Redemption
i.
unheard
They were content to leave her to rot in the asylum for eternity. And they believed she deserved it, after everything she did.
They think she can't hear them murmuring amongst themselves in her insane, hazy state.
Poor, crazy girl, they would whisper. Bit off more than she could chew.
She had never bitten off more than she could chew.
No. No no no no no. She was Azula. She wouldn't be forgotten. She couldn't be forgotten.
Her mother had forgotten.
She only had eyes for Zuko.
It hurt.
Her father had never really cared.
He only had eyes for power.
It burned.
...
Oh, no. She would never be unheard.
ii.
fantasy
She lies in bed all day, staring vacantly at the blank walls set up all around her.
She screams all day, pounding away at the bars, at her confines, at her prison.
She was Azula. She wouldn't be imprisoned. She couldn't be imprisoned.
All her life, she had worked to gain approval, power, perfection—
—love—
And for what? For who?
For her father.
Her father, who turned his back on her.
Her father, who used her as a pawn.
Her father, who was scared of her.
She wanted it so badly. She was starving for it, weak, shivering, trembling, deprived of the one thing that she could never reach.
—love—
...If this taught her anything, it was that this is a fantasy world.
iii.
listen
Zuko always comes by to visit once every seven days.
She stares at him dully as if he is just another piece of the creamy-colored wall.
But it's too late. Too late for him to fix things, no matter how much he reiterates the fact that, if she just listened to him for once, she could get her way out of the hellhole.
She responds with an empty gaze, and Zuko ends up storming out of the room in frustration, never one for patience.
Yes, the Fire Lord wanted her to listen to him.
This was exceedingly ironic.
When was the last time anyone ever listened to her? Not out of fear, but respect?
That had never happened. Fear was the one tool that Azula could always rely on, the one tool that would never fail her. Fear was consistent. If you used fear to your advantage, you could rule the world.
Father had taught her that.
And to think that she once listened to the lying, betraying bastard.
Oh, by Agni, she's done with listening.
iv.
gone
Everything is slipping through her fingers like water in a sieve.
Time. Youth. Patience. Life.
She can't hold onto them.
She can't hold onto herself, but she can't—won't—let everything slide, slide into the oblivion that was insanity even more than it was already gone.
She has lost too many things in life to lose herself completely. Her mother's love, gone to Zuko. Her father's approval, replaced by fear. Ty Lee and Mai's loyalty, defected to the Avatar. And was there anything left?
Nothing but a dry husk, blown away with the wind.
She only had herself to rely on. Nobody else could be trusted.
Everything else had vanished, long ago.
Everyone else was gone.
v.
nothing
No one would understand, because no one wanted to understand. Not Zuko, not the Avatar, not anyone. They viewed her as evil, cruel, a monster—even her own mother—and didn't bother to know about anything else.
No one would care, because no one wanted to care. Not her mother, not her father, not anyone. They didn't care about her, her, the cold, cruel princess gone mad in the last Agni Kai with her brother.
No one wanted her.
To them, she never truly existed after she was brought down by that meddling Water Tribe girl.
To them, she was nothing but insane after her deterioration.
They didn't understand, because they didn't want to understand. They believed that she was nothing.
True.
She was never sane to begin with.
False.
She was never nothing.
Azula was never nothing.
fin