#azulaangweek2025

[katydoodles]

Day 3: Regret

GIVE ME THE SOFTNESS

@azulaangweek

[azulaangweek]

Azulaang Week 2025 - Interest Check!

IT IS TIME! Azulaang fans rejoice! It is time to decide on that all-hallowed week where we will create art, stories, poems, and everything in between for our favorite (rare)pair!

This is my first year hosting the event, and we're starting off with an absolute BANG! The amazing @demaparbat-hp has offered her incredible talents and created a backing image for the week! Before showing off the FANTASTIC artwork, let's get down to business. We simply must gauge interest in a specific week. So without further delay...

VOTE ON YOUR PREFERRED WEEK NOW! Voting will be open for the next two weeks and will close on Saturday, September 20th. To give participants enough time to prepare, the poll has no weeks earlier than the week beginning on Sunday, November 30.

And now, as promised, here's @demaparbat-hp's amazing work! Give her MAJOR kudos for EVERYTHING!

[geothewriter]

Azulaang Week 2025 Day 1 - Balance

~~~~

Azula hated dreaming. In their purest form, dreams represented surrender to her. Surrendering to the reality of the dreamscape. It was ironic to describe a dreamland as reality, but they usually felt so real and distinct. Most important about dreams for Azula: they meant relinquishing control, and the dream of the Avatar escaping with her aid was beyond troubling. She couldn’t comprehend how any of it made sense.

Though if there was anything Azula did understand, it was control. Presiding with absolute dominion over her world kept her alive for years. It allowed her to not only survive but thrive in an environment that she would admit, albeit rarely in private, was a risk to all present. She was the least likely to face retribution, but even for her, one wrong move could lead to the end of her life as she knew it.

And that was an unacceptable outcome. She’d have to be better. Better than her father. More ruthless. More thorough. Execute her plans with more vigour than her family ever had. She’d put Zuko to shame.

Yet–

The more she considered the situation she found herself in aboard this airship, the more she felt herself wavering. 

Why? 

She’d done what Zuko couldn’t. She’d captured the Avatar and was en route to the capital. He wasn’t going to escape under her watch. No, it would be impossible. Why was she second-guessing this? It couldn’t be the dreams.

Could it?

Azula approached and dismissed the Dai Li agents guarding his cell before opening the door. He’d be in this room just as he had the last several times she checked. Those past few times, he’d simply faced away from her and ignored her presence. She didn’t care. Her agents didn’t question her methods. They knew she was ensuring that the Avatar was still present. Even they knew how slippery he had been to capture.

The door swung open, then promptly shut heavily behind her as she stepped into the pitch black room. It rumbled and growled with the noise of the airship’s engines that weren’t far from it. Lighting a flame in her palm, Azula peered around the barren chamber. She frowned at the empty cot and bucket on the floor next to it. Why wasn’t he in the cot? It didn’t matter. He was her prisoner. She wasn’t here to care.

The Avatar was slouched against the far wall, wrapped in a heavy blanket. If she didn’t know better, she’d think he was hiding something from her. She planned better, though. His hands and feet were shackled in solid metal when he was brought aboard. The chains would be enough to anchor him in the room, but they attached him to the wall to serve as a reminder to him that escape was impossible. 

There’d be no ‘blue spirit’ escapade on her watch. The chains were too thick to slash through, and she personally vetted every single member of the crew aboard this ship.

Seeing him broken and useless should have brought a smile to Azula’s face. It was how he deserved to be treated for standing in Father’s way. 

“Not bowing to your princess?” She shook her head and stepped further into the room.

An impertinent frown overtook the fake smile, tearing her falsified angry expression into one of concern. She hazarded another step closer, rolled her eyes, then pressed her back to the wall and slid to the floor. Azula needed answers.

Interrogating him alone broke several rules and standards, but she couldn’t bring anyone else into this chamber with her for this; no, it needed to be just her. 

“Why?” Her mouth moved before she could stop it.

He shifted under the blanket, and his head faced her. An acknowledgement. She didn’t have to continue. She could stop speaking at any point, get up, and leave him to darkness.

“Why, Avatar, in your infinite wisdom, does something feel uncomfortably off about this arrangement?” 

She didn’t expect him to answer. Why would he? She hadn’t threatened him yet. Just had him locked up in this cell, really. So when a chain jangled against the silence of the room and a hand feebly reached her wrist, she felt lightning course up her arm. Was it an act? Looking at his shaking hand, she realized it couldn’t be. Why was he so weak?

She brightened the flame in her palm and closely examined his face. It was sunken, his eyes were bloodshot, and his other hand was at his throat. He attempted to speak, but all she could hear was the struggle of a gasp. He looked near ready to drop dead. 

That wasn’t part of her plan. Why was he in such bad shape? Did airbenders need exposure to the sun to live? The Sky? What was missing?

No. 

In a fraction of a second, she was up, at the door, and throwing it open. The two agents were down the hall, and before she could question her own actions, she had a flame held to the taller one’s neck. 

“Tell me why my prisoner is nearly dead.”

“He-”

“Have you been monitoring him?” 

