agni kais
“The Blue Spirit is stupid,” a grumpy, seven year old Azula muttered.
Nine year old Zuko whipped his head around to look at Azula, eyes wide. And he opened his mouth to disagree, but Ursa, as patient as ever, beat him to it.
She asked Azula, quietly, “And why do you think that, my love?”
Zuko could yell at Azula—really, he could. The annoyance was in his blood, wanting so badly to slip out, but he kept his bottom lip between his teeth to stop himself from saying anything mean. He thought the Blue Spirit was amazing.
“He saves those people, but he dies in the end for doing it,” Azula scoffed, folding her arms across her chest, her sharp chin lowered as well as her amber eyes.
The three of them have seen the play multiple times—and it always ended the same way.
“How can he do that, knowing what will happen if he gets caught? Isn’t he scared? Why doesn’t the fear stop him?” Azula fired out the questions, visibly annoyed.
Ursa squeezed Zuko’s hand, almost as if knowing he really wanted to rant at Azula about how great he thought the Blue Spirit was. Zuko frowned, glancing at his fingers intertwined with Ursa’s, before looking back at his mom and his sister.
Ursa attempted to hold Azula’s hand, but Azula refused promptly. Seconds after her daughter rejected her hand holding, Ursa placed her hand on Azula’s shoulder instead, and would squeeze it if Azula let out a particularly annoyed huff.
Zuko, however, relished in any physical or verbal affection he could get from Ursa. He zoned out, then, thoughts of Ozai, his hard-to-please father, flooding his mind. He doesn’t hear Ursa and Azula talking, he doesn’t pay the play any attention. He already knew the ending, after all.
He’ll practice firebending forms at home. Maybe he could get Azula to practice with him. She was a beginner, too, even though she’s already progressing faster than him.
He’ll catch up with her soon...right?
The annoyance at Azula simmered, as doubt tangled itself into his insecurities. He could practically see his father, tall and intimidating, scoffing at him, looking at him with something Zuko didn’t know the word for, but he knew it wasn’t good. Was it distaste? No, it was stronger than that. He shoved some thoughts away before they even had the chance to form, firmly believing that Ozai just wants Zuko to be the best he can be—because he loves Zuko that much.
Right?
Beside him, while his mind was full with not so pleasant thoughts, Ursa was talking to Azula about the Blue Spirit, the main character of the play: The Journey of The Blue Spirit.
“Because, my love, despite what your father tries to teach you, fear isn’t that powerful,” Ursa said, and Azula looked up with disbelief. She opened her mouth to speak—no, to protest, but Ursa continued. “And, as I’ve said before: the Blue Spirit is brave, selfless. Yes, he’s scared of getting killed—he’s downright terrified!—but that’s what makes him so brave, he helps the villagers regardless of how scared he feels. And he put others before himself, that’s what makes him so selfless. He’s not stupid, my love. Not at all.”
Silently, with a lump in her throat, Azula reached for Ursa’s hand, and held it. Ursa intertwined their fingers, and smiled gently, squeezing her daughter’s tiny, tiny hand. She worried if Azula would physically grow—the young firebender had always been small, too small for her age; she knew, however, that Azula made up for her small frame with her natural ability at firebending.
“I know he’s your favorite character,” Ursa whispered to Azula with a soft chuckle, “you don’t need to pretend with me, my love—I know you as well as the back of my hand.”
“I know,” Azula whispered, and leaned her head on Ursa. “I love you, mom.”
Ursa looked at Azula, her eyes glittering, gleaming with unconditional love. “I love you, too, Azula.”
Beside them, a young Zuko was silent with a loud, loud mind. Beside them, Zuko’s soft heart hardened with resolve, with determination.
Beside them, Zuko had made a decision.
—
“You can’t seriously be considering this,” Ursa whispered to Ozai, doing her best to be calm, to keep her rage at bay. “You know he’s not ready, Ozai.” She wore her signature red robes, her gold hair clip nestled snugly in her hair. Ursa looked exactly like royalty, despite not even being born into nobility. No—she was born in the colonies, and raised by herbalists.
“Tell the boy, then,” Ozai stared down at her, and raised his eyebrows. “Tell him he’s not ready for an Agni Kai. Tell him—and shatter his hardly existing confidence.” He wore his red robe, too, along with the gold hair clip only royalty could wear.
Except, he acted like he belonged with royalty—because he did. Ursa inhaled deeply through her nose, not responding. Whether it was by her husband, Ozai and his—his behavior towards her, or Fire Lord Azulon never really giving her existence much acknowledgement, she always got reminded: she did not belong in the palace, she did not belong here.
She never did. She did not belong in the royal red robe, and only ever fooled herself to thinking she could belong.
Iroh was the most welcoming member of the royal family, but Iroh last wrote a letter to them many months ago, informing them that he would eventually conquer Ba Sing Se. Along with the letter, Iroh had sent a package of gifts for Zuko and Azula—a dagger for Zuko, and a doll for Azula that she burned soon after she received it—for their birthdays. He sent the package before their birthdays, wished the both of them a happy birthday—they had the same birth month—and said he would regret not being able to spend their birthdays with them. He wrote them separate letters, too; Iroh had sent the gifts early to compensate for his absence.
Azula turned eight, and Zuko turned ten.
Of course—all of that was before Lu Ten died in the war. After Lu Ten died, Iroh had sent a short, short letter, saying he would not be home for a long time. That was six months ago, that Iroh sent that letter. It was almost a year since he sent her children the birthday packages.
