Azula, Flames Of Change

Chapter 38:The cost pt 2

As they returned to the palace, Suki found herself deep in thought, the hum of the car barely registering in her ears. She watched the streets of the capital flash by—bustling markets, laughing children, couples strolling along the sidewalks, their faces lit with a quiet contentment. It was a peaceful scene, one that made her feel both admiration and unease.

The people here were happy, at least on the surface. There was no denying that life had improved for them. They weren’t living in fear, and they had access to luxuries that were unheard of even in the richest parts of the Earth Kingdom or the Fire Nation before the war. Food was plentiful, the streets were safe, and even small joys like ice cream had become a part of daily life.

But beneath that happiness, Suki could sense the tension, like a taut thread waiting to snap. There was something unnerving about a happiness so carefully manufactured, so deliberately controlled. These people might have freedom in the small things—the food they ate, the conversations they had, the places they walked—but when it came to the larger decisions in their lives, they were just as trapped as before. They couldn’t choose their leaders or the direction of their future. Azula had decided that for them.

It was a strange, fragile balance, one that Suki couldn’t fully reconcile. She admired the progress, the innovation, and the peace that Azula had brought to the capital. But at what cost?

Suki turned her gaze to Azula, who sat quietly beside her, looking out at the city with a calm detachment. It was that same detachment that unnerved Suki the most. Azula had given these people a new life, a better life, but she had done it in a way that stripped away their agency. And the most tragic part of it all was that Azula herself had become a victim of her own vision.

Suki had watched Azula closely during their time in the city. The princess moved through the streets like a ghost, always observing, calculating, but never truly engaging. Even when they had shared that simple pleasure of eating ice cream—a moment that should have felt light and joyful—there had been a wall between Azula and the experience. She could taste the ice cream, appreciate its cold sweetness, but she couldn’t truly enjoy it. Not in the way the people around them could.

Azula was too far removed from the world she had built. She had sacrificed her own humanity in exchange for control. And that, Suki realized, was the greatest tragedy of all.

The people of the capital, for all their small freedoms, still had more than Azula did. They could laugh, savor a good meal, and take pleasure in the little things. But Azula? She had lost the ability to feel those things, to find joy in the everyday moments that made life worth living. She could command armies, reshape cities, and wield power like a weapon, but when it came to simple human experiences, she was as distant as ever.

Suki’s thoughts swirled as they approached the palace. She remembered the moment they had stepped out into the streets, the way the people had looked at Azula with both respect and fear. It was clear that Azula was a revered figure, but there was also a profound loneliness in the way she carried herself. Even now, with all her power and all the progress she had achieved, Azula was alone.

And for the first time, Suki felt a pang of genuine sadness for her. Not because she pitied Azula—Azula was not someone who needed pity—but because she understood the heavy cost of what the princess had created. The people had gained their small freedoms, their moments of joy, but Azula had lost something far more precious. She had traded her own connection to the world for control over it.

As they entered the palace grounds, Suki couldn’t shake the thought that it didn’t have to be this way. There was a balance to be found—between control and freedom, between power and compassion. But it was a balance that Azula either couldn’t see or refused to acknowledge.

Back in the palace, the familiar quiet greeted them as they disembarked from the car. The grand halls, though beautiful, felt cold and empty, mirroring the isolation that seemed to cling to Azula like a shadow. Suki walked behind the princess, her mind still racing with the complex emotions that the day had stirred in her.

Azula paused for a moment, glancing back at Suki, her expression unreadable. “Is something on your mind, Suki?”

Suki hesitated, unsure of how to put her thoughts into words. “It’s just... the city. It’s beautiful. Everything you’ve done here is incredible.”

Azula tilted her head slightly, her eyes narrowing. “But?”

Suki swallowed, feeling the weight of the question. “But... it’s also sad.”

Azula’s gaze sharpened, but she said nothing, waiting for Suki to continue.

Suki took a deep breath. “The people have more than they did before. They’re happier, safer. But it feels like something’s missing. They have freedom in the little things, but they’ve lost something bigger. And you...”

Azula’s expression darkened. “And I?”

“You’ve given them all this,” Suki said softly, “but you’ve lost something too. You’ve created a world where they can enjoy things like ice cream and laughter, but you don’t seem to be able to enjoy any of it yourself.”

For a moment, there was silence, and Suki wondered if she had crossed a line. But Azula didn’t lash out. Instead, she turned away, her gaze once again on the city through the palace windows.

“I’ve given them everything they need to thrive,” Azula said quietly, her voice devoid of emotion. “Their joy is not my concern. My concern is their survival—and the survival of this nation.”

Suki nodded, though her heart ached for the woman standing before her. Azula had built a world where people could live better lives, but in doing so, she had severed herself from that very world. It was a lonely existence, and it made Suki wonder what kind of future Azula would have, surrounded by the progress she had created but never truly able to be a part of it.

As the day drew to a close, Suki found herself thinking not only of the city and its people but of Azula, the ruler who had given so much and lost even more. The cost of this progress had been steep, and Suki couldn’t help but wonder if Azula would ever come to see it.