Note: This is a translation of a fanfiction originally written in French, "Soleil noir ou Le Goût des cendres". I would like to point out that I am not an English speaker and that I use an online translator. I then check the translation but it is probably not enough! There must be a lot of clumsiness and grammatical errors. Please be indulgent! I strongly advise French-speaking people to go see my story in French!
Chapter 3 – Into limbo - Part 1
The next morning, she woke up late.
I missed the dawn again, she thought bitterly. She wanted to rub her eyes, but the straitjacket she was still in prevented her from doing so.
Her whole body aching, she tried to move slightly in order to find a more comfortable position. Then she realized she was not alone. The little man she had met the day before was there, sitting on a chair in the middle of the bare room.
She wondered for a moment, seeing the suddenness of his appearance, if he was not a trick of her imagination.
"You again," she grumbled.
"Hello Princess Azula," he replied courteously. "Did you sleep well?"
"Wonderful. The ground was a little hard, maybe, but the straitjacket kept me warm. I can hardly complain."
The doctor gave a small smile that didn't reach his eyes.
"I didn't know you had such a sense of humor. It's a sign of good mental health, did you know ? "
Azula realized he was enjoying the situation. This man who claimed to be a doctor and proclaimed his interest in the health of his patients was truly jubilant.
"I guess you didn't come to marvel at my jokes. What do you want?" she asked sullenly.
She didn't have the patience for wits this morning.
"Just talking Princess, just talking."
He fell silent for a moment. Azula felt a hint of irritation towards this man who seemed to take pleasure in playing with her nerves. His cold intelligence in his piercing gaze, the way he weighed every word when he spoke, the cruelty camouflaged under that mask of courtesy… it all reminded her of someone.
You. He's just like you.
It was Zuzu's voice she heard when her mind whispered this answer to her.
"I'm waiting," she said finally, breaking the silence. "I don't want to rush you but I have a busy schedule, you see? I have to spend my day on my cell's floor and think about all the mistakes I've done recently. I'm afraid I have very little time left for you."
The doctor broke into another smile, but this time Azula noticed the note of condescension and pity.
"I didn't have time to introduce myself in due form yesterday," he said, apparently deciding to ignore her sarcasm. "I apologize for my rudeness and that of my men. I'm afraid they left some traces of their action on you yesterday. Unfortunately, you didn't really give us a choice."
That tone of mocking regret at the mention of her injuries irritated her more deeply.
"I am Doctor Huan-Li," he continued. "I am the chief of this establishment and your personal physician. Fire Lord Zuko relies entirely on me to put you back on the road to recovery."
So that was it. It was Zuko who had locked her here.
"And what will he do with me once I'm healed? Does he plan to gently bring me back to the palace, return my crown to me? Or lock me in a room and have me become the sweet, docile little sister he has always dreamed of? And besides, when I am healed of what exactly?"
"Unfortunately, I can't assume on the Fire Lord's intentions who will make, I am sure, the most appropriate decision according to the situation. My job is to take care of you, and from my first observations, what your brother will do with you when you go out shouldn't be your first concern. We have plenty of time to worry about it! A long journey awaits you, Princess, and I will be there every step of the way, at every crossroads to accompany you."
Azula gritted her teeth at the metaphor. People who spoke with detours and images had always irritated her.
"Yesterday's incident was unfortunate," Huan-Li continued, seeing that she was not responding. We wouldn't like to have to spend another night on the ground like a common dog, would we?
"Was that you?" she accused him, her golden-brown eyes flashing in his direction. "Did you order them to lock me in this thing?" She motioned her shoulder to gesture at the straitjacket.
"It will be up to you, Princess, to find more dignified conditions. At the moment, your great mental instability represents a danger for everyone and for yourself. The Fire Lord would be very upset to hear that his beloved sister suffers or does not appreciate the welcome extended to her."
I highly doubt it, she thought bitterly.
"When are you going to take this off from me?" she asked, chasing the unwanted image of Zuko that floated in her mind.
"Patience, my dear ..."
Azula scowled as she heard herself called in such a familiar way.
"You will be allowed to go freely in your cell once you have demonstrated your goodwill ... I think it's too soon to decide."
Azula felt the rage surge inside her. The desire to burn this man, to hurt him, intensified with each of her breaths and a grimace of hatred gradually distorted her delicate features.
