Chapter 1

Azula was a capable woman.

Her father had expected nothing less of her than to push herself to her limits and exceed them. As the princess of the Fire Nation and as the Fire Lord's daughter, she had high expectations, and it was her duty to be of her people's approval. And thus, she didn't mind having to burn a few accomplices to get her way.

As a child, she was power-driven and had relentlessly drilled herself into perfection, for that was what she was expected to be. She learned to manipulate and control her subordinates with a flick of her wrist, and she dug her way into politics and studied tactics from the age of five. She was born a prodigy, added that she was special to be guided under the hand of her just-as-capable father.

However, as soon as she took a look at her older brother, she scoffed at his blatant inability to go through the steps properly, and when Ozai's first inspection of their technique she had a grand time beating her brother to the ground. She laughed at the blatant disappointment her father had on his face as Zuko tripped backwards and landed on his back, bruising both elbows and leaving the room with a sore bottom and broken pride.

"She was born lucky," he said as the two of them bowed, side-by-side as they parted with their father. "You were lucky to be born."

"Remarkably intelligent and a tactical genius," she heard one of her many instructors say (she didn't like this one; he was too lenient and he had no spine.) She was supplied an army at the age of eight. The true heir to the throne, and she demanded nothing less.

She was a fool.

She remembered that day, when Zuko had pulled her from her selfish, narcissistic mindset when she had stabbed her arm straight through his chest.

"You didn't dodge," Azula stiffened, his eyes boring into hers in the way only he could. All she could see were her mother's eyes through those dark irises.

"I didn't," he agreed after a certain pause, his lips curling upwards as he smiled. It was bitter, and yet, so triumphant.

"Why?" He was losing strength in his legs and keeled over, blood seeping past his mouth as he choked, remnants of electricity jerking his body at certain intervals.

The last, kindhearted face he had on haunted her nightmares.

With new eyes and a level head, she realized just what her ruthless reign had done. The respect she craved was not really respect: it was fear. Even her friends, the people she's grown up with from childhood and the ones she sympathized with, had grown ill from her misdeeds.

In the end, she was alone. She realized too late she had never moved from square one. No wonder her mother had favored Zuko, anyone in their right mind would.

And he had sacrificed his future to change hers.

And there she was, watching in horror as her kingdom fell into ruin. Revolts, public executions, and the horribly misplaced hatred against non-benders who the corrupt council believed were 'single-minded assets that were useful for no one.' Her army, not quite fully under her control, fed on the blood of both friend and foe.

She sat in her chamber room, a servant pulling her hair into a sweeping up-do that would fit the coronation ceremony easily. She had grown fond of this woman; when she had returned, the one she had treated the most horribly was the only loyal one left under her care.

She had no idea why this servant had stayed for so long when she remembered a time where she would throw vases at the maids and laugh, but she was grateful nonetheless.

"Thank you," Azula murmured with gratitude as the old woman finished dressing her. The lady bowed in return, mischievous eyes glittering with mirth as Azula stood up. Her reflection was what she had grown up to be; sharp, stunning, but with a gaze sadder than one she'd ever thought she could make. She glanced away quickly; when she saw her own face, all she could see was her mother's beauty but her father's eyes, sharp and condescending.

"I'm a little frightened to face my father right now, actually. I've just returned from my mission, though I know I've failed it horribly."

Her voice cracked at the end; she stood straighter and her eyes drifted to the woman at the edge of the mirror. Her maid said nothing of it, and for all the burden that had been brushed onto the shoulders of others Azula felt the full brunt of a dull, throbbing guilt.

She bowed her head low as she swept down the hallway, the servants flanking her each placing a steady hand on one side of the velvet curtains. She heard the cheering from the other side, feeling her hands grow cold and clammy.

"Are you ready, princess?" They chorused in monotone. She gave a sharp nod, and light burst in from the parted entryway as she walked up to face the adoring faces. This was a terrible mistake, all of it, she wanted to run it was her fault she had failed Zuko was-

She bent down on one knee. Her eyes glazed over faces that she didn't recognize, strangers she called her people, and she wondered whether or not she should simply close her eyes.

"All hail Fire Lord Azula," the unified voices sang, and she felt the sharp prick of cool metal as it grazed the back of her head.

Her lids finally fell closed, and Azula felt bile rise up from the back of her throat as Zuko's face burned in the last remnants of darkness. The Fire Lord was meant for the older sibling unless they were deemed unfit to rule, she had killed him to get here he had been more capable of leadership than she would ever be-

I regret everything.

And then there was a blinding, white light and her vision blurred into nothing but ash.

"...eaves from the vine," the lulling voice buzzed at her ears, and she blinked to wake herself up. Azula felt absolutely nothing for a moment, living in nothing but a calm blackness enveloping her whole, but then a sharp migraine hit her and she nearly passed out again.

