failure. Zuko would never amount to anything in life.

Azula always held that over him, used Zuko as proof that she was winning some unspoken game. She was smarter, more ambitious, better than him.

But now, looking back on it, at everything that happened, Azula isn’t so sure. Ozai—she refuses to call that man her father, now—wasn’t the infallible image of perfection she’d once considered him. Azula sees him for what he is now: a pathetic, slimy worm…finally rotting in the prison cell he should have been tossed in years ago.

Then Azula looks at Zuko beside her, his face peaceful as he slowly drives the car. From this angle, Azula can’t see the scar on his face. Only a focused eye, a relaxed jaw, and the tiniest hint of a smile. He’s in law school, now. At Republic City University. He has a job, and friends, and a life. And, after all, Zuko wasn’t the one who just spent a year of his life locked up in the looney bin.

Maybe being like her big brother wouldn’t have been such a bad thing, as it turns out.

Fuck, Azula can’t believe how far she’s fallen.

“I think you’ll like Morishita,” Zuko says suddenly, prompting Azula to turn back to him with a frown. “It’s quiet here. It’s a good place for a new start.”

Azula almost laughs at that. Clearly, Zuko is just as unnerved by this situation as her. He was never a stellar conversationalist, but she can almost sense the awkwardness radiating from him as he tries to think of something to say.

But, at least he’s giving her a chance. A chance is more than Azula feels she deserves at this point, especially from Zuko. Especially after what she did.

Zuko was only trying to help—despite all those years she’d spent kicking him while he was down—and Azula once again lashed out at him for it.

That night, she only remembers in fragments. She remembers confronting Ozai after he forgot to show up to a networking event for the business department at Republic City University as a guest speaker, as she’d promised all of her colleagues. She remembers him yelling. How ungrateful of her, to not understand the needs of such a busy man.

Then she remembers his hands. Creeping where a father’s hands should never creep, and dozens of odd childhood memories of the strange games they used to play coming roaring back.

She doesn’t remember leaving his hotel room. She remembers seeing her mother and hearing her voice, even though she knows she wasn’t really there. She doesn’t remember Zuko and his friend bursting into her apartment, or why they did. She doesn’t remember what they said.

But she does remember screaming at Zuko that she’d fucking kill him, and she remembers flinging a potted plant into his chest with all her strength and reaching for a knife. She remembers that Water Tribe girl tackling her to the ground.

And she remembers being dragged away, locked in handcuffs. It still makes her feel fucking disgraceful.

“I don’t even know how you can look at me,” Azula says finally. “Everyone else hates me. Besides, you won. You don’t have to play nice with me anymore.”

Zuko’s visible eye narrows, but doesn’t leave the road. “Won?”

“Yes, you won. I can admit that,” Azula huffs. “You’re the one with a stable life, not the crazy bitch who got institutionalized.”

“You’re wrong, Azula. I was never competing with you,” Zuko says simply. “Yes, you hurt me—but you were hurting, too. And I’m sorry, Azula. I’m sorry for taking so long to realize that.”

Azula feels her face contort into a sneer. Her old self would have laughed at him for being so pathetic and weak—apologizing to the very person who threatened to kill him.

Although, Azula knows she didn’t really mean that, no matter how angry and hysterical she’d felt in the moment. She used to think she hated Zuko, she used to agree with Ozai’s sentiment that he was nothing but an embarrassment to the family…but the thought of not having him around makes her stomach turn. And despite everything, he still manages to bring out that wretched softness of his that Azula can’t believe is real. She doesn’t even know what to say to him.

“You don’t have to pity me,” Azula finally decides on.

“I don’t,” Zuko says, before following it with barely a whisper: “But I do love you.”

Azula huffs again and goes back to staring out the window. She’ll just pretend she didn’t hear it. While she wouldn’t exactly accuse Zuko of lying—after all, he is known for being a shitty liar—she still can’t accept that he truly means that.

It’s something Azula has learned to accept about herself. She isn’t someone who can be loved. And she’s made peace with that fact. She’s cruel, selfish, and pragmatic. She’s always been that way, and while Azula used to view it as a form of power, she sees the truth now. It was never about power or achievement; it was about survival. Azula used to love herself for her cruelty, then she hated herself for it, but now she feels she’s simply accepted it. She doesn’t like the person she is, but that person allowed her to survive. At least now, Azula can control it. She’s safe; she doesn’t have to think in terms of survival. She doesn’t have to hurt people again.

They turn a corner, and Azula catches a glimpse of Zuko’s scar as he quickly looks over his shoulder. She can’t help the guilt she feels every time she sees it now, especially because that feeling isn’t entirely guilt—part of it is jealousy.

Azula always viewed Zuko as weak. And maybe he was. He was the one to bear the brunt of Ozai’s wrath, the one who nearly died in the ER after the accident involving a blowtorch. But Zuko is lovable. He can be loved. Azula remembers the way Mai used to look at him and knows nobody would ever look at her the same way. She’s dirty. Tainted. Wicked. Those traits might have served her in the past, but now they’ve left her without a soul, if such a thing existed.

“Everyone misses you, you know,” Zuko says, still staring straight ahead. He clearly didn’t miss her reaction to his last statement.

Azula snorts out a dark laugh. “Why? Did it get too boring without a psycho bitch threatening to murder them?”

“Azula,” Zuko snaps, clutching the steering wheel. She feels herself smirk. They haven’t even made it back to his apartment yet and he’s already failing to hide the truth—the disdain she knows he still holds for her. “It’s been a while. They know it wasn’t easy for you, either. They just want to see you’re doing well, okay?”

Azula huffs again. By okay, they probably just mean sedated. They’re probably hoping to see her loopy and drooling, a shell of her former self. The person they used to hold in high regard—a mix of jealousy and admiration—brought low. At least she won’t give them that satisfaction, but Azula still knows their concern is false. They don’t really care. Azula has accepted she can’t be loved. Period.

She’s accepted that. But admittedly, she hasn’t fully accepted that she no longer wants love.

Ozai loved her—or so she thought. It’s why it took Azula so long to see how he was poisoning her. During her first week in the institution, she’d decided that if that’s what love is, she didn’t want it.

But it wasn’t that simple. It’s never that simple.

Azula’s mind once again drifts to Zuko in the car next to her, and the friends who are supposedly dying to see her again. She stares out the window at the busy sidewalk they’re passing, and all the people there. She sees friends laughing together, mothers with their children, and couples walking hand-in-hand.

And none of it feels real.

It’s Azula’s first day moving out of the hospital, and already the outside world seems fake. Somehow more artificial than the sterile halls and bare-bones rooms she’s grown used to. It’s almost as if she’s still trapped there in some way, staring out through glass at a happy world that was never meant for her.

Not that she’d ever admit such a thing, but Azula wishes she had friends. She wishes she had her mother back. She wishes to be loved, although she no longer seems to understand what that means.

Azula watches those people outside the car, and she can’t help but think they’re faking it. Just like Zuko next to her. What secret resentment did they hold for each other? What fight is yearning to break out between them? What are the weaknesses, where are the cracks in the perfect exterior? Azula knows they’re there. They always are. Nobody can actually be that happy.

Then, they pass a theater, and Azula can’t help that silly feeling of longing that washes over her. She remembers Mom loving the theater, and hated being dragged to plays alongside Zuko. Especially musicals. Azula always found them tacky. She never went to one willingly—except once.

It was her freshman year of college, and there was a musical all the girls were raving about. Kyoshi, it was called, about the ancient female warriors from Kyoshi Island. Azula remembers scoffing at it, and all the silly girls thinking they were anything like those warriors. All the tacky songs being blasted across every radio station and department store speaker system in the mall. Obnoxious. Azula swore to herself she’d never see it; her tastes in media were far too refined for that nonsense.

Then, Ty Lee asked her to go.

Azula usually had no trouble telling people to shut up when they were annoying her. Usually in a more creative, stinging way, too. But somehow, there was a lock on the idea of snarkily rejecting Ty Lee like that. Ty Lee wasn’t fake; she might have been goofy and bubbly, but it was something genuine. People mocked her for it too, which bothered Azula in a way she didn’t quite understand.

There were a lot of things about Ty Lee she didn’t—still doesn’t—understand. Azula doesn’t understand why Ty Lee wanted to be around her—the mean, harsh daughter of some Fire Nation businessman. She doesn’t understand why she liked to be around Ty Lee, when anyone else acting so outgoing and boisterous would have driven her mad. She doesn’t understand why she feels such…intense emotions when she remembers going to that stupid musical with Ty Lee and watching the stage lights dance off her smiling face.

Azula huffs as the theater fades from view, just like those memories. Gone, all the same. Ty Lee wouldn’t ever look at her with that smile again. Last time Azula saw her, it was from inside a squad car. Ty Lee looked horrified. At her, and the monster everyone ultimately knew she was.

Maybe Ty Lee just didn’t know better. Maybe that’s the only reason why she was able to give Azula such a sweet and genuine smile.

Azula shakes the thought away. It doesn’t matter now. She has a fresh start to her career. Zuko at least has connections, which Azula won’t hesitate to exploit. An in at a law firm—even as a secretary—is a step. She knows what she has to do. Finish her degree, apply to law school, and start ripping the whole system to shreds. The one that abused her and Zuko, the one that took her mother away. Azula might be cold, ruthless, and downright cruel…but at least now she can direct it. She can save it for the people who deserve it and leave everyone else alone.

The only challenge is, they don’t seem to want to leave her alone.

Zuko talks almost as if nothing happened. He chatters away next to her about how Uncle Iroh offered to bring them dinner tonight, since they’ll be busy getting Azula moved in. Zuko tells her that he and his girlfriend already brought over a bunch of her old possessions, and that she’s at the apartment waiting for them. The fucking welcome home party he’d planned.

Azula bites her lip. Why can’t they just leave her alone? Azula spent the past year essentially alone, and it seems to have worked wonders for her. She functions best that way. Nobody can hurt her, and she can’t hurt them in turn.

Zuko finally parks the car in front of a building, a plain-looking red brick structure with vines winding their way up the sides. It looks almost as if they’ve eaten their way halfway inside. Azula sighs. She can only hope the place looks more…modern inside.

“I know it’s probably not what you’re used to, but it’s not bad here,” Zuko muses, as if he read her mind. “It’s quiet.”

Azula glares at him. “Don’t worry, Zuzu. I won’t complain. Living in the loony bin kind of puts things in perspective, you know.”

Zuko’s eyes narrow as he shuts off the engine. “Don’t say that.”

“Why not?” Azula huffs, rolling her eyes as she climbs out of the car. “It’s what everyone is thinking.”

Zuko slams the door and stares at her over the roof of the car. The angry, pained look in his eyes momentarily takes Azula by surprise, but at least he’s finally showing something real.

“How do you ever expect to move on if you can’t let anything go?” he snaps.

Azula just chuckles to herself as she turns away from him, towards the backseat where the few personal belongings she’d been allowed with her sit. Move on? Like that’s ever going to happen. Azula isn’t stupid. She knows she hurt people. She knows she scared them, intimidated them, used them. They know it too. Who in their right mind would trust her again? They’d be fools, but whatever. Azula is simply meant to be alone. She’s accepted that. She has.

Zuko doesn’t say anything else as he leads the way into the building, past a rusty gate and a lantern that looks like it’s been there since the fall of the Earth Empire. The walkway has nearly been conquered by the weeds growing up through the cracks, and the lobby is in desperate need of a thorough scrubbing.

Azula feels her nose wrinkle, but for some reason bites back the snarky comment she wants to make. She doesn’t know why; it’s clearly what Zuko expects of her anyways.

But, she hadn’t been lying earlier. Even this place is more tolerable than sterile acrylic floors that somehow smelled like bleach and mildew at the same time. She simply follows Zuko up the cramped, dim staircase, eager to get this move over with.

“Your room is at the end of the hall on the right,” Zuko says as he fumbles with the lock. “It looks out over the courtyard garden. I think you’ll like it.”

Azula isn’t sure the half-dead vines and weeds clinging to a bunch of outdated statues count as a garden, but whatever. At least she has a window without bars over it.

Fuck, Azula hates to think how far she’s fallen.

She hefts the strap of her backpack over her shoulder one last time as Zuko finally swings the door open…and is immediately greeted by a pair of angry blue eyes.

“What is she doing here?” Azula snaps, jabbing a finger towards Katara.

What is Zuko thinking? Last time she’d seen her, she’d been tackled to the ground. Azula feels her chest tighten at the memory and feels her glare deepen.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Zuko says, holding up his hands and stepping between them, as if trying to mediate. “I told you she’d be here to help, right Azula?”

Azula blinks. He said his girlfriend was coming to help but—

“Oh…my mistake,” Zuko mumbles, putting his head in his hands. Dum-dum. “You were expecting Mai, weren’t you.”

“Um, yeah, they didn’t exactly send me a newsletter about your love life, genius,” Azula snaps.

She doesn’t care. So what? She can handle one stuck-up Water Tribe girl. This is not bothering her, but for some reason Azula can’t help but feel on edge. She can’t stop thinking of that night, of being in a room just like this with Zuko and Katara, and…and…

“Well, yeah…uh…Katara and I are dating now,” Zuko says with a smile towards Katara. Her skeptical expression doesn’t change. “But don’t worry; you’ll still get a chance to see Mai. She and her girlfriend are coming to the welcome party.”

Azula stares at Zuko like he’s grown two heads. This whole situation feels wrong—it’s like the entire world has changed since she’s been away. Nothing is the same anymore…how could she possibly adjust back to it? Zuko, dating that overly moralistic medical student he used to constantly bicker with. Mai, not with Zuko and with some random girl instead—fuck, is she dating Ty Lee? No, no…Zuko would have used her name if Azula knew her. Surely he would have.

And Zuko—Azula doesn’t ever recall seeing him like this before. Of course he was always a soft-hearted puppy hiding behind a temper, but something about him seems so relaxed now. He’s not the high-strung basket case of a brother she once knew; he’s different now. Mature…peaceful even. It’s almost sickening.

“I’m going to my room,” Azula says, waving a hand dismissively as she heads towards the door Zuko had indicated. “It’s been a long day.”

She doesn’t look back at the pair of them; she’s had enough of this strange new world. Part of Azula foolishly hopes she’ll wake up tomorrow morning in her old bed, and that the past two years were just a bad dream.

But, she lost hope of that happening after the first hundred nights in the psych ward. This is her life now.

Azula closes the door behind her with a sigh and takes in the small room before her. It’s very plain—a bed, a nightstand, a desk, and a closet, with a few boxes of her belongings in the corner. It feels like a downgrade and an upgrade all at once.

But, Azula decides she’s too tired to deal with any of that now. She doesn’t even know what time it is, but she’s had enough. She flops down on the rust-colored quilt and closes her eyes, trying to see a way forward in this place. It’s new, certainly, but nothing like Azula used to picture her future. Where does she go from here?

The door swings open, and Azula looks up with an irritated glare that only deepens when she sees who it is.

“Zuko said to bring this here,” Katara says tersely, holding up a photo album before plopping it down on the desk. “He said you might like it.”

Azula only smirks. Katara regards her as if the very act of looking her in the eyes and speaking to her is a chore, as if she’s being forced by some invisible force.

“Why are you even here?” she sneers. “Clearly, you don’t want to be here.”

“I’m here for Zuko,” Katara says pointedly. “Not you.”

“What, are you going to stand outside his door all night so I don’t cut his throat in his sleep?” Azula chuckles, lying back on the bed and shaking her head. The humor seems to be lost on Katara. “You’re hilarious, you know.”

Katara marches right over to the edge of the bed, staring down at Azula with a furious stare. Azula frowns. The audacity of this one. She should count herself fucking lucky Azula has been through intensive therapy.

“Look, I have no idea why Zuko cares so much, but he does,” Katara growls. “He wants his sister back, and he’s been torn up for months about it. So yes, I’m here to help. For Zuko, because I hate seeing him in pain. But honestly? I don’t trust you. You hurt him—you threatened to kill him—and you don’t even seem that sorry. So mark my words…if you show even a hint of being a danger to Zuko or anyone else, I’ll make sure you’re locked up for good this time.”

She doesn’t even give Azula a chance to respond before she turns and leaves the room, slamming the door behind her. Azula feels herself laugh faintly as she stares back up at the cracked ceiling. What a performance. Just as high and mighty as ever.

But part of Azula can’t help but feel stung by those words, even considering the source. She really does come off like a pretentious bitch to everyone, doesn’t she? Azula used to consider it a form of jealous compliment, but that feeling has soured. She threatened to kill Zuko and didn’t feel sorry, Katara had accused.

Does she? Does she feel sorry?

Azula feels a lot of things, but she doesn’t know. She doesn’t want to think about it, and doesn’t want to think about what the fact that she can’t answer that question says about her.

She rolls over, and closes her eyes. She hates this place. She hates it, and wishes she were somewhere else.

Azula tries to picture somewhere she’d rather be, but yet again…nothing comes to mind.

Chapter Text

Group therapy.

Azula loathes the idea; she’s been more or less left on her own outside of her appointments, and she prefers it that way. She’s tired of being seen, especially in a place like this. She feels stripped of everything—pride, dignity, freedom. Her old clothes and makeup are all gone, leaving her without a trace of her former self.

Nobody respects her now. She used to take pride in being the daughter of an influential businessman, but now it’s just a scandal. Azula has been reduced to a psychotic reflection of her criminal father, some twisted combination of a victim and a bloodthirsty monster.

So, naturally, the last fucking thing she wants is to sit in a circle and tell a bunch of other crazies about it. They aren’t like her. They don’t understand what it was like to be Azula Sozin before, and how difficult the fall was. They never tasted greatness, only to have it all stripped away.

She sits, arms crossed, feeling the eyes on her but refusing to speak.

“Alright!” the leader says in an obnoxiously cheerful tone. “Let’s begin by introducing ourselves. How about…name, pronouns, and a fun fact about yourself.”

Azula snorts as she regards the others in the room. This should be interesting.

“I’m Lia, my pronouns are she/her, and…I really like cotton candy,” the first woman says.

Azula feels her nose wrinkle. Seriously? This woman is older than her, and she’s talking like a fucking toddler. How did Azula end up here with these people…

“And you?” the leader prompts Azula, after several more painfully forgettable introductions.

She scowls. “Azula. Fun fact: my dad’s in jail, in case you haven’t seen the news.”

There’s an awkward pause. If everyone wasn’t staring at her before, they surely are now. Good. Azula prefers the certainty of their fear of her.

“Thank you for sharing, Azula,” the leader says tightly, and Azula leans back with a sigh. She senses the discomfort in the room and for some reason, that brings her an odd sense of satisfaction.

She’s just about tuned everyone else out, until she hears a slightly deeper voice speak.

“My name’s Jiang. Pronouns: female. Fun fact: I’m a woman,” says a woman with buzzed-off hair and piercing green eyes.

An awkward silence to rival the one Azula caused follows.

She sounds just about as done with this place as Azula is, and for some reason, Azula decides she likes her. Finally, someone who doesn’t speak like a damn kindergarten teacher.

Azula finds herself oddly drawn to Jiang as the group sessions continue. She’s exactly the kind of person her father would have balked at her speaking to; the kind of woman he would have called a filthy dyke trying to be a man.

But, Azula feels her trust in him nonexistent, after everything came crashing down so violently. Fuck Ozai and his fucking games. Jiang seems like one of the few genuine people here.

“Are you trying to be a man or something?” Azula asks her one day, in honest curiosity.

Surprisingly, the question doesn’t seem to offend Jiang. She shrugs. “Not anymore.”

“Then why did you shave your head like that?”

Jiang only smiles. “Because I like it. My neck gets sweaty. I don’t see how my choice of hairstyle makes me less of a woman.”

She says it simply, matter-of-factly, and it gets Azula thinking.

Here she is, without any of the clothes or cosmetics she’d once used to define herself. Who is she now, without all that? Who does she even want to be? For once—Ozai in jail and no more pride to stand on—Azula doesn’t know who she is.

She finds out later that the real reason Jiang wears her hair so short is because she was never allowed to before. One of her foster fathers had forced her to keep it long, only to grab it by the handful and drag her across the floor when he came home drunk and angry. He forced her to wear dresses and skirts, only to reach underneath them.

Azula arrived here thinking she had nothing in common with the other patients, but she comes to the eerie conclusion that she’s more like them than she’d ever thought possible.

—————

Azula groans as she awakens to light shining in her eyes, and for a moment, she’s disoriented as she studies the room around her. What is this place?

It isn’t white and sterile. There’s furniture, but it isn’t bolted to the floor. She sees things that belong to her, not the hospital.

Oh…right. Zuko’s apartment, where she’d moved yesterday.

Azula huffs and studies the room around her. Her things are here, but they’re all in boxes. Her clothes are in the closet, but they’re so disorganized in a way that just screams Zuko. That won’t do. Dignity might be in short supply, but she’ll hold on to what she has.

After a quick stretch, Azula gets out of bed and puts her mind to sorting through the mess. It will make living here a bit more manageable, at least.

She decides to start with the closet. It seems the most reasonable place to start—getting everything there organized so she can put away the rest of the mess.

A younger version of herself would have sneered that a task like this is beneath her, but Azula finds herself oddly enjoying it. It makes her feel somewhat normal again—or, the best approximation of normal she’s capable of being.

At least now, she can have her own clothes. Her own place to put them, the ability to arrange them any way she chooses. The ability to exist without being watched, something Azula hasn’t had in a long time.

Or, ever, really. Having Ozai as a father meant living under constant scrutiny, arguably more so than in the institution.

The thought of him makes Azula feel sickened now. Everything she’d done for him, and what did she ever get in return?

Education, a part of her still insists. Wealth. You’d never have become the person you are without him.

Azula almost laughs at that thought. She barely knows the person she is now, but she knows enough to know she wants to be someone else. She wishes to be someone who is carefree, someone who is happy. Someone who can be openly herself and still be loved.

But people like that are stupid and weak, her inner voice tries to convince her. They’re not like you. You’re stronger, smarter. Better. Don’t forget it.

Azula rolls her eyes. She isn’t strong. She isn’t powerful. She used to think so, until she was forced to face the reality that none of her supposed power ever really belonged to her—it belonged to Ozai. Without his influence behind her, Azula had quickly found herself alone and effectively behind bars. Trapped. Stripped of all her life’s goals at that point.

If someone can take away everything you have in an instant, was it ever really yours?

Azula shakes the thought away, focused on the task at hand. She begins sorting through the disorderly rack of clothes hanging in the closet, their expensive fabrics now feeling almost foreign to her touch.

She can’t help it. She’s reminded of who bought these for her.

Azula pulls out a wine-red blouse that was once a favorite of hers. Its neckline is V-shaped and cut low, its sleeves elegantly flared, its waistline forming a flattering taper.

Lovely, my daughter, Azula remembers Ozai saying when she’d first worn it in front of him. It accentuates your figure nicely.

Fourteen. Azula was fourteen back when he’d said that, and at the time, it had felt like a fucking compliment to her. She was too naïve to see something wrong, too devoted to Ozai to think he’d ever be that kind of sick person.

Now, unfortunately, she knows better. She knows what comments like that ultimately culminated in, on the night that Ozai—

Azula throws the blouse in the garbage, hoping to throw away those memories with it. No. She won’t have her figure leered upon like that again. Not by Ozai, not by anyone else. Jiang was right. She doesn’t have to put on a fucking performance anymore. She’s not being watched by him, and she never wants to be again.

Onto the next thing.

An elegant black-and-white pencil skirt. The memory of Ozai’s eyes raking over her, up and down, before telling her how mature it made her look.

Azula throws that one away, too.

The more she tries to focus on tidying up, salvaging anything she can from her old life, the more memories keep rushing back.

It occurs to Azula how little of her life was really hers as she finally sorts through everything. The evidence sits right before her eyes.

A huge heap of designer clothing Azula wants to throw away, clothing she used to think gave her power. But now she sees the truth of it—those things were nothing but props to Ozai, meant to display to the world his ownership over her. They were meant to decorate Azula as if she herself were a decoration, another pretty object among Ozai’s collection of shiny new cars and absurdly expensive art to display his wealth.

And he treated her like it. His, to use as he pleased.

It makes Azula furious. That wasn’t her. It couldn’t have been her. She was smart, she was strong, people admired her—

But without him, she found herself with nothing.

Azula hates it. She hates it, but she’d rather be nothing than be Ozai’s possession—anyone’s possession.

Before she knows what she’s doing, she’s rummaging through the desk drawer for a pair of scissors that she frantically takes to the pile of clothes. She tears them to shreds, refusing to let them exist as reminders of her old life. Azula refuses the temptation to return, refuses the illusion that those luxuries gave her any kind of power.

Part of her wishes she didn’t know. If she was still living that lie, she might be happy. She wouldn’t hate herself and everything that her life has become.

One night. That was all it took to ruin it all.

By the time she’s done, Azula is sweating. She stares down at the scissors in her hands, and laughs to herself. Fucking psycho bitch. Maybe they were wrong to let her back out into the world.

At least now, Azula well and truly has nothing.

Well—not nothing. She wants absolutely nothing to do with low-cut blouses, skimpy dresses—any of that—but a few measly articles of clothes remain amidst the mess of shredded fabric.

An old band tee that Mai had given her after dragging her to a concert.

A pair of sweats that Ty Lee had given her in high school after she had a period mishap in gym class.

A simple black shirt with a blue dragon that Zuko had given her on Ember Island.

Well, it’s not much, but it’s something to work with. A few good memories to keep from her old life, at least.

Azula sighs and places the few things she doesn’t want to rip to shreds in the now-empty closet and closes the door with a sigh. She can deal with the rest of that later.

Fortunately, most of the boxes don’t have many things of interest as Azula sorts through them. It’s mostly a bunch of basic things—hair ties, empty notebooks, pens. Things she never thought anything about.

The only thing that makes her laugh is the doll that Uncle Iroh had given her as a child. Its hair has been hacked off and it’s covered in a plethora of wounds from matches and push-pins. Azula remembers her middle school self doing that, imagining the doll was whichever classmate had been pissing her off that particular day. Sometimes she’d even imagine it was Zuko.

She stopped that, eventually. It somehow became less amusing after Ozai actually burned him and convinced the world it was a most tragic accident.

Just as she’s about to leave things be for now, Azula spots a bottle of red lipstick in the bottom of the box. It used to be something she wore with pride. Striking, she remembers Ty Lee calling it. It used to make Azula feel powerful; she felt so much older and more fierce when she wore her iconic blood-red color.

But now, she can’t look at it the same way.

Not after Ozai and…everything else. She feels those sickening thoughts begin to consume her once again. The power she had wasn’t real. It was always just a sick fucking illusion. Feeling sexy in red lipstick, making her teenage self look older and more fuckable to grown men only makes her feel disgusted with herself now. Ozai, his goons, the rest of those filthy men…they never respected her. Azula has seen the way they talk about women like her, how they want to conquer them, how good those red lips would look wrapped around—

Azula throws the lipstick in the trash. No. She won’t be looked at that way ever again.

She won’t let it happen again. Ever.

Deep down, she knows she wants to—needs to—become a new person, so maybe this is a start.

A knock at the door brings Azula out of her own mind. She’s about to snap that she’s busy, but the door opens anyway a moment later.

She glares at Zuko. Why bother knocking if he’s just going to barge in anyway? Dum-dum.

Their eyes meet, and Azula watches Zuko’s concerned gaze shift around the mess on the floor before returning to her. Great, now he’s going to regret ever letting her stay here.

“I’m going to need some new clothes,” she says simply, rather than trying to explain. She doubts Zuko would understand.

“I can see that,” Zuko responds in a similar tone, probably because he doesn’t want to ask. “Do you…want breakfast?”

She doesn’t, honestly. Azula never feels particularly hungry in the morning, especially not for the cheap hospital food she’s used to. And while she’s glad to not be subjected to that anymore, she’s not exactly optimistic about Zuko’s cooking abilities.

But, she realizes that she doesn’t exactly have the upper hand in this situation, surrounded by a pile of designer clothes she’d just ripped to pieces like some fucking psychopath.

“Alright,” Azula surrenders. “I’ll be right there.”

Zuko nods and walks away, leaving Azula to sigh deeply and run a hand through her hair. What has become of her?

Azula catches a glimpse of herself in the mirror and she hardly recognizes herself.

The first thing she notices is how tired she looks.

Her hair is a mess, her lips are pale and chapped, and the dark circles seem to be permanently plastered under her eyes. Azula sighs. She can hardly remember a time when she didn’t feel tired anymore. At first she could blame it on her academic workload, then Ozai, then all the medication she’d been taking. Now, she’s inclined to believe it’s the humiliation, being brought so low and forced to keep on living this way. It’s starting to feel like a weight she can’t escape.

But, whatever. Azula isn’t one to give up, even if she looks just about as pathetic as she feels. It’s a temporary state. A transitional period. She can return to school, and she knows she’s far overqualified for the job Zuko lined up for her, so she’s sure to excel. It will be over soon. About a year and a half, then things will start looking up for her. This nagging feeling of exhaustion will go away and she’ll finally be able to fucking relax.

As Azula makes her way to the door to see what Zuko’s idea of breakfast is, her hip bumps the desk by the door, sending something clattering to the ground.

Azula is about to kick it aside and be on her way before she sees what it is: the photo album that Katara had left there yesterday.

It’s open, and the first thing Azula notices is her mother’s face. She feels her chest tighten.

The picture seems innocent enough; it’s just a picture taken in some hotel on Ember Island when she was a kid. They’re both laughing; Azula with a demon theater mask from a movie they’d just seen and her mother laughing beside her.

Azula’s first instinct is to throw the album in the trash with all the other memories she no longer wants, but she can’t tear her eyes away from that picture.

Your mother fears you, she remembers Ozai telling her one day, after she’d been pouting after being scolded for taunting her brother yet again. She thinks you’re a monster, but it’s only because she’s weak, just like Zuko. You and I are different, Azula. Your mother can’t understand you like I can.

It’s hard to believe those words once brought Azula comfort, when now, they only chill her to her core.

Flipping through the album, Azula feels nausea rising up in her throat. Looking through all of those memories in order, with older eyes, Azula sees an unspoken story begin to play out. A story told in the sublest of gestures that she’d never been aware of as a child. The way every picture of Ozai’s hand on her shoulder makes her shiver. The way her mother always seems to be positioned between Ozai and her children. Even in something as innocent as a birthday photo, Azula notices the way her mother holds her carefully in her lap, back towards Ozai. They all might be smiling, but Azula sees through it now. Maybe she’s just imagining it based on how things turned out, but there seems to be something wicked lingering behind Ozai’s smile, and something terrified behind Ursa’s.

Azula closes the book and pushes it away, but she still can’t bring herself to throw it in the trash.

How much had her mother protected her from?

It’s something Azula hadn’t really thought about before. Talking it over with her therapists, she’d figured Ozai’s increased attention towards her started around the same time as she began puberty.

But…that was the same time Mother left.

Azula feels a rush of emotions. She doesn’t know what to think. Mother stared at her with nothing but loving eyes in all those pictures. She shielded her like she was something precious…and it’s true; when Mother was around, Azula doesn’t recall any touches from Ozai that felt strange, doesn’t remember him playing any of their special games.

So then why did she leave? How could Mother have left her alone with a man like that?

There has to be an explanation. One voice inside of Azula’s mind reminds her that it’s all her fault. Mother always thought she was a monster, and she was right.

But that couldn’t have been true…the pictures are right there.

Everyone smiles for the camera.

Azula sighs and shakes her head. Whatever. It happened, and it’s over. The last thing she needs is to have some kind of fucking meltdown on her first full day out; that wouldn’t exactly help her image. She takes a breath and reminds herself that she’s in the present now, and what’s done is done.

It doesn’t really matter if she was a monster or not back then, really. Either way, she certainly became one. She listened to Ozai, she allowed herself to believe that he actually loved her.

She lied to the cops to protect him, after what he did to Zuko.

For years, she believed her brother deserved the torture he’d been put through.

Then she attacked him.

She threatened to kill him.

Azula still doesn’t understand how he could ever forgive that, but whatever. At least she knows what she is, even if Zuko refuses to acknowledge it.

She knows she’s a monster, but maybe the monster she’s become can still protect her.

She finds Zuko in the kitchen where he said he’d be, a sweet smell inviting her in.

Azula finds herself staring in surprise at the organized mess he has spread out on the table. It looks more like a feast than a breakfast, and Zuko is rushing back and forth between the multiple things he has on the stovetop like a stressed maid.

“Do you always go to this much trouble for breakfast?” she mutters from across the counter.

“No, usually I’m much lazier than this,” he mutters back with a shrug. “But I needed to get some party food started for later. Oh—here, I made you this.”

Azula has to hold back a snort as he quickly stirs the pan he’d been watching one more time before putting down the spoon and reaching for a plate instead, presenting it to her.

Azula feels another one of those odd pangs of emotion she’d felt looking at that photo album. She hasn’t seen a plate like this in years, but she’d recognize it anywhere.

A bed of steamed rice, topped with two flowers formed from bacon strips with fried eggs in the middle. Just how Mother used to make it when they were kids.

“I know it’s a little messy,” Zuko says with downcast eyes. “I just thought it would be nice, you know…like old times.”

“Thank you,” Azula says quietly, finding the snark she usually addresses him with suddenly gone.

It’s…nice, she has to admit. A small gesture of kindness, but even that is something Azula hasn’t experienced in a long time. Zuko didn’t have to do that.

Azula watches him from the corner of her eye as she eats, still fussing around the kitchen. He must really care about making a good impression on these new friends of his. Azula knows he had his fair share of animosity with that crowd, albeit nowhere near the amount she did. She scowls slightly as she cuts into the second bacon-flower. When the fuck did Zuko learn to cook? Azula tries to think of something she could do to make herself more likable, but she has nothing.

Nothing, as always. But why should she expect differently, at this point? Even if she could cook a good meal, it wouldn’t make a difference. She’s never going to be a person that people want to be around. She’s accepted that.

“Alright, the hot wings are in the oven,” Zuko says with a sigh, wiping his brow. “I think that’s it for now.”

“Did Mother hate me?” Azula blurts out, wishing she’d kept her mouth shut a moment later.

Zuko visibly slumps at the question. “Of course she didn’t. Why would you say that?”

Azula huffs and looks away. “Don’t play stupid with me, Zuko. You were her favorite and you know it. She always thought I was a monster.”

Zuko’s mouth tightens into a thin line. And there it is…the truth. Azula knew it. She knew this was all a ruse. He probably feels so good about himself, playing savior to his deranged little sister, but—

“Is that really what you think?” he says lowly. “Or is that just what Father told you?”

Azula closes her eyes, forcing back the horrible memories from earlier, the ones she’d sworn to herself to leave back in that bedroom.

“It doesn’t matter,” Azula grits out. “It’s true though, isn’t it? You and Mother always knew it, and now everyone else does too.”

“It’s not true,” Zuko says forcefully.

It somewhat takes Azula by surprise. Zuzu getting angry isn’t anything new, of course—but not like this. There is no hatred nor resentment for her in his eyes. In fact, there’s something that looks almost like love.

Azula looks away. No. She won’t let herself believe that. She won’t fall into that trap again.

“I mean it, Azula,” he insists.

Azula rolls her eyes. “It doesn’t matter what you mean. My criminal record speaks for itself, doesn’t it?”

Part of her doesn’t know why she’s arguing with him so much. For once in her life, Azula wants Zuko to be right. She wants to believe that this idealistic nonsense of his has any truth to it, but she knows better than that by now. Why can’t he just leave her be? Surely he must know it’s for the best; keeping Azula to herself as much as possible. Away from a world that she’ll either burn or get burned by.

“Look, Azula…” Zuko trails off and pauses, shaking his head to himself. Stumped. “I understand.”

He doesn’t.

“You wronged people, even people you cared about. And you were betrayed by people you should have been able to trust.”

He doesn’t say Ozai, but Azula still feels herself tense, knowing exactly what Zuko means even if he might not know the details.

“That makes it hard to trust. But it’s worth it, Azula. Your old friends will be over in a few hours. They want to see you again. Can you try? Just to see?”

Azula stares at Zuko with a frown, still not fully buying it. She pictures what Katara said yesterday, how all pretense of care vanished as soon as Zuko wasn’t in the room. I’m here for Zuko, she’d said. Not you.

“They don’t care about me,” Azula says bitterly. “Nobody does. They only care about you.”

Katara, Mother, everyone else. Not even Ozai cared about her—although, he didn’t exactly care about anyone else either.

Zuko looks like he’s biting back his anger and Azula curiously awaits his outburst in hopes it will finally be the dirty truth about her, but he just sighs and turns away, back to the kitchen.

“They’re coming because they’re glad you’re okay, Azula. They don’t hate you,” Zuko promises. “You’ll see.”

Azula turns away with a scowl, refusing to admit that for some reason, she’s holding back some pathetic tears like a child.

Oh, she’ll see alright.

Chapter Text

Azula is unsure of her new roommate, to say the least.

All she knows is that the girl’s name is Zirin, she’s about her age, and she’s also in the institution for homicidal ideation. Azula had been scolded for asking if they’d been put together to see who would kill who first.

But, truth be told, she finds herself let down by Zirin. She’s bitter and sarcastic and tries to hide everything behind her tanned and freckled face, but Azula can see right through her. She’s not a killer. She comes off more like a scared animal than anything else.

Azula asks Jiang about her one day, since she appears to have been here the longest.

“Zirin?” she says, raising an eyebrow. “Yeah, she’s a friend. We kinda became automatic friends, you know, both being lesbians and all.”

“Oh?” Azula asks. To be honest, she’d kind of figured that about Jiang, but the word had never been spoken out in the open.

It’s always been a taboo word to Azula, one she’s used to hearing paired with contempt and insult.

Jiang chuckles. “Yeah, shocker, right? To be honest, I kind of had you pegged as a lesbian, too.”

“Me?” Azula exclaims, taken aback. Her instincts tell her it’s an insult, but there’s no accusation in Jiang’s voice. Only simple observation.

It does make Azula pause. She’s never exactly had a relationship before. Not so much as a prom date. Ozai always told her she was too good for the lowlives at her high school, and Azula told herself she was too busy for a relationship in college. Academics first, as always. The closest she’d come was some asshole named Chan who Mai tried to set her up with before, but he was so much of an oaf that Azula could barely tolerate five minutes of his presence.

“Well, are you?” Jiang asks casually. “It’s nothing to be afraid of.”

It’s everything to be afraid of. Azula knows Ozai is locked away, but what if he knew? What would the media think? Azula can’t be—that. No; not her. Azula isn’t—like that. She can’t be.

“I…I don’t know,” Azula feels herself say, almost numbly.

“You don’t have to know right now,” Jiang says with a shrug. “You’ve got plenty of time to reflect on it. I mean, that’s kinda what this place is for.”

Azula doesn’t sleep much that night. She lies awake, thinking.

She’d always been told she’s meant to find a life partner, someone she could share everything with and grow old together. But Azula could never picture that. There was never anyone she could picture settling down with, building a life with, or having a child with. She can’t so much as picture how she wants her wedding to look.

All the times in school when the other girls would gossip about their crushes or which movie star was the hottest, Azula couldn’t relate. If they asked her opinion, she’d have to make up her answer. Azula always prided herself in being a cold-hearted bitch, too good for those silly school girl crushes.

But maybe there’s a reason for that…

Her mind moves to all the friends she’s had over the years, what she’d felt for them.

Azula remembers playing house as a kid, and Ty Lee giggling and telling Azula she wishes they could get married someday.

Her mouth goes dry. Ty Lee…

Inexplicably, Azula can picture it, and that makes it sting all the worse. Ty Lee, with her pink and bubbly demeanor—aura, as she’d say—somehow always brought a smile to her face. They were so different that most people couldn’t understand why they were friends at all, but Azula always felt oddly drawn to her. Ty Lee was one of the few people to know Azula—really know her. They were good friends. For once…Azula can picture someone she’d want to grow old with.

Only now, it’s too late…

Oh, who is she kidding? There’s no way Ty Lee is…like her to begin with. Azula never stood a chance.

—————

Azula does her best to pull her hair into something resembling a clean bun, although part of her isn’t sure why she’s trying so hard.

She’s wearing simple blue jeans and a red flannel, the same ones she’d come home from the hospital in. A look that the old her would have been horrified to host a party in, but whatever. Azula knows what she is now. She could be wearing the most expensive designer suit she owned and perfectly polished makeup, and she’d still be the same thing to them—a crazy bitch. For all she knows, she’s probably exceeding their expectations by being able to dress herself at all.

At least she’d cleaned up her room a little bit. The empty boxes and piles of shredded clothes are now living in the dumpster behind the building. While it’s a relief to have all that baggage out of the way, the room just feels empty now. It’s a place Azula can’t bring herself to call a home, even if that’s what it is now.

The ring of a doorbell down the hall startles her—nobody is supposed to be here for another thirty minutes! Azula hurriedly finishes dealing with her hair and makes her way down the hall, but doesn’t find any party guests.

No—Zuko is standing at the door talking to Uncle Iroh.

Azula feels herself frown on instinct. She knows she was never his favorite.

To her surprise, Iroh smiles warmly in greeting.

“Hello, Azula,” he says. “I was just telling your brother, it seems I accidentally doubled my batch of mochi at the restaurant this morning! I thought you could use the extras for your party tonight.”

Azula peers down at the platter in his hands. Lots of mochi, that’s for sure. She recognizes them as the pale blue, mint-chocolate flavored ones that used to be her favorite. She used to eat them one after the other, until—

Careful with the mochi, Azula, Ozai said one day. You don’t want to ruin that lovely figure of yours.

Azula turns away, and she can almost feel the disappointment radiating off of Zuko.

“Thank you,” she forces out. “That was…very nice of you.”

“These were your favorites as a girl, weren’t they?” Iroh asks with twinkling eyes. “I don’t know if I can compete with the chefs on Ember Island, but I’ve had practice with more than just tea at the Jasmine Dragon.”

Azula just stares at the mochi, wondering how on earth Iroh remembered such a detail when Azula herself had nearly forgotten about her favorite vacation food. It must have been Zuko; he’s the only one dead-set on trying to convince her to trust people again, for some odd reason.

But—they do look good, Azula has to admit. She hates herself for feeling the temptation to grab a handful and start eating, especially when she’d had a big breakfast this morning.

“Well, I’d best be going,” Iroh says with another quick bow. “The dinner rush is starting soon, and I don’t want to intrude on you young people. Have fun!”

“Thanks, Uncle! We really appreciate it,” Zuko says before closing the door.

“Does he come by a lot?” Azula asks as Zuko sets the mochi in the freezer.

Zuko shrugs. “A decent amount. Lucky us—he brings over dinner from the restaurant quite a bit.”

“Yeah, lucky us,” Azula mutters, glancing over the food Zuko had spread out.

It’s so unlike him—the decadence. Hot wings, noodles, creamy and spicy dips galore. Sure, it’s a party, but Azula still finds herself feeling…odd, remembering the coaching that Ozai began giving her before bringing her along to his corporate events. Right now, Azula understands the importance of making a good impression.

Avoid the food, he’d warned. You don’t want to look like a pig in front of your clients. It’s unprofessional—and unladylike for a pretty girl like you.

“Are you alright?” Zuko asks.

Azula shakes her head. “I’m fine.”

She knows it was Ozai, and that maybe he’s not the best source of information—but Azula can’t help but feel sickened with herself. It all looks so good. But she knows that image is important here, too. Her first chance to maybe show people she’s not some psycho crazy bitch anymore.

Azula forces herself to nod, not wanting Zuko to bother her any more.

She’s dealt with a lot. She can deal with one little party.

—————

The first knock at the door comes shortly after, and Zuko opens it to reveal Mai and a girl who Azula doesn’t recognize.

“Azula, this is Yue, Mai’s girlfriend,” Zuko introduces, and the silver-haired girl gives a shy smile and a wave. “Yue, this is my sister, Azula.”

Azula stares between the three of them, an eyebrow raised. She’s still processing all of this. Sometime in the past year she’s been away, Mai and Zuko broke up, and now Mai has a…girlfriend?

She doesn’t know why she feels so strange about it. While Ozai certainly had his opinions that Azula had at one point parroted, she’s no longer a stranger to lesbians. After all, her two closest companions from the institution were lesbians. And more than likely, Azula herself—

But she’s not ready to think about that. At all. Even friends are something she’s uncertain of at the moment, much less—

Azula banished that thought, instead studying the girl—Yue—to figure out what it is that Mai likes about her. She’s certainly nothing like Zuko, at a surface level. A rebound, perhaps? Experimenting?

Unfortunately, despite Yue’s fluffier disposition, she appears equally as quiet as Mai. An awkward silence hangs in the room, and Mai’s expression is as impassive as always. Does she want to be here? Is she just like Katara—doing this as a favor to Zuko? Does she hate her?

Well, only one way to be sure.

Azula smirks. “Wow, Zuko…were you really such a bad boyfriend that you turned Mai into a lesbian?”

Zuko scowls at that. “Azula—”

“It’s fine,” Mai holds up a hand and sighs. “Come on, Azula, really? Your brother dresses like a lesbian anyways. I don’t see what’s so surprising.”

Azula can almost feel the awkwardness emanating from Zuko and Yue—him with his scowl and her with a nervous smile—before Mai bursts out laughing.

“Oh, you’re such a bitch,” she snickers as she leans forward to embrace Azula.

