AN: I've decided to take a crack at ATLA fan fiction. So here's my first ATLA fic! Please review. I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender.
…
He's not overly surprised when she shows up in his room. She shows up whenever she feels like, without an invitation or admittance in. And honestly, he's gotten used to it. It still doesn't stop him from asking the same question.
"What do you want?" he demands when she stands before him. He cranes his head up from his king-sized bed, previously drawing his name out in the air with fire, unable to sleep with what he's heard lately.
"I've got something to tell you. Something important," she answers him in a matter-of-fact type of tone. She's hovering a finely manicured hand over a small framed portrait of the Royal family on his dresser, picking it up and glancing at it without expression.
"Are you going to tell me, Azula? I haven't got all day."
"Daddy's going to kill you." The frame is set back down on the dresser.
"Excuse me?" Zuko sits up all the way now, with a confused expression on his face. Did she just say that?
"Grandfather is ordering Daddy to kill you. That's his punishment. I heard them talking about it. After you fled." Azula says, calmly with a hint of amusement in her voice.
Zuko's mind is wild. Sure, he's not on the best terms as she was with their father, but surely, a father can't kill his own son. Right? Right?
"You're lying," he growls at her, getting off his bed and advancing toward her. "You're lying!"
Azula examines her fingernails, glancing back at her brother. She says evenly, "I'm not."
"Yes you are!" he cries out. "Dad would never do that to me! He'd never kill me!"
Their mother comes sweeping into the room suddenly, her crimson and black robes billowing behind her. Ursa grabs Azula's arm and yanks her to her. "It's time for a talk," she says, finally glancing at her beloved son. Zuko has a distraught look on his face, tears sparkling in his thirteen year old eyes, looking between his sister and mother.
Ursa says nothing to him, and promptly drags Azula out. Zuko stands frozen. His own flesh and blood…is going to kill him…this is what his grandfather came up with? How could they?
He stands for a moment more before he snaps. He rushes to his door and locks it and screams at the top of his lungs in anger, running his hands through his black hair. Not fair, not fair, not fair!
He brings his fist down on the closest thing-the picture frame-cracking the glass, and sending pain and shards into his palm.
Zuko takes the picture out of the frame and holds in his bleeding hand, staring at the family there. They're dolled up in their finest Royal clothes, the father and daughter both with stern expressions on their faces, and the mother and son with small smiles on theirs.
He stares at the two sitting on the left-the father and daughter-in disgust. They hold no love behind their eyes. They don't care. They hate him. His father's going to kill him sooner or later. His sister is going to torment him forever. They can burn in hell.
A small flame grows on the top left corner of the picture, and then the bottom corner, spreading to the figures of Ozai and Azula, burning them out. The flames cease before reaching the right side, so that now only Ursa and Zuko remain untouched.
I like it better this way, Zuko thinks. Just the two of us. Where I'm protected and safe and loved.
He takes the half charred picture in his hand, and walks over to his bed, placing it under his main pillow. Zuko tilts his head back onto his satin sheets and stares at the canopy above him. Sleep is never going to come now. Not with his father on his brain. Not with his sister's words floating in his head. But with a fleeting thought, he thinks of his main mantra.
Azula always lies.
…
AN: Please review.