Here is chapter 19, earlier than I thought thanks to the incredible efficiency of my beta reader who reread it in a day! Thanks to him.
The suspense will not have lasted too long for you and I hope you will enjoy this chapter. As always, a lot of suffering, negative feelings, and little prospect of joy! Sorry for that!
Chapter 19 - After the Storm
Everything was still and quiet in the palace's deserted corridors. A general torpor had descended on this afternoon which stretched lazily. The oppressive heat that had fallen upon on the Archipelago of the Fire Nation at the end of July had pushed all the residents of the Caldera, nobles and servants, to seek some coolness, entrenched in their homes or in the underground kitchens where a bearable atmosphere was left.
Only the song of thousands of cicadas disturbed the dead silence that seemed to be the new rule since the Fire Lord's disappearance.
Of course, he hadn't really disappeared, General Kadao told himself, wiping his forehead with a piece of cloth taken from his chest-pocket. Zuko was still there at the palace. But he would no longer appear in public and had not attended any Council meetings for nearly a fortnight. No one saw him pacing the corridors of the palace, nor going to the large living room, nor to the Throne Room where Kadao and the Fire Lady took turns to collect the grievances of the citizens and fix current affairs. He no longer practiced his exercises in the training yard, and none of his friends had managed to talk to him for a week.
He had only received, once, the Sages and the members of the Council to announce to them that the princess Azula had been taken captive and transferred into a high security cell of the Capital Prison. He had ordered a hawk to be sent to Ba Sing Se, then he had left the Throne Room without waiting for their reaction. No one had seen him all day after that.
When he returned the following evening, the palace was in turmoil, Kadao recalled with a hint of annoyance. It seemed the Fire Lord had evaporated! Kadao himself, the Avatar and his friends had spent the night looking for him in the streets of the Capital, in the small, isolated coves, on the heights of the Caldera. Zuko had only reappeared the next day, healthy. He had raised a hand to his friends and Mai who were rushing to inquire about him.
"I only need to be alone for a while. Please, leave me."
He had turned his back on them, without adding another word, and left for the apartments of the royal family.
It was obvious to anyone who knew what had happened and that Zuko was not coping well with the princess leaving. The fact that he himself was in charge of sedating her to facilitate her transfer to the prison had visibly upset him. Although Kadao admired the courage he had shown to do so, he could also easily imagine the sense of guilt that must have plagued the young ruler.
He himself had been very sad on the way when he had to escort Azula's lifeless body to her cell, aboard a palanquin strictly guarded by a small cohort of his best men. The serum was strong enough to keep Azula unconscious for several hours. Yet Kadao himself couldn't help but check every thirty seconds that she was still asleep, fearing a violent reaction if she woke up unexpectedly.
What a disaster!
The princess seemed to have blossomed so much over the past year! She looked almost happy at times and Kadao had found in her a pleasant interlocutor whose intelligence and knowledge in matters of commercial and military strategy amazed him. That such a young woman, reputed to be mentally unstable, had such knowledge and such a nimble mind was extraordinary.
Kadao and Zuko weren't the only ones affected by this pitiful situation.
Just as he sat on the steps of the gazebo at the back of the gardens, contemplating the jagged ridges of the crater all around him, Kadao heard movement. He raised his head and saw Taïma appear, emerging from the narrow path between two clumps of hydrangeas with brown petals already withered by the sun.
He immediately stood up to greet her and bowed respectfully to her before returning her salute, fist to palm. He also responded to the slightly sad smile she gave him.
Despite her drawn features and dark circles under her eyes, he couldn't help but appreciate, once again, the natural beauty of Taïma, her pleasant air, her brown, almost dark skin, her large ultramarine eyes and her thick, silky, neatly braided brown hair.
"General..."
"Master Taïma. How are you doing? I haven't seen you in three days."
"Yeah, I've been pretty busy. She answered evasively."
Kadao didn't need to ask her with what. Taïma had just spent the week between the prison and Commander Tsuneo's house where she and Katara took turns providing care to the unfortunate Kojiro.
The young man had regained consciousness and was responding quite well to Water Tribe medicine. At least he had stopped screaming in agony each time he woke up... Though he was still deeply sedated most of the time.
The healing sessions seemed to relieve him and the infection had stopped spreading thanks to the wise advice of Katara and Taïma who had taught the nurses how to make a clean and proper bandage.
As for his face, well… Kojiro would have to learn to live with it. Kadao's heart sank when he thought of the distress on the Commander's face during their last conversation.
As it happened every time, he let himself be overcome by anguish, his other worries poured in, all at the same time, and flooded his troubled mind. His unease intensified when he mused on the climate of insecurity that hung over the Capital.
Ba Sing Se's deliberate silence worried him beyond anything. As soon as Zuko had made his announcement, an emissary had been sent to notify King Kuei of the princess's imprisonment. They had received no response and for Kadao, this silence did not omen well.
The situation in the colonies, far from being appeased, was getting worse. Two other attacks had taken place in other provinces. The Fire Nation Capital had to expect an influx of migrants in the coming weeks. Already the Sons of Agni were agitating the crowds and orchestrating their propaganda. They had started to come out of hiding. The movement enjoyed an unprecedented surge in popularity. The police were overwhelmed, and a riot was blowing over the capital.
Kadao sighed, striving himself to optimism. Azula's imprisonment had had at least one positive effect. The rumbling that rose among the ranks of the Army seemed to have been killed in the bud. Tsuneo had gotten the justice he sought and although he did not feel satisfied, he could hardly blame Zuko for his inaction.
"How is the Princess?" Kadao inquired, watching Taïma sit a few steps below him and rub her face wearily.
"No improvement," Taïma replied in a dismal voice. "When she is lucid enough to recognize me, she tries to throw flames in my face and prevents me from approaching. It's even worse when she's in the middle of a delusional crisis. Even the guards -however hard-bitten they were- are afraid of her. I tried to approach her when she is sleeping, but she wakes up immediately."
Taïma closed her eyelids tightly, Kadao was sure, to swallow the tears that threatened to form on their edges. They knew that Taïma had grown deeply attached to Azula. For sure, to witness her downfall, this terrible regression, must have been a hard blow for the young healer.
"She's exhausted," Taïma continued, "I can see it clearly. And she suffers! But there's nothing I can do for her if she doesn't tell me where it hurts and let me check her out!"
In frustration, Taïma threw away the handful of gravel she had just picked up and buried her face in her arms which were crossed on her knees.
"The guards say she vomited blood several times..."
Kadao fidgeted. One would have thought that Taïma had just frozen his entrails using her bending.
"Taïma, do you think she could...?"
"I don't know. But I can say that she's doing badly. According to her jailers She has lost weight. The guards say she hardly eats anything. She is convinced that Zuko is trying to poison her. She spends entire days yelling insults through the door, cursing her traitorous brother, Ty Lee, me… everyone."
"Does she still have hallucinations?"
"Obviously, yes." replied Taïma who did not bother by giving details that Kadao didn't want to know anyway.
The guilty resentment he had felt for several days towards his king intensified. He thought back to the Sages' suggestion that the Avatar take her bending away, once and for all. Without it, she was no longer a serious threat, no matter how good a fighter she was. Zuko had not even deigned to respond to this request, and he carefully avoided all contact with the Avatar and his friends.
If he had consented, Taïma could finally approach Azula, take care of her… He knew that the young woman shared his opinion.
They fell silent for a long time. The thought of the latest events haunted them like a leaden specter. The incessant chirping of the cicadas thickened the already heavy atmosphere and made the heat of this scorching day even more overwhelming.
"Arg!" Taïma suddenly burst in anger, "Those damn bugs! When will they finally shut up? I can't stand hearing them all day long!"
