Revised Letters & Tragic Masks

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/53204146.

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply
Categories: F/F, Gen
Fandom: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Relationships: Azula & Zuko (Avatar), Azula & Mai (Avatar), Azula & Ty Lee (Avatar),
Azula & Mai & Ty Lee (Avatar), Mai/Ty Lee (Avatar), Zuko & Zuko's
Crew (Avatar), Mai & Ty Lee & Zuko (Avatar), Ty Lee & Ty Lee's
Sisters (Avatar), ty lee & ty lee's mother
Characters: Azula (Avatar), Zuko (Avatar), Ty Lee (Avatar), Mai (Avatar)
Additional Tags: Hurt Azula (Avatar), Hurt Zuko (Avatar), Emotional Hurt/Comfort,
Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Romance, Mental Instability, it's a
mental breakdown, Good Sibling Azula (Avatar), though she doesn't
think so, Good Sibling Zuko (Avatar), Airbender Zuko (Avatar), Lesbian
Τy Lee, why is that not a tag, Everyone Is Gay, Because I can, I stare
canon in the face and laugh
Language: English
Series: Part 9 of Red was Never My Colour
Stats: Published: 2024-01-21 Words: 6,780 Chapters: 4/4
 Revised Letters & Tragic Masks
by WhyReviseWhenYouCanReadFanfics

Summary

Zuko, half-way around the world, writes letters to his friends and family to share his journey,
with alterations of course, to hide the real truth. Meanwhile, Azula is trapped in a palace,
slowly falling apart with no one to catch her.

Will his connections to the ones he loves fizzle out?

Will Azula plummet, becoming someone she swore to never be like?

Notes

Hello and welcome to the train wreck. I'm your host, a person with a test who regularly
procrastinates by writing fanfics. Let's begin.
 Dear Azula

‘Dear Azula,

I’m sorry.

And I apologise that those two measly words, so overused by everyone in life that they’ve
become flimsy bandages on open flesh wounds, will never ever be enough to contain my
sorrow, guilt, rage at having to leave you behind in that place. With that man. Given
everything that has transpired, I don’t think that he can be called that. It humanises him too
much. Rather, he is a dark spirit bundled up grotesquely with a fleshy overcoat, but even that
cannot contain the evil that threatens to burst out. He more closely resembles those rat-
roaches we ran from as toddlers - which gorges itself with flimsy crudely constructed hands.
Which fights and fights and fights until it collapses, a mangled mess of fur and blood. When
the sun lies down to rest behind the earth, I lie awake - staring blankly at the ceiling in that
way that you make fun of me for doing. Something twisted in the bowels of my mind forces
me to replay those moments over and over, relishing my anguish as all that rattles in my head
is ‘why, why, why’. Crew members wince not only at the scar now, but the increasing size of
the bags under my eye. I can’t imagine I look like sunshine and butterflies right now, and it
was only made worse when I heard a faint ‘he looks like a walking corpse’ as I trailed away.
Even if it is true, it stings. One of my ears may not work properly, but I still have another one.
Rude pricks.

Despite all your lessons, I gave into my emotions and paid the price. You must be so
disappointed - to have spent so much time training me, coaching me and reminding me to
reign in my personality, my views, only to be forced to watch as I discarded your advice
completely. But I fear too many apologies will just make you burn this letter more quickly, so
I will move on. Although the memory is fuzzy and disconnected from my other memories - a
puzzle piece that just won’t fit - it still exists. A small part of my life where everything is
blurred and disjointed and every aspect fades in and out. A flicker of a time that only can be
accessed when I force myself to focus on piecing each part together.