“You’re a bitch too,” Azula says in return, feeling a small smile tease her lips as a bit of the anxiety evaporates. “It’s good to see you again, Mai.”

“Do I really dress like a lesbian?” Zuko grumbles.

“Kind of!” Yue chimes in. “I mean, you look good—of course! But you know. The flannels, the beanies…”

Zuko scowls at that, which makes Azula laugh. She might not know much about this Yue girl, but anyone willing to join in on a little Zuzu-bashing on a moment’s notice has her respect.

“Oh, come on,” Mai finally says, rolling her eyes. “With the way most men your age dress, you should take that as a compliment.”

“Fair enough,” Zuko mutters as he finishes arranging the food on the kitchen table. “Glad to see things are back to normal.”

Azula wonders if it’s stupidity or wishful thinking on Zuko’s part, to say that. Things most certainly aren’t normal, and even though Mai doesn’t seem to outright hate her, Azula still notices the tension in the air. How could there not be?

She knows everyone here likes Zuko more than her—figures—and she knows the only reason she’s not in jail for assault is that he’d neglected to press charges for some incomprehensible reason. Mai certainly knows all about it and probably gave Yue all the gritty details, Katara was there, and Ty Lee—

“Is Ty Lee coming?” Azula muses, noting the time. It’s not unlike her to be late, but Azula can’t help but wonder if there’s more to the situation. Is she afraid of her? Does she even want to see her? Does she just see Azula as an evil monster like everyone else does?

“Of course,” Zuko says, as if it’s no big deal at all. “Katara’s picking her up. They’re on their way here now.”

“Oh! Is that pickled herring?” Yue asks as she excitedly steps over to the table.

“I couldn’t find herring, so I used cod,” Zuko says with a shrug. “I hope it still tastes right—the recipe is from Katara’s Gran Gran. It’s her favorite party food.”

“It’s so good!” Yue exclaims as she tries a bite, and offers some to Mai. “I hardly ever find good Water Tribe food out here!”

Azula feels a weird sort of obligation to follow suit, so she does. She’d never admit it to Zuko—and especially not to Katara—but it’s good. It has a tanginess to it, a flavor that was nonexistent in her diet of stale hospital food. Azula takes another, then pauses. Nobody seems to be watching, but her father’s words echo in her head. She’s suddenly aware of how much taller she is than Yue, how much larger her chest is than Mai’s, the fact her shoulders are nearly as broad as Zuko’s despite him being male.

Nobody lets on if they notice anything, but Azula still pulls her large flannel tighter around herself, hiding her body. She hates the way clothes hang from her, either hugging her curves too tightly or hanging from her stupid fucking boobs in a way that makes her feel huge. She hates it.

At least that was one thing about the hospital that was nice. The order, the routines. Meals already chosen, the same for everyone. Everyone wearing the same, unflattering clothes. Azula didn’t have to worry about any of those things, but now?

Everything feels alien, even her own body. And it feels like everyone is watching her once again.

A knock at the door startles Azula, but thankfully attracts the attention of everyone in the room.

She looks over to see Katara standing in the doorway…and Ty Lee lingering behind her.

Azula immediately finds her attention drawn to her, all but ignoring Katara. Katara seems quite fine with that; Azula sees Zuko step forward to embrace her out of the corner of her eye.

Ty Lee smiles and raises a hand to wave quickly, but Azula feels frozen in place. This is Ty Lee, her friend, but something feels so…off.

Azula remembers how bubbly and outgoing she used to be. Others in their school would sneer at her for being stupid or annoying, but Azula found her an oddly pleasant change from the stuffy rich kids she was used to spending her time around. She longed to be that happy and carefree before she fully realized that fact.

But now…something seems muted about Ty Lee. Azula sees it in her eyes, in the way she gives a small wave rather than jumping into her arms like she used to in greeting…even in her clothes. Ty Lee used to wear the brightest, sparkliest things she could find. Fun, flashy clothes that showed off her figure. Now, she wears a dull pink floral print, cut in an unflattering, baggy style. If Azula was in a meaner mood she would have told her she’s dressed like a grandma, but she’s at a loss for words.

What happened to Ty Lee last year?

“You…look different,” Azula finally says.

Ty Lee blinks, before quickly looking Azula up and down. “You do too.”

Well, Azula kind of walked into that one.

“I mean…not in a bad way!” Ty Lee corrects herself, eyes darting every which way as if she’s afraid of something. “I kind of like it!”

“Um…thanks,” Azula answers, noting how afraid Ty Lee still looks.

Afraid…well, that isn’t much of a surprise, is it? Azula isn’t stupid; she knows what Ty Lee thinks of her. She swallows back the rush of emotion, the foolish hope she’d held about anything being back to normal. Of course Ty Lee is different, more reserved…who wouldn’t be after seeing what a crazy bitch Azula is at her core. Why would she ever think Ty Lee would want to jump on her and give her a hug like old times?

Azula does her best to put those thoughts to rest. They won’t do any good now. Azula can’t be loved, and she’s best not letting anyone get too close.

She turns away.

“Zuzu has been working hard on this party,” Azula says, changing the subject. “Surprising, for him.”

“Well of course he has,” Ty Lee says with a small smile. “He was really worried about you.”

Azula feels her face contort into a sneer, but does her best to change the subject again. “What do you think of that fried tripe? I don’t understand how anyone could eat such a thing.”

“It’s not my favorite, but it’s alright!” Ty Lee says with a quiet shrug. “Ooo, is that mochi? I love mochi!”

It momentarily takes Azula aback how nonchalantly Ty Lee begins reaching for the mochi and assorted other snacks laid out on the table. She does it without a care—Azula notes her slim, athletic figure and looks away in shame. She shouldn’t be looking at Ty Lee that way; especially not when Azula herself is so out of shape. It’s not like they had a gym in that fucking facility.

Azula shifts and pulls her flannel even tighter around her body. It’s like she can feel every inch of herself, especially the parts she hates the most. The softness that she hates so much, the large breasts her baggy clothes hang from, and the way her bra strap digs in. Azula hates it. She wishes she could just be…flat, less noticeable, normal.

“Are you happy to be back, Azula?” Ty Lee asks cheerfully, though she still seems somewhat withdrawn.

“Yes…of course,” Azula answers automatically. What else is there to say, after all. “How about you, Ty Lee? How has your past year been?”

“Oh! It’s been…difficult, I guess,” she says, the false cheery note to her voice faltering before she visibly wilts. “I just…ran away from home.”

That certainly wasn’t what Azula was expecting. “Oh? What…happened?”

“I just couldn’t take it. They wanted me to be a person I didn’t want to be…kept wanting me to be part of a matched set! My dad is a narcissist and my mom makes everything about herself—she just freaked out when I came out as a lesbian,” Ty Lee rambles, the words tumbling out as she seems more and more upset. “I’m living with some family friends now, closer to Republic City. They’re really nice and my girlfriend has been so supportive too, but…but…”

“It’s alright, Ty Lee,” Azula feels herself say gently, taking Ty Lee’s hand out of instinct and dropping it a moment later.

She has no idea what to do. She’s reeling from that information—Ty Lee is a lesbian, she has a girlfriend…and her family abandoned her because of it?

Well this is sure a fucking mess. Azula can’t stand the sight of Ty Lee nearly falling apart in front of her, but she doesn’t know what to do. She feels her anger bubbling up—how dare Ty Lee’s family do such a thing, not a surprise given her father being an insufferable bootlicker of Ozai’s…still—but holds it back. Azula knows what people think of her; she can’t afford to scare off Ty Lee now.

Emotional outbursts are shameful, but Azula can’t help but feel like she’s teetering on the edge of one.

Ty Lee’s situation is a shock to her, but she also sees a chilling reflection of her own fears. This is a situation she knows would have played out with Ozai if he were to discover Azula’s proclivities.

Azula also finds it jarring how easily Ty Lee labels herself a lesbian. She thinks back to her conversations with Zirin and Jiang in the hospital, how long it took for her to feel comfortable using that word for herself…and even now, part of her still screams that it’s wrong. She tries to ignore the rush of emotions she felt to hear that Ty Lee is a lesbian…but also that she has a girlfriend. It shouldn’t matter; it shouldn’t.

“I’m sorry,” Azula finally follows herself up with, sensing that Ty Lee doesn’t know what to say. “It sounds like you’ve had a hard year.”

“I have. I always had my family before, and now I don’t,” Ty Lee sighs before her expression brightens. “Thank you, Azula. For…listening. It’s so hard to talk about, I feel like nobody gets me.”

“Of course,” Azula says, feeling that flutter in her chest.

No, a little voice scolds in her head. You didn’t do anything special. You’re a monster and you know it. Besides, she already has a girlfriend. Nobody will ever love you.

Azula forces back that feeling and takes a breath. It’s not true. She doesn’t want anything besides friendship from Ty Lee, and what she said seemed to be comforting to Ty Lee. It’s a step; the doctors would be proud. Maybe she can be normal again—she just needs to find the right people to be around.

You know that isn’t true, the voice whispers. You’re lying to yourself. She only said that to be nice.

“Looks like someone is getting all chummy,” teases a dry voice.

“Mai!” Ty Lee exclaims, whirling around. “I forgot to ask—I haven’t met your girlfriend!”

Azula smiles to herself as Ty Lee gets distracted into another series of introductions. It’s so cute, the way she smiles and waves, how excited she looks. Almost like the way she used to be—if Azula didn’t know her so well, it would almost seem like nothing is amiss.

“She always spoke highly of you,” Katara suddenly says beside her in a carefully neutral tone. “I think she was the only one who never really hated you.”

Azula scoffs at that. “I’m really setting the bar high, I see.”

“Is this all just a joke to you?” Katara says under her breath. “All this effort we—Zuko, most of all—put into giving you a fresh start, and you don’t even seem to care!”

“I care about Ty Lee,” Azula snaps. “My father despised her and we were still friends. I know you think you’re so much better than me, but you don’t know shit about me no matter what little Zuzu might have told you. So fuck off.”

Katara looks like she has more to say—and without a doubt, she does—but she seems to think better of it and turns away. Serves her right, that stuck-up bitch. Azula scours the room for a drink—she could really fucking use one right now. She sees Katara giggling at something Zuko said, and Yue leaving a peck on a grumpy Mai’s cheek next to them.

Azula wants to roll her eyes and tell them how disgusting they’re all being, but she can’t deny the way it pulls at her heartstrings. Why did she ever agree to this stupid party idea? Stupid her, stupid Zuzu. Azula needs air.

She makes her way out towards the small balcony, and to her surprise, finds it occupied.

Ty Lee jumps as Azula slides the door open, a startled expression on her face.

Azula looks away quickly. “Oh…sorry. I’ll just…go…”

“No…wait!” Ty Lee exclaims, catching her wrist. Azula thinks her heart might stop. “I need to ask you something, Azula.”

Azula pauses, eyebrow raised in what she hopes is a nonchalant expression. She can’t seem to get the image of Ty Lee saying she has a girlfriend out of her head, and of trying to pretend that fact doesn’t bother her.

“Do you…think Yue likes me?” Ty Lee asks nervously.

Azula blinks. That wasn’t what she was expecting…or hoping. “What…are you talking about?”

Does Ty Lee have a crush? It was fairly obvious to Azula that Yue is Mai’s girlfriend and Ty Lee apparently has a girlfriend herself, what on earth—

“I mean…” Ty Lee says, fidgeting with the end of her braid. “I just don’t know her that well, and girls like her can be so mean to me. I guess it’s comforting that she’s a femme lesbian too so maybe she gets me, but I’m always just too much for people. They think I’m too feminine and annoying. And…I saw her giggling in the corner. It was probably about me. What do I do, Azula?”

“Wait, wait,” Azula says, struggling to take in…all of that. “You think…Yue doesn’t like you? Why wouldn’t she?”

Ty Lee seems to deflate. “I don’t know. It’s probably fine; you’re right. I’m just overreacting. I know I’m different, and most people don’t get me. They’re so mean to me…it was hard, you know. I used to think everyone liked people who were silly and bubbly. But they don’t. They just think I’m…I’m annoying.”

“Well, those people are full of shit,” Azula snaps back. Sure, Ty Lee can be energetic, but how the fuck did she get to this point? She looks like she’s teetering on the edge of tears, clearly plagued by memories of people sneering such things at her. Who would do that? Even Azula at her worst couldn’t bring herself to bully Ty Lee to that extent. “You’ve never been anything but friendly and nice. Only a truly unfuckable, bottom-feeding troll of a person would have a problem with that.”

Ty Lee giggles at that, and Azula can’t help the smile that the sound of it brings. She knows it’s wrong to think, but out here alone on this balcony at night…she can dream. What’s so great about this girlfriend of Ty Lee’s, anyway? Azula wants to know what she looks like, how she thinks, how she compares—

“I missed you, Azula,” Ty Lee says dreamily, resting her face in her hands as she stares up into the moon. “You always…got me. I always had faith in you. I knew you were always a nice person, deep down.”

The voice laughs at Azula, but she does her best to ignore it. Now she hears a new one out loud, one that seems genuine for once. Ty Lee keeps saying that Azula gets her, but maybe Ty Lee gets Azula, too. This is the first conversation she’s had in a while that makes her feel any semblance of normal, any hope that she could pay the unreasonable hope others seem to have in her forward.

Azula knows she’s a selfish person. There’s no getting around that fact. But inexplicably, she feels that sense of hers slipping. Her old self would have called it foolish, but Azula wants to help Ty Lee. Even now, when she knows those old dreams of hers probably won’t come true, that she won’t be able to hold Ty Lee in her arms and…

“Your girlfriend,” Azula wonders out loud. “What is she like?”

“I love her a lot!” Ty Lee says instantly, before frowning slightly and casting her eyes down towards the quiet street below. “She’s just…having a hard time right now. We’re helping each other through it, you know. Her family is homophobic like mine…but worse.”

“I’m sorry,” Azula says, feeling that odd surge of protectiveness again. “I guess it’s lucky for me that Ozai is in prison now.”

Oddly, an excited look comes over Ty Lee’s face. “Wait! You’re—”

Of course.

“I’m not quite sure,” Azula says quickly. “Honestly, I don’t know how to feel right now. It’s difficult, with everything going on.”

“I understand,” Ty Lee says with a nod. “It was really difficult for me, too. Hardly anyone believed me when I came out—because I’m so…girly! I even wish I could be more girly, but I haven’t been able to buy the kinds of clothes I want lately! But—I believe you, Azula. If that helps. I could always kind of see it in you.”

“Really?” Azula asks with a small smile, basking in the light in Ty Lee’s eyes.

Don’t get your hopes up, the voice sneers. It isn’t meant to be. Even if she doesn’t see the monster you are just yet…eventually she will. Just like everyone else.

“Well…you were always a touch on the masculine side,” Ty Lee giggles, that musical sound chasing the voice away. “In a good way, of course! I really like women who are a bit more on the butch side. They’re so cool!”

Azula stares at her, taking in the words she’s saying as if they’re alien. She’s never heard women like that referred to as anything but ugly and frumpy. She’d even accepted that about herself when she’d thrown away all the clothes gifted to her by Ozai—better to be ugly than to be his. But Ty Lee speaks those forbidden words as if they’re easy, praises the person Azula always wanted to be but could never quite bring herself to be.

Masculine, Ty Lee had called her. Azula knows what that means; it means powerful. Bold. Things she never thought she could be after that fateful night with Ozai and the year of pain that followed. She feels a smile unconsciously creep to her lips. Yes…Ty Lee truly does get her.

“Well, it’s getting late,” Ty Lee finally says, leaving Azula to inwardly kick herself at how long she’s probably been standing here in silence like some kind of idiot.

Azula reaches for a hug, to which Ty Lee awkwardly jumps back from. Stupid!

“Oh…I’m sorry!” squeaks Ty Lee, and suddenly, that soulful moment is gone.

Azula’s heart sinks.

“No, no…I’m sorry,” she murmurs. “Do you…want to talk again sometime? Maybe…catch up?”

Ty Lee smiles. “Of course I would, Azula! I’ll see you around.”

Azula manages a parting wave, but she can’t bring herself to go back into the party. There’s too much to think about—Ty Lee, her new life, the past, the future, Ty Lee…

Azula sighs.

It feels cruel; things so much better and so much worse all at once. Azula has her freedom from Ozai, but she feels as if there’s hardly anything left of herself to salvage after that ordeal. She has her family and old friends, but they feel foreign to her, as if they’re only sticking around out of some fucked-up pity.

Then there’s Ty Lee, who draws her in with that same allure she always has, but she’s so different now. She’s Ty Lee, but something about her seems so deeply wounded. She’s a lesbian—something Azula dreamed of before she knew it—but she has some mystery girlfriend.

Azula stares down at the empty street below, at the flickering streetlight in the fog, and she tries to accept that the little voice nagging at the back of her mind might be right.

But—to a fault—Azula has never been one to surrender so easily. Maybe she’s broken beyond repair, and maybe a lot of people are, but somehow she refuses to accept that about Ty Lee.

Chapter Text

Azula looks up with a frown at the unwelcome addition to her lunch table. She prefers the quiet corner of the high school cafeteria she’s laid claim to with Ty Lee and Mai—well, when Mai isn’t off making googly eyes at Zuko.

But lately, Ty Lee insists on skipping over with her latest loser boyfriend hanging off her arm. Jet, Chan, Hahn—Ty Lee has the absolute worst taste in men and it frustrates Azula endlessly. Today, she seems to have set her sights on some idiot with a skateboard instead of a personality who Azula knows is only in this prep school because his daddy has money. She glares at him.

“Hi Azula!” Ty Lee greets, hugging his arm. “This is Ruon-Jian, my new boyfriend!”

Azula feels her glare deepen. She hates the way Ty Lee clings to him, the way she’s dolled up in the most beautiful blouse and leggings with perfectly styled hair while Ruon-Jian looks like he just rolled out of bed. Azula doesn’t understand it. Why would Ty Lee put in so much effort for this fucking troll who clearly can’t be bothered to do the same? Doesn’t she have any self respect at all? If Azula was in his place, she wouldn’t look so bored and careless. She’d dress for Ty Lee, she’d take care of her, she’d—

“Hey,” the creature says with a lazy smirk. “Nice to meet you.”

It’s like he’s taunting her. Azula puts on her best sneer.

“Ty Lee and I need to study for the World History exam this lunch,” she says boredly as she waves her hand dismissively. “Go on. Wouldn’t want to miss your smoke break, would you?”

Ty Lee’s smile visibly falters, but Ruon-Jian looks outright pissed. Azula feels her smirk deepen.

“What’s your problem?” he scoffs. “Are you always this bitchy?”

“Are you always this slovenly?” Azula shoots back, refusing to let any emotion show as she inspects her fingernails. “Come on. Couldn’t you at least have picked up a pair of sweatpants without ketchup stains off your floor to wear? Clearly, this school’s standards aren’t what they used to be.”

“You—”

“It’s okay!” Ty Lee suddenly exclaims—to Azula’s delight, she’s visibly repressing a giggle. Then she hugs him and Azula thinks she might gag. “Azula is like that with everyone! I’ll see you later, okay?”

Ruon-Jian pats her on the back with one of those ugly, greasy paws of his before sauntering off, throwing a dark glare over his shoulder as she does. Azula snorts as she returns her attention to Ty Lee.

“Why do you do that?” Ty Lee asks as she takes her seat.

“He doesn’t deserve you,” Azula mutters, although she finds it hard to think of any boy in this whole fucking school who does. “Come on, Ty Lee. You’re fun and beautiful and everyone loves you. You can do better.”

Ty Lee giggles at that, and Azula feels herself basking in it like it’s the most esteemed compliment. This Ruon-Jian could have never made her laugh like that.

“Thank you Azula, I just…” Ty Lee trails off, fidgeting with her braid. “I like having a boyfriend. Maybe he’s not the best all the time, but he’s nice. He’s not a bad person.”

Azula wants to scoff. The bar is officially in hell. “Come on, Ty Lee. You need better standards than that. Unless, of course, you just like it when I taunt them.”

“Well, I can’t deny that,” Ty Lee giggles. “So, want to talk about the exam?”

Azula doesn’t, but if she's still talking to Ty Lee, she’ll take it.

She finds herself absorbed in the textbook—the material is painfully easy, so she doesn’t fault herself for focusing on Ty Lee. The cute furrow of her eyebrows, the way she fiddles with her pen, her lips…

All in all, it’s a good day.

The encounter with Ruon-Jian is all but forgotten until Azula hears a voice call out behind her in the otherwise empty hallway after school.

“Hey!” Ruon-Jian yells.

Azula rolls her eyes and turns. The other students in math club had been especially insufferable today; he’d better have a good fucking reason for bothering her.

“What?” she groans.

To her surprise, Ruon-Jian doesn’t cower back like he did before. He marches forward towards Azula, a glare on his face. Azula suddenly has a disturbing awareness of just how alone she is—at school after hours in a low-traffic hallway. She finds herself unconsciously taking a step back towards the wall, but she meets Ruon-Joan’s foul glare with one of her own.

She will not be intimidated by this fucking lowlife.

“Don’t think I don’t see you,” he growls. “You’re disgusting, and your little bimbo would agree if she knew.”

Azula snorts. “Knew what? If your smegma-stinking ass didn’t scare her off, I don’t think anything I could say would.”

“Don’t play stupid with me, you fucking queer,” Ruon-Jian snaps, shoving Azula against the wall with one arm.

It steals the breath from her. Both the sensation of being roughly pinned by her chest and that word. Azula wants to argue. How dare this sniveling creature treat the heir to the Sozin fortune in such a way!

But she finds herself frozen in place. Azula feels like she can barely breathe. A queer—no, she can’t be. She’s heard what father says about such people. He’d thrown a fit when same sex marriages were officially recognized in the Fire Nation. Disgusting queers, he’d call them. Perverting the sanctity of marriage. Azula can’t be—she can’t—but she thinks about the way she was looking at Ty Lee earlier. She thinks about imagining herself in place of Ruon-Jian. Is she…?

“No,” Azula says shakily. “You’re wrong. Get the fuck off of me.”

“Why?” sneers Ruon-Jian, pressing harder and making Azula’s skin crawl with the way his forearm is firmly trapping her by her breasts. “Jealous? I know why you hate every boy in this school who talks to Ty Lee. You like her, don’t you? Well, you’ll never be a man…just a dirty little queer.”

Azula takes a deep breath, squaring her shoulders as much as she’s able. “You listen carefully. If you don’t fuck off this instant, my father will ruin your entire fucking existence.”

Ruon-Jian laughs. “Your father, huh? Ozai Sozin, the outspoken conservative homophobe? I wonder how he’d react to your little secret.”

He still doesn’t pull back. He leaves that threat hanging in the air while Azula still reels in the wake of it. He doesn’t pull away until it’s clear that Azula can’t make him, that she has to wait.

Only then does he release her with a parting sneer.

Azula longs to beat him to death with her bare fucking hands, but she can’t. She hates it, she hates feeling so fucking helpless, all because of these stupid fucking feelings she can’t control.

No wonder Father always told her emotions were a weakness.

Azula runs down the hallway to her car, hoping nobody will be around to see the tears streaking her cheeks.

—————

“What happened to Ty Lee,” Azula demands flatly, not even bothering with a good morning.

Zuko looks up in surprise from the tea he’s brewing, eyebrow raised. “Morning, Azula. Is everything alright? You kind of wandered off for a while last night.”

“She seemed so different,” Azula continues, sitting down on one of the stools by the counter. “And I know it wasn’t just me. There was something off about her, I can tell.”

Zuko noticeably pauses before letting out a sigh. “Well, a few months ago, she ran away from home. I know that’s been hard on her.”

Azula purses her lips, considering. She thinks about the way Ty Lee jumped back from a hug, and how the way she dressed seemed so different from the girl who used to try and convince Azula to wear crop-tops and bikinis to the beach. Of course she’d feel depressed, but that answer doesn’t quite satisfy Azula.

“I don’t know,” she wonders aloud. “It was more than just sadness. She was skittish. Insecure. You’ve been around her all this time; what else changed?”

“A lot has changed this year, Azula,” Zuko says tiredly. “Ty Lee came out, she’s having difficulties with her family, and her girlfriend…”

A strange look comes over Zuko’s face as he trails off, making Azula frown. It raises even more questions; Azula admits it’s bias on her part to assume the worst, but she doesn’t like this reaction at all. Why is he so disapproving?

“The girlfriend,” Azula asks, doing her best not to act like she cares. “What’s she like? Have you met her?”

“No,” Zuko says with a shrug. “They haven’t been dating that long and Ty Lee is usually out in the city. Why?”

“I don’t know,” Azula admits, feeling a bit childish. “I was just wondering what she’s like.”

“All I know is that she’s quite a bit older, and that she’s a manager at one of those small tech companies in Republic City,” Zuko says. “Ty Lee speaks very highly of her. Says she’s very smart and good at taking care of her.”

The look on Zuko’s face contradicts the last statement.

While Azula has never known Zuko to be particularly smiley, there is a furrow to his brow and a quiet moodiness to the way he’s dunking the tea bag into his tea that strikes her as odd. Azula finds herself getting frustrated. Why won’t he answer her? Azula knows she’s not exactly the most trustworthy person right now…but this is important. She needs to know the whole story.

“What do you think about that?” Azula presses. “Do you think she’s a good girlfriend?”

“I don’t know,” Zuko responds with an obnoxious air of nonchalance. “Like I said, I’ve never met her. Ty Lee just seems kind of…different, since dating her.”

She knew it. “Different how?”

Zuko sighs, letting go of the tea bag and slumping down into a seat. “She…talks differently. I don’t know how to explain it; it’s not like she says anything bad about her girlfriend, but Katara and I both agree something seems off. But Azula, why worry? You have so much else going on, and even if you tried talking to Ty Lee, she’d just be in denial. Let her come to you, if she needs to.”

Azula crosses her arms. “So there is something then. What’s so special about this girlfriend anyways? Does Ty Lee really think she needs her?”

Too late, Azula bites her tongue. Fuck, she hadn’t meant to put her cards out like that. Zuko stares at her questioningly, and Azula quickly looks away.

“I just…thought it was strange that Ty Lee didn’t bring her to the party,” Azula carefully deflects. “With the way she talks about her and everything.”

“Well, she does live further away and Ty Lee said she already was doing something with her friends,” Zuko mutters. “But what about you, Azula? What was wrong last night?”

Azula rolls her eyes and sits down with a huff. She really doesn’t know what he was expecting. “It was too hot in there. Too stuffy.”

“You barely had anything to eat,” Zuko says, sounding disappointed. “I just want to make sure you’re alright—”

“Of course I’m not alright,” Azula snaps, crossing her arms over her chest. “Do you have any idea what this past year has been like for me? Sorry I’m not in a rush to pig out in front of a bunch of people who hate me.”

An annoyed look crosses Zuko’s face before he sets down his tea with a scowl. “Azula, they don’t hate you. You need to stop acting like this. Just—do you really think everyone would have come over if they hated you?”

“I would,” Azula sneers, forcing back the memories of sharing a laugh with Mai, a heart-to-heart with Ty Lee. “To see how far the crazy bitch has fallen? Please. Don’t think for a moment I don’t see what’s going on here. You aren’t doing this for me; you’re doing it to feel better about yourself for being such a good boy. That Water Tribe girl must be rubbing off on you.”

Azula feels her heart pounding in her chest as she finishes. She expects Zuko to yell back at her. Part of her hopes he will. But he just blinks, a disappointed look on his face that shouldn’t bother Azula the way it does.

“I’m just trying to help,” Zuko says quietly as he turns away. “Sorry if that’s so terrible to you.”

“I just want to be left alone,” Azula snaps as she stands up from her seat. “I don’t even want friends.”

Because friends don’t want me.

She doesn’t say anything more before rushing back to her room, closing the door behind her as emotions she doesn’t even want to begin unpacking struggle to surface.

Azula looks around, trying to find something to distract herself with, but the room is nearly empty besides her few remaining clothes and the sparse contents of her desk. She lies back on her bed and sighs, staring out at the gray sky outside.

Her chest still feels tight when she thinks about Zuko.

She hates him, sometimes. For so long, Azula looked down on him and considered herself grateful she wasn’t him. He was stupid, impulsive, and mentally weak. But now, Azula oddly wishes she was Zuko. People like Zuko. People respect Zuko—genuinely respect him. For who he is, not his relation to Ozai.

And that’s why he’ll never understand what Azula is feeling.

He’ll never understand the feeling of being hated for becoming exactly the person he was groomed into becoming his whole life. The feeling of knowing that no matter what he does, he’ll still be painted as the villain. The feeling of achieving perfection, only to realize none of it belonged to him. The feeling of being so high only to be brought so low, the bleakness in wondering if there truly is a way out. Anything that could be done to capture that feeling of success and power once again.

All of that, and despite it all, hating him only makes Azula feel worse. Because deep down, she knows Zuko’s desire to help her is real—no matter how misguided it may be.

Azula’s phone buzzes in her pocket, and she can’t help the flood of relief she feels when she sees the message.

[Ty Lee] It was really good to see you last night! How are you feeling today?

Ty Lee texted her. There was no obligation; no Zuko to prod her. Azula thinks back to their conversation on the balcony, the understanding she felt from Ty Lee. Someone who wanted to know her, to genuinely know her.

Azula responds almost immediately.

[Azula] Well, Zuzu is being a pain, but what’s new?

She hesitates, finger hovering over her screen, before she continues.

[Azula] What about you? Your family sounds difficult too.

[Ty Lee] They are!!! It sounds like we have a lot in common tho, both of us are queer with complicated families.

Azula feels herself momentarily freeze as she looks down at that word on the screen.

You fucking queer, she hears Ruon-Jian’s voice sneer as he grabbed at her.

Those queers disgust me. They have no place in our society, she hears Ozai’s voice say after she’d innocently asked him about two women she’d seen getting married on TV, just after the Fire Nation legalized same sex marriage.

[Azula] I’m not sure about that.

She pauses, unsure how to express what she’s feeling. She doesn’t want to hurt Ty Lee, but she can’t shake the uneasiness.

[Azula] I mean, most people don’t really know. I don’t talk much about it. Where are you living now? Are you still studying dance?

[Ty Lee] Oh! I forgot to tell you! I dropped out of Republic City University when I ran away, but I’m actually going back to the Fire Nation soon to study nursing! Isn’t that great?

Azula breathes a sigh of relief, thankful for the change in subject.

[Azula] That does sound exciting. I need to finish one class to get my business degree, but I’m stuck here with this new job Zuzu lined up for me.

Azula finds herself glued to her phone for much of the afternoon, eagerly awaiting the next little bubble of text from Ty Lee to pop up on her screen.

She finds out that Ty Lee enjoyed dancing, but only decided to study it because her mother had told her she’d never make it in nursing school. She said she’s finally pursuing her dream and how good it makes her feel.

Azula can almost see the smug smirk on Ty Lee’s face as she tells her how she’d even gotten her narcissistic father to pay for her tuition and housing; apparently her parents went through a messy divorce and he’s desperate to play the savior.

They talk about their lives, their goals, their dreams. Azula finds herself admitting things she always felt too silly to tell other people. Ambitious as she might be, Azula also simply desires calmness. A quiet yet ornate home in the countryside she can relax in after a long day at work. She even admits to the trashy lesbian romance novels she’d read in secret during high school.

[Ty Lee] Haha they were my favorite! My girlfriend likes them a lot too. Sometimes I think we’re a lot like the characters because I’m so goofy and silly but she’s more masculine.

Azula can’t deny the way the reminder stings. She’s just begun reconnecting with Ty Lee and already feels as if she knows her better than she’s ever known anyone else. Azula wonders if it would work between them, if Ty Lee was single. They would be perfect.

Looking down at herself, Azula realizes she’s somewhat masculine too. Ty Lee even told her she was—that has to mean something. Azula likes how it feels. She thought she had power before, but this is true power. Azula wants to look at the world without it looking back and scrutinizing every inch of her. She wants to walk down the street standing tall and unbothered, not worried about a boob slipping out of a skimpy dress or a stray raindrop ruining her makeup. It feels freeing. And it’s something Ty Lee talks about like it’s desirable.

Azula thought nobody would ever want her again. And she’s right; Ty Lee is taken, after all. Even if it could work, even if someone could love Azula…

Or maybe it’s just not the right time.

Maybe Azula just needs to wait, to grow in the meantime. She was never one to believe in spirits or any of that bullshit, but maybe there is such a thing as fate.

Something sparks to life in Azula, a flame she hadn’t realized had gone out. Ambition. Power.

What had once belonged to Ozai now belongs to Azula. She’s not working for him, she’s working for herself—maybe even Ty Lee, so that one day they could move to the countryside to that house…

Azula sighs. At least she has a drive now, a scribbled mess of a plan instead of none at all. She starts the receptionist job next week, and Zuko had spoken highly of Piandao, the attorney who had gotten her the position. If she’s lucky, maybe he’d even help her apply to law school in Republic City.

Looking in the mirror, Azula sees more of herself again.

She looks tired, but not as tired. There is a sharpness to her face that she likes. Without makeup or fancy clothes to mask herself, Azula feels something slowly coming to life.

—————

Realizing she’d forgotten to eat breakfast after the little spat with Zuko, Azula finds herself wandering back to the now-empty kitchen in the late afternoon.

She opens the fridge, contemplating what to eat, and hates that such a silly thing makes her feel anxious. Azula isn’t exactly picky, but there are certain foods she likes. Certain foods she considered safe back in her old life. A small portion of tuna salad, a package of dried seaweed, a rice cake…none of which are present in Zuko’s fridge. Only leftovers from the party.

Azula remembers the mochi in the fridge and hates the way she wants it. No; she’s trying to rebuild herself. She’s already out of shape. She needs to set better habits than this.

And maybe if she loses enough weight, her boobs won’t be so big. One less thing to be stared at. One less thing to distract passerby and attract the kind of attention she desperately wants to escape. She’d have even more freedom in her life, even more freedom to move, if only—

Azula forces that thought away with a sigh. Thinking about them always makes her feel worse, even though it’s nearly impossible to avoid with the fucking things attached to her body at all times.

She feels the fridge staring back at her.

Well, maybe if she has just one mochi and nothing else…

Azula quickly plucks one from the freezer and eats it. It does bring back good memories of her childhood on Ember Island, back before her life went up in flames.

She hurriedly finishes it when she hears Zuko’s door open, feeling an odd sense of shame at the idea of him seeing her eat it.

There is a strange look on Zuko’s face, but it isn’t anger. Azula leans against the counter and awaits his response, what new form of sibling bonding he’s going to attempt next.

“Mom called me this morning,” he says quietly, as if he’s still unsure it really happened.

Azula blinks. Mother? Of all things, she hadn’t been expecting that.

Quite honestly, Azula assumed she was dead. Or at the very least, that she’d disappeared forever with no intention of ever returning. How long ago was it that she left without a word, never to be heard from again? Fourteen years? Fifteen?

All she can do is stare at Zuko without a word, afraid of what will come out if she tries to speak.

“She said…Ozai threatened to hurt us if she didn’t,” Zuko says, shuffling his feet as he stares down at the floor. “She said she was afraid he’d kill us and then her if she ever tried to contact us, but after he went to prison…”

Azula wants to scream.

She has no idea what to make of this. Mother always feared her, believed her to be a monster just like Ozai. That thought sickens Azula now more than ever. How could she be like him, the very man who—

But now, Azula isn’t so sure. Was it Mother who led her to believe those things, or was it Ozai? He was always the one whispering such thoughts into her ear. She thinks back to the photo album in her bedroom and its untold story, how Ozai is never to be trusted. And lately, Azula has come to the somewhat devastating realization that her own mind isn’t to be trusted. How could she know what her mother truly thought?

And what about now? Now, just after Azula has been locked away for being a murderous fucking lunatic, who nearly killed Mother’s precious Zuko who she knew was always the favorite. If Mother wasn’t disgusted with her before, she certainly would be now.

Azula had just about made peace with the fact that she’d never have an answer. That she’d live the rest of her life with Mother only existing in memories…memories that Azula would have been free to remember in any way she chose. All those questions—why she left, if she knew what Ozai was going to do, if she ever truly loved her—might have an answer, and Azula doesn’t think she’s ready.

“W-what…how…” Azula finally says, unable to articulate any of the thoughts rushing through her head.

Zuko swallows thickly.

“She’s been living in a small village in a remote part of the Fire Nation called Hira’a,” he says tightly before looking up at Azula with a confused expression. “She married again in secret, but she’s divorced now. And…she has another daughter.”

A new daughter…a replacement, is Azula’s first instinct to think. Of course Mother wouldn’t want her—the daughter like Ozai, who would undoubtedly always remind her of him.

Azula hates it. She hates that there’s no escape from that wretched man and what he did to her. She’ll always feel his hands on her, his influence hanging over her, his eyes staring back every time she looks in the mirror. Mother must have seen it too. No wonder Mother always hated her so much.

“Why is she contacting us now?” Azula says under her breath. “Sounds like she’s perfectly happy.”

“She misses us,” Zuko says softly. “She…wants to visit us again.”

“How can she do this?” Azula snaps, feeling tears threatening to fall. “All this time, I thought she was dead when she really just moved on with her life. If that’s what she wanted, she should have just stayed away!”

“Azula, she’s our mother—”

“So what?” She’s pretty sure she is crying now, unable to control herself. Just when she thought things might be okay…now this? “She was no mother. She left us with Ozai, and look how that turned out! Why would she even want to see us now, after everything that’s happened?”

Zuko closes his eyes and sinks to a seat on the couch. “I don’t know the full story of what happened, Azula, but I promise she wants to see you. She knows you’ve been struggling, but…she loves you, Azula. I could hear it in her voice. I don’t know what to think about…all of this…but it’s Mom.”

Azula feels something wretched come over her. Struggling is sure a funny way to put it. She hates the way Zuko downplays it, the way he speaks that word as if he’ll accidentally upset her and unleash another psychotic outburst. Azula is tired. She’s tired of being treated like she’s crazy. She’s tired of being tricked into thinking someone would actually care about her, when they all fawned over Zuko while she suffered.

Azula feels her lips contort into a sneer.

“I didn’t just mean me,” she spits. “How do you know she wants to see you? She might see Ozai in me, but she’ll also see him in you every time she sees that scar and how she wasn’t around to protect you!”

As soon as the words leave her mouth, Azula regrets them.

Zuko’s mouth drops open slightly, one hand slowly moving up to touch the damaged skin of his cheek as he stares up at her with a wounded look in his eyes. He looked confused before, but now he looks lost, as if it hadn’t even occurred to him how Mother might react to his face.

Azula rushes back to her room and slams the door before she bursts into tears.

A mess. Her life is a fucking mess, and she can’t help but push away the precious few people who actually seem to care.

You’re a monster, her inner voice reminds her. You’ll always be. Do you really think Zuko will ever forgive you for that?

Tears soak into the carpet as Azula sits on the floor, her mind spinning. She doesn’t know what to do. She’s lost. Doesn’t have anything in here to comfort herself with, except—

Azula picks up her phone and finds a text she’d missed from Ty Lee, some silly picture that makes her lips form the tiniest of smiles when she sees it.

[Azula] Are you around, Ty Lee?

The response is almost immediate.

[Ty Lee] Of course! I just got back from seeing my friend and I have some pre-reading for my psychology class but I can do it tomorrow!

Azula smiles through her tears, loving every time Ty Lee shares more and more with her. She seems so open, so carefree, so utterly unbothered by Azula despite all she knows about her.

So Azula takes a risk.

[Azula] Want to call?

[Ty Lee] Sure :)

The phone rings a moment later, and Ty Lee’s voice comes through the other side.

“Hey, Azula!” she says cheerfully, and Azula can almost picture that happy, eyes-closed smile she loves so much. “What’s going on? I have the apartment to myself right now so chat away!”

—————

Azula tells Ty Lee everything.

Ty Lee asks, and Azula tells. About Mother, about all those lingering insecurities, about what she’d just said to Zuko.

She half expects Ty Lee to think she’s horrible and call her a monster. But she doesn’t. She continues talking like nothing is wrong at all, like Azula is just like any other friend.

Ty Lee talks about her own family more too, and Azula finds herself amazed at all the things she’d missed in their childhood. Ty Lee always hated feeling so alike to her sisters, but at the same time, being the youngest daughter meant she was constantly babied. She wanted to be unique, but not like that.

“My mother treated me like I was made of glass,” Ty Lee huffs over the phone. “I wasn’t the best in school, but she thought I couldn’t do anything myself.”

Azula has to admit, that’s a struggle she never had. Everyone saw her as smart and capable, something she wore with pride. It had its own stress, of course—being held to the standard of perfection…but Azula finds herself biting her tongue. How could she complain after what Ty Lee is going through?

But at least Ty Lee understands family like Azula does. It always made Azula feel guilty, that the people who hurt her the most were her own family. Nobody seemed to understand; family is supposed to be something ever-present, an unquestionable loyalty that betraying is unthinkable. But lately, Azula doesn’t feel like that at all. The alleged love of her family members not currently in prison feels like an obligation more than anything else. Azula knows she’s unlovable, cruel, and broken. If it weren’t for blood, they would have thrown her away just like everyone else.

Or maybe she’s lucky they didn’t—because Ty Lee’s did.

“I don’t have anyone looking out for me,” Ty Lee laments, and Azula can tell by the waver in her voice that she’s probably crying. “Everyone has family…but not me. I have to take care of things nobody else my age does—my own bills, my own housing…it’s just so much. I want to go home but I can’t.”

Strangely, there is little mention at all of Ty Lee’s girlfriend while she speaks. Azula is tempted to ask—she hopes at least someone in Ty Lee’s life makes her feel cared for—but she’s afraid of the answer.

Does she want it to be true, or does she not? Does she wish Ty Lee has comfort in her life, or does she wish that the girlfriend isn’t helping as she should and Ty Lee might be single soon?

Azula feels like a monster for even thinking it. But she can’t help but wonder.

“I want to see you, before I leave,” Ty Lee says towards the end of the call and Azula’s heart jumps, her attention recaptured. “Maybe we could go shopping!”

Azula pauses; that’s never exactly been one of her favorite activities. But she is in desperate need of a new wardrobe and Ty Lee sounds so excited…

“I’d love to,” she says immediately. “How about Sunday?”

“Sure!” Ty Lee exclaims, and Azula doesn’t regret her decision in the slightest. “Maybe we can meet at the strip mall on Sunset Avenue? There are some good thrift stores there.”

“I’ll see you then,” Azula says softly. “I’m looking forward to it.”

“Me too! You’re the best, Azula. I’m glad you’re feeling better,” Ty Lee chirps. “Good night!”

When she hangs up, Azula nearly wants to jump up and down. Excitement or frustration—unsure. Ty Lee wants to see her. Her. They’re going shopping together—something Ty Lee always loved doing. It feels like a date; is it? No—no…Azula chastises herself once again. It’s inappropriate to think such things.

But as she falls asleep, all she can picture is a perfect braid of dark hair, shimmering coal-colored eyes, and a smile she’ll never forget.

Chapter Text

Azula sits sullenly in the corner of a nauseatingly sterile room once again. She’s really getting sick of these group sessions. Her eyes hurt from the reflection of the sunlight off of the artificially shining gray floor, but it’s all she wants to focus on. While initially she could derive some entertainment from the absurdity of it all, now it’s just…sad. Azula doesn’t want to be here. Every time she hears a new story, she only feels herself getting more depressed, more angry at the state of the world.

“Why don’t we begin with boundary setting today,” the group leader says cheerfully. “Last week we went over boundaries we can set in our personal relationships to help us take ownership over our lives. Would anyone like to share an example of a boundary they would like to set in a relationship?”

On Ji, a quiet girl with long bangs and an annoying stutter, timidly raises her hand.

“Yes, On Ji!” the leader exclaims.

Azula nearly rolls her eyes. How long does she have to stay in this place again? She feels like she’s in fucking kindergarten. No doubt this girl is going to say something obvious and forgettable, just like in every other fucking one of these sessions.

But On Ji’s answer manages to surprise her.

“I—I don’t want my boyfriend to…um…watch porn,” she says timidly. “It caused so many problems for my ex and I—I can’t deal with that again. So…that’s a boundary I need to have in the future.”

Interesting. Azula doesn’t quite know what to make of that; in all honesty, it isn’t something she’d thought much about.

“Why? Watching porn isn’t bad!” another voice interjects before Azula has a chance to sort through her thoughts.

She feels herself glare on instinct at the owner of the voice. Meng, an insufferable newcomer who never hesitated to boldly assert the stupidest opinions Azula has ever heard.

On Ji visibly wilts. “I…I just meant…”

“It’s a healthy thing to do,” Meng says, crossing her arms. “You shouldn’t make people feel ashamed.”

“They should be fucking ashamed!” Zirin snaps, surprising Azula. She’s hardly heard her say a word since she’s been here, even with them being roommates. “Do you have any idea how violent and disgusting that industry is?”

Meng clenches her fists and scowls. “Just because you don’t like it doesn’t mean other people can’t enjoy it, you fucking prude!”

“You fucking piece of—”

“Enough!” shouts the group leader, the kindergarten facade slipping for just a second before she manages to compose herself again. “We do not speak to each other that way here. On Ji, I think that is a great boundary to set and you’re allowed to set any boundaries you want in your personal relationships. Now, why don’t we move on…”

Interesting. Very interesting, that something like that would get stony-faced, allegedly homicidal Zirin so fired up. There must be something more to her reaction…while the whole idea always disgusted Azula, she certainly never felt that strongly about it.

