Avatar: The Book Of The Phoenix

Wills and Desires

The moon cast long, eerie shadows across the Governor's mansion in Bin-er. Inside Rokkun's quarters, a single lantern flickered, illuminating Azula's focused face as she gently dabbed a cool cloth on his forehead. Rokkun, his copper hair damp with sweat, winced slightly, a thin line of blood trickling from a gash on his brow.

"Oh, don't be such a baby," Azula teased, her voice soft but edged with her usual bite. "All this fuss over a little scratch."
Rokkun chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that filled the room.

"Easy for you to say, Princess. You're practically invincible." He shifted on the bed, his muscular frame tensing under the pain, but his amber eyes sparkled with that familiar cocky gleam.

Azula smiled, a rare, genuine expression that softened her sharp features. "Not entirely," she admitted, her gaze lingering on his face for a moment too long. "But I do tend to recover quickly."

"Perhaps," Rokkun said, his voice husky, laced with a hint of challenge. "But even the strongest can be wounded." He looked at her, his grin turning predatory yet affectionate. "You know, I've never seen you like this before, Azula. Vulnerable."

Azula stiffened, her golden eyes flashing with a mix of defensiveness and something deeper—uncertainty.

"Vulnerable?" she repeated, her voice sharpening like a blade.

"Yes," Rokkun pressed, his tone steady but with that magnetic charm that could disarm or dominate. "Concerned, gentle... human." He reached out, his fingers brushing her arm lightly, sending a spark of heat between them.

Azula looked away, avoiding his gaze, her hand trembling slightly as she set the cloth down. The word "human" hit her like a hidden wound, stirring memories of cold palace halls, Ozai's unrelenting demands, and the isolation that had shaped her into a weapon.

"I'm not human, Rokkun. I'm a princess, a royal—built for power, not... this." Her voice cracked just a fraction, betraying the fear she'd buried deep: that without her armor of ruthlessness, she'd be nothing.

Rokkun's expression softened, but his grip on her arm tightened possessively. "You are more than that, Azula," he insisted, pulling her closer. "You're fire incarnate—strong, yes, but with a warmth that could light the world... or burn it down. And by Agni, if that doesn't make you irresistible."

Azula pulled her hand away, but not forcefully, a blush creeping up her neck despite her efforts to suppress it. "Kindness is a weakness," she declared, though her words lacked their usual conviction, her voice quieter, almost questioning.

"Not always," Rokkun countered, his grin returning with a dangerous edge. "True strength? It's crushing your enemies while lifting the ones who matter. And you matter to me, Princess—more than any throne or conquest."

Azula looked at him, intrigued and unsettled. This was a side of Rokkun she rarely saw—his charisma blending with raw honesty, chipping at her defenses. Despite her facade, he was the only one who'd ever seen through it, offering not judgment but alliance. It terrified her, this pull toward vulnerability, stirring an ache she couldn't name—fear of betrayal, of losing control, of being seen as weak like Zuko.

"And what about you, Rokkun?" she asked, changing the subject to regain footing. "What are your plans now?"

Rokkun leaned back against the pillows, his gaze steady and intense. "Well..." he started, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial growl. "We both know Zuko's time as Fire Lord is running out. He's gone soft—lost his fire, his edge, chasing peace like it's some damn prize. The Fire Nation deserves better: a ruler with teeth, with vision."

Azula raised an eyebrow, her interest piqued. "And you believe you're the one to provide it?"

"Of course," Rokkun said confidently, his amber eyes blazing. "I've got the strength, the ambition—the guts to restore our glory. No more groveling to the Avatar or the Earth Kingdom. And I want you by my side, Azula. As my queen. Someone I can trust, who burns with the same hunger. Together, we'd be unstoppable."

Azula's breath hitched, her heart pounding in a way that unnerved her. The idea, once unthinkable, now stirred something raw—a temptation to claim what was hers, but with someone who saw her scars and still wanted her. Love, she had always believed, was a weakness, a distraction. But with Rokkun, it felt like power, and that scared her most of all—opening up meant risking the shatter she'd felt in the asylum, the hallucinations that still haunted her dreams.

"I... I don't know what to say," she replied, her voice husky, her usual composure fracturing.

"Look, I know this is new territory for you," Rokkun said, taking her hands firmly, his touch warm and unyielding. "But this is your destiny, your birthright. The throne was always meant for you—not Zuko's weak compromises. Together, we push out the usurpers, break the chains of 'peace' and diplomacy. We rule with fire."

"I agree," she whispered, her vulnerability surfacing in the way her fingers tightened around his, seeking anchor in the storm of her emotions.

A slow, triumphant smile spread across Rokkun's face. He reached for her, pulling her close. "You won't regret this, Azula," he murmured, his voice a low growl.

Their lips met in a passionate kiss, a fierce clash of wills and desires. The lantern flickered as they embraced, the room filled with the heat of their connection, but as the flame steadied, so did they—pulling back just enough to breathe, the promise of their alliance hanging in the air like smoke.