A/N: I don't know if this needs saying, but just in case, I'm a firm believer that Ursa loves Zuko and Azula wholly and equally, and any supposed evidence to the contrary is *ahem* incomplete.

Enjoy!

22. The Professor's Lesson Plan (II)

Azula sat on the stool facing her vanity mirror, for the first time in months brushing her hair simply to have a look at it. Isla had cut it perfectly. It was the very image of her former hairstyle, as if Sozin's Comet had never happened. She gazed at her reflection as she ran the brush down the strands, feeling the tangles give without resistance and melt into the cascading flow over her shoulder.

In the distance, some of the nurses' voices still shouted up as fallout from the earlier argument. But Azula hardly paid them any mind. Her thoughts revolved around one thing only, and as she sat there in silence, she mulled, staring at herself and the bedroom behind her.

Her gaze went out to the small stack of books that lay on the tea table. Sun Warriors, Fire Lords, dragons and spirits… She was closer than ever to seeing what that world was really like. To getting the answer to questions hardly anyone seemed to understand. All she had to do was say the word...

She ran the brush through her hair a few more times. She laid out the front layers to frame her face, letting the rest fall loose behind her shoulders.

No, I can't go.

She picked up a pink ribbon and assembled her hair into its customary topknot.

No, she had to.

In another lifetime, it had been exactly the thing she had wanted.

But it's not what you want now, came her inner voice in response. That stupid voice – it had been sounding more and more often in her head as of late, and it was usually right.

Leaving the island wasn't what she wanted.

But what did she want, then?

Azula pulled out the ribbon and let her hair fall loose. She picked up the brush and started to comb it out again.

Family is just a game of chance, she had said. And it is. What's the problem? How can that be wrong?

She pictured Isla's face, the ghost of tears behind her eyes at the memory of her brother.

Dr. Low, on the beach with his children. Happy, carefree. Except, there wasn't a dark undertone to the fun – it really was just a family, happy to be with each other and loving each other. It was almost too remarkable to imagine. Like a splotch of green meadow amid a charred landscape. A world she'd probably have to claw her way towards for an eternity to reach. If she even could.

Several minutes passed in silence, then gradually Azula began to feel the onset of a chill. A whisper of cold air blew out from behind her shoulders, as if someone had set down an enormous ice block just inches behind her.

The air wrapped around her like a cloud, and moments later the voice of another person echoed in her ears.

"Azulaa..."

Azula closed her eyes. She didn't turn around; by now it was all too obvious what was watching her from behind.

She gripped the brush tighter and continued running it through her hair.

"Azulaaaa… it's me..."

Ursa's voice had that venom in it again. Figures. Azula opened her eyes by a peep, and ever so slowly, she turned around to glimpse the bed behind her. Ursa's image was there, all blue and translucent, sitting on the edge of the mattress. She was brushing her hair as well, the silky strands glowing nearly white in the sunlight. The long folds of her robes cascading to the floor looked like the tail of a giant koi fish.

I don't care, Azula pronounced in her mind. You're not really here.

"Yes I am," the figure replied. "Don't you remember? You wanted me drowned in the ocean. But the sea is everywhere. And so am I..."

Azula gritted her teeth and turned away. She slammed her eyes shut and leaned over her lap, taking deep breaths.

I am stronger. I am stronger.

She repeated the mantra in her mind until her head ached. Gradually, the vertigo and coldness faded, and when she dared another glance back, the blue, silver-haired apparition had gone.

The next time you bother me, I'll end you, Azula affirmed. Because I'm stronger than whatever you can do to me.

But deep down, she knew that wasn't true.

...

Late that evening, Dee gathered all the nurses and staff members in the craft room. They all sat down at the student desks while she paced around at the front, gaze trained on the tips of her shoes, hands poised on her hips.

Nira was standing beside the teacher's desk as well, arms crossed. Her usually amiable expression was now cool and determined.

At last, Dee stopped pacing and turned to face the seated nurses. "After the behavior exhibited today, I'm starting to wonder whether we should start sending people home," she began. "Clearly, some of you aren't capable of functioning together in a team."

