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Azula drifted in and out of consciousness. She felt empty, used, deaf and blind, touch and smell, and taste not registering, maybe not even existing anymore.
Where there was a humming warmth, safe and familiar, something inherently her, now was a cold pit – so cold, so, so COLD, she was freezing, – and she was falling, falling, never finding a handhold.
It was shameful, but she didn’t even feel present in her own body. Nothing felt real, but everything was much more scary – she wasn’t afraid, she was perfect, perfect girls weren’t afraid, not from the dark, not from the cold, not from being left alone to rot...
Since the Avatar, that thief, stole her bending, – give it back, GIVE IT BACK! – she couldn’t really differentiate between day and night, real and imaginary guards and tormentors. It seemed, she was alone – forgotten, discarded, useless, – but sometimes there were guards or visitors, always laughing, mocking or pitying – that was the WORST, she will burn them, burn, BURN…
She couldn’t make a spark. She tried, she tried so much, the breathing, the meditation, the kata, basic and advanced firebending forms, but there was nothing – nothing, empty like a cracked pot, dried out and crumbling, is THIS what you wanted, dear uncle?
In a short time she was giggling, then full out laughing. Uncle was a crafty old man, he knew, what he did. She should have applauded him on the stage. Manipulating the Avatar to take the only thing that made her worthy of the Fire Nation, just to make him the only valid candidate for the throne – Zuko didn’t count, he never did, she was Father’s favorite, – and to make the rest of the world more sympathetic to him? Good thinking, yes, and it was very funny indeed. Her tears were just from laughing too hard.
She knew, he wasn’t so morally superior as he was projecting for those fools. It was an act, a really good performance. He was bitter because her Father was the best, not a coward like him, somebody who did what needed to be done to win the war, to spread the greatness of the Fire Nation.
And he was jealous of her bending, her prowess, her success where he failed, – hateful old man, waiting months for the chance of revenge, this is his fault, HIS FAULT! – and Azula was sure, he was afraid to come to her cell, afraid of her ability to say uncomfortable truths. And what truths!
She almost waited for his visit with excitement, but he never came. It wasn’t so surprising, he never took the chance to know her, he never cared for any of them, and he WAS a coward, but it stung. When she had her bending, he was always near, and now… It seemed, he wanted to forget she even existed – she will make him remember her if that was the last thing she did, he won’t escape her so easily.
Her family was full of cowards and runaways, people who left and betrayed her. Uncle, mother, Zuko, Mai, and Ty Lee were all unfaithful. She sniffed – she deserved better, she was more powerful than them, she will make them sorry!
The only person she could rely on was her Father, – Dad loved her, he did, he wouldn’t abandon her, not like mother, – and she was waiting for the day when he escaped and took her with him. They would be taking their bending back, and burning everything to the ground – Dad will make them stop, the hurting, the mocking, the pitying, he will, she will be once again whole…
She didn’t know how many days passed since her bending was ripped out and trampled in the ground. It could be hours, it could be months or years – she couldn’t feel the sun anymore, what time it was, where was the warmth, the fire, the light? – but she wasn’t giving up on hope.
Father would help her. He never thought of her just as a monster – MONSTER, her own mother called her a monster – and she was a useful, loyal daughter, he would get her out. He would know what to do.
There was one time where she thought, the Avatar’s earthbender came to visit, – she was the one who handcuffed her, she was part of this travesty, she will pay, she should be afraid – but there wasn’t anything anymore to give. So she laughed and ridiculed her for wanting more when she didn’t have any, then her laughter turned somehow in sobs, – was any of that encounter real, though? – what called her mother forth.
Azula couldn’t trust her, she never cared for her, – it was always Zuko, the cry-baby, the weakling, – and ever since she was a little girl her mother thought, that something was wrong with her. She heard her complaining about her wrongness and saw her hugging Zuko, laughing with him, including him in various activities, but not Azula. Never Azula.
Her mother’s love wasn’t true, the only genuine love was that of Father’s. So she tuned her out, and repeated her mantra – Dad will know what to do, he will get me out, he will come, he has to come…
The night came unawares, then morning too, but Azula wasn’t moving from her position, her fingers tapping the familiar rhythm - Dad loves me, Dad loves me, Dad loves me…