“Yes, Princess.”

“Then explain yourself. You have five seconds.”

“He bends every element. We have deprived him of all but the air he breathes.”

As her mind processed the information, she turned and asked the other agent with venom in her voice, “Which of you interpreted my orders as kill the Avatar by withholding water?”

“But Princess–”

“You.” She pointed a dagger finger at the shorter man who had just spoken. “Fetch me a waterskin or your next assignment will be to report the time it takes to reach the ground.”

Properly reprimanded, the man rushed away, leaving Azula alone with the taller agent.

“If he dies, you’ll assist in his previous task.” With clenched teeth, she willed the fire to die. “Dismissed. I will personally handle the remainder of your shift.”

Why did she care?

She can’t have the Avatar die on her watch.

Azula snatched the brimming waterskin from the guard, who quickly retreated from her presence. Wordlessly, she wrenched the door open, assessed that the Avatar hadn’t moved, and made her way into the chamber. With unceremonious dismissal, she tossed the skin on the floor in front of him and crossed her arms. 

“Well?” She tapped her foot. “Drink it. It isn’t poisoned. And don’t try any funny business. I’ll–”

His pathetic hand lifted the waterskin into his lap, but no further. Why wasn’t he– No. She would not lower herself to such a level. She turned her back and left the chamber, shutting the door roughly and standing ‘guard’. 

Her duty was to her nation, and that didn’t include serving prisoners. Even if doing so…would…keep them alive…

“Fuck.” She gently let her head fall backward and impact the door before sliding it open and stepping inside once more. 

Deliberate, steady steps carried her to the Avatar, where she kneeled and grabbed the skin before unstoppering it. 

“You will say nothing.” 

The water mostly made it into his mouth, and he drank greedily. Precious few drops splashed to the floor, but at least he was drinking. At least she was in control of this situation now. After another few moments, she drew the waterskin away from him and stoppered it. 

“That is enough.” She stood and turned away.

That was degrading enough. She won’t spend another second in this cell with him. 

“Thank you.” His words were rough and nearly slurred together. 

She froze. He was thanking her? Of course he was. As he should. She went well below her station to–

“Why?” His voice was still weak, but there was a certainty to his tone when he asked.

She had originally come here with a purpose. She asked him a question, and now he wasn’t going to let it go.

“Why help me? Why come to me for advice?” He shook his head as if he were confounded by it all.

Azula narrowed her eyes and spun back on the kid. “That’s none of your business! And as for why I helped you? I simply need to keep you alive for the Fire Nation. Nothing more.”

He didn’t look impressed. She didn’t care. She didn’t–

“I control this situation, Avatar. Me. No one else. That is why you are alive and will continue to be for the foreseeable future.”

“But…you’re taking me to the Fire Nation.”

This line of questioning was getting old, but she’d humor one more attempt. “Yes?” She responded impertinently and turned back to face him.

He kept very still and wore a frown on his face, as though the conversation was as taxing to him as it was annoying to her. She relented and sank to the floor by the door, blocking the exit. So be it. If he was going to talk, she might as well ask her questions.

“Avatar.” She began, “Let me ask you. Why, when I woke with a dream an hour ago, was the fantasy world involving me freeing you? Could you imagine a more unlikely scenario?” 

The boy sat in silence for what felt like forever before looking her in the eye and answering, “You dreamed of helping me escape?”

“I did.” She responded with a grimace. “And it cannot become reality. I need to get you back to the Fire Nation, and if you escape, I’d have to hunt you down. That involves risks.”

“Risks like–”

“I do not wish to kill you, Avatar.” 

“Could fool me…”

“I do not wish to have blood on my hands, despite what you and your little friends may think.”

It was the truth. In as many ways as she wanted to be like Father, killing her opponents was not her goal. She wanted to embarrass them, prove that she was better, more powerful, and have individuals remember her for who she is. How could she do so if they were all dead? No, she demanded, no, deserved absolute dominion. So she planned to keep the Avatar alive.

As though he were reading her thoughts, he interrupted her musing, “Azula, you know what the Fire Lord is going to do to me when you turn me over to him, right?”

“Of course. He’ll lock you up and parade you around the Nation to–”

His half-lidded, unamused eyes were telling enough. 

“What will he do, Azula?” He asked tiredly.

It wasn’t her business what Father would do, but…she knew that what she was thinking wasn’t the case. 

“He will…” 

Father’s actions, if she turned the avatar over to him, were his own. Except, she’d allow it to happen. She would always know that it was she who delivered the avatar to his fate. It would be no better than incinerating him on the spot herself. With practiced grace, she rose from the floor, left the room, and left the Avatar to his devices. 

Father would kill him.

She’d find another way. Approach from another angle. She won’t be known for delivering someone to their death. Even she was aware of just what the Avatar meant to the rest of the world. Killing him would only ignite a resistance her nation had never seen. Azula was no fool. She wasn’t Zhao. 

No. Her victory would be had by other means. 

“Avatar?” She called through the bars. “You must be starving.”

She’d just have to tip the scales in her favor.

