#azula knowing where to find zuko and going to him if her own volition…

[fossilfan39]

Azula thinks that because she’s not treated like zuko that she’s “better”. her entire self worth is based on her brother’s abuse as a means of keeping her in mental competition with him. In their father’s eyes, Everything that is “good” about her is relative to the failures of zuko..compelling her to participate in the abuse to maintain her position as “the good one”…and zuko being told he could never even be in competition with Azula, because he could never compare, making him feel the need to prove himself through obedience. All the while their father is using both of them for his personal gain, couldn’t give less of a shit about either of them, and they’re none the wiser because they’re too focused on each other.

They are seriously one of the most accurate depictions of sibling relationships in abusive homes I’ve ever seen.

[sebsunset]

Creation, Both Haunted and Holy - CHAPTER 2!

I’ve been working on this thing for weeks straight, to make it as amazing as possible!

As always, I am dragging @muffinlance‘s AUs into my work

this is the angsty one :) yUP, the year-old au!

and don’t worry, i have another one in progress... also using a muffinlance- inspired au- one of the more obscure ones, i think!

Mother Hama is. Suspiciously nice to write, and very angsty

TRIGGERS: Graphic-ish descriptions of wounds and child abuse! Please beware, my dudes! Things will get better soon, but this is really really bad right now!

LINK: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25578904

OR, READ HERE :) 

In the moon’s light, an urutau-vulture screeches out its song, pure and eerie grief ringing out in the wind.

And that’s how Zuko’s mind briefly comes back to reality.

Awareness fading in and out with each breath he wheezes through.

With wakefulness, comes the purest of agonies. A mouth open, voice too hoarse to scream out for help.

The hot pain, all over him, the memories tugging at his head, the memories of-

The burning. A cleanse that felt so dirty, like-

Oh, the sheer smell of it-

Of him.

The smell of cooked meat is his.

He wheezes out a cough, remembers the time Mom had no servants to help her, and had asked Azula to light up the fire for them to cook.

He tries thrashing about, to get a good view.

Mom ought to be around there, around somewhere.

(Even if it’s been so long since she was last around.)

She must be there, somewhere he can’t see, maybe in the blurry shade of the trees. She will bring a bucket and cool water, and she will hold him and-

“W-Where’s mom?” he tries asking, to nothing, to no one.

But only one of his ears hear it, the raspy, damaged sound that he can hardly recognize as his own voice.

He tries to ask again, words broken, tear tracks he can only feel in one cheek.

The burning pain he struggles to breathe over.

He doesn’t know what happened, but he can’t move. Can’t do anything, nothing but begging for it to go away.

“Where?” his voice comes out, finally.

The pain in his throat finally registers with the blabbered words, and suddenly he feels like he’s been screaming for all too long.

I’m sorry, Larva, says the feeling of hands on him. I’m so sorry it came to this.

Ghostly hands that don’t quite hurt when they touch his left side.

There is no shadow to hold him, though.

He can’t remember what happened, but the questions come to his mind nonetheless.

Why does it hurt so much? Why is his arm numb, why can’t-

Go to sleep. I’ll keep you safe, little Vessel.

The voice is soft, warm.

And, as the moon sings her song, his brief moment of awareness fades off.

Only one eye closing, as he breathes out again.

Painful, laboral.

His last thought is that he hates it.

The tone in the voice.

It’s all too-

.

.

.

-

It’s in the way the moon sings, as the boy’s skin peels off.

It’s in the way he doesn’t let any infection set in.

Scabbing away as the days pass, as Vaatu tries to heal him.

But there’s a reason the two of them were together. Glued, some might say.

Possessed, united fully.

He is part of Zuko, he is his mind and he is confined, locked away from seeking any further help. Not while the boy is that hurt, not while he can’t be awake and alive on his own.

Were it not a tragedy of occasion, his tendency to lock himself in the tiniest confides would be quite entertaining to watch.

Maybe, were it not happening to him, of all creatures.

Truly, he has been reduced to cowering on corners, to being not much more than a shadow.

Was it selfish, to wish for freedom when he had given it up to save his Vessel?

The two of them had done it.

An Avatar State of their own volition.

A sacrilege against the nature of a human body, a way to twist and bend their souls, braided together into a necklace of rope.

He doesn’t want to tell his boy what happened.

What the two of them had done.

He was too young to know what their purpose really was.

What would happen next, once he managed to get Zuko awake for more than a few minutes, enough time for them to scavenge, to do anything?

But keeping him awake, at that moment, would be nothing short of insane.

Yes, he must change. But this is too painful. Vaatu can feel the pulsing, the infection begging to seep in, to eat away at their flesh.

The way the dead limb hangs limply, charred black. The way the damaged leg attracts flies, like a plate of fruit slathered in honey, only kept away by him.

Blisters that look like they could open into eyes, watch the world for them all.

And so, Vaatu brushes off the sickness, scares away the vermin.

Lets his presence seep through, for nothing can keep him from affecting the world, not even being tied so deeply to his vessel.

The woods grow around them, thick foliage, colorful flowers in the vines.

No other spirit to bless or curse them.

Just the lonesome pocket of the world to which Vaatu and his Vessel have gone.

He is the eye of the shadow, the chaos that lurks deep in that tiny, undisturbed piece of the world.

He is a warning to the creatures.

He warns the world to stay away, lest it feel his disruption. His returning strength, his effect on the world around them finally taking place again.

Now that they are united, he can see that they could easily become unstoppable.

Rotting limbs thrown into any position, blackened flesh still smelling like it's been cooked.

The way it all brews in the two of them is nauseating.

The sickness is in the bursts of consciousness, when the one eye that can close opens up, blurry from tears.

When his head faces up and he sobs, lonesome and in pain.

Vaatu tries keeping the pain at bay, even if just by lulling him to bed.

Their vengeance is yet to be completed.

Disaster will strike again, he will make sure of it.

He tries telling, he tries consoling.

We will come back, he says. Rest for now, their fate is incoming.

But he is just a voice in his head, the feeling of a ghost-limb that can't really pull back hair, brush away feverish sweat.

Even if their Vessel is growing more powerful, Vaatu feels as weak as he can be.

But, as consciousness slips away again, he can’t help but notice the way the world is shifting around them.

The way the rabbit-mice has started chasing the otter-fox.

It is a victory, but it feels wrong.

-

Unsteady feet, weight put all into one as Zuko drags himself up.

The pain is hot and hard, it almost drives away the overwhelming hunger.

He didn’t think it could get that bad.

It could be worse, Vaatu says, but his voice still sounds angry.

Maybe not at him, but angry nonetheless.

(Angry like-)

When coherency slips away from his mind, when the pain is too much, as each of his slow, measured hops grows more and more exhaustive, he feels something in him beg for destruction.

But he won’t.

In the same way that Vaatu won’t bring him food, in the same way he will stay quiet, never saying a word of what happened to him.

Zuko wants to proclaim that he isn’t forgiven, but for the moment, his focus is on the steps.

Barely more than hops, as his one useful hand hangs onto trees.

Bare feet, grass scratching up against the angry, still-bleeding skin.

