"You look nice."

Azula pauses to meet her brother's eyes in the mirror.

"What are you plotting?"

Zuko grins.

"Nothing yet." He falls back on Azula's bed as he grumbles, "Would it kill Dad to hold off on all the family activities? We've had like nine dinners this week. It's his fault I have a D in Calculus."

Ozai and Ursa had returned from Washington D.C. less than a few hours ago, and are preparing for a dinner party at the manor the very night.

Clearly their offspring bear the brunt of Ozai's career.

"There are seven days in a week, genius. Besides, even if we had time to do our homework, it's not like you'd actually do it." Azula raises her eyes to glare at her brother. "And get off my bed."

"But I'm enjoying rubbing my very real and fleshy anatomy all over it so much."

"Oh, for the love of Satan! It's been a week–give it a rest already!"

"Did you just use the devil's name in vain? Azula, that's rude."

Azula exhales deeply.

It had been an excruciating ten-thousand-eighty minutes of Zuko's scorn. Never has she had to tolerate such derision on her brother's part. Somehow, it seems that the sixteen years of misery she had wrought on him had finally come back to haunt her.

Still, Zuko doesn't possess Azula's cunning or composure.

In an even voice, she retorts, "Speaking of conduct, you'd better be on your best behavior, Big Brother. Heavens forbid Mother has to clean up another mess of yours before Father finds out."

Zuko doesn't falter.

"Aw, are you getting nervous about being alone at a party?"

Azula scoffs. "Please, Zuzu. Political gatherings are the bane of my existence. You're the one that's stuck with your emo girlfriend," she smirks, pleased to finally have gained some leverage.

For all the effect this has on her brother, Azula may have been discussing the weather.

"Yeah, I guess you're right," Zuko concedes lightly, suddenly enraptured by the nails on his left hand.

Azula's eyes narrow.

She sets her brush down as she turns to face her brother.

"There's something you're not telling me, isn't there?"

Zuko's eyes widen innocently. "Why would you assume that?"

Azula grits her teeth. She's losing her patience with all of this foreplay.

"Listen, you little cheat–I know you. You blow up at the slightest things, yet you've been complacent and benevolent all week. I know you're up to something." She storms across the room and thrusts a finger in her brother's face. "And don't you dare think for a second you can win, meathead–with your mediocre grades and daddy issues."

To Azula's utter shock (and dismay), Zuko isn't even slightly fazed.

He raises an eyebrow in amusement. "That's a lot of mean things to be saying to your older brother. I mean, I complimented you. Don't I get one in return?"

Azula clenches her fists.

"You don't look half as horrible as usual, you twat," she spits before stomping back to the vanity.

Zuko had cleaned up rather nicely for the occasion. He's dressed in a burgundy blazer, baby blue dress shirt, steel blue tie, charcoal slacks, and black dress shoes. Even his usually unruly hair is tame, parted to the right and styled with gel.

"Nice hair," she adds with a sneer.

This finally incites a reaction.

Zuko rolls his eyes. "Mom did it. But I was being serious. You do look nice, Azula."

Azula had spent the better part of three hours priming in front of the vanity.

Brunette hair is pulled back into an ornate bun settled just below her right ear; already clear skin is enhanced by a light dash of foundation; uniform lips glisten with scarlet; the smooth planes of her cheeks are dusted with rose; the contours of cat-like eyes are extended with eyeliner; amber eyes are accentuated by the stretch of lavender above them. She's sporting a simple crimson dress that ends just below her knees–form-fitting, with thin straps and a v-cut to draw attention to the dip of her collarbone and the curve of her shoulders. Ruby Jimmy Choo heels complete the ensemble.

A golden charm fashioned into a three-pointed flame sprouting from a spiral lies at the base of Azula's necklace, and she's wearing matching earrings. It's the family insignia. Zuko has an identical symbol pinned to his blazer.

Ozai and Azula wear it with pride; Ursa and Zuko wear it in compliance.

"Yeah, whatever. Go play with your consort, Prince Charming."


Azula is enjoying herself immensely.