She lifted a hand to her forehead, feeling a wave of nausea. What in the world happened? And why was she sitting in a bush?

Right. She had blacked out during the middle of her coronation oh lord what the hell happened-

"-falling so slow,
like fragile, tiny shells,
drifting in the foam." She recognized that voice. She picked herself up from the bush, leafy twigs stuck on her person. Faintly, she recalled her uncle singing that melody and she picked up where he had left off.

"Little soldier boy," she continued softly, and she heard a loud scuffling as the footsteps stopped abruptly.
"come marching home,
and brave soldier boy,
comes marching home."

She cursed as her foggy mindset vanished, her fingers instinctively curling into two-fingered position and launched herself into the canopy with sparks of blue flame just as a head she recognized immediately poked out from underneath her, blinking confusedly at the trees below. She was stupid, what if the man had seen her she was supposed to still be at-

Her breath caught; it was Iroh.

Why was Iroh here? He had been banished from the Fire Nation. But as she gazed at his armor, she realized that it was a general's armor he was donning. When she glanced around, she further found she was not in the Fire Nation, either; trees didn't grow this tall and in such abundant numbers.

She hid herself behind a trunk as his eyes shot up, following a bird's movement as it flew away. He relaxed visibly and turned away to continue walking down the well worn out path, humming the song as he turned his head one last time to glare suspiciously in her direction.

She was a dark red against the deep, rich green of the leaves, and even as she relaxed from her position flush to the tree trunk she knew she stuck out like a sore thumb. She jumped down with the grace of a feline, landing neatly on two feet and paying attention to the sound of water nearby.

She stumbled over to the flowing stream, dipping a hand into the clear waters, and for the first time she took a long moment to stare at the blurry image disrupted by the ripples her fingertips made.

"Why do I look like a five year old?"

After about ten minutes of staring blankly into the water, the feeling of throwing up had ebbed as she took a minute to acclimate accordingly. She felt a sense of displacement for about the fifteenth time in the past minute. The trees that she had thought were taller than normal were most likely just average height; she was the one who had shrunk. She waved her fingers, noticing how clumsy the action looked. She still had a child's body, after all.

She began to stretch, feeling blood pump through her tinier body and wondered why the hell she hadn't noticed the difference. She guessed it was because she had still been half-awake. After all, she had nearly been discovered while in this strange form. She was flexible, she thought as she bent backwards and placed her palms on the soft, delicate grass, but she felt unbalanced, unsure where to properly place her weight.

"I'm a child," Azula almost laughed, flexing her wrists and hopping from one foot to the other. "What the hell."

Either I've finally gone mental or I'm still dreaming, she tried to tell herself. But she reached a hand up and pinched herself hard, refusing to even flinch as pain lanced up her arm. If I'm not hallucinating, then I've actually traveled back in time. That means-

Zuko isn't dead.

She didn't know what time she was in. She was only guessing that she was around five in the first place. She almost flew out of the forest in a blaze of blue fire, starting as she found her energy depleting rapidly and her flames turning orange. Right, I'm a child again. She stopped a minute later and followed the direction Iroh had went towards, anticipation fueling her every step as she dug her nails into the flesh of her palm. I really hope I'm not going mental, because this would be the most cruel and horrible joke my mind's played on me yet.

She soon saw her uncle's silhouette, praying he hadn't heard her slight cursing as she continued trying to get used to her new, shorter legs. Her strides were too long for her and she had to force herself to take a brisk pattering of baby steps, trying to find the proper step. She stayed far behind him and hid herself in the forest treeline, her gaze traveling past him as her breath quickened.

The edge of the capital was in her sights, and farther than that was her home. The palace. Her hopes soared as he was accepted by the guards and dispelled the rest of her half-formed doubts; he hadn't been banished yet! As she remembered faintly the secret passageways she had forced the servants to teach her when she was younger (she really was a spoiled little brat, she thought distastefully), she parted sadly from trailing Uncle Iroh and focused on finding the garden. He had always went there to spend time with-

Their mother. Azula almost stopped completely in her tracks, her mind churning unpleasantly as she remembered the woman's disappearance. She hadn't really thought of planning for the events ahead, she had focused simply on seeing Zuko's face again. His unmarred face. She still wasn't sure if she was actually five; but if she was correct, it would be in four years that Ursa would disappear and when Zuko would brandish that burn over his left eye like a disease.

This time, she thought with a fury that all firebenders have felt once in their life, she would make things right.

I've wanted to get this chapter off my chest for a while now; it's been floating around in the back of my mind for a long time and I'm not sure if I can juggle two different stories and still be able to post regularly, but damn it I'm gonna try. Time-travel AU.

I'll update this when I can. Second story I've started so far.