Author's note:
I greatly appreciate receiving feedback. Really. It's the reward for long hours of work and I'd be lying if I said I didn't care about reviews. I like the discussion it allows, the reflection and even the analysis that it prompts me to do of my own work.
However, lately I got some comments I found unpleasant. Comments from readers who allow themselves to proclaim their discontent in a tone that is sometimes demeaning, even frankly aggressive or rude. Or others that explain how they would have done better and make it seem like they're ordering to make the story go in the right direction for them.
All I have to say is that I don't intend to change my plans nor the tone of my text to suit everyone's expectations. I'm not paid to do this work and that is quite normal. But I spend a considerable amount of time there, not only for the writing but also for the translation. So I intend to do what I like and tell what I want, in the tone I chose.
I think that kind of reviews are pointless. They don't help the author to improve his/her work but to doubt his/her skills and lose his/her motivation.
I will therefore ask those who don't like the story to simply go their way. They can always read, curse my work in their head, or go read other stories that better meet their expectations, or even write their own fanfiction.
In real life, kindness is essential in social relationships. I don't see why it would be any different on the internet.
With that, please feel free to comment. I accept everything as long as it is constructive, polite and that it is not likely to weaken my motivation.
I didn't mean to be rude and I warmly thank everyone who took the time to provide kind and encouraging comments. I do not want to name anyone and I hope that the authors of said comments recognize themselves and and think about the consequences of their comments.
I wish you all a good reading and a Merry Christmas!
Chapter 21 - Nightmare
A frightening howl roused Ty Lee from her drowse.
She had found refuge on a protruding stone large enough to sit on as long as she held on to the wall. She had closed her eyes for a few minutes before resuming her ascent. The lack of grip in the wall had forced her to descend back down the length of the prison in search of a less smooth surface. She was now standing about thirty feet above the sea. Feeling a little discouraged at the idea of how far she still had to go, she'd allowed herself a break, swallowed some dried fruit and a gulp of water to give herself some strength.
Her heart leaped violently in her chest when the howl awoke her.
Are you insane? She chided herself. You almost fell asleep!
But she didn't have time to blame herself anymore because at that moment, a blinding lightning flashed in front of her.
Ty Lee stood up to her feet and leaned against the wall with a shrill cry. She looked down just in time to see a dislocated body spinning into the void, hitting the wall, and smashing onto the rocks with a sinister, cracking sound which momentarily drowned out that of the waves.
Heart pounding, Ty Lee stared for a moment at the indistinct form. It stirred a little, then it sagged before fidgeting.
Instinctively, she looked up above her and saw a figure clinging to the wall climbing at an astonishing speed along the prison facade, like a huge loathsome spider. The figure quickly disappeared into darkness.
Ty Lee returned her attention to the rock below where had crashed the unfortunate victim's body. A woman, judging by the cry she had given before falling and the shape of her body that she could make out thanks to the vivid glow of the moon.
With a pang, Ty Lee looked up at the top of the tower, lost in the clouds gathered there and she muttered:
"Sorry, Azula, you'll have to wait."
Quickly but carefully, Ty Lee initiated her way down.
She doubted there was any hope for the wretched creature lying on the rocks, but she couldn't leave it there. At least the coast guard had to be warned.
Ty Lee was still wondering how she was going to explain her presence here to them when she reached the first reefs. Great relief washed over her as she felt her feet touch the ground again. Then she remembered why she was there. She looked down at the rock where the victim's broken body lay just five feet below. Suddenly Ty Lee thought back to the intense glow that had seemed to cross the sky like a meteor as the body passed in front of her. She couldn't say why but her heart leaped so violently in her chest that she thought it was going to pierce her rib cage. Then she realized: that light was blue.
The disjointed figure that lay there in a pool of blood, face hidden against the rock, was sadly familiar. Her loosing black hair was scattered around her head. She was wearing pants that reached halfway down to her calves and the burgundy tunic of the inmates of the prison.
"No!" Ty Lee moaned, kneeling next to the body she was leaning over.
With infinitely gentle gestures, she took a lock of dark hair between her trembling fingers and cleared the young woman's face.
It was Azula.
Her legs were at an odd angle, and an open fracture in her shoulder revealed a ghostly white bone.
Ty Lee experienced the first signs of a violent nausea.
Trying to keep control of herself, she put her hands on her friend's back, looking for a breath of life, a shudder. Nothing. The air around the body was strangely opaque and Ty Lee wondered where this strange feeling was coming from, and she understood.
Her aura was gone, as if it had dissolved in the marine air.
As carefully as she could, she laboriously turned Azula onto her back as if she was afraid of breaking her. It was like handling a rag doll. She sat down, resting the princess's head on her knees, to have them serve as a pillow. She gazed at the beautiful face smeared with scarlet blood but miraculously intact, except for a huge bruise that was already showing on the cheek. The flames Azula had managed to expel as she fell must have slowed her fall, just enough to spare her face. Poorly held, Azula's head fell heavily to the side, as if ready to detach from her body and Ty Lee had to restrain it. She saw a trickle of blood trickling from the corner of her lips and her left ear.
Ty Lee's throat tightened, and her chest began to lift at a breakneck pace. When she had no longer any air in her lungs, she inhaled heavily and uttered a loud cry like that of a wounded animal. It emerged from her entrails and echoed between the rocks, covering the crash of the waves breaking incessantly on the rocks, supremely indifferent to her grief.
Zuko was dreaming.
It was one of those feverish dreams you can hardly escape from. His foggy brain maintained a vague awareness, just enough for him to guess he was dreaming, but not enough to wake him up entirely.