Kadao jumped slightly and turned his head towards Taïma. She had buried her face in her hands again and he could read, the way her shoulders slumped, all the weariness, all the weight of responsibility that Zuko was placing on her.
He knew that it was in the height of summer that Taïma most sorely missed the icy and silent expanses of the northern lands. It must be even worse this notably scorching year. The stinging feeling of failure, the fear of losing Azula, stirring Zuko's anger added to that.
"Since when haven't you been home, Taïma?"
She slowly raised her head but instead of resting on the General, her hazy gaze wandered before her, as if lost in memories.
"Almost four years."
Uneasy, Kadao shifted a bit from the step he was sitting on. He hesitated, then, seeing the miserable look on the healer's face, he gathered his courage and spoke the words that he had kept in mind all over this conversation:
"Why are you staying here?"
This time she turned her head towards him, so sharply that he was surprised not to hear the bones of her neck crack. She plunged her blue eyes into his and he saw the shock there first. But behind that, there was something else. Hope, or maybe desire? And a hint of guilt. It must have been the first time anyone had made this suggestion out loud, and he was certain that Taïma would have preferred to be burned alive than to confess her desire to leave the Fire Nation, to let Zuko deal with his family, with his problems.
"You can't be serious!" She replied in an indignant tone that Kadao did not find very convincing. "I can't give up on Azula now."
Kadao stretched out his arm to rest it on the young woman's shoulder. This simple gesture of sympathy brought tears to Taïma's eyes and Kadao was reminded of the waves dancing under the northern sky. He remembered his travels in the frozen lands, the northern lights, the eternal nights, the reflection of the moon on the silvery surface of the sea.
"You've done all that is humanly possible, Taïma. You cannot cure the Princess. Her madness runs too deep, she is too far gone. I don't like to talk like that about the family I serve at the cost of my life, but the Princess is indefensible. What she did to that unfortunate boy... and to that poor Suki..."
He suddenly thought of Sokka's closed face, he was usually so happy. He remembered the cold look on the young warrior's visage as he climbed onto Appa's back, accompanied by his young wife, just days after Azula's imprisonment. He had made it clear that he only accepted this mission for Aang and Katara. Sokka and Suki had flown to Omashu without a word for Zuko who had not even witnessed their departure, hidden, no one knew where, in the palace, rehashing his dark thoughts.
"I still want to try." Taïma replied. "I can't leave her now when she is so sick. I know Zuko did the right thing. I gave him the syringe to sedate Azula. But she doesn't see things that way. She feels despicably betrayed. Zuko has been her whole universe since she returned from the asylum, and now she's so lonely!"
Tears welled up from Taima's beautiful eyes before she could think of holding them back and she buried her face in her hands. Kadao squeezed her shoulder a little tighter and felt her shake under his hand.
"Has the Fire Lord come to see her?"
"No." Taïma replied, already raising her head and wiping her eyes quickly, as if she was ashamed of this overflow of emotions. "Forgive me, General."
She took a deep breath and continued:
"Zuko didn't come once. He just asks me for daily reports. Written most often. I don't think he dares to face Azula's wrath. He must be feeling so guilty. And I think it's best if he stands on the sidelines for now."
"You are right." Kadao concluded.
Taïma looked away and turned her attention to a couple of dragonflies hovering lazily above the hydrangea bed. Kadao watched their graceful dance and the reflections on their iridescent bodies for a moment.
Where was the Fire Lord now? What was he doing? What was he thinking?
He had tried to question Mai on this point but the Fire Lady, even more sullen than usual, had not been able to answer him. He could read in her sighs and her absent gaze, all the sorrow and disappointment of a forlorn lover. Azula's departure should have been a cause for celebration for her, Kadao was sure. But only when disregarding the evasive behavior of her husband who, according to what the General understood, avoided even her bed. No one knew where the Fire Lord spent his days and nights. He would only appear occasionally, making sure someone saw him to reassure everyone. He wouldn't attend the dinners that Mai, he, and their friends shared in silence, no one dared to bring up the scalding topic of the princess's incarceration.
Kadao had no doubt that the Fire Lady's patience was strained and worried a little about what would happen when weariness and bitterness would give way to righteous anger.
The chorus of cicadas redoubled in intensity and suddenly filled his ears, his brain and his chest. He closed his eyes to try to contain the feeling of impatience that was slowly washing over him. It seemed to Kadao that those damn insects were enjoying their torment. At the cost of a substantial effort, he composed himself and put on a serene and smiling face and spoke:
"Come on Taïma, let's go have something refreshing."
The young healer turned her head towards him, smiled back, and accepted the hand he extended to her. As soon as she was up, she released him and dusted her blue Water Tribe dress.
Kadao waved his hand to invite her to walk past him and the two of them headed for the palace, leaving the stifling atmosphere of the garden where the cicadas pursued their infernal concert.
If someone was looking for the Fire Lord, the best way was to go to the west wing of the palace, where the private apartments of the royal family were located. However, one would hardly have found him in his own room where he was awaited, desperately, night after night, by his wife who would end up falling asleep alone in a cold and empty bed, far too large for her.
Neither would one have seen him pacing the corridors, reading quietly in the reading room, or enjoying the amenities of the royal spa, where the princess often used to come, sometimes accompanied by her two friends, to enjoy the benefits of a massage or the crystal-clear water sources that were accessed from the spa.
He also wouldn't take advantage of the freshness of the patio where he loved to go to with his wife to feast on delicious, squeezed fruit juices and tasty pastries served by zealous servants.
No. If someone was looking for the Fire Lord, they were better off following the maze of corridors that led to the apartments of other members of the royal family. It would have been necessary to walk past a gigantic fresco depicting the epic battle of an ancient Fire Lord against a frightening dragon with eyes as red as blood, to continue for a few steps, to turn the carved handle and to push open the gigantic double-leaf door that led to the private rooms of Princess Azula.
It was there that he had been hiding for two days.
First, he had avoided this room, as if it held some curse within its walls. He had spent the first days outside, seeking the freshness and comfort of old memories on the little cove where their mother brought them as children.
He had returned there several times with Azula over the past few months when their walks and conversations led them beyond the flowered alleys of the royal garden. Sometimes Zuko would bathe and Azula would stay on the beach, refusing with a polite smile to join him and waiting for him on the sand, watching him tackle the waves.
He wouldn't have admitted it back then, but he quite liked feeling her gaze on him as he plunged under the turbulent waves. He would sometimes watch her out of the corner of his eyes to make sure she wasn't missing a thing from the show. He tightened the muscles of his arms and bulged his chest a little to appear more fierce. Zuko was a good swimmer, probably better than her and he wasn't sorry, for once, to have the opportunity to impress her. He had even put himself in danger once or twice by rushing through the rollers when the sea was rough. He remembered the anxious gaze of Azula standing on the beach when he suddenly emerged a few feet away from where he had disappeared.
She scolded him a little when he joined her, exhausted, on the beach where she handed him a towel. They would stand side by side in silence then. He, lying on the sand, listening to the waves crashing against the rocks further away, attentive to the beating of his heart which gradually subsided after his epic fight against the raging sea. She, still seated, contemplating the silvery water and the glowing disc of the sun slowly being devoured by the waves.
Today, it seemed to him that he had not taken enough advantage of these moments of simple happiness. One year. Only one year of respite before the disease stole his sister from him again. The bond that had formed between them over the past twelve months reinforced the weight of grief that was crushing him now.
So, he had avoided her room first, convinced that a part of Azula, confined within these walls, would wait for him and watch for the right moment to pounce on him and devour his soul and spirit. It was stupid, of course, but he couldn't help but think about it. He had so ignominiously betrayed her! But what else could he do?
