As Zuko tossed and turned each night, the shadows of his chamber grew long and menacing, a mirror to the turmoil in his mind. He could not understand why Azula had lied to their father about him slaying the Avatar. The lie gnawed at him, twisting his insides as he grappled with the implications it held for his future. Each night ended with Zuko pacing his room, feeling like a stranger in his own land, in his own skin.
Finally, unable to bear another sleepless night, Zuko made a decision. He needed answers, and he knew only one person who had them. His footsteps were silent but determined as he made his way to Azula's quarters. The palace was quiet, the echo of his steps a sharp contrast to the storm brewing inside him.
Zuko entered Azula's room without a knock, his presence like a gust of wind that stirred the stillness. Azula didn't seem surprised to see him; she simply lay there, a smug smile playing on her lips, her eyes still closed as if she had been expecting him all along.
"Why'd you do it?" Zuko demanded, his voice tight with barely contained anger.
Azula's eyes fluttered open, her smile widening. "You'll have to be a bit more specific, Zuzu."
Zuko's jaw clenched. "Why did you tell Father that I was the one who killed the Avatar?"
Azula sighed dramatically, as if bored by the conversation. "Can't this wait until morning?"
"No, it can't," Zuko shot back, his patience fraying.
"Fine," Azula sat up, her posture relaxed as if discussing something as mundane as the weather. "You were so worried about how Father would treat you for not capturing the Avatar. I thought if I gave you a bit of credit, you wouldn't have to worry anymore."
"But why?" Zuko pressed, his frustration mounting. He knew Azula well enough to know there was more to her actions than simple sibling support.
Azula stood, stretching languidly before facing him with a casual shrug. "Call it a generous gesture. I wanted to thank you for your help, and I was happy to share the glory."
"You're lying," Zuko accused, his tone hardening. He could almost feel the truth just out of reach, obscured by Azula’s machinations.
Azula walked past him, her laughter soft and chilling. "If you say so..."
Zuko remained rooted in place, his mind reeling. "You have another motive for doing this, I just haven't figured out what it is."
Turning to face him again, Azula's expression was unreadable, her eyes sharp and calculating. "Please, Zuko, what ulterior motive could I possibly have? What could I gain by letting you get all the glory for defeating the Avatar? Unless, somehow, the Avatar was actually alive. All that glory would suddenly turn to shame and foolishness. But you said it yourself, that was impossible."
Her words hung in the air, a veiled threat or perhaps a clue. As Zuko left her room, his thoughts raced, piecing together Azula’s potential strategies. Was it possible that she believed the Avatar was still alive? And if so, what did this mean for him now that he bore the credit for a deed not his own?
The night remained deep and unsettling as Zuko returned to his room, his heart heavy with the burden of lies and the specter of truths yet uncovered. The path forward was murky, and Zuko knew he had to tread carefully, lest he become entangled in a web of his sister's making that he could not escape.
Zuko, restless and agitated, couldn't find solace in the shadows of his room. Each moment that passed pulled him deeper into a spiral of confusion and doubt, fueled by Azula’s cryptic words and his own suspicions. With sleep an unreachable respite, he made a decision driven by desperation — he needed counsel, the kind only one person could provide: Uncle Iroh.
