Hello again. I apologize for the lack of recent updates, so I'll just go past all the lame excuses about homework, school, lack of motivation, etc. SO in the mood of February, (even though Valentine's day is way past) I've written a lovely poem in place of the disclaimer.
Roses are red
Violets are blue
I don't own ATLA,
So please don't sue.
...yeah poetry isn't really one of my strong suits... but please review if you liked it! The story, I mean, not the poem.
They came during the night.
During the third full moon since Azula had her first night in the jail cell, a night where the spirits that entertain themselves by haunting the ones with blood-stained hands become less opaque. Some drag themselves up from the depths of the Spirit World, crossing the thin boundary between the living and the dead to amuse themselves in ennui. During the nights, a jagged scream could be heard piercing the still night like a swamp- Screaming Bird, and the people would shudder in their beds at the latest unfortunate soul.
Some spirits, though, prefer a more… entertaining visit, the ones that had experienced tortures and bloodshed in their lives, more than the others. Under the cover of night, where darkened spirits could hide in the ink-black shadows unseen by humans, they would reach out slowly, ever so slowly, grasping delicately whilst the still-sleeping person dreamt, but their dreams would soon become tainted with nightmares. These spirits savored every cry, every agonized scream. They felt no mercy. After all, how could something past the land of the dead take their hearts with them? Well, the pure ones somehow managed, unlike their cursed brothers. The lone prison which held the disgraced Fire Princess was a familiar, somehow comforting place for spirits to rest. The Royal Palace was a frequently visited place, and its inhabitants soon learned to accept the madness in their dreams, the voices whispered in their ears, they merely assumed it was their inner selves finally coming out. Azulon was a fast learner in particular; a trait that was soon passed onto his second-born son.
Her mother, graced in her everyday Fire Lady outfit and a gold sash tied loosely around her waist, looked exactly like she had on the day when she walked away from the palace, head held high. She sat on the narrow bed next to her daughter with darkened hands clasped respectfully on her lap. Ursa had always maintained a gentle aura of respect and dignity which Azula could never achieve. Instead, she chose to appear fierce, cunning, like a mink-snake, content with fear instead of respect.
'Fear means you have real power,' she always managed to convince herself. 'People learn respect somewhere along the line if they fear your abilities.'
.-.
Azula bowed her head with her eyes closed lightly and thought back to her younger days when she still had a family, unfazed by the figured sitting next to her. She was used to her presence nowadays; utterly exhausted trying to regain control of what was part of reality, contenting herself with the fact that everything was fake, including her prison.
She sighed tiredly, her shoulders drooping in a defeated manner. "I give up. Stay here, sit here, or go back to wherever you came from. I no longer believe you are actually sitting next to me, you see, so you might as well make yourself comfortable."
Fake-Ursa smiled, setting her faintly outlined hand on top of Azula's chilled fingers and nodded. "That is very kind of you, darling. Please, go back to whatever it is you were doing. You look tired."
Azula shivered and moved her hand away, letting her jagged dark hair fall over her face, covering her line of sight with her mother, or fake-mother. Whoever she was.
*flashback*
"Azula!"
A seven-year old Azula stood in front of her mother with hands held behind her back, dressed in a little red dress that was slightly singed around the sleeves. Ursa looked disapprovingly at her daughter with Zuko standing beside her, one small hand in hers as he sniffled and rubbed his eyes furiously with the other hand.
"Yes mum?"
"Azula, Zuko just told me that you went into his room, without permission, and set his moose-lion toy on fire. Is this true?"
Zuko sniffed again, managing a not-so menacing glare at his sister, who smiled innocently back.
"No mummy."
"Azula, do not lie to me."
Azula tried again. "Honest, I was just practicing my new firebending kata that daddy taught me. I didn't want to practice on the turtle ducks, you see, because you told me not to stop."
Zuko gasped. "You hurt my turtleducks?! Mom!"
Ursa shushed her son. "So why did you use his toy?"
"Well, I saw it just sitting there on his dresser, because I accidentally went into his room when I was looking for someone to play with. I really really needed to practice, because I wanted to make you and daddy proud, so I shot a few small flames at it. Zuko doesn't play with it anyways, so I didn't think he would mind! I was only practicing." she smoothly finished.