When he found himself face to face with Mai and Ty Lee telling him what had happened, when he had faced the gaze of Aang, Toph and Katara, staring at him, suspended in his decision, he had been rightly forced to make a choice: Azula or his friends. He knew which choice was the right one. And he had acted. All his friends –except for Sokka who hadn't spoken to him since their altercation– had assured him that he had done right.
Furiously frowning, he thought back to the letter he had received from the Council a few days before and to the intolerable request it contained. The rage he had felt surging through him as he read it was matched only by the deep sense of unease that twisted his guts. It was the solution. Undeniably. If he accepted, Azula would no longer be a danger to anyone, and he could protect her.
But he had seen what was left of his father. He had contemplated, not without pleasure, the downfall and despair of a man who was nothing without his power. He had seen him grow into that bitter, sour, pitiful little man who still despised him during his biannual visit. This man, who tried to compensate for his new weakness with petty allusions and sarcasm that no longer reached Zuko's heart. It was as if the powerful, ambitious man he had worshiped so much, had died with his power. Only this bark remained, this empty shell swollen with hatred and resentment. He would not impose this fate on Azula. He could bear his father's bitterness and hostility. But to see them shine in his sister's eyes was unthinkable.
Deep down, Zuko was convinced that smothering Azula's fire would be like killing her. He didn't imagine she could survive. It would be like taking away the ability to breathe from her.
He had therefore remained deaf to the requests of the Sages and to Taïma's barely disguised allusions. She kept telling him, report after report, that Azula needed immediate care, that it was impossible as long as she continued to bend fire, attack her each time she would approach her.
He had carefully avoided Aang since he had received that missive. If he was sure of one thing at least, it was that his friend would never act without his consent. At least he wanted to believe it. It was impossible that Aang was unaware of the Sages' decision. He also knew that the Avatar wouldn't like the idea of taking away another person's bending. Taking away his terrible power from Ozai was a matter of life and death. The balance of the world depended on it. Although she was dangerous, Azula did not pose such a threat.
But who knows what the Sages whispered in Aang's ear while Zuko wasn't here?
What had got into Zuko to give them so much power? An independent Justice that would not have to answer for its decisions to any political power, such was the dream he had once shared with the Avatar. What naivety!
He remembered with a pang of how his father had laughed at him when he had told him about this reform, during one of his visits a few months after the victory.
Zuko had come out deeply upset and had lost his temper. He had assured him in a burst of anger that even though the power of Justice belonged to his worst enemy, he would always arrange for Ozai to roast in this cell for the rest of his life.
He had always managed until then to shield Azula from the judgement of the Sages. But now that she was so unpopular, he was sure they would deny her amnesty.
They didn't understand. They didn't understand anything! Only he knew Azula enough, he knew what was good for her. He had acted. He had done the right thing! He had done well!
So why did he feel so miserable? Why did he have the feeling that an iron hand was mashing his heart, tearing it apart, shattering it and then putting it back together only to better destroy it again?
And why was it so painful to imagine her all alone in her cell, in the highest tower of the Capital Prison?
She must have been wondering why he wasn't coming to see her. The distressing memory of his first visit to the asylum had convinced him not to take the risk and he didn't feel ready to face her anyway.
But the lack was there, so obsessing that it was almost a presence that never left him. Everywhere he seemed to hear her voice, her crystalline and a little affected laughter. The image of her smirk that curled the corners of her ruby lips when she laughed at him, the glow of her amber eyes… She haunted his mind. Azula's last words before he stuck the needle into her flesh hounded him as well. And he couldn't forget the amazement, the pain in her gaze when he had gently put her back on the floor just before she started to struggle and convulse under his horrified gaze.
A reaction due to panic, Taïma had assured him, apologizing after he had described to her the terrible effect of the sedative he had injected in his sister.
His worst betrayal.
I love you.
He never thought he would ever hear those words cross her lips. Hearing them had been like a dagger had been plunged into his heart.
He was meditating, sitting on the edge of Azula's cold, empty bed. He had spent the last two days here since the overwhelming need for her had prompted him to put aside his childish apprehensions and finally pushed him to open the door of Azula's room.
He had spent the first day in her bed, searching for her scent of jasmine on her pillows, in her sheets, in the scarlet kimono she often wore to sleep. For a moment, the desire to see her reached an intolerable level, he had eventually stood up and looked for a portrait. He had made his way to the desk, which was still cluttered with half-crumpled parchments, and that was where he had found them.
The scrolls.
The parchments covered with drawings made in the midst of a feverish delirium, no doubt. They were now littering the mattress where he had spread them to give them a better look. All represented the same motif: a disc emerging from the night, traced in charcoal, or painted in black ink, separated from the dark background by a white halo which suggested its contours.
A black sun. Traced a thousand times, sometimes tiny and lost in the immensity of the dark sky. Gigantic other times, occupying almost the entire space of the scroll. The random traces of charcoal that filled the black circle showed the haste and frenzy with which these designs had been executed. It wasn't hard to imagine Azula, immediately after filling one parchment, throwing it away and grabbing another to form the same haunting theme again and again, until exhaustion.
Terrified by this discovery, clear evidence of Azula's madness, he began to search the room. He opened each cupboard, each drawer, each trunk. He himself didn't know what he was looking for. Only the need for answers, to fill his mind with his sister, guided him. But there was also, deep inside him, the obscure desire to find proof. Proof that what she had told him, just before sinking into oblivion, was sincere, that it wasn't another way to manipulate him, to torture him.
That's how he found the letters, hidden in a box she hid in a drawer in her desk.
The letters he had written to her during his travels, while she was in the asylum. He would never have imagined that she would keep them. When he understood what it was, when he recognized his own handwriting, a torrent of emotion washed over him.
Some parchments were damaged, several half-burnt. Some parts of them were missing and the charred edges made the first characters of each column unreadable. It looked like these letters had been thrown into the fire and someone had rushed to retrieve them and save them from the devouring flames. Other sheets, on the contrary, were perfectly flat, as if they had been read and re-read so many times that the folds had disappeared.
Of one of his letters, nothing remained except a small scorch-edged piece containing the following words: "With all my affection. Your brother, Zuko."
He read and re-read the words he had written for her. He had to restrain himself so as not to reduce the letters to ashes. So, was he so stupid back then? What kind of boor would address a poor madwoman – shut up in her prison – with such inconsiderate words, devoid of any delicacy? They spat into her face, with undisguised pleasure, all his adventures, all the wonders of this world that his travels had allowed him to discover.
He was stupid enough to believe he had shown sensitivity in writing them! Today, if he was completely honest with himself, he could tell that these words had not been guided by only good intentions.
The sadness and solicitude which animated him when he thought of his sister were not always enough to silence the little voice deep inside of him which rejoiced at her downfall, to see her retract into the shadows when he himself was shining in the sunlight. His joy to be, for once in his life, the luckier of them.
When the guilt for having left her got too strong, he would like to think that she was playing comedy, or that she deserved her fate. He had dared to turn his back on their father, he had made the right choices. What had prevented Azula from imitating him? Yes, better blame her for her mistakes. It was easier that way.
The reunion, after almost two years punctuated by rare and short visits, had been a shock. His sister was no longer the same person.
It had taken them a long time to build from the ruins of their hatred something that resembled a healthy and stable relationship. To think that one evening, one night had been enough to waste all these efforts!
Zuko had so badly wanted to believe in Azula's redemption, to convince himself that she had changed thanks to him, that he had been able to persuade her to adhere to his values and his ideals. But now, sitting on that bed, surrounded by things that reminded him painfully of what he had just lost, he wondered if he hadn't been deluding himself. If Azula has been the same person all along, selfish, manipulative, cruel, ready to sacrifice others to get what she wanted.