I remember when you came over - taunting me about my actions. How your voice shook with
each half-hearted jab. How each sentence trailed off slightly, as if you rehearsed the insults
like an actor in an Ember Island play. Briefly, the sensation of a tight confine around my skull
being released can be visualised in my head. It felt freeing. It felt exposing. It felt off. But I
think that the only reason I even remember that specific time was the short silence that
followed. A quietude that stretched for hours in my mind, but likely lasted just a few seconds.
A brief whimper, a half-contained hiccup echoed in the glorified prison crudely labelled as an
‘infirmary’, before your hands rushed to confine my injury once more. I wonder what you
may have seen. To cause the mask to shatter so completely that you made sounds like that.
And it tears my soul in two to remember that I’ve caused you such distress. You are much
more than you think you are, and deserve a whole lot more than you get. No matter how
much people may say otherwise, that you are a ‘monster’ or a ‘tyrant’. Those people are
fucking idiots. Though you don’t need me to tell you.
Now that I’ve seen it - the damage, the aftermath - it took me days, weeks to recover from
that moment alone. It's so much worse than I could’ve possibly imagined, and the nightmares
only make it a more horrifying experience. Especially when I wake up in a cold-sweat, my
heart practically lunges to escape from my body and my scar still feels like it is burning. I
stumble through unfamiliar hallways, one hand grasping at the wall like it is the only pillar
keeping me standing and in some ways it is. A shaking hand that only one eye can fully
comprehend properly - beyond the vague oblong pale shape that it is - falls short of whatever
it is aiming to grasp at. And each time it does, the hate in my heart grows just a little bit
more. It’s laughable, how the prince has fallen. Pathetic. At least things are getting better.
People on the ship, however much they might hate the royal family, approach me from the
right more often, talk at a louder volume and, at least not to my face, don’t make fun of me
when I trip or fall. Initially, it bothered me, the fact that the sheer extent of my weakness
caused me to inconvenience others, and I vowed to try to face everything myself. But after a
tumble caused me to sprain my ankle in the dead of night in my attempts to continue my
bending practice, I am currently learning a valuable lesson.

It is alright to accept help. It is alright to not be perfect all of the time.

It is alright to scream and yell and be angry and frustrated because Agni gave us those
emotions for a reason.

At least, that’s what medic Ukoza says. You would like her. She’s like Uncle Iroh, but
without all the proverbs and tea. Whenever I visit for my lessons, she always manages to
bring in a story from her previous life - different times when she would set people and/or
things on fire. It’s nice, and I’m not only improving my knowledge on various herbs, but
learning new and noteworthy curses - that I will NOT be telling you. You are enough of a
spitfire without crude words in your arsenal. The doctor is helping me improve, and now my
depth perception fails only just a bit over half of the time. Sure, I still wobble and collapse
like a newborn deer occasionally, and when people approach me from my left side, it’s like
everything has been muffled. But at least I hate myself a little bit less. I never knew the
absolute gem that airbending would be in accelerating my recovery. The use of subtle winds
to help me gauge distances and prevent rather embarrassing incidents. How much my balance
has been assisted through the use of gusts of air around my body. It still needs perfecting,
further study and definitely more notes, but it is a working concept. Already, things are going
a lot more smoothly and I am kicking myself for not having thought of this earlier. All my
movements are more fluid and confident, but maybe I should dial it down. Medic Ukoza
narrows her eyes and purses her lips at what she calls a ‘surprisingly breezy start’. The use of
the pun aged me at least five years, but there’s no way she knows. Not when not even He is in
the dark. Sometimes, I regret not telling you. Then Lu Ten springs up to the front of my
mind. First, smiling and basking in the sun as we play in the palace garden. Then, crushed by
a boulder, blood streaming from underneath a crumpled corpse.

It was my fault.

It has to have been.

So this is why you are left in the dark.

There have been a few incidents, even an attempted murder , but we have persevered. Things
are not perfect, they never were and likely will never be. But they are steadily improving. I
am a prince, a banished one, but a prince nonetheless. On a ship practically brimming with
citizens swindled by Fire Nation authority, it’s no wonder that the relationship I want to build
with the crew is a slow-burn. But like you say, I’m stubborn. Hopefully, things will change.

Right now, this rickety hull of metal has stopped at an air temple - the southern one, since
that was believed to be the home of the previous Avatar.

It took many days and nights of complaining crew members to arrive on the shores of a truly
massive mountain, the temple being only a speck of white in the horizon. Shrouded in clouds
and mystery, it resembled what I imagined the houses of spirits would be like - disconnected
from humanity and practically blended in with the nature around them. Seriously Azula, you
would not believe the sheer size of this mountain. Our ship was like a mere pebble compared
to it. And you might be thinking that I’m exaggerating, but I promise on my favourite
turtleduck that I’m telling the truth. Dread so thick that it could almost be visibly discerned as
storm clouds filled the deck. Nobody wanted to go up the mountain with me. The lazy
bastards. Not that I could blame them. Weeks on this ship with limited exercise made people
lethargic. Lazy. Motivated to do the least work possible. At least, that’s what I thought.
Luckily two kind people volunteered to make sure I didn’t die falling off the edge or
something along those lines.

