gemsofformenos: Describing the auras is fun for sure, it's an opportunity to work with color imagery. "He still helps them to mess with her. What kind of motivation or satisfaction Sangyul is searching in this treatment is another big question which comes up here." This is a thing that will eventually come up in the fic. Though I'm not sure exactly when. He has his reasons though. "Azula's last reaction as she tried to oppose his will was such a hard punch and it must be a big red warning signal to Aang." And yes, that was definitely an eye opener for Aang. Not just about Sangyul but about Azula's life with Ozai as well. "Great chapter in my opinion and such a dark and disturbing one. Take care of you and keep on having fun with your stories." Thank you so much and I'm so glad to hear that this fic is well liked.
Guest: Thank you. :) I try to make Azula as well rounded and complex as possible and her dynamic with Aang just as multi-faceted. Thank you for your review and I hope that you enjoy the future chapters.
She nearly cries when full lucidity comes back to her. Her hair is so short. For her weakness, she is every bit the disgrace that it indicates. She supposes that she doesn't deserve to fashion her hair into its topknot. She should have fought back. She should have put up more resistance. She rubs her hands over her face.
Her stomach is already queasy and it grows queasier still when it fully registers just what had happened. Just what she had said.
Azula sneers, as she recalls the man's smirk. That sick satisfaction that had come from her submission. She feels doubly anxious knowing that he has, without particularly trying, found a weakness to exploit. She rubs her hands over her face a second time, feeling more resigned than before.
"Hi, Azula." Aang greets sheepishly. He hands her a plate. She doesn't look at the food before shoving it away.
"I'm sorry about…"
"Don't." She scoffs.
"I really do want to help you…"
"Oh you've helped very much."
"I'm trying to actually help. I don't hate you and I don't want you to hate me."
Azula's lips curve into a smirk that doesn't quite reach her eyes. She reaches her hand out and slowly, tentatively brushes her thumb over his cheek. She feels him cringe. "Don't worry, Avatar." She drawls. "If you pull the right strings, the right way, I won't."
He flinches back. "That's not what I want."
"Then what do you want, Avatar?"
"I already told you that I want to-"
"You are helping, Avatar. You're helping them." She gives a dismissive wave. "So why don't you get back to it?"
"Why did you call him, 'father'?"
Azula tenses. "Because you've been ravaging my mind since I got here." The lie so easily slips from her lips. And perhaps because it is partially true. She can't imagine that reality would have distorted that far from her, had she not been reduced to Nari again. But that it had come out at all...she shudders. It wouldn't have if the foundations weren't there.
"Your dad treated you like that?"
"Leave me."
"Because if he did, you can talk to me about it."
Leave. Me." She half-growls.
She waits until the door closes behind him before she folds in on herself and cries. Clearly she isn't as lucid as she had imagined. Azula doesn't cry. Azula is not a crier. Azula is not this weak. She is not Azula.
.oOo.
"Why are we trying to make her submissive again." Aang throws his hands up. He is afraid to look at Azula and gauge her reaction. "Shouldn't I try to make her feel happy? That's what I was sent here to do. Help her recover."
The man sighs. "Avatar, in order for that to work, we have to make her submit. Do you think that she will let you induce happiness without...softening her to the idea?"
"Haven't you considered that she might want to be happy on her own and that we don't have to force her to want to be?" He asks. "Why do I have to tamper with her spirit energy to make her happy? Why can't I just, I don't know, talk to her?"
Sangyul roles his eyes. "Clearly you have not worked with her very closely. She's stubborn and impossible. You have to give her at least a little push to get her to open up."
"Fine!" Aang throws his hands up. "Then why don't we do that? Why don't I give her a little push and then talk to her…"
"Because that's tedious. I think that the Fire Lord is hoping for a speedy recovery and this has already been going on for too long."
"I don't think that Zuko cares how fast or slow her recovery is. He just wants her to get better."
Sangyul pinches the bridge of his nose. "Have you tried talking to her about her...complex?"
"Wha-what?"
"Have you confronted Azula about calling me her father? How did that go for you? I imagine that she was very receptive and open to that discussion."
Aang swallows. "That's because I have to start smaller. I think that maybe the person I should be talking to about that is you!"
Sangyul quirks a brow.
"If you're bad enough that she'd compare you to Ozai, maybe you're the problem."
"Or maybe, she is insane and draws parallels where there are none. Perhaps, you're the same as she. Should I have you evaluated, Avatar? We're trying to help her and you're throwing baseless accusations at us."
"Baseless?"
"Let's go over what happed yesterday. I gave her a chance to get out of her room, get dressed up, put on some makeup, and fix her hair up nicely. We don't do that for all of our patients."
"But you didn't give her a…"
"Choice? But I did, I asked her which outfit she'd like to wear."