"You are the Fire Lord! You can do whatever you want! We will destroy them, you, and me. We will burn them down!"
He thought back with a shudder to those terrible words she had said as she lay face down on the lightly padded floor of her dungeon, her hands tied behind her back. It was only then, when he had seen the consuming madness twinkling in her amber eyes, that Zuko realized what he had tried to deny for over a year: Azula didn't care about the peace, the Republic of Nations, about good diplomatic relations and the Avatar. She was pursuing a completely different aim: her brother. And as always with Azula, all means were good to get what she wanted.
How could he have been so blind? What man was foolish enough to take months, maybe years, to figure out that his sister was trying to seduce him? And even after that, being unable to say what motivations were behind this disturbing desire for closeness, to tell whether those feelings were genuine or not? Taïma was right: by his overprotective behavior, he had only fed this unhealthy obsession which day after day had become his.
Sometimes Zuko wondered if the same guilt, the same shame had gnawed at Azula at first. Was that what had driven her mad? Would his own sinful desires gradually devour his mind and make him an unscrupulous tyrant? It had already started, right? If Azula hadn't attacked Kojiro and his friends, her shenanigans would no doubt have brought him to her bed by now.
"This boy only got what he deserved. He shouldn't have tried to take what's yours."
The irrational jealousy that consumed Zuko every time he thought about those words crept into him, with the sly violence of a groundswell.
Sometimes he felt a sincere and deep pity for that poor guy. At other times, an unimaginable rage swelled in his chest, clouding what remained of his reason and an unpleasant voice in his head creaked vile words, rejoicing in the fate of the unfortunate boy whose only crime was perhaps having crossed the path of the dangerous Princess of the Fire Nation.
Then Zuko reasoned with himself. Whatever Kojiro may have done, he may not have deserved his terrible fate. He knew Azula. If she had behaved with the boy as she did with men at social events, as she did with him, could he be blamed for having believed in his chances?
What absurd reason had prompted his sister to date a man, at all? She had no doubt wanted to stir up his jealousy. With success, of course. He had always been Azula's toy, an easy prey left to her thirst for domination. She had always used him to get what she wanted. Now that he himself was the object of her lust, who knew what ingenious and twisted plan she had been able to give birth to in order to draw him into her web? He had pretended to believe that he knew Azula but who could boast of it? Zuko had spent the past few months, even years in denial, refusing to consider the true nature of Azula's feelings. The true nature of his own feelings.
It must be said that she had a strange way of showing her affection. She had pursued him first, stalked him relentlessly across the Earth Kingdom. She had made him betray his uncle for her, made him come back, pushed him into Mai's arms. She had lied to their father to put him in an embarrassing situation, probably a new way to tie him to her. She had blackmailed him, threatened him, had laughed at him.
But she had come to find him, too, on Ember Island, as he brooded over dark thoughts in their old vacation home. In her rough and contemptuous way, she had shown concern for him, had worried about why he was so upset. It was his sister who had come to pick him up that night, not Mai.
How has Azula felt when he'd left on the day of the Black Sun? He had never really thought about it until he found these insane drawings traced by the hand of a lunatic.
Sitting on the edge of Azula's bed in a sea of parchments, Zuko took one of the letters he had written to her in his hands. It had nothing special at first glance. But when he turned it over, his heart leaped violently in his chest. Almost erased, traced with a pale ink, one could decipher the draft of a response she had tried to write, and which had never reached its recipient.
"Come back, please"
Zuko squeezed the paper tighter to keep his fingers from shaking. Two large drops fell from his eyes on the parchment and scrambled the ink, defacing the only word she had ever written to him in those three long years in the asylum.
"No! No!" He whispered in panic.
He raised the temperature of his hands, hoping to dry the parchment but he was afraid of setting it on fire in his haste. Maybe he could ask Katara or Taïma to remove the water? He had seen them save wet papers this way before.
But how would he have explained? He had been avoiding his friends and his responsibilities for so long now. He did not allow anyone to come to him, except Taïma, from whom he demanded a daily report on Azula's state of health.
That very morning, he had grown angry with her, blaming her for her ineffectiveness after she spoke about the princess. Azula still wouldn't let anyone go near her.
He now regretted his lack of tact and gratitude. After all, Taïma must be the only person here besides him who still cared about Azula. He was afraid of scaring her away by behaving like a jerk. He had tried to stammer awkward apologies, but Taïma had already left.
As for Katara, she didn't look at him the same way since he'd been about to flash a lightning bolt at her brother.
Zuko hadn't really taken the time to think about what had happened in the dungeons. Never before had he been able to bend lightning. He supposed that his desire to protect Azula must be the cause of this accident. He would have liked to say that he regretted having lost control of his nerves but the memory of the murderous rage in Sokka's eyes prevented him from doing so. Sokka had left with Suki for gods knew what diplomatic mission. He hadn't even had the curiosity to know more about it. Nothing mattered now.
He wasn't even able to talk to Aang anymore. Yet the young Avatar had tried to see him repeatedly. Each time, Zuko had fled.
Ty Lee had left the day after Azula's incarceration, head bowed and heartbroken. He had no news from her.
And Mai. Zuko would never stop blaming himself for it, but when he thought of his wife, he felt nothing but a cold chill in his chest. He was convinced that she was gloating over Azula's departure and feared what he might say or do to her if they were to talk about his sister. He couldn't bear to hear her say, "I told you so," or even, "You did the right thing by throwing her in jail. She's crazy, unrecoverable."
Azula had succeed once. She had escaped from hell, from the meanders of her madness, thanks to the combined efforts of Taïma, Katara and the patience and affection of Zuko.
Maybe she could heal again? Who knew?
For the moment she was safe there, far from his friend's furor and the threat of their enemies who wouldn't know any rest until he delivered her to them. At least his detractors within the Fire Nation could no longer blame him. He was trying to keep the crimes Azula committed over the past few weeks as secret as possible, but there were leaks, inevitably, not to say a flood!
Zuko carefully put the letter back on top of the pile of parchments, next to a portrait of their mother he had found, hidden under the princess's pillow, and the tunic found in Azula's wardrobe. He had immediately recognized it by its olive-green hue in the colors of the Earth Kingdom and the borders of silver thread embroidered on the neckline and on the sleeves. He had lost it months before and remembered, with a touch of guilt, having sharply reproached the washerwomen in the palace for the disappearance of this garment. It had been offered to him by Iroh for his eighteenth birthday. He first wondered what it was doing in Azula's possession and couldn't help but blush furiously when a fleeting image crossed his mind: that of his sister, inhaling and holding the tunic to her heart, maybe hugging it against her while sleeping.
He had to get out of there, aerate his body and mind. Maybe he could go back to the little cove? Or go to the prison? No. Taïma had advised him against this plan. According to her, Azula was in no condition to receive visitors. He was afraid to know the implication. His sister had definitely lost her mind.
The temptation, however, was great to go and find her. And if she did attack him, after all, wouldn't it be greatly deserved? It might be gentle to die by her hands.
Maybe he could secretly release her? They would both run away, and he would watch over her until she was healed again.
And what? Would he leave an orphaned nation without a ruler?
Aang might be there, and Mai too.
They would take care of his country by the time he returned with a healthy Azula. Or would they wander for years, living a life of cursed lovers, praying with all their might that they would never be recognized, that illness would spare Azula?
He sighed contemptuously, aghast at the stupidity and naivety of his thoughts.
He wouldn't go to Azula. He didn't have the courage. She wouldn't heal this time. Taïma's miraculous treatment had stopped working and everything had to be started again. According to the healer, Azula had stopped eating. She would have died before Taïma had developed a new formula.