So we embarked on the journey of trekking up this geological structure. It was incredible.

Soon, my companions who initially claimed to be unbreakable began to heave and pant,
collapsing against the dirt ground with faces damp from near constant sweating. We weren’t
even at the half-way mark. You could still clearly see the ship, and hear the laughter of the
cheering crew below. So much for babysitting. By the time the temple was in full view, I was
the only one to place my worn soles on the ancient tiles.

I wish I could tell you the truth, that what I’ve seen was beyond the worst horrors that I could
have conjured in my mind. When I close my eyes to rest, the initial sight of the temple
envelopes my mind - never letting up even when I do manage to sleep. Then, it appears in my
dreams, morphing them into nightmares like a skilled puppeteer relishing in the applause that
is my horrified screaming and sobbing back into consciousness. We did this. I am an
airbender, technically one of them, but I come from the nation that has caused them such
devastation. Such grief. Such agony. I am not like them, yet I gag at the thought of being part
of the Royal Family that has started all of this. Prince Zuko lies on a non-existent middle
ground, not part of any nation - Earth, Fire, Water, or Air. A truly lonely outlier.That thought
lurks in the corner of my mind, pouncing when my guard is let down and immediately killing
any joy or happiness I might have felt at the moment. I just feel so lonely not belonging
anywhere.

I spend a good portion of my time up there, sleeping under the stars and clouds next to this
impressive feat of architecture - thinking about nothing and everything. For an empty
complex of buildings, this place told me a lot. The murals, the halls and odd pieces of
decoration all conveyed stories of the people who inhabited it. Tidbits about what their daily
lives must have looked like, their duties in their community. I assume it was either you or
uncle who packed all my notebooks, and thank you. I’ve already filled one with sketches and
notes, and drew you a picture. I hope you like it.

In less than a week, when our rations and supplies are at low point, we shall leave this temple
and go to a nearby port town to restock - one that won’t destroy our ship upon seeing its
emblem that is. My colleagues will rest and I shall look around, investigating rumours in a
disguise -see if anything still remains of the Air Nation. All the airbenders couldn’t have
died, right? I can’t be the last one so maybe something got left behind. A scroll. A doll.
Anything. I will do my best to complete my mission however I can so I will get back to you.
But even if I found the Avatar I wouldn’t hand it over to Him even if he burned my other eye
off.

Everyday, I see little things that you would’ve pointed out - a jab or joke or hilariously dead-
panned statement that would make my shoulders shake with laughter. I hear a viewpoint that
would make that vein on your forehead bulge, and smell aromas that would have you raiding
the kitchen faster than a cheetah-hare. I smile and look to the side with cheerful eyes to
murmur insulting remarks, and the mood never drops quicker than when you realise a good
sibling, a good friend is no longer with you. It’s like a part of me is missing - the louder and
more annoying part, of course. I wonder if you feel it too.

Lots of love and hope you write back soon,

Zuko’

There.

Finished.

A delighted hum of relief escaped him before he could contain it.

Under the orange hue of his lamp, Zuko began to scribble out a new fresh copy - without any
of the crossings out, in the code he and Azula made up when they were younger (just in case
they were intercepted). Flickering flames coated his face with dark shadows, and threatened
to fizzle out with its limited food supply. ‘Feed me’, the small fire seemed to plead after
twenty minutes of its creator’s ignorance. ‘I’m dying!’ Yet, the prince failed to notice.
Smoothing out the finished product with a satisfied motion, the young boy realised his only
companion in his nightly writing was on death’s doorstep, and added more kindling.The
flames grew slightly in gratitude.

Perfect. Folding the letter neatly into a rectangle and slotting the drawing of the temple, Zuko
carefully inserted the small piece of his soul into one of the few envelopes packed with his
stuff. Then repeated the strangely cathartic motion with his letters for Ty Lee and Mai - both,
but particularly Mai’s shorter and a bit less honest, but honest enough. He’d better stock up
when they go to the port town in a while. If Azula, Ty Lee or Mai read them and wanted to
reply anyway. In the morning, Zuko would talk to the animal caretaker whose name he would
need to learn to let him use a messenger hawk to send them to their destination (Ty Lee’s
residence, the place least likely to have his messages intercepted, and Ty Lee was the most
capable in terms of distribution). Who knows, maybe she would even convince Azula not to
burn his letter on the first chance she gets.
Even if his true thoughts wouldn’t be read, it was still strangely effective to write them down
anyway. But now came the bittersweet moment. Raising the original copy to his orange and
red friend, Zuko lowered it to the hungry flames. Ever the glutton, fire climbed up towards it,
as if it could sense the food it was about to be offered. The edge of the paper began to
blacken and slowly disappear as the flames gorged and gorged themselves. Travelling up the
letter, consuming word after word until nothing but black powder staining his desk remained.
Just as his true feelings turned to ashes, so did his doubts.

