What A Way To Start A Year
T/im learns a little something about karma, friends, and care. Seems even J/on isn't quite as cold as he seems.
A M/agnus A/rchives fic, set somewhere pre-season 1. Shouldn't have any spoilers, but proceed with caution just incase~ (nothing late game, just character dynamic things)
Welcome to "I meant for this to be a little drabble and I wrote 3k words"~ Having a bit of hyperfixation and burn out as I started this new year, soooo I decided to make T/im suffer <3 Not promising quality seeing as I wrote this all in the span of tonight, but consider it a lil 'too long' drabble, and happy new years!
Best way to start off the new year, giving one of your lil guys a lil snz <3
Characters: T/im, M/artin, S/asha, and J/on.
Word Count: 3.9k
(CW: There is some swearing, and light descriptions of high fevers)
Christmas had been good this year, maybe the best it had in a long time. Life of the party as always, Tim had enjoyed getting to spend it with his old, and new, colleagues. On top of that, Jon had been laid up with a pretty awful cold for a couple days leading up to it, so he wasn’t around to crush any brilliant ideas Tim came up with.
This led to the budget receiving a fairly substantial hit, though many researchers donated to the cause when they learned this borrowing wasn’t exactly approved. Hell, even Elias had pitched in, claiming something or other about ‘archivists fit for the job not exactly growing on trees’, and wanting to ‘save some of Jon’s sanity’.
“Tim? Are you even listening to me?”
Pulled back to the conversation at hand, Tim lifts his gaze to the taller man fidgeting nervously in front of him. Martin was never one for confrontations, and usually the first ‘no’ would have been more than enough to lead to a string of apologies for even asking. Today however, he seems to have grown a spine. At the worst possible moment.
“Oh come on,” Martin continues, missing the groan slipping from Tim’s throat. “Even Jon agreed to it!”
“I’m not really in the party mood,” Tim retorts, leaning back in his chair. “Besides, Jon didn’t agree to celebrate, he agreed not to stop the celebration. Not the same thing.”
From across her desk, Sasha gives a low chuckle. “He’s got you there, Martin.”
“Can you at least give it a little thought before turning it down?” Martin insists, completely out of character for someone usually so eager to please.
What the hell has gotten into him today? He didn’t even seem to enjoy himself that much at the Christmas party. Sure, he had a few drinks and mingled with the staff, but he’d left as soon as it was over, not waiting around for chatting like Tim and Sasha.
Clearing his throat with a grimace, Tim casts Sasha a dark look as she chuckles again. Knowing far too much, as usual. Especially when it came to him. If it was anyone else, Tim would hate it with all his being, but given that it’s Sasha… well it’s a welcome invasion.
Still, it would be nice if she didn’t rat him out. And to Martin of all people, well let’s just say he saw what happened when Jon was sick. Yeah, passing on that one. Attention is great, Tim lives for it, but the coddling? Not really his style.
“hiEH– guh…”
Damn, that had been a close one. Thankfully Martin seems oblivious, though Sasha sits up in her chair, reaching down into a drawer to fish something out.
Turning his focus back to Martin, Tim provides an offer, desperate to just have the interaction come to an end.
“Fine, I’ll show up, but I don’t want any part in planning it.”
“Oh of course, I’ll handle all the details, I mean it’s just a new years party, how much can there really be to do? I mean food, timing, gotta make sure we have keys to the building– oh but if Jon’s there, that shouldn’t be a problem…” Martin says, rambling beginning to fade into the background as Tim finds himself unable to-
“hH– ek’CHhiew!”
“-Oh, bless you!” Martin says, his own thoughts long forgotten.
Unable to get a word out, Tim merely waves a hand, ducking into his shoulder for another, “eTChhew!”
“Bles-”
And another, “iTSChh’ew!”
“Oh ble-”
And another, “ehh– kTChh’iew!”
Silently Sasha stands, handing Tim a pack of tissues. Must have been what she was looking for in the desk. Once again, knowing more than she should, of course she picked up on his patterns.
Accepting them gratefully, Tim pulls a few out and roughly rubs at his nose, pointedly avoiding Martin’s worried gaze. Gripping his still trembling nose through the tissue, Tim sucks in a tight breath through his teeth, holding for a beat, before finally spinning around in his chair for a final-
“hH’ETCSHh-ieuw! Whew, bless me.”
Martin’s hands are fidgeting again, seemingly unsure of what to do with himself as Tim gives his nose a light massage through the tissue. He’s aware enough not to point it out, but is nearly shaking with the effort of suppressing his concerns.
With a sigh, Tim meets his eyes. “I’m fine, Martin. I always sneeze like that.” He leaves out ‘when I’m sick’. It also happens if he’s suffering allergies, though he doubts that would be a point in his defense given it’s the middle of winter.
“Yeah he’s not kidding,” Sasha pipes up, throwing Tim a wink as he glares. “You should hear him in spring, once it starts he can be going for hours.”
“I wouldn’t say hours, Sash-”
“Remember the cherry blossom incident?” Sasha interrupts, sending a sugary smile over to Martin. “He was wrecked for the rest of the day, I was almost certain he was never gonna stop. Even considered giving a statement here, that reaction was almost supernatural.”
Tim winces, an audible moan slipping from his lips. “We swore to never speak of it again.”
Sasha laughs, Tim giving her another playful glare from behind his tissues. “You swore that, I did no such thing.”
Thankfully Martin doesn’t pry, having enough common sense to offer a polite chuckle, and offer some excuse about ‘planning’. Still, he can’t help himself from shooting a meek “I hope you feel better soon” over his shoulder, Tim giving him finger guns in return.
“This is karma, you know,” Sasha calls after Martin’s outside earshot. “You took pleasure in Jon’s suffering, so now it’s your turn to suffer the same fate.”
“No, thi- eTChhew! Scuse me,” Tim says, rubbing his nose with the tissue one last time before depositing it in his nearly overflowing trash can. Another tissue is plucked as his eyes begin to water, nostrils flaring with reckless abandon. Never just one.
“kTChh’uew! hh’iTChh –uew! Tihhckles… eTCHh! etchh’uh! hiehh–”
The last one toys with him, tracing the rims of his nostrils, back up his sinuses, a gentle itch that seems to burn against every inch of his nose. Finally, with a desperate gasp, Tim ducks into his wrist for the last, “heh’ATChhh –iew!”
“Many blessings. Sounds like you need them,” Sasha offers with a wince, tossing another pack of tissues over, which Tim catches with a single hand, the other still gripping his nose.
After taking a moment to clean himself up, Tim shoots her his signature smile, ignoring the eye roll she shoots back. “Where was I?”
“Admitting this is karma?”
“It’s not karma, it’s lack of common sense. Going to a party where a coworker is sick, and still drinking and eating the same meals” Tim says, aiming a rough cough into his sleeve.
Sasha winces once more at the quality of the cough, hands rummaging through her drawers once more as she tosses a reply back. “And yet you’re the only one who caught it. Seems like karma to me.”
Closing the distance between them in a single stride, Sasha places a hand on Tim’s shoulder, voice softening. “It’s two days till new years, why don’t you go home and try to get some rest? I doubt Martin will object, and I’ll cover for you with Jon.”
Before Tim can form his rebuttal, Sasha places a box of paracetamol and a jar of vapor rub in front of him. Nodding his thanks, Tim lets out another harsh cough into his arm, leaning as far away from Sasha as he can manage.
With a light rub to his shoulder, Sasha walks to the door, holding it open with a pointed look. “Go home, you sound awful.”
“Alright, alright. I got the message. hH’ETchhiew!” Tim says, gathering his care package and beginning his walk down the hallway.
“If I hear the rest of that fit happening in this building, I’m telling Martin how ill you really are,” Sasha calls after him, a smile flashing over her face as Tim holds up his hands in mock surrender, before ducking back into his arm with another muffled burst.
—
“You look horrible.”
Tim manages a weary smile from behind the tightly wound scarf. “Thagk you.”
Martin winces, standing in the doorframe, seemingly oblivious to the winter chill soaking into Tim’s bones. Even just the walk from the train station was hell on earth, standing out here is doing him no favours.
