She feels groggy, like she didn't get enough sleep. But she opens her eyes and looks around. Her cell looks the same as before, with it's padding and small candle lamp hanging in the ceiling.
Chey snores against a wall.
"What is the meaning of this!" Azula relishes his startled yelp. He leaps to his feet and is halfway across the room in a fighting stance before realizing she is no threat.
"Princess. I'm very sorry about this. I'm not in charge of the food or the medicine, only bringing it to you." He explains.
"What medicine? What was in that food?" She tries to cross her arms, and realizes she can't move them. She looks down and sees that she is contained in a straightjacket. She looks back up at Chey with murder in her eyes. "How. Dare. You!" She screeches.
"Princess! Please believe me! I had nothing to do with either! I promise! The doctor wishes to see you today, and he requires straightjackets on all patients when they leave their quarters. It's standard policy. As for the food, they medicate it with something to calm you down. They must have gotten the dosage wrong. I'm certain that it won't happen again." His voice calms as he speaks.
His lack of fear is making Azula even more angry, but she can't afford to play her fear cards yet. She needs to play the victim.
She allows her shoulders to droop and her uneven hair to fall across her face.
"I'm sorry for getting angry, Chey. I should have found out more before going on like that. I feel so... ashamed." The words taste bitter in her mouth and she almost gives herself away with a sneer.
"No worries, Princess. No hard feelings." He helps her up. "Off the to the doctor then, shall we? And we'll let him know about your little medicine issue."
They pass through a courtyard on the way, with flowers and a fountain and several statues of past Fire Lords and Avatars. There are people out here, still in straightjackets, but ones that allow more free movement of the legs, so that they can run with ease. A few of them are playing a game where they kick a ball around, trying to get it into goalposts. Azula had never seen this type of ball game before. It went without saying that they couldn't use their hands.
"You'll love the doctor, Princess. He's managed to help so many already. He's quite good at what he does. I wouldn't necessarily call him kind. You can't be, I suppose, when caring for people who will gladly kill you in an instant. But he's good." Chey says as they walk back into a narrow passage.
Azula spots some children, ones with bruises all over their faces, some so skinny they were skin and bones. Some sat in their straightjackets, staring blankly into space, some looked at any who passed them by with murder in their eyes.
"Sad thing, this. These children mostly came from abusive homes. Some were abandoned in the streets when they fell ill and costed too much to keep. They don't know trust at all. Or love, or family. Everyone is a threat to them. And everything. The good news is that the doctor seems to have a very high success rate with the children. He says that he's found children nine and under are the easiest to rehabilitate. He still doesn't know exactly why."
"It seems there is much your doctor doesn't know." Azula's tone has bite to it.
"Yes, but he's learning everyday. And so are his staff. Their goal is eventually to be able to heal all mental scars in a matter of a few years." Chey's tone seems overly cheerful, given their surroundings.
"That's like saying all war and conflict will be over now that we have the Avatar again." She scoffs.
"Not quite. That's on a global scale. The medicine of the mind helps the masses by focusing on the individual. Conflict, as you call it, exists whenever there is a difference of opinion, which deals in multiple perspectives, whether between people or in one's own mind."
Azula says nothing, but finds herself impressed with Chey's debating ability. The more she thinks about it, it makes more sense to appeal to his intellect instead of simply viewing him as a purely emotional and stupid pawn. He already knows her game of strategy. It might make sense to keep him around as an extention of her hand rather than simply a means to get out of this place. With proper caution, of course. She only needed to learn that lesson once.
"Here we are!" Chey opens a door. "Enjoy your visit, Princess."
The door shuts behind him and Azula takes in the sight before her of a middle aged man with graying hair at a desk.
"I'm your doctor, Azula." He says, helping her to sit down.
"I am royalty. You'll address me as such." She states firmly.
"Not here. Here, you are just Azula, or a variant of that name, if you like. You can call me Doc."
"I'll do no such thing!"
"I'm sure you have questions about this place." He acts as though her outburst hasn't happened.
"None that I'll get straight answers for." She sneers.
"Anything you want to ask me, at any time, I'll answer honestly. You can trust me, Azula. And when you're doing better, we have a reward system that will make it worth your while to engage fully in our conversations."
"Is that a threat?" If her tone were any harsher, she'd probably become a Venombender.
"Not at all!" Doc laughs. "The goal of this facility is to remove threats, both without and within. We've padded your walls to prevent self injury, we give you some herbs to calm you so that things like rage and anxiety are less pressuring, we fit all patients with straightjackets for our protection and to protect them from other patients. Everything is safe here. You'll find no threats."
"Nonsense! Tell me how being drugged day in and day out helps me!" She shouts.