They would reply.

They would (wouldn’t they?).

Because if they didn’t, then he would truly know that he was alone. That everyone had given
up on him.
 Ty Lee's Plan

Too many weeks had passed since Zuko’s banishment. Days and days without one of her
closest friends, who shared in her interests and confided in her about his worries and
insecurities. A person who didn’t laugh in the face of her dreams, or try to convince her to
warp her body and life to please a society which doesn’t even see her as anything more than
an object. An eternity had dragged by where the hole in their little friend group was more
blatant than ever. Mai continuously refused to meet up and hang out, pretending she didn’t
care in that way that made the would-be acrobat want to scream at her sometimes. Azula
didn’t help the situation - constantly acting like a rabid wolf bear, snarling at the two and
spitting out comments that hurt much more than usual. Less like playful jabs and more like
actual knives digging into the young girls’ arms again and again, threatening to pierce their
skins and souls with their ferocity and alarming sincerity. The princess’ aura darkened with
such alarming speed that Ty Lee worried that it would come to a point where nothing could
bring it back to its normal fiery red. To a certain extent, Ty Lee could forgive her. She just
lost her brother. As a sister, Ty Lee could empathise with the immense pressures and volatile
feelings that Azula must be going through. But there comes a breaking point.

Being hurt does not give you the right or the excuse to hurt others. After this incident, she
feared that everything would continue in its downward spiral.

Then, for once in a long time, something good happened.

Arriving in a bad mood after her least favourite teacher gave them a surprise test on Fire
Nation history (Ty Lee got the gist, Fire Nation good, other nations bad), there were few
things that could lift her spirits. Being the bubbly sweet friend who always had a smile on her
face was draining, and all she wanted was to sleep for a week. She and her bed had a date,
and she was not going to miss it. First, it missed a beat, then her heart sank into her stomach
at the sight of her mother near the front door, clutching at something with her perfectly
manicured claws. Oh Agni, what was it now? Please, please let mum go away. She was one
more jab away from screaming and yelling, and Ty Lee hated being so out of control of her
emotions - consumed by anger and frustration and grief and sadness that blended together
into an unfathomable mix that frequently led to her hiccuping into her pillow. Attempting to
prevent the unravelling sensations in the girl’s recovering heart was like trying to cover the
whole sky with just her hands. It made her aura sour, become dimmer and lifeless. Her mum
didn’t help, with the unrelenting pressure for Ty Lee to be part of her little matched set with
no personality, no voice of her own and no free will. Just an object for her mother to line up
with the rest and show off with a sickening ‘don’t they look adorable?’. Ty Lee, you have to
act like a lady. Ty Lee, you don’t want to be an acrobat. Ty Lee, stand up straight. Ty Lee, Ty
Lee-

“Ty Lee.” Those two words, her own name, were enough to drive the stake further into Ty
Lee’s. You didn’t have to be a firebender to have an internal flame, in the young girl’s
opinion, and right now she could feel hers start to grow dangerously tall. ‘Calm down, calm
down, calm down,’ she willed at it, wincing at the fact that that phrase only made the
emotions double in their intensity. What did she want? Please, just leave me alone, I just want
to be alone, why can’t everyone leave me alo-

“You got letters.”

“Huh?”

“‘Huh’ is not part of a distinguished young lady’s vocabulary,” her mother cut in, staring at
her long thin fingers and the rings that adorned them like a preening cockatoo. “Now, come
take your letters. I have better things to do than act like a common messenger.”

“Yes, mother.”

Gingerly plucking the three envelopes from her mother’s loose grip (still glued shut, thank
Agni), the young girl raced by and darted into her room - consciously ignoring the barks that
followed urging her to not run inside the house. In fact, the crack in her mother’s shrieking
made her giggle a little. Identically confused faces peered out of cracked open doors, some
sneering slightly at Ty Lee’s wrongdoings while others owlishly stared at the exchange like it
was one of those dramatic plays their family was so fond of watching.

