Emotions Are For The Weak
Two things were what Azula couldn't deal with: Guilt and Shame. The rest of the emotions were stupid, and she didn't need them, never had. She didn't have to be emotional, didn't want to be emotional. Emotions were for the weak. But sometimes when guilt and shame hit her, it felt like a needle being slowly pushed into her heart, an acute pain that was almost physical, a terrible, burning fire she had to suppress quickly before it took over her. And for some unknown reason, guilt and shame were the two emotions that came flowing like the tide, ready to wash her heart out, whenever she made a mistake. Azula strove for perfection, not only because of the idea on itself, but because she couldn't afford to fail. One tiny slip, one wrong movement, and all of her would come crashing down. But it was not a weakness, no. The Princess of the Fire Nation could not be weak. It was simply a minor defect. And compared to all of Zuko's flaws, her own were nothing, a small thing she needed to correct.
And she tried. She had spent her whole life trying. She prided herself in the fact that she had come to such levels of cunning, power and skill that she was almost perfect. She thought everything before hand. She was a natural strategist.
"Or maybe that's just because you can't stand making a mistake," the horrible voice said in her ear.
Agh, that voice! If that voice had had a physical representation, Azula would have destroyed it long ago. That voice, that resembled her mother's, haunted her every single day. She would never accept this was a defect in any way. It's not like she really heard the voice, it was in her brain. But this voice would come up unexpectedly –actually, it appeared every time she was feeling proud for some reason. The voice was evil, like it rejoiced in reminding Azula of her mistakes. Like when she had conquered Ba Sing Se. She had done what no one else had done in history before. She had conquered the City of Walls and Secrets. She had devised the greatest masterplan in history. And yet the voice relished in telling her that she hadn't captured the Avatar. It was like nothing was enough to that stupid voice! No matter what Azula did, there was always room for the better, there was always something she hadn't done, something she hadn't foreseen, no matter how many nights she spent awake going over and over the details of her plans. Sometimes she felt like setting that voice on fire right away, but it was in her brain, deep inside of her.
And it sounded so much like her mother. That was the worst part.
On reflection, perhaps it was her mother who had made her be like this. Her mother, who hadn't stayed to teach her how to be better. Her mother, who had committed the gravest crime, the ultimate sin, to protect Zuko. Zuko! Zuko was nothing! He was a complete idiot! He was not skilled, was not strong, was not powerful, he was weak. Weak in every possible sense of the word. Azula knew this; she could see it. Zuko always failed in his exercises, never thought before action, was overdramatic, and had a big mouth. He couldn't control himself. When they were very, very young, Azula used to make remarks to him, just to help him grow better, but he resented her for that. Stupid Zuko. It was almost like he didn't care to improve and become a better Prince, a better leader. Almost as if he wasn't ambitious at all. And how could he possibly rule an empire as powerful as the Fire Nation without ambition, without the innate desire to make it grander than ever?
But her mother had always preferred Zuko. When Azula was very young, she had thought it was precisely because he was weaker that Ursa preferred him. She had thought her mother felt the need to protect Zuko from himself; and that she let Azula be because Azula was strong enough to do everything for herself.
At least, that was what she believed until her mother pronounced those deadly words that would flow into her dreams every night, those words that haunted her every action, those words that fueled the internal rage Azula had to control all the time:
"What's wrong with this child?"
Wrong… Azula had wanted to scream Nothing's wrong with me! It's you who's wrong! but her mother had vanished shortly after.
It was then, she thought, that she began to feel that need to prove herself all the time. She had sought refuge in her father, and he had recognized how talented she was. He had forced her to go through some things that Azula would speak of to no one. Things that had seemed horrible at the time, but that she knew were supposed to make her better, stronger, and whenever she felt like it was too much for her, she heard that voice again, reminding her of the price of her errors.
She had always firmly stepped forward, moved on. And whenever someone made a mistake, she did what she had learnt was the best way to make someone get better: she punished them.
Oh, but her wrath was epic when someone made a mistake that implicated her responsibility. And lately she was having a hard time choosing subordinates, because no one was good enough! How could men in the Fire Nation Army be so inept?! It was something that was beyond her understanding. Well, perhaps it was because her father was too benevolent. When she became Fire Lord, no one would be allowed to make mistakes. Mistakes were wrong.
