A/N: Hi everybody. I'm really sorry this one took so long. I was planning on posting it at the beginning of the month, but that was right before a trip abroad, and I had no idea that I'd have next to no time to write for four weeks. So I ended up making a promise I couldn't keep... Good news is that I finally have some empty spaces in my schedule now, and that means more writing time. The next three chapters are basically done; I've already started editing Chapter 8, and I'll get it up as soon as I'm done, which I estimate won't take longer than a week. (Chapter 8 has the first POV switch. ;))
In the meantime, I hope you enjoy this one!
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7. Drifting Unhinged
After what seemed like forever, Azula opened her eyes. Bright lamplight streamed into her vision, and after a moment she recognized the plain white ceiling of the bedroom. She was lying in bed again, her arms folded over her chest, with a new, tan-colored blanket wrapped around her body. At first, it seemed like she had somehow accidentally contorted herself this way, but as she tried to move her arms and legs, she found that the blanket didn't let her. The fabric was strangely heavy and unyielding, encasing her in a firm cocoon. On top of that, the familiar black bands of the bed were pulled taut over it, holding her firmly down.
A brief, dull headache pulsed through her confusion, and after a moment, Azula remembered what had happened. She was alone. She was on an island, possibly thousands of miles away from the mainland, surrounded by a random team of careless nurses, under the care of some doctor who likely didn't even intend to practice medicine. Their function was to guard her. To contain her.
Azula laid her head back down on the pillow, slamming her eyes shut. Those memories from her old school days were still surfacing in her mind, joined by dozens of later ones, all perfectly preserved like insects in amber. She could still see everyone's faces, remember the exact tone of their voices, as if they were standing right in front of her again.
" Yes, you are! You're a selfish little analyzer machine.."
" What is wrong with that child?"
" Guess you wouldn't understand, would you? Because you're just so perfect…"
All of it amounted to the same thing.
She had been a ruin all along, just using her imagined perfection to cover it up. She had played a constant game of striving and self-bettering, thinking that she was building up some sort of tower of strength inside of herself, while in reality, she had just been piling up a mound of sand. She might have thought that she had been making progress, that all of those training sessions and fights were like stepping stones on the way to her goal, but all they had done was distract her from the truth.
They had been right. Every single one of them. Looking inside of herself, Azula could feel no other desire than to get revenge on the world, to make everyone that had ever caused her pain suffer ten times more. If she had been sent back in time that very moment, she would have rocketed out of the palace in front of Ursa's eyes and never come back. She would have slapped Kyla in the face. She would have given Mai the cold shoulder at the Boiling Rock and dismissed her and Ty-Lee from her service without wasting a single fire blast on them. That was what they deserved. But now that Azula thought about it, she realized that even if she had never confronted Mai and Ty-Lee about their betrayal directly, it would still have only been a matter of time before they realized who she really was. Was it really an accident that everyone she had ever been close to eventually formed the same opinion about her?
Azula knew it wasn't. She had just been the last person to realize it. She had always had problems… she hadn't even been able to say "I love you" to Ursa properly - directly - back when the other daughters had spewed the phrase like babbling brooks. Perhaps that was one of the things that had led Ursa to her conclusion. Along with everyone else. Maybe she really did belong in a mental hospital... then, in that case Zuko had demonstrated the greatest feat of forward thinking in history. She was a machine, and a defunct one at that.
Azula sighed and turned her head to the side. After a moment, her gaze alighted on the Phoenix King helmet that stood on the bookshelf, glinting under the ceiling light. She looked at it for a moment, tracing the outline of the bird's wings, lingering on the plates of pure gold that adorned the metal frame, which was already starting to collect dust.
At least she hadn't been the only one to take the fall. Something greater had ended that day — something she had just been unfortunate enough to take part in. No matter what, there would still be no more palaces, no more personal servants, no more plans and missions to constantly think about. And not just for her, but for many others. Not the least of them her father.
Azula could still picture him standing before her that final time, face smiling and serene, yet his eyes firm with resolve. Then he had said that thing, that one short sentence that had mysteriously caused her escalating despair to calm, her defenses to briefly disarm.