Turning away with a throat scraping cough, Tim manages to clear the congestion enough to finish the sentence somewhat understandably. A great feat, given how fast his voice is retreating. “May I remind you that I’m only here because you insisted.”
“Right, well I… I didn’t know how bad-” Martin begins, realizing spreading across his face like a wildfire as a chill leaves Tim breathless. “Oh god, I’m making you freeze to death while you’re already this sick, I’m so sorry, come in, I’ll go make you a tea.”
Tim nods his thanks as he piles inside the warm institute, cursing his aching lungs as each breath of warm air seems to burn them from the inside out. Martin rushes away, nearly crashing into a few researchers as he makes his frantic dash for the kitchen.
The scarf is reluctantly removed, a shudder running through Tim’s back as the warm air does nothing to soothe what he’s now certain is a growing fever. A few researchers wave to him, offering some idle chit-chat as he makes his way inside.
For the most part, people give him a wide berth, apparently he looks as bad as he feels. Tissues in hand, gripping them like a lifeline, Tim finds his way to a couch and lets himself sink into it. The party buzzes around him, fading into background noise.
Martin returns soon after, the mug vibrating slightly as he attempts to steady his hand. “I wasn’t sure what kind you’d want, we have a pretty limited amount, but I have a few extras in my desk– oh I could have probably found one for colds and flus, I’m not sure which this is, I thought cold before but you look-”
“Martin,” Tim interrupts, voice cutting uncomfortably through his raw throat. “Can I have the cup?”
“Oh, right, sorry!” Martin says, a sheepish grin crossing his face, nerves more than anything else, as he hands Tim the mug. Tim gives another appreciative nod, taking a cautious sip.
The warm liquid feels like heaven against his throat, and he barely manages to choke back a whimper. The flavour is still a mystery, Martin never actually got to that part. Given how little he can taste at the moment, seems it’s gonna remain that way. Still, the heat beginning to warm his chest is a welcome relief, and Tim has to fight to keep his eyes from drifting shut…
“Watch out!”
The voice rouses him, his eyes snapping open just in time to witness Jon dropping to his knees in front of the couch. The realization doesn’t sink in for another minute, Tim blinking the tired from his eyes and trying to figure out why people are staring… and why there’s a hand on his finge–
Oh, the tea. Thankfully Jon’s reflexes seemed to kick in just in time, his hands guiding Tim’s cup to the table next to him. Judgement clouds the boss's eyes as he turns back, fully ready to chastise Tim, no doubt. Jon opens his mouth, one hand beginning to point, but as his eyes scan Tim’s form, his demeanor changes instantly.
“You don’t seem well.” Jon’s voice is still firm, but with a hint of something Tim can’t quite place. On anyone else, he’d call it concern. On Jon… perhaps concern isn’t far off, though the underlying criticism of the statement irritates him.
“I wonder why that could be? It’s almost as if someone came to the Christmas party sick enough to fall asleep standing. Twice.” Tim says, sarcasm lining his words, alongside the congestion he can’t seem to fully shake.
“Well in that case,” Sasha chimes in, cheerful voice a natural antithesis to the misery coursing through Tim’s system. “Seems you’re halfway there!”
“Hey, I was lying down, that’s hardly the sahh… same thing– hH’ETchh!”
“Here we go,” Sasha says, already turning on her heel to find a tissue box as Tim’s hitches increase in desperation.
“aHTChh’ew! gn’tchhew!”
“Bless,” Jon offers, a brief confusion crossing his face as Sasha laughs, shaking her head.
“He’s not done,” She says, handing over the tissue box.
Tim grabs for it blindly, too caught up in the fit to even attempt dignity. Still, the eyes on him do leave him with a hint of embarrassment, and the onslaught is muffled as best he can manage. “hH’MMpshhew! eMPFShh’ieh! hh’MFSHhueh!”
Blessings sound out from the room, Tim managing to wave a hand towards the ones offering them, eyes still watering. As the fit seems to stall, he lowers his tissues, red nose now visibly twitching.
“Are you alright?” Jon asks, the hint of concern from before now plainly evident. That’s frankly more alarming than it should be, and Tim finds himself wanting to… reassure the boss.
“I’m okay, it’s juhh… j-just… huhh–” But it seems his nose has other plans, a tissue being raised once more as Tim paws at the appendage. “‘Scuhhse me, I still have… hahhve to… to… hiHh– eTCHh’ew! hk’ASCHh–oo!”
This time the tickle fades with the final pitchy sneeze, Tim letting out a low groan as he mashes his nose into the ever growing collection of tissues he’s clutching. A few people call out final blessings, Sasha laughing out hers as Tim’s face goes red once more.
Martin picks this time to enter the room with drinks, Tim letting his eyes flutter shut as the focus shifts off his misery. A gentle touch keeps him from drifting off to sleep, prying open an eye to find Sasha settling onto his left.
“Careful, don’t want to catch this,” Tim manages, leaning against his right shoulder to muffle another stream of chesty coughs. Sasha winces as it goes on past the realm of comfort, her hand finding his back.
“Don’t worry about me, I haven’t earned this cold, I didn’t make use of Jon’s or your suffering,” She says, the playful tone not masking the growing worry in her posture.
While she can read him like a book, she’s no mystery to him either. The tension in her fingers, absentmindedly stroking patterns on his back. The way she subconsciously tries to support his body weight, despite them both sitting. The look in her eyes when he manages to stall the coughing long enough to meet them.
With this brief respite from the attack, Sasha takes the chance to bring Tim’s tea back, his fingers wrapping around the warm mug. The first few sips burn, his lungs protesting, begging to return to their efforts to expel all the irritation. By the third, however, the warmth is spreading once more, easing the spasms.
“Alright?” Sasha asks, beginning to stand from the couch. Tim nods his reply, taking another slow sip. “Think you’ll make it till midnight? We’ve still got a few hours to go.”
He nods his approval again, not yet trusting his voice enough to make an attempt. Sasha simply smiles, easing back into the party that– Tim had almost forgotten existed. That fever must be worse than he thought, given how loud it is. A fact that’s now pounding against his head in harmony with his heartbeat.
The party continues on, Sasha and Martin taking turns checking in on Tim as he slips rapidly in and out of consciousness. Seconds turn to hours, and before he knows it, it’s two minutes to midnight.
As Tim blinks against the harsh fluorescent lighting, it’s Jon that stands before him, hand hovering near his side. Tim begins to speak, breaking off into a cough as his voice comes out rough with sleep and congestion.
“What’s up boss?” He manages with the second attempt, not missing Jon’s wince at the nasal quality.
“You simply look… well, the festivities are nearly over, I was just inquiring as to…” Jon seems to get stuck, eyes wandering down to the couch as he finishes. “I know you took the train here, I was seeing if you needed an escort home.”
“How kind, I’d be delighted to have your accompaniment,” Tim responds, the wit clouding the fact he… hadn’t actually considered needing to go home. Jon seems to take this answer as satisfactory, ignoring all the sarcasm as he gives a tight nod and an out of practice smile.
From across the room Martin calls out, something about a countdown. Tim attempts to pull himself to a stand, finding Sasha’s arm around his waist, guiding him to the wall. Leaning against it, he lets his rough voice join the chorus as they count into the new year.
Despite how the lights and noise had pounded into his skull, everyone chanting in unison helps Tim realize that… there actually aren’t that many people here. Aside from his coworkers, there’s only a few researchers, and Elias is not in attendance.
Honestly, thank whatever cosmic being may exist for that one, he had been none too fond of Jon’s arriving sick. Tim shudders to think what he would have said about this state. He shouldn’t have come, but… something about how insistent Martin was… well he just couldn’t disappoint that loveable idiot.
Somehow Tim finds he’s managed to keep up with the counting, despite being worlds away in his thoughts. As they approach the final numbers, a feathery sensation begins to spread through his nostrils- no.
Absolutely not, this is not the time. It’s never just one, there’s not enough people here, someone’s gonna notice. And I mean, it’s not like he’s hiding the fact he feels like death, but… drawing that much attention is also not the goal.