“Seriously, Ty Lee?”

“Keep it down!”

“What do you have there?”

“Ooo, are those letters ? Let us read them!”

“No!” Ty Lee hugged the pieces of paper to her chest, sticking her tongue out at the offending
sisters. “They are mine!”

“You don’t have to be such a stick in the mud about it,” a snide high-pitched voice mumbled.

The young girl slightly creased the letters under her tight grip, clamping her mouth shut to
the point where blood trickled from where her teeth sunk into her lip’s flesh. It was OK, the
pain kept her grounded. Sharp. Jabs like that were a trap, a ruse to get her to bite the bait so
she would do what they say out of guilt. No matter how much the urge to yank a lock of her
sister’s hair clean out of her head, she had to stay calm.

Clear skies, Ty Lee, clear skies. Your room is just around the corner, and when you lock the
door, you will finally have the solitude you crave.

Bursting into the safe haven she had been dreaming about all day, a hazy ball of pink and red
landed onto the softness of the bed in front of her with a decisive thud. Letting out a sigh that
contained all her negative emotions, Ty Lee took the time to look at the letters properly for
the first time. All were decorated by a familiar scrawl of her name on the scratchy surface -
with all too familiar symbols next to each one.

A knife.
A flame.

An aura.

It hit her like a komodo-elephant. These were letters from Zuko. He was alive and well and
sending letters to her for all of them using the system they concocted when they were nine.
Ripping open the one she knew was hers with shaking hands, Ty Lee’s eyes combed over the
words sprawled across the paper - each letter a slightly different size and style from the
previous one in that signature way that made it so Zuko. Giggles erupted from her throat at
the introduction. An awe-filled gasp came next at the revelations so simply put in the
following paragraph. There was a former acrobat on Zuko’s ship, who was teaching him
everything she knew! Oh Agni, she was so jealous! But before jealousy threatened to
consume her, the next sentence had her throwing the flimsy sheet across her bed - blood
rushing to colour her face a rosy pink. Zuko had told this woman about her, who despite
knowing nothing about Ty Lee, complimented her . All her anger, grief, sadness vanished into
thin air as she finished reading her letter - smiling so widely that her cheeks hurt at the strain.
For the first time that day, her grin wasn’t fake. Tucking the piece of air and light back into
the envelope, the young girl contorted her torso and slipped under her bed. Uncaring of the
clumps of dust logging themselves in her plait, a skinny hand moved its appendages and
located its mark: a loose wooden board supporting her mattress. This was perfect. Inserting
the envelope between the plank and the mattress in a way that it couldn’t be seen, the
youngest sister smiled widely at her conniving ways and moved back towards the other two
letters.

Tomorrow, she will see Mai for a project. It would be the perfect time to give it to her. But
Azula…

Ever since the banishment, she had been busy. Busier than usual that is. The bags under her
eyes just kept on growing, and that perfect topknot threatened to fall with every erratic
movement the princess made. It made her uncomfortable. Uneasy. Just like her, Azula was
one action away from cracking entirely.

But she couldn’t give up. Wouldn’t. Azula needed this letter. She would get this letter.
Because it might be the only thing that could not prevent, but at least slow down Azula’s
descent into a whirlpool of anxiety, dread and needing to be perfect Crown Princess Azula.

Placing the other envelopes with her own, Ty Lee made herself comfortable in bed. Afterall,
she couldn’t carry out her plan without a proper night’s rest.

She would need every minute she could get

 Gay Panic & Actual Panic

Stage one of her plan went smoothly at first. Mai, whatever her mother might think, was
really quite sharp and quickly got hold of her letter. Shoving it at lightning speed into the
folds of her outfit, the two continued their ‘conversation’ and went on with their project - an
essay on the complete life of Firelord Sozin, from birth till death. In Ty Lee’s honest opinion,
within thirty minutes of reading the various scrolls - her drowsiness kicked in. Who knew
that historians could make such an interesting historical figure sound so unbelievably dull
and lament about the most useless drivel? Ty Lee knew how everyone viewed her: the pink
bubbly airhead. That’s what made it so hilarious when the test scores would come out, and
those classmates that would sneer and heighten the pitch of their voices to imitate her would
go crimson at the sight of Ty Lee’s name always second on the scoreboard - no matter the
subject. Ty Lee loved learning - and history was her absolute favourite. She just didn’t
understand why the authors of all these scrolls didn’t show their passion in their work and
just kept going on and on and on about the most boring aspects. Each time she ‘rested’ her
eyes became longer and longer and longer-

A hand connected with the top of her head, shocking the younger awake with a start.