Azula finds herself pondering it all day, to the point where she almost can’t wait for curfew so she’ll finally get her alone time with Zirin.

“Why were you so angry earlier?” Azula whispers into the darkness, after the hallway lights have shut off.

For a long time, there is only silence in the room and Azula almost thinks Zirin is simply going to ignore her question.

“Because I lived it,” Zirin’s low voice says tightly from across the room.

Azula raises an eyebrow, though she knows Zirin can’t see it in the dark. She certainly wasn’t expecting that—Zirin seems far too reserved to be…that kind of person.

“Really?” Azula nearly scoffs. “You don’t seem like the type.”

“I’m exactly the type,” Zirin says harshly. “Or…I was the type. A young, desperate girl who didn’t know better.”

“What do you mean?” Azula asks with a frown. “Don’t you have to be an adult?”

“Theoretically,” Zirin says without elaborating, and that word alone paints a picture that makes Azula’s stomach begin to turn.

“Just know this,” Zirin continues after a long pause. “Nothing you see on that screen is real. You might see what happens to our bodies. You don’t see the way we’re drugged to get us through the pain, you don’t see how young we really are, and you don’t see the fact that we’re there because we’re afraid of not having anywhere to eat or sleep that night. So unless you’ve been there, don’t fucking act like you understand shit about my life.”

It’s Azula’s instinct to snap back, but she can’t bring herself to do it. Zirin’s anger begins making more sense to her.

While she’s right that Azula has never lived that life, Azula does understand what it’s like to live an illusion. She understands what it’s like to be Ozai’s daughter—a stuck-up privileged rich girl who had everything, and at the time, she even felt like everything in her life was perfect. It wasn’t until later that the sickening reality of who Ozai was—and how he was using her—became known to Azula.

She imagines what it must feel like to be Zirin. What if Azula went through all that she did with Ozai, only, instead of being exposed and sentenced to prison, he’d gotten away with it? What if people defended him to her face, telling her she’s ungrateful and judgmental for complaining about what he did to her?

Yeah, Azula can understand why Zirin is so angry.

Zirin is slow to open up, but as they begin spending more time together, Azula slowly begins to piece together the tragic story of her life that led her to this place.

She learns that Zirin never knew her father, and that her mother was usually too high to be a real parent. Zirin felt lost until she met her first serious girlfriend, a woman nearly twelve years her senior. They met when Zirin was in high school, but didn’t start dating until she was eighteen. Zirin eagerly moved in with her then, desperate to escape her life.

For a long time, it felt perfect. Zirin had someone to take care of her. She was promised a safe place to stay, help with getting a degree, and a happy future together.

“I was so different back then,” Zirin muses one day. “All I wanted to do was wear pink, and sparkles, and makeup. I loved the idea of being loyal to someone who would protect me—basically, I wanted to play housewife for a confident, strong woman. Oh, how terribly that went for me.”

Zirin sighs and shifts aside one of her long braids as Azula struggles to imagine her wearing bright colors and lipstick, but she finds herself imagining a different girl in pink with a braid…

Azula likes Zirin; she likes her dry bluntness and the cynical outlook she has on life. She also loves the way the other idiots here—well, besides Jiang—stare after her in fear and whisper about how she tried to murder someone. That’s something Azula would like to know as well, but she restrains herself from prying. All she knows is…she suspects the person probably deserved it.

Zirin talks more about her past girlfriend, clearly developing an odd sort of trust in Azula. She tells Azula how her girlfriend was into the whole open relationship thing, and Zirin didn’t quite know how to protest when she kept bringing a boyfriend home. Her girlfriend was the provider, after all, the one she depended on for a home, so Zirin simply trusted her when she explained her needs were different.

It was fine, for a time, but then Zirin’s girlfriend started to complain about rent.

The economy was taking a turn. The landlord raised their rent, and Zirin’s girlfriend couldn’t keep up. Zirin certainly couldn’t either—not as a teenage waitress making minimum wage.

At first, Zirin was promised just one shoot. One video of her in bed with her girlfriend—her boyfriend had connections, she said. He’d help them pay rent.

One video turned into ten. Then twenty. Then one day, Zirin’s girlfriend told her a threesome would make them more money.

It hurt. Zirin never wanted to be with a man, but she was promised it would sell. She was promised she only had to do it once.

But then rent rose again.

It became more frequent. More painful. More violent. Zirin was told that ‘vanilla’ didn’t sell as well. She was promised she’d have fun. For a time she even thought she was.

Then she snapped.

In a pained haze, she found herself standing over the boyfriend, a bloodied, broken bottle in her hand and a shocked expression on his face as he choked and gargled on his own blood.

The next thing Zirin knew, she was in handcuffs on a sidewalk alight with blue and red flashing lights. Then she was here.

She tells Azula that her rapist was taken away in an ambulance, but that he survived. Zirin glares at the ground as she angrily rubs her foot into the dirt path of the garden they’re sitting in as she recounts it to Azula.

“If I actually killed him, I’d probably be in prison instead of here,” Zirin says. “But I still wish that ugly fucker was dead.”

Azula has to agree.

—————

It’s not that Azula has been avoiding Zuko; it’s just that every time she’s emerged from her room the past couple days, he just happened to be taking a shower, or running an errand, or…something else.

But now, Azula hears him clattering about in the kitchen, and she knows she’s in for a conversation. Her not-date with Ty Lee is in an hour, and Azula doesn’t want to be late.

With a sigh, she opens the door and walks outside, still not having any idea what she’s going to tell Zuko. The last words she’d spoken to him are still stuck in her mind, repeating themselves over and over again.

Zuko looks up at her when she enters, and says nothing for a long moment. His expression is painfully neutral and Azula hates having to wait for his judgment.

“I’m alive,” she finally says. “Sorry to disappoint.”

Zuko shakes his head and looks away. “I’m going to the store later. Do you want anything?”

“No,” Azula answers automatically without even thinking about the question, still half expecting Zuko to snap at her.

It’s almost frightening how he’s changed since their childhood. Azula used to find his temper quite hilarious—his buttons were so easy to push and he’d clench his fists and yell at her over the dumbest things until Ozai sent him scampering away like a scared dog.

Now Zuko is clearly upset, but he doesn’t react with anger. He seems defeated, broken, too upset to stand up for himself. Azula used to picture him like this back when she was a different person, imagining her victory. But she hates it. This isn’t winning, this is…this is…

“Have you heard anything else from Mother?” Azula asks softly, trying to think of something that might break this uncomfortable mood.

“No,” Zuko says tonelessly. “I thought you didn’t care.”

Those words hang in the air, neither one of them daring to speak.

Azula scowls at the floor. She can’t have this. She’s stuck living in this small apartment with Zuko, and she can’t even talk to him any more?

Ridiculous. Azula can’t live this way, and she certainly won’t let some stupid argument bother her this much. She sighs. Fine—she’ll be the bigger person or whatever else they would have told her back at the nuthouse.

“I…didn’t mean what I said, the other day,” Azula says sheepishly.

Zuko finally looks up.

“I was just…I don’t know,” Azula huffs, crossing her arms. “I thought Mother was dead and I—I guess it just hurt, feeling like she abandoned us. But that’s not your fault.”

She can’t quite get her lips to form the word sorry, but she’s relieved to see Zuko’s posture relax slightly.

“Thanks, Azula,” he says quietly, angling his face slightly away from her.

Azula wonders how long he’s done that without her noticing, that subtle movement to partially obscure his scar from view. She looks away from him, still feeling that guilt gnawing.

“You know…” Zuko begins with a furrowed brow. “I don’t know how to feel about Mom either. I love her, but…you were right, Azula. We’ve both changed so much since she left and so did she. I don’t know. Will she ever really be Mom again?”

Azula blinks. Zuko—the insufferable Mommy’s boy of a brother she remembers—feels like this? That woman always loved him more…and still? Maybe Azula isn’t a monster for having her doubts, but the thought still lingers.

“So, what did you tell her?” Azula asks skeptically. “Is she going to visit?”

“She wants to visit this winter, for the solstice,” Zuko says. “I know it’s hard, but she’s still Mom, Azula. I at least want to try. Will you, too? Please?”

Azula bites her lip, as if that will hold back another torrent of nasty words that want to escape. That can’t happen again; Azula has more control than that. She knows better. She refuses to prove the world right that she’s just some crazy animal who can no longer function in polite society.

Azula closes her eyes and takes a breath.

“I’m going to meet Ty Lee at the mall on Sunset,” she finally says. “I don’t want to be late.”

“Oh,” Zuko says, looking back towards the floor. “Well…I hope you two have fun. I’ll…see you later?”

Azula only nods quickly before hurrying out the door and breathing a sigh of relief as it closes behind her.

Well. That could have gone worse. At least she and Zuko are talking again, but Mother…Azula doesn’t know if she wants to scream or cry at the thought of her.

—————

Azula always loathed public transportation.

It’s something she’s hardly ever had to use, but she doesn’t have a car right now and asking Zuko to shuttle her around like a child is out of the question, so here she is.

She wrinkles her nose and crosses her arms across her chest, imagining the look on Ozai’s face if he could see her now. While the thought of disappointing him now fills her with glee, Azula still can’t but feel humbled. Not only because of the unfamiliar environment, but because of how well she fits into it.

Old sneakers, unflattering jeans, and the old blue dragon tee. The furthest look from the decorum Azula once presented herself with, but she just doesn’t feel comfortable in anything else. She sighs as the bus comes to a halt again and another passenger carelessly bumps her shoulder on his way out.

Azula huffs. This will have to be temporary. Zuko promised her good pay at her new job, and after she finishes her last class and applies to law school, things will get even better for her.

Yes, Azula assures herself. She can rebuild what she had before, only this time, she’ll do it herself. No Ozai. No expectations. She’ll have nobody to owe her success to but herself, and Azula finds herself more determined than ever to prove herself worthy.

The bus finally comes to a stop on Sunset, and Azula frowns as she steps off. This wasn’t exactly what she’d been picturing when she heard mall—it’s more of a collection of shabby storefronts surrounding a large parking lot; nothing like the luxurious shopping centers she remembers from Caldera city.

“Azula!” she hears Ty Lee call out, and turns instantly towards the sound of her voice.

Ty Lee smiles brightly and waves, but Azula can’t help but notice she seems like she’s holding back from her usual self. She’s wearing a long orange skirt and a faded pink blouse that flows in the breeze. She practically skips over towards Azula, but again…no hug. Azula doesn’t know why she’s bothered by such a detail—maybe Ty Lee has simply just grown up since they’ve been apart—but she knows that isn’t it.

Azula just wants to see Ty Lee happy again. Bubbly, excited, unbothered by the world like she used to be. It’s something Azula could really use right now.

“Ty Lee,” Azula greets with a small smile of her own. “It’s…lovely to see you today.”

That’s something normal people say to each other, right? It is lovely to see Ty Lee of course, but Azula can’t help but note the awkwardness at which the phrase rolls off her tongue. Is there any way she knows how Azula feels about her? Is it weird that she can’t help it? Fuck—

“You too!” Ty Lee says brightly, helping to set Azula’s mind at ease. If anything is amiss, Ty Lee certainly isn’t showing it. “Are you ready for some shopping?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Azula grumbles in what she hopes comes off as a joking tone. While it’s no secret this isn’t her favorite activity, she still has an optimistic feeling about today that’s uncharacteristic of her. “So, what is this place?”

“My favorite thrift store!” Ty Lee exclaims and Azula feels herself inwardly cringe.

“Why would you want to buy other people’s used stuff?” Azula scoffs before she can stop herself. “Surely there is something better around.”

A hurt look momentarily crosses Ty Lee’s face and Azula bites her tongue. Of fucking course she had to ruin it; just like she always ruins—

“This one has nice things! People in this neighborhood have the neatest vintage clothes,” Ty Lee recovers, her bright smile back before she frowns slightly. “And, well…I’m on my own now, so cheaper things are always nice.”

“That does sound nice,” Azula muses with a frown of her own.

It isn’t exactly a lie. While the idea of wearing someone else’s old clothes still strikes her as humiliating, Ty Lee has a point. Azula doesn’t exactly have the cash flow she used to, and while a pipe dream of eventually getting some sort of settlement from Ozai has crossed her mind, it’s no guarantee.

“Great!” Ty Lee says, clapping her hands together before pulling Azula along with her. “Let’s go; I always find something good here!”

Azula wants to roll her eyes at the enthusiasm; Ty Lee is practically bouncing up and down on her toes as she pulls her towards the sliding plexiglass doors ahead. But Azula finds herself feeling drawn in yet again, despite the circumstances.

It looks like…a mess.

Azula didn’t know what exactly she was expecting when she stepped through those rickety sliding doors, but she finds herself annoyed by the undecorated fluorescent lights on the ceiling and the haphazard racks of clothing.

“How do you find anything here?” she asks with crossed arms, but Ty Lee is already digging through a shelf.

“You just have to look!” she says before holding up a pink fuzzy shirt with a monkey on it. “Ooo, this is fun!”

Azula raises an eyebrow. Fun…maybe at some toddler’s birthday party. But before she has the opportunity to comment, Ty Lee is already putting it back on the rack and moving on to the next thing.

“Why don’t we each find a few things and try them on?” Ty Lee suggests. “It can be like a little fashion show!”

“I suppose…” Azula groans, but she can’t help but crack a faint smile. She doesn’t want to admit how much the idea of Ty Lee showing off some cute finds with a bright smile on her face appeals to her…but then there’s the matter of her.

Well, might as well get this over with.

Azula doesn’t even know where to begin. Dresses? No—that’s out. Pencil skirts, low-cut blouses, form-hugging tops…no no no. Ozai’s leering face is still seared into the back of her mind, and Azula finds herself passing by rack after rack of clothes as if she can escape it.

Finally, her fingers trace across something a little different, and Azula finds herself lifting a thick leather jacket off the shelf.

Curious, Azula puts it on and smoothes her hands down the sides. She likes it—the weight of it, the sleekness and elegance despite not hugging too tightly across her body. There is a slight wear to it, but oddly enough, Azula doesn’t mind. It’s comfortable. It has character, as Ty Lee would probably say.

Azula tucks the jacket under her armpit and continues looking on that same rack. It’s disorganized, but oddly enough Azula finds herself intrigued. She used to despise the unexpected, but here, she feels like she’s discovering something new.

A smile pile begins to collect in her arms. A pair of gray slacks, dark denim jeans, a black sweater, and a blood-red blazer with a golden trim around its collar. Azula would die before admitting such a thing out loud, but this place is beginning to grow on her.

“Wow, looks like you had some luck!” Ty Lee says as she pops up next to Azula, carrying her own bundle of clothing.

“I guess,” Azula concedes, making Ty Lee giggle as they make their way towards the changing rooms.

Azula starts with the slacks and blazer, hoping for something that would be acceptable to wear to her new job. Impressions are critical, after all, but she’s hoping to do it in a way that isn’t so…Ozai.

“Wow!” Ty Lee says as she emerges from behind the curtain, and Azula really hopes she isn’t blushing like an idiot.

Azula feels tempted to say the same, as she looks at Ty Lee wearing a long, floral dress with butterfly sleeves. She’s gorgeous, and wearing exactly the style she’d said she dreamed of wearing.

“Just…something I thought would be appropriate for my new job,” Azula says, awkwardly clearing her throat to break the silence.

Ty Lee nods. “It’s a great style for you. You always struck me as a little more masc, you know.”

Ty Lee’s type, Azula remembers. She feels her cheeks get even hotter.

“Well, I…”

Azula looks at herself in the mirror, and once again finds that she barely recognizes her reflection. But it’s different than before; this Azula isn’t a shriveled shell of her former self. This Azula is human, one worth getting to know.

Who was she before, anyways?

It wasn’t something Azula really thought about before. Her personal identity was Ozai’s, not her own. If someone asked Azula who she was and what that meant to her in the past, she probably would have laughed in their face and told them to take their feel-good hippy bullshit elsewhere. But it’s true; Azula didn’t really have an identity of her own. Her appearance, her clothes, her makeup…all of it was to fulfill an image. Ozai’s little princess. That’s all she was—she cut away so much of herself to please him, and in the end, he still betrayed her.

Azula looks at herself and finds something resembling power in the fact that her reflection is no longer a reflection of that same girl. She’s no longer adorned with the look Ozai pushed on her; she wears clothes that she chose for herself. She looks professional, but not like she’s on display. She looks powerful, but not in a faux-empowered magazine cover way. True power, the power that comes from staring out at the world rather than obsessing over how it stares back at her.

“No need to be nervous,” Ty Lee assures her with a soft hand on the elbow. “It’s very common for queer women, you know, it’s actually kind of hard for me to fit in because people don’t realize I’m queer at all!”

Azula feels an uncomfortable shiver pass over her at that word again, but does her best not to let it show. Ty Lee doesn’t say it with the same intonation as Ozai or Ruon-Jian, so she clearly doesn’t mean it as an insult, but it feels…wrong. But she doesn’t want to upset Ty Lee, so she puts on a smirk and forces her memories back.

“Well…I suppose now that my shitstain father is in prison, I can change it up a bit,” Azula says with a shrug. “You like it?”

“I love it! Personally, I’m super femme, but that look suits you!” Ty Lee giggles as she spins around in her dress as if to demonstrate.

“So, are you going to buy that?” Azula asks, nodding towards the dress.

Ty Lee frowns. “Maybe later. It’s more of a summer thing, and I can’t exactly afford everything that catches my eye right now.”

Azula shrugs. “Fair enough.”

As she closes the curtain of her own changing room behind her, Azula peeks at the price tag on the blazer she’s wearing. It’s something she’s not used to doing at all. She mentally runs the numbers over in her head…what else does she need to buy right now? Zuko tried giving her a break on rent considering he’d just been living in that apartment by himself anyway, but Azula won’t have it. She has to at least contribute something, lest she give Zuko yet another inexplicable favor to hold over her.

There’s some money in her savings, and she’s set to start a job with supposedly good pay soon. She’ll need to save up money for law school, but after that’s done, she should be in good shape, right?

Azula continues working her way through the stack of clothes on her bench, deciding she doesn’t want to part with the majority of them. Those numbers on those tags…Azula knows they don’t surpass what she has and Ty Lee had promised her this place was a good deal.

Ty Lee seems to be having a great time herself. Every time she emerges from the changing room, she looks so pleased with herself. Azula can’t help but laugh inwardly at the contrast between them—Ty Lee’s bright and sparkly wardrobe compared to her own dark, business casual one.

“You really love bright colors, don’t you?” Azula muses out loud as she watches Ty Lee scrutinize a part of fluffy, orange slippers.

It’s not meant to be an insult, but Azula can’t for the life of her relate to it—at no point in her life has she been like Ty Lee. Part of her almost wishes she could. She wonders how it feels, to be so enthusiastic and seemingly carefree. But for some reason, there is a lock on that idea for Azula, a deep sense of discomfort she can’t quite define.

Ty Lee only shrugs in response to her question. “I’ve just always been like this. I’m just very very feminine naturally. People even think it’s weird and annoying. It’s so hard being this way and being queer, but I don’t care. This is just how I naturally am.”

“And I’m…not,” Azula realizes out loud, though she’s not entirely sure what that means.

Ever since she can remember, Azula felt different. Out of place. Ozai used to feed her ego to the extent she thought she was different simply because she was better than everyone else, but lately, Azula feels nothing but humbled. Everything that used to make her feel distinguished is gone, and she feels that sense of strangeness even stronger. Only now, it’s a vulnerability rather than a shield.

What does it mean?

“Well, you know, you could be nonbinary,” Ty Lee says with a casual shrug. “My girlfriend is too! She feels more comfortable that way, being more masc and all.”

Azula feels herself freeze. “What…what do you mean?”

“Oh! You know, she just doesn’t fully feel like a woman all the time. She wears more tomboyish clothes and even uses she/they pronouns,” Ty Lee explains although it’s not like Azula didn’t have a basic idea of what that meant already. “It’s pretty common in queer spaces!”

“Why do you keep saying that?” Azula snaps before she can stop herself, that uncomfortable, skin-crawling feeling coming back.

“Oh…what?” Ty Lee asks, tilting her head to the side and blinking innocently.

“That…word,” Azula huffs. She can’t seem to look Ty Lee in the eyes. Such a thing affecting her makes her feel weak, but she hates the memories of dark, leering stares and threatening voices it brings back.

“Queer?” Ty Lee asks, clearly still confused. “There’s nothing wrong with it! It just means we’re different and we need to stick together. Nothing to be ashamed of!”

Shame? Is that what Azula feels? She isn’t sure. It’s really not something she wants to talk about—she’s a strong person and she shouldn’t let one word rattle her. Fuck Ozai. Fuck Ruon-Jian. Azula is who she is, but…it doesn’t sit right. Azula had known that word all her life, and it’s never been spoken with kindness. But if different and weird is what she is though…maybe Azula has no choice but to get used to it.

“But, you know, no pressure!” Ty Lee exclaims. “Everyone needs time to figure things out. So, are you done trying on clothes?”

“I suppose,” Azula finally says in answer to both questions as she gathers her things together.

“Great!” Ty Lee says, and Azula can’t help but inwardly smile at how she moved on from that uncomfortable topic like it’s just fine. Azula was willing to accept that Ty Lee most likely secretly hated and feared her, but now…she finds herself doubting that.

As Ty Lee gathers her things together, Azula can’t help but notice that she leaves that flowing, floral dress lying across the bench. If she’s not mistaken, she even catches Ty Lee staring at it with a forlorn expression before turning away.

Azula remembers how happy Ty Lee looked when she put it on, the way her face lit up with a smile when she twirled around to show it off. It’s not fair that she doesn’t get to have that, not with everything else she’s dealing with.

So, Azula picks up that dress and adds it to her own pile.

She can afford it; things are finally looking bright for her again with the new job starting and her newfound freedom. Ty Lee notices and her eyes widen in a curious kind of surprise that makes Azula not regret her decision at all.

“It’s on me,” she tells Ty Lee with a gentle smile. “So you can have something nice to wear at school when the weather gets warmer.”

Ty Lee looks like she might cry. “You mean it?”

“Of course I do,” Azula says, feeling her heart melt all over again.

She can’t help but wonder what this girlfriend of Ty Lee’s does for her—it’s as if she isn’t used to having anyone do nice things for her. Azula finds that she’s angered by that idea.

“How about lunch?” she feels herself blurt out, and Ty Lee perks up even more. “Also on me…I’m getting hungry.”

Truthfully, Azula really doesn’t feel hungry, especially with Ozai’s warnings about what too much restaurant food could do running through her mind, but she figures it’s roughly noon by now and it feels like the right thing to do.

“Oh! There’s a pho place I really like just across the parking lot!” Ty Lee exclaims with a bright smile. “We could go there!”

“Sounds like a plan,” Azula says with a smile.

—————

Is this a date? It really feels like a date.

Azula knows the thought is deeply inappropriate, but she can’t help but wonder if this is what it would feel like to be on a date—a real date with a beautiful woman instead of a publicity stunt with some ugly troll who Ozai tried setting her up with.

Ty Lee seems perfectly at ease, and Azula figures she’s probably just worrying over nothing. She watches Ty Lee’s hand as it stirs the coconut milk into her iced tea, complete with a collection of pink friendship bracelets and chipped nail polish. Her hands look so delicate and so soft; Azula remembers thinking that before, what if they held—

“So, what’s it like living with Zuko?” Ty Lee asks absently. It definitely shouldn’t startle Azula like it does.

“It’s…fine, I guess,” she mutters, feeling guilty at the tension between her and her brother despite the generosity he’s shown her. But for some reason, it feels comfortable talking to Ty Lee…like she might be one of the few people who understands. “I just feel like he doesn’t understand me sometimes. He just wants me to pretend like nothing happened, and…I don’t know. I’m not normal. I never really was—how can he just expect me to act normal after…after that.”

“I know what you mean,” Ty Lee says, casting her eyes down towards the table. “I never got along well with my sisters. Most of them just kind of ignored me because they thought I was annoying, and Ty Woo was just so mean. I always stood out so much from the rest of them. Well—I guess Ty Liu was nice to me sometimes, but it was difficult because she was always my mother’s favorite. Ty Liu was always so smart. I always knew my mother wished I could be more like her.”

Azula feels her heart sink as she realizes how much she can relate to that.

“My mother always thought I was a monster,” she says.

It had been obvious that Zuko was Mother’s favorite—something else he seemingly refuses to see. Part of Azula never wants to see her again, but part of her wonders if maybe things have changed now that Ozai is away.

But at least she has Ty Lee now—someone who gets it. Azula truly did find herself feeling like a monster at her lowest point. Not only because that’s how her mother saw her, but because she’d burned every bridge with her family at that point. Mother was missing, Ozai was in prison, and she was certain that Zuko and Iroh must hate her.

One thing talked about in those group sessions at the facility that Azula actually found helpful was the idea that family can be made. She feels something in her open up at the idea of finding that with Ty Lee—as friends, of course. Nothing more. They were friends before, but now there is a growing connection that makes Azula feel understood in a way she’s never been understood before.

“My mother thinks I’m a monster too,” Ty Lee says solemnly and Azula wonders how anyone could think such a thing—especially a seemingly charming and sweet mother like Ty Lee’s, if Azula’s memory is to be trusted. “Ever since I came out. You know…the same thing happened to my girlfriend, too.”

“What’s she like?” Azula blurts out, both because she’s itching to know and because she’d really rather change the subject. “Your girlfriend.”

Ty Lee brightens at the question and Azula does her best to set aside the feeling that is most certainly not jealousy.

“She’s really tall and smart and badass!” Ty Lee says with a blush. “Sometimes I don’t know how I scored her…she’s so smooth with the ladies and she’s a bit older than me. But we have so much in common, especially right now with family issues and all.”

Azula raises an eyebrow. “Older?”

“Oh…she’s about eleven years older than me,” Ty Lee says with a deepening blush. “But I mean…I really like it that way. She takes care of me and she’s so experienced. She thinks I’m cute! I like just being my feminine self and” —Ty Lee lets out an awkward giggle— “she’s definitely a top and I’m just submissive all the time. A total pillow princess.”

Azula feels her cheeks get hot at that mention—it’s not like the concept is unfamiliar to her; Jiang and Zirin had explained it to her quite thoroughly, but a strange deep sense of discomfort begins creeping into the pit of Azula’s stomach.

“Sorry!” Ty Lee quickly adds with a flustered look on her face. “I didn’t mean to overstep.”

“No—no…it’s fine,” Azula says with a forced smile. “I don’t mind; you can talk about that if you want.”

It’s not a lie—at least not completely. Azula doesn’t mind conversations about sex by any means; besides, Zirin’s mind was far dirtier than anything Ty Lee just said. While Azula has felt virtually no desire for intimacy since that night with Ozai, she still dreams of the day she’ll feel comfortable enough to entertain that idea. It doesn’t exactly make her uncomfortable.

No; what makes her uncomfortable is something she can’t quite put her finger on about what Ty Lee just told her. Alarm bells she didn’t know she had are going off in her mind. The mystery girlfriend is eleven years older—and Ty Lee again speaks with a strange sort of adamance that she’s always and naturally a walking feminine stereotype.

Azula tries to shake it off. No; she’s probably just being nasty, and comparing herself.

But then she remembers Zirin telling her things that echoed Ty Lee’s words in a twisted way. Things Zirin said she’d once believed about herself when she was trapped—when she was being taken advantage of and was too naïve and dependent to fully understand it.

How Zirin had said in not so many words that she was almost exactly like Ty Lee, at some point in her past.

“Thank you,” Ty Lee says with a gentle smile before looking down at the table with a blush. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable…I just feel a bit crazy…like that, you know. Thank you for being understanding, Azula.”

“Of course,” Azula feels herself say, still feeling that inexplicable pull so strongly. Ty Lee thinks she’s understanding, trustworthy even. Azula can’t mess that up, so she pushes her worries aside for the moment. “So, you’re happy then?”

Ty Lee noticeably pauses before answering, and Azula feels those alarm bells going off once again.

“Well…mostly. But it’s probably just because school is starting soon…in the Fire Nation this time,” Ty Lee says with a sigh. “And my girlfriend…”

“What?” Azula asks quickly—too quickly, she fears—those worries and doubts she’d tried burying kicked up again.

“She just…” Ty Lee shakes her head. “My girlfriend really likes the idea of this…open relationship thing, and I’m not so sure. I don’t want to be disrespectful of her, but I don’t know how I feel about it. But I also don’t know if it’s fair since we’re going to be long distance pretty soon…”

Open relationship—another phrase taught to her by Zirin, and Azula feels an involuntary shudder as she begins to see a pattern she’s seen before emerging. By itself, it would probably be nothing, but Azula remembers it was the same idea that Zirin’s girlfriend had presented her with. And at first it was fine, until rent went up and strange men were coming over to the house and—

“You don’t have to be comfortable with anything you don’t want,” Azula says adamantly, struggling not to let her face betray the way she’s internally screaming. She takes a deep breath. “I mean…it’s your relationship just as much as hers, Ty Lee. She should make you feel happy.”

Ty Lee looks back up at her, with a teary expression that makes Azula’s heart ache.

“Thank you, Azula,” she says. “But Jun does make me happy. She just has a lot going on in her life.”

Jun.

That name sits in Azula’s head through the rest of the lunch not-date, lingers in the back of her mind on the bus ride home after Ty Lee leaves in an Uber, and pesters her as she tries to sleep.

Something about this situation is wrong, but Azula can’t quite define what.

It’s not like she’s had a relationship—a real relationship of her own, so perhaps she simply doesn’t understand. She’s seen her fair share of relationships crash and burn, but never experienced it herself. Maybe she’s just overreacting.

After all, each thing by itself could be no big deal. Azula knows some people date older. She knows some people are swingers, as Ozai would have phrased it. And she knows Ty Lee has always had a vastly different personality and set of priorities than her. And yet—she still can’t help but be haunted by Zirin’s story and how similar it all seems.

Should Azula do something? Would it be an overreach that would only push Ty Lee away, just like everyone else in Azula’s life? Or would the truly monstrous thing be to do nothing—to sit by and watch her dear friend be hurt.

But perhaps most shamefully—overshadowing this whole mess—is the fact that Azula can’t help but compare herself to this Jun. Azula doesn’t even know what she looks like, but she can’t help but wonder. What’s her style? Is she as beautiful as her? Ty Lee said she was smart, but is she as smart as Azula or just blowing hot air?

Most of all, Azula thinks of the hurt look on Ty Lee’s face as she contemplated how Jun would react to long distance, and she feels angry. If Azula was the girlfriend, she’d never suggest such a thing. If Azula was the girlfriend, she’d spoil Ty Lee as much as she could just to see her smile. If Azula was the girlfriend, she’d be there for Ty Lee in a way she strongly suspects Jun isn’t.

She rolls over in bed with a sigh and buries her face in her pillow. What a mess. What a fucking mess.

Azula might not even get a chance to see Ty Lee again before she moves away…and it will only be that much harder to get to the bottom of this.

A little buzz on the nightstand has Azula’s attention again in an instant.

[Ty Lee] I had a great time today! I know I’m leaving soon but we can still keep in touch.

Azula smiles at the message, before taking a risk and reacting with the heart emoji.

Well, at least they can stay connected this way. At least Azula knows she has at least one true friend.

Chapter Text

Azula carefully walks down the staircase in her new black heels, straightening her hair on the way. The car is coming to pick them up in about an hour for the press conference, but Father always has to make sure his children are in proper form before they leave.

Father is already waiting for her when she enters the living room, but Zuko is nowhere to be found. Predictable; even for such a minute request from their father, he can’t help but be late.

A moment later, he hurries in, nearly stumbling over himself. Azula feels herself smirk at his incompetence. It’s hard for Father to find anything wrong with her with Zuko in the picture.

Father’s pleased nod quickly turns into a disapproving glare as Zuko takes his place beside her. Azula can almost feel his heart pounding in his chest next to her and wants to roll her eyes. Doesn’t he realize that there would be no issue at all if he simply followed instructions and wasn’t such a mouthy slacker? Typical.

For a long moment, Father paces back and forth, carefully looking the two of them up and down. Predictably, he stops in front of Zuko.

“What’s this?” he asks, pinching the fabric of Zuko’s shirt just beside the buttons. “I told you to put on a dry-cleaned suit, and you come out with a stained shirt?”

Zuko visibly gulps. “I—I’m sorry, Father. It wasn’t there when I got it out.”

“Change,” Father instructs. “You look bad enough as it is; I can’t be seen with you in public when you’re this slovenly.”

If Azula is being honest with herself, it’s a tiny discolored speck she would have missed without Father pointing it out. But standards are standards, after all. Father always warns her that failing to meet any standard, no matter how trivial, is a sign of failure and weakness.

But of course, Zuko has to run his stupid mouth.

“Father, it’s probably just some aftershave. It should fade away by the time we—”

The sound of a slap rings through the air, leaving Zuko to stagger backwards from his tense posture with a tiny, cut-off cry.

Zuko stares up in shock, a hand pressed to his cheek, and Azula wants to snort—how is one little smack worse than the mark already there? He should know by now the price of disobeying Father.

“Don’t look so surprised,” Father sneers, grabbing Zuko roughly by his collar and shaking him. “Your face isn’t one to be seen by cameras anyway. Now, change your damn clothes and stay in the back of the crowd. I will not be tolerating any more insolence from you today. Understood?”

Zuko bows his head as soon as he’s released. “Yes, Father.”

He scampers away in defeat, leaving Father’s critical eye to turn towards her.

Though Azula knows she has nothing to fear, she still feels herself stiffen under his scrutiny.

But sure enough, Father meets her with a proud smile.

“As for you, my dear, you look lovely today,” he praises. “You’ll be perfect to have at my side during my speech.”

Father tilts his head as he examines Azula. He brushes a bit of lint from her shoulder that she’s almost certain wasn’t really there, and pulls at the edges of her jacket that she’d been careful to modestly tuck closed to hide her cleavage.

Azula had always seen it as unprofessional, but now Father regards her with a pleased hum.

“Don’t be afraid to use the advantages you have as a woman,” Father says in a low voice that Azula isn’t quite used to. “You’re growing into a beautiful young lady; no need to be frumpy now. You wouldn’t want to come off as one of those queers, now would you?”

“No, Father,” Azula says. She feels her voice grow tight as his hand smoothes over the perfectly pressed fabric of the pencil skirt hugging her waist.

“Of course you don’t,” he hums. “You’re a proper young lady. Now, you remember the rules, don’t you?”

Of course she does; Azula has been making public appearances with her father since she can remember and they always came with a strict set of rules. Dress perfectly, and maintain a strong posture. Don’t fidget or complain. Smile, but not too widely. Don’t speak unless spoken to. Never let anyone see you eat; you’ll look like a pig. Never speak to those of lower social standing. Azula knows.

“I remember,” she says proudly.

Father’s smirk deepens as he traces her cheek with his thumb. “Good. I always expect the best from you.”

Azula smiles after him as he turns to leave. She’s doing it. She’s winning. Father loves her; he approves of her. Azula can’t wait for the day she’s running Sozin Enterprises on her own, just as he promised her she would.

—————

The day arrives sooner than Azula was expecting, and suddenly, she finds herself awkwardly waiting in the lobby of a large office building in downtown Republic City. Such a setting would have once felt so natural to Azula, but now she hardly wants to be seen in public at all.

She brushes her hair out of her face and adjusts her new blazer and slacks, hoping she looks presentable. Azula feels frazzled after barely making it on time—exactly two minutes before she’d been asked to arrive after struggling to find parking in this stupid fucking city.

Admittedly, Azula is grateful that Iroh is letting her borrow his old car. It’s an unflattering, white SUV with a dent on the hood from where a branch struck it one year during a windstorm, but it sure as fuck beats trying to get here on the bus. Azula dreams of the day she can afford her own car—the day she’s no longer forced to depend on anyone for anything.

Eventually, she vows. She’ll recover eventually.

“Ms. Sozin?” a voice calls out, and while hearing that name initially unsettles her, Azula quickly gathers her wits and puts on a professional smile.

She recognizes the man standing before her from the scouring she’d done of the firm’s website; this must be Piandao, the man who Zuko had studied under and scored Azula’s position through. He’s surprisingly underdressed; Azula had been expecting a suit, but he’s wearing a comfortable pair of jeans with a brown quarter-zip and navy jacket. Certainly not lazy, but not certainly not formal either.

“Azula is fine,” she says, politely extending her hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Piandao bows politely, much to Azula’s surprise. She’s only a receptionist, why the gesture? “Nice to meet you as well, Azula. Our office is right this way.”

Azula quickly bows in return and follows him as he motions towards the elevator, once again running through all the advice Ozai had given her. While the thought of his guidance now makes her sick, she must concede he knew his way around the business world.

Sharp clothes. A strong posture. Firm handshakes, no eating, no fidgeting, eye contact, engaged expression—

“So, how was the drive down here?” Piandao asks as the elevator door closes. “Zuko tells me you’re living with him out in Morishita.”

“It was pleasant,” Azula answers evenly, figuring a neutral answer is safe considering she doesn’t know this man well and what brand of personality he prefers in his employees. Whatever it is, Azula knows how to adapt accordingly.

“Hopefully the traffic wasn’t too bad this time of day,” he muses as he taps the button for floor 17. “It’s a lovely little town.”

“It wasn’t a problem. When I was attending the university, I always left early in the morning to get ahead of it,” Azula adds. She hopes that will score a few points; she’s confident in her work ethic as it is, but it never hurts to market.

“Well, I’m sure you’ll enjoy our office,” Piandao says as a ding sounds and the doors open. “It’s not as fancy as Sozin Enterprises, but everyone here is great at what they do.”

Azula surveys the office before her and finds it isn’t at all what she was expecting.

It almost embarrasses her how overdressed she feels in her blazer and slacks. She sees a woman in a simple tee walking across the office with a cup of coffee, a man in shorts grabbing something from the printer, and a woman in a simple sweater stretching out her arms at her desk.

However, if Azula has made some kind of faux-pas she’s unaware of, nobody comments on it to her.

“Azula, I’d like you to meet Kyoshi,” Piandao says, nodding to a woman sitting at the front desk. “She’s one of our most esteemed attorneys here, and handles many of our administrative matters as well. I’m sure she’ll be grateful to have you here to take some work off of her hands.”

Azula tries to ignore the way her mind immediately jumps to that Kyoshi Warrior musical that Ty Lee gushes so much about. It’s a fairly common Earth Kingdom name; no need to act so juvenile. Azula pushes the thought aside and gives her best professional smile.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Azula. I’ve heard a lot about you,” Kyoshi says, standing and extending a hand with a smile.

The first thing Azula notices aside from Kyoshi’s name is how tall she is. Azula stands a bit taller than average herself, but Kyoshi makes her feel tiny. She must be well over six feet tall, and clearly doesn’t shy away from heels. Like most of her coworkers, she’s dressed rather casually—in jeans and a stylish green sweater.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you too,” Azula replies as she extends her own hand and offers her best firm handshake.

A flash of nervousness passes through her as she takes in Kyoshi’s words—that she’s clearly heard a lot about her. Who hasn’t, at this point? Some days Azula doesn’t want to so much as show her face in public, fearing who could know details of her life she wishes never got out. Kyoshi knows. She has to—she’s her new employer, after all. It would only make sense that she did her due diligence.

But Kyoshi only smiles pleasantly in return, and gestures towards the desk. “Well, we’ve got a few boring onboarding things to go over, but when that’s done, I was going to take everyone out to lunch. How fast can you type?”

“Pretty fast,” Azula answers automatically. Admittedly, she’s disappointed it’s the first skill she’s been asked about; her talents extend far beyond mere keyboard skills.

However, Azula bites her tongue. She’s fallen so far; she knows this. She should consider herself lucky to even have a job at this point.

“Excellent,” Kyoshi says with another calming smile. “Important skill to have around here. You’ll even find it serves you when you’re an attorney yourself one day. Lots of typing.”

She says it so casually, like it would be so obvious Azula would make it there. Once, Azula would have talked about herself like that with all of her former bravado, but now it feels like a pipe dream. She could still make it? This woman—this tall, powerful woman who barely knows her—actually believes in her?

“Thank you,” Azula says, feeling her past self cringe at the meek tone of her voice as soon as the words leave her mouth.

It’s moments like these she’s forced to remember how little confidence she has left, and she’s forced to wonder if what she had before was even real.

But as she listens intently to Kyoshi—mundane as her new receptionist job might be—Azula finds herself coming to a new realization. For the first time in her life, everything she has is because of her. She’s no longer living under a shadow.

For the first time, Azula has the freedom to stand alone. She’s no longer Ozai Sozin’s daughter, and if anything, that name now brings disdain rather than pride to her. She’s best distancing herself from it to the extent she can—and that is a prospect that relieves Azula.

Azula knows the wealth and connections she was raised with served her well in the past, but she also knows her own skills did too. Ozai might have tried to make her a monster in his image, but he also accidentally gave her a strength of her own. A sharpness and wit Azula still undoubtedly carries with her, that no amount of pain and hardship can take from her. She doesn’t have to use it to serve him any more; no, that power now belongs to her. To Azula. The world is so much more open to her now—dark past aside, Azula feels freer than ever.

It’s nice being around people like her.

Or are they—are they like her? Azula can’t be sure of that; she isn’t entirely sure of who she is herself at the moment.

But something about this day feels right. It’s professional here, but not stuffy. Azula is enough of a people person to know she’s surrounded by highly intelligent people—although none of them flaunt it. She feels respected but not like a spectacle.

And, at the end of the day, it’s a job. If Azula does it well and works it hard—like she aspires to do with everything—surely she’ll earn her place. Herself; her own accomplishment, independent of Ozai.

She leaves the building with a slight bit of relief that afternoon. She likes Piandao, she likes Kyoshi, and surprisingly, she finds it hard to think of a person she doesn’t like. Azula is sure that will be coming, but she does her best to cling to what little sense of control she has.

As she slips into the driver’s seat of her car and slams the door, she notices a text from Ty Lee.

[Ty Lee] Hi, I’m just hanging out in my dorm. How are you?

Azula isn’t sure what comes over her, but she instinctively finds herself pressing the call button as she starts up her car. The drive home is nearly an hour, why not spend it with Ty Lee?

Ty Lee answers almost immediately.

“Hello!” she greets in a cheerful, sing-song voice that brings a smile to Azula’s lips despite nobody being around to see. “What’s going on, Azula?”

“I just finished my first day of work,” Azula explains with a note of pride. “I’m driving home now so I thought I’d give you a call.”

“Oh, thank you! How was it?” Ty Lee asks.

“It was…great, actually,” Azula answers honestly, still surprised by that outcome. “I really liked everyone there, and one of my bosses said she’d even help me apply for law school. I thought I had no future after being stuck in that hospital, but now…maybe that’s not true.”

“Oh Azula, I’m so glad!” Ty Lee says. “You’re so lucky. I started a new job to put myself through college, but…I don’t know. I started at this tea shop last week and it’s already stressing me out so much!”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Azula says. Genuinely. Can’t this girl catch a break? “What—”

“My coworkers are just so judgy!” Ty Lee laments. “Yesterday I dropped a bun on the floor and one of them laughed. My boss is so mean to me too! She says I’m not efficient enough. Not to mention it’s always so hot and loud in there. I just want to be me but I know people don’t like it. I hate it in the Fire Nation. They’re all so judgemental and cold and pasty here, and I…I don’t know. I don’t fit in anywhere, Azula. People are so hateful just because I’m girly and goofy. I see them laughing when I walk by. I know they’re all watching me. They always do, Azula. I just hate it.”

Azula blinks, nearly cursing as she suddenly has to slam on the breaks. She’s struggling to take in…all that. She feels that odd sense of euphoria she’d felt after her day at work come crashing down, the reminder of how dark a place the world can be replacing it.

“I’m sorry,” Ty Lee suddenly says, making Azula realize how long the silence has been dragging on over the phone. “I didn’t mean to dump all that on you like that. You don’t have to listen. I know I’m too much for most people.”

“No, it’s okay,” Azula says automatically. Ty Lee isn’t too much for her, she can’t be. Who in the world made her feel that way? Azula swears it to herself, if nobody—not even this Jun, clearly—can be there for Ty Lee, then she will. She can’t let her dear friend feel so alone. “You can always talk to me.”

“Thank you, Azula,” Ty Lee says quietly, and Azula swears she hears a faint sniffle on the other end of the phone. “It’s good to have a real friend.”

—————

They talk the rest of Azula’s drive home. Azula even pauses in the carport beside the apartment building, just to have a few extra minutes to talk to Ty Lee before she heads inside.

Ty Lee tells her about her new dorm room and her classes. She proudly explains how easy the introductory courses have been for her so far and how she likes having lots of alone time.

They talk about heavy things and light things, from their family struggles to movies and shows Azula would be embarrassed to admit she likes to anyone else. Ty Lee speaks with such a passion that it leaves Azula in awe, nodding to herself as she listens. It’s comforting. People usually clam up around Azula. She’s used to being called selfish, dour, unpleasant…even evil.

But not by Ty Lee. Ty Lee talks to her like a friend, despite knowing the darkest parts of her, and Azula already finds herself looking forward to their next conversation as soon as she hangs up the phone and makes her way inside.

Zuko lifts his head as soon as she opens the door, a bowl of some herbs Azula doesn’t recognize in his hands.

“How was your first day of work?” he asks, but his expression quickly shifts into a frown when he meets her eyes. “Is everything all right?”

