A Young Princess's Guide to Usurping The Throne | Chapter 7 (Patreon)

Mai gently rubbed the ear of the armadillo bear as it leaned into her touch with a contented little rumble. The creature’s thick hide was warm beneath her fingers, and its heavy body shifted with surprising grace as it nuzzled her hand for more attention. Mai allowed herself a small, private smile.

She quite enjoyed these outings.

The Royal Girls’ Academy was not, in her opinion, a place designed for actual learning. It was a place designed for endless chatter about boys, makeup, dresses, and whatever new social disaster had occurred in the last week. Mai had long since learned to sit through it with the same expression she wore when staring at a blank wall. It was marginally better than listening to her mother, and father insisted, with increasing desperation, that she “make more friends.”

She snorted. As if friends could be summoned out of thin air.

Well... technically, she had made one.

Mai glanced over her shoulder, her dark eyes drifting toward the street behind her. Azula stood a short distance away, speaking with a local merchant while her guards maintained a respectful perimeter. The princess’s posture was perfect, her expression calm and sharp in equal measure. She was discussing one of her inventions again, one of those ridiculous, brilliant contraptions that seemed to exist and come alive in the princess's own twisted mind.

Mai honestly did not mind Azula.

That realization surprised her at first. Azula was stern, yes, and often intimidating in a way that made lesser people shrink back instinctively. But around Mai, she was also strangely pleasant. Not warm, exactly. Azula was not warm. But she was attentive in a way that mattered. She listened and equally engaged in conversations pertaining to Mai's own likes and dislikes and the added bonus she did not treat Mai like a decorative object or a problem to be managed.

Their friendship had begun after Mai’s father had attended a meeting with Prince Ozai, and from there, the two girls had simply... clicked. It was not the sort of thing Mai would have expected from a princess, especially not one with a reputation like Azula’s. But then again, Azula was full of contradictions.

And there was drama. So much drama.

Mai had heard enough whispers to know that the princess was at odds with her older brother, Zuko, and her mother, Princess Ursa. The details were never spoken plainly, but the tension had been obvious even in the few times Mai had seen the royal family together. At first, Mai would admit, she had been almost immediately smitten with the prince. He was cute and energetic, but even at times, he would find himself brooding in a way that seemed almost poetic, and for a brief moment, she had thought that perhaps he might be interesting.

That illusion had died quickly.

She had seen him in glances at first, but their official meeting came when Azula had offered a simple greeting, polite and perfectly harmless towards the prince. Zuko had given her a deep glare, then ignored her completely and walked away in a huff, as if acknowledging his own sister had been some unbearable burden. Mai had stared after him in disbelief.

Really? It was that difficult to say hello to your own little sister?

Her crush had withered and died on the spot.

Mai gave a quiet breath and resumed petting the armadillo bear. “Such a good boy,” she murmured, her tone dry as ever. “You could kill someone with a single swipe of your paw, couldn't you?"

The creature made a pleased sound, as if it considered this a compliment.

A voice behind her answered, amused and familiar. “That’s honestly quite morbid, Mai. But I’m not one to judge. Even the most deadly things can be cute.”

Mai turned her head slightly. Azula had finished her business and was now approaching with the easy confidence. Even though she did dress like a boy, she still held a certain charm. Her guards followed at a measured distance, alert and silent.

Mai arched one eyebrow. “Some call it morbid. I call it a fact. You yourself said there is beauty in danger.”

Azula gave a soft giggle, the sound brief but genuine. “I did say that, didn’t I?”

They began walking together down the street, the four guards falling into step behind them. The market around them was alive with motion—vendors calling out prices, children darting between stalls, the smell of grilled meat, and spiced tea drifting through the air. Mai could fully appreciate it.

Azula glanced sideways at her. “How are things going at the Academy?”

Mai let out a long-suffering sigh. “As you know, I’ve been private tutored at an early age and then thrown right into the academy. So whatever they decide for the curriculum I've already studied or have a valid understanding of."