"It really shouldn't affect your thoughts much, just make them a little calmer. If you're feeling too drowsy, we can reduce your dosage a bit." He leans back in his chair. "Think of this as a sort of vacation. It really can be, once the initial phase of therapy is over. We allow patients to go out into that courtyard you passed through on the way in. We celebrate birthdays and holidays. Occasionally, for a few that are about to be released, we take them out on the town for a night, without the straightjackets, so they can readjust to society." He leans forward. "This doesn't have to be all bad, Azula. We can help you. I can't say that it will be fun at first. It never is. But with time, it will all work out fine, and you'll leave this place happy and at peace."
She spits in his face and glares.
"Alright. I can see that you're agitated." He calmly wipes his face with a cloth soaked in soapy water.
This is clearly not the first time someone's thought to do that. I'll have to try harder.
"So, I'll leave you with one question for you to think about today, and you can give me your answer tomorrow. How do you feel when you think of your brother, Zuko?" He calls for Chey.
"How did it go, Princess." He asks on the way back to the cell.
"Fine. I expect him to change his mind about me soon enough." She keeps her voice flat and emotionless. She doesn't know why she feels so panicky with the thought of being anywhere near that doctor. She already hated him for thinking that he could change her. Maybe the medicine is still affecting her, making her weak.
Chey wisely chooses to remain silent. He brings her lunch. She leaves it on the floor.
I don't need to calm down. I have planning to do, and I won't allow you to keep me unconscious forever. She thinks.
-
Mother begins to bother her again as soon as she sits down.
"Azula, it's time for a talk." She says. Azula grits her teeth and tries to hit her. She simply disappears and reappears across the room.
Even though she knows it's futile, Azula keeps trying to hit her. Each time, Mother disappears and relocates to another place in the room.
"Azula, it's time for a talk." She intones again.
"What will it take for you to leave me alone!" Azula shouts, panting and sweating from her efforts.
"It's time for a talk." She says again.
"I don't want to talk! I have plans to make! I have someone outside that door that I must speak with, and I won't do it with you whispering your gibberish in my ear!" She has no intention of talking to Chey, but Mother doesn't need to know that.
"It's time for a talk."
"What do you want!" Azula's voice screeches.
"It's time for a talk."
"Princess? Are you alright? Do you want me to find an herbalist?" Chey pokes his head in the door.
"It's time for a talk. And he won't believe you anyway. Do you want to feel all foggy and tired again, dear?" Mother asks, in an almost patronizing tone. Azula rolls her eyes at her.
"No, Chey, I'm fine. Just... taking out a little pent up anger. I'd rather you just pretend you don't hear it. It's...embarrassing." Azula glares at the floor and crosses her arms in a sort of defensive, closed off stance.
"Alright, call me if you want to talk, Princess. And don't worry. I can't hear you unless you shout." The door clicks shut and the lock bolts into place.
"It's time for a talk." Mother says again. Azula whirls to face her.
"If I listen, will you leave me be?" She hisses.
"Perhaps. Perhaps not. That's for you to decide, dear." Mother's hand moves to brush hair away from Azula's face, although her hair doesn't move. Azula notices that the hand appears solid, and while her hair didn't move, she didn't actually see her mother's hand pass through it like a ghost.
"Very well." She sits and pouts. "I'm listening."
"Need is not the same as love, and trust is not for fools only. Trust is a choice that you are control of, and you are only foolish if you trust before you verify. Someone may need you for your abilities, but that is not like their choosing you when someone else might be better as a friend or lover, because they care about you and your values."
"What if I don't have values?" Azula argues back. "They're a weakness."
"You value your skill as a firebender. You value your ability to lead. You are not the most moral leader, and your firebending will only ever be as good as your level of mental and emotional stability. These are not small things. And you are young yet. You've plenty of time to choose your own values. How do you feel about your brother?" Mother sits beside her, her arm around Azula's shoulders. Azula finds herself wishing to feel it's weight and warmth. She angrily shoves the feeling away.
"I have a hundred ways that I'd love to kill him." She states, matter of factly.
"Is that really what you think of him?" Mother pushes.
"He's inferior, yet he takes the throne. He's useless, yet General Iroh chose him over me, over our country, over Father! Zuko always gets what he wants, and acts like he never asked for it! He owns up to none of his treachery in dealing with those around him! At least I'm proud of my accomplishments! When Zuko got something he'd wanted, he'd go crying after something, or someone, else. He's pathetic. You want to know what I think of him? That's it!" She stands again. "Now, will you please go away!"
"I don't see any lie in what you've said, Daughter. You do feel that way. I'm sorry. I want to help you. Please, consider being open to changing your mind and heart. The world is still a beautiful place." Mother disappears.
Azula sits again, her mind spinning.
What just happened? Did Mother just agree with my wanting to kill her beloved Zuko?! Who does she think she is, telling me how to feel?! I don't recall asking her about it! What does she mean, "The world is still a beautiful place"? It never was! It never will be! There is only an illusion of beauty! What does Mother want with me that she must toy with me like this?!!
Azula gets up and bangs on the door determinedly. She doesn't really know what to say to Chey, and she doesn't feel much like talking anyway. But Chey usually does a lot of talking. Azula finds listening to him more interesting than listening to Mother.