Ire’s Fire

They all offer to come, so she wouldn’t have to do it alone. None of them did it, alone, they say. They all had each other.

She knows that, of course. Aang, Katara and Sokka. Zuko, Toph and Suki. She wasn’t there, for theirs, but they’re all here for hers. Just that is enough. Azula’s been practicing for so long that she’s perfect, and that’s not a lie.

 Besides— she won’t be alone, not really.

And so, Hakoda takes Azula ice dodging. The others watch from the shoreline, their figures becoming smaller and smaller until they disappear. It’s just the two of them, Hakoda and Azula, on the cutter sailing ship. The wind whipping at their faces. The sky so, so blue above. Hakoda sits on the deck and sways with the turns and twists as Azula steers, secures the mainsail, and controls the jib. He is calm. She is calm. They both know she is prepared. And when it is over— face red, top knot undone, sweating profusely, breathing heavily, heart pounding, muscles aching— she stands with her shoulders back and head high as Hakoda dips his fingers into black paint and draws it across her forehead. He asks the spirits to bear witness. Azula holds her breath.

She earns the mark of the Trusted.

This? This is not how it began.

Hakoda first hears about Azula through Katara. Knew about her before, of course. The favored heir of Fire Lord Ozai. The prodigy. The weapon. Hakoda holds his daughter close to his chest and squeezes his eyes shut, listening to her breathe Tui and La and she’s alive thank you thank you. Katara tells him about the Agni Kai— Herself. Zuko.  Azula. The haunting, agonizing screams. The tears. All Hakoda can think, thanking every spirit out there that Sokka and Katara are alive and okay, is that this girl has tried to kill his children, all these children, over and over again. He cannot forget. He will not forgive.

But she is a child herself, isn’t she? Hakoda sits on the couch, his children leaning against him. Sokka’s on his right and Katara’s on his left. He glances over at Sokka and tucks a strand of hair behind his boy’s ear. Looks over at Katara and watches her eyelids flutter. She murmurs in her sleep and nestles against him. Just children.

Just a child.

Hakoda knows that children are molded and shaped and made by war. 

And their mothers. 

And their fathers.

Hakoda thinks about Zuko. Fire Lord Zuko. His children whisper when they think he can’t hear. They talk about the Fire Lord. Not Zuko. Zuko keeps visiting him, although it hurts. You can see it in his eyes. I don’t understand. He visits Azula, too. He’s really trying with her. He’s trying so hard.

Dad would never pit us against each other like that. Dad would never hurt us like that.

Here, is a boy with a mark on his face in the shape of a hand. A boy with a sister who was believed to be perfect in every way that he was not. Was loved by their father, when he was not.

Here, is a girl with blue at her fingertips and believed she was perfect and loved until she wasn’t.

And she screamed and cried and broke.

 It’s… sad. Hakoda realizes. It’s just. Really, really sad.

 He pulls his children closer.

(Hakoda takes Zuko ice dodging. Takes Toph and Suki, too. His children and Aang and Bato and Iroh cheer from the shore, and the smiles on all their faces feels warm enough to melt all the snow and ice in the South Pole.)

 (He listens to Katara talk about how Azula apologized to Aang about what happened in Ba Sing Se.  Hakoda hears from Sokka that Azula’s living back in the palace, which so far, hasn’t been reduced to ashes. She is trying, they say. She is trying so hard.)

Azula is smaller than he had expected her to be.

Zuko has a hand on her back as he introduces them, and she extends the Flame and bows slightly. Hakoda bows back.

“It’s good to meet you, Chief Hakoda of the Southern Water Tribe.” She says.

“It’s nice to meet you too, Princess Azula.” He replies.

She sees Chief Hakoda many times after that. She hasn’t spoken to him since Zuko introduced them, that first time. Why would she? Why would he?

 Once, at dinner, Katara jokes with him. No, taunts him. Azula grips the table and waits for his anger and frustration. Instead, he laughs.

 Once, Sokka’s losing to Zuko as they practice with blades. Azula stares at Sokka, and then his father. Waits for his displeasure and disappointment. He cups his hands around his mouth, and shouts Go Sokka!

 She is learning, and unlearning. This father is... a lesson. He is fascinating.

The man who is chief, who is the father of Katara and Sokka, watches Azula as she practices her katas in the garden. She swallows a biting remark and takes a deep breath, extending her arms and shifting her weight to her front leg. Exhales. Continues on as he leans against a pillar and folds his arms. Slowly, eventually, Azula realizes that she’s okay with this. She doesn’t feel uncomfortable. Or uneasy. It doesn’t feel the way Ozai used to watch her as she flawlessly performed— and she would feel perfect and powerful.

When she finishes, Chief Hakoda waits for her to walk over to him.

