AN: Aaand my first fanfiction, my first chapter, probably my first real kick at creative writing! If anybody has any tips/feedback/feel free to PM them my way or leave it in a review. Anyway! The prologue! Just note the story won't follow chronologically after this. This acts as something of a large set up for the story and an explanation of some canon personality/motive diversions. After this, Chapter 2 will follow on from Azula's coup of Ba Sing Se.

(I)

Azula and Zuko fell into line behind their father's imposing steps, folded curtains curled in a crimson blood-red blanket which jutted out from the red metal gateway, and beyond, a Dragon's sanctum.

"Azula, what's happening?" Zuko asked beneath his breath, fearful eyes staring up at their father's flowing robe.

"How should I know, dum-dum?" She cut back with an exasperated smirk, bouncing on the tips of her feet with restrained excitement. "But I bet it has to do with Uncle Fatso's new status as a weak failure and a disappointment. How could Grandfather love him now?" She shrugged, ignoring the horrified bewilderment splitting across her brother's face.

Zuko released a shaky breath and glared at her. "How could you say something like that?"

Azula rolled her eyes. "Don't get snappy with me for telling the truth, Zuzu."

The distant crackling of a low inferno boiled behind the curtain, Zuko stopped dutifully as Ozai passed through the maw, into the Throne room's suffocating power. Zuko knew father was scary, but Grandfather was so much scarier.

"Hey, what're you—" Zuko protested but Azula shushed him, having seized his hand in a tight grip she darted through the curtains, weaving a practiced path through the scarlet rows of fabric. Zuko could only let himself be pulled along, paralysed with fear, unwilling to resist lest Grandfather hear them scurrying where they didn't belong.

"Father," Ozai's calm voice chopped through the tension. "You must have realized as I have, that with Lu Ten gone, Iroh's bloodline has ended." Azula poked her face through the curtains, Zuko ducked below her and did the same. Her face was fixed with fascination, a contrast to the fear written upon her brother's visage. "After his son's death, my brother abandoned the siege at Ba Sing Se. And who knows when he will return?" Ozai remained kneeling, unmoving, as calm as the sea. "But I am here, Father. My children are alive."

"Say what it is you want!" Azulon hissed, Zuko's breath was stolen by a choking yelp. Grandfather looked terrifying, like Agni himself wreathed in flames.

"Father," Azula admired her father's calm, he was immutable to Grandfather's power. "Revoke Iroh's birthright. I am your humble servant. Here to serve you and our Nation. Use me."

The roaring flames blazed brighter as a mask of fury seized Azulon's darkened face. "You dare suggest I betray Iroh!" The man recoiled, such power and vehemence in his voice, the flames crawled higher. "MY firstborn! Directly after the demise of his only beloved son?!"

Zuko's eyes were as wide as rings, the flickering flames reflected from them like a mirror.

"I think Iroh has suffered enough. But you," Azulon addressed, Azula didn't flinch, she stared as father did the same. Father was inspirational. "—Your punishment HAS SCARCELY BEGUN!"

Zuko let out a startled wheeze as the fires surged forward and formed an enveloping ring of doom around their dad, he felt his breath die in his lungs, fear gripped his spine. Zuko had had enough, he launched to his feet and sprinted from the room—he needed to find mom.

Azula rolled her eyes with a sneer, ignoring weak Zuzu, she turned her attention back to the confrontation with a wicked smirk. Her gaze was bathed in intrigue, would father fight an Agni Kai now? She hoped he did. Grandfather was a weak old man; father would be the better Fire Lord anyway. She knew he would be.

"Your punishment should fit your crime, Ozai." Azulon roared, the ire in his voice hotter than the flames he commanded. But Ozai was stone still; Father feared nothing. "You impudent welp! You want my Throne, then you will prove yourself worthy!"

Then she saw it, a smirk, barely perceptible between the ring of fire that twisted around Ozai's kneeling silhouette. "You must know the pain of losing a firstborn son—"

The smirk grew wider. Azula found herself frowning, was dad going to kill Zuzu? She didn't know how to feel about that. Zuzu was an idiot but he didn't deserve to die, did he? But father was never wrong. Grandfather commanded it—maybe his sacrifice was worth becoming Fire Lord.

