Violent Delights, ATLA

chapter six, the slowest way to kill

06
THE SLOWEST WAY TO KILL

THE SLOWEST WAY TO KILL someone you love was to never love them enough. Luckily for Ozai, he would feed his daughter plenty of love. Not enough to fill in the empty other half of which Ursa was meant to give her own love, but enough to make sure Azula would never disappoint him in the future. To ensure she was her father's daughter.

Azula heard from a butler that the Fire Lord requested her immediate presence. She bid farewell to San and headed off to his study room, stopping at the door. Faint voices coming from inside reached her ears, and she froze, still as a statue to eavesdrop. Her father's voice was threateningly calm. Icy, almost. She pressed her ear to the door to hear better. A scared voice, quivering, swore that they had placed the document on the table. The explanations spluttered forth like a flood, but her father spoke no more. Then, there was a scream. A scream of horror and pain.

Azula smiled, amused. She had heard her father say something about justice—something about punishment—something about commoners not knowing their place. There was a sound of something hitting the floor. At that moment, she became certain that her father had killed someone over the missing paper. She only managed to step away from the door just when it slowly opened and a servant burst out.

He was like a wet dog and fear consumed his entire being. Azula watched as the servant turned the corner, barely acknowledging her, and then seemingly coughed his lungs out. She reeled back, disgusted that the servant didn't show her proper respect and almost bumped into her. 'No matter,' she thought, 'Dad gave him a punishment anyway.' Slowly, she turned her gaze back to the door, only to see her father by it, a frightening expression on his face.

"Punctual as always, Azula." Ozai said with a praising tone, swiftly changing his expression as soon as he looked down at his daughter. "Excellent."

Azula bowed her head politely to him in thanks. "If I may be so bold to ask, Dad, what happened?"

"Nothing you need to concern yourself with. He is but a commoner. His crime has received a just and swift punishment. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Dad."

"Good." Ozai nodded then invited her inside, closing the doors.

The faded oil paintings on the tall wall, the large desk, and the back of her father, always turned towards her. For as long as she could remember, this was how their meetings in his study were like. Azula would stand near the door, gaze up and hands clasped together in the front. Her father would say, without looking:

"Straighten your back more, Azula. You are a princess. Look like it."

Azula would follow the instruction, putting her hands behind her to help keep her back straight and her shoulders square. She would silently stand as straight as she could.

"You summoned me, Dad?"

"Have you improved your control over your firebending?" The indifferent voice asked.

"Yes."

"Show me."

Azula nodded as her father turned slightly to look at her. The gaze in those narrow, aurea eyes was sharp and cold; expecting. She shuffled her feet into position without sound, fingers aligned to each other and concentration geared to the max. Blue fire lit from the ends of her fingertips before she carried out her brief performance to what she believed, and hoped, was perfection.