December 11, 170 ASC
He's dead.
At least, that's what the newspapers said. Every newsstand across the city, every young boy carrying a newspaper and shouting the headlines, every muffled static voice coming through the radio. Every single word uttered of him was followed with the whispered phrase. I covered my ears, avoiding the rumors being spread by the commoners throughout the marketplace.
"That Amon? He's dead. They found his charred body washed ashore in the harbor, and they actually managed to identify him with records from an Equalist dentist. Apparently the doctor didn't even know his name, just identified him as 'The Boss'. Who knew he cared so much about his teeth?"
"Amon? He's dead. Don't you read the paper?"
Nothing would cease the endless noise, the rumble of the overjoyed masses that once worshiped the man. But he was a lie, a fraud, a speck of fool's gold in a barren mine of human intelligence. Then, there was me.
The people stop and stare if they're not too engulfed in their heretical joy. Some would avert their eyes; others would stare with gazes of shallow pity. The daughter of a traitor to their republic, albeit one who tried to save it. Occasionally, I'd receive a congratulations or a passive thank you; I inherited a crumbling fortune while trying to save the world, yet I wasn't the avatar. I was just one of her shadows.
I have always been a shadow; casting doubt, confusion, the perfect pale disguise tied up behind emerald eyes with pretty carmine lips.
Only one has taken refuge in me for it.
He couldn't be dead. I just saw him last night, completely and wholeheartedly alive.
—
December 12, 170 ASC
Lies, lies spurted from the poisoned lips of the news media like a gushing, infected blister. The same toxin spread through the people as it would the bloodstream, infecting every cell in the body of the city. I couldn't listen. It's a disease. I can't allow myself to fall for the deception, because I know they're wrong. Unbelievable, how just weeks ago the man was worshiped as the messiah of a new age, and now he and all his officers were on trial. My own father was among those already sentenced to life in prison without chance of release.
That didn't bother me; whenever my father wasn't obsessing over vengeance, focusing on how to cut back the factory union's influence, or wallowing in his own self-pity, he would drink bourbon and remind me of how much I looked like my mother. Once, he almost tried to touch me. My father regretted my defense classes in that instant, but forgot entirely in the morning.
I told him about the incident once in confidence, for I sometimes felt he was the only one I could trust. I hoped he would cease his movement's ties with my father as punishment. But he simply ran a single finger through my hair, pushing the foremost piece back behind my ear tenderly.
"I'm so sorry, my princess. But once the revolution ends, I promise your father will never try to hurt you again."
I couldn't accept that, so I fled, vowing to never trust him from that moment on. He put his agenda before me, and that was preposterous. He had told me again and again, "Asami, when this is all over, you and I will rule together. You are my princess now, but soon, you will be my Queen."
And I had listened. I had believed him. I knew his darkest secrets, so I thought he would never lie to me.
—
December 13, 170 ASC
Two days after I cut myself off from him, I ran over a young firebender with my moped. I thought that, just maybe, this young man actually may be able to protect me from my father. He would never value that monster over me. Soon after, I thought I could change things. I thought I could prove to him how wrong it was to put my father before me, and show him how badly he needed me. I could sabotage his entire revolution, and no one would ever know of my ties if his plan crumbled to pieces. Not even my father was aware of our relationship.
But if he succeeded, he would need to make amends. He couldn't survive without me. He couldn't maintain a rule without his shadow, his… his queen.
That was what he said night before last.
"I'm so sorry, my Queen."
—
December 14, 170 ASC
If he is truly dead, I shouldn't be alive. I'd be a shadow without a figure, nothing to separate the silhouette from the sun. No one knew about us from the start; maybe my permanent silence is what fate intends.
It's been three days since I've left this bed; the butler keeps trying to bring me the paper and open the curtains, but I don't want the light.
I'm too afraid I'll disappear without him.
—
December 15, 170 ASC
Five days, five days with no word, and he returns. A hand on my shoulder in the middle of the night, and I felt the warmth of his body as he wrapped his arms around me in my hazy sleep.
I knew he was alive!
I never doubted him.
When I awoke, he was gone. But I understood; if it was discovered he was alive, every officer of the law in the Republic would be after him.