"That's a lie! You knew that was my favorite toy!" Zuko shouted. "You did it on purpose! You were just jealous that Uncle Iroh brought you back a girly little fan!"
"Zuko, I'm sure that Azula merely misunderstood how much you liked your toy. I'm sure that she will apologize, won't she." Ursa narrowed her eyes disapprovingly at Azula, who scowled in return.
"You're such a baby, Zu-Zu. It was only a stuffed animal, get over it."
"Azula-"
"What is going on over here?"
A sharp voice cut through her sentence and Azula noticed Zuko immediately cringed, his hand tightening in his mother's as he recognized that voice. She smirked.
"Nothing daddy," she sweetly said as the Fire Lord approached behind her mother, his narrow eyes glancing quickly at Zuko's tear-stained face with contempt.
Her mother bowed her head respectfully at him, but he ignored them both.
"I said, what is going on over here?" his voice quieted dangerously and Zuko winced.
"Azula… burned my toy. Father." he quickly added, keeping his eyes on the ground.
Ozai knelt in front of Azula, who smiled back in return. "Azula, did you burn his toy?"
Azula nodded proudly. "Yes daddy. I was practicing my kata that you taught me yesterday, I was doing the forms like you told me to do. I wanted to get it perfect so I can make you and grandfather proud of me."
Ozai nodded stiffly and patted her lightly on her head, and Azula caught a quick glimmer of pride in his eyes. Zuko curled his small fingers into a fist as Ozai stood up and looked down at him with distaste clouding his sharp features. Azula inwardly smirked. Daddy will come to the rescue, she thought triumphantly. Ohh, Zuko will get it now.
"Zuko is too old to be wasting his time with toys," he spat the word venomously. "He should learn to be more productive, and practice his firebending like his sister. I've told my foolish brother that an eight-year old boy should start using swords and daggers, not stuffed animals."
Ursa sighed, slipping her hand out of Zuko's and placed it on his shoulder. "My Lord, Zuko is just a boy. Let him have his fun, he still practices. And Azula should apologize to her brother."
"Zuko needs to learn self-reliance, Ursa, and you are not helping him by shielding him from danger," he spoke in a clipped tone. "Agni, how do you expect your son to advance to the throne if you keep coming to the boy's rescue? Spirits have mercy on us…" he glanced back down at Zuko, who was rapidly turning the same shade of red as his robes.
Zuko glanced up nervously. "But father-"
"Do not interrupt when I'm speaking." Ozai snapped, causing Zuko to wince and return his gaze to the ground.
Azula smirked and bowed to her father politely. "I'm going to go to the gardens and practice some more, if that's alright father."
Ozai smiled triumphantly. "Of course my daughter, go and practice. I need to have a few words with your mother…"
*present*
.-.
Her thin shoulders heaved with sobs, the memory becoming too painful for Azula to bear, and she cried into her icy-cold hands as her mother disappeared from her side with one last smile. Crying was something that was becoming a habit for her now, all alone in the cell. After all, it wasn't like there was a lot to do; she missed her firebending, her lightning, it was as if everything that made her unique, special, was torn out of her own chi, tearing her sanity along with it.
'Daddy… where are you now? I'm… alone. I'm alone. I'm alone."
Azula's tears flowed faster, faster down her face and screamed into her hands, her voice slightly muffled. How she wished her brother would visit, even if he just sat next to her silently.
As long as her older brother was here, protecting her from the thunderstorms maybe her heart would soften enough for someone to slip in. But no, he had a nation to run. He didn't have time for his baby sister; he no longer allowed her to run into his room as the roaring thunder shook the palace and he definitely forgot that though she tried to send lightning into his heart, she still needed protection. His long-forgotten promise to keep Azula safe soon withered away and died inside of him after she betrayed him on the Royal Barge, his loyalty finally planted in his uncle. After all, how could he have protected her from her own mind?
She often relished the pride in her father's eyes more than the fake love her mother gave her, and after her mother left without saying good-bye, without even giving her a hug, THAT was the very last straw. She didn't care. She had a nation to get ready for, and wasting time acting sentimental, acting weak at the mercy of someone else was simply foolish to her.
And Azula was smarter than that.