What if you were Zuko and Azula's mother? Would Azula have been different? Would Zuko be friends with Aang earlier than he intended?
Imagine how different Zuko and especially Azula would be because you—Princess of the Fire Nation!Reader is their mother.
They grew up with your presence, guidance, and love that eventually resulted in them being more like you rather than being similar to their father—your husband, then Prince Ozai.
Although your boundless love and affection spoiled the children rotten—filling their early years with laughter, maternal warmth, and a softness rarely seen in the Fire Nation royal lineage, it did not shield them from the brutal realities of being Prince Ozai’s children.
Imagine the day of your family’s coronation when Fire Lord Azulon suspiciously and suddenly passes away one strange night and how the last royal decree was that your husband shall be crowned Fire Lord, leaving Iroh on his military position for he did not have an heir.
Imagine how the whole day you couldn’t help but feel nauseous. Something in your gut tells you that something ominous is bound to happen—you did jot know when, and you certainly did not know to who, but to feel safe, you kept your children near you.
“Mom, why do you look so scared? We should be celebrating! Dad is the Fire Lord now!”
“Azula! Keep your voice down! Grandfather just passed away this week…!”
The contrast between your children was night and day, it was clear how your first child was much more soft than the other. Your second born was filled with much fierce at a young age that her older brother could not achieve yet.
The divide between the two of them always made your heart ache with a mixture of pride and worry.
Imagine looking down at Zuko, whose wide, golden eyes were already swimming with a quiet, reverent grief for his grandfather. He was so gentle, so deeply empathetic, holding onto your hand with a soft but desperate grip.
Then you look at Azula. She was a bit of a mischievous kid, puffed up with a sense of royal pride, unable to fully grasp the gravity of death over the sheer excitement of her father's new status.
But you also knew how much worse Azula could have been.
Without your constant, unyielding love, your gentle guidance, and your infinite patience, she would have easily succumbed to Ozai’s cold, ruthless molding.
She could have been a someone who not only hated the world, but her own self as well.
Instead, because you always validated her, showered her with affection, and taught her to understand her own heavy emotions, her "bratty" nature was just a shield.
Underneath it all, she was much nicer, much softer than she let the world see. She was trying to be kind. She was genuinely trying, all because she loved you.
Imagine the overwhelming weight of the day suddenly crashing down on you. The heavy, ornate Fire Lady crown felt like a lead weight pressing into your skull, a physical manifestation of the target now painted on your back. The palace walls felt like they were closing in, you knew the court politics, and you knew that far too many powerful people were already siding with Ozai, eagerly feeding his ambition.
You had to be so careful. Every word, every breath, was dangerous now and you desperately wanted to shield your children from it.
Unable to take the suffocating air of the main hall any longer, you quietly pull both of your children into a secluded, shadowed corner of the corridor, away from prying eyes and whispering ministers.
You drop to your knees so you are at eye level with them, your heavy robes pooling around you. Your voice is a frantic, quiet whisper as you hold their small hands. You can't tell them the truth—that their grandfather was murdered, that their father is a tyrant—so you give them the only anchor you can.
"Listen to me," you whisper, your eyes searching theirs with a desperate intensity. "No matter what changes in this palace… no matter what happens from this day forward… just keep your hearts good, okay?"
Before they can even question the vague, heavy words, you leaned forward to press a tender, lingering kiss to Zuko’s forehead. He relaxes instantly under your touch, melting into your warmth.
Right on cue, you hear a sharp, dramatic huff from your right. You look over to see Azula crossing her arms, her lower lip jutting out in a classic, jealous pout. She wants your undivided attention, always.
She did not know what you saw so special in Zuko. You treated both of them fairly, but Azula couldn't help but yearn for something that she already has.
But before you can soothe her, a cold, booming voice echoes down the hall. Ozai was calling for Zuko.
Zuko stiffens, a flash of anxiety crossing his face. You gently pat his shoulder, giving him a reassuring, grounding squeeze. Go on, your touch says. Zuko swallows his fear, nods bravely to you, and then turns to shoot a small, encouraging smile at his sister—a silent thank you to her for letting him have that first hug.
They may fight a lot with Azula being the one to initiate the sibling banters, but as an older brother, Zuko always cared for Azula—just as how you taught him.
The moment Zuko walks away, you turn your full attention to your jealous little girl. With a soft chuckle that momentarily chases away your nausea, you lean in and kiss Azula’s cheek.
She tries to keep her face rigid and grumpy, but you know her too well. You lean in and kiss her other cheek even more dramatically.
Twice. Because she’s a fiercely possessive kid who needs to know she is loved just as much, if not more.
Imagine the bratty facade completely crumbling. Azula doesn't pull away. Instead, she throws her small arms around your neck, burying her face into your shoulder in a tight, desperate hug.
She might be arrogant, she might be a handful, but in your arms, she is just a little girl trying her absolute best to be the daughter you can be proud of.
As you hold her tight against the gathering storm, you pray it will be enough from the ominous gut feeling stirring inside you.
Imagine realizing that the ominous feeling you tried so hard to forget had happened right in front of your eyes when you heard of the Agni Kai between your husband and your son.
You fall to your knees before Ozai, abandoning all royal decorum to beg, plead, and scream for the life and face of your son. But Ozai’s heart is stone.
