I think I am insane: Coming to terms with myself (91 AG)

Despite what you may believe, people are not an enigma. Despite poems, despite folk songs, despite all of the romanticised bullshit, people are simple. They are formed mostly by the context of their surroundings. Where they grew up, who they knew.

When you strip away the context, humans are merely herd animals. So, if you want something done, motivate the group.

There's something comfortable about groups. Something illusive. Elusive.

My teacher used to say, "Keep your head above the reeds."

He would say it when I slacked off in class. He meant, "You are privileged, pay attention."

He would say it as we passed the handmaiden's quarters, bustling with whispers and eyes sliding behind fans. He meant, "Do not look down."

He would say it as I faltered eyes leering down his nose, meaning "You are better than that."

When I was learning to block attacks at around the age of 6. The stable boys used to linger in the adjacent courtyard, snickering as sensei threw me to the ground, over and over. They were older than me, but still boys.

I lay on the ground winded, tears threatening.

I was furious. After a spar, lying on the ground, the air kicked out of my lungs. I heard peels of laughter drifting over from the monitor stables.

I whipped up into a quick sprint, closing the gap between me and them. Sensei moved one step faster and blocked my path.

"Keep your head above the reeds" he narrowed his eyes in distaste. He was looking slightly above me, not at me.

I did not shirk. I glared at him. I was not going to ask him to step aside. He would move. I feinted away and kicked back a heel of flames. He dodged and the flame swept on. Passing the courtyard right into two idiotic cheeky faces.

Screams rang out like the cry of war drums. It was fast. I was satisfied.

I heard boyish shrieks, along with ragged raw sobs. I wondered, what their fathers would say to them later. They should be ashamed. They had plenty of time to dodge. They knew better. They were a disgrace.

I was ushered away by two court ladies. I did not look back.

"Weeds" I muttered.

I was shuffled out of my combat uniform and into a white traditional tea ceremony gown. My hair was still pinned in a disheveled braid. Before the ceremony, I was supposed to have it combed back, but my ladies in waiting were disorderly.

"Where's Lela," I asked Hueling. She was always the one to do my hair. At times, she overstepped and would slip small flowers into my hair, as though I were her younger sister. I picked them out the rest of the day. I didn't hate doing that.

"She's..." My handmaid glanced nervously in the direction of the courtyard, "Preoccupied." She spoke in a way that said, "It is your fault, you know it is." I disregarded the comment with a wave. Hueling, left unruffled. She was always so composed. That, I admired.

But, tea ceremony was the absolute worst. I hated kneeling, I hated tea, and most of all I hated my instructor. He didn't give me bruises, he didn't assign me homework, he simply expected me to sit.

Quietly.

For hours.

Regardless of my compliance, there was always something wrong in the process: not enough room for the tea leaves, a hand pointed North not East, and most of all, I knelt like a man, knees apart, my hands in fists.

He would prod me like a cow with a bamboo cane "No." until I sat in an unnatural way that appeared natural to him.

I loved to ask with big dumb girl eyes, "But... this is how you sit?"

"I have told you before, you cannot simply copy me."

"I forgot. Oops."

Every class, I came in and sat as a man.

By the end of class, I 'forgot' the lesson. Be it a silent form of greeting, a way to move unnoticed, or how to pour tea for your husband. I simply, 'couldn't' figure it out...

He never showed it, but I'm sure it truly bothered him. He had earned a reputation for taking the edge out of difficult daughters, like breaking wild horses.

All proper young ladies had to take his class, but I was the only regular. I excelled in every other discipline except tea ceremony. This looked bad for him and I knew it.

All of the sudden, our lesson was cut right as he was showing me the proper way to present a gift (to your future in laws.) Kneeling, fingers folded together flat. Palms out, like a kind buddha.

"What is it?" He hissed, offended by the interruption. I drank in his loss of composure. Dumb old grandpa.

I overheard the words, "His majesty... and Now"

I was guided out of east wing, and towards the throne room. I knew I was in trouble. It was the boys. I was sure of that. I could tell in the way the servers scattered as I walked, leaning into ears, widening eyes.

I had only wanted to burn their eyebrows off. I was pretty sure I did just that. I stopped at the skin. I thought I did. But, I also wasn't looking after the kick. I could have gotten their eyes. That would suck. I would definitely be punished for that.

The grand hall opened up to a vast chamber. It smelled like old fires and cedar wood.

I waited at the threshold as was customary. I felt the presence of a tall man step in line beside me. I looked up, it was my father. He did not look down, not even once.

Step forward, a low voice bellowed.

Father and I began to walk down the long pathway towards the throne.

The fire lord sat with his hands folded over curled armrests. His fingers like driftwood.

"I think we all know why you have been summoned."

I looked between father and the fire lord. They both spoke with their eyes. The fire lord had a sentence weighing over fathers' head. For once, I couldn't read what was said in looks.

"I speak for us all, when I say we have a dragon in our midst."

My mother was descended from avatar Roku. Her blood is referred to as dragon's blood.

What did he mean? I looked around, and of course, mother wasn't here.

"I have been receiving reports," he spun his hand in gesture to the room "on our youngest blood."

"And I am pleased."

I blushed, this was high praise. Such praise was not given lightly.

"As fire lord, I cannot continue to watch the discipline of my most gifted grandchild squandered in-

Feminine airs." He spat with distaste. The fire lord sank into his throne.

"The,

Crown,

Princess...

Will, immediately cease all lessons having to do with tea, artistry, and song. And commence double training in combative arts, tactical planning, math, and foreign affairs."

The word crown was common enough among court men and women rendering the word meaningless. To the people, crown princess means "daughter of king's blood." From the fire lord, "Crown princess" means potential heir to the throne.

"This shall go into effect, immediately.

That is all."

Father and I bowed a deep bow, and began to walk backwards down the hall, always facing the king. As was customary.

At the end, he turned and began to stride away, as though the summons were an imposition on his work.

"Wait!" I knew it was inappropriate, but it was the only way to get his attention. He stared daring me, "What."

"The boys, do they see?"

"...No" He answered curtly, and left.

Maybe, that's how it started.

The news of the incident spread like wildflowers.

In a word, everything had changed. I was no longer, sister of Zuko, daughter of Ozai. I was Azula, heir to the throne. The servants who had once bristled at my orders, now scampered like stray dogs.

What I thought, would be celebrated. Was not. I was alone. More so than I had been before.

"It's fine," I thought.

"I'm fine," I thought.

But, I was not fine.

I was 6.