“Yes. Why?” Azula asks tersely, not knowing why that question bothers her so much. It was actually a good day for once; why does it feel like he’s looking for something to be wrong?

“You just seem a little…down,” Zuko says softly.

“Oh yes, so unlike my usual, cheery self,” Azula snorts as she hangs her coat by the door.

“What’s your problem?” Katara groans in a withering tone from the couch, making Azula aware of her presence. “He’s just trying to help you.”

Azula is just about to snap back at her when she notices the ice pack on Katara’s head and the pinched look on her face as she lies sprawled across the couch. She raises an eyebrow. Seeing as Katara is dating Zuko, Azula and her have begrudgingly begun to get used to each other’s presence, but she hasn’t seen her in a state like this before.

“I don’t need anyone’s help,” Azula finally says shortly, deciding to ignore it for the moment. “Work was good. I’m just tired.”

“Hey, it’s alright,” Zuko breaks in, as if trying to preemptively meditate. Azula has to suppress a smirk at the way Katara rolls her eyes nearly in unison with her. “Dinner will be ready soon—I’m making five-flavor soup for Katara since she’s not feeling well today. You’re welcome to have some, Azula.”

Azula sighs as she sinks down on the couch next to Katara. Whatever this five-flavor soup is, she admits it smells good.

“So, you’re sick?” Azula forces herself to ask as soon as the awkward silence in the room starts getting to her. Katara doesn’t scare her; she can manage with some small talk.

“No,” Katara sighs. “It’s just…that time of the month. My PCOS is flaring up, that’s probably all it is.”

“Oh,” Azula says, for some reason surprised by the honesty. Such discussions are still almost a taboo subject in her mind, so she’s not quite sure why her instinct is to open up. “I…have it, too, actually.”

“Sucks, doesn’t it?” grumbles Katara. “As if periods aren’t bad enough on their own.”

“Yeah…it does,” Azula agrees carefully, although Katara’s commiseration seems genuine. If anything, she’s probably just too exhausted to maintain her usual snarky attitude.

“Wait…really, Azula?” Zuko asks from across the room with a confused expression. “Didn’t that cause you a lot of pain?”

“Yeah, try telling that to Ozai,” Azula scoffs. “I learned to deal with it.”

Zuko mumbles something Azula can’t quite hear and she tries to push back her instinctive shame at having him know that little tidbit about her.

It’s weird talking about it so openly like this. Mother had left before she had a chance to give Azula the talk, and Ozai was…well, he was Ozai about it. Azula didn’t even know she had PCOS until she’d been diagnosed during her psychiatric stay, thinking that the gut-twisting pain she’d grown accustomed to was simply normal. Ozai had scolded her if she ever complained about it. It was gross, he snapped at her. Nobody wants to hear about that.

Azula feels herself subconsciously glance towards Zuko again and Katara snorts beside her.

“Oh, don’t worry about your brother,” Katara says with a smirk. “He knows all about it. He even buys my tampons for me.”

“Of course I do,” Zuko tells Katara with a smile as he carefully hands her a bowl of soup and kisses her forehead. “You shouldn’t be going to the store when you’re hurting like this.”

Katara smiles after him as he walks back into the kitchen, and Azula feels an odd pang of something pass through her as she watches them. It undeniably makes her uncomfortable but that’s not entirely it. Azula isn’t really used to seeing genuine love between two people—sometimes she isn’t even sure what it means. It always seemed fake to her, especially after Ozai. But Zuko isn’t performing for anyone, nor is Katara. It’s the simplest thing, but it’s also so sacred. Something between bitterness and longing bubbles up within Azula.

Her mind drifts back to Ty Lee. She thinks of how insecure Ty Lee seems, how shaky and lost her voice sounds when she talks about anything other than fiction. Anything real.

Does Ty Lee get the same love and care Katara is getting from Zuko now when she’s with Jun? Does Jun make her dinner, kiss her hair, and rub her shoulders when she’s hurting?

Because Azula would. How she longs to take care of someone the same way, to be looked at like Katara looks at Zuko, to—

“Here’s your soup, Azula,” Zuko says as he hands her a bowl and plops down on the couch with his own. “You’ll like it.”

Azula catches the implicit message. Be nice. She sticks out her tongue at him before tasting her first spoonful.

She’s skeptical, but she has to admit the soup is good. It’s salty, sweet, and tangy, and the meatballs are cooked to the perfect texture. Azula hums in satisfaction.

“It’s good,” she says with a nod as she picks at it with her spoon.

“Gran Gran’s recipe,” Katara proudly tells her. “She taught Zuko how to make it herself.”

Azula’s mind can’t help but internally assess—a few meatballs, vegetables, lots of liquid, a relatively safe food…

“Mom called earlier,” Zuko says quietly, making Azula freeze. “She already booked her flight, but she wants to talk to you over the phone sometime before she visits. Is that alright?”

Azula just stares at him mid-chew, feeling lost. She still sees that conflicted expression that he’d reflected in his words yesterday, but he looks optimistic. Like the expected answer is clearly yes.

The temptation to push back is strong, but Azula resists it. She’s finally starting to feel normal. She can’t turn into the selfish monster she’s always been accused of being.

“I’ll think about it,” she says tightly, looking away from Zuko.

“Thank you,” he responds before standing again with a sigh. “That means a lot. I’m going to the bathroom—be right back, okay?”

Azula huffs, but doesn’t answer him.

“I don’t understand you,” Katara says quietly as Zuko leaves the room. “I’d give anything to be able to see my mother again. Why are you so jaded?”

The question irks Azula to no end, but the usual aggressive note is absent from Katara’s tone. She just sounds…sad, and that sadness is only magnified by the tired, far-away look in her eyes. It would almost have been easier if Katara simply yelled at her like usual instead.

“It’s complicated,” Azula says through gritted teeth.

She doesn’t even know how to begin answering that question—really answering it. There isn’t an exact moment she can pinpoint as the source of her disdain for her mother. No single incident anyone would think twice about if she recounted it to them. In retrospect, Mother might have even been protecting her from Ozai.

So why does Azula hate her?—if what she’s feeling is truly hatred, that is. She isn’t entirely sure, but it still makes Azula feel guilty. Family is supposed to be forever, an eternal network of trust and loyalty. What does it say about Azula that she’s so disconnected from hers and always has been? It makes her feel like a monster, and leaves her with a sick feeling. Everyone was right. Something about her is just wrong—deeply wrong—and Azula doesn’t know what it is. She used to simply not care, but now that she does…where does that leave her?

“I know,” Katara says and Azula feels herself scowl. She really doesn’t, despite what Zuko might have told her. “I just don’t understand.”

“I don’t expect you to,” Azula says quickly as she tries to finish the soup in a hurry. “I should go.”

“There’s no need for that,” Katara says with an exasperated sigh. “I don’t hate you, you know. You’re just so…so frustrating sometimes.”

Azula rolls her eyes. Like she didn’t know that already.

“Well, I’m supposed to call Ty Lee again tonight,” she snaps, although that hasn’t exactly been scheduled yet. She makes a show of standing and checking her old watch that she’s not sure even works. “She should be getting off the phone with her girlfriend soon.”

A strange look passes over Katara’s face at the mention of Ty Lee…and of her girlfriend.

It raises those alarm bells in Azula’s mind again.

This isn’t the first time people have had unspoken reservations about Jun—Zuko certainly had when she’d asked him, and Katara clearly shares the sentiment.

The thought that maybe it’s because she’s a she crosses Azula’s mind—but that can’t be right. Katara seems like she’s friends with Ty Lee. She had been laughing and chatting with Mai and Yue at the party like nothing was out of the ordinary at all. But the thought still lingers…

Azula shakes her head and promptly flees to her room, not wanting to explain further. Azula doesn’t want to let Katara have suspicions of her unspecified feelings for Ty Lee…or of who she might be.

For some reason, as she shuts the door behind her, those strange feelings don’t leave her.

The first instinct Azula has is to pick up her phone and open her text conversation with Ty Lee, but she finds herself hesitating.

She remembers Ty Lee telling her before about her sister Ty Liu, how she’d been nice but complained about problems like school and work stress that felt trivial by comparison to Ty Lee. Azula knows Ty Lee hates that, when people overshadow her problems with their own. Even if she wouldn’t say it to their face.

So, with a sigh, Azula sets down the phone and lies back in her bed. No—it’s stupid. She can’t bother Ty Lee with this; but when she’s already going through so much. Azula swore to herself she’d be there for Ty Lee, to support her, and she supposes part of that is setting aside her own issues for a change.

Azula knows she’s selfish and insensitive by nature. She’s been told that ever since she can remember. She can’t burden Ty Lee with her selfishness too.

And talking to Zuko and Katara or all people is out of the question, so that leaves Azula to her own devices, once again, to wonder.

Who is she? The question that Azula can’t seem to escape, and doesn’t seem to know where to begin with.

The first thing that comes to her mind is her body, and how right now all it feels like is a dead weight she desperately wants to run away from.

Azula used to think it was, well…weight. Growing up with near-celebrity status meant her body was always under constant scrutiny. The standard was perfection; something was always wrong with her, and if someone else didn’t notice, Azula herself surely would. Ozai had even hired a personal trainer to ensure she was in perfect shape when she was to appear on a magazine cover with him. No such trainer for Ozai himself, of course.

Then there was the fucking pain—unrelenting, every month, not even on schedule. Even before Azula knew the term PCOS to describe her affliction, she hated her body. She longed to just reach into her body and tear out the offending organs, hating them for the ways they seemed to gleefully torment her at the least convenient of times.

Covering her eyes with her hands, a piece of the puzzle falls into place. No; it’s not just weight, and not just pain. Azula has been slim and fit in the past—enough to make most people jealous, and somehow her body still felt just as wrong as it does now. Breasts that hang from her, patches of softness she wishes would just go away where they can no longer be seen. No longer be grabbed at.

And there’s more.

Azula wishes she could dress in a suit—a real one, not the skimpy approximations Ozai had permitted her to wear. She doesn’t want to wear makeup anymore, she doesn’t want to paint her fingernails, she doesn’t want to wear pink and glitter and sparkles, she wants to have a girlfriend—

She used to do without those things, back in her old life. It was never something Azula had to think about; the decision was made for her. If she didn’t dress as Ozai instructed, she was prudish and frumpy. If she didn’t meticulously apply makeup, she was ugly. If she didn’t constantly check and deride her figure, she was fat and disgusting.

The thought once again occurs to Azula that perhaps, none of this would matter to her if she had been born a man. All of these things—she wouldn’t have to do. Even the confusing wave of feelings she feels for Ty Lee that make her feel full of guilt and disgust at herself…they would be considered natural.

Azula thinks back to Zuko, and how lately she wishes she could be him. At first she thought it was because people seemed to like him better than her—they always had. While Zuko has had his share of suffering, a morbid part of Azula wishes they could trade. Zuko’s pain is tangible, visible…something he can actually fight and something quite literally displayed on his face.

But Azula? She doesn’t even know what exactly she’s fighting. Is it Ozai, the world, or even herself? All of them together? Nobody else feels any sympathy for her either. They’ve told her as much. She’s too privileged, too rich, too pretty to suffer true pain. Zuko even told her that, once. Azula wonders if he still feels that way, but she’s honestly too afraid to ask.

Azula hates it. Her life feels wrong. Walking down the street feels wrong. The way people look at her feels wrong, and her very body feels wrong, as if it’s one of the very things that constantly seems to be trying to betray her. Even this stupid PCOS—yet another problem she wouldn’t have if she were…

If she were a man.

Or at least…partly one, perhaps. Azula doesn’t know. She doesn’t know what to think about anything right now; the world might as well have turned upside down.

She momentarily thinks back to the institution, to the friends she’d made there. Jiang and Zirin, but mostly…Jiang. Azula remembers the awe and admiration she’d felt towards her, the woman who acted in a way that seemed so taboo and forbidden with pride. Even with her buzzed-off hair, flat body, and butch style, Jiang had never left any question that she was a woman.

Azula wonders what it would take to possibly accept that about herself and doubts she ever could, deep down. There must be an easier way—she’s a different person than Jiang. She can’t be like Jiang.

And despite the respect she holds for her friend, she can’t help but hear the echoes of Ozai’s voice.

Not that jacket, Azula. It’s too baggy on you. I can’t have my daughter looking like some little queer. You’ll never be successful looking like that.

Azula thinks of her new job, and fears what little of her life she has together slipping away. No; she can’t—she can’t.

She fucking hates being a woman.

Azula considers texting Jiang; she has her number, and Jiang even told her before leaving that she hoped they could all reconnect again…Zirin, too.

She doesn’t know why she hesitates. Jiang might be one of the few people who could understand, but Azula finds herself fearing what she’d say. She’d have advice…but maybe not what Azula wants. Azula just wants to feel normal again. Comfortable.

And she knows she can’t have that being a woman, if she truly is to be herself.

Ty Lee drifts back into her mind, and the pleasant feeling her company brings. She always has new perspectives on things that Azula hadn’t considered before. Sometimes she finds them silly and childish, but at other times, insightful. While Azula has to admit Ty Lee has a tendency to sound like she’s barfing up a psych textbook as of late, certain things she’s said have struck a nerve. Could it feel more natural if Azula wasn’t a woman? If there was something else she could be instead—somewhere she’d finally fit in?

The thought feels oddly comforting. No; Azula doesn’t have to be like those other girls. She doesn’t have to turn back into her old self. She could just be…Azula, no strings attached.

Finally, she texts Ty Lee.

[Azula] I’m not busy, if you want to call again. Whenever you’re ready.

Azula waits and waits and waits.

A nagging thought that maybe Ty Lee doesn’t even want to talk to her crosses her mind, but Azula finds herself staring at that phone anyway, even as she struggles to keep her eyes open.

When Ty Lee finally does call, it’s nearly 2:00 in the morning.

At first, Azula can’t make out what she’s saying. She sounds like she’s crying, and it shatters her heart to hear, her own problems forgotten in an instant.

“Ty Lee,” Azula says gently, hoping to calm her down. “What happened?”

“It’s Jun,” Ty Lee hiccups. “She…she broke up with me.”

Chapter Text

The New Year is always a time Azula looks forward to.

Uncle Iroh and Cousin Lu Ten always visit for a long weekend, and it’s one of the few times out of the year Azula gets to see them. They open gifts, play games, and tell stories…Azula always loves Lu Ten’s stories about the latest trouble he’s gotten into.

Today, the day before the New Year, is Azula’s perfect day. The kitchen is full of delicious smells from the preparations for dinner tonight. Father is still away at a meeting, but promised to be home later in the evening. Azula sits in the living room with Lu Ten, excitedly building her new model dragon while her cousin helps her carefully position each little piece of wood and glue. Later, she knows everyone will get together to make dumplings, another family tradition she’s come to love.

Azula finds herself so wrapped up in the dragon sculpture that it takes her a few minutes to notice Mom trying to discreetly wave her over from the kitchen.

“Go see what she needs,” Lu Ten tells her with a smile. “I’ll make sure to hold the wing in place while the glue dries.”

Azula smiles up at him and curiously makes her way across the living room, past Uncle Iroh dozing on the couch, to where Mom greets her with a disappointed look on her face.

“Doesn’t it bother you that we’ve been busy in the kitchen all day while you’re playing with toys?” Mom softly scolds her, gesturing to where Zuko is clumsily chopping up a pile of green beans. “Come on; there is plenty to do in here.”

“Sorry,” Azula says meekly, that happy feeling fading away. “I didn’t know you needed help. You didn’t ask.”

“I shouldn’t have to ask,” Mom snaps. “I didn’t have to ask Zuko.”

“I just wanted to play with Lu Ten,” Azula says in a small voice. For some reason, she finds herself holding back tears. She was having fun with Lu Ten. She didn’t mean to do anything bad to Mom.

“Well, you can play with him later,” Mom says as she gestures into the kitchen again. “You need to think about people other than yourself, Azula. Nobody wants to be around a self-centered person. I know it’s never come naturally to you, but try to be more considerate when other people need help. Just look at Zuko. He’s always been so thoughtful.”

Azula wants to scowl, but she knows that would only make Mom angrier with her.

She hangs her head instead.

“Okay,” she whispers. “What can I do?”

Mom smiles in a way that seems almost patronizing and hands her a bowl of green onions. “Here, these need to be peeled for the sauce. Thank you, Azula.”

Azula blames the onions when her eyes water, but in truth, she’s struggling to hold in her feelings. She doesn’t want to have a tantrum, as Father would call it. She’s five—and a half. Far too old for that.

But the urge persists. Azula feels upset—she hates to think that she’s a bad person, that simple gestures of kindness take effort for her. What’s wrong with her? Why doesn’t Mom love her like she loves Zuko?

Then the anger comes.

Mom is playing favorites—that must be it. Azula is more advanced in both reading and math than Zuko despite being a year below him in school. She’d always been praised by her tutors while Zuko had been struck across his knuckles by wooden rulers. Azula’s grades and test scores were always markedly higher than his. Father even told her that Zuko was weak and incompetent, that he hoped that Azula would inherit the company in his place one day.

How could Zuko be better at anything than her?

Azula feels the bitterness stir as she angrily peels those onions. She even can’t bring herself to enjoy the yearly dumpling cook, not even when Lu Ten joins in.

All she can think about is what Mom said. She can only wonder if she’s finally doing enough, or if the amount of dumplings she’s making is somehow insufficient.

“Azula, dear, you’re pinching them too hard,” Mom says gently. “Here, like this. That’s prettier, now isn’t it?”

Azula wants to scream. She’s perfect—Father tells her so—but it seems nothing she does will ever be good enough for Mom. Why does Mom hate her so much?

So, Azula smashes the dumpling with her fist.

Mom gasps, then she scowls.

“What?” Azula sneers. “You said it was ugly anyways.”

“Azula, that is not how we behave!” Mom snaps. “I think it’s time you go to your room!”

“I was going there anyway!” Azula yells as she runs from the room before anyone can see her cry. “I hate you!”

“What is wrong with that child?” she hears her mother whisper before she slams her door shut.

Then, when she’s finally alone and nobody is around to see, Azula allows herself to cry.

She’s not foolish enough to let people see her cry again. You should cry, she remembers being told, too many times. Azula can’t let anyone hold that over her again.

She thought she was doing everything right. She thought she was smart and beautiful and lucky. But now she’s stuck wondering what exactly is wrong with her—why she had to be born so naturally bitter and selfish while Zuko of all people wasn’t.

Mom has said things like this before, too. It isn’t the first time. Creepy kid, brat, awful child—all things Azula remembers hearing. She curls her knees tighter against her chest and cries harder, hoping nobody will come in to find her like this.

Sometimes she just wishes she was dead.

It isn’t until years later that Azula asks herself why she was a monster for not coming into the kitchen that morning—but not Lu Ten or Father or even Uncle Iroh.

What was it that made her so different from these men, and what would Azula have to do to earn the same level of respect they had?

Azula always hated being a girl, before she could even put that feeling into words.

—————

Azula stares at the phone, blinking, as she takes in what Ty Lee is saying.

Jun…broke up…with her?

It’s a surprise to Azula. Ty Lee hadn’t made it any secret that their relationship had some challenges, but overall Ty Lee spoke so highly of her. And Azula can’t imagine what Ty Lee could have done to upset her.

“Wait…she what?” Azula says, trying not to let the anger come through in her voice.

“Yes,” Ty Lee sniffles. “We talked for a long time like we normally do. She…she said she’s dealing with too much in her life and that she’s hoping to reconnect with her family. And that she knows they wouldn’t accept me as her girlfriend—I don’t know what to do, Azula. It’s so unfair. Her family is shitty and homophobic and would never accept any girlfriend of hers! She’ll never make them happy. Why can’t she see that?”

“Well, it isn’t your problem any more,” Azula huffs, absolutely fuming at this point. “She doesn’t deserve you, Ty Lee. Nobody should treat you like this.”

“I guess…I kind of saw it coming,” Ty Lee says after a long pause. Her voice is still shaky, but thankfully she doesn’t sound as distraught as she did initially. “I felt almost like an…accessory to her sometimes. Like…like she just wanted to show me off to her friends but didn’t really care about me.”

Azula knew it; she fucking knew it. Nothing about Jun seemed good; only shallow assurances from Ty Lee that she was oh so smart and could pull pussy. It came off as the female equivalent of a sleazy frat boy who never grew out of it.

“I’m sorry,” Azula whispers, feeling herself struggling to maintain her composure. She used to be someone who never felt sorry about anything but now it’s all she can feel—that, and a deep, simmering anger. “You didn’t deserve to be treated that way.”

“I know,” Ty Lee says in a tiny, broken voice that makes Azula uncertain that she truly believes it. “She was a good person. Just…hurting.”

Like Azula herself, she supposes. She doesn’t think Jun was a good person at all—but Azula has been told all her life that she isn’t either. She bites her tongue. Good person or not, she swears to never treat Ty Lee the way Jun did.

—————

They talk nearly all night, until Ty Lee starts drifting off to sleep on the other end of the phone around 5:00 in the morning and finally seems calm enough to have a peaceful sleep. Luckily, Ty Lee doesn’t have any class today so she’s fine to talk. Azula figures she needs it, so she stays awake.

Ty Lee vents about her relationship with Jun, and the full picture starts coming together.

Jun was quite demanding in the relationship—honestly unsurprising, given the age and financial difference between them. It’s oddly reminiscent of the way Ozai conducted his relationships—with Mother and with the mistresses who followed her.

Azula only feels sicker and sicker the more she learns.

She learns that Jun had insinuated it was selfish for Ty Lee to be uncomfortable with being in an open relationship, for her to deny the touch Jun apparently needed during her time away in the Fire Nation. Jun had needs, apparently, that were more important to her than her relationship. Azula can’t help but think of Zirin…and thinks to herself that perhaps Ty Lee dodged a bullet.

She also learns that Jun would say the cruelest things to Ty Lee, only to shower her with love and apologies the next day. Jun would tell Ty Lee she didn’t eat all day because of some innocent comment she’d made, only to later lament on how horrible of a person she was because of her trauma and her eating disorder until Ty Lee felt compelled to apologize to her instead.

And worst of all, she learns about the degrading ways Jun would speak of Ty Lee to her friends. She’d joke openly about intimate details of their sex lives, laughing as she recounted the noises Ty Lee would make. Jun took moments that were supposed to be special and intimate for Ty Lee and used them to feel cool and sexy in front of a bunch of equally disgusting friends. Azula can tell Ty Lee is in tears. At the time, she said, it made her feel appreciated. Now it just makes her feel like an object, like she was an accessory to be used by Jun to fuel her own sadistic ego.

Just like Azula was to Ozai, not so long ago.

Azula feels such a mix of things inside, but does her best to keep it to herself. She can’t deny part of what she feels is relief—maybe even happiness—and she doesn’t really want to think about why. Is it because Ty Lee is finally free from such a person, or Azula’s own selfishness? The fact that she was right—that Jun wasn’t right for Ty Lee and couldn’t treat her right. But overall, Azula just feels anger. Anger at Jun, and anger at the world for allowing such a thing to happen.

After the call ends, Azula realizes with a groan that she needs to be awake by 6:00 to make it to work before the traffic hits, just as she’d promised Piandao and Kyoshi.

Well, an hour of sleep is better than nothing, Azula supposes…even though she’s not sure she actually makes it to sleep at all.

When her alarm sounds, her mind is still racing with thoughts of Ty Lee and Jun and she’s still reeling from that onslaught of emotion.

—————

Azula’s eyes feel as if they’re being held open by sheer force of will alone.

Luckily, she’d managed to make it through her commute and the first couple hours of her workday without falling asleep…thanks to more coffee than she’d like to admit.

Azula takes another long sip as she struggles to focus on the spreadsheet of general office expenses in front of her—organizing this week’s sheet had been her first independent assignment from Kyoshi and she cannot afford to mess it up.

The bitterness of the coffee sits strongly in her mouth, but it’s a taste Azula has acquired over time. Once, she enjoyed cream and sugar and spice with her morning caffeine fix, but Ozai had once told her with a frown that he was concerned about what those lattes were doing to her figure.

Azula once again finds herself pulling her sweater tighter around her body, hoping it doesn’t look as awkward and wrong to everyone else as it does her.

No, no—focus. Azula has a purpose now. A job. Something else to direct her energy towards, to focus on bigger things.

The spreadsheet. The numbers. A summary of where the biggest expenses had been and if anything has notably changed from the past few weeks. Any trends the partners should be aware of. Focus. Even for the most mundane of tasks, Azula strives for perfection.

The sound of a text coming in startles her awake, and she hurriedly looks around to make sure nobody saw her dosing before checking her phone.

To her surprise, it’s Zuko.

[Zuko] Hey Azula, don’t know if you have plans tonight, but Uncle wants to take us out to Ginseng Loft to celebrate. He has a reservation for 5:30. Can you make it?

Azula nearly groans. It’s a decent restaurant—with specialty tea blends that Uncle Iroh always makes it his mission to outdo—but she already feels half asleep as it is. Going straight from work to dinner?

But…Azula figures that it would be a bad show. Selfish, even. They’re just trying to be nice, maybe she should…

[Azula] Sure. I’ll meet you straight from work.

Setting her phone aside, Azula turns her attention back towards the spreadsheet. Focus. She’s scheduled to present this to Kyoshi in an hour. It has to be in perfect shape.

The urgency sets Azula in motion. It’s almost comforting, having a task that seems to sweep everything to the back of her mind. Ozai, distrust, anger, Jun, crisis of identity…they all fade to static in the back of her mind for the moment.

Azula finds herself flying through her work, checking it over twice, and coming up with a report she can be proud of with a few minutes to spare. She takes a deep breath. Her first real test at this job; she can only hope she passes it.

“Hey, Azula,” Kyoshi’s voice greets her. “Ready to chat now?”

Of course she is; it’s exactly 11:00, just as promised, but Azula only forces a smile across her tired features and begins pulling up the report she’d put together. PowerPoint, pictures, screenshots, large text, color coding—every little detail she can think of that she picked up throughout business school.

“Of course,” Azula says, clearing her throat slightly. “I’ve got it right here.”

“Great,” Kyoshi says as she takes a seat next to Azula. “Let’s see it.”

Azula takes a breath before launching in, casting aside the lingering dark cloud of thoughts from earlier and the jittery feeling off too much caffeine. She’s spoken before audiences far larger and far more judgmental than this; it’s stupid to be so nervous over something like this.

She walks Kyoshi through the presentation, summarizing what she’d found before getting to the reports. Azula hopes she’s not overstepping with the next bit, but continues anyway.

“…and I did notice that for the last two months, but not before that, the parking expenses charged from the building management have been the same on weekends as weekdays despite hardly anyone being in the office,” she explains. “I figured you would want to know about that.”

“Hmm, that is strange,” Kyoshi muses. “That doesn’t sound right at all. Thank you for bringing it to my attention, Azula, that’s some outstanding attention to detail.”

Azula feels herself beam with pride, but she’s interrupted by the sound of a phone ringing. For a moment she’s worried it’s hers, but then she notices the ringtong is the Warriors of Kyoshi theme song and her new boss is frantically fumbling through her pockets.

“Sorry,” she says with an apologetic smile. “I need to take this—I know Rangi has been dealing with some repairmen back at our house all morning. I’ll be right back.”

As she steps aside to answer the call, Azula feels one of her eyebrows raise in surprise. Rangi…that sounds like a woman’s name, and Kyoshi spoke about their house as if they were—but no; she couldn’t possibly be—

“Sorry about that!” Kyoshi apologizes again as she walks back over, tucking her phone away. “Crisis averted, thankfully, but I know I’ll get in trouble if I ignore my wife’s calls. But back to you, Azula—excellent work! If you’re up for it, I have a few client invoices for you to review.”

Azula blinks. “Oh—yes, of course. I believe I can handle that.”

“Wonderful,” Kyoshi says with a smile. “So if you go back to our shared database here, you’ll see a folder for each client, organized by…”

Azula listens intently, but she can’t get over the odd…giddiness she feels at Kyoshi’s casual mention of her wife. Her wife.

The concept had always felt so taboo, foreign…out of reach to Azula. While she’d imagined it for herself before, she found herself quickly chasing those thoughts away, as if Ozai would be able to read them on her mind. Azula isn’t used to seeing people like her, happily married and successful like that.

In Azula’s experience, lesbians were only presented to her as porn or as a thing to be mocked. Either they were ugly women she should laugh at and fear becoming, or they were accessories to someone else’s fantasy. Never were they respected, never were they successful, and never were they shown with a happy and fulfilling future. Subconsciously, Azula had accepted the fact that being who she is and building a career and life for herself were two things that could never coexist.

Now, she’s not so sure.

Azula feels almost revitalized by the revelation, holding it with her as she determinedly works through the new tasks Kyoshi had given her. It’s not a secret she feels comfortable with anyone knowing just yet, but the fear at what would happen if her employer knew drifts away. Kyoshi is doing exactly the work Azula aspires to one day, and she doesn’t seem to feel the need to hide who she is. Azula wishes that one day, that could be her.

Despite the one hour of sleep, Azula feels her confidence building as she works. Kyoshi even stops by again later to thank her for pointing out the weekend parking expenses; apparently, an accountant had made a copy-and-paste error on his spreadsheet and had been overcharging them as a result.

By the end of the day, Azula can’t deny she feels drained, but it’s oddly…enlightening. This is the feeling of hard work, of knowing she’s fighting for a better life. This is the feeling of being too exhausted to worry about anything else—the only way Azula can seem to clear her head these days.

At least there is dinner to look forward to…admittedly, a nice dinner is an extravagance Azula has always enjoyed. She’d skipped lunch in preparation, not in the mood to have Zuko and Uncle Iroh questioning her eating habits as they undoubtedly would if she ate too little. Zuko already comments on the lack of food in the fridge, to which Azula habitually rolls her eyes. Why buy what she knows she won’t eat?

With a sigh, she shakes that thought away and sends Ty Lee a quick text, wondering if she’s awake yet. The Ginseng Loft is closer to Morishita than here; that would give her a good half hour to talk to her.

“Hellooo,” Ty Lee’s sing-song voice greets over the phone once again. “Thanks for calling, Azula.”

“I’m always here for you,” Azula says softly, so glad to hear her voice. “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” Ty Lee whispers. “Sorry if I’m quiet—I’m worried my neighbors might hear through the walls, is all. I’m still upset about Jun, but maybe…maybe it was for the best.”

No shit, Azula wants to say, but she takes a deep breath instead. “It sounds like it was.”

—————

Luckily, by the end of their call, Azula does feel assured that Ty Lee is feeling better after having more time to process the breakup. She’s still anxious and nervous and speaks in a hushed voice, but she has an optimistic outlook that makes Azula happy to hear. Her classes are going well. She’s talking to Ty Liu more, although she still is frustrated with her for having such inconsequential problems. Nobody understands Ty Lee, according to her, not even her closest sister.

Ty Lee mentions her mother, too, and how Ty Liu said she wants to talk again. Azula feels an odd pang as she’s reminded of what Zuko said—that Mother wants to speak with her before visiting.

But Azula feels herself fall silent, not wanting to become another Ty Liu in Ty Lee’s life. Mother and her might have a strained relationship…but it’s not outright hateful like Ty Lee had described her last confrontation with her mother. It wouldn’t be fair to mention—especially not so soon after the situation with Jun.

Finally, Azula arrives at the Ginseng Loft, straightening her hair in the small car mirror. She frowns at the prominent dark circles under her eyes, hoping they’re mostly due to the odd evening lighting casting shadows through the car.

She finds Uncle Iroh and Zuko already seated at a corner table by the window, looking out over the light-speckled suburbs stretching out below them in the night.

Uncle Iroh waves her over and Azula forces a smile, hating how fake it all feels. She knows he hates her, and always has. She can only imagine how he really feels about her now, now that she’s on the record for threatening precious little Zuzu, who sits across from him as if absolutely nothing is wrong.

“I’m glad you could join us, my niece,” he says with a soft smile. “You look lovely this evening.”

Azula almost snorts at that.

She imagines she looks like death right now. Sleep-deprived, exhausted, bare-faced, and a bit underdressed for the occasion. Azula’s old self might have fucking shot her, but now she only feels an odd pang of resentment, that fearing appearing in public without a full face of makeup is an idea most likely foreign to both Uncle Iroh and Zuko.

“Well, I’m certainly alive,” Azula settles on as she takes her seat. “It’s been a long day.”

“I heard you’re doing well there,” Zuko says with a small smile. “Piandao told me that Kyoshi was very impressed by you.”

Azula just stares at him.

What kind of game is this? She’s used to Zuko constantly comparing himself, knowing he’s the weak link and trying to look better. Azula doesn’t understand it. Is he mocking her? Thinking she’s so fragile now that she needs his compliments or else she’ll fall apart and go crazy again?

“I’m just doing my job,” she says flippantly, trying not to let it get to her.

“It’s good to see you happy with your job,” Uncle Iroh says with a nod. “It suits you.”

Azula feels anger flare up at that, but takes a long drink of water rather than reply. Of course he’d think it suits her; it’s such a downgrade of where she’d been before. And now that Zuko is in law school, he’s officially ahead of her so that’s probably just another win in their eyes.

Azula decides it’s best to simply not respond, instead opting to absently poke at her food with a chopstick while the small talk thankfully shifts from her to Zuko and Uncle Iroh. Nothing particularly new; busy days at the restaurant, Uncle Iroh not understanding the youth’s infatuation with boba tea, Zuko studying hard…a pretty standard week.

“…and Mom talked to me again,” Zuko says, bringing Azula’s mind back to the conversation with an inward cringe. “She already booked her flight, and she’s bringing her daughter with her.”

To Azula’s surprise, Uncle Iroh’s face doesn’t light up with delight like she’s been expecting it to.

It’s not exactly a surprise; she figures Zuko must have already filled him in on a lot of the details, but Uncle Iroh still seems oddly skeptical about the situation as he frowns down into his teacup rather than respond.

Azula can’t help but feel like there is something he’s not telling her.

“It will be nice to see your mother again,” he finally says. “How are you feeling about that?”

Zuko sighs. “I’m not sure. I still don’t understand why she left and never tried contacting us out of fear, but never contacted the authorities either. But she’s…Mom and I’d give anything to have her back. I don’t want to be selfish. There has to be another reason…we at least owe her a chance to explain herself.”

Selfish.

That word festers in Azula’s mind like a burning accusation, even though it wasn’t aimed at her. Not directly, anyways. Azula hates that word; she hates the memories it brings back, and she hates that yet again, Zuko seems to have taken the moral high ground from her without even trying.

But then again, maybe Mother was right all along.

After all, Azula was the one who landed herself in crazy-jail for lashing out, not Zuko. If Azula had been more like Zuko, maybe she wouldn’t have behaved that way. Maybe she still would have been friends with Ty Lee, perhaps more. Maybe then, Ty Lee would have never met Jun and—

Azula grits her teeth. She’ll never admit such a thing to anyone, but maybe her best option is to be more like Zuko.

Nobody wants to be around a self-centered person.

“I’d…like to see Mother again, too,” Azula echoes Zuko, feeling something deflate within her as she does. “Especially now that F—Ozai is in prison.”

Zuko and Uncle Iroh solemnly nod in agreement, which Azula takes as her cue to resume poking at her food. Everything tastes great, but somehow she’s managed to lose her appetite. Now Mother is another face swirling in that dark cloud of thoughts that never seems to leave, as if it’s constantly scrutinizing Azula, inside and out. No matter what she does, no matter what she thinks, it never seems to be right.

“I should go,” Zuko says suddenly as he gathers a few spare buns and negimaki into a to-go box. “Sorry—I promised Katara I’d meet at her apartment with dinner tonight. She’s just coming off a long shift at the ER.”

“No apologies needed, Nephew,” Uncle Iroh says warmly. “You’re very good to Katara. Your sister and I will stay and finish dinner.”

Zuko nods with a grateful smile before taking his leftovers and leaving, Uncle Iroh watching after him with a proof gleam in his eyes.

Azula quickly looks away. She wonders if he’d ever look at her the same way—likely not. Azula feels like she doesn’t even have an opportunity. She wants to be good, she wants to be there for someone, she just…just…

“You seem troubled, Azula,” Uncle Iroh suddenly addresses her.

No shit, Azula wants to snap, but bites her tongue. She knows how bad of a look it would be to act snappy when she’s getting her dinner paid for—and that’s something she can’t afford right now. She knows she’s already on thin ice with her remaining family.

Besides, that’s not entirely it. Azula doesn’t want to be a bad person—not like Jun. She wants to be strong; someone that a person—that Ty Lee—could rely on. Might as well practice now.

Azula sighs. “I suppose.”

“You should be proud,” Uncle Iroh tells her with a nod. “For all you’ve accomplished, despite the challenges in your life.”

“But it’s nothing compared to what I had before,” Azula blurts out, feeling her fist clench around the teacup in her hand. “I’m pathetic now.”

“There is nothing pathetic about living a quieter life,” Uncle Iroh says with a harsher note to his tone. “Relax, Azula, and take the time to focus on what brings you joy. I think you’ll find more happiness in your life that way.”

Azula scoffs but doesn’t answer. Who would ever be happy living a life so boring, so lazy—

“You and I are more alike than you know, my niece,” Uncle Iroh says carefully. “To be honest, I always saw more of myself in you than I did Zuko.”

Azula blinks. Is he serious? No fucking way—but he doesn’t say it as if it’s anything extraordinary or as if he’s cursing himself. It’s neutral; a statement of fact that isn’t even a question in his mind.

“How do you mean?” she asks quickly.

Uncle Iroh nods grimly. “You have a spark, Azula. You always have. A ruthless drive and ambition to accomplish anything—sometimes to the detriment of yourself.”

Azula frowns. Such a thing should be a compliment, shouldn’t it? Ambition, drive, success? How could those things possibly hurt her? But Uncle Iroh doesn’t speak like Ozai; he doesn’t offer any slimy, back-handed praises and congratulations. No; he speaks solemnly, ruefully, like he’s mentally relieving some terrible part of his past.

“Your grandfather intended for me to inherit Sozin Enterprises, you know. I believe he died thinking I had. I worked so hard back then. I was ruthless. I had no friends; only employees and subordinates. I hardly spent time with my family. And then…” Uncle Iroh trails off, and suddenly Azula remembers the day Ozai rose to the head of the company…so shortly after the car crash that killed Lu Ten.

“Lu Ten,” Azula whispers, remembering her cousin. She has only fond memories of him; despite being so much older, he made her feel like a friend. Loved; someone who actually wanted to be around her.

“That day changed everything,” Uncle Iroh says grimly, his face tight with pain as he looks at her. “It put things in perspective. I was forced to confront what really mattered to me. I didn’t realize how blinded I was by ambition, by what your grandfather expected me to be, until it was too late. Already I was preparing my son to follow in my footsteps, but I was never truly a father to him. I will always bear that burden.”

Azula follows his gaze down to the rainy city below, too stunned to say anything. Maybe they aren’t so different. Chasing the highest prize, the most prestige…only to wind up empty and broken with nothing to show for it. Having to live with the gut-wrenching guilt that someone you care about suffered because of you, and you can’t take that back.

“You don’t have to be the greatest. You don’t have to run yourself into the ground trying,” Uncle Iroh says after a long moment. “Take the time to find joy in the little things. Love what you have around you.”

Azula feels her lips twist. It’s weakness, she wants to say, but she knows that’s a lie; a lie instilled into her by a man capable of loving nothing and nobody. Deep down, she knows that perhaps, she’d be happier that way. If she let go, if she moved on and accepted the advice and second chance offered to her.

But she just can’t let it go. Not yet.

“I can’t give up, either,” Azula says with a sigh. “Especially after all that I’ve done—I have to work as hard as I can. How can I support anyone else if I don’t?”

“You cannot help someone else stay afloat when you yourself are drowning. That only leaves two dead in the water,” Uncle Iroh says solemnly. “Remember that, Azula.”

—————

Azula does remember; she finds that conversation frequently on her mind in the coming days.

Perhaps Uncle Iroh has a point, but Azula finds it difficult to call her situation drowning. It feels selfish to. She has a job, she’s already building up savings, and she knows what troubles her means nothing compared to other people in her life.

Like Ty Lee.

Azula finds their phone calls growing more and more frequent, and she always looks forward to them. She calls Ty Lee every day during her drive to work, and sometimes on the way home. She calls her when she has a spare moment in the evening, when she has a break, or during a long walk around town on the weekends.

Ty Lee tells her that she’s managing well enough at school, but the anxiety is getting to her. Azula didn’t exactly need to be told—it’s echoed in many things she says and the way she speaks.

Most days now, she whispers into the phone so that her neighbors won’t hear. When Azula gently asks if Ty Lee ever hears her neighbors, Ty Lee admits she doesn’t but insists they could listen to her through the walls if they wanted. Nobody understands, Ty Lee says. People just hate her and want to make her feel targeted.

Ty Lee also quit her barista job, telling Azula it was stressing her out too much. People were always in a bad mood, and made fun of her. It wasn’t worth it. Ty Lee assures Azula that it’s fine; she’ll have to budget carefully but she’s confident her savings will get her through school.

It’s a decision that Azula can’t wrap her head around—why throw away the only source of stability in her life like that? Azula is stressed too; some days she feels like doing nothing but locking herself up in her room and sleeping, pretending the world around her no longer exists.

But Azula doesn’t do that. She can’t.

However, she bites her tongue. Ty Lee is a different person than her; maybe Azula just doesn’t get it—even though she wants to. She wants to understand, she wants to help Ty Lee however she can.

Azula finds that, for once, she knows a person who doesn’t make her feel selfish.

Their talks are always nice. Deep and profound, but also silly. Azula feels completely open when she’s talking to Ty Lee. There isn’t any other area of her life she can be—she’s guarded in public, professional at work, and constantly biting her tongue around family out of fear of proving herself to be a selfish monster.

With Ty Lee, Azula says what’s on her mind. She doesn’t feel shy about sharing her feelings about the objectively ridiculous movies she enjoys for some reason. She can send funny videos without worrying about being told she’s too old for that. And Ty Lee listens. She likes what Azula has to say—her company. It’s been years since someone made her feel like this.

Azula reflects on it one night, lying sleepless in bed as she stares out at the moonlit clouds above the unkempt garden in the courtyard.

Ty Lee is always on her mind. Their conversations, their troubles, all that they share. Ty Lee’s bright smile. Her cute laugh. Her fun and bubbly demeanor. So unlike Azula, but an energy that brings a bright spot to her life.

Azula sighs, considering. She’s relentlessly mulled this over in her head, but now she’s certain: she wants Ty Lee to be her girlfriend. She wants to be her girlfriend.

At first, Azula feared it made her selfish.

How could she?

It’s been so soon after Ty Lee’s breakup, and all the other turmoil in her life. Azula can tell that Ty Lee is still reeling from it. She seems so anxious, and she seems so unhappy at school despite her determination to graduate and become a nurse. How selfish would it be, for Azula to swoop in at such a time because she can’t control her own feelings?

But it’s not selfish. It can’t be.

For the first time in her life, Azula feels herself putting the needs of someone else before her own without even trying. Like Mother said Zuko always did, but that it never came naturally to Azula.

Maybe Azula just hadn’t met the right person.

Because when she thinks of Ty Lee, Azula no longer feels selfish. All she wants is to see her happy. Whenever Azula used to conceptualize a marriage for herself in the past, it was so transactional. Her partner must be supportive of everything she does. Her partner must make more money than her, lest she become relegated to a purse. Her partner must be equally ruthless and ambitious. Azula had a whole list—a rigidly logical list outlining precisely the partner she wanted.

But with Ty Lee…it doesn’t matter.

It doesn’t matter that Ty Lee isn’t as motivated as Azula, and probably will never make a salary close to hers. It doesn’t matter that Ty Lee is silly, and that those in Ozai’s echelon of society would mock her. It doesn’t matter that Ty Lee doesn’t always agree with her. Azula…loves Ty Lee, and that’s all that matters. She loves her company, her smile, her ideas, and how much they have to talk about.

Azula closes her eyes and pictures her future.

She’s even talked about it with Ty Lee before—a charming, quiet house in the countryside. They could live together, with nobody to bother them. They could make it their own, fill it with whatever they pleased. They could cook together. Watch movies on the couch together. Hold each other at night.

A future like that, together with someone else, used to be a foreign idea in Azula’s mind. But now…she finally sees it, and it nearly brings tears to her eyes.

Love—that feeling must be love. It feels so raw and so real, and it’s something Azula gets to decide rather than have it forced on her.

For the first time in a long time, everything feels so right.

The next morning, on her call with Ty Lee, Azula can hardly contain herself.

“Do you want to be my girlfriend?” she blurts out, as soon as she’s alone in the car.

For a long time there is silence, and Azula can almost hear the pounding of her heart.

“Yes,” Ty Lee’s small voice finally comes, shaking as if she’s trying to contain herself. “Yes, Azula—I would love to be your girlfriend!”

Chapter Text

“Can’t I be the Dragon Emperor?” Zuko whines for the countless time.

Azula rolls her eyes. “No, dum-dum. I’m the Dragon Emperor. You can be the Dark Water Spirit…or the Princess.”

“Why can’t you be the Princess?” Zuko pouts. “The Dragon Emperor is a boy!”

“Who would want to be the Princess?” Azula scoffs. “She’s stupid and useless. She just sits there in her stupid dress while everyone else fights!”