He remembered dozing off on the couch in the reading room where his mother used to read tales to them, Azula sitting on her knees, her thumb in her mouth, him, kneeling in front of them, listening to her, fascinated by her enchanted words.
"Zuko! Look at me!" Mom called him as he closed his eyes to better imagine the terrifying monster threatening the hero of his favorite tale.
Zuko opened his eyelids. Mom had put her book down and Azula had let go of her thumb. The two of them were staring at him with wide, astonished and terrified eyes, as if they were seeing him for the first time.
"What? What's wrong?" he asked, a little worried.
A look of amazement crossed Azula's plump cheeked face. She was similar to how he remembered her in the memories he had of her when she was four or five years old, when they shared the same games, when she would join him at night, in his bed, to escape the monsters and chimeras that haunted every night.
Was she already suffering from hallucinations at the time?
Zuko wondered where this strange idea came from. Azula was five, Mum was there. Azula was not yet ill. She wouldn't b e for y ears. Yet it was the same terror that shone in her golden-brown eyes. The terror he had seen during his second visit to the asylum, when he had shaken her unceremoniously to silence her.
Mom was staring at him with no less terror, her mouth half open.
"Your face, Zuzu!" Azula exclaimed, pointing a tiny index finger at him.
"Well? What's wrong with my face? It's my scar! You know that very well, don't you?" he retorted in an offended tone.
"Who did this to you, Zuko?" His mother asked, her clear eyes filled with tears.
Zuko was starting to get impatient.
"You know! It was Father! He was furious after I spoke to the Council to silence this fool who wanted to sacrifice a whole cohort of our men!"
"Liar!" Azula shouted. "It hasn't happened yet! You're lying, Zuzu!"
Azula was right. If Mom was still there, then that should mean...
"Yuck! His face is really disgusting!" Azula cried, burying her face against her mother's chest. "Mom, that scares me!"
Zuko brought a hand to his face and his fingers didn't meet the wrinkles that usually covered his left cheek. Instead, they landed on a viscous, sticky substance. Yellowish filaments stuck to his fingertips wh en he tried to remove his hand, with a spongy noise.
Distraught, Zuko got up to look at himself in the mirror. An atrocious face was staring at him in horror. A face that was not his. His skin was black and red in places. One of his eyes was missing, and he made a strange groan every time he breathed in through the gap hollowing his face, where his nose once had been. It wasn't his face, it was Kojiro's. He screamed.
"Come on, darling, don't scream so loud! You will wake up your little sister!" Ursa whispered reproachfully.
Mom didn't look at him anymore. She held a deeply asleep Azula in her arms. Oddly, his sister seemed to have grown up suddenly. The young girl resting against his mother's chest was at least fourteen or fifteen years old. Her limbs protruded widely from her mother's arms and knees, who didn't seem to have noticed this sudden and improbable growth. Carelessly cut locks fell pitifully on Azula's forehead, and tears blackened by streaks of kohl were on her cheeks.
"Your sister has finally fallen asleep. Don't wake her up!"
"Mom…" he tried.
"What's wrong with that child?" Ursa whispered to herself, her brow furrowed, eyes lowered to Azula's face.
She was no longer listening to Zuko whose face was slowly decomposing in place. Scraps of black skin crumbled at his feet like ashes. Already he could feel the bone flush on his cheekbone.
He started to cry but Mom didn't pa y any a ttention to him.
"Azula did this to me, Mom!" he cried, whimpering, stamping his feet to get her attention.
But Ursa ignored him. She rose absently from her chair and leaned down to pick a few flowers, while humming a lullaby.
"Hold this for me, dear, will you?"
Zuko obediently grabbed the bouquet she was handing him.
Zuko only realized then that they no longer were in the reading room. They walked in the flowered paths of the garden.
Azula had disappeared. Sudden terror seized him. He looked up at his mother to ask her:
"Mom, where is Azula?"
He jumped sharply. Ursa stood in front of him, frozen like a statue, but didn't look at him. Her usually benevolent face expressed deep repulsion. She pointed an accusing finger at him. He looked around for a clue that would explain this strange behavior and realized that he was surrounded by about twenty people who were all staring at him, their fingers pointed at him the same way. He recognized Mai among them, she was looking at him, her face paler than ever, close to nausea, dismayed. There were also Aang, Katara and Toph, as well as Suki, Ty Lee and Sokka. They all drew their disapproving gazes at him, silent, as rigid as an army of stone soldiers. He saw among the crowd the stocky, paunchy figure of his uncle who was shaking his head from side to side, looking terribly disappointed.
They were all staring at him with the same strange, half-sorrowful, half-horrified expression. Zuko suddenly felt ashamed. He noticed that the accusing fingers on him were all pointing down. He lowered his eyes and felt his breath die in his throat as he finally noticed Azula, kneeling in front of him, who pressed her ruby lips to his stomach, her impatient hands with long nails tugging greedily at the hem of his pants.
"Azula, stop! Everyone is watching us!" he protested pleadingly. He gently put his hands that were still holding Ursa's bouquet on Azula's head to push her away but instead he pulled her closer to him and immediately felt a wave of excitement and desire surge through him.
Choosing to ignore the disgusted looks the indistinct crowd was casting on them, he plunged his hands into his sister's shiny hair. The flower petals scattered there, like the pearls of rain clinging to the wild grass. He let his cheeky fingers tangle the long black locks. The words, barely whispered, escaped his lips without him being able to hold them back:
"Yes. Go ahead. Yes. Lower."
Azula complied. He didn't care about others now. He kept his eyes open so as not to miss anything from the pleasant view.