"It is a special job that I can only entrust to you."
But had he really meant it? Hadn't she felt it, the moment he had put on that helmet, that he had always intended to do things alone? When it came down to it, she had been little more than a tool for him, doing the grunt work while he sat around in the palace and reaped all the benefits. He always summoned her formally, praised her publicly, and in the increasingly rare occasions that they they were alone, the talk was all goals, strategies, achievements. And now, suddenly, all of his boasting of her during galas and public meetings was starting to seem like the flaunting of some hawk breeder who had crossed the perfect specimen. He had used her, just like she had used other people, because she had had a power that he needed. Azula scowled in spite. Her father probably thought her every bit of the monster that Ursa had. But instead of flinching away from her abnormalities in disgust, he had nurtured them. Cultivated them. Then in the end he had discarded her. And she had fallen.
Azula drew in a breath, feeling her eyes well with tears. But she wouldn't cry. Not for him. Not for anyone, ever again.
...
After an uneventful span of time, a quiet wooden creak pierced the silence. Azula's gaze glumly drifted over to the entrance, just as the door to the bedroom drifted open, revealing Isla carrying a tray of food. The nurse pulled a chair over to Azula's bedside and sat down, digging a spoon into a steaming bowl of rice. She scooped some out, blew on it, then brought it to Azula's mouth. Azula silently turned her head away.
Isla's hand followed her, but Azula turned away again, and after a few more rounds of chase, Isla finally gave up and slapped the spoon down in exasperation. "Fine. Starve." She put the tray back onto the counter and left the room.
A minute later, she returned with a number of IV bags filled with purple serum. She removed the empty fluid bag from the bedside pole and replaced it with a fresh one, then checked the various tubes and wires that were snaking out like vines from under the neck of the cocoon-blanket. Then she began to dust the counter and cabinets, opening and closing doors, then moved on to wiping the floor.
When the room was finally spotless, Isla came back to the counter and picked up the tray again. "Have you made up your mind yet?"
Azula looked away darkly.
The nurse came closer and sat down. "Come on. Eat." She scooped up some rice and brought the spoon to Azula's mouth. Azula silently accepted it and began to chew lethargically. She made the first swallow, then Isla gave her the second spoon, and she swallowed that one too. For the third one, however, Azula moved her mouth away.
Isla sighed. "What's wrong?"
Azula grumbled. "Tying me up. Feeding me like an animal."
"You've been put in the straitjacket for your own protection," Isla said. "The longer you keep having these outbursts, the more you'll be kept like this in the future. So for your sake, please, open your mouth."
She brought the spoon forward again, and Azula snatched it out of her hand with her teeth and flung it to the floor. "I said, no!"
Isla narrowed her eyes. "Fine." She left the room. A few moments later, she came back with another bag in her hands, this one larger and filled with clear liquid. "You get liquid nutrients, then." She snapped on a pair of rubber gloves, dabbed Azula's neck with a wet gauze pad, and without warning, stuck a large, sharp needle into her neck. Azula gave a yelp, flinching as she felt something long and sharp pierce through the muscle, entering some deep and vital location where it caused a burning pain. Azula began to squirm, and when Isla stepped back, she snarled.
"Come near me again and I'll tear you to shreds!" Azula swung her head from side-to-side, but with the rest of her body trapped by the cocoon, she couldn't do much besides rock herself around. Face still impassive, Isla leaned down to a lower cabinet and took out a small, C-shaped pillow, which she promptly fitted around Azula's neck. The pillow was thick and firm, and braced her head so that she couldn't move it in either direction. Isla fixed it into place, leaned down to pick up the fallen spoon from under the bed, then left the room.
Azula imagined how pathetic she must have looked and welled with hatred. She began to breathe rapidly again, trying to shoot fire from her mouth, not caring if she burned the blanket and herself with it. But as always, nothing came out.
She continued to fidget, pushing against the straitjacket to the point of exhaustion. After several minutes of getting nowhere, her strength finally broke and she settled down, catching her breath. She lay still for a few minutes, staring up at the ceiling. The pain from the needle had gone, but she could still feel it lodged inside of her, protruding out, connecting her to the pouch of nutrients that hung overhead.
