Chapter 17 - The Blue Dragon
Previously: Zuko discovered that Azula severely injured Kojiro near the canal.
For her part, Azula went to her father's former room for her secret meeting with Zuko. She came face to face with Mai. The two women clashed violently. Azula came away deeply upset from this confrontation and now, she shows all the signs of a severe relapse.
When he returned to his room at a very late hour, after brooding dark thoughts in the darkness of the Throne Room, Zuko found Mai, still fully dressed, standing on the balcony, contemplating the last flickering lights from the city below. She looked worried, and he thought he saw something on her thin, glum face that looked like guilt. However, he felt too weary and too upset to question her.
"I was waiting for you," she said, hearing him approach her from behind.
Zuko slid his hands around her waist and buried his face in his wife's neck. Never had he felt the need to feel the warmth of another body against his so much.
"What happened Zuko? Where did you go with Aang and Toph?"
"Concerns… Politics… Tomorrow. I'll tell you everything tomorrow." He promised, hugging her tighter and inhaling deeply to relish her scent. These concrete sensations helped him calm down and gave him a hold on the world. Little by little he felt the sense of unreality that had not left him since he had discovered Kojiro's ravaged face in the Commandant's grim house slip away.
To his great astonishment, Mai did not insist. She turned and only hugged him tighter and let him bury his face into her neck.
He woke up at dawn, amazed that he had managed to fall asleep. All night long he had been tormented by the comings and goings of a blue dragon whose body undulated gracefully around him. The creature spoke with his sister's voice and whispered monstrous promises into his ear. Zuko woke up, covered in sweat, with the strange feeling that he had had a similar dream long before.
He got out of bed before Mai woke up. He was not ready for any questions.
Zuko took a long time before he dared to face his sister.
He got up, and without taking the time to have lunch, locked himself in his office, pretending having to work on a text of laws that had been neglected for too long. He made an exception in the middle of the morning to receive Ty Lee in the Throne Room. When she left, her face downcast, her big gray eyes clouded with tears, he felt nothing but a huge void in him.
He avoided his friends who, several times, insisted on speaking with him, claiming tasks all more urgent than the others. Tired of running away from them, he took refuge for part of the afternoon on the heights of the Caldera where he could contemplate the sea.
It was only in the evening that he found the courage to go to Azula.
Zuko couldn't have said how many times he had been in the same situation over the past few weeks: standing in front of his sister's door, fist raised, and about to knock. He had just dismissed the two guards posted in front of the entrance and had asked them not to return for two hours. He wanted to be sure no one overheard the content of their conversation. It doesn't matter what they believe. He didn't care about rumors now.
According to her guards, Azula had not left her rooms and the meal tray that had been brought to her had returned intact, except for the carafe of wine she had kept with her. Zuko suddenly felt all his courage melt away.
Stop procrastinating. There is nothing that can change what happened. Face reality and stop behaving like a coward! He cursed himself in a voice strangely close to Azula's.
Jaw clenched, he tightened his fist and knocked vigorously on the door.
A suspicious voice was heard from behind the massive door.
"Who is this?"
"It's me, Zuko. Open the door!" he ordered.
He thought he heard a great commotion on the other side. There was a sound of rushing footsteps and the tinkle of glass accidentally knocked against a hard surface. Zuko bit his tongue to hold back some angry words and waited. He took advantage of this delay to compose the most authoritative and distant face he could.
He had just straightened his shoulders when the door opened in front of him with a sinister rasping. Azula's face appeared in the half-open door.
He knew immediately that something was wrong.
She was pale and deep dark circles spread under her golden-brown eyes. Her mouth was painted the same scarlet shade she loved so much but Zuko noticed that the lipstick was poorly drawn in places, as if she had just applied it hastily. The kohl that outlined her eyes had been applied just as haphazardly and he saw a black streak along her cheekbone. Her hair was pulled back into an awkward bun from which many strands escaped. She blinked several times in a few seconds and her face contracted violently before she began to speak:
"Zuzu? Is that you?"
"Who else?" He replied, swallowing hard and trying to get a regal face. "Let me in, Azula."
Without giving her time to obey nor respond, he pushed the heavy door open, forcing her to back away, and he entered the room. The wooden panel closed behind him and he stood still for a moment in his sister's chamber.
It was a mess. A variety of things littered the floor: parchments scattered everywhere; clothes rolled up into a ball at the foot of the cupboard. The screen she uses to dress behind was thrown back against the wall, as if someone had pushed it. The hanger she usually put her dressing gown on was knocked down to the floor, half covered by sheets that looked like they had been torn from the mattress in a fit of rage. Under the bed, a bottle of wine protruded from under the covers, awkwardly hidden.
"What happened here?" He managed to articulate when he recovered from his amazement.
Azula was the most orderly and organized person he knew. It seemed unimaginable that she could have lived more than a few minutes in such a chaos, much less that she was responsible for it.
It was worse than he thought. Obviously, the shambles of the room reflected the turmoil of her soul. Azula was clearly in the midst of one of her delusional episodes. He noticed that she had put on her kimono purl. The internal sewing marks were visible on her hips. The dark crimson belt marking her waist was tied awkwardly.
"It's nothing. I rearrange the decoration of my room. You see, Taïma thinks that a more refined atmosphere could do me some good… Have you heard of Feng Chui?" she smirked.
Zuko felt the rage surge in him. Even in the midst of her madness, Azula found a way to tease him, to play with his nerves. He pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyelids tightly. A little smoke escaped from his nostrils.
Azula must have noticed because she approached him and placed a caressing hand on his arm. A slightly acrid but not really unpleasant smell emanated from her, a mixture of wine, and of jasmine scent.
"Something's wrong, Zuzu? You seem nervous..."
"I need to talk to you!" He answered as harshly as possible, opening his eyes again.
"I'm delighted to receive the Fire Lord in person. I must say that I was not expecting it anymore."
She let go of his arm, and stood facing him, arms crossed quietly behind her back, displaying an expression of polite curiosity. He was not a fool and he knew his sister well. Although she feigned a deep interest in their conversation, flashes blazed in her eyes: she was furious.
He suddenly remembered the date.
That was why the room was in such a messy state.
Azula must have come back from their father's room, totally devastated and mad with rage. It was no doubt in a fit of anger that she had overthrown her furniture and belongings, ripped the sheets from her bed and emptied half a bottle of wine.
Obviously, Azula struggled to stay in control. Zuko knew she would refuse to show how hurt she was; yet he felt deeply disturbed when she curled a hairlock around her finger and brought it to her mouth, without looking away from him once. She gave him a predatory smile and his heart contracted painfully in his chest. Seeing the artificial curve of her lips, a memory struck his mind: that of another grin, much more unpleasant, on a blackened and rotting face.