With that, Azula lunges at Zuko with the foam sword she’s holding, forcing him to quickly raise up his own to block her with a startled giggle.

It’s one of their favorite games. Love Amongst The Dragons is the first movie Azula ever remembers seeing, and Mom and Zuko always watch it with her. Whenever Azula and Zuko are asked to pick a movie, they shout it out nearly in unison.

Azula would never admit it, but she does like watching the Princess in the movie. The idea of being her makes Azula’s nose wrinkle, but she likes watching her sing as little white birds land on her dainty wrist. She has a pretty voice and a pretty face.

Azula watches the Dragon Emperor kiss her and imagines she’s him. The Princess’s lips look so soft. Azula wonders what she would feel like to kiss.

But the Dragon Emperor is a boy, just like Zuko said. And Azula knows boys are supposed to kiss girls. It makes her jealous. Why can’t she be a boy? Then she could kiss girls, too.

“I like the Princess,” Azula whispers to Mother one day, immediately feeling guilty, as if she’d just said something forbidden.

“Really? But you never want to be the Princess when you’re playing games with Zuko,” Mom says with a smile.

“I don’t want to be her,” Azula explains. “I just…like her.”

“Why wouldn’t you want to be her?” Mom says, laughing gently. “She’s beautiful and kind and everyone likes her.”

Azula feels her mouth twist into a frown. “But she doesn’t do anything. I don’t want to be weak! I want to fight and rule like the Emperor. Who cares about being pretty and stupid?”

“I care,” Mom says, her happy expression fading. “I like feeling pretty and having someone to look after me. Do you think I’m weak, Azula?”

Azula crosses her arms. “Father says you are. He says there’s a reason why he runs a company and you don’t.”

Mom’s mouth tightens into a thin line, but she says nothing.

Azula smirks. She’s learned over time that any mention of Father is a guaranteed victory. Mom will scold her all day long, but she wouldn’t dare argue with something Father might have said.

“Being a girl isn’t weak,” Mom says shortly before leaving the room. “You just have to learn to use what you have in different ways.”

Azula scowls after her. She doesn’t want to learn to use what she has in different ways. She wants real power. She wants to be in charge of a company one day. She wants to be rich, but not just by being one of those gold-digging floozies Father warned her about. She wants to earn it herself, and she wants everyone to know she did it.

Father promised her. He said she could do it. He told Azula she’s not like the other girls. She’s stronger than them, smarter than them, and has always had her sights set higher than them. Father told her that sometimes he wishes she were his son—Azula would make a better son than Zuko, he said. Zuko has a woman’s heart. He’s too weak and emotional to be put in charge of anything.

Just like Mom. Mom is weak. Why would Azula rather be like her? Whenever they go out to a restaurant, Mom orders a salad and asks the waiter which dressing has fewer calories. Father orders what he pleases without a care. Mom spends an hour doing her hair and makeup, and still worries it doesn’t look good enough when she’s done. When Father enters a room, everyone turns to give him a respectful bow no matter what he looks like. Azula remembers Mom trying on shapewear at the mall to hide her nonexistent gut to look better in a tight dress. Father wears suits that would never require such a thing.

If that’s what growing into a woman means, Azula wants no part of it.

There is a reason why she never wanted to wear the Princess mask and dress.

Azula hates being a girl. Azula wishes she could be a boy instead. Azula wants to be like Father someday.

“Mom doesn’t like how I never let Zuko be the Dragon Emperor,” Azula boasts to Father one day. “But I’m better at it than him. I’m a better fighter, a stronger leader, and I bet the Princess would want to kiss me instead of him too.”

Pain explodes on one side of Azula’s face as her world spins, and she’s too shocked to realize Father just smacked her until she’s staring up at his furious face, cheek still stinging.

“Don’t you ever say something like that again,” he says harshly. “Girls don’t kiss girls. That’s degeneracy I will not tolerate in this household. I’m not going to let my daughter talk like some disgusting fucking queer. Is that understood?”

“Y-yes, Father,” Azula swears to him, assuming a bowed position on the floor. “I—I didn’t mean it.”

Tears threaten the corners of her eyes, but she won’t let them fall. That’s shameful. That’s weak. Maybe she is just a stupid girl. Why can’t she be a boy? Boys get to kiss girls. Boys aren’t stupid and weak. Boys don’t cry over such silly things.

Maybe this is her curse—for thinking about something so disgusting. Azula has no right to feel upset. Father is just trying to teach her right from wrong, like he always does.

“Good,” Father says, a proud smile returning to his face as he sits back in his desk chair. “Now, let’s see your report card.”

—————

Girlfriend. She has a girlfriend.

It makes Azula feel fucking childish, but she can’t stop repeating that thought in her mind and blushing stupidly every time she does. Ty Lee is her girlfriend.

Although, in all honesty, their day-to-day routine doesn’t change much. Azula realizes that in a sense, they’d effectively been girlfriends for quite some time before making it official.

A sign that it was simply meant to be, Azula supposes.

The weather keeps getting cooler, and the stress seems to come with the winter air, but Azula finds it easier to manage with Ty Lee by her side, and Ty Lee says the same. She’s been talking about how she plans to visit Republic City in the winter, and Azula finds herself desperately looking forward to it. She already finds herself planning out all the things they can do together—the restaurants they’ll go to, snow tubing in the mountains, perhaps a spa day…

“I find it especially hard, this time of year,” Ty Lee whispers to her one day. “It’s a time when you’re supposed to be with your family, but I don’t have a family anymore. Only Ty Liu talks to me and I know she’d rather be with my mom than me. I can’t even talk about it to most people because they just get uncomfortable. Nobody cares enough to help me.”

“I care,” Azula vows. “I’m here for you, always.”

I can be your family, she doesn’t say. She imagines spending every holiday together with Ty Lee, in that peaceful little house out in the mountains she can now picture in her mind so well. She longs to absolutely spoil Ty Lee, to give her everything she wants and more, until this chapter of their lives feels like nothing but a bad dream.

They’ll get there, Azula swears to herself. They have each other to hold onto now, and this pain can’t last forever. One day, Azula will graduate law school and make a name for herself. Ty Lee will get her nursing degree, and she’s already said how much she loathes the Fire Nation and dreams of returning to Republic City to settle down.

Azula talks to her every day, whenever she has a moment to spare. She loves that she has Ty Lee, she loves that Ty Lee has her…yet something about it still feels forbidden. A secret she must keep.

It’s been over a week now, and she still hasn’t told Zuko, much less anyone else. She finds herself being secretive about exactly how much she talks to Ty Lee, though she doesn’t know why.

Azula isn’t ashamed—far from it. But deep down, she’s still afraid.

She knows Zuko would question her on it. She knows that after her whole ordeal, nobody trusts her judgment anymore. Despite what they say, Azula knows they think she’s crazy. She knows they’d probably be horrified at the idea of such a person being in a relationship of any kind—especially this kind.

Confused, they’d probably call her. And while Azula’s life is one steaming fucking heap of confusion, her feelings for Ty Lee aren’t. She’s more certain of that than she has been about anything in a long time—so she clings to those feelings with everything she has. Azula isn’t in the mood to fight anyone on it right now.

So, she doesn’t bring it up.

There’s a lot of things Azula doesn’t feel like bringing up these days.

She feels so unsteady, so out of place, trying to adjust to this new life. Her life feels foreign to her, every relationship but the one she has with Ty Lee feels shallow…even her own body feels out of place, something Azula doesn’t want to think about. She hates it. Despite the euphoria of having a girlfriend, of openly loving Ty Lee, Azula’s life still feels so fucking messy.

“I don’t like being a woman,” Azula confides in Ty Lee one day. “It all feels wrong to me. I can’t be feminine like you. I don’t like what’s expected of me. Meek, pretty, submissive—I can’t do it. I wish I could be different.”

“Azula, maybe you are just different,” Ty Lee encourages. “Those things never bothered me…and that’s okay! Maybe you aren’t really a woman deep down—at least not fully! You can be whatever you want!”

“...maybe,” Azula responds simply, allowing the subject to drop as Ty Lee excitedly moves on to the next topic.

Azula doesn’t know what to think. She’s always felt different—that much is true. She never had a word for it before, but now she feels like she has so many bouncing around in her head. Nonbinary, asexual, trans, borderline personality disorder, autism, dysphoria, this-spectrum, that-spectrum—Ty Lee seems to have an identity to explain everything, and Azula has no idea where she fits into it all.

It seems comforting, at first. To have an explanation rather than a nebulous feeling of disconnect. But deep down…Azula knows it doesn’t feel right. She thinks about how she got here…she thinks of Ozai. There is a reason why Ozai put his hands on her the way he did but never Zuko. There is a reason why Azula was paraded about in revealing clothes and Zuko wasn’t. There is a reason why Azula feels disgusted with herself whenever she has so much as a bite to eat in front of other people and Zuko doesn’t.

It all happened. It can’t be changed. No matter what Azula decides to call herself…none of that would have been any different. She can’t choose the body she was born with, and how that body was treated as she grew into it. Deep down, she knows that truth and it unsettles her to her core. The feeling of being trapped.

Azula hates it. She longs to escape it all and live as the person she wants to be. If only she could figure out who that person is.

In time, she will. Azula just needs time. Maybe after things have settled down a bit, after she’s further established in her job, and after she’s finally moved into that quiet house out in the countryside…then she’ll be accepted. Things will feel right again. Everyone will accept Azula, that she loves Ty Lee, that they’re right together.

They’ll get there. One day, they’ll have their lives back and this will all end.

Azula has plenty of time to reflect on it as she drives home. Ty Lee can’t call today; she’s taking an Uber back from visiting an old friend. Azula hopes that will help her. Try as she might to be supportive, the distance is still hard on Ty Lee and it’s good for her to get out of her dorm room. She’d been so anxious this morning…every time she steps outside, she fears that every glance in her direction is some cruel judgment, that every aimless whisper of a stranger must be directed towards her. Ty Lee cries, Azula comforts. She’s happy to be there for her.

It warms her inside when Ty Lee tells her how much talking to Azula helps. Nobody else takes her seriously, she says. Only Azula.

Nobody takes Azula seriously either, she doesn’t tell Ty Lee. Nobody else sees her as anything but a selfish monster—a cold, heartless mercenary who only thinks of what benefits her.

Azula refuses to be that for Ty Lee. No; Ty Lee trusts her, Ty Lee knows she’s not doomed to be that person, and Azula strives to prove her right. Sometimes it feels like Ty Lee is the only person in her life who loves Azula for Azula—not for the person she hopes Azula will change into.

She’s still stewing about it when she walks through the door of the apartment, only to be greeted by Zuko fussing around the kitchen as he usually does this time of day.

“Hey Azula,” he greets, before carefully setting down the bowl in his hands and shifting on his feet.

Azula almost snorts. He looks like a kid about to ask his parents for a bigger allowance.

“Hey, um…” Zuko continues. “Mom gets home from work in a few hours, around 9:00 our time. Maybe you should give her a call then. She wants to hear from you.”

Azula freezes. “Today?”

“Azula, it’s Mom,” Zuko practically begs. “Do you want some soup? There’s plenty left over.”

Azula closes her eyes. “I’m not hungry. I’ll be in my room.”

“Azula—”

“I’ll call her,” Azula relents before turning away. “Just…give me some time.”

She closes her door with a sigh, and immediately pulls out her phone. Ty Lee. She just wants to talk to Ty Lee—that always makes her feel better.

Her fingers have practically memorized the motion of pulling up her contacts and calling Ty Lee’s number. But this time, it goes straight to voicemail.

[Ty Lee] Sorry, can’t call. My AirPods broke and the new ones I ordered don’t get here until tomorrow.

Azula sighs with a smile. At least Ty Lee is still here for her.

[Azula] How was your day?

She sees the bubbles pop up, indicating that Ty Lee is typing, as she lies down on her bed with a sigh. Ty Lee always has a lot to say, and it’s nice. It’s nice to have someone to listen to her, rather than to have only her own depressing thoughts for company.

[Ty Lee] Oh, pretty good…I was just watching *that* episode of Cave of Two Lovers if you know what I mean ;)

[Azula] Oh?

Azula finds herself grateful that the conversation is happening over text rather than the phone. She hates to admit it, but the subject still leaves her a bit…uncomfortable. She knows exactly where Ty Lee is going with this. The story of Oma and Shu—the trashy lesbian enemies-to-lovers show that was tragically canceled after its one, glorious season. Azula and Ty Lee’s first real sexual conversation came about after discovering their shared love for it—and especially the episode where they first meet in a secret labyrinth of crystals…

Sex is a perfectly normal thing to discuss in a relationship, Azula knows. She wishes she could engage more; it’s just…

Some days it’s like Azula can still feel the slap of Ozai’s hand against her cheek. That was the one time he’d ever struck her, and it was for the crime of telling him she wanted to kiss a girl. Azula remembers only feeling worse as time went on. As she aged, she found herself fantasizing about other women more. Characters from shows she liked, a random barista, celebrities she saw on TV. It made her feel dirty, disgusting, like something was wrong with her. She remembers hiding under her covers at night and watching every scene from Cave of Two Lovers where Oma and Shu kiss on repeat, then promptly clearing her whole search history. Ty Lee giggled when Azula told her about that, but all Azula remembers is feeling dirty in the aftermath. Dirty, and fearing what Ozai would do if he found out.

Then…that night happened. Azula told Ty Lee about it, though not many details. It nearly broke Azula. Not only Ozai’s betrayal, but how she lost everyone close to her in the aftermath. Even though some seem to tolerate her again…Azula feels uncomfortable. She feels strange, out of place in her own skin. Ever since that night, Azula hasn’t felt much of anything for anyone. She no longer fantasizes. The thought of sex now makes her want to curl up and die. She once thought there would never be hope for her again—and she’s accepted that about herself; Azula was never meant to be loved—until Ty Lee.

It’s not forever. She can recover. Ty Lee makes her want to try. Ty Lee does talk about it a lot. She’s always talking about what a pillow princess she is, how she’s always been so innately submissive and feminine and dreams of a strong woman to take care of her. Azula admits she likes the idea of being that strong woman, but the way Ty Lee phrases everything gets a little—

[Ty Lee] I’m sorry. I don’t want to rush you. We can take our time. I know sex is not an easy thing for you.

Azula rushes to assure Ty Lee that she’s fine; it’s something they’ll work up to. Azula wants to. She knows it’s right, and it’s something she wants…there’s just this…block on it. Azula wishes she knew how to fight it, to get rid of it; it’s stupid, and it makes her feel guilty for not being able to give what she knows Ty Lee wants.

But Ty Lee is right. They do have time to work through it. The distance makes it impossible to connect that way, so Azula has time to work through it herself. For Ty Lee.

Someday, she promises herself. When they’re both done with school and they have more savings and they move out to that peaceful house and they spend every night together and—

Azula sighs. She hates this chapter of her life. She wishes there was simply a way to fast forward through it to a new time. A time when things are better, more settled. All she has now are pipe dreams—things she’s fighting for, but still seem so far out of reach. Suffering leads to victory, though, Azula knows. This time will pass. She’ll get there. She and Ty Lee will walk together into the future Azula knows is waiting and then…then she’ll finally feel something resembling happiness. The empty, bleak feeling clawing its way through her very soul will finally be gone.

As she’s texting Ty Lee, Azula happens to look at the time. 9:04. Mother should be ready now—what did Zuko tell her? Does she know? Is she waiting for Azula’s call? Does she expect her to ignore her or accept the invitation?

At first, Azula is tempted to ignore it. She thinks of what Ty Lee said about her own mother, how she treated her like a helpless baby her whole life until she dared to come out as a lesbian, then suddenly she found herself without a home. Family doesn’t always mean everything. Why should Azula feel the obligation to speak to her? How could Mother truly have her best interest at heart? Does she ever love her? Why did she leave? How would she react if she knew Azula had a girlfriend?

Azula closes her eyes. For some reason, she still feels like she has to. It’s one phone call. That’s all. She can leave it at any time. At the very least, it would appease Zuko and stop him from staring at her with his stupid puppy eyes all day.

The phone rings several times after Azula dials in Mother’s number. Azula is tempted to roll her eyes and hang up, but then—

“Hello?” a voice Azula hasn’t heard in years speaks. “Azula, sweetie, is that you?”

Azula suddenly finds it hard to speak. Years, and that voice still sounds so familiar. Mother. It’s really her, someone Azula had written off as dead and lost.

“Yes,” she says tightly. “It’s me, Mother.”

“It’s so good to hear your voice,” Mother continues. She sounds almost teary. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed you.”

Then why did you let us think you were dead for over ten years? Azula doesn’t say. She doesn’t say anything at all; her heartbeat rings in her ears and she can barely think.

“Zuko told you I’m going to visit this winter, didn’t he?” Mother continues, her voice quiet and hopeful. “We can have a family holiday together again—just like we used to. All of your favorite foods and games…and maybe I’ll come for the New Year, too. I miss you, Azula. I miss you all so much.”

Azula feels tears spring to her eyes and she covers her mouth, not wanting Mother to hear. She feels so much—but she also doesn’t know what she feels. Despite everything, Azula does have memories she cherishes from her childhood. She used to think her family was happy, a normal family just like any other family. She remembers Mother’s harsh comments, but she also remembers her love. Mother and her used to wear matching sashes. They used to make cookies together. Mother held her hand at the store, she kissed her goodnight, she pinned her silly little drawings on the refrigerator—all things that mothers do. Azula does miss her. She’s been missing her for longer than she’s known. It isn’t until now—all those memories rushing back—that Azula realizes how deeply the loss of her mother cut. She’d allowed Ozai to convince her it was fine. That Mother abandoned her, that she never truly understood her.

“Why?” Azula finally chokes out. “Why did you leave? Where have you been?”

“I’m sorry,” Mother whispers. “I was a coward. I should have never left, but your father, he—he—”

Azula hears her take a shuddering breath, her voice trembling as if merely speaking of Ozai will bring him back.

“After Lu Ten died, Ozai became so…” Mother takes a deep breath. “He started fighting with your grandfather. I didn’t know why; he wouldn’t tell me anything. Then he…he made me do things. Criminal things. He said he’d hurt you and Zuko if I didn’t. He threatened to get me thrown in jail. He said he’d kill you if I tried reporting anything. Eventually, he told me to leave. He said if he ever saw my face again, he’d kill Zuko. I’m sorry, Azula. I felt like I had no choice, but now that he’s finally locked away…”

Mother sniffles, and Azula feels her heart break. She’s angry—maybe even angrier than before—but her anger only makes her feel guilty. She knows what Ozai is like; she knows that Mother isn’t lying. Mother suffered Ozai’s abuse as much as she did—probably more. Of course she was afraid.

But she still left her with him. After knowing exactly what kind of man he is.

Tears roll down Azula’s cheeks as Mother continues.

“I know so much has happened, and so much has changed,” Mother says, her voice calmer. “But I want to be there for you again. Especially after—I didn’t know, Azula. I didn’t know what Ozai did. I’ve been hiding out in a commune near Hira’a. I was too afraid to even have my own phone for the first few years. But I heard…I heard the news. I saw Ozai’s verdict. I read…”

Azula’s heart is racing. She must know, then. About what happened to Azula, too. That night, what he did, what she did—and she still wants to talk to her. She still wants to be her mother. She cares for Azula, and she might even understand what she went through.

“…I read what he did to Zuko. I can’t believe it. Nine years? It took them nine years to figure out that Ozai burned him, and only because of some stupid embezzlement investigation?” Mother babbles. “It’s unbelievable…our justice system, letting that monster get away with it. But Azula, darling…I’m so glad to hear that you’re getting along with Zuko. He really cares for you. I heard you had a little…incident with the police, but I’m so happy you’ve been working things out. And your new job? I’m proud of you, my love. I can’t wait to see you again.”

Azula blinks. She…she doesn’t know. Nobody does.

It makes Azula feel like such a fool. She never actually read Ozai’s verdict herself. It was all too overwhelming. She was shielded from all the legal bullshit due to her psychiatric stay, and after she was out…she honestly never felt like looking. Azula always just assumed he was arrested because of that night. She never saw what happened to him after she went running out, but—

Azula feels her chest start to heave against her will. There really wasn’t justice. Nobody knows what they did to her; they only care about Zuko. Always Zuko. Azula hates feeling jealous over something like that, but she can’t help but feel burning hatred. She’s never enough. She’s never going to be taken seriously. Her scars are invisible, and she’s too crazy to be believed.

The situation nearly makes her want to laugh. Who would believe her now, if she tried to say anything? The crazy bitch, the privileged rich girl who got everything she ever wanted. Who would ever believe her? They’d say she was lying for attention, or maybe for pity. A pathetic attempt to clear her name after what she did. Azula has seen what happens to women like her when they try to speak out. She’d become a part of a sensationalized TV trial. If she acts too calm, she’ll be called cold and uncaring—a liar. If she acts too emotional, she’ll be called a psycho—too crazy to be taken seriously. The public would be relentless. Men enjoying the opportunity to tear down a woman they know they could never have, and women taking out their jealousy on her by treating her abuse as a fantasy to be envied.

Azula shudders. There really is no escape. Would Mother even believe her? Would Zuko? Azula already knows Mother thinks she’s selfish. Of course she’d just assume this is more selfishness, more trying to take the attention from Zuko.

“Azula, sweetie?” Mother asks quietly. “Are you still there?”

“Yes,” Azula says tightly. She hopes the shakiness of her voice isn’t too noticeable. “I…I have to go. Thank you…thank you for talking to me. I’ll see you this winter.”

She speaks quickly, trying to get it all out in one breath. She can’t do this. How can she even begin to feel comfortable around people like this?

“Okay,” Mother says hopefully. “I’m looking forward to it, Azula. I love you.”

Azula hangs up without another word, somehow finding herself unable to repeat that phrase back. As soon as she does, she feels herself dissolve into sobs.

The door opens then, and Azula sees red.

“Azula…?” Zuko’s concerned voice asks from the doorway. “Are you…?”

“Get out!” she practically screams. “Get the fuck away from me!”

Azula hardly knows what she’s feeling. She feels everything and nothing all at once, but she knows she wants him out of here. Precious little Zuko—always more loved than her, always taken so much more seriously. By Mother, by Uncle Iroh…even by the fucking media.

It’s a good thing he takes the hint and ducks out of her room, because Azula suddenly feels that old compulsion to grab the nearest object and hurl it at his head.

She presses her fists against her eyes and tries not to cry too loudly once she’s alone again. There she goes again. Crazy bitch. Selfish. Monster. Evil. She’ll never escape it. She knows how much Zuko does to look out for her, and she still treats him like that.

Azula wonders what Ty Lee would think if she could see her right now. Would she agree? Would she stare with the same horror she stared at her with the last night she broke down?

Taking several deep breaths, Azula pulls herself together. Focus. The bed under her back, the breeze coming through the window, her feet on the floor, the smell of rain, the can of pens on the desk, the red jacket she can see sticking out from the closet…things she’s learned. Reminders the world is still here, still resting, still progressing undeterred, unaware of her thoughts.

She decides it’s best to simply leave it all behind for a while, and go to sleep. Azula has learned to love sleep, no matter how fitful. A place to escape to, where nobody can bother her, and where she can’t bother them.

As she drifts off, she tries to think of her future—of Ty Lee. Ty Lee knows. Ty Lee believes her. At least there is someone out there who understands.

—————

Azula can almost feel the tension in the air when she comes into the kitchen the next morning, where she knows Zuko will be. She doesn’t even want to look him in the eyes right now, but she also has to make it to work on time. Life marches on, and so does she.

For a long moment, they just stare at each other. Zuko doesn’t exactly look angry, but something pained lingers in his eyes.

“We talked about Ozai. It…wasn’t easy,” Azula explains, averting her eyes before taking a breath. “I’m…sorry. That was inappropriate, last night.”

“I’m sorry, too,” Zuko says, to her surprise. “That was private. I shouldn’t have come in.”

“Yeah. You shouldn’t have,” Azula says simply, not angrily. She sighs. “Well, I need to get to work. I’ll see you later.”

“Do you want something for breakfast?” Zuko asks.

“I’m going to be late. I’ll get something on the way,” Azula tells him as she leaves.

Funny, it seems lying still comes as naturally as ever to her. Why Zuko still tolerates her remains a mystery. Maybe Mother was simply telling the truth, in all those fractured childhood memories.

Monster.

—————

The days begin to blur together as Azula feels more and more consumed by her thoughts. She doesn’t know what to do with it. With any of it.

Azula is tempted to blurt it out every time she sees Zuko, Iroh, Katara…anyone. Did they know? Did they even know what happened to her that night, the night they decided she was crazy and had her locked away? Do they suspect she’s dating Ty Lee? How would they react if they knew?

But Azula says nothing. The thoughts feel like a physical being pulsing inside of her, desperate to escape and make itself known, but Azula still says nothing.

Maybe they were right. Maybe she is crazy—just overreacting to everything. She’d probably be best off doing what they do. Pretending it never happened and moving on. After all, it could have been worse. There were touches—violating touches—but not technically a full rape. Azula wasn’t damaged or bruised. It happened so quickly before she ran away. Did she imagine it? She only remembers that night in a blur, and her childhood in fragments. Was it really that bad, or is she just imagining it?

Azula finds herself getting increasingly absorbed in work—anything to take her mind off this mess.

The thought of being touched by another human being makes her want to die. The expenses spreadsheet is due tomorrow.

Her own body feels alien to her, and Azula wishes she could erase it—stupid big boobs stupid fucking thigh fat stupid—and never be looked at again. She has a meeting with Kyoshi today.

The few people left in her life who pretend to care about her would probably leave just like everyone else if she tried spilling her soul to them. Azula has an application essay to write.

Even worse is that she still hasn’t found the right time to make the announcement that she’s dating Ty Lee.

It’s not like Azula doesn’t want to; quite the opposite. She dreams of holding Ty Lee’s hand and introducing her as her girlfriend. She dreams of spending holidays together with Ty Lee sitting in the living room and laughing with her, as a part of her family. She even dreams of Uncle Iroh greeting Ty Lee with a hug just like he now greets Katara. Azula wonders if he ever would.

There’s so much going on now, especially with Mother coming back. Azula promises herself—she’ll tell them all eventually. It just isn’t the right time. They don’t trust Azula yet—they probably think she’s too unstable to have a relationship, to make her own choices. They’d tell her she’s confused, that loving another woman is only another symptom of her identity crisis. They’d tell her long distance relationships don’t work. Azula doesn’t want to deal with it. She doesn’t want to make them deal with it either. As far as they’re concerned, Ty Lee is just a good friend she likes talking to from time to time. They don’t need to know how in love Azula feels. They don’t need to know exactly how much time she spends on the phone with Ty Lee.

Lately, it’s been even more. Azula confides in Ty Lee, admits how devastating it was that nobody but her knows what Ozai did. And they probably wouldn’t believe her.

Ty Lee understands. She tells Azula she’s never been through something like that, but she understands what it feels like to not be taken seriously, to have her feelings brushed aside. Azula feels so lucky to have her. She’s not sure what she’d do without her.

The topic of sex continues to be challenging, but Azula feels her trust growing. She still feels that mental block, that stinging hatred of her body that makes her want to forget it’s capable of having sex at all, but she trusts Ty Lee. She knows she’d never do anything like what Ozai did. She knows she’d make her comfortable.

“To be honest…I’ve been having trouble thinking about it lately, too,” Ty Lee says quietly one day. “I’ve been thinking. About what it was like with Jun. And…and…”

Azula feels her hands tighten on the steering wheel as a sinking feeling forms in her gut. “Ty Lee…what’s wrong?”

“It’s…” Ty Lee trails off, her breath hitching. “Jun did things that…hurt. Things that made me feel humiliated. I…thought I liked it, because it made Jun happy. I liked making her happy. But…sometimes I didn’t want to. I thought maybe she was feeling angry and she wouldn’t always be like that. She’s not a bad person, but—”

“Ty Lee,” Azula says tightly. She feels sick to her stomach, her worst suspicions confirmed. “Did Jun ever do something to you that you didn’t want?”

“Well…yes,” Ty Lee says softly. Azula can almost feel her deflating, the sorrow in the air. She really fucking hates being right sometimes. “Sometimes…I would tell her I was tired. Because I didn’t want to. And she…she didn’t stop.”

“That’s assault,” Azula spits out before she can stop herself. That fucking monster. “Ty Lee…that’s—that’s…rape. She—”

Azula finds herself choked up…she doesn’t know what to say. All this time, as Ty Lee was here for her after her ordeal with Ozai…she was carrying this with her? Azula can’t help but feel guilty. Ozai abused her, but didn’t rape her. She was blowing it out of proportion. She swears to be here for Ty Lee; she can’t keep being so selfish, she has to—

“I guess I kind of…knew,” Ty Lee says, a shudder in her voice. “I didn’t want to think of her as a rapist. She was sexually abused too—I don’t know. It started slowly, too. I don’t think she meant to hurt me. I just think she was used to hurting people and didn’t realize I wanted to stop, but…”

“But that doesn’t make it okay,” Azula finishes the thought. “Fuck, Ty Lee…I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry you had to go through that and I didn’t even know.”

From there, it’s as if the dam Ty Lee had hidden her thoughts behind breaks open. Azula hears her sniffling on the other side of the phone.

“Oh, Azula,” Ty Lee babbles. “Thank you for understanding. It felt so…uncomfortable to think about! Jun, she—she didn’t like it when I asked questions. She even told me to stop talking to Katara because I mentioned that Katara was worried! Jun said I was just being influenced by my upbringing because I was too sheltered. She said being kinky would help me unlearn my internalized homophobia, but I didn’t really like it. I don’t know if that was because I’m naturally a prude or because my mom was homophobic or…or…”

“Ty Lee, it’s alright,” Azula says, doing her best to be comforting despite the way her mind is reeling with anger. “It’s over now. I would never do anything that hurt you, okay? I would never ask you to do things like that for me.”

“I know. I know,” Ty Lee repeats in a whisper. “Thank you for being here for me, Azula. I…I think I need to rest now. I’m tired.”

“Take all the time you need,” Azula assures her.

The other end of the phone goes dead, and Azula sees the road in front of her turn blurred as her eyes fill with tears.

She’s angry. So angry—a type of violent, helpless anger that Azula has become used to by now. Ty Lee was hurt. Badly hurt. There’s nothing Azula could do to help. Nothing she can do to change what happened. Jun—she took advantage of someone insecure, someone lost, and did that. All because Jun must be a depraved, insecure person herself—a sad, pathetic fucking excuse for a human being who knows no other way to feel in control of her life than to take out her own self hatred and trauma on someone who was too afraid and naïve to fight back. It’s sick.

And Katara? Ty Lee…told Katara? No fucking wonder Katara seemed so skeptical about Jun…but she still did fucking nothing to help Ty Lee? All her fucking self-righteousness, and she let this go on? Azula might have been locked away, but Katara wasn’t. She was supposed to be Ty Lee’s friend and she did nothing to stop this.

Azula feels angry. So angry. She focuses on the road ahead of her, hands still gripping the wheel tight. At least it’s over now. At least Ty Lee is safe, and so is Azula, and they can begin picking up the pieces now that they’ve all been laid out on the table.

—————

When she returns home to the apartment, Azula still feels shaken. The feeling only intensifies when she finds Katara sitting at the kitchen counter, typing away on her computer.

“You,” Azula says lowly. “We need to talk, now.”

Katara looks up in surprise. Usually Azula more or less ignores her as she makes her way into her room, but not today. No; Azula wants answers.

“Zuko isn’t home,” Katara says quickly before turning back to her work.

“Not Zuko. You,” Azula repeats, feeling herself growing angrier as Ty Lee’s broken little voice repeats itself in her head. “Ty Lee told me everything.”

Katara’s fingers pause mid-stroke on her keyboard. “About what?”

“Jun,” Azula says tightly.

Katara’s head snaps back towards her. She looks like she’s seen a fucking ghost.

Azula feels her scowl deepen. “You knew, didn’t you?”

“Azula, it’s—”

“No,” Azula spits. “I can’t fucking believe you! For all of your obnoxious self-righteous attitude—and you did nothing? Absolutely fucking nothing for Ty Lee—your friend? How dare you act like you’re better than me! You couldn’t even tell me that my gir—my oldest friend was stuck with some fucking rapist?”

Katara’s expression breaks more and more with each word until there are tears streaming down her face. The vindictive part of Azula relishes in it—she should fucking feel bad, she should fucking—

“Rapist?” Katara chokes out. “Ty Lee never told me—she just said—”

She covers her mouth with her hand as if she’s trying to hide the horrible sound that comes from her—somewhere behind a sob and an enraged cry as she crosses the room with her head clutched in her hands.

Azula still feels her heart pounding in her chest—she wants to just scream at Katara—but something makes her pause. There is more complexity to this situation than she initially thought.

“I thought you knew,” Azula says, the words slipping out of her like air from a deflating balloon.

“I should have known,” Katara whispers, sinking down onto the couch and burying her face in her hands. “I should have known.”

“Then why didn’t you say anything?” Azula says in a low voice. “Why didn’t you try to warn her?”

“I did,” Katara whispers in a harsh tone that takes her aback. “I tried and she pulled away from me—just like everyone always does!”

Azula blinks. Katara? Bright, kind, perfect Katara…and people keep pulling away from her?

“What…what are you talking about?”

Katara sighs deeply, rubbing her eyes with her fingers. “I didn’t know…I didn’t know how bad Jun was. But I know she…did things. Like…violent, kinky things. At the time, Ty Lee said she was fine, that…that she was just naturally submissive, but something felt wrong. I tried to talk to her, but…but—”

“Jun told her to cut you off,” Azula says as the realization hits her. “She didn’t like that you were threatening her control.”

Katara nods tightly, and Azula finds herself carefully taking a seat beside her on the couch. She feels guilty for what she assumed before—Katara really did try, and Azula doubts she could have done much better in her place. She thinks back to her time in the institution, how long it took her to come to terms with everything, to learn the reality of her surroundings and learn how to articulate what had happened to her.

“It’s happened to me before,” Katara says quietly. “I had an ex like that, too. It was early in college. His friends were my only friends at the time, but when things felt…wrong, I couldn’t really say why. They made me feel like a monster every time I tried to explain it.”

Azula snorts. She can’t help it. “You? A monster? Please. I have you beat by a fucking mile there.”

“I suppose,” Katara says with a faint laugh, the corners of her lips turning upwards before her expression wilts again. “But at the time, I really felt like I was. He hurt me, but it was so gradual. I didn’t even realize what he was doing at first. My friends told me that he was just…kinky. They said I could tell him no—and I did—but it was never that simple. He pouted. He compared me to his exes—even his friends. I felt like something was wrong with me. They didn’t like when I questioned it. They told me I didn’t have to, but then they called me boring behind my back if I didn’t. I was afraid of losing Jet. So I just…convinced myself it was okay. But it wasn’t okay. It was never okay. And eventually, I snapped.”

Azula thinks back to the institution…to Meng, and Zirin, and the mess that happened there. It sounds like Katara’s old friends were similar.

Maybe Katara herself is more similar to Azula than she once thought.

“It got worse when I finally broke up with him,” Katara continues, closing her eyes. “It wasn’t a bad breakup. It was kind of…mutual, even. He wanted to stay friends. It didn’t last long.”

“Why would you want to stay friends with a creepy fucker like that?” Azula scoffs in disbelief.

“I didn’t have anywhere else to go,” Katara says, eyes downcast. “I felt like nobody else understood me. When my family found out I was bisexual—my father and grandmother weren’t terrible, but they weren’t really nice, either. I felt like my ex and his friends were helping me. They made me feel accepted, at home. But then after the breakup…when I started questioning things, feeling uncomfortable—they turned on me. They said what Jet did wasn’t abusive. They said I was wrong to judge him—but he wanted to hurt me! And he did. But they all believed he did nothing wrong, and they told me if I tried to go to the police or warn anyone else I’d just be siding with homophobes…so I felt like I couldn’t. Not until it was too late. And I lost all my friends.”

Katara lets out a quiet sob as she presses her palms to her watery eyes. “I admit it. I was a coward. I was afraid of losing Ty Lee the same way if I spoke out too much…but I failed her. You’re right. I didn’t do enough to help her.”

Azula just stares. If it wasn’t for the raw pain in Katara’s face, she might think she was lying. But Azula knows how people are. She knows what it is to be used and abandoned the moment she begins to ask questions— to pull at the puppet strings attached to her.

She knows what it is to find out the relationships that she depended on were never real.

“I should have known,” Katara repeats herself, then the floodgates open even further as she chokes on a sob. “I kept seeing it—everywhere. I kept seeing the same pattern, and I could never do anything to save people. It’s all I ever wanted to do—that’s why I’m in medical school. I work at the ER. Do you know what I see there?”

Azula almost wants to tell her no, she doesn’t really want to know. But she still can’t find her words.

Katara hiccups and takes a shuddering breath, but presses on. “They warned us, in training. They warned us that we’d have domestic violence victims who would refuse to report it—who would defend their abusers. They warned us we’d have rape victims who would refuse an investigation. But do you know what they didn’t warn us about? The ones who told me they wanted it. I never thought I’d find myself treating a teenage girl’s concussion while she told me about how the sex she got it from was so good. I never thought a patient would call me a prude bitch who would die alone for asking if she wanted to speak to a social worker after she came in with a black eye and bruised throat. It’s just—just sick! Especially when it’s your friend—what can you do? How do you help someone that far in denial? Why am I always too late? Why can I never—”

Before Azula knows what she’s doing, she’s wrapping her arms around Katara.

Azula doesn’t know why. She isn’t an affectionate person, but this all feels so raw. She does feel the weight of it all, the pain, the empathy—both for Katara and her own former self.

Katara looks up in surprise.

“You didn’t fail anyone. Including Ty Lee,” Azula tells her. “You tried. Jun just—Jun knew how to manipulate her. How to manipulate both of you.”

“I thought I knew better,” Katara sighs, wiping her eyes. “I’d finally accepted that I wasn’t a monster, that I could trust my own intuition again. But it still wasn’t enough.”

“I still can’t believe you thought you were a monster,” Azula admits. “I mean…you?”

Katara smiles ruefully. “I did say some…inflammatory things. It’s not like I was wrong, but I was hurt, and I didn’t know how to explain what I was feeling. I could have explained it better. People who didn’t know the full story jumped into the middle, they twisted what I said, they made me feel alone…and it worked. I felt like I was going crazy. Honestly, I didn’t think anyone would ever love me until I met Zuko.”

Azula watches her face soften as she speaks Zuko’s name, and can’t deny the touch of annoyance. But something there is real. An untold story in Katara’s hopeful eyes, and how deep their bond must be. It’s something Azula wishes she had.

“I feel the same way about Ty Lee,” she says before biting her tongue. “I mean—as friends. I thought nobody would want to speak to me again after…well, you were there that night.”

“You talk to her a lot…don’t you?” Katara asks.

“Yes,” Azula admits. “A lot. Sometimes I still wonder why she wants to, after…”

Katara nods. “I didn’t know what to think after that night. You scared us, Azula. You did. But…there’s something we didn’t know, wasn’t there?”

Azula feels her jaw clench. She wants to say it. After everything Katara told her, maybe she should. Maybe it would finally bridge that gap between them, it’s just—

“…Azula?”

“Yes,” she says tightly. “ There was. I just…I’m not ready yet.”

“You don’t have to tell me,” Katara says quietly. “But…if it means anything, I don’t think you’re a monster. You tried your best, too. And whatever it is you’re fighting in your head…I know you’ll win. You’re a strong person.”

Now it’s Katara’s turn to hold Azula while she cries.

Chapter Text

Azula hears a chuckle from the corner of her bedroom and looks over in surprise to where Mai is supposedly studying for the entry exam for the Royal Fire Academy. Unusual, for her.

“What?” Azula asks, prompting Mai to look up from her phone.

“Oh, nothing…” Mai says as she closes out of whatever she’d just been looking at.

Azula purses her lips at the faint smile on Mai’s cheeks. Very odd.

“Doesn’t seem like nothing. You look like you’d be giggling like an idiot if you weren’t so…you,” Azula mutters.

Mai sighs and rolls her eyes. “Okay…fine. It was just a clip of Desna and Tahno getting in a fight during the hockey match last night.”

“Seriously?” Azula snorts. “I thought your tastes were far more refined than that.”

“It’s not like that!” Mai snaps back, but the blush on her cheeks betrays her.

Azula raises an eyebrow.

“Okay, fine,” Mai finally sighs. “I think Tahno is kind of cute. Come on; it’s not like you didn’t know I have a thing for emo guys.”

Azula snorts. “But him? Come on, Mai. His hair looks like a greasy black slug-eel died on his head.”

Mai cracks a faint smile before staring back at Azula with her usual deadpan expression. “Well, what about you, Azula? What is an acceptable crush—since you’re the expert.”

“Not Tahno, for starters,” Azula quips, sticking out her bottom lip. “Didn’t he just have a doping scandal, too?”

“That’s not an answer,” Mai hums tauntingly. “Who’s your crush, Azula? Everyone has one.”

“I don’t,” huffs Azula, crossing her arms. “That’s stupid. I have more important things to worry about than crushes. Like getting into the Royal Fire Academy.”

Azula tries not to let it show, but the question does bother her. It’s true that her primary goal is her academics right now; Father instilled that into her. Boyfriends are for sluts, Father says. Azula is destined for greater than that.

But at the same time, she can’t help the uncomfortable feeling that comes over her whenever the subject arises. Azula isn’t dense; she knows it’s normal to have crushes and she knows nearly every other girl her age does. Mai makes googly eyes at every emo dipshit that crosses her path, and it seems like Ty Lee has a new boyfriend every other week.

Azula, for some reason, could never make that work.

“I’m not buying it,” Mai deadpans. “There has to be someone.”

Azula tries. She scours her mind for anyone she could possibly have a crush on, but she keeps coming up blank. The boys at school—ew, not a chance. Movie stars? Too boring; too basic. Nothing stands out.

The traitorous thought crosses her mind that the actress from Cave of Two Lovers who played Oma—Azula doesn’t even know her name—has made her feel things that no man has. She has plump lips, a gentle curve to her nose, stunning eyes, and that one scene in the fountain where her wet robes clung to her—

Azula feels herself flush bright red, and for a moment fears that Mai can read her mind, that she knows what horrible thoughts are going through her head. No, no, no! Azula would be mortified if someone knew that. Azula doesn’t understand what is wrong with her. Father told her it was despicable to think such thoughts about other women, and Azula figured that if she tried to stop, they’d go away. But they only seem to get stronger. What’s wrong with her? Azula is nothing short of perfect in every other aspect of her life, so why can’t she manage this one stupid thing?

Think, think—Mai has a sports crush. Lots of attractive men play sports; Azula doesn’t really watch them, but she knows a few celebrities. Think, think—

“The Boulder,” she suddenly blurts out, feeling like an idiot as soon as she does.

“Seriously?” Mai snorts, unable to hide her laughter. “I really wasn’t expecting ‘dumb jock’ to be your type.”

“It’s better than your greasy slug-eel emo!” Azula shoots back. “I just like his…his muscles. It’s not like I’ll ever actually talk to him in real life, so what does it matter if he’s dumb?”

“I just think it’s funny,” Mai says with a shrug. “No need to get so defensive.”

“I’m not getting defensive!” Azula snaps before realizing she’s nearly yelling and composes herself. She feels so fucking childish. “This is stupid. We’re supposed to be studying.”

Mai shrugs again, but doesn’t say anything further.

Azula finds herself growing frustrated as their session continues. Mai is silently writing something in her notebook, but Azula knows she’s silently judging as is her way. It’s ridiculous. It’s one little crush. Why is it driving Azula so crazy? Why can’t she just make her brain work the way Mai’s does?

Later that night, Azula locks her door and pulls out her phone. She carefully angles herself away from the door, on the off chance that Father or Zuko decide to barge in.

Pages after pages of celebrity pictures cross her feed. Azula looks at The Boulder. She looks at athletes, movie stars, every man she knows is widely considered to be attractive. She even looks at Tahno. Azula tries to imagine it…she tries to find one little thing that seems sexy about them, but she just can’t. She even looks up a picture of a penis and nearly hurls her phone across the room in disgust. She tries imagining men naked—half-naked even—and how they would feel. It only makes her feel sick at worst and at best? Nothing—nothing at all.

Nothing like she feels when she watches Oma kiss Shu in that cave…

Azula feels tears run down her cheeks. She is a monster. She doesn’t know how to love and she never will. Mother was right—just like Father said. Something was always wrong with her. Father assures her that Mother only feared her for being strong, but he doesn’t know the truth. He doesn’t know these thoughts Azula has.

Father’s slap still rings in her ears, and Azula clamps a hand over her mouth to silence herself. She doesn’t have to wonder to know how he’d react. Father made it clear that Azula wasn’t to think degenerate thoughts like this, and she knows the price of disobeying Father. She remembers what happened to Zuko.

No; nobody can ever find out. Nobody can know.

Azula clears her phone’s search history and drops it on the floor, still trying to calm herself. She doesn’t have to worry about it now. School is the priority, like Father said. Azula wouldn’t have time for love anyway, even if it were something she was capable of.

No; the time is right. She just needs to wait. Maybe her stupid brain and stupid thoughts will change when she’s older. She just needs to wait.

Soon. Everything will change soon.

Azula just has to wait for the right time.

—————

Azula won’t deny that the stress of her mother’s impending visit and helping Ty Lee through her rough patch is getting to her, but the conversation with Katara makes her homelife a bit more of a bright spot in her life.

