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29 December 2008 @ 06:53 pm
The Scars Told Her So [Azula, Azula & Zuko]  
Title: The Scars Told Her So
Pairing: Azula, Azula/Zuko
Fandom: Avatar the Last Airbender
Genre: Introspection, Angst, Tragedy
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 751

The Scars Told Her So

Passions run and skin is chilled. Passions are consuming, irrational, illogical, and things too burdensome to contemplate. For long.

And before, long, Azula couldn’t remember what fire felt like. Only lightning, only the best of the best, the singing that dealt widening blows. That can’t be stopped. That—

she and lightning (she thinks) are so analogous, so brave and beautiful and born.

Because Azula loves no one else. She could only remember. And count: how many strikes does it take?

One, two, three…Zuko crashes hard. Charred to cinders.

Zuko must be a masochist, must love the concept of “suicide”.


The world is a laughing matter, had been for an extremely long time. Longer than she cares to tell (or explain, for the stupid people lost in their stupid lives).

Like Zuko, he embodied stupid and worthless. No wonder father doesn’t love him. He is far too weak. A soreness that doesn’t abate, located on the left, inner thigh (where the nerves bundled themselves, weeping). And Azula is the ointment that comes to save the day—and Father. She brings silk and pearls, and with her healing touch, the world stops laughing.

It thunders and roars but cannot fight her.

She is a hero that can’t be defeated.



She hears them saying how she’s slipping, how she is like falling deeper into despair, how her eyes are drawing glassy barren.

And she is forlorn, having lost everyone.

Azula doesn’t understand. She’s strong, so much stronger and more powerful and skilled. She can even fan out her lightning (those that she loves best). And what is Zuko: nothing. He can barely contain his flames.

He has no control (and she has fate on her side).


He tosses out a knife and tries to plunge it into her nonexistent heart. And where he is supposed to hear the thump and see the rivulets of blood pouring, screaming, he feels nothing.

She has no heart.

And for a moment, he jumps back—is almost surprised (but only almost). And when he regains consciousness, she sighs and hoists him up and over her shoulders. She takes him to the broken piles of stones in the center and shucks him off.

“Why are you so astounded? I thought you were the one who said I had no heart. Just an empty hole.”


“Oh shut up, Zu-Zu. This is just a game. I would never kill you.”


And their tutors clap their hands: amazing, Princess! They drown out noise and soul-kisses with their applause. She is victorious, once again.


And so, it nearly shatters her when he manages to aim a bursting crack at her face.

She steps to the side, barely, and makes it out alive. She heaves, chest raving from anger, and rides on her blue pets closer towards him. She is fast (he is not). She has the comet feeding her from its delicate, rocky hands. And he—traitor—is rendered weak.



Whereas Zuko is both free and worn, Azula is burgeoning, fresh and wicked.

She forgets entirely too well that they are related, that he is her older brother. Young and fretful, Azula retrogresses in age. Azula can never die. Azula teaches herself how to be immortal.


The battle ends too quickly for her to ponder over precisely what happened. Something with shackles and that watery bitch.

And now, Azula finds herself locked up (in a fortress for her own good). She thinks she might have foamed at the mouth, the dreadful hate. But that is probably only imaginary. She is a princess (and Fire Lord) and has the grace to keep herself sane.

The door is thrust open, and Zuko walks in.

Zuko. Always Zuko, he mocks. Mockity mockity mock mock. He never leaves her alone. And even now, he takes everything (and the crown) and kicks her into the grave.

Too bad: Azula can never die.

(He forgets.)


She escapes from prison soon enough.


She yearns to hear his anguish. Music. A virtuoso with perfect pitch.

But now, she bides her time waiting on the outskirts of the capital. Waits for her legs to surface from atrophy, for her muscles to bind themselves again to blaze. Her face is marred and covered. No one recognizes (or sings or fears) her here.

And Azula thinks she just might make a deal with the devil.

Zuko will pay.

The scars told her so. Azula can never die.

azula_gurl110 on December 30th, 2008 07:52 am (UTC)
wow thats so...i can't explain it.... its just so amazing i mean the way you did azula is so like her. i am speechless please keep up the great work i love it^^
treeflamingo: dr horrible: mwahahahahatreeflamingo on January 1st, 2009 01:40 pm (UTC)
Oh, very nice. Very nice indeed. You have successfully written a psychopath. *applause* My favorite part, I think, is the bit about her inability to remember what fire feels like. And, she and lightening (she thinks) are so analogous, so brave and beautiful and born. How marvelously true of her. One note, though: "lightening" is the gerund of 'lighten'; "lightning" is the noun you're looking for.
Y U no auto-translate?lye_tea on January 1st, 2009 09:25 pm (UTC)
Ah thank you. I really need to brush up on my spelling and grammar.
(Anonymous) on October 16th, 2009 06:52 pm (UTC)
You're delusional.
You actually Azula can't die. But you're wrong. Even though she's a cartoon character, she's mortal.

Do you like that gal so much that you want that you want to have sex with her? If so, then you're really deluded. I hate her for what she did and I want her dead. Same thing goes for all of her supporters and likers.

As for you people who complimented on this author, you're just kissing up to him or her. Honestly, do you support psychopaths and other people who support them? If so, go suffer a horrible fate. Same goes for whoever typed this story.
Y U no auto-translate?lye_tea on October 16th, 2009 06:54 pm (UTC)
Re: You're delusional.
This would be a lot more fun if you didn't comment anonymously.