With precise strokes of her brush, Azula breezed through another paragraph, lightly spinning her brush in a small circle to paint on a period at the end of a sentence. Then she paused, glancing back at her history scroll to help her compose her next topic sentence. After a moment, she smiled in satisfaction, turning back to her essay and writing down another string of characters, ink lines elegant and shining from the sunlight through the window.

A knock at her door. "Azula?" Zuko called out.

Azula jerked up from her paper in surprise, hand almost smearing the still drying ink. She let out a breath of relief at her still-perfect essay and composed herself. Acting visibly shocked was not fitting for a princess. Thankfully, no one was here to witness the blunder, especially not Father.

Relaxing, she turned her attention back to the door where her brother had started obnoxiously knocking. She scoffed, calling out, "What do you want?"

Of course, her idiot brother took that as an invitation to barge in. She purposefully let out an exasperated sigh, loud enough for him to hear.

Azula could have easily kicked him out, but she admittedly was mildly curious about this visit. She and Zuko hadn't talked in weeks, ever since Grandfather's funeral, though part of the reason for that was because she did feel a smidge guilty for teasing him about Mother the morning she vanished. Not that she would ever admit that to Zuko.

After a long silence, she began to feel a bit annoyed. Why barge in and say nothing? "What's wrong with you?" she asked sharply, without bothering to turn around to look at him.

"Oh! I, Azula. I… Did you... I mean..." he stammered.

Azula rolled her eyes, "Spit it out Zuzu," she said impatiently, dipping her brush back in the pot. Honestly, and he wonders why tutors dislike him when he can hardly finish a sentence without tripping over his own tongue.

It was probably very telling about how deep in his own thoughts that her brother didn't snap at her over the nickname.

Azula heard him anxiously drumming his fingers on her bookshelf against the wall as if to gather his nerves. Then, in a low voice, "It's- it's about Mom."

She quietly took in a sharp breath, then huffed derisively. Of course it was about this. Zuzu still couldn't let it doesn't matter if Mother is gone.

She certainly doesn't care.

"Hm," she replied disinterestedly.

Zuko seemed flustered. He soldiered on, "What I meant was, what-what do you think happened to Mom?"

Azula could have laughed. It was so obvious. Grandfather intended to punish Father for asking Uncle Iroh's birthright to be revoked, but suddenly changes his mind... and then dies despite being in good health? Then Mother vanishes on the same night and Zuzu still can't figure it out?

All the more reason she's the prodigy and not him. She smiled a little, dipping her brush back into the inkpot and pondered her next sentence.

"Look," he said almost earnestly, "I know I was really tired when Mom woke me up that night, but…" he took a step closer to her, "I would have remembered if she told me she was leaving."

Azula froze, her heart dropping into her stomach. What?

Zuko kept rambling, but Azula could only hear the blood rushing in her ears, numbing her senses. Her hand around her calligraphy brush shook, splattering dark ink all over her essay, but she barely registered it. Her vision swam and for half a second she thought she was going to be ill. She swallowed, forcing herself to open her mouth and- "What did you say?" she managed, still resolutely facing the wall.

Zuko scowled at her. "Were you listening?" he said irritably. "I said 'why didn't she tell me she was leaving? I was really tired but I don't think I would have missed it." He kicked at the wall.

He looked up at her. "Did she tell you?"

Azula was still frozen in her chair. She blinked furiously, dropping the calligraphy brush unceremoniously back into the inkpot. She quietly took in another shaky breath. "No," she said, in a tightly controlled voice. "She didn't tell me she was leaving either."

Zuko closed his eyes in defeat. "I guess we're in the same boat," he said morosely.

"Uh-huh," she replied, hating how weak her voice sounded. She stared down at her ruined essay and determinedly blinked back tears. It doesn't matter. It doesn't.

Her mother always loved Zuko more than her anyway.