For a second, the two visages, that of the victim and that of his tormentor, overlapped in his mind and he felt sick. In front of him, Azula stretched, making sure to run her hand through her hair, clearing both her beautiful face and her swan neck. Then, after giving him one last fiery glance, she turned on her heels and slowly walked away from him.
Zuko's golden eyes followed her, seized by a strong sense of déjà-vu. It seemed to him that he could predict every move she would perform next.
He thought back to her lascivious gestures that night, the deliberate slowness with which she moved, the way she rocked her hips as she walked… Again he wondered what would have happened if he had not pushed her away that night. Could things really have been worse?
This time, however, Azula's walk was less assured, a little swaying despite her efforts to appear graceful. Approaching the full-length mirror, she began to stagger more and awkwardly placed herself in front of the looking glass. There, she stretched again, pointedly, and slipped her hand through her hair in order to remove the metal rod that was holding it in a bun. But she only managed to entangle it and she struggled for a moment to pull it out of her thick black hair, muttering incoherent words, barely aware that her brother was hearing her. She seemed to have forgotten his presence. In her impatience she stumbled, and he saw her lurch before she clung to the mirror. With a cry of rage, she pulled again on the rod that still resisted.
The poor girl did not realize the harrowing spectacle she was offering. He watched her struggle against her mane with a heart-wrenching mixture of embarrassment and pity. After a while he couldn't stand it anymore; he quickly crossed the room to join her. He put soothing hands on her shoulders. Azula gasped and a terrified look crossed her face. But she relaxed quickly as she recognized her brother in the mirror.
She looked at their reflection in the mirror and let Zuko deftly remove the spike tangled in her dark hair. As soon as he was done, he pulled away from her. Azula must have intended to lean against him because when he stepped back, she lost her balance and Zuko held her back just in time. When he was sure she was standing up, he let go and put some distance between them.
Azula's pathetic efforts to seduce him and retain control over her emotions were utterly heartbreaking. If it weren't for Kojiro's ghost lurking all around them, he probably would have already given in to the urgency to hug her.
Instead, he straightened his shoulders and looked her directly in the eye before speaking.
"Azula, I'm here to talk to you about something serious. I ask you to not interrupt me. When I'm done, I'll let you explain yourself and we'll see what we will do," he announced.
Azula looked a little surprised but quickly put back her mask of mockery.
"Oh Zuzu! How formal you can be. No need to bother with protocol with your little sister. I thought we were above convention now, right?" She replied with a mischievous smile that only highlighted her failed makeup.
Zuko understood that she was referring to their last embraces. He remembered painfully that these had taken place the very night of her assault on Kojiro. He cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure. He wouldn't take a detour. He plunged his golden eyes into Azula's amber ones and spoke:
"I know what you did by the canal ten days ago."
In a second, he saw Azula's smiling face crumble. It was as if her features had melted. Her lips twitched in an ugly grimace and her shoulders slumped. It was all the confession he needed.
"Azula," he said in a softer, almost comforting voice, "What happened? Tell me you had a good reason for doing this."
But Azula had already regained her placidity. She straightened her shoulders and gave her features a polite astonishment.
"I don't know what you're talking about at all."
"Kojiro! This is what I'm talking about!" He suddenly exploded, a shower of expletives escaping his lips. "Does that remind you of something?"
Azula had witnessed his outburst of anger with large round eyes. But to Zuko's amazement, the expression on her face changed at once. She threw her head back, and burst into a big, crystalline laugh that shook her shoulders.
"Oh, it's about that? You scared me, you dumdum! Don't take that tone to make this kind of announcement! I thought something really bad had happened!"
She reduced the distance between them and put a hand on his chest, which she patted gently.
"Zuzu!" She smirked, shaking her head to express both the amusement and exasperation he inspired in her. "You're always so dramatic!"
She stood up on her toes to place a light kiss on his scar and took a few steps away.
Zuko couldn't believe it. How could she...? She didn't even deny it! She was not denying it!
My own mother thought that I was a monster… She was right of course!
"Azula… What you did is extremely serious! You… you almost killed a man!"
She turned and raised her eyebrows.
"Did he die?" she asked.
He really wanted to believe that her question was motivated by real concern, by the genuine fear of having done something horrible, irreparable. By the guilt and the remorse.
"No," he replied slowly, narrowing his eyes to better see Azula's expression.
"So, I really don't see the problem." She replied, her face impassive, before turning her back on him.
She walked over to her bed and held onto one of the pillars of the canopy, as she had the other night before he pulled her towards him to hug her. It might have been a trick of his imagination, but suddenly she seemed preoccupied. She was staring at the floor, frowning, and Zuko saw her lips move silently. He took a step forward hoping to hear what she was mumbling, but she looked up at the same time and he froze. Absurdly he felt as if he was playing the game they loved so much, as children, in which you froze like a statue whenever the other turned around.
"Who told you that?" she asked, suddenly suspicious. "No, don't tell me, I know! Was it that traitor, Ty Lee? It wasn't enough for her to turn you away from me! She had to tell you about it, right? That little bitch!" She hissed between her teeth.
He thought he saw smoke escaping from Azula's clenched fists and felt a sudden change in the atmosphere. The air around her was charged with electricity and he dared not to approach.
Zuko was also furious with Ty Lee. After all, without her, Azula would never have gone out. She would have wisely stayed in the palace and would never have met this poor boy whose life she had ruined.
However, he wanted to be fair. Their friend had lost a lot that night as well, and he had no interest in blaming her for it. It was Azula who had manipulated him to force him to let her out. Azula who had lost her mind. Azula who had committed a monstrous act. It was Azula, again, who stood in front of him, without expressing the slightest bit of remorse and who did not care about the consequences of her actions. All she cared about was who had betrayed her, who she could trust. She was still the egotistical, cruel princess he had always known. How could he have let himself be fooled, how could he have believed that she was capable of love and empathy?
"Ty Lee had nothing to do with it," he replied. "She didn't tell me that. And I doubt it matters at all now! What matters is what you did! You've gone too far this time, Azula! You have seriously injured an innocent person!"
She held his gaze, her chest heaving dangerously at too fast a pace that made the flaps of her nose and the corners of her mouth quiver. This image painfully reminded him of the rage she was in on the day of their Agni Kai. The same demented glow danced in her pupils as black as coal. Zuko feared another fit of rage and he stood ready to ward off a possible attack.
