Blame.
Author's Note: This story is something of an experiment for me. (a) It's my first non-Half Life story and (b) it's my first attempt to write something other than humor. So please, lots of feedback.
* * *
How did it come to this?
She was alone. These days that was a luxury, her every movement, meals, even her sleep placed under careful scrutiny.
She stared blankly at the wall in front of her, and her mind travelled backwards upon the path that had led to her current situation, examining every moment in a bid to answer her own question.
It was all her friends fault.
Her thoughts came to rest on the moment of her betrayal. Again, she felt the blows paralyzing her body; saw the two of them staring resolutely down at her. Her mind struggled to comprehend, to understand their choice. Unable to, it took refuge in anger. And became that bit more fragile.
But the mighty fire nation had not been toppled by two traitors.
It was all her brothers fault.
Her thoughts continued backwards, to the brief alliance she held with her brother. She should have seen his betrayal coming. He was always too weak, too soft. But she, too, had committed the sin of weakness, allowing distant memories of Ember Island summers to influence her thoughts.
But he had left, and she had comforted herself with the fact that her place on the throne was assured. When he came before her, as she knew he would, she would simply cut him down.
So how had she lost?
It was all her mothers fault.
She found herself back in her childhood, staring at that woman. The fool, who showered her oafish brother with affection, while she, the prodigy, had received naught but reproving glares and stern lectures. When her mother had disappeared, she had rejoiced, the way only a conceited, jealous child could.
But that woman continued to haunt her. In her dreams, her mother lectured her, condemned her, and called her monster. Sometimes, she even said goodbye to her.
And over the years, she came to hate her own reflection. She saw her face grow into the image of that hated woman, staring coldly back at her from the other side of the mirror.
She never needed her, or her love.
It was all her fault.
Finally, her mind reached the end of its journey, the prospect of an answer dangling enticingly before her. And she looked upon her younger self, bitter and lonely and determined to show the world her worth.
Was she the architect of her own downfall? Were her cruelty and ruthlessness, her favorite weapons of war, the very things that brought about her defeat?
Did she ever have a choice? Or was she just a puppet dancing on the strings of fate, a designated antagonist against which the heroes could prove their worth?
Maybe, she would have been a great Fire Lord. Perhaps, her reign would have been legendary.
It has been two years since the end of the war, and the world has moved on. It has risen from the ashes, rebuilt, and learned once again how to co-exist.
Azula sits alone in her room, oblivious to this world.
She stares at the wall, and wonders at what could have been.