"What's wrong with this child?"
Nothing is wrong with me, she would tell herself. It is the rest of the world that is inept, flawed, imperfect. Just like Zuko. Just like the one you thought was "right", Mother.
After her failure to capture her brother –no, not failure; just a minor setback– she had been forced to resort to the only two people in the world who deserved her trust: Mai and Ty Lee.
Her two best friends were fierce, determined, and would make no mistakes. They had helped her at every step of the way, and it was only Azula's fault that she had failed to capture the Avatar. No, no, no! Not failure! She didn't fail! She couldn't fail! It was just a setback, a delay, and it wasn't wrong anyway because the Avatar had been gravely wounded, and Azula doubted he'd survive.
Just in case, though, she had placed the honors on Zuko.
Believe it or not, she was slightly proud of her brother for the first time in her life. Well, it was because it was the first time in Zuko's life that he had made the right choice. On second thoughts, though, choosing the other way around would have meant falling too low, even for Zuko. If you thought about it, it was the only thing he could do. That is, he wouldn't have sided with the Avatar, would he? He couldn't turn his back on his own country! So it really wasn't anything worth praising. Azula didn't want to believe it, she didn't accept emotions, because emotions were for the weak, Ozai always said; but she thought she was genuinely glad to see her brother return home with her.
It was merely because they shared the same blood, she reasoned. And she forced herself to remember all the reasons why she despised and hated Zuko. Zuko was weak, so weak she wasn't even sure he deserved to be of royal blood.
One of the things she hated the most about Zuko was how he would whine about everything. Didn't he have any self-respect? Azula had a lot of things to complain about, her childhood hadn't been easy, either. She had to be perfect to deserve the position of Princess, and she had done everything possible, endured every challenge, to earn it; she'd even been forced to do things she still wasn't sure were legal. Ozai had put her through an ordeal to make her worthy –not that she blamed him, though. Of course one needed to be perfect if one wanted to rule a Nation. No, if Azula had anything to complain about, was about her mother. Her shadow had haunted her her entire life.
"What's wrong with this child?"
Nothing. Nothing was wrong with her. But the mere idea that her mother –the woman who had given birth to her, the woman who had fed her, played with her when she was a toddler, the woman who had hugged her even when she didn't want to be hugged– believed that Azula was a monster, hurt more than Azula would ever care to admit.
And she didn't go around whining about it like Zuko did. Whining was for the weak. She could almost forgive him –in fact, she did– because he was the weak link of the chain.
But that night would be forever imprinted on Azula's memory, that bonfire by the beach on Ember Island. Not because they had shared some "bonding" time, like Ty Lee would call it, or because her friends had finally opened up to her, but because she had almost slipped. She had said the words. She had told her friends and brother that she was still haunted by the memory of her mother. She had allowed them to see the smallest part of her, she had opened her shell for a second and let them in. And it was a mistake she wouldn't forget, and that she would never commit again.
"Emotions were for the weak," her father's voice seemed to be saying in her mind, "and you allowed your emotions to grab hold of you for a second."
No, Azula could not allow emotions to get on her way. She had an objective, to become Fire Lord, and nothing would stop her. Not emotions, not her brother, not her friends. She would make no mistakes.
That's why she had to fight, go through the worst struggle of her life ever since her mother had disappeared, when Mai and Ty Lee turned against her. It was the unthinkable, the unpredictable! How could they have betrayed her like that?!
And because of Zuko, for Agni's sake! For weak, stupid, talentless Zuko! How did he manage to take away all the people she had ever loved from her?! How dare he?!
Azula could still remember their faces, the challenge in Mai's eyes, and the compassion in Ty Lee's. Their faces were printed with fire in her retinas, forever engraved in her skull.
But she would not let that stop her. Oh, no, she couldn't make mistakes now. She couldn't be emotional. She wouldn't be. She couldn't be. She couldn't afford to fail now. If she did, she had the distinct certainty it was the last anyone would hear of her. If she failed, she would take her life.
"Isn't that a little overdramatic?" the voice asked.
Azula quickly composed herself. Yes, it was overdramatic. It sounded like Zuko. Agh, even his name felt like poison in her tongue now. She had never hated anyone with such burning passion. She had hated her mother, she still did, but her internal rage at Zuko's turning her best friends against her had grown to the point where she could barely control it anymore.
