Chapter 1: A Gift from the Rim of the Sky.

The Royal Handmaid woke Princess Azula in the wee hours of the morning, an hour before Azula usually got up to practice her firebending. Which was really fucking early.
What in the four nations do you fucking want, Offred? Azula said, wondering what idiotic literally reference prevented her red-clad handmaid from having a proper Asian name like everyone else in this fucking universe.
But then again, her name was Latin for the color blue, so what right did she have to judge?
Offred quivered and lowered her head so her bonnet covered her face. My princess, My Lord wishes to have an audience with his daughter. she said meekly.
Azula groaned. Although she was eighteen years old, which she had to be, given that this fic will involve sexual content, she was still a teenager. Fine. Fetch me my finest silks and do my hair! If its so Spirits-damn important to wake me this early, I might as well be dressed to kill. Offred sighed and went to do as she was told. Nolite te bastardes carbarundium... she whispered, fighting back the tears of oppression.
Azula marched to the throne room, now fully dressed, sleep deprived, and livid. She was going to let her father have a piece of her mind. She could fear repercussion and punishment. But Ozai had fucked himself over by banishing one of his heirs and he knew he damn well better be nice to the other one if he wanted his dynasty to continue.
You have some nerve... Azula said, entering the throne room the way a tornado might enter a straw shack.
Ozai, sitting on his throne, took a moment to raise the flames in front of him a couple feet. This was so he could be more dramatic. Being a tyrant was 20% paper work and 80% aesthetics. He stood and approached Azula.
Is that how you greet your father, my little Fire Cracker, after I return from my travels abroad? Wait? You were traveling? Azula said.
Ozai paused. I... I was gone for three weeks. You didn't notice? Oh, Azula said. Well that explains why me and Ty Lee didn't get in trouble after snorting lines off your office desk during that raging party we had. Lines of...? You know what. I'm not going to ask."
Cocaine, Azula said.
Anyway... Ozai said.
Mixed with Ritalin. ANYWAY, Ozai said. I have returned with a present for you, my lovely daughter. Azula tilted her head to the side. A present? she said. From where? From the north, my little Snap Dragon, Ozai said.
You mean the water tribe? Norther than that. From the very edge of the world. From the very rim of the sky. From... Oh I forget what the place is called, Ozai said. He stepped forward, and his hands waved before him in dramatic gestures fitting of his dictatorial status. It was a stunning place. Freezing cold, mountainous, expansive. With fantastic beasts bigger than any that live here. With tall strong men and women with yellow hair who all happen to be played by only a handful of voice actors. With magic. With dragons. And some fucking furies with strange Arabic accents, and this one plot line with a talking Irish Wolfhound. Don't forget the lizard people, said the captain of Ozai's guard.
Ozai shuddered. I would if I could. Or the evil skeleton ghosts. Will you shut the fuck up? Ozai said.
The guard lowered his eyes and closed his fuck as instructed.
I don't give two shits about middle-eastern bestiality fetishists or or mountains or Lizard people, dad. Just give me the fucking present so I can go back to bed. Ozai sighed, wishing he could go back to the rim of the sky and be relieved of the burdens of parenthood forever. Maybe he could become a professor of destruction magic at the mage's college or buy a house in Whiterun. But that was not his lot in life. Murdering your father and stealing the throne from your brother sure came with a lot of responsibility.
He turned to the captain of his guard. Bring forth the prisoner. The guard scurried into a into an off-branching room. He emerged twelve seconds later with two other guards, who were leading an absolutely enormous man in shackles.
The man was wearing a helmet with horns coming out of the side, chain mail, and furry boots. His long corn-silk-colored hair flowed over his slumped, defeated shoulders, and his bulky arms strained against his restraints.
Azula, Ozai said with a satisfied smirk. This man is Bjorn Snow-Fucker. We captured him during.
BJORN! said bjorn.
Ozai huffed. Yes. That's what I said. No! You said Ba-jorn. It's Ba yorn. Sorry, I don't speak Elder Futhark, Ozai said. Guard. Beat this prisoner into submission. The guards kicked Bjorn in his gonads, and while his Steal plated armor protected him somewhat, he eventually ran low on health after several kicks and had to eat the fifty cabbages he was carrying in his pocket just to remain standing.
Ozai continued. Bjorn here is a very talented individual. He has achieved a 100 skill level both archery AND two handed combat. He's a native Nord, happens to be in possession of 800 gold, and... Ozai grinned, he is the Dragon Born. At that moment, Bjorn openned his mouth. He released a swear word so loud it pushed the guards 20 feet away from him. The light flickered around them in response, despite the fact that natural sunlight didn't do that. The Fire place before Ozai's throne was briefly extinguished. The sound was like music to Azula.
Woah, Azula said, suddenly finding herself interested in a way she had not ever been interested before. This motherfucker speaks DRAGON? SNOW FUCKER! Bjorn Snow-Fucker said as the guards tackled him again.
Not only does he speak dragon, Ozai said, grinning like a Middle-Eastern Cheshire-cat man. He IS a dragon! Bjorn here is the dragon born! The Dova Kin! He is the soul of a dragon in a human body. And since we're the fire nation and and dragons are kind of our thing, I thought he'd make an excellent addition to our household. Dragon soul in a human body, Azula said, mesmerized as she watched Bjorn desperately consume raw potatoes to withstand the guards' blows. But I thought we banned the other-kin community from the Fire Nation, Father. Ozai shrugged. Yes, but his dovakin status is actually real and magical and not bullshit. Also, my lovely little fire hazard, you and he are to be married! Azula smiled. She released a burst of flame from her orifices with joy. Holy shit! she said. She had been rejected thousands of suitors in the last year alone, finding none of them worthy of her status as a bad-ass, intimidating, ridiculously good looking, Fire Nation royal. But a dragon man? That was man she was willing to undress, tie up, and beat with a horse swatter. Or possibly with cricket bat instead. She was 80% sure that's how babies were made.
Holy shit! Bjorn said, but the opposite kind of Holy Shit! I told you I could find you a suitable consort, my lovely Kerosene Can, Ozai said. And I have! You are to wed at high noon! Oh! Thank you, Daddy! Azula said. She ran forward and hugged her father tightly.
Ozai stifled the intense panic attack that he often experienced when confronted with human affection, and he stroked his daughter's hair as he saw the dads on TV do. You're welcome, Siracha Sauce! Please! No! Bjorn said. The people of Skyrim need me! I can't be prince consort! I have to stop the end of the world! The guards dragged him away.

Azula rushed back to her chambers to prepare for the ceremony.