“Five! Four!”
“hiehh- h’ngTchh!” He manages to stifle the first, the congestion pounding in his head as the tickle seems to only get worse.
“Three! Two!”
“I cad’t– nNDtch! nGTCh’uh!”
“One–”
As the cheers begin to erupt, Tim ducks into the tissues with a scraping, “ehg’TCHhiew!”
“Happy new years!”
“yiEShh’iew! etchh’uh! hH’AESHH –oo!” Tim dips into his hands again, managing to sink down against the wall as he lets out a congested blow, ending the fit.
“What a way to ring in the new year,” Comes Sasha’s voice, her form blocking the light from Tim’s eyes as he looks up, fever blurring his vision.
“Shud ub.”
“Christ Tim, you sound awful,” Jon adds, his form appearing behind Sasha’s.
“Thagks boss,” Tim retorts, groaning as he notices a third form, Martin’s nervous fidgeting easy to spot even from this angle. Martin remains silent, though his eyes seem to hold more concern than any of them, and… guilt? Or maybe that’s just the delirium.
Glancing up to meet Sasha’s gaze, Tim offers a weary, “Tibe to go hobe?”
She nods softly, kneeling to help him to his feet, Martin wordlessly taking his other arm. Jon stands off to the side, hesitating. What for, who knows. All Tim can focus on is one step after the other, just gotta make it home, then he can sleep. For the rest of forever, at this rate.
As they get to the door, Martin helps wrap the scarf around Tim’s neck, forcing him to lift it from its perch against Sasha’s shoulder. Sasha, for her part, supports his weight with ease, she was always stronger than she looked.
Martin keeps casting glances towards Tim, obviously fretting over something. Too tired to manage his usual charm, Tim gives Martin the softest look he can manage. “Jusd say id, please. You’re makigg me nervous.”
“I’m so sorry I asked you to come, you’re obviously so unwell, and I know I didn’t really know that at the time, but I should have, or at least texted and checked in, I just… I wanted us all to get along so bad and I thought if you came it would mean more fun because you’re always so lively and good at talking to people and-”
Tim holds up a hand, eyes glazing over as Martin stops short, breath coming almost as rapidly as Tim’s. After a minute goes by, Martin starts to open his mouth, seeming confused by the interruption, before nearly jumping out of his skin as Tim ducks into his fist.
“eTCHh’ew! hH’YEAShh –iew! Sorry, I feld those cobigg… waid– hih’ETCHhew! heAYSHh’oo!” Tim ducks down again, Sasha grabbing him tighter to support the harsh shudders as he attempts to keep his balance.
“Oh bless you,” Martin offers, voice coming out timid. Tim gives him, what he hopes is, a warm smile despite the fever taking hold of the last corners of his mind.
“If I didn’t wanna cobe, I would have stayed hobe. I dod’t blame you.”
Martin nods silently, a relief seeming to flood his face. Taking his place once more supporting Tim, they move towards the exit. Opening the door, the first wave of cold floods the entryway, and a chill so violent runs through Tim that both Martin and Sasha take a step back to brace him.
It’s now that Jon speaks up, voice strained with a type of worry Tim hadn’t heard before. “No, we’re absolutely not doing this, I refuse.”
The trio turn towards him. Though perhaps a more accurate description is that Martin and Sasha turn, Tim simply goes along for the ride. Martin mumbles something about ‘no other choice’, but Sasha asks what Jon’s on about.
“It’s too cold out there, it’s the middle of the damn night, there’s no way I’m letting him go home like this.”
“And what do you suggest we do as an alternative? He can’t stay here-” Sasha begins, pausing as Jon turns towards her.
“Why not? I’m the archivist, this is my archive,” Jon begins, pausing for a moment, before adding, “Well, Elias’s, but I hardly think he’d suggest we send an employee home in this weather while they’re this sick. That’s just bad management, he’ll freeze to death before even reaching the train.”
As if to confirm this assumption, Tim shudders violently, ducking into his chest with a tired, “hh’eshhew! eTCHh’iew!” followed by a heavy sigh. Martin mumbles something about covering, but quickly silences himself as Tim begins to tremble again.
Sasha gives Jon a look, seeming to read him for any hints of doubt, perhaps searching for an ulterior motive. After a brief pause, their eyes meeting, she gives a tight nod, approval of some kind.
“Come on Martin, let’s get him back to that couch, he can sleep there for the night,” Sasha directs, Martin nodding his acceptance.
Tim manages to catch snippets of the conversation as they get him settled. Jon fetching him a blanket he keeps in his office. Martin providing some more tea. Sasha grabbing tissues and medication for when he wakes up. Something about Jon sleeping in his office so he’s not alone, and Sasha coming in early to help him home.
With his final bout of consciousness, Tim holds up a hand, the conversation immediately pausing. “Thagk you guys. And… esSHhh’ew! And, I’b sorry.”
All three stare at him for a minute, before Sasha breaks first. Her laughter fills the silence, Martin joining in soon after, and even Jon letting a few chuckles slip out. When they’ve finally collected themselves, Sasha gives Tim a warm smile.
“Sleep well, Tim. I’ll come fetch you in the morning.”
With a content sigh, Tim lets his eyes drift shut again, his consciousness fading to the soft hum of his friends in the background.
Alright, so maybe coddling isn’t quite so bad after all.
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Duty
Context: another one-shot about my ATLA OC, Daiyu. It talks more about her background, specifically with her parents and her older sister.
Word count: 8,348 words
WARNINGS: child neglect and mistreatment. Abuse of power and a brief instance of child abuse from a character named Lady Hana. Ozai being Ozai. Semi-graphic mention of self-harm (I don't think it's too graphic, but I'd rather be safe than sorry.) Brief moments of swearing and anger. Implied alcoholism in a background character. Daiyu's family don't mean to suck but they still end up failing Daiyu more often than not. I think that's it, I'll add more if needed. Obligiatory note for my bad writing, also didn't really edit ooopppsss.
At one point, there had been sweetness in her family.
Admittedly, the memories were ones that she’d have to squint and scratch at to unveil. Regardless, after some prying she could vaguely remember it—her father’s tender hugs, her mother’s goodnight kisses to her head, her sister’s soothingly rubbing at her shoulders during tense moments.
Of course, the sweet gestures were always saved for behind closed doors—it wasn’t expected (or, more appropriately, approved of) to see a family with a reputation like hers to be as weak as showing affection.
How would the court react to her father General Zhulong, Prince Ozai’s childhood best friend and most trusted advisor, picking up his daughter and swinging her around in a hug? How would it appear if her mother Lady Dongmei, Fire Lord Azulon’s handpicked bodyguard for both of his sons, stepped out from her post to greet and coo at her children? No, no, it simply wouldn’t do.
This duty was just simply expected of her family. The Song family—the family that produced generation after generation of skilled firebenders, and highly believed to be the ones to invent lightning bending. Since the beginning of the Fire Nation, they’d faithfully served the Crown and done whatever they’d asked. Daiyu’s grandmother had been Fire Lord Azulon’s most trusted advisor before her passing. Daiyu’s mother was, as mentioned prior, the fierce bodyguard of both Princes and had been assigned that at a young age. Even her father, after clawing his way up from peasantry and impressing the court, had no issue fitting in with the family code of service. It hadn’t ever been an issue with him—being loyal to Prince Ozai, his friend since saving the prince from a mugging and fighting off thieves together, came naturally to General Zhulong.
Daiyu longed to be like them. To be seen as loyal and dutiful and honorable. And if following her family’s code of inconsistent kindness would help her, if wearing that emotionless mask would get her on the path, then so be it.
And maybe sometimes discomfort would gnaw at the edges of Daiyu’s mind as she watched her friends be so openly… comfortable with their families. Whether it be Ty Lee openly crying out with joy and running to greet her parents or Zuko being attached to his mother’s hip; whether it was even Azula basking in Ozai’s praise or Mai receiving a kiss on the head from her father, Daiyu learned to push down the longing so adjust the carefully practiced mask.
