Zuko who’s feeling unsatisfied and unfulfilled when he’s finally back in the fire nation, back in the palace. And like, he’s trying to figure it out and eventually comes to the conclusion that he misses uncle, misses family. So he does as canon zuko does and visits but oops, Iroh doesn’t want to talk, and he makes that very clear every time zuko visits until he just stops visiting.
Zuko, who still wants for a family, spends days reminiscing and brooding and gets desperate enough to try and rekindle the old relationship he had with Azula. Before she started bending and Ozai got his grumby little hands on her.
Azula is.. entertained by his attempts to bond. And that’s it, his pathetic desperation is only amusing to her, it definitely doesn’t fill her chest with the uncomfortable warmth that she only remembers feeling when she was young and weak. She is so deep in denial it’s insane, cause she keeps using that excuse as they do, slowly, get closer and closer to how they were, and keeps justifying her indulgence with the same old excuse.
Of course, Azula is not one to trust so easily. Years of unofficially being the Crown Princess and being educated on the ruthlessness of the political landscape that makes up the nobles has perhaps made her the littlest bit paranoid. And a part of her can’t help but see Mother in Zuko, can’t help the instinctive bitterness that swells up in her throat each time they exist in the same space.
So she sets up a test. Zuko seems so very devoted to being a better brother, has the same look of something she doesn’t want to emotionally touch that Mother had when she looked at Zuko. Traitorously, she wonders if his devotion to her extends to the same extent Mothers did.
Now, obviously, she can’t tell a ridiculous lie like ‘Father’s found out I lied and he’s angry enough to kill me and I’m just sooo scared zuzu~.’ Because they both know she’s still the favorite and, even if his mind seems to get more delusional by the day, Ozai would never kill his prodigy daughter over a little lie.
But she can fabricate one that seems like something he’d do had she actually been found out.
She times it perfectly. Zuko enters her room, mouth open and no doubt about to go on another rant about some stupid play, but stops dead on the sight of her.
There is no greater liar than Azula, so as she carefully checks the burns marks in the mirror she put on her own arms, high enough to hide, she makes sure to tense and freeze up slightly as she makes eye contact with Zuko before, very obviously, forcing herself to relax.
She stays silent as she puts on salves and creams to help it heal and prevent scarring, pointedly not making eye contact with him again and keeping her back to him. Projecting shame and vulnerability that she’s never let him see before.
Zuko unfreezes right as she finishes and storms up to her, hastily grabs her arm with a gentleness that contradicts his urgency, and asks, no, demands to know who did this. His expression is so.. sincere and genuine, so open. It makes her sick. But she’s never given up on a plan just because of her own pitiful emotions, modify them maybe, but never abandon.
She keeps her eyes low and to the side, glues them to her burn, and purposefully crafts her face to something resigned and resentful, inflects her voice with just enough bitterness as she snaps at him, defensive. “Who do you think, dumb-dumb?”
He pulls her into an unwelcome and skin burning and itching and crawling ants under her skin— a hug, he pulls he into a ridiculous hug before she can sneak a glance at his expression but the tense, resigned set to his shoulders gives her enough of an answer.
He loves her enough to care and comfort but his loyalties still lay with Father. She understands better now, on how close she can allow him, puts him just a bit higher than Ty Lee and Mai. It might be foolish but a small part of her was hoping for more, was hoping for the same love Mother had for him, the one she tries so hard for from Father.
She lets the hug drag on few a more seconds and then shoves him off, orders him out and away. Turns her back to him, again, and tugs her sleeves down, dismissive and guarded. She’s only made eye contact once and is staunchly ignoring him now so she doesn’t catch the hard, protective glint in his eye, doesn’t see the way his expression is blank of everything but determination.
She goes to bed and tries to ignore the traitorous thoughts that keep her up, make her question her loyalty and wonder if anything about her is true and real, that whisper in her ears and sound suspiciously like Mother as they condemn her to her fate as a puppet for her Father.
She wakes and gets ready with her attendants like normal and acts perfectly fine because she is her Father’s daughter and she is nothing less than perfect. The attendants shift and glance at her and each other with uneasy eyes, as though daring someone else be the first to speak.
Her oldest attendant informs her of the news. Firelord Ozai is dead, throat slit in his sleep with his arms charred, hands practically gone. His vocal cord was cut, they say, that’s why no one heard him scream. They sound muddled and distant as they speak and she gets tired of the droning that worsens the tight feeling in her chest, sharply raises her hand for silence and tries to ground herself. The looming dread won’t leave her no matter how hard she tries, someone snuck in to the palace and her father is dead and oh fuck, she’s the Firelord now.
Zuko meets her for breakfast, an incredibly early breakfast and shoots her a strained smile but his posture is all wrong, not enough grief and anger and too much pride. The realization hits her quick and hard and she just barely stops herself from dropping her bite of food. He he’d barely reacted and had left so quick because was planning on killing their fucking dad, planning on assassinating their Father in his sleep, a death without the honor of combat, the opportunity to fight for your life. He had to watch their Father bleed out, had to sit and wait before incinerating his arms, all because he allegedly hurt her.
It is too overwhelming of a realization for breakfast so she pushes it aside, gives a small nod and ignores him the rest of the time. She lets the small thought that Zuko is far more like Mother than she expected linger for a moment before banishing that one too. They both ignore the empty seat at the head of the table.
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