The question is pressing, rubbing against the back of his mind, as he cries out and whines, intense pain barely dimmed.

How is he alive?

All firebenders are taught about the sheer power of their fire, about the great deeds and prowesses they can achieve.

About how much damage they can inflict upon their enemies, when they chose not to end their suffering.

It should be infected.

I am trying not to let that happen, Vaatu whispers in his head, like it's a secret, like saying it out loud will destroy their chances of it getting any better.

 He isn’t moving in the shadow.

“The left side feels green.” he says, barely noticing he’s speaking at all.

Sunlight streams in through the gaps in the foliage. The moon is going to rise up soon, and the world is orange and it all feels green.

Find help, the voice instructs. You need someone to help you.

“First, food.” he argues, hearing the rumbling of his stomach. “I mean- Where there is food, there are people.”

You make a surprisingly decent point, he says, and there ought to be some farmhouses around here.

Zuko shudders.

People watched back there, people saw his shame burned into skin, his last rite of passage.

His whining sounds pitiful to his own head, but he can’t make his mouth shut up.

Involuntary sounds, flinches and shudders, as he drifts through.

Tall grass scraping against his wound, every touch sending new jolts of it.

The gentle breeze, the falling petals of flowers, blown away by the wind.

All so gentle. The kind pulsing of the world’s fiery heart, a piece of peace in the battlefield of its little nations.

And all so, so very painful.

Maybe this tells more than it shows, but pain is hard to show through words, hard to show through barely coherent thoughts, by the mind of a child who had never been through such great agony before.

A bad leg that can’t sustain his weight much longer.

Tiny complaints amidst panting.

He feels like he is the only source of noise. The world is eerily still.

Holding its breath.

Zuko shudders, tree bark scraping at tiny hands.

He looks down on himself.

A foot half-blackened. White and violent red, all blistered and-

Cooked. Broken.

Zuko doesn’t look at his left arm.

He is all too broken, all too destroyed by the time he’s been through.

You aren’t, says the voice.

Scabs that peel away too easily, like they were never meant to form.

Droplets of blood calling for any animal. He is prey, and the world is so, so very much now.

The disorganization of the world doesn’t manage to feel quite right, quite how it should be.

Like someone’s disrupted it before, like they’ve re-organized the world into something it shouldn’t be.

Something hangs in the air, hidden but never overshadowed by the smell of his tracks.

Yes, deliberate.

They’re onto something, he realizes.

A pike of wood, somewhere from which a scarecrow once stood.

“A garden.” he says. “I think we’ve found a garden.”

Purring at the back of his head, his blurry eye half-focusing around him.

A bush at the entrance.

Calling to him.

Food.

It has to be food.

Overtaken by hunger, he can only see them.

The rest of the garden is just carrots, little beets and a cabbage or two.

Nothing that looks that sweet.

And so, Zuko drops down, hisses in pain and twitches about, before grabbing a handful of berries in his one hand.

Vaatu takes a minute too long to realize they’re the kind used to make rat poison.

-

Her abode is a humble one.

A tiny inn she’s set up, rooms rarely occupied.

Of course, she has other places for travelers to sleep in.

It’s her lair, made of damp wood, of floorboards that creak comfortably under her old feet. Of roofs that leak, of the smell of a harmless old person.

She has a thousand little closets, a million nooks and crannies.

Hidden memorabilia, memories she’s carved back up for herself.

All wheatered by rain and by soot, but kept clean and tidy, far away from the fire.

She didn’t have many clients, but she had more than enough time to tend to the ones she had.

And so she did, for a time.

She kept herself satisfied, working towards her goals day in and out.

Followed through with a routine, day in and day out. Cooked plenty for herself, made sure she had the energy to follow through with her tasks.

That night, she can feel the full moon.

A welcome presence above her, making the world pulse with her divinity.

She has blessed the woman with her presence, and so, that night, she will go…

Watch the moon.

It’s a nice way to talk about the indulgence in her favourite of all things.

When she can make the world malleable around her, when she can dance and sing, pulling at the strings that bind the world together.

She smiles, feels it pull at her eyes.

That night will be formidable, she thinks

With finality, she treks along.

Yet, she doesn’t feel alone.

How can she, when the full moon rises, making the world finally feel alive again?

 The leaves crackling under her feet as she strides, the roots and branches snapping under her like she is a mighty beast.

Remainders of the sun’s warmth slowly seeping out, Tui taking her rightful place in the throne of the sky.

Her court of stars, rising slow and steady in its march.

And the world is silent around her. She knows it ought to be gawking at her, the last of her kind.

“Oh?” comes out of her mouth, before she can even stop herself.

An ear strained out.

“What is that…” she tsk-s in amusement, looks around with a half-absent mind.

Just what poor creature dares it, to choke in her garden, to foam over the leaves of her poison, to die in Hama’s territory?

-

Wakefulness comes slowly.

 His brow furrows in confusion, only half his vision able to focus.

But he doesn’t need to.

All Zuko sees is darkness.

He shivers, suddenly hit with the sheer cold of the room.

It's eerie.

He doesn’t know where he is.

He lashes out, trashes about.

His feet burn. Tied together with rope.

There are no windows, the space cramped. The sickeningly sweet smell of mold, the only sound meeting his ears, his own panting.

Like a piece of bread that’s been left hanging around for all too long.

Something is wrong.

It’s in the way his tongue feels garbled when he tries to talk, it’s in the way he can’t quite move.

It’s in the involuntary twitching of a dead limb, that he can’t stop, even when it hurts.

He can’t sit up, wouldn’t even if the dizziness would let him.

Vessel, are you okay? comes to his head.

Why didn’t you stop me, he tries asking. Where are we? Why are we here?

There are no little hands in the shadows, no feeling of a ghost hand touching him.

But the pain is dulled, pushed back.

Cloaked.

“Where am I?” he looks around. “Va-Voice, where are we?”

Someone brought us here, Larva. Get up,  I’m curious.

“Then move on your own.” he spits. “I’m tied up. Stupid.”

Regret makes him shake his head, but Vaatu is too old to hold up a grudge.

I can’t. We are united now, Larva. We are one in the same, and wherever you go, I go too.

“Chained?” he remembers. Like he is. Stuck, chained.

Chained. But fret not, my Larva, for stagnation will not come back to us. For now, though, you shall recover your energies.

A groan, as he lifts his hand, swipes a bug from his brow.

You sound like Uncle goes unsaid, but leaves the taste of bile on his mouth nonetheless.

Shudders, head shakes. The feeling of strands of patchy hair brushing against his shoulder.

He may not be alone, but there's no armor, no protection.

Zuko shivers, suddenly cold.

A part of him would give anything for that surge of power, for the feeling of the elements at his will, ready to be summoned up, to be harnessed and used as he deems fit.

For anything that can protect him, even with the collateral damage.

He can’t do anything, but he struggles to turn to his side nonetheless, to crawl out of the pile of rags that was his bed.

He can’t get up, so he drags his body along, pulls it slowly.

A trail of blood from his left side, scraped against the floorboards.

