[a/n]: For the nonnie with the request that set my brain on fire. The original prompt was "azula loses her bending, and her father banishes her. it is everything she's always feared and known, that she is just her fathers vicious little pawn, she is nothing to him but a way to find the avatar." I tweaked it a bit and this is what happened.
Azula was born lucky.
The spirits had smiled upon her the day she came into the world; Agni's flames shone bright and strong. She was destined for greatness.
Her luck wasn't supposed to run out.
Azula crouches in a dark room, shivering and praying that the soldier who occupies this bed will not return from his shift early. She's been hiding on this ship for days, creeping from one place to the next. Her stomach twists pitifully with hunger. She smells like vomit and sweat and fear. It's virtually impossible to escape a vessel at sea. The kitchen are heavily guarded and the escape boats chained down.
This warship is her prison and her husband holds the key.
If she submits to him, he'll lavish her with clothing and jewels and food (her stomach growls again). But the price is warming his bed, submitting to his whims, playing the obedient Fire Nation princess she is not. Azula will die before she lets him rape her again (she's sworn this to herself a dozen times, but she is always dragged back to him before long)
The door slams open. Fear gnaws at her heart, chipping away at her nerves. She could kill that soldier, roast him to a crisp with sacred blue flames. She could kill him if she could firebend. But she can't. Azula is stuck in a weak, slim, beautiful body. Men were once entranced by her deadly beauty and without the deadliness she is as helpless as a child. Even her moronic brother, the new Fire Lord, could overpower her.
A soldier enters the room, sighing. Azula can practically hear the exhaustion in his movements, the faint clunk of his heavy boots and the reluctant click of the door. Armor is removed, a mask set aside. She flattens herself below the bed, holding her breath. Tears pool in her eyes. If she is discovered, the soldier will drag her right back to Zhao. The soldier pauses.
"Who's there?" he asks.
Azula tenses. She reminds herself that she's lithe and fast, she can outrun him and hide again before sounds the alarm. Or maybe kill him. She'll find a weapon.
A head comes into view. Azula lunges.
It doesn't end well.
She wakes up, tied to the soldier's bed. Azula scowls; she should have expected this (now she wonders if he's waiting for reinforcements or if the man is stupid enough to take a bid at raping her). He meditates at the foot of the bed, inches away from her feet. His chest rises and falls slowly with each breath. The soldier opens his eyes and in the dim light she realizes something.
"Hello, Azula." her brother says.
"Zuko?" she whispers. She can't believe her eyes. A small distant part of her knew he was now the Fire Lord, but Azula hasn't seen her brother since Zhao struck him down at the Northern Water Tribe. She'd felt the elation of his supposed defeat, removing a stepping stone to the throne (before she'd realized the sad, terrible truth).
"How long have you been aboard this ship?" she asks.
There is something in her that burns with shame. She doesn't want him to know, even as the entire world must, that she was given to Zhao as a success as an admiral when her firebending vanished as easily as if it had never been in her. How triumphant he must feel to see her fall so low and so hard. He's the Fire Lord; he's already won. She looks away.
"Long enough." Zuko says softly.
His eyes are tired and sad. If it weren't for the scar and the expression, he'd look so much like their father (Azula misses him even now, even after what he'd done to her). She stares at him for a long time. There are no words to taunt him with, nothing to hold over poor, stupid Zuzu. Azula wants that power back.
"Let me go." she says.
He produces a short knife and her body instinctively seizes up. She forces herself to stare at the wall. Zuko is quick and careful, then backs away as if she is a wild animal. Azula ignores the pain in her wrists and scoots as far away as possible. He is silent.
Her brother is different than she remembers. She recalls an easily angered, easily manipulated boy. He was a stepping stone, an easy challenge. But now there is something in his eyes that she doesn't understand. It's frightening. Azula has always read people easily, always kept them dancing like her little puppets. Zuko must be pleased to see her fallen so far. She tells him as much, spitting acidity as she can.
"No," her brother says, "I don't want to see you like this."
His eyes meet hers. "I'm here to rescue you."
Her heart skips a beat. Her instinct is to throw herself at his feet and beg to leave immediately. But Azula is a Fire Nation princess and she stares down her brother.
"What makes you think I want to leave?" she says with an air of indifference.
Zuko reaches out, brushes her cheekbone. There is a fading bruise, purple and green and all the colors of flame she'll never find out how to produce.
"You're better than this, Lala." he says.
"Don't call me that." she hisses.
He sits back, runs a hand through his hair and seems surprised to find it in a top knot. There are circles beneath his eyes.
"I don't have long," he says, "My ride will be here in a few hours."
"Why are you here?" she asks, even as she knows the answer.
"I need to know what Zhao is planning," he says, "He's an enemy to peace and I won't allow him to destroy everything we've worked so hard for."
"He doesn't tell me anything." she says.
Azula waits for his sympathy to shrivel up. Zuko will turn away from her; abandon her like everybody else has.
"Can I trust you?" he asks.
"Yes." Azula whispers.
She won't deny the desperate hope that wells up in her chest. Maybe she once wanted to see that foolish airbender in chains, stand over the flaming ruins of the world, acknowledge the superiority of her nation. Maybe she should want that, maybe that's her problem, but Azula doesn't care anymore. She just wants to escape this hellish life her father had cast her into.
"If you help us, I'll take you away from this place." her brother says, with eyes like the sun.
She bites back tears and offers her brother a smile.
