soundtrack: Hurt, as performed by Johnny Cash
"He couldn't come."
The woman's words are emotionless. Her porcelain hands are as still as crushed spiders by her sides; her gleaming obsidian locks are pulled high into a topknot. Her eyes, like flints, cut into mine, and I feel my half-dead body shiver with fear. I don't think I used to feel fear. Things change.
My visitor's disdain is tangible. Raw hatred is desperately clawing in her throat. Once upon a time, when she was my companion, I thought I could tell what she was feeling. I miscalculated. But I've learned. I've learned. And today, I know her. I feel her like no one has before. And now, where I once would have relished in the control the knowing gives me, I hate it. I know her well enough to see just how much she wants to wring my emaciated neck. I see the knives resting flat in her hands, pressed so tightly against the pale skin that they draw thin slivers of red through the white.
I see her and I want away from her. My thin arms yank on the chains that weld me to this prison. I can feel hot liquid flowing down my wrists and arms, seeping into the sleeves of my ragged uniform. Pain grates angrily against my bones. Snarling, I writhe against my bonds, the feral instinct to flee overcoming me again.
Her brow furrows, her disgust mingling with pity as she remembers what I used to be. I don't want her pity. That powerful person that used to possess me is dead. This broken animal is all that is left.
i hurt myself today
to see if i still feel
i focus on the pain
the only thing that's real
"Calm yourself."
That's a command, I remember. The taste of orders on my tongue was priceless. I realized it when I could no longer give them. She's pulling the mask down over her face again. She's nothing, she's just her mother's puppet. I am a queen. Are the words I'm thinking are mere thoughts, or are they spilling like water from a fallen vase?
Without my conscious will, unintelligible words spew from my mouth. Hate words. Poetry. Curses intertwined with apologies swirl around my head like a burning wheel. I close my eyes tightly and fight the urge to scream as the blood pounds in my temples. I can almost feel the hands on my shoulders again, my father's hands.
"That's long enough for today, my lady." "Hush now, child, you must be respectful." "She tires quickly, my lady. I am so sorry you had to see…"
She brushes away their tittering words, her thin mouth set in a hard line. I pull myself away from the monster that I am. My faded golden eyes are barely able to focus, but I force them to meet hers with the iron will that used to flow as freely as fire.
"Mai…" She flinches as I warble her name.
"Azula." Unflinching. Unfeeling. Unforgiving. I want her to fling her knives at me. All at once, my sweet sorrow draining away. But she doesn't indulge me. Not anymore.
She leaves as I sink back into the labyrinth of my mind.
the needle tears a hole
the old familiar sting
try to kill it all away
but i remember everything
Ozai's hands on the small of her back. He always smells of smoke; the stench seeps through his skin and wriggles into hers like a maggot. She's a puppet, everyday feeling the tug if his ropes around her wrists and her ankles. They bleed and burn. He touches her face, scorching her with his presence, and she fades.
His wrath, his anger! The searing tongue of flame, again and again against the vulnerable skin of her shoulders. You have failed me, I have never loved you. My power is mine. Your power is mine. Do not take it from me or there will be consequences. Do you understand, Azula? Do you understand? You are a tool.
I am a rag doll, consumed by flame. There are no lights and darks, there are chains and there is pain. There is no hunger; hunger is for mortals, and she is ethereal. The moonlight drips through the bars of her window, and even that scorns her, stinging her face with its dainty hands. In the morning, her caretakers will wonder how she managed to scratch herself.
Do not touch me I don't understand why. I don't understand. How did this –
what have i become
my sweetest friend
everyone i know
goes away, in the end
and you could have it all
my empire of dirt
i will let you down
i will make you hurt
All I hear are "end" words. Deteriorate. Infection. Fatal. Last chance.
I see a familiar face in the doorway as I struggle to fill my lungs with air. My hands are still chained, but yesterday they moved me into a soft bed when they saw the specks of red that dotted the front of my shirt. I no longer struggle. I don't remember how.