It was like the fire was always there, pooling in her throat, ready to burst at the most minimal confrontation, and Azula had to exercise all her self-restraint to keep it under control.
And it didn't help that Guilt was always there, lurking around the corner, waiting for her to get distracted to strike. Guilt didn't care how much she had worked to do everything right. Guilt was evil like the voice. And considering the tight control she was forced to exert now over her own emotions –emotions were for the weak–, she didn't think she'd take well an attack from Guilt.
The sleepless nights weren't helping, either. It was like the world was waiting to see her fail, fall. But no, Azula thought with a fierce gleam in her eyes, I will not let it happen. I shall not fail. I shall not allow myself the possibility.
She couldn't.
"What's wrong with this child?"
NOTHING! NOTHING IS WRONG WITH ME, MOTHER! It was always you who was wrong, it was you who failed to see what I'd become, it was you who chose the wrong child to foster! It was you who murdered Grand Father Azulon to protect a good-for-nothing spoiled brat! It was you who left me!
Whoa, what was that?
Azula bit her lip, and took a deep breath. Control, control, it was all about control. Specially now. Ozai had promised to make her Fire Lord. Finally! What she had always wanted was just hours away of becoming truth, and this was the worst time ever to grow emotional! Emotions were for the weak, and Fire Lord Azula was not weak. Fire Lord Azula was fierce, terrible, perfect.
Everything had to be perfect for her coronation in a few hours. And since the royal combers had proved to be idiots, just like every other servant in the Palace, including the Dai Li and her advisers, Li and Lo, she now had to deal with her hair by herself. But it was the perfect measure, because only the Perfect deserved to stay on the Royal Palace. Every other creature that did not reach the standards that Fire Lord Azula set, would be fired.
Unfortunately, she was –had been– surrounded by idiots. But not anymore. No mistakes. No flaws. No incompetency.
But her stupid hair was proving to be incompetent as well. Fire Lord Azula would have none of that.
"Alright hair, it's time to face your doom," she whispered, as with a crooked smile she got rid of the imperfection, the mistake, the wrong. Nothing, not the slightest thing, will be imperfect now. Fire Lord Azula decreed it.
Oh, now she looked perfect. Terrible, scary, impressive, just like a Fire Lord must look like.
"What a shame, you always had such beautiful hair."
Azula saw her in the reflection, and her upper lip curved in contempt from just thinking the words. Her mother.
"What are you doing here?" she told the reflection.
Control, control, it was all about control. Emotions were for the weak. What's wrong with this child. The fire was burning blue in her throat, but she would afford no mistakes. No mistakes. No Guilt. It would all be perfect. Not even Ursa would ruin it. Emotions are for the weak.
"I didn't want to miss my own daughter's coronation," the soft voice said behind her, that voice she knew so very well, every inflection, every vowel, every soft intake of breath.
Emotions are for the weak emotions are for the weak emotions are for the weak don't forget Azula
"Don't pretend to act proud. I know what you really think of me. You think I'm a monster."
"I think you're confused. All your life you used fear to control people. Like your friends Mai and Ty Lee."
What?! Oh, no, she didn't bring Mai and Ty Lee up! The wrath bubbled in her chest, and Guilt took the opportunity to strike her heart with a sharp needle. Her voice quavered for an instant.
"But what choice do I have! Trust is for fools." Emotions are for the weak. "Fear is the only reliable way. Even you fear me."
"No. I love you, Azula. I do."
Azula began to shake. This was not fair. This was cruel. Teasing her like this. At the worst moment. The fire became anguish, and her eyes filled with tears, and she felt about to crack up. In an instinctive reaction of self-defense, she picked up the brush and smashed it against the mirror, destroying her mother. As she watched the last image of the woman she had loved so much crash into a million pieces, she felt herself crashing into a million pieces, as she fell to her knees and began to sob.
A while later, she didn't know if seconds, minutes or hours –though she hoped for the first– she furiously wiped the tears off her eyes. Emotions are for the weak. She stood up and composed herself. No more mistakes.
"If this is how you're going to start your first day as Fire Lord…" her image suggested from the shards of the mirror lying on the floor, smiling with mockery, before Azula shut it up, burning the shards to dust.
