Dreaming Of Nightmares
A/N: Hi! Wow, it sure has been a while hasn't it; I really missed writing stories/one-shots, granted and agreed that most of them sucked, but I really plan on improving! I don't exactly know where I got the idea to write this, but I am going to anyway (it happens to be in a genre that I don't expect myself to write in regularly, but most likely will anyway) so here we go Azula!
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War. Resistance. Mercy. Sanity. Happiness. Fairness. Love…
All these things shared a common fact; they no longer existed. This is true because, for some unfortunate reason, Aang had failed, or it was just that Azula succeeded; she killed both him and even her own father, her mind was so consumed with evil, in a fast but ruthless motion, she struck the two with lightening; Aang in the back of his unsuspecting head, and Ozai; straight through his chest, piercing his cold and dark heart, and as his body fell limp, disbelief plastered all over his features, the only sound that could be heard was the fire princess' maniacal laughter. She then met again with her brother, this time, he shared not the company of the water peasant from before, but only his uncle, as she didn't think of the old, tea-sipping, former fire general as her family, thinking of him more as dead meat, which refused to die.
Even though they put up a good fight, Zuko -trying to figure out how his sister had managed to release herself from her bounds, he would never know- for some reason, he hesitated to kill her when the chance proved itself, but she held no such resistance in ending his life with a lightning bolt straight into his abdomen, which, had been struck by her just mere moments before. Due to this fact, his body couldn't bare the second, -much stronger- impact, and his last breath was spent on telling his uncle to run, but Iroh did no such thing; he fought with all his strength in blind rage, something the old man hadn't done in years, the last time being when his only son –Lu Ten- died, then Iroh promised he would never fight like that again, and when his nephew had been banished, this was the very thing he taught him not to do; fight in blind rage, but now, he had truly lost everything dare to him, and he wasn't going to let Azula laugh all the way through his pain, yet, she felt no remorse in killing him, and relished in the view of the old body falling motionless at her feet.
Even though it was far from her mind, the two water tribe siblings had been captured and detained, along with the little earth bender and kyoshi warriors.
Her victory was only a mere week ago, but to her, she giggled ever so evilly in the thought of it being 'just yesterday'.
As Fire Lord over the entire world now, it meant she had responsibilities, but she quickly made an example of the person who told her this, making it crystal clear to the others; that she did what she wanted, when it best suited her.
Since the overthrow of both the hero Aang, and former Fire Lord Ozai, the people of the world -especially the fire nation- refrained from leaving their houses. But this didn't keep them safe, as Azula ordered random persons to be killed, regardless of their gender and even their age. This kept people afraid of her every move, trying to keep from her soulless and unforgiving eyes, and today would be no exception of their cautious actions.
Azula is now out on her daily stroll; the one she takes just to see the frightened faces of everyone. She's walking along a narrow street now, looking at the poor houses, she frowned saying; "The Fire Nation is too good for such poor architecture, I will have the guards knock it down once I return to the palace," with no one else around, it was said to herself, and continuing down, boredom soon took over her feelings, and she decided to go home immediately. Upon arriving to her destination, she noticed it seemed abandoned.
"Nothing uncommon," she thought to herself with a smirk forming. Just like the regular people of the nation, the guards, soldiers, warriors and servants, all feared her presence, and abstained from being in it unless absolutely necessary.
Azula continued in her aimless walk through the palace, passing room, after room, after room. It was boring sometimes really, when there was no one around, it meant there was no one to threaten, no one to intimidate, no one to kill. This thirst for blood that she had, it couldn't be cured, as some thought, it couldn't be set aside, it had to be fueled, fed, enhanced, increased, immortalized. She licked her lips at the thought of it lasting forever, even though she didn't literally drink the blood, watching it splatter everywhere is what excited her, hearing someone's misfortune as they cry out in pain, their eyes rolling to the back of their head as their body endures something a person should never; pain. She liked to watch as they begged for mercy.
"As if that would help," she once again thought to herself, exploring parts of the palace she was surprised to realize that her eyes had never laid upon before, and shrugging it off, proceeded down the hall. She examined the walls; they were a dark cream, with lighter cream squares and rectangles on various different parts.
"It probably had paintings that were taken down," she guessed in her mind. The bottom of the wall had oak wood for trim, a very strange choice, and the hall seemed endless. Azula had considered turning around and leaving, because clearly, this hall in particular, was abandoned from all thoughts because it was so darn tedious! She was really getting fed up of getting bored.
