Second Child Of Agni: Chapter 2 (Patreon)

Since the day he was born, Fire Lord Azulon had known nothing but war.

In the wake of his death, Sozin left a world ablaze with the fires of his ambition. The four nations, once harmonious, were fractured, and the banner of the Fire Nation was to blame. 

Azulon carried his forefather’s torch with a heavy heart and a heavier hand. Under his rule, the world learned to fear their great nation, to respect their power and dread the inevitability of their expansion. Had carefully tended  the seeds of greatness, though he knew he would not see the sprouts flourish.

From his place upon his throne, he listened to his gathered Generals bicker amongst themselves about the next move to make. The siege his son was heading had shaken the Earth Kingdom’s will, but they were not giving in just yet. There were still moves to make on the board before this victory could truly be called.

“—And we are being destroyed on the western front!” Li grunted, gesturing to the map spread out before them. Green clashed with red in a stalemate that had not changed in several weeks. “Our men have not marched forward a single foot; General Hao, what do you have to say for yourself?”

“The Earth Kingdom commanders are proving to be more stout than we have anticipated. Our enemies are clearly fielding veterans who are familiar with our tactics.”

“That’s no excuse. They have been stalling us for weeks. We cannot afford to commit this many resources when the siege is still underway.”

To their surprise, General Hao nodded. “I agree, which is why I would like to propose a strategy that might get us out of this pickle. You see…”

He spread his arms about the table, and Azula listened with a quiet frown as he detailed his proposal. It was a sound strategy, but it left a bad taste in the mouths of everyone present. 

“I never thought you of all people would suggest something so cowardly, General Hao.”

A hush fell over the room at the words as all eyes turned to General Li.

“You have concerns, General Li?”

The man in question straightened as he was called upon, looking to his Fire Lord with some amount of fear. General Li was not a very brave man. Azulon knew he would prefer to speak his mind in the safety of his own home, ranting at the walls like some sort of gossiping housemaid. That he had spoken up in the first place spoke to his anger.

“Speak your mind,” Azulon commanded, his tone brokering no disobedience. The General’s throat bobbed under his stringy beard. 

“My Lord, such a tactic would bring dishonor upon any who employed it.q Retreating would be the same as saying they bested us!” He slammed his hand on the table, his voice becoming more impassioned. “We do not cower at the might of savages! If my troops returned to the mainland with this kind of defeat on their hands, I would send them right back to the war!”

A murmur of agreement met his words as the other generals imagined their own commanders returning with such a stain on their hands. Azulon felt his own face twitch with a frown at the notion of entertaining such cowardice. 

Hao frowned from his side of the table as the crowd turned against him. He moved to speak, but he was stalled as the doors to the war room suddenly swept open, drawing everyone’s attention. It was a rare thing for the war council to be interrupted in such a manner. They did not know that Azulon had called for it.  

A royal guard stepped inside, hands clasped behind his back as he stood in front of the door to admit his charge. Princess Tanya submitted herself to the gazes of the war council without so much as a twitch in her expression, striding forward until she stood at the head of the table. Confusion circled the table at the sight of the princess. Ozai frowned.

“What are you doing, daughter? You have no right interrupting—”

“I called her here, Ozai,” Azulon interrupted his overeager child. Ozai turned to him with wide eyes, but Azulon only had eyes for his granddaughter. He took her measure with a glance, noting the careful way she held herself, shoulders loose but not without tension. She understood the opportunity she had been given, and Azulon felt she would not waste it.

He gestured with a hand. “This child is responsible for the strategy General Hao has brought before us today. He confided in me as such just before this meeting began, so I felt it would only be appropriate that she joined our procession today.”

“You honor me, grandfather,” Tanya bowed in his direction, showing him the proper respect. Just to her right, General Hao was staring at her with some relief.

“My Lord, this is highly irregular,” General Li spoke up. “Children in the war room? I mean no disrespect to the Princess, but if she talked to the wrong person and revealed our strategy, it could easily find its way back to our enemies.”

“Are you insulting the Fire Lord’s intelligence, General?” Ozai growled.”

General Li paled. “I meant no disrespect. I just wanted to point out—”

“Enough.” Azulon’s voice rang through the room and silenced everyone present. General Li swallowed and sat down as Azulon's eyes strayed to him.

Asulon turned to regard his golden-haired grandchild. “Granddaughter, you will tell me what you were thinking, presenting such a strategy to General Hao.”