"I will be perfect," she growled to the dust, her teeth bared. "Emotions are for the weak, remember that, Azula. It is my turn now."
The grin was plastered in her face as she knelt before the Fire Sages. The fire pulsing inside her chest felt brightest than ever. This was her moment. The moment of Truth. The moment of Perfection. The moment when no more mistakes would be allowed.
"By decree of Phoenix King Ozai, I now crown you Fire Lord…"
Suddenly the Sage paused. What now? Did she have to burn this fool too?
"What are you waiting for?!" she growled. "Do it!"
But then she heard a familiar roar. Oh no. No way. Not now.
Her eyes wide open, she watched in astonishment as the huge bison of the Avatar landed before her, and from its saddle jumped down none other than the Water Tribe peasant friend of the Avatar and her brother.
No. Not Zuko. Not now. No no no no no, she wouldn't allow this. This was her moment!
"Sorry, but you're not gonna become Fire Lord today. I am."
Azula's lip trembled for half a second, and it seemed as if she was about to explode. He certainly wasn't going to take this from her too, right? He must be kidding.
"You're hilarious."
"And you're going down," the peasant girl added. How dare her?! Azula hissed under her breath.
But okay, alright. If this was how he wanted to play, she would humor him a little. She was Fire Lord, she could afford some clemency with the one who had once been her brother. She was perfect. This was her moment, and the fire inside of her was begging to be released. She could indulge herself; she would enjoy destroying the weak link of the chain just as she had enjoyed destroying her mother. He had taken everything from her, she would take everything from him. It was fair, right. But she would also keep appearances –see, a strategist, thinking of every detail– because the Sages were there. She stopped the Sage about to crown her with a gesture of her hand.
"Wait. You want to be Fire Lord?" She laughed to her insides. Zuko, the weak one, become Fire Lord? She would show him who was Fire Lord now. "Fine. Let's settle this. Just you and me, brother. The showdown that was always meant to be. Agni Kai!"
Of course, Zuko had no choice.
"You're on."
Azula smiled a toothy grin. We'll see who's perfect now, Zuzu.
But the Water peasant girl turned to him with a surprised gesture.
"What are you doing? She's playing you! She knows she can't take us both so she's trying to separate us!"
Azula wanted to laugh out loud. Please, peasant. Of course someone as powerful and perfect as me can take you both down. But she could afford to show some mercy. So she controlled her face and slowly descended the steps to the plaza.
"I know," Zuko was saying across the yard, "but I can take her this time."
Azula snorted to herself.
"But even you admitted to your Uncle that you would need help facing Azula."
"There's something off about her. I can't explain it, but she's slipping. And this way, no one else has to get hurt."
Oh, please, Zuzu. Always the drama queen.
They began then the traditional ritual that had been passed down through generations. Azula stood up and removed the robes, with a grin.
It was almost funny, that it had to end this way.
"What's wrong with this child?"
This time, she could reply calmly.
There's nothing wrong with me. I am Fire Lord. The coronation is a mere formality. I am perfect. I will show it. It is my turn. I'm not slipping. I won't fail. I shan't fail. Zuko will meet his end, Mother. That's what you raised him for. To fail. To be weak. To be emotional. Emotions are for the weak. You knew that. It's almost funny that I have to be the one to finish him off. But I guess this is how it was supposed to be.
"Don't you feel slightly sorry for your Brother?" the voice asked.
No, I don't. Emotions are for the weak. I will have no emotions. This man robbed me of everything I once cared for. I don't need him, and I don't need the affection I once felt for him. He is nothing to me.
"You're lying to yourself," the voice chastised her.
But she could ignore the voice now. It wasn't relevant anymore. She was perfect, she was Fire Lord.
She felt a smile tugging from her lips, the sarcasm dripping from her words, when she addressed Zuko.
"I'm sorry it has to end this way, Brother."
Zuko frowned, concentrated, passion in his golden eyes. Drama queen. Emotions are for the weak.
"No, you're not."
Azula can't control the laughter anymore. It doesn't even scare her that it sounds maniac. She doesn't have anything to be afraid of. Fear is an emotion and emotions are for the weak. Everything is wonderfully alright, finally in its cosmic place. She can finally release that torrent of fire she's been growing since Ursa disappeared. All her wrath, her disappointment, her grief.