Zuko wiped away his tears, cursing out loud. He took the letter again and with a cautious gesture he cut out the part with Azula's pleading inscribed into it.
Come back, please.
He stuffed the piece of parchment into his breast pocket right up to his heart. Then he threw all the other papers on the stone floor and, pointing two fingers forward, set them aflame.
He stood there for a moment, gazing at the blaze. The reflection of orange flames danced in his golden eyes like two suns illuminating the night of his face.
He then smothered the embers using Iroh's gift and when there was only a heap of ashes left, he retired from the room, without looking back.
Night.
No light filtered through the bars of her cell. It had to be the new Moon.
Azula didn't like it. Moonless nights scared her.
The crawlers slipped more easily under her bed thanks to the darkness. They hated the light.
Like every night, Azula was shaking on her bed, curled up against the wall. She must have fallen asleep sitting up, judging by her aching muscles.
Yet she had sworn to stay awake. You can't sleep anymore. To sleep was to make yourself vulnerable. Father would take the opportunity to come and slip into her bed, to surprise her.
He would come anyway. He came every night. She would awake to feel his hands slip under her shirt, his fingers pulling on the hem of her pants. Before she could react, he was already on top of her, holding her tightly against him and there was nothing she could do. Nothing. She'd suffer his assaults, night after night. She would have liked to cry out, to call for help, but Father had forbidden her from doing so.
Sometimes during the day, she managed to convince herself that none of this was real. She would remember why she was here and tried to reason with herself.
None of this is true. It's just hallucinations, memories. You've gone crazy again, that's all.
But if they were just hallucinations, then why did she feel Father's searing breath on her neck as he struggled over her night after night?
There were rules! You could see the hallucinations. You could hear them and talk to them, and to some extent, you could touch them too. But until now, they had never given off the slightest heat.It was the rule. That's how Azula recognized them. If the rules were no longer in effect, how do you know what was real and what was not? Was it because her illness was getting worse? Or was it all really happening? Had Zuko freed their father from prison to come and punish and torment her?
About Zuko, what to think of his presence? He would stay here, night and day, crouching in a dusty corner of her cell, observing her. Sometimes his golden irises and crown sparkled in a moonbeam, or in a ray of sunlight. At twilight, when the floor of her prison was covered with a carpet of glowing light, she could see the tips of his pointed boots.
She knew he was scrutinizing her every move. He would look at her with fierce glee as she washed in the large tub on the stone floor of her cell. She could feel his gaze on her back as she fell asleep, facing the wall. He would laugh when Father visited her after dark. She was sure the sight excited him, that he relished the irony of the situation.
You so desperately wanted to please Father, to have his full attention to yourself. Well, you have it now! He only comes for you. Isn't that what you wanted?
Zuko was silent. He never spoke but it didn't matter. She understood it by the way his lips curled up, by the malevolent gleam shining in his eyes.
He was only there to witness her humiliation and her agony.
She couldn't even feed herself anymore. Once, as she took a few grains of rice and a handful of lentils from the tray that guards were passing through a trap door with her bare hands, she met his eager and attentive gaze. A nasty smirk stretched her brother's thin lips and she understood.
Pushing her plate away, she stood up, backed up against the opposite wall, and yelled at him: "You, traitor! You think I don't understand? You're trying to poison me! Well, your ridiculous plan has failed! I won't touch a grain of rice again!"
It hadn't been too hard at first. But now she was starving. It required all the strength of her will not to throw herself on the trays that continued to arrive, three times a day, through the hatch in the armored door. It was another way for Zuko to torture her. Not content with starving her, he had to put plates filled with delicious food in front of her. Lately, the vulgar bowl of rice and lentils served to all inmates had been replaced by varied and refined dishes: chicken and pineapple chop suey, marinated slices of beef, sashimi, red fruits and juicy figs.
She pushed the plates, left untouched, into a corner of the cell, trying not to pay attention to the scent that emanated from them.
But soon, rats began to colonize the room, too happy with this unexpected windfall. Terrified, Azula made them flee by throwing flames at them, then lightning. But they kept coming back. One morning, when she woke up, she had the unpleasant surprise of finding one of these filthy rodents on her bed a few inches from her face. She didn't react right away. It was its disgusting squeals that had roused her from her torpor. Shouting a shrill howl, she violently pushed the beast away. The rat gave a little cry as it hit the wall. Stunned, Azula leaned against the wall and watched the loathsome creature cross the room in her direction and immediately climb onto the bed again. She jumped off it and threw herself towards the rotting remains of food. Grabbing hold of the stacked trays, she threw their contents through the bars of her cell. She thus got rid of each of her meals.
The rats quickly stopped coming. But not so the hunger. No. Hunger haunted her night and day, occupied every thought. The pain in her stomach was unbearable and she had nothing more to throw up than disgusting yellow bile with, sometimes, a thin trickle of blood. Azula had ceased to pay attention to this.
She was also wary of water, but it was impossible to resist the temptation to hydrate her throat which burned her after a few minutes without drinking.
So, she continued to drink, trying to ignore the cunning face of her brother who darted his yellow eyes at her, eyes as shining as small suns. Fortunately, it seemed that there was nothing to fear from the water that ran out of the tap fixed into the wall and with which she filled her tub for her bath. She tried to stave off her hunger by gorging herself with water but only succeeded in increasing her stomach aches.
The atmosphere in the sad gray cell had been unbearable for several days. When she remained calm long enough, she could hear the continuous song of crickets that drowned out the ordinary sounds of the prison on the outside: the cries of the guards and other inmates, the crash of metal doors being opened and closed. These bugs made her lose what was left of her reason. Their high-pitched chirps seemed to intensify the atmosphere thickened by the furnace and worsened the feeling of suffocation that oppressed Azula. The nights should have been a relief, but they weren't.
She was sure that he would come back again this evening. And the crawlers would be there too. Moonless night. The opportunity was too good.
No. No! I can't stand it anymore, I can't!
If only Mom was here! She so badly wanted to see her, she hoped that she would come and hold her hand to give her a little courage during Father's nightly visits or sing one of her lullabies for her.
She hadn't visited her once since she had been locked up here. It was Zuko's fault, she was sure! Her traitorous brother wanted to keep their mother to himself. He was jealous. Jealous of the attention Ursa was finally giving her daughter. He couldn't stand it. This was probably why he had Azula locked up. That was why he stayed here night and day in this depressing cell. He was making sure Ursa wouldn't come for her.
She had been naive enough to tell him that Mom was back. So Zuko had seized the first pretext to keep her away. What a fool she had been!
Often, Azula would think back to the kisses they had shared in the cell with the padded walls, just before he ignominiously betrayed her.
She had been so stupid! Hadn't Father always told her that love and trust were for fools? Hadn't he warned her just a few hours before?
And to think that she had claimed she loved him!
In her bruised heart, shame would fight grief and resentment. He must have been laughing at her now.
She imagined them all: Zuko, Mai, Ty Lee, laughing heartily as he told them about this pathetic scene: how Azula had naively surrendered to him, how she had confessed her feelings to him and how she had begged for some affection as she pressed her lips to his.
But Azula was no longer fooled! It was all part of Zuko's plan from the start.
He had seduced her; he had taken advantage of her weakness and had used it to destroy her. He had placated her mistrust by returning her crown to her, by courting her.
When Zuko would have finally been hers, he would have kept her close to him and she would have reigned by his side. That's what she had believed. She had been pathetic enough to settle for the ounce of power he had pretended to give her, had mistaken his tender gestures for demonstrations of love.
She wanted to spit on the floor in rage as she thought of Zuko's comedy, of his whining when he pretended to struggle with his guilty desires. He had only played the role of the tormented, torn brother but in truth, as soon as she looked away, he laughed at her own efforts to seduce him.