"Now I'll explain how things are going to go and detail the schedule for your days. You will remain confined to your cell until I find you're stable enough to join the common areas. Social moments and meeting areas are strictly prohibited until further notice. You will have your meals here. A nurse will come and bring them to you three times a day. You will then be authorized to remove your straitjacket. Then you will be lead to the bathrooms where you can wash under the supervision of a staff's member. If you try anything, if you attack my staff or even if you are threatening, you will be spooned meals and the staff will take care of your toilet. You will then no longer take off your straitjacket except to be washed. Are we in agreement?"
Azula didn't answer, but that didn't seem to deter Huan-Li who continued laconically: "You will then return to your cell for a rest period. We will administer your treatment at that time. Then you will be invited to join me for a therapy session. I am counting on your active participation. The more you open yourself to me, the faster you will heal. Finally, you will be allowed to a half-hour walk in the courtyard. You will be able to stretch your legs but you will be strictly prohibited from practicing your firebending. Finally, a nurse will escort you to your cell for the rest of the day, before the evening meal, a quick wash, the administration of your treatment and bedtime. This is what you are on at the moment. But be aware that things are bound to change. Consider that each progress will bring you new privileges, but each bad deed will take one away from you. You have probably noticed your bed has been removed from your cell following our little disagreement yesterday morning. You will regain the enjoyment of it when you have shown us your willingness to collaborate with us. Did you get it all, Princess Azula, or do I have to repeat it all to you? "
Azula understood perfectly. But she didn't want to give him satisfaction. She played for a moment with the idea of asking him to rehearse just for the sake of annoying him, but she guessed it took a lot more to upset a man like Huan-Li whose patience seemed endless. Especially since it seemed obvious to her that he had taken a real pleasure in telling her about the miserable conditions in which she would now live.
Finally, she nodded. She understood perfectly that she would never leave her cell, that she would no longer have the right to firebend, that she was a prisoner of this place which pretended to be a health center to cover up acts of sadism even the keepers of the Boiling Rock would not have dared to think.
She wondered what she could have done to deserve this. How could Zuko inflict such punishment on her? Did he hate her that much? Tears started to flow and she felt her throat tighten painfully.
"My poor little darling… how you suffer!"
Oh no! Not now ! She couldn't appear right now, not in front of him. She couldn't help but scream in a shrill voice.
"Not now! Go away! Go! I don't want you here!"
Huan-Li barely jumped and didn't seem to think for a second that these words could be addressed to him. He just followed the princess's gaze with an air of polite curiosity.
"May I know who you are talking to, my dear?"
But Azula barely heard him, too busy trying to get up to run away from the ghost that had haunted her for many years. But she lost her balance and fell pitifully to the cold ground. Overwhelmed by discouragement, she abdicated and sobs escaped her lips.
"Good," Huan-Li said, standing up, one hand resting on the back of his wooden chair. "I think we understood each other. You have already made a lot of progress today. I look forward to getting to know you more fully during our therapy sessions. Today you will stay in your cell to rest. A nurse will be coming soon to bring your lunch and take you to the washrooms. We will see you tomorrow for our first therapy session. I hope you can then tell me about your ... um ... friend here. Have a nice day, my dear."
And he walked away, taking his chair out of the room. She vaguely heard him address someone else who was waiting for him in the antechamber, before the heavy metal door closed behind him and left her alone with the specter of her mother for all company.
How badly she would have liked to cover her ears so as not to hear her mother who was now absently humming a lullaby in the opposite corner of the room.
So began her new life.
The day was punctuated by the same gestures, the same rituals which were repeated over and over again. She spent most of her day in her cell and only went out to bathe, to go for a walk and to the doctor's office.
She knew nothing about the rest of the asylum and had never met another patient.
Her condition was getting worse. Was it because of the drugs or her sick mind? Azula couldn't tell, but she was lucid for only a few hours a day. Usually it was when she woke up that her ideas were the most clearer. But as the day progressed, a kind of fog enveloped her and she felt that she was losing touch with reality. The doctor's voice, which urged her with questions during their therapy sessions, seemed to come from far away, muffled, as if speaking to her while her head was submerged under water. She understood only a few snippets and often had no memory of their conversations. She only knew that he was not satisfied with these sessions and that he blamed her for her lack of involvement in her path to recovery.