Emotions are for the weak. What's wrong with this child.
Her blue flames arise more beautiful than ever, and Azula watches it all burn with a deep satisfaction. She will rise from the ashes, like a Phoenix, like her father. She will make the world perfect. Perfection through fire. How rightfully accurate. Zuko, the weak one, will burn along with every flaw in the world, and Azula will resume her place as Fire Lord, ruler of the most powerful Nation in the world. And there will be no voice, no Mother, no traitorous friends who can stop her.
Zuko is powered up by the comet as well, but Azula is not afraid. Not in the slightest. Zuko is talentless, reckless, doesn't think ahead. She knows it better than anyone.
The world seems silent as their walls of flame collide, orange and blue, passion and perfection, weakness and strength. The air itself burns, and Azula finds she is enjoying herself immensely. They should have done this long ago.
But slowly, painfully slowly, her instincts warn her that something is off. Throughout her reverie, she suddenly observes that Zuko's stances are perfectly correct, and her sharp skills warn her that her own stances are not. In that split second, Zuko gains the upper hand, and the plaza behind her burns away. She feels her jaw drop slightly, her eyes wide open with surprise and betrayal of the worst kind.
No, no, he can't rob her of this moment too.
How –where did he learn that? No, this is impossible. It is not happening. Zuko can't win.
She feels the fire rise again within her and she charges towards him, her features contorting in a feral gesture. But Zuko cuts through her fire almost effortlessly, gracefully, even. No, this is wrong. Zuko is weak. Azula is strong. That is the order of the universe.
She empowers her attacks, no longer enjoying herself. Her wrath is overpowering now, intense. Zuko can't -shan't win.
Because if Zuko wins, that means that Azula failed. And Azula cannot fail. The mere thought makes her shudder, Guilt grinning evilly at the back of her mind. A flash of fear runs through her mind when Zuko creates a powerful ring of fire that blasts towards her, orange and hot. She can't stop herself, and she is thrown backwards.
NO! This is wrong! This can't be happening! She can't fail!
Suddenly all the lessons her Father had imparted on her when she was a child start to flash through her mind. All the harsh training, the torture he made her inflict on prisoners, the executions she had to watch, come swarming back, along with Ozai's careful watch of her. Not a single tear could be dropped, or she would be banished like Zuko. Because Ozai can't afford to have two weak children. Zuko had turned out to be a worthless piece of shit, but Azula had potential that needed exploiting.
Emotions are for the weak, her father reminds her as she rolls over the ground, pushed backwards by Zuko's fire. And you can't be, won't be, the weak link of the chain.
I love you, Azula, I do, her mother whispers across the mirror, and she destroys her one more time, the mirror shards flying away.
"What's wrong with this child?"
"No lightning today?" Zuko's voice calls across the yard, "What's the matter? Afraid I'll redirect it?"
Azula stands up, and she is not even sure anymore who is it she's yelling at, or the words that come out of her mouth, but she means to say that she isn't weak, there is nothing wrong with her, and that she will show everyone how perfect she is. She will show her father, mother, brother, and the whole Nation just who she is. She will show herself that failure is beyond her.
Control, it is all about control. But she can't control herself anymore. But she must.
Emotions are for the weak.
She waves her fingers around, summoning lightning, just like Ozai made her do a thousand times, all her muscles tense, her face frozen in concentration, striving to show how perfect her lightning is, striving to make every movement perfect.
And when she aims it, she looks into Zuko's eyes and she knows it. She knows he will redirect it. She knows that Zuko, being the drama queen he is, being the weakling, will repel her attack.
And at the same moment that Azula knows she will fail, a movement at the back catches her eye, and she spots the peasant girl.
Her mouth curves in a malicious grin, and she aims the lightning at Kit– whatever her ridiculous name is.
But Zuko is boring into her eyes just as she is boring into his, and he sees her intentions as soon as he looks over his shoulder and spots the girl behind him, too. His face contorting in a desperate grimace, he runs and jumps in front of her, only redirecting part of the lightning.
Both Azula and the girl watch Zuko fall to the ground, smoke leaving his body, frail, human, and the Prince.
Is he dead?