They both almost laughed at the bewildered expression on Zuko’s face when he walked into the kitchen to find Azula and Katara amicably chatting over their morning coffee. Azula was surprised to find that Katara craves the bitter flavor even more than she does, while Zuko is the one who turns up his nose in favor of tea.

Azula gets the sense that Katara didn’t relay all of their conversation back to Zuko, but she feels a little more at ease around him, too. She’s even tempted to tell them about Ty Lee, to confide in them both about Ozai—but she just can’t. It would be so much better if she did, Azula knows. But she just can’t.

Every time she thinks about it, she hears the voices of her past ringing in her ears. Selfish. Monster. Privileged bitch. Lying whore. Drama Queen. Just doing it for attention. Shit stirrer.

So, Azula remains silent. Things are finally looking up; ruining it now would be foolish. Eventually, she’ll tell them. She just needs to wait for the right time. Would she be able to do it before the solstice comes? Azula sure hopes to. She longs to have her first real holiday with a family that loves her, and hopes to share that with Ty Lee. What a dream that would be.

She talks to Ty Lee every day, and they dream of it together. At least they’ll see each other—it’s a start, and in time, everyone will see the love between them. They’ll warm up to the idea. It’s just…so much right now.

But Azula still can’t deny the joy. While she’d never admit such a thing…she remembers what Uncle Iroh said not so long ago. To find the joy in the simple things; to appreciate the things she has now. Ty Lee already bought her plane tickets. Ty Lee is doing well with her classes. Azula is doing well at work. She’s going to apply to law school this winter. She can’t deny the stress that feels crushing at times—but it will end. Azula is building herself from the ground up, and the foundations are the most important. There will come a time to relax—but not now. Azula knows she can’t stop fighting—she has to keep going; both for her future and Ty Lee’s.

“So…when I visit…” Ty Lee whispers awkwardly one day. “How much…do you feel comfortable with? Like…doing?”

The last bit is so quiet that Azula isn’t sure she heard it correctly…maybe she missed something in her crackling car speakers.

“What?” she asks, knowing it’s a loaded question. “Sorry; the road is loud.”

“I can’t talk too loudly,” Ty Lee whispers. “My neighbors might be listening. I just meant, you know, touch.”

Azula feels her face flush bright red, even though nobody is watching. Of course it was going to come up—Azula should have known better.

“I don’t know…cuddling? Kissing maybe? I’ll have to see how I feel,” Azula says sheepishly.

Fuck, is it embarrassing to feel so awkward about something so simple. She’d probably die if anyone but Ty Lee could hear her right now. Azula doesn’t know what she’s doing.

“Oh…okay,” Ty Lee says. She’s clearly trying to hide the disappointment in her voice, which only makes Azula feel more guilty.

“Ty Lee—I’m sorry. It’s not you. You’re gorgeous. I’m just—I don’t really…feel anything right now. For anyone. It’s just…difficult,” Azula admits.

“I understand,” Ty Lee says, and Azula breathes a sigh of relief. She can almost feel Ty Lee’s contemplative nod through the phone. “You know, there’s always the possibility you could be asexual. Or aspec! It’s nothing to be ashamed of at all.”

Azula bites her lip. Could she be? Azula isn’t sure—how could she be, when she’s still a virgin and every experience approaching sex she’s had occurred against her will? But…maybe. Maybe that would make sense.

Those memories of her late nights reading raunchy webcomics, of her fantasies about Oma in Cave of Two Lovers, of Ty Lee’s lips back in high school—all of that feels real. Azula used to feel those feelings—she used to hate them. Maybe she cursed herself with all that time she spent trying to repress them, only to desperately want them back years later.

“But I want to try,” Azula finally says. “For you. I know it’s something I like the idea of, it’s just—”

“That’s fine!” Ty Lee assures her. “You know it’s really common for aspec people to want to have sex with their partners too, because it makes them happy! You’ll figure it out.”

Azula feels her stomach turn, that sentiment an eerie echo of one she’s heard before, but she forces it back. “That…doesn’t sound right. I’m not sure.”

“Oh?” Ty Lee asks, sounding vaguely hurt. “Why’s that?”

Azula wants to say it. She wants to blurt out what her instincts tell her—that there isn’t an identity that can fix her; she’s just hurt and needs to work through it. That even if she didn’t naturally desire sex, her feeling pressured into it anyway would be wrong. It occurs to her that being around Jun for so long probably left Ty Lee with some dangerous ideas. Azula feels her heart break even more. The words linger at the tip of her tongue.

But she thinks of Katara. She thinks of how so many people—even Ty Lee herself—pushed her away for asking the wrong questions. If Katara—objectively a better and kinder person than Azula; she’ll admit that—was pushed away, Azula knows she’ll certainly be.

No; she can’t say it. She has to approach this carefully. So, Azula finds herself falling silent.

“Oh…I’m not sure. It’s fine,” she says eventually.

One day, she’ll be able to explain everything. One day, it will all be better. Ty Lee will understand. Azula knows she will; Ty Lee is always so supportive of her. She’s just going through her own hard times right now. Azula can’t bother her with this now.

Azula just has to wait for the right time.

—————

“How long did it take you to move on from Jet?” Azula blurts out one day.

The shocked look on Katara’s face makes her inwardly cringe. Right—it probably does seem out of nowhere from Katara’s perspective.

Azula closes her eyes with a huff. “I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to say it like that. I was just…curious. You seem so happy now, despite everything.”

“Well, not dating Jet anymore has certainly done wonders for my mood,” Katara says bitterly before sighing. “I guess…it was hard, at first. It was all I knew. It felt like he was my whole world. But now…I’ve mostly moved on. I love your brother, Azula, I do. He’s kind to me, and he looks out for me. The more time I spend with him, I just kind of…forget Jet exists. I let the good memories wash away the bad ones.”

Could she do that for Ty Lee? Azula hopes she can. She hopes their long talks on the phone are comforting. She dreams of the day where she’ll actually be able to see Ty Lee every day, to spend time together and give her those new, good memories. It might be hard now, but it can’t stay this way forever.

“Did…something happen?” Katara asks, and Azula realizes how long she’s been silent.

“I’m just worried about Ty Lee,” she answers honestly. “She seems so anxious all the time. And—”

Azula bites her tongue, her last conversation with Ty Lee flashing through her mind. Should she? Should she tell Katara about that?

“And…what?”

Azula sighs. If there’s one person who might understand, it’s Katara. After all, it seems her struggles with Ty Lee this past year were somewhat similar.

“She just…she seems to have picked up some…bad ideas. From Jun,” Azula says as she fidgets with a strand of her hair. She finds herself unable to look away from the floor, struggling to find a way to explain it without revealing too much. “I try explaining things, but she doesn’t get it. She explains everything in all these…identities and diagnoses, but I don’t think she’s really listening sometimes. And she’s going through so much right now so how can I argue with her? It’s just—frustrating. I know it’s because of Jun and it’s not her, but…”

“But it still hurts, doesn’t it?” Katara says quietly.

Azula closes her eyes. How could Ty Lee possibly be hurting her? Ty Lee is wonderful. Ty Lee cares for her; she talks to her every day. She understands Azula like nobody else. But…it’s stressful. It is. Azula is there for her as much as she can, but her stomach twists with guilt at the realization of the toll it’s taking on her.

“Yes,” she admits. “It does.”

“You know…” Katara says gently, “…there’s no shame in taking a break, Azula. I know her life has been hard this past year—but so has yours. Maybe—”

“I can’t leave her,” Azula responds automatically, feeling a flash of anger at the implication. She shakes her head. “She’s just…having a hard time. I promised to be there for her, so I will be. She needs me, and I need her. I can’t just abandon her like everyone abandoned me!”

Katara seems momentarily taken aback, but she doesn’t back down. Azula has to admit, she admires that about her.

“Azula, I know what it feels like to think it’s your responsibility to help,” she says. “But if you sacrifice yourself to help someone else, you’ll only hurt both of you. It isn’t wrong to think of yourself sometimes, too.”

Nobody wants to be around a self-centered person.

“The hardest thing I’ve learned lately is that you can’t save everyone,” Katara continues in a solemn voice. “I’m glad you’re there for Ty Lee. That’s good of you, Azula. But you have to remember…a person has to be willing to heal. They have to take responsibility for their own life. That isn’t something you can do for them.”

Azula blinks. But…isn’t that what a relationship means? To always be there, no matter what? To love no matter what? It doesn’t make sense. Azula knows she’s selfish, knows she’s lucky to be loved at all. Why would she go back to being more selfish? Everyone hated her. Most still do. Katara of all people should understand that.

“Okay,” Azula finally lies. “I’ll keep it in mind.”

Of course, she has no intention of doing so. Azula is fine. She doesn’t need a break. She isn’t weak. She’s strong, and she’ll continue to be strong for Ty Lee. It’s the least she can do after all the pain she’s caused in her past.

—————

“Hi! Sorry I’m late—I just got back from seeing Ty Liu!” Ty Lee greets one day.

“It’s no problem. I just left work,” Azula says into her Bluetooth speaker. “Was it fun?”

“I guess…” Ty Lee murmurs. “Ty Liu was being frustrating again.”

“What happened?” Azula asks carefully, although she has a pretty good idea.

“I’m glad that she still makes time to see me…” Ty Lee begins cautiously, “…but she doesn’t seem to understand me at all. She’s always talking about how stressed she is from school and work and how she might not be able to hang out with me as much! I don’t get it—how can she be so insensitive? I have to support myself and I don’t even talk to my family. Nobody my age has to deal with things like this and she just—she doesn’t care about me!”

Azula opens her mouth, then closes it. This isn’t the first time Ty Lee had said something like this, and Azula thought their discussion last time about how Ty Liu didn’t mean to say she was in a worse situation and that she still cares for Ty Lee had placated her. The static of the road noise crackles in Azula’s ears as she tries to think of something to say.

“Are you still there?” Ty Lee asks suddenly, making Azula inwardly cringe. She didn’t mean to upset her.

“Yes—I’m here,” she responds. “I’m sorry you’re dealing with that. That sounds…difficult.”

Azula wants to say more; deep down she knows her answer doesn’t do much to assure Ty Lee. But she wishes it would. She wishes there was something she could say—something she could do—to make everything right.

But Azula doesn’t know how. Is it because she’s too selfish? Because she can’t understand Ty Lee well enough—just like Ty Liu? Was she just born with something wrong with her?

Those thoughts trouble Azula more and more as the days drag on.

She finds herself busier and busier at work, desperate to prove herself worthy of her new position. If she fails at this, she has nothing. On top of that, Azula still forces herself to keep up with her studying for the entrance exam for Republic City University Law School. Whenever she has a moment to spare, she’s talking to Ty Lee. Azula forgets what it feels like to not be exhausted. Everything aches, everything feels wrong, she just wants a break—but she has to keep going. She can’t afford to give up now.

Someday, this will end. It will all be better soon. Azula just has to wait for that to happen. Waiting, waiting…

The guilt begins to eat at Azula. She does everything she can to be there for Ty Lee—for her girlfriend. But as the days drag on, she finds herself saying less and less. Azula wishes it wasn’t the case. She wants to be doting and caring and supportive and everything a girlfriend should be. But she just…she doesn’t know what to say.

Ty Lee complains how selfish it is that Ty Liu and some of her other friends talk to her about work stress. Azula falls silent about her own, not wanting to give Ty Lee the impression she doesn’t care.

Ty Lee talks about how she’s afraid of her neighbors listening through the walls, and Azula finds herself giving up on trying to explain that if she can’t hear her neighbors, they probably can’t hear her either.

Ty Lee talks about her difficulties dealing with her family, and Azula bites her tongue. The thought of bringing up her own makes her feel guilty—she lives with Zuko and despite the problems she’s having with Mother, she’s at least going to try connecting with her. She knows Ty Lee would feel even worse about her own situation if Azula told her that.

Ty Lee talks about Jun and how she hurt her, and Azula feels her own voice wither away even further. It’s true that the pain Ozai caused her haunts her every day and her anxiety still causes her fitful, sleepless nights—but was it really as bad as what Ty Lee went through? Ozai hurt her—abused her—but all things considered, he didn’t…didn’t rape her. Azula can’t bring up her pain now—not after what Ty Lee dealt with. It would be insensitive of her. Selfish.

Ty Lee tells her how she’s trying out the new queer club at her school. Azula tries to ignore how much that word still bothers her. She gives up on trying to explain why she hates being called such a word. She doesn’t want to upset Ty Lee.

Ty Lee talks about sex, slowly, little by little. Azula likes it sometimes. Sometimes she isn’t sure. She doesn’t really feel much of anything, but her heart aches at the thought of how hurt Ty Lee would feel if she knew that. Azula can't do that to her. So she does her best.

Ty Lee gushes about how feminine and submissive she naturally is, and it makes Azula feel even more alien in her own skin. It’s a feeling she could never relate to. Is something wrong with her? Ty Lee says she never really hated her body—but Azula does. She finds herself hating it even more lately. She doesn’t want to be flirty and sparkly and outgoing. She’s never really wanted to be…feminine, like that. What does that say about her?

Azula doesn’t know who she is. She doesn’t know what she wants. She just wishes someone would understand—but she doesn’t know who she can talk to about it.

Ty Lee is struggling too much; Azula can’t add more stress to her life. She also knows she’s likely to be pushed towards one identity or another and Azula doesn’t know why—but that never sat right with her. It feels wrong in a way she can’t quite describe. Azula isn’t this or that…she’s just Azula. Why can’t she just be that?

She can’t tell Zuko and Iroh, either. From their perspective, Azula is actually getting better. She has a job, she’s away from Ozai, and she’s not acting so crazy—although she knows they’d hate to hear her use that word.

Some days when Azula returns home after a long day of work and a longer phone conversation with Ty Lee, Zuko stares at her with a sad look in his eyes and asks her if she’s alright. Azula mentally kicks herself and tells him she’s fine each time. She must have lost her touch if even Zuko can tell something is wrong. But Azula can’t explain it to him. He wouldn’t understand. Worse yet—he might tell her to take a break from work or Ty Lee or both and Azula can’t bear the thought of that. Her job is the only thing that still makes her feel sane. So, Azula works on putting up her best happy face.

She does it for Ty Lee. Ty Lee needs her. Azula can’t turn her back on Ty Lee. Ty Lee always tells her how she’s too much for people and they don’t want to be around her for long. She talks about how selfish it is for other people to be stressed out from listening to her problems when she is the one actually suffering them.

No; Azula can’t be one of those people. She refuses to. She made a promise to her girlfriend to be there for her, so she’ll do just that. She can handle it.

So, Azula gets into the habit of doing something she’s not very used to. She listens, and finds her own voice fading. She tells Zuko she’s fine and not much else. She can tell Katara is tempted to pry, but she doesn’t let her. Azula finds herself beginning to avoid them both out of habit.

Worst of all is Uncle Iroh.

Azula can’t believe she ever took him for a fool. The old man is perceptive, and always has something cryptic to say that leaves Azula wondering how much he knows. Does he see through her? Does he know how much of a fucking mess she is underneath the thin veneer of success she’s painted over her life.

Azula avoids him, too.

She can’t let that illusion fall. Not when everyone finally seems to accept her again.

No; disappointing them is out of the question. Azula can’t lose the one crutch she has—the illusion that she has her life together.

She thinks about coworkers, other friends, acquaintances—no. Nobody Azula knows well enough to tell things like this. It would be unprofessional.

Then, her mind drifts to old friends, old memories of that institution Azula wishes desperately to leave behind.

She thinks of Jiang, her no-bullshit attitude, and the many enlightening conversations they’d had. She thinks of Zirin and their reluctant friendship that grew into a powerful bond.

All three of them had been in so much pain, but it was a pain that made them all understand each other.

Azula didn’t want to admit it. She didn’t want to admit that she was like them, and how much they all had in common. The similar ways in which the world had beaten them down.

But maybe she should. Maybe they’d be the only ones she can go to…like she went to them while she was there.

Jiang’s number is still written in messy handwriting on a sticky note Azula brought home with her from the institution.

She pulls it out.

[Azula] Hey…it’s Azula. You still up for that coffee?

Chapter Text

“Is anyone else worried about On Ji?” Jiang asks quietly over the stale bread that’s supposed to pass as pizza one day.

Azula follows her gaze across the cafeteria, to where On Ji is standing alone, as if she’s unsure of where to sit. Nothing in particular stood out about her before; Azula didn’t even know her name before the altercation over porn usage during the group session last week. But Azula never remembers On Ji being alone. She used to always be tagging along with Meng and Hoshi and a few other girls Azula can’t stand.

“I heard her ‘friends’ are giving her shit,” Zirin mutters through a mouthful of pizza. “Meng went crying to her disciples after that group session and now On Ji has been voted off the island.”

“Seriously?” Azula scoffs as she watches On Ji turn away from her usual table group with a hurt expression. “Just because she said she wanted a boyfriend who doesn’t watch porn?”

“They’re cowards,” Zirin snaps, eyes fixed on her tray. “They’re stupid, spineless cowards who won’t question anything.”

Like always, Zirin hides her fear behind her anger, but Azula doesn’t miss the way her hands tighten around the cup she’s holding. It’s a touchy subject for Zirin—understandably so, with everything she’s gone through.

“Many of them have probably been hurt in similar ways without realizing it,” Jiang explains solemnly. “It’s not uncommon to cling to toxic relationships and habits when you feel like you have no choice. They’d rather attack On Ji for asking questions because it’s easier for them than considering the possibility that what they’re doing is hurting them. They view criticism of their partners’ behavior as a judgment against themselves for choosing those partners. That’s why they’re treating On Ji like that.”

Jiang’s voice sounds so nonchalant as she delivers one of the most gut-wrenchingly honest assessments that Azula has ever heard. It’s shocking, how spot-on it feels, how it feels as if Jiang could somehow read thoughts Azula didn’t even know she was having. Some days she still ponders exactly why she spent so many years of her life feeling compelled to defend Ozai…but Jiang is right. Fighting it was too difficult to consider. In the past, Azula hated anyone who made her question anything—even if they turned out to be exactly right.

“Do you mind if I join you?” a timid voice asks, nearly making Azula jump before she realizes it’s only On Ji.

“Of course,” Jiang answers instantly, scooting to the side and gesturing for her to take a seat.

On Ji accepts the offer, but does so hesitantly, looking over her shoulder. Azula tries to ignore how silly she looks—she’s acting as if she’s committing some sort of crime just by speaking to them.

“Are you feeling alright?” Jiang asks, and On Ji looks at her nervously before fidgeting with her hands in her lap.

“All of my friends hate me,” On Ji whispers. “I tried to talk to them, and explain I just want to feel respected in a relationship—but that only made them more mad. I don’t understand. I thought I could trust them.”

Azula is surprised On Ji hasn’t torn a hole in her tunic yet with how hard she’s fidgeting with it.

“You didn’t say anything wrong,” Zirin says firmly. “They don’t like it when you stand up for yourself. If they’re treating you this way, they weren’t really your friends.”

“I guess,” On Ji sighs. “Sometimes I wish I could go back to when I didn’t know better. Then maybe I wouldn’t feel so hurt now.”

“But then your ex would still be hurting you. And your ‘friends’ would still be encouraging it,” Jiang tells her gently. “Trust me, I understand how hard it is to break away from what your friends—your world—are telling you. But it’s always worth it. That’s the first step towards healing.”

On Ji nods, considering, but she suddenly looks up in shock as her old group of friends pass by.

“See, I told you she was busy choking on radfem dick!” Meng says, pointing. “Stay the fuck away from us, you stupid cunt. You’ll never find another man if you can’t accept his perfectly normal desires!”

Her friends laugh as they walk away, leaving Azula to stare in shock along with Jiang and Zirin. Azula knows she’s no saint, but even she finds herself disgusted with the unwarranted attack on someone as meek and unthreatening as On Ji—someone who’s clearly already suffering, no less.

On Ji doesn’t look up from the table, her pallor ghostly white as she rubs the hem of her tunic with her shaking hands.

“My boyfriend used to use those same words when he was angry,” she says in a quiet, choked-up voice, trembling as if he’s standing right in front of her. “Sorry. I have to go.”

With that, she runs from the cafeteria, in the direction of the bathrooms.

Azula watches Jiang’s gaze follow her, a sad look in her eyes. “I hope she’s alright. We’ll be here if she needs us.”

But they aren’t. They can’t be. They never see On Ji again.

That night, lockdown happens three hours earlier than usual.

Azula hears frantic voices and crying and heavy footsteps.

She sees cops passing her door in the hallway. She hears sirens outside. She calls out through the door, demanding to know what’s going on, but she doesn’t get an answer.

Even in the following days, the staff all but ignore Azula’s questions. When she asks about that night, they say there was an incident that has now been resolved. When she asks about On Ji, Azula is told she was moved to another facility.

Azula doesn’t discover the truth until nearly a month later.

On Ji’s roommate had returned to her room that afternoon to find On Ji dead on the floor. Even with all the precautions taken by the institution, she’d found a way to take her own life. She’d torn her bedsheets into strips and wound them around the legs of her bed and her neck. She’d strangled herself to death. Her final moments would have been agonizing…the effort it would have taken to die in such a way would have been excruciating.

Azula feels sick. She sobs in her bathroom until she vomits. She remembers On Ji rushing out of the cafeteria that day and wonders what would have happened if she chased her. If she would have stood up for her when those wretched girls came to belittle her. Would things have been different? Would On Ji still be alive?

But of course, in the moment, Azula didn’t think to do that. She was too selfish; too late.

Why does it always have to be this way?

—————

It almost feels like a dream as Azula pulls into the parking lot of the café Jiang had asked her to meet at—The Silver Garden.

They talked about it many times before. Back at the institution, after many lunches spent commiserating over how the cafeteria coffee tasted like burnt monkey piss, Jiang had promised to treat Azula to some real coffee one day.

At the time, it didn’t feel real—the idea of moving on, of getting out, didn’t feel real. But now, it’s happening.

Azula already feels part of the suffocating fog that has slowly been building around her begin to lift.

She spots Jiang sitting at a table in the corner, surrounded by walls decorated with the cascading vines of many hanging plants.

As soon as their eyes meet, Jiang rises from her seat and greets Azula with a hug that momentarily surprises her.

“It’s good to see you, Azula,” Jiang says as she pulls back. “I’m glad you reached out.”

Azula takes in her appearance, and feels herself smile at how comfortable Jiang looks. Gone are the stale, soulless scrubs she’s used to seeing her in. Jiang stands proudly in her dark green cargo pants and leather jacket, a pair of aviator sunglasses resting on top of her signature buzz cut. She’s even wearing the big, golden hoop earrings she’d told Azula she’d always wished she had.

“I am too,” Azula says softly. “Just wanted to see if you really do know your coffee.”

Jiang smirks before turning to the barista. “Me? ‘course I do. I’ll have the cinnamon mocha.”

“Just black for me,” Azula says automatically.

Jiang raises an eyebrow. “Hardcore.”

Azula rolls her eyes. “Habit. I’d be passed out on the floor without it.”

Jiang chuckles as the barista returns with their coffee, and beckons Azula to sit.

“So, how’s life as a free woman treating you?” Jiang asks. “Sounds like you’ve been pretty busy.”

Azula sighs and closes her eyes, trying to think of how to explain everything that’s been going on. She doesn’t even know where to begin.

“I thought it would be easier after getting out,” Azula finally admits. “But I feel more confused than ever.”

“That’s not uncommon,” Jiang says in a voice that indicates she’s probably dealt with the same feelings. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Azula does. She really does—but she finds herself holding back. She still doubts anyone would understand. She doesn’t entirely understand what exactly it is that she’s feeling. And worst of all, she fears burdening Jiang with it. From the little Jiang has revealed about her past throughout their friendship, Azula knows the world was hard on her. Wouldn’t it be disrespectful, to talk about her problems to someone who has undoubtedly faced far worse?

“Is that…alright?” Azula finally asks. She can almost hear the laughter of her former self ringing in her ears—mocking her for being weak, quiet, pathetic—

Jiang’s face melts into a warm smile. “Of course it is. Honestly…I was hoping you would, if you feel up to it. It’s not easy going through this alone.”

“I’m just…I feel like I don’t know who I am anymore,” Azula breathes, already feeling better as the words leave her, emboldened by Jiang’s encouragement. “I’m trying to get back what I had before. I have a new job, I’m trying to rebuild my relationship with my mother and uncle and brother—I even have a girlfriend now. But I don’t feel like me. I don’t know what me is. Whatever I do—I feel like I’m doing it wrong.”

Jiang pauses, and Azula can’t help but feel like she overstepped. She shared too much, dumped too much, said something she’s not sure anyone would understand, much less care about—

“What do you want to be, Azula?” Jiang says simply, the calm, inviting look still twinkling in her eyes.

“I—” Azula begins, but finds she doesn’t have an answer.

It’s such a simple question. Of course Azula knows that; everyone does. But as she thinks about it—really thinks about it—Azula can’t seem to find the words.

She sighs, and looks down into the bitter blackness of her coffee cup.

“I guess I don’t know.”

Jiang nods her head. “That’s why you feel wrong, Azula. It’s not because of you. It’s because all you’re doing is trying to be what everyone else expects you to be. You need to focus on who you want to be.”

“Some of my earliest memories are of people telling me how selfish I am,” Azula admits, Mother’s scolding voice echoing through her mind. “And I was. I hurt people. How could I go back to…that?”

“Azula,” Jiang says gently. “You aren’t selfish for wanting. Everyone wants something—even the people who accused you of being selfish. And if you know what you don’t want to be…that’s a step. You just need to think of what you do want, too.”

“I still don’t know,” Azula murmurs, mulling it over in her mind.

She thinks of how much she’s changed. She dresses differently, speaks differently, carries herself differently. Azula thinks of the scattered, fleeting fragments of her childhood and how she wishes she could go back and change them. Like she desired freedom from the institution, she finds she desires freedom in her past. Azula wishes she could have just been a kid. Played around in the dirt, goofed off with her cousin. She wishes she never had to worry about diets and makeup and too-tight clothes and perfect hair and kissing boys and—

“You said you have a girlfriend,” Jiang muses. “I know that’s something you always said you wanted.”

Azula hates the way she feels her anxiety spike when Jiang mentions her girlfriend. She feels guilty for it—Ty Lee is wonderful, Azula should feel lucky to have her in her life. Thinking of Ty Lee did make her happy at first, but now? Azula isn’t sure what to feel. She feels that powerful bond they had beginning to slip, and she wonders what she’s doing wrong. It must be her. It’s always her. Azula seems to destroy everything she touches.

“It was,” she admits. “And…still is. It feels difficult, lately. I loved Ty Lee because I felt like we could talk about anything. But now…there are things. Things I can’t talk to her about.”

“Have you tried?” Jiang asks.

“Well…yes,” Azula admits. She wants to blurt it all out—tell it all, those confusing thoughts she’s been holding in for so long. “But I don’t think she understands. I don’t like the way she talks about…people like me.”

Jiang raises an eyebrow as she sips her coffee. “People like you?”

Azula regards her carefully, and realizes Jiang might be the perfect person to talk to about this.

She’s bold, confident, and assertive—a woman who knows who she is. And yet, she’s unlike any woman Azula has ever known. She buzzes her hair short, and shamelessly shops for clothes in the men’s section. She doesn’t bother with makeup and carries herself with a swagger in her step that Azula doesn’t think she ever mastered, not even in her Ozai’s-minion days. She’s a woman, but in so many ways…not. Azula’s head hurts thinking about it.

“I…don’t really feel like a woman,” she finally mumbles out. She finds herself subconsciously crossing her arms against her chest, as if to hide the body she hates, as she’s again reminded of it.

“What makes you say that?” Jiang asks neutrally.

“It’s just this…feeling, I’ve had. Since Ozai. And maybe even before,” Azula answers, closing her eyes. “My body feels wrong to me. I don’t like how people look at me. I don’t like heels and miniskirts and makeup and…any of that. I just want to be…me! I want to feel comfortable again. I want people to admire me for what I do and not what I look like. I just—just—I hate being a woman!”

Azula feels foolish once she’s said those words out loud. She feels guilty for it. She’s not the only woman on earth. Others have it far worse. Azula herself even used to enjoy such things before her whole world came crashing down.

But Jiang’s next question isn’t what she expects.

“Do you hate being a woman?” Jiang asks, pursing her lips. “Or do you hate the way you’re treated because you’re a woman?”

Azula pauses. Another question that on the surface seems obvious, but when she thinks about it…she isn’t so sure. In her mind, those two things had always been the same. Being treated the way that Ozai and his colleagues treated her did feel as if it was simply part of being a woman. It was too ingrained, too ever-present to ignore.

“It’s alright. You don’t have to answer. I know it’s a loaded question,” Jiang says with a sigh as she takes a long sip of coffee. “Took me years to answer it for myself.”

“How did you?” Azula blurts out. “After everything that happened—how do you know what that makes you? Who that makes you?”

Jiang smiles faintly. “It wasn’t easy. But the truth is, I rejected what the world tried to make me. I decided it was wrong, no matter how many people told me otherwise. But here I am. I’m still a woman, but that doesn’t mean I have to be any certain way.”

“But…how did you know?” Azula asks quietly, still conscious of how nervous these kinds of conversations tend to make Ty Lee. “How did you…figure that out?”

“There really isn’t that much to figure out if you think about it,” Jiang responds with a shrug. “A woman is what I am, not who I am. No matter how I dress and talk and act—I’ll always be a woman. I used to think that was a curse, but now it only feels…liberating. I can do whatever I want, be whoever I want, and I’ll never stop being a woman. Nobody can take that from me, no matter how hard they try.”

Azula can only stare, considering, as she watches a flash of pain cross Jiang’s expression. It…does make sense, now that she thinks about it. She’s spent her life so focused on how to change herself that she never stopped to think about how to be herself.

The truth in what Jiang says begins to dawn on her as she reflects on her life…to what led her here. It’s true—the world feels like it’s trying to take her sense of identity from her. Ozai forbade her from dressing like a queer and loving other women because she was born a woman. Then Ty Lee insinuated to her that she wasn’t a woman at all for desiring such things. The realization of how similar those two ideas are hits Azula like a punch in the gut. Neither of them challenge the idea that being a woman means performing a certain role—not like Jiang challenges it.

“That…actually makes a lot of sense,” Azula muses out loud.

She thinks of all the women she knows—Ty Lee, Katara, Zirin, Mai, Mother, Yue, Kyoshi—and how different they all are. Katara doesn’t wear makeup. Mai is delightfully bitter and blunt. Zirin is the coldest and most cynical person she’s ever met. They don’t all dress the same way; they don’t all act the same way. They’re all just…people. Human in a full, colorful spectrum of ways. Just like Azula always wanted to be.

Maybe she finally can be.

“It took me a long time to realize it,” Jiang adds grimly, her expression faltering. “Can I show you something?”

Azula nods, and Jiang shoots a quick glance over her shoulder before carefully lifting the edge of her shirt, to just below her chest.

Azula isn’t sure what she’s supposed to be looking for at first…but then she sees it—after overcoming her initial surprise. There’s…a scar, there. A thin white line against Jiang’s tan skin, crossing from the center of her chest to the base of her armpit. Azula spots the beginning of a matching one on the other side before it disappears beneath her shirt. She squints. Those almost look like—

It dawns on her, and she thinks back to things she remembers Jiang saying back at the institution. Things that didn’t make sense at the time.

“Are you trying to be a man?”

“Not anymore.”

“Are those—”

“Surgery scars,” Jiang confirms with a sigh as she lowers her shirt. “Double mastectomy. Like I said, people didn’t like the way I acted as a woman, so after being told that enough, I got the idea that maybe I wasn’t one. I thought changing my body would free me. I believed that for a long time—and for a longer time, I thought there was no going back. I was promised that I’d feel more comfortable this way…but I didn’t. I just felt mutilated—ruined. I was sent to the institution after I…attempted suicide.”

Azula doesn’t know what to say. She’s speechless—stunned—at the idea of going through something like that. Even more disturbing is how that’s a path she once considered for herself.

But, Jiang’s bright smile and reassuring squeeze of Azula’s hand reminds her that she’s still here, she’s still alive, and she’s happier than she’s ever been.

“But I was wrong. I’m not ruined, and neither are you, Azula. We’re never truly ruined,” Jiang promises. “No matter how far you’ve gone, you can always come back. I am a woman. I always was one, and always will be. It’s part of me, written in every cell of my body. And nobody can ever take that from me. I can be whoever I want to be and it won’t change that. Now…for me, I can’t imagine a feeling more powerful.”

Azula supposes she’d never really thought about it. She always knew she was a girl—then a woman—but never thought about what that meant. As she does start thinking, she begins to realize why she feels the way she does…why she doesn’t want to be a woman.

From a young age, Azula had been taught many cruel lessons about what a woman was. A woman was Ozai encouraging her to wear short skirts—but not too short. A woman was Mother complaining about her nonexistent belly fat to a prepubescent Azula and stressing over how many calories were in her salad dressing. A woman was a teacher telling Azula she was more like a boy for being interested in science. A woman was Ozai’s creeping hands. A woman was getting blisters from wearing heels all day at a conference. A woman was leering stares chasing her down the street. A woman was spending all morning getting her makeup just right only to be mocked by the people who expected her to do that.

But that isn’t a woman, she now realizes. It never was. Azula alone decides who she is. Not what the world has to say about her.

“I think…I understand,” Azula says carefully, the idea still seeming strangely forbidden. “My world tried making me into someone I wasn’t, too. But they were wrong. I can reject that without rejecting who I am.”

“You see, Azula?” Jiang nods with a smile. “Being a woman is you. It doesn’t mean heels and makeup and dresses. It means you—whoever you are. It doesn’t define who you are and the life you’re supposed to lead. You’re free.”

Tears well up in Azula’s eyes.

She can’t help the wave of emotions that crashes over her.

For as long as she can remember, Azula has just felt wrong. Like she was born bad, naturally wicked, or not good enough. She spent her life trying to find a way to change herself, to find which pieces of herself needed to be discarded and which needed to be added to make her feel whole. She remembers feeling like a monster. She remembers clinging to the scraps of affection Ozai afforded her and chasing perfection in an attempt to get more. She remembers wishing she was more like Zuko, wishing she was more like Lu Ten, then even wishing she was more like Ozai.

Even after her time in the institution, Azula still felt the need to change herself.

How could she make herself into someone people would love? Someone deserving of compassion and respect? Someone worth loving—who wouldn’t fail Ty Lee? A fully complete human person, who had a place in the world.

But that was Azula’s problem all along. She lost her sense of self—but how could she not when all she did was obsess over how to change?

No—Azula is Azula, and she doesn’t have to change herself. She never did. She has problems to work though, trauma to overcome, and skills to learn. But she’s still Azula. And that itself isn’t something that needs to be changed.

“Thank you,” she whispers as she quickly wipes her eyes with the back of her hand. “Thank you for being here with me.”

“Anytime,” Jiang responds as she stands up to embrace her. “It’s difficult, I know. But I’ll always have your back. I promise.”

Azula hugs her back and holds on tight. For once, she finds she actually believes that.

—————

Azula feels lighter as she returns home. She can’t stop thinking about Jiang and their conversation. She was right—this is freedom. The freedom to explore who she is, not what. Because now, Azula knows what. And nobody can take that from her.

She finds herself itching to tell Ty Lee, but pauses. Ty Lee has been having an especially hard time lately—her anxiety seems to only be getting worse, she’s stressed because of school, because of her family, and because of trying to adjust back to the rigid, no-nonsense environment of Fire Nation academia. Would it make her feel worse to hear about how good Azula feels right now?

Azula shakes the thought away. Why should it? Ty Lee is her girlfriend—her partner. Surely she’d be happy for Azula, that she finally is starting the path to accepting herself. That she’s happy. After all—Azula knows that no matter what is happening in her own life, it would make her feel better to know Ty Lee was doing well. Not to mention, why keep something like this from Ty Lee? Azula loves how open she can be with Ty Lee, how much they can share with one another.

Ty Lee will be happy for her. Azula knows she will.

“Hellooooo,” Ty Lee’s sing-song voice comes through the phone during Azula’s commute, just like it does nearly every day now. “How are you?”

“Actually, I feel really good this morning,” Azula answers honestly, a smile creeping onto her lips. “I met Jiang for lunch a couple days ago—an old friend from that institution.”

“Oh that’s great to hear!” Ty Lee chirps, and Azula feels relief wash over her. “What did you talk about?”

“A lot of things,” Azula responds, still sorting through it in her mind. “But…I think I finally understand who I am. And I feel…good about that, for once.”

“I’m so glad,” Ty Lee says. “I remember you were really stressed out about that.”

“I was. And…it’s not completely over,” Azula admits. “But I think I’m on the right path. I was too focused on wondering if I can be me and still be a woman—but lately I’ve realized that I had it backwards. I thought being a woman meant I had to look and act a certain way—but it doesn’t. I can be a woman and still do whatever I want. I don’t have to be trans or nonbinary or anything else to do that. So that feels…freeing, I guess.”

She realizes she’s rambling and stops when Ty Lee doesn’t answer. Did she…say something wrong? Overstep? Is Ty Lee upset? Azula knows it goes a bit against what Ty Lee has been telling her, but—

“I’m glad you feel free!” Ty Lee finally responds in a cheerful tone—slightly muted, but Azula brushes that off as Ty Lee’s anxiety surrounding her neighbors potentially eavesdropping. “That must be a big step.”

Azula feels herself let out another deep breath, the remaining anxiety leaving her. “I was trying too hard to fit myself into some kind of box instead of just being…me. I thought nobody would ever accept me as I am…but I don’t think that’s true anymore. I think that’s just what Ozai wanted me to believe.”

“I’m so happy for you Azula!” Ty Lee says. “And just so you know…I’ll always accept you for who you are. I love the person you are.”

“Thank you,” Azula says, quietly, tearfully as she gazes optimistically down the road ahead.

She’s getting there. Things are finally looking up.

—————

“What should we do while Mom is here?” Zuko asks absently from the kitchen one day.

Azula pauses as she hangs her coat by the door, looking over to where Zuko and Iroh are sipping tea by the counter with an eyebrow raised.

She had assumed it would just be like every other holiday—sitting around the living room, talking, cooking, and exchanging gifts.

But, Azula thinks of how much things have changed since then. Those days of blissful unawareness are gone. She isn’t a kid anymore, and technically she’s hosting Mother this time. There will be more to do, more to plan—

“I think your mother would enjoy a nice culinary tour of Republic City,” Uncle Iroh suggests. “With time, maybe she would even come to enjoy living in the city.”

Azula resists the urge to snort that there are only so many bland, dressing-less salads to sample, but the hopeful twinkle in Zuko’s eyes stops her.

“Do you think she might actually want to…move out here? With us?” he asks softly.

Uncle Iroh gives a contemplative nod. Azula wonders again why he doesn’t seem quite as hopeful as Zuko. “Leaving you two behind was difficult for your mother. It’s possible that with Ozai out of the picture—and the country—that she may reconsider. Your mother acted out of fear in the past. Perhaps that has changed.”

“It’s hard to blame her,” Zuko says quietly, staring at the floor. It doesn’t take a genius to know what he’s thinking about. “I just hope things can be somewhat…normal, again. As normal as they can be.”

“They can’t,” Azula says tightly. Zuko looks up at her with a hurt expression and she sighs. “I mean…so much has changed. We’re adults now. Ozai hurt us all, but he’s gone now. Maybe it’s time to…move on.”

Zuko gives her a strange look. “I don’t think what Ozai did is something we can just move on from. It’s going to come up.”

Somehow Azula feels like she isn’t included in that we, and it makes her eyes narrow.

“Then how will we be free of him? What he did?” she asks angrily, trying to stop her voice from shaking.

Azula desperately wants to blurt it out. She wants to tell them all what he did to her, how even though he’s in prison, Ozai still hurt her in ways that he was never truly held accountable for. How there is so much more to the story of that night that they don’t know.

“Azula…what do you mean?” Zuko asks with a confused wrinkle in his forehead. “I know Ozai wasn’t easy for any of us to deal with, but—”

“But what?” Azula snaps, struggling to hold back tears.

Zuko looks down at the floor.

He tried to rape me, Azula doesn’t say. She can’t bring herself to.

Did she imagine it? Surely it felt that way as she frantically dashed out of that room—but how could she have stopped Ozai if that’s what he truly intended to do?

It wasn’t so bad. Others have had worse.

She wasn’t left injured. She wasn’t left scarred.

Nobody would believe her.

It’s selfish to tell. Making it all about herself, as always.

Hot, angry tears leak from her eyes. Try as she might, Azula doesn’t have the strength to hide them. She feels frozen. Useless. Maybe she knows who she is, but what does it matter if nobody else respects that?

“Azula, I understand you’re upset,” Uncle Iroh says gently. “But maybe you should—”

“You don’t understand,” Azula snaps, feeling her anger build by the moment. “Neither of you do. I just—just—I don’t know what to do!”

“What are you talking about?” Zuko finally says. “You have so much going for you, Azula. You have a good job, you just got the rest of your credits to graduate, and you even said Kyoshi is helping you out with law school. You’re on top of the world.”

Azula grits her teeth. Of course it would seem that way to him—not knowing anything else. Ty Lee, Ozai—the rest of it. Feeling wrong in everything she does. Feeling wrong in her own skin. Everything she’s been grappling with in silence—either too afraid or too embarrassed to say out in the open.

“Yes, but…” Azula begins sheepishly, feeling childish. There’s no way to explain it. No way they’ll understand without context she desperately wants to remain hidden. “I just feel…wrong. All the time. And I don’t know why.”

She does. She does know why—but she can’t say it. She wishes that by some miracle, Zuko and Uncle Iroh would just know—understand—without her having to relive it all again by saying it out loud.

But they don’t.

“Well,” Zuko says softly, turning away from her. “I just…I don’t feel sorry for you. Everything you have going for you—you should accept that, Azula. You’ll never get better by living in the past.”

Azula stares. She doesn’t know what to say. Even Uncle Iroh looks down at the ground with a grim look—but Azula senses no support from him.

“Fuck. You,” Azula growls. “You think you have it so much harder, you think you’re so much better than me—but I know you. You used to be just as angry, selfish, and insufferable as you think I am now. The only reason you seem so different now is because you miraculously scored a girlfriend to keep you in check like the dumb fucking animal you are!”

She storms from the room, slamming the door behind her. Azula hears Zuko yell something behind her but she doesn’t care enough to listen. She’s done. Done! Won’t feel sorry for her? Fuck that. Fuck him. Zuko should know better than anyone what Ozai is capable of, and yet, at the end of the day, he still has no fucking empathy for her.

Nobody seems to. Only Jiang. Maybe Ty Lee—

Azula’s finger hovers over their latest text conversation, but she feels a pang in her chest when she realizes she can’t respond. Not now. Not like this.

Their latest exchange was Ty Lee wishing her a good afternoon, happy for her that she’d seemed so refreshed after her coffee chat with Jiang. Then a cute cat picture. Then a couple silly TikToks.

Azula can’t spoil it. Not now.

Tears soak into her pillowcase as she tries to sleep. She tries to ignore the dissonant hum of conversation in the kitchen and tries even harder not to think about what Zuko and Uncle Iroh are saying to each other now.

—————

Azula finds it harder and harder to drag herself through the days.

Zuko at least looks at her again, but they hardly speak. They eat together, but neither say much beyond small talk. Katara clearly knows something is wrong—and Azula is sure she’s probably heard Zuko’s side of it—but she doesn’t bring it up, either.

A tolerable situation. Perhaps it will end, one day, but Azula can’t bring herself to apologize just yet. She knows she’s said things that hurt Zuko, and she knows both of them have a tendency to lash out in anger. Maybe he understands that about her and has forgiven her, or maybe not. There’s no way to tell.

Azula finds herself working longer and longer hours.

She doesn’t like being at home.

She likes being in the office, where things make sense. Where she has a purpose. She likes watching that number in her bank account go up—a reminder that no matter what happens, she doesn’t have to rely on anyone else. Azula has the power to stand on her own, and that grows more each day.

Maybe Zuko was right. Why should she feel sorry for herself—having this power that many people don’t?

It doesn’t matter. Azula keeps her head down and works. Many would say she’s undeserving of this opportunity but she strives to prove them wrong. She dreams of that house out in the mountains. She dreams of freedom—true freedom, to embrace the Azula she knows she truly is. Every extra hour in the office, every extra task, is a step to getting there.

Texting Jiang does help, at least. It keeps her sane.

[Azula]: I thought everything would start to feel better, but I still feel so hurt. Did I do something wrong?

[Jiang]: It’s just like leaving the institution, Azula. Adjusting is difficult, and one revelation won’t fix everything overnight. Healing is rarely a linear process. But you’ll get there. I promise you will.

Azula continues talking to Ty Lee in the car. She wishes it helped her, but she can’t bring herself to talk about herself too much. She knows Ty Lee doesn’t like it when people do that. She doesn’t want to upset her.

“I’m worried I’m not going to fit in at the club meeting tonight,” Ty Lee whispers one day. “I’m so feminine that most people don’t realize I’m queer.”

Azula doesn’t say anything. Ty Lee used to catch herself and apologize—knowing how uncomfortable that word makes Azula—but she doesn’t anymore. Azula has given up trying to correct her. Ty Lee only seems upset when she does.

“I can’t wait to see you,” Ty Lee says another day. “Maybe when I visit, I can try doing your makeup for you!”

