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Ambassador Wang Xiu Ying is a prominent force to be reckoned with in the Palace of the Firelord. She is one of the many politicians representing the different provinces from the Earth Kingdom, and as such has an intimidating political sway over the communications between the two recently warring cultures.
She’s also, for whatever reason, extremely angry with Firelord Zuko.
When Zhi Ruo had initially been hired by the Ambassador to come work in the Palace, she had been out of her mind with joy. She’d scurried home with the gold-encrusted letter and excitedly informed her family that they should pack their things and prepare to move to the Fire Nation’s capital, because they were moving up in the world.
Entering the Royal Caldera had been a culture shock. Her husband and two children had clung to her arms as they navigated the crowded streets, making their way towards the sight that dominated it all: a gargantuan palace of dark stone and burning fire, looming over the rest of the city and artfully framed at most angles by the edges of the caldera.
They’d been shown to their quarters by members of the Kyoshi Warriors, who were now operating as an elite portion of the Royal Guard. The show of armed forces hailing from the Earth Kingdom had been heartening for Zhi Ruo and her family, and the Warriors had been quick to reassure them that the Palace would be kind to them under Firelord Zuko’s rule.
She’d been so ready to heartfully commit herself to being a part of a better Fire Nation-- dramatically throwing out half her wardrobe and replacing it with reds and golds-- that she hadn’t really questioned exactly what the Ambassador had hired her for.
The wording in the letter was vague enough that she’d assumed that she was being called in for a member of the Ambassador’s family.
As a doctor, she was at the top of her field and highly requested across the Earth Kingdom. As a specialist, her studies in the field of child psychology were less well-known and often appreciated in secret by members of noble families who didn’t want word getting out that their heirs were suffering inflictions of the mind.
“You want me to… what?” she asks, stunned. Her voice echoes a bit against the walls of these resplendent rooms, decorated with Earth Kingdom flags and tapestries of an unimaginable thread count.
Ambassador Wang Xiu Ying waves a hand like she’s shooing a particularly insistent wasp. “For a woman praised far and wide for her intelligence, you’re truly making me wonder if you were the right choice for the job.”
“My Lady--” she splutters, feeling some bizarre combination of defensive and contrite.
“It’s really quite clear,” the Ambassador cuts her off. “I want you to humiliate the Firelord at his court by offering your services in detail. If you address him as a damaged child in front of everyone, it will destroy any respect he’s gained and set him back significantly.”
“Why?” Zhi Ruo asks sharply, regaining some of her dignity. “Maintaining peace relations between nations is crucial at this stage! Firelord Zuko is a symbol of compassion and unity; we want him to have the respect of his court!”
“You think he cares about uniting our people?” she snarls, standing abruptly. Zhi Ruo takes a step back. “I had a betrothal arranged that would have bettered everyone, and he rejected it! And need I mention that you abandoned your entire life to come here? You think I can’t ruin you? Have you sleeping out on the streets of this foreign nation in a matter of days?”
Zhi Ruo ought to ask who the Firelord was apparently supposed to marry, but from the flush on the Ambassador’s face, she has the sinking feeling that she already knows.
“If you care about your family at all,” hisses the Ambassador, “you will do exactly as I say.”
-----
Zhi Ruo walks into the Royal Court with every expectation of being executed by the day’s end. The new Firelord may be better than his forefathers, but there are some things that are simply not done.
She notices that the retired General Iroh is there as well, a supportive hand on his nephew’s shoulder. She can’t decide if his presence is a curse or a blessing; she hears conflicting reports on his temperament.
She takes her place in the line of courtiers bringing their proposals to the throne, partially obscured by a wall of fire. She’s heard rumors already that Firelord Zuko is not fond of it, but is wisely cautious about rejecting too many of the old traditions.
The men and women in front of her speak most chiefly of high-level disputes over land; issues brought into urgency by the sudden influx of people at the war’s end. With both soldiers returning home and restrictions dropping on immigration from foreign lands, they’re nearing some kind of housing crisis.
The way these nobles turn up their noses at each other and squabble over their many acres of empty, unused land makes Zhi Ruo sick to her stomach; and it would seem to be having the same effect on the Firelord, because by the time she gets to him, his expression is stormy and his one good eye is twitching.
Her heart trembles in her chest, but her spine is straight and her stance is grounded. The Earth Kingdom simply doesn’t produce cowards.
Ambassador Wang Xiu Ying watches from the sidelines, drinking slowly from a silver cup. All at once, Zhi Ruo hates her as she has never hated anyone before. Insidious, reckless, warmongering--
“Well?” prompts the Firelord.
“My name is Doctor Zhi Ruo,” she answers sharply, returning her gaze, “and I am the best in medicine and studies of the psyche that the Earth Kingdom has to offer. I bring my services not only to the Fire Nation, but to the Royal Family.”