Just as the ruthless woman was about to turn and leave, something caught her eye at the end of the hallway; it was a dirty looking green cloth, and instead of going away from this place as was her original plan, making her way down, she stopped right in front of the peculiar object, staring at it curiously, and then picking it up slowly. She examined it, turning the object to the left, then right, still, it was covered. Curiosity was now becoming the dominant feeling, as her eyes scanned the thing in her hands, the lesser important feeling; lack of interest. Her pupils lit up with anger at the latter, and she tore the cloth from the thing, letting the piece fall carelessly to the floor. It took a while before her eyes adjusted to the contrast, as the only form of light that was emitting from the sun, came through the small window on the right. She took it all in; it was a painting, then her eyes widened as realization hit her hard as a brick; it wasn't just any picture, it was a family portrait! The faces of her father, mother, brother, uncle, cousin, and her form in a blanket held by her mom, perfectly captured by the artist! These were the same faces she had slaughtered, with exception of her mother and cousin; these were the very lives she took, the very lives she couldn't give back.
Azula dropped the picture as she stepped back in some sudden horror, her left hand reaching her mouth to cover it as it was open.
"What is this?!" she thought, "Why are they still here?!"
She was hallucinating; watching as the pictures came to life; her youthful parents, possibly a five year old Zuko, an uncle -much younger- and a cousin -in his teens- and they all shared a common fact; they were happy.
But why?
Why were they here?
They're dead.
She knew it.
She was the one who killed them, slaughtered them.
The colors of brown and cream swarmed her in a circular motion, and their faces grew big, as if they were now about to devour her, as if they were now about to slaughter her.
Do unto her as she had done unto them.
And she had ended them.
Was that to be her fate?
To fall at the hands of mere memories?
She was falling now; falling to the nearing ground, and just like that.
SMACK
Azula's eyes flew open; she was just there, on her butt, in the darkened hall. Her head swung around franticly, looking for the pictures in motion, and when she found that they were no longer there, she got up, threw the dirty green cloth back unto the portrait, and ran.
Why?
Why was she running?
Afterall, she was the Fire Lord; ruler over everyone and thing, man and woman, body and soul. She was ruthless, one to be feared, not to fear. There was nothing on this damn planet that could consume, no one person that could defeat her, but yet, as this was true, she was running.
"From what?" she pondered, "from who?"
'No one' her conscious concluded, there was no one to run from, this was just a bad dream; this was just a nightmare. Even as she thought this, it came to her notice that she had stopped; she was now in front of her bedroom door, and slowly, her hands pushed it open; revealing to the eyes that dark red room, lit up by a single light, from a candle that hung in the center of the room, the king sized bed was also located in the middle of the room, while the rest of decorations were mainly ornaments, most scattered pieces from Azula's previous moments of rage, that happened all too often to call it merely common.
Sighing, Azula dragged her feet all the way to her bed, eventually slopping down unto it, and for some reason, her mind kept drifting back to the picture. Sure, people considered her insane, she knew that, but, it is when your own brain starts accusing you of loss of sanity that you truly lose it, but she just couldn't stop thinking of the portrait; smiling faces. Why? She didn't know, in her mind, it held no relevance.
Why would it?
'Because you know that it is your fault' her conscience came back into play, and if she was honest, Azula thought of it as a two face really; one moment, it was convincing her that it wasn't her fault, but next, the exact opposite.
Well, it was just like the old man used to say; "Your mind is the only organ that can deceive you, while your heart; it holds only the truth, but it is up to you to figure out which voice is your mind, and which voice is your heart."
The old man; her uncle; he was very knowledgeable, wise, cunning, caring.
Something which she was incapable of doing; caring.
'So what' her conscience started up again, 'it's not like you need to care to rule the world'
"Which is your mind, and which is your heart," she repeated the end of the quote, all while her eyes stared at the ceiling, and slowly she felt herself slipping into a world of unknown.
"Is it guilt?" she contemplated.
'Yes'
'No'
'Yes'
'No'
'Yes'
"NO!" her own voice could be heard everywhere as she yelled into nothingness.