Dragged by his hand, whining and growling.

He can’t untie himself, no matter how much he tries.

Some kind of different knot - intricate, woven tight.

Vaatu guides him slowly, words that barely register to his mind.

Nausea, the feeling of ants crawling at the tips of his fingers as he drags himself to the door.

Get to the door - away from the fabric, it burns too easily - and then you can burn through the rope.

And suddenly, he wants to scream.

“I’m not burning myself. Shut up!” he plops onto his right side, drool pooling at the left corner of his mouth.

Beyond his control.

You know how to control the heat. It wouldn’t hurt. It's like pulling a bandage.

“Shut up.” he tries screaming, but his voice comes off hoarse.

… I apologize. I understand your fear, Vessel.

“I’m not forgiving you.”

I won’t let you stagnate for long, but feel free to stand your ground for a few more days.

“I’ll give you a week.” A bit of snark, that comes off soft.

A dry chuckle that breaks through the darkness.

He rolls his eyes, but can’t bring a smile up. He knows it would hurt. It would sting on his face, it would pull at the burns.

He reaches the door, struggles onto his knees, pulls at the handle.

Rattled, shaken, pulled and pushed with the feeblest of strengths.

Breaths growing quicker, as the weight of what he had done sets onto his shoulders.

Oh, what he did-

You should’ve eaten your vegetables, comes out as a light-hearted attempt, falling so very short.

“Shut up.” he wants to yell, because he’s locked in a strange home and oh Agni-

It’s dawning on him, slowly and steadily, just what he did.

Just what happened.

He hurt them.

(He did much worse.)

Falls to the floor. Looks at his one hand.

Now only one. Covered with little burns, old marks of his failures set onto his wrists. Little reminders of hands that were once there.

His breath, puffing out as smoke in the dark, cold room.

And suddenly, tears are falling down onto his hand.

(Father did that.)

No voice to comfort him. Nothing but the oppressiveness of his lonesome state.

Zuko wants to drown in tears, but his left eye refuses to cry, his bony body refuses to shake with sobs just yet.

So he just shrinks in there, holds himself close through the pain, pretends someone else is there to hold him.

"W-why?" He asks, feeling only half of his mouth move.

Words coming out garbled, blabbered through tears.

No answer comes, and he feels all alone.

He is a big boy, he wants to remind himself.

A big boy indeed, and that's why he cries and cries and cries, ignoring how the hollow place of the moon is soon filled by Agni’s eye.

-

The walks back home tend to be a less than exciting ordeal.

Oh, of course there's glee. Catharsis, even.

But lately, there’s some more than that. There’s the weight of the years on her shoulders, the soreness on her legs, the ache engraved deep into her bones.

That’s the vengeance of her people, of the men and women slain, torn down from the inside, overtaken by insanity.

She was meant to do it. It was why the art had come to her, it was why she had mastered it.

To bring down the rain of vengeance.

Nonetheless, that particular walk was made through with a quicker step, with a less vengeful head.

She had spent so long hurting, and the ones who hurt were the ones who learned how to heal the best.

She knew where to make it ache, and she had studied plenty of how to heal before.

(Kanna and her, studying scrolls that would be burned less than a day later, until late at the night.

Listening to the tribe's men sing and dance around the campfire, laughing and betting. Rolling their eyes, t hey healed eachother with little kisses by the moonlight, as Hama listened to Tui's song, to the calling of the full moon.

And with her friend's mittened hand in hers, she closed her eyes and felt the warm pulse of a world suddenly coming to life.

In the night's light, the cold wind whipping against their warm bodies, they danced together.

A dance that would soon turn into brisk movements, into desperate jabs.

But, at the moment and to that very day, the times before were painted with a rose-tinted glass.)

What mattered was that she had a patient, someone hurt as badly as she once was.

A son of ash and soot, a child with an eye burned open, blinded but still moving.

A child whose mere existence, whose life was astounding to her. How could that little thing keep going, how could he crawl to her and lay by her grassbed?

A little creature that proved her either insane or lucky enough to have a spirit in her hands.

He was going to be useful, she had decided when she found him foaming at the mouth, turning and twisting, rubbing dirt all over the open wound.

She’d cleaned him up, she had left him a nice little room, for an ashmaker that had yet to pay her back.

He would be grateful, that was certain.

And she’d seen first hand, how gratitude could destroy a man. Break down his flesh, make him bow and worship like a dog.

(She'd stood, suspended in her cell, watching an affair below.

The guard with bright yellow eyes, a glint like that of golden daggers, pointed towards her favorite prisoner.

A young woman, barely more than a girl.

She was from a neighboring tribe. Beautiful button nose and plump lips, bowing down low, foreign words slipping off her tongue.

She was meant to sing to the moon and the sea, but she sung their tribe’s songs upon anyone’s request. Danced as well as she could, tied up in chains.

A slap to the back of her head, something in the dirty ashmaker's speech.

A correction, two apologies delivered in a low bow.

Forgiveness in the form of a plump bowl of jook and not much else.)

Her garden blooms around her.

What little use she could make of the soil there. Little plants, poisonous berries. Nothing too beautiful or lavish. She was just a humble old woman, afterall.

She’d been nice, asked around the village. Seeds, some tools. She was sweet and defenseless, and nobody ever dared suspect her to her face.

The village had never been a tribe.

And the house she lived in had always been just that. A house. Some might stretch it and call it a lair.

Not quite a home, as much as she tries to keep it cold, to make it feel like one when she closed her eyes, and look like one when she dared open them up.

That place is still a land of fire. Lava below her, the sun all too hot, not a single break in his wicked reign.

She misses the polar winters. They’d always been so good for weeding out the weak and the fiery alike.

Perhaps her glasses are tinted blue, contrasting all too sharply against the blood-red of that place.

But the point still stands in her mind. That place is no real home.

It doesn't have the foundations to be one.

It doesn't have the people to make it one.

There’s no Kana or Panuk or any of the children running about. There is no tribe to embrace her, no new stories to tell around the campfire. No dealings with the neighbors, and no polar-bear sled dogs to lead to the market every month.

There’s only the oppressive loneliness of a single person lost in the sea of snakes.

But for now, she can rejoice in the luxury of a new toy. One that can be mended, sewn and filled up with the truth. A child of ash, all hers.

(Malleable as the water she’d once sculpted into ice.)

Slow footsteps, steady smile. A bit of excitement, despite the bits of a lazy cat in her demeanor.

The doors of the inn, all open and empty.

Until the locked closet.

It’s their smallest room. It’s perfect for someone that small, that frail.

A plant left in a pot too big will soon spread, grow out of control.

If he grows up well enough, if his leaves twist and bend and his roots stretch out as he tries to reach the sun, she will put him on a leash.

Hama had been wanting something to keep her entertained.

-

He sobs and heaves and nearly vomits once or twice.

Snot and bile, no comfort, no caress.

Not a word amidst the fit. Nothing that he can hear, nothing that can make itself noted in his mind.

His body hurts, but there is no infection to take him away, to lend him a hand.

He can’t think straight. Repulse fills his throat whenever he thinks of himself, whenever he opens his eye for enough time to truly see himself.

