Who I Am (or Who I Was)
(Epilogue Part One)

Brothers and sisters are as close as hands and feet.
-Vietnamese Proverb

She walks in circles - no, in rectangles. The courtyard is a rectangle. She walks in circular rectangles, spiraling inward, taking off the sharp edges of her stride as it narrows and narrows, shrinks and shrinks, until she leaps onto the edge of the fountain and tiptoes along stone, arms flung wide. The red silk of her top flutters; the redder scars on her abdomen shine. Those marks wouldn't exist if she hadn't refused treatment after the Sages pulled her from the Coronation Temple, but she'd flame-broil herself before she let another Waterbender lay a dirty finger on her skin.

Are you paying attention to me?

"Should I be, brother?" Her words chirp, like the messenger hawks she shoots down in bursts of smoke and feathers whenever they are foolish enough to fly into her realm, her personal little Nation, all thousand square feet of it. Azula is no fool; she knows the messenger hawks are actually enemy spies. Spies sent by the prancing dancing spinning killing Avatar and that wretched tribal peasant. But once she is done with them, the spies cannot twitter back with their little twitter tales. And they are delicious in inferno chili sauce. "Do you suddenly have something interesting to say?"

Come on, Azula. Try to listen. Do you know why I'm here?

"Yes, dum-dum, of course. You want me to come home just long enough to bow and scrape to your precious waterbending whore." She smells the sudden smoke of his rage, and she ignores the sudden smoke of his rage. He doesn't frighten her and never will. "Will you let me be a bridesmaid at your wedding? Would you like that? Maybe I can give a toast to your happiness. We'll even have a brand new family portrait painted while I'm there - you know, before you ship me back here in a metal crate with holes poked in the lid."

There's not... I haven't even... Look, this has nothing to do with Katara. You're my sister. I'd like it if you came to the coronation. Is that so hard for you to believe?

Her tiptoes almost falter on the stone. "Why?" she asks, focusing on the vile spurts of water shining in the sun and not on his stupid scarred face. "It's not like you ever cared what I thought." He can't trick her; he wants her at his ceremony for the exact same reason she wanted him at hers: so the country won't question the royal succession. But the Fire Nation is hers, it was always going to be hers, Father said so from the day of her first bending lesson, the day he smiled and called her his Little Fire Lord...

…but now it is Zuko will sit on the throne. Unworthy Zuko. Weak Zuko. Zuko, Mother's Favorite. Zuko, held in thrall by a southern bumpkin who pulls his strings and makes him dance like a puppet at a Fire Days Festival. Azula sees what is happening; after all, she has pulled Zuko's strings since they were babies playing in the sand. No one else is allowed to hold them. Zuko is hers. "You see, brother, I don't really care whether the Fire Nation accepts you. And it doesn't matter anyway - everyone knows you won't be the one in charge."

This isn't going to work, Azula. Can't you just-

"Did you ever figure out why Father despised you, Zuko?" She executes a quick twirl on the tip of her boot; Ty Lee couldn't have done it more elegantly. Her friend Ty Lee; her friend Mai. They sold her out in the end. Trust is for fools. "It's the same reason Grandfather named Uncle after Grandmother instead of a proper royal title. And why Uncle never remarried, even though he only had one heir." Generations of weak men. It was a daughter's turn to sit on the throne. "Father loved our mother. He loved her more than anything or anyone."

That's not true. It's Father's fault Mother is gone.

"No, it's your fault Mother is gone, dum-dum. Father told me. He was supposed to know the pain of losing a firstborn son, but Mother offered herself to Azulon instead. Father worshiped her, but she decided to die for you." Twirl, twirl, twirl along the fountain's edge. "Wasn't the first time, either. Did you ever listen to the whispers, Zuko? You almost killed our mother the day you were born. It took her months to recover, but did she care? No. She just cared about her son. Father would rather have dropped you in the ocean. He never loved you."

But she loved him. Well, sort of. She had looked out for him, which was more important, really. He was weak, stupid, spineless, had no business ruling a country, but she'd done her best to help him. All he'd had to do was step aside and bow to her. He would have been her general. Her only confidant. Zuzu could be trusted... or so she'd thought. "But go ahead. Make the sparrowkeet a Fire Lady. Wait for her to spawn a waterbending heir. She'll never look at you again. And you'll hate the brat as much as Father hated you."

I'm not going to listen anymore. You always lie. Even when you tell the truth.

"Tell yourself whatever you want, brother." Azula executes a clean backflip off the ledge; the fire she trails in her wake evaporates the water in the fountain and leaves only charred stone behind. But she is careful, oh so careful, not to allow the flames to touch the covered walkways. The guards will block her chi again if she doesn't. The courtyard is the only place she is permitted to firebend. Ember Island is the only place she's permitted to live. "Just wait: one day you'll see things my way. You'll be sorry you didn't listen to your little sister."

...it's getting late. I've got to get back to the capital.

"What?"

I'll come visit again when I can.

"No! I don't give you permission to leave!"

Goodbye, Azula.

"Don't walk away from me, Zuzu!" she screams, sparks at her fingertips. "Don't you dare walk away from me!"

...

"Come back!"

…

The guards in the walkway glance at each other, then back at the exiled Fire Princess, who shoots fire at phantoms and shouts at thin air.

"Who is she talking to?" the newer guard says, uncertain. He was added to the security team only two days ago, after the princess's latest escape attempt left one sentry with a dislocated shoulder and the second floor in shambles.

"Today? Her brother."

"But I thought he left two weeks ago?"

"He did," replies the older guard. "This is just what the Princess does."