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Azula is crowned Fire Lord.
Graciously, she allows Ozai to remain at court, and continue residing in the royal palace. He repays her generosity by arranging her a political marriage that she doesn't want, but has no choice but to accept.
And that is only the beginning of her problems. Important points about this story: Azula in the Fire Nation is a minor subplot, whereas in this story, Azula and her relationships are the main focus.
Instead of being imprisoned at the end of the events of the Boiling Rock, Ty Lee and Mai managed to escape the prison with Zuko and Sokka. The two of them have joined Aang and the rest of his crew. His age, profession, and family were taken from the information given in Your Treasure Spent.
I developed his personality and character traits based on extrapolation from what little we saw of him in that story. This story features an arranged marriage in which one individual is underage and her partner is an adult. There is no explicit content. Chapter Text One hour after returning from dinner with her father, Azula throws up.
She hadn't eaten much. She hadn't been able to, after what he had said to her. The quarter plate of sweet apricot rice and spicy komodo chicken she had finished before the bombshell had been dropped tastes awful coming up, and it makes her chest burn. After several minutes of dry heaving and leaning over the toilet, trying to hold her hair back, Azula pushes herself to her feet and staggers over to the sink to freshen up.
She had dismissed all of her servants upon entering, and her rooms are eerily quiet. Even as she brushes her teeth, scrubbing them with such force that her gums grow tender and the pale green paste she spits out is tinged with blood, the conversation replays in her head, over and over again.
Her new lavender-scented face wash, imported from the Altai Mountains, is supposed to relieve stress and promote relaxation - at least, according to the useless spa assistant who had recommended the product to her.
The face wash does nothing, and Azula is struck with the temptation to pick up the glass bottle and fling it across the expansive bathroom, letting it shatter against the crystal walls. She stifles it, with some difficulty.
Tightening her robe around her, she stumbles out of the bathroom and toward her massive bed, her feet sinking into the plush carpet. The bed is so high that she requires a teak footstool to climb onto it, and Azula sinks against the silk covers at an odd angle, half lying down, and half hunched over the pillows.
Her fingernails scratch at their satin coverings in a halfhearted attempt to tear, but she gives that up after a few moments. It is more satisfying to imagine herself ordering her guards to break down her father's door and drag him from his desk, all the way down into the dungeons.
To the darkest, smallest, deepest cell in the entire palace. Azula closes her eyes and imagines the click of the lock, and it's a more pleasing sound than any music she has ever heard at the symphony.
She cannot believe his insolence. This is downright insubordination. Giving her unasked-for advice on matters of state is one thing, but arranging a marriage for her without her knowledge and consent is something else entirely.
Azula massages her aching forehead, her mind racing, searching for a solution. She can manufacture some charge against her father, have him arrested, and have the betrothal contract nullified.
Or she could just break the betrothal on the grounds that she was not informed beforehand. Both options are not viable. Even after several minutes of thought, she can't come up with anything her father has done, in the six months since her ascension to the throne, to justify an arrest.
He has been careful. And as for the other option - if it were any other family in the Fire Nation, she wouldn't have thought twice about breaking the engagement, just to spite her father.
It would teach him never to maneuver behind her back again. The act of going through with the betrothal sets a terrible precedent. Her marriage is one of the most important choices she will ever make, and her father had taken that from her.timberdesignmag.com Gallery of Books And Toys courtesy Arvind Gupta the Toy Maker.
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