Azula clutched either side of her head, her hands tugging and pulling at the hair; she felt as if her head was being cluttered with lies and truths all at the same time; it felt like a headache, the voice of the old man; her uncle, could be heard repeating his quote over and over again, as if he were a broken recorder, and she hated it! Hated the truth in his words! Hated his voice!
"GET OUT OF MY HEAD!" she screamed at the voices, her eyes tightly closed as if, she couldn't see them, then, they couldn't see her.
'Your mind'
"STOP!"
'Deceive'
"SHUT UP!"
'Truth'
"NO!"
'Heart'
"JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!" Azula was now in a curled position, tears just daring to trickle down her face as she clenched her jaw, and furrowed her brows, and the voices stopped.
Slowly, she was falling back into reality; every ten seconds was progress, but to her, those ten seconds felt like hours, then hours into eternity.
KNOCK
Azula's eyes flung open in fright at the sudden noise, and mentally she cursed herself for such cowardice.
"Um, excuse me M-miss Fire Lord," Azula then recognized this voice as the main servant girl, "I h-have your meal for t-today," even though the maid woman's voice had been muffled by the thick doors, Azula still understood her words.
"Bring it!" was the response, filled with much anger, impatience and slight fear.
Without another second going to waste, the maid pushed the door agape with her hip to make way for the trays that she held on either hand; bread, meat and rice on one, and the finest wine on the other; a meal fit for a ruler, fit for someone in charge, fit for Azula the Fire Lord.
The servant set the trays down quickly in fear of her superior, and once done, she made haste for the exit. The doors closed with a loud THUD, leaving the merciless ruler to herself once again. Slowly and ever so quietly, she ate, thinking about the silence, but as she did this, her mind couldn't help but wonder back to the picture; those faces almost seem foreign, like a slightly foggy memory of something that she really only saw but a mere four hours ago.
"Four hours," Azula thought to herself in disbelief, "has it really been so long?"
Her question was left unanswered to the silence in the room, and she felt the need to go back; right back into that abandoned hall from before.
"No!" she threw her chop sticks to the floor in hatred, almost as if the two wooden sticks had wronged her.
'Why not?' the deceitful conscience, that was unfortunately in her head, had decided to make its presence known once again.
Azula growled in response, throwing her dinner to the side in one swift moment, listening as the clanking and squishing noises come from it as it made contact with ground, many feet away from her.
She crawled in her bed, deciding to call it a day, not really caring what time it actually was. Pulling the covers directly under her chin, she closed her eyes, almost immediately falling into slumber; maybe the one place where things always went her way.
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It was bright; there was light everywhere, and the floor was clouds; white, fluffy clouds. To this knowledge, Azula jumped unto it, feeling completely relaxed as she sunk down in the softness; she was a little girl again, laughing and playing with just her; it was fun. Then, her older brother –Zuko- appeared in his teenage form; he was smiling, playing and laughing along with her. They were having an immense amount of fun, but then, suddenly, for what seemed like no reason, Azula pushed her brother down, kicked, punched and abused him, the scene changing with every bit of beating she gave her brother, laughing not with him now, but at him. Tears formed in his eyes, and he was a little boy once again, fading into his little sister's ever growing shadow, with the shouts of their father disowning him in the background; and he ran off, screaming some gibberish that wasn't understandable, and all the while that this was happening, the actual Azula, from her current state before she fell asleep, was watching; eyes widened in some horror, and almost as if uncontrollable, her legs started running, directing her to the way Zuko had run off into, and her former childhood self, just stood there; laughing and pointing ever so maniacally.
She ran until a corner appeared, peering around it to see the would-be new surroundings, and uncharacteristically gasped at the sight; it was another form of her, just, this time, much older than the last, but yet again, she was abusing her older brother; ruthlessly. Then the scene changed, to that of one where the two were sparring, and no matter how many times his instructor would tell him to hit her, he just wouldn't; Zuko, just couldn't hurt his sister like that, take away his dislike for her, maybe even his slight envy towards her for obvious reasons, he would never hurt his sister unless for an absolutely great purpose.
"Not even then," Azula thought bitterly while watching the display in front of her, "because, when time came," she bit her lip with furrowed brows, "he didn't."
She continued watching, almost over flooded with guilt, as she watched herself beat her own brother mercilessly to the point of unconsciousness, all while their father looked on; approving of his daughter, and on the verge of disowning his son.
Suddenly the whole scenario changed; she was now looking at a moment when her brother was offering her something while they were in the garden their mother had built, but she blatantly refused it.