The nurses remained silent.

"What about security protocol?" Isla spoke up from the side. "The Fire Lord himself ordered us to keep what we're doing here a secret. I don't think he'd want any of us going back to the mainland without his knowledge."

"I'm sure he'd understand it if some people are making it literally impossible for the rest of us to do our jobs!" Nira said. "We'll just write him a letter asking him to relieve them of their duties, then when they get back to the capital he can have them swear more vows or something."

A strange matter-of-factness appeared in Isla's expression. "You can swear all the vows you want, but the minute someone decides to look into your past, you're a liability."

No one replied to this. Azula looked back at the other nurses and caught bits of their murmured conversations. She listened for any sign that they were talking about her, but they didn't seem to be. No one so much as cast a glance to where she was standing; they were in their own little world.

Azula surveyed the people standing by the back corner, the night crew and workers that kept the building running. They were talking among themselves too, gathered in their own cliques. The only one who was nowhere to be found was the Professor.

Moments later came a beat of footsteps and Dr. Low walked into the room. "All right, I'm here. What's all the fuss about?"

"The food," Dee replied.

"I just got a hawk back from cargo fulfillment and they said they'll be here in three days. I'm sure we have enough dried and canned goods till then. Or did the ant-roaches somehow infiltrate those too?" He lifted an eyebrow jokingly.

Mira and Kira hung their heads, still not looking at each other.

"The problem's not just the food," Isla said. Her gaze trailed over to Nira, and the younger nurse promptly turned to Dr. Low and straightened.

"Dr. Low, Dee and I both think that there's a serious problem with how the people in this staff are behaving. Mira and Kira repeatedly act immaturely and start arguments right where Azula can hear them, right when she's supposed to be starting her therapy! I kept telling them to stop but they wouldn't listen to me. They bang brooms on the walls and kick the furniture like they're the only two people on the island!"

Dr. Low looked to Mira and Kira. Kira sat with her head bowed, while Mira wrung her hands. "I was just… I was just really stressed... I've said it a hundred times, I'm sorry!"

"Why were you and Kira arguing?" Dr. Low asked.

Mira exhaled. "I was just trying to tell her that she can't keep glossing over everything that people bring up as a genuine issue. We couldn't realistically take on another person, and I understand we have to, for Azula, but we can't make it work unless we reconsider how we deal with our storage. And that's something she never wants to talk about. But weeks ago, Kira made us all do a complete overhaul of the supplies because she read some children's story about a spirit and thought it might be the reason Azula was getting visions. If it's her idea, it's fine. But if it's not, then it's 'work for later' and 'not the main focus right now'."

All eyes in the room went to Kira. The nurse shook her head and covered her forehead with her hand. "I'm just trying to get us by… We've gone through so many things, each and every day, practically… I mean, it's impossible to keep things going if we hang on to every single problem we have and expect it to get solved in a day! We still haven't even figured out what's going to be helping Azula! That's what we should be focusing on. Not which storage box goes where. The whole issue with the spirit… I mean, I was just trying to experiment! You were away, and it wasn't like anybody else had any other ideas. We needed to try something!"

Azula saw Isla breathe a quiet sigh and cast her gaze away towards the wall.

"Okay, but that's really no reason to ignore people later when they tell you that the way you rearranged everything was horrible!" Mira replied.

Kira slapped the desk. "All right, fine! Go ahead! Rearrange the flour sacks, Mira! Did I ever stop you? Did I ever try to stop you?"

"Stop it!" Nira shouted.

"All of you, stop it!" Dee called over them.

A silence fell. The nurses all went back to staring in different directions, all in varying colors of irritated. The only one who wasn't was Isla. She seemed strangely resigned, and when she turned her head towards the rest of the crowd a little, Azula noticed she still didn't look at anyone. Her eyes were focused somewhere far away, somber and brooding.