She had spoken to almost all the important party guests and schmoozed most of them in her father's favor for the elections in November. In fact, she may have even scored a few sponsors for herself.

If only teenagers were this easy.

When it comes to negotiations, networking, and all things corporate, Azula is in her comfort zone. Politicians are her minions–her thread; she weaves her own designs, her own embroidery on the greater tapestry. Her own peers, on the other hand, string her like a yoyo; she's the ball of yarn, and they're the feline.

It's in the midst of discussing a legislation prohibiting homosexual unions in the state that she notices a member of the feline family on the chesterfield. Azula smirks; a bitter Zuko has his arm wrapped around Mai possessively.

She excuses herself to go repay her brother for the past week.

Azula's smirk fades when she realizes that Zuko and Mai aren't alone.

An incredibly petite girl in a jade-white sheath dress is sitting next to Zuko. There's a considerable amount of space between her and the couple; her arms are crossed over her chest, and her porcelain face is twisted in a grimace. Misty celadon eyes convey her mortification. Raven hair is held up by a floral hairband, with stray bangs framing her face.

"Mai, I apologize on my brother's behalf," Azula greets as she approaches the trio.

Zuko's dour demeanor brightens upon catching sight of his sister.

Azula notes this with a grain of salt.

Mai sighs. "What are you talking about, Azula? Zuko's the best company at a party," she drawls cynically.

Azula ignores the affronted look on her brother's face and nods at the stranger. "Who's this? I don't think I've had the pleasure of meeting your little friend, Zuzu."

The girl arches a thin eyebrow at this but says nothing.

"This is Toph Beifong. She's a freshman from school."

Azula's eyebrows shoot up at this.

"The mayor's daughter?" She extends her hand. "Pleasure. I'm Azula, Zuko's sister."

"Nice to meet you," Toph replies airily.

To Azula's disappointment, Toph doesn't even make an effort to shake her hand. She continues staring blankly at a spot just beside Azula's ear.

Rejected by a potential ally? Well. This is a disconcerting first.

Zuko, who takes no notice, continues, "She's also the vice president of the Ho–,"

Mai clears her throat with a meaningful glance at Toph's father.

"–Um, the…Holy…Christian Club," Zuko amends lamely.

Azula raises an eyebrow.

"I see. I didn't realize the 'Holy Christian Club' allowed female members."

"The club and the team are co-ed," Zuko cries defensively. "I mean, uh, the debate team, that is," he amends when Toph frowns.

"And I'd be captain of the 'debate team' too, if I could see a damn thing," Toph growls.

Azula blinks.

Oh. Well, this is interesting.

"Oh. I, um…I'm sorry to hear that." She isn't really–she's more relieved that her reputation is still in-tact.

I haven't lost my touch after all.

"I didn't know we had a division for…ah…disabled people at school." Seeing no further purpose–or delight–present, Azula begins to edge away from the chesterfield. "Well, I'd love to stick around and chat but–,"

"Hey, have you seen Dad recently?" Zuko interrupts.

Azula stops to eye her brother warily, suspicious of the sudden interest in their father's whereabouts. There's a gleeful glint in his eyes.

"No, I haven't," she answers cautiously. She glances around the crowded drawing room in a lazy attempt to humor Zuko. "In fact, I haven't seen him since–"

Her half-hearted search is met with startling, if not horrifying results.

Azula's stomach drops to the bottom of her Jimmy Choo's.

Across from her father, under Councilman Jiang's arm, is the stupid shop assistant in a stupid pink sundress.


"You knew!"

Zuko grins like a child who had learned that Christmas was coming early. "Of course I knew. I've known since I saw her at her mall. How else would I know that she went to our school?"

Azula shakes her head in disbelief as she crumples beside Toph.

"I don't understand," she mumbles, her fingers trembling against her temples. "I've met his daughters before. Why didn't I recognize her…?"

Zuko, who's enjoying himself far too much for Azula's liking, replies, "In case you don't remember, they all look exactly the same."

"Like a bunch of mimes, if you ask me," Mai interjects quietly.