When had the stupid, goofy boy she had known in her youth become so clever, so cunning?
Her mother was right. He had never loved her.
I missed you.
This whisper, breathed into the crook of her neck when he had held her in his arms the night of the incident with Kojiro… hollow, nothing but lying words.
His burning lips on her neck, on her mouth, on her breasts...
His words were perjury, his caresses were lies.
Azula felt soiled, betrayed. She had allowed him to manipulate her like a poor ingenuous teenager, desperate for love. What a shame!
Come on, stop thinking about it! You know it's dangerous!
Yes. The voices were right. She shouldn't think about her embraces with Zuko.
Not at shadows' time.
Father hadn't said anything about it yet. What would he do when he found out that she had let her brother do those disgusting things he dreaded so much to her?
A light rustle behind the tub pulled her out of her thoughts.
They are coming! Look!
The voices all rose up in her head at once and it was a cacophony. Some were screaming in panic, others were crying, others were bursting into laughter. She even thought she heard ovations behind the bursts of joy and terror.
"SHUT UP!" Azula barked, both hands pressed to her ears, her head tucked into her shoulders.
Silence fell again. And it was a thousand times worse, because they were there. She saw them crawl, casting their fantastic shadows in the opalescent glow of the small, frosted glass globe that served as her bedside lamp. Mad terror gripped Azula's heart and she shriveled up on her bed, her eyes widening in terror.
Around her, she heard the rubbing of their knobby knees against the granite floor. Their emaciated and dark bodies slipped imperceptibly along the walls, the floor and the ceiling of the cell, absurd cockroaches lurking in the shadows. Soon their emaciated arms would stretch out indefinitely to grab her at the ankle or wrists. They would keep her there until Father came to prevent her from struggling.
Azula tore off her thin blanket and pulled it over her head before curling up on her mattress. Further away, in the corner, she heard Zuko move, stamping with impatience. She moaned in terror.
She was unable to scream, or even to struggle as skeletal, bony hands wrapped themselves around her slender limbs.
"You are mine."
She closed her eyelids more tightly so as not to see the owner of the throaty voice that had just risen in the darkness.
"Look at me!" the voice growled.
Azula obeyed. She couldn't deny her father anything.
Two sparkling yellow eyes shone in the creature's smoky face. On his head, a crown with five, pointed flames shimmered in the milky halo of the lamp. His black goatee curved like a question mark hung below his pointed chin and brushed Azula's chest which was heaving and sinking in the frenetic rhythm of her panic.
"Good girl..."
Azula fainted.
She awoke at dawn, her body limp, her cheeks soiled with tears.
A new day was beginning. Immediately, the familiar feeling of hunger overwhelmed her. Her throat was dry, but she couldn't find the energy to go and drink.
She spent the day on her mattress, unable to move, keeping her back resolutely turned to the room, fascinated by the patterns that the rough edges of the stone formed on the walls. She didn't react when there was a knock on the door and a worried voice called out to her:
"Azula? Azula!"
Leave me alone.
Talking out loud was too exhausting.
"Did she eat something since yesterday?"
"Still nothing, Master Taïma."
Azula buried her head under her pillow to stop hearing them and groaned. If the nights were full of terrors, the days stretched out and repeated themselves, as in a bad comedy. They never left her alone!
Taïma's false concern was exhausting as well. Every morning she would come back, call her through the door, pretend to want to talk to her, auscultate her, administer her treatment. As if it was still of any use!
But Azula wasn't as stupid as the healer seemed to think. The time for trust was over. She knew perfectly well where the serum Zuko had used to put her to sleep came from.
Taïma had entered two or three times. Each time, Azula had defended herself well and forced her to retreat. She was glad that it was her and not Katara that Zuko was sending. She was not sure, in her current state, if she could overcome her. Foolish and feeble as she was, the peasant was nonetheless a powerful master of her element.
At that moment, she heard three new knocks on the door.
"Azula?"
This time the princess lost patience.
"Leave me alone!" she managed to shout in a hoarse voice, more full of distress and fear than anger.
"Azula, it's me, Taïma. You have nothing to fear from me, I just want to make sure you're okay, that's all."
"Liar! Liar! I know why you are here, and I won't let you approach me!"
Why did tears have to choose this moment to invite themselves? When Taïma would report this exchange to Zuko - to the real Zuko, she said to herself - he would laugh at her.
Silence settled and Azula thought with relief that Taïma must have left.
But it was too good to be true, of course. Azula heard a metallic click in the lock.
She hardly had time to stand up when Taïma, escorted by two guards of impressive proportions, entered the cell. Azula looked at them apprehensively and her stomach knotted painfully when she noticed the frame of the two guardians. The memory of Doctor Huan Li flanked by his two acolytes struck her memory and she wanted to curl up in her bed.
No way! This time at least she had her hands free, and no straitjacket. Gathering all her courage and the little strength she had left, she backed up against the wall and held up two trembling hands in front of her. The fire in her veins licked her skin and two azure flames appeared at her fingertips.
"Come on, Princess!" Taïma chided her softly. "Be reasonable. You need care. You have to eat!"
"No, no! Leave me alone! Don't approach!"
Azula gave up on trying to contain the sobs she felt rising in her throat.
The two guards took the opportunity to throw themselves on her. The two flickering flames vanished in her panic, and she soon found herself nailed to her mattress, her head against her pillow, screaming. One of the guards was holding her wrists, one knee propped up on her back. The other stayed there, ready to assist his colleague if necessary.
Azula tried to struggle but didn't have the strength. Taïma approached, her large sad eyes fixed on Azula's face devastated by rage. If she hadn't known the healer so well, Azula might almost have believed it was pity she saw shining in her turquoise irises. But she was like everyone else, just a... a dirty... a dirty little...
"...traitor!"
This was the only word Azula's quavering small voice could utter. A sharp pain in the arm and the world swayed again, losing its outlines. Darkness enveloped her once again.
From the arid plateau on which they had their camp set up, Iroh was beholding, in the dying glow of twilight, the rosy summits of the craggy mounts which surrounded the marvelous citadel of Omashu.
It was Sokka who had insisted on camping here rather than staying in the city where they could have enjoyed Bumi's hospitality and protection. It seemed wiser to the young warrior to stay away from the general population. Although Sokka and Suki don't enjoy the same fame as the Avatar, their involvement in Ozai's defeat was known to the general public and it was not good to roam the Earth Kingdom these days for a notorious friend of the current Fire Lord.
Iroh could only agree with him. His trip to Omashu, far from allaying his worries, had only reinforced them. Wherever he had gone, from the most modest of hamlets to the most resplendent city, there was not a village, not a town where there wasn't some orator, standing on trestles, haranguing the crowds, exhorting the people to revolt, to support the rioters in the colonies, to reject the tyranny of the reigning Fire Lord. There was not a backboard that did not display posters similar to those that had horrified Iroh so much in Ba Sing Se.
On the roads, he had met many Fire Nation citizens: young or old people, lonely travellers, civilians, soldiers, deserters, families… All were rushing to the metropolis to seek their sovereign's protection. Migrants traveled in groups to ensure their safety, sometimes flanked by soldiers who had fled Earth People's violence with them, seeing this mission as a way to make amends for their failure.
Iroh had sometimes camped with them. This is how he had kept himself informed of the news until his arrival in Omashu. Here, he had discreetly entered the city among a convoy of merchants, he had taken the underground passages to his old friend's palace, Bumi who had been waiting for him since he had received his hawk informing him of his departure from Ba Sing Se.
Not at all surprised to see him the old mad king handed him a letter from Aang which had arrived a few days earlier and which detailed the horrible incidents that had occurred in his Nation during the previous weeks.
