Focused Fire (ATLA)

As much as she despised court life ever since returning from her time with the 11th Regiment, her 11th Regiment, Azula had an obligation to her soldiers and their colonel to keep them away from the dabblings of royal court. The year that followed had taxed the princess’ patience, and made her delve into more colder methods in finding a solution.

She had found a place where there was a genuine sense of belonging, one that even her father’s approval could not match. She would be damned if people tried to grind away that source of belonging for the sake of shallow and blinkered gains.

It didn’t help that she had to return to her older and - in hindsight - less…affable self in the capital. The point had been made clear when Azula had first spoken of her time with the regiment in court. Her father’s face might have been obscured by a curtain of fire, but his mild disapproval at her signs of attachment to the 11th was clear enough to her.

“They will serve us well,” Azula had to finish her report in a cold tone, quashing down the sentimental warmth she had carelessly inflected in her speech as if it had been an act. Of course, naive, clueless Zuko looked appalled, but her father’s silhouette was appeased. Even Uncle Iroh had nodded, hopefully in understanding of what she had done.

Thanks to the obligation of maintaining reputation, at least seeing to the needs of the 11th did not require much politicking. Azula was the princess, and a princess had to ensure that her own regiment stood above the other common rabble.

To that end, a few threats and demands were doled out, as befitting her station, to secure some land near Shu Jing for the regiment’s home base and training grounds to be built. At the same time, it took little effort to host the 11th’s colonial barracks in Zilang. The prestige from that award bound the town’s fortunes to Azula’s pleasure, but also ensured that anyone seeking the post of governor would have to gain the princess’ approval.

Governor Dae was an effective enough administrator that Azula left him to his own devices. Royal whim gave Azula all the reason she needed to have Zilang’s taxes be lowered in exchange for them maintaining her regiment’s barracks, and her association with him was more than enough to keep the court vultures at bay.

Her father had been greatly pleased at Azula throwing her weight around so effectively, even offering advice on how best to cow irritating bureaucrats and nobles to smoothen the way to her objectives. Fire Lord Ozai saw little to problem in his daughter fostering a little bit of royal nepotism, so long as it was carried out ‘properly’. He also agreed with her assessment that her investment into the 11th was far more productive than having to spend time with cloistered tutors. 

Better to be mentored by actual firebending warriors who had extensive knowledge about using the art for actual combat, than what were basically elaborate dancers or non-bending twins whose sole qualities were their sharp tongues.

That approval allowed Azula to leave the palace in week-long stretches to see to the 11th’s regimental home, and carefully position the invalid veterans as tutors and instructors. She didn’t just draw on the 11th’s forgotten retirees, but also those from other companies and branches, so long as they proved adequate for the job. 

Grizzled old campaigners further refined the anti-earthbender tactics, while a disparate squad of former marines introduced the new batch of trainees to amphibious considerations. Surly ex-quartermasters were useful in beating the knowledge of weapon and armor maintenance into the trainees, while commanders who fell out of favor got a chance at redemption by providing more practical officer training.

Royal investment also allowed for the regiment to eventually increase in size, with each battalion supporting six companies now rather than the meager three after eight months since Azula became their patron. Even with the severe requirements to qualify as training material, the prestige of serving in a royal regiment drew a surplus of interested recruits. Such was the strict standards that the many admirable failures were recommended into other forces at a higher posting than usual, serving as corporal or sergeants. That little act alone garnered Azula a surprising amount of respect from the military branches, which translated into some political influence.

Unfortunately, that did not extend to those closer to Azula’s life. While her bond with Zuko had warmed up a little, her brother had been averse to sibling competition, preferring instead to spend more time with Uncle Iroh and his peers to learn military strategy and tactics.

And while Zuko was more than happy to tour the 11th’s training grounds and watch the instructors at work or discuss battlefield maneuvers, he did not spar with Azula willingly. Nor did he care for the more pragmatic training she implemented by using condemned criminals. It was a shame, really, she had hoped to toughen him up without the whole humiliating mess of being in an actual battlefield with a lot more soldiers present.

Well, at least she tried. Maybe her brother might be too squeamish for the battlefield. If that was the case, Azula sincerely hoped that he would be better in court, so she could offload her chores onto him.

Unfortunately, Zuko had to foster ambition for greatness at the wrong time, managing to wrangle their uncle to allow him to observe a war council. According to Uncle Iroh and other more impartial witnesses (guards and servants in particular), the prince had spoken out against General Bujing’s frankly wasteful plan of using a whole division of recruits to bait in only a meager battalion of earthbenders.

The argument had been tense, with Zuko being too…impassioned in arguing the case. So much so that father had deemed it an act of disrespect worthy of Agni Kai.

Perhaps her brother wasn’t meant for court life either.

Azula remembered meeting her brother before the duel, more annoyed than anything at his sheer idiocy.

“You really messed up,” she had told him.

Zuko had been too angry to really listen to her. “Why do you care?”

“Because, dum-dum, you’re walking into a trap.” Just what kind though, Azula didn’t truly know. Not with incomplete details.

“The Agni Kai will be in front of an audience. General Bujing will not be free to pull off any funny tricks.”

It was times like this that Azula truly believed her brother was far more spirit touched than Xing and his crazy ideas.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you, Zuzu.” She had paused before turning away, throwing the only piece of advice she could truly offer her brother. “Just…do your best out there. Remember what Xing said. If you intend to fight, make sure you’re ready to do so no matter who or what you end up facing.”

