A/N: Hello everyone! As you might know, I'm currently participating in a Avatar Writing Competition (Avatar: The Last Writer). This weeks prompt was 'Betrayal'. I've Always wanted to write a fic centering around Azula and Ursa, but I'm afraid it doesn't relate to the theme enough and I'm not completely satisfied with how it turned out. Reviews are very much appreciated!

It was a day to be celebrated. Princess Azula turned sixteen years old and since she was Ozai's designated her, it was supposed to be a big party. Ozai intended to show everyone the might of the nation that now ruled the entire world – and the might of its royal family.

Not everyone knew Azula was supposed to follow in his footsteps. There was Zuko of course. Ozai had hoped there was a way to get rid of his useless sun – the war had eliminated his foes before, after all – but Zuko was still here. It was obvious that most people preferred Azula, though. She was the one who had succeeded in bringing the Earth Kingdom down, she was the one who was planning the final evasion and destruction of the Northern Water Tribe and it was her who had killed the last waterbender of the southern water tribe. But still. If they were to follow tradition, Zuko was to become the new fire lord.

But, father is still young, Azula thought. There's no reason to assume that he would die anytime soon. They had plenty of time to make sure that she would be the one to ascend the throne. Even if Zuko didn't want to back down – well, they all knew that he wasn't very successful in Agni Kai's, didn't they? Only a fool would prefer Zuko ever her… and their mother. Well, Azula supposed her mother had been a rather foolish woman… She was suddenly reminded of her last birthday with her mother. She had braided Azula's hair and had even lent her some of her red lipstick…

Why on earth was thinking about her mother? Azula gritted her teeth and forced her mind to change the subject. She knew that all the important nobles, all the important generals - people who would one day either support or defy her - were invited to this party. It was supposed to be a spectacle, the party of the year... They had been planning it for months. Azula would even wear a dress, instead of her usual armor. At first she had wanted to refuse, but father had told her that diplomacy was an important part of politics. Azula agreed with him, of course, but she still didn't see why that meant wearing a dress.

Still, she wanted to please her father and it would be a nice way of showing off her beauty. The only nice thing her mother had left her. Azula was sitting in her bedroom, surrounded by servants. They were to make sure that she would look amazing. Azula already wore her dress – it had a deep, crimson red colour and a V-neckline. It fell down to the floor and was embroidered with golden dragons. Azula had to admit that it looked beautiful – and thanks to the dragons it wasn't too soft. She wouldn't have liked to look weak.

The servants were now brushing her hair. She never wore it down. It came all the way down to her middle. 'Do you want us to put it up, your grace?' one of the servants asked.

'No,' Azula responded. 'I want something special – it's my birthday, after all. Leave it down – only a small topknot will do. And make sure to use my new hairpiece.' Azula looked at the golden accessory that was placed on the table before her. It was her father's gift for her birthday – something worthy of a future Fire Lord, Azula thought. The gold would perfectly complement the golden dragons on her dress.

Azula smiled. If only Ty Lee were here – she would appreciate Azula's new found sense of clothing and make-up.

Azula couldn't look in the mirror, surrounded as she was by women doing her hair and nails. They subtly darkened her eyes before adding her usual red lipstick. 'Not the same colour as usual,' Azula said. 'I want it to match my nails.'

'As you wish, your Grace.'

She would look amazing, Azula thought. She was lost in thought when someone knocked on the door.

'Yes?' she called.

'Your Grace, your father informs you that he expects you in five minutes.'

'We're almost finished,' Azula said. 'Let him know that I'll be there.'

'Just your earrings, Your Grace,' the servant girl said.

Azula looked at the golden studs she had chosen. That had once belonged to her mother – and Azula had always envied her for them. The golden flames. 'I should have blue ones made, for myself,' she said out loud. 'Maybe for my next birthday.'

'That's a lovely idea,' two or more servants said. Azula didn't add a lot of importance to their opinions – they would agree with whatever she said.

She put in her earrings. 'Am I done?'

'You look wonderful, your Grace,' one of the servants said.

'Then you may leave,' Azula said. 'Don't go to far – I might need help changing some details.'

The servants bowed, wished her a happy birthday and left the room. Azula watched them leave before looking in the mirror.

It took her a few seconds to process what she was seeing. She had to blink a few times to make sure that her eyes weren't fooling her.

Her mother's face was looking back at her. Azula blinked a few times. The shocked look in her mother's eyes told her that it was her own.

Azula had always known that she looked like her mother. She had strayed away from that image – finding pride in her beauty, but making sure that no one could forget the diffencees between her and her mother. She was nothing like her. Her mother had been weak – a non bender, not able or willing to fight for her country. For her children. She had just left, one day… without explanation. Azula had her own theory's, but she never dared ask her father. Azula would never leave, not like that. She was more determined, more powerful than her mother. Her mother hadn't even been a bender! That's probably also why she hated Azula – because Azula was powerful. Azula wasn't weak, wasn't blinded by kindness. Her mother thought she was a monster…

Azula felt betrayed by her own face, by her own thoughts...

Azula stood up and turned her back on the mirror. She didn't want to look at her mother - no, herself - anymore. She should've refused to wear a dress. It was ridiculous - she was a warrior, she should wear her armour.

She tried to forget her mother's face - no, her own face - looking at her. She tried to think about other things, but then her mind kept sending her memories of her mother. Happy memories.
Why would she think about these happy moments? Her mother had thought her to be a monster. She had always known it… her father had told her that her mother would never understand them. Their fighting prowess, their ambitions. That's why she preferred Zuko… but why would she care? Why would she care if her own mother that she was a horrible person?