The nurses who brought her meals, took her to the showers, and gave her her medication all seemed to have the same face. The face of a crass stupidity, of raw and animal violence. In her hazy mind, they were like ominous shadows parading before her eyes, manipulating her, pulling her back and putting her straitjacket back on without a word for her.
Only the hallucinations seemed real, clear as day. So Azula started to doubt everything. She wondered if the last years at the palace hadn't been a dream.
Her mother was there almost all the time, attending to her meals, to her care and Azula saw her stroll absently in the courtyard during her daily walk. She tried to ignore her, but sometimes she couldn't stand hearing hier lies, her false declarations of love and catching, out of the corner of her eye, the look of her contrite and unbearable pity.
So she would scream, order her to leave, fall to the ground. When caregivers were present and trying to calm her down, she struggled, scratched them, bit them and tried to throw herself forward to hurt her mother. Exhausted, she finally collapsed at Ursa's feet, in tears and let Ursa lean towards her and surrender to her tender gestures and caressing words. Better her lies than her indifference.
Other times, it was Ty Lee who cackled happily around her for hours, or followed her, walking on her hands along the corridor that led to the other parts of the asylum where she was allowed to surrender, always escorted by a guard or nurse of improbable dimensions.
"Azula! Azula! See what I can do! Can you do this? Can you ? Give it a try, Azula!" she shouted at her as she landed on her feet after performing a graceful pirouette.
Sometimes, when Azula ignored her for too long, she would approach her from behind and pull on her hair before scampering away, giggling like a turkey. Azula was yelling at her to leave her alone.
Then Father came.
Seeing him appear, magnificent in his brilliant Phoenix King armor, she immediately escaped the medic who was holding her to give her her treatment and threw herself at his feet to beg forgiveness.
Father only looked at her without a word, his eyes filled with contempt and disgust. He hadn't said anything. Without interrupting her pleas, she had crawled toward the knees of the only man she had ever feared, wrapping her emaciated arms around them to join the action to the word, looking up imploringly at him, before the nurse came and belt her to force her back into her bed where he had immobilized her while she was fidgeting, struggling to free herself from his grip, flames bursting from her fingertips and feet.
"Dad! Forgive me! Father, please! "
She had been punished for it. The doctor had deprived her of her walk for the next three weeks. It was irrelevant. Nothing really mattered anyway, since none of it was real.
But from that day on, Dad came to visit her daily and he would never say anything, stood still, darting the same hard and cruel gaze at her. His silence was loaded with threats. She lived in the expectation that his gloved hand fell heavily on her face and that he spoke the dreaded words, the ones Zuko came to whisper to her at night, in the hollow of her ear when she was lying in bed, curled up sideways in her straitjacket.
You are a monster. A mistake. Mom should have listened to her instincts and choked you in your sleep when you were a baby.
Zuko was there too, her humiliation's attentive audience. He attended her meals, when she was too weak to feed herself. He was there when she stumbled with every step in the hallway, unbalanced by the ties she wore on her feet as she made her way to the doctor's office for her daily session. He looked at her when the nurses put on her straitjacket or when she showered, or when someone came to empty her chamber pot.
And he laughed. He laughed !
During her moments of lucidity, she had been able to collect enough information to reconstruct some of the events that followed their Agni Kai. She knew that Ozai had been defeated by the Avatar, that the kid had taken away his bending. This discovery had horrified her. She knew that Zuko had become Fire Lord and that it was he who had sent her here, in his great leniency, rather than leaving her to rot in prison alongside her father.
All this she had learned during therapy sessions with the doctor who never failed to remind her of her failures and mistakes ; or by listening to the conversations of the guards stationed in front of her cell. She could hear them laughing and talking about their small, insignificant family stories, their Pai Sho parties, drinking bouts on their free evenings. And in their laughter, she heard their indifference, their joy in participating in her own downfall. These men who would once have trembled at the mere mention of her name now cared no more for her than for a vulgar peasant.
Azula often wondered if she wouldn't have been better off in prison. The life she led here stripped her every day a little more of what mattered to her: her honor, her intelligence, her dignity. Even her bending was affected. The rare times she had been able to generate flames - immediately neutralized by Huan Li's henchmen - they had seemed less intense, less brilliant. And their blue color was shallower, as if it was fading.
