Chapter Text
Six Years Earlier
She gazed at it, transfixed. The piece of fire contained in her hands seemed so fragile, ready to dissipate into smoke with the slightest motion. It was beautiful though, flickering with a soft light that reflected in her wondrous eyes. There was no pain as it hovered there, only a faint tingling warmth that made her feel a small jolt of elation. She carefully avoided expressing it too visibly, however. At eight years old, Azula knew already that hiding her emotions was the best way to avoid wrath. The only reason she was dawdling at all was because no one else could see, here in the royal family's private wing. Even then moments like these were precious commodities with her education seeming to swallow more and more time.
For a while now she had begun to become apprehensive over whether she should continue hiding her bending ability. After all, fire was the element of power: it stood to reason that without it she would be seen near powerless. But no one cared if the second-born daughter was a weakling, since it only made things less complicated. What mattered to her was that long as she knew she had this secret, she didn't feel helpless. Here was proof that she was here and taking up space. Proof that she could be stronger someday.
"What've you got there?" came the voice of one of the most annoying people she had ever known: her brother. And just like that, her moment of peace was shattered.
"Nothing," Azula replied nonchalantly as she hastily extinguished the flame and turned around to face Zuko, holding her hands behind her to mask the wisps of smoke.
"Are you sure? Because Father would hate to hear that you've been keepi-"
She elbowed him in the ribs and he slid his body back, falling into a defensive stance by default (but not before she noticed him wince - another bruise?). The tension in his actions betrayed his agitation as his eyes scanned the room, calculating the situation. It felt unnecessary to Azula. They were the only people in the room, and it's not like two of the most important people in the Fire Nation could have a proper fight over something this small, even as children. It felt more like he were surrounded by enemies only he could see, some fear of what could happen if he made the wrong choices. A part of her wanted to ask him if he was ok, reach out a hand of friendship, but she knew it would only bring pain for everyone involved. They were too different. She didn't know if she could help him. Not here or now, maybe not ever.
"I said there's nothing. Now leave me alone."
"Or what? You'll challenge me to an Agni Kai? Maybe you can be the first person to ever lose without making a single flame. Poor baby Azula still hasn't worked it out, has she, where she stops being a late bloomer and starts being a mistake? I wonder when Father will see sense and send you away, since you obviously don't deserve to-"
He stepped towards her and she yet again found herself interrupting him in a decidedly violent manner. Before she could consider the ramifications, she pulled her hands out in front of her, preparing to strike him in anger as she spat out at him, "Shut up!"
She moved to bat him away, determined not to be knocked down when he retaliated - but stopped dead in her tracks as she saw the shock on his face. He had dropped his guard and now stared at her palms in disbelief. That was when she noticed how, in her rage, her open hands had become wrapped in tongues of fire. Zuko seemed taken aback for a moment, the childish mockery gone from his face. But when he looked up, there was a glint in his eye and he smiled slowly, bitterly, like a general about to claim a victory. Her breath caught as she realised her mistake moments before he spoke again.
"So, when were you going to tell Father you were a firebender?"
"It.. it was an accident. I didn't..didn't know I could-"
"It doesn't matter if you didn't know, it was an 'accident' that endangered your brother, Azula. You should be aware that Zuko must always come first. He is the one who will succeed me, and thus disrespecting him is akin to disrespecting me. As second in line, you are merely an accessory to his reign, and as such I will not hesitate to put my heir first. Consider this an important lesson in leadership."
Azula swallowed back any replies; it was likely that he would continue talking at any moment. Her father relished dramatics and in that sense, it was quite a shame that he hadn't been first in line. Not that it had stopped him from taking the throne anyway, made easier thanks to a brother torn up by grief after his son died in a senseless terror attack before even finishing his military training. She had been glad to know Ozai wouldn't be Fire Lord, and so it was all the more crushing now every time she looked up at the throne and saw her own father. A man so ruthless would surely bring the Fire Nation to the brink to collapse, and Zuko wouldn't be much better either.
As she had guessed, Ozai continued his reprimand, "You have to control your abilities better."
Not a question, but a command.
"Unfortunately, I feel that you will lack Zuko's power. Besides being such a late bloomer, talented firebending requires a certain intent which you cannot achieve. Where is your fury, your will?"
She bowed her head, replying "I understand, Father. I will do my best," as if her best was ever enough.
"Starting tomorrow, you will train with an instructor. Go now and practice in the courtyards until you can produce something satisfactory with your bending. You are dismissed."
Raising her eyes, she walked out past a smirking Zuko and the guards as she pushed down the wave of uneasiness rising up through her chest and starting to creep into her head. Even under less scrutiny, she was never good enough for her father. Not when she wore her robes impeccably or learnt the titles of the entire court or did anything she was supposed to. Her vision blurred with tears starting to spill over but she pushed onwards one step at a time. Steady breathing, she thought. Out, out into a courtyard, striding through colonnaded pathways away from oppressive gazes.
Alone under an open sky, Azula let loose her feelings in flame and smoke. Where is your fury, Ozai had said. Well, here it was, bursts of flame spewing from her fists as she gritted her teeth and pushed herself harder still. Steam rose from her as sweat and tears evaporated instantly. Smoke curled from her now bare arms (her outer robe laying abandoned nearby) and her hair whipped around her, dark strands coming loose from its neat topknot.
You're a failure. Look at you. Trying so hard to please a father that won't ever be satisfied.
Because that was the problem. He would never be satisfied with her.
It was at that moment that Azula came to a realisation: her father was just a sad, cruel man who she would never please because she wasn't his twisted puppet, his perfect heir to a broken throne. This wasn't her game to play, it was Zuko's. She was just another tool for her family to stay in power. But what was she if not a princess? There was nothing else for her. Her father didn't love her, her brother's empathy had been burned away years ago and the only one who cared was her mother, not that Ursa frequented the court much anymore. Was it because of her? It couldn't be. Her mother loved her, that was what parents did.
Ozai's face drifted into her mind. Not all parents.
In a fit of frustration, she conjured a ball of flame around her fist and punched a nearby tree. The skin of her small, soft hand broke and bled as it hit the bark, sending her reeling backwards. She sighed: the tree hadn't even caught fire. And so Azula's training began with much pain and exhaustion, with nights spent cradling bandages and wiping away tears hidden in the dark.