Hard To wash.
It glistened in the dim light, the edge of the blade losing the last tinges of red.
I looked over my shoulder to the woman laying on the bed. Not just any woman.
Princess Azula.
The name burnt my tongue, just my friend's, no ex-friend's, hands had long ago except on my body. Her eyes were rolled back, her face pale and contorted.
My face remained unreadable as I continued to wash my blades, my mind, of what I'd done.
Because washing blood off a dagger is a easy thing to do.
He walked up to me slowly, wrapping his arms around my waist, his rough scar brushing against my cheek.
''It's Done''
I nod slowly, silent agreement, as he turns and walks out the room, stealing one last glance at the beautiful woman that was his sister.
Should I be upset? I had what I wanted. I had Zuko.
I had slit her throat with military precision, he had held her still with a metal grip.
I looked down at my hands, pale and thin in the light, the first signs of morning were starting to show. And as I took a closer look, I saw them.
There they were. The tell tale smudges.
Royal Blood aginst Noble Skin.
And it fell. The small bead of liquid escaped the prison of my eyes and landed in the cloudy water. Distorting my image like Azula's face.
It shocked me, years of a perfect mask, an unbreakable wall, had fallen apart.
Because washing blood off your hands is a hard thing to do.