The moment she dreaded the most was the shower. Azula had always attached great importance to her personal hygiene, but the minutes she spent every day in the bathroom where she had to wash and brush her teeth turned to torment. She was not entitled to any privacy. She was forced, if she wanted to wash, to do so under the watchful eye of one of the two mastodons she had encountered when Huan-Li had come to introduce himself to her on the first day.
The first time, she had expected him to leave the room and she gave him a long, insistent look to let him know that she was ready to undress. But he had remained perfectly still. He held in his hand a clean towel and a rough stick that seemed to be soap.
"I certainly don't want to sound discourteous," she had started then in her sweetest voice, "But if you want me to make good use of this room, perhaps it would be appropriate for you to leave me alone now."
The idiot hadn't moved an inch. He just blinked perfectly stupidly. Losing patience, Azula decided to give up all pretense : "Aren't you going to stand there staring at me while I wash? I am quite ready to believe that you're not very used to the fact, but usually you get a better result when you don't wear clothes."
"The doctor said to watch you every second. So I'm watching you. Now take your clothes off. You have five minutes, not one more."
Azula was surprised to hear him speak. She had almost expected him not to have this ability. He handed her the block of soap and Azula remembered sadly to the essential oils and lotions the maids filled her bath in the palace before dispelling the memory and reluctantly accepting his offering.
"At least turn your back to me."
"I was told "watch", so I watch."
Azula froze for a moment and looked at him incredulously, as if she suspected him of joking.
But his blank face remained perfectly impassive and he looked at the clepsydra fixed to the wall before returning his attention to her and announcing: "Four minutes left."
Azula examined the room for help, for a solution. It wasn't possible! She was the princess! She couldn't flaunt in front of any boor like a vulgar prostitute. She decided to wait for time to pass. She crossed her arms over her chest and walked over to the door she leaned on, staring defiantly golden-brown eyes into the colossus' little piggy eyes.
The man watched the clepsydra with a perfectly indifferent expression and when the last drop had passed, he slowly turned his foolish gaze to Azula. She waited a bit, a smirk on her lips, watching for his reaction. Suddenly, with an astonishing speed for his size, he walked towards her, slammed her violently against the door and grabbed her by the collar of her shirt. She felt her feet lift off the ground. Azula's reflexes were seriously dulled and the element of surprise probably also contributed a little to her lack of responsiveness. Her head hit hard against the metal door behind her. The grip of the man whose ugly scarred face was only inches from hers forbade any retreat.
Her eyes widened in shock and she stared her enemy's face in astonishment.
"Now take off your clothes. Or it's me who takes care of it." His voice had grown as roaring as thunder and Azula, for the first time since entering this room, felt her determination falter. He released her without warning. Immediately her wobbly legs buckled under her weight and she fell to her seat, in a ridiculous position.
She didn't dare get up and could only look up at the colossus, an expression of pure hatred imprinted on every feature of her face.
"No," she said in the firmest tone she could.
Later, back in her cell, she would regret her stubbornness. Slumped to the floor, hair still wet stuck to her temples, she would think back to the way he had thrown on her, pinned her to the ground and sat astride her. Totally panicked, she had tried to hit him and burn every inch of skin she could reach but she hadn't even managed to produce a spark. Her blows fell futilely on him with the lightness of fine drops of rain falling on the hard rock, noticeably causing him no pain.
He had sat on her chest, locking her arms with his strong thighs, so she couldn't move at all. He didn't even flinch when she spat in his face. He simply raised his free hand to wipe his eyes and slammed it in Azula's face, obscuring her view. She wanted to scream but his gigantic hand was also obstructing her mouth.
She was now suffocating under his weight and realized with dismay that her eyesight was clouding.
Firebending comes from the breath. If you want to defend yourself, you have to find a way to control your breathing. Free yourself !
The echo of Ozai's voice reached her through the veil of years and with it, the fleeting image of her father lying on top of her, on the ground of the training yard, leaving her no room to escape, his face glistening with perspiration, inches from hers, a grimace drawn across his face, drops of sweat falling like tears in her eyes and on her quivering lips.
Move! he ordered her. But Azula couldn't. She felt herself suffocating.
Free yourself! Impossible. She had never been able to escape her father's grip, and this man above her was even heavier than him ; well, she was weaker than she had ever been. She vaguely felt a big hand groping down her body until it reached the hem of her shirt. He took the fabric between his fingers and pulled it up on her face, exposing her bare chest.