~~~~

If you'd like to read more of my work, check out my other stories over on AO3!

@azulaangweek

[browseret]

The Proposal

This is basically how i remember that one scene from The Avatar and the Fire Princess.

for @azulaangweek day 6: Proposal

[loopy777]

Tales of the Avatar & The Fire Princess: Proposal

Rating: T Characters: Aang, Azula, Yue, Roku, Zuko, Sokka Pairings: Azulaang Notes: This is a series of side-stories to the main “The Avatar & The Fire Princess” AU saga. These stories will be set throughout the timeline of that AU, but are intended to be read between Volumes II and III.

@azulaangweek Week 2025 Prompt: Proposal

AO3 | FF.net

[phoebester]

Change

An Azulaang Prompt, December 24

So this is actually a scene from my Azula redemption arc that’s part of the Legacy of the Six Expansion Series (more like a spinoff) that’s been living rent free in my head for years. Yeah, some spoilers up ahead, but trust me, there’s a whole backstory that makes it hit different.

Everyone’s properly aged-up atp (we’re talking roughly 14 years post-war, they’re grown-grown). This scene focuses on the quiet conversations between Aang and Azula which shifts dramatically in the end 😉

>——-////———-////———-////———////———<

After Team Avatar’s hard-won victory over Ba Sing Se's advancing forces, the woodlands of the great Shoren Vale burst into wild celebration. To crush the city’s deadly ambitions, the gang had to team up with unlikely allies deep within the Hujiang province whose stealth, raids, and ambush had become legendary. Formerly known as the Freedom Fighters, these mercenaries had been reforged under Azula's merciless command, earning for them the name, Shadow Serpents.

In the aftermath, Avatar Aang has drawn a firm line on Ba Sing Se’s incursion. The Team and their allies pushed back against Ba Sing Se’s advancing forces. Their onslaught will remain within their broken walls. Tonight, the forest itself celebrates. Hundreds of paper lanterns shed a glow onto the gnarled boughs of the ancient trees. Beneath the high canopy, the rhythmic pulse of festival drums mingled with bright, unrestrained bursts of laughter. The air crisp with the scent of crackling boar-q-pine and moon peach ale.

Around a massive bonfire, the strangest of families in the world huddled together.

The rest of the old gang and what was once the Freedom Fighters sprawled on logs, trading war stories that get taller with every cup of cactus cider. Around them, the children chased fireflies while young benders try to outdo each other with ridiculous bending forms.

Aang slips away from the noise for a moment. He glides onto one of the rope-and-wood bridges high above the forest floor, the same kind the Freedom Fighters once used for ambushes. From here he can see everything: the fire, the children, the impossible web of people who found common ground.

Aang watched it all from the swaying bridge above the clearing, wind tugging at the edges of his robes. He smiles, this peace is real tonight; music, warmth, laughter, the clink of cups, but it’s the kind of peace built on fresh graves and fragile truces. It wouldn’t last.