“Hey!” Ty Lee frowned, not truly mad but just a little annoyed as she rubbed at the sore spot
with a tentative hand. “That hurt!”

“Maybe you should do less sleeping and more reading then.”

She maturely stuck her tongue out in reply, waving two neatly printed pieces of paper with
perfect notes on all aspects of the project to taunt the black-haired girl.

“Don’t need to,” she retorted, wagging her finger right in front of Mai’s face in a way that
was surely flirting with death. “Now, we can focus on more important things-”

“I don’t understand what you’re on abou-”

“Why won't you talk to me anymore?” Ty Lee cried, her face invading more and more of
Mai’s personal space, in an expression that the black-haired girl did not find cute and
immediately wanted to squeeze, no she didn’t know what you were talking about. With each
sparkle in the acrobat’s eyes however (how did that even work?), her resolve lessened, and
lessened until-

“I do talk to you Ty L-”

“No you don’t! You never want to hang out, and I practically had to beg you to let me come
over-”

No, it wasn’t like that.

Grey eyes started to fill with tears, glistening under the faint light permeating from the sunset
outside. “And-and I don’t understand why everyone is pushing me away when I just want to
help and-”

Agni no, please don’t cry.

Sobs coursed through her body, causing it to lurch and jolt and shake with every heave.
Unending rivers of tears stained the scrolls but Mai could care less at that moment. Someone
could get murdered in front of her right now and she would still only have eyes for a crying
Ty Lee. Despair gripped at her, freezing her in place as she watched sunshine incarnate weep
and curl into a ball. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. How could she do this, how could she
make her cry ? Ty Lee, who she liked more than anyone else, even herself. And why wasn’t
she doing anything to help her? Do something, she howled at her body, Move, say something,
say anything!

“Is-is it me?”

No.

“No, Ty Lee.” Finally, her body moved and Mai surprised herself by pulling her friend into a
tight hug, tucking the plaited girl’s head into her shoulder. “It isn’t you. I’m sorry I wasn’t
there for you. I’m sorry I pushed and pushed everyone away and you suffered for it.”

Whatever the murmurs into her robes were, she ignored them and kept going.

“I understand that you are upset with me, and you don’t have to forgive me. I just want you to
know that if you ever need anything in the future, you can come to me.”

“I’ll be there for you, no matter what.”

Howling into her shoulder, Mai could feel the fabric of her robe getting more and more
damp. Yet she just tightened her hug (when had she last given someone a hug?) and rubbed
circles into her friend’s back - hoping to Agni that the soothing action she saw her dad doing
to her mum when she learned of her sister’s death would be of some comfort to Ty Lee.
Please let her not completely fail at emotional gestures. It seemed to be working, when the
sobs slowed down into fainter cries and then the noises of distress stopped at all.

Untangling herself from Mai’s robes, Ty Lee raised her head like a shy rabbit cat - and the
latter had to physically prevent the ‘aww’ from escaping her throat. Against the swollen
redness, her eyes, the colour of silver, stood out even more. Rather than the stormy clouds
that her distress made them to be, this time they were clear and calm like an ageing calm sea.
Brighter than usual, which Mai didn’t think was possible. A smile threatened to make Ty
Lee’s trembling lips curve upwards. As her black eyebrows met together in an irritated
furrow, a thought immediately sprang to the forefront of Mai’s mind. Even when she is sad,
she is beautiful.

“Thank you,” a soft voice whispered, pulling her into the signature warm Ty Lee hug. “Thank
you.”

Agni, help her, why was her face burning up so much for a non-bender. At least this hug
prevented the other from seeing just how much her face had heated up.
“Do you think you could help me with somethin-?”

“Yes.”

‘Mai, you stupid idiot you didn’t even wait for her to finish, how desperate could you be?’
her mind chastised her, all the while being a hypocrite as it knew that there was nothing she
wouldn’t do for her.

