𝓐𝓬𝓬𝓾𝓻𝓼𝓮𝓭 𝓒𝓻𝓸𝔀𝓷 {𝓐𝓣𝓛𝓐}

Chapter 24: Kindling

Out of all people you could have missed, why does it have to be her? Why does it have to be her mother?

For the longest time, Azula thought you were unhappy with her mother. She remembered seeing you scratch at the areas her mother touched. Flinch away as if you were burned, which is ironic because she's not a bender. And the all too familiar unease that lingers in the atmosphere between the two of you.

She chewed on her bottom lip, could she have misunderstood you? She shook her head. No, that's not possible. There is fear when you're alone with Ursa. It was obvious you didn't like Ursa, you avoided Ursa, and you hated Ursa. Why else would she have to make a point to stand between you and her mother?

She always thought that she was protecting you from her mother. Similar to how you do with her father. Was the way you acted with her mother your way of showing you enjoyment? Was she the one getting in your way? Was her help... unneeded? Unappreciated?
Was she a bother?

She lets out a sigh.

She'll deal with the issue later. Whether you loved or feared her mother doesn't matter now. She needs to focus on tomorrow's assignment. Ursa was gone, so you were now fully hers; there were no opponents. Well, none that could pose a threat.

The trip to the salt farm had taken a bit over a day. While her men set up their camp and prepared for their siege, she took a stroll around the village you were hidden in.

She marched along the path with her hands behind her back. Her eyes taking in the cowering figures hidden between the buildings, the dirty roads, the beggars and the rotten produce.

The academy was a better path for you, no doubt.

Thanks to that, you are strong. A bit feeble minded but strong nonetheless. Not everyone is perfect. It's simply another division between the lower and the higher classes. It's not your fault you were born into peasantry. Fate simply wasn't in your favor at the time of our birth.

While walking down an alley, her steps halted. Cold sweat began to form on her nape and back.

She heard a hoarse voice singing further down. The lyrics foreign yet the tune was not.

"The other night, dear
As I lay sleeping
I dreamed I held you
In my arms"
That tune.

She swallowed dry. Without even knowing, she ran to the source of the plea. Mud splashed as she rounded a corner. There, an elderly woman was kneeling, her hands cradling as she continued on singing.

"When I awoke, dear
I was mistaken
So I hung my head and cried."

Azula's brows furrowed as she jog turned into weary steps.

Of course, you need to come from somewhere to exist. This beggar must be the mother... The thought was filled with disdain as she stalked closer to the woman.

"You, peasant, where did you learn that song?" She now stood in front of her. Arms crossed as she looked down at the rag covered woman.

When the woman looked up, Azula had to hold back a snarl. There was no doubt, that was your face. Filthy and wrinkled but yours nonetheless.

The right side of her head was burned, even more so than Zuko's, while his was treated and saved from infection, the woman was not so lucky as it seemed. Her right eye was blinded, any hair she had was burned off.

When their eyes finally met, the woman slimed.

Memories of her childhood proved it. Although rarely seen, she had your smile.

With that hoarse voice, she spoke, "Hello little girl, would you like to say hi to my child?" She shifted the bundle in her arms.

This half bald, hideously scarred woman felt like an insult to your existence. Though still curious, she leaned just a bit closer, since your mother resembles you so much, maybe your possible sibling would too.

There are no portraits of you when you were younger, and it was only Ursa that ever spoke of your youth. So maybe, with this baby, she could have a glimpse of how you used to be.

Leaning a bit down, she peaked through the fabrics. There, swaddled in, most likely the only clean piece of cloth the woman has, was a little body.

"Is this a joke?" Her brow twitched. "Have you gone senile? That's a wooden doll."

"W-what?"

She lets out a groan before pointing at the cradled bundle, "There in your arms, you're holding a doll. Where's your child? Have you misplaced it?"

The woman's hands shook as she checked for a pulse on the doll. "W-where?" She stuttered out, tears welled up in her left eye. She threw the doll out of the swaddle, clutching the cloth to her chest as her hand went to grab at Azula's pants.

She took a step back, trying to kick the woman off her leg.

"Please, where's my baby?! Where's my little-my baby, my poor little— where's my child?! Please tell me!" The woman begged. Repeating herself over and over again, giving descriptions of you, from hair color and moles that even Azula hadn't seen, much less knew existed.

The more of the woman's voice and coughs she heard the harder it was for her to think clearly. She clutched her fist in that same pattern before moving to grab the woman's jaw. Forcing the lady to face her with that tear stricken face. Azula didn't mind the wetness she felt on her knee from the woman's tears or the grime that now stuck to her pants.

"Don't you dare cry with that face."

The woman lets out a pained whine.

When the smell of burning flesh invaded Azula's senses, she tried to let go but the woman immediately held her hand in hers. She didn't feel her hand heating up.

She had to bite her tongue.

The woman's pleading face almost made her apologize.

"Please, I need to find my child." She pleaded. Her hands shook as they incased Azula's.

Biting her lip, Azula had to face away from the kneeling woman. Begging as if pleading to god as she rubbed her hand between hers.
This woman will bring nothing but disgrace to your image. The councilmen would do anything to drag your name in the mud. Not even the rumors of you being a bastard would save you.

Not when your mother is from the village that's harboring refugees from the other nations. From the nobility's perspective, this village turned traitor.

She spared a glance back to her, still pleading and crying, with your face. All resolve seemed to have fled from her.

Azula lets out a sigh. She pulled her hand from the woman's clutch.

"Get up and follow me. I'll let you see your child."

She won't be able to do anything if she looks like you.