Chapter Text
It's not that I'm some crazy manipulator or anything, as far as I can tell. To be entirely honest, I don't know what I am here. I just become whoever I need to be in the moment to keep everyone happy - I guess you could call me a pragmatist, at a stretch. Whatever I am, though, apparently it's not worth the time of anyone important. My mother spent time with me, and she was fairly important, but that doesn't exactly count for much once someone vanishes into the night. I envy her sometimes; no more people to please, no prying eyes around every corner and, most of all, no Zuko.
My brother really has grown into the perfect little boy for my father. The son he always wanted, fit for molding into his little killing machine. It was years ago that I noticed how Zuko was marred by burns and bruises. That's when I realised how exactly my father made him train for hours without remorse and how he reshaped him into an angry lackey. He probably would have done the same to me, if he thought I had any potential. It scares me sometimes to know that the only reason he didn't is because I saw how he treated Zuko when he began firebending, and knew I had to feign weakness. Unbeknownst to him, it gave me more time to learn free of his influence and surpass Zuko's rudimentary, by-the-book skills. Poor little Zuzu, working so hard for so little results. He really should have thought it all out before he made such a commitment to excelling. It's a shame. We might have been a formidable pair.
I almost feel embarrassed by Zuko sometimes. He goes on and on about how he'll rule the world when he's Fire Lord, how he'll march into Ba Sing Se and simply take it by force, as if it would be that easy. Times like that, it's abundantly clear that people really aren't his forte. He hasn't even realised yet that he won't be Fire Lord. Even if father relinquishes the throne for one second before he dies, it's doubtful he could stand against a girl of my talents taking the throne. He doesn't have the skills, the connections or just the raw power for that.
Until then, indulging his fantasies is my best chance. And so I fill the role of his baby sister Azula, barely good enough, the little princess in the shadows who can only dream of ever ruling. My father's court are so blind they can barely see their own reflections, so it's fair to assume I could make them believe anything I want them to. They think I'm not playing their ridiculous social games just because they can't see my cards, when in reality I've already won. If I ever need power, they won't be a problem. Noble families tend to fall in line when someone they think they know claims the throne, and they stay in line when that person could melt their faces off in an instant with no repercussions.
I keep going through the motions, growing endlessly as I age into my position. Charm her, visit him, attend their dinners, fight their battles. It's necessary, of course, every last piece of it. When you're second in line, you need to be irreplaceable. Make everyone think they can trust you and it's so much easier to instil loyalty. That's what all the great tacticians say, when they're not preaching senseless murder. So I do it all, in the hopes that one day I can get out. That's what matters in the end, escaping the cycle of this agniforsaken family of butchers and cowards.