Tears welled up in Azula's eyes. She tried to blink them away,afraid to ruin her make-up. She was nothing like her mother… She wasn't going to cry. Maybe she had overreacted - and even if she didn't, it wouldn't care. Only a fool would think that Azula resembled her mother in more than just her looks. Azula never walked away from something.

So she turned around and studied her face, trying to find differences. They were there, of course. Azula had a more prominent chin, what reminded her off her father. Her eyes were not the exact same colour and Azula was quite sure that they didn't have the exact same nose. She tried to focus on those differences, but it was still her mother's face looking back at her.

'No,' Azula mumbled. She wanted to turn her back on the mirror, but she couldn't. Her mother's sad face stared at her and Azula suddenly thought of all the times her mother had looked at her like that. When did she start to think about her own daughter as a monster? What kind of mother thought that? A few tears rolled over her cheeks. She pursed her lips, trying to stop them from would have to go the party… She had to act normal, to act perfect. She had to make her father proud.

Azula suddenly realised realised that all those people there would have known Ursa. They would see how much she looked like her.

No! She was not like her mother! She never walked away from something… from someone. She would not have left them alone… A sob left her lips. She left her alone because she hated her… her daughter.

Azula turned her back on the mirror once more. Her mind seemed to run in circles Her daughter – she thought her daughter was a monster. Azula buried her head in her hands. Her mother hadn't been wrong… or had she? Was she a monster?

Azula couldn't stop the tears from coming. Monster. The word seemed to echo in her mind. It was her mother's voice. You are a monster. You are a murderer.

Azula turned back to the mirror. Her mother's eyes – teary but judging – were looking into hers.

'No!' Azula screamed back. 'Leave me alone!' She yanked at her hairpiece, pulling some hairs from her scalpel in the process. 'I'm look nothing like you!'

You are right – we're nothing alike. Zuko looks way more like me – he's not a monster, not like you. That's why I've always loved him. I never loved you. How could I? How could I love a monster?

Azula threw the hairpiece at the mirror, shattering it to pieces.

'Azula?' she heard someone say – a male voice.

'Leave me!' she screamed. 'Get away!'

There was a short silence. 'Are you crying?' the voice said hesitantly. Azula realised it was her dear brother. Her mother would be pleased to seem him… if she was here. Which she wasn't. Right?

'Leave me!' she screamed.

'But your birthday…'

'I don't care! Leave!'

She hadn't expected Zuko to listen, but she heard his footsteps walking away from her. She was alone again.

Azula sat down in front of the broken mirror. Her hands were shaking as she cried. She tried to force the tears from coming. She already had one parent who hated her – she couldn't lose her father as well. He loved her – right?

She could still hear her mother's voice. How could anyone love a monster?

A part of her knew that she wasn't being rational, but that voice was softer than the big monster in her head. She drew a few breaths and looked in the mirror again. The cracks were reflected in her eyes.

'I don't care if you hate me,' she said to her mirror image. Her voice was shaking - unconvincing. Azula had always thought she were good liar, but right now she proved herself wrong.

People knocked again, but Azula stayed silent this time. 'Azula – I'm coming in,' a voice she quickly decided belonged to Iroh said. She was about to scream at him, until she realised she didn't want to be alone. Iroh wouldn't be her first choice of company – neither would Zuko – but she didn't want to be alone anymore. Someone had to tell her to get it back together. Someone who didn't look like her mother.

Her uncle was followed by her brother. Azula looked at them, suddenly realising that she probably looked ridiculous – her hair was a mess, so was her eye make-up and she was still crying.

'What's wrong?' Iroh asked, as Zuko gasped. He had seen it as well.

She turned away from them.

'You look so much like her,' Zuko whispered and at that moment, Iroh realised as well.

'I don't,' Azula snapped. She tried to smooth her hair – a desperate move to make her seem composed and busy.

'I'm nothing like her,' Azula repeated again. Azula tried to clean her eyes, but her movements were so shaken up that she accidentally poked her eye.

'I think you look beautiful,' Iroh said. 'Let me get some servants – your father is waiting for you.'

Azula barely registered his words. Her mother's face looked at her. 'She hated me,' Azula whispered. For the first time, she dared to acknowledge to herself that she missed her mother. She missed having a woman in the house.

'That's not true,' Iroh said.

Normally, she told herself it was for the best. She didn't need anyone - let alone a mother. Azula wrapped her arms around herself. She might not have become a monster if her mother had stayed.

Azula wished she could reach through the mirror and hug her. She had always wanted to believe that she hated her mother – but that wasn't true. She had hated the fact that her mother preferred Zuko over her. That her mother believed her to be monster. What kind of mother didn't like her own child?

'Azula, your mother loved you very much,' Iroh said.

Azula bowed her head, tears streaming down her face.

'What is this all about?' Ozai said. Azula hadn't noticed him entering the room.

She wanted to respond, but she couldn't. Instead, she wiped away her tears.

Ozai stared at his daughter in silence. He saw the similarities between herself and his wife and immediately understood why both his children seemed so distraught.

'You were right, you should've worn your armour,' he said to Azula. 'You can change - but be quick about it.'

Azula forced herself to hide her misery as she looked at her father. 'I will,' she responded. 'Thank you father.'

Iroh and Zuko looked as Azula removed all visible evidence of her unraveling. The way her face suddenly appeared stern made Zuko wonder if she had done this before.

Azula looked in the cracked mirror as she re-applied her lipstick.