(“Why can’t we be more like Ty Lee and her family?” Daiyu could remember asking one night through a pout.
“Oh my sweetling, I’m so sorry,” her mother murmured, eyebrows knit with sadness, “We just can’t allow ourselves to show that kind of… weakness.” Dongmei grimaced at the final word, though Daiyu hadn’t noticed.
Instead, the four-year-old simply gazed down at her blanket and uttered out, “Oh.”
Dongmei’s shoulders slumped as she gazed down at her youngest. She took a deep breath before leaning in, capturing Daiyu’s attention as she stroked her daughter’s hair, “But just know, that your father and I love you and Jiaying very much. More than anything.”
Daiyu nodded, eyes brightening just slightly. Dongmei smiled softly, lips quivering in the subtlest fashion as she ducked down to press a tender kiss to Daiyu’s head. Maybe Dongmei would hope that Daiyu would remember from their conversation the declaration of love, the sweet kiss to her temple, the silent vow of devotion. But in reality all Daiyu would recall were those fateful words—
“We just can’t allow ourselves to show that kind of… weakness.”)
***
While her parents were bound by duty, her older sister Jiaying had less qualms with bending the rules. Zhulong and Dongmei kept their spines straight and gazes stoic, while Jiaying strutted about with the cocky swagger of a confident youth wherever she pleased.
Jiaying was ten years older than Daiyu—at this point, fifteen to Daiyu’s tender age of five. Jiaying was a firebending protégé, and quickly getting the hang of lightning bending—yet another member of the Song family to be a master of her element.
They didn’t have a whole lot in common—their ages, their personalities, and even who was or wasn’t a bender were all different between the two. It sometimes showed, in Jiaying’s stalling to find something to discuss with Daiyu, or in Daiyu’s awkward shuffling to approach her sister in public. Yet, they loved each other—and unlike their parents, Jiaying wasn’t afraid to be open about it.
Whereas Zhulong could be relied on for an approving nod and Dongmei for the smallest of smiles, Jiaying was much more blatant. She made it a point to greet her baby sister with a high five or a hug, and always tagging on an affectionate nickname at the end of her greetings. Jiaying took Daiyu with her everywhere—to her training sessions, to her adventures down to the market, and sometimes even to her visits with Jiaying’s betrothed, Prince Lu Ten.
Of course, Jiaying had a side of her that most older siblings did—a teasing side. She loved to pull pranks on Daiyu, whether in public or in private. Daiyu would always have to hold back tears when her sister tripped her in front of all the nobles or brought up embarrassing stories in front of Jiaying’s firebending peers, but she just remembered her mother’s words and straightened her spine like her parents did.
And sometimes Jiaying would go too far. Sometimes she’d say the wrong thing or be too harsh in her jokes, and Daiyu would have to excuse herself before going off to cry in the closest private room. On those days, her parents would scold Jiaying in the privacy of their home. And Jiaying would always end up slinking into Daiyu’s room with a treat or a toy in her hands and an apology on her lips. Daiyu would forgive her sister, and they’d spend the rest of the night talking—or, however long it took for Daiyu to fall asleep.
Daiyu was five at that point, and had learned a routine: her parents would gift her and Jiaying the subtlest forms of affection in public. And in private affection couldn’t be guaranteed either—what with how busy their roles kept them—but you could always count on comforting cuddles and kind words when they were around. But Jiaying was a blinding sun, and marched to the beat of her own drum—she’d hug Daiyu, encourage her, and prank her whenever and wherever she pleased.
And Daiyu didn’t know a whole lot at her tender age, but at that moment it felt like enough.
***
Daiyu was six when she was assigned caretaker of Prince Zuko and Princess Azula.
To the Fire Nation officials, she was the perfect choice—a member of the Song family, one of the Fire Nation’s most influential and powerful families, continuing their direct service to the Crown was appropriate. Her father carried this out as the ruthless general leading the Crown’s armies, her mother kept to this vow by being Ozai’s loyal and protective shadow, and her sister would continue the tradition by marrying Lu Ten and fighting in their armies. Daiyu had her part to play, and, according to the nobles around her who suddenly cared so much, she was just so much wiser than the other children her age.
“An excellent choice to guide the Prince and Princess,” said one official with an approving nod.
“Is the age not of concern?” said another with an eyebrow raise. The second official’s gaze had a mocking glint that made Daiyu shift in her seat.
“She might be younger than the Prince and Princess, but she has double the maturity of most her age,” said a third, “She could be a good influence on them.”
“Well, how soon could she start?”
“What about the Prince and Princess’ training? How can a non-bender oversee that?”
“We’d need to get her to start lessons with the Lady Hana as soon as possible. We can’t afford to have the child sitting around and doing nothing.”
“Oh, and also—”
“But what about—”
Words and phrases blurred together with Daiyu’s vision. Her breathing quickened and her hands began to shake.
The council was asking her to become a caretaker to the royal children. Oversee the lessons, make sure they were fed and healthy, ensuring they were presentable to court, mediate their arguments… she was six. Daiyu was six, two years younger than Zuko, and two months younger than Azula. How was she supposed to take care of them?
“—Lady Daiyu?”
She jerked herself out of her thoughts, suddenly aware of all eyes on her. Her eyes instinctively flickered past all the other faces at the table—up to the furthest chair on the left side, where her father sat with his fingers laced together. Her eyes went further past to the shadows of the room, where her mother no doubt lingered. On instinct, Daiyu straightened her spine and raised her chin in Ozai’s direction.
“Yes, my Lord? I’m sorry, my mind escaped me for a moment. It won’t happen again,” Daiyu said in her rehearsed, “wise beyond years” tone. Her tongue felt heavy in her mouth, weighing her down.
“I was simply asking for your answer,” Ozai purred, gaze relaxed yet sharp and zeroed in on her alone, “What do you say? Will you take up the honor and responsibility of preparing my children for glory?”
She gulped. Her eyes went back to the shadows—Dongmei made her presence known, eyes bright and a genuine smile tugging at the corners of her lips. Daiyu’s eyes went back to that chair—Zhulong’s orbs held an approving light, and pride rolled off of him in waves.
Daiyu faltered, When was the last time they were this proud of her? In public, in front of the court and everyone?
Dongmei’s smile. Zhulong’s pride. Daiyu’s eyes went back to Ozai. A moment passed, then two, and her mouth opened with a reply.
***
“I’m so proud of you, my sweetling, you made the right choice today,” Dongmei gushed. Daiyu sat in front of her mother as Dongmei gently ran a brush through her long, black hair.
“Thank you, Mommy.”
“Oh, my love, you’ll be brilliant,” Zhulong said, “And really, there’s no greater way to serve the Fire Nation than to serve the royal children. They’ll be the next generation, and you’ll be the reason they continue the legacy of our people.”
Dongmei nodded enthusiastically, “Like your father said, love. Our family has been serving the Nation in many ways over many, many years. You’re helping continue our service, and we’re so proud of you.”
A knot formed in her stomach. Where was this when she scored top grades in her class? Where was this when she got the leading part in the school play? Daiyu gulped, twiddling with her fingers yet again. She spoke through the sudden dryness in her throat, “B-but Mommy, Daddy, I-I don’t know what to do or how to help them. Will you be there to help me?”
Behind her, Dongmei gently set down her brush. Across from her, Zhulong rose from his chair and came to sit in front of her. Someone spoke, but her heart’s sudden pounding drowned out who, “My dearest, you’ll be fine. You know more than you think. And besides, no one was an expert on the first day. Both of us have had our learning curves, so has your sister, and now so will you. It’ll able be worth it to make the Fire Nation and the Royal Family better.”
The other—whoever it was—spoke now, “You’ll learn, I promise. You’ll do great. Others have come before you and succeeded, and you’ll join their ranks in making our nation all powerful. Hey, you’ll be just like Master Tao. Don’t you love Master Tao?”