But it did not come. Instead, Azula turned her head and gazed around the room, as if to make sure they were alone. Then, leaning towards him, she whispered, in a tone of secrecy:
"Is it she who told you so? Can you see her too?"
"B-but what are you talking about?"
Although he asked her the question, he dreaded knowing the answer already. As if to confirm his fears, Azula let go of the pillar and rushed towards him with small steps. When she was close enough, she grabbed Zuko's arm and breathed:
"Shhh! She could hear you. I don't see her but that doesn't mean she isn't here! She always knows everything! She never leaves me alone. Do you know she's aware of us?" she asked, taking his hand in hers.
Zuko was sweating profusely. He did not know what to do. Push her away, shake her until she sees reason? Hug her tight to protect her? And from what? From herself? Her hallucinations? From her own madness?
"She's like them, Zuzu. Like Ty Lee, like Taïma. Like all those fools who criticize us! She does not accept. She would do everything in order to separate us, can't you see it? She doesn't understand, she's not even willing to understand! She's our mother, though, isn't she? It's her role to try to understand, isn't it?"
The hand that held his closed in claws and he felt long fingernails dig sharply into his skin.
She was speaking very fast now, still whispering. He felt like he was speaking with a prisoner who would take advantage of the jailer's momentary absence to ask for help. It reminded him of his escape from the Boiling Rock with Sokka, the way Azula had thrown herself in their pursuit, her visage, both calm and determined, ready to abandon her own brother to certain death when she saw that the cable of the cabin was going to be cut. Then Mai had come and saved them all.
He then thought that maybe he had been wrong, all this time. It was a mistake to defend Azula whatever it cost. They were right: his sister was cruel, mad, dangerous and uncontrollable.
But looking at her lovely face, shaking with nervous spasms, the lipstick poorly applied, flaking in places, the terrified smoky eyes wide open, he couldn't help but feel a deep pity too.
Azula trusted him. He could see it by the way she searched his gaze, her fingernails dig into the flesh of his hand. She leaned over him, no doubt hoping that he would hug her and approve her words. He was all she had left in the world. It would have been cruel to push her away now, she wouldn't have understood anyway. Instead, he was resolved to try to reason with her. He took her by the shoulders to make her look up at him.
"You were seen by about fifteen witnesses," he announced, shaking her slightly for more emphasis. "The evidence is overwhelming. They saw you running away, propelling yourself with your bending. Don't you realize the situation you got yourself into? You got both of us into?"
Azula freed herself with a sudden movement of her shoulder and moved away from him. The fearful expression and paranoid tone quickly gave way to anger and exasperation. With a pang, Zuko remembered how she would suddenly switch between moods when she was ill, ranging from desperate tears to a maniac laughter, or from utter apathy to an exhausting hyperactivity.
"I really don't understand why you worry so much Zuko. Maybe I flared up a little bit, I admit, but there is no point in making a big deal out of it!"
"Fl-flared up a little bit?" he stammered, his eyes widening in disbelief. "You- you burned him!" he yelled before he could help it. "His face is unrecognizable! He -he no longer has a face!" he gasped out of breath.
Azula rolled her eyes before responding:
"How boring you are Zuzu! Tell me, do you have something to tell me that I don't already know, or did you just come to deprive me of dessert for being a naughty girl?" She caught his gaze and Zuko saw flames dancing in her amber eyes.
Dazed, disheartened, Zuko slipped away and walked over to the bed. He pushed the sheets back onto the floor and sat down heavily on the edge, burying his face in his hands. He felt the mattress sag and creak slightly behind him as Azula climbed onto the bed in turn. Soon two arms surrounded him from behind, like the lianas that intertwine around the banyan trees, or rather two snakes wrapping rings around their victim. Zuko caught his breath as an icy hand crept through the collar of his tunic and dug its sharp fingernails into the flesh of his chest. The other hand rested delicately on his shoulder and began to massage it, as if to soothe him. He thought of pulling out of her embrace but was unable to. Instead, he covered the hand Azula held against his heart with his own.
She placed a soft kiss that drew a shiver from Zuko on the back of his neck, then she nestled her pointed chin in the crook of his shoulder.
"Oh Zuzu… you are so dramatic sometimes…" she spoke in a caressing voice.
"Dramatic? He echoed incredulously. He turned and his face was suddenly very close to his sister's. This unexpected proximity stunned him, but he didn't back down.
"Do you really not realize the gravity of what you did? Do you understand what you have d..."
Her scarlet lips brushed his cheek and she cut him off, whispering in his ear:
"We are royalty, Zuko. We make laws and we are at liberty to break them. If you decide that what I did isn't a crime, then it's not. Stop playing the good little generous prince and accept your destiny for once."
A whiff of jasmine mixed with vapors of alcohol reached his nostrils and he felt a little dizzy, as if it was he who had drunk the contents of the bottle left under the bed at his feet.
Azula released him. Zuko took the opportunity to breathe out the air he was holding in his lungs. But the respite was short-lived. She got off the bed, walked around the pillar and came to stand in front of him, as she had done the other night. She knelt in front of him, took his hands in hers, and brought them to her lips.
"You are the Fire Lord, Zuko. You are the law. Command and you will be obeyed."
"It's not the ruler I want to be," he replied in an almost plaintive tone, doing nothing to push Azula as his whole mind screamed at him to run away.
It was getting difficult to concentrate, to formulate any coherent idea with Azula kneeling in front of him, kissing his fingers, one after the other, sometimes lingering on the tip which she captured between her teeth. The world around seemed to rock and waver in the soft glow of the surrounding flames.
He felt the same sensation as in his dream, when the blue dragon had wrapped around him. This feeling of being surrounded, oppressed, trapped. And at the same time, this irrepressible desire to caress its azure scales, to let himself be lulled by its enchanting promises.
"I know," Azula whispered, now stroking the back of his hands and moving up to his arms in a slow back-and-forth motion. "And that's why you're in all this trouble," she added, lifting her head to look up at him.
Zuko listened to her, fascinated by the words escaping her ruby lips. He captured one of Azula's hands in his and their fingers intertwined.
"Do you really believe that the Earth King, that buffoon without any stature, would have dared to threaten you if you had shown your teeth?" She continued.
He said nothing, preferring to watch the view of their clasped hands and interlocking fingers. He liked the feel of Azula's smaller hand in his and he squeezed it tighter.
"You have been too weak Zuko. All these beautiful ideas that you imagined with the Avatar; they are nonsense. They are lies that fools tell themselves to clear their conscience. But you, you are a dragon, Zuko."
