Avatar: The Book Of The Phoenix

Roses

The air in the asylum was thick with the scent of antiseptic and despair. It clung to Rokkun's cloak as he approached the nurse's station.

"How can I help you today?" The nurse asked, her eyes scanning the young man shrouded in shadow.

"I'm here to see Princess Azula." Rokkun replied, his voice a low growl.

"I'm sorry, but the Princess isn't taking visitors today," The Nurse replied, her tone firm. "Perhaps you can return another time?"

"I have come all this way to see her. I'm afraid I must insist. I am on official business." Rokkun replied, his voice hardening.

"And I must insist," the nurse replied back, "that the princess takes no visitations today."

"Perhaps, then, I should let the Fire Lord know that you refused his orders?" Rokkun knew it was a straight lie, but he knew it would work.

"Well, I..." the nurse looked around, stuttering. "Alright." She conceded. "I will take you to her. And who might you be?" she asked Rokkun.

"A friend of the family." Rokkun replied.

The nurse escorted him to Azula's room, where she was bound in a straight jacket, her eyes darting wildly.

"You have five minutes." the nurse said, letting him in and closing the door.

As Rokkun sat before her, Azula was mumbling something to herself about her mother, her voice a chilling whisper. She was a shadow of her former self, the witty, confident child Rokkun once knew utterly vanished, replaced by a hollow shell.

"Azula..." Rokkun said, his voice soft, a pang of sorrow piercing his heart. It hurt him to see her in this state.

Azula looked up from her ramblings abruptly, her eyes narrowed with suspicion. "What do you want?" She asked, her voice a mere rasp.

"These are for you, my love." Rokkun said, pulling out a small bundle of roses. He stood up, placing them gently at her feet.

Azula ignored them, her gaze fixed on the stranger before her, a flicker of confusion in her eyes. As he stood in front of her, Rokkun removed his cloak, revealing his face. He stroked Azula's hair gently, hoping that she would recognize him.

"My sweet Azula..." he said, his voice thick with emotion. "What has the world done to you?"

For a fleeting moment, a spark of recognition flickered in Azula's eyes. "Aa-Aarslan?" She stammered, her voice barely a whisper.

But the clarity faded as quickly as it appeared, replaced by a chilling paranoia. "No...this can't be...did she send you here?" Azula barked, her eyes widening.

"Who?" Rokkun asked, his heart sinking.

"My scheming mother! You're not real!" Azula cried, her voice rising in hysteria.

Rokkun stared at her, his heart breaking. The once brilliant Azula, consumed by madness, was now a mere shadow of the girl he loved.

"Azula!" Rokkun said, his voice firm, gently holding her shoulders to prevent her from thrashing against the restraints. "This is real. It's me. I'm here." He attempted to console her, his voice soft and soothing. "I made a promise to you when we were children. Remember?"

"No," Azula continued denying, her voice rising in panic. "You can't be real. You're a figment. A hallucination." She began to sob, her body wracked with tremors, completely ignoring Rokkun's presence.

He attempted to console her further, to remind her of their childhood, of their shared laughter, of the promises they had whispered under the moonlight. But his words were met with a torrent of denial, of accusations, of chilling pronouncements of his unreality.

"Just go," she finally choked out, her voice hoarse. "Go away! Leave me alone!"

Rokkun looked at her, his heart aching. The once vibrant Azula, the girl who had once ignited his world with her fiery spirit, was now a caged bird, her wings clipped, her song replaced by the mournful cries of a broken soul.

He turned and walked away, the weight of her despair heavy on his shoulders. The crimson roses lay forgotten at her feet, a silent testament to a love lost to the ravages of madness.

"Sir? Sir?" Rokkun heard faintly, the voice distant and muffled. The memory of the asylum, of Azula's anguished cries, faded, dripping away like melting snow. He was aboard the Iron Dragon's bridge, the polished metal gleaming under the harsh glare of the midday sun. The ship was steaming along the coast of the Earth Kingdom, the lush green landscape giving way to a small, idyllic village nestled amongst the rolling hills.

"Are we ready to fire, my Lord?" Captain Ramun asked, his voice booming across the bridge.

Rokkun looked around the room, his mind still reeling from the vivid, haunting memory of the asylum. Azula, now his wife, stood beside him, her gaze fixed on the horizon, an unsettlingly serene expression gracing her features.

Rokkun cleared his throat, his voice a low rumble. "Fire at will, Captain."

"All units, fire!" Captain Ramun echoed, his voice amplified by the ship's speakers.

The Iron Dragon unleashed its fury upon the unsuspecting village. A barrage of fire rained down from the heavens, engulfing the peaceful hamlet in a fiery inferno. The screams of the villagers, the cries of the wounded, were swallowed by the roar of the cannons. The idyllic village, once a symbol of life and tranquility, was reduced to a smoldering ruin, a grim testament to the destructive power of the Fire Nomads.

Rokkun watched the carnage unfold, a strange hollowness echoing within him. The memory of Azula's tortured cries in the asylum, the haunting image of her hollow eyes, seemed to fade further, replaced by a cold, detached indifference. He had become a monster, just as his father had before him. And Azula, his once vibrant, spirited Azula, had become his willing accomplice.

The Iron Dragon continued its relentless march, leaving behind a trail of destruction in its wake. Rokkun, the once idealistic young man, now stood amongst the ruins of his own humanity, his soul consumed by the darkness that had once threatened to consume Azula.