"I remember this; it was my birthday," tears were swelling in her eyes, "that look on his face, it is a look of being heart broken," then her pupils shrank in realization, "had I really torn him apart so much?"
The scene switched once again, but now, it was a time not so long ago, as it was merely a week ago.
Azula watched as her brother fought that day, the dark red sky and black clouds doing wonders for an evil effect.
"Why is he holding back?" she thought angrily with gritted teeth.
With the way he was fighting, they weren't evenly matched, and Iroh stood on the side, tears flowing freely, a look of knowing in his eyes, as if he knew what was coming next, like if he understood exactly what was going to happen.
Everything was going in slow motion now, and the lightning that shot from dream Azula's fingers darted across the field, heading straight for his abdomen; the abdomen of the scarred prince; of her brother.
The original Azula started running forward unknowingly; her right hand outstretched as if she could stop the deadly blast at the last minute, like some hero.
'But you're not a hero,' her mind taunted, and she did her best to ignore it, running even faster, but as it seems, the closer she got, the further away everything seemed.
'You remember why?' still she ran, watching fearfully as the lightning got closer to its target.
'Remember?'
"Almost there," she thought, hoping at this point to take back what she had done those days ago.
'Remember?'
"Zuko," her voice was just above a whisper, but even so, he turned in acknowledgement, and they made eye contact for just one second; her eyes were wide, and his one good eye tear filled, and all of a sudden, he seemed a million miles away, but yet, still close enough for her to watch his demise, the one she caused.
'BECAUSE YOU KILLED HIM!'
"NO!" Azula woke to the sound of her own voice as it echoed through the seemingly empty bed room, she was sweaty, and her hair clung to her face. She was sitting upright, the covers were now at her waist, and her breath was heavy, she was heaving at this point.
The room was dark, and there was no light coming through the large windows on either side of her bed; it was now night.
"No…" Azula shut her eyes tight.
"It wasn't… I didn't…" the words couldn't seem to form, so she got out her bed, still dressed in the clothes from before, and slowly she made her way to her bedroom door, considering weather this was the right thing to do or not.
"No," in the end she decided not to, and headed back to bed, trying to fall asleep almost immediately, and as her eyes fluttered close, a single tear dropped.
'Who are you anyway? Are you a hero for killing your family? A vigilante perhaps?'
The voice wasn't going away.
'You can't even look at a portrait.'
"Who are you?" she heard her own voice now, "why are you bugging me?"
'Go, face them, face the very people you took from yourself!'
So she got up, and she made her way down the plain hallways once again, somehow, even though being there just earlier, they were so unfamiliar still. She had her eyes closed, ignoring the servants as they cowered in fear; usually making her smirk, growl, threaten or even laugh toward them, but right now, the Fire Lord could care much less for their very existence. The voice in her head was taunting her, pulling at the nerves in her conscience, or maybe, this was her conscious, finally coming to her, finally talking to her, making the actions she had done seem all the more worse.
But why? Why now and not years ago?
Why not a week ago?
Azula walked further on for what felt like decades, but was actually two minutes, and there right in front of her was an object carelessly scattered on the floor, the dirty cloth still covering it, presumably how she left it, having not turned around since the first encounter.
Taking in a breath, while stepping forward, the Fire Lord approached the harmless picture, one tiny step at a time, right until it was exactly one inch from her feet. Kneeling down, she carefully took it up, staring intensely, as it was uncovered by her hands, and just like before, she was faced the same terror.
Her eyes widened and she started breathing quickly and heavily, losing sight by the second.
"No, please," was all she said before passing out.
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A dream.
She was floating, everything around her was white. Suddenly, she heard a voice; it was that of a child, a boy too, and as her body turned to face the kid, she realized that it was Zuko, once again, he was in his complete form of innocence, looking up at her with tear filled eyes, and an emotion that held a starking contrast to that of fear.
She should have been happy, marveling in his cowardice toward her, just like he always did secretly.
But she wasn't. Her body moved in his direction; the sound of feet on cloud with every step, but then he spoke:
"Get away from me!"
Infuriated almost instantly, Azula struck him, her hand extended in perfect formation as the lightening made contact with the boy; his face full of shock, but the girl's smirk whipped off immediately as the image of a small boy changed to that of a teenager, with the exact position and face, but bearing a scar along the left side.