She let Zuko's hands fall and stood up. Hypnotized, he let her wrap her arms around his neck and sit on his thigh.
"My dragon..." she whispered through her lips which she pressed to the corners of Zuko's. He could almost feel her smirk on his face.
Stunned, seized by a feeling of vertigo, Zuko surrendered. He didn't remember putting his arms around Azula's waist, but now that he held her like that, he wasn't sure he wanted to let go. He felt her press a little more against him and closed his eyes, trying not to think about what was hidden under the fabric of her kimono. He didn't know if he was disappointed or relieved that she was wearing pants under it.
"And what does the offended dragon do?" she breathed, brushing Zuko's cheek with the tip of her nose.
"It breathes fire…" he answered darkly.
"Exactly!" Azula whispered, kissing him on the neck again.
He felt like someone else. It couldn't be him. Why was he answering her nonsense? Why wasn't he pushing her away? Why were his hands kneading Azula's lower back?
His sister was obviously drunk, mentally disturbed. Maybe she wasn't even aware of what she was doing. He no longer knew what meaning to give to her approaches or what voice to listen to. The one who spoke with his uncle's accents and yelled at him to run away? Or the one who spoke with Azula's intonations and encouraged him to take advantage of the situation. Reason or temptation? Red dragon or blue dragon?
"And why not?"the second whispered in his hazy mind. "No one needs to know."
As if she had read his mind, Azula let her hand trailed down from Zuko's chest to his crotch.
It was the shock he needed. Suddenly blenching, he grabbed her wrist and forced her to withdraw her hand.
"Azula!" He protested, perhaps a little too weak. "Stop it, I didn't come for that!"
Obviously, his poor attempt at resistance was sorely lacking in conviction. Putting her hand on Zuko's chest again, Azula looked at him with rare intensity, even for her. Her pupils were black as night, her lips a deep red.
How badly he wanted to bite into them!
"Let's stop lying to each other Zuko. I want you..."
She made him turn his head towards her and lean down again. He turned away just in time to avoid the kiss she was about to place on his lips and that failed on his cheekbone. She did not seem discouraged.
"And I know you want me too."
This time he let go and didn't protest when Azula's playful hand began a new descent down his chest and landed on the bulge that was already deforming his pants. Nor when she started to stroke him up and down.
"I can feel it." She whispered in a hot breath.
He felt it too.
Why did Azula have this effect on him? Why wasn't he able to push her away? Why was it so good? He hadn't come for that! He hadn't come for that!
Azula's hand warmed on his crotch. Zuko didn't know how long he would last before he knocked her back on the bed, ripped her clothes off, and had her right here and now. Already their breathing accelerated dangerously to the rhythm of her scalding caresses.
"Go ahead!" the voice of the Blue Dragon encouraged him in his head. "Fuck her! She craved that for so long, the little tease!"
No… that's wrong. I don't have the right. She's sick, she's drunk. She's my sister!
"You too are dying for it. Why deprive yourself? You are the Fire Lord. You can have whatever you want. You can have her. Go ahead, touch her, lay her on the bed. Take her now, Zuko!"
Zuko closed his eyelids tightly and clenched his jaw in a fierce struggle against his guilty thoughts. Azula grew bolder. She pressed more and more feverish kisses to his face and neck and intensified the rhythm of her caresses. Both of their breaths were impossibly fast.
Slowly, almost imperceptibly, he placed a shy hand on Azula's chest and brushed her breasts with his fingertips. The other hand, meanwhile, groped for the knot that kept her kimono closed at the side. His fingers closed over it, and he tugged gently on the threads.
"Yes, that's it Zuko, just once. To know how it feels. It's not that bad. She wants it too. The two of you have every right to have a little fun."
Zuko pulled a little on the collar of Azula's kimono to release a dazzling white breast. Then he leaned over trying to capture her lips in his. Unfortunately, this was the moment she chose to speak:
"This boy only got what he deserved," she whispered into the hollow of his ear while nibbling on the lobe. "He shouldn't have tried to take what's yours."
The boy!
These words acted as a wake-up call. Zuko emerged from the haze of his mind and suddenly remembered why he was there.
He remembered Kojiro's atrocious face, his horrible grin, his dead eye, and the white bone that flushed beneath the charred skin. A monstrous face, like the soul of the one who had shaped it.
Reluctantly, he let go of the sash and the hem of the kimono and stopped Azula's hand as she began to pull on the stripes of his pants. She immediately wrapped it around Zuko's neck and pressed herself more against him. Each kiss she placed on his face and on his neck was hotter, more greedy than the last. It took Zuko all the strength of his will to tear himself away from her embrace, but he finally pushed her away gently but firmly, then he stood up. His sister's amber eyes betrayed deep frustration and incomprehension. Trying not to pay attention, he took a few steps towards the middle of the room to get away from her. He could no longer let her come near him. It was too risky. He was unable to think rationally when she was so close to him.
He swallowed hard and spoke in the calmest tone he could, trying to ignore the sheen of white skin beneath her half-open kimono:
"You disfigured him, Azula. He will never be the same again. If he survives, he will no longer be able to lead a normal life."
Azula looked at him for a moment, her arms crossed over her chest in an attitude of defiance, and shrugged before responding in a tone full of contemptuous indifference:
"Terrific. The two of you could form a club. The Burnt Club or wait! Better!" She added, suddenly growing animated. "The Hotheads! What do you say? Sounds good, right? It'll give you a new friend to play. The two of you will have plenty of time to complain and bemoan how difficult your life is, with all these people laughing at you and looking at you with big, terrified eyes!"
She burst into a maniacal laughter, satisfied with her own joke, and staggered back to the bed to pick up the bottle half hidden under the curled blankets. Obviously, she didn't remember hiding it there on purpose, so that he wouldn't see it.
He stared at her with round eyes, incredulous, unable to believe what he had just heard.
He watched her walk towards the desk. With a brutal gesture she swept away the pile of parchments and the various objects that covered it. A sound of broken glass sounded, and she muttered something. Finally, she decided she could just as easily do without a glass and, bringing the bottle to her lips, Azula drank straight from it.
It was too much. Zuko could not bear to attend one more minute of this distressing show she was offering. How could he have lusted after her, only a few minutes ago?
He rushed to her, snatched the bottle from her hands and grabbed both her wrists. She screamed in terror but that didn't deter Zuko from shaking her forcefully.
"Enough! You are going to stop talking nonsense, acting like a crazy bitch, and you will listen to me, right now!" He shouted at her in a rage without letting go. He felt the heat rise under the palms of his hands and controlled himself just in time not to burn Azula.