At least he gave her a nod of some gratitude in return.

Azula was there to witness the duel, and the nasty surprise that was father’s direct involvement. 

Supposedly, the Agni Kai the Fire Lord declared did not specify that General Bujing would be participating. 

Supposedly, it was the Fire Lord’s war council, not the general’s plans that had been disrespected.

A quick glance at her father’s imperious displeasure was all Azula needed to know that it was a convenient technicality. 

Credit to her brother, Zuko recovered from his shock and fell into a traditional Coiling Dragon stance with some resignation. He managed to almost catch his opponent off guard with a quick transition into Xing’s more unnatural style, releasing one solid burst of fire that almost caught their father off guard. 

Almost.

That was all the prince would get, and the Fire Lord promptly overwhelmed his son with his own flames, blasting Zuko off the dueling court and into the spectators. Azula had watched intently as her father ordered for her brother to be dragged back into the court, and she remembered the severe burns on Zuko’s chest and neck. 

She remembered the tightness in her throat upon realizing that it was a miracle that Zuko was still breathing. Then came the far more discomforting realization that her father had actually used lethal force on her brother. 

A younger Azula might’ve found the sight amusing, but now, with what she’d learned of politics and people, the princess understood the implications of what was done here. 

There should have been humiliation inflicted on Zuko for his disrespect, but not to the extent of an attempted murder. 

The Fire Lord almost killed the crown prince, in front of an audience. 

Even General Bujing and some of the other war council generals were frowning with concern, which told Azula all she needed to know about how badly her father had misstepped.

The ripple of fear from this would likely cause the more conservative commanders and courtiers to seek each other outside of court for some measure of security from a Fire Lord who is already more than willing to almost kill his own son for a supposed slight upon him. Advice would be more warily given out, ambitious rivals would likely try and wield the Fire Lord’s wrath against insult as a crude weapon against each other. 

More dangerously, it was fuel to feed the hidden embers of discontent, and would cause such sentiments to go deeper underground, rather than coaxed to surface to be met and challenged by cold logic and undeniable facts. And swift retribution.

And then the Fire Lord declared the crown prince banished from the home islands for his disrespect, his dishonor, as soon as he recovered from his wounds. Only the capture of the Avatar would end the banishment. 

Until then, Azula would become crown princess.

Again, the younger version of herself might have delighted in the turn of events, but the current Azula saw the potential danger she was in. She saw her father’s faint smirk of triumph, she saw the other message he was specifically sending her. 

She greatly missed the simpler company of the 11th Regiment back then.

Her father’s first test came in the order of declaring a campaign to take Omashu. The war council hastily cobbled together a plan that drew elements from various fronts. Azula had seen the plan, and on paper it might have worked. It required optimal conditions and some measure of incompetence from the enemy, and most importantly, it relied upon the fact that the general leading the group would know how to exploit the 11th Regiment’s strengths.

The 11th’s involvement was non-negotiable, not because of the fact that they had built a reputation of being effective fighters against improbable odds, but because the Fire Lord demanded their presence. 

As much as Xing might have liked to protest, he wisely shut up once news spread of Zuko’s banishment. Unlike the prince, the colonel knew how to read between the lines. To increase his chances, the princess volunteered into the same army a few irritating scions who had not too subtly tried to beg for her favor. The extra meat shields would hopefully buffer the 11th and give Xing some added margins to work with.

That was about all Azula could do, and the rest of the week saw a new routine in her schedule where she carefully hid her trepidation at the latest reports from the front. With Uncle Iroh joining Zuko in his quest, and her father being too eager to reinforce his position, life in the capital became much quieter, much lonelier. 

The only bright spot was the reassuring and surprisingly pregnant presence of Instructor Captain Ren back in the training grounds. Despite their outward bickering, Ren had been…close…with Kai of all people. And more astonishingly, it wasn’t a new thing.

“Kai’s a good man…” the captain had said rather fondly. “We just have our disagreements, like whose family Xing should be adopted into. But there’s other qualities about him that make up for his stubbornly wrong opinions.” The way she waggled her eyebrows at Azula made the princess scrunch up her face with disgust. She did not need to know more about that little liaison.

At least with Ren overseeing the regimental base and training grounds, Azula had someone to share the trepidation with, and the older captain was a much better source of advice and reassurance than the simpering courtiers back in the palace. 

“It’s alright, Azula. Xing will lead the 11th out of that mess.” Out in the isolated grounds and in the safety of her office, the captain was free to voice the obvious fact that the Omashu campaign would likely fail.

“He’d better,” she answered with an indignant huff. “After all the effort I put into securing the regiment’s grounds…”

“The regiment is due for a break after this campaign, I think. I’ll make sure Xing hosts an appropriately lavish housewarming ceremony for this base once they all return. We can open it by putting those nobles who’ve been pestering you through the same naphtha fumes endurance training.”

The princess smirked at the image of all the overconfident fools being locked in a shed full of burning shit. “That’s a start.”

Ren’s eyes took on a mischievous gleam. “I could convince Xing to do a firedance for you?” 

Almost immediately the image of a sweaty, bare chested Xing flashed through Azula’s head, and she quickly shoved it aside for later review in favor of directing a glare at a snickering Ren. “It’s just a suggestion…”

“And an unamusing one.” 

Xing’s lack of grace in a public dance would humiliate him, and by extension, Azula. She wouldn’t mind if he took the dance to her room for a private viewing, though…