Her eyebrows twitched at the sight, but instead of him screaming, he looked up to face her, his piercing yellow eyes boring into her soul as they pleaded; "Why?" They begged her for an answer, and yet, she had none, all she could do was stare at him, her expression mirroring his as they existed in this moment forever. But then it started again; his form prefect, unscathed by her lightening as their power clashed, a million thoughts in his head, but only one in hers; "die!". Iroh always said, "be careful what you wish for," but she never cared for his words, they never made any sense, but as she sat there, re-watching herself murder her family, each time getting more crueler, more bloody, more violent and more her, it couldn't make more sense in the world. She felt more like a monster than a person, and as she watched herself over and over again, the scary part wasn't that this was all a dream; a thought projected from your mind, the scary part was that, a dream could only be projected, if some of it were true, if some of it was wanted, and while she stared at the horror show, a tiny, very small part of her found pleasure in the sight, and it wasn't until the laughter at the back of her head got louder, that everything went black.
Her eyes snapped open, and she was met with the dark surrounds of the hall, sitting up straight, her eyes took in the picture, and like it had been done before, she threw the cloth over it haphazardly, and left the area. Her feet moved in different patterns, almost causing her body to crash into one of the many pillars that held the floor above their heads up, she stopped, and taking a breath, she felt the sweat drip down her neck and onto the narrow red carpet, causing some hair to stick to her skin.
A punch was thrown at the harmless pillar, and a cry of frustration and pain could be heard. It was her voice, loud and cracked as it echoed in the empty hallway, for every emotion she felt, and for everyone she didn't, the scream held it all; the hurt, happiness, sadness, horror, anger, indifference, fear. Her body slipped down, her back against the pillar, and every time she closed her eyes, a face would flash in her mind, first her mother, then her father, right after was Iroh, then her cousin, and finally Zuko, no matter how many times she opened then closed her eyes, all that would appear in her head are their faces, and she couldn't take it.
Why was everything feeling so wrong? She had the power she deserved, all this; the massacre, violence, everything, it was supposed to happen, the people of the Fire Nation and of the world were supposed to fear her, there is no consequence for winning, and she had won.
Looking at her palm, and the pattern that the lines created, she thought back again on the portrait; the faces and everything with it, and clenching her fists tightly, causing her knuckles to go white, she stood up abruptly, then turning to make her way toward the war and planning room, she forced the images out of her head.
"I am a ruler for heaven's sake! I will not be scared off by some stupid paint on canvas, and whether the world liked it or not, I am here to stay," a sinister smile spread on her face at these thoughts, and she made haste to plan more disruption and terror. The entire world will heed her name. The entire world will fear her name.
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It has been days since Azula's last encounter with the portrait, and they had gone nothing like the Fire Lord wanted, far less expected. Every day she would see a flash of one of the many faces, once even while she was writing, she zoned out, then her mind came back to reality. She realized that the words that adorned the page in front of her weren't that of proposing war, but the names of her parents... Ozai and Ursa.
She remembered reading it, eyes widened and mouth hanging open, instantly the papers were on the floor, then suddenly engulfed in flames. Her breathing was rigid, her mind dizzy, and she left the room soon after.
Her sleeping patterns had gotten worse, if she got any sleep at all. Every night, a face would torment her, whisper in her ear about the life they had, happy times.
And then the routine would start all over again.
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It was quiet. Calm.
The whiteness of the surrounding area was almost blinding, as the silence was deafening.
This is how it would always start, the dreams. There would always be a nice, quaint place, pleasing to the eye, but once the scenary sunk in, the horrid memories would flow within, destroying the former image of happiness.
"Hello?" Azula heard her voice echo throughtout the area, the sounds boucing off the fluffy clouds she stood upon.
'There's no one here child,' the hissing in her head hurt, but the reality felt worse.
"Hello!" again she called out, the rims of her eyes burning.
'You killed them! Did you forget?'
"Someone, anyone, don't leave me alone! Come back!" she was begging with her memories now, hoping, wishing even that they return.
But why? Did she want them to come and remind her? To torment her?
But she was safe. Safe from their faces, safe from all the fear she would feel when they were there... and she hated it.
"Torment me! Make me suffer as I did you!" a crazed look was now in her eyes, insane thoughts ran through her mind. This was too much.
