Disclaimers: I hold no rights to Avatar: The Last Airbender, it's characters, etc.

A/N: A one-shot I took my time to write, because I felt that Azula was such a sad character who deserved to be pitied. Her motives, insecurities, and ambitions made her one of the most complex characters on the show, if not the most. I had fun writing this, and I hope you have fun reading it.

Mother's Embrace

It was warm. The golden glow of the setting sun filled the cell, and illuminated the less-than-desirable details of the room. Rust covered the firm iron bars, betraying a false sense of hope to the imprisoned; the floor was coated in a thick layer of dust and grime, glistening a sooty-scarlet in the light; and the single, cold, metal bench pressed against the wall of the cell swayed slightly under the weight of its occupant.

Not that Azula noticed.

How had it happened? She hadn't miscalculated, that much was a fact. She never miscalculated. It had been Mai and Ty Lee who were foolish enough to betray her, to err so carelessly. Not that she cared; it had nothing to do with her.

And yet, it had unnerved her. Fear had always been her greatest weapon, her guiltiest accomplice, her closest ally. It had never failed her before, and it was nearly impossible to fathom how it, of all things, had fallen short, had let two get away. Who else had it failed to ensnare in its net of intimidation?

She had, perhaps, become a bit paranoid. She had banished the servants, the royal guards, and even the Dai Li. But these actions were justified, these deeds were sound. She had been protecting herself from Fear's failures, from Fear's faults. She had not miscalculated; the blame rested with another.

It had been Her fault.

She had dared, in her moment of triumph, to weaken her with her petty words. She had tried to unhinge her, to baffle her with lies of love and misleading caresses. Yes, it had been Mother's doing, not hers.

She was perfect. She was infallible. She was flawless. She was without error. She was–

A lock of hair fell from its place behind her ear and drifted gracefully across her face. She twitched with annoyance before tucking it neatly behind her ear again. Yes, she was perfect, though her hair had argued otherwise.

Azula rolled over the cold bench and gazed at her swaying bangs, reflected in the puddle of grime upon the floor that formed from the morning dew. She sighed. The quick, maddening snip was now indiscernible in the long, black streaks of her hair.

She grimaced at the rest of her reflection. Bags had formed under her eyes, and the once glorious, piercing golden eyes gazed back at her, morose and full of weariness and fatigue.

It had been stupid, really. To get upset over it. She didn't know why she had done it. But that wasn't what had goaded her. It had been Mother's open arms, looking warm, and welcoming, and comforting—and full of lies. That hallucination had shaken her, because it had been the one thing she could not conquer, could not obtain: it had been what her mother had always denied her.

Why? Why did she hold Zuko above her? She was everything he was not: she was smart, she was skilled, she was precise, she was proficient. Father loved her, why couldn't–?

No.

Father had not loved her. He had used her and thrown her away. That was why they were both rotting away in cells, stripped of their Firebending and sulking as their lives ebbed away.

Would Mother have done the same?

Azula despised herself for thinking it, yet she could not help it. Mother had always been kind, and thoughtful, and there. She had always been comforting, even though Azula had been thorough in her rebuffs.

But Mother had said she loved her, and it had made her cry.

Not that she cared. She was Princess Azula, superior in every aspect. She was the better sibling, the perfect child, the–

"Azula?"

In her musings, she had not noticed the stranger creep into the iron room; the creak of the metal door had fallen upon deaf ears. She stared at her visitor, who gazed back at her calmly from the opposite side of the bars. The soft glow of twilight distorted her features, and Azula was forced to squint to discern her identity; her blood ran cold.

"Azula?" Her voice was meek, dripping with concern, and her rose-tinged cheeks were stained with dried tear trails. She had not aged; she might as well have disappeared yesterday and come with the dawn.

"Don't," Azula grated. She managed to hide her surprise, for her voice had become a rather feeble rasp; she had quite forgotten she had the ability to talk in her solitude. "Just... don't."

"Azula, please–"

"I said no!" Her voice found that fountain of bitterness. "Don't do it again!" She was angry. How dare she? How dare she do it again? To show her face after what she'd done?

Princess Ursa's lips trembled as her eyes watered with fresh tears. "Azula," she murmured, "oh, Azula. What's happened to you?"

"'What's happened to me?'" She repeated the question with sardonic scathing. "'What's happened to me?'" Azula felt the rage licking against her insides, flaring wildly; it was like Sozin's Comet had imploded in her chest. "Don't play dumb, Mother. You happened. You neglected me, you refused to recognize my superiority to Zuko! Father did, Father–"

"I never neglected you, Azula." Though the words came out calm and serene, they halted Azula's frenzy. "I watched you closer than you could ever imagine. I was concerned for you, because you seemed so confu–"

"I SAID DON'T!" Azula's screeched quivered upon the air. Her chest was heaving; she had lunged forward and clenched her fingers upon the bars. She didn't care if she lost the careful composure that Father had admired and prized. "You're not going to do it again! You're not going to tell me I'm confused, that you care, that you love me!"

She wanted to scream, she wanted to rage and storm at this woman before her. Had the Avatar not stripped her of her Bending, blue flames would have been spewing from her lips. "You're not going to lull me into a false sense of security," she continued, her voice dropping to a whisper, "and then leave me again."

Azula felt the warm clear water strolling down her cheek; clearly, the dew had begun dripping in earnest again. The water rolled down and fell upon her lips, and, upon impulse, her tongue purged it from her skin: it was salty. In shock, Azula put a trembling hand to her face and wiped the tears away from her eyes.

There was silence.

Princess Ursa stared back at Azula through the iron bars; her lips were incapable of speech. They uttered not a single word as she strode forward to embrace Azula against the cool metal, and in her shock, Azula was frozen.

It was different this time: she was there. She was there as much as the warmth of the sun upon her neck, as much as the tears flooding anew from her own eyes, as much as her heart beat frantically in her chest with yearning and contentment.

Finally, she had obtained the one thing she could not have in the past, acquired what she had always coveted. It was love, simple, blissful, love that stole over her. It was a sanctuary of closure and security, of understanding and protection. It was an assurance that her mistakes could be forgotten and that she could start over. How had she ever turned this away?

A fresh wave of tears broke over Azula's face as her body trembled with the weight of her realization, with her understanding. She felt the rigid grasp of discipline upon her weaken, sensed the hastening pace of her throbbing heart, felt the quivering of her rattling breaths–

"Crap, she's doing it again."

"What, again?"

"Yeah. Go get Fire Lord Zuko, he'll calm her down."

The scurrying of feet brought her back, and the issuing of the name lingered upon the air, so that reality came crashing down upon her, swift and cruel.

She was on the floor, crying and bawling uncontrollably, flailing about piteously in her own tears. In the wake of her echoing sobs, it was undeniable: she had let it happen again. She had allowed herself to be misled by the facade, to be tempted by the allure of love and understanding, and had desperately craved the one thing she had always yearned and would never again receive:

Her mother's embrace.

-End-

A/N: I personally love this piece, and I think it reprents Azula fairly well. I wanted a one-shot that gave her a (somewhat) redeeming ending while still emphasizing her loss and such, and I hope I did so. Anywho, you know the deal. Click that nifty review button and have at it! :D