Azula freezes. She thought Ty Lee understood—they’ve talked about this before, and how it makes Azula feel.

“Oh…” she responds nervously. “Thank you, but it’s not really my thing.”

“Oh! That’s fine. Sorry,” Ty Lee says quickly, and Azula feels her heart sink. She can tell Ty Lee didn’t like that answer but Azula just—can’t. It doesn’t feel like her.

“I thought you said you…you know, figured things out,” Ty Lee continues, after a pause. “That you’re a woman.”

Azula feels her heart sink even further. She felt so good about their conversation in the car the other day—she felt like Ty Lee understood her. Now it feels like Ty Lee barely even listened.

“Yes, but…what does makeup have to do with me being a woman?” Azula asks weakly. Surely Ty Lee understands, didn’t mean it like that, surely she’ll explain—

“Oh! Nothing…I guess,” Ty Lee continues nervously. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to push you or anything. You can do whatever you want!”

Azula sighs, hoping Ty Lee can’t hear it through the phone. No closure. Another open-ended, ambiguous conversation that she doesn’t have it in her to continue. She stares down the road, at the dreary grayness of the sky. Maybe it’s just a misunderstanding, but—Azula bites her tongue. She doesn’t want to upset Ty Lee more. It’s fine. It’s fine.

Things should be looking up, but they aren’t. Azula is tired of waiting. How long will it be? Can she make it to the next milestone?

It’s just a turbulent time of her life. Azula knows that. So many things need to fall into place. She has to wait. Only some days Azula fears she’ll lose her mind all over again before that time finally comes.

She finds she’s losing her appetite again.

An old habit she couldn’t quite shake. Azula doesn’t feel hungry for breakfast any more. She forgets to eat during the day at work. She still takes small portions at dinner—that little, nagging voice in the back of her mind threatening that taking more would make her a pig.

Besides, Azula has to admit, it feels good at times.

It’s a bad habit. She knows it is. But she can’t deny the compliments she gets at work feel good. She can’t deny the feeling of slightly-tight jeans fitting perfectly feels good. She can’t deny the detached, light-headed feeling that hunger brings feels good. It’s a welcome distraction. A high without actually having to get high.

Azula finds herself pulling away from people.

There’s too much she can’t talk about.

She fears her family hates her.

She wishes Ty Lee would understand her, but she can’t seem to find a good way to explain anything she’s feeling.

She can’t bring up anything like this at work. It’s the one place that still makes her feel sane. Azula refuses to spoil that for herself, too.

She even pulls away from Jiang. While it’s true that nobody has ever made Azula feel more…seen, their conversations force her to confront an uncomfortable reality. Azula knows she needs to face it eventually, but she just…can’t right now. Too much is happening. Azula just needs time.

Night after night, she finds herself repeating it to herself in bed at night as she struggles to sleep like a mantra.

Time. Everything will get better with time.

Azula just has to wait.

Chapter Text

Something feels wrong in the house when Azula wakes.

At first, she thinks it’s probably nothing. Everything has felt wrong lately. Uncle Iroh had come home a few nights ago and tearfully explained that Lu Ten had died in a car crash. It still doesn’t feel real to Azula.

The adults have seemed stressed since then. They argue in hushed whispers and yell behind closed doors. Azula tries as hard as she can to find out what’s happening, but it only makes her more confused. Why is Grandfather so angry with Father? What does Zuko’s future have to do with anything? Why does Mother cry so much? If it’s all about Lu Ten—why isn’t Uncle Iroh here?

When Azula asks Father, he tells her it’s because Uncle Iroh is weak and a coward. He tells her that Grandfather is getting too senile to make wise decisions. He tells her that Mother is becoming irrational and refuses to see the bigger picture.

Azula can’t sleep. It’s 5:00 in the morning, so she wanders into the living room, looking for something to do. She nearly jumps when she finds Father already there, sitting with a newspaper as if nothing is wrong.

“Azula,” he greets nonchalantly. “You’re up early.”

“I couldn’t sleep,” she says.

“Neither could I,” Father responds. “I got a call in the middle of the night. Grandfather Azulon had a heart attack in his sleep. The maids called an ambulance, but he was dead before they reached the hospital.”

Azula feels her eyes widen in surprise. Grandfather had been getting old and senile, as Father put it, but he always seemed healthy to Azula. She can’t even remember him being sick.

“Does Mother know?” Azula asks, glancing around. Considering how the past few days have gone, she’s surprised she didn’t walk in on another fight.

“Your mother is gone,” Ozai says simply, even dismissively, as he turns back to the newspaper. “Why don’t you go back to bed. You still have two hours to sleep before the driver arrives to take you to school.”

Azula blinks. Gone? Is she dead too? “Where is she?”

“She left,” Father says flatly, in a tone that makes it clear he’s done talking about it. “She won't be back. Now. Go back to your room.”

Azula bites her lip, but she obeys. Why would Mother leave? Why wouldn’t she even say goodbye? Was it because of Azula? Did she really just…not love her?

All questions Azula expects to have answered in time, but she never does.

The gnawing ache in her gut whenever she thinks of her mother is something she’d never admit to, but the feeling only grows stronger as the years pass.

Each New Year, Azula half-expects to hear something, until she no longer does. Father meant it when he said she was gone.

Azula hates it. She hates that not only did her mother—her own mother—disappear from her life in the blink of an eye, but that she never even got a proper explanation.

There was no apology. No reconciliation. No closure.

Azula finds herself wondering about it constantly. Father isn’t much help. He seems quite content with his new position as head of the family company. Azula also has no idea how he swept that away from Uncle Iroh, but surprisingly, Uncle Iroh doesn’t seem to mind.

It’s because he’s weak-willed and lazy, Father says. Just like Mother. They left because they’re intimidated by people like Azula and Father. They resent her, and that’s why they treat her that way.

Azula comes to accept that answer. It wasn’t her fault. All she did was be strong. Be her best. That’s why they left her. They didn’t want her to succeed. They were jealous, bitter, lazy cowards.

But try as she might, Azula still can’t shake away the grief. She can’t help but wish she still had a mother. She can’t help but wish she could have been a better daughter.

—————

Azula used to think the idea of getting depressed by the weather was bullshit, but now she isn’t so sure. She can’t remember feeling this utterly drained of energy in her life.

It’s Tuesday morning, and the work week already feels too long. As usual, she’s driving to work at the crack of dawn, though it’s too cloudy to see the sun rise. All she can see is the relentless, suffocating grayness of the sky looming overhead, a feature of Republic City that never seems to leave during the winter months. A light rain batters her windshield, just barely enough to make her switch on the old, squeaky windshield wipers.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I don’t even want to leave my room,” Ty Lee whispers over the phone. Azula can barely hear her over the dull droning of the road noise. “This girl always laughs in the hallway. I went downstairs to do laundry yesterday, and I saw these two girls turn and look when I walked by. I don’t understand what I’m doing to make them hate me so much! Why can’t they just let me live?”

“Ty Lee,” Azula says as she has so many times before, struggling to make her voice sound soft and gentle despite the undeniable irritation. “They probably aren’t looking at you at all. Everyone talks loudly in the hallways in college dorms, and they probably just looked at you because they noticed someone moving past them. It wasn’t personal at all.”

“Maybe,” Ty Lee sniffles. “But what if it was about me? What should I do? People have always judged me, Azula. I know they are now. At least some of them. I just wish I could be normal, Azula. I wish I fit in somewhere. I wish people respected me and didn’t judge me so much. It’s like they just know I’m different. They laugh when I walk by. They talk about me. Why are they like this to me?”

Azula just stares down the road, at the bleak sky, the red taillights of rush hour traffic ahead of her. She doesn’t know what to say. She feels guilty for it, especially as she hears Ty Lee’s sniffles through the phone, but she can’t help but feel annoyed.

If it was just today, it might have been fine. But Azula feels like this is the hundredth time they’ve had the same conversation. Why does Ty Lee think she’s so different and judged? She’s a feminine woman—the standard. Azula has difficulty feeling sympathy after struggling to live as a woman who isn’t feminine.

Ty Lee doesn’t mean it that way. Azula knows that. But she just doesn’t think about it. Azula used to think she did. She used to think Ty Lee understood her, but now…she finds that doubt growing. Azula wishes she could help. She wishes she could take all of Ty Lee’s problems and make them go away. But…she just can’t. She can’t help someone who never listens, never learns.

“Hello?” Ty Lee asks expectantly. “Are you there?”

“Yes, I am,” Azula answers quickly.

She can’t hide the tiredness in her voice. She doesn’t have the energy.

Azula knows she should say something else. She knows Ty Lee is expecting an answer—another mindless validation she’ll ignore like she always does.

But she can’t. She’s too drained, too exhausted, too spent. Azula feels like she’s given all she has to give. She feels like there’s nothing else. The cup of coffee she drank before leaving her apartment is the only reason she hasn’t fallen asleep at the wheel. Even now, the effort it takes to keep her eyes on the road makes her feel strained.

“Oh,” Ty Lee says quietly. “Well…I think I’ll go now. I have some things I need to do.”

She hangs up, and Azula feels another wave of guilt at the relief that brings her. It isn’t that she doesn’t like Ty Lee—of course she loves her and their conversations. Azula just needs a break sometimes. She feels like she hasn’t had one in ages. The exhaustion is ever-present, unrelenting.

But it will get better, Azula keeps telling herself. She can do it. Ty Lee can do it.

She turns on the radio, trying to enjoy the few moments of peace she has before starting the work day.

A break. She just needs a break. That’s all. It will get better—it has to.

—————

As usual, Azula arrives at the building at 7:00 in the morning sharp, ready to begin her day. She shuts off her phone and leaves it in the drawer, a welcome break from the rest of the world as she logs into her computer.

She does her best to focus, but she can’t stop thinking about Ty Lee. Azula hopes she’s fine—she knows it’s a rough patch for them both right now, but she knows she’ll be in a better mood for conversation later when she isn’t so tired. Surely Ty Lee understands…she knows how grueling Azula’s schedule is and she too admits she loses her social battery at times. It will be fine. It’s fine.

Azula finds herself nodding off after proofreading her latest reporting email for the fifth time, and snaps back to awareness. No—she can’t have that today. It’s important she stays focused right now.

After refilling her coffee for the second time this morning, Azula takes a breath and settles back in. No typos, right? The tone is direct, yet cordial…all the right people are copied…everything looks fine. Azula sends it out with a sigh, feeling silly for stressing herself out over a single email.

Then, as her inbox refreshes, Azula notices a new message from Kyoshi.

Her heart soars as she reads it. The recommendation letter she’d asked for, along with assurance that with her academic record and experience, she’s sure to be accepted at Republic City University Law School. Azula reads it over a second time, taking in the praise and the excitement as another little piece of her life falls into place.

Even though she’s in the middle of work, Azula can’t resist the urge to tell Ty Lee. This is great news…not just for her, but for them both. It’s proof that they can move on, that they can succeed and find a place in the world. Ty Lee loves it when Azula talks about their future and that little house in the mountains with the garden and the hot tub and the fairy lights and—

Azula pulls out her phone with a smile, but she pauses as she looks at the screen. It’s a text from Ty Lee…a text so long it doesn’t fully display on the lock screen.

And it doesn’t look good.

Anxiety builds in Azula’s chest as she opens the text conversation as she begins to read. As she does, she finds she suddenly can’t breathe.

[Ty Lee] Hi Azula, I don’t know how to say this but I need you to know that I think it’s best that we part ways. I’m sorry and I appreciate our time together but I think our stances on things are too different. I don’t think you’re a bad person but I think it’s best if we don’t talk any more. I feel like I can’t talk to you because it would turn into an argument and I don’t know what your issue with being nonbinary is but it’s gotten to the point where I feel like I can’t talk to you. I also don’t like the way you minimize my social anxiety. This is a difficult time of my life and I just need to feel supported. I’m sorry and I wish you well but I think this is for the best.

Azula reads the text, rereads it, then rereads it again.

No…this can’t be right. Ty Lee…thinks her feelings are an issue? She…never really meant it when she told Azula she understood her? That she’d always be there for her?

Azula frantically types back a response—asking Ty Lee what on earth she means…but when she tries to send it—

Error.

Azula stares down at the screen, bewildered. Blocked. Ty Lee sent that, then blocked her number.

Azula feels her head spinning. It can’t be real. Not after everything they’ve been through together. Not after all of the time and energy Azula poured into their relationship.

Frantically, she tries everything. Email. Snapchat. Instagram.

Blocked, blocked, blocked.

It hits home, then. It’s real. They’re done…and Azula never even had a chance to say goodbye. Never had a chance to explain herself.

Monster.

Azula feels tears well up in her eyes, the anxiety pulsing in her chest making her feel like she’s going to explode. Azula knows it’s inappropriate. She’s forced to remember where she is as she struggles to hide the tears in her eyes.

Work. She’s at work. It’s only 8:30 in the morning. She has nearly the whole fucking day ahead of her, and this is what she has to deal with.

Luckily, hardly anyone is in the office yet. Nobody sees her as she rushes to the bathroom and shuts herself in a stall where her tears can flow freely.

Why this? Why now? After everything she gave Ty Lee, everything she shared with her…it still wasn’t enough. She still wasn’t enough, despite everything Ty Lee knew was happening in her life.

The bitter thought that of fucking course Ty Lee picked 8:30 in the morning on a work day to drop this bomb crosses Azula’s mind. Ty Lee doesn’t understand hard work. She’s barely worked in her life—all she knows is going to school on easy mode and a barista job she quit at the first sign of stress, all with a rich daddy to bail her out in the end.

Azula closes her eyes. That’s cruel. That’s unfair to Ty Lee. She knows it is. But the more she thinks about it, the more the helpless, fragile, victimized image of Ty Lee she’d had in her head begins to shatter.

Lies. Everything she believed she had…it was built on lies. Azula never had the support she thought she did. She never was truly loved.

The bathroom is empty, so she lets her laugh ring out, echoing the dark voices in her mind. A wretched sound. What a fool she was, thinking anyone would love her. Azula always swore to herself she’d never let her guard down again—and here she is. Used, deceived, and left behind.

Twenty minutes. She’s been in this bathroom for twenty minutes now. Azula decides she’s let out enough tears this morning—she returns to the sink and washes her hands in the scalding water before daring to even look at her face.

She looks like death.

Azula supposes it’s to be expected. She’s spent the past few months in a constant haze of exhaustion and it shows on her face. Her face is the face of a woman who gave up all the energy she could spare, sacrificed her own mental wellbeing in an attempt to help someone else, then was left behind when she had nothing left to give.

When Ty Lee had nothing else to take from her.

Azula feels like it’s not real as she walks back into the office, back to her desk. It feels like walking in a dream, where nothing is real beyond what she can see. Nothing is real except that desk, that stack of papers, that inbox full of unread emails. Azula tries to focus on that, as always. Work—the one thing that still makes her feel sane. Azula once again drags herself through the day.

She barely gets anything done. Azula hates it. She feels more useless than ever.

Nothing seems to be able to hold her focus. Her mind drifts away, to places Azula desperately wishes it wouldn’t.

She thinks of everyone she’s pushed away, everyone who pushed her away. Why did she expect Ty Lee to be any different? Azula really thought she was. Azula really thought she loved her.

But the person she loved never existed. Just like the version of Azula that could possibly be loved never existed.

Azula finds herself struggling to hold back tears. She forces a smile when a coworker passes her desk but she barely speaks, fearing what would escape her if she tried. She finds herself staring blankly at her computer for an hour at a time, motionless. Her mind feels broken. Nothing makes sense. Even the simplest tasks feel like too much to think about.

The trips to that quiet bathroom stall are frequent. Azula hopes nobody notices.

When it’s finally time to pack up and drive home, Azula feels relieved. Tears stream down her face as she pulls out of the garage to battle the afternoon traffic. She doesn’t care who sees. She’s free from the presence of people who know her, people she has to keep up appearances around.

The car is a blissful place of solitude once again. Nobody but Azula and the radio.

No more phone calls with Ty Lee—a bittersweet twist, that Azula can’t decide whether she feels distraught or relieved by that.

Azula runs through it in her mind, over and over and over again, nothing else to occupy her mind but the gray sky overhead and the grayer freeway below.

She left because you’re a monster. It’s only a matter of time before everyone else leaves you too.

Why don’t you just crank the wheel a little to the right and drive off that bridge? Life only brings you pain.

The only people in your life who say they love you are just pretending. You’d be doing them a favor if you just killed yourself now.

Do you think Mother really wants to see you? She’s only coming back for Zuko and you know it. She’ll never really love you—she’ll only pretend. Just like Ty Lee.

Think of all the nasty things you said to Zuko. You know he wanted to help you—and you still said them. You’re an ungrateful, evil bitch and you’ll never get better.

Work as hard as you want. You’ll always still be an ugly, demented woman to the world. You can’t escape that.

Nobody will care that you’re an attorney when you’re alone because you’re a hateful bitch.

You’re going to die alone. Might as well do it now. Get it over with.

There’s nothing for you here.

Azula closes her eyes and leans against the steering wheel when she finally makes it home, shaking. She struggles to compose herself. She’s no stranger to thought spirals like this. It will pass. Surely it will pass.

She wipes at her cheeks with a tissue, but she can’t erase the puffiness from her eyes or the redness from her face. She takes a few more deep breaths, until her chest is no longer trembling. Passable, but she still must look like a train wreck. She can only hope nobody else is home. Azula hates being seen in such a state.

But as she opens the door, she finds Katara sitting on the couch. She immediately turns towards the door, and Azula sees concern immediately overtake her expression.

Their eyes meet, and Azula has no words. She doesn’t know what to say. She knows she deserves nothing, so why is Katara walking towards her, why does she look so concerned, why would she still care about—

“Azula?” she asks softly. “Are you alright? Did something…?”

Azula can’t help the tears that escape her. She can’t help the way she hiccups and chokes as she desperately tries to hold back the waves of emotions she’s been battling all day. But, she finally loses that battle, too tired to fight it.

It’s humiliating, sobbing her eyes out in the middle of the kitchen, laptop bag still in hand and pointed shoes on her feet. What a mess. What a fucking mess.

Katara doesn’t say anything else. All she does is step forward and wrap her arms around Azula, breathing shaky breaths of her own. It surprises Azula, but she doesn’t want to pull away. She’s never been big on touch, but something about this feels so raw. Her tears flow faster.

There is no lie in Katara’s touch, no game, nothing for her to gain. She doesn’t speak, but the gesture communicates more than could ever be put into words. Katara is here. She cares. It doesn’t matter what Azula might have done, it doesn’t matter how much of a monster she feels like, Katara sees a person in pain and she cares. Azula hugs back, holding her tightly. She wishes she could be like Katara. She doesn’t know what she did to earn her respect and care, but she clings to it however she can.

“It’s alright,” Katara finally whispers. “It will be alright.”

Slowly, she takes Azula’s bag from her hand, setting it on the floor and guiding her towards the couch. Azula sits slowly, not knowing what else to do.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Katara asks as she sits beside her, warm hand still resting on her shoulder.

“Ty Lee,” Azula finally musters the strength to say in a tight whisper. “We…we’re done.”

Somehow, Katara doesn’t appear too surprised.

“I’m sorry,” she says simply. “That’s never easy. I know you were close.”

Azula feels anger bubble up inside of her as she thinks back on it again—all of it. How close were they, really? Was it all fake, or was Ty Lee really just that inconsiderate?

“We were,” Azula chokes out. “I don’t understand it. She seemed like she understood me—what I was going through. Then this morning, she…she sent this long text. Said I wasn’t supportive and that she didn’t like my values. I can’t even ask what in the fuck she means because she blocked me before I could answer. After everything I did? I can’t even ask why? I just…just—”

Azula cuts herself off, burying her face in her hands. Saying it out loud makes her feel even more pathetic. Crazy monster, stupid bitch, thinking she could be loved. Giving her heart to someone only to be thrown away yet again, discarded, abandoned, just like everyone who—

“That wasn’t right of her,” Katara says calmly. “You know that. I saw how you talked about her, Azula. You cared for her. If she couldn’t see that—that’s on her.”

“She’s not a bad person,” Azula mumbles on instinct. “She just—I don’t know.”

“I don’t think she’s a bad person either,” Katara says slowly, as if she’s choosing her words carefully. “But…I don’t think she’s a strong person. She doesn’t lead; she follows. She doesn’t have strong convictions of her own; she can be convinced of anything depending on who she’s around. Maybe she just…was around a different influence. And that isn’t your fault. But, it was still wrong of her to hurt you like that. To not have the strength to fight for you like you fought for her.”

As Azula takes all of that in, it hits her like a punch to the gut. She thinks about her conversations with Ty Lee, the new friends she talked about but hardly told Azula details. Is that what she meant when she said she didn’t want to talk to Azula anymore? These people—who barely knew her? Ty Lee most likely turned her back on Azula—for them?

She hates how much what Katara says makes sense. Azula feels disgusted at the realization that all the time they spent talking, all the time she felt like Ty Lee understood her—it was probably just her blindly agreeing because she doesn’t know how to do anything else.

Their connection was never real. Azula feels her face crumple up again, and tries not to think about how fucking ugly and pathetic she looks right now.

“How could she?” Azula gasps, shaking as her mind once again begins to spiral. “All this time…I gave everything to her. I told her things—things I can hardly tell anyone else. I’m broken. I don’t know who I am anymore, I feel like there is no place for me, and especially after that fucking night where fucking Ozai got drunk and—and—”

Azula bites her tongue, breathing heavily through her tears as she realizes with horror what she almost just admitted.

But she’s too late. Katara noticeable tenses, a horrified look lighting her eyes.

“Azula,” Katara asks shakily. “Ozai…he…did he…?”

Azula can’t bring herself to say it, but she figures burying her face in her hands and sobbing is enough of an answer for Katara.

“I’m sorry,” Katara whispers. “Fuck—I’m so sorry…I had no idea.”

“I couldn’t say anything,” Azula feels herself say tightly. “Nobody would have believed me. Even now, nobody would.”

“I believe you,” Katara says fiercely, a stormy look in her eyes as she rests her hands on Azula’s shoulders, grounding her. “Ozai is a wretched man, and I don’t doubt you for a fucking second.”

“I don’t understand,” Azula chokes out. “I’m a monster. Why do you even care?”

“You could be the most evil, irredeemable, wretched woman on the face of the Earth, and I’d still be on your side,” Katara spits. “No woman deserves this. Ever.”

Azula blinks in surprise, the venom in Katara’s voice catching her off guard. She…she supposes she hadn’t thought about it that way. In her mind, bad things were supposed to happen to people like her. It was just a given—Azula was never capable of giving, so she deserved nothing in return.

“But for what it’s worth,” Katara continues in a softer tone, “I don’t think you’re evil. I never really did. I was angry at the way you hurt Zuko, but I see you now. You aren’t a monster. You just were hurting, and you needed help. You want to do right by people, deep down, and that’s what matters the most.”

Azula nods, staring wordlessly at the floor. It’s true, she supposes. She learned by example, and her primary teacher never understood the concept of humility. Ozai never held himself responsible for everything—he made sure his problems became everyone else’s, that they overshadowed everything. Azula hates the thought of how close she was to following in his footsteps—how she did for so many years of her young life.

“Well, I guess he’s in prison regardless,” Azula eventually says, mutely, wiping her eyes. “So it doesn’t really matter anymore.”

“It does,” Katara says in that same, intense tone. “It’s not just about prison—he has to be held accountable. You deserve that much, Azula. He hurt you.”

“You don’t get it,” Azula says bitterly. “Trying to get justice would only make it worse. Who would believe me? Even you thought I was just some crazy, spoiled bitch when you first met me. I’m sorry, Katara. Everyone tells me I’m strong, but I’m not. I can’t do it. I can’t dig through all that—only to be told I’m making it up for attention. Everyone hates me. They’d never take my side. Even Zuko—”

“Zuko loves you, Azula,” Katara breaks in, her grip on her shoulder intensifying. “It hurts him to see you in pain, and he knows you’re in pain. He doesn’t hate you. You’re his sister, and trust me, he wants nothing more than to see you find happiness.”

Azula only shakes her head. She wants that to be true—so desperately—but she can’t bring herself to accept it. Who would love her? Azula thought Ty Lee did—but even that was all a lie.

It’s settled. Azula can’t be loved. She’ll never let herself believe in such a foolish thing again.

She wants to make that clear to Katara—right here, right now. But she can’t. Azula feels broken, utterly empty, helpless to do anything but sit here on this couch, shaking as tear after tear leaks from her eyes.

Beyond all reason, Katara stays by her side, arms wrapped tightly around her.

—————

The days begin blurring together as the numbness—the reality—begins to set in. Azula doesn’t feel her emotions as intensely as she did that first day, but she almost wishes she would. It would be better than this. All she feels now is nothing. Just…nothing.

Azula moves robotically through her days. She finishes her work like always, but she no longer takes pride in it. She even fears her quality of work is slipping; frequently, she finds her mind wandering away, wishing she would feel something again. She has no desire to read, or draw, or do anything fun. She doesn’t have the energy to text her friends. What little desire she had for sex is even gone. Azula wonders if she’ll ever be able to love someone again. Male, female—whatever. It’s all just…gone.

But, for some reason, Azula still has it drilled into her to keep up appearances. She can’t let them win—whoever them is now. Azula isn’t weak. She’ll come out on top; she has to.

What would Mother think, arriving after years away to find Azula in such a state? Azula can’t bear the thought. So she holds her head high, she keeps working, and she refuses to let anyone know how difficult it is for her.

A week later, Azula finds herself in the kitchen, quietly eating her dinner with Zuko and Katara like usual. She’s not sure why they keep asking; she’s sure they don’t really want to be around her, despite what they say. Azula generally does her best to eat and retreat to her room with minimal conversation.

Tonight, once again, the subject of Mother comes up. As her visit draws nearer and nearer, Zuko seems to be getting just as anxious about it as Azula.

“I keep worrying we’ll lose her again,” Zuko mumbles. “She always sounds so afraid over the phone. I know Ozai is in prison, but…”

He’s still talking, but Azula can’t focus on anything after the word Ozai. Mentions of her father made her skin crawl before, but now that the wound is fresh, now that her pain has been dragged out into the open, now that someone in the room knows, Katara standing close at her side, Katara rubbing her shoulder as she feels her chest getting tighter, tighter—

“Is…everything okay?” Zuko asks, a confused look on his face.

Azula can’t help it. Her face crumples up and she covers her mouth with her hand as Katara says something reassuring behind her.

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Zuko look up at Katara with a perplexed look, a silent question, and Azula knows she can’t hide the truth any longer.

“Ozai,” Azula whispers shakily as she slowly lifts her head to look into her brother’s eyes. “He…he did hurt me. He…touched me. That night.”

Something breaks in Zuko’s expression.

Azula doesn’t know exactly what she was expecting. Part of her was afraid to tell him anything at all, fearing she’d only get another version of I don’t feel sorry for you. Her mind still tries to convince her of it. Why would he care? Why would anyone? Who would ever care about an evil bitch like her?

But that isn’t what Azula sees in Zuko’s face at all.

“That bastard,” he whispers, his voice breaking as he turns away in anger. “That fucking bastard!”

Zuko angrily paces across the room as he clutches his head in his hands, shaking. Azula doesn’t know why that sight makes her burst into tears. He…doesn’t doubt her for a second. Even after all of the horrible things she’s snapped at him in anger, after all of the fights they’ve had over the years…Zuko believes her. He’s furious on her behalf. Not only does Zuko believe her, maybe he even understands. It doesn’t mean nothing to him.

He loves Azula, and she sees that plainly in front of her.

“I’m going to kill him,” Zuko seethes, tears streaking his face. “I’m going to fucking—”

“Zuko,” Katara says softly, her hands still resting on Azula’s shoulders.

Katara doesn’t say anything else—she doesn’t need to. It’s as if her voice is a reminder that it’s over, that Ozai isn’t here even if the sick memories of him are. Azula watches the rage melt from Zuko’s face, only a gut-wrenching sorrow left behind.

“I’m sorry, Azula,” he whispers as he returns to her. “I had no idea. If I knew—if I—I would have never—”

“It’s fine,” Azula says tightly, unsure of what to say, unsure if anything about her life is fine at all. “Just…thank you. For being here.”

Zuko carefully wraps his arms around her, his tears soaking into the collar of her jacket. “I’ll always be here for you. You know that, right? You’re my little sister…and I love you. No matter what.”

“I know,” Azula says shakily as she allows his embrace to comfort her—some of the love she never had, the love she was told she didn’t need throughout her childhood. “I know.”

Azula stays in that embrace, Zuko in front of her and Katara behind her. In the past, such a position would have made her feel painfully weak. She feels safe, protected. What does that make her if she needs someone like Zuko protecting her? Azula always considered herself strong. She could face any obstacle, overcome every challenge, and she could do it herself.

But lately comes the realization that she doesn’t have to. Zuko and Katara aren’t sitting with her like this because they think she’s weak. Even the strongest person needs help at times. No; it’s not weakness, what Azula is feeling now.

It’s…love. Love.

It’s the feeling of receiving in return what she’s so desperately tried to learn how to give. It comes freely and without a price. It’s an instinct, a raw reaction to witnessing a person you care so deeply about in pain. None of them have to think about it. None of them have to calculate who owes who what; none of them even consider if they’re inconveniencing the others. They just sit here, intertwined, an unbreakable bond of comfort between them.

Azula feels the tears flow harder as she clings to the little family she has, the new one she’s building.

Maybe…Azula can be loved.

Chapter Text

“Who wants mochi for breakfast?” Uncle Iroh calls up from the kitchen. Azula hops out of bed and dashes down the stairs with Zuko and cousin Lu Ten just behind her, already feeling excited about the day.

Azula loves mochi, and it always seems to be the best on Ember Island. Summer vacation here is her favorite time of year. Azula never gets to have mochi for breakfast at home. Father doesn’t particularly care for it.

Sure enough, Uncle Iroh has a spread of flavors—green tea, strawberry, melon, and mint: Azula’s favorite. She enthusiastically digs in after the boys, already planning on sneaking more out of the freezer later in the afternoon.

“Iroh, what are you doing?” Azula overhears Mother scolding from the kitchen.

She’s just finished off her plate and can’t help but eavesdrop while the boys are distracted.

“Just a fun breakfast for the kids,” Uncle Iroh says with a smile as he scrubs out a bowl in the sink. “You know how much they love mochi.”

“It’s a lot of sugar,” Mother says shortly. “I don’t want you to make a habit out of this, especially without asking me first.”

“It’s fine, Ursa,” Uncle Iroh responds calmly. “I bought everything myself, there is nothing to worry about. We’re on vacation.”

“Are you going to buy their fat swimsuits too?” Mother snaps. “It’s not healthy.”

The conversation continues, but Azula stops paying attention after that one word.

Fat.

She isn’t a stranger to the concept. Mother has warned her before about eating junk food. Father would point at larger women on TV and talk about what disgusting whales they were, lazy cows with no self control. Azula never really thought about it herself.

Suddenly, she isn’t hungry. She runs upstairs to her room.

Azula stares at herself in the mirror, at her body. Is she fat? Mother seems to think she’s in danger of getting fat. Why does she think that?

It’s something that hadn’t been an issue until now. Azula felt more or less like the other kids. But, she has been changing lately. She’s been growing. She’s finding curves developing where there were no curves before. Clothes aren’t fitting her in the chest and hips like they used to.

Including the swim suit.

Azula watches tears fill her eyes as she continues scrutinizing her reflection, at her developing body that feels less and less like her. Is her chest getting too big? Should that faint curve at her stomach really be there? Is she fat? Will she really need a new swimsuit for her fat body?

The sight of herself is now disgusting, and Azula turns away, running to the toilet instead.

She can’t be fat. She can’t be.

She shoves her fingers down her throat until she’s retching, until she’s not sure if the tears streaming down her face are just a reflex or something more.

—————

Mother’s visit draws ever closer, and Azula’s moods are as unpredictable as the autumn weather of Republic City. Some days, she finds herself feeling peaceful as she walks in the afternoon sun as the cool breeze begins to shake the leaves from the trees. On other days, she finds herself crying in the car as rain batters against her windshield.

At first, her life feels empty.

It’s jarring, to have spent so much of her time either talking to Ty Lee or thinking about her, that now Azula’s mind doesn’t know what to do on its own. Sometimes Azula feels like her mind is cannibalizing itself—having nothing else to do in solitude but to ruminate, to retrace everything she did and wonder what she could have done differently—if she should have done anything differently.

Doubt plagues her constantly. Was she wrong? Was it even real love? Azula feels nothing now for Ty Lee. She’s not interested in anyone else, either. Was it real? Is she even capable of love? Is she even…a lesbian?

Or is she just broken—well and truly broken, devoid of the ability to love, to ever stand a chance at a meaningful connection with another human being.

Azula watches Zuko and Katara together and feels an odd pang of emotion when she realizes what she’s experiencing is jealousy. She wants so desperately to have what they have. Closeness, trust, love—a love that is deemed sacred by society, not derided as dirty and deviant like Azula’s love. She wonders if she could even call what she felt for Ty Lee love at times. The idea seems silly. It feels fake. Azula has had selfish, evil inclinations since she was in diapers, if her memory serves.

It’s laughable to think that someone like you could ever experience love at all, her inner voice sneers.

That’s when she’s alone. Azula trusts the voice when she’s alone, having nowhere else to turn.

But oddly enough, whenever she speaks such thoughts aloud…the people around her—the voices spoken aloud—don’t seem to agree. Azula doesn’t understand it. She thought it was obvious to everyone the kind of person she is—the kind of person she was always destined to be.

“I don’t understand why anyone wants me around,” Azula muses out loud one day, the kitchen empty save for Uncle Iroh.

“Why would you say that, Azula?” he asks evenly, still focused on the dumplings he’s neatly folding in front of him. “I’m happy to have your help this afternoon.”

Azula stares down at the dough twisted between her own fingers, remembering that family tradition she’d ruined many years ago with her tantrum. Even now, deep down, she knows she’s not really helping Uncle Iroh try out this new recipe for Mother’s visit out of the goodness of her heart. No; it’s guilt more than anything, her selfish desire to be seen as a good person. It never came naturally to her—not like it does for people like Mother and Zuko.

No; it was never instinctive for Azula. Azula’s instincts tell her to snap cruel words when she’s upset, to lash out before she’s hit first. She’s been that way since she was a child—after everything, why did she think she could ever change? Ty Lee gave her the brief illusion of hope, but now Azula doesn’t even have that.

“I was so rude to you. To everyone,” Azula says softly as she recalls all of the things she’s said about Uncle Iroh in the past—to him. That he was weak, and lazy, and failed to honor his family’s legacy. Why he tolerates her presence, Azula doesn’t know—if she were in his position, she probably wouldn’t.

“What child hasn’t said something rude?” Uncle Iroh responds simply, like it’s nothing. “It’s a natural reaction to feeling hurt, and having no other way to express it.”

“All I do is hurt other people,” Azula says bitterly, still working the dumpling in her hands, wondering why she can never make them look right no matter how hard she tries. “Maybe I was just born…wrong.”

“Nobody is born wrong,” Uncle Iroh says without a hint of doubt in his voice. “Some of us are born differently, and some of us are born with traits that make life difficult for us. But we all have a place in the world when we choose the right paths for ourselves. Do you want to hurt people, Azula?”

“No,” Azula whispers, giving up on trying to fix her dumpling and setting it on the tray.

Uncle Iroh smiles, a pained look in his eyes. “Then you are already on the right path. And do not think you are the first one to walk that path, from pain to a brighter future.”

He turns, then, looking down at the dumpling Azula had just struggled to fold, its edges jutting out like a crooked crown rather than forming the standard clean twirl.

“I always liked the way you made dumplings,” Uncle Iroh says warmly as he continues.

“Really?” Azula scoffs. “I could never do it right.”

“They always had the same wonderful flavor,” he affirms. “And I liked them the best…because every time I ate one, I knew it was your hands that had molded it.”

Azula only stares.

She thinks about that conversation over and over again in the coming days. It was about more than just dumplings, Azula knows, as nobody likes to speak in metaphors more than Uncle Iroh.

Azula always felt like something was wrong with her; she couldn’t connect with other people the same way her friends did. For as long as she can remember, she’s been fighting against herself, struggling to find a way to reconcile the mess of her mind with the world around her.

With Ozai, she simply tried to pretend it didn’t exist, to force herself into the role he dictated for her. It gave her a sense of structure and purpose—even though it was never her own.

With Ty Lee, Azula supposes she wasn’t much different. Ty Lee had her convinced she was doomed by social stigma, so there was no point in attempting to find her place in the world. In Ty Lee’s world, it was best to simply isolate herself exclusively with people who would validate her delusions and never challenge them. Azula changed herself then, too—attempting so desperately to be the person she thought Ty Lee needed to break out of her shell, only to be once again discarded.

Even as a child, she wished to have a place. She wished she could make dumplings just like Mother’s. Orderly, neat, all the same—not a hair out of place.

But was that ever Azula?

Azula always stood out—in some ways that made her proud, and in others that didn’t. Maybe differentness isn’t so bad—maybe it's neutral. Uncle Iroh likes her dumplings, and maybe other people would too. How boring would it be, for everything to be exactly the same?

There is a place—a place for Azula’s signature, her mark, a place to be seen for who she is.

—————

That weekend, Republic City sees a rare break in the gloom, a refreshingly sunny spell. Azula decides to reach out to Jiang and Zirin once again and soon finds herself lounging under a patio heater at a bar.

It’s refreshing, seeing old friends so relaxed and happy after seeing them in so much pain. Azula finds comfort in her own situation as well. Moving forward, healing, building up the relationships that matter. That are real.

A reminder that there is something for her here, that the inner voice trying to convince her she’s destined for solitude and suffering is wrong.

Because Azula always loves to see her new friends. And she’s finally beginning to accept that they love to see her, too.

Jiang is working on a welding apprenticeship nearby, and Zirin is taking classes to be a vet tech—a nurse for animals, as she puts it. It had been a childhood dream of hers to be a vet. Azula admires the way their faces are full of hope, as they forge their paths forward. Maybe it wasn’t the path they always had in mind, maybe things didn’t turn out exactly as planned—but in this moment, there is peace. There is hope, an idea Azula once mocked, but now holds at the highest importance.

“You seem nervous,” Jiang gently observes after Azula mentions her plan to apply to law school. “Everything okay?”

Azula pauses. She is nervous—an instinct, really. She doesn’t like talking about herself anymore. It feels pathetic, like it’s a desperate attempt to claw her way back to the life she lost. Not to mention how selfish it feels to bring up her own accomplishments in response to others. Azula knows people don’t like that, and while she never cared before, she’s lately been forced to confront the fact that other people’s opinions of her do matter. She has to worry about that, otherwise she’s exactly the monster she’s always been accused of being.

“Yes,” Azula finally says with a shrug. “I just—I feel like I still talk about myself too much.”

“You shouldn’t be ashamed to talk about yourself at all,” Jiang says matter-of-factly, raising her glass to toast. “You’re achieving something great, despite everything you had working against you. I love to hear it. It’s inspiring.”

Zirin raises her glass in agreement, a determined smile on her face. “It is. We need more lawyers like you, Azula. I wish I had a lawyer like you when I needed one. You’ll do great things—not just for you, but for women like us.”

Azula feels the hint of tears welling up in her eyes. What Zirin says—the way she says it—is so raw, and Azula knows in her heart what she’s feeling is real. She knows what Zirin has suffered and she knows she wants to put herself in a position to bring true change.

It might still be power that Azula desires—but not just for herself. Not to be Ozai’s pawn, but to make her own mark, to protect girls like her who couldn’t protect themselves.

Power does not doom her to be like Ozai, to follow in his footsteps and act out his crimes. True power is pointing the finger back, using the very skills he instilled in her to tear him apart.

“Thank you,” Azula says with a tight smile as she toasts her friends. “I promise I’ll do what I can. I won’t stop fighting.”

She won’t stop fighting for herself either, this time. And now, that thought once again brings pride rather than shame.

Azula finishes her law school applications that night.

—————

The day finally comes, and Azula finds herself parked in the pick-up zone of the airport with Zuko at the wheel. It can best be described as neutral outside—gloomy, but not too dark, the clouds mottled in a way that suggests the sun might make an appearance later. But either way, the notoriously shitty layout of Republic City’s airport terminal does nothing to settle Azula’s nerves.

She’s been stewing about Mother ever since the announcement she was visiting—even more so this past week.

“Didn’t she say she’d meet us near Door 6?” Azula huffs, still scanning the crowd on the sidewalk.

“She’s probably just getting her bags,” Zuko says tiredly, but the white-knuckled grip he has on the steering wheel tells Azula he’s just as nervous as her.

“She should hurry up,” Azula mutters. “If we sit here much longer, security is going to chase us out.”

Zuko sighs but doesn’t say anything else. Azula resumes her staring at that pair of sliding doors.

A fuschia jacket and a black hat, that’s what Mother said she’d be wearing. But she said Kiyi would be more obvious, with her electric blue jacket and matching backpack.

“There!” Zuko exclaims suddenly, pointing towards the sidewalk. “It’s them! It’s…Mom.”

Azula blinks, but sure enough, she spots two figures matching the description she’d been given as Zuko pulls up to the curb. Azula gets out of the car after Zuko, but she can’t help but find the scene increasingly jarring as it plays out.

Of course it was silly to think Mother would look exactly the same as she did fifteen years ago, but Azula barely recognizes her now. Growing up, she was one of the thinnest people Azula knew, but now, she’s on the verge of being considered chubby. Her soft skin has the faint outline of wrinkles framing her smile, and her eyes carry a warmth that Azula can’t seem to remember seeing in them. Is this really Mother?

She must be; she says something Azula can’t quite make out before embracing Zuko and rocking back and forth with him, clinging to him as if she’s afraid to lose him again.

She’ll never love you like she loves him, the voice in Azula’s head taunts. You’ll always be a monster to her, remember?

But as Mother detangles herself from Zuko, that voice begins to lose its certainty.

Mother seems so different through Azula’s adult eyes, but not necessarily in a bad way. She almost looks like the mother Azula wishes she had as a child. Again, Azula wonders if there’s been a mistake, if this truly is her mother, but then Mother’s eyes meet hers and all that doubt drops away.

Those eyes are eyes Azula would never forget. They’re so distinctly her mother’s, and nearly a reflection of Azula’s own. She’s seen so many emotions in those eyes before—happiness, grief, anger, disappointment, disgust.

Azula wonders what she’ll see in them now, but as soon as Mother’s eyes land on her, Azula only sees a slight confusion…then joy. A bright, glowing joy as those eyes fill with tears and Mother rushes forward to embrace her.

“Azula,” Mother all but weeps into her shoulder. “My girl…my baby girl! I’m so glad to see you again. I’m so sorry for being away.”

Creepy kid. Brat. Selfish monster. Ungrateful bitch.

Azula struggles to reconcile the memories of Mother’s voice in her head with the voice speaking to her now. Which one is true? Is it all a show, or have things actually changed between them? Azula is an adult now, after all—maybe that finally means she’ll be able to have the bond with her mother that she’d always longed for.

“It’s good to see you,” Azula chokes out, not knowing what else to say.

It makes another wave of guilt pass over her. What kind of daughter does that make her? This is her mother—Azula hasn’t seen her in years. She traveled all this way just to spend a holiday together after being kept away by the looming threat of Ozai.

Ungrateful. Selfish.

Mother pulls back then, looking between Azula and Zuko with a proud smile on her face. Azula watches tears fill her eyes as she again focuses her attention on Zuko, looking as if she’s about to burst out sobbing as she carefully touches his cheek.

Azula knows Zuko warned her about the scar. She must have seen it, at least in a picture. But, Azula supposes it still must be a shock.

She hates herself for the nagging, intrusive jealousy she feels. Azula bites her tongue.

“Mom,” Zuko says quietly, before Mother can say anything. “I’m fine. It was years ago.”

Mother closes her eyes. “I’ve missed a lot, haven’t I?”

“I’m just glad you’re here now,” Zuko tells her.

“He lied,” Mother says bitterly. “He promised he’d never hurt you.”

“And you really believed him?” Azula spits before she can help herself.

Zuko and Mother both turn towards her with shocked expressions.

Fuck. Leave it to the monster to fuck things up before they’ve even gotten in the car.

“Well, I guess it doesn’t matter,” Azula finally says, doing her best to sound nonchalant. “The fucker is in prison regardless.”

Mother appears momentarily shocked, which Azula finds gives her an odd feeling of satisfaction. She’s not a kid anymore, after all.

Though, she supposes she did forget about the actual kid still present.

“You must be Kiyi,” Zuko says, breaking the uncomfortable silence with a small smile to address the girl who had been awkwardly standing behind Mother. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Kiyi brightens as soon as Zuko speaks her name, but she still looks nervous. Azula regards her carefully. She can’t be older than ten, but she’s quieter than Azula would have expected. She’s not a fan of children in general, especially ones she can’t help but wonder came into existence to replace her.

“You’re…my big brother?” Kiyi asks curiously, peering up at Zuko before turning to Azula. “My big sister?”

Azula stares down at her—her own half sister she never knew existed—and feels something pull at her heart. Kiyi doesn’t seem afraid of her. She’s clearly adjusting to this bizarre turn of events just like everyone else, but she doesn’t gawk at Azula as if she’s a monster. As if there’s anything wrong with her at all. She seems…happy, even. Happy to have a big sister.