Azula groans and buries her face in her hands.

How did I not see this coming?

Toph inquires, "Is your sister okay? I'm sensing a lot less sass over here."

Azula is still recovering from the first blow when her mother materializes with a flourish.

"Azula, there you are!"

"Ugh. Not now, Mother–"

"–Oh, don't be such a grump," Ursa chides. "There's someone I'd like you to meet."

"Who? I've already spoken to the representatives, and the Mayor, and the–"

"–Not one of them, dear. You need to stop playing your father's game and spend more time with people your age."

Azula's fingers freeze.

Oh no.

"Come along," Ursa continues, oblivious to her daughter's distress. She hooks Azula's arm with hers and begins steering her towards the figures standing opposite of Ozai. "You met her when you were much younger, but I don't think you remember."

No, no, no

"She's one of Governor Jiang's daughters–the youngest. I believe she's around your age."

No, no, no, no

"It'll be nice for you two to–"

"–Mother, I'm feeling ill, I think I'd rather–"

"–Don't be silly, Azula. Ty Lee is a nice girl, there's nothing to be afraid of," Ursa beams as they arrive at Ozai's side.

Well, I suppose Zuko has won. Meathead.

Ozai glances at his wife and daughter coldly.

"Do you need something, dear? I'm in the middle of discussing the election with Councilman Jiang," he mutters with a hint of impatience.

"Actually, I wanted to acquaint our daughters," Ursa responds cheerfully, though there's a discernible note of steel in her voice.

Ozai's gaze changes as he processes this. He glances between Azula and the councilman's daughter before smiling callously.

"Yes," he murmurs, the edge in his voice softening, "yes, I do believe that would be…beneficial." He clears his throat as he turns back to the patiently smiling councilman. "Ty Jin, I do believe you've met my daughter, Azula?"

The councilman's eyes sparkle, and Azula notes absently that they're the same stupid taupe as his daughter's.

"Ah, yes, Azula! You've grown so much since I've last seen you," he cries as Azula forces a smile. Bloody faker. "Do you remember Ty Lee? You two got along famously when you were younger."

Yes, I can totally distinguish her from Mei Lee, and An Lee, and Fei Lee, and Jin Lee, and

Ty Lee, who had been gawking at Azula with stupidly huge eyes, lets out a shriek and points directly at her.

"You're the Senator's daughter?" Ty Lee squeaks, making no attempt to hide her disdain or disbelief.

Azula isn't surprised that the halfwit doesn't recognize her–rather, she's dumbfounded by the other girl's behavior. Her shock is intensified when none of the adults make any move to correct her. In fact, Councilman Jiang's smile doesn't so much as waver at his daughter's blatant lack of formality–or her poor etiquette–or her awkward posture.

Azula can't even picture herself behaving in the same manner–at least, not without some scenario of her father punishing her subsequently.

She peeks at Ozai, who doesn't seem bothered by Ty Lee's conduct in the slightest.

Maybe he already signed her off as insignificant?

Azula clears her throat.

"I believe we've met before," she replies coolly, eyeing Ty Lee with distaste. "Well, it was nice to be reacquainted with–"

"–Why don't you take Ty Lee up to your room, dear?" Ursa suggests, easily seeing through her daughter's ploy. "I'm sure it'd be nice for you two girls to get away from all these adults and just talk."

Azula gapes at her mother in horror, before looking to her father for help.

She finds none.

"That sounds like a good idea." Ozai's eyes gleam implicitly.

Azula catches on immediately, but doesn't share her father's enthusiasm.

I doubt there's anything I could possibly extract from her…Besides boys and clothes.

"Run along, now."

She recognizes the dismissal (and trap), and turns back to the gawping girl.

"Err, yes. Ty Lee, why don't you accompany me to my quarters?" Azula offers through gritted teeth.

It's Ty Lee's turn to gaze beseechingly at her father. She's met with similar results as the councilman nods in encouragement.

"Sure, why not?" she mutters resignedly.

Azula flinches at the incessant informality before gesturing half-heartedly for Ty Lee to follow.

