Prologue

Fury can only take you so far. That was clear. It was the only thing that was clear in this dank cell. Azula could hear water dripping somewhere and it was making a flame inside her chest swell. Unfortunately, that was the extent her spirit could muster. She rubbed her parched lips together. They no longer felt like sand paper, instead the skin on her lips was flaking off and constantly oozing a bit of blood. The strength in her legs had failed her a few days ago.

The once proud princess was reduced to little more than a discarded rag doll, after refusing to eat or drink and being thrown away by her nation. What was left? What would she do now?

Looking out into the darkness, her amber eyes glowered as her brow tightened. What would she do? What she always did: survive. She would have her throne back someday. For now, she needed to get over her loss. No one understood what happened to her. No one could understand.

Voices coming down the hall made Azula's head perk up. Groaning, she attempted to pick herself up with her feet, but her strength failed her. She fell back to her knees. Azula looked at the door. The only light came from the tiny window. It spilled half-heartedly into the room and gave up limply a few feet away from the door.

Listening, Azula made out the distinctly loud voice of her brother, Zuko. Someone was with him, though. A woman. Who was she? She was talking lower than Zuko, his bark was annoying. Anyway, why were they here? Couldn't they leave her in peace? That familiar flame inside of her was beginning to burn more intently.

"I'm not sure what you're trying to accomplish," the Fire Lord said outside of the door.

There was a pause before the unknown woman responded, "You were there, Zuko: you know that she needs help. She'll only get worse in a place like this."

Wait. Azula knew that voice. Now that she was closer, it was easier to hear her. That Water Tribe girl—what was her name again?

"You didn't grow up with her, Katara. She was always like this. Just as twisted." Zuko said.

"I don't know. I had fought with her a few times, but she never looked like she did two weeks ago. All of that fire and confidence that I had grown to expect from her wasn't there."

Azula's lip curled as she bared her clenched teeth. "I can hear you!" she shouted, her voice sounded more raspy and shaky than she wanted.

There was a lengthy pause. She glared at the door, waiting for it to open. Without much surprise she heard the fumbling of a key in the lock and a great thunk as the lock released. The metal door squealed as it opened and the Fire Lord strode into the room. He almost looked impressive in his royal attire. Almost. Coming in after him, Katara regarded Azula with a soft expression, which Azula responded to by wrinkling her nose. Zuko just looked at her with his constant expression of surreal intensity.

"I wasn't expecting to see either of you again," Azula said.

Zuko looked away. "Neither was I."

"Zuzu," Azula cooed.

The Fire Lord appeared unfazed, keeping his arms stoically at his side, but Azula caught his fist twitch a bit from the nickname.

"We're not your enemies, Azula. The war is over." Katara said, walking toward the prisoner but still keeping her distance.

The flames swelled inside of her and she felt them expel out of her nostrils, which see saw as a flash of azure in her lower peripheral vision. "The war won't ever be over, so long as a usurper is on the throne."

Azula was trying her best to show some resemblance to the woman she used to be—it was proving to be more difficult than she imagined. The fact that she was wearing prison rags was not helping her image either. Without her armor, she just looked like an ordinary teenager—granted, an angry teenager.

Zuko's temper flared as well and he jabbed a finger toward his sister. "This country has had enough of insane rulers. You, nor Father, are fit to be Fire Lord."

The former Fire Lord smirked at her brother. She stole a look at Katara, whose look of concern had not faded. What was wrong with her?

Holding out her hand to Zuko, Katara said, "Don't respond to her, Zuko. She's just egging you on. She's trying to keep what little remains of her alive, that's good."

"It is?" he asked.

Katara nodded.

Azula did not like where this was going.

Two nurses entered the room. One was pushing a wheel chair; the other had a neatly folded garment in her arms. Azula could not tell what it was.

"You will need to remove her binds before we can get the vest on," the nurse with the garment said.

"What if she tries to escape?" Zuko asked.

Katara looked at Azula and then back to Zuko. "In her condition?"

Zuko also looked at her and then seemed convinced. He approached his sister and removed her shackles. Azula tried to move, get up, or move her body at all, but all she did was slump to the floor. It had taken all of her energy just to speak, but now she found it difficult to fight the darkness growing in her head: a dull numbness ached at her muscles as she drifted away to the nightmares that plagued her unconsciousness.