Bison Therapy
So, if you actually managed to get to this page, by this time you're probably thinking, "this fic has more crack than the red light district in Los Angeles." Well... you're probably right.
But damn it people I just had to write it.
Read my other fics 1. "It Likes Azula?" and 2. "Dance of the Bison Lord: An Azula Story" in that order or else, you'll be way more confused than you should be. They're not that long.
Azula is redeemed here...well sort of. You'll see what I mean….
Disclaimer: I don't own Avatar...OBVIOUSLY
Double Disclaimer: PTSD is a very serious psychiatric disorder and should be treated only by qualified, credentialed professionals. Azula's doing it because…well this thing is a crack trip. Please DO NOT USE ANY OF THE METHODS DESCRIBED HERE TO TREAT PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder).
Azula stood before her mirror and smiled as the servants adjusted her hair. She still hadn't gotten used to these elaborate Earth Kingdom hairstyles yet, styles that required hours of care and countless pins, but she couldn't deny that she looked good in them. She was also very striking in green; she never thought she would be proud to wear it, but she was, almost as proud as she was to be queen.
Kuei loved her, and despite herself, she was beginning to have feelings for him. It had taken several months of marriage and over a year of courtship, but she was finally beginning to feel something like love, or the closest someone like her could get to it. Her doctors weren't sure yet how far reaching her disease was, and Azula, after having read up on her condition, couldn't really pinpoint it either. The best they had given her was "Try to love your husband and in time, you will know well enough if you can."
It was also very clear that Kuei adored her despite what she felt for him. He showered her with all manner of gifts, and had a wing of the palace renovated to accommodate her bison who were multiplying in number.
In return she made sure his subjects respected him. Anyone who called him a coward or anything remotely like it either got a head chewing from Dominatia or a round of lightning up their ass.
On the advice of her treating physicians, which changed once she wed the King, Azula took up several hobbies. One of these was the study of psychiatry. Unfortunately, the Fire Nation had done very little respectable studies on such diseases of the mind; the culture tended to think of psychiatric illness as a fault to be crushed and not a treatable condition. In the asylum, she wasn't met with the best treatment; she didn't like to remember it. The Earth Kingdom, on the other hand, was very much into the pursuit of psychiatric knowledge and viewed mental illness quite differently. She much preferred their style of treating her psychosis to the Fire Nation's approach.
She was not the only one with psychiatric illness in the Earth Kingdom either. One night, in their bedchamber, a morose Kuei had told his bride that many of the land's veterans were having trouble adjusting after the war. They had frequent flashbacks, were known to reach for weapons at inopportune times, and were also prone to bouts of anger.
Kuei called it Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, and even one of his most trusted Generals suffered from it. Azula had never heard of the condition, but after researching it, she immediately took an interest. Her own physicians had advised her to continue to be a helpful and strong queen, so when she offered to lead one of the therapy groups for these veterans, Kuei was thrilled. He hugged her and showered her with all manner of affection, which was still taking Azula some getting used to.
She returned his embrace in spite of herself and crooned into his hair. "I am happy to be at Your Majesty's service."
And she was. Helping the Earth King made her happy. She was determined to make this land stronger than the Fire Nation had ever been and that began with the condition of its citizens.
Presently Dominatia grumbled impatiently behind her, snapping her mind back to the present.
The servants had combed her therapy animal quite thoroughly. If there was one thing Azula couldn't stand, it was a shaggy bison. Dominatia presently sported a glistening and perfumed white coat, and her grey ear tufts were adorned with shiny emerald bows. She lumbered up behind her mistress and nudged her gently.
"I know you're eager Dominatia," Azula quipped, "but are the children ready? We can't start therapy without the therapy animals!"
Dominatia warbled, and as always, Azula understood her.
"Well get the little brats, and they'd better be clean," Azula grumbled, adjusting her jade earing, "I know you let them play in the mud earlier. Really, what are air creatures doing playing in the mud anyway?"
Dominatia snorted sarcastically at her mistress, then rumbled out the door of her bedchamber.
A moment later ten little fluffball bison flew in, their hair at 90 degree angles from their skin, evidence of a recent bath and the static cling that went with it.
Azula rolled her eyes at the babies as they landed before her and lined up obediently. "Well a static ball bison is better than a nasty bison I suppose."
The fluffy babies looked at Azula. Just six months old, they were about the size of a medium dog. Though their flight patterns weren't perfected, they could hover a few feet off the ground and were prone to flying through the high arched halls of the palace at all times of the day. They folded their haunches and looked at the Earth Queen presently. One of them hiccupped. Another licked its nose.