They were all alone now. The lush green grass and bright flowers in the garden had given way to a marble floor, a copper tub, and a large dirty mirror in which he could see their reflection. Azula's bathroom.
His sister, still kneeling, with her back to the mirror, was clothed in the burgundy tunic she always wore when he visited her in the asylum. In her hair, the petals he had scattered earlier had turned to ashes. In the reflection, Zuko saw Azula's nimble fingers grab on his pants and slowly slide them down to his ankles.
Zuko took a deep breath and shut his eyelids tight.
Even though he couldn't see it, Zuko could perceive the ripples of the blue dragon swirling around them in a slow and languid dance.
"That's it, Fire Lord Zuko, that's it. You can have whatever you want."
"Her. I want her!" He replied weakly, barely able to speak as his breath was growing short, while at his feet, Azula was carrying him to his climax.
No longer able to hold it, as he was close to ecstasy, he pushed his sister away and ordered her to turn around. When her ruby lips parted to speak, it was the dragon behind who answered.
"Whatever you want, Fire Lord Zuko. I'm yours."
He stood behind her, facing the mirror in order to see her face when he would take her.
But to his great frustration, the black locks that framed her face hid it from him. This did not deter him. Soon there were only Azula's rushing breath, his own, harsher gasps, and the sound of the squalls generated by the Dragon whose serpentine body was wrapping around them at maddening speed, enveloping them in a swirl of shimmering emerald and sapphire scales.
The creature's mad race excited him, and he picked up the pace.
It was wrong, so wrong! And so delicious at the same time.
In front of him, Azula was lovingly repeating his name in an almost pleading tone. He began to utter growls of satisfaction that sounded more like an enraged beast than a caring lover.
"Please, Father!" Azula gasped between swerves, "Don't be mad at me!"
Bewildered, Zuko immediately stopped and looked up at the large, tarnished glass. In the mirror, it was no longer his own face staring at him incredulously. Horrified, he recognized the pointed chin, powerf ul, chiseled jaw, black beard and long hair, golden eyes as piercing as the sun.
His heart leapt violently in his chest. He released Azula who fell to the ground. Her naked body stretched out strangely. Her skin was covered with azure scales. Her fingernails turned into sharp claws and her amber eyes set ablaze. Flames could be seen dancing deep within her narrow pupils.
The dragon straightened up to face him. It opened its monstrous mouth, only inches from Zuko's face - or Ozai's? He didn't know who he was anymore.
The beast bared its sharp, sparkling white teeth and opened its jaw further. Deep in its throat, something throbbed, then seemed to come closer.
To his horror, he saw his mother's face materialize in the monster's mouth, a look of reproach etched on her soft, melancholic features. He remembered with a vague sense of shame that he was still naked; but his mother didn't seem to notice. When their faces were close enough, he whispered:
"Mother..."
"Shhh! You will wake up your little sister!"
And he followed the sad gaze of Ursa who was contemplating something on the marble floor.
The re, Azula laid naked in a pool of blood.
Dead.
Zuko wanted to scream but he was too exhausted for that. When he looked up, Kojiro's rotting head was facing him in the mirror, his horrible smile curling his half-burnt lips.
He opened what served as his mouth and indistinct words escaped his throat swarming with worms. All he could make out were these words: "For the Fire Lord!"
This time he really screamed.
"Fire Lord! Fire Lord! Quick, wake up!"
Zuko stood up abruptly, throwing his hand haphazardly into the void in front of him and a spray of blinding flames erupted from his palm.
Someone uttered an exclamation and Zuko felt himself fall backwards, landing on his buttocks at the foot of the couch he had fallen asleep on.
He was in the reading room again. Before him stood General Kadao, his face paler and more defeated than ever.
"Sire! Are you alright?"
With a simple gesture Zuko refused the helpful hand his general was extending to him and, ashamed and confused, leaned on the sofa and the coffee table to get up.
"It's nothing. Just a stupid nightmare!" he spoke in anger. "Leave, Kadao."
"Sire, I'm sorry to wake you up, but..."
"I told you to leave!" Zuko shouted impatiently, already feeling an old all-too-familiar anger rising in him. "Do you understand what I'm telling you?"
"Sire, I'm sorry but I have to insist."
"Go away!" Zuko yelled, his body shaking with rage and shame, still filled with the disturbing and terrifying dream he had just had, a hand resting on his crotch in a poor attempt to hide the still overwhelming evidence of his arousal.
"Sire, something very serious has happened. It's about the Princess."
Zuko sank back into his seat and stared at Kadao for a moment, unable to speak, his head spinning a little.
"There was an accident. The Coast Guard found her body at the foot of the prison. They brought her back as fast as they could."
"H-her body?" stammered Zuko, who had just regained the ability to speak.
How could he still speak? How could he still breathe, when his heart had stopped beating and his brain was totally empty?
It's nothing. I am still in my dream. It's just a nightmare.
"Come with me, my Lord, I will bring you to her."
Kadao's hand on his shoulder felt very real. He could feel the warmth emanating from it.
So, obediently, Zuko let Kadao help him up. Completely foreign to what was happening, he let himself be guided out of the reading room and followed the General, filled with the strange sense of having left a part of him in the small reading room.
When he arrived in Taïma's apartments where Kadao had ordered his men to transport the princess immediately, Zuko's whole body was shaking. His head was still strangely empty, and he felt like he didn't have a single drop of blood left. The tips of his fingers were frozen. It seemed to him that he would never be able to produce the slightest spark ever again.
The sight he discovered struck his heart and soul with the violence of a stab. He couldn't remember ever having felt such pain. Not even the day his father burned half of his face.
