o4 | {A:tLA} Helpless - Gen
Some Avatar, in honor of the finale.
Title: Helpless
Rating: K
Fandom: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Pairings/Characters: Zuko, Azula
Word Count: 715
Summary: Post-finale. Zuko visits a certain female relation of his.
Warning: THIS CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR THE SOZIN'S COMET.
Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar. Duh.
The first time he visits her, he thinks that she looks so utterly helpless.
The guards tell him it's all a ruse; that she has become two people, flipping dispositions as easily as a coin flips through the air.
("She'll lay like that fer days, sir, and not make any sound at all. Then next morning comes and she's screami' and cryin' like a demon and spittin' fire jus' like a dragon.")
He walks up to the bars, and sits, the same way he sat when his uncle was imprisoned here, not so long and forever ago. He leans forward grimly, the same way he leaned when he demanded information from his father. But this posture, rooted like a rock with a splash of compassion, he reserves only for his sister.
If she can even be called that.
He stares at the curled up mess on the floor: a great bundle of hair, rough prison cloth, and wild eyes, and the first word that comes to mind is thing. He doesn't want to think about her that way, because under all the schemes of power and perfectly manicured perfection, she is his sister. The person he was meant to feel a deep-set annoyance towards (because aren't all little sisters like that?), but protect and cherish to his last breath. The person he was never meant to feel nothing but a murderous rage for and play a hand in her demise.
Because she is still his sister.
And he can think back to a time when she had nothing but the greatest adoration for him. Where it was not their father's affections that mattered most, but the smiling little boy's that patiently played with her.
("Zu-ko, Zu-ko," he repeated the syllables of his name precisely, Azula staring at him in wide-eyed fascination.
"Zu...zu?" a pause, her little rosebud mouth struggling to shape the word, "Zu-Zu!" Azula clapped her minute hands together, laughing.
"No, Azula, Zu-ko. Zu. Ko."
"Zu-Zu! Zu-Zu!" She continued laughing merrily.
"Zu-ko," he stated patiently, lisping out the next sentence. "Not Zu-Zu. My name is Zuko, and I'm your big brother. Say it, Azula: Zuko!"
"Zu-Zu! Zu-Zu!" she insisted, frustration evident.
"No," his tone had become weary, his three year old patience worn thin, "Zuko."
"Zu-Zu!" Azula burst into angry tears and began to pound the carpet furiously with her fat little fists, wailing petulantly at failing her big brother.)
He closes his eyes to the past, and returns to the present, to the silent, useless heap of flesh before him; the conniving mind sheltered under immaculate locks dead, addled beyond repair. And he thinks that this Azula is as helpless as the tiny child he tried (and failed) to teach his name to so many years ago. She’s almost peaceful, he thinks, curled up in the grime of the prisons.
Until she opens her wild eyes, and they fall upon him.
She screams in incoherent fury, straining at the manacles on her wrists and ankles, and he is reminded horribly of her defeat. Her arms flail helplessly as she attempts to crawl forward on her knees, but is stopped when the chain reaches its length, and settles for channeling all of her anger, sorrow and thirst for vengeance (his blood) into a single shriek.
One long, bloodcurdling screech twisted around blue fire, spewing from her mouth like froth, licking over the bars harmlessly. She shakes her head back and forth like a crazed animal, spitting out curses and clanking her chains until the din is almost unbearable.
The guards hurtle in, and frantically escort their Fire Lord from the premises. Too many cruel masters have taught them to mumble their apologies in the lowliest manner possible, but this new Lord brushes them off.
("I'm sorry, sir, we didn' 'spect her to act like that. She only jist got outta one o' her rages yestermorn. It won't happen again, sir.”
"I...knew...what I was...getting into, you don't have to apologize.")
With his hopes of coming to an understanding with his sister dashed (even leaving her with weeks to compose herself, because that's what Azula always needed when she lost control: time), Fire Lord Zuko began the long, lonely walk back to the Palace, away from the shrieking past.