They had made her a cripple. A sick, pathetic, raging vegetable. The stronger Azula's anger grew, the more she could sense the humiliation that was bubbling up beneath it. Humiliation before her own self.
...
Time crept by in silence. With no solid food, the nurses hardly had to come into Azula's room at all. When they did, it was always Dee and Isla, tiptoeing in to check up on all the equipment she was hooked up to and whispering medical jargon under their breaths. Then they would walk away, not casting her a spare glance. In the evening, a hand would poke in and shut off the lights, then disappear. For the rest of the time, the building was dead silent. No chatter, no movement, and only occasionally the sound of a closing door from far away.
Well, that's the end of that, Azula figured. If anything, at least she had put an end to the charade and exposed their operation for what it was. She wondered what Zuko would do when they told him. He'd probably order them to keep watching over her, since there was probably no other place that could be considered secure enough to house her. But this time there would be no more therapy, no more kind fake smiles or playing nice. Azula was fine with that. Brutal honesty and harsh reality were rules she preferred to play by. She figured she'd still try to escape again someday, once she figured out a way to orient herself and cross the sea. Then she'd go to live in some faraway place where no one recognized her. That way, at least, she'd deprive them of the satisfaction of shaping her future. Whatever it could possibly be.
...
Days came and went. At first, Azula tried to keep track of them, but she lost count at four. Waking life was starting to blend in too much with her dreams, and since there was nothing remarkable about the silent, unchanging bedroom, Azula preferred to spend as much time asleep as possible. Life in one position had a way of pulling a person in. Apparently it wasn't an accident after all that her physical trainers had told her when she was young to keep moving, to not let herself laze around. By now, her body had stopped wanting to move of its own accord.
But it wasn't as if she'd need to move, anyway. She had already razed everyone's villages, stormed through all the cities, wrecked enough of everyone's plans. And she had witnessed all the general highlights of a life. Childhood, labor, friends, family... All of those experiences had played out before her like the swiftly-changing sets of a theater production. And now, all of those people and backdrops from the old times were gone, replaced by the final stage life had to offer her - a blank nothing. And she didn't care anymore how she'd spend the rest of it. Although the nurses would probably do everything at the bare minimum now, they'd still attend to her basic needs. Maybe, then, she would in fact stay here, feeding off of their labor, just so that she wouldn't have to bother about getting food and lodging for herself. Crossing the sea would take a long time. And even if she did manage to find land, there was no guarantee that it would be hospitable. Hunting was hard. Building her own house too much work. There was the option of finding some forest-dweller and forcing them to abandon their home for her, but the prospect of ever dealing with another person sickened her. If she was such a monster, such a machine, then why should she bother barging into the regular people's lives? Why not let them live in peace, in their perfect little world of love and friendship?
No, she didn't regret what she had said to Ursa... all of those things were for fools. Deceptive lies, told only by people who already enjoyed those things. But she knew the truth... And that, at the very least, would be something to be thankful for.
...
The lights went off a few hours later, and after several hours of confused dreams, Azula opened her eyes to find the room still dark. She was debating whether or not to drift off again, when suddenly, she heard the sound of advancing footsteps. The door opened, and the lights flickered on, revealing Isla. This time, though, she was followed by Kira, who dutifully followed her to Azula's bedside. Together, they unstrapped the cocoon, unbuckled the tiny straps that held the straitjacket together, and removed it to reveal Azula's plain red jumpsuit, along with all the IV tubes hooked up to her arms. One by one, they removed the needles, bandaged the wounds, and helped her into a seated position. Kira poured out some purple serum into a spoon and slipped it into Azula's mouth. At the same time, Isla pulled out the round wooden table from the corner and set it at the center of the room. That had to mean that Dr. Low was visiting.
Azula's heartbeat quickened. Kira rolled up the wheelchair to the side of the bed and seated Azula into it, strapping her up to the torso. Finally, she rolled her up to the table.