And he can’t do this, he thinks.

Like any child does, he slips into a spiral, falls down and down.

Thoughts swirling in his head, screams that his throat can't force out.

Until something breaks through, snaps him out of it.

The sound of a door creaking open.

A tiny stream of the morning’s light drifts into the room, so gentle yet so bright, revealing dust that doesn’t quite form bunnies and mold growing on the walls of a cramped closet.

The decrepit coldness is suddenly accentuated, with the gentle warmth that hits his back.

He shudders, suddenly, as the light is taken away.

When he turns, a figure stands, back-lit in the doorway.

Old and hunched, his blurry eyes barely able to focus on anything but her kind smile.

He turns to her, ready to question why she left his legs tied up, why she locked him there, how long he'd been alone, what she wants to do now-

“Are- Are you-” he tries stuttering out a question, but suddenly, he realizes he doesn’t know just what he wants to ask.

She comes closer, looks down upon him.

“Bow down and ask, young one.” she says, gently. “Be respectful of this old woman, won’t you?”

Vaatu growls at the back of his head, and, for a second, he forgets that his friend is simply locked inside his mind, with no real effect on the world once they’re not alone.

So, he breathes in deep, pretends there’s nothing wrong inside him.

And drops down in a rigit bow, so the kind woman won’t burn him.

“I am Hama. Who are you?” a cane pokes his burnt side, the arm that’s no longer there.

Deep breath. He knows who he is, and so will she.

“I’m Zuko. Son of-”

“Nobody.” she says. The harsh word startles him, slipped in such a gentle voice. “Not anymore. Not after what happened to you.”

He tries again.

“Zuko, son of P-”

A poke from the cane, right in a blister. He flinches and hisses, unable to stop himself.

“You are a son of nobody.” she says, her voice sweet as the smell of moldy grain. “After all that must’ve happened to you, it’s better as that. Poor thing.”

That silence lasts for a few seconds, before her voice returns, kinder, to his sight of nothing but fetid floorboards.

 “Now, young one, tell me, what have they done to you?”

He won’t say. He won’t speak out again.

Not when Vaatu hisses, pure in his anger, taking over his head.

“Don’t you think you owe me that, after all I’ve helped you with?” a cane pokes his head, gently thumping against his skull. No real intention for pain, not on his bad side.

He gulps down something.

A single tear hits his lip, salty against the bitterness in his mouth.

Why does he cry? Why do the tears betray his mind, why does his gut feel so raw?

“I- I was burned.” he says.

“That I can see.” she says, gently. “Now come on, darling. I must know your affliction to heal you.”

“I was burned and banished.” he says. Words spilling out dirty and fetid and spat out like falling teeth.

But he tells no more. Hopefully, she won't see any tales of spirits, any curses or blessings to destroy.

(What if she wants to cleanse him, too?)

“Oh, dear.” she says, voice perfect in compassion.

Be careful, Vessel, Vaatu says in his head. His voice no longer a hiss, just a thought at the back of his mind. Do not trust her. Do not.

“That is very unfortunate.” she says. “Then, you aren’t Zuko, are you? As a banished boy, you have no name.”

“I- I still have my honor.” is the only defense he can give her.

And she laughs.

It would be warm, infectious as any other disease, were it not happening at that moment, when he felt raw and when his vulnerability was so easy to turn into anger.

“I am Hama, and you are Nobody.”

This is the point where the scene should end. Here, it should all fade away to silence, to maybe a sob or two, a twitch or whine at his own discomfort, until he is instructed to get up.

But please, remember just who we are talking about.

Nothing ends when or how it should, down here.

“B-But-” he tries stammering out, his heart thundering in his chest. His voice can’t come out as a scream, but it tries.

Maybe, a part of him thinks, his voice will be heard then.

She pokes him again, straight at the ribs.

“Nobody.” she says. “Nobody, with that attitude.”

If only she knew, he wanted to say.

Be nobody, Vaatu whispers, locked inside his head.

Zuko wants to fight. He wants to bite and gnash and destroy, to bend and twist and fall upon that state again, that state that made him-

“Not nobody,” he says. “I- I’ll prove to you. I’m not nobody. I swear on my honor.”

He can feel her smile.

“Son of nobody, then.” she says. “But make good on that promise, please.”

Hissing in his head, he looks up.

Tap, straight at a hollowed-out cheek.

“Stay down.” she says. “The light might hurt your eyes, so keep down low, son. I’ll get you something to eat.”

-

[seyaryminamoto]

Hey! Do you really like Zuko and Suki together or you just ship these two just so you can ship the best and hottest ship ever aka Sokkla? In any case, why do you think Zuko is better off with Suki out of all the avatar characters? Thank you and pls stay healthy.

XD well, it’s a mix of both, I guess.

The truth is, I read the comics and I sensed the romantic vibe between Zuko and Suki because I don’t think anyone who has had much experience with romantic fiction could see those scenes and not think there’s SOMETHING going on there. I mean, seriously, the hand reach in The Promise, Suki unnecessarily correcting herself in The Search to say EVERYONE is worried about Zuko, not just her, their moonlight conversation in Smoke and Shadow…? Come the heck on. If neither one was in a relationship, most people would be reading all those scenes as blatantly romantic.

Still, I stayed neutral as far as Zuko ships were concerned until I met a Zuki shipper who read my first story, The Reason, and roped me into Zuki without much trouble :’D (if you’re wondering, that was @jordanalane). It didn’t take her too much work to convince me to ship Zuki, because yes, it was convenient as heck to have Zuki happen when you ship Sokkla, but I was already half-on-board with it as I was…

Now then, if you’d like to know my actual, rational reasoning for why I’d ship it, the truth is that I’m not exactly the biggest Zuko fan (as some archive diving in my blog would show…), and most the ships I’ve seen for him seem to exacerbate what I really don’t like about his character. Meanwhile, Suki seems to do the exact opposite thing…

Mai is Zuko’s canon girlfriend, and I was more or less neutral towards this ship at first… but upon further reflection, I found I didn’t enjoy their relationship that much. Maybe they could work well with each other… if they were more mature and less impulsive :’) but Zuko’s behavior with Mai through most of Book 3 only convinced me that he’s absolutely not grown enough to have healthy romantic relationships with anyone (and seeing as Mai was pissed at him 9 times out of 10 throughout Book 3, I think my perception isn’t exactly off). Both have their faults, and boy, in the comics Mai is a much worse offender than Zuko if you ask me, but the point is that, while canon certainly has been very realistic by not turning their love story into the perfect, smoothest fairytale, I really don’t think they’re much good for each other as they are, and the only way they could get better in the future is if they grow a LOT, on their own, before trying their luck at being together again. The likelihood of that, however, isn’t exactly great :’D

Then there’s the most famous pairing for Zuko, Katara, who actually feels wrong to me for the exact same reasons as Mai would, despite Katara is on the opposite end of the spectrum Mai is, character-wise: the thing is, both Mai and Katara have a ton of things in common with Zuko, but not necessarily good things. If Zuko and Katara were, as well, less impulsive and more mature, they might make a decent enough match. But as they are in canon? They’re every bit as likely to self-destruct and tear each other down as Mai and Zuko were. Where Mai and Zuko share a jaded, gloomy perspective of the world, Katara and Zuko share a hot-headedness that means every tiny thing could easily lead to catastrophic, world-ending arguments between them. I mean, if Zuko could have huge arguments with someone as cold-blooded as Mai… just imagine with someone as hot-blooded as Katara :’) And I DO see the virtues of this ship, namely the ones that resemble, to a fault, my particular OTP… but I honestly can’t see Zuko and Katara being good influences on each other, romantically. Friendship-wise they could be healthier, but romance means expectations and complications that, like I said, I don’t think Zuko, as we last see him in canon, is prepared to deal with.