Master Tao, Crown Prince Iroh and Prince Ozai’s own caretaker. He was a few years younger than Prince Iroh, and was still present in the palace to this day. He was a favorite at court, with his gallant nature and booming charisma. Her parents had a point—Tao was beloved and respected, two things Daiyu wasn’t. Though it also made her think of what her classmates said—how, apparently, Tao spent all his free time at the bar owned by one her classmates’ parents. Apparently, he spent a lot of his time staring off into space and slamming back as many drinks as he could.
“Yes,” Daiyu managed with a forced smile, “I’ll be just like Master Tao.”
Her parents’ cheer was drowned out by her heart’s continuous pounding.
***
“So, caretaker, huh?” Jiaying’s soft voice broke through the darkness of her room. Daiyu jumped from her bed, too lost in her thoughts to have even noticed her older sister. The older girl was playing with the golden charm bracelet—a gift from Prince Lu Ten. In all her years alive, Daiyu had never seen her sister take the bracelet off.
“You’ll have to be sharper than that, kid,” Jiaying said with a soft smirk. Daiyu’s gaze remained wide-eyed, though her shoulders stiffened and then slouched. The elder’s smirk dropped at that, a stricken look taking over her features, “Shit, sorry kid, I didn’t mean it like that.”
Jiaying quickly crossed Daiyu’s bedroom, sitting herself next to Daiyu. She hesitated before throwing an arm over Daiyu’s shoulders, “I’ll be there. As much as I can, at least. I can make some excuses over having more stuff to teach Zuko and Azula. An-and Lu Ten said he’d make up some stuff about wanting to be around longer. I’ll help you as much as I can, kid. I promise. You won’t be alone.”
Daiyu simply stared at her sister, eyes still wide and unblinking. Jiaying shifted uncomfortably. She opened her mouth to say something else, when she was suddenly interrupted by Daiyu throwing herself into Jiaying’s chest.
It took Jiaying a second to recognize the dramatic heaving of her shoulders. It took her another to absorb the sounds of sobs echoing in the room. It took her a third to realize why her shirt was suddenly wet.
Tears sprung to her own eyes. Jiaying sat there for a moment, before clearing her throat and wrapping her baby sister up in her arms.
Nothing would get to Daiyu. Not while Jiaying was there.
She’d make sure of it.
***
Daiyu’s first year as caretaker came with messes and mistakes. She messed up on schedules, appointed the wrong teachers, and stuttered when presenting their progress in council meetings. But she also got Azula to learn lightning bending, helped Zuko unlock his firebending via old tips from a scroll, and mediated their arguments to perfection.
(Her father hugs her in public for the first time at the ceremony marking her new duties. Her mother makes a declaration of her love and pride in front of the whole court. Her sister holds her hair back when Daiyu heaves up her dinner as anxiety wrestles and wins. Daiyu is seven now.)
Daiyu’s second year as caretaker came with new faces and adjustments. Somehow, Mai and Ty Lee ended up being added to her nest of clients. Her duties go from juggling Zuko’s sensitive cluelessness and Azula’s blunt cruelty with their formal duties, to coaxing Mai out of her gloomy funks and soothing Ty Lee’s insecurities.
(Her father lets her sit in on one of his meetings, perched on his lap and smiling brightly—never a public sight before. Her mother takes Daiyu as her “date” to a formal ball, and they spend the night with theirs hands locked and smiles shining like stars. Her sister talks her down from her gasping panic attacks. Daiyu is eight now.)
Daiyu’s third year of caretaker sees her finally settle into a routine. There was the first year of scrambling and grasping for stability, when the stability she sought slid through her fingers like sand. And then there was the second year of being thrown off her axis, with more on her plate and duties becoming overwhelming. And now there is the third year, where her days pass in blurs of duty duty duty—
(Her father gushes about her to visiting nobles. Her mother sings her praises to whoever listens. Her sister is shipped off to war, and reluctantly leaves Daiyu to handle her breakdowns alone. Scratching at her arms and ripping at her nails becomes her new coping mechanism. Daiyu is nine. The world is already swallowing her whole.)
***
Prince Lu Ten is dead. Crown Prince Iroh returns from Ba Sing Se a failed general with no heirs. Whispers fly through court about who would succeed Iroh once he passed—Lu Ten was his only child, after all.
Jiaying returns home with no victory to boast of and no betrothed to hold her in tender moments. Her wry smirk is replaced with a twisted snarl, and the light in her eyes is more akin to the glint of a sharpened knife than that of a bright spark. Her shoulders are fixed in a permanent tense slouch, and the rest of her frame is like a tightly wound coil, always ready to spring. She constantly has a hand on her golden bracelet, as if someone was going to rip it away at any moment.
Zhulong tried to greet her during her return, and Jiaying simply pushed past her father without a second glance. Dongmei tried to coax her out of her room for dinner, and Jiaying simply hissed that she wasn’t hungry and slammed her door.
Daiyu was only nine, but she thought she understood why Jiaying was so angry. Lu Ten had been her whole world—or, at least, that’s what Jiaying had said to Daiyu once when talking about the prince. The rest of it could be pieced together. Much like with Daiyu, Zhulong and Dongmei loved their first born but were bound by their duties. They were frequently busy, and sure they spent some time together as Jiaying learned bending, but it was still irregular. The other children had shrunk away in fear at Jiaying’s power, but Lu Ten hadn’t wavered once. He’d come to Jiaying with an open mind, and they won each other’s hearts in the end.
Jiaying had expanded her circle a bit since then, but it didn’t change how Lu Ten had been the first and, for a while, the only.
Daiyu thought of that as Jiaying slammed her way through the house, curses being uttered every now and then.
Her sister once felt like a safe place, but now Jiaying’s security had been replaced by rage and despair. And that scared Daiyu more than anything.
***
Her teacher as caretaker was the Lady Hana. She was effective and diligent, but also cruel. Lady Hana seemed to relish in the power her role gave her. It had been too many times where Daiyu had run to Jiaying through the tears in her eyes, and just as many where Jiaying had used all of her self-control to not attack the elder each time.
Lady Hana had had less complaints as Daiyu settled into her role, but she still remained in the background… ready and waiting to strike.
Today had been the Lady’s day to attack. Daiyu had messed up, once again—she hadn’t been watching Zuko close enough, and the older boy had fallen out a tree he was climbing to impress Mai. He’d broken his wrist, and it was all Daiyu’s fault (or at least that’s what Lady Hana told her during her lecture.)
Lady Hana’s reprimands usually consisted of lectures that lasted who knows how long, consisting of the cruelest words and petty insults tossed in whenever she could. But today, the teacher had escalated—had grabbed Daiyu’s wrist in her hand, and her firebending kicked in to begin to burn at Daiyu’s wrist.
Daiyu had shrieked in pain the moment it happened, and wrenched her wrist away. She hadn’t even taken a second to look at the Lady’s reaction or excuse herself, instead bursting from Lady Hana’s office.
She sprinted through the halls, the courtyard, and the palace to her home. Her parents hadn’t been home (away on business, shocker), but Jiaying had been. Daiyu’s older sister was seated at the kitchen table when Daiyu ran in sobbing.
“Whoa, what happened to you?” Jiaying asked with an eyebrow raise. She took note of Daiyu holding her wrist, and her expression barely changed. She kept fiddling with her charm bracelet.
“I—Lady—it—please—I—Jia—”
A huff and an eyeroll as she crossed her arms, “Just spit it out already, Daiyu. C’mon, I don’t have time for this nonsense.”
Daiyu took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to school herself. She remembered everything taught in her lessons—taught to her by Lady Hana and—
Her breathing quickened, sobs growing more aggressive as Daiyu’s shoulders heaved. The world spun out from under her, “Jia, please, I can’t—she hurt me—”
Jiaying said something, but Daiyu couldn’t hear anything over the sudden ringing in her ears. She swore she could taste blood in her mouth.
A sudden grab on her wrist made Daiyu scream. Jiaying snarled, “For fuck’s sake, Daiyu, learn to grow up already. So what, your teacher hurt you? People hurt each other all the time. You’ve got to grow up already and just deal with it like the rest of us—”
“OWWWWW! JIA YOU’RE HURTING ME STOP IT!”
