Chapter Text
“Did you know I can do all the basic forms now?”
For a seven year old, Princess Azula was already well spoken, disciplined, and manipulative. Her appearance was unwelcome, but unsurprising. Her caramel eyes examined her older brother with intense scrutiny just as their father’s always did. Prince Zuko didn’t want to know why she was bothering him while he practiced his basic forms for the third time that day.
Late afternoon waned to evening in the west courtyard of the palace in the Fire Nation’s capital. The prince’s footsteps made firm slaps against the cream stone as he punched forward with strength, keeping a low stance on bent knees. His ponytail swung sharp in the air while beads of sweat slid from his hairline down his nose and into the crevice of his eye, stinging his tear ducts. Focus, that is what he needed to do.
“Are you ignoring me?”
Azula frowned. Her arms crossed in front of her red and black tunic, her feet pointed out, her shoulders drawn back like a military general; she always demanded attention. Two perfectly aligned black tails of hair swung softly on either side of her face and she pursed her lips as Zuko’s tensed hand sliced through the air.
“I’m busy Azula,” Zuko replied through gritted teeth as he continued his form to completion. A measly flame popped out from his fist, nothing like what he wanted to happen. Like what was supposed to happen.
“Ha.” Azula laughed and Zuko jerked to her scowling. “Busy with what? Baby flames?”
“It wasn’t a baby flame!” Zuko’s face turned red and he clenched his fist and stomped down one foot in frustration. Azula smiled, licking her lips like a predator eyeing its prey.
The princess stepped forward purposefully, stopping for only a second to take a breath before and nod before she began the same motions Zuko had practiced just moments before. She was quick, precise; each movement was powerful as she brought her weight forward with confidence. Quick breaths in through her nose partnered with well timed exhales through her mouth synced with her bending exertions. Then she went further, extending the form by coupling it with the last basic form all young firebenders must master. Small flames flicked off into the air as she continued without hesitation. She gave a kick high into the air, perfectly arched and it curved above her head before sweeping back as she braced herself on her front foot. With her knee locked and stance strong, she bolted her arms together in a pushing motion ahead of her. A large crackling flame shot out of her palms, soaring forward until it seared against a blood red column by the gate.
The sunset laid golden shadows over the courtyard as Azula’s flame sizzled from existence.
“See? It’s easy.” Azula returned to the straightened stance of a practiced royal. She was a natural with her element and her role in society.
Zuko huffed in his position in front of her, face flushed, but eyes wide as he watched his sister’s effortless production of golden orange flame. There was a hollow feeling digger deeper into his gut and he swallowed any emotion threatening to show off in front of Azula.
“Yea, for you,” Zuko looked down at his feet in disappointment. He kicked the barely visible dust, feeling the small particles cling to the bottom of his bare foot. Everything came easy to Azula.
“Oh dum-dum, it’s not hard. Why don’t you try again?”
The seven year old smirked. Zuko gazed off to the side of the courtyard, eyes trailing up to the sky, a blend of yellows, oranges, and reds; a smear of thin, wispy clouds gave it a grainy appearance overhead.
“What good would that do?” His voice was singed with venom and emptiness. Azula’s brother shot her a parting glance, turning away and stalking back toward the palace doors.
“I’ll tell you what you’re missing.”
“How would you know?” He shot, feigning indifference, but in actuality he was curious to what she meant. Still, his annoyance kept him walking forward.
“I’m the expert arent I?”
“You’re not an expert.” Zuko rolled his eyes.
“At least I’ve mastered all the basic forms,” she retorted. He stopped.
He took a breath thinking of his father’s disappointed face when his golden eyes watched Zuko’s attempts at firebending. Then a flash of his approving smile when Azula hit a perfectly timed kick. Zuko turned around to his sister’s satisfied glare.
“Fine.”
He repeated his forms, concentrating so intensely the creases in his eyebrows felt stiff and unmovable. His breaths were short and pointed. Still, nothing more than an ember appeared when he punched out toward the gate. He sighed and his shoulders dropped in disappointment. His eyes found Azula’s which were crinkled in amusement.
“So?”
“Hmm,” Azula took a small step to the side, eyeing him from head to toe. Her body found its perfect posture yet again, arms clasping behind her.
“See, the problem is, you should never tried in the first place.” The edge of her lip quirked up in victory.
Her brother panted, still recovering from his attempt at a fire fist. As he realized he had been played by his younger sister, yet again, he winced; a half groan half yell reverberated from his throat and his foot turned sharply in the opposite direction guiding his heated being away from Azula. He should have known better.
Anger bubbled in his belly as he stomped toward the palace doors. Zuko was trying to do what his mother said and leave when his sister got like this. Azula was a girl. Azula was younger. He should be the bigger person, she was only seven.
“Where are you going? Too embarrassed to say anything? Why don’t you just admit you’ll never catch up?”
She was quick on his heals as he took his first step on the short palace stairs.
Her tone? Arrogant. Her hovering? Suffocating. Her throwing her perfect prodigy naturally gifted glorious flame having hands in his face? Insufferable.
“Fine! You’re better!” Zuko turned around rapidly, arms flailing as he rounded on his little sister. She stepped back as he barged forward down the single step back into the middle of the courtyard. “You’re better! Is that what you want to hear? You’re better than me, Azula! You win!”
Azula had maintained the space between them as Zuko shouted at her. It was what she wanted, but he couldn’t help it. She knew just how to get under his skin.
“You don’t deserve to be royalty.”
The little girl replied loudly with a smile on her face, bronze eyes narrowed. Her hands moved to her hips, hinging forward as she taunted him.
Zuko exhaled deeply, brows knitted, teeth grinding.
“Even father thinks so.”
Without a thought Zuko lunged at his sister in rage and shot a fist through the air. A bright orange flame, much stronger than any he had previously conjured, exploded from his clenched knuckles, hitting Azula square on the shoulder.
—
Zuko awoke with a throbbing headache. The room was dark, but as his senses regained themselves he could feel the damp sheets under his back, a chill washing over him. His eyes were still heavy with exhaustion, but he could faintly hear a familiar, soft voice strained in a argument with a low and commanding sound that shot terror through him like electricity.
“He is just a boy, two hours in the sauna was far too long,” his mother pleaded by the door way. He kept his eyes low, but just over the edge of the thin red blanket covering him, he could make out her form, a silhouette in the dim light.
“If he wants a flame so badly, he will have to earn it.” His father’s voice was oozing with disgust.
Earn it. Yes, now he remembered. The heat of the sauna burning him from the inside as the clock ticked away minute after minute. At first, he had tried to use it as an opportunity to center himself. He thought that if he concentrated he could achieve true flame. He had finally done it thanks to Azula’s teasing; his anger had made him stronger. So, he meditated cross legged as long as he could on the wooden planks of the sauna floor until the dryness in his mouth spread to his throat and then his lungs burned with every breath. His vision had blurred and the black edges had taken over as embers stung his every pore.
“That is not what this was about.”
A deep scoff.
“Azula told me what happened. The boy can barely produce a puff of smoke, so he attempts to bully his sister out of jealousy. He is weak, pathetic.”
His mother’s shadow gently shook its head.
“No, you’re wrong-”
“I am never wrong.”
His father’s commanding tone protruded through the darkness sending a shiver down his son’s spine. Zuko stiffened lowering the edge of his blanket as he forcefully pressed his body deeper into the mattress.
There was a long pause before Lady Ursa replied, voice low and firm.
“Fine, but do not be sure that your daughter is telling the truth. Azula lies; she always lies.”