His gaze immediately went to the large bed that Taïma must have hurriedly left when Kadao and his men had knocked on the door, rousing her from her sleep. Azula's head was buried between the pillows, her face covered in dried blood. Her eyelids were closed, there was an impressive bruise on her cheekbones that had long since turned blue. A red trickle ran from her ear and from the corners of her mouth.
Zuko was seized by vertigo and had to catch himself on the back of a chair not to flinch.
He looked down at her chest. It was Inert.
An open fracture revealed the bone in her elbow, which formed an odd angle with the rest of her body.
Zuko's first reaction, when he was able to think again, was to rush to the body to hug it, to shake it with all his might until it came to life.
It's impossible. No, no, no, NO, NO!
Strong hands grasped him firmly from behind and forced him to stand still.
"Don't come near, Sire. Let Taïma do her job." It was Kadao's deep, comforting voice.
Unable to protest, Zuko turned his eyes to his left and finally saw the healer.
Taïma was standing, bustling about between the bed and a metal shelf, covered with vials and medical supplies. It seemed she hadn't noticed his presence.
Zuko had never seen her so feverish, so agitated. Her hands were quivering horribly around the vial she held. She brought it closer to the face of the princess lying on the bed. A miserable broken figure stranded there like a poor marine creature on the shore.
Hands shaking uncontrollably, she poured the contents of the vial into Azula's half-open mouth and, placing herself above her, pressed her two clasped hands several times on the desperately still chest. Zuko noticed the shimmering water she brought out from her palms and spread across his sister's ribcage.
"Come on, Princess, wake up, come on!" Taïma whispered.
From the corner of the room a sniffing suddenly caught Zuko's attention. Only then did he notice that Ty Lee was there too, sitting curled up in an armchair, her face hidden in her hands.
He wanted to speak but his dry throat and the terrible sense of tightness he felt growing in his chest prevented him from doing so.
What was she doing here? Wasn't she supposed to be on Kyoshi Island for days already?
It didn't really matter at the moment. Still dazed, he looked around the room, desperately searching for help, and all at once he saw, in the opposite corner of the room, the slender and stiff figure of Mai who was witnessing the scene, lurking in the shadows, her face closed and livid.
He made a move to walk towards her and their eyes met. Mai immediately looked down and he froze like a statue. In the end, he preferred to return his attention to Azula.
The question he had wanted to ask from the moment he walked into this grim room finally crossed his lips.
"Is she still alive?"
Taïma jumped and turned around quickly, only noticing his presence at that moment.
"Sire… Zuko!" she huffed. "Yes, for now. I managed to reduce the bruise and the blood pressure in her head, but she hasn't been breathing for two minutes. Please let me work."
He was surprised by the firm tone of her voice and immediately obeyed.
Desperate, he rushed towards Mai who opened her arms in time to welcome him.
"What happened?" He whispered into her neck, tears springing from his eyes without him having been able to think of holding them back.
"I don't know," she replied in a whisper. "Kadao brought them back here with his men. Her and Ty Lee," she explained. "They found them on a rock below the eastern facade of the prison. Ty Lee is upset; I haven't managed to make her speak yet. She just told us that Azula had a serious fall. She was the one who called the coast guard who brought them here."
Unable to speak further, Zuko released her and returned his attention to his little sister.
He felt his insides twist painfully inside his stomach.
He wasn't ready for this. He wasn't ready. He wouldn't survive it.
For a long time, no one spoke. All of them, Mai, Kadao, Ty Lee, Zuko, helplessly watched Taïma's desperate efforts to keep the princess alive. She frequently pressed her lips to those of the princess to breathe some air into her and pressed down on her chest, using her bending to revive her.
After a while, as nothing was happening, she turned to Kadao.
"We must bring in Master Katara. I… I can't save her. We have to… we have to get her blood flowing again in her body. I can't..."
Zuko turns pale. Ty Lee and Mai turned their gazes to Taïma, their eyebrows furrowed, indicating they didn't understand. But Zuko knew very well what Taïma was talking about.
"No…" he whispered in the firmest voice he could compose. "No, it's going to kill her, she's too weak. You have to try again, Taïma!"
"It's the only solution, Zuko," the healer replied .
"It's not even a full moon," he said in despair. "It won't work!"
"We have to try anyway. She's dying, Zuko!"
She turned towards him so that he saw her large ultramarine eyes drowned in tears but shining with fierce determination. At that moment he was certain that at least one person in this palace, besides himself, genuinely cared about Azula. And he knew she was right.
"What are you waiting for?" He yelled suddenly at Kadao who was waiting stupidly, his hands clasped in front of him in the absurd attitude of a man worried about one of his loving ones.
The General jumped and came to attention, immediately resuming the soldier's countenance.
"I'm going right away, your Highness."
And he disappeared through the left open door.
Taïma put her hand on Zuko's arm.
"I will do everything to keep her alive until Katara arrives. She can save her, Zuko, I know that."
Their gaze met. The fire of his golden eyes drowned in the water of her blue ones, and he nodded. A softness, reminiscent of his mother, shone in Taïma's pupils. He suddenly wanted her to hug him.
Fighting this desire that was absurdly strong, he carefully sat down on the bed next to Azula and took her hand in his. Her arm felt as if it was made of a rag. There was no tension, no resistance in it.
"Come on, Azula, you have to fight. Don't die. I need you." He confessed in a low voice, burying his face into the hollow between her shoulder and her neck. Here he placed a soft kiss. Nothing happened. Her skin was as pale and cold as marble.
Zuko stood up awkwardly, deciding to ignore the angry look Mai must have darted at him and he stepped back to give Taïma more space. His gaze hardened and his voice was more hoarse than usual when he spoke in an imperative tone:
"Save her."