Jiaying blinked and startled at her sister’s primal screech. She gazed down at where her hand held Daiyu’s injured wrist, and her stomach sunk. The area that originally only looked a bit red and dry was now a deeper shade of crimson, and had begun to blister. The newly burned area was in the shape of Jiaying’s hand.
Jiaying practically threw herself into the kitchen counter as she stumbled away. Daiyu collapsed to the floor, sobbing and wailing.
“Oh, oh Daiyu, I’m so—” bile rose in her throat, “I—I—oh sweet girl, I’m—”
The bile was going to win. Jiaying stumbled out of the kitchen, out of the house and Daiyu remained in a heap on the floor.
Pain flashed through her entire being, weeping and tearing at her.
I need my mommy, I need my daddy, I need—her thoughts ran rampant, blurring together images of her parents and her friends and Jia and oh spirits, had the pain gotten stronger?
Her parents weren’t here—they wouldn’t be back for a few days. She could try her friends—no. No, it wasn’t an option. She was their caretaker; she was supposed to solve their problems. It wasn’t their place to see her so weak. Daiyu couldn’t betray her duties like that. Even through the fire blazing through her, that message was burned into her very being.
The medic, she warbled in her mind, the medic will help.
She pulled herself off of the ground, stumbling through her home. Jiaying hadn’t even closed the door after running out, leaving it ajar. Daiyu pushed past, tears clouding her vision and her steps more like a clumsy stumble. She barely dodged the puddle of vomit by the front gardens in her quest to find the medic.
Daiyu wandered without seeing through the courtyard. She was vaguely aware of people’s mouths opening and jaws going slack as they took their second glances. Daiyu thought she saw some try to approach, but she simply pushed past them.
Weak, Daiyu, you’re weak, she thought spitefully, Letting the court see you like this. Making Jiaying angry. Zuko hurt on your watch.
The sun was suddenly so blinding in the open courtyard. Wait, courtyard? When had she gotten there? She was going to go to the medic. Where were the medics again?
Iron pooled in her mouth. Light burned her eyes. Her wrist pleaded with her, pleaded for something. Her heart beat out a new rhythm.
“DAIYU? What’s wrong?”
Huh, that sounds a bit like Azula, was the last thing Daiyu thought before her vision went black.
***
A second-degree burn. Severe exhaustion. Emaciation. Scars from probable self-harm. All things the medic had somberly prescribed her with.
She could hear the bits and pieces of conversation as she slowly stirred awake. Daiyu’s brown eyes blinked slowly as she took in the sight before her. The medic stood before her parents (when had they gotten back?!), the medic’s eyebrows tilted down in a gentle frown and her hands somberly linked together before her.
Zhulong was practically a statue, but his eyes were screwed shut. Daiyu could see his hands clenched into fists, and she thought she could see them shaking slightly—alongside the quivering of his lips. Dongmei was equally as still, but her body was stuck with one hand held over her mouth and the other gripping at her stomach. Her dark brown eyes were wide and shimmering with tears.
“Mommy? Daddy?”
The words escaped before Daiyu could stop them. Zhulong and Dongmei jumped a bit, before reality set in and they were suddenly at her bedside.
Zhulong held a hand in both of his, pressing several kisses to her head and face. Daiyu thought she felt the drip of tears, but that feeling was overwhelmed by Dongmei gently scooping her into a hug. Dongmei’s tears were more obvious, shaking at her mother’s shoulders.
“Oh, my dearest love, I’m so sorry,” Dongmei wept, “How are you? What do you need?” None of them noticed the medic silently slip away. Daiyu was left reeling over the last question. What did she need? But what about her friends? Did Azula attend her history lesson? Did Zuko end up passing his latest firebending test?
“How about some water, honey?” Zhulong suggested, pulling back just long enough to pour her a cup from the tea set by her bedside. Dongmei reluctantly parted, but busied herself with helping Daiyu sit up. Zhulong gently refused Daiyu’s attempt at holding the cup, insisting at holding the cup as Daiyu sipped.
Daiyu found she greedily chugged the water, droplets remaining on her chin. Daiyu rose an arm to clear it off, but was beat by Dongmei using her sleeve to dry off Daiyu’s face. Zhulong gently pushed Daiyu’s long hair away from her face, tucking the strands behind her ears. He rested a tender hand on her upper back.
“How are you feeling, love?” Dongmei inquired gently.
Daiyu blanched, her memory filling her with shame as she stammered, “I-I’m sorry.”
Her parents blinked, and took a moment to look at each other. Dongmei pressed, “For what? You have nothing to apologize for.”
“Yes I do,” Daiyu replied with a frown, “I was weak today. I’ve been weak. I won’t be like that anymore, I promise.”
Her parents both sputtered, but Zhulong gathered himself first, “What do you mean by… weak?”
“Well, I cried and passed out in front of everyone like a loser.”
“You are not a loser, and you are certainly not weak. Who made you feel like this?”
Daiyu shifted, “Well, Mommy told me that we can’t afford to be weak.”
Zhulong’s gaze turned sharp towards his wife. Dongmei’s eyes shut, a deep sigh escaping her lips. The older woman took a second before opening her eyes and fixing Daiyu with a steady gaze, “Daiyu, I—I can’t even begin to explain. I—there’s no excuse. I failed you and I’m so sorry. Did,” she gulped, “did you feel like you had to hide how you felt?”
Ignoring her voice breaking, Daiyu thought for a second and simply said, “Yes.”
A sob abruptly tore its way from Dongmei. Zhulong wrapped an arm around his wife and reached forward to hold Daiyu’s hand with his free one. Conflict made a mask on his face. He opened his mouth to say something, when a knock sounded. Zhulong paused before sighing and raising his voice just slightly, “Come in.”
“I’m sorry,” were the medic’s first words, “I just came to check on Daiyu.”
“Oh, please, go on,” Zhulong said, rising from his chair. Dongmei reluctantly followed him, eyes still trained on her daughter. “I need a moment with my wife, anyways.”
“Mommy, daddy, is everything okay?” Daiyu asked, eyes wide.
A pause hit the room. Zhulong looked at Dongmei, who pointedly avoided his gaze, and then Daiyu, “Yes, my love. Everything will be fine.”
Daiyu nodded, gazing at her parents. A thought hit her, “Where’s Jiaying?”
Her parents looked at each other. Zhulong cleared his throat, “Jiaying’s put in an immediate request to be transferred. Her request was granted, and she’ll be leaving soon. She’ll be working with General Zhao.”
Daiyu’s eyes bulged out of her sockets, her stomach sinking. Her sister? Leaving? Was she leaving because of her?
“We have much to talk about, sweetheart,” Zhulong said, leaning forward to rest a hand on her knee, “But we can talk later. Just rest for now and get better. We’ll be here.”
“You will?” Daiyu’s eyes brightened.
Zhulong gulped, a guilty tint in his eyes, “We will.”
***
Jiaying never came to say bye. The closest sign of a farewell came with Jiaying leaving behind her cherished golden charm bracelet—the one Lu Ten had gifted her so long ago, the one she never took off. The apology seemed to radiate from it. Daiyu wasn’t sure what to do with it.
The medic was happy to report her burn would heal. Daiyu was good to go in a few days burn-wise, but they opted to keep her in the medical wing for a while long for her exhaustion and emaciation (… whatever emaciation meant, at least.)
Her friends kept her busy in the meantime. Zuko and Ty Lee were the most frequent visitors, with Zuko reading her stories that Ursa had shown him and Ty Lee showing off her newest acrobatic tricks. Mai and Azula visited as well, but they stuck mainly to the background. Though, it didn’t change the fact that Mai would pretend to leave with everyone else when visiting hours were over, only to sneak back in later in the evening and sit by her bedside. Or that Azula came in the earliest hours of morning, and would switch posts with Mai until she had to attend to her lessons.
(Of course, Daiyu pretended to be asleep during these times… well, sometimes. Other times she was actually asleep.)
And her parents kept their promise. If they weren’t there together, one of them would be a constant by her side. Her mother sang her songs and braided her hair. Her father told her stories of his life growing up and would affectionately mess up her hair. Jiaying remained a prominent absence… Daiyu still didn’t know how to feel about it.
