"Shape without form, shade without colour,
Paralysed force, gesture without motion"

-T.S. Eliot, "The Hollow Men"

In later years, after Azula reached what she deemed to be maturity, looking back at her childhood became uncomfortable, undesirable. The sticky boundaries of childhood and adolescence were never clearly defined for any child, but Azula knew hers to be murkier than most. Her peers did not serve as soldiers by the age of twelve. Her peers had not touched hell and tasted heaven. Her peers were not born with the label, so telling, so condemning, of prodigy. She was exceptional in all ways, and she had been from early on.

Why, then, did shame cloud her memories? Perhaps she was looking with scorn upon a more innocent, more naïve version of herself. Perhaps, no matter how exceptional she had been, she believed she should have been even better. Perhaps it was simple nostalgia, foolish whimsy and weakness that clouded the vision of even one as controlled as she.

And perhaps it was not a single one of those reasons, but all of them. Perhaps Azula looked at the past and saw what had happened, and was forced to retrace the steps she had taken to get to where she was. No matter how unswerving the path had looked while she was traversing it, in hindsight she could see a thousand crossroads, a thousand places where she could have taken a different turn. And if she had done so, perhaps everything would have been different.

But reminiscence was for the weak, and regret was a fatal undoing, so Azula didn't waste her time in the desolate wastelands of her own memory. The present and the future were what interested her, and she drove ahead with unrelenting force.

And maybe, just maybe, Azula didn't like poking about in her history because her adolescence contained things more suitable to a nightmare than to the childhood of the princess of the Fire Nation.

"Princess, you're not paying attention."

Serenity. Warm spring air with the slightest breeze. The gardens were immaculate, well-tended, hardly a leaf out of place. The only disturbance was the sound of a group of guards marching along their patrol, but even that noise faded into a background hum. All of the components were only pieces of a larger puzzle, a picture of spotless grandeur.

One of the guards, probably new and inexperienced, was stepping with the opposite foot from the others. Golden eyes watched him, narrowed, willing him to correct himself. Then the troop disappeared around the corner, taking both man and mistake with it.

Two people were sitting in the shadow of a behemoth. Deep red walls edged in gold stood like colossi on all sides, omnipresent, imperial, a declaration of power to the sky and the earth alike. A huge tower rose from the body of the palace, resembling nothing so much as a spear.

But down here, in the gardens, this image of power, of straight lines and sharp angles, was lessened. Here there were flowers, the faint songs of birds, and greenery.

The elder of the two was a man approaching the last legs of his life, or so the wrinkles on his brow and face would indicate. He had very little hair, allowing the sun to reflect off the sweat of his scalp. He was trying to direct his companion's attention to a scroll, but her focus was elsewhere.

"Princess, I fear bringing you outside for your lesson today may have been a mistake…"

They were sitting together on a bench under a willow tree. Nearby was a fountain, the sound of its water making a repetitive music. The girl was far more interested in studying the cracks in the stone of the seat and the path than listening to anything the man had to say. She was watching an ant go on his way and entertaining the idea of smashing it under her foot. It would never return to the colony, never deliver its crumb of food, just with the smallest gesture on her part.

The insect's life was saved when the man at last exclaimed in irritation.

"Princess!"

She turned to face him at last, an eyebrow raised. She was eight years of black hair and shining eyes, eight years of a flexible body and quick hands, eight years of the granddaughter of the Fire Lord.

"What?"

"You're not paying attention," her tutor repeated, pushing his glasses up further onto his nose as he reviewed his notes. "I'm afraid we'll need to return inside. The royal gardens are a bit too distracting for you, I think…In any case, we were speaking of your grandfather Azulon's conquest of—"

"His march on Teong-Chen, yes, I know," Azula said impatiently. She disliked the man's implication that she was to blame for his nonexistent teaching skills. It wasn't her fault if inanimate objects were more interesting than him. "He laid a siege that was really a distraction, then took a smaller force through the west wall. After that, Ba Sing Se was the only important city left to conquer, but despite all his efforts, neither he nor his children ever broke through those walls."

"…That's far ahead in the unit yet," he said. "We had only just reached Teong-Chen's council in the history I was teaching you. You read ahead once more."

There he goes. Azula was used to tutors complaining about her tendency to speed through her work, but none yet had been quite so brash as to punish her for it. Usually it became a mad scramble, the teacher in question hurrying faster and faster to complete lesson plans while Azula breezed through her coursework with ease. It had become something of a game for her. How long until they folded? How long until they'd admit that she was a better student than they were a tutor?