For a split second Azula has a blurry vision of her mother crying through the mirror, and then the vision changes, and she sees herself crying, her face stone blank, the tears rolling down her cheeks. And then there's blood, her blood, as she has just cut her wrists with the shards of mirror, the same red royal blood that runs through Zuko's veins. Is her brother dead? Did she kill him? Did she kill herself? Reality begins to mingle with her visions and dreams, and Azula shakes her head, desperately trying to clear herself.
Zuko shivers in the ground, rolling over, and Azula feels an inexplicable relief. She chastises herself. It is Zuko, the boy she hates. Zuko, the weakling. Zuko, who does not deserve to be her brother. But the flash of herself crying inside the mirror suddenly returns to her mind, crystal clear, and she shakes her head again to see what's-her-name peasant running towards Zuko.
Oh no, she won't.
Azula creates another lightning and aims it at the girl herself, but the lightning lands only a feet away from her -what's wrong with her?-, and the girl stops to look at her, horror filling her features.
Azula hears a manic laugh as she launches herself forward to attack the girl, but she is barely conscious that it is her own laughter anymore, as her mind is still striving to separate reality from visions, trying to make sense of what's happening. The girl escapes, and Azula chases after her.
All that matters is to win now. Nothing else. She needs to beat the girl. Break her down. Just like she is beginning to break down. The laughter keeps ringing over the air. Suddenly Azula finds herself on the roof, looking down at Zuko. Who is clutching his chest, and from her perspective, barely breathing.
"Zuzu, you don't look so good!" she cries. Half her mind is laughing in mockery of the weakling, half her mind is reminding her it is her blood dying down there.
And then her attention returns to the peasant girl. To whom she channels all her rage. Guilt is now flowing through her like it is another person inside of her, who turns into hatred, and attacks the girl wildly.
Peasant disappears from view. Azula chases after her again. Don't think you can run away from the Fire Lord, you fool!
Suddenly she sees her when she turns around a pillar.
"There you are, filthy peasant!"
She summons lightning to end this once and for all, and then turn her concern to Zuko and her mixed reactions to his death. But the girl does something unexpected. Suddenly Azula finds herself frozen in ice. She is forced to watch as Peasant ties her hands to the crate below.
When Azula finds out what she is doing, the fire inside of her grows, grows to unbearable proportions, and she marvels that she hasn't exploded in a million pieces yet, just like the mirror, because she has failed. Failed failed failed failed failed failed failed failed...
When the ice comes down and she regains control of her body, it all compresses inside her for a second. The intense pressure makes her face contort in pain. Everything hurts. And then, it happens.
Azula, the Princess of the Fire Nation, explodes in a million pieces. The fire reigns inside of her, her mind only repeating one word –failedfailedfailedfailedfail edfailed– her mind lost in images of her past life, as she's lost the only thing she had left, the thing she had strove to retain her entire life: Control.
She is lost. Lost inside. Lost forever, because she has failed. She doesn't know what's real anymore. She doesn't know what her body is doing, because in her mind she is reliving Ozai's tortures, her mother's sneers, Mai and Ty Lee's betrayal, her almost coronation, the Avatar's fall in Ba Sing Se. All the memories of her life. All her mistakes. Over and over again in an endless torture.
Sometimes she dreams she is inside a prison, and there is a kind hand feeding her. Sometimes she dreams she is finally Fire Lord and she watches the world as it burns. Sometimes she dreams she is dead, a ghost, flying over the Fire Nation Capital. Sometimes she dreams her mother tells her she loves her through the mirror. Sometimes she dreams there's a finely dressed Zuko, who comes to talk to her, his voice kind, filled with pity. But it is all a dream, everything's just a dream, because Azula, Fire Lord Azula, died the day she failed, the day she allowed her emotions to reign.
"What's wrong with this child?"
... Everything.
A/N: I tried to experiment with repetition and switching between tenses, but I think I might have overdone it :S. The repeated use of some words (better, perfect, wrong) was done on purpose, to reinforce the idea that Azula has some serious mental disorders. This is merely an interpretation of mine, twisting the facts of the series a bit to fit my ideas, and I admit it might be a little OOC. But well, I'm just practicing xD.
I drew inspiration from Wide Sargasso Sea, which I read recently, and the mirror part is inspired in the movie Black Swan.
Reviews will be deeply appreciated.