During a moment of pure terror, she was convinced he was going to rape her. But eventually, he just pulled the garment over her head with a sudden movement, tossed it to the side and stood up. Azula immediately turned on her side, panting violently for air. She hadn't had time to catch her breath as he was already lifting her up.
Lying on the floor of her cell, she would think back with growing disgust at the way he had girded her up, thrown casually over his shoulder, as if she weighed nothing at all, then carried her to the shower. There he had thrown her on the ground where she had landed heavily, totally naked, in a grotesque position.
Then he activated the pump. Cold, brownish water flowed from the metal pommel above her head.
She would think bitterly of the tears of rage and frustration that had rolled down her cheeks as he pulled her to her feet and began to soap her unceremoniously, his big hands rubbing every inch of her aching body.
She would remember the shame when she felt his hand pass between her legs and over her buttocks before moving up her back and then down her shoulders to her breasts which he rubbed vigorously before releasing her. It couldn't have lasted more than a minute but she would replay this scene in every detail, again and again. She would think back to the way his huge fingers had almost entered her, to the pain that this intrusion had caused her.
"Rinse off," he ordered.
She obeyed instantly and when he handed her the towel, she took it without protesting and tried to wrap herself with it. But its size was barely enough to hide her shoulders and she had to resign to using it to dab her body with, under the merciless gaze of the giant who did not take his eyes off her one second.
Then he walked to a cupboard at the back of the room and took out some clothes which he threw in her face: a simple burgundy short-sleeved tunic with a fake gold belt at the waist and matching pants cut halfway through shin height.
"Dress yourself "
He didn't have to insist and with her eyes lowered to the ground, tears blurring her sight, she quickly put the clothes on her. The pants were too large, but she didn't care at all for now. All that mattered was to hide as much skin as possible from the attentive gaze of this pervert.
After that, he had taken her unceremoniously by the arm and pulled her out of the bathroom. She obediently allowed him to led her to her cell and she made no attempt to struggle when he had locked her again in her straitjacket before leaving her on the floor of her cell without a glance for her.
The next day, when he brought her back to the bathroom, he didn't need to ask her to undress. He watched her take off her clothes and considered her for a moment as she stood in front of him with her head bowed, one arm pressed to her chest to hide it, her other hand hiding her lower abdomen. When he handed her the bar of soap, she grabbed it wordlessly and walked over to the shower, turning to the wall. He walked over and turned the pump on until the same scorched water came out of the pommel. Behind her, in the opposite corner of the room, Zuko observed the scene with a satisfied look, delighted with the spectacle she was offering him.
The moment of the shower was redoubtable, the days unbearable.
Nights were intolerable.
During the day at least, the concrete presence of the caregivers and the regularity of her shedule would help her to cling to reality, despite the absurd appearances tormenting her. It was thanks to the darkness that her visitors manifested themselves more.
They always came talking to her, torturing her, reminding her memories she wanted so badly forget. She closed her eyelids tightly so as not to see them, but she heard their voices calling to her incessantly. She heard their laughter and their whispers. They laughed at her, pointed at her. Ty Lee performed her acrobatics around her while humming.
Her room, at nightfall, became a veritable reception room where the guests whirled and danced around her in an infinite circle. And she was the passive hostess of those phantasmagorical parties.
Sometimes she just heard voices. Unknown voices that didn't even speak to her. They just commented on her every move, in a neutral tone.
She just turned around.
She is coughing.
She's crying again, did you see ?
Other times they just called her louder and louder. And when she finally turned to answer them, they became silent.
But the voices and the frequent appearances of her old friends and family's members were not the worst.
There were also the crawlers. This was how she had subconsciously baptized the elusive shadows that lined the walls and hid under her bed.
She could hear their scratching under her mattress and their indistinct whispers. She was convinced they were plotting against her and hatching plans to destroy her. She had never been able to see their faces, if at all they ever had one. They were the size and shape of a young child with outstretched and elongated arms. She could hear them before seeing them by the rustle of their bodies on the floor or on the padded walls of the cell. They moved on their four limbs, like beasts or like Dai Li agents did. She saw them enter through the gap under the door or through the closed window and they slipped stealthily into the room.
Once, one of them had come up to her and brushed her cheek. Her terror had been such that a guard had burst into the room to find her at the foot of the bed, her eyes bulging, screaming like hell, crawling over the floor to escape some invisible monster. He had to call the doctor on duty and two nurses who had stuffed a greenish powder into her mouth. In less than two minutes, she was asleep.
