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Once the force had thrummed all around her, buzzing on and beneath her skin. It was a constant hum that sang in her ears, practically begging her to harness it and Azula relished giving in to its pleas.
Though it wasn’t really, those days seemed so long ago. All it took was one single duel to tip the balance—suddenly plunged into darkness, stillness, and silence. As if the force itself had exiled her from its reaches. The faint whispers that remained seem to mock her, toying with what she couldn’t have. Other people had been more forgiving, but her banishment from the force was the hardest blow in her fall from grace.
Azula sat with her back against a cool stone, her fingers brushed against the engravings at its base as she battled to keep her mind clear. Sighing, she squeezed her eyes shut again as if it would somehow help keep the outside distractions away. Her muscles contracted like if she made herself smaller, she’d be light enough to overpower the weight of her thoughts and what tied her to her past.
It wouldn’t, of course.
Some things just couldn’t be risen above.
And she’d have an awfully far climb if it could.
Before she could center her already straying thoughts again, someone cleared their throat. She opened her eyes. Catching sight of the arrow tattoo first, before she took in his warm expression.
It seemed so silly, and she’d never be able to explain it in words that other people would understand. But Azula found Aang’s tattoo oddly comforting. There was something about the way the arrow pointed down instead of up. For once not a directive that forced her to rise up, rather something that allowed her to be where she was until she was ready.
It was grounding too, in a way, she supposed.
“Yes?” she asked. Her voice was soft in the courtyard. There was no one else around, but she’d rather the echoes of their voices didn’t linger in the air around them.
“I just wanted to know how it felt today?” he asked, he rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. The skin around his arrow was a little more flushed than it was before, “You looked kinda peaceful for a second or two.”
Azula abandoned her pose, “I don’t know. It still feels like I’m in a black hole somewhere in the farthest reaches of the galaxy,” She drew her knees up to her chest and curled in on herself like that would somehow ward away the perpetual cold she felt in the absence of the force, “and the force is just dangling a rope above my head that I can’t reach, so I can’t pull myself out of it.”
Aang raised an eyebrow at her. He waited for her permission before he slid down to the ground beside her. Their shoulders brushed. Ambient heat radiated from his side. The sounds of the force seemed closer too. Her skin tingled where they touched. Azula let out a soft sigh of pleasure before she could hold it back, unconsciously pressing closer against him. The tingling turned into more of that buzz of thrumming energy that she remembered.
She wondered what it felt like to have so much connection to the force that it didn’t just radiate around you. It bridged into other people.
“It won’t feel like that forever,” he said, “You may not be able to feel it all the time, but it’s still all around you. I know it.”
Azula let a little puff of air pass through her lips, “Then you know something I don’t.”
He gave her a brighter, almost cheeky looking smile, “Well, I should hope so. I’m a Jedi Master, aren’t I?” Azula rolled her eyes, and he had the graces to sober his expression a little, “I know it’ll come back, but I think you have to believe that too. Otherwise, even if that rope you’re talking about does come within your reach, you’ll be too weighed down to pull yourself up on it.”
Massaging her temples, Azula let her head fall back against the stone behind her. She couldn’t care if her hair got mussed in the process, “All these metaphors are giving me a migraine. You’re worse than Uncle.” After a brief scan of the courtyard to confirm they were alone, she let her head rest on his shoulder, “You promise it’ll come back?” Aang nodded, “Then I’ll take your word for it.”
“Really?” he asked, practically bouncing out of his place beside her. It was Azula’s turn to agree when she recovered from the sudden movement, “Then, there’s something I want to try.” He grabbed her hand and tugged her to her feet, “Let’s go.”
Azula let herself be dragged toward one of the sparring grounds without protests. She watched Aang take out his lightsaber from the loop on his belt, holding it out toward her. Nose wrinkling, Azula shook her head, “Aang, if my own saber doesn’t respond to me then there’s no way yours will.”
Aang let his eyes go wide, the kind of look he knew she couldn’t resist, “Please,” he wheedled, rocking on his heels in a way that was totally unbecoming of a Jedi Master and unjustly endearing.
“Fine,” she snatched it and tested the unfamiliar weight in her grip. Azula stood a few paces back. She let her thumb rest on the switch and pressed down. Squeezing her eyes closed, she willed the faint hints of the force around her to activate it. Nothing happened. No beam of yellow. Azula pressed her lips together in a thin line and tried not to show how much it made her soul pang.
Aang gave her a sad, guilty looking smile. She didn’t know why he bothered feeling bad about it. It was her own fault for letting him get her hopes up. He was good at that. She silently pressed the hilt back into his hand, ready to make a hasty retreat from the training grounds.
“Wait,” he caught her hand in his, “there’s something else I want to try.” The buzz of the force tickled her palm with his touch, “Can I see yours?” He looked at the hilt, hanging all but for show off the side of her belt. She begrudgingly handed it over.
“When this doesn’t work, I want you to drop it,” she muttered, “It’s too hard rehashing it over and over. It’s time to admit it’s gone. There’s other things I could be doing to serve the order than wasting resources and space around here.”
Aang nearly dropped her saber to the soft ground beneath them, “You don’t mean that.”
But they both knew she did. Aang sighed, he stepped forward to close the gap between them. His hand moved to stroke her cheek before she pulled away from him. She ignored the hurt expression that crossed his face, “Okay, just let me try this last thing, and I swear I’ll never bring it up again.”
“And you’ll support me in whatever I decide to do with myself, even if it takes me across the galaxy?” she prompted.