There’s other Zuko ships, naturally, and I won’t get into all of them, I just bring up these two because they’re the biggest ones… and so, why would I ship him with Suki rather than with Mai or Katara or anyone else? What exactly could make her a better match for him?

Suki has a few things in common with Zuko… but they’re not the things Mai and Katara have in common. The first, and most important of them for me, is that Suki (in her initial episode) seems to put a lot of stock in honor and duty as a Kyoshi Warrior. I’m not at all in the “Zuko is the most honorable man in the Avatar world!” camp, if anything I believe he needs to learn a LOT to really understand honor, even at the end of the show and at this point in the comics… whereas I don’t have the same feeling with Suki. Not only did she fight for her people, defending them from any threat even if she might die for it, she also was inspired by Aang, Sokka and Katara to travel the world, not with some angry intent to defeat the Fire Nation and end the war, but…

And while “changing the world” could easily be interpreted as “she wants to defeat the Fire Nation at any cost!”, what do we know Suki was up to between Books 1 and 2? 

Suki wanted to HELP people. Compare this to the banished prince who stole from them instead… :’) Suki didn’t have an Avatar leading her group, telling her this was “the right thing to do”, she simply does it because she believes it is, deep down, and she doesn’t just wait around for someone else to step up, she chooses to take action by her own volition. She doesn’t need anyone telling her what’s right or wrong, she has strong enough principles that she can tell what is and what isn’t, all on her own :’) Doesn’t THIS sound like honor? Duty? Doesn’t this sound like someone who actually sets a great example, as far as these concepts go?

Compare this to Katara, who was easily influenced by Zuko into wanting to kill a man, who shifts between “I want to steal things because I feel I need them” and “OMG Toph how dare you scam people that’s so unethical” at the drop of a hat? Yes, Katara’s heart is in the right place, but Katara is highly emotional and hot-headed… so as many good intentions as she may have, she can do pretty awful things without even realizing how awful they are (as in the case of the theft, she doesn’t even blink about stealing clothes from people in The Headband and then is utterly aghast about what Toph is up to merely a few episodes later… come the heck on). Compare it, too, to Mai, who apparently loves her baby brother so very much (according to her fans and to Smoke and Shadow, at least…), but didn’t even blink when Azula decided they couldn’t trade a toddler for a king, and declared the deal was off without betraying the slightest hint of remorse? Do we really know that Mai has decent principles at all? She doesn’t exactly betray Azula because she ideologically disagrees with her, she does it to save Zuko. Which leads me to wonder, what on earth are Mai’s morals? What does she value other than Zuko? If she values Zuko more than anything… heh. Yikes. Definitely sounds like theirs will be a healthy relationship if that’s the case, huh?

I can’t imagine Suki being swayed easily by any wild or stupid ideas Zuko gets if she knows they’re stupid AND wrong. She’d put a stop to him where Katara or Mai could get swept into whatever he’s up to (whether out of excessive empathy or apathy, in either case), and she’d be likely to set him straight before Zuko can take anything too far. As far as morals go, I will always hold that Zuko leaves too much to be desired… but Suki really doesn’t. Could be because we don’t know Suki as well as we know the other characters, but what little we do see of Suki, she doesn’t do anything that merits much reprieve. Most importantly, she never needed, like I said, Aang or Sokka or anyone else to tell her what she had to do, to correct her morals or anything of the sort. This by itself already makes her, in my opinion, the best possible character, in canon, to stabilize Zuko and temper his most chaotic impulses while teaching him, by example, what honor really looks like.

Now, that’s not all: Suki is highly independent and has experience as a leader. Zuko has always tried to be independent too, succeeding in some situations, failing in others. Of course, there’s a stark difference between independence and loneliness, and Zuko does have tendencies to isolate himself from others whenever he gets stubborn and wants to prove himself… fortunately, that’s one of the things I do think the show helped him with, as he did learn there’s nothing wrong with asking others for help. Still, I’m sure Zuko would like to handle things on his own, without needing everyone to help him… and once again, Suki can set an example for him in that sense. She makes her own decisions, fights for what she believes in, follows her heart and such, and never self-destructs in the process… all of which must sound idyllic to Zuko, who I’m sure has always wanted to be like that, too.

Maybe it sounds confusing for me to advocate for a couple while saying the characters ought to teach each other to be independent :’D but the way I see it, this is, if anything, a good thing: Zuko shouldn’t be in a co-dependent relationship, not unless he’s HIGHLY developed, far more than canon and most fics allow. Being with someone who doesn’t need him 24/7, who respects him and knows how to give him space, who wouldn’t be invasive and who would teach him not to be invasive too… through a relationship with someone like Suki, Zuko could genuinely learn to respect someone else’s independence fully, and figure out how to be like that, too.

As for the leadership, Suki has only led Kyoshi Warriors, a small group… so it may sound like something that can’t be compared to leading an entire country. But that’s REALLY part of my problem with Zuko… I’m sorry, but the point at the finale where everyone looked to him as though he’d lead them into finding Aang was absolutely absurd to me. The argument that he’s the one experienced at figuring out how to track down Aang DID make sense and salvaged the scene for me, but as far as leadership is concerned? Sokka by far outdoes him in that area, he literally led a goddamn military invasion and later in Sozin’s Comet he’s seen strategizing and leading Toph and Suki as he orchestrates the downfall ofthe worst of Ozai’s conquest/destruction force. I mean, seriously...

… Anyways, got sidetracked :’D the point is, Zuko hasn’t really been much of a leader in canon. Has he been in a position of command before? Yeah, he was in Book 1. But does this mean he’s a LEADER? A born leader? Yeah, we didn’t see remotely enough of him in a leadership position that could have convinced me of that.

Hence, Iroh theoretically should be a great influence for him in those regards, because Iroh not only was raised to be Fire Lord for well over 50 years, Iroh has been in positions of leadership before, he’s even apparently the leader of the White Lotus. Therefore… Iroh is a good idea. But what did canon do? They sent Iroh on a retirement plan to a teashop in Ba Sing Se and Zuko had to fend for himself! :’D fascinating, right? 