Other times she just saw things. Things that shouldn't have been there. One night, a teapot had appeared on her dresser and when Azula walked over to take a closer look, she saw the little dragons painted on the porcelain moving in an elegant aerial dance. A cheerful little music had escaped from its mouthpiece and Azula could have sworn she had seen the teapot jiggle a little to the rhythm of the tune it was playing. Azula had burst out laughing at this astonishing spectacle.
But sometimes the objects that appeared were less pleasant. Most of the time she avoided looking at the ceiling of the cell since she had seen a rope with a sliding knot there. She must have blinked several times and the rope had started to twist around itself and perform strange hypnotic movements that reminded her of the way cobras moved when her mother were taking her and Zuko as children to see snake charmers on the bustling streets of Ember Island. She'd had the impression the rope invited her to join it and hang on it, and the idea had been so seductive. But that damn straitjacket prevented her from moving. Then the rope suddenly came loose from the ceiling and twisted around her neck. It was no longer a rope but the rings of a snake that now encircled Azula and she started to panic, she was suffocating. Fortunately, alerted by her screams, a medic had arrived ordering her to shut up and that had scared the dangerous reptile away.
Mom often came at night. Most of the time, she stood in the shadows at a corner of the cell, both hands clasped and hidden in the loose sleeves of her crimson dress, and remained silent, her eyes filled with deep sadness. Sometimes she approached Azula and ran a hand over her forehead, humming a song. It reassured her and helped her get back to sleep.
Yet during the day she was just babbling. Azula couldn't even hear what the doctor or the guards were saying to her, nor the other voices. Their words were drowned in a flood of recommendations and reproaches formulated in the tone of maternal benevolence but Azula was not a fool! And she didn't hesitate to tell her.
"Stop pretending! You don't love me, you never loved me! I hate you! I hate you! I hope you're dead, that you're rotting underground, that the worms devour you!"
She knew she must look crazy screaming like that in a vacuum. Because she knew, now, that only she could see her. At first, she thought the others were pretending to ignore her and furiously called to witness the guard who was taking her back to her cell or the nurse who were bringing her meals. She was sure that they were in cahoots with her mother and Zuko. Together they had devised a strategy to make her lose her mind.
But eventually the doctor had explained to her that she suffered from hallucinations and that these were generated by a problem with regulating her humors.
"In our body", he had patiently explained to a drug-stupid Azula who understood only one word in two, "the elements - air, fire, earth and water - coexist in perfect balance. It sometimes happens that an element is dominant in a subject. So, fire, which is the element of hot and dry, is generally dominant in people prone to anger, as you can be now. This is not surprising in a firebender of your ilk. Your over-temper is due to the excess bile circulating in your body. Usually, however, the other elements play a regulatory role that helps moderate these humor swings. In you, the other humors, as well as the other three elements, can no longer compensate for this imbalance. This can be due to many factors such as the climate, the environment or even a trauma."
He continued.
"I am inclined to think that the fire, already dominant in you, has gotten out of control as a result of a series of unfortunate events. The fact that we were in the height of summer when your illness broke out, your young age too, but especially the passage of the comet of Sozin, all of this could have affected your humors and prevented the other elements in you from counterbalancing the action of fire. Not to mention your little personal issues which could possibly constitute a series of mini-traumas..."
Her father abandoned her
So her mother
... 'you remember when her friends betrayed her ?
'brother who hates her ! …
And he calls them "little personal issues" !
' think it won't please her …
The voices were back and they were covering the doctor's words.
"Shut up! Stop talking!" Azula snapped at them. "Why are they never silent?" she continued, more for herself than for the doctor.
'wants us to shut up.
"That's what I just said!" Azula yelled, furious and on the verge of a nervous breakdown.
Huan-Li fell silent and watched her for a moment, attentively. He seemed fascinated by the scene she was playing before his eyes.
"Who were you talking to, princess?"
"The voices. They talk all the time! They never leave me in peace! They always need to comment on everything I say, everything I do, everything I think! Just like you! Why can't I be left alone? I can't even sleep anymore! I just want to get some sleep…"
She curled up in her chair and, with her head in her handcuffed hands, she began to utter a long moan that could express both rage and pain. Seeing her in this distresses state, the doctor had thought it was best to end the session and had a guard come in to accompany her back to her cell.