He pulls her into the hallway, hand clamped down on her arm. She marvels at his height, at the fact that her small thirteen year old brother has turned into a wide-chested, calm man. His hands are warm and gentle, but she has to be focused on struggling. Azula hisses and scratches, but another soldier appears and catches her other arm. She catches a flash of dark skin and instinctively knows he's not Fire Nation.
"Is she in?" the man stage whispers.
Zuko, behind his mask, nods. It's the water peasant, she realizes. The one Ty Lee had a crush on. Her thoughts whirl as they drag her to Zhao's chambers. She hasn't seen her friends since the siege on the North, when the chaos and destruction shattered everything she knew. How foolish she'd been, caught up in delusions of grandeur, and the certainty that she'd prove her worth to Father (she was supposed to have victory in her clutches, supposed to have Zhao dancing to her whims, and certainly supposed to have proven her ability to ruthlessly control the Fire Nation without her bending).
They reach the quarters she reluctantly shares with Zhao. The room is empty when they enter. She is easily released.
"His desk is in the other room." she says.
Azula moves to sit on the low couches in their sitting room. She sits gracefully, adjusts her robes as if they are not filthy and torn.
"Zhao will be here any minute," she calls, "I suggest you hurry."
She waits patiently. This is the quiet before the storm. She breathes, gathers herself. The door opens.
"If it isn't my wife," Zhao exclaims with mock surprise, "Isn't it a little early to come crawling back to me?"
She leaps to her feet and attacks, flinging profanities and clawing at anything she can reach. Zhao knows to expect it and easily grabs her wrists. Instead of throwing her back down, like he usually does, her dearest husband sets her on her feet. She kicks his shin and he slaps her. The blow sends her reeling, but Zhao catches her again.
"Stop struggling," he tells her, "I need you coherent when the healer arrives to check on my son."
"It'll be a girl." she shrieks, just to cover the inevitable surprise of her brother in the other room.
Zhao doesn't seem too concerned. "It will be a son. Or you shall continue bearing children until I have one."
She struggles, but it won't change what comes next. It never does.
Zhao wrestles her down to the couch, using one hand to pin both of hers above her head and the other hand to rip her tunic open. Her trousers follow and he uses his knees to wrench her own apart. His skin is tanned and weathered, hers is pale white and smooth. Azula once submitted to this, when she believed sex could be held over him. But regardless of the outcome, he always takes what he wants from her anyway.
"You have what you want," Azula says, her voice has become pitifully weak, "Just leave me be."
Zhao doesn't bother with a response, settles himself between her legs. Tears well up in her eyes. It's ironic. All the training, all the sweat and pain and agony, and yet it's one man's miserable piece that will reduce her to tears. Azula braces herself.
There is a thick, meaty thunk and Zhao collapses over her. The breath is driven from her chest and tears escape her eyes. Zuko is there to pull her unconscious husband away, cover her body when she's quivering like a newborn.
"Zuko." she gasps.
He doesn't say anything, but his eyes are angry. He pulls her into Zhao's office, his peasant friend bars the door. They take refuge behind the thick, ostentatious desk. It's been searched, the entire office ransacked. Azula reaches down to Zhao's secret compartment, flips the tiny lever that unlocks it. The small draw pops out.
"He keeps important things here." she says.
She hands Zuko a thick sheaf of paper, tries to pocket the gold. Her brother intercepts her and she protests feebly. It's a feeble exertion of authority and they ignore her. Instead, the peasant makes a play for the gold.
"You don't need another bag." Zuko says.
"You've been talking with Katara, haven't you?" the peasant mutters.
Zuko's response is cut off by an explosion of metal. The far wall is torn away, crumpled and discarded as if it was foil. There is banging at the door. Zhao. Azula doesn't realize she's been clinging to her brother until he shakes her off.
"We don't have much time." he says, pulling her up from their crouch.
The peasant runs toward the gaping hole in the wall, leaps out into the night. A sky bison rises out of the darkness. The Avatar sits at the head of the beast, but Azula hardly notices. She hasn't seen the sky in weeks. Zuko pulls her along. "You'll have to jump!" he shouts over the wind.
None of his companions seem surprised to see her standing at the edge of the ship. She wills her limbs to move. They won't. The pounding in the distance stops and is replaced with red radiating from the center of the door. It won't hold much longer.
"You have to go!" Zuko shouts.
She blinks. Her fingers are white around his wrist. She watches as the Avatar leaps from his post, up into the wind, and lands in the room. He throws his arms around her waist and jumps back. She's too surprised to fight him. The boy-when did he get taller than her?- sets her down and the wind drives her to her feet. There are two women in the sky bison's saddle. Azula ignores them, watches as her brother ducks back into Zhao's office. The room glows with fire, shouting that is ripped away by the wind. The girl in blue, the peasant's sister, looks worried. The little earthbender in green scowls and demands to know where Zuko is. As if to answer her, he comes flying out of the ship.
Zuko lands badly in the saddle. The waterbender's hands dart out, grab hold of his shirt, and prevent the inertia from propelling him right over the sky bison's other side. They fly away, leaving a quickly receding Zhao to shout and scream in the distance. Azula watches, clutching the edge of the sky bison's saddle. How sad to consider that he'd shrunken her world to a tiny little ship and now, as she leaves, the world she'd once vowed to rule is frightening enough to send her scurrying back.
Azula turns away, facing into the night.
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