Disclaimer: If I owned Avatar, Zuko would be reformed, OFFICIALLY, and Azula and Long Feng would have died an age and a half ago. So no, I obviously do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender (who ever said he was the really last airbender for sure anyway? Maybe there's an Obi-Wan Kenobi hiding out in the mountains somewhere).

A/N: This started as a drabble for Azula's death scene. . .and turned into a mild Zutara with Azula's death scene, mainly because it was written during history class and I needed something to do. No flaming. I respect Kataangs, and I read Kataang fan fiction, so read this. It's about introspection, control of mind, and trust.

If you want a true Zuko fan fic, go read the letter I had him write, An Undertanding: To Salvage Honor. It's fantastic. (Review that too!)

Go on, dear reader, plunge yourself into the wind-whisperings of Conterra's mind.

Sokka: Wow. It's really dark down here. I can't see a thing.

Toph: Oh! What a nightmare!

Sorry, I love Toph. She rocks, heh heh. But my hero is Zuko. . .

Chapter One: Zuko's Choice

Zuko was in his room, contemplating a ring of burning candles laid out before him. He was alone.

Alone.

The Zuko of the past winter would have roared, knocking over candles and causing flame to dance, to voraciously feed. But this Zuko was not the angry, arrogant, confident exiled prince of winter. He was either more controlled, or a broken mess inside. He wanted to tell himself he had learned to focus his energy, but that was not entirely true. He had gained more control, but he would never be completely rid of his crimson temper.

The truth was his heart was a bleeding mess. His worldview had been shattered, and after he had rebuilt it, block by block, he had come across a major obstacle. He could not rid himself of certain ingrained notions. His new fragile, half-formed ideas had met Azula. Determined, molten, confident, willful Azula. She had erased all the lessons he had learned over the past few months with one promise and a few honeyed words. She was and ever had been the bane of his existence. How could he have forgotten his mantra?

Azula always lies.

That promise. It had retriggered his naive, somewhat idealistic, completely brutal worldview of his past. His father's love and his honor were the only goals he had had in his exile. His whole body and soul cried for atonement. But he had learned under his Uncle's patient tutelage and his own crash landing into reality that these were incomparable to the suffering and pain in the world.

How had he forgotten? His mind had gone up in flames. He knew why. He had tried to give up his family ties, but some remnants of his loyalty to his father and his nation lingered. Azula had hit these weak points, whether consciously or unconsciously , and he had reacted out of almost physical muscle memory. He had to eradicate those automatic reflexes to such stimuli. His honor and his father's love were not worth the world. Not even close. And the Avatar was the only hope the world had.

He breathed deeply, and released it in a frustrated growl. The candles jumped and then settled. He sank into his mind. He must eliminate all guilt, all reservations, and all hate. He had to move on. His uncle had thought he had, and he himself had thought so as well. Hadn't he told the peasant girl. . .Katara. She had a name. Katara. He had told her he had changed, another automatic response, even though he was fighting. That was when the reality had come back, and the flames had been dispelled from his mind, but he was too shocked to stop by then. He had changed. He must complete that change. Now. He took a deep breath. . .

I have to stop her. Uncle told me to stop her. How could I have betrayed him? And how could I have betrayed Katara? She brought me back to the light, but by then I could not stop myself. Before, she was angry with me, and had every right to be, but when she saw that I had been hurt too, she understood. She is the only one I know besides Uncle that ever understood me. She even apologized! She tried to help me! No one has ever looked. . .I must make this right.

I will make this right. I must. I changed, but I did not admit to myself that my father does not, has not, and will not ever love me. I said it, but I did not believe it. I believe it now, now that I have an idea of what he will do to his brother once he gets his hands on him. What he did to and what he would have, or might still do to his son.

Azula is clearly lying. She will betray me. Just yesterday she tried to get me to drink tea made of that crazy plant Uncle found in the forest. I recognized the scent, declined, and left to live for another day. But for how many more days? She wants me dead, and she is merely an extension of my father's
will. . .no.

He is NOT my father. He's not, he's not, he's not!

Zuko roared at the ceiling, breathing flame as the candles sprung upward to lick greedily at the roof. He settled, and the candles died down.

Iroh. Iroh is my father now. And I just betrayed him. Ozai is dead to me. Azula is dead to me. I am loyal to the Fire Nation, so I will stop this endless suffering. I will stop them. I will restore my honor by myself!

His back stiffened. Did I ever loose my honor? My father--Ozai. Ozai. Ozai's the one with no honor! He perpetuates the suffering of our people, and kills innocents! Killing innocents. . . He shuddered. He had never purposefully killed. A monster. That's what a monster does. He's a monster. He must fall so I can rise, so I can live and love for the good of my people, for the good of the world.

HE IS NOT MY FATHER! IROH! IROOOOHHHHHHHH!

Zuko grabbed his chest and head, feeling pain as the last holds his sire had on him loosened their grip reluctantly. They disappeared, shrieking weakly into the void, leaving him unconscious in a room with darkness and burned-out candles.

A/N: What will Zuko do now?! Kill Azula with a spoon?! (just kidding, private joke.)

Stay tuned. To be continued. . .