Author's Notes:

Hey guys, I'm back! I had a great time in Chicago. My band performed at the Field Museum, and we went to see the Blue Man Group, who were amazing. Anyway, I'm glad to be back writing fan fiction, and I hope you enjoy this chapter after a week of no updates.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Azula sat on her bed, waiting.

Hours had passed since the funeral, hours she had spent mostly in self-imposed isolation, waiting for her father to summon her. The only interruptions had been made by her handmaid, Tazia, and those had been to bring her tea and something to eat. Apart from that, she merely sat on the edge of her bed, or paced the length of her room.

Like a princess pacing in her tower.

She'd brushed her hair since the funeral. The rain had frizzed the silken strands, and the hooded cloak she'd worn to conceal her identity had left the back of her hair in a matted disarray. Any other time, she would've gone down to the royal spa to have her servants brush the tangles out, cleaning and styling her hair as they went.

Not now. Now, she wanted to be alone in case Mai started speaking to her again.

People would think I'm crazy, she thought, pivoting on her left foot so she could pace the length of her room again. For the first time ever, her suite seemed too small, the walls so close together that they seemed likely to cave in.

There was a knock on her door.

She looked over, heart contracting painfully in her chest. I haven't recovered from the battle yet. That's all. "Yes? Who's there?"

It wasn't a voice she recognized. "Fire Lord Ozai has summoned you to the throne room."

The pressure in her chest intensified, then relaxed. She donned a calm mask and approached the door. "I'll be there momentarily."

She paused at the door—not hesitating, never hesitating—to collect herself, then stepped outside. One of the palace servants waited outside, his face grim. "Take me to the throne room," she commanded, not even bothering to look at him.

He nodded. "Of course, Princess."

They walked down the corridors, their footsteps echoing off the metal walls. Though Azula knew her way to the throne room, it would've been dishonorable to show up without a proper escort. I should have a row of royal guards behind me, she thought. Not a single palace servant. What is the meaning of this?

They reached the throne room. Her father was just dismissing a man in red and gold robes. Someone of nobility, Azula guessed. From the man's expression, he was not thrilled about how his meeting with the Fire Lord had turned out.

"Azula," her father greeted her, when the door closed.

She lowered herself to her knees, bowing her head in respect. "You summoned me, Father?"

"I was told you attended that girl's funeral. Is this true?"

Azula could lie seamlessly, but she didn't dare do it now, in case her father had proof of her presence there. "It is true."

The Fire Lord nodded curtly, rising from his throne to walk across the platform. The curtain of fire separating them flared up wherever he passed, the base of the flames turning blue. It was almost a minute before he spoke again. "Your handmaids told you I ordered you not to go, yes?"

She said nothing.

"Do you take my commands so lightly?" he demanded, turning to walk the other way. His piercing eyes rested on her for a fraction of a second, just long enough to paralyze her where she knelt. "Did you not see the wisdom of staying away from the funeral when the court is in disarray?"

She said nothing.

"To say nothing of the fact that you should not have even left the palace in your condition . . . Tell me, Daughter, what makes you think you can disobey me so casually and not suffer the same fate as your brother?"

Because I am the favorite child, she thought. "Because Zuko was weak, and I am not."

"Yet you speak to the skies as if they hold some answer for you, and rage at them until others begin to wonder to whom you're speaking to. What must that look like, Azula?"

Madness. Insanity. "I don't know, Father."

The wall of fire suddenly doubled in height, hissing. "The royal family has never been in a more precarious position!" her father snarled. "Right now, there is a schism at court. For the first time in centuries, the noble families are banding against the royal family, demanding recompense for actions you committed. If you had not been such a fool as to burn that girl to death out in the open, the Fire Nation would not be in such peril."

Azula flinched at the accusation, at the memory of Mai's burning.

"And in the face of all this, you have the audacity to disobey me? Did you not learn anything from your brother's scarring? Did you think that you would be spared all consequences because he was an unfit prince?"

What is he saying? Azula wondered through the haze of anger. I was right to go to Mai's funeral. I did what I had to do on that mission. It's his fault for not paying reparations to the noble families.

She refused to voice those arguments, protesting instead with her silence.

"Yet you are my only remaining heir," said the Fire Lord, his voice quiet, controlled. "And unless I choose to foster another child at this point in the war, you will remain as such. So I cannot banish you as I did your brother." He turned to her, his face unreadable. "Instead, I am cancelling your coronation as Fire Lord."

"What?" she demanded, her voice an octave high in indignation. How dare he take that from me? I deserve that title!

"I can see now it was unwise to consider you for the role at this early age. So your coronation is cancelled until further notice."

"Further notice? When—"

"That means when I am dead, Azula. No sooner. And if I do father another child in that time and find them more fit to rule than you, they shall have the crown, regardless of your birthright. Do you understand?"

Part of her wanted to scream, to strike her father down as she had that pathetic, disrespectful servant. The other part of her quickened with an urge to flee, to escape this nightmare before it could get any worse.

Instead of doing either of those things, she rose from her crouch, standing as stiffly as she could in her broken body, and glowered at her father. His jaw flexed at the show of disrespect, his eyes burning gold.

You can take nothing more from me, Azula thought. This is all you can do to me. If I can endure this, I've won. She turned without a word, without even being dismissed, and left the Fire Lord alone in the throne room.