"Azula?" his voice is loud and familiar, and echoes in my ears. It hurts my head. I cough, my body twitching feebly. Ever motion is accompanied by a dull pang of… something. "Can you hear me?" The brutal scar on his face is so very close to me. I want to touch it. I try to raise my hands. A ring of metal stops me.
An ice-cold thumb brushes the silent tears from my cheeks. I shiver. Too much feeling. Too much reality. I'm ready to be gone. He bows his head and I can see his pain and his frustration. Something impossible comes into my head. Something I've never thought of before.
Should I take him out of his pain? Should he have to suffer for me? All of my life, that is has been the natural order. Me above him. The one with talent over the one with a soul. But now there is no more bitterness. No more anger. No more regret.
I can hear a woman crying. I'm so proud of you, my darling. Mother?
i wear this crown of thorns
upon my liar's chair
full of broken thoughts
i cannot repair
"We're here for you, Zuko." My brother's face is tight and drawn, despite the hands on his shoulders. My old friends. They killed me. They killed me. They should be here for me. The long, brown braid brushes against my cheek and I shudder. Beads of sweat roll down my face. They're here. They see me.
The first one leans down close, her face blurring before my delirious gaze. She puts both hands on my cheeks, digging her thin fingers in viciously so my body will see her. "Listen to me," she says. I can hardly hear her. "Listen. I'll never forgive you. I'll never be sorry for stabbing you in the back. But I think you should know that you are the strongest person I know. The strongest, the most powerful, the most cunning person I know. And I'm sorry that you had to go to waste like this because your parents couldn't give you what you needed."
I cough, and try to put my hand in hers. It doesn't work. My corpse won't listen. I hear her. I know now. My father was not my idol. He was my slaver. Mai smiles sadly. She'll never forgive. She'll never forget, either.
beneath the stains of time
the feeling disappears
you are someone else
i am still right here
A thousand angry men that loathe her wave their accusations like bloodstained banners. My baby is dead, my wife is crippled, my brother-in-law stabbed himself in the mouth because of you. Because of you.
She waves daintily, deafly, and continues, lighting striking before her and in her wake. Scorching hands press into her head, smiling and nodding, saying "yes, yes. You are right." Her uncle, frowning at her, the awful man. "Do not listen, my niece. This is not you. Do not let your father – "
Her cousin, dead on the battlefield. Her uncle, heartbroken and half mad himself. Her father, screaming commands. Her mother, protecting her only son and forgetting her only daughter. Her friends, her companions, throwing her into the mud. The Fire Nation banner, her only incentive.
She kills, she slays. Fire is loyal where people are not, its touches never tender but always passionate. She has no pity for her victims; she has no mercy for her enemies. They are no different than the ants she crushes with her heels.
And then, the unthinkable. She loses.
The light fades. She is drowning. Let it end, let it be.
what have i become
my sweetest friend
everyone i know
goes away, in the end
and you could have it all
my empire of dirt
i will let you down
i will make you hurt
Her brother's voice is sharp and regal. It cuts through the swirling mist. She feels a breath of air on her swollen wrists; she feels his arms cradle her against his broad chest. She has never been held like this. Her head rolls back, but he rests it against his shoulder. She hacks blood on his shirt. Instead of dropping her in the dirt where she belongs, he gently wipes her mouth.
Her "friends" try to follow. He sends them away. His pointed shoes sink deep into the sand. She shakes in the warm inferno of his arms. This isn't love, but it's so close, damn it. He lays her out like a worn out painting, spreading her just outside of the waves' reach.
Then he settles beside her onto the beach's soft sand. He embraces her again, like the time when she was so small, his baby sister, and he held her clumsily in his toddler's arms.
They are both grown, now. And it is time for her to die.
if i could start again
a million miles away
i would keep myself
i would find a way
No smiling faces await her in the void. No star-crossed lover weeps at her bedside. No second chances are left; she has squandered them all. Her heart lurches and jars in her chest. Her brother disappears. She forgets her father like a child forgets a nightmare. Her golden eyes take in the royal dignity of the stars above her. She looks into the pinpricks of light. And slowly, painfully, she ends.
i would keep myself
i would find a way