“We should get going,” Azula says instead, sparing herself having to think any more about it. “We’re kind of in the way here.”

Sure enough, a car honks behind them in the lineup as Zuko lifts the last of Mother’s luggage into the trunk.

“Oh!” Mother says, as if just clueing in. “Yes—that’s a good idea.”

She ushers Kiyi into the car, and Azula can’t help but notice the nervousness she carries herself with. Mother seems so tense, constantly throwing quick glances over her shoulder as if she expects someone to jump out at her at any moment.

Ozai, Azula remembers with a chill.

As they finally pull away from the airport, Azula stares at the back of Mother’s head and wonders if she was always that way. Maybe it was something she’d just never noticed as a child.

She wonders how much else she missed, and how much Mother missed in turn.

Azula stares out the window, feeling lost. She had a great childhood, and she had a rotten one. Good memories tainted by scorn and disappointment—but now, Azula finds herself doubting if any of it was even real.

—————

Their reunion was going to be awkward under even the best of circumstances, but Azula finds the situation feeling more alien with each moment. Mother and Kiyi have moved into Zuko’s room, who offered to take the couch during their visit. It’s comfortable, he says, and he’s gone so much for work and school anyways.

That leaves Azula coming home from her own long days of work to a very full apartment. She doesn’t know how to feel. It should be somewhat familiar—but Mother almost seems like a different person.

Azula doesn’t say anything, but she feels the resentment building as she watches Mother and Kiyi. It feels like Kiyi has a completely different mother than she did—although, Azula still has the lingering fear that maybe it was all in her head. She’s a certified crazy bitch, after all, so maybe she just imagined everything that happened before.

But that doesn’t stop it from getting to her.

She watches Kiyi excitedly run around the living room with a toy dragon and ugly doll, and Mother only chuckle in response. Azula would have been told that behavior wasn’t becoming of a young lady and to quiet down.

She watches Mother make Kiyi crackers loaded with peanut butter as a snack and remembers being taught to count calories when she was around that age.

Most noticeable of all is Mother herself. Azula remembers her back in that Caldera City mansion—she remembers how Mother was always perfectly dressed with a full face of makeup, even when she had no intention of leaving the house that day. It was as if she expected some sort of crazed paparazzi crowd to break down the walls and start photographing her at any moment.

Now, Mother actually looks…comfortable. She’s somewhat shifty at first, but that gradually fades the longer she stays with them. Azula doesn’t think she’s seen her put on makeup once. She’s usually wearing either a bathrobe or a comfortable pair of jeans.

Azula should be happy for her mother. That she’s finally living a better life.

A better life that doesn’t include her.

Azula wonders if she should just leave them be. Her mother, finally happy, and a little girl living the childhood she never had. She lived years of her life accepting that Mother was gone; she could simply continue.

But then, a little tug at the leg of her slacks.

“Will you do a puzzle with me?” Kiyi asks her with a hopeful little smile. “It’s one of the big sculpture ones with lots of pieces and glue! Mommy said I’m not supposed to do them by myself because the glue is messy and Zuzu got it for me but he gets home too late and he said you like to build puzzles too and—”

“I’ll help you,” Azula says automatically, almost caught off guard by this child.

She wants to be irritated, but finds it strangely difficult.

From saying Zuzu to her love of crafts to the pink dragon shirt she’s wearing…it’s almost like looking at a reflection of her younger self. A younger Azula, from a different world without Ozai.

It once would have made Azula bitter, to see Kiyi living the childhood she never had. Living the life that was stolen from Azula.

But, looking at Kiyi’s bright smile with older eyes, Azula finds she isn’t jealous. This is a child. Even if Azula’s anger isn’t misplaced…none of it is Kiyi’s fault.

And maybe…it isn’t too late for Azula either. She’s only twenty-two. An age her child self would have considered ancient but now she realizes is still so young.

“Zuko is right,” she adds as she feels her face soften, remembering the holidays spent with Lu Ten. “I had lots of those puzzles when I was your age.”

Kiyi’s little face brightens. “Yay! Let me show you! It’s a dark water spirit with the mask and everything!”

Azula finds herself enjoying the afternoon in a way she hasn’t in ages. It’s true—she did love doing puzzles like this, despite having not made the time for it in years. She helps Kiyi hold the little pieces in place and secure them with glue just like Lu Ten did for her all those years ago. It makes her feel like a kid again—in a good way. Maybe it’s never too late to create precious memories, to find the joy in the small things.

She doesn’t realize how late it’s been until Zuko arrives home with takeout, Mother and Katara in tow.

“Mom, it’s fine,” Zuko says, seemingly shooing her wallet away. “Uncle does this all the time. He’d be offended if you didn’t want his food.”

“Mommy, look!” Kiyi interrupts them, jumping up to point at the nearly-finished sculpture. “Look what Zuzu helped me build.”

Azula raises an eyebrow. “Zuzu? I thought Zuko was Zuzu.”

“You’re both Zuzu,” Kiyi giggles. “It’s in both your names.”

Well, can’t argue with that logic. Zuko and Katara look like they’re struggling not to laugh.

Azula sighs as she turns her attention towards the kitchen, where Mother and Katara are arranging the food out on the table.

“Zuzu said my projects are cool,” Kiyi says proudly as she hops up onto a stool and reaches for a dumpling. “Mira from school said they’re stupid.”

“Sounds like she’s the stupid one,” Azula scoffs as she recalls what she’s gleaned about Kiyi’s apparent school bully from her rambling. “She’s probably too stupid to tie her own shoelaces, let alone build a water spirit model.”

That gets a giggle from Kiyi and a disapproving frown from Mother.

“What?” Azula snaps. “At least someone stands up to those shithe—people like that.”

There is so much more Azula wants to say; how acting so fucking passive hurt Azula before. Did Mother once feel the same way about Ozai? That no matter what he said and did, the ugly fuck still wasn’t above—

“Water spirit?” Katara interrupts with a nervous smile, just before Mother has a chance to shoot back. “That sounds fun.”

“It’s from an old movie!” Kiyi exclaims. “Love Amongst the Dragons!”

“Old movie?” Katara sighs. “Wow, that makes me feel old…”

Kiyi quickly moves on, as always, but Azula can’t shake the awkward tension in the room. Yet another weight hanging in the air, a conversation left unfinished. Mother has been here several days now and Azula still feels like they haven’t had a complete conversation.

Azula eventually comes up with a half-assed excuse about being tired from work before escaping to her room, sick of it all.

“Hey,” Katara finally interrupts, opening the door after a knock she didn’t wait for the answer to.

Azula sighs and rolls her eyes. “Let me guess, you’re here to tell me I’m being a selfish bitch again, and you can’t understand why it’s hard for me to be around my mother.”

“Actually, I wasn’t going to say that at all,” Katara says with a sigh of her own, surprising her. “Seems like a big adjustment for everyone. I came to ask if you wanted to join me for a little solstice get-together. It’s mostly mine and Zuko’s friends, but Mai and Yue will be there too.”

Azula pauses. She was never really much of a party person, but being home has felt suffocating lately.

Then she thinks of her latest visit with Jiang and Zirin and decides maybe looking for new connections isn’t such a bad thing.

Her lips form a small smile. “Sure, I’ll go.”

—————

Azula wasn’t sure quite what she was expecting when she arrived at Katara’s apartment—a place she hasn’t been until now—but she can’t help but feel awkward as she follows Zuko in, doing her best to read the room.

“What do they know about me?” she’d asked him on the drive over.

The way Zuko had paused before answering set her on edge.

“They know you’re my sister,” he’d said cryptically. “I know they want to meet you.”

Now, looking around the room, Azula does her best to figure out if these people want to meet her to enjoy her company, or out of morbid curiosity.

“Oh, are those your uncle’s mochi?” a girl with a bob asks Zuko, eyes widening as she approaches.

“Yeah, Katara insisted on them,” Zuko confirms as he hands them over. “Suki, this is my sister, Azula. Azula, Suki. She’s Katara’s roommate.”

Azula watches Suki turn to her with a curious expression, as if she hadn’t expected her to be there.

“…hello,” Azula greets awkwardly, racking her brain for anything she remembers Katara telling her about Suki. She could have at least warned her about how pretty she’d be. “Um…Katara says you’re into kickboxing?”

Suki instantly brightens at that, a smirk creeping to her lips. “Sure am. Up for a challenge?”

“My therapist says I’m not supposed to hit people anymore,” Azula sighs without thinking.

There’s an awkward pause, then Suki bursts out laughing. “Oh, you’re definitely Zuko’s sister.”

Zuko only rolls his eyes as he tugs Azula towards the living room.

“See? I told you they’d like you,” he says out of the corner of his mouth as they enter the party.

Though Azula would sooner die than admit it out loud, she is a little overwhelmed by the energy. It’s not that she isn’t used to large social functions full of strangers…but it’s never been like this before. She isn’t here as some guest of honor, the daughter of Ozai Sozin, a spectacle to behold.

No; Azula is simply here as Azula. Azula, the human, the person, wearing a comfortable pair of black leggings and a plain red sweater. And somehow, she’s completely out of her element. She doesn’t know these people, much less how to fit in with them.

She does like Suki, although Azula found it hard to contain her snort when she met Sokka, who had to hurriedly swallow a mouthful of noodles before nearly tripping over himself to shake her hand.

Katara hadn’t been exaggerating when talking about her brother being a bit eccentric. How did this oaf manage to score a girlfriend like Suki? Azula doesn’t think she could understand heterosexuality if she tried, although Sokka does have a certain charm as soon as he stops tiptoeing around Azula as if she’ll stab him at any moment.

Katara’s friend Toph is hilarious, though, Azula has to admit. She’s painfully, unapologetically blunt, and it’s refreshing. Azula much prefers it that way—laying it all out in the open instead of pretending problems don’t exist. She gets enough of that with Mother right now; she doesn’t need it from everyone else too.

At least Mai and Yue are familiar faces. Azula eventually finds herself lounging on the end of a couch with them, more party punch in her than she’d like to admit.

Azula snorts loudly as she watches Sokka try and fail to catch a dumpling thrown by Suki into his mouth, Katara promptly scolding him after it splatters messily onto the floor.

“You seem oddly amused,” Mai drawls.

Azula rolls her eyes. “I’m struggling to understand how he’s with a woman like Suki.”

Mai raises an eyebrow. “Jealous?”

“I am not,” Azula blurts out—maybe a little too loudly—before shaking her head with a sigh. “It’s just an…observation.”

Ironically, not a total lie.

Azula doesn’t know exactly what she feels these days. She’s done her best to avoid the subject of romance entirely since Ty Lee. During that time of her life, she’d felt so certain that they had a future together. Their relationship had represented a ray of hope—proof that Azula was capable of love, that she wasn’t doomed to the miserable life Ozai had set up for her.

It’s crushing to realize she’s running and hiding—Azula never considered herself to be the kind of person who would run from anything—but that’s exactly what she’s been doing. Azula has been called a great liar many times and even prides herself on the fact.

But she also lies to herself.

The idea that she doesn’t need love, is best living her life alone, was never meant to share a relationship with someone—all lies.

Azula realizes it now as she watches Suki laugh across the room and considers Mai’s jab. That feeling is a form of jealousy, and it makes Azula feel sickened with herself. How pathetic she is—crushing on a straight girl with a boyfriend.

“Oh, lighten up,” Mai mutters. “It was just a joke.”

Azula rolls her eyes, and turns back to the punch in her hand, hoping she’ll be able to drown her feelings with it. How would she ever find someone again? A person—her person—who understands her and loves her and always wants to be with her? She’s not worthy of it. She might know it’s something she wants, but she also knows it’s something she’ll never have.

“Azula!” Yue interrupts, thrusting a small tube of lotion into her hands.

The red tone of her cheeks and goofy smile on her face make it clear how drunk she is. Azula raises an eyebrow.

“We got a whole bunch of it at work,” Yue explains with an exaggerated nod. “It has seaweed and moonflower oil. It’s great for your skin and it smells so good…”

“Thanks,” Azula says, studying the bottle. “It’s—”

“Zuko!” Yue calls out again as he walks by. “Lotion for you, too!”

“Oh…thanks,” he says as he awkwardly catches the bottle Yue hurls at his chest with a giggle. “Katara loves this stuff.”

“But have you tried it?”

“Don’t know that it would do me much good,” Zuko says with a shrug, gesturing to his scarred cheek.

That answer looks like it’s going to make Yue cry. Oh please. How did she get this drunk…

“You should still use it,” Yue slurs, jumping up to give him a very uncoordinated hug. “It doesn’t matter that you have a scar. Your skin deserves love too.”

It’s such a silly thing, a conversation that would never take place without the assistance of too much alcohol, but something about it strikes Azula. She’s not sure what it is—and maybe it’s only just her own non-sober state talking—but she finds tears forming in her eyes.

A nudge from Mai distracts her, and Azula looks up to see an amused smirk on her face.

“Oh, shut up,” Azula grumbles, though she finds a strange comfort in the jab.

“I never expected you to be a weepy drunk,” Mai teases, then she pauses as her smirk softens. “I like it.”

—————

The party runs much later than Azula expected, and by the time Zuko asks her if she’d like to head home with him, she’s surprised by how much time has passed.

She sits in the passenger seat of Zuko’s car, staring out the window and enjoying the lingering warm haze the alcohol has left surrounding her mind. It’s nice, for once, to have spent a night drinking and laughing with friends—friends—instead of alone in her bedroom, desperate to escape from the world.

Azula still doesn’t feel certain of who she is, but for once, she finds herself not agonizing over that fact. She’s picking up the pieces—one at a time.

Once they’re back at the apartment, Zuko mumbles a quick good night before crashing on the couch, leaving Azula to wander back to her room. She lets her hair down from its messy bun and sets her things down with a sigh, only to be interrupted by a small knock at the door.

Azula opens it to find Mother, hand half-raised and a nervous smile on her lips.

“Azula,” she greets. “I don’t feel that we’ve really had a chance to talk yet.”

It’s not accusatory, but Mother’s tone—her whole demeanor—radiates discomfort. Azula can’t help but feel like she’s a child again, wondering what she did wrong.

It’s time for a talk!

Azula hates it. She hates it, because every time she feels like she’s taken a step forward, something comes along to throw her back into the past.

“I just wanted to say…” Mother continues, “…I don’t want us to be strangers, Azula. I know the past few years have been difficult, but I want to be your mother again. I want to know my daughter.”

Something wretched bubbles up in Azula’s chest. Was she? Was she ever really her mother? Azula thinks about the Mother Kiyi knows and the Mother she knew and feels bitter. She bites back the urge to call Mother weak—for never fighting for her when it counted, for waiting for the damage to be done.

It’s too late, the voice in Azula’s head reminds her. You’ve become a broken thing, tarnished by scorn and hatred, a thing that will never love or be loved. You’ll have to accept that reality eventually.

“It doesn’t matter,” Azula says shortly. “You wouldn’t want to know me now.”

You never did, she doesn’t say.

“But I do, Azula,” Mother says, her eyes shining desperately in the dim room. “I love you.”

Azula doesn’t believe that. She can’t allow herself to. Not after everything that happened.

“How could you? How could you leave me with him and act like it never happened?” Azula whispers harshly, feeling her heart begin to race. “You said it yourself. You don’t even know me. I’m not a good person.”

Mother’s expression looks hurt. “Why don’t you love yourself, Azula? You have so much going for you.”

Those were words Azula once wished to hear so desperately from her mother, but now they only make her angry. On the surface it might seem to be the case—Azula has her degree, her job, her newfound success despite the trauma she’d endured in her life.

But Azula doesn’t feel like she has anything going for her at all. She hates herself, and she can’t even look at her reflection in the mirror without being reminded of that. She hurts people. She pushes people away. She keeps thinking she’s made progress, only to remember her mind is still broken. She’ll never trust anyone enough to have a relationship again. She’ll never break the habit of dressing in the dark, of hiding from the mirror when she showers so that she can avoid thinking of her body.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she finally spits, hoping Mother will just leave.

“Azula, I—”

“You always thought I was a monster,” Azula accuses, feeling the mental dam break. “Always telling me how selfish I was. How Zuko was such a better person than me. Telling me to stop eating breakfast so I could fit in a fucking dress!”

Azula feels her heart pounding in her chest as she struggles to keep her voice down and the tears from spilling down her hot cheeks. “So no, Mother, I don’t love myself. Is that really a surprise to you?”

Judgemental glances, looks of disapproval, the constant jabs. Things that meant she was just being a mother, but that cut Azula deeper than anything.

“You made me hate myself,” she whispers, realizing the truth in that.

Some of it was directed at her, some not. Watching her mother growing up made Azula feel more and more distant from her. Azula never wanted to be like Mother. She never wanted to be so fixated on her appearance. She never wanted to be trapped with a husband she feared. She never wanted to starve herself, humiliate herself, break away piece after piece of herself until she was Ozai’s perfect doll: a desecration of her humanity that he’d expect but never appreciate.

“You made me hate being a woman!”

Mother looks like she’s about to say something. Azula almost wishes she would snap at her, say something harsh and scornful like she did as a child. Then, Azula could let out the rest of her anger. She could finally establish Mother as the villain she’d always been in her mind, and put this conflict brewing in her mind to rest.

But that isn’t what Mother does.

She only hangs her head, and closes her eyes.

She turns and leaves without a word, quietly shutting the door behind her, her posture defeated.

That’s almost the worst thing she could have done.

The tears start falling as soon as Azula is alone, and they don’t stop.

She buries her face in her pillow, letting out sob after ugly sob, as quietly as she can. Nobody can hear this. Nobody can know.

Azula doesn’t know what she’s feeling—sorrow, guilt, rage, fear, pain. Her fingers dig into her pillow as if to rip it apart. Azula resists the urge to dig her fingers into her own skin as she used to, harder and harder until blood seeped from crescent-shaped welts.

She told Mother she hated herself, but Azula realizes that’s truer than ever. Will there ever truly be a light in her life?

Sometimes…sometimes she wonders why she’s still here, if this is all it’s ever going to be.

Maybe there isn’t a point at all.

There is no future for you here. It’s too late. You’re too far gone. You’re a freak. Nobody will ever love you again.

Maybe that voice is right. Maybe—

No—that isn’t the way to think. Azula remembers Jiang telling her something not so different. Thoughts she’d had herself.

Taking a deep breath, Azula does something she’s not used to doing. She picks up the phone, and opens her conversation with Jiang.

[Azula]: Jiang…I need help.

Chapter Text

Azula can’t believe this. She can’t fucking believe it.

The office of some shrink is nowhere she expected to wind up, but if this is what it takes to get out of this looney prison, Azula will endure it.

The therapist enters, and she isn’t what Azula is expecting at all. She’s an older woman with a distinct wisdom in her eyes. Her expression is neutral rather than the forced-smile look that Azula is used to seeing from the clearly fresh-out-of-college staff.

“You must be Azula Sozin,” she greets, extending a hand. “I’m your therapist. You can call me Aunt Wu. How are you this afternoon?”

Azula regards her skeptically as she shakes her hand, the multitude of ornate rings catching her attention. “Just fine.”

Aunt Wu smiles as she takes a seat opposite Azula. “That’s good to hear. Tell me about yourself, Azula.”

“What’s there to tell?” Azula scoffs. “Haven’t you been watching the news? Besides, my file is right there.”

“I know,” Aunt Wu says simply. “But I don’t believe that’s the full story. I would prefer hearing it from you, if you are open to sharing.”

Azula crosses her arms. It seems this old woman is just as fake as the rest, after all. “What, do you want some weepy account of how I didn’t mean any of it and I’m just some poor innocent victim of society? Forget it. Everything I did, I chose to do.”

Aunt Wu just looks at her, expression unphased. “And have you ever given any thought as to why you made those choices?”

“What does it matter?” Azula challenges. “They’re still my choices.”

There is an uncomfortable moment of silence that makes Azula nervously shift in her seat before Aunt Wu speaks again. “Does it make you feel powerful to think about it that way, Azula?”

The question makes Azula pause. She doesn’t know how to answer—she refuses to agree with this woman, but anything she can think of to quip back in response would only make her seem childish.

Azula thinks, and she thinks hard. Yes; she supposes Aunt Wu is right. The choices she made did make her feel powerful—because they brought her power. Azula was the valedictorian. She was the pride of her family. She was rapidly moving through the executive ranks of a multinational company. She had everything. She had respect, she had fear, she did have power.

And yet, she’s still sitting here. Face-to-face with this shrink, in an institution she’s not allowed to leave. Azula Sozin, the revered prodigy, the heiress. Now she has a bedtime and can’t so much as clip her fingernails without supervision.

“I was powerful,” Azula finally says, feeling herself deflate as she tries to salvage that lost version of her.

The rest of it, she can’t bear to say out loud: But I’m not anymore.

Azula finds herself agonizing over that fact in the coming sessions with Aunt Wu. What did she do wrong? What made Father touch her that way—did she say something wrong, mess something up, wear the wrong skirt? Or maybe it was her reaction that was wrong. She should have kept it to herself, let him do what he wanted without putting up a fuss. If she didn’t anger him, she wouldn’t be here. She would still be powerful.

But the more Azula thinks about it, the more that idea begins to unravel. Was it really her choice at all—if failing to act in a specific, rigid way deprived her of the power she once thought she owned?

The realization makes Azula feel sickened to her core. She was never powerful; all the power she had was only borrowed from her father. If he could take it away in an instant, it was never really hers.

It’s true that Azula made choices in her life. But they were an illusion; a set of rules Father clearly defined for her, that they both knew she would suffer for deviating from. The choice is never really free, under conditions like that.

“You were right, before,” Azula admits to Aunt Wu one day, feeling broken, no longer able to deny the reality consuming her. “I didn’t really make those choices because it’s what I wanted. It just made me feel better to think I did. I didn’t want to feel…weak.”

Aunt Wu nods in understanding, no trace of the smugness the jaded part of Azula had been expecting. “You know that doesn’t make you weak, Azula. And it doesn’t make you a monster. It makes you a survivor.”

A survivor. Azula would have once balked at the idea of fitting such a label, but now she finds an odd comfort in it. Yes, she survived. She’s away from that life now—and for once, that doesn’t feel like such a bad thing.

“I was so stupid,” Azula sighs, shaking her head. “Why couldn’t I see it before? Why did I defend my—defend him?”

Ozai. He’s Ozai now. Azula refuses to think of him as her father anymore.

Aunt Wu smiles sadly. “You were a child. All children think they know the world sooner than they do.”

Azula closes her eyes. She never imagined herself here. Confessing her woes to a shrink, forced into admitting she’s wrong. Azula hates being wrong. But there is no argument here—nothing that can twist her mess of a life into something to be envied.

“It can sometimes be a person’s only way to cope with the world when they feel trapped,” Aunt Wu explains. “You want to create an illusion of a choice, because that creates an illusion of control. That’s why it feels powerful. Deep down, you know there isn’t really a choice. You know what is expected of you. So you convince yourself it’s something you wanted—something you chose. The more you keep telling yourself that, the more you begin to believe it. And that makes it all the more difficult to break away.”

“And I wasn’t even strong enough to do it myself,” Azula spits, her head spinning. “I…I let him go on, and probably would have forever if it wasn’t for that…incident.”

“That isn’t your fault. You were young. It means there were people around to exploit your naïveté,” Aunt Wu says gently.

“Why me?” Azula breathes, as if Aunt Wu or anyone else would be able to answer that question. “All I ever wanted was to be a good daughter. To bring my family honor. How did it end up like…like this?”

“Because there are monsters in the world,” Aunt Wu says in a firmer tone. “And I know you believe you are one of them—but let me say this, Azula—you are not. You are a strong person who wants to be free. And you will be.”

—————

Azula isn’t used to asking for help, but as soon as she sends that text to Jiang—heart racing—she’s glad that she did.

As it turns out, Jiang and Zirin have been missing her too. Azula doesn’t know why she’s surprised every time they seem happy to hear from her; maybe it’s just that lingering sense of insecurity, that everyone around her will leave if given the chance.

But as the days go on, Azula begins to feel a newfound freedom. It’s true that she feels as if she’s been stripped of everything she had before, beaten down and humiliated to her core. She’s only Azula, nothing more.

And despite that, there are still people who want to be around her. There are people who see Azula—the real Azula—and still love her. It’s true that things are tense between her and Mother since their little altercation, but Mother still doesn’t leave. She’s still trying to rebuild her relationship with Azula, just like Zuko is. Her half-sister seems to enjoy her company too, and at that age, it’s nearly impossible to pretend to like someone for that long.

Even Katara has warmed up to her, so much so that Azula offers to introduce her to Jiang and Zirin. Only fair since she’s met Katara’s friends, Azula supposes.

Katara is all over the idea, which is how Azula finds herself checking in for a day at Katara’s favorite women’s spa along with Jiang, Zirin, and Katara.

It’s something Azula would have never imagined herself doing in the past—hanging out naked surrounded by a bunch of other naked women all day. She expects it to be horribly awkward. Katara is dating her brother, and now Azula is about to see her too. Naked. And what if the other women there knew she was a lesbian? Would they see her as…creepy?

But somehow, Katara manages to convince her. It’s a healing experience, she says, both mentally and physically. Katara is attracted to other women too and never felt out of place. After all, there’s absolutely no way to tell. They’re all just women, enjoying a relaxing day together.

For a moment, Azula’s heart aches as she thinks about how this sounds like the kind of thing Ty Lee would have wanted to do—but that feeling of longing quickly turns bitter as Azula remembers how Ty Lee used her…and how Azula let her do it.

No; today is for Azula, something she wants to do with herself, along with her new friends.

She feels nervous as she checks in, neatly tucking her clothing away into a locker and donning a comfortable robe.

Azula takes a breath. She knows it’s an ancient Fire Nation tradition, something most of her ancestors probably did, but she’s still never been so exposed. Even before, at her prime, Azula would have felt exposed. Now, the feeling is worse—Azula feels out of shape, lumpy, soft…and she hasn’t shaved since being at the institution, her dark hair standing out against her pale skin.

But it doesn’t matter, Jiang had assured her. You’ll see other women with tummies. You’ll see other women with hair. Nobody will stare at you.

Somehow, Azula expects them to when she puts away her robe and showers before making her way towards the pools. She expects them to sneer. Azula Sozin, now a fat, hairy abomination.

But, as she walks towards the pool where Katara, Jiang, and Zirin wait for her, she finds no such stares.

What Azula finds instead is a room full of women, all relaxed and minding their own business. She sees women of every age, shape, and color. Women with wrinkles. Women with stretch marks. Women with scars. Women covered in hair from head to toe. Women with no hair. Women with small chests. Women with large chests. Jiang, with no chest at all.

Azula has never seen anything like it, and she can’t believe how natural it all feels. How human. She smiles as she sinks down into the warm water and converses with her friends, as so many others are doing.

“Wow,” is all she can say with a sigh as she feels the comforting warmth of the water seep through her skin.

Katara smiles. “I thought you’d like it. It’s…peaceful, here.”

“I used to think I’d never let anyone see me naked again,” Zirin mumbles, swishing her hand around in the water. “But this feels different than before, somehow. It feels…nice.”

“No more prying eyes,” Jiang echoes. “You’re here for you, not to perform for someone else.”

Azula says nothing, but it makes her think. Prying eyes, performing for someone else…it’s what she’s spent her life doing up until a year ago. She never was naked in front of a camera like Zirin was, but sometimes she feels like she might as well have been. Older men stared at her as if she was naked, Ozai—

Azula closes her eyes.

“Yes,” she finally says. “It does feel better not to have to perform for someone else.”

—————

Azula can’t quite put her finger on it, but she feels different after the day at the spa. More complete, somehow. She finds herself feeling oddly carefree and happy as she makes her way home.

When she finds Zuko alone in the apartment—no Mother in sight—she almost feels guilty for how relieved she is by that.

“You seem to be in a good mood,” Zuko observes. “I take it the spa was nice?”

“It was,” Azula responds pensively. She sees one of Mother’s jackets hanging from a chair, and suddenly she’s not in the mood for conversation.

“Is something wrong?” Zuko asks with his eyebrow raised. “Did Mom talk to you yet?”

Azula lets out a deep sigh, eyes drifting towards the door to her bedroom where she desperately wishes to retreat.

“That bad?” he mutters.

“She’s acting like nothing bad ever happened,” Azula says bitterly. “Like she never hurt me.”

“Azula, you know she didn’t mean—”

“I don’t care,” Azula snaps. “She left us with him. She still did it, and I don’t know if I’ll ever be normal.”

“What do you want her to do, Azula?” Zuko asks, sounding tired.

Azula opens her mouth and closes it again, feeling angry tears threaten her eyes. She…doesn’t know. She knows she wants an apology, but she struggles to think of one that would satisfy her. She wishes her mother would understand her pain, but she also doesn’t know if those wounds can be healed.

Azula does want her mother, she always has, but now she’s afraid that the mother she wants doesn’t exist. She’s not a child anymore, so there is no way to regain the childhood she now wishes she had.

“I just want her to understand,” she says quietly.

“Azula…” Zuko says cautiously, clearly debating internally about whether to proceed. “She probably understands better than you think.”

Azula feels her face contort into a scowl. “Why would she? Why would she even care?”

“I think Mom was a different person when she was around Ozai,” Zuko says sadly. “We both had to be as perfect as possible to please him…but so did she. We were kids, Azula. Who knows what happened to her behind closed doors.”

He trails off as he says it, a hurt look in his eyes.

Azula looks away. Neither of them had a particularly great childhood, but she never considered that Mother was just better at hiding her pain.

“What I mean is…Mom knows what it’s like to change to fit what someone else expects her to be. She knows how to appease Ozai to keep him from hurting her,” Zuko says. “That’s something you have in common.”

“But what good does that do me now?” Azula snaps. “I don’t even know who I am anymore.”

“Azula…”

Zuko’s voice sounds soft, empathetic, caring in a way he rarely was when they were younger. He puts his hands on her shoulders and she lets him.

“You’re free now,” Zuko says as he embraces her. “Ozai can’t hurt you anymore. There is a real Azula, somewhere, and now you have the freedom to find her. You have the freedom to ask yourself who you are, and what you want.”

Azula rolls her eyes, ignoring how misty they are as she returns Zuko’s hug. “Uncle told you that, didn’t he?”

“He did,” Zuko says with a small smile. “And…it helped me.”

Maybe Uncle’s proverbs aren’t always useless.

Azula always felt like Zuko had a very different mother than her, despite her being the same person—and maybe that’s still true. But it’s also true that Azula is a new person now, free to develop her own relationships.

And, as always, Azula desperately does want a mother.

—————

Azula would have never expected to be on babysitting duty a year ago, much less to be enjoying it.

But she has to admit, Kiyi brings a refreshing energy into her life.

Mother has a cold and Zuko has to work weekends, so it falls to Azula to look after Kiyi sometimes. She opted for a day outdoors, figuring it would be preferable than watching Kiyi gallop around the undersized living room with Mother’s stare boring into the back of her head all day.

“We should go…to Fantasy Land!” Kiyi excitedly suggests.

“Kiyi, that’s expensive,” Azula grumbles, although even if she had the money she used to, she wouldn’t be keen on sweating all day in long lines while surrounded by the sounds of screaming children and the scent of greasy amusement park food. “What else do you like to do?”

“I like candy! And mochi! And cookies!”

Azula sighs, trying to think of a response that won’t traumatize her.

Careful with the mochi, Azula. You still want your new dress to fit, don’t you?

“I…think the sugar might make you go a little crazy,” she finally decides on.

Kiyi tilts her head to the side, confused.

“You’ll, uhhh…you’ll get a tummy ache?” Azula awkwardly suggests. “If you eat candy all day, you’ll feel sick. Then you won’t be able to do anything else that’s fun.”

“I guess,” Kiyi grumbles, crossing her little arms.

“Well…what else do you like?” Azula offers.

Kiyi brightens again. “I like dragons! Do you think we could find one?”

“Um, no. Don’t think so,” Azula says, mentally kicking herself as the excited look in Kiyi’s eyes falters. “But…I bet we could find some badger-frogs and salamander-eels in the swamp in that empty lot. Those are cool, right?”

Kiyi’s smile widens. “I love badger-frogs! Mom said I would be a good scientist someday! She even got me underwear with—”

“Hey, Kiyi…let’s not show people those in public,” Azula gently scolds her sister, catching her hand before she can commit a major social faux pas. Kids.

As she leads Kiyi down the sidewalk in the direction of the swamp, Azula is once again struck by how much different Mother must have acted with Kiyi. Letting her eat sweets, letting her play in the mud, loving her unconditionally, encouraging her passions—is that what a good childhood is supposed to be like?

A flash of anger, an intrusive thought—Azula wishes she could show Kiyi what her childhood was like, what she had to—

But Azula can’t. Kiyi skips along beside her, and Azula can’t find it in her to harm such an innocent child’s spirit. What good would it do anyway? Azula can’t go back in time; she can’t steal this girl’s life for herself. What she can do is live vicariously through Kiyi, grateful that at least her sister has been sheltered from the horrors that she and Zuko went through.

“No…trespassing,” Kiyi reads, squinting at the sign on the fence next to the swamp. “What does that mean, Zuzu?”

Azula frowns slightly. “It means…no loud sounds. So we don’t scare away all the animals. You can be quiet, right?”

Kiyi grins, and makes an invisible zipper motion over her mouth.

—————

When Azula and Kiyi finally get home, trailing twigs and wet leaves, it’s late in the afternoon. Zuko must still be at work, but Mother is standing in the living room, her face clearly indicating she wants to talk.

Azula sighs. Couldn’t avoid it forever.

“Why don’t you go get cleaned up, Kiyi,” Azula suggests. “And maybe…take a little nap. So you aren’t tired when Zuko gets home.”

Kiyi looks skeptical about the last part, but she shrugs it off with a smile. “Okay!”

Azula crosses her arms as soon as Kiyi disappears into the bathroom. “What?”

“Azula, I…” Mother trails off, a broken look in her eyes.

Azula knows exactly what she wants to say, and that Mother’s hesitation means she’s trying to avoid Azula reacting like she did last time. Azula is still making up her mind on that.

“I’m a lesbian,” Azula says flatly, thinking that will be the end of the conversation. Mother stood by Ozai’s side while he said all those terrible things about people like her. Surely she must think the same.

Ironic, that the truth can be just as much of a weapon as a lie.

But to Azula’s surprise, Mother barely reacts. She doesn’t launch into the angry rant about tearing this family apart that Azula expected.

“I never meant to hurt you,” Mother says instead. “But I can see that I still did. And I’m sorry for that, Azula—so sorry. All I wanted to do was to keep you safe from…from him, but I must have failed at that, too. So I’m sorry, Azula. I can’t change the past, but now that he’s gone…I want to make it up to you. You’re my daughter, and I love you. I’ve always loved you.”

Azula looks away. She feels the tears coming and forces them back.

You should cry, Mother’s voice from the past bites.

“If you wanted to protect me, why did you leave me with him?” Azula finally says.

“I didn’t want to,” Mother says with teary eyes. “Please believe I never wanted to. But your father, he…he did things that night. Criminal things. I was scared, Azula. He threatened to kill me when I saw—then he said if I told anyone he’d kill you and Zuko. Then he forced me away…if I came back, he would have killed you. I—”

Azula finds herself speechless as Mother cuts herself off, staring at the floor in shame.

“I was a coward,” Mother finally admits, deflated. “I can admit that. I was afraid of him, Azula. But I should have fought harder for you.”

“I…understand,” Azula says, surprising both herself and Mother. “Ozai hurt me too. I did some things that I’m not proud of to try to please him.”

“He’s not here anymore,” Mother soothes, cautiously reaching for Azula’s hand. “You don’t have to do anything for him again.”

It echoes some of the feelings Azula has had herself. About her life, about her place in the world.

But for some reason, something still feels incomplete. Unresolved. How could she ever forgive Mother?

“How could you forgive me?” Azula asks instead, the tears escaping her control and running down her cheeks. “I hurt Zuko. I laughed when Ozai hurt him. I lied to the police in the hospital after Ozai burned him. You always said I was a monster. And I’ve hardly done anything to prove you wrong.”

Mother says nothing for a long moment.

“Do you think I’m a monster?” she finally asks.

Azula only stares. How did she know?

Mother sighs. “Do you love your brother?”

“Yes,” Azula says instantly, eyes dropping in guilt as she remembers how she once treated him. “I do.”

“Would you ever hurt him again?”

Azula remembers Zuko’s whimpers and gasps whenever Ozai struck him, she remembers the haunting way he screamed when he was burned, and she remembers the terrified look in his eyes when she ran at him with the knife. She feels sick.

“No,” she whispers. “I wouldn’t hurt him.”

Mother wraps her arms around Azula, and for once, she doesn’t resist.

“Then I forgive you, Azula,” she says. “And I think you should forgive yourself, too.”

Azula feels herself shudder as she hugs Mother tighter. It’s hard to believe—so hard to believe that the fears she spent years agonizing over weren’t entirely true. Mother is…right, if Azula is a monster for her past mistakes, it follows that Mother is too.

But, neither of them are monsters. Not really. The only real monster was Ozai.

—————

Holidays were never something Azula looked forward to in her youth. They always meant public appearances, stupid activities that never made sense to her, and the constant scrutiny of the world around her.

Family gatherings felt like a competition if anything. Grandfather always showed up, and it was no secret that he was an obscenely wealthy man with a sour attitude. Azula doesn’t think she ever remembers seeing a smile on his face, though she still looked up to the man.

He was her namesake, Ozai would tell her. It was important to please him to ensure that their family would inherit what they deserved of the Sozin fortune.

Try as she might, Azula never felt as if she was succeeding. Especially when Zuko was always there to mess things up. Grandfather hated children, after all, so naturally Lu Ten was always more tolerable to him.

Azula misses him, too. Lu Ten was one of the few family members she still has fond memories of, and every holiday since, she’s felt his loss deeply. It wasn’t something she could be open about—especially not when Ozai seemed oddly pleased with Lu Ten’s passing, but Azula felt it nonetheless.

The morning the festivities are set to begin, Azula finds herself sitting in her room, fidgeting with a stray piece of her hair, avoiding going out. She doesn’t know what to expect—what a happy family is supposed to look like.

Eventually, the knock that she had been expecting arrives at her door. Azula sighs. She couldn’t avoid it forever.

“Yes?” she asks.

Zuko opens the door and pokes his head in. “Everyone is working on mooncakes and dumplings…just thought you might want to join.”

For a moment, Azula is tempted to find an excuse to stay hidden, remembering that time she angrily smashed her dumpling and stormed off to her room as a child.

But Azula isn’t a child anymore, and things have changed. She remembers how Uncle said her dumplings were his favorite, because he knew she had made them.

A small smile comes to Azula’s face, one she doesn’t have to force.

“Sure,” she says. “I’ll help out.”

Azula steps into the light, and finds the kitchen a mess with dough and fillings laid out on every available surface.

Kiyi is happily playing with the dough while Uncle works on the dumplings, and Mother is showing Katara how to make mooncakes in the corner.

Zuko takes his seat beside Kiyi, and motions to an open seat next to him. Azula cautiously takes it, but everyone seems happy to see her.

“Azula, I’m so glad you could join us!” Mother says. “You know how to fold the dumplings, right?”

Azula refrains from responding with the snarky remark that’s at the tip of her tongue.

“Yes, I do,” she says as she sits down and starts rolling out some dough.

Why is this stressing her out so much?

“Zuzu!” Kiyi says excitedly. “Could you show me?”

Zuko and Azula’s heads both turn towards her at the same time.

“Didn’t Uncle just show you?” Zuko asks with his eyebrow raised.

“Yes, but I want you to show me too!” Kiyi giggles.

Uncle looks like he’s trying not to laugh. Azula is about to ask whether Kiyi is referring to her or Zuko, but Zuko is already flattening out two bits of dough and showing Kiyi.

Azula pauses, feeling an eerie sense of déjà vu as she watches them. It’s like staring back through time at her younger self, watching through older eyes as her mother taught her the same thing so many years ago.

“Okay,” Zuko says, handing Kiyi a bowl. “After the dough is flat, use the bowl to cut out a circle like this.”

Azula watches his face carefully. He doesn’t look at Kiyi with a critical eye, as if he’s judging her work for quality. His eyes are full of love, happy at the opportunity to spend time with his baby sister.

“Good, now put a little meat in the middle—no, not too much,” Zuko continues. “And don’t put the raw meat in your mouth!”

Kiyi only giggles in response to his scolding as she sets the excess filling aside. Azula can tell that Zuko is struggling not to laugh despite the cranky tone.

“Here—no, don’t pinch it so hard,” Zuko instructs as Kiyi struggles to form a dumpling. “Try like this…see, isn’t that prettier?”

It strikes Azula, then, as if she’s watching her own childhood from an outside perspective. Zuko scolds, but he does it out of love, not out of anger. He corrects, but not because he thinks Kiyi is worthless. He’s teaching her. Gently, kindly.

Just like Mother once did to Azula.

Maybe Mother really did love her all along, but Azula herself was too traumatized to recognize it. Azula feels her eyes growing strangely misty.

“Azula?” Mother asks, her voice breaking through the fog. “Is everything alright?”

“Yes,” Azula says as she rolls out her dough, softly, honestly. “It is.”

For so long, she’d been under the scrutinizing gaze of Ozai. Every misstep punished, every childish mistake a sign of failure.

But life doesn’t have to be that way.

Azula feels joy like she hasn’t felt in ages as she forms her dumplings, just like Mother taught her so many years ago. Zuko smiles more than Azula ever remembers him smiling in their childhood, and Kiyi giggles next to him, sheltered from the pain her half-siblings had endured in their past.

Across the room, Katara holds up her first mooncake with a bright smile on her face, showing it off to Zuko who tells her how beautiful it is. Azula can only hope to have a relationship of her own one day…with a person who actually loves and supports her for who she is.

As if sensing her thoughts, Mother looks at Azula and smiles. “When you bring home a girlfriend, I would be happy to show her, too.”

Azula finds herself too choked up to respond.

—————

The festivities continue, and Azula finally notices something that had been bothering her all day—Uncle. At first, he seemed so standoffish with Mother, and now, they’re laughing together as if nothing had happened.

“So…what happened with Mother?” Azula asks quietly, as soon as she has a moment alone with Uncle.

Uncle pauses before scanning the room, clearly making the same assessment as Azula. Katara is helping Mother in the kitchen, and Zuko is entertaining Kiyi.

He sighs.

“Your cousin, Lu Ten, was gay,” Uncle finally says. “As you can imagine, that didn’t go over well in our family.”

Azula feels her blood run cold. Did they…? Was he…?

“I didn’t know the details of what happened that night,” Uncle continues. “I loved your cousin…I loved him dearly. But I’m afraid my encouragement of conforming to the family expectations pushed him away.”

Uncle looks down, years of pain weathering his face. Azula can’t meet his eyes. Part of her doesn’t want to know this story, even if Uncle seems to have nothing but love for people like Lu Ten and Azula now.

“Lu Ten loved to party, that was no secret,” Uncle continues. “Your father resented this, you see, he thought your cousin was unworthy of the family name. So” —Uncle swallows thickly— “he had your cousin killed.”

Azula feels her cheeks heat with fury, hating the years she spent worshiping the man even more. “I thought it was a car crash!”

Uncle nods solemnly. “It was. But not an accident.”

Azula feels a curse slip from her lips as she watches her tears fall to the floor.

“Then, not a week later, your grandfather died in his sleep and your mother disappeared,” Uncle sighs. “You can see why I was suspicious…if Ursa would kill one member of my family on Ozai’s orders, why not two?”

Azula’s eyes widen, the perfect, docile, feminine image of Mother shattering before her eyes.

“But I was mistaken,” Uncle says ruefully. “Your mother told me what really happened. It was Ozai who was responsible for your cousin’s murder…and almost your brother’s.”

Azula looks up at him in shock. “You mean…”

“Your grandfather was not of sound mind, but still immensely powerful,” Uncle continues. “Ozai suggested he take my inheritance since I no longer had a son, and your grandfather was livid. He threatened to write Ozai out of his will…unless he killed Zuko.”

Azula still remembers the night she came down the stairs of their house to find out that Grandfather had died and Mother was gone. Nine, she was, and Zuko…only eleven.

She stares across the living room to where Zuko is carrying a laughing Kiyi around on his shoulders and feels her heart sink. He’s nearly twenty-five now, but Azula still can see that annoying yet sweet child he was still shining through. Ozai…was going to kill him? On the orders of some crazy old man?

“That’s why your mother did what she did,” Uncle says solemnly. “At least I no longer have to carry the anger I felt towards her, but my son, he’s still…”

Azula shocks everyone—herself most of all—by leaning forward to embrace her Uncle. “I know. I loved him too, Uncle.”

Uncle smiles at her through teary eyes. “You and Lu Ten were always close. You had more in common with him than you knew.”

His eyes turn more serious as he places a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t be ashamed for who you love, Azula. Your father and grandfather are gone. I swear to protect you just as I have your brother.”

Azula turns back to Zuko, now sitting on the floor as a laughing Katara and Mother clean the sticky rice that Kiyi had put in his hair. Remembering what a wreck he used to be gives her hope…if Zuko of all people could learn to behave like a regular person again, so could she.

“Figures that Zuko was the only one to turn out straight,” Azula snorts, desperate to break the awkward silence. “Imagine the look on Ozai’s face.”

Uncle’s eyes twinkle as he smiles back. “Destiny is a funny thing, Azula.”