Fic: Correspondence

[terajk]

Title: Correspondence
Rating: Teen
Characters, Zuko, Azula
Ships: Aang/Katara/Mai/Zuko
Word count: 1445 words
Summary: "I am so tired of you," Zuko said. Post-series.
Content notes: In-universe racism. No standard notes apply.
Note: For lizbee
Also at: AO3

"You don't accumulate much correspondence when you're away, do you, Zuzu?"

"How would you know?" Zuko shuffled papers, trying to look busier than he was.

"Because you're answering it yourself." Azula made herself comfortable in one of the chairs. “Father never answered his own letters.”

“I’m not--” said Zuko, but then he realized that admitting he wasn’t actually involved in important Firelordly business would only invite more insults, more conversation with her, period. Or worst of all, maybe screaming. He’d found a letter in one of the books in Father’s office (his office, he had to keep telling himself, even now), folded almost lovingly. It was written in characters some people in the colonies used. Azula could probably read it better. She’d always had more interest in prisoner rolls. 

“Why are you even here?” he said to her.

“Perhaps you should lock your doors if you don’t want madwomen in your office. And besides, you weren’t expected back for, oh, another two months, I think.”

“I’m Firelord. I have things to do.”

“I thought you had things to do in Barbarian Land," Azula said, examining the back of her hand. "Speaking of which, I haven’t seen Mai. Did she freeze to death?”

“No,” said Zuko. She was probably competing with Sokka to see who could gut fish the fastest. 

“That’s too bad,” Azula said. “I don’t suppose you brought me back anything.”

Zuko rolled his eyes.

“Honestly, Zuko. One would think you’d put me in prison.”

“Who says I won’t?” he asked. “And you never answered my question.”

“Which was?”

“Why are you in my office?” 

“I live here,” Azula said. “I can go where I like. You allowed that.”

He supposed he had. Mai’s plan had been to put her in the Prison Tower and send one of the palace physicians as often as was necessary. She and Uncle had ordered it while he was bandaged up in the royal infirmary. “You put my sister with my father?” Zuko had said. “Do you want me to be assassinated before my eighteenth birthday?”

Mai had rolled her eyes. “Fine. Transfer her to the Boiling Rock, then.”

But he couldn’t do that, either. There were...unfortunate implications in putting members of the royal family away for war crimes. After all, who would be left to rule the country? (In her darker moods, Katara said, "Aang and I.") But more than that, when Azula was surrounded by too many people--lots of servants, or after spending time in crowded places, even in disguise--she became more nervous, more convinced people were out to harm her in strange ways. Of course, the same was true when there were too few people around. ”She does better when you’re home, Firelord,” the servants would say, even though he hadn’t asked. Lots of things were more important--like the fact that his father had apparently decided Phoenix Kings didn’t need military invoices and just burned them all. Zuko still received messengers from angry arms dealers expecting to be paid.

Sometimes Zuko wished Aang had killed him. It was only when Azula said, “Whom?” that he realized he’d just wished it aloud.

“Dad,” he muttered. 

Azula laughed then; her laughter had always sounded out of place, even as a little girl, even at lighting his hair on fire and other things she’d think were funny. “Now that he’s powerless? How brave of you.”

He did not remind her of what the servants had told him about the brief time she was in the Prison Tower with Father. All he said was, “I wanted to kill him before then. Myself.”

“What’s stopping you now? The man has no bending, and you are a coward.”

“I won’t act like him, Azula,” was all he said.

“You already do.” She said it so quietly that he almost didn’t hear her.

He didn’t ask what she meant by that--it was what she wanted, to tear him open and push on his organs. She was not his business; he had forts to rebuild and supplies to send and taxes to collect and lovers to miss while he did it.

And yet.

“Why are you here?” he asked again.

“If you really want to be better than Father,” she said, “you should kill him. He couldn’t even kill a child.” There was a hint of--pride? (yes of course pride) in her voice. Then she said, “Sometimes I dream you do kill him, Zuko.”

“And then you avenge him by killing me,” said Zuko, deadpan, and then realized he was affecting Mai’s behavior. Again.

“No,” Azula said.

Does he...talk to you? Zuko thought then, suddenly. It was a stupid thing to think; Azula wouldn’t want him involved in her...affairs. What he said was, “Can you read this stupid letter Father kept?” and felt like an idiot.

Azula didn’t comfort him any. “Really. You rushed home to rifle through Dad’s old mementos?”

“I’m still going through his records,” he said. “It could be important.” 

“He left nothing important,” Azula said. Her voice sharpened and fell in a way that made him nervous. But she came over to his desk anyway. Shortly thereafter, she scoffed. “Just some peasant in the colonies asking the Firelord to send food,” she said. “Something about a drought. Just people in the colonies thinking we owe them everything.”

“We kind of do,” Zuko said.

“That’s your problem, Zuko--among many other things,” Azula said. “Father knew who was important and who wasn’t.”

Zuko didn’t say anything at first, thrown by her choice of words. Then he said, “He kept this letter,” and felt stupid.

Azula waved a hand. “Please. He probably just put it somewhere and forgot about it.” 

“I don’t think so,” Zuko said.

“What? Do you think Father secretly pitied the poor fools who thought he’d send him free food?”

“No,” said Zuko. “I think he liked it.”

Azula said nothing.

Zuko spoke more to himself than to her. “He probably kept this letter folded up safe so he could read it whenever he wanted, because people were starving and he had the power to let them starve. And it was like...I don’t know.” (His first thought was “like looking at porn,” but even propelled by the momentum of his anger he couldn’t bring himself to say that).

“What do you care?” 

““Father gets off on having that power over everyone,” Zuko said. “His subjects, Lu Ten, Mother, me. You.” It was the first time he’d said anything like that to her, and he immediately wished he hadn’t.

“I don’t know why we’re talking about this,” she said.

 It took all his effort not to light his papers on fire. “Because you came into my office! You wanted to...whatever it is you do, but you messed up and stumbled into something you don’t like and now you want to blame me. Well, too bad. I’m tired of dealing with all your crap.”

“Maybe you should’ve stayed with your whores, then,” Azula said, “instead of coming home early.”

“I have a country to run.”

“Yes. And a crazy sister to pass off to doctors and servants who don't know their places.”

“Fine,” he said. “Rot with Father, then. See if I care.”

“How generous of you, Firelord,” she said, after a pause. “Mai will be pleased. And that other bitch, too, probably.”

“Katara doesn’t give two shits about you.” Zuko didn’t think about how he’d emphasized the name, like a child quoting a curse word.

“Then why do you spend so much time in the wilderness?” Azula asked. “Why do you sneak her around the palace like I wouldn’t notice?”

“I am so tired of you,” Zuko said.

“The feeling’s mutual, I assure you,” said Azula.

“Then why are you here?!” Zuko burst out.

His sister looked away.

“Forget it,” he said. Then: “You know what? I’m burning this letter.”

"I''ll do it," Azula said. 

Part of him--the kid playing with the engraved knife part, the banished prince on the high seas part--wanted to ask her why she had to ruin everything of his. But another part of him said, You had the eclipse, remember? You let him go then.

Azula touched the paper gently with one finger. He tried not to think of

(his Agni Kai, Father caressing his cheek)

the paper lanterns he made for the new year, always mysteriously smudged. Then suddenly her fire flared blue and the letter was gone.

He noticed her hand was shaking, just a little. He turned his palm face-up, as if he'd just felt like it (she wouldn't want him involved in her affairs), and she laid a hand over it.