They maneuver through the swirling, gossiping mass of politicians gradually. Azula takes a moment to glare at Zuko (who waves back cheerfully).

Neither girl makes an attempt at conversation. Azula finds that she doesn't mind the silence as much if it means the absence of Ty Lee's revoltingly childlike voice.

She steals a glance at said girl as they ascend the stairs.

Ty Lee's girlish bangs are pulled back into an elegant French braid, drawing attention to her face. Her usually round and childish features are dusted with the barest hint of makeup, so that all the points are highlighted and the angles are accentuated. In fact, with such thickly painted eyelashes, Ty Lee's seal-like eyes almost look mature, and strangely feminine as she glances up at Azula from underneath them.

"What are you staring at?" she demands self-consciously as Azula averts her gaze.

"Your dress is hardly formal enough for the occasion," she comments, rounding the corner at the end of the stairs sharply.

It's a flowery pink dress with that hugs Ty Lee's narrow waist. Too simple, and too colorful.

Ty Lee stumbles to keep up.

"Well, I'm sorry! If I had known it was your party I would've asked you about the dress code at school," she retorts with a roll of her eyes. "I wouldn't have even come if I had known you were going to be here..." she adds bitterly.

"Don't worry, I didn't know you were invited," Azula hisses back.

She stops promptly at her bedroom door. Despite Ty Lee's best efforts, Azula doesn't fail to notice the way her lips part slightly at the sight of the mahogany double doors.

"Is that gaping I see?"

Ty Lee glowers at Azula, but the tips of her ears match her dress.

"You just have really big doors," she grumbles.

Azula smirks.

"Wait until you see my room."

And, as predicted, Ty Lee's resistance crumbles.

Azula's room is infinitely spacious despite being embellished with furniture. A crimson four-poster bed is centered against the wall opposite the entrance; an ebony desk is in the far left-hand corner; fully-stocked bookshelves line the left wall; a white vanity is in the near right-hand corner; another pair of double doors beside the vanity lead to a walk-in closet; a white couch rests by the right wall; a massive white rug lies at the center of the room while a slighter one lies in front of the couch. There are two large, four-panel windows on either side of Azula's bed, and a series of picture windows along the right wall, overlooking the courtyard. The floors are Brazilian cherry; the ceiling is decked with recessed lighting; the walls are lavished with a white gypsum plaster finish.

Azula can't decide whether Ty Lee had been more surprised to see her or her room.

"No need to be so impressed," she snickers as she saunters towards the couch.

Ty Lee's mouth shuts immediately. Her slender hands clench into fists. "I am not 'so impressed,' and my room is every bit as fancy as yours!"

Azula is curled on the couch like a lynx. She inspects her manicure. "Yes, yes, I'm sure." Her eyes glint roguishly as she returns her gaze to Ty Lee. "Of course, I'm sure with six sisters, there are some…ah…compromises."

"MY FAMILY DOESN'T HAVE TO COMPROMISE ANYTHING! WE ARE PERFECTLY WELL OFF!" Ty Lee bellows.

Azula winces. "Lower your volume a tad, dear. Inside voices."

She pauses to examine the other girl. Ty Lee's chest is heaving, and her face is blotted an angry red.

I suppose I've tormented the poor girl enough.

"Speaking of which," Azula continues smoothly, "why would a councilman's daughter need a part-time job?"

Truthfully, she's curious.

Ty Lee has composed herself at this point, though hints of a scowl linger around her upturned mouth.

"I don't want to have to rely on my parents for my own expenses. I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself, and I don't want to use my dad's money as an excuse for anything," she elaborates in a restrained voice. "Besides, it looks good on a college app."

Azula's eyebrows inch towards her hairline.

That isn't what she expected at all. In fact, the answer is more than sufficient, and she gazes at Ty Lee with renewed reverence.

I guess she isn't as much of an airhead as I thought she was.

