This was written over the summer when I happened to catch Sozin's Comet on TV, which brought my Avatar obsession back to the surface. :D

This is kind of just a stream-of-consciousness character study for Azula and the way she perceives the various people in her life.

Enjoy!


i

Her hatred for Zuko is the kind you can't teach, the kind that's in her bones and embedded in her soul before she's old enough to string two words together. She calls him Zuzu just to watch the annoyance flit across his face, just to hear him whine for their mother and have her swoop in like some scarlet-caped hero, scoop her darling son into her embrace, and turn to her daughter with a look of disappointment that Azula will grow used to seeing on a daily basis.

Zuko is weak and stupid and compassionate and it is disgusting, she avoids him like some vile disease, like she could one day catch whatever it is that makes him so obviously different and wrong.

But no one is as disgusted by him as she is-except, perhaps, Ozai-so it's "Zuko this, Zuko that", the stupid failure can do nothing wrong.

She shouldn't be surprised when Zuko doesn't tell her he's leaving. Mai gets a note and he even confronts their father-during the eclipse, of course, once a coward, always a coward-but he leaves her nothing.

She laughs when she finds out, feels that familiar hatred well inside her like lava.

(No one told her three years ago. Why would anything be different now?)

ii

She hates her friends for hating her and as she stands, waits, listens to Mai rasp out that she loves Zuko more than she fears Azula, she smiles, they all choose Zuko, isn't that always the story, give me something new for once.

She could end Mai right there, no second thought, no blinking, and she is inches away, and then Ty Lee is there, and she chooses Mai-who chose Zuko so Ty Lee is really choosing Zuko-and isn't this just great, these are her friends, why is he stealing her friends, and then she blinks and she's on the ground, and it's always zukozukozuko.

(Why does no one ever choose her?)

iii

When she was little, there was nothing in the world she'd give to be in Zuko's place. She was father's favorite (wasn't she?) and Zuko was just a soft, weak baby, running to mommy at the first sign of trouble.

But her father betrays her, he will not take her with him, and she whines like the petulant fourteen year old she would be if she had been allowed to grow up normally, feels panic bubble in her chest, Ozai would never pick Zuko, but he isn't choosing her, and that's the same thing, isn't it?

Now her father fixes that look on her, the one she's seen so many times, always directed at Zuko, and his voice is sharp and his eyes are cold. He softens long enough to declare her the next Fire Lord and her heart jumps in her chest. Fire Lord Azula?

And in the next moment, he declares himself Phoenix King and her title is as hollow as the crown she hasn't even received yet. He has made her Fire Lord to silence her, and a hatred she didn't know she could have for her father rises in her.

She is a child playing dress up in her father's clothes. As the world bursts into flames around them, her hearts beats a frantic tattoo on her ribs and she is terrified.

(For once in her life she wishes she was her mother's favorite.)

iv

Azula hates her mother because she's not sure what else to do.

Ursa looks at Zuko with emotion, picks him up and smothers him with love and affection while her only daughter knows nothing but firebending and punishment and the cool smile of occasional approval. Ursa and Zuko sit by the pond and feed turtle ducks and Azula, unseen, sticks her tongue out at them to snuff out the minuscule flame of jealousy that flares up in her heart. Ursa sighs, what is wrong with that child?, while the child in question is but a few feet away and every word is another layer of ice over her heart.

Maybe that's why it's so odd now, her mother standing behind her, smoothly replying, I wouldn't miss my own daughter's coronation, when she asks why she's here. That's funny, she thinks, but doesn't say out loud, no need to give her mother anymore ammunition, because you never cared before. She doesn't need her mother here telling her she's confused, that she's used fear to control her friends-obviously not my friends, I don't have friends, they'd be here if I did-when her mother never paid her half the attention she gave to Zuko.

What choice do I have?, and her voice is more hysterical than she'd like, her breathing too shallow in her ears.

And now her mother just looks sad, like she'd like to give her daughter a hug, and maybe if she was four, she would let her, but she's ten years too late.

I love you, Azula, I do. And something in her snaps. She throws the brush as hard as she can, watches Ursa splinter into a thousand pieces, feels a part of her break as well.

Crying is for weak babies-like Zuko, she thinks-but she sinks to the floor and sobs.

(She knows a lie when she hears one.)

v

In the end, she hates herself the most.

And Zuko, and the peasant, as they stand there and watch. Zuko might look sad or he might look disgusted, it's hard to tell in the failing light of the comet, but she laughs either way, being pitied by him of all people is almost unthinkable, and her laughs turn into screams that flame out into crying and then she is slumped over on the cold metal grate and everything is still zukozukozuko and nothing has changed.

(And it never will.)


A/N: Thank you for reading. :)