"You all know the deal," she told them sternly, "cuddle with the veterans and if any of them start to have flashbacks, bite them to snap them out of it."
The little bison squeaked to show they understood…they wouldn't be able to bellow until they were older. Azula ushered them into one of the palace receiving rooms, where a circle of men were waiting for her on comfortable chairs. Dominatia lumbered behind her.
The men stood and bowed as the Earth Queen and her fluffy procession entered. Azula smiled and took a seat at the head of the group. Dominatia sat obediently behind her.
"So good to see you all," she greeted and gestured for them to sit. "You'll notice that I brought some of my friends. Studies show that stroking a fluffy animal can be very therapeutic. Just let them sit in your laps and don't have a flashback, or else they'll bite you."
The men looked at each other, unsure of what the Queen just said. Before they could ask for clarification, Azula spoke again. "So, let's start group with confessions. My name is Earth Queen Azula, and I'm a schizophrenic sociopath with homicidal tendencies. It has been over three years, on my honor, since my last attempted homicide or hallucination." She gestured with uncharacteristic warmth to the young man sitting closest to her. "Why don't you go next? Just state your name, diagnosis, and any difficulties you're having. Then we'll move around the circle." She spun her wrist to show the clockwise direction she favored.
The young man gulped, and then began with a trembling voice: "My name is Chan. I was a captain in the Army during the war, and uh..I had a flashback this morning," he related uncomfortably.
"How unfortunate," Azula stated. "Can you tell us more about this, Chan?"
"Well…" the young man continued, still shaking, "most of my flashbacks come from the siege of Ba Sing Se. I was there when Ba Sing Se was taken and my best friend was killed in front of me. One of the Fire Nation soldiers stabbed him right in the chest. I saw him die before I was hit in the back of the head with a club. I woke up in the infirmary. "
"Gruesome to be sure," Azula observed coldly. "Captain Chan, pet your bison while you listen to the other's stories."
"Yes Ma'am," he responded as he ran his hand through the frizz ball fur. The baby in his lap squeaked.
"You're next General Fong," Azula observed, her voice jolting the General into awareness.
General Fong was an impressive man with broad set shoulders and a solid chest. He shifted in his chair, stroking his beard. The bison in his lap looked rather annoyed that it wasn't being petted. It pawed a couple of times at his armor to try to get his attention. He looked down at the neglected therapy pet with a confused frown. "I am here at the request of his majesty, King Kuei."
"My husband is concerned for you," Azula stated plainly.
Fong shook his head, resistant. "I'm not sure why. I've had a few dreams…so what? Who hasn't?" he grumbled, crossing his arms uncomfortably in his chair. "Ouch!" he cried out suddenly, eyes darting from his finger to the bison pup disbelievingly. "Did that thing just bite me?"
"She bit you because you're in denial," Azula explained. Azula eyed the baby, who had her jowls pulled back into a creepy snarl that contrasted with her cute fluff. Azula checked her with a snap of her fingers. "You're denying that you have a problem. I understand your hesitancy to admit your fault and begin treatment. Perhaps some of the rest of you feel the same," she gestured at the other men with her hand rather elegantly, making sure to meet all of their eyes. "Some of you may equate your illness with weakness. You may think you are pathetic because you wake up in a cold sweat, see the blood soaked carcasses of your enemies flash before your eyes , or reach, panting for your knife in the middle of the night."
Azula settled back into her chair, letting her words take effect. Then she added: "But you're only a pathetic weakling if you don't admit that something is wrong with you and try to fix it."
The men exchanged glances. General Fong stroked his beard. Captain Chan fidgeted with his hands.
Azula continued: "The thing about living with a chronic psychiatric illness is that you will have inappropriate urges. The difference is in whether or not we choose to act on them. For example, I still think about killing my brother, Firelord Zuzu. I still very much want to kill him. I just choose not to." She let out a large, gleaming grin right then, while her subjects looked back at her, effectively shocked.
One of the younger veterans, a lieutenant from across the room raised a trembling hand. "So, Earth Queen, you're saying it's all about choices?"
"Exactly!" Azula clapped her hands maniacally. "We have to make choices which are constructive, not destructive. For example, instead of devising some elaborate plot to off my brother, I'm spending time investing in my new people. If I do this I can have a stronger, better kingdom than him and win that way. You see, constructive, not destructive."
Their disbelieving expressions did not faze her; it only meant she had a captive audience. Quite pleased with herself, she stood and continued. "I also understand that PTSD involves its fair share of hallucinations. Well, I'm no stranger to those either. I used to see my mother all of the time. I heard her judgmental prattle. It infuriated me, but I came to realize it wasn't my mother. It was a manifestation of my conscience.