"So its just for formalities and to waste my time throughout the day."

Azula hummed thoughtfully. “Hmm, wouldn't pushing you ahead with the more advanced students be more optional or have I grossly misjudged how the academy works?"

“You have,” Mai said flatly.

The princess’s mouth twitched. “Something to think about.”

“Maybe I should drag you along to suffer with me.” Mai replied, giving Azula a slight nudge.

That earned another quiet laugh from Azula. Mai found, to her own mild irritation, that she liked hearing it. Azula did not laugh often, and when she did, it always felt like a small victory against the rigid image she presented to everyone else.

Mai looked ahead as they walked, her expression unreadable. “At least your situation is better. You also get private tutoring, but you don’t have to sit through endless lectures about proper posture and how to smile at boys.”

Azula’s expression turned dry. “You say that as though I’m not subjected to my own version of torture.”

Mai glanced at her. “Oh?”

“My grandfather,” Azula said, with the faintest hint of exasperation, “has recently decided that my father should make my education a full-time affair.”

Mai blinked. “That sounds like a good thing.”

“It would be,” Azula replied, “if it were not accompanied by endless expectations, impossible standards, and the assumption that I should already be perfect.”

Mai considered that. “You do seem to be doing fine.”

Azula gave her a look. “That is because I am excellent.”

Mai snorted softly. “Of course you are.”

Azula’s smile sharpened. “I’m serious.”

“I know.”

The princess rolled her eyes, though there was no real irritation in it. “My father thinks this arrangement is ideal. My grandfather thinks it is necessary. Everyone else seems to think it is destiny.”

Mai tilted her head. “Destiny?”

Azula made a vague gesture with one hand. “The usual nonsense. The Fire Nation needs strength. The royal family needs a symbol. I need to become whatever everyone else has already decided I am.”

Mai was quiet for a moment. She had heard enough about the expectations in whispers and to understand the weight of such things, even if she had never been expected to carry them herself. Being a noble daughter came with its own suffocating rules, but being a princess sounded like a cage, with a mask adorning your face at all times.

She shivered.

Azula continued, her tone lighter now, though the words still carried a thread of seriousness. “Still, I can’t complain too much. As long as I keep up with expectations, I’m free to do as I please.”

Mai’s gaze flicked toward her. “That’s generous.”

“It’s practical,” Azula corrected. “My expenses were taking a hit from my father's own growing wealth, so I decided to tip by hands into those same waters, and as you can see now, things have been progressing."

Mai knew that tone. It was the tone Azula used when she was already several steps ahead of everyone else and looked to venture into a market that in due time would bloom into a success. It was also the tone she used when discussing her inventions.

That, at least, was something Mai had come to find fascinating.

Azula had been pouring time and resources into a project that, according to her, would revolutionize both combat and the movement of goods. Mai did not pretend to understand every technical detail, but she understood the idea well enough. The princess wanted to create something that would change how people moved through the world.

In Azula’s words, it would allow their people to feel the rush of wind. The weightlessness. The impossible, glorious sense that the ground no longer had any claim over you.

While Mai ran through those thoughts.

Tanya had her own.

For now, the invention was still in its prototype stage. It was large, bulky, and ugly in the way all first attempts tended to be. It produced an alarming amount of steam and, when activated, launched the user into the air at a speed that was less “elegant flight” and more “violent ejection.” Tanya herself could already admit that the current version was far too unstable for practical use.

But she was close.

She needed only to find a way to reduce the burst of force, to transform the violent upward launch into something controlled—something that would allow hovering, steering, and actual directional movement.

Tanya giggled at the thought, with wide smile.

Mai looked at Azula as she smiled and shivered. She did not know much about engineering, but she knew enough to recognize obsession when she saw it. Azula’s mind was always working, always turning over possibilities, always reaching for the next improvement.

