.
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Always/Lying.
She could never say sorry.
Or 'I love you.'
Or 'I need you.'
Azula always lies,
Azula always lies,
Always, always, always.
Azula always lies.
"I love you. I miss you. I need you."
"Lies."
.
Break.
It was a strange thing, really. Azula, who claimed to need no one, ran to her for help - did everything in her power to make her come with her. Zuko couldn't help but think, as Ty Lee told him the story of how she agreed to assist Azula, that if Ty Lee had fell, Azula would have saved her. Azula felt more for Ty Lee than she did for her family, or for anything else ever. Azula would have saved her. Azula wouldn't have let her break and he hoped Ty Lee had the same courtesy for Azula.
"Don't break her."
"What?"
.
Redemption/Breakdown.
A monster, a monster, that's what they always said. My mother, my brother, my uncle, my cousin—that's all they would ever call me. They'd say it when my back was turned but I heard it every time. A monster—I was a monster. They lied; I wasn't. I simply couldn't be. I breathe, I walk, I talk, I want, albeit more than some others but, I live and I—I—love (don't I?). I am like any other, aren't I? Blood pumps through me, just like every other human.
"What's wrong with that child?" my mother mutters under her breath, walking my brother away. She holds him closely, behind her cloak keeping him safe from something (it isn't me, it isn't) and I will never forget the sound of those words. What's wrong with me? What's wrong with me? (I don't know!)
There's nothing wrong with me, mother, I'm fine. I'm just a little different from the others—just a little—but I'm still human, I'm still your daughter, I'm still your flesh and blood.
"She's a monster!"
B—but—Dad sa—he said this was good. He said this greed, this lust for power was good. He said it would help me be happy. He said it made him proud to see his daughter so strong. He said this was a good thing. He told me, taught me. Did he lie? Mother, where are you? Why didn't you help me?! Why did you save me from him, from myself, from the monster inside me? Mother, Mother, Mother, please! (I'm shaking, I'm begging. Why?)
"Azula always lies, Azula always lies."
Now I think about it, I should be sorry. Now I think about everything—the things I did to Mother, to Zuko, to my people, to people whom I think I was meant to love (or feel, at least, something for)—I should be begging for forgiveness. I'm not sorry, though, there's no guilt in my heart. I wish there were, if only to feel more human than stone. This time I'm telling the truth, I promise. I wish I was sorry, I wish, (for everything I've done.)
I was I were sorry so I could ask for forgiveness—redemption and maybe mercy.
"Mom? Zuko? Dad? I'm sorry."
Now it's too late, I'm the monster now and this heart is stone. I see sacrificed pawns and never bodies. I see Zuko's tears but the only meaning that sticks goes in the long line of ways to control him. I'm not sorry. Everything I did was justified to me. I wish I were sorry. (I wish we had somewhere to go Mother, I wish Zuko could be my brother and not my pawn and I wish, I wish I weren't a monster. I'm your self-filling prophecy, Mother, and I don't feel a thing)
I wish I were sorry.
(Breakdown, breakdown, bleed, bleed!
I'm your self-filling prophecy.)
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Illusion.
No. I—it had to be her. I touched her, I felt her. It couldn't have been a mere illusion. Mo—Mom, where are you? I miss you! I almost held you. You can't just come back and then leave! Mom—
(I need you.)
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Lying/Leaving.
You left. You left the world, your people, everything. The world crumbled from inside and you ran. I—I can't trust you won't leave again. I know I say I know you'll stay—but I don't.
"I won't ever leave again!"
Boy, you're still so scared, you're still so unsure. I know you're still lying.
(It's okay. I can forgive you.)
.
Redemption/Acceptance.
Stupid, stupid cold room—I miss the castle, I miss my old room, and I miss the fire that lit the halls at night.
The floor creaks but it doesn't shock me. I knew you were there, I felt your presence, your fire. I knew as soon as you stepped into the room, but decided your flame was calm enough to stay. You could still kill me at any moment. You don't. I know you won't. You're glowering at me with those eyes I hate so much (but they match mine so perfectly. The resemblance is insane, like you).
You bite back bitterness, hatred and most importantly, the great need for mockery and settle on something resembling pity.
"I don't know why you seek redemption so badly—"
(The touches dimly light your face. You cannot settle your eyes on me. Are you ashamed of me? Or are you ashamed of yourself? Your voice is relaxing, bitter, familiar, warming and disgusting to my ears. It's weak—but you're never weak—so it's something new entirely)
"—His acceptance it isn't so great."
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Childhood/Comparisons.
Katara first knew she could waterbend when she was three-years-old. Her grandmother took her to the ocean with her brother, and Katara guided a lost fish back to the school. Her grandmother smiled and laughed and told her how proud she was that she had learned the art so early. Her brother sulked—as their grandmother announced it to the whole village— but muttered out how happy and jealous and proud she made him. It meant the world.
Azula first knew she could firebend when she was three-years-old. Her father threw her into a dungeon filled with coal and flames as hot as hell and told her to bend it or she would surely die. He was furious that she took so long to learn the art their family was known for. Her brother bit his lip, clung to their mother—who watched on with fear—and congratulated her, saying how jealous and how proud he was on his little sister. That meant nothing.
.
.
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NOTES:
1. 4/1/09: Fixing up all old fanfiction.
2. Some canon was disregarded here. The ages in the last ones are probably wrong. Obviously, characterizing issues, particularly with Azula.