Chapter Text
1.)
During the winter solstice, when Zuko was born, he didn’t shout or cry like most babies. Instead he was calm and quiet. Ursa, Zuko's mother, thought it was adorable. Ozai just scoffed and looked away, not bothering to even go help Ursa after giving birth to a healthy baby boy. When Azula was born in the dead of summer, she screamed so loud the servants swore they couldn't hear for weeks after. For a reason that Zuko did not know, Ozai was proud of the baby who was restless and feral. Maybe it was because the loud baby was born with a spark, and the quiet one was not.
2.)
As the babies grew up they stood true to their birth. Zuko was more introverted and reserved. The palace servants took notice of the kind boy who helped scrub the floors, and said thank you after every favor. If you interviewed them, they would say they had full allegiance to him. Azula, on the other hand, was obnoxiously noisy, always demanding the guards to be more alert, or telling the maids to scrub her feet. In the early days of Zuko’s childhood Azula would talk his ear off for hours. Maybe Zuko should’ve appreciated that version of her more.
3.)
Also true to their birth, Azula was known to be the better bender in their family as Zuko wasn't even born with a spark. At an early age it was clear that Azula was talented, and she was soon announced as a prodigy. Zuko didn’t even start bending until he was 7. Zuko didn't mind not being able to bend as well as Azula, and he even cheered her one as she demonstrated a new skill she had mastered. Zuko didn't mind, at least not until Ozai shattered the little peace between Zuko and Azula. “Why can’t you be as good as your sister?” Ozai spat. “Why are you playing with those turtle ducks instead of practicing? I ought to kill them and serve them for dinner!.” And the one that had truly hurt the most, “ Azula was born lucky, You are lucky to be born.” Ozai had said it so many times that it had started to be instilled into Zuko’s mind. Sure enough, after years of taunting and abuse, Zuko started to believe those things about himself. He was worthless, and useless. He did not deserve to be alive, unless he could prove himself useful. Thus began the tear between Azula and Zuko’s relationship. Sometimes in the very late hours of night, when only the ostrich horses were awake, Zuko would stare at the ceiling and wonder what was wrong with him. If Zuko’s own father could recognize from an early age that he was useless, how would he ever prove himself to the world? If Ozaicould recognize Zuko as a waste of space, then how could he not be? Afterall, the Fire Lord was always right.