And into an era of peace.
Title: Helpless
Rating: K
Fandom: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Pairings/Characters: Zuko, Azula
Word Count: 715
Summary: Post-finale. Zuko visits a certain female relation of his.
Warning: THIS CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR THE SOZIN'S COMET.
Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar. Duh.
The first time he visits her, he thinks that she looks so utterly helpless.
The guards tell him it's all a ruse; that she has become two people, flipping dispositions as easily as a coin flips through the air.
("She'll lay like that fer days, sir, and not make any sound at all. Then next morning comes and she's screami' and cryin' like a demon and spittin' fire jus' like a dragon.")
He walks up to the bars, and sits, the same way he sat when his uncle was imprisoned here, not so long and forever ago. He leans forward grimly, the same way he leaned when he demanded information from his father. But this posture, rooted like a rock with a splash of compassion, he reserves only for his sister.
If she can even be called that.
He stares at the curled up mess on the floor: a great bundle of hair, rough prison cloth, and wild eyes, and the first word that comes to mind is thing. He doesn't want to think about her that way, because under all the schemes of power and perfectly manicured perfection, she is his sister. The person he was meant to feel a deep-set annoyance towards (because aren't all little sisters like that?), but protect and cherish to his last breath. The person he was never meant to feel nothing but a murderous rage for and play a hand in her demise.
Because she is still his sister.
And he can think back to a time when she had nothing but the greatest adoration for him. Where it was not their father's affections that mattered most, but the smiling little boy's that patiently played with her.
("Zu-ko, Zu-ko," he repeated the syllables of his name precisely, Azula staring at him in wide-eyed fascination.
"Zu...zu?" a pause, her little rosebud mouth struggling to shape the word, "Zu-Zu!" Azula clapped her minute hands together, laughing.
"No, Azula, Zu-ko. Zu. Ko."
"Zu-Zu! Zu-Zu!" She continued laughing merrily.
"Zu-ko," he stated patiently, lisping out the next sentence. "Not Zu-Zu. My name is Zuko, and I'm your big brother. Say it, Azula: Zuko!"
"Zu-Zu! Zu-Zu!" she insisted, frustration evident.
"No," his tone had become weary, his three year old patience worn thin, "Zuko."
"Zu-Zu!" Azula burst into angry tears and began to pound the carpet furiously with her fat little fists, wailing petulantly at failing her big brother.)
He closes his eyes to the past, and returns to the present, to the silent, useless heap of flesh before him; the conniving mind sheltered under immaculate locks dead, addled beyond repair. And he thinks that this Azula is as helpless as the tiny child he tried (and failed) to teach his name to so many years ago. She’s almost peaceful, he thinks, curled up in the grime of the prisons.
Until she opens her wild eyes, and they fall upon him.
She screams in incoherent fury, straining at the manacles on her wrists and ankles, and he is reminded horribly of her defeat. Her arms flail helplessly as she attempts to crawl forward on her knees, but is stopped when the chain reaches its length, and settles for channeling all of her anger, sorrow and thirst for vengeance (his blood) into a single shriek.
One long, bloodcurdling screech twisted around blue fire, spewing from her mouth like froth, licking over the bars harmlessly. She shakes her head back and forth like a crazed animal, spitting out curses and clanking her chains until the din is almost unbearable.
The guards hurtle in, and frantically escort their Fire Lord from the premises. Too many cruel masters have taught them to mumble their apologies in the lowliest manner possible, but this new Lord brushes them off.
("I'm sorry, sir, we didn' 'spect her to act like that. She only jist got outta one o' her rages yestermorn. It won't happen again, sir.”
"I...knew...what I was...getting into, you don't have to apologize.")
With his hopes of coming to an understanding with his sister dashed (even leaving her with weeks to compose herself, because that's what Azula always needed when she lost control: time), Fire Lord Zuko began the long, lonely walk back to the Palace, away from the shrieking past.
And into an era of peace.