Most children had a peaceful time growing up. A few spats with siblings, a few cuts here and there. But nothing a calming word from Mummy couldn't fix. Well… my childhood was different. Much different.

There was always a war being waged – raging from the earliest light of dawn to the dying rays of dusk.

"MOM!" I would scream, voice cracking as it raised octave's higher than it should. "Azula said father was going to burn me on the spit!"

"Well it's true. If you slip up, ZuZu, Father will disown you," she stared sardonically at her manicured fingernails, not caring in the slightest at the tears her brother was near shedding. "Not me, though. I'm the favorite."

Azula, my pretentious "baby" sister. I was her senior by two years. I was the first born, a son, and by tradition I should have been her protector. Big Brothers were born first to protect the little ones that came after. But how could I have had the will to protect her! She was always so cruel, rubbing it in my face how she was the prodigal child. How he favored her. How, if given the slightest cause, would banish me. I had only ever loved her until her nasty words never found an end. I gave up and sought comfort in my mothers providing arms. I guess that was why all around they called me a Momma's Boy.

In a way, it was true. I could never have come to my father in times of need. It would have seen weak and made him hate me more than he already did. The only time he spoke to me was to insult or berate, reprimanding every move I had ever made. Nothing was good enough. To this day I still believe that had I had the abilities and results of Azula, he still would have hated me. Hated me so much that even though his love stemmed from power, he would only glower at me.

"I will burn the both of you if you do not shut your mouths!" he had boomed, fire roaring out of the shadowy confines of Father's study.

Azula hmmmphed in satisfaction, the skipped off, light as the breeze.

That was right, the only time Father would touch me would be to beat some sense into me.

Sense. I don't even know the meaning to that word, despite the many times it had been pounded into my flesh by force. The many whips and cracks of muscled flesh hitting my young and tender skin. I'd lost all sense of words and meanings. Sense. Ridiculous. My life made none.

I felt a warm hand rest itself on my shoulder.

"My younger brother does not mean all that he says, young nephew," the throaty and wise voice of my Uncle, Iroh the proud General's voice sounded behind me. "Like the fire that glows in the hearths of many a home, he is quick to ignite, and slow to simmer."

I stared up at his soulful eyes, but they remained trained darkly at the office's opening.

"Is Uncle Ozai steamed?" a cheery voice yielding with a layer of grazed concern sprang to Uncle's left.

The old man chuckled. "Yes, and like always I'm sure he doesn't even know why."

Lu Ten and his father shared a carefree laugh as I watched the silhouette that was my father's back, wringing my hands nervously without intention. Uncle caught the fidgeting movements and told me to come to his mansion, just on the far eastern side of the one where my family lived. Lu Ten bent close and whispered in my ear along the way, and childishly my fears fled as I jumped on his back like he had proposed. I could feel the muscled undertone of his back move with each step as Uncle Iroh boomed with hearty laughter and we made our leisure way down the his manse.

We played a game my uncle had invented in his youth. He said that my father had never wanted to play, but was always secretly envious of it, he knew. We pretended to be dragons and hunters, dodging between boulders and shrines alike for hours. Uncle Iroh was the "Great Dragon of the West" in honor of his bestowed-upon title and my cousin and I were brave Dragon Hunters from warrior clans to the west. We clasped our hands together and shot imaginary arrows at our Uncle, whose fiery breath and scaled hide easily deflected all blows and advances we made. But one day Lu Ten and I had devised a strategy unrivalled to any of our earlier attempts. Hiding behind twin boulders spaced out by only five feet we signaled toward each other. I ran around my rock from the right side, Lu Ten on his around the left. We tackled the unsuspecting dragon from each side and managed to bring him down. Heaving great breaths, Uncle Iroh fell to the ground, Lu Ten lightly on top of him, and I piling up last. We each held great grins accompanied by breathless laughter. The sun was vastly approaching the horizon and it was time for my departure.

Every time I left, walking between cousin and uncle, it bore a deep sadness within me. I was consensually striding away from my one safe haven. The only place in all the lands where I felt welcome and nothing could go wrong, save a bum ankle from fall. But then one day it did. My cousin on my father's side, he who balanced his emotions in the perfect and demure blend – Lu Ten He had come of age and knew what he had wanted out of life. He was going to follow in his father's footsteps, already enlisted in the Fire Nation Army. It was my birthday but I had rather spend my last few moments with the fun-loving side to my kin. He was dressed and ready to go, warrior garb on and fit tightly. Uncle didn't have the heart to see his only son just yet. With sad eyes he handed me what was to be Lu Ten's headdress. I felt the family insignia carved into the back, running my young fingers over it. I trudged down and opened the latticed shoji screen doors, sliding back with a hiss. Lu Ten sat, looking strong and mighty, a magnificent pride in his eyes. I stood small behind him, placing the helm of our family and all its honor atop his ready shoulders. He smiled then, somber eyes brilliant with his usual light of mischief. He clapped my shoulder and shook me out. He stopped then and dropped to his knees. I sucked in a hard breath as he crushed my smaller frame to him, head burrowed into my shoulder.

"Never change, Zuke," he whispered in a strained whisper.

Uncle patted his shoulder, watching from the doorway the entire time. The two stood together and headed for the door simultaneously, me at their heels. They walked east, proud warriors serving for their country with honor. Uncle Iroh marched Lu Ten to the front lines then took his post at the foot of Ba Sing Se's Great Outer Wall.