Tanya's face and tone were carefully polite as she spoke. “Forgive me if I overstepped, Grandfather; I meant no insult to this council. I only did as my tutors have taught me. I looked at the map and asked what I would do if I were the enemy.”

Reaching forward on the tips of her toes, she placed one small finger on the red line where it bled against green.

“The crux of the issue is that the western front sits on an open plain. There is no cover that we do not make, and every inch of ground beneath our soldiers' feet is a weapon for the enemy. Any line we hold won't last very long.”

She traced the green lines behind the enemy's position, her finger moving inland, into the vast sprawl of the Earth Kingdom that they one day hoped to paint red.

“On top of that, they have the benefit of being in their own territory, meaning they will be much more well supplied than we ever could. If we throw everything into a full advance, it's possible we'll win a battle, maybe even two. But we will not win a game of attrition against a nation known for their incredible stubbornness, not when they're far more well supplied than we are.”

She withdrew her finger and folded her hands behind her back. “Our nation houses some of the greatest minds in the world. Surely we can do better than mindlessly throwing ourselves at the enemy?”

The gathered men looked contemplative. All except for one.

“This is absurd,” General Bujing's face was red with anger as he stood. “We are being lectured on the art of war by a child who can barely produce a flame! My Lord, I must protest. This is an insult to every man who has bled for the Fire Nation on that front. To suggest that their sacrifices were in vain brings great shame upon us all!”

Azulon remained silent, his eyes boring into Tanya. He wished to see how she would handle this.

“I apologize, General,” Tanya began after a moment, “You seem to have misunderstood what I was saying. I would not dare to besmirch the sacrifices our soldiers have made for their nation. I am simply stating that valor without vision is waste. Our soldiers are brave; no one in this room questions that, but bravery does not fill stomachs, and it does not transport medicine to the wounded.”

She turned to the gathered men. “If I told a unit of soldiers to hold a position with no food, no medicine, no reinforcements, what recourse could they possibly have? Would their bravery see them through starvation and the weapons of our enemies? Would their courage rouse Agni himself to help them win the day?” She waited for a moment, and then shook her head. “I doubt it. I personally believe they would die, and that their deaths would serve nobody except the enemy.”

Her voice was almost condescending as she looked to Bujing, though it was also just polite enough that the general could not properly call her out on it without seeming as if he was overreacting. Azulon was impressed by his granddaughter’s poker face. She said exactly what she wanted, yet gave nothing away. If he did not know any better, he would think her an old hand at courtly intrigue.

Azulon felt a sliver of pride worm itself into his wrinkled heart. Then Ozai rose from his seat.

“General Bujing raises a good point. While I am… proud that my daughter shows an interest in the affairs of our nation, she is a child. She has not set foot on a battlefield. It is improper for her to lecture grown men on matters she could not possibly understand.”

Azulon watched his son carefully. Ozai was ambitious, that much had always been true. For him to speak like this, his daughter must have done some damage to his pride.

The Fire Lord wondered if his son even realized how transparent he was.

“She has not set foot on a battlefield,” Azulon repeated slowly, his tone blatantly displeased. “And neither have you, Ozai. While your brother leads our armies to a great victory, you languish here, doing just what you accuse your daughter of doing. What right do you have to speak up like you have?”

Silence followed his words. Ozai's jaw tightened at his father’s words. To his credit, he didn’t flinch or cower, but he also did not speak again.

Azulon turned his attention back to the table. The generals sat in discomfort, none willing to be the next to draw the Fire Lord's ire. He studied the map, pondering, then raised his gaze to Tanya who had not moved an inch since her last words. She stood with her hands still clasped behind her back, watching the proceedings with those strange blue eyes that seemed to absorb everything and reveal nothing.

“The Princess makes a sound argument,” Azulon said, his voice carrying the weight of finality. “The plan will be utilized. General Hao will carry it out. That is final.”

He rose from his throne, and the room bowed as one. Azulon turned to his golden-haired progeny. “Come with me, granddaughter. We must speak.”

Azulon stepped into the corridor, long robes flowing behind him. Tanya followed beside him, her steps quickening just enough to compensate for her lacking height so she could match his stride.

“You showed sound judgement today.”

Tanya’s lips twitched, though her head remained on the path ahead as she said, “Thank you, Grandfather.”

“Your tactics could still be refined, however. You will work under General Hao to do so. Furthermore, you will attend meetings just as you did today. Absorb what you can, and do not disappoint me.”

Tanya’s smile grew. “I will do my best.”

I watched as Azulon disappeared around the corner and released a breath, letting my shoulders privacy he’d left behind.