"The textbooks are more interesting than you," Azula said. "It's as if you're trying to make Grandfather sound as dull as possible."

"You will refer to the Fire Lord by his proper title, young Princess," the tutor said, standing and rolling his scroll shut. "Your lessons are over for today, but make no mistake. I will report these behaviors to your father."

Azula didn't see the point of showing respect to a man whose advanced age meant he didn't do anything except sit around, even if she was named after him. Azulon was half-senile, or so her father said, and it would be better for the country if he'd just die already and let someone younger take over.

But that was a point she wasn't going to argue with her tutor, especially when he was going to dismiss her early. Azula was certain that was only since she'd finished more than he'd prepared for, and that certainty sent a thrill of victory through her.

So while the man gathered up his materials and headed down the path for the cool interior of the palace, Azula remained just a bit longer outside, soaking up the sun. When at last she stood to follow him, she noticed that the ant, or perhaps a different one, was still scurrying across the pavement. The smile on her lips grew as she brought her shoe down and crushed the bug into the stone.

The tutor was as good as his word in reporting back to her father, but Azula wasn't afraid of these meetings with Ozai anymore. She had already gone through several tutors, each quitting after a relatively short period of time. She had been tutored from the age of four, in tandem with her brother, who was starting then at the age of six. After the previous tutor, their father decided school would be better for Zuko, though Azula was to continue her tutelage at home. It was six months now, and Azula was admittedly missing her brother's presence, though probably only because she missed her chance to constantly outshine him.

Her favorite tutor had been the second, a young firebending woman named Kame. Kame had attempted to use toys and games to coax the Princess "out of her shell." Azula accepted the presents willingly enough, but after she gave Kame the burns, the woman had left in a hurry and never come back.

It was the tutor's own fault. She had told Zuko that his knowledge of the war against the Air Nomads was greater than Azula's.

She had been wrong.

After Ozai's meeting with the tutor, he sent for his daughter. Azula made her way through the suite of rooms that her microcosm of the family shared, a space small in comparison to the whole palace but vast compared to the homes of average citizens. As the second son of the Fire Lord, Ozai had a magnificent set of chambers, filled with gold and scarlet, delicate embroidery and carvings everywhere from the door to the sheets of the bed. Though Azula had never been inside the chambers of the Fire Lord, it was difficult to imagine they were any more magnificent than her father's rooms.

Ozai was waiting for her outside, on his balcony. The city spread out before them, red-tiled roofs gleaming like gems under the blue sky. Azula was used to such sights, however, and her attention was all for her father. More than Azulon, frail and old, or her uncle Iroh, round and short, her father to her was the epitome of royalty. His height, his dark silky hair, the goatee that graced his chin—all of them reminded Azula of portraits of Sozin, who after all had been the greatest Fire Lord of them all.

"You've frightened off another tutor, Azula." Ozai's tone was a reprimand, but Azula thought there was warmth running through it as well. Perhaps he was amused by the ability of his daughter to chase off teacher after teacher.

"Frightened him off? He's a grown man. If an eight-year-old scares him so much, it's a wonder he didn't destroy the entire military when he served."

Azula fancied that her father's lips curled upward, but it was hard to tell when he was looking out over the city instead of directly at her. Certainly his voice didn't change when he next spoke.

"That's the fifth one. I tire of finding replacements for you, as entertaining as each tale of woe is. If you possess such an inability to let yourself be educated at home, I will send you to school."

Azula grimaced. She wasn't a stranger to the idea; it had frequently occurred to her when each of the other tutors had been dismissed, but she still didn't like it. On the one hand, there would be others to compete with. Zuko was pathetically easy to beat at everything. On the other, she liked having the freedom to run about where she wished.

"What about my firebending lessons?"

"They will be taught at your school. As will everything else that you require. For the time being, Azula, you have outgrown tutors, for better or for worse."

The princess bowed and turned to leave her father there, her mind racing ahead of her. She had always looked down on school, mostly because she associated it with her brother, but it couldn't be much worse or Ozai wouldn't be sending her there. She trusted her father to choose whatever was best for her, and there would always be teachers to harass at school in the same way that she had tormented her tutors.