Still focused on the others, Dr. Low gave a nod. "Well, neither of you are wrong. Yes, we have a main goal here that transcends the stumbling blocks we may encounter along the way. But that doesn't mean we shouldn't address those minor problems if they keep coming up. What I do expect is that everyone here is able to interact in a professional manner and strike the right balance between the two. Some of you were with me in Capital City, so I know you can: Kira, Nira. And I'm also just as aware as you are that storage is our weak point. Unfortunately we can't expand the building yet, but I'll look into that for the future. For now, if any of you have suggestions on how to improve with what we currently have, I'll be happy to listen. Debates are fine, fights are not."

A trace of dread appeared in Mira's expression. "Are you going to send us home?"

"Nobody is getting sent home," Dr. Low replied. "But I do want to stress the importance of not letting one's temper and impatience get out of control. I know it'll take some time getting used to the new arrival. He's hardly been here a month, and we're still in the process of restructuring Azula's therapy. Once we do, we'll get a better idea of what we need to have in the facility and what we don't. So for the time being, let's focus on working together. That's all I have to say." He turned for the door and gave a nod. "Have a good evening."

He left, and once his footsteps had faded back down the hallway, Dee paced to the front of the room. "Well, that's that. I'm going to bed. If any of you want to keep arguing, do it here, and do it quietly."

The staff members began to file out of the room. Kira and Mira got up with them and followed, not addressing each other. A few of the nurses and night guards lingered behind, continuing their conversations.

"Honestly, I agree we need to discipline people," one of the guards was saying. "Being on the lookout for intruders is one thing, but having to hold back your own teammates to keep them from clawing each other to pieces is not what I signed up for."

"I second that," said his companion.

A nurse who sat beside them was twirling two small meditation balls in her hand with a morose expression. "I just hope we have enough cleaning material till the next delivery..."

Azula made her way for the door, passing by Dee just as she approached Isla. Dee sat back on the edge of the teacher's desk and gave a sigh.

"All because one extra person comes in. I can't believe it."

"It wasn't just him," Isla said. "They've been fighting since day one."

"Not like this, though."

"No. Not like this." Isla sighed. "Oh well. Maybe they'll get over it."

Dee smiled. "I'm glad at least some of us aren't treating it like a huge mistake."

Isla returned the smile, but it was halfhearted. She didn't respond.

Azula went back to her bedroom, hardly hearing her own footsteps. A strange feeling had settled into her, though she couldn't put a name to it. The nurses were suffering just as much as she was – and on her account. She was corrupting them. Perhaps not directly, not intentionally, but she was. Wherever she went, her companion would be her disease - the woman that haunted her mind. And the minute her cold, blue hands latched onto Azula, everyone else in the vicinity would be dragged down with her. Inevitably.

Azula reached her bedroom and looked out at it, at all the furniture and equipment standing in tired repose. The polished wooden cabinets that hadn't been burned yet. The Fire Nation tapestry that hadn't yet been torn to shreds. The new wooden bed that was still whole, not a pile of cinders.

She could tell Dr. Low as much about her mind as she wanted. But it wouldn't change a thing about what was going on inside it. He may have treated thousands of patients, but he had never treated someone like her. No matter how many of his questions she answered, she could never share with him the raw, terrible reality of what she was experiencing. Nor would she.

Once her light was turned off for the night, Azula lay in bed for a long time, thinking. About Dr. Low. About the nurses. About the Professor's promise.

She closed her eyes, sinking into the spinning whirlpool in her mind - questions, possible answers. And at the very end of it, as she finally drifted off to sleep, she saw a scene play out in her mind. Only this time it wasn't a vision. It wasn't even a dream.

It was just a memory.

.

.

.

.

.

.

…

"There. Like that."

Ty-Lee finished tying the knot and swiveled Azula around so that she could see. Standing in the mirror before her was Azula's own reflection, dressed in her regular school clothes. Only now her customary hair bun had been replaced by a copy of Ty-Lee's high-ponytail braid. Her two front tresses had been clipped back, and the braid's tip, adorned with a skillfully-tied bow, hung down to her elbow.