Pulling a chair towards the bed, he sat down by Azula's bedside and watched Taïma resume her work. He took his sister's hand in his and didn't let go for a second.
Death, grief and desolation were lurking in the room. A thick silence, only interrupted by Taïma's comings and goings fell over the room. Taïma was doing her best to save the princess who laid on her bed, like a poor broken toy.
A wind of panic stirred the palace. Sokka was surprised to find so many servants and guards awake at such a late hour. As he reached out to help Suki off Appa's back, a dozen guards raced past them with a metallic clatter, raising a dusty cloud in their path, perfectly indifferent to the presence of the gigantic flying bison which had just landed in the yard.
While Iroh, still in the saddle, threw to him the bags containing their luggage, Sokka cast a curious look towards the gallery where a small crowd of young girls had formed. He thought he recognized among them the little Sanae, the young lady's companion that Azula liked to persecute. More than once during their stays at the palace, the teenager had come to seek refuge with Katara after being abused by the cruel and self-centered princess.
The young girl looked upset from the way she had buried her head in her hands. Her friends who surrounded her, full of concern, questioned her, held her by the shoulders.
Sokka let out a contemptuous sigh, wondering what Azula could have done to her this time. Then he remembered that the princess was in prison, securely locked up on the top floor in a high security area, probably plagued by her demons and hallucinations.
Well done. Let her die! He thought with a touch of unhealthy joy but yet it was pierced by a little sense of guilt.
"What's going on here?" Suki asked, putting a hand on his arm as Sokka hoisted a large burlap bag over his sturdy shoulders.
"No idea, let's go find out."
"I don't like it," a hoarse voice spoke behind them.
It was Iroh. Sokka turned and his heart contracted as he read the expression on the old man's usually serene and jovial sighed. To say the truth, he had hoped for a discreet arrival and he had looked forward to finding comfort and privacy in the room he would be sharing with Suki when they stayed at the palace. The night promised to be long.
His mission was over after all. He had brought back the Grand Lotus. It was family business now and he was planning on going back to the South with Suki once they got some rest.
As they approached the gallery where more and more people were crowding in an unusual effervescence, Sokka spotted two familiar figures.
"Katara!" He shouted at the smaller of the two silhouettes running behind the larger one of General Kadao.
The young woman turned around and Sokka saw surprise and concern shining in her blue eyes. Katara abruptly stopped and walked over to them after stammering an apology to Kadao who turned and looked at them, clicking his tongue anxiously.
"Please, Master Katara, the Princess can't wait!"
Sokka felt an irrational rage surge in him and grabbed the wrist of Katara who had thrown herself into his arms and now turned to Suki.
"The Princess? Katara, what is he talking about?" he asked her, making a laudable effort not to show the anger that was burning in his bowels
Was it possible Zuko took advantage of their absence to release...?
"I don't have time to explain," Katara replied hastily, casting a worried gaze at Iroh who was watching the scene with a tense look, seeming perfectly stranger to the scene.
"Follow me. Kadao and I will tell you everything on the way."
After exchanging troubled looks with his two traveling companions, Sokka hailed a young valet who was passing by.
"Hey, you the wimp! Take this and put it in our room."
Before the boy could answer, Sokka tossed him his heavy baggage. Surprised by the weight of the bag, the teenager rocked back and landed on his bottom, uttering a muffled moan.
Sokka then run after his friends who had preceded him in the gallery and passed the small group of girls consoling Sanae.
"She looked like she was dead, I assure you!" the young girl gasped between sobs. "Her face was so pale when I saw her through Doctor Taïma's door! And there was so much blood!"
Blood? Were they talking about Azula? He picked up the pace to hear Katara speaking hastily.
"The coast guards brought them here. According to the General, she's dying."
"Who are you talking about?" Sokka inquired as he reached them. "Azula?"
"She had a serious fall." Suki replied, turning to him breathlessly, one hand resting on her plump stomach. "From the top of the prison or whatever. Ty Lee apparently found her. Zuko called for Katara's help. Taïma thinks she is the only one who can save her."
Sokka grabbed Katara's arm and pulled her sharply towards him. Their companions, all in their haste, did not seem to realize it and continued their race.
"Sokka, what are you doing? I don't have time to..."
But he didn't give her time to finish her sentence.
"Are you really going to do it? Are you going to save her?"
Katara opened her mouth to answer and then closed it again, as if Sokka's words had hit her right in the face. Their eyes met and he knew she was guessing his thoughts. They stared at each other intently for a few seconds and Sokka, who knew his sister well, could see the inner struggle unfolding in her.
As a healer, Katara mustn't have hesitated for a second when Kadao came to pull her out of bed to ask for help. But now that Sokka was here, a living reminder of Azula's murderous madness, of the danger she represented for everyone. For Zuko, for the world, for peace… Being aware of this, could she still honor her oath?
The others had already turned the corner and were rushing towards the wing where the apartments of the distinguished guests were located.
"Listen Sokka, I don't know what I can do." She finally replied in a shaky voice that didn't sound like her. "But I have to try. F-for Zuko."
Sokka couldn't suppress a contemptuous scowl at the mention of that name.
"Are you still defending him?"
His sister closed her eyelids for a moment. When she opened them again, he saw an indecipherable gleam pass through her sapphire eyes and he knew that she was thinking, like him, of the lightning Zuko had almost thrown at them that day in the dungeons. Of Suki's distraught face when she had helped her get up on her wobbly legs in the yard after the princess attacked her and Ty Lee. Of the looming war which the dark clouds gathering and rumbling above the palace seemed to announce.