Peace never did, not really. Tomorrow the nobles would scheme, the generals would bristle. Somewhere, someone would decide the world still owed them something. Tomorrow, someone will test the boundaries Aang has drawn. But tonight, the forest was full of unlikely allies who had chosen to sit at the same fire. And for one rare moment, the Avatar allows himself to believe that it might just be enough to keep the world from burning, even for tonight.

Aang turns around to observe the vast tree village from the other side. Their settlement glows softly in the distance; wooden walkways between the trees, low hanging lanterns light the path from one hut to another. A place where bender and non-bender, soldier and rebel, actually manage to live together. Something sparked inside of him. An inspiration.

Aang inhaled the lingering scents of woodsmoke and stale ale as faint laughter drifted to him. The forest canopy was thick enough to swallow sound, but Aang still heard her long before she stepped into view.

“Hello, Azula,” he said without turning, eyes fixed on the swaying rope bridge above.

A soft laugh, low and amused. “How do you know it’s me and not your wife?”

Aang’s mouth curved. “Toph doesn’t tread lightly.“

Azula smirked and steps beside him, boots silent on the wooden platform. Moonlight caught the faint scar that ran through her left eyebrow.

In the distance came Toph’s unmistakable half-scold, half-laughter at one of their kids. A sound that made Aang smile fondly. A moment later, cutting through the mist from another area of the camp, the sharp, practiced swoosh of Jet’s hooked swords carving the air in relentless drill.

Aang glanced sideways. “So you let Jet do all the talking now?”

Azula’s voice was low, amused.

“For this treaty? Absolutely. He sounds like he actually likes people now. I sound like I’m barking orders.”

She tilted her head, the corner of her mouth curling. “Besides, look at him. Teaching your eldest how to dodge a hook-sword without losing a limb.”

Aang exhaled through his nose. A half laugh, and a half sigh. “Of course he is.”

“I’d have just demonstrated on your son myself, and called him an idiot.”

Aang snorted, half-horrified, half-charmed.

Azula’s eyes glinted gold under the lamp light.

“I guess some things never change.”

He looked back at Azula—at the woman who used to smile like a blade.

“Actually… some things change exactly as much as they’re supposed to.”

Azula’s smirk faltered for just a heartbeat. She folded her arms, studying him. “So tell me, you didn’t come all this way just to sight-see, Aang.”

“No,” he admitted. “But I figured if anyone would find me up here, alone, it’d be you. You used to chase us nonstop.”

“Flattered.” She paused, then softer, almost curious: “Do you ever miss it? When we were still trying to kill each other?”

He considered that for a long moment.

“Perhaps,” he said finally. “Life was much simpler back then, ironically.”

“So,” she said, tilting her head, “we’re good now, right? Ancient history and all that. Water under the bridge.” She gestured lazily at the actual bridge in front of them.

At twenty-six, Aang carried himself differently: taller, broader shoulders, a handful of kids’ worth of calm in his eyes.

“That depends,” he said, “on what you do next.”

Azula’s smile sharpened. “Relax, you’re a fully realized Avatar now. I’m no match.” She raises two hands. “Still, if it were up to me and I had that power? I would’ve burned Ba Sing Se to the ground, saving us all the trouble.”

“Would you, now?” Aang just shook his head, a hint of laughter in his voice as he met her gaze. “And that,” he said with a disarming grin, “is precisely why the universe looked at you and said, ‘Yeah… let’s not.’

Azula threw her head back and laughed. Elbows leaning on the rope of the bridge. She finally lowered her chin, she was grinning from ear to ear.

“Careful, Avatar,” she purred. “Keep talking like that and I might start to like you.”

“But speaking of which—” She lifted her hand lazily, blue-white sparks leaping and crackling between her fingers like living lightning. “Mastered all the elements, didn’t you? Even this one.”

“Lightning?” Aang echoed. He raised his own hand; electricity crackled to life, perfectly controlled, no wasted motion. “Your uncle is a great teacher.”

Azula rolled her eyes so hard it was practically audible. “Right. That guy.”

The lightning in both their palms winked out at the same moment.

Somewhere far below, a night-bird called. The bridge creaked in the wind.

“And your fire?” she asked, voice low. “Zuko taught you that, too? Or was it the dragons?”