Ty-Lee stood behind her with her hands proudly on her hips, the brush still clutched in her hand like a professional stylist's. Azula turned from side to side in fascination, watching the braid swing after her with every motion. She hardly ever wore ponytails, or braids for that matter. But somehow her friend's style awakened an old dormant feeling inside her. A lightness. Azula imagined walking out on a tightrope before an adoring crowd, doing flips and handwalks and firebending feats, looking pretty all the while.

Beside them, Mai was also tugging in interest at the braid Ty-Lee had given her. Hers was raven black of course, and she still had her short straight fringe, but the departure from her twin hair buns brought out a different side to her as well. To Azula it felt like a final dress-up before a big play. Though the only other witnesses to their impromptu transformations were the other girls' coats that hung from the hangers of the empty locker room.

Ty-Lee spread her arms out wide and beamed at the two of them. "Now we match! Isn't that great?"

Mai leaned towards the mirror and puffed up the sides of her head. "Hm. I guess it's not too bad."

"I look better than I thought I would," Azula admitted.

"But how do you write or lean down?" Mai said. "It keeps getting in the way." She leaned forward and turned her head away as the braid smacked the side of her face.

Ty-Lee bent down to touch her toes. "I don't know. I don't even notice it. It just swishes by! Swoosh!" She sprang up and began to dance around the room.

Mai smiled. With most of her hair out of her face, her expression had a glimmer in it that wasn't normally apparent. It was one of the occasional fleeting things that revealed the girl's beauty. Azula wondered if Mai had ever noticed it herself.

She looked back at her own reflection and marveled at it some more. "You know, I think I'll do this when we go to Cousin Lu Ten's birthday banquet tomorrow. I wonder what everyone will say."

"Maybe they won't recognize you," Mai suggested with a smirk. "Then you can sneak out."

"But why would you sneak out?" Ty-Lee asked. "Royal banquets must be so much fun!"

Mai stuck out her tongue. "Well, if they're anything like the socials my dad goes to, they're probably a bore."

"Sometimes they're fun," Azula said. "I like watching all the formal stuff and the military performances. But once all that's over, Zuko and I just leave and play. Lu Ten caught us stealing food once and he didn't even care, he just told us to run faster."

Ty-Lee laughed.

Azula untied the bottom edge of her braid and attempted to redo the pleat herself. Despite some intermittent lessons from Ursa and the servants over the years, she had never learned to do them properly. Where Ty-Lee's hands weaved rapidly and left a perfect symmetrical pattern, Azula's hands fumbled and produced undefined tangles. And she had to admit she felt stupid for it.

After over two years of friendship with the girls, Azula had conceded that there were plenty of things they could do that she'd never get the hang of. Mai might show her how she threw her daggers, but Azula would never be able to acquire the girl's sheer feel for the blades, that mysterious fifth sense that told her just how to angle her arm and just how hard to throw to make them go where she wanted. Mai likely didn't even know she had it; she just did it. The best Azula could do was mimic her.

The same was with art. Azula knew all the sketching techniques as well as Mai did, but there was a fundamental difference in the way they drew. A few strokes of Mai's pencil made figures and landscapes jump out from the page with life. But Azula would rub her paper thin with the eraser before she could get a single facial feature right. Even then it would look fake, little more than a novice attempt.

Nor could Azula match Ty-Lee's talents in all things girly. Ty-Lee could chat up nearly anyone – and not just in a formal way that was expected of any noblewoman, but in a friendly way that actually made the person want to keep talking to her. Azula's etiquette teacher from way back had talked about a phenomenon called rapport, when you touched base with your conversation partner emotionally. It was the ideal of all interaction, the icing on the cake once you mastered showing respect. It was the glue that formed friendship bonds, the liquid that provided smooth flow through difficult situations.

But unlike respect, rapport wasn't formulaic. You had to have a feel for what the other person really wanted out of the conversation and what aspects of themselves they were trying to share with you. Then you somehow found similar aspects within your own personality and shared those in turn. Azula remembered asking her teacher how one could develop that sense, and the old lady had simply said through experience. But whereas Azula was still puzzled, Ty-Lee thrived. And Azula had even less hope of achieving Ty-Lee's natural level of flexibility; that was something one had to be born with.