Her sweet features hardened in a strange way that was really unlike her. He thought he recognized part of the scary anger that had animated her the night she had flown with Zuko on Appa's back to find their mother's murderer. Although he was certain that this anger was not directed at him, Sokka felt a little scared. He released her, as if his sister's brown skin had suddenly become hot under his palm.
They heard the thunder rumbling outside. It would rain that night, for the first time in what seemed like weeks. A violent squall infiltrated the gallery through the high windows set into the walls. Dried leaves, that the heatwave of the last few days had torn from the trees, rushed in, whirling down the hallway across the paved floor. Sokka shuddered at these warning signs of an impending storm that would undoubtedly be of the destructive type.
But it would be nothing compared to the fury of the Fire Lord if his beloved sister were to die.
He anchored his eyes into Katara's again and he thought he saw the same anguish, the same hesitation, the same guilty thought.
"I hope you know what you're doing." He whispered darkly.
Katara took a deep breath before answering:
"I hope so too."
They resumed their course through the maze of the palace.
When the Water Tribe siblings entered the room on their friends' heels, the young woman was immediately seized by the dismal atmosphere reigning in the place.
In a corner, Ty Lee was crying, curled up in an armchair. Mai stood in the opposite corner, austere and dignified, as always. Her long silhouette half hidden in the shadows, a good distance from the scene.
Zuko, who seemed to have got u p hastily from a chair, was crying in his uncle's arms . Iroh held him tightly against his large chest, awkwardly patting his shoulder in a vain attempt at comforting him.
Katara felt like she was witnessing something improper. She didn't remember ever seeing Zuko cry that way and felt the blood rush to her cheeks as he turned his golden eyes to her.
"Katara!"
He tore himself away from Iroh's embrace, who dropped his arms, momentarily frozen in the almost comical attitude of a m an who has just had his meal snatched away.
The Fire Lord rushed towards Katara and grabbed her by her shoulders.
"Katara! Please, do something! I'm begging you! She is dying!"
He shook her a bit and Katara heard Sokka stir behind her, probably ready to pull his sister out of Zuko's clutches if he grew too threatening.
The latter seemed too upset to notice the warrior's presence and Katara waved her hand at her brother to calm him down.
Zuko released her but immediately grab her wrist, leading her to the bed where the princess was lying, half-hidden by Taïma's busy figure.
"Fix her Katara. Do it for me."
To fix. The word was well chosen.
Azula was broken. She looked like a disjointed doll, a pitiful puppet whose strings had been cut. Katara's expert eyes immediately spotted the fractured bones under the translucent skin. Her face was frighteningly pale despite her purplish lips and the blood spotting in some places. The tips of her fingers and bare toes were already turning blue in the shaky torchlight. Her chest seemed to have burrowed at the diaphragm, as if her ribs had sunk. Katara recognized the damage that prolonged and vigorous heart massage could inflict.
"I managed to reduce the hematoma that was compressing her brain," Taïma explained to Katara. "I repaired the pelvis as best I could. It was shattered into pieces when they brought her to me. She will need a solid rehabilitation if she..."
She paused for a moment, shook her head as if to force herself to come to her senses, and continued:
"Her right arm is badly broken. I reduced the fracture as well. Her heart has stopped several times. I brought her back each time," she said, pointing unnecessarily to Azula's slightly sunken chest. "But now she's not breathing. Her blood is no longer circulating properly."
Apart from her brief interruption, Taïma had spoken at full speed, in a professional tone and with a self-control only healers and doctors are capable of under such circumstances.
Katara, fighting to ignore the eyes staring at her, listened attentively to Taïma's report.
She asked her about the waterbending techniques she had used so far to keep the princess alive.
"I did all I could. If her blood doesn't start to flow normally very quickly, her brain will no longer be supplied, and we will lose her." Taïma whispered the last words, bringing her face closer to Katara's so that Zuko wouldn't hear.
Katara's eyes left Azula's body, which rested pitifully on her mattress, bereft of all its colors and barely animated by a last breath of life. She sought Taïma's turquoise gaze and knew what the healer wanted.
"Taïma… I… I don't know. It's dangerous in her state. And then it's not even the full moon. I don't believe I can. If Aang was there, maybe he could. But he went to Kojiro's with Toph, and..."
"Katara," Zuko cut her off.
She turned and looked at the livid face of her friend who was staring at her, his lips trembling, a mad glow enlivening his golden eyes.
"You have to try. For her... For me. Please. If she dies, I won't… I can't stand it."
His voice broke at the end of the sentence and Katara heard Mai move imperceptibly in her corner. She could feel the jealousy and disapproval radiating from her despite the distance between them.
She turned to Sokka, who was staring at her; his gaze as hard as the icy stalactites hunging from windows at morning in the frozen southern lands. Katara felt caught in a stranglehold. She wanted to yell at them to leave the room, to let her reflect.
It wasn't a full moon.
It surely wouldn't work.
It was dangerous. Azula might not survive.
If she didn't do anything, she would die anyway.
Zuko waited behind her, desperate, his heart in pieces.
Katara thought of Zuko. Apart from Iroh, Azula was all the family he had left. He too had lost his mother. He had invested considerable sums in the quest to find her. Despite this, Ursa had never been found.
How would she feel if Sokka were taken from her?
Your relationship with Sokka is nothing like that of Zuko and Azula.
The words exchanged with Aang the other morning came back to her mind.
Conflicting thoughts were racing through her head.
Azula had almost killed Suki and her baby. Her future nephew or niece. She had burned a man until his skin melted on his scalp.