It was one of the things Mai admired about her.

It was also one of the things that made her slightly exhausting to be around.

Mai gave a loud groan, breaking the silence. “It’s such a bore. I’d stab myself just to save myself the trouble of dying of boredom.”

Azula snickered. “That could be arranged, but I don’t think you’d like missing out on our training sessions if you did die.”

Mai gave her a flat look. “You say that like it’s a compelling reason to stay alive.”

Azula’s eyes gleamed with mischief. “What was it now? Three to seven?”

Mai rolled her eyes. “So says Princess Azula, second coming of Agni, the Blue Lotus.”

Azula groaned dramatically. “The title needs work.”

Mai’s lips twitched. “Only a little.”

“But still,” Azula said, lifting her chin with mock dignity, “not much I can do. Everyone has already set their minds on the same thing, so it decreed by my oh-so-wonderful grandfather.”

Mai snickered, and the sound drew a few curious glances from nearby passersby. Even one of the guards behind them let out a brief, poorly concealed chuckle before catching Azula’s glare and immediately straightening into silence.

Azula noticed, of course. She always noticed.

Mai’s amusement only deepened.

The princess sighed through her nose. “Traitors.”

“Your guards?” Mai asked.

“Especially my guards.”

“They’re loyal,” Mai said.

Azula gave her a sidelong look. “That does not mean they are not traitors.”

Mai’s expression remained perfectly blank, which only made Azula narrow her eyes in suspicion. After a beat, the princess huffed and looked away, though the corner of her mouth betrayed the faintest hint of a smile.

They continued walking in companionable silence for a while, the market thinning as they moved toward a quieter district lined with food stalls and small shops. The afternoon sun cast long golden streaks across the stone streets, and the city seemed to soften in the warmth. Somewhere nearby, a vendor was calling out the day’s special on skewered meat, and the smell made Mai realize she was, in fact, hungry.

Azula spoke first. “Hmmm. Let’s grab something to eat. I feel rather peckish, and I’d rather not have my stomach making noise while I’m on my way home.”

Mai nodded. “That would be embarrassing.”

“It would be undignified,” Azula corrected.

Mai glanced at her. “You say that as though you’re not capable of being undignified.”

Azula’s eyes narrowed. “I am always dignified.”

Mai’s expression did not change. “You just threatened to have me stabbed.”

“That was a joke.”

“It was a very sincere joke.”

Azula opened her mouth, then closed it again as if deciding it was not worth the effort to argue. “You are impossible.”

“And yet you keep me around.”

“I tolerate you.”

Mai’s eyes flicked toward her. “That sounds suspiciously like affection.”

Azula made a face. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

Mai said nothing, but the faint curve of her mouth was enough to make the princess glare at her again. The look had no real heat behind it. If anything, it seemed more like a ritual than a threat at this point.

They reached a small food stall with a covered counter and a row of stools. The vendor, a middle-aged woman with quick hands and a sharper eye, recognized Azula immediately and bowed with practiced ease. The princess waved off the formality with a flick of her wrist, though she still carried herself with the unmistakable poise of someone born to be obeyed.

Mai took a seat while Azula ordered for both of them. Mai did not care what they ate so long as it was edible and not overly sweet. Azula, predictably, chose something more elaborate, with enough spice to make most people sweat.

The vendor moved quickly, and soon, two steaming plates were set before them.

Mai picked up her chopsticks and studied the food with mild approval. “This looks acceptable.”

Azula gave her a look. “High praise.”

“It is.”

They ate in relative peace for a few moments. The sounds around drifted with distant laughter, the clatter of carts, the murmur of conversation. Mai found herself relaxing in a way she rarely did at the academy.

Azula, for all her sharp edges, seemed to understand that. She did not force conversation when Mai was quiet. She did not demand more than Mai was willing to give. That alone made her easier to be around than most people Mai knew.

And she liked that.

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