Isla brought the tea a few moments later, setting one cup in front of Azula and the other in front of the empty chair. Then she placed down the sugar and silverware, and once the table was ready, she went to wait by the door. Moments later, Dr. Low walked in. Azula lowered her gaze to the placemat, which she dully picked at with her nails, until Dr. Low had sat down across from her and she could no longer prolong the dread of looking up at him. He hadn't changed a bit. Same military uniform, same hair, same lines in his face. If he had ever come seconds away from dying by her hands of electric shock, then he wasn't showing it.
The doctor arranged his silverware to his liking, then leaned back in his chair. "How are you feeling, Azula?"
Azula looked away, chin leaned against her fists. "Fine."
Dr. Low crushed a cube of sugar into his tea and took a sip. Azula looked away from him. For a long time, they sat in silence. Azula wasn't sure if he'd demand her to speak; she wasn't even sure if she'd be able to find any words to say. But strangely, Dr. Low did nothing. He sat like a lonely statue, as if enveloped by the same fog she felt around herself.
Soon, the silence became unsettling. Azula turned to her tea, first playing around with the leaves, then lifting the cup for a series of slow sips. The tea was a blend of citrus fruits with a slight touch of ginger. After memories of water and vegetable mush, it was refreshing.
Azula finished the entire cup, before she finally heard a stir as Dr. Low shifted his position.
"I owe you an apology."
Azula blinked and looked up at him. "What?"
"I should have found a better way to introduce you to the situation. I underestimated the effect such a transition would have on you. I don't blame you for your reaction, and I admit it was partially my fault."
Azula stared at the doctor without speaking. Something in the fog shifted, but she was too weary to contemplate what it could mean. After a moment, she simply averted her gaze and went back to slouching.
Dr. Low gave a small smile. "Now that you know that much of the story, I might as well tell you the rest. You are indeed on an island, one that's located about fifty miles off the western coast of the Fire Nation. It's rather small, so it has just this building, a dock for supply ships, and some nature. That being said, your brother did order you to be placed here. After withdrawing his armies from the battle zones, the first thing he did was examine the staff he had at home and search for people who would be able to take care of you. He didn't want to risk placing you in a regular hospital with other patients, so he decided to find an isolated location that would be both safe and functional. At that point he had already chosen me as head of the command, so together we investigated a bit and found this place." He cast his gaze towards the shuttered window. "This building used to be a storage site for a metal factory. It was built during your father's reign, so it's not that old. But after a few years the production moved to a different location, and this place has stood empty ever since. We knew we had to renovate it, but with you still in the palace and on the verge of waking up from the Sages' trance at any moment, we had to act quickly. So I took you, the staff, and all the vital equipment aboard a ship and sailed over here. When we reached shore, I had the crews install the basics - shutters on the windows, new floor, and everything else we'd need right away, while more refined construction would continue in the future."
Azula's forehead crinkled as she scowled. "And was it really hard to tell me that the first time around?"
Dr. Low chuckled. "On the first day you had enough to think about, I'm sure. But more to the point, yes. I made my fair share of mistakes. For one thing, I should have immediately told you that you were on an island. But I thought that simply saying this was a hospital would be better, since it wouldn't make you feel like you were alone."
Azula grumbled. "Well that's exactly how it did make me feel. And why lie? I am alone."
"No, you're not."
"Yes I am. You're all on Zuko's side. He sent you here because he knew you'd be following his orders, which is to keep me out of everyone's way."
"Zuko is not your enemy. That hasn't changed since the first time we spoke. And even if it were a matter of who's on who's side, his orders aren't to keep you out of the way. They are to help you get better." He paused. "And if you don't believe that I truly want you to get better, then consider the situation. We eat here, we sleep here, and we live here, just like you do. We devote our time to you, much like your servants did when you were younger, the only difference being that our goal is to lift you from a bad state. That isn't something a lot of people would sign up for. Not because of you, but because it's a strenuous undertaking in itself, much like being a member of staff at the palace is. Not everyone who applied for that kind of job would even be accepted for it, as you can probably imagine." Dr. Low folded his hands on the table matter-of-factly. All the nurses had left the room, but Isla was still there, leaning against the cabinets and gazing off into a distant corner.