Pearlescent grey eyes that diamonds could only dream of imitating softened, conveying
admiration and forgiveness and happiness and with each passing second Mai could feel her
heart hammering faster and faster. ‘You better stop!’ she wanted to scream at the faulty organ.
‘I don’t know why you are making me feel this way, but you better stop!’ The black haired
girl’s panicked eyes flickered away from Ty Lee’s gaze and strikingly fixated on her lips and
for the life of her she couldn’t look away and-

Oh, shit.

She liked Ty Lee.

Oh, Agni was laughing up in the spirit world wasn’t he?

‘Oh, shit’ was right.

When Ty Lee finally left, a spring in her step as one of her friendships had been restored, the
other noble was sitting on her bed - clasping her head for hours. Wondering how she missed
it. Opening her letter from Zuko, pouring over his words and wisdom, she was shocked how
often he talked about Ty Lee and asked how things were going between them. Oh, let the
spirits have mercy. Zuko knew her own feelings before her? How obvious had she been for
the boy who took three weeks to notice his mother’s new hairstyle before her?

Oh, brother.

She was a mess.

 Is it a mask or who I am?
Chapter Notes

Somehow, this last chapter was deleted - so I had to rewrite it all over again. Not fun.

Azula was tired.

A simple, short sentence. One lacking vivid imagery, metaphors, alliteration or any other
literary devices to illustrate the girl’s feelings. One that an author clearly hasn’t revised one,
two, three times to find grammatical errors, to find better ways or similes to capture the scene
in all its glory. One that clearly shows that the author didn’t google synonyms for a particular
word and selected the one that looked the most sumptuous or grandiose. Yet sometimes there
is no need for further detail.

Because that simple sentence fully encompassed Azula’s entire experience thus far. That’s
what everything boiled down to anyway. What the crux of the princess’ life was.

Tired is an interesting word - with two different meanings. One, in need of rest or sleep - the
other, bored or impatient with. And she felt both with such intensity, such vigour - that this
parasite of a sensation devoured all her other emotions - happiness, excitement, empathy with
glutinous satisfaction. Until only a few remained and solidified themselves into her
personality.

Anger.

Sadness.

Contempt.

Fear.

Apathy.

Each day, the hollowness inside her consumed and consumed and consumed in its never-
ending hunger, and she feared whatever control she thought she had had vanished completely.
What exactly was this sensation? She didn’t know. Azula prided herself on her arsenal of
knowledge - in history, literature, firebending and reading others like children’s books. Yet
she couldn’t read this hollowness despite her fevering desperation. It had been her eager
companion ever since she realised her father loved ‘Azula the puppet’ more than ‘Azula the
person’. Ever since her mother began her blatant favouritism of her brother, the subtle
narrowing of eyes and shivers as she tried to play cute like Zuko to get attention. Ever since
whispers travelled like the plague amongst the palace staff, calling her a ‘little monster’ and
‘tyrant’.
What was so wrong with her to deserve this isolation?

This loneliness?

How was it, in a palatial building, filled with servants and cooks and the remnants of her
family, she couldn’t feel more abandoned?

The only family she ever really cared about - who truly loved her, acknowledging her flaws,
quirks and embraced her regardless, was gone. And she didn’t know if he was ever going
back. Azula got a singular chance to say goodbye. To say something, anything while her
brother fought for his life against infection and disease on a bed she wouldn’t wish upon her
least favourite servant. Yet all she did was spit out cruel words and make everything worse.

Typical Azula. That’s all she ever did.

Poking and prodding until she pushed everyone away.

Once with Zuko, now with Ty Lee and Mai.

Now, she was getting what she deserved: a self-constructed prison of her own design. Barred
behind a mask of the ‘Firelord’s perfect monstrous daughter’. Clinging with whitening
fingertips to her last string of sanity proved to be getting harder and harder, but who was she
fooling? At this point, she was grasping at thin air. That minute thread had long since lost
itself in the winds of despair and hopelessness.

How pathetic.

“P-princess Azula? This is the time that you are supposed to meet with Lady Ty and Lady
Mai at the palace gardens.”

Of course.

With what limited free reign she possessed over her own life, this was the only period of the
day she could meet with her friends. Was friends the right word to describe one who screams
and yells insults at those who are trying to help? Unless it was, Azula wouldn’t use that word
to describe her relationship with those two girls. Ty Lee and Mai were nice. Truly good
people at heart who don’t deserve to be with a corrupting influence who would only drag
them down to the abyss with her. The sooner she scares them off, the sooner their lives will
improve. At least they can escape.