And then it appeared, not her once proud father, nor her fearful mother, not her poor brother or cousin, but her uncle, and he just stood there, looking directly at her; eyes disappointed, frown on his lips, and a tear running down his cheek. Before Azula could react, he spoke first,"there is a solution to every situation...but you..."
"UNCLE!" she tried to reach for him, her fingers didn't even come close to his face.
"I am not your uncle! You are not my family, and your actions, are unforgiveable," with this, he turned away from her, and then vanished.
"No! Come back, please!" but the images changed, swirls took form, discombobulating her vision, and then she saw it...the body.
Uncle.
His body lay on the floor the way she left it that fateful day; disfigured and burnt.
The sight pained her for some reason, deep within her chest, a pang emitted, and tears welled up, but slowly, a cracked smile formed, and she let out a harsh laugh, ignoring the hurt she felt.
"Are you my family now?! Do you love me now?!" her cackle echoed, and as his body disappeared, the silence grew once again.
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Her eyes opened immediately, and she was met with darkness, just like the many nights before.
Azula's bedroom was just as it had been when she went to sleep; utterly destroyed.
Every time she would lay to take a rest, the faces would come, torture her, maybe make her throw a few fireballs while she slept, and then she would awake. A chuckle would usually escape her mouth, but her eyes would betray her fear, and then she would continue on with her life as normal. Or at least, she would try.
Every corner she would hear their voices, every second she could hear their screams, and she loved it.
Azula actually couldn't wait to go back to sleep later. Yes, she was indeed twisted, it showed in her smile, and it played in her mind.
Getting up, she quickly made her way to the bathroom, ingoring the broken glass of vases she stepped on while walking. It didn't hurt, it could never hurt anymore. The slow dripping of water from the tap in the shower was the only sort of noise Azula could hear at the moment, she didn't recognise the sound of her own rigid breathing as she faced the mirror above the basin, her dark hair was messy, sticking out in random directions, usually healthy cream skin, was now pale and sickly, and her sulken yellow eyes stared back at her with a crazed hint behind them. Despite this, upon closer inspection, Azula spotted a person she had only seen as paint as of recently. Her Mother. Ursa. The reflection fixed itself; the hair evened out and fell past strong femanine shoulders, the skin cleaned, retained proper colour and looked as it should, but worst of all, the eyes and mouth smiled back.
"Leave," her hoarse voice was barely above a whisper as her mother stared back from the mirror.
"I loved your father,"
"I don't care," she hissed back.
"I loved your brother,"
"I. Don't. Care."
"And I loved you too."
"Die!" she exclaimed.
"I did," the response caught Azula by surprise.
"But that wasn't my fault"
"Yes it was," her mother laughed at her, eyes gleaming with taunt.
"No it wasn't!"
"Then why am I dead?"
"I-I don't know," the Fire Lord looked fixedly at the mirror.
"Because you killed me."
"NO!" in haste, Azula grabbed the nearest object -a brush- and threw it directly at her reflection, and it shattered, the image screamed right before impact, and the piercing noise both hurt and pleased Azula as it fell on her ears.
One piece was left though, one triangular shaped bit had been leftover, and it was placed just high enough for the deranged woman to see one side of her face; the right side. The dimmly lit room cast shadows on her features, but in the confindes of her mind, she imagined that the remainder of her face -the part she couldn't see in the mirror shard- , had been completely disfigured, scarred for life.
'Life? This isn't life,' she thought, 'I'm surviving.'
The sudden sound of thunder outside made her jump, and as she turned back to what she had been looking at previously, a whisper was heard, down, deep within her mind, she heard her father's voice, "burn them."
And she snapped.
Throwing open the light bathroom door, the sound of it's hinges breaking was ignored. Her eyes wild, she push apart the double doors of her bedroom, paying no mind to it crashing against the wall. Fire was in her palms, and her erratic movements caused the curtains she passed to ignite with the flames that flew off her hands. The carpets, too, had been left burnt from every step she took, and the trail was hideous.
"Burn them all," the voice of her father repeated itself, venom dripping around the edges, causing a shiver to run down her spine.
She shoved and overturned everything, and everyone in her path, two guards tried to inquire as to what was going on, but Azula just pushed them aside as well, her strides becoming more diliberate with every step.
The horrified screams of the servants -and even some soldiers- about the sudden blaze fell on deaf ears. Azula was driven mad, the voices of her family drowning out the rest. She had to kill them, once and for all!