Azula scoffed. "And if I never get better?"
Dr. Low furrowed his brow. "You are fourteen years old," he said. "Forget everything else for a moment, and think about how young that is. You've traveled all over the world, where many girls your age are still thinking about the day they'll marry and leave their parents' houses. You've seen what it's like to govern, to play power games, and to bear a reputation. Those are things that people three times your age struggle with. Dealing with all of that in such early youth, then having it taken away from you just as the world as you know it changes forever, is hard to cope with. But life goes on. Yes, things might be different now, but that doesn't mean that you have to let those circumstances push you in a direction you don't want to go. If anything, you should look back at what happened and see it as evidence that the world really is only what you make of it. Your life is, too."
Azula narrowed her eyes and placed her chin in her palm. "You said you had five children?"
"Well, they're not so much children anymore. My youngest is nineteen, my oldest is twenty-eight."
"And what do they do?"
"One's training to be a doctor. Two of my other sons are in the military. One daughter's interested in engineering, and the other's finishing school."
Azula frowned. "How did you do that? Raise them all, I mean. No one in my family ever had that many. You really only need one heir, maybe a backup in case something happens to the oldest. If you have a third kid, the most you can do is send him off to learn a skill somewhere, because he'll probably never get the throne anyway. I can't see how you can even have time for so many."
Dr. Low smiled and gave a little shrug. "Well, when you're a parent, you start seeing things differently."
Azula somehow doubted that was true.
But she didn't say anything, and after a few minutes Dr. Low finished his tea with her watching in silence. Finally Isla came to clear the cups, and Dr. Low gave a smile. "Thank you, Isla."
Isla smiled as well and nodded. "My pleasure."
She was about to leave, but Dr. Low turned around to her. "Would you also stop by my office? There are some papers on my desk."
"Bring them, you mean?"
"Yes."
Isla left the room, and a minute later she came back with several scrolls in her hands. Dr. Low rose from the table. "Well, I'll leave you alone for now," he said to Azula. "I'll tell the nurses you won't have to do any therapy or exercises for a few days. I think we all owe each other a little break..." He turned to Isla and accepted the scrolls from her. He looked them over a final time, then placed them before Azula. "These might be of interest to you. They were in my office. Just newspapers from last week, when the latest shipment of supplies came from the mainland."
Azula looked at the scrolls, and after a moment, reached towards them. They were newsletters and leaflets from Capital City, along with some from western coastal towns. She unfurled each one in turn, looking at the headings.
"War Over, Avatar Returns..."
"Fire Lord's Crowning Met with Joy and Tears..."
"Capital City Holding a Festival, Eighth month, Fifth Day..."
She looked back up at Dr. Low, who was still standing there. "It's not much, but it'll help you feel connected," he said. "I can give you more in the future if you'd like."
Azula nodded in silence.
"I've also been talking with the construction crew about a new set of windows and better air circulation. Yesterday they sent me a hawk saying that they're still gathering the materials for shipment. So I suppose now's as good a time as ever to add a few more repairs to the list..." He smiled a little to himself, then with a parting nod, he turned to leave. Isla rolled Azula's wheelchair back towards the bed then moved the table and chair back to their place by the wall.
She took a few steps towards the door, then stopped and turned to Azula. "Do you want me to open the blinds?"
Azula crossed her arms, averting her gaze towards the floor. Nevertheless, Isla approached the window and pulled back the curtains, revealing the metal shutters. She fiddled with some devices high up in the frame, and moments later, the blinds opened up, letting in a flood of afternoon light. She left the room.
Once she was gone, Azula slowly looked up at the square of light on the floor. Her gaze drifted over to the window, where through the blinds, she saw the vast open sea, a carpet of calm, rippling waves. She grabbed the wheels of the chair and rolled herself up to the window, then put her elbows on the armrests and watched. Minutes later, she heard a faint caw, and in the distance, saw a red messenger hawk take off into the sky, a letter strapped to its back. The bird flapped its wings to adjust itself to the air currents, caught a favorable wind, and soared off towards the horizon.