"You almost killed a man! You could go to jail for that! After all I've done for you! How do you want me to keep protecting you?"
He couldn't help but raise his voice and he was yelling now. Expletives escaped from his mouth, and he spat some of them in Azula's face who was shrinking in place, her whole-body trembling with fear.
"Father! Please! … don't be mad at me, please!" She begged in such a small voice that he had to check her face to be sure that she hadn't grown younger by magic.
She looked terribly like the little girl she was at five, when she had begged their father to forgive her after she broke an ancient vase that was acquired by one of their illustrious ancestors.
He remembered the impressive bruise that had formed on her lower back and had made her limp around in the following days.
He let go of her at once and she fell to her knees, sobbing heartbreakingly.
Zuko was breathing hard. His chest was heaving at a breakneck pace, as if he had run a marathon. Timidly, he knelt in front of the small trembling figure gathered on the ground and after a moment of hesitation, he took her in his arms.
"Azula," he whispered in a very faint voice.
"Is that you, Zuzu?" she asked, her head buried in his shoulders.
"Yes, it's me. It'll be fine Azula. Sorry for shaking you. I didn't mean to scare you… Can you get up?" He asked with a gentleness that surprised even himself.
He felt her nod against him and slowly stood up, hoisting her to her feet. She refused to let go, even when they were on their feet, and he didn't have the courage to push her away.
"Zuzu, what's wrong with me?" She whimpered against him.
Her voice betrayed how terrified she was. He closed his eyes to fight the tears lurking at their edges and hugged his sister closer to him. She was nothing of the temptress who had attempted to seduce him a few minutes earlier on the bed, despite her half-open kimono which revealed part of her breasts. She was his little sister again, the vulnerable and sick girl he once visited in the asylum. Forcing himself to temporarily forget Kojiro's blackened and rotting face, he kissed Azula's hair and replied in a soothing voice:
"It's not your fault. You're sick, that's all. We will heal you, don't worry. We will find the right formula to get everything back to normal. You're gonna stay here until then. I will protect you. No one will do anything to you while I'm here, I swear. Don't talk to anyone, don't go out. We'll fix this, okay? I 'll fix you!"
He spoke with so much conviction that he himself believed his lies for a moment.
Azula's body relaxed imperceptibly in his arms. How could he have thought for a moment that he could…? Guilt and disgust capsized his stomach. Azula was sick, she was mad, vulnerable. What monster would dare to take advantage of it?
He made her pull back a bit to close her half-open kimono over her chest and tighten the knot in her belt. Azula let him do it, like a child watching her mother or her nurse help her put on her clothes. As soon as he was done, she leaned over to him, and he hugged her again. They stayed like that for a few quiet seconds.
"Zuzu?" Azula called out to him from the hollow of his shoulder, in a small, muffled voice.
"Yes?"
"Don't tell Father and Mother," she said hesitantly. "What I did, please don't tell them. They will be so mad at me."
He hugged her even tighter and promised in a small, choked voice:
"Okay Azula, I won't say anything. I swear it to you."
She placed both hands on his chest to move slightly away from him and looked up at him with two eyes shining with hope and gratitude, when her scarlet lips spread in a grateful smile, he quickly brought her back to him, so that she wouldn't see the tears that uncontrollably rolled down his cheeks and nose.
The instant Zuko exited the room, closing the door quietly behind him, Toph and Aang rushed towards him. He raised a finger to his lips to silence them.
"She just fell asleep," he explained to his frowning friends.
"How is she?" Aang inquired, even though Azula's well-being was the least of his concerns right now.
"Not very well."
Zuko's voice was weak and shaking. He pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. Aang could almost feel the tension around his friend, and he guessed that his throat must be too tight to speak and give any further explanation.
"Zuko…" he tried. "I know it's hard for you, but we need to talk. I spoke with Kadao, and he told me that Tsuneo was an influential man and much appreciated by his soldiers. If you don't act right away, I'm afraid that…"
Zuko suddenly opened his eyes and his golden gaze pierced Aang. For a brief moment, he felt as if he had been struck again by one of Azula's deadly lightnings. Next to him, he felt Toph freezing and clenching her fists. The ground shifted beneath Aang's feet, imperceptibly to anyone who was not an earthbender: Toph was ready to fight.
"Calm down, Mr. Muscle!" she warned. "We're here to help you and I'm getting tired of having to repeat that to you over and over again!"
"I didn't do anything!" Zuko protested sharply.
"And we will continue like this!" the blind, young woman replied fiercely, relaxing a little.
His first surprise passed, Aang leaned down to get a better look at Zuko's face. He seemed utterly distraught, and a wave of pity surged through the Avatar.
"Zuko, tell us."
"She's very sick!" He burst, tears bursting from his eyes before he could even think of holding them. "She's lost her mind. I don't know how I'm going to defend her, now!"
He rushed at Toph and hugged her, sobbing violently. The blind girl, who obviously hadn't expected it, patted his shoulder awkwardly two or three times and, her cheeks very flushed, gently pushed him away. No doubt regretting this outflow of emotions, Zuko stretched out his arm and put it on Toph's shoulder, apologizing and wiping his eyes at the same time.
"Sorry. It's just… I didn't expect to find her like this. I had to stay with her until she fell asleep. I haven't seen her so agitated since..."
It was needless to say since when. Azula was apparently facing a severe relapse. Katara, had warned Aang that it was an eventuality after she had spoken with Taima. He understood very well that Zuko was affected but he couldn't afford to flinch now, not when anger threatened to rise among the Imperial Guard soldiers who soon would learn what had happened to the son of one of their favorite Commander. Although he would have preferred to wait for Iroh, he couldn't help but feel deep concern after what Kadao had told him that very afternoon. Aang had asked the General to return to Tsuneo's home to ensure his silence, at least until Zuko had settled Azula's issues.
The Sages had gathered as well and demanded that the princess be stripped of all her powers until her trial. Zuko still ignored all of this of course. He had been hiding all day, refusing to talk to anyone. It was Mai, her voice full of bitterness, who had told them that they might have a chance to find him with Azula. Not without noticing the Fire Lady's dark face, Aang thanked her and rushed here followed by Toph.
"Have you been able to ask her about Kojiro?" he asked, a little worried.
Zuko slid down against the double door and sat on the stone floor, looking terribly weary. He rubbed his eyes and tugged at the skin of his face before answering, without looking at them:
"She denies it. She says she never met the boy. According to her, it's shameless lies. And I believe her." He concluded in a peremptory tone and glared at them, as if to dare them to contradict him.
