𝓐𝓬𝓬𝓾𝓻𝓼𝓮𝓭 𝓒𝓻𝓸𝔀𝓷 {𝓐𝓣𝓛𝓐}

Part 23

You seemed to be preoccupied with your thoughts.

Mentally absent, Azula concluded as she watched you.

Your eyes looking straight past her as she sat in front of you. You were not paying attention to the news of the Agni Kai her brother got himself roped into.

Normally you would be the one to bring such news to her, seeing how you're an active member in the war room. Even if she herself is an active eavesdropper, but that's not something you need to know.

She has long since kept silent, in favor of simply observing you. But you have been letting your thoughts wonder ever since her mother's banishment. Is your lack of care tied to the absence of that woman?

Wanting to test her theory, she cleared her throat.

"My mother-" her eyes narrowed as you flinched, "-'s absence seems to be taking quite the toll on you." Faking innocence, her brow rose, "We have been sitting here for more than an hour. Tell me, general," she leaned towards you, "why is that? Has anything that I said this past hour stick?"

Her finger tapped on the polished wood of her studies in rhythm, waiting for your response. She watched you open your mouth before closing, swallowing the truth that danced on your tongue before opening your lips once more.

"Apologise, princess. I was thinking about the... preparation-"

"Of?" She raised a brow.

"Of... your next mission." She caught the hesitation that flashed in your eyes, your fist clenching in that familiar pattern as you spoke. "The fire lord- father, deemed that you had enough time to rest to go for your next assignment, which is at the eastmost dock of the continent. It has been notified that the villagers of that port have been harboring water tribe refugees."

"Father? Is that what he wants you to call him now?" She chuckles, deciding to play along with you, she leans back on her chair. "East, if I'm not mistaken, which I'm not, but doesn't one of our salt mines exist in that territory." She folded her arms, "Other than the salt mine, which we have five of, not counting the ones the privately owned nobility mines, what is so important about that village that it requires me, personally, to attend to? I'm sure anyone in charge of a platoon can take care of a little extermination. Unless... we're trying to cover something."

"We are." You let out a sigh, "It is not only salt that we used that village for, with only a day's worth of travel, by the cliffside, is located the old camp where the child training program was held. And from that village, they picked their participants, and every other child from each household was taken in to train."

Azula couldn't help but let out a hum, her posture more relaxed as she still stared at you. There were no other words needed, it was a cover up so she knew what needed to be done.

"Will you be accompanying me this time around?"

You shook your head, "Unfortunately, I am needed within the palace."

She felt her lips twitch, "That's a shame. I'm sure you would have enjoyed a bit of nostalgia." When you stayed quiet, she lets out a sigh.

Truth be told, she was curious to see your reaction when you finally visited your place of origin. Maybe even give her a tour of the old training grounds. Maybe even spar for a bit for old time's sake. She doubts any of the villagers could put up an actual fight.

Azula watches you in interest as you look down at the cup of tea in front of you. Your thumb brushing over the hot rim, you seemed to be deep in thought.

Once more, she wonders what it could be. She didn't like it, what was more important than her? If your troubled expression was anything to go by, not even you seemed to be enjoying the distraction.

You've been like this since her mother left. Losing yourself in your thoughts, biting your lip till it bled, even losing sleep as you spend the night wandering the halls.

On one of those nights, she found you in her mother's room.

You were just standing there by the foot of the bed, your hair loose. And in your hand, you held a familiar golden ribbon. As if a hand is holding onto yours, the piece of fabric wrapped around your fingers.

That ribbon is as old if not older than her. It was the first of many gifts you were given since coming here.

From her mother.

From the slight slit from the door, she could see it.

That frown that plagued your face. Scrunched up brows and your lips painted with blood as you chewed on it. Even if it was through a small gap, it was clear to her, there had never been so much intensity in your gaze.

You released your lip as you spoke, your voice echoing through the near empty room. Though it came out as a whisper, she could hear it.

"I don't miss you."

Those words felt as if she was splashed with a bucket of cold water. As if she had been insulted.

The skin of your palm bled.

The gold ribbon tangled with blood as it slowly drips down.

She could feel heat rise to her face. Her own hands balled as your words played in her mind.

You're lying to yourself.