But the Avatar's tale was nothing compared to what Sokka told him a few hours later when providence allowed them to meet in the outskirts of the city, near the Cave of Two Lovers where the young man was camping with Suki. Providence or rather the tufts of hair sown by Appa, in full moult, and which guided Iroh's footsteps from the city center to the hiding place of the young couple.
The joy he felt at the reunion was quickly dispelled by Sokka and Suki's grim account of the latest events.
Thus, Azula had indeed attacked and mutilated the son of an Air Fleet Commander. Zuko, blinded by his desire to protect her, had drawn upon himself the hostility from part of the army, the Fire Sages Concil and even his closest friends.
"Let things be clear," the young man announced immediately, "I'm here for Aang and Katara. Zuko and Azula have gone too far and are indefensible. I'm here to try to keep the peace, not to fix these two weirdos' problems."
"I understand your anger, Sokka," Iroh replied patiently, placing a friendly hand on his shoulder. "My nephew never had much judgment when it comes to his sister."
"Some say they are lovers," Sokka cut him off in a dry tone, without bothering to spare Iroh who lowered his head to hide the expression of disgust running through his face.
"I heard about that, yes. Rumors, nothing more, until we have tangible proof of such an affair."
Beside Sokka, Suki was dancing from one foot to the other, visibly deeply embarrased, as if seized with a pressing urge. Her cheeks were a little red.
Deciding to stop pretending, heart pounding hard in his chest in anticipation, Iroh asked them:
"Do you think it's true?"
"I don't know," Sokka replied immediately, apparently not feeling the same embarrassment about it. "I didn't see anything myself and Azula rarely made appearances at our table. In fact, we barely saw her during our stay until she got crazy. But something not clear is happening. Aang and Katara are worried, I can see it, even if they don't tell us anything."
Iroh thought he could hear the bitterness in the young warrior's voice. It was no secret that everyone around them was familiar with the inferiority complex that Sokka sometimes experienced when confronted with his friends and sister's incredible skills. Being kept away from such hot topics must have heightened his frustration.
"Listen, you two. I'm not asking you to defend my nephew. He always had an impulsive temper. As for my niece, well…"
He stopped for a moment and let the silence spoke for him.
"What you both told me worries me terribly," Iroh pursued. "You have accomplished your mission, you warned me. I would understand if you would not want to come with me."
Suki was quick to disabuse him. Of course, they would escort him to the Caldera. It was their mission, and they would do it.
"You are the only one who can reason with Zuko. He will listen to you." She told him, her purple eyes filling with comforting softness.
Iroh looked down at the young woman's abdomen, which was swollen. It showed a soft bulge and a hint of guilt clenched in his heart when he thought about what would have happened if Katara and Toph hadn't been able to stop Azula in time.
"I'm sorry for what my niece did to you both. And for the unacceptable behavior of my nephew. I am not asking you to forgive, but I hope you will find the strength within you to do so."
Sokka looked down at the ground, but Suki met his gaze and Iroh understood that she had already started to forgive.
After all, in having Azula locked up, Zuko had made the right choice. Could one blame him for wanting to protect his family? Wasn't that what Sokka was doing?
These reflections did little to dispel the sour taste Iroh felt in his mouth. The way Zuko defended Azula at the cost of his friendship with Sokka, Toph, Aang and Katara, did not bode well. He thought back with growing discomfort to the poster, still folded in his pocket, which he sometimes looked at before sleeping, as fascinated by its rudeness and repulsive allusions as he was repulsed.
They changed the subject and Iroh was grateful his young friends didn't talk about it again.
They stayed in Omashu for two days, long enough to equip and supply. Bumi's servants brought them what they needed at the foot of the Cave of the Two Lovers. Sokka and Iroh descended from the high plateau where they were camping to collect the food while Suki brushed and prepared Appa.
They wouldn't take many breaks except to let Appa sleep. A weeklong trip over the ocean awaited them.
"So Iroh, are you ready?"
Reluctantly, Iroh looked away from the sight of the citadel sparkling in the twilight and his gaze fixed on Suki's lovely face. She was handing him his satchel.
With a sad smile that did not reach his eyes, Iroh grabbed the bag, thanked the young woman and followed her, walking towards the gigantic flying bison on which Sokka, with a serious face and furrowed brow, awaited them, ready to fly to the Fire Nation.
Iroh was going home.
When Azula regained consciousness, it was already almost dark. The moon's rays at its first quarter seeped through the bars, drawing a series of bluish, ghostly parallel lines on the floor.
How long had she been unconscious? Several days perhaps?
She felt a little nauseous and quickly gave up on sitting down. She was lying on her side, so the arm she was resting on was numb. Looking at it, she noticed that a long bandage covered her entire forearm, from the wrist to the elbow, concealing the mutilations she had inflicted on herself with a metal rod torn from the structure of her bed.
If Taïma thought that her stupid bandages would be enough to dissuade her from punishing herself!
She took off the blanket that covered her and saw that her clothes had been changed. She was now wearing a clean, fresh tunic and pants.
Strangely, the hunger was gone, replaced by a comforting feeling of satiety. Did they somehow manage to feed her while she was sleeping? The idea suddenly pulled her out of her numbness. She straightened up on her elbow and then, when her head stopped spinning, sat down on her side, supporting herself with both arms firmly planted on the mattress. Azula stood still for a moment, attentive to the beating of her own heart, to the rhythm of her breathing.
She seemed to be doing well, as well as possible. If the food they gave her was poisoned, she would probably be sick already. Despite everything, she wouldn't let Taïma approach her again. It didn't matter if she was real or not. It was all too obvious that she was complicit in Zuko machinations. He must have ordered that she be healed to better prolong her suffering.
Why was her brother denying her the right to leave the way she chose? Did he have to control her at this point? To decide her fate? He had deprived her of her freedom, of her dignity. Now he was depriving her of her own death, dispossessing her of it.
He hadn't even come to see her. Zuko didn't care if she died, as long as he decided when and where.
She had discovered his perfidious plan. Make everyone believe that he was a merciful king who had granted his forgiveness to a poor mad girl. That he was an obliging and loving brother. Make her believe that he loved her, that hewanted her, hold her jealously close to him until she fell desperately in love. Make her hope, make her wait, reject her then take her back and make her hope again, until she lost all reason. So, once she got mad, he would have nothing more to do. It was like in a tragedy. Everything had to unfold by itself.
Azula had to admit that he had played a dangerous game. This story of an incestuous affair could have cost him his reign. But now he had nothing more to fear. He had removed the threat, while safeguarding his position in the eyes of his friends and his people.
Mai had won. She had him all to herself.
Oh! The faded sensation of his lips on hers!
Why does it hurt so badly?
They had all betrayed her, manipulated her. She would never have believed them capable of such a plan. In the past, she would no doubt have admired their ability. When she was strong, when she was still in control of her emotions. Before Father did...
A scratch on the window caught her attention, then a whisper.
"Hey! Azula! Pssst! Azula! Wake up!"
Azula immediately raised her head and her distraught gaze fell on Ty Lee's dolly face, who was gazing at her with her large gray eyes like two pebbles wet from the rain. A large smile cut her face from ear to ear.
It took a few seconds for Azula to understand what she was seeing: her old friend was standing behind bars, on the other side of the open window. Behind her, was the halo of the moon. Ty Lee seemed enveloped in a ghostly aura similar to those the acrobat used to claim to be able to read. She looked like a divine apparition.
"Ty?" Azula hissed in disbelief, awkwardly sitting up. "What are you doing here? How do you do that?"
