The Fall Of A Princess.

6

Yuo rests for a couple more days until his wife's return with a bar of soap, a bowl of water and a blade to shave his dastardly beard off herself. Azula enters with purpose, the items in her hands signifying a return to discipline.

“It’s time.”

Her voice brooks no argument as she sets the tools down.

“You'll look like yourself again.”

With precision that reflects her mastery of bending, she prepares to shave the beard, her focus absolute – this is about appearance, honor, and perhaps, in a way she won't voice, care.

“Hold still.”

Azula’s command comes as she begins the meticulous task, every movement deliberate and controlled. Yuo unintentionally cringes away but only briefly, his once handsome face now covered in torture scars with the more beard his wife shaved away. He avoided eye contact, the earth kingdom having taken a handsome thing of beauty and destroyed it completely. Near unrecognizable from their first meeting. Azula's hand steadies, her blade pausing as she observes the transformation beneath. Her eyes, once hard, now betray a rare flicker of complexity.

“Look at me, Yuo.”

Her voice is soft, a command yet not unkind.

“Scars are... proof of survival. Of strength…”

She continues to shave away the last remnants of the beard, revealing the warrior underneath in full.

“You are still you.”

The intensity in her gaze as she finally meets his eyes is meant to embolden, to reaffirm his identity and worth beyond mere physicality.

“And you are more to me than mere appearance.”

The words are almost a confession, spoken with a sincerity that’s hardly ever glimpsed from the princess. He however can only swallow hard in silence... not able to relay his thoughts. She notices his struggle, her actions slowing as she finishes with a careful, practiced ease.

“Speak when ready.”

Her tone bears the usual authority, but it's laced with an uncommon patience directed at him.

“For now, just... heal.”

As she cleans the blade, she offers a nod of solid reassurance, the unspoken message clear: things will improve, with time and with her support. Azula stands to leave, providing him the space to process, always the strategist, giving him — and herself — room to breathe.

A few more days pass and one of the lower rank officers from her husband's crew finally approaches the princess wearily, relaying that the general had been tortured, in the name of preserving her honor. Azula’s features harden like volcanic rock, her eyes a storm of molten fury.

“For my honor?”

Her voice is a deadly calm before the storm.

“That changes things.”

The revelation stirs a dangerous resolve within her.

“I will handle this personally.”

The promise is as sure as the rise of the sun, a vow of retribution from a disgraced warrior's wife.

“No one harms my own and lives to boast of it.”

There's no doubting the ferocity of her intent; the consequences for such an affront will be severe and certain.

Out on the ship deck, taking some fresh air in his wheelchair, Yuo rested, closing his eyes unsurely.

Azula steps onto the deck, her gaze immediately finding Yuo. She approaches, the click of her boots against the metal a sharp counterpoint to the sea's murmur.