The Dragon Princess and the Wolf Warrior

Chapter 84 [~|~] The Execution // The Headband

Azara awoke, knowing that there was a difference in the morning air. Sitting up from her mat, Azara pulled herself up before walking over to the lone window of her cell. The morning sun peeked through the bars, casting a soft orange slow over her. Closing her eyes and taking in a deep breath, Azara opened her eyes, staring out at the outside world for perhaps the last time.

Today was it. Her execution.

As she faced the wall, the door to her cell room jingled opened behind her. She could hear the footsteps of various guards filling into the small room. Turning around, Azara clasped her hands behind her back, staring at the guards with a mix of boredom and disgust.

The warden entered the cell room next, his face sporting a rather large sneer as he caught sight of Azara. "It's time to go, Princess."

Azara didn't respond, staring down the warden with her chin tilted up. She wasn't going to give him satisfaction, she wasn't going to give any of them satisfaction. Fighting and struggling would only convey the idea that she was afraid to die, that she was scared, that she was still a terrified little girl.

And besides, she'd already died once before. She was living on borrowed time as it was.

The guards opened the cell door, stepping forwards with chains in their hands. They shackled her hands in front of her, locking her ankles only a few inches apart so that she would be forced to take small steps. They left her mouth free this time, probably so that she'd be able to beg for her life if the fancy hit her.

But she knew it wouldn't.

"Scared, Princess?" the warden taunted as Azara's gaze flickered over to him. She didn't respond, merely staring at him as if he were a bug flittering about her head. An annoyance. A puny little nuisance that she would forget about the second after it had disappeared.

And besides, any words she had to say would pale in comparison to the level of frustration her stubborn silence would draw out of them.

The warden sneered at her before giving the order to take her out of her cell. Azara didn't look back. The halls were lined with guards, ready to prevent any attempt at escape she showed. Or perhaps they were expecting someone to swing in and save her. But Azara wasn't similarly convinced.

The cart ride to the Fire Nation Palace was slow and bumpy, but Azara sat calmly, her legs crossed under her as she stared forward. When they finally reached the Capital, Azara glanced around at the familiar streets from her childhood. There was no one in the streets, save for the guards escorting her to her death. They were all probably hiding in their houses, wondering what was going on.

They reached the palace, where even more guards were lined up in preparation for her. Azara stepped out of the cart with her head held high as if she were balancing a book on top of it. Her steps were short and clanky due to the chains around her ankles, but had she been wearing a dress instead of raggedy pants, she would have looked like she was gliding over the stone.

Walking up the steps to her childhood home, Azara kept her piercing gaze focused forwards. She couldn't be caught up in the minutia of childhood nostalgia. She didn't have that luxury. Though she had to admit that it was rather ironic that the place where she was born would also be the place where she would die.

Turning a corner, Azara recognized the route that the guards were leading her. They would take another left, walk down a long corridor lined with large windows that had the most hideous curtains in the entire palace, before turning right again.

It was the route towards the palace's Agni Kai arena. The place where her father had burned half of Zuko's face off more than three years ago.

She walked through the red drawn curtains, her gaze flickering up to the stands. The royal box sat directly in front of her, filled this time with three individuals. Her father sat in the middle on a pedestal, his lips twisted into a smirk at her appearance. She didn't spare him a second glance.