"You can't do that!" your voice raises at him, in fact you have been yelling at Ozai for several minutes now from the anger, the disappointment, the fear of losing Zuko—it was too much. "I'll go with him. If you banish your son, I will follow him! I will take Azula, I'll go with my childr—"
Ozai moved with blinding speed, cutting you off as he grabs your upper arms. He doesn't want to break you—in his own twisted, possessive way, he claims to love you—but his grip is brutal, crushing enough to guarantee dark bruises by tomorrow.
"Zuko brought this upon himself." Ozai scoffs, his tone entirely dismissive of your grief. "His banishment is a direct consequence of his weakness. In fact, I was kind enough to spare his life and grant him a path to return. He may come back once he captures the Avatar."
A fresh wave of tears spills over your cheeks, your heart shattering for your son who had just turned 13 years old, because you know the truth—the Avatar has been gone for a hundred years. It is an impossible task. A lifetime sentence of exile masked as mercy.
"And you will not touch Azula." Ozai commands, his voice dropping to a low whisper against your ear. He knows you too well. He knows you love both children deeply and fairly, and he uses that absolute devotion to trap you. "If you step foot out of this palace, you leave her behind forever. I will make sure she forgets your face."
You choke on a sob, but his grip only tightens, forcing you to look at him.
"Think of your family in the provinces, too. They enjoy a very peaceful life under my reign. It would be a tragic shame if an... accidental fire were to consume everything they own."
"You wouldn't dare," you weep, trembling violently. "Ozai, you wouldn't dare." Your eyebrows were knotted together as more tears began to spill.
Ozai pulled you flush against his chest, his golden eyes turning into dark, merciless slits as his smile sharpens. "Test my patience and you’ll see what happens."
From that day on, you had given up on the fantasy of learning to love Ozai for the sake of your children.
Imagine standing on the harbor docks, the bitter sea wind whipping against your face as you watch the ship carry your broken, boy away into the endless ocean.
A tiny fraction of your shattered heart finds comfort knowing Iroh is by his side, but it does nothing to ease the pain ripping through your chest as the vessel grows smaller and smaller.
A few minutes ago, you were asking Zuko not to cry while crying yourself. You did not want him to feel the sting on his injured side of his face, a reminder of his father’s own cruelty.
You told Zuko that no matter what, you will find a way to get him back. You did not know how or what to even do, but as a mother, you were willing to do everything to get your son back in your arms.
Now, here you were unable to bear the pain as you watched Zuko’s ship disappear into the ocean.
Behind you, Azula gently takes your trembling hand, her fingers wrapping around yours in a rare, quiet attempt to anchor you to the shore as you weep for the son you cannot follow.
Imagine falling into a deep, suffocating depression in the weeks that follow, becoming a ghost within your own palace walls.
As the years bleed together, Azula watches your sorrow with a complicated, bitterness-part of her fiercely resents Zuko for being the sole cause of your constant heartbreak, while another secret, buried part of her aches because she misses her brother, too.
Imagine pouring every single ounce of your remaining, desperate love entirely onto Azula, smothering her with the affection and warmth you can no longer give your son.
You look at Azula through the mirror while you brushed her hair.
“Mom?” Azula asked, shifting slightly under your touch. She looked confused, catching your intense gaze in the reflection. She didn't really mind the staring, but the heavy silence in the room was making her uneasy.
Without a word, you set the brush down, leaned forward, and wrapped your arms tightly around her shoulders, burying your face in her hair. Azula stiffened for a second. She knew that look on your face—she knew the exact weight of the sadness you carried every single day since Zuko left.
"Is it my grades at the academy?" Azula asked quickly, her voice dropping as she looked down at her lap. "Did I disappoint you?"
"No," you said immediately, squeezing her tighter to chase away her doubts. "No, sweetheart, never. I am so, so proud of you."
You fell silent again, just holding her close, trying to absorb the comfort of having her near.
Azula relaxed against your chest. She raised her small arms, wrapping them around your neck to hug you back.
"Don't worry, Mom," she whispered into your shoulder, her grip tightening. "I'm not going away too."
Even if one child remain by your side, while the other was thousands of miles away, your heart still yearned for Zuko.
You spend hours writing letters to him, sending them out into the dark even though they rarely reach him and on the rare, precious days a reply finally makes it back to your hands, a spark of happiness returns to your eyes, and Azula watches you smile, quietly resolving to keep trying her best to be the daughter who keeps you whole.
Azula did not know until when this would last. A part of her wishes that somehow… somehow Zuko comes back, but for her own sake, a selfish part of Azula wanted this moment to last forever.
Imagine Zuko standing on the icy deck of his ship in the freezing waters of the South Pole, carefully unfolding a worn, heavily creased letter from home.
His thumb brushes over your familiar handwriting, a stark contrast to the fresh, angry burn tissue tracing his eye. He is desperate, angry, and fiercely determined to hunt down the Avatar to regain his honor—not just to appease the cold father who burned him, but to finally return to you.
As the ship cuts through the freezing waters, Zuko folds the letter away, his gaze hardening as he looks toward the horizon.
The memory of your gentle touch is the only thing keeping his anger from consuming him entirely, leaving open the terrifying question of whether he will become a ruthless hunter like his father to get back to you, or if your lessons on kindness will save his soul when he finally faces the avatar.
a/n: this was sitting on my drafts for TOO LONG. the idea behind this was something like “what if azula was given the love she wanted? i kinda want to write that…” and BAM i even forgot i wrote this and existed 😭
