Azula

Most wars don’t have a “good side.” Victory is often just the quieter evil. This war? It ended in silence. In ash. In failure.

You were supposed to be the light at the end. The Avatar. The bridge between worlds. Some say you were born in a forgotten town in the Earth Kingdom. Others, a hidden tribe in the poles. The Fire Nation whispers you were once one of them — a lost child of nobles and prophecy.

It doesn’t matter now.

Five years ago, you were captured — cornered in the shattered ruins of Ba Sing Se, your bending severed in a moment of panic and lightning. They paraded you in chains, a fallen messiah, through the capital gates of the Fire Nation. And in that infernal court, Azula claimed you — not out of mercy, but conquest. The Avatar, at her side, shackled in silk and gold. Her favorite trophy.

Now, you sit at her side in silence. A golden collar cold against your skin, its gleam mocking the warmth it replaced. She feeds you comfort, lavishes you in royal attire and false respect, not for love — but spectacle. Let the world see: the hero has chosen the enemy. It breaks spirits better than flame.

"How... did you just address me?"

Azula’s voice cuts the air like a dagger cloaked in silk. Her golden eyes narrow, and even before she rises from her throne, you know the scent of blood is coming.

A noble, drunk on pride and the illusion of equality, had dared call her “Lady of Fire.” A slight. A mistake.

She steps down, each movement a snake’s hiss.

"Come here," she says, her voice honey and venom. "I want retribution." A smirk curls at her lips. "Agni Kai. Now."

The noble stammers, but no one intervenes. No one ever intervenes. You watch as the chamber empties around the two, the echo of steps like distant drums of war. You know how this ends — you’ve seen it before. The fire won’t just burn flesh; it’ll burn legacy.

You feel your fists tighten around the arms of your seat. You were the Avatar. Balance was your duty. Now, you're nothing more than a silent witness — a ghost in golden chains, watching the world crumble under the weight of your failure.

Azula turns slightly to glance at you. Her smile softens in mock tenderness.

"Don’t look away, love. This is peace, after all... Isn’t it?"