"Iroza. I thought l'd find you here. How can you be so predictable?"

Laying flat on his back, his legs dangling over the edge of the roof, he opened his eyes and squinted.

Azula smirked down at him.

"You're blocking the sun" he said blandly, instead of answering.

She scoffed.

"Are you still upset about what I said to Zuzu? You are, aren't you?"

He didn't ask which time she was referring to.

She likely knew it was a buildup, rather than one specific instance of her teasing.

He reached up and laced his hands behind his head. "I'm not upset. Look at how not upset I am. No glaring, frowning, or yelling. I'm totally relaxed."

With a scowl she sat down next to him, glaring out at the palace.

"I only said it because I meant it," she said harshly, shooting a glance at him as he looked up at the sky. "He's pathetic, and father knows it. He should know it too."

He yawned.

"But that's not why you said it."

"And? Does it matter why?"

"Not really," he said, turning his head to look at her.

She looked away. "It was kinda mean, though."

She snorted. "As if you care."

He fell silent at that.

Thoughtful silence.

Not brooding silence.

"Yeah," he said after a bit, "I guess I don't."

"Then why pretend to?" she asked, sounding truly confused and frustrated because of it. She never reacted well when she couldn't easily figure him out.

Because they were alike. "You're not some kindhearted fool, like Zuzu or our esteemed uncle, and that's a good thing."

He knew she was saying that to herself, as much as to him.

And it was true.

Why did he pretend to care?

Part of him that remained from his past life, maybe.

Another fragment he stubbornly clung to, even if it didn't really feel like it fit him anymore.

With a sigh, he brought his legs up and rolled into a sitting position.

"Being compassionate used to come easier to me," he admitted.

And the next part was harder to say than he'd like.

"Now... All I can do is smile, and pretend."

Azula didn't respond at first.

Then she forced an empty laugh out and bumped shoulders with him. "Father always says compassion is a weakness. It's only natural that you and I should be rid of it."

He snorted. "Because you're not weak."

"Neither of us are weak," she said firmly, and he took comfort in how certain she sounded.

She stood with a sigh, pulling him up with her. "If you just stop holding back and commit yourself more, father will see it too. Now come on. Mother sent me to come and bring you to the gardens. She wants us to socialize again."

Ah, yes.

Their mother's ongoing quest to find friends for her children by setting up playdates with the sons and daughters of nobility.

"And you bring this up now?"

"Oh, hush. You were brooding, so I decided to talk to you first."

He snickered into his fist. "Aw, Zula. I didn't know you cared. Such heartwarming compassion from my loving older sister."

"Keep talking, you'll see just how much I care."

He kept talking.

Their mother was very cross with them when they showed up half an hour late with their clothes singed.

They did eventually end up finding some kids to be friends with.

Well, Azula found some friends easily enough.

Zuko tried, bless his stubborn little heart, and awkwardly blushed and blundered his way through all of three and a half conversations before retreating to the corner in shame.

A valiant attempt and he was sure to tell the sulking boy as much.

As for Iroza, he just kind of stood there staring into space, scaring away all interlopers, until it was finally over.

Wallflower powers, activate.

As it turned out, Azula's new friends were just two existing friends she had already met at the academy.

A really bubbly girl with loads of siblings who liked cartwheels and sweets, and a really not-bubbly girl without any siblings who liked knives and death.

Iroza stroked his chin and dubbed them frowny and smiley, respectively.

Nobody laughed.

He thought it was hilarious.

Zuko called it out as blatant cheating once everyone had left, which of course it was, but no one cared.

It wasn't like it was a competition.

"It's not like it was a competition," he said as much to his brother.

Azula smirked. "But you definitely lost, Zuzu."

"Because you cheated," Zuko ground out.

With a dramatic sigh, he threw an arm around his brother's shoulder.

Or tried to, anyway.

Zuko had two years on him, and Iroza already wasn't as tall as he'd like.

He blamed Azula for being his twin.

Their shared genetics were sabotaging him. "Don't worry, Zuko. I'll be your friend."

"That doesn't count," he said moodily, shoving his arm away.

Recoiling as if struck and clutching his chest, Iroza gasped and made his voice waver. "How could you say that? I thought we had a special bond. A bond of brotherhood."

Zuko turned away and crossed his arms, not quite managing to hide the smile Iroza had coaxed out of him.

"You can't hide the truth from me now," he growled.

Lunging forward with a ferocious battle cry, he attacked and exploited Zuko's many weak points with ruthless efficiency.

He didn't let up until the older boy was curled up on the ground, breathless from laughter. "I will never forget your betrayal, brother."

"You're unusually playful today," Azula said, sounding slightly suspicious and a little jealous.

"I suppose I am, Zula."

He turned to her with a gleam in his eyes that had her take a cautious step back, raising a finger to warn him off.

"Don't even thi-"

Her words were cut off by her own indignant cry as Iroza charged forward and threw her over his shoulder.

"Let me down, now!" she shrieked, glaring over at Zuko as he climbed to his feet.

"Zuko, tell him to let me go!"

Iroza laughed his best evil laugh.

"No one will stand in my way" he roared.

Whirling around in circles to disorient Azula, he sprinted around the garden while she yelled and pounded her fists into his back and Zuko eagerly gave chase.

"Not even you, Zuzu! All will perish before the all-consuming might of my playful whims!"

Their mother stood far off in the shaded walkway, smiling fondly.

Iroza decided to be nice and not notice her.

Let her enjoy it, while it lasted.