She does, and then she, too, waits.

“What do you know about ice dodging?”

She travels to the South Pole with Uncle and the chief. 

She’s not sure blue’s a good look on her. It makes her amber eyes look harsh. The people are wary of her, and she understands why. The children hide behind their parents. Of course she understands. The grandmother cooks her food and sews her furs but does so with tight, pressed lips. Of course she understands. It would be hard not to.

Azula spends her days shivering on the ice and sweating on the cutter sailing ship. The chief shouts over the wind, instructing her how to rig the mainsail and steer and no not that! She ducks just in time to avoid the beam of wood. Chief Hakoda is not so lucky. Hand on his stomach, and weezing, Chief Hakoda says it’s okay, Princess, you’re learning. Azula clenches her jaw and forces herself to nod. 

She learns, and practices, and practices and learns.

She finds that the Chief is a good teacher.

Slowly, eventually, the children of the tribe giggle when they see her. They aren’t afraid anymore, and beg to see her blue fire and laugh as she tosses it into the air and makes sparks. The people smile and wave as she walks pass. She talks with them, sometimes. Gran-Gran clucks and pinches her cheek, spooning more sea prunes into her bowl. She eats without complaining, nods when Gran-Gran tells her she’s still too skinny. Chief Hakoda becomes Hakoda. Princess Azula becomes Azula.

The cutting sailing ship feels like home beneath her feet.

And honestly, she doesn’t mind wearing blue, so much. Uncle says it compliments her eyes. She knows he’s right.

 Hakoda says she’s ready to ice dodge. For real. She knows he’s right, too. 

Her brother and his… her… friends come to watch.

They all, even Suki who still has a hard time looking at her (Azula understands, of course), offer to help.

 But Azula has a really, really good teacher. And she won’t be alone, not really. 

And now, here, Azula stands still and tall as Hakoda draws the paint across her forehead.

She earns the mark of the Trusted.

Azula blinks, makes the Flame with steady, shaking hands, and bows low to ground.

And then, she lets them hug her. Zuko first. Lets him whisper in her ear how proud I’m so proud of you, Azula. And then lets Uncle. He is crying, wiping at his face and holds her close. And then Aang. Katara. Sokka. Toph punches her arm, first, but then hugs her tightly. Suki nods.

Azula meets Hakoda’s eyes, and sees a glimmer of what she always thought she saw in father’s. What she was told was there. What she convinced herself was there. She looks around and sees it in Iroh’s eyes, too.

Azula smiles.

This? This isn’t even the ending. Not even close. This is still the beginning. She is still learning, and unlearning. It will be life long, but spirits Azula’s going to do it.

And she’s not alone.

Let’s talk about bebe Azula for a moment, shall we?

Most people point to the flashbacks in Zuko Alone as evidence that Azula is some type of psychopath because she exhibits a lot of psychopathic behaviors (lack of remorse, disregard for others’ feelings, won’t follow rules, puts others in harm’s way, mistreatment of animals, consistent lying) but you know what a lot of these behaviors also point to? A false self as a means of protection.

I think Azula, even as a child, was dealing with the heavy burden of performance anxiety. She was told she was a prodigy from a very young age. While many child prodigies (most often defined as those with an IQ above 130-140) may purposely sabotage their successes in order to not fail in the future when the stakes are higher, some prodigies are known to develop a specific subtype of performance anxiety that essentially blocks off their authentic emotions and behaviors in favor of those that will help them succeed. It’s called developing a false self. It’s essentially a shield and it’s how Azula decides to cope with her world.

Let’s explore how a false self could exhibit psychopathic behaviors:

A lack of remorse makes sure that you never have to accept that you’re wrong, that you failed.

Disregarding others’ feelings allows you to always focus on how the situation will benefit you, and stops you from considering how it may hurt others.

Not following rules ensures that you do what is best for yourself at all times, regardless of social norms or legalities. Like burning a doll that you dislike or spying on your father’s meeting.

Putting others in harm’s way might save you from being in danger. If you don’t care about how others feel, you don’t care if they’re about to fall off the side of a gondola.

Children mistreating animals is shown in the media as Psychopath 101 but many children mistreat animals not out of maliciousness but because they feel the need to exert power. Azula grew up in a family that valued power over everything else. Why wouldn’t she try to exert what little power she had over anything she could? Her friends. Her brother. Turtleducks.

Consistent lying is just a means to an end for Azula. Lying gets her what she wants. The truth won’t. Simple.

These all boil down to a lack of empathy on Azula’s part. But I don’t believe she actually lacks this at all. She’s just grown up in a world where empathy gets you teased and viewed as weak, affects your focus (which in turn affects your bending), and (later on) may leave you burned and banished.

A) a bike

B) A segway

C) Heelies