While of course Sokka could be a great influence and help Zuko too, as far as leadership is concerned, canon chooses to keep him chasing after Aang and Katara without any aim or purpose… whereas it chooses to send Suki to Zuko as bodyguard and eventual confidante. Like I said, Suki does have experience as a leader, even if only on a small scale: couldn’t she be eligible for helping Zuko figure out how to lead the Fire Nation, through sharing some of the lessons she learned as leader of the Kyoshi Warriors? It even offers the possibility of Suki and Zuko learning side by side in some regards too, since this whole royal mess isn’t at all what Suki would be used to… so that allows interesting dynamics and complications to arise too, and they can both grow and learn a lot together.

Point and case being, I just can’t imagine these two ever getting into a fucked-up toxic romance, whereas I absolutely can see something of the sort with virtually every other Zuko ship I’ve known. Granted, the whole “But Sukka and Maiko are canon so they’d be cheaters!” side of things can lend towards an unhealthy situation, but I’d honestly rather not portray these two as cheating on their current love interests for each other…? Anyone who wants to is free to do as much, of course, but it’s barely necessary if you ask me :’D people can break up, and get together with other people, without needing a Days of Our Lives-sized drama along with it.

So, in short, I really think Suki is the healthiest possibility for Zuko. Pretty much every harmful thing I can think of in any other Zuko ship is ruled out with Suki. Even as friends Suki would be a great influence on Zuko for all the reasons I said above, but the reasons I mentioned above are also why I think that, if Zuko got to know Suki better, he might find himself smitten before he knows what’s going on: she basically embodies everything he ever wanted to be. He’d be full of admiration for her, and she’d probably be utterly clueless over why x’D and that even offers interesting romantic dynamics to the two characters. I can imagine Zuko being a bit of a tortured old-school romance hero who feels Suki is absolutely magnificent and wonderful and perfect… while she’s like “so is he ever going to pin me to a wall or is it all in my head?”, and frankly that’s about the best possible idea I can imagine in a relationship involving Zuko x’D

I do ship Zuko in a few other ships, I’ve mentioned before that I like Toph and Zuko, but I like Toph and Zuko as a temporary thing (and ONLY with a fully developed Zuko too, once they’re both around 20-30 too). It’s a cute enough ship, but I don’t really think it could last, and I don’t think they could offer each other nearly enough of what Suki and Zuko can offer each other. Hence, I’ve always envisioned Toph could be more of a casual love interest for Zuko (a big reason why is because I can’t imagine Toph consciously settling down with anyone…), and I’ve seldom written it into anything because I lean harder towards Zuki. Gladiator-wise, Toph and Zuko would have been AWFUL together, no matter if I had a few people asking if I could make them a thing :’D hahaha, nope. I like the ship plenty, but it would have been dreadful.

Anyways, yes, Zuki is highly convenient and compatible with Sokkla, but that’s far from the only reason to ship it. Canon may go in whichever direction it wishes, I’m pretty sure they won’t find anything better for Zuko than what they already toyed with in the comics with him and Suki.

Granted, a few of these arguments aren’t exactly suitable for Gladiator’s Zuki, but there are many other arguments to be made there (I actually leaned very heavily into the honor side of things when Zuko first saw her in the Arena, precisely because I think that particular side of Suki would be one of the first things to appeal to him about her). Either way, be it in canon-based settings or in my own particular AU, I’m pretty sure Zuko’s best match would be Suki.

[dancingkirby]

Azula Week Day 5: Smiles

Summary: Zuko decides to invite all of his and Azula’s illegitimate half-siblings to the brunch on his and Mai’s wedding day.  It goes less badly than Azula had feared.

Warnings/Notes: Multiple non-graphic references to past sexual abuse of multiple underage girls, leading to one death and one near-death in childbirth.  (Don’t worry, it has a happy ending!).  Classism, internalized misogyny, etc. on Azula’s part.  OC-heavy.  One GoT reference that sort of wormed its way in there under its own volition.  

Word count: 2667 (longer than I had been anticipating!)

After many, many delays, the day of Zuko and Mai’s wedding was finally imminent.  There, would, of course, be intense media coverage and a general holiday for the populace, as well as thousands of guests. However, Zuko had also come up with the idea to have a pre-wedding brunch for family and close friends only. This wouldn’t be so outlandish, except that to him, “family” included Ozai’s bastards…every single one that he could find.

“Even the commoners, Zuzu?” she had sighed when he broke the news.  “It’s not a good image.  People at court are already talking.  We ought not to remind everyone of our baggage.”

“They’re not baggage, Azula,” he retorted.  “They’re our siblings.”

“Half-siblings,” she corrected as she brushed a cherry blossom from her shoulder; they were sitting in the courtyard watching the decorations being put up.  

Azula,” her brother admonished.  He spent what seemed like an absurd length of time trying to figure out what to say next, looked to make sure the decorators weren’t eavesdropping, then added, “I’ve been to their houses, you know that.  I’ve spoken with them personally, and I know all of their names and their stories.  You don’t want to know what I found out.”

“Don’t I, brother?” Azula inquired in faux innocent tones.  Zuko rubbed a knuckle against his forehead.

“Fine.” He conceded. “Here’s just one of the stories. There was a girl.  Lian.  Her father died suddenly, and her mother was sick a lot.  So she and her older siblings had to find jobs in the palace so the family wouldn’t starve.  She wasn’t even old enough to legally be hired, but they found work for her in the laundry under the table.  Her job was to go from room to room, gathering the dirty clothes.  I think you can see where this is going.  And…she died giving birth.  She was just a child.”  Sparks flew out of his nose as he exhaled forcefully.

“You’re rambling, Zuzu.  And watch the volume,” Azula stated almost without thinking.  Internally, however, her mind was spinning.  As much as she hated to admit it, Azula had not been prepared for that last part.  Died? Five years ago, she would have dismissed Lian as not fit to live anyway.  But now…she knew that she herself had been near death in that same situation, no matter how much the doctors had tried to sugarcoat it.

She was able to remain expressionless, however, and asked, “And the baby?”

“His name is Chun. The youngest of the bunch; just turned four.  Cute kid.”

That would place his conception sometime in the weeks after the Day of Black Sun, during which Ozai had lost his last vestiges of self-control and everyone else in the palace suffered.  For all she knew, Lian could have been one of the ones Azula herself had witnessed; she’d never bothered to find out any of their names.

“Any other dead?” she queried.

“No, thankfully.  Many of the mothers have permanent medical problems, though.  Some have turned to alcohol.  A few of the kids were adopted out.  Acknowledging and welcoming them and their children...well, it’s the least we can do.  It’s the…”

Wait for it.

“honorable thing to do.”

And that was that.  Once the h-word was added to the equation, there was no changing her brother’s mind.

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It was the morning of the big day.  Zuko had decided to get the inevitable family photos done at the brunch, since Fire Nation weddings were lengthy and the smaller children would probably be tired after a long day of ceremonies.  Currently, he and Mai were standing at the entrance to the courtyard, greeting the guests as they walked in.  

There were twenty-one acknowledged bastards; everyone at court knew that.  Zuko had managed to track down an additional twenty-three, and he wasn’t even certain that he’d found them all.  This meant that their lord father had sired at least forty-six children…well, technically forty-seven, Azula thought as she fingered the footprint pendant on her necklace.  Twenty-eight of those had been born during his not quite six-year reign as Fire Lord.  Had she not known for herself how insatiable Ozai had been, she may have found the number mind-boggling.