“A bit of both,” Aang said, hands in his sleeves. “So you heard about the dragons.”

“I did.” She tilted her head. “They say the blue one was beautiful. Deadly.”

“Reminds me of someone,” Aang said, meeting her eyes without flinching,

Azula gave a soft huff of laughter. “Maybe if I was a little nicer back then… Do you think she would’ve let me climb on her back the way she let you? “

“Not a chance.” He said without missing a beat. “She would’ve swallowed you whole.”

For a moment the old violence crackled between them like static, then they both laughed, sharp, surprised, almost honest, as if none of it had ever happened. As if she had never tried to put lightning through his heart.

“Show me your fire,” Azula said abruptly, the laughter still clinging to the edges of her voice.

Aang was taken aback, “Azula,” he said teasingly, arching his brow. “I’m a married man!” He said in feigned shock. “Toph would pummel us both.”

“Oh, shut up. You know what I mean. Show me.”

He sighed theatrically and raised his palm. A small flame bloomed in his hand, warm, steady, sunset orange. It flickered almost at once.

Azula’s smile curved, slow and knowing. “As I thought. Orange.”

She opened her own hand. Blue fire roared to life, cold and perfect, licking the air like it was tasting it.

Aang stared, genuinely curious now. “Yes, I remember. You can bend lightning, and summon blue fire.”

“Why?” she asked, stepping closer, the blue light painting sharp shadows across her cheekbones. “Can’t you?”

He tried. The flame that answered was orange again, then hotter, then suddenly wild. It flared toward violet for an instant before it scorched his own fingers. “Ah—!” He shook it out, wincing.

Azula laughed under her breath and began to pace on the cool wood. “Blue fire isn’t about power, Aang. It’s about what’s underneath. Something raw, deep. Something dark.” She snapped her fingers; perfect cobalt flame danced above them like a cruel star. “You forgave everyone after what’s been done to you and your people. You made my brother your friend. You turned the other cheek so many times I lost count. There’s nothing twisted left inside of you to feed it.”

Aang’s smile faded by slow degrees.

He looked down at his open hand as though it belonged to a stranger.

Azula watched the shift settle over him the way storm clouds slid across the moon.

Aang closed his eyes.

The breeze stilled.

When he opened his hand again, the fire that rose was blue. But not Azula’s cold, perfect blue. Something rawer, storm-colored, almost black at the edges. It trembled like it was angry to be born.

A single tear slid down his cheek and hissed into steam before it reached his jaw.

She gaped. Almost breathless. The smirk melting into something hungry and almost reverent.

“So you do have a dark side,” the words dripping with something too close to the truth. “I guess you haven’t completely forgiven the Fire Nation after all…’ she whispers to him, somewhat haunting.

In her fractured mind, the image flared unbidden: the two of them side by side, blue fire crowning them both, the world kneeling or burning, no blind earthbender ever stealing him away, no gentle forgiveness, just the two of them and an empire forged in that color.

Aang let the flame die. The tear track glistened in the moonlight.

“I have forgiven the Fire Nation,” he said in a low voice. “That darkness… is something else entirely.”

He stepped past her, shoulder brushing hers for the barest second, and started across the swaying bridge.

Behind him Azula stayed very still, fingers curled tight around the ghost of that fire, tasting the dangerous, delicious thought of what might have been if the Avatar had chosen a different kind of queen.

>——-////———-////———-////———////——

I’m sorry! I’m sorry! 😭😭😭 I know! Not your typical azulaang. Please dont be mad! But I thought this would be a great oneshot for azulaang week in keeping with their canon characters huhuhu.

We got a little flirty banter going on, more like Aang has no idea he’s sort of flirting. Or maybe he does. And Azula is well, Azula.

Surprise! Jet’s alive. (Don’t @ me, I have receipts 😂… in my hc )

So why Change?

Aang had changed—quietly, irreversibly—somewhere between the final battle and this fragile peace. And just when Azula thought she was finally clawing her way out toward something better, something steadier, she felt the old rot stirring again.

@azulaangweek

[katydoodles]

Day 2: Forgiveness

It’s always harder to forgive yourself…

@azulaangweek

[katydoodles]

Y’all imma try to do Azulaang Week this year🤧

I had more “serious” thoughts about the Prompt, balance, but I went with my silly idea.

@azulaangweek