"But Zuko… you just said she was incoherent. How can you be sure she's not lying to you?"
"I'm telling you I believe her!" He exploded again, but in anger this time. He rose to his feet quickly, with a swiftness and lightness worthy of an airbender.
"And so you will! I'm the Fire Lord. I'm the one who makes the law here. And if I claim she's innocent, then she is!"
Aang and Toph froze, both too stunned to react.
"Zuko," Toph began in the most measured voice she could, "You're not serious, you can't decently..."
"She's my sister! And the princess! I have to protect her. You don't understand!" he resumed in a desperate tone. "She's sick! She didn't do it on purpose. It was self-defense, that's all!"
"We can believe that, Zuko" Aang reasoned. "We're not asking you to lock her up now. There will be a trial, and if Azula truly acted in self-defense, then she will be acquitted! Let justice do its job! You are not that kind of ruler! You are not your father, Zuko!"
"Justice? What justice? If she is judged, it will be by the Fire Sages!" he exclaimed. "These old fools hate Azula and are just waiting for this opportunity to get rid of her, like everyone here! I would not be surprised if they themselves engineered all this!"
"You're rambling!" Toph stopped him, suddenly alarmed. "No one could force her to burn a man's head like she did! Come back to earth, Sparky! You are in full denial! You said it yourself: Azula has relapsed, she no longer has all her marbles together. It's entirely possible that she did this in a moment of anger or if she felt threatened! Remember how she attacked you at the asylum! And yet you are her brother!"
Zuko scowled and Aang recalled with a pang the angry and cruel boy he had met more than six years ago, when they were still enemies. He hadn't seen that expression on his face since the time he hunted him across the world.
"You know she's guilty. I can feel it," Toph said in a much calmer tone. "I know it's hard, but you have to admit it. Azula can no longer stay at the palace. It's not safe, neither for her, nor for anyone else."
From the way their friend's shoulders slumped, Aang knew that Zuko was painfully aware of it. He slowly lifted his head, and a grim determination lit his golden gaze.
"You two, you stay here to protect Azula. I don't want anyone to approach her, except for Taïma!"
"Where are you going?" Aang and Toph shouted in unison as he walked away with a quick and confident step.
"To see the Fire Sages!" He replied without looking back at them.
And he disappeared around the corner, leaving them alone in the dark hallway.
Aang and Toph turned to each other. The Avatar thought he saw the same question in his friend's foggy eyes.
"You, stay here and watch Azula," he said firmly, "I'll follow Zuko. Do you think it's okay? Can you handle Azula?"
Toph nodded determinedly, which immediately reminded him of the stubborn little girl she was at twelve when she faced men three times heavier and older than her in the Gaolin arena. She smiled confidently and cracked her fingers while she stretched her arms out in front of her.
"Oh yeah! Don't worry Twinkle Toes. If Princess Crazy is having a hard time waking up, I'll be happy to kick her pretty little ass, no offense to Zuko! Come on, follow that jackass before he starts a civil war!"
With a smile, Aang obeyed and followed Zuko's footsteps down the hall, leaving a gust in his wake.
"Hey you! Wake up, come on!"
"Mmm… What? What's happened?" the Princess muttered; her eyes still tightly closed.
"Wake up, you lazy girl! We must go, right now!"
A searing pain shot through Azula's skull and made her moan. It was only reluctantly that she opened her eyes and turned on her side. The movement caused an uncomfortable feeling in her stomach, and she feared for a moment that she would throw up on her sheets. The world around her was tilting dangerously.
No more wine, she promised herself for the umpteenth time.
"That's it?" the foreign voice resumed indignantly. "You are awake! Looks like one of those drunkards from the working-class neighborhoods sleeping off a hangover in the streets! Aren't you ashamed? You're a Princess, you're better than that, right?"
With much effort, Azula lifted her head to see where the voice was coming from. It took a few seconds for her eyesight to adjust yet the small figure staring at her, sitting next to her on the bed, remained strangely blurred.
"Who are you?" she managed to mumble; her mouth still mushy.
Gradually, the silhouette grew more distinct, but its features remained imprecise. Only some darker spots on its pale face indicated the location of eyes and mouth. Azula saw an object shine on its head as the stranger stirred beside her.
"It doesn't matter," the intruder replied in a little piping voice, "What matters now is that you get out of here. They will come soon!"
"Who?" Azula asked, still too dizzy and nauseous to sit up.
"The others! They will come, capture you and throw you into the asylum. Or in prison!"
Azula suddenly felt a little more awake. She tried to mentally reconstruct the events since her fight with Mai. But her hazy mind sent her only fleeting and incoherent images.
Zuko was here. Yes! This she remembered. But when? And why? What had they talked about and what had they done?
"Where's Zu-?" she began, but her strange companion didn't give her time to finish.
"It doesn't matter! Get up!"
A small hand gripped her arm and tried to pull her up. But the sensation was barely a touch and no heat emanated from it. Azula looked up and this time she could clearly see the face leaning over her.
It was that of a little girl who could not have been more than seven or eight years old. Long, rebellious black locks escaped from each side of her bun adorned with a three-flamed crown. She wore a long tunic and pants in red and gold, traditional Fire Nation colors, and a black belt tied around her waist. Her eyes, topped by black, well-defined eyebrows, glowed in the surrounding flames. Their irises were the very color of amber. In spite of her childish features and her still plump cheeks, one could guess the pretty woman she would undoubtedly become one day. A strange glow, both sad and mischievous, shone in her pupils.
It is not real. It is not real! Azula thought in panic.
Azula sat up straight and shook her head, hoping it would help to dispel her increasing headache. She hid her face in her hands and tried to remember.
Kojiro…
Mai in her father's room.
Ty Lee who had betrayed her... again.
Zuko. Forbidden caresses on the bed.
Did all of this really happen? Agni, she didn't dare to touch him... there? Right? Is that why he left? Like the last time in the bathroom? Had she scared him again? She couldn't remember! Shame and frustration poured into her in successive waves. She gathered her knees in front of her, both hands grabbed her hair and pulled on it and she rocked her body back and forth.
"It's your fault, your fault, your fault..." she repeated over and over again.
She had acted like the worst of the whores again. Her mother was right: it was no wonder, that men always try to do things with her. All except Zuko.
"Your fault, your fault, your fault!"
"Are you finished soon?" the little girl asked, still seated next to her, leaning casually on her pillow and gazing at her fingernails with an air of utter indifference. "You know, maybe it's because of that kind of stuff that everyone thinks you are crazy!"