Azula knew all of these things perfectly well. Still, she sometimes couldn't help but feel flares of jealousy when she observed her two friends excelling. A tiny, wily voice in her mind would tell her that Mai should better spend her time confronting her emotions than releasing them through dead-end hobbies, that what Ty-Lee really needed was to just fall for once. Then they would know what it was like to be her.

But then another voice would speak up in reply: Who was she?

Azula often found she still wasn't sure.

She enjoyed firebending and fighting. She couldn't suppress the fascination she felt whenever she heard her father talk about politics, or bridle her desire to see everything she read about engineering and technology for herself. She knew those weren't the interests her mother had actively tried to instill in her – or her father either, for that matter. Yet Ozai seemed nothing short of proud whenever Azula expressed an interest similar to his. He gave her examples of previous Fire Nation princesses born into the family, all of whom had excelled in service to their nation – whether as scholars, or warriors, or civic leaders. Azula wanted to be like them. And she knew, in part, that she already was.

But there was something off. While those interests brought her closer to her father, they also seemed to the very things that were pulling her away from Ursa. Her mind kept telling her that Ursa had to understand – surely as a noblewoman she had to know what it meant to be in Azula's position, to shoulder the expectations and traditions of an entire dynasty. But at the same time, Azula's intuition was telling her that her mother was less pleased than she was putting on. For whatever reason, the path Azula was staring to go down was one her mother couldn't – or wouldn't – follow. And it would have been a lie for Azula to pretend it didn't bother her.

At the same time, it wasn't missed on her that the skills she was mastering were the same things Zuko was supposed to be learning. Or that Zuko struggled with them more than she did. Or that Ursa, in contrary to how she acted with Azula, went out of her way to assist Zuko in every way she could.

More and more often, Azula had started noticing the two of them together. Walking in the yard, talking over Zuko's homework. It had never really caught her attention before, whether because it hadn't happened so frequently, or because her own time with Ursa had served as a sufficient counterbalance.

But now, Azula couldn't help but watch. And when she watched, she kept a mental journal of sorts.

A few days ago, she had noted that Ursa had spoken with Zuko's history teacher personally to give him a chance to retake a test. His score had been low, but Ursa insisted that Zuko be given a chance to improve rather than incur another talking-to from Ozai. This, in Ursa's view, would achieve nothing. Later, when Azula's own exam had come in perfect, Ursa seemed baffled and confessed she had completely forgotten Azula had taken it. Finally, that previous day, Zuko had to study for his retake and Ursa had spent the entire day helping him prepare. Azula hadn't even seen them at dinner.

She'd made another note that morning when Ursa had offered to pick her up from school personally. Azula hadn't expressed the idea beforehand; Ursa had simply suggested it. If genuine, it would poke a hole in the theory that had started to form in her mind, that there was some sort of wall between her and her mother. Azula had mulled on that as well. She was certain she hadn't actively done anything to cause it. So the cause must have been passive. Ursa was withdrawing somewhere; even the moments where Azula saw her alone with Ozai had grown less frequent. Ozai never said anything, but Azula knew he could very well be hiding something from her. She often thought of asking Zuko, but the boy seemed so blissful in his ignorance that it annoyed her.

"You seem quiet," Mai remarked.

Azula realized she had lapsed into a nearly two-minute silence. She shook her head. "Just thinking."

"About what?"

Azula breathed a sigh. "About the banquet."

"You don't seem excited," Mai observed. She offered a sympathetic shrug. "I mean, I know I wouldn't be."

Azula sighed again, squinting as she tried to sort through her own emotions. After a brief deliberation, she spoke. "Do you two… ever get the feeling that something about people is really obvious to you, but none of them ever talk about it? That or they just don't even realize it themselves?"

Mai scoffed. "Huh. All the time!"

Ty-Lee pondered as well, sitting atop one of the wardrobe cabinets. "Hmm… I think so. I mean, with my sisters and me, it's really obvious to us that we're really different. But our parents still treat us like we're all the same. They still get us confused, even when we dress different and even though we all have like a zillion different personalities!"