Zuko was ready to start a war for her. His mind too full of his sister, he hadn't moved a finger to fight the terrorists and fanatics who poured their hatred and violence into the streets of the city. Indifferent to the fate of his fellow citizens, he had let the spark become fire. The refugees lived in fear of the violent repression from the Earth Kingdom inhabitants. The Sons of Agni stirred up their propaganda and stoked mistrust with their populist rhetoric which was gaining credit with every rally.
All for Azula's eyes.
Katara, her brother, Suki, Iroh… all had had to give up the safety and comfort of their homes to ensure a peace that Zuko no longer even tried to maintain.
She could almost hear the thoughts bubbling through her brother's mind as he was waiting for her decision, ready to intervene if Zuko chose to express his disapproval to o fiercely.
Yes. It would be easier to let Azula die. Indubitably.
She laid eyes on the princess again. It seemed incredible that the destiny of the world rested on the fate of one person. Even close to death, her insolent beauty seemed to taunt them. And at the same time, she looked so fragile and vulnerable lying there. Her shriveled body seemed as if it was sinking into the mattress.
At that moment, like a flash a five year old memory struck Katara.
...
Heavy silence reigned in the anteroom where she stood with Zuko, waiting for the armored door that separated them from Azula's padded cell to be opened. The little square room smelle d of disease and camphor. Sorrow, anguish, and guilt reflected off the walls and seeped through the cracks, enveloping them both in a thick, almost unbreathable atmosphere.
Her friend had asked her to accompany him to the asylum that morning. The last reports he had received from her doctors didn't allow for optimism.
According to Doctor Tanaka and Taïma, the psychological state of the princess was worsening.
It had been three months since Zuko discovered the appalling punishment Doctor Huan-Li had imposed on Azula. She still hadn't recovered from those weeks spent in the dark, nor from the scene that followed in her cell when she woke up.
Each time she thought about it, Katara felt an unpleasant shudd er run down her spine. Something about the way Zuko had started to shake Azula had petrified her for a moment, and she thought she had seen Ozai's shadow pass through her friend's golden eyes.
Since then, Zuko struggled as best he could with his guilt. He had only returned to visit his sister twice since the incident and each time his visits had been cut short by violent fits that threw Azula to the ground, turning her into an uncontrollable fury. Her panic attacks had forced the nurses to put her to sleep using a syringe they always carried in their pocket.
The latest report had prompted Zuko to take the first flight leaving the Caldera to Ember Island at dawn. He had come to Katara who was staying at the palace with Aang to ask for her company.
On the way, he explained the situation to her: Azula had stop ped eating . She had started to scarify herself and her doctors had discovered her lying almost lifeless on her little white bed, two long streaks of blood running from her wrists to her elbows.
Eager to support her friend, Katara didn't hesitated for a second and after having put on the first clothes she could find, she followed Zuko to the take-off platform where an airship was waiting for them. One hour later, they landed on Ember Island.
Now they were waiting in the grim antechamber with bare walls, for the medic – who dragged his feet behind them, jingling the keys of a huge keyring – to join and allow them to see Azula. Zuko clicked his tongue impatiently and when the man finally opened the armored door for them, he nudged him and walked into the room, Katara at his heels.
She hadn't been
pre pared for the harrowing spectacle that awaited them on the other side.
Azula was curled up in a corner of her cell, crouched, both hands above her head as if to protect herself from a blow. Katara noticed immediately that her hands were completely wrapped in thick bandages. She wondered why.
In front of her, another male nurse was kneeling, his imposing figure partly concealing the princess from them. A look of deep indifference was carved into his rough features. With one hand he held a plate filled with a brownish mash, and with the other, held out a spoon in Azula's direction.
Azula turned her head to avoid the spoon and Katara felt her heart contract painfully in her chest as its contents ended up on her cheek, like a baby refusing its porridge.
The nurse though didn't give up, picked up another spoonful of mash and held out the implement towards Azula's face who, this time, threw one of her gloved hands in front of her to push it away from her.
The spoon fell to the floor, and some food was thrown against the padded walls and on the cold and gray lining of the cell.
The nurse, who still had his back to Zuko and Katara, lost patience. With a groan, he picked up the spoon, approached Azula on his knees, grabbed her by her hair, and forced the spoon into her mouth.
The young girl immediately spat out its contents, letting out a cry of rage. The nurse hissed angrily and raised one of his huge hands above her head. The princess instantly shriveled in place.
Zuko reacted before Katara realized what was happening.
He rushed on the medic, who was probably twice his weight and at least a head taller, took him by the shoulder and forced him to turn around.
The colossus' eyes widened in panic when he recognized the ravaged face of his Fire Lord. Katara barely made out the vague apologies he mumbled. She heard Zuko order the man to leave immediately, promising retaliation for the mistreatment he inflicted on his patients. Katara listened to him only absentmindedly, all her attention focused on the small, trembling figure that hurrie dly used her feet to pushed away the plate and spoon the nurse had left on the floor. She looked like a child taking advantage of her parents' inattention to throw the contents of her plate to the dog under the table.
Azula hadn't even noticed her brother and her worst enemy's presence. She had curled up in the corner of her cell again and was muttering unintelligible words. Katara thought she could make out the word "Mother" in the midst of this insane speech.
Azula brought her bandaged hands to her face and began to rub them frantically against her cheeks. Katara's eyes widened in realization , suddenly she understood with a mixture of horror and pity what she was trying to do. The function of these rudimentary gloves then seemed obvious to her: without them, Azula would already have slashed her face to the point of drawing blood.
In rage and frustration, realizing she wouldn't be able to hurt herself, Azula collapsed in tears on the floor, her head between her arms.