I hadn't heard from either in months. And so war and honor stripped me of my last sanctuary. I would often come down to the creek nestled at the bottom of the hill where atop sat Iroh's mansion. Just staring at the rippling water the rocks disturbed. Silent. Little River-Gliders skittering on the surface. My foot would dangle to graze the cool touch of serenity. It was where I found peace from the pain my own home caused me.

Each time I came home, Azula greeted me with a "I think it's high-time I told Father of how crazy you and your exploits are to an old Badger-Mole's house."

"Shut up, Azula!" I would stomp, clenching my words in my trembling fists.

How a child of seven could be so biting, so mean!

"Hmmph." She smirked darkly. "I'll shut you up."

Before I could have registered what that meant, she blasted a ball of bursting flame in my face as I turned to scowl at her. I cowered before a wall of fire dispersed the comet of roiling energy.

"Azula – no!" a stern voice roared. It set my younger sibling stumbling back in its terrifying ferocity.

On all fours, I slowly stared up in horrified awe to see my father standing in brilliance against the backdrop of the sun. The sudden curl of his lips turned his righteously outraged face evil. My mouth opened in shock at the words of condoning he spoke to her.

"Agni Kai's will come later. Do not sully your impeccable honor so."

"Yes, Father." She bowed humbly, an ironic pretense, the twist of her lips mimicking his own.

They walked off, leaving me alone to my thoughts. My head hung low, like a beaten dog with tail between legs. A sense of betrayal like none other felt before rose in me, like the swelling of a wave. I choked on the sadness, that deep sense of bitter disgust my father forced me each day to feel, done by his own actions – or lack thereof. The ghost of a calming hand placed itself tenderly on my shaking back. I felt my head shoot up, royal knot swatting my back viciously, red clouded my hazed vision.

Fire blasted from every pore, it felt. My body was engulfed in an excruciating pain, stemmed only from emotional toll and power. My energy was spent mere minutes later, exhausting me, body and mind. I dropped to my palms, panting; sweat a moist sheen on my skin. The area was ripe with the smell of Ozone, all around me it was crisp. My mother glided gracefully over the trampled earth. A long flower, a Dragonlily, was burning around the edges of each Crimson and Cobalt petal. She knelt, licking her fingers gingerly, and then put the embers out.

"You know, anger is much like the element of our nation," she began, voice soft and contemplative. "When tamed, it gives warmth and the essence of life… when thrown out of control; it can engulf even the most beautiful of things."

"You sound like Uncle." The anger was leaving my body, depleted and content to subside in the darkest remaining corners of my wounded soul, but heat still coated my words. It made my tone gruff and infuriated, still. This kind of disrespect my mother did not deserve.

"Oh, Zuko..." she kissed my furrowed brow. "Your time will come."

"My time?" I shouted. "I don't have time! I'll never get my time! I'll never get the throne, as Father had wished, I'll never amount to anything! Azula was born lucky – I was lucky to be born!"

My mother blanched. "Who told you that?"

I gritted my teeth against the tears I had been forcing back, with as much luck as a drop of water has on a forest fire.

"Father."

"Ozai said –"she steeled her face in a mask of intemperance then. "Well he didn't mean it."

"I don't care!" I snapped, regretting it instantly.

I could feel her brown gaze stare down at me, with pity. How I hated to be pitied. It was bad enough I was treated with such horrible disrespect, to my face or behind it, but to be pitied made me want to die. I didn't need it. And yet, it seemed I always found myself getting it. She continued to stare down at me. Stare down. Everyone did that. Mother caressed my face, so tenderly. It caused me to bite my lip – the quick switch of emotional play toying with my often-used tear ducts.

"Oh, but I think you do." Her voice was soft and empathetic.

I threw my fists down.

"I will rise, though!" I'll get to the highest position I can! I'll prove to Father and earn his love!"

Her smile showed the same image in her eyes, a deep, unbearable sadness. Had my own bore a similar look?

"Zuko… you don't earn love. It's unrequited." She sighed, standing. "I've loved you from the day you were born – before that. Your uncle and even cousin Lu Ten, too. When you were in my stomach, I didn't know who or what would come out. But Zuko," she touched my cheek with the lightness of her perfect fingertips. "I am so glad it was you."

My lower lip quivered, I could feel it hitting the upper one. I felt the water leak down my cheeks but I let them flow. Mother wiped my face with her tugged sleeve. I jumped into her arms and wept.

Father and Azula had said that crying was weakness. That only cowards sobbed. But even through the tears and sobs that wracked my body, I felt strong. My mothers love lit the fire within me.

I would never give up… without a fight.

I was knocked down and bloodied by my sister, beaten and bruised by Father, insulted and mocked, stripped of honor and ridiculed, throughout my entire life. But never once had I give up. I always rose.

And I always will.

A/N: Shoji screens are doors used by the Japanese. Considering the Fire Nation is modeled closely, if not completely, after Japan, I thought it befitting to use certain terminology such as that. The back of his uniform headdress as I stated, would bear his name/mark of: 路騰

"Never give up without a fight" I took, for those of you Avatard's like me (:B), should know that that is what is inscribed on Zuko's pearl-handed dagger – gifted to him by Uncle Iroh.

AND those of you who like Fantastic Mr. Fox, I sincerely hope you got the reference. At the near end of the movie, Mr. Fox was making amends and going to deliver himself to save the other animals, he tells his son Ash the same thing Fire Lady Ursa told Zuko. I thought it was fitting, and I hope others of you agree, that Ash and Young Zuko are kind of in the same boat. Anyone? Anyone? No? …okay…

Well thank you for reading, though I'm sure no one ever really reads the "Authors Notes" but again, thanks and leave/post a comment telling me if you liked the story or some constructive criticism. I really enjoy reading those.