The tower she was in was over one hundred thirty feet above the ground and Azula knew she was on the very top floor. Ty Lee would have had to acquire the ability to float in the air to be here. Azula noticed that her hands weren't holding onto the bars of the window. She therefore must be levitating in the void.
Ty Lee's smile widened again.
"Have you seen me, Azula? See what I learned to do! Since you left, I have discovered that I can do plenty of new things! Do you want me to show you?"
So Azula stood up on her shaky legs. She stumbled once or twice on the path that separated her from the window. There she clung to the bar and saw in wonder the rose-clad figure of her friend fluttering far above the ground. She stared at her, scampering and twirling in the indigo sky in front of the sparkling crescent moon, laughing out loud.
"Ty Lee!" Azula called as her friend moved closer to speak to her. "How do you do that? Teach me! Can you get me out of here? Take me with you!"
Ty Lee's laughter rang out and although she was standing in front of her, Azula felt as if the sound was coming from behind her as well, and from the sides and the inside of her own skull.
And that laugh hurt. It hurt so badly!
"Sorry Azula, but I made a choice! I prefer to be this Kyoshi peasant girl and Mai's friend. I just came to show you how I fly; how free I am now! Have you seen me, Azula?"
And she walked away again, made a vertiginous nose-dive, and ascended back to stick her face to the window where she gave Azula another ingenuous smile.
"Ty, please," Azula cried in despair, pressing herself against the bars. She squeezed them so hard in her hands that her knuckles turned white. "Sorry for attacking you and your f-friend."
Ty Lee's smile widened again, and she shrugged happily. Azula wondered if that meant she forgave her. Already, Ty Lee's figure was paling in the ghostly light of the moon.
"Will you come back to see me?" Azula asked in an almost pleading tone that she couldn't hide.
Her only response was her friend's smile that stretched further beyond humanly possible, and her mouth opened and widened so much that it soon seemed to devour Ty Lee's face, revealing teeth of a fantastic whiteness. Gradually, all of her skin contracted into her forehead and there was only a gigantic mouth left, lined with fangs sharp as razor blades. It was like a glove being rolled up and Azula let out a cry of horror staring at her friend's face which was covered with a thick reddish mucous membrane, revealing viscera and organs.
"Kojiro greets you, Azula!"
Ty Lee's voice had changed. It was as if dozens of people had all spoken at once. The creature's exposed vocal cords vibrated intensely. The tone was heavy, loaded with threats. Azula screamed in terror and quickly backed up to her bed on which she threw herself, her head buried in her pillow, her shoulders shaking with uncontrollable tremors.
It is not real. It's not real!
"He's going to come and get you. They will all come for you," the voices said. "Your father asked me to tell you that he wanted to see you in his room."
Azula covered her ears. Her heart was about to burst, and the air grew thinner around her.
Count to ten! Count to ten!
Silence fell eventually.
Minutes, hours, maybe days passed, and the sun did not rise anymore. The perpetual night in which Azula lived would never cease to carry its monsters and chimeras. Azula decided she no longer would leave the refuge of her bed.
How long had she been there? Every day the visions worsened, became more frightening, more real. Even at the asylum she didn't remember that they had persecuted her so much. Maybe it was because she let the wall collapse. Yet, mom had warned her.
Azula had to escape.
It was too dangerous to stay there, with Zuko watching her every move and sending his lackeys to annihilate her.
Speaking of them… Someone was in the cell, in front of her.
Azula blinked several times to make sure she wasn't dreaming. –hallucinating– She hadn't seen him come in, nor heard the door open.
Besides, the man standing against the cell wall seemed to have his own way in. Behind him was a gaping hole dug into the stone wall. Azula had seen this before when she was collaborating with Dai Li agents.
Azula did not dare to move. She didn't immediately recognize the young man but something strange, like a quirk in his gaze, hit her memory. She had seen that face somewhere before, but she would have been hard pressed to remember the circumstances.
"Princess Azula, Your Highness," the man began, bowing deeply before her.
"Who are you?" she stammered in fear. "Are you real?"
"I am, Princess. Please, don't be afraid. I am here to help you. Are you able to walk?"
Azula didn't answer, didn't move. Who was this mysterious man and what did he want with her?
He stayed there, his feet planted firmly on the ground, his hands crossed behind his back, an enigmatic smile drawn across his long, pale face. His green eyes shone with malice. Green, no, brown? It was hard to tell in the smoky light of the moon.
"Are you an earthbender?" She finally asked in a small, uncertain voice. "Is Zuko sending you? He wants to end me, right?"
The boy stifled a small laugh and immediately composed back a serious face. He straightened his shoulders and back before speaking to her:
"I don't work for this traitor to his blood and his nation, Princess. You can trust me. There are factions that support you and have always dreamed of seeing you on the throne, men and women willing to risk their lives to help you regain the crown. I am one of them."
Azula looked at him with wide astonished eyes. She was aware that a handful of fanatics advocated over the past few years for the return to power of Ozai or, failing that, of his daughter, since it was known that the Phoenix King had tragically lost his bending. But she thought these groups were marginal, and never imagined that they could be sufficiently prepared to organize her escape from one of the Fire Nation's best-guarded prisons. Nor that they could have had recourse to earthbenders to help them.
"Come with me Princess, I can get you out of here and bring you to a safe place."
Azula considered. It had to be a trap.
But the man looked real. And above all, behind her, on the bed, a figure had straightened up, entirely covered with the white sheet under which she would sleep.
An appreciative growl echoed in Azula's ears as a hand with callused fingers made its way between her thighs. Azula let out a small, strangled moan.
"Come on, Princess. We can take care of you. We have the medicine you need!" The man in front of her invited her, holding out his hand confidently.
Ozai's hand was now slowly pulling on the knot that held her pants to her hips.
"You-you can m-make them disappear?" She asked in a desperate whisper.
She didn't want Father to hear her.
The man took a step forward and looked down at her. His strange gaze was filled with deep concern.
"Of course, Princess. You don't have to suffer like that. It is your brother, the impostor and his wife, Lady Mai, who orchestrated your relapse, helped by this Water Tribe...woman."
He pronounced the last word with deep disdain, as if the term was too noble to apply to someone like Taïma.
"We have the treatment you need," he pursued. "It will free you from your hallucinations and all your suffering. Come with me, Princess."
Father's hand slipped into her pants.
Azula jolted from the bed, leaving the specter of her father behind and with hurrying steps, she joined the strange boy whose smile widened. She risked a glance back. The figure had vanished into darkness: the sheet lay carelessly on the mattress. There had never been anyone there.
Azula returned her attention to the young man. He was maybe ten years her senior. Up close, she understood what had disturbed her. His eyes weren't green, nor brown. They were both colors. His left eye had the hue of freshly turned earth and the right glowed with the same luster as the rock crystals hidden in the catacombs of Ba Sing Se.
Azula glanced over to the dark corner where Zuko was lurking. Half of his face was hidden in the shadows. He stood there, still silent. Fury flashed through his golden irises and Azula shuddered.
If she stayed there, Zuko would also stay, indefinitely, to scrutinize her, watch her, laugh at her, as witness to her fall, to her agony.
Father would come back night after night. He would never be sated with her.
Azula couldn't stand it. Her body and her mind no longer belonged to her. It didn't matter who this man was. No earthbender, even the most brilliant, came close to her level of bending. There would still be time to eliminate him if he proves to be threatening.
Azula held out her hand to her mysterious savior who grabbed it. She felt the warmth of his skin around her wrist, and it was very different from the vague lukewarm sensation she usually experienced when hallucinations touched her. She almost cried in gratitude.
"You're real." She whispered, looking him in the eye.
She didn't respond to the sly smile he gave her. She let herself be led through the opening in the stone wall and they both disappeared, without a glance towards the sad and cold cell.