What was more, their heretofore unacknowledged half-siblings tended to skew younger than the acknowledged ones.  The noblemen of the court who were actually decent people (or at least concerned about marriage prospects) had started keeping their young daughters home a couple of years into Ozai’s reign.  That meant a veritable flood of children ten and under, most of them having never come anywhere near the palace prior to this.

She nibbled on a green onion tartlet as she stood on a slight rise, surveying the goings-on in the courtyard.  Some children were wandering around, looking at their surroundings with big eyes.  A sizable group had been attracted by Ty Lee’s impromptu acrobatics performance.  Ursa was sitting by the pond, commiserating with some of the young mothers.  Kiyi had taken it upon herself to give people tours of the grounds whether they asked for it or not.

But…where was…?

Azula was so lost in her thoughts that she didn’t even fully register the timid tug on her sleeve until it was repeated a few seconds later.  She looked down for the source, and saw a small boy, wearing what must have passed for finery in whatever tiny village he came from.

“Bathrooms are that way,” she said for about the tenth time today as she pointed with her finger. But apparently that wasn’t the reason this child had sought her out.

“Are you the Princess?” he asked.  Except the “r” sounded more like a “w.”

“I am,” she confirmed. Then she watched, bemused, as the kid sank into a kowtow with surprisingly good form for a child of that age…not to mention a peasant.

Azula would not smile. She would not smile.

“You may rise,” she told him automatically, with all the solemnity she would give to an adult.  He sprang back up.

“Aunty said we have to do that if we see the Fire Lord or Fire Lady or Princess,” he explained in a rush.  “I saw the Fire Lord and he said don’t do it, but I wanted to do it because I practiced!”

Pwacticed.

She…was smiling, wasn’t she?  Damn.

“What is your name?” she asked him.

“Chun,” he answered. Azula had already had her suspicions when he had mentioned an aunt instead of a mother, and this confirmed them. This was the one Zuko had mentioned, whose mother had died.

“Well, Chun,” she said, “Your aunt was correct, generally speaking.  However, Zuzu does have his hangups about etiquette.  If you really want to pay obeisance, I would suggest a bow instead.  Would you like to learn the correct form for that?”

“Yeah!” he cheered.  Azula was quite sure that in the entire history of the world, no four-year-old had ever been as enthused about learning courtly manners.  

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Chun had the three different depths of bowing down in about five minutes.  Azula had always considered herself good at sniffing out potential, and this child had heaps of it.  Perhaps one day he could find work as a palace bureaucrat, and even ultimately be appointed to a seat on the Fire Lord’s council.  She supposed that Zuko’s incorrigible stubbornness had had some merit for once; otherwise, Chun’s talents would have been wasted among the riffraff.  He was also tremendously eager to please, and refused to leave her side.  Azula got the feeling that nobody paid much attention to him at home.  

It almost made her wish that she hadn’t been so harsh toward Mai’s younger brother a few weeks ago. For someone who continued to know nothing about children except that they liked gross stories, she sure seemed to attract a lot of children.  

As the two of them wandered back to where the main crowd was, Azula provided a running commentary about their various half-siblings.

“That woman in the glasses is Anshi, the oldest,” she informed Chun.  “Great with numbers, and even beat Iroh at Pai Sho once.  Very boring conversationalist, though.  The lady in that hideous gown next to her is Zhilan.  She can lightning bend, yet refuses to actually learn how to use it effectively because she prefers to spend her days arranging flowers and playing the erhu like a proper lady.”  She shook her head.  

“She’s fat!” Chun exclaimed brightly.  Azula chuckled.

“Sssh.  Well, to be fair, she doesn’t have my flawless physique, but actually she’s expecting her third child.  Perhaps she thought that people would be so blinded by that monstrosity of an outfit that they wouldn’t notice?” She pulled Chun along before her vision was permanently ruined by what even Ty Lee would likely reject as too over-the-top.  Although it was unclear how much of her gossip the child actually understood, he didn’t appear bored.

“There’s Ichiro; he’s skilled at archery and so aloof that he makes Mai seem warm and inviting. And…ugh, that’s Eri, stuck-up as ever. Do not go near her,” Azula cautioned. The girl apparently ruled over the Royal Fire Academy for Girls just as Azula herself had done a decade earlier, but unfortunately lacked the intellect to be anything more than a common bully. Best to give her a wide berth like Kiyi did.

“Who’s that?” Chun piped up while pointing at a pair of children dressed in bright red from head to toe.

“Those are Akane and Akemi.  Twins. They’re the youngest of the Acknowledged, and they’re…”

Azula never got to say exactly what it was that Akane and Akemi were, since just then, there was a commotion at the courtyard entrance.

“Sorry I’m late!” yelled the new arrival.  As she turned to greet the soon-to-be newlyweds, her face was somewhat obscured. However, Azula had no difficulty recognizing her.  She’d know that short haircut anywhere.

Ruanyu.  Azula’s breath caught in her throat.  They hadn’t seen each other in nearly five years.  After so long without any contact, she’d been starting to think that her half-sister was dead.

“How about you run over to the Fire Lord and show him your bow?” she asked Chun.  He scampered off happily enough.

Azula was not anticipating that this would be a happy reunion.  Once, they had been close, and Azula had even allowed Ruanyu to call her by her given name.  However, she really had treated the girl more like a pampered yet disposable pet than anything else, and had all but forgotten her in the events leading up to Sozin’s Comet.  In fact, she hadn’t remembered that she had left the girl to her own devices until months later, when she was in the hospital.  

Then Ruanyu looked her way, paused for a split second, and began running toward Azula at top speed. Azula steeled herself, her heart racing. She remembered that the feisty little girl had held her own in sparring matches, and she was prepared to repel any firebending that might come her way.

What she was not prepared for was being nearly knocked off her feet by the sheer enthusiasm of her half-sister’s embrace.  When they pulled apart, Azula attempted to remain stoic, but the sheer magnetism of Ruanyu’s famous ear-to-ear grin was too much for her to resist.

“I see you managed to escape,” she commented dryly.

“Yeah.  My mom smuggled us out after the whole Phoenix King thing,” Ruanyu answered while shrugging, as if it were of no great importance.

Azula became painfully aware that everyone in the courtyard was watching them.  In fact, Zuko was leading the spectators in some applause, Ty Lee ran over to get her hug, and Mai made a cough that sounded a lot like the word “Finally.”

“You knew about this, didn’t you?” Azula accused Zuko.

“We wanted it to be a surprise,” was all he said in response.

“It seems that you succeeded in something for once,” Azula remarked in as deadpan a tone as she could manage.  Then, to Ruanyu, “Let’s go talk somewhere more private.”  Ruanyu agreed, and they retreated to Azula’s favorite shady little enclave.  Once they were out of earshot, Azula decided to cut right to the chase, as she looked at the face that was almost like looking in a mirror.

“If you’re angry at me, then say so.  Don’t hold back on my regard.”