She hesitates, but the Firelord is already leaning forward, clearly interested in a way that he hasn’t been prior to her pronouncement. General Iroh’s eyes narrow, considerate and most likely anticipating where this is going.
“The field I am most skilled in is the development of trauma in children; reducing the damage done to young minds through conversation and sometimes medicine. This war--” she chokes, wishing she wasn’t remembering the loss of her oldest at a time like this-- “has taken so much from all of us, but from our children most of all. What should be a time of simple peace and happiness in their lives has instead been one infused with fear and violence. With the dawning of this new age, I offer my services to you, your Majesty, as it benefits no one to pretend that you are not people just like us, hurting from the effects of this conflict.”
She falls to her knees and presses her forehead to the ground, panting with fear but hiding a trembling smile. A call for emotional response, a statement that paints him in a positive light-- she’s not going to go down without a fight when this is her playing field.
-----
Zuko recoils instinctively, but Uncle steps forward and places a hand on his shoulder.
“There is something at play here, Nephew,” he mutters, intentionally flicking his gaze to one of the Earth Kingdom ambassadors who is now gripping her drink with white knuckles, expression carefully neutral. “You must be very careful with how you respond.”
Zuko looks down at the woman kneeling in front of him. His first instinct had been to snap, to snarl that he hardly needs to waste time on therapy when he has enough pointless meetings to attend, day and night, every waking moment, full of blathering adults who all think they know what’s best for him--
Thank Agni that Uncle is here.
But there is another issue; if he publicly accepts her services, even as a farce to smooth things over (because he does not need to talk to anyone, thank you Aang), the people of the Fire Nation will most certainly see it as a sign of weakness. Ozai had not fostered the healthiest culture around mental illness; Azula’s vain denial of her own debilitating breakdown during the height of her power is the strongest proof of that.
Something clicks. Azula.
“I see,” he finally says. The Doctor looks up at him, relief flooding her expression when she notes his lack of anger. “My sister has indeed struggled in recent history under the influence of my father; the Nation is aware of this. Though we have developed many accommodations to her physical health and safety while she is imprisoned here, we have yet to find an adequate solution that provides for her mental health. That you are offering to step in and fill this gap is yet another remarkable insight from the Earth Kingdom, and an unparalleled gift. When can you begin?”
-----
Azula paces the fire-proof prison chambers.
And that is what they are; no matter how much they furnish and decorate, Azula remembers what this place used to be. She had been brought here-- oh, what was it, five years ago?-- by Father while Zuko was off playing with swords or turtleducks or whatever it is useless older brothers do in their free time.
“This,” says Father, “is where we keep the most traitorous of all our enemies.”
Men and women chained to the walls, emaciated and twisted from starvation and torture. They don’t move when the Fire Lord and Princess enter the chambers, only continue to gaze blankly at the oddly lumpy walls.
Father places his hand on the strange texture and smiles, and she knows that whatever he is about to say is going to be truly horrendous. She smiles back.
“In the Earth Kingdom, they keep Firebenders in small metal boxes, so that if they ever indulge their Bending, it burns them. It creates something of a… psychological response. Essentially, the prisoners are training themselves without the wardens needing to lift a single finger. In comparison, these chambers under our Palace seem like a mercy.”
He flicks his gaze back over to her and his smile drops. “Do you think these treasonous creatures deserve mercy?”
She looks at the people-- no, creatures-- hanging on the walls. It seems apt to call them that, reduced as they are to mindless shells.
She hears the implication of what he says; that these poor wretches were Firebenders means that to turn away from Father, Agni’s most blessed, makes them so much worse than even the most vicious soldiers of the other nations.
After all-- if he can’t trust his own people not to turn around and stab him in the back, can he trust anyone at all?
Yes. Yes, he can trust her. She knows what it’s like to have no one else. She is his only confidant, just as he is hers. Her father, who only wants what’s best for the peoples of this world. She can only imagine how it must hurt him to know that no one else but her can see it.
In truth, she hardly cares enough about the other Nations to truly want to conquer them, as entertaining as it might be. All she really wants is for her father to have one-- just one-- person that he knows he can trust. Someone who supports him, just as he supports her.
She blinks. Grits her teeth. Wrenches herself out of the past.
It’s easier each time she has to do it, but these memories-- they just keep coming back. It’s like her own mind is trying to tell her something, but she’s struggling to understand what it is, so the vicious cycle just perpetuates.
She always assumed she would be good at torture if she ever tried her hand, but she never anticipated that her first subject would be herself.
She imagines a useless Uncle metaphor in an attempt to bring humor to the moment. She imagines that she is so close to Agni themself, closer than anyone else, that she happens to be standing in their shadow.
So close that she is denied the grace of the Sun by sheer circumstance. The cards, they’ve all fallen into place in such odd ways. Agni loves her for her strength, her glory-- this she knows.