Her thoughts were interrupted when Azula exited her father's chambers into the main room that connected the family's suites. At the far end of the hall were the remaining members of her family. Her brother was standing, facing away from her, while their mother rested an arm on his shoulder. Azula kept behind them, closing her father's door and eavesdropping on their conversation.

"I know you feel frustrated…but your progress is quicker than average for a student your age…"

"Quicker than average? I don't care about better than average! I can't face Father like this! Do you know what they gave me on the last firebending assessment? Satisfactory! Who am I kidding? I'll never be strong enough to graduate, let alone make my father proud." Her brother was agitated, pacing back and forth. Zuko's complaints brought a smile to Azula's lips. So school was serving to illustrate that not only was she more gifted than her brother, but other young benders were as well.

"Zuko, your expectations are too high," their mother, Ursa, said, a calming voice to counter her son's agitation. "Ozai expects much of you, but you are still young. There is plenty of time to prove yourself. Just because bending doesn't come as easily to you does not mean you won't grow into it with time."

"I don't have time! I need to improve my skills now! I will make Father proud! He always goes on about how good Azula is, and she's younger than me!"

Azula smirked. She had been wondering when her name would crop up. Zuko's voice was rising in pitch. He was getting more and more worked up.

"I will get better, Mother, I swear! Please, please ask Father about the private firebending teacher!"

A sigh. "…I don't know, Zuko."

"Zuzu!"

Azula announced her presence in the room with the nickname she'd long ago bestowed on her brother. As both mother and son turned to face her, she ran across to hug Zuko. He shrugged her off and took several steps back, looking surly.

"You're finally home from school! I have so much I want to talk to you about!"

Ursa smiled at her children. "Zuko, we can continue this conversation later. For now, maybe you'll feel better if you talk to your sister for a while."

"Mom, I don't—"

But with nothing more than an encouraging nod, Ursa lifted the hem of her robe and swept off in the direction of her own rooms.

The rooms of the Fire Nation were vast and airy, decorated with huge windows designed to let in the sun. Ozai, as the Fire Lord's second son, had a large section of the palace just for him and his family, with enough room therein to comfortably house a hundred lesser people. That wing was essentially Azula's world, for the eight-year-old only occasionally went out into the larger palace, and had rarely gone beyond the walls and into the city. The prospect of school, therefore, of going out every day, was exciting.

As soon as Ursa disappeared up the stairs, Zuko turned and glared at Azula.

"How much did you hear?"

"Please, Mother, please!" Azula said, walking in a slow circle around her brother and adopting a mocking falsetto. "I want a private firebending teacher! Azula's just too good for me!"

Zuko was fuming, his eyes narrowed. Azula dropped the imitation.

"I suppose you're not the best in your class at firebending anymore, huh, big brother? But I will be. I'll be the best firebender in the class…no, in the entire school."

"What are you talking about?" Zuko asked, his curiosity overcoming his hostility for the moment. "You don't go to school."

"Now I do," Azula sighed, resting her back against the wall. "My tutor got scared and ran off, and Father said he was tired of finding new ones, so..."

"Good for you," Zuko said curtly, turning away and heading down the hallway that led to both of their rooms. "I'll see you at dinner."

"Bye, Zuzu," she called after him. With the room to herself, she walked over to the windows and slid back the painted screens to observe the city. The caldera sloped down and away from the front of the palace, leading down to the capital itself. From the height where she stood, she could easily make out the harbor, its dark grey ships glinting in the sunlight, and beyond that the broad blue of the sea.

She wondered whether any of her new classmates would be a match for her, but told herself it didn't matter. Whether any of them came close was irrelevant. She would outsmart, outbend, and outperform them all. She would prove that the royal blood in her veins was no fluke, and that her father had taught her well.

As clearly as looking out at the horizon, Azula saw her future stretched out in front of her. She liked what she saw, and so she smiled.

The Fire Lord preferred to dine alone unless some sort of great banquet was required, and so Ozai and his family spent most of their meals together, just the four of them, in one of Ozai's rooms. The two children sat next to each other, across from their parents, and Azula spent many a meal seeing how many times she could elbow Zuko before he squealed to Ursa. His record was sixteen.

This night was no different. The four of them kneeled on silken cushions around a low wooden table as servants brought dish after dish of steaming food. Azula ate with gusto, but she noticed that Zuko was more interested in pushing his food around his plate than eating it.

"Azula, your mother and I have determined to which school you are to be sent," Ozai said, looking up from his bowl to his daughter's face. "The Royal Fire Academy for Girls—an elite school for the children of nobles. You are to begin at the start of next week."