Azula ignored her and curled up a little more, shame and guilt suffocating her, gripping her heart and striking her soul with the violence of waves crashing against the rock.
"Shhh! Listen!" the little girl said, straightening up, suddenly alarmed.
The muffled sound of two voices from outside pulled Azula out of her trance. Someone was talking behind the double-leaf door of her bedroom.
"Can you hear them?" the little girl whispered, shaking her. "They're already there! Come on, come on! Hurry up! We can't stay here. You don't want to go back there, do you?"
Azula immediately understood what "there" meant.
No, never!
The words didn't cross her lips but for the first time since waking up, she felt vigorous enough to push the covers back and drag herself to the edge of the bed.
The lassie jumped up and, once standing in front of the bed, she gave Azula a look sparkling with impatience and malice.
Azula wasn't sure if it was safe to follow the little girl. She had promised herself that she would no longer listen to the hallucinations, nor answer them. Except Ursa. Ursa was an exception. Where was she anyway? Azula turned her head around, expecting to see her emerge from the darkness in a corner of the room.
"Don't waste time with her, she's not here!" The little girl growled. "Come on, hurry! They are coming!"
"How are we gonna get out?" Azula worried, hardly slipping out of the bed.
"The secret passage of course, silly! Really, if I'm gonna get this dumb when I'm your age, then I'd rather not grow up!"
"Shut up, you little cheeky! You know nothing! You haven't lived through half of what I..."
But she silenced herself. What's the point of arguing with this new fantasy of her sickly brain?
However, the little fool was not wrong. She could hear the voices outside more distinctly now. Female voices. Two. Listening to them attentively, she thought she recognized the harsh tone of the little blind girl. When had that one returned to the palace? Was it a trick of her imagination? And the other one, who spoke in a calmer but authoritative tone, was it Katara? It seemed to her that Zuko had brought her back to the palace with the Avatar and the other peasants. But perhaps she had dreamed it.
She took a few steps on the carpet but her eyesight blurred again. She staggered and had to catch herself on the couch in the middle of the room. The sight brought up the memory of her embraces with Zuko, weeks ago, just before everything got out of hand. Her heart contracted painfully in her chest.
"Stop thinking about that dumdum! He's the one who asked them to stand there to watch you, in case you didn't figure it out!" The little girl scolded her, waiting for her at the corner of the room, near the tapestry which concealed the secret passage. "And by now, he is probably already organizing your transfer to prison or to that madhouse they call an asylum!"
"No! He wouldn't do that. He said he would help me. He loves me!"
The girl jumped to her feet, clenching her fists. An adorable expression of childish rage distorted her angelic features.
"How much longer are you going to delude yourself? Zuzu doesn't care about you! He knows you are slipping again and he's going to lock you up now that he's found out what you did to that asshole by the canal!"
She was right of course. The time for illusions was over. Zuko hadn't come to their date, he had come here only to yell at her, he had pushed back her advances, again.
Ty Lee had betrayed her too: she had warned Mai of her secret meeting with her brother. And it was probably her again who had told Zuko everything about Kojiro.
Unless it was mother? She wasn't quite sure anymore and she wanted so much to cry, curl up in bed and wait for sleep just to get better again.
But she couldn't afford it anymore. She had already spent too much time sleeping. She closed her eyelids tightly and dug her fingers into her eyes to dispel the feeling of dizziness. When she felt that her head was spinning a little less, she opened them again and walked towards the little girl who was waiting for her, stamping on the spot, near a purple tunic that she pointed out to her. Azula quickly removed her kimono and dropped it on the floor before putting on the tunic over her pants.
"It's not to soon!" exclaimed the insolent girl while pushing aside a corner of the tapestry to let Azula pass after she was fully dressed. The princess took out a bronze key from a small silver box and inserted it into the lock. After a last look back, encouraged by the little girl who urged her to hurry, Azula entered the dark tunnel that meandered through the darkness.
Azula made a flame appear in her palm to light her path. The apparition beside her imitated her, and an orange flame arose out of nothing. A little surprised, Azula remembered that her fire had not started to burn blue until she was eleven years old. This younger version of her couldn't have been over eight, judging by her plump cheeks, small limbs and flat torso. Observing the small glowing flame more closely, Azula realized that it was not producing any light. She was traversed by an unpleasant shiver.
They walked in silence along the tunnel and Azula decided to let the girl lead her. They turned right at a fork she recognized. Turning left, she would find herself in her brother's room. She couldn't remember very well where the gallery they were going through now, led. Azula turned every ten seconds to see if anyone was following them, going after her mysterious guide who hadn't spoken since they left the room.
They walked for what seemed like hours to Azula. She was exhausted and her eyes closed on their own at times. Once or twice, she had to stop because of violent stomach cramps which bend her in half and made her cry out and moan in pain.
But she resumed her walk, pushed by the fierce will of the young girl who berated her at the slightest sign of weakness. Azula nearly crashed into her when the little one stopped abruptly, one finger to her mouth, the other pointing to a rough, wormy wooden door.
"Shhh! Listen!" She ordered.
"What?" Azula whispered, a little worried. "Where are we?"
"It's the Fire Sages' Temple, there, just behind the door. Can you hear them?"
The Temple? So, they had walked that far?
The girl stepped aside to let Azula pass. The latter put her ear to the door and heard an indistinct but familiar voice. The words remained inaudible but there was an authoritative note in the tone of the man speaking.
"It's Zuzu!" The lassie hissed. "He is with the Sages!"
Azula's eyes widened. Other voices were heard, indeed. All male voices, some quavering like those of old men.
"Why would he talk to them? He doesn't like them!" Azula wondered in a small shrill voice that betrayed her panic.
"You know why." answered a much deeper voice behind her.
An icy shiver ran through Azula's back and, despite her surprise, she was unable to turn around, too terrified of what she would see.
Behind her, she perceived the movement of an imposing body that moved ever closer to her.
Don't look at him. He's not real.
"Azula..." the apparition whispered into her ear.
Azula felt a hand close around her neck and another land on her hip, right on her scar.
"You know why they're here, my daughter," whispered her father's caressing voice, his fingers tightening and releasing her neck at a steady pace. "They're going to take your crown away."
"No, it is impossible," Azula managed to answer despite her dry throat. "He returned it to me over a year ago. He said he trusted me!"
"He lied to you, Azula. Like always. He will take away your title of Crown Princess, your crown. And he's going to send you back to the madhouse. Or worse… to prison."
The hand that was on her neck began its descent and she felt her father press a little more against her. She closed her eyes and tried to swallow but her throat was so narrow and dry that she couldn't. Instead, a small gasp of terror crossed her lips.