But in their closeness, she is shielded from some kind of truth that she might only obtain from distance. But how can she leave him? Take away his only confidant? No--
She snarls. Grits her teeth. Wrenches her eyes open.
A strange, painful repetition. At least she’s not seeing things anymore.
-----
Zuko doesn’t know what he expects when he sends the Doctor to Azula. He thinks a small part of him expects her to be killed, despite the fact that they’ve decided to chain Azula down while a civilian is in the room.
He wonders if that was a mistake, because it does add a kind of… undertone to the encounter that he thinks both of them would prefer to do without.
But the Doctor’s safety is paramount, he reminds himself. And besides, she’s an expert in her field-- she should be able to adapt to a tense atmosphere.
-----
Azula smirks at Dr. Zhi Ruo from across the room. Too far to breathe fire at, but also too far to establish the base level of intimacy that’s kind of required for what the foolish woman is attempting.
It’s a boorish game, but Azula’s already winning.
Zhi Ruo sighs. “Your Highness… I want you to know that I am not here as your enemy. It’s true that you have done abominable things to my people, but as a professional, I am putting that to the side so that I can address the fact that you are a child who has been incredibly damaged. My job right now is to help you heal, and I fully intend to do that.”
“How can you heal from the height of perfection? Would you transform me into my pacifist brother?” She laughs. She knows that half the game is just getting her to talk, but she doesn’t feel like standing her ground with silence.
No. Today is a day of words.
“It was hardly pacifist to duel you for your father’s throne,” Zhi Ruo counters immediately. Azula sits up straighter, grin sharpening. “Is it your brother’s compassion for other nations that you find reprehensible?”
“It’s his inability to get his hands dirty to further his goals,” she drawls. “At the end of the day, when asked to choose between taking one step closer to greatness and avoiding the necessary sacrifice of lives, sweet little Zuzu will always choose the latter. I wonder how long he will last before he’s assassinated…”
“Treason,” is Zhi Ruo’s simple response to that, and then she’s moving on. Apparently it’s irrelevant to their conversation, which means that this is well and truly about her. Joy. “You believe that your willingness to sacrifice others makes you superior, but it’s worth noting that your broadcasting this fact to all that will listen leaves you with no allies worth trusting.”
“So…?” The point?
“Some might call it simple arrogance, but I think you’re smarter than that.” Zhi Ruo smiles, but there’s something strangely emotional about it. “I made peace with the fact that I might have died just the other day, because of some other woman’s petty grab at power failing to stick the landing. It was stupid of her to hinge her plan on me-- someone who had everything to lose and no real reason to support her plan.
“Parading around your vicious nature, your ruthlessness-- it simply wouldn’t have been intelligent at all, given the scope of your plans and your role in the war. At every step of the way, you needed people to trust you to successfully make your next advance, but you never even gave them the chance to do so. Do you want to know what it reminds me of?”
Azula is no longer having fun. Her heart is beating deep and low and she’s not sure why. It feels like sirens are sounding off painfully in the back of her skull.
“No.”
She’s ignored. “It reminds me of the bright yellow colors on the skins of poisonous frogs native to the swamps. It’s an advance warning system to everything around them of their nature and the kind of damage they can do. I doubt it was a conscious decision on your part, your Highness. But I think that deep in your soul, you wanted to spare as many people as possible, and you did so in the only way that you could without betraying your father.”
Azula is silent for a long time, letting her hair hang down in front of her face like a shield. She thinks of Ty Lee, and Mai, who turned on her at the first feasible opportunity. At the time she had been so, so angry… but there had been something else, too. Something too painful to name.
“To be honest, I wouldn’t have humored this theory even a week ago,” comments the wretched Doctor, crossing her legs, “but speaking with Firelord Zuko has put a new perspective on a lot of things. He spared no detail of your childhood, though it was painful for him to recall. He wants so desperately for you to be well. For you to understand him. For you to realize what a monster your father was.”
Monster.
It’s the wrong thing to say and Zhi Ruo realizes it quickly, attempts to backtrack-- “Of course, that’s not to say--”
“He’s my father,” she spits, heart racing, and she doesn’t even know what she’s going to say next because how can she truly defend him without diminishing his greatness-- “He’s just a man, he just wanted, like you want, like I want, to make things better--”
-----
Zuko has learned to be realistic.
He’s expecting it when Zhi Ruo bursts from Azula’s fancy prison, pursued by fireball.
He expects the fear in her eyes, the way she makes excuses to avoid him for the next week. The way she glances out windows when she thinks no one can see her, in the direction of her home, as though she might be able to see it from here.
He does not expect her to turn up a week later, sheath of paper and a quill in hand, with a fire in her eyes that proves more than anything else that she belongs here.
“This is going to take a very, very long time,” she starts, and holds up a hand before Zuko can speak, much to the chagrin of his guards.
“...but there is hope.”