He would stand trail.
He would be sentenced to death.
I can't bear to think of that; his reality needs to be kept a secret, and so does mine. I can't ever let Korra, Mako, Bolin or any of them know my true nature, know my real life. If I am to die, I want to die a champion of righteousness, not the mistress of what they see as evil.
—
February 10, 171 ASC
The butler had the physician visit me today. He thinks I've lost my mind. The only thing I've truly lost is my soul. Two months, and my King has not returned.
Where have you gone, my King?
—
March 13, 171 ASC
Every day without him, I suffer. I stopped eating, so they took me to this… place. Nurses watch me as they force me to eat, and then monitor that I don't try to force their repulsive food back out. Maybe if they actually fed me quality food, they wouldn't need to worry.
Mako and Korra visit me.
They seem to think this is about them.
I pity their narcissism.
—
September 6, 171 ASC
I am a shadow with no figure I am a shadow with no figure I am a shadow with no figure I am a shadow with no figure I am a shadow with no figure I am a shadow with no figure I am a shadow with no figure I am a shadow with no figure I am a shadow with no figure I am a shadow with no figure I am a shadow with no figure I am a shadow with no figure I am a shadow with no figure I am a shadow with no figure I am a shadow with no figure I am a shadow with no figure I am a shadow with no figure I am a shadow with no figure I am a shadow with no figure I am a shadow with no figure I am a shadow with no figure I am a shadow with no figure I am a shadow with no figure I am a shadow with no figure I am a shadow with no figure I am a shadow with no figure I am a shadow with no figure I am a shadow with no figure I am a shadow with no figure I am a shadow with no figure I am a shadow with no figure I am a shadow with no figure I am a shadow with no figure I am a shadow with no figure I am a shadow with no figure a Queen without her King
—-
October 27, 171 ASC
The days grow shorter once more, as does my patience. The doctors think this is simply an eating disorder.
I suppose there's no textbook definition for a broken heart.
—-
November 2, 171 ASC
Has this all been some terrible dream? I pricked my finger, and though blood drew, I felt no pain. I see him in my sleep now; I feel the warm embrace of his arms in the darkness of the night. His strong, opal eyes stare into my soul and remind me of how much he loves me. He seems determined that I am the one who isn't alive, for I dream of being in the same bed with him in a wooden chair aside my bed. His long, dark hair grazes my cheeks, and though it tickles, I'm unable to laugh.
I'm unable to move.
Unable to react.
Yet, the doctors by this bed in my dreams seem to think I'm alive.
Am I the woman who dreams of being a butterfly or the butterfly who dreams of being a woman?
I cannot comprehend what this all means, but for so many months, I've had dreamless sleep. Why now? Why do I see him now as I rest my eyes? I must rest more. I must try to break free.
For this is surely the nightmare. This cannot be the reality I am from. My reality is him; my reality is being with my King.
—-
?
Korra came to me today… alone. She told me she was sorry, and that she blamed herself and her relationship with Mako for what she described as "my poor mental heath".
I scoffed, and told her "Well, I refuse to apologize for your vanity."
She seemed perplexed and upset, relaying to me that she wasn't sure what I meant by vanity. Vain, vile creature. If anything is her fault, it's the loss of my King.
So I told her.
I told her I blamed her for Amon's death. I blamed her for my crumbling life. I blame her for nothing at all yet everything in the universe.
Then, she had the guile to ask me why I cared.
—
I can't break through to him in my sleep.
I'll need to get more creative.
I'm coming, my King.
I'm coming.
I'm coming.
—END OF HOSPITAL EVIDENCE RECORD, PATIENT 1009678 SATO, ASAMI.—
POST-MORTEM DIAGNOSIS: ENVIRONMENTALLY ONSET SCHITZOPRHENIA. INITALLY BROUGHT IN FOR WHAT WAS THOUGHT TO BE DEPRESSION PAIRED WITH AN EATING DISORDER.
FUTURE PERCATIONS TO BE TAKEN: WITH REGARDS TO PATIENTS PERSONAL ASSESTS, LOOK FOR WARNING SIGNS OF MORE SERIOUS DISEASE.