Chapter I: A Dim Ember

The lush lands of the Fire Nation have frosted over, with fire lilies lain to rest beneath a delicate veil of ice, dead for the few months to come, and fire ferrets taking refuge in spare caves, seeking warmth and spared rations.

Children, from all corners of the nations, congregate in Caldera City to celebrate the newest festival, the Festival of Rebirth; a celebration of the end of the war, and the world's new reformers. The city has undergone a drastic redecoration for this event, with lanterns of the three nations, strung up on faux-gold wire, weaving throughout the streets and over the grand plaza, and their warmth igniting the darkening sky with a contagious peace.

Nobility and the like amble with great content, linked arms and dancing beneath colored paper parasols, while children waltz between them, chasing after one another in a grand game of tag. A great thrumming fills the air; the art of self-expression and dance commands the city at this time.

But the palace of the Royal Family is not alight with the festive lanterns; corridors remain silent, and seemingly abandoned.

Yet it is not a dismal affair, either. Ten companions are gathered around a lively fire, nestled cozily up against one another, unafraid of intruding one's personal space. Warmth reflects off their faces, and eyes of all color are alight with happiness. Grins of various levels of enjoyment range from a sly smirk to a face-numbing grin; happiness, it seems, truly is contagious.

But despite these joyful masquerades, they all know that two faces are missing, give or take three more. Yet they do not let this dampen the mood, to them it does not matter who remains absent, no matter how loved.

The call of the tsungi horns cleaves delicate cuts in the silent sky, and harmonizes with the rich noise of the fire. The familiar tune of one of Iroh's songs carries on the faint wind. And before they know it, the song is over, with the last note resonating softly before fading. Peace settles again, and no one dares to move.

"It was beautiful, Iroh." A new voice rings out from behind the group, clear, and like soft bells. Iroh smiles as he turns to look at the newcomer.

She is tall, slender, and achingly similar to another absent figure. She pads forward with delicate strides, on delicate feet, striding over ice-dusted grass and with her long, crimson robes that billow with every slight movement; she seems almost illusory, the moonlight enhancing her pale complexion further, giving it a glow almost akin to that of a spirit.

Her amber-gold eyes are illuminated, and dance with a subdued joy. Her hair, dark, and done half-up in a neat top-knot, is held with a gold decal, and kept steady by a single pin. She nods to those already gathered, before seating herself.

"Thank you, Ursa. Would you, perhaps, care for a cup of jasmine tea?" The old general offers the woman a steaming cup, a content smile on his aged face.

"It is appreciated, thank you, Iroh." Ursa thanks him with a kind smile of her own, before grasping the cup with a slender hand. "A night like this is magnificently beautiful, but if only it were complete," she sips from the porcelain cup, pausing as she gathers her thoughts. She lets the tea spread throughout her body, it is soothing. Lowering the cup, she gives a grim smile, "But it does not do to dwell on the past, nor take to heart the 'what ifs'."

Ursa's gaze is transfixed on the dancing flames, and Zuko is reminded of that night on Ember Island. He is reminded of his sister, locked away like a bad memory. He spares a subtle glance at Ty Lee, who has struck up a lively conversation with Iroh, and wonders if she, too, recalls that night.

Perhaps not, it was not in the cheerful acrobat's nature to dwell on solemn matters.

But the acrobat does something unseen, and spares her own, thoughtful glance at the Fire Lord. Something between them shines, mutual and understanding, before fading and before Zuko realizes it; his mother is talking to him, in that same, soft tone. Regret and anger well up within him, and he forces himself to dispel the old feelings.

"Might I ask how Azula is?" Ursa's voice wavers, almost as if her daughter's name is a curse. Silence floods the night and nobody speaks. Their attention is directed at the son and mother. Tension rises steadily.

"It was beginning to get dangerous. We had to stop treatment." It is Katara that speaks this time, her blue eyes trained on the woman so similar to the ever-fading princess. "We checked up on her about half a year ago."

Ursa nods, understanding that her daughter, to them, is a lost cause, and slowly stands, excusing herself. She leaves, never once turning back to look at the group. Her crimson robes are all that they see before she vanishes completely. Unease settles amongst them, and they turn to look at one another.

"Shouldn't we tell her? She deserves at least that much."

But Iroh and Zuko shake their heads, somber eyes looking at the group. "We shouldn't, not until Azula has consented, otherwise it isn't safe." The group nods in silent agreement.

The former princess is still treading thin ice. Thin ice, bound to fracture and shatter with any small amount of force.

~ATLA~

Wisps of cold slither between the cracks of the stones, and weave sharp coils around already numb flesh. The iron of her chains is painful, cold, and rubs her skin in all the wrong ways. Scars have warped the skin of her wrists, and dark shadows are sharp against her skin.

Her inner fire is alight, but just barely. Flickers of blue ignite the dim cell, and for a quick instance, she can see her surroundings.

She is thankful for one thing, and that is how her arms hang freely at her sides, and no longer suspended above her head. At least they granted her the freedom of mobility.

She inhales deeply, holding her breath, ignoring the growing sharpness in her chest. Her chi is blocked, but not in that way of Ty Lee's. It has to be forced; she has to force herself to bend.

A stream of blue trails from her chapped lips, it is stronger than the last and much warmer, but dies out quickly. It's frustrating. Azula can easily recall the days when firebending was like breathing; simple, natural, and a way of life.

It was thoughtless and taken advantage of. But now, now it was like learning how to walk again; slow, tedious, and dependent on her undivided attention. She hates it. She hates how simple it is, really.

A slow method of driving her insane, her tormenter. She wants it to stop, stop mocking her.

A wretched, resounding groan of rusted metal echoes in the tiny space, and a dim light filters in from the corridor, only to be snuffed out by a shadow. She wonders who it is today.

"It's the solstice tonight, you know." The visitor's voice is gentle, good natured, and it annoys the former princess. "I think even you would enjoy it, Azula."

The use of her name strikes something in her, and she glares at her visitor. It's the Avatar.

"Do not use my name, Avatar." She mutters, voice hoarse with lack of use, as she eyes the usually cheery airbender.

"Azula, you're being stubborn. You know the compromise, you were spared your bending because of the agreement you decided upon." Azula glares at him, eyes alight with anger.

"You hate being this way, I know you do. You want to change yourself for the better? Then at least humor us." Aang sighs, his gray eyes losing a battle against Azula's fierce own.

"You know nothing about what I want." Her voice wavers slightly, unusually uncharacteristic of the former princess. She falls silent, attempting to hide the weakness in her voice.

"You'll be given your old room, but you'll be kept under strict surveillance at all times. We're allowing you freedom." Aang says, trying to compromise further with the unyielding young woman.

"Freedom, with the promise that I'll come quietly, and behave obediently, of course…fine, I'll accept this offer." Azula's eyes slide shut as she leans back against the wall, allowing her head to hang loosely.

Aang sets a gray-slate, steeled look at the former princess, lips parting as if he has more to say, before turning swiftly and exiting the room.

Azula's sent into darkness once more, and she sighs, reveling in the solitude and loneliness. She contemplates all that she's chosen up to now, and perhaps she does want to cure herself. Freedom from this maddening life she lives. It isn't so bad, she thinks as she settles down for sleep.

Perhaps I'll find reprieve, but for now, only in my dreams. Her world is thrust into darkness, and her conscious falls quiet. Her chi is out, now in slumber.