You are Azula, and you are—
"You miscalculated," Mai says. "I love Zuko more than I fear you."
—alive. Again.
How frustrating.
"Doesn't everybody?" you say into the silence, the knife-edged violence, the—oh, you're rhyming, like this is some kind of accursed theatre. That's not good. You really
are a little off-balance this time around. "You, Mother, Uncle, the waterbender girl, the peasantry, that one prison guard with the ludicrous moustache, even Ty Lee… honestly, Mai, tell me something I
don't know."
Mai blinks her dark eyes and squints at you, which is probably the most surprised any living person has ever seen her. To your right, Ty Lee is halfway through sputtering a tense denial when you wave a hand at her, dismissing whatever lie she's stumbling to concoct. You might have stolen her from the circus, but you were never after a clown.
For a moment, there's little more than the eerie hissing of the lake that gives the Boiling Rock its name. If you weren't one of the greatest firebenders in the world, the sheer heat of it, wafting through the metal platform, might have made you sweat—but you are one of the greatest firebenders in the world, so instead you're the only person here without a hint of perspiration to spoil the perfection of your image.
Then the quiet stretches a little longer and you realise that, like usual, it's up to you to do everything around here. Honestly.
Well, there's nothing to it but make a decision: what
are you going to do, Princess Azula?
[ ] Kill Mai.
You already know how that ends.
[ ] Surprise and kill Ty Lee, then turn on Mai.
Sometimes you're not fast enough to get both. Sometimes you are, and what Zuko does to you is worse.
[ ] Put them somewhere you'll never have to see their faces again, and let them rot.
Never usually lasts about nine days, you find. What's the point?
You're going to try something you haven't before.
You're going to lie.
(Your sense of humour is, as ever, a work in progress.)
"Well, whatever," you say, turning your back on Mai with a parade-perfect flourish and marching towards the nearest guard captain. Your boots are a conqueror's drum against the steel beneath you, and your voice is loud enough to be easily overheard. "Good job on selling the act, Mai. I'm certain even these fools believed you. Our plan proceeds apace."
You snap your fingers, and a spark of lightning
cracks out to accompany it, drawing the attention of every person there. If there were any decent firebenders present, they might have marvelled at your mastery of the cold fire, but also, if there were any decent firebenders present, they would either be your father or trying to kill you, so… you will have to accept the lack of adulation your skills so richly deserve.
"Now, guards: secure the remainder of the prison. Get the wretches back in their cells, seal the island, and inform the Ministry of Security that I expect an investigation into this debacle to have begun by the time I return to Caldera proper. The only reason it is an investigation instead of an execution is that my brother was involved, and as far as he has fallen, it is still to be expected that the blood of Agni proves itself superior to the common rabble. Thank me for my mercy and go."
A chorus of "Thank you, Princess Azula!" echoes out, and you smile in satisfaction. Fear isn't
entirely unreliable yet.
As the guards scatter, a faceless wave of armoured bodies bent entirely to your will, Mai seems to find her courage and speaks again. Ty Lee has moved to stand by her, a hand on her shoulder. What a contrast they must make: tall, pale, gloomy Mai in her thick, well-stitched robes, and bubbly, effervescent Ty Lee, brave enough to expose her belly to the air even when above a literally boiling lake.
"Azula," Mai says, almost… carefully in the way she says your name, like you're something wild she's not quite willing to startle. "I wasn't lying. I meant what I said."
You stop in place, heels clicking. For a second, you just breathe in—ignoring how you can hear Mai and Ty Lee's bodies shift in response—and savour the taste of the air, thick and hot and volcanic. Most people probably despise the near-sulphuric rot of it; most people are not fire enfleshed. Between the heat, the sunlight, and the dozens upon dozens of nine-day lifetimes bubbling beneath your skin, you're nearly enjoying yourself.
Then you look back, meet Mai eye to eye, and let everything poorly concealed by that "nearly" fill your stare until you're close to weeping with it.
She flinches.
Ty Lee actually gasps.
"Good job on selling the act, Mai," you repeat, softer this time. "I'm certain even these fools believed you."
With that, you smile at her—for a given value of smile, generally only redeemable by corpses—and once again start to walk away. You do not beckon for her or Ty Lee to follow. You know they don't have anywhere else to go.
At the end of the day, all roads have always led to you.
(Except, of course, that you're currently trapped in a seemingly-endless reincarnation that appears tailor-made to argue that, in fact,
no roads lead to you. But that's the sort of thing Father would say about Zuko, not the sort of thing you would say about
you. So it doesn't cross your mind. Not at all.)