It was one evening when her parents were both present that they were summoned by Prince Ozai. Daiyu didn’t miss the surprised look her parents shared.
“Right,” Dongmei said with a forced smile, “We’ll leave in just a minute. Did he say where?”
The medic hesitated, “... in the Agni Kai chambers.”
Another look. The medic nodded and left.
“Well, goodnight sweetheart,” Zhulong said, standing to his full height.
“Sleep well, my love, we’ll see you tomorrow,” Dongmei said, leaning down to kiss her forehead. When Dongmei pulled away, Zhulong dipped in to drop his own kiss. Her parents then smushed her in a hug between them.
“You’ll be back home tomorrow,” Zhulong stated happily after they had separated, “… maybe we’ll have to talk about some things.”
Dongmei nudged her husband, “But that’s for tomorrow. We do need to talk, but you rest for tonight.”
Daiyu nodded happily. She hesitated, and then stated, “I love you both. A whole lot.”
Her parents beamed. Her father warmly replied, “And we love you too. More than anything.”
Daiyu gasped and grinned, “Really?”
A twin pair of chuckles, “Yes, really.” More farewells were uttered before her parents took their leave.
Daiyu went to sleep, smiling and heart full.
***
(What happened that night, after her parents, wouldn’t be told to Daiyu until she was older.
After Zhulong and Dongmei left Daiyu to her peaceful dreams, they made their way to the Agni Kai chamber.
“I don’t get why he chose there to meet,” Dongmei uttered under her breath.
“Ozai is sometimes… peculiar. I’m sure he had his reasons,” Zhulong replied. Dongmei simply hummed her agreement.
What happened that night was simple, but impactful. Her parents would meet the then Prince in the chamber, and his first words to them were,
“I will be Fire Lord in twenty-four hours. You both will be by my side and in my court.”
The husband-and-wife duo froze in shock. Before either of them could say a word, Ozai plowed on, “He’s been given a colorless, odorless poison. It’s already in his system. His last request will be that I be made Fire Lord; Iroh doesn’t have the heirs to continue the line, anyways,” he sighed, “I need you both to get to work. We need to begin showing our power to the other Nations, and looking for the Avatar. Zhulong, you’ll—”
“Wait just a damn minute,” Zhulong burst out, “W-what do you mean you’ll be Fire Lord? And what’s this of a… poison? Who would even provide it to you?”
“None of your business, General,” Ozai snipped, “And didn’t I make it obvious? I’ll repeat it, I know sometimes peasants like yourself sometimes have a hard time comprehending information.
Dongmei snarled, “Watch your tongue, Ozai.”
He raised an unimpressed eyebrow, “Save it with the snarls, Dongmei. Now isn’t the time to back down, both of you will be on my court come morning.”
Zhulong gazed in disbelief, “You’ve killed him. You’ve killed your own father and robbed your brother of the throne… but why?”
“Because,” Ozai bit, “I am the one deserving of the throne. My father is weak and passive. My brother spends his time losing wars and moping. But I have never been like them, and I never will. I will find and kill the Avatar, I will make the other nations bow at my feet and beg, and no one will stop me.”
Zhulong staggered back. Over the years, he’d been given warnings from Iroh… warnings about Ozai’s true nature. But he’d always scoffed at his warnings and ignored them. He’d even told Dongmei to disregard his words!
“We won’t let you,” Dongmei insisted, chin raised, “Both of us could take you.”
“And risk imprisonment? Execution?”
“It’d be worth it,” Dongmei hissed, “To keep the Fire Nation from being ruled by scum like you.”
“Neither of you will do a damn thing.”
“And how do you know?”
“Well, you wouldn’t want anything to happen to your daughters, would you?”
Zhulong snapped out of his daze, and his sharp intake was matched with his wife’s.
“You wouldn’t dare.” Dongmei’s voice trembled with rage.
“Well, you’re right to an extent,” Ozai rolled his eyes, “Jiaying will get herself killed sooner or later on the battlefield, she’s never been the brightest bulb.”
Dongmei lunged forward, and Zhulong held her back, barely restraining himself. How could he do this? Zhulong thought to himself, rage and despair warring in his heart.
“But the non-bender, the weakling… what was her name again? Oh, right. Daiyu. Well, she certainly does a lot around the palace… wouldn’t it be a shame if she got into an accident?”
“Don’t,” Zhulong pleaded. The man he once called friend simply fixed him with a blank stare. He released his grasp on Dongmei to collapse to his knees, “Please, Ozai, brother, don’t harm my girls. Please. We’ll do anything.”
“Then I’d suggest you both step carefully and follow my instructions,” Ozai commanded, “Do as I say and I’ll keep your daughters, you little Daiyu, alive. If not, well… something can be arranged for the spare.”
Zhulong gazed at his so-called brother in utter horror, “How… how could you do this?”
“Listen to me, brother, I’ve always been like this. You and your wife here have just been too starry eyed to notice,” Ozai straightened, “Go and get some rest. Our work begins tomorrow. I’ll expect you at my ceremony.”
He strode out of the Agni Kai chamber, leaving Zhulong on his knees and Dongmei standing helplessly.
***
Daiyu wakes the next morning to learn that Fire Lord Azulon is dead, and that his last decree was that Prince Ozai would be his successor.
Her parents collected her for the ceremony… and they were both ghosts. Both were as pale as the moon, and it looked like they’d been crying. Nothing showed on either of their faces as the family watched Ozai be dubbed the new Fire Lord. Zuko and Azula are Prince and Princess.
Daiyu is nine when her parents seemingly pull away entirely. Gone were the days of her father holding her on her lap during council meetings, or her mother taking her out to balls. Gone were the days of her father even sending the smallest nods of approval, or her mother sharing secret smiles with Daiyu. They both had, over the span of one night, turned into public statues. Their gazes were blank, their movements stilted and rehearsed.
The only time they weren’t completely emotions were in rare cases, where if you looked at the right time you’d see one or both of them gazing at Ozai with something in their eyes. Something dark and angry that Daiyu couldn’t put a name to.
And then there was their home life. Her already barely present parents became ghosts in their own home, being sent on constant missions by Fire Lord Ozai. And when they were there, they kept staring at Daiyu with sadness in their eyes, and pulling back. With nights like that, Daiyu was sometimes secretly glad they’d both be gone—sometimes it was better to love the memory of a ghost than be treated like one by those around her.
Daiyu was nine. The last time she spoke to her sister, she’d screamed at her, burned her, and then run away to another post. The last time she’d spoken to her parents… well, it hadn’t been speaking as so much as sitting in awkward silence.
She was now caretaker to the Crown Prince and the Princess. She didn’t think her burden could grow any further, but fate had a way of surprising her.
***
Daiyu’s eleven when Zuko challenges his father, and is marred and exiled because of it. The smell of his burning flesh is imprinted into Daiyu’s memory, reminding her… reminding her of her sister.
Her stomach was in knots as she approached the room where Ozai plotted with his men. Daiyu knew her father would be stoically present, and her mother would be in the shadows.
Her presence was announced by an aide, and Daiyu tried not to shrink as every eye in the room swung towards her. She pointedly ignored the gazes of her parents as she bowed.
“Fire Lord Ozai,” Daiyu stated.
“Lady Daiyu,” he said flatly, “What is it?”
Remember to be brave, she told herself. Daiyu cleared her throat as she straightened, “I… I have a request. For you, if you don’t mind hearing it.”
Ozai sighed, “Just get on with it, girl. What is it you want?”
A moment of hesitance led to a firm, “I don’t have all day, you know.”
“Yes, yes, of course. My apologies, my Lord, it’s just… Prince Zuko has been sent into exile for his… transgressions,” That was a grown-up word, right? “General Iroh has volunteered to go with him. I would like to request that I be sent alongside them to search for and capture the Avatar.”
A gasp echoed across the room, drowned by the sound of a chair screeching as her father rose abruptly. Her mother’s feet padded on the floor as she slid out of the shadows. Their stricken looks of shock were almost identical.