Azula nodded. "Yeah… With me, I just feel like I'm left out of the loop a lot when it comes to what's going on between people in my family. And I hate it."

Mai gave another shrug. "Maybe it's a good thing. The less you know, the less you have to care."

This brought a laugh out of Azula.

"I say just do your own thing," Ty-Lee said. "Then everyone will notice and they'll be the ones out of the loop!" She hopped to the floor and did a few flips, spinning through the air and landing on her feet.

Azula smiled. "Yeah, I guess that's a good idea."

"Speaking of doing your own thing, is it true you have to firebend at the feast?" Mai asked.

"No, but Lu Ten does. It's always the person whose coming-of-age it is."

"So you get a test for your birthday?" Mai shuddered. "I'm glad I'm not royal."

"It's not that bad," Azula assured her. "You usually rehearse it for months, so you're ready."

"Anyway, Azula's a firebending pro!" Ty-Lee clapped a hand over Azula's shoulder. "Once it's her coming-of-age day, she'll land it like a piece of cake!"

Mai laughed. "Yeah, that's for sure. Does your teacher even teach you?"

Azula glimmered with pride, but she brushed it off with a shrug. "Of course he does. I mean, he does let me be more creative than Zuko, because he trusts me with my skills more. But Zuko still needs him to demonstrate everything for him."

"Does Zuko have to get as good as you?" Ty-Lee said. "I mean, being a prince and all."

"Traditionally, yeah. If you're a firebender in the royal family, then you have to be a really good one regardless of who you are. If you're not, then you might as well not bother and focus on another skill. Zuko keeps trying, which I guess is good. But he holds himself back. He doesn't trust himself." Azula paused. "And honestly, I think Mom coddles him too much now. She always goes to his lessons and all I hear her say is how good he is or how he'll get it next time." She sighed. "But whatever. That's not my problem."

Mai lifted an eyebrow in curiosity. "What does your mom say about your lessons?"

"She doesn't really go to mine anymore. Dad does, though. And I like it. He doesn't sugarcoat anything, but he helps. Even Zuko did better back when Dad watched him."

"You should tell your mom that," Ty-Lee said.

"I don't think she'd listen. But whatever. See you tomorrow!"

She parted with Mai and Ty-Lee and set off for the front yard. By now, she had long formed the habit of going home by herself, which her parents had conceded was secure and discreet enough. That first day where Azula had come to school hand-in-hand with Ursa and walked back home with her was now long in the past. But still, Azula often thought on that day. At how daunting the world beyond the palace had seemed, how foreign and impenetrable the social circle of the other noble girls. Ursa's hand in hers had been like an anchor to sanity.

How things had changed.

Now the building was just a building to her. The classes were simply classes, times of trials and boredom, and sometimes even fun. There was nothing to dread anymore, no problem she couldn't handle.

Still, she missed walking with Ursa. Or perhaps it was just the feeling of having her mother to confide to. On the increasingly rare occasions that Ursa did accompany her, Azula found herself confessing the smallest frustrations she thought she had gotten over – a botched assignment, a headache. Ursa would react with soothing words, an arm around the shoulder, and all the distance Azula felt between them would melt away.

Maybe Ursa felt that way too, Azula mused. Maybe a day like this was her way of staying in touch with her, through the one thing only the two of them shared.

Azula reached the front yard and started down the winding path towards the front gates, where Ursa had promised to be waiting. She passed the playground where some of the younger girls were spending time, sitting on swings and running through the sand. A few girls of her own age group were sitting beneath a tree. They looked up as Azula passed, their conversation dwindling down. Azula kept walking. She was still an enigma to most of them, but she didn't care. She had finally earned the one thing she didn't know she had wanted from them – respect. They stepped aside for her when she was in a big crowd and didn't complain when she cut the lunch line to stand with Mai and Ty-Lee. They whispered about other girls behind their backs, but never about her.