However, just two weeks after Lu Ten’s unfortunate death, Ozai attempted to get Azulon to make him the heir to the throne. It did not go down well. Since Azulon was feeling merciful that day, he banished Ozai from the palace grounds for only a week. He hadn’t spoken to Ursa or the children that whole week, not that he did it often before Ozai’s brief banishment.
Unlike Ursa, though—Zuko and Azula belonged in the palace.
“I always knew you were weak, Ursa,” Ozai whispered tauntingly, his expression almost amused, almost smug—but, as always, there was nothing in him. Nothing at all. “I thought you would at least try harder for the boy—“
“Who is his opponent, Ozai?” Ursa interrupted him, and Ozai, for once, stopped himself from ‘correcting’ her behavior. Instead, he smirked devilishly, and crossed his arms over his chest. He didn’t reply, and just stared at Ursa, something dangerous glinting in his eyes. “Who did you choose to fight against Zuko in the Agni Kai?” She demanded, her hands curling into fists, her nails digging deep into her palms.
“My precious, darling Ursa,” Ozai had cooed at her with a teeth-rotting sweetness—and a bitter poison interlaced itself with the sweetness so well, that if Ursa hadn’t known Ozai as well as she did, she wouldn’t have been able to detect the poison at all. But the fact is—she did know him, she knows the poison in him all too well. His smile was too gleeful, too content. It made her want to throw up. That kind of smile from Ozai—it never, ever meant anything good.
“You’re looking at him.”
“No,” Ursa’s jaw slackened, and she tasted hot bile on her tongue. She swallowed, gripping some of the fabric of her robe in her right hand so tightly, her knuckles turned white. When she pulled her hand away from the fabric of her robe, it was wrinkled. Could she stop this Agni Kai from happening? Was it too late? Was her son’s fate already sealed? “No—no. The Fire Sages wouldn’t—they couldn’t possibly—“
“They approved this morning,” Ozai cut her off, as if he was correcting her about something that didn’t matter. Well...it didn’t matter to him. “And you know my father would never miss an opportunity to see an Agni Kai. He’s won every single one he’s ever been in, you know.” And he was still using that sweet tone, still using that smile that only ever came if something terrible was going to happen.
“Spare him,” Ursa’s voice broke, hands trembling. “I beg of you, Ozai. Spare him.” Anger was no longer the emotion she was feeling. Instead, grief was already squeezing her heart, her lungs. How could she still be breathing, still be alive—with all the pain inside of her that made her feel so, so numb? “Don’t hurt him, don’t fight him, don’t—don’t kill him. Please.” She was tempted to add ‘he’s your son,’ but she knew: Ozai never cared about Zuko. Or Azula. Or her.
He doesn’t care about anyone but himself.
His smile widened, pearly white teeth showing, and Ursa felt her heart drop to the pit of her stomach. “Then I suggest we make a deal, Ursa.” His voice was no longer sweet, no longer hiding the poison that was in his tone. Maybe he never had to hide the poison in the first place. He never had to hide it with Ursa. No, no—if anything, ever since they met, Ozai had seeped his poison into Ursa’s being and soul, and her doom was always impending, always in the shadows.
In that moment, though, Ursa stood straight. Her doom was no longer impending—she knew that now. In fact, her doom was the very person standing right in front of her.
All she could do was face it head on. She had to, if it meant her son would live. It went without saying she would do the same for Azula, but Ozai would never harm Azula. Not when she was a young, blossoming, promising prodigy.
Ursa inhaled, willing herself to be brave, selfless. She asked, “What do you want, Ozai?”
Ozai just gave her a smile that looked borderline painful.
Later that night, she left Zuko her old Blue Spirit mask, and she left Azula her old, silver necklace. Zuko loved the Blue Spirit even more than she did and that was really saying something. Azula once expressed her desire for the silver necklace, and knowing Azula, if she says she wants something once, it usually means she’ll always want it. Ursa had that necklace since before she was a Princess; she only wore it when they went to the theater. It was one of the only things she had from her past, but she still gave it to Azula. She knew Azula would wear it more than she did.
Both of them got a letter from Ursa. She woke them both up to say goodbye, to give them one last hug and one last kiss. Her heart had never felt so heavy in her chest.
Ursa had to do the right thing—and she did, even if she knew the consequences.
The next day, Fire Lord Azulon passed away, leaving Prince Ozai to be crowned the new Fire Lord, and Princess Ursa was nowhere to be found.
—
Just two years later, Ursa’s efforts were burnt to ashes.
Zuko still ended up in an Agni Kai with his ruthless father—and woke up on a ship, with the news that he was banished forever...unless he found the Avatar, and brought him to the Fire Nation. He had lost all his honor, his nation, his right to the throne and it bruised him badly.
All he had to do to get it all back was bring the Avatar to the Fire Nation. On paper, it seemed so easy to do. Saying it was also—you guessed it—easy. In the beginning, it was just...so easy. He was twelve, angry and stubborn; Zuko refused to give up. The task in itself of finding the Avatar hadn’t been impossible to him just yet. He didn’t want it to be impossible.
Then, when he turned sixteen, he had never been so hopeless. Four years at sea, four years of traveling the whole world, four years of desperate, relentless searching—and...nothing.
Then—then he saw a bright, blue light in the South Pole, beaming toward the sky. Relief washed over him in waves. He was—he was going home. Just when all his hope was gone, the Spirits decided to finally go easy on him.
Oh—he had never been so, so wrong.