Fire Lord Ozai didn’t react to any of it, simply humming, “And why should I send you, girl?”
Because I want to be there for my best friend. Because I want to make sure he isn’t alone, she thought. But she voiced, “Because for decades, my family has served yours. My grandmother was Fire Lord Azulon’s most trusted advisor. My mother is your faithful bodyguard, and my father one of your top generals. My older sister is one of the brightest soldiers in the field, and helped train Prince Zuko and Princess Azula in firebending. I’d like to continue what my family started and be of service to the Crown Prince. I might be young, but I’ve learned a lot by being the caretaker of the Royal Children. I’ve learned combat over the years, and would be able to defend Prince Zuko in battle. It’d be an honor to help Prince Zuko on his quest, and bring the Avatar back for you, my Lord.”
She almost wanted to pat herself on the back for going through the whole speech without stuttering. Instead, she kept her gaze fixed on the contemplating Fire Lord.
“Hmmm… a decent proposal,” he sniffed, “But not a horrible one. I’d like to see what your parents think of this. General Zhulong? Lady Dongmei? Your thoughts?”
All eyes turned to her parents. Daiyu’s eyes trailed to them a second after everyone else.
The room held its breath as her parents shared a glance.
***
Daiyu would leave with Zuko and Iroh a week later. Her parents had stiffly given their agreements in the meeting, but later that night it felt like hours had passed with her parents pleading with her to reconsider.
(“Please, my love, please consider staying. It’s not too late to tell Ozai you’ve changed your mind,” Zhulong pleaded. Dongmei stood behind him in silent agreement.
“Why are you two so against this? You approved earlier,” her next words were more of a spit, “Besides, it isn’t like you two ever pay any attention to me. Nothing’s going to change for you, you act like I’m not here anyways.”
Silence filled the room.
Zhulong and Dongmei were unsure of how to act around Daiyu after that fateful night with Ozai… how do you face the one you love more than anything, that you’d burn down the world for, and know that your ignorance and decisions have put them in direct danger? How do you not drown in guilt looking at your child, and knowing that they will always have a target on their heads because of you?
How do you face them? But also, how do you let them go? How do you let them go off into exile for who knows how long, to search for someone who might not even exist?)
Daiyu had all of her things packed and deposited onto the ship. She stood on the deck, swaying absentmindedly on her feet as she gazed up on her new home for… now.
Azula had said her goodbyes that morning before going off to attend to her duties. The princess had hesitated for a moment before crushing her into a hug. “… promise you’ll come back,” Azula had muttered.
“I promise,” Daiyu replied instantly, returning the embrace.
Mai and Ty Lee had just left. Ty Lee hadn’t hid her tears as she threw her arms around Daiyu. Ty Lee swore up and down she’d show Daiyu all the cool acrobatic tricks she’d learn when Daiyu returned. Mai had given her a quick one-armed hug, nodded, and wished her luck. Her quiet request about looking after Zuko had been made after a moment of silence. Daiyu’s response had been an instant vow of protection. Mai allowed her glimmer of a smile, then told Daiyu she’d miss her before taking her leave.
Now all Daiyu had to do was get on the ship and leave. It was… easier said than done. Something was holding her back from getting on the boat. Zuko had been the first one on, before the sun had even risen. Iroh had gotten on board with all of his teas and merriness. They were all most likely just waiting for her.
Now or never, Song, get a move on, she told herself. Daiyu took a deep breath, before going to take that first step—
“Leaving without saying goodbye, my love?”
She froze at the sound of her mother’s voice. She thought they might’ve forgotten or… were too mad to say goodbye. Daiyu turned, seeing both of her parents approach.
Daiyu sputtered, “You... you both showed?”
“Of course we did,” Zhulong said, frowning gently, “We wanted to say goodbye.” His voice wavered at the last word.
“I didn’t think you’d want to,” Daiyu burst out as her parents reached.
“What? Why did you think that?” Dongmei questioned.
“I-it’s just you both have a lot of responsibilities,” she fiddled with the sleeves of her tunic, where all her scars hid beneath them, “I thought you’d be busy.”
“Not a chance we’d miss saying goodbye to you, petal,” Zhulong stated firmly, “Never.”
“… I thought you’d both be mad,” Daiyu admitted, “I was mean. What I said a-about you two not paying attention. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it.”
“Oh, my dearest love,” Dongmei sighed, reaching forward to cup Daiyu’s face in her hands, “We could never be mad at you. You’ve done nothing wrong. We’ve both failed you, and we can never apologize enough.”
“You were right, about us not paying attention,” Zhulong admitted, resting a tender hand on the back of Daiyu’s head, “Your mother’s right, we’ve failed. And we can never make up for it… we just hope that you know we love you. More than anything. I swear.”
Daiyu blinked the tears away from her eyes. She’d dream so many times of them saying those words. She couldn’t remember the last time her mother had stared at her so tenderly, or when her father had last spoke more than a single sentence to her.”
“I-I—” I want to go home, “I’ll miss you both, so much. But I’ll be back, I promise.”
“We know, sweetheart,” Zhulong said with a sad smile, “We’ll see each other again. I know it.”
And then her parents, at the same time, reached out to hug her.
The feeling of two sets of warm, loving arms wrapping her in their embrace made her burst into tears. When had been the last time they’d hugged her? When had been the last time she cried? Daiyu didn’t have the answer at the moment. All that mattered was her mother rubbing soothingly at her back, and her father’s soothing coos. The emptiness and the coldness that draped over her like a shadow was fought off by her parents’ love.
She didn’t know how long they hugged for, but she knew the moment was interrupted by soft footsteps.
“Zhulong, Dongmei, Lady Daiyu… I’m so sorry to interrupt,” Iroh said softly, looking at the trio with a melancholy warmth, “We must get going. The ship is ready to sail.”
Daiyu reluctantly parted, wiping furiously at her eyes and fixing her hair, “Right. My apologies, General, for keeping you waiting.”
“Oh, my girl,” Iroh chastised gently, “Our families know each other well enough, you can drop the formalities. Just call me uncle.”
Daiyu’s eyes darted to her parents for permission, and they both chuckled through their tears as they nodded. She flushed as she murmured, “Alright… Uncle.”
Iroh chuckled, “See? That’s more like it. Go on, Lady Daiyu, I’ll be up in a moment.”
Daiyu nodded. She was about to go, when she turned back to address her parents, “I love you both. And if you see Jiaying, tell her I love her, too.”
Her parents almost broke again. Dongmei inhaled shakily, “We all love you too, sweetling, very much. More than anything.”
Daiyu beamed through her tears, before rushing up to the boat. She wouldn’t know how, earlier that day, Ozai had come to her parents and assured them that Daiyu being in exile wouldn’t make her safe from him. How he always had someone ready to carry out his orders. She wouldn’t know how her parents had come to Iroh, swallowing their pride to apologize and beg for him to protect their youngest daughter. She wouldn’t know that Iroh told them there was nothing to apologize for, and vowed to protect Daiyu with everything he had.
But maybe she didn’t need to know. At least, for now.
***
Over the years, a few ideals had been printed into her mind. As she stood on the bow of her home at sea, they painted themselves out for her: perceived, image, reputation. The trio of words had molded themselves into Daiyu’s mind over the years—they almost felt like an irreplaceable part of her at this point. The words made her straighten out her spine, push her shoulders back, and school her softer facial features into an icy cold mask. It was those qualities that made the generals and nobles of the Fire Nation give out approving nods and murmur praises; it was what made her peers shrink away and avert their gaze. It was what made her parents push her away in public; it was what made their home a ghost town.
Even now, the few moments of familial love couldn’t drown out years of conditioning and training. For a few seconds, she was her parents’ baby girl. But now she had to resume the role she’d had since the tender age of six—Lady Daiyu Song, the assigned caretaker of the Crown Prince Zuko and Princess Azula. Promising combatant, loyal servant, and dignified lady-to-be.
Like many Songs before her, she’d shed her weaknesses to do what was expected of her. Like many Songs before her, she’d allow her desire of love and tenderness to be snuffed out by the shackles of duty.
It was her duty, after all.
THE END
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