Katara had no idea what to do at all. Should she intervene?
Zuko was coming back to them. He had escorted the nurse to the door leading to the antechamber.
He stopped near Katara, and she could feel the grief and pity radiating from him as she had sensed his anger seconds before. The air temperature had risen a few degrees when they witnessed the altercation between Azula and the giant. Now she felt the cold envelop them, as if she had generated one of her icy flowers around them, similar to the one in which she had trapped Azula on the day of the Agni Kai.
Petrified, unable to breathe, Katara watched Zuko step forward. The gesture was timid, uncertain. She wanted to warn her friend to stay on his guard but when Zuko knelt down in front of his sister, hugged her and held her against him, whispering inaudible words into the crook of her neck, her warning died in her throat.
After a few moments, Zuko straightened up. He sat down on the cell floor with his back against the wall and pulled Azula to him, making her sit on his knees. The princess offered no resistance and when she was against him, she nestled her head against her brother's chest. Tears were streaming down her dirty cheeks and Zuko wiped them away with the palm of his hand.
"Katara, give me the plate, will you?" He asked gently.
Katara complied without arguing. She bent down, picked up the plate and spoon from the floor, and carefully handed them to Zuko. Then she took a few steps back, wondering if she should go out or not.
Zuko awkwardly resettled Azula on his lap so that she sat straight up. All together he made sure not to spill the bowl's content on her.
When she was properly seated, he whispered, "There, that's fine."
And with infinitely gentle gestures, he pushed the spoon into the plate, filled it with mash and patiently moved it to his sister's mouth, whose nose wrinkled in disgust.
"No! No! Don't want!" She protested in a small shrill voice.
"You have to eat, Azula. It's important, you have to regain your strength if you want to go home."
The last word must have revived a memory, a desire in the mind of the princess. She looked up at her brother, her beautiful eyes flooded with tears and without adding a word, half opened her mouth. Zuko put the spoon in it.
He watched her chew slowly, turning the food back in her mouth for a long time as if unable to swallow. Eventually she managed to do it and opened her lips for a second spoonful.
"Very well, Azula. Well done, I'm proud of you." Zuko whispered.
Katara gazed at this scene, seized by a strong sense of strangeness. She couldn't remember ever seeing anything more heartbreaking, more moving, more beautiful than the sight of this man barely out of his boyhood. A king sitting on the gray floor of a cell, feeding his worst enemy.
She watched Zuko give two more spoons to Azula who chewed each time with the same slowness, as if afraid of hurting herself and swallowing with a painful grimace before accepting another bite.
Both brother and sister were crying. And Katara vaguely felt that in their course, their silent tears carried with them invisible things: betrayals, resentment, wounds never confessed. She felt that they were washing their hearts withered with jealousy and bitterness. You get the same feeling sometimes after the rain, Katara thought to herself, as if the downpours from the sky had swept the ground and let the world be reborn. Likewise, the tears shed by Zuko and Azula seemed to push back anything that had hitherto prevented their meeting.
The next events proved Katara right: from that day on, Azula never tried to hurt Zuko again.
...
"Katara?"
Taïma's voice emerged, clear and strong in the dismal room and pulled Katara from her memories. She turned around and saw that everyone was looking at her, suspended on her decision.
She blushed slightly, shook her head and cleared her throat to regain her composure. She motioned for Zuko to approach and whispered something in his ear. He straightened up and swept the room with his eyes.
"Everyone, move out. I don't want anyone in the room except Taïma, Katara, my uncle and me."
Katara saw Sokka frown behind him and she gave him a pleading look. He must have understood because he relaxed a little and let the hand that was stroking the hilt of his saber fall. Suki took it in hers and nodded, pointing to the door Kadao was already exiting through, followed closely by Ty Lee. She jumped up from her chair and gave Katara a hopeful look she couldn't answer. Mai slightly raised her eyebrows and Katara thought for a moment she would refuse to leave. But with a sigh, the Fire Lady straightened up, her head held high, and stalked out, Sokka and Suki on her heels.
"It might be better if you got out too," Katara warned, turning to Zuko and Iroh. "If it does work, it won't be a pleasant sight."
"We stay here," Zuko said without giving Iroh time to answer. "I'm not going anywhere."
"As you like," Katara sighed.
She then closed her eyes and focused for a long time, preparing both her mind and body. She thought of a full, bright moon. With a disgusted grimace, Katara dispelled the memory of Hama's wrinkled and cunning face, trying to creep into her. She could almost hear the old woman's cackling voice, urging her to hurt her opponent, to make him her puppet.
Then it was the pathetic and terrified face of her mother's murderer begging her to let him live.
Katara took a deep breath. She had kept her promise, made five years ago, never to use this terrifying power again. She had never used it for therapeutic purposes. Maybe that would kill Azula. It could save her too...
As she had done before, her hands reproduced the slow and graceful gestures Hama had taught her. The memory of bloodbending was written in her veins and with a shudder that owed nothing to the grim atmosphere of the room, Katara placed her hands above Azula's chest, ready to start.
Notes:
The idea of using Katara and her bloodbending to save Azula came to me from another fanfiction, which I haven't cited as inspiration enough so far and which many of you already know. This is "Dominion" by Aurelia Le, which to me is the best fanfiction I ever read and which largely pushed and inspired me to write this story. I also believe that Zuko's dream in this chapter was largely inspired by this fiction. I did not realize it until after I had written it while rereading a passage from "Dominion". I think it was more subconscious this time than for the idea of bloodbending. I therefore wanted to take this opportunity to thank the author of "Dominion" for her superb story, even if I do not think she will see this one day. It was important for me to notify what I owe her.