“Even if you want to be a podracer or a scavenger on Tatooine, I would support you without a question,” he said, smirking as her nose wrinkled in disdain at the very thought of it. He put distance between them again, her saber hilt in hand. The catch was more delicate on hers, activating with barely a brush of his thumb.
Blue plasma glowed, making Azula burn with a jealous longing for the ease he wielded a weapon that wasn’t even his. She crossed her arms, “Very good. You proved it wasn’t broken and it’s just me who’s defective. Now what?” she snapped, even though she knew it wasn’t fair.
But Aang understood.
He always did.
Shaking his head, he released the catch and the plasma vanished. He fiddled one of the panels on the hilt until he managed to pry open the panel for the kyber crystal inside. Azula bristled. That hilt may have been nothing more than a glorified paper weight, but it was still her glorified paper weight, “You’d better not break that.” There were delicate inner workings in those sabers.
“I won’t,” he promised, “Just give me a minute. You said you’d let me try,” he reminded her.
She had, hadn’t she?
A lapse of judgment, she was sure.
That part was definitely his fault. If he wasn’t so…so…nevermind, the point was that it certainly wasn’t her fault that she’d agreed to let him dismantle her only remaining tie to the force. She bit her lip, watching him work in a rigid anticipation. Watching, as Aang knelt on the soft ground below.
He cradled the crystal delicately, his motions so tender he could have held her own heart in his hands. In an odd way, he supposed she did. Part of it anyway–more than the bit he usually carried with him. Aang let his eyes drift closed. He centered himself with steady breaths, jaw set too firm to be placid. It was the expression of one simultaneously at peace and at war.
A storm brewed inside him. One Azula could feel in the air around them. The hairs on her arms stood on end as the air crackled to life, fraught with an electrifying energy. A blue light, blindingly bright, made Azula squint as it flooded all around her. Her skin practically buzzed, bathed for a moment in the full intensity of the force she remembered.
“Oh,” she whispered. Her voice was thick with tears. Ones that dripped down her cheeks. She knew she’d just blame them on the light if he noticed. They’d both know she was lying. He grinned, eyes shining in the wash of blue.
“Good, right?” he asked, she barely heard him over the welcome song of the force in her ears. She nodded, her arms wrapping around her own chest in a tight hug as if that would be enough to cling to sensation for as long as she could. Already the light began to dim. The energy faded with it. Her heart wrenched when it tapered off to a lingering hint of whispers.
The icy, emptiness–lost in the farthest reaches of the galaxy kind of feeling returned to her frame. In some ways even sharper than it had been before, and in others a softer blow. It was like how she’d felt leaving Zuzu behind to come and train. It stung, of course, but there was the promise of a return. The whispers of the force no longer mocked her and Azula felt a sort of new hope.
Aang fiddled with her saber hilt again for what felt like a millennium. Though she was certain it was only a standard minute at most. He handed over the hilt.
It didn’t feel any different than it had before. If she hadn’t witnessed him taking it apart, she never would have known it happened at all. Swallowing, Azula took a few steps back from Aang. She let her thumb hover over the catch. Steeling herself, she activated the saber.
There was nothing.
No change.
The tingling in her fingers had to be from her woefully desperate imagination.
But the tingling morphed to the beginnings of a familiar buzz that crawled up her arm, spreading through the rest of her a lighting speed. Azula was surrounded in the thrums of the force again. Stronger than before.
The blue plasma crackled to life. It cut through air with a familiar rush of air leaving the space it had inhabited moments before, “Oh,” Azula whispered. Because the plasma before her wasn’t the same as she remembered. The brilliant blue was framed in an almost barrier of golden light, “How-what did you do?” She asked.
Aang shrugged, “No idea. It just felt right, if that makes sense?”
She shook her head. None of it made sense, but the rational part of her mind was as silenced as the rest of her. Forget about a rope to pull herself from the black hole. Azula was sure if she took a single step from her place rooted on the training ground she’d fly.
Aang closed the distance between them. One of his hands delicately shifted her thumb from the catch. The plasma extinguished itself with a soft hum and Azula braced herself for the force to abandon her again. Although they became somewhat muted, its sensations didn’t leave her altogether. A gentle thrumming coursed around her. Even without the saber activated, she glowed, “Azula?” Aang asked.
Not caring who might see, she threw her arms around him. Her face was buried in his chest, “You did it,” she whispered, “you brought it back.” Aang let his chin settle on her hair. He shook his head slowly, holding her close and swaying them back and forth like he could hear the same song of the force she did.
Aang was sure he hadn’t done anything. Not really. It had been mostly her. Whatever he’d done had just helped it along. Azula went still in his arms. Her brilliant smile fading in an instant, “What is it?” he asked.
“What if it doesn’t last? What if it goes away again?” She didn’t think her delicate sense of restored order could handle the repeated blow.
Aang pursed his lips in contemplation. He tucked a loose strand back its place behind her ear, “Then, I guess we do it again. As many times as we need to.” He let his arms close around her again in a reassuring squeeze, “Or there’s always scavenging in Tatooine,” he teased.
“Aang.” She pressed her face in his chest to hide the whine in her voice. Azula felt the rumble of chuckles in his chest slowly subside. He started up the sway once more.
“It won’t go away again,” he said, in a tone more serious than before. Serious enough to make her crane her neck to look at him.
“How can you be so sure of that?” Azula wanted to believe him. She did. With every fiber of her being she wanted to believe it. But it wasn’t that simple. It couldn’t be.
“Easy,” he whispered, leaning down so his nose brushed against hers, “because my force is with you always.”