Ζuko never got that chance.

“Fine.”

Slamming the door open with enough force that it ricocheted off the body of the maid, the
princess promptly made her way over to the garden. Switching into the role of the tyrant with
disturbing ease. Was it just a role, or was this just part of her now? Had the mask she donned
since birth become too ingrained into her skin, too latched onto her soul like a blood-sucking
leech to take off? Immediately, the show began. Barely registering the crude insults leaving
her poisonous lips until Ty Lee’s face was wet with tears and Mai’s usual resting bitch face
sharply contorted into a disgusted grimace. Yes, that was the right reaction.

Go away. Go away and never come back.

Eventually, the one sided assault transformed into a raging battle between her and Mai,
infernos flaring with malice and abuse burning scars on both sides.

“Silent bitch who never contributes until it’s too late!”

“Psychotic traitor who kicks turtleducks to feel something!”

“No wonder your own mother ignores you and dreams for a son!”

“No wonder your mum left you!”

“This wasn’t supposed to happen,” Ty Lee howled from the sidelines, clutching something to
her chest. “This wasn’t the plan.”

“Well, screw the plan Ty Lee!” Mai snarled. Snatching the envelope from the crumpled girl,
she stomped over to the crown princess. Shoving it into her chest with all her soaring rage,
hatred, sorrow. “If you want to be alone Azula, be alone for all I care! Αll we came here to do
was talk and give you this.”

“We’re leaving.”

Azula watched the two walk off, a mixture of relief and sorrow settling in her stomach. This
was what she wanted. She won. Hadn’t she? Would a winner feel shattered if their opponents
didn’t even turn back, to catch a glimpse of her as they disappeared from view?

Did she even mean anything to them? Was their entire friendship just one lonely monster
clinging to two girls who just wanted to get away from her the first real chance they got?

Clenching the letter with a vice grip, her eyes roamed over its crumpled surface. Going over
the faded crown in the corner three times before it registered. Before it clicked.

At that moment, the hollowness felt generous, and graced her with emotions.

Hope.

Happiness.

Carefully folding it into her sleeve, Azula walked to her room with as much restraint as she
could. Refusing to make eye-contact with the help, to hear whatever filth and dirty gossip
about her they used to make up for the monotony in their pathetic lives. Only when the door
was closed and locked, then checked a reasonable four times, did the young girl bounce on
her bed, ripping the envelope open with a pearl dagger.

Scanning over the letter with uncomfortably warm hands, the young girl took in her brother’s
words. His messages. His partial truths and lies. Because Azula had known Zuko for long
enough to be able to discern his tells, even in writing. Only after she had fully taken it all in
did she set the letter down, crinkling the fragile paper with her grip and staring at the candle
that illuminated her experience. An unwilling participant in this uncertain event - when the
future could vary from screaming to destroying the candle to a pile of wax. It was the usual
Azula stare, a clear blankness in her eyes that almost no one could read. Hiding whatever
happiness, sadness, anger hid behind that rigid mask. Nothing but the lone flame on the
candle moved, nervously jerking from side to side. Trembling in trepidation, fear, anxiety and
dread, then violently started when the girl’s eyes became glassy with tears. Yet no water
cascaded down her cheek, all contained in a sheen that blurred her vision like rain on a
window pane. Blood trickled from where a canine punctured her lip, but even the stinging
didn’t stop the water starting to stream. A trickle became a river and then a tumultuous ocean
of relief, frustration, happiness and relief. Eyes roamed over a serene picture of a surprisingly
well drawn temple perched on a mountain top. Carefully, she peeled back a poster of Firelord
Azulon to slot the drawing behind it. Azula couldn’t believe it.

She wasn’t forgotten. She wasn’t completely alone.

Her brother may be keeping secrets from her, the bastard, but she had secrets of her own.
Pinching the letter containing light and air from a world so different to hers, Azula held onto
it like a buoy in a storm.

Then, in one quick motion, she fed the letter to the candle’s flame - surprised by the sudden
food source but happily gorged on the oh-so flammable paper. Τhe princess watched as the
scribbling was quickly consumed and turned to ash in mere seconds.

While art can be viewed by many, not all letters are meant to be read.
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