Fear and respect are a monarch's greatest source of power, Ozai had recently told her. People do not adhere to law out of love – even if the law comes from a beloved parent. They adhere because they fear the consequences if that law is broken. And they respect the ruler who enacts reasonable laws and upholds them.

Azula didn't know if the other girls respected her truly. Likely there were a few who still didn't think she was all she made herself out to be. But it didn't matter to her anymore. She had achieved the baseline – their fear. Fear for her family's wrath if they dishonored her, fear for a blast of fire to the face during firebending lessons, fear for humiliation in class if they challenged her expertise in a subject she knew. Azula was developing her skills and they had recognized it.

As for their love, she didn't need it. She had people she loved already – her friends and her family. It wasn't necessary to love everyone; the right people would come of their own accord, as Ursa had told her all those seasons ago. The main thing was to be receptive to it. Azula had been, and she had ended up with the two friends she needed.

And most of all, she had her own mother. She didn't need to be like the other girls, hugging and cooing to their moms in a gob of goodness. She didn't need to be Ursa's copy. She could be the ideal princess, the servant of her nation, yet still be a normal girl. Ursa might scold her for bold behavior or questioning her requests, but despite it all, she would still care for her. No matter if they had an argument over something, or if Ursa walked with Zuko in the garden instead of her, she would still come to pick Azula up.

Despite it all, they'd still be mother and daughter.

Azula examined her Ty-Lee-esque braid and switched it to her other shoulder. She'd keep the hairstyle for the rest of the day, she decided. Then in the evening she'd carefully take it apart and try to replicate it for the next morning. Maybe she'd even do her mom's hair. Ursa was just like her in that regard – she had a signature hairstyle and never strayed from it.

Azula neared the school gates and noticed a few parents there. She scanned their faces, but none of them were Ursa. She went on.

She passed through the gates to where the school lawn spread out, becoming a lavish garden of bushes and flowers on display for the rest of the street. Azula kept her eyes peeled, and gradually she became aware of her mother's voice. At last her gaze led her to the right spot – strangely, behind one of the shrubs. Ursa had gone off to an obscure position well away from the path and the benches. The hood of her red traveling cloak was down, exposing her topknot and long brown hair. She was standing with another woman, the two of them talking closely and intently.

A puzzled expression streaked Azula's face. She crept forward, though neither of the two women noticed. Their conversation was a heated one, dare she say an argument.

Azula slowed down her motions. An instinct of caution took over her body, and she moved as stealthily as possible, first bending her back then fluidly lowering herself to her knees. She crept behind the bush and pried apart the branches.

Nothing significant happened at first. The two women were standing close together, and over the sound of her own breaths and beating heart it was hard to discern what they were muttering. Then quick as lightning, Ursa's arm shot out and grasped the other woman's wrist. Her words sounded up from the rustle of the leaves.

"…the real monster... she's not a daughter... That's exactly who Azula is to me…"

A blade of shock sliced down Azula's throat. It plunged through to her stomach, spreading its sparks all through her body and up to her face.

More words came, but they were curt and short-lived. By then, even the sound of the wind in the leaves had faded out of focus, drowned out by a frantic buzzing in Azula's mind. For the first time in her life she felt as if some pit had opened up in the ground beneath her, and now the sense of vertigo and plunging in her stomach was that of a confused free-fall.

In paralysis, Azula did the only thing she could do and kept looking at the two women. Her eyes registered the other woman's clothes, neat and nondescript, brown hair hanging pin-straight over her shoulders. But the angle she was holding her head made it hard to discern her face. At last, Ursa released her grip, and the other woman pulled back with shocked urgency to rub her wrist. Then she gathered herself up, and Azula caught glimpse of a cold, impassive expression before she strode off.

Ursa remained where she was for some time. She turned around in place, the hem of her cloak rustling the grass. Then she finally stepped away from the bush. Azula's heart skipped a beat, but before she could run away, Ursa's shadow fell over her.

Her mother paused in surprise for a moment, then leaned down. "Azula! Darling, I didn't see you there. Are you ready to go?"