"The flashbacks are your brain trying to make sense of the trauma you endured. Well, you will never make sense of it, because war is about cruelty and crushing the weak. And think about it, for 100 years, you were the weak. You were getting crushed, repeatedly. The Fire Nation practically mopped the floor with you on a daily basis. No wonder you have issues from your pathetic almost defeat. Well I am here to change all of that.
"In order to live well with your illness, you must come to the realization that the flashbacks are not real and that you can gain some control over them. So today we're going to own that truth." She stood up and moved to the center of the room so everyone could hear her. "Everyone pet your bison before we begin our mantra. Bask in their fluffiness."
The men did so, but not as much as Azula would have liked.
"I SAID BASK!"
The therapy pet stroking intensified. The little babies squeaked with contentment.
"Now repeat after me:"
"1.) The flashbacks are not real!"
She paused after each line giving the men time to echo her statement and each one that followed in unison.
2,) "I will crush them!"
3.) I will wrap my hands around them and squeeze the life out of this illness until it is a mere shell of what it once was!
3.) I will rend its guts wide open and use the oil from them to grease the treads of my tanks!
4.) I will pour its blood out over the grass of Ba Sing Se and use it enrich the earth!
5.) I will not allow it to dominate me!
6.) I will dominate it!"
Azula sat down, and she scanned the room, testing the demeanor of her group. The mantra was designed to empower, and she wanted to make sure she had succeeded in that. Most of the men seemed to have achieved some level of empowerment, with the exception of one young lieutenant across the room. His therapy animal had jumped out of his lap and was cocking his head at him quizzically. Azula noticed that he was curled up into the fetal position on his chair and slowly rocking back and forth.
She stood swiftly and crossed the room to his aid. As she suspected, his mind was not in the present. He was trembling and mumbling something under his breath. His glassy, fear stricken eyes bored right through her.
She glared at the little bison. "You're supposed to bite him when this happens you know," Azula grumbled, but she took care of the situation herself with a tiny stream of focused lightning in his temple.
The lieutenant cried out and jumped at the electric shock. He blinked as his mind returned to the present. "I'm sorry Earth Queen. Just all that talk about blood and guts…it must have triggered something."
"That just means you need to repeat the mantra more often," Azula stated. "You need to desensitize yourself to these things." She returned to her seat. "Oh that reminds me! " She proudly displayed her right finger as a tiny stream of lightning danced on it. "I'm available for electroshock therapy if you find your medications aren't working."
Another trembling hand went up "I have a question about the medications, Earth Queen. Do we have to take them every day?"
"Yes. It's very important that you do. For example, I refused my tea for quite some time. I was convinced after only having tried it a few times that it was useless. However, psychiatric medications are different. You need to take them every day and for quite a few weeks before they begin working. If you don't or refuse…we'll let's just say my bison can smell the noncompliance in your blood."
Just then one of the babies began to jump and squeak excitedly on a sergeant who was sitting kitty corner from Azula. The man, who had remained inconspicuous until just then broke into a cold sweat and looked about the room nervously.
Dominatia heard her baby and her lips curled upward into a menacing snarl. The bison quickly flew over the circle and grabbed the sergeant by the scruff of his neck. Before the rest of the group knew what was happening Dominatia had shoved them through the giant double doors and slammed them shut with her paw, grumbling with irritation. She settled down beside Azula, but just as her mistress began to pet her she made a choking sound. Her mouth flew open and a scrap of slobber soaked cloth landed with a splat in the center of the group. It was the sergeant's collar.
The group members stared at it, flabbergasted.
"The sergeant may return when he is taking his medication correctly," Azula explained, unfazed. "It's obvious that all of you are or else Dominatia would have smelled it. So," she redirected, "now that non compliance, denial, and hallucinations are out of the way… who's ready to make some real progress?" She ran her hand absently across Dominatia's nose, who still was growling in the back of her throat and checking the rest of the group for the "noncompliant."
All the hands shot up, especially General Fong's. Azula smiled victoriously.
Hmm…maybe I need therapy myself. LOL.
Just in case you care:
1.)Psych meds do work like Azula described, you have to take them every day…or else they don't. It's not like taking aspirin for a headache.
2,)Electroshock therapy is still used for the mentally ill…just not very often. Most psychiatrists consider it a last resort treatment after a trial of medications. I'm not sure how often it's actually used with PTSD.
3.)Noncompliance is a real thing. It's when you don't follow doctor's orders.