"I see. Forgive me for my previous assumptions," Azula murmurs without meeting Ty Lee's eyes. When the other girl doesn't say anything, she presses on, "That's not a bad idea, though. I should look into finding employment or an internship…"

"Oh, please." Startled, Azula glimpses at the other girl. To her relief, Ty Lee's expression isn't unfriendly. "Like you need any more qualifications, princess." The girl makes her way to the couch carefully. "What, being a board member of half a dozen clubs, the captain of two teams, and being first in the class ranking isn't enough for you?"

Azula cocks an eyebrow.

"How did you know all of that?"

Ty Lee flashes a guarded smile.

"Your mom is really proud of you, you know."

Azula's cheeks flush as she lowers her gaze. "Oh…" After a moment of silence, she adds, "You can sit down, by the way."

Ty Lee obliges almost instantaneously, and her face erupts into an incandescent smile. "Oh my god, this is amazing," she groans as the couch sinks to accommodate her weight.

To Azula's disbelief, Ty Lee wiggles around in her seat to experiment with the viscoelastic foam.

Azula clears her throat awkwardly. "So, err, speaking of college applications, which school are you planning on attending?"

It's a feeble attempt at civility. She resolves that, even if she can't grant her father's wishes, she can at least try to grant her mother's.

Ty Lee stops wiggling. "Wherever I can get in," she replies brightly.

It's all Azula can do to keep from staring.

The mere prospect of such capriciousness when it comes to one's future astonishes her.

What would Father say?

She can't imagine not having a carefully selected list of colleges in order of priority, or not having a designated group of contacts for said colleges, or, or, or–

"Err, all right then. Have you decided what you want to major in?"

Ty Lee nods, bobbing with the motion. All pretense of formality or caution is nonexistent at this point.

"I'm going to double-major," she answers effervescently, and Azula notes that Ty Lee's behavior isn't dissimilar to an agitated soda can, "in Dance and Theatre Arts."

This time Azula stares unabashedly.

"What?" she yelps. She leaps to her feet. "How can you major in Dance and Theatre? Why not Political Science, or Economics, or International Relations, or Government, or–," Azula is frenzied at this point, waving her arms haphazardly like a primate, "–or, or–"

"–Or what?"

Azula drops her arms and falls back on the couch. She gazes down at her trembling hands.

Ty Lee is staring at her expectantly.

"I don't understand…" Azula mumbles almost inaudibly. "How can you pursue something like that? Your parents just…let you?"

The concept is foreign to her. The concept of liberty, of individuality.

A slave has no options if he doesn't know them; an animal can't desire what it doesn't know.

Ty Lee gazes at Azula for a long time.

The pity makes Azula's insides shrivel. She looks away.

"You know, I'm starting to think that the way you turned out isn't your fault," Ty Lee murmurs gently. She hesitates for a moment before scooting closer, so that their legs are a foot apart. "Your mom told me that you don't have a lot of friends–especially ones your age. She said that you have a hard time trying to fit in and be…well…normal. You were like that as a kid, too, you know. I remember you wanting to play such weird games–like Risk, when we were five." Ty Lee inhales deeply before exhaling with an exuberant grin. "So I've decided to forgive you. For the way you treated me at the mall, I mean. I know you don't really know how to approach people, and I guess you just thought that was the right way. Well, don't worry–no hard feelings here."

Azula glances at the other girl in bewilderment.

"What are you talking about? I didn't apologize," she rejoins haughtily.

The interval between the grin and the scowl is almost non-existent.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"In fact," Azula continues as though Ty Lee hadn't spoken, "I don't even feel sorry."

Ty Lee is on her feet in an instant.

"You don't even feel sorry?" She throws her hands down in exasperation. "I don't believe you!" she hollers. Her taupe eyes are ablaze, and she's frowning so forcefully that the muscles around her eyebrows are twitching. "You are the meanest, most stuck-up, snobbish girl in the world!"

Oh look. I've made her all red and angry, again.

"Ugh! I don't even know why I tried! Sokka was right!" Ty Lee cries as she storms out of the room.

Soccer? Well, it's only fitting, I suppose. Speaking of Zuko and his simpletons, I think I've made good on my promise. I win, Azula notes as she watches the braid whip around the corner in amusement.