"And then you…"
"Made a suggestion and she decided to take it. The decision was hers. You're paranoia is not healthy, Avatar Aang. Not for you and not for her. One of the reasons that she is here with us is because she has all of these delusions and warped fantasies. She thinks that everyone is out to assassinate her. The last thing she needs is for you to feed these delusions."
Aang swallows.
"If you want to help her, you'll go out there and start...softening her up."
.oOo.
This time she puts up a fight. She has to, she can already hear him asking her to talk about her father. And she can hear herself spilling every little detail. She can't let that happen. In her mind, she throws her fire up as far as she can manage. But she cannot lift it high enough. The Avatar leaps over it and his phantasmal fingers, once again stroke and caress her aura until it is tickled the right shade of white. This time he doesn't slip any pink into the mix.
It matters not, she feels herself fading into the background as another version of her steps forward. Distantly in her mind she thinks that, perhaps, she is the version to be coaxed forward. That this immaculately white aura is her default. Really, it makes sense-she is certain that everyone is born with a pure white aura. Maybe Nari is real and Azula is the illusion. Maybe it is better that way; she is certain that Nari is more desirable. More likeable. And so Azula slips into the background, into the dark recesses of her own mind, where she belongs.
Like clockwork, the transition is fuzzy as her awareness comes back. This is always the worst part, coming to and feeling the binds biting against her wrists. She can never seem to shake the momentary sense of panic, the crawling and reeling of her belly. "Avatar?"
"Yeah?"
She takes a deep breath. Her distress beginning to subside.
"Where's Sangyul?"
"He said that he has to do something and he wants me to talk to you until you get back."
"About my father?"
"Is that what you want to talk about."
She shakes her head.
"Then we don't have to."
But there is a part of her that itches to talk about it. Yearns to let it out and reach out for some sort of reassurance. "Sometimes when he gets angry…"
Aang raises a hand. "You said that you didn't want to talk about it."
Azula swallows.
"So lets talk about something else. Did these guys ever try to help you? Has being here done anything good for you?"
She thinks for a moment. "At first, I guess. Before doctor Anshin left. He was...alright. They let me go outside more. The food was better."
"Were you happier?"
She furrows her brows. "I...I don't think so. I'm not a happy person. But I was less unhappy." She reconsiders. "Unless you count those times when you…"
"I don't." He says. "I meant if you felt happy on your own. When was the last time you felt happy on your own?"
She thinks again, rubbing her hands over her face. She doesn't remember. She doesn't know. She isn't sure if it is that she doesn't know, doesn't remember, or simply was never happy. She finds herself feeling both sorrowful and angry. Helpless and anxious. Her lower lip trembles and her breathing quickens. A orange-red glimmer within tells her that she needs to pull herself together before she makes a fool of herself. It is overtaken and conquered by white before it has a chance to branch out. This shift hikes her nerves even further.
"Do you need me to calm you down? I can calm you down if you need that?"
Her spirit energy is already twisted and distorted, knotted in a way that she can't quite understand much less untangle. She knows that letting him in a second time will only bind it tighter. But, Agni, does she need something to take the edge off.
At her nod, those spectral fingers are gently working with the threads. She expects a pure yellow shot of happiness, instead he mixes the blue of serenity with a dash of yellow-a preventative measure, she is well aware that pure blue usually leaves her feeling melancholy-and a touch of turquoise. She isn't sure what turquoise means.
But this time when she fully emerges into the world outside of her mind, her breathing is even and her body is significantly less tense. Perhaps she should ask him to mix blue with white every time.
"Better?"
"Much."
"Were you ever happy, Azula?"
"I think so." It is a weighted question. "Usually in short bursts. Sometimes I think that I thought I was happy when I wasn't." She closes her eyes and lays back, hands clasped over belly as she waits for the last of the nervous tickles to subside.
.oOo.
Aang thinks that he ought to stop asking questions. He is plenty aware that Azula wouldn't be so freely offering these personal details were it not for his own intervention. Only after having done it does it occur to him that he has just figured out exactly how to give Sangyul what he wants.
Relaxation is the key.
"I think that…"
"Azula, can we talk about something else."
She fixes him with a perplexed stare. "But I thought…"
"Not right now." He smiles. "If you still want to talk about this later, we can."
"Then what are we going to talk about?"
"Do you prefer stories about Sokka embarrassing himself at a poetry reading or one about being stuck in a cave with singing nomads?"
"Depends, are you actually going to be singing?"
"I sure will!"
"Poetry it is."
"Hey!"
She smiles. It is the sort of smile that reaches her eyes. It is warm and gentle. He wishes that it was real.
"Follow me, Azula." She flinches at the sound of his voice.
"I was going to tell her a story."
Sangyul looks anything but entertained.
"It makes her happy. That's what we're trying to do. So let me finish." Aang insists.
"Avatar, a foolish story isn't going to fix years of alleged abuse and trauma."
"And what you're about to do will?"
"It will be a step in the right direction. Azula, stand up and follow me."