"Oh, and you," you say, pointing at the unlucky guard who's returned with a mop and bucket to start cleaning away the evidence of the battle, "go tell the Warden I require his office. If he asks whether I require him as well, tell him you hope he's properly paid up at the Ministry of Internment. I'm sure he'll get the message."
The guard drops both mop and bucket in his haste to follow your instructions.
You do
so appreciate diligence.
As you leave, Ty Lee rights the bucket, and carefully leans the fallen mop against its side. You wonder why—some latent instinct to fix
something because she already knows she can't possibly fix this? Some lost remnant of her time at the circus, where she probably had to do peasant things like clean up after herself? Or, worse, some little impulse of kindness, the sort that leads to things like knuckles in your spine and traitors left to rot?
You inhale, and exhale, and in the hollow of your mind you feed the thought to the cold purity of the void before lightning; the moment when the energy splits and there is nothing left but to choose how it will ignite the world. It's funny, that way—it was only when you learned to separate yourself from your anger that you truly began to understand the cold fire, and in turn, began to understand yourself.
"We are going to the Warden's office," you say as you pass under the corrugated archway back into the prison proper. The sconces on the walls ignite as you move through the halls, a flicker of your attention and breath enough to turn them intimidatingly blue. It's a reminder and a message all in one. "After we get there, we are going to talk. And when we do, I hope you have something better to say than this nonsense about love, Mai. At least have the dignity to pretend it's because you're supporting Zuzu's bid for the throne, or because you're planning some deep-cover double-cross right when he least expects it, or because you wanted to ruin your family's name to make up for the way they treat you. Give me
something I can work with."
"Azula…" Ty Lee tries, before abruptly falling silent. Good.
Maybe she can tell from the set of your shoulders—perfect marching form, with your hands tucked behind your back and your shoulder-pads flat and level—that you are thoroughly not in the mood.
Though probably not for the reason she thinks.
Where you once might have held fury, you only have… not resignation, because you are not
resigned to anything, you are the one in control of every aspect of your life. No, you have… expectation. Yes. That's a better word. You
expected this to happen, because it always does, and it always has. Someone betrays you and you are left to move on alone, down a road that leads you back to this moment.
Every time you open your eyes on the tenth day, it's to Mai, and the Boiling Rock, and the idea that somebody loves Zuko more than they fear you.
It's more annoying than anything else by now. You get it. Frankly, you've always gotten it. Zuko is fundamentally loveable, like a turtleduck, or a flower; you are fundamentally not, because there is something wrong with you. There's no point dwelling on it. At least Father is willing to treat you like you're worth something.
(Except when he tosses the crown you've bent your whole life for into the trash so he can try and fail to burn the world down, just like you told him to, and doesn't even care to let you come along. But you are Princess Azula, the only living loyal heir, so that doesn't bother you at all.)
Regardless, you have more important things to do—like figure out where you're going to take this.
So, Princess Azula: when you're finally alone with your two treacherous ex-friends (even if Ty Lee hasn't fully realised it yet), what are you going to say to them?
[ ] The truth. You're from the future, and you want to get out.
You're not going to tell these traitors anything of the sort, not when your own father didn't believe you.
[ ] A lie. Childhood sentimentality means you're unwilling to hurt a friend, and royal practicality tells you to keep your enemies closer. It's Mai's choice which one she intends to be. Ty Lee's, too.
[ ] A lie. You wanted Zuko to get away, because Zuko would lead you to the Avatar, but then Mai just had to make a fool of herself when you had it all under control. You're eager to hear how she intends to fix this—and what Ty Lee thinks of her actions.
[ ] A lie. You engineered this confrontation as a test, and Mai and Ty Lee failed. The worst part is, they didn't even fail it cleverly. If Zuko's supporters are going to conspire against you, is it too much to ask for a little challenge?
Welcome to Arsonist's Lullaby, a timeloop quest centred around Azula. The core conceit is simple: you need to help her escape the seemingly endless cycle of her life, and let her see the Sun rise on the day after Sozin's Comet.
However, as you will have already noticed from the narration, there is a twist. The quest begins when Azula has already been looping for some time. As a result, there are some choices she will refuse to consider; after all, she's already tried that! Some of these choices—these fragments of the histories of her loops—will be alluded to through her narration, and some will be revealed directly when a vote opportunity arises.
You should not expect Azula to escape immediately, but provided you are thoughtful and considered in your choices, you should also not expect her to still be trapped in a hundred loops' time either. You've caught her at a relatively pivotal point, where she's more open to alternatives than she once was—whether those alternatives are good for her or not.
Good luck, and remember: flameo, hotman!