Another day, exhausted and desperate, she begged him to find a way to rid her of the voices and visions that haunted her, but he gave her one of his rare smiles, a sympathetic smile that seemed almost sincere and announced that to this day, there was no cure for this kind of disorder and he encouraged her to open up more to him to externalize the emotions that she could not handle on her own. He believed these emotions were expressed in the form of people she had known.
The doctor's words had comforted her for a moment. So she wasn't crazy. She was just plain sick.
But the way the caregivers looked at her when she responded to her hallucinations or whispered incoherent words, sitting in a corner of her cell, hair falling in a curtain over her face, reminded her of the extent of her mental deterioration.
She knew how crazy she must have looked but she couldn't help it. They never left her alone! Not a minute!
She thought she had real visitors but even that she couldn't be sure.
Uncle Iroh. She had been told that he had come but she had no memory of their conversation.
Zuzu had come, handsome and magnifiscent in his regal dress and wearing the Fire Lord crown that she had seen once worn by Azulon and then by Ozai and which should have been hers.
He explained to her that she had been tried in absentia by an Earth Kingdom Tribunal, that she faced the death sentence. But he would protect her. She would stay here, safe, in the Fire Nation. No one knew she was here except her medics, he, Uncle Iroh, and the Gaang.
What a stupide name! She had thought.
He assured her that he and the Avatar were scrambling to obtain her grace and that she shouldn't worry about any of this just yet.
"You are here to get better. You will heal and you will come back to live with me in the palace. I'll be there for you", he said sitting on a chair facing her.
For once, they had taken off her straijacket. She was sitting on her bed, her hands simply cuffed in front of her, the tips of her dangling feet barely touching the floor. She had wondered if this relative freedom of movement had been granted to her at Zuko's request or in order to convince the Fire Lord that her insane little sister was being treated with dignity. She had noticed, however, the presence of two guards, set back, their faces hidden behind their skull-shaped masks, dressed in their scarlet armor and ready to intervene at any moment. For now, however, they were carelessly holding onto their spears, glancing at each other from behind the visor of their helmets.
Zuko kept talking.
Silence fears him.
'think he is uncomfortable.
...already wants to leave.
came only out of obligation.
she must be disappointed. She would like him to stay a bit.
Azula barely listened to Zuko. Why bother? She had come to the conclusion that maybe this was not the real Zuko.
The Zuzu she knew would never have said such things to her. He would have laughed at her shame and her downfall. This version of her brother was still only a fantasy of her sick mind. Huan-Li would no doubt have interpreted it as the manifestation of her secret desire to bond emotionally with the only member of her family she had left.
So she decided to ignore him and was almost amused to see the nonsense that her poorly brain was ready to invent to reassure herself.
"You have to eat well to regain your strength. Your doctor says you don't eat enough and sleep well at night", she heard him say in a tone full of concern.
At the same time, he gently put his hand on hers, which were resting on her knees. Azula was surprised to feel his warmth on her skin at the touch. This was not usually the case with hallucinations.
Why did you tell Father? The day of the black sun. Why did you tell him I lied… about the Avatar ?
She hadn't wanted to put the question out loud. But the words must have crossed her lips in spite of herself because the expression on Zuko's face suddenly changed. He raised his only eyebrow and considered her for a moment, his mouth half open, suddenly at a loss for words. He withdrew his hand from her knees and after a moment's hesitation he questioned her :
"Did he do something to you?" His voice was barely higher than a whisper and he tilted his head towards her, as if to gather her confidences. This unexpected closeness gave her a sudden shiver and she had to suppress the urge to put her handcuffed hands to her brother's cheek. To stroke it or to scratch it until it bleeds? It was impossible for her to tell.
"Azula?" he whispered even lower to bring her back to reality. Her face must have expressed something that had aroused concern or at least solicitude in her brother's mind as he had risen from his chair and knelt in front of her, reducing the distance between them as much as possible. One hand resting on her thigh, he brushed his fingertips over the line that connected Azula's chin to her cheek.
Zuko had never in all their life had such a tender, brotherly gesture for her.
She would never know if it was this or something else that made her act the way she did, but she felt her heart swell painfully in her chest, to the point that she couldn't breathe normally. She felt as if her brain was emptying and her skull was filling with thick smoke as all the blood rushed to the back of her cranium, causing a painful sensation that soon became intolerable.