Count to ten, Zula!
"Maybe we can share a cell!" he said, kneading her breasts with one hand. "Don't you want to find your beloved father, Azula?"
She was unable to speak, let alone turn around. She didn't want to see the predatory glow in his golden gaze.
It's not real, she kept telling herself over and over.
Forcing herself to focus on what was real — the voices on the other side of the door — she leaned closer to the worm-eaten wood panel, straining to ignore the icy hands that were now searching greedily in her lower back.
"I hear another voice," she said out loud. "A younger voice. It's a man, too..."
"It's the Avatar" replied her father, who had just found his way under her tunic and was now trailing his strong callused hands over her stomach. "You know why he's here, Azula. Your traitor of a brother made him come so that you suffer the same fate as me. He will take away your bending, and you will have nothing left to defend yourself when you are alone with me in my cell."
Eyes wide, Azula felt the specter of a chilled hand slowly descend onto her lower abdomen.
"No!" she yelled, tearing away from him abruptly. She whirled around to face him.
Nobody.
She wouldn't let him touch her anymore, she wouldn't go to jail! Nor in this horrible place which they had the nerve to call an Institute, and which was nothing but the lair of a bunch of raving lunatics!
People like you.
On the other side of the door, there was a sudden silence. Azula felt a smaller hand slip into hers.
"Shhh! They heard you! Come on, we can't stay here!"
The girl was back. Azula scanned the darkness around her, but there was no sign of her father. He had vanished into the darkness. But she knew he would still be there, crouching in the murk, watching her, ready to pounce on her, to take what was left of her reason.
Azula was almost relieved and happy to see the little girl again. After a last look at the door behind which, she knew, her brother was deciding her fate with the Sages and the Avatar, she let herself be carried away by her young double.
They continued their way through the maze of the secret tunnel, but very quickly, Azula felt her strength abandon her again. What if everything her father had said was true? What if they locked her up again? No. It was too hard! Her legs were shaking, and the feeling of nausea was back. She had to sit down.
Two tiny feet in pointy boots appeared in her sight which was still slightly blurred by tears. Then Azula felt a small hand rest on her head. Despite the lack of heat, the sensation was strangely comforting. It was like finding a long-lost friend.
"Are you real?" she asked desperately. "Is all of this really happening?"
A second hand rested on her cheek and the little girl pressed her forehead to hers.
"Of course, I'm real." She replied in her little piping voice. "I am you. And you are me. We only have us in the world."
Azula put her arms around the small form. She didn't meet the resistance she had expected, but the thing her arms closed around had a certain consistency nonetheless. She wouldn't have known what to compare this sensation to.
She stayed like that for a long moment, hugging the ghost of the little girl she had been, sobbing.
The thought of Zuko, on the other side of the wall, plotting to get rid of her, suddenly hit her and she was suffocated by the feeling of betrayal that ran through her veins. Then she thought back to Ty Lee. Ty Lee who had ignominiously betrayed her too.
She wanted to protect me by talking to Mai. She was afraid for Zuko and for me. That's all.
A heatless hand rested on Azula's tear-soaked cheek. She lowered her head to hide her face and gathered her limbs around her, as if to shield herself from the cold.
"Trust is for fools," the apparition said, as if she had read her mind. "You know that, don't you? Father taught us: there is only fear..."
The voice that had risen in the dim light sounded different, more mature. Azula shyly raised her head and found herself facing her own face. But this version of her looked slightly younger than her, by only a few years. Her dark hair was pulled back into a perfect bun topped with her three-flamed crown. She was dressed in the black breastplate she wore over her clothes as she pursued Zuko and the Avatar. Azula blinked twice before answering in a small uncertain, almost pleading voice:
"I don't want to be that person anymore. I have changed! I've changed thanks to Zuko."
"Yes, you have changed: you are weak!" The teenage girl replied in a brittle tone. What would Father say if he could see you? You are the shame of the Nation!"
She was right. They had all betrayed and abandoned her. And she stubbornly clung to them, consumed herself for them, and struggled in vain for a crumb of their love or their approval. She was pathetic and deserved her humiliation. Was she just going to run away like a coward? And once outside, what would she do? Live the life of a fugitive, like a peasant? Would she abandon her brother, her nation? Her crown?
In front of her, the teenage Azula waited and amused herself, making sparks appear on the tips of her fingers with long, sharp, perfectly manicured fingernails, as she wore them at the time. Finally, Azula broke the silence:
"Tell me what to do."
The apparition turned her head to her and Azula flinched as she saw the sly expression illuminating her pale face, the slight quiver at the corners of her ruby lips and the predatory glow in her amber eyes, just before she spoke:
"What does the offended dragon do?"
Azula stared at her for a long moment and considered.
She had given up everything for them. She had given them everything and they had taken everything from her, everything! They would just take and take, over and over again. Until they had emptied her of all substance. They were there, behind those walls, plotting to get rid of her, laughing at her, enjoying her disgrace and shame. To flee was to let them win. To flee was to be weak.
She felt the fire crackle in her veins and consume every cell of her body, and with it, what was left of her sanity.
The way the apparition's smile stretched out told her that it was coming to the same conclusions. Azula gazed longingly at the confident face of her double. The face she once proudly wore. Today she was just a shadow of herself, and it was everyone's fault: Mai, Ty Lee, and more than anyone else's, Zuko.
It was father who was right. Trust and love are for fools. There is only strength, power and fear.
She had learned her lesson. It was engraved in her skin, in her body and in her mind. Of course, it hurt, but father was right as always. He wouldn't have had to punish her the way he did if she hadn't been so weak, if she hadn't let herself be dominated by the futile desire to please her brother and her friends.
What does the offended dragon do?
So, her brow furrowed, her jaw tensed, feeling a fiery determination wash over her, she replied between clenched teeth:
"It breathes fire."
In front of her, the apparition's eyes sparkled and Azula had the impression that her features were changing. The face watching her seemed to melt and then reshape. Her delicate features soon grew harsher, more manly. The figure seemed to grow taller in the dark. And when the thing brought its hand to her face again, it wasn't the soft skin of a young girl that brushed her cheek, but the illusion of a rough palm with callused fingers.
"That's my girl!" Her father's hollow voice approved.
Hope you like it. For those who are interested, I started a collection of drawings to illustrate my fiction on AO3. If you are not too exacting, don't hesitate to take a look at my profile (noem1987). I would point out that it is very far from being a professional job. I'm just doing this for fun and since I can't post them here ...
Anyway. See you for chapter 18.