“That went better than I expected,” I muttered quietly. I’d expected to earn some brownie points with the Generals, but I hadn’t imagined that the Fire Lord himself would demand my continued presence in the war council.

On top of that, I was being ordered to shadow General Hao, which would doubtlessly present even more opportunities to steer the war in the right direction. All these doddering old fools were so obsessed with maintaining their “honor” that the notion of gaining victory over the other nation in any real amount of time was almost laughable. The war had already been raging for a hundred years. I didn’t intend to die of old age under siege.

I turned, intending to return to my room and compose a letter to General Hao, when I caught sight of a shock of black hair fleeing down a nearby corridor. Frowning, I hurried closer, already having an idea of what I was going to find.

As I expected, I found none other than Azula leaning against the wall, pretending as if she hadn’t been eavesdropping. I raised an eyebrow at her, and she immediately gave up the game, adopting a more curious expression on her face.

“Good evening, Sister,” she said politely. “I didn’t realize that our grandfather was in the habit of allowing children into the war room.”

There was a hint of jealousy behind her voice. Azula did not care for the idea that I had been chosen for the honor above her. 

“I was called on to discuss a strategy that I proposed to General Hao last night,” I explained. “Grandfather wanted to hear my thoughts from my own mouth, and now it seems he wants me to be present for future meetings..”

Azula frowned, watching me as I walked past her. “Are you sure it's a good idea to be cozying up to grandfather of all people? It’s not like he’s going to be around for much longer. I doubt he’ll make it to the end of our siege of Ba Sing Se with how old he’s getting.” she smirked. “And then it will be father you have to please. Uncle will be too busy with the war to entertain you once he becomes Fire Lord.”

Azula was incredibly smart for her age, but she was still a child, and it was moments like these that reminded me of that. In her eyes, I had made a play for Azulon’s favoritism and had become an enemy. She was trying to scare me with the idea of Ozai’s wrath, like a toddler threatening to tattle. 

“I’ll leave the honor of pleasing father up to you, Azula,” I said as I strode down the hall. “I have more important things to do.”

“You and Zuzu need to figure out your priorities,” she huffed as she walked alongside me. She looked me up and down, her scowl softening a bit. “At least you’re not as bad as him. He’d prefer to play with the turtle-ducks instead of working on his atrocious firebending. At this rate, he’s never going to amount to anything.”

“Don’t let Ursa hear you say that,” I said idly, though I privately agreed. Zuko was practically attached to Ursa’s bosom despite his age, and the woman had done little to break him of his gentler habits. 

Azula's expression shifted into a slight scowl and she glared out of the nearby window. “Mother doesn’t listen to anything I say anyway. She's too busy doting on Zuzu to notice anything else.”

She tried to come across as uncaring, but it was impossible to hide the note of hurt hidden deep in the back of her voice. If ever there was a dysfunctional family relationship, it was one the one between Ursa and her youngest. I probably should have said something, but I was not a therapist. The moment passed, and Azula’s face smoothed into her usual smirk.

She glanced at me. “Anyway, I have a lesson to attend. You should make sure to keep up with your practice too. Your firebending isn’t as bad as Zuko’s, but it could definitely use some improvement.”

“I’ll take that into consideration.”

She nodded primly. “Make sure you do. I want to have at least one useful sibling.”

With that, she marched down a nearby hall. I watched her go with some amusement, before turning and continuing on my own way. I still had a letter to write and the day was not getting any younger.

Perhaps a year after my admittance to the war room, our family was struck with an unforeseen tragedy. It was a day like any other when the message arrived, informing us that Prince Lu Ten, son of Crown Prince Iroh and my cousin, had been slain in the siege of Ba Sing Se.

It was a somber day. The death of a member of the Royal Family was a cause for mourning, and mourn Caldera did. There was a procession, though Lu Ten’s body was cremated long before, and nearly every soul in the city attended his wake. It was the expected reaction to such an event.

What was not expected was that the siege of our most stout enemy was put on hold for the event while we were winning. And that, in a frankly baffling turn of events, we would withdraw from the territory entirely, right on the brink of victory.

The Dragon of The West lost his fangs that day, and the Hundred Year War raged on, much to my chagrin. If we had managed to capture Ba Sing Se, it would have been an incredible victory for the Fire Nation. It would have emboldened our forces and bolstered the patriotic spirit in the mainland, leading to a boom in enlistment across the board. It was entirely possible we could have ridden the wave of that through the rest of the Earth Kingdom and then to the Northern Water Tribe’s front doorstep. In a few short years, the Hundred Year War could have been over. 