Azula stared up at her blankly. Inside she could still feel the electricity crack and prickle as it faded from her system, like the aftershock of a big impact. Left behind in its wake was a sense of profound disorientation. Something from reality was trickling away, like smeared grease being washed from a glass window. More than that – something inside of her was bleeding out. Deflating. And right then it all made sense. The way she kept increasingly close to Zuko. The way she never came of her own accord anymore. The way she hesitated, the way her eyes widened at her abilities, the way she had tried to rein her in through scolding before, then stopped.

She had been afraid. She had been repulsed.

Realization settled in and the blood drained away. The knife of pain that had cut down her throat came back, causing a final flare of burning, then fell away and dissolved.

Azula stared at her mother's face. Ursa's expression was kind, but behind it she could still detect the traces of what had been there moments before. An anger. A defensiveness.

She tuned back in to the body she was left with, a surprisingly awkward, brittle assembly of broken glass shards. They shifted, clinking as the muscles in Azula's throat contracted for a swallow. She kept still, desperately willing them to stay together, to at least keep breathing, to keep existing. And after a moment's pause, the trembles steadied. The glass body held fast, and a moment later, Azula regained enough control over it to stand up.

She gave a nod. "Yes."

Ursa seemed to relax. "Good." She smiled and reached out. Growing steadier with every motion, Azula lifted her arm and took Ursa's hand. She fell into step beside her, and together, they left the school property.

Once they crossed the street, Azula casually let it go.

.

.

.

.

…

"Mo-om, can you make Zuko play with us? We need equal teams to play a game!"

…

"We are brother and sister. It's important for us to spend time together! Don't yo-ou think so, Mo-om?"

…

"Fire Lord Azulon. Can't you just call him 'Grandfather'? He's not exactly the powerful Fire Lord he used to be. Someone will probably end up taking his place soon."

…

"But it's true, Mom. I heard Grandfather tell him. I was only letting Zuko know for his own good. I mean, it's better than if tomorrow Dad just showed up in his room out of the blue and, well, you know!"

…

"Where's Mom?"

"No one knows. Oh, and last night, Grandfather passed away."

"Not funny, Azula. You're sick. And I want my knife back. Now."

"Who's going to make me? Mo-om?"

…

Mom.

So that's what you really thought of me. Well, I don't care. And I'll show you I don't. From now on I'll shove all your lessons on family and etiquette right in your face. I'll show you exactly the type of daughter you bothered to raise.

And you know what else? I think I'll just go ahead and celebrate that Dad wants Zuko killed! Why should I be sad? I'm not the one who's got to go! Are you really so sensitive to that, Mom? Well, if you're so worried about Zuko, then go do something about it yourself! See if you can put your own hand in the flame and not get burned.

Zuzu. Oh, dear Zuzu, do you miss your mommy? Well, what about Grandfather? Do you miss him? I miss Grandfather, why don't you? Too busy worrying about Mo-om? I'm sure she'll be okay, Zuzu. Just like I'll be okay. Because unlike you, I rise up. I recover. I win my own battles. I need no allies. I am the one who knows true justice. And someday I'll be the one telling you what to do and what to think. Because I'm the one who cares about this country and not just the people related to me. I'm the one who does what's truly important to Father.

And one day I will be his successor. I will be the Fire Lord. I will be Fire Lord Azula, the greatest ruler the Fire Nation has ever seen.

One day, you'll all see. I am the monster, but I'm also the victor. I am the real heir. And I hate all of you. When I get on this throne, I am going to burn you and all of your hopes and dreams TO THE GROUND!

.

.

And leave you all in the ashes.

.

Just like you left me.

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MOTHER.

.

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…

Mother.

Finally, in her dream, Azula stood there facing the first Ursa down. The one from the meadow, the one from the mirror in the palace. Still there, after everything else had gone.

"I love you, Azula. I do..."

Azula turned away, the bitter wave that had slowly been welling up inside of her more powerful than ever before, and could no longer stop the tears from falling.

No – you – don't.

She grasped the hairbrush, hurled it back, and the mirror shattered.