It was worse, worse than anything he had ever done to her before. Worse than his contemptuous looks, worse than the flames he threw in her face when she came to see him in the infirmary the day he lost his honor. Worse than the way he had horribly betrayed and abandoned her on the day of the eclipse. How could he be so cruel ? To pretend that he cared for her when she knew he hated her and that, deep inside, he was exulting to see her so weak, so vulnerable?
Hatred and resentment crept into her, clouding what was left of her sanity and she herself wasn't quite sure what she was doing when she leaned in close enough for them to kiss. She suddenly put her handcuffed hands over his head to place them around his neck. The cold chains that bound the handcuffs rested on the back of his neck, momentarily trapping Zuko. His face was very close to Azula's and their noses were touching. She had time to notice the scarlet tint his cheeks took on and the way his eyes widened in amazement.
The guards, seeing that something was wrong, suddenly awoke from their torpor and approached cautiously at first and then faster and faster. But not enough to prevent Azula from swiftly unhooking the five-pointed crown that held Zuko's bun. The black hair fell in disheveled strands on the back of his neck and Azula had time to read the panic in her brother's gaze when she abruptly tilted her weight back, dragging him in her tracks.
He found himself half-lying on her on the bed, his head resting against his sister's chest.
If it weren't for the handcuffs, the padded walls and the presence of the guards right behind them, they looked like they were entwined in a loving embrace.
Too stunned, Zuko didn't react when she lifted her two bound hands that were firmly holding the pointed crown above his neck and slammed it brutally into his flesh, opening a deep gash.
Zuko let out an exclamation of outraged pain and she felt him stir vigorously against her as he tried to pull himself out of her grip. But Azula tightened her embrace and his head was too big for him to pull back. He tried to pull away from her by pushing on his hands but he was well and truly stuck.
She raised the crown a second time above his neck, determined to strike hard enough this time to deliver a fatal blow. Her heart was pounding furiously in her chest and she vaguely thought that Zuko must hear every pulse. She thought that would be the last sound he would hear and in her madness she found this image eminently poetic.
She was in such a state of trance that she was barely aware of the strong arms that grabbed her under the armpits and stopped her arms just before she could touch her brother a second time with the tip of the crown.
Suddenly she was separated from Zuko, pulled back by one of the guards on whom he fell backwards. Astonishment and dread could be read in his eyes and Azula's fury increased as she was pulled away from him.
The guard behind her held her firmly, but he didn't have time to react before she vomited a jet of flame in the direction of her brother, still lying on the ground, across the body of his guard, in a position that would have been highly comical in other circumstances. He managed to ward off the attack by generating a shield of orange fire. Azula felt frustrated but the horror and dismay on Zuko's face was satisfying nonetheless.
Zuko stood up as best he could and dusted off his robe. He turned and extended his hand to the guard to help him, which the man seemed to gratefully accept. Then Zuko finally turned to Azula, panting, his hands clenched in fists, ready to ward off another attack. His eyes expressed unimaginable rage. It's him! It's him! He came for me!
So it was not a hallucination. This was exactly how the real Zuko would have looked at her. A deep relief took hold of her.
Azula laughed, a big, uncontrollable maniacal laugh shooking her whole body. The guard behind her tightened his grip. With a thrust of her legs, she threw herself back violently, unbalancing the guard who managed to stabilize at the last moment and which firmed his grip, enclosing her in his strong arms.
But Azula did not intend to stop there. So she turned her head towards the base of his neck, between the helmet and the shoulder pads, where the guard's skin was exposed, and she sank her teeth into his flesh, hard enough to feel the blood spurt into her mouth.
The man screamed in pain and released her, as she spat out a lump of flesh on the floor with a disgusted grimace. Then she looked up at him and gave him a demented smile.
"Do you want to taste mine?" she invited him in a caressing, almost obscene voice.
Frightened and repulsed, the guard pushed her violently in front of him. Azula swung off the bed and landed headfirst on the floor, inches from where Zuko and the other guard had been seconds earlier.
Before passing out, she felt hands rolling her over her back and her field of vision was soon filled with her brother's face, leaning over hers, screaming her name.
Behind him, she saw the tearful face of her mother wiping her eyes with her long sleeves.
"Oh, baby! Why did you do it? You are a monster ! A monster !" she moaned.