Ruanyu bit her lip as she considered.

“I was angry at you.  Really angry for a while,” she commented.  “But I decided to forgive you.  Zuko told me about what Ozai did to you.”  Her eyes hardened.  

“Did he do anything to you?”   Azula had to know.

“Nah.  Well, he kept saying all this creepy stuff, but I was always faster than him,” Ruanyu replied.  She was obviously trying to be casual, but not quite succeeding.  She was sixteen; old enough to know that she had only just dodged a lightning bolt, and that others had not been as fortunate.

“And just what have you been doing these past years?” she inquired.

“Mom took us back to the village where she grew up.  She wanted me to settle down with some boring man and raise a family.  But that’s…not me.  So I’ve been doing a lot of traveling, seeing the world,” Ruanyu explained. Yes, Azula remembered her half-sister’s thirst for adventure well.  In fact, she had briefly considered taking the girl to the Earth Kingdom, but had decided against it since she knew that Ruanyu would never have gone along with taking Zuko and Iroh prisoner.  

She asked, “Any plans for after the wedding?”

“I’m not sure yet,” Ruanyu answered.  “I think I might stay at the palace again for a bit, then set off again.  I’m interested in seeing that new city that Zuko and his friends are building; he told me that they’re looking for settlers.”

Someone cleared their throat behind them.  “Did someone say my name?”  Azula turned to see that Zuko was indeed present, with one twin hanging off each arm.

“Yeah, I was just telling Azula that I wanted to see Republic City.”

“Well, we’d be glad to have you there.  But, uh, anyway, I came up here to tell you two that the photographer’s setting up.  He has a prototype model of a new kind of camera; one that can take the picture instantly.  I thought the younger kids might find it harder to stand still.”

“Don’t get him started on that special camera,” Mai chimed in as she walked up with Chun trailing behind her.  “He’ll probably spend our entire wedding night talking about it.”

“Not the entire night,” Zuko protested.

“Oh, really?  I suppose I will just have to make sure that you keep your word.”

Azula said, “There are children here, you two!” in almost perfect synchrony with Ruanyu’s “I don’t think I wanna hear this…”  They must have pulled identical faces, since Akane exclaimed, “More twins!”

“Oops.  Forgot about the kids,” mumbled Zuko. “So…yeah.  Picture time.”

And so the soon-to-be-wed couple kissed as they temporarily parted; Mai had to leave to undergo the ordeal of getting dressed in her many-layered wedding outfit.  (“If I’m really lucky, maybe it’ll actually get done sometime this decade,” she said.)  Zuko eventually got the whole group of Ozai’s progeny rounded up.  As her brother enlisted Sokka’s help to explain how the camera worked to those children who had never been photographed before, and Azula snuck appraising glances at the latter, she felt oddly at peace. They made for an odd collection of individuals indeed, but Zuko had been right just this once.  That awful trial was behind them, and they were all stuck in this same recovery boat together.  

After some time, they were all arranged in a more or less organized manner, and Azula made sure that her necklace would be clearly visible in the picture.

“Smile!” the photographer ordered.

And, as they saw weeks later when the developed pictures were sent to them, nearly everyone had.  Even Azula.

[seyaryminamoto]

Hey, I love your fanfic and your analysis about ATLA. I think you have good grip on Avatar's characters. So how do think Iroh and Azula would react after finding out that she is his daughter? (I've read recently fanfic where it was a case and I was wondering how you image something like that).

O__o well... yikes. While people can absolutely explore the notion of Iroh and Ursa falling for each other and even having an affair behind Ozai’s back... the idea personally squicks me. Not just because of the age gap, but because my favored interpretation of Ursa and Iroh’s relationship is diametrically opposite to this xD

Anyways. I’ll try to shake off my personal take on the subject, if just for this ask...

If Iroh was Azula’s father, I don’t think he’d be remotely as unforgiving towards her as he was in canon. I’d assume the fic would feature that difference, though I can’t know unless I read it, but Iroh was very close to Lu Ten, to the point of losing sight of his life’s alleged purpose because of the loss of his son. Years later, he takes Zuko under his wing and outright says Zuko is “like a son” to him. If this fic proposes an Azula who is his illegitimate child, I’d expect Iroh’s entire understanding of the world would be upended once again and he’d probably go bonkers trying to “rescue” Azula from Ozai’s influence.

And while this possibility sounds relatively nice, it also highlights, in the end, how merciless Iroh was towards Azula in canon, to the point of treating her as though she weren’t even family, something I’ve always complained about. There are more favorable takes on Iroh’s character than the one I usually adhere to, but I don’t think anyone would even doubt that Iroh would jump to help Azula no matter how violently she rejects him, or how many times she does, if she were his actual daughter... and that’s a huge departure from how he acts towards her in canon.

Azula, of course, would be aghast to be Iroh’s daughter. Hell, she wouldn’t even believe it at first. I’d assume Ozai doesn’t know, otherwise he’d likely never have favored Azula as he did, probably would’ve had her killed in a fit of wrath over Ursa’s betrayal, no matter how talented Azula may be... and one of Azula’s main priorities is retaining her position as Ozai’s prized, perfect daughter, no matter what. It could be an interesting storytelling route in which to take Azula’s character (albeit not one I’d personally want to explore) since it would shake up all the foundations of Azula’s self-worth. At the same time, it would offer a writer the chance to develop a slowburn dissatisfaction for Azula with her father’s regime, putting everything she’d ever taken for granted into question gradually.

Like I said, it could be an interesting storytelling route for her character, and one method to slowly redeem her since a writer could, presumably, take this newfound bond with Iroh, that Iroh will surely fight for, and use it to develop Azula. In this case, I CAN see Azula’s growth mimicking Zuko’s a lot more than under any other circumstances... for she’d reject Iroh, for sure, probably even more violently than Zuko ever did. Again, it’s up to the writer whether to use this to redeem Azula for sure or damn her into eternity... but it’d offer a faster, even easier way to do it than by keeping her as Ozai’s daughter.

Yet it’s not something I’d honestly go for, because I really like the notion of Azula, as a trueborn daughter of Ozai’s, learning to change her views and overcome her father’s influence upon her by growing of her own volition... yes, she should be aided by people, and no doubt, Iroh could be one of them if developed that way. But I see it as far stronger, for her character, to go from the Fire Lord’s golden daughter to a rebel against Ozai’s regime by her own convictions, especially if she still holds affection for her father that he surely doesn’t deserve. Her loyalty to Ozai is far more tragic than a lot of people see it as, and breaking off their father-and-daugther bond, no matter if he still raised her, would likely serve as an easy, quick way to convince Azula to forsake that loyalty and turn it towards Iroh instead... aaaaand there’s just so much potential in developing Azula as Ozai’s daughter that a faster, quicker solution doesn’t appeal to me in the least, even without going into the territory of how badly it squicks me out to imagine Ursa with Iroh.

Still, it’s not my place to say whether this should be written or not xD It can work, and I can see it resulting in a relatively favorable relationship between Azula and Iroh if that’s what the writer is going for, but it’s not my thing