Disclaimer: Nope, I don't own ATLA.

A Portrait

Today, his sister died. Azula died on her own spectacular and macabre preference—her arms bound by a straitjacket; her neck constricted by tangled rope; her face contorted in a mix of twisted pleasure and death. With every gust of wind, her body would sway from side to side, sometimes in happy circles. She'd also bitten off her tongue in the process. The severed thing now lay bloody beneath its owner's swinging carcass.

Contributing to the gruesome sight, Zuko threw up, the sound of wrenching and squelching of semi-digested food invaded the air of shocked (and amazed) silence. After wiping his mouth with the expensive royal robes of the Fire Lord, he whirled to the nearest guard. "How. Did. This. Happen?"

All the uniformed men curiously lost their ability of speech. They stood, staring at Zuko as if fascinated by his rage. There were little droplets of blood on some of the guards' faces, most likely from the initial spray of Azula's blood when she had bitten her tongue off.

Unconsciously, the guard who was the only one wearing a helmet thanked his vision-restricting skeleton mask.

Zuko hissed, trying to swallow down a sob, and punched the dumbfounded man. "Idiot!" Fire erupted from his mouth, swirling in furious reds and oranges. The Fire Lord cried out into the bright, cheerful sky, which seemed to mock him in every way. Then, he cried out to his sister, who just swayed in response. Crumbling to the ground, Zuko clutched the sides of his head as he shook it, as if the action alone would reverse this nightmare.

The Fire Lord's unexpected (and somewhat expected, too) reaction sharpened the soldiers' focus.

After several more shouting, Zuko sobered up, deciding that he should get Azula down from that… that. Even someone as evil as her deserved that courtesy.

He stood up. "Bring her down gently," Zuko ordered softly, fearing that he might not sound composed. Azula used to do that, order people around with a soft but threatening voice.

And Azula was brought down agonizingly slow and a little bit roughly since the rope had knots and tangles with every inch. The tugging motion constricted her throat even more. When her body hovered just above Zuko's head, the knot that had been wrapped around her neck came undone with a quick wiping and whirring sound, and her body fell cruelly on the ground. There was sick wet sound, like uncooked meat being thrown to a wall.

Some of the guards stepped back in fear and was not exactly shocked. Most of them had expected that maybe this was just a fluke, that maybe, just maybe, the former Princess was still, well, alive…

Zuko narrowed his eyes dangerously at the idiot who was holding the rope. But his demeanor quickly changed when he dawned on his sister's grimace. He felt his stomach churn.

"B-bring her to the Palace," He choked down the remaining contents of his stomach. "Get the servants to arrange her pyre," Zuko said and tore his eyes off Azula's wild and yet dead eyes. He could tell that she's enjoying his discomfort. He could almost swear he saw her eyeballs roll.

The Fire Palace was quiet with forced pity. All of the servants' voices were hushed as if they're passing each other secret messages, and maybe they really were. But there were still soft buzzes of activity, although they were even softer near the Fire Lords' quarters, where the said lord can be heard talking to himself.

Zuko was troubled. Or perhaps more than that. He couldn't turn to anyone. Mai was away in Kyoshi Island, visiting Ty Lee. She wasn't so very expressive about the news sent to her by a messenger hawk, but somehow Zuko could tell that she wasn't also very happy about how her former friend died. She said Ty Lee was more depressed—locked herself in her room and all that. Not even a peep from perky Ty Lee…

Zuko forced down the tears. Even if she was evil, Zuko didn't want her to die that way—eyes disturbingly ecstatic; mouth twisted out of proportion, tongueless… He knew that she wasn't the best human there was but she was his sister after all. That was why he put her in that asylum in the first place: to make her better so they could be together someday.

"Maybe putting you there wasn't the best idea…" Zuko hissed. Azula's dead face kept flashing in his mind.

The Fire Lord stood up and paced the room. He stopped in front of the nearest wall and drove his head on the red surface. Again. And again. And again.

"Go away! Go away!"

He slapped his head as he continued head-butting the wall. It won't go away. Azula's sick expression was seared into his brain. Even in her death Azula still haunted him. She'd given him a portrait of her death. Now that he thought about it, he hasn't seen any other portraits of Azula in the Palace… as if she'd never bothered to get one to be remembered someday. As if Ozai didn't invite her for a painting of them together, the "Greatest Fire Lord and his Prodigal Daughter."

Thump! Thump! Thump! The sound of Zuko's head connecting with the wall had reached the halls.

"GET OUT OF MY HEAD!" Zuko screeched.

In her pyre, cold and dead, Azula grimaces a smirk. Eyes disturbingly ecstatic; mouth twisted out of proportion, and tongueless…

A/N: The initial idea was actually quite sad but it kinda became horror. I hope I delivered this well enough for all of you there! This is just another one of my spontaneous ideas while doing something else (in this case I was drawing Drowranger!) and the draft was written on the nearest, disposable paper: a paper bag containing a book. And about where and how Azula died… it's an awesome event that I'll leave to your imaginations. It involved acrobatic-rope-swinging-without-using-your-hands! lololol… It's hard to describe in words… And mistakes, please report them to me...Review anyone?