"You can tell me the story another time, Aang. Thank you." His heart aches as she rises. The unease swelling in his tummy is nauseating.
"You can stay put." Sangyul says to him. "We shouldn't be long. I'd just like to talk to her alone." The sound of the door closing behind him leaves Aang feeling hollow with dread. He lets a critical ten minutes go by before he slips out of the room and follows the sound of Sangyul's voice.
"Now let's try something else. Something a little less superficial."
Aang hears the slightest whimper. He cringes. And when he throws the door open, he makes no attempt to mask his intent. "What are you doing to her?"
"I'm not doing anything to her."
"It sounds like you're hurting her."
"Well I am not."
He balls his fists, he hasn't even looked over at her.
Sangyul takes a step closer and leans in. Lowly, as though it matters to him whether or not Azula hears, he says "she's been particularly susceptible today. Did you do something different?"
"No."
"Perhaps a different combination of emotions?"
He feels as though he is speaking with Kho. The slightest hitch of his voice will cost him everything. Will cost Azula everything. "Not that I know of."
"Nothing at all?"
"Nothing at all. You didn't leave me with her long enough."
"Hmm." Sangyul rises back to his full height and claps his hands behind his back. "At any rate, I suggest that you leave again. I will proceed weather you do or not"
"Proceed with what?" He finally tears his eyes away from the doctor and peeks at Azula. In her hand she holds a small blade, there is a small and thin line drawn upon the palm of her other. "What did you do to her?"
"I didn't do anything, did I, Azula?"
Azula shakes her head.
"Who did that?"
"I did." Azula answers.
"And you're going to do it again. This time…" He trails a finger just under his eye. "Right there. It doesn't have to be deep."
"Azula don't!" Aang calls as she lifts her hand.
"Go on, Azula." His voice is low again. And by the spirits, he does sound like Ozai when he does that. It is more than enough. She traces the blade over her pale skin. A small cut as delicate is the flesh it is torn into.
Sangyul tilts his head slightly up, "fascinating. Avatar, are you sure that you didn't do anything different?"
"I'm certain."
The man turns his attention back on Azula. "You haven't used your fire in a while, Azula. Would you like to?"
She nods vigorously.
"Go on."
She holds her hand out, Aang notices that it is trembling ever so slightly. For the first time in ages he sees a brilliant flame. Her brows knit and her breathing quickens again. "No." She mummers. "No. No." She lets the fire die and brings it to her palm again, each time her no is louder. And then she looks up and away from her fire. Up at Sangyul with such a simmering loathing. A wrath so deep and so intense that it can only be a resurgence of the real her.
It is the re-awakening of a dragon that has been kicked and beaten in its sleep.
But it isn't the Azula he is used to. It starts as a roar and builds into a scream as she throws her fire over Sangyul and the nurse nearest to him. The man throws himself to the floor as the nurse seem to bathe in it. But only for a moment before she realizes that her target has moved away. The nurse falls to the floor writhing. Two more of them, one is a man more than twice the princess' weight. He tackles her to the floor, his grip is crushing, Aang thinks that he hears a snap or a crunch. The man is straddling her, pinning her hands above her head. She struggles, wincing and wheezing.
"She can't breath!" Aang shouts.
Sangyul moves to hover over her, to look her in the eye as her vision starts to dim. Even still the smaller nurse feels obligated to prick her with the sedative. Azula's struggles slow and her limbs go limp. Her fury fully extinguished just as quickly as it had come over her and Aang isn't sure if the sedative had simply acted that fast or it is the result of cut breathing.
"Take her to her room and get that feral bitch a straight jacket." Sangyul snarls.
Aang isn't sure what he is playing at when he says, "I told you that I didn't do anything different today."
"Get out of my sight, Avatar. And come back when you can do your job right."
"I'd rather not do a 'right' job when the job is wrong."
Sangyul looks up and gives a soft chuckle, his anger seeming to cool. "My apologies, Avatar. I shouldn't speak to you like that. Your services are very important and I don't think that Azula would take well to you leaving."
"I think that she hates me because of what I'm doing to her." He pauses. "So I'm not going to do it anymore. You're going to let me help her the right way. Without spirit vines."
Sangyul paces back and forth for a moment, rubbing a hand through his slicked back locks. "Well how about this, Avatar. You keep doing what we ask of you or we might decide that the princess is too dangerous to work with. It might happen that she threatens me and I am forced to resort to drastic measures. It would be unfortunate if she had a meltdown and I had to kill her in an attempt to fend her off." He pauses and comes to loom before Aang with his hands clasped behind his back. "And what I ask of you now is that you take her bending. Her little outburst was a fluke and we can't have another incident like that."
Aang's mouth runs dry.
"So what do you say, Avatar? She's sleeping nice and peacefully, you can just pluck it right out of her, no resistance. And then we can work on figuring out how to do away with that...dangerous part of her. Though I have a feeling that she'll be a lot more...receptive to treatment. without her flame."