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Electra	By : Looneyluna Category: Avatar - The Last Airbender > Het - Male/Female Views: 10878 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Electra
- 1
Title: Electra

Author: Looneyluna

Rating: NC-17

Warning and Summary: Sexual content of incestuous nature between father and daughter, Ozai and Azula. Azula is grown, an adult ruling the colonial provinces. She is called home to marry, to carry out her duty as royal wife. You have been warned! There is incest in this story. After watching last night’s episode… Well, this plot bunny wouldn’t leave me the hell alone. Now, I am back to working on Bitter Alliance.

--

Conflicting emotions wage war within me as the mainland of my nation comes into view. Several years have past since I was here. My father’s ambitions have come to a glorious crescendo. He is the sun, destined to rule over all, glorying in the divine right of our benevolent god’s blood that flows through his veins… the same blood that runs through mine.

He has recalled me from his second kingdom, the land I won for him so long ago, the one I have ruled for the last seven years. I have ruled with an iron fist, squashing the petty rebellions that keep emerging. I only hope the regent I appointed will continue to carry on my work in the manner I have established, for I know I shall never see the shores of the colonies again.

My brother is dead, my lies and treachery driving him insane. I take great pleasure in Zuko’s demise. I always resented his weakness and the fact that mother preferred him to me.

--

Days later—

It is late at night. I did not have time to prepare myself for my father’s summons. His aide assures me it matters not what I wear, but that I attend to my father at once. I kowtow before the wall of flame, my heart filled with happiness and dread. I am home, not just on Fire Nation soil, but in the presence of my beloved father. With my forehead touching the floor, I listen for his footfalls, the craving for his attention so great heat spears through me.

“Do you know why you are here, Princess Azula?” His voice is a low rasp, the sound of it sending chills down my spine.

“Yes, my lord,” I reply, my voice echoing off the floor. “You wish for me to wed and carry on your blessed line.”

“Do you wish to know who it is you are to wed and breed with?” His voice is behind me. He is so close. I can feel the warmth radiating from his body. I resist the urge to lift my head and turn around.

“I honor your choice, Father,” I answer. “By doing so, I will honor you and our ancestors.”

He touches me, his hand on my waist, and I turn my head. His shadow flickers next to mine. “Very well,” he says. I hear the rustle of clothing. I watch as the defined outline of my father looms over me as he sheds his robe. My breath catches. Shame flames in my cheeks, but I cannot turn away. It is only his shadow, but the sight of it leaves little to my imagination. I bite my lip.

“You are stripped of your noble title,” he informs me, his inflection almost remorseful. I start when his other hand pushes the material of my robe up my thighs. “You are no longer Princess Azula of the Fire Nation. By the third sunrise, you will be Fire Lady Azula.”

My heart pounds in my chest, every ambition I have ever dreamed of folding out before me like a room full of paper origami. My father’s hands are soft, lifting my robe and exposing my flesh to his gaze. I am naked beneath my robe, the excitement of being summoned by my father already making me slick with need. This tradition is taught in the schools, albeit not between father and daughter. It is a bridegroom’s right to sample his intended’s flesh before the actual ceremony.

His touch burns a path from my hips to my buttocks. I can barely breath. In all my imaginings, I had never imagined losing myself to my father. His fingers trail down my cleft, finding smooth, clean-shaven skin. He is gentle, and I widen my thighs longingly, unable to quell my whimper of need.

As his fingers delve into my tight, slick slit, he whispers his approval of my acceptance. “You will make a wondrous Fire Lady.” He rubs my juices over my throbbing pleasure, causing me to jerk in amazement. Liquid fire throbs through my stomach and into my loins.

I arch my back, silently begging for his touch. The glide of his fingers into my forbidden channel burns me. My muscles clench as he touches the proof of my innocence. Growling, he withdraws his touch.

Grasping my hips, he bends over me, the touch of his flesh rubbing against me intimately almost maddening. “Forgive me, my love. It is an ache I can no longer deny.” He nips my ear, the pain of it distracting me from the brutal thrust of his invasion. The rending of my virginity burns like the blue flame. Tears spill down my cheeks, but I bite my lip, accepting my role in life.

It feels as though he has driven a spike into me, the alien sensation throbbing within me as he waits for me to accept him. His murmured words of apology are muffled against my back. I love my father. I would do anything for him. But I am uncertain if I can endure this kind of pain again.

Reaching around my hips, he touches my swollen pearl and whispers into my ear, “You will know pleasure, my love.” He rubs light circles around the focal point of my existence, relieving me of the painful burn that has turned into a dull ache. He sucks the flesh between my shoulder and my neck, easing the memory of pain and coaxing me toward a blissful plateau.

He begins to move, withdrawing to where I feel emptiness looming before me. The thrust of his hard flesh within me takes my breath away. He sets a rhythm that is gentle with a touch of savagery. They are deep strokes, the tip of his maleness touching the entrance of my womb with each thrust.

“This is only the beginning,” he pants, “…of the pleasure you will know.” My heart feels as though it will leap from my chest, the joy too much for my neglected soul to bear. Like all women, I have dreamt of marrying. I have dreamt of passion, but no man would dare approach the daughter of the Fire Lord.

Serving him is my secret ambition, one I have harbored ever since I can remember. My father’s touch is his love. Like Zuko, I have craved my father’s love and attention ever since I can remember. Now, he and I are one.

I realize glory in his love!

That thought completes me. The spiral that centers in my womb tightens. I cry out, whimpering of how I have always loved him. My release is like lightening. It streaks through my body, singeing every fiber of my being. My release triggers his. His movements are furious, they buffeting my demure frame. The heavy sacs of his flesh slap against the heightened nerves of my clitoris, triggering more spasms of lust to claim my sanity. My channel milks the seed from his body. I feel the gush of warmth spread into my womb, his jerky movements signaling the end of his stamina.

He cries out…

The name that passes his lips is not mine.

“Ursa! Ursa! Ursa!” He holds me to him, the spurt of his essence chilling my soul. My father used me. It isn’t me who he loves.

It’s my dead mother!

I shed no tears. His love has always eluded me. Like my mother, he preferred Zuko to me. He used me as a secondary pawn when convincing my grandfather to renounce my uncle’s claim to the throne. He used me to hunt my uncle and my brother. What does it matter? He used me again.

He rolls away, shakily covering himself and standing. He stoops to straighten my robe, covering my nakedness. My body aches in strange new places, but I make no move to comfort myself. My shame will keep me from finding comfort, my tears wet against my cheek.

Voices murmur in the distance, my father’s and one of the sage’s from the temple of Agni. The coal-black gaze lingers on me. My father is issuing orders, which the sage readily agrees to.

The sage obviously witnessed the lustful union. Ice encloses my heart. I welcome the numbing sensation. I had thought… I had thought that my father might love me. I should have known better.

I am just a pawn.

--

FIN—unless there is an overwhelming response requesting more…
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