Everyone ran past Azula. The firebenders nearby couldn't put out the fire, as it was too strong, and spreading fast about the entire palace.
One maid stopped though, her face was filled with determination, and she made up her mind to put an end to this nonesense, but, as she confronted Azula, the insane woman demanded she move.
"No! Fire Lord this is enough, you aren't thinking, you must put out the blaze, or it will kill us all!"
"Then run away like the coward you are!"
But the maid wouldn't have it, "there is a solution to every problem!"
With that, a sadistic laugh escaped the crazed woman's mouth.
"Then die like the coward you are!" and Azula set flame to the petite maid girl's body, sending her howling in pain as she threw herself to the ground, screaming after the woman one last time.
"Almost there," the Fire Lord thought to herself as she could see the hallway just up ahead now.
By this time, the entire palace had caught ablaze, and thick dark smoke was moving through as a result of that. Despite the fog, Azula continued on, and finally she had reached her destination, unaffected by her surroundings.
The portrait; it rested on the floor at the end of the hall, even with the cloth boundled on top, it remained unscathed by the fire surrounding. The scene was almost errie; the screams were quiet in the back ground and the smoke lingered in the air, forming a mystified look, the little light that usually came from the small window shone nothing, darkining everything.
Burn them.
Slowly, she made her way down, the fire within in her raised palm already.
The object was so unaffected, it almost looked innocent. Slowly once more, she pulled the cloth from it, and she was met with the faces again. Those faces.
Holding in a scream, she closed her eyes and lifted her hand higher above her head. Now; eyes opened, scowl on her lips, and psychotic thoughts, she was ready, but one look at the painting, and everything came crashing down.
'Will you kill us again?', her brother.
'Why Azula? Why!?', her mother.
'Please stop!', her cousin.
'I was proud of you, and this is how you betray me!?', her father.
'You were once such a nice girl, what happened? Where did we go wrong?', her uncle.
A cry of agony errupted from her mouth as the voices filled her head, the flame upon her palm now put out as she clutched her temple tightly, tugging hard at her own hair. She staggered back, and her body slammed against the left wall, tears flowing down her face as the pain was unbearable.
"Stop! Shut up, enough!" she said though gritted teeth as her form crunched in the dark corner.
And they did, the voices stopped. Her eyes flew open; pupils dilated, and mind scattered.
"No! Come back, don't leave me alone!" running over to the picture, she picked it up and shook it frantically, but the faces just smiled back.
"Don't leave me alone!" and she fell to the floor, sweaty, messed up hair and broken.
'There is a solution to every situation,' her.
Surely that was true, for she remembered even her tutors saying the same all those years ago, as did the maid she murdered, and her uncle. A hundred frenchmen can't be wrong.
But with that, they would add; 'And the solution is always simple.'
Perhaps, for some, it really is just simple.
A dream; pleasant thoughts, or a wish that your heart makes. If you're dreaming a dream, then the solution would be to stay asleep and enjoy it. A nightmare; haunting thoughts, or unwanted images created by your mind. If you're having a nightmare, then the solution would be to wake up and escape it.
As Azula lay there, staring at the ceiling -as it started to collapse right above-, the building, her palace, burning around her, and the portrait clutched diagonally face up between her hands, she concluded, right before a massive plank of roof fell on her mentally destroyed form; the solution isn't always simple. It is never simple.
Because, what is the solution, to dreaming of nightmares?
The End.
A/N: My goodness this took forever to finish! I have to admit that I'm a bit disappointed in how it ended, but writing this was dragging on for so long (*cough* 9 months, like I'm trying to develope a baby here *cough*) I just had to start ending it (start ending? What the hell is wrong with my wording XD). To add now to my greater disappointment, I read a story (The Sparrowkeet series by audreyii-fic which is AWESOME by the way) in which there were a few Azula centric moments, and it was the last chapter centered around her (chaper 18) that really got me looking at this like, "meh". But, whatever the case, it is finished.
I really hope you enjoyed this! Check out my profile bio for info on more upcoming projects! Leave a nice review if it fits your fancy (seeing as this is supposed to be my "Great come back fic" it would do my conscience wonders to know what you guys think!)
Shout out to souleaterrocks5533 because I said I would!
Enough with the long A/N.
~Poodie