But alas, human sentimentality won the day again, it seemed. And now I had even more work to do if I wanted this war to end in any reasonable amount of time.

Late evenings became normal as my work chained me to my desk well past dusk.  It was as though I was in the Empire once again, drafting plans and private correspondences. The chair was much nicer, though, which was probably the only silver-lining considering that coffee simply didn't exist on this planet. Tea was a poor substitute, but I learned to stomach it out of necessity if nothing else.

It was during one of these sleepless nights  that the door to my room creaked open silently and a figure slipped into the darkened room. The candle on my desk flickered as careful footsteps sounded behind me.

Laying the final stroke of ink on the paper, I moved it to the side to begin on the next while it dried. I didn't turn as I said, “I hope you're not here to scold me about staying up past my bedtime.”

The figure behind me stiffened, their footsteps stuttering to a halt. “I didn't expect you to be awake.”

I paused mid-stroke at the sound of the voice. It was rough and wet, a far-cry from the composed sonnet that I was used to hearing. After a moment, I dipped my brush back into the inkwell. “I could say the same to you, Mother. It's well past midnight.”

She didn't respond. I rolled my brush across the page, the ink seeping into the parchment and spreading through the fibers, a stark black on tinted yellow. The candle flickered as Ursa sighed.

“Tanya, do you remember what I used to do when you were little? When I'd come to check on you at night?”

I did, though the memories were hazy and tinted by the addled mind of an infant. Ursa had been a constant presence in those early days, checking on me, ensuring I was fed, humming me to sleep. It had been an odd experience, being cared for in such a way. I had no such memories in my first life, and the second... Well, the one quiet child among dozens rarely got special attention.

“I remember how you’d tuck me in,” I answered. “I believe you'd even read to me to help me fall back asleep if you woke me up.”

“Yes.” Her voice caught for just an instant before she steadied it. “I'd always tell you how much I love you. Because I do, Tanya. I love you so very much.”

I hummed noncommittally, still not looking up from my work, though my brow furrowed at her words. What was this? 

“You've always been so mature for your age,” she continued. “More than any child should have to be. And I’m sorry that it had to be like this, but I need you to keep being that way for your brother and sister.”

My brush paused on the page. Ah, so that's how it is.

I set my brush down and turned to face her for the first time. Ursa stood in the half-light, dressed in simple robes. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her hands clasped in front of her. There was a resignation on her face, hidden behind layers of grief. She had done something, or was about to do something, and I knew from the look in her eyes that she would not be around for much longer.

“Please take care of them,” she pleaded, her eyes glistening in the flickering candlelight. “I fear what will become of them if you don't.”

I studied her for a long moment, then turned back to my desk. “I'll do what I can. They're my siblings, so it’s only natural that I look after them.”

Ursa let out a breath that shuddered on the way out. “Thank you, Tanya. You don't know how much that means to me.”

I nodded as I picked up my brush once more. “One more thing, Mother.”

“Yes? What is it?”

“I’m sure you’ve already talked to Zuko, but you should visit Azula before you go as well.”

The silence that followed was telling.

“Azula is... strong. She'll be fine without me here.”

I stared at the half-formed character on the page, watching the firelight dance over the ink. Well, that told me all I needed to know.

“I see,” I said simply, dipping my brush back into the inkwell as the heat dried it out. “Well. You do what you think is best.”

“I will. I....” She took a shaky breath, creeping toward the door. “You're such a good big sister, Tanya. I love you. No matter what happens, remember that.”

“Mm.”

As the door creaked shut behind her, I set my brush down and stared at the candle flame. It danced in the stillness of the room, casting shadows that writhed against the walls like living things. 

As I looked inward, I found that I had no strong feelings about what had just occurred. It was quite callous to think, but for all that Ursa had been a good mother to Zuko, she was barely present in my memories of this life. Certainly, there were times I felt warmth at the thought of her, but I had never been one for sentimentality, and my success in this life did not hinge on forming bonds with a woman so keen on playing favorites. If anything, her absence would make things a bit simpler.

And yet, it would make things more difficult in some regards. Azula, for all her posturing. was still a child who wanted her mother to look at her the way she looked at Zuko. Ursa's departure would leave a wound that would fester and exacerbate the tendencies Azula was already beginning to show.

I sighed, pulling the finished page aside and reaching for a fresh one. There was nothing I could do about it now.