Hiya. Very sorry for the semi-hiatus. And for those few who sent me the PM's about continuing the story, yes I have the deepest apologies for abandoning it and since this chapter is so very short, I'll try and upload the next one really soon. Promise.
Please review!
Disclaimer: I don't own ATLA or anything associated to it.
He came during the night. A different one this time, with darkened hair arranged lazily around his face, and a cold hardness in his gold-rimmed eyes. Azula didn't often receive visitors nowadays, living or dead alike, except for her mother, a faithful companion and nightmare in Azula's waking moments. Whenever she visited they would talk many hours about their days before Zuko had the gall to defy his father on that morning of the Agni-Kai. She would since then refer that event as the "The First Day". The day everything started. Her thoughts snapped back to Fake-Ursa. Azula didn't mind having her close, though; even if it wasn't real she still carried a… comforting aura about her. Comforting, even without her trademark fire-lily scent the Palace Gardens reeked of. Azula knew her mother was always somewhere close by, maybe walking to the library or outside to play with Zuko; all she had to do was inhale the sweet scent Ursa carried around with her. But this newcomer was definitely not real, she decided. After all, how could the Fire Lord die in less than two months since his last visit, and return as a spirit to haunt his little sister's jail cell? But he looked convincing enough, adorned in his Fire Lord robes with the Fire Nation emblem blazing proudly on his front. Except his hair was not tied back as usual; it was growing out even more, she noticed, increasing in shagginess which made him look like he did in the old days, where he was still an Earth Kingdom refugee with Uncle Iroh, travelling on the dusty road on his beloved ostrich-horse.
"Do you still have that beast?" Azula wondered out loud, staring resolutely at the figure with its head bowed in tiredness.
Fake-Zuko sat with his back against the stone wall, one arm draped over a knee and regarded his sister with a steely gaze. "My ostrich-horse? The one I stole from that Earth Kingdom girl?"
He seems quieter than his usual brooding self. Huh, I hope the cold is getting to him. Serves him right. Agni, my head. My head, what spirit is in there now.
"Yes. That ridiculous creature you wasted your affections on for reasons beyond what I can understand. You do know it's just another meaningless sentiment, Zu-Zu, because it's only an animal. A dirty, smelly peasant creature."
"It was good company. Plus, I was getting pretty tired of Uncle threatening death by exhaustion at every stop we made."
Azula examined her hands in a somewhat bored manner, rubbing the dirt off of her fingers and from underneath her nails until somewhat satisfied with their appearance. Her hands had always been rough to her mother's displeasure, but what can you expect from a girl who enjoyed dueling as a pastime?
"It's always been so amusing, Zuko dear, the many weaknesses that possess you. Honestly, how can you expect to be a decent ruler over the greatest nation in the world when you contain such a... soft spot? Treating common farm animals as pets, naming them and clothing them with your own blankets. Honestly.
"Well," Fake-Zuko stretched from his cramped position and crossed his legs in a lazy manner, unfazed by her condescending tone. "I never actually named her, Zula. (Azula ground her teeth bitterly at this.) I didn't really see the point. Uncle seemed fixated on the name Lěngjìng." Fake-Zuko laughed shortly before clearing his throat. "Quite the contradicting title. But that's a long story for another time. Let's just say she ended up being used for… different purposes. You could even say she was the death of me," he ended with a bitter chuckle, and Azula's mouth stretched into a slow smile.
"I'm glad to see you still have the audacity to laugh, darling brother."
Fake-Zuko brushed his long hair out of his eyes, or tried to, as his appearance was seemingly fixed on staying the exact same way it was. He regarded his sister with a steely gaze.
"You used to laugh a lot. Yeah, it was usually more of a terrifying maniacal cackle, but still, a laugh. We used to have a lot of fun laughing together. Do you remember?"
Azula's fingers writhed in her closed hands, rubbing, twisting, shaking together. She scoffed, and crossed her legs mirroring her brother's pose. "Is that why you're here? To torment me with such foolish memories? What's the point of reliving the past when that's what it is, the past, it will never come again no matter how hard you hope because hope is for the weak and the desperate and you're a fool to dwell on what's already gone. What already left."
Breathing deep through her mouth, Azula attempted to regain her thoughts.
"Really, Zuko I expected better," she spat out bitterly, trying to keep from slipping into a white-hot rage as the pounding in her head grew to a blinding pain. The small strip of light from the hallway torch flickered, the ever-crushing darkness pulling, pressing, suffocating and grabbing at whatever air Azula breathed in. The stifling coldness and nothingness made her head swim and erupted red sparks flickering beneath her closed eyelids. She pressed her palms against her forehead, kneading her temples.
Getoutgetoutgetoutgetoutofmyhead dear Agni give me strength
Fake-Zuko pressed his finger to the cell floor, tracing random patterns and motions in the dirt. Azula fixed her eyes on his finger, her eyes darting, following his every movement with a slight panic. Over, under, a quick loop here, a fast scribble there. Four lines around that one, a circle over there. A curved line in between two others, a small flick at the top.
Fire Nation symbols. I knew it, oh I knew it. I'm being mocked. I knew it.
"I'm only here because you called me. Screamed for my help, in fact. Like you always do. You know that Zul-"
"DO NOT CALL ME THAT, NEVER CALL ME THAT AGAIN, YOU LOST THAT RIGHT WHEN YOU REJECTED ME DON'T YOU EVEN THINK TWICE ABOUT-"
But she was left screaming into thin air. Fake-Zuko had gone, just like all the others that came before him. Azula struggled to regain her breath, coughing and retching up whatever was left of her last meal the night before. The stale air choked her lungs as they painfully expanded and contracted withing her skeletal frame. Chest heaving and loose hair falling again over her sweat-covered face, her eyes flickered down to the floor. Then back up, then back down again, forcing down the ever-rising hysteria. There was no doubt about it. The symbols were still scattered across the floor. She exhaled. Her breath tumbled out of her mouth in an icy rush and into her hands, the momentary warmth being a pleasant ticklish feeling. Azula flexed her fingers and rubbed them together trying to get some heat back into her body, and a bit of dirt tumbled from her right index finger, now blackened, and onto the floor.