"Yes, Father," she said, inclining her head across the table.

"It is not far from here, but you will have an escort, of course. I have no doubt that your performance there will be exemplary. You are not an ordinary girl, Azula, and you will not behave as one. Do not let me down."

"I won't, Father." Azula let her father's words wash over her. His compliments were rare, and she held each of them with great regard, all the more so because her mother and brother were there to bear witness. Praise was so much sweeter when Zuko, beside her, received nothing.

Ozai silenced, done speaking for the moment. He took a bite of meat from his plate before his eyes fixed intently on Zuko. Azula's gaze drifted sideways to her brother as well, a small smirk forming on her lips. She thought she knew what was coming.

"You received the results of your last firebending assessment today, did you not?" Ozai said. Rather than looking at her brother, Azula focused on her mother. Ursa was also staring at her son, though her gaze was milder than her husband's. The only indication that she might be worried was a minute wrinkle between her eyebrows.

"…Yes, Father," Zuko said at last, keeping his head bowed.

"And those results were?"

"I received…" An audible swallow. "Satisfactory."

"Satisfactory," Ozai repeated slowly, his face masklike. "Satisfactory. You are the grandson of the Fire Lord, and yet you are nothing more than average. Did you even make an attempt, Zuko? Did you even try?"

He stood abruptly, shaking the table, darkening the entire room with his sudden anger. It seemed to almost radiate off of him. When he next spoke, his voice was the same low rumble as thunder.

"To have my son—the son of a prince of the Fire Nation—do you know what this says to people, Zuko? It says that we are weak. A lesson that your uncle is actively trying to disprove in Ba Sing Se, and here you are, destroying our reputation here at home."

There was a long pause in which Ozai stood as still as a statue, and Zuko kept his head bowed. Azula glanced his way out of the corner of her eyes and thought she saw tears glinting on his cheek. The sight simply sent a thrill through her stomach, a feeling of excitement. A wish to see those tears fall, for Ozai to see them, for she knew that they would only anger him more…

"Sometimes I wonder whether such an ordinary child as you could possibly have come from me," Ozai said, and then he turned on his heel. Ursa was quick to jump up, her hands held out in gestures of placation for her husband, for his statement was easily as condemning of her as it was of their son. As both her mother and father left the room, Azula heard Ursa murmuring platitudes: "He's young yet...he'll grow into it...he performs better without pressure..."

Once they were out of earshot, Zuko slumped, burying his face in his hands.

"Ooh, Dad's really mad at you now," Azula said, leaning back. Zuko's mediocre test results might have ruined the family dinner, but they had easily made her day. Every failure of her brother made her look better, she knew. "Maybe he'll kick you out. What if you aren't really my brother? That would explain a lot, actually..."

"Shut up, Azula!" Zuko said, leaping to his feet, anger etched clearly onto his face. "I'm Father's son, and one day I'll be just as strong of a bender as he is, and then you'll be sorry!"

Azula stood more slowly, laughing to herself. "You can't beat me now, and you're years older. The gap's only going to get bigger, Zuzu. You'll grow up to be just as satisfactory as you are now, and you know it."

"I hate you!" Zuko roared, throwing a wild fist toward her. A burst of flame came at her chest, but Azula easily dodged, watching as the fire disappeared harmlessly off of the balcony, looking like a shooting star against the night sky.

"That hurts my feelings, big brother," she said, walking away from him toward the door where her parents had disappeared. "I don't know why you need to be so angry all the time."

Zuko didn't follow her on her way back to her room. It was quiet and dark, but the stillness didn't bother Azula. On the contrary, she stayed up late into the night, her thoughts on her brother's poor performance and that she'd be going to school in just a few short days...

The future was bright indeed.

A/N: Hello, everybody! This is an updated author's note (10.13.14). Allow me to say a handful of things about this fic. First of all, it is not a happy story. If you are looking for anything fluffy, hopeful, or remotely pleasant, I must urge you to look elsewhere. This fic contains no happy endings, and as it goes on, the happy moments become very few and far between. Secondly, one of the major themes is that of Ozai/Azula, as a sexual (non-consensual) pairing. And lastly, the quality of the first few chapters is not really indicative of the overall quality of the fic. As the author, I am biased, but my writing has improved tremendously since I started writing this almost two years ago, so the quality improves as the fic goes on.

That's all! If you still desire to read, please enjoy!