#maizuko

She wakes with the sun every morning, as all firebenders should do, and warms herself a carefully crafted cup of jasmine tea. And every morning, without fail, she remembers to feed the turtleducks. 

She still doesn’t feel anything when she looks at them. Soft, weak, and as Zuko would say, cute. Sometimes she idly wonders how they would react if she were to kick the rocks along the pond’s edge into the water. Or maybe even directly towards them. 

Then she remembers her mother’s frown, lines creasing in her forehead. She thinks back to Zuko’s voice, soft with disappointment, laden with concern for the poor, poor creatures.

She holds back. 

The turtleducks have swam in this pond happily and untraumatized ever since they arrived. That’s a feat Azula is particularly proud of. It took self-control. More self-control than she ever thought she was capable of. 

Instead of disturbing their peace, Azula scatters breadcrumbs into the still reflection of the water. Cobalt, cerulean, azure. Blue is such a beautiful color. She hesitates, staring at the turtleducks lazily paddling back and forth, and heads back into her house. 

She used to tell herself that she was born lucky. That Zuko was just lucky to be born. She’d gotten it backwards. 

Zuko was the one who was born lucky. Lucky to be naturally, effortlessly kind, to have the distinction between right and wrong come so easy. It was second nature for him. Azula, on the other hand - well. She had injured her fair share of turtleducks as a young child. But Azula has never been one to shy away from the difficult. For the most part, she has this thing known as morality pretty much down. Some days, she even finds that it feels as natural as breathing, as weightless as bending. 

The house is empty, of course. She’s ordered that no servant or guard come near her as long as she stays out of the forest and between the two jagged peaks of rock that flank her house on either side. Old habits die hard, even if the “old habit” in question was formed in the middle of a throne room during her infamous mental breakdown. She likes solitude these days.

She used to be more scared of it than anything, she thinks, smiling humorlessly.  Mai and Ty Lee. As if they ever needed Azula. It was always the other way around. She’d just been too idiotic to realize it. 

Sometimes, Ty Lee comes and visits her. Presses kisses into her forehead, talking excitedly about her latest exploits, look, Azula! Isn’t this new circus troupe I’ve put together just wonderful! It is wonderful. Everything she says is wonderful. It’s always when Ty Lee is here that Azula feels the most normal. As if she could be just like Zuko, just like Iroh, just like Katara and Aang and everyone else who never had to think too hard about caring, about loving.

She hasn’t seen Mai in years. Azula feels strangely apathetic about it. She’s learned from Uncle Iroh that forgiveness is never deserved - only gracefully accepted when someone chooses to offer it. That old food. She wonders when she’ll see him next, if only to get another chance to crush him at Pai Sho. 

Azula sits down at her kitchen table and stirs her tea. She picks up a pen and smoothes the white piece of paper in front of her until it becomes creaseless and perfect. 

Dear Zuzu,

You’re an idiot if you don’t withhold raising the taxes on the largest corporations and highest tax brackets for another six months. I know treasury funds are running low, but growth is bound to soar with the official trade agreement you’ve signed with the Earth Kingdom. The influx of profits will make your plan to construct a true Fire Nation welfare net all the more politically palatable. People with money in their pockets don’t put up much of a fight. 

Have you survived any assassination attempts lately? Put down any coups? Tell me all about the political extremism present within the borders of the Fire Nation. I’m sure there’s much to discuss. And I’m sure it’ll be more interesting to read about. I’m destitute when it comes to entertainment on this godforsaken island, as I’m sure you’re well aware. 

The turtleducks are doing well. The wisteria has already begun to bloom. Tell Mai I wish her well.

Your most loyal, useful, beautiful, and perfect servant,

Azula

She takes a deep breath, grounding herself, and looks out the thick glass windows for a hawk on the horizon. They’re beautiful creatures, their mottled brown wings powerful and tireless. She trusts them to relay her letters week after week. 

Azula might be the only person on this section of the coastline for miles around, but she is far from alone.