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Description
This picture was drawn as illustration for the short Azula-and-Zuko-centric fanfic below. Comments on either or both would be greatly appreciated--they're kind of a single package.

-o-

Blessed Are the Weak
an A:TLA fic by tobu ishi

The facts were overwhelmingly in her favor--the hedgemice were a gift to both royal children, after all, a matched pair as white as snow with bright black eyes and prickles softly tipped with gray. And it was the princess who came running into her mother's chambers just before dinnertime, eyes wide and limned with her usual bright energy, exclaiming that the kitchen cat had gotten into the box and tipped it over and there were shavings and bits of prickles everywhere, and it was all very exciting, and could they please send someone to clean it up? And when questioned about how the cat had gotten into the prince's rooms, she had tilted her china-doll face just a degree to one side, hands clasped behind her back, and murmured in the most bemused and innocent of tones, "I don't know...maybe the cook left the door open?"

And after all, the sturdy box hadn't fallen on its own, and what eight year old would be so morbid?

And so her mother had left to question the cook, and Azula strolled across the rug with her hands still tucked behind her back, to where her brother sat crying over the little prickly bodies, stroking a fingertip down their tiny folded ears and velvet noses. Leaning over, she pinched his ear until he looked up, and then smiled her sweetest smile for him.

"Sissy."

"Go away," he growled, glaring up at her with swollen eyes.

"Father's going to be disgusted with you," she pointed out mildly. "The prince of the Fire Nation, crying like a baby over a couple of dead hedgemice."

Zuko's lip trembled, and he bit it. "They were your pets, too."

"Oh, I know," she said, rolling her eyes. "Two smelly baby rats with spines, compliments of that pompous dimwit General Yan. Grief is not the emotion that comes to mind."

For a split second he looked shocked and wounded--and then his eyes narrowed in furious realization. "You did it."

"Don't be silly," Azula murmured, buffing her nails on the collar of her qipao. "I'm not a cat, dum-dum."

"You let the cat in," Zuko said, sitting up to stare at her with the conviction of the eternal victim. "You pushed the box over. You didn't care what happened to them!" He choked on a hiccup, clutching the dead hedgemice protectively to his chest. He was used to his sister's insults and scapegoating, but this...! "You're as bad as that cat! It didn't even eat them, it just killed them for the fun of it!"

She gave him a long thoughtful look, crossing her arms as she took in his tear-streaked face, red and blotchy and utterly ridiculous.

"You know, Zuzu," she said, tapping her lower lip with one finger and ignoring his squawk of protest, "I think there's a lesson to be learned here." She pointed at the huddled bodies cradled in his hands. "Some things in life are little and soft and helpless...and some things," she spread her hands philosophically, "have claws. And sometimes the things with claws like to prey on the little, soft, helpless things." She smiled at him, fondly. "Like you said. Just for the fun of it. So all the little soft things can really do...is stay out of their way."

He was boggle-eyed now, his mouth dropped open, stunned. It was a terrifically stupid expression, she thought to herself, amused. Like a cowpig chewing cud.

"That's life, Zuzu," she continued gaily. "Get used to it."

"Azula--!" he sputtered, but she was already walking away, slipping out through the curtains.

"I'm going to go talk to Father," she was saying, cheerfully. "Maybe we can have a salamander this time. That's what I wanted in the first place. Go wash your face," she added over her shoulder, "you look like last year's festival mask left out in the rain."

And the curtains fell closed behind her; and the prince sat on the carpet with his hands full of tiny torn bodies, and realized at last that he was shaking, not only with anger, but with fear.

It was just the beginning.

-o-

Description
This picture was drawn as illustration for the short Azula-and-Zuko-centric fanfic below. Comments on either or both would be greatly appreciated--they're kind of a single package.

-o-

Blessed Are the Weak
an A:TLA fic by tobu ishi

The facts were overwhelmingly in her favor--the hedgemice were a gift to both royal children, after all, a matched pair as white as snow with bright black eyes and prickles softly tipped with gray. And it was the princess who came running into her mother's chambers just before dinnertime, eyes wide and limned with her usual bright energy, exclaiming that the kitchen cat had gotten into the box and tipped it over and there were shavings and bits of prickles everywhere, and it was all very exciting, and could they please send someone to clean it up? And when questioned about how the cat had gotten into the prince's rooms, she had tilted her china-doll face just a degree to one side, hands clasped behind her back, and murmured in the most bemused and innocent of tones, "I don't know...maybe the cook left the door open?"

And after all, the sturdy box hadn't fallen on its own, and what eight year old would be so morbid?

And so her mother had left to question the cook, and Azula strolled across the rug with her hands still tucked behind her back, to where her brother sat crying over the little prickly bodies, stroking a fingertip down their tiny folded ears and velvet noses. Leaning over, she pinched his ear until he looked up, and then smiled her sweetest smile for him.

"Sissy."

"Go away," he growled, glaring up at her with swollen eyes.

"Father's going to be disgusted with you," she pointed out mildly. "The prince of the Fire Nation, crying like a baby over a couple of dead hedgemice."

Zuko's lip trembled, and he bit it. "They were your pets, too."

"Oh, I know," she said, rolling her eyes. "Two smelly baby rats with spines, compliments of that pompous dimwit General Yan. Grief is not the emotion that comes to mind."

For a split second he looked shocked and wounded--and then his eyes narrowed in furious realization. "You did it."

"Don't be silly," Azula murmured, buffing her nails on the collar of her qipao. "I'm not a cat, dum-dum."

"You let the cat in," Zuko said, sitting up to stare at her with the conviction of the eternal victim. "You pushed the box over. You didn't care what happened to them!" He choked on a hiccup, clutching the dead hedgemice protectively to his chest. He was used to his sister's insults and scapegoating, but this...! "You're as bad as that cat! It didn't even eat them, it just killed them for the fun of it!"

She gave him a long thoughtful look, crossing her arms as she took in his tear-streaked face, red and blotchy and utterly ridiculous.

"You know, Zuzu," she said, tapping her lower lip with one finger and ignoring his squawk of protest, "I think there's a lesson to be learned here." She pointed at the huddled bodies cradled in his hands. "Some things in life are little and soft and helpless...and some things," she spread her hands philosophically, "have claws. And sometimes the things with claws like to prey on the little, soft, helpless things." She smiled at him, fondly. "Like you said. Just for the fun of it. So all the little soft things can really do...is stay out of their way."

He was boggle-eyed now, his mouth dropped open, stunned. It was a terrifically stupid expression, she thought to herself, amused. Like a cowpig chewing cud.

"That's life, Zuzu," she continued gaily. "Get used to it."

"Azula--!" he sputtered, but she was already walking away, slipping out through the curtains.

"I'm going to go talk to Father," she was saying, cheerfully. "Maybe we can have a salamander this time. That's what I wanted in the first place. Go wash your face," she added over her shoulder, "you look like last year's festival mask left out in the rain."

And the curtains fell closed behind her; and the prince sat on the carpet with his hands full of tiny torn bodies, and realized at last that he was shaking, not only with anger, but with fear.

It was just the beginning.

-o-