Azula: the New Avatar

Prologue - Family Ties

Screaming. Why was there always so much screaming? Azula knew that her father was ruthless, he was strong, and he was cruel, but he still managed to surprise her. Many palace servants—well, former servants, at least—had burn scars somewhere on their body from when they inevitably displeased Ozai. They had screamed too, but Zuko had always been there to somehow stop it.

Zuko was kindhearted, and he either didn't understand the true nature of their father, or refused to accept it. He was the prince, and in his mind, standing up for their citizens was his responsibility and his right. So he'd spoken out when a general proposed that plan to sacrifice the new recruits, and now the screams belonged to him, and no one was here to stop it.

Survival was the priority. If she wanted to live, she had to do exactly as her father wanted and expected her to do. From the corner of her eye, she saw her uncle Iroh look away, his face pale. He was the one that should be Firelord, not her father. Ozai had asked to be named heir, and Azulon had been so angry that he'd ordered him to kill Azula. That night, Azulon had suddenly died, naming Ozai as his heir as his dying request. 

Ursa, her mother, had been the one to commit the act. Zuko had told her that he was the one that was going to die, because he knew she favored him over Azula. He was often criticized for his honesty and distaste for court subtleties, but Azula knew he could be just as manipulative as her when he needed to. The issue was, he didn't seem to realize it, and he only resorted to it if he absolutely had to.

She remembered all of the horrible things she'd said and done to Zuko, and all the times he'd loved and helped her in return, and she felt a sharp pang of sorrow. She didn't regret any of it, though—she couldn't, and that's what made them different. Everything she'd done to him had always been part of her elaborate ruse on her father to paint her as a heartless killer, just like him. She wasn't, not quite, but she would do what it takes to survive. The simple truth was, Zuko wouldn't do what it took—he couldn't. And that's why he was being scarred and banished, and she was being coddled and praised.

Ozai held his hand to Zuko's face, searing the flesh to ensure a permanent, disfiguring scar. He didn't even watch; his eyes were scanning the crowd, watching their reactions. He saw Iroh's grimace, and he grinned victoriously. His eyes reached her. He waited for her reaction.

Azula took a deep breath, and she forced herself to smile.

This story is basically just a vague idea for now but I'm excited about it. Comment if you want more!