"—But what purpose would that serve? Hm?" Azulon laughed from his perched Throne, a crawling shrill sound that mocked Ozai from above. "You have no love for that indolent boy. You have a cold heart, Ozai. And no loyalty to family!"

Azula raised a brow. Zuzu would live, then? That was good. She was… happy, she thought. But father did not look happy. His smirk cracked into a frown, drooping beneath his nose, almost a scowl.

"Iroh loved Lu Ten, do you love your little prodigy as much?" The flames grew dimmer, softer, not because of their blaze. But because Azula felt her vision swimming lightly, black splotches enshrined her eyes. She didn't want to listen anymore. She didn't like the twisting branch this conversation had arrived at. "You will sacrifice your precious daughter if you ever want to sit my Throne!"

Azula scowled, disbelief and disgust painted her face. Grandfather was an idiot, dad would never do that. "Kill him now!" She whispered under her breath, "Throw lightning! Agni Kai! Stupid old fool can't even walk properly…"

But Ozai remained kneeling. Unmoving. Face an empty mask, without remorse, without anger. Azula felt a rising dread shake her entire being, "No…" She whispered to herself, "Nonono, he wouldn't—he won't—he won't!"

Then her father stood, his knees stretching into an imposing figure that towered beyond most men. He bowed.

Daddy bowed.

Azula's admiration of her father's imperious, unflinching resolve under grandfather's demands morphed into horror. Yes, daddy feared nothing. Not even losing his daughter—not even murdering his daughter.

There she remained for hours, slinking back onto her hands and knees, arms folded around her legs. She couldn't leave now. What if father saw her and killed her? When night came and the Throne room was empty, when Grandfather went to sleep on his cruelty, the Princess found her feet and sprinted from the room with her heart hammering against her chest.

She dashed through the suffocating halls. They seemed so impossibly large tonight, and so much darker, mom would be with Zuko. She always was. Telling him stories, stroking his hair.

Azula barrelled into the room as she heard her brother's annoying giggles. Fear, true fear, plastered on her face. But Azula controlled herself so Zuko did not see. "Mom, I need to talk to you!" She hissed, an urgent demand through rattled teeth.

Ursa sighed, "Honey, can't this wait until morning?"

"Mom! Please!" The façade cracked; a waver in Azula's voice caused Ursa to widen her brow curiously.

"Okay, dear… Okay." She turned to Zuko and pressed her lips to his cheek, "Goodnight, angel."

"Night, mom…" Zuko glared at Azula accusingly. She didn't care about stupid Zuzu right now.

Her mother drew closer and Azula seized her hand and tried to pull her from the room quicker, "Azula!" Ursa berated, pulling back, but Azula's grip only tightened—she was sure her nails were biting her mother's skin but she didn't care about that.

"Dad's going to kill me!" She blurted out quietly, eyes dashing around for unwelcome eavesdroppers. "Really, he is!"

"Azula…" Ursa sighed again, voice laced with exasperation, "What have I told you about lying?"

Azula blanched. Her eyes widened and she clenched her fists with such force she thought she might break her own fingers. "I'm not! I'm notI'mnotI'mnotI'mnot! Mom, please, I was—I was there!" Ursa grew pale as her daughter's vision erupted with hot tears.

Azula was a liar. But she had never faked tears before, she'd never cried before. Her voice was raw and true. It awakened a primal maternal fierceness in the woman's heart. Ursa took Azula's hand and looked around, studious eyes searching for trespass. "Come on." She coaxed, gently. Then turned and pulled Azula back into Zuko's room.

"Mom?" Zuko asked, confused.

"Zuko, honey, go to your sister's room. I need to talk to her here." Ursa commanded. Zuko frowned. Azula tried not to cry.

"I—but…"

"Now." Zuko was silenced under his mother's tone, he bowed his head, crawling from the bed with more glares angled towards his sister—she averted her face from his gaze. That confused Zuko more, when did Azula ever wince from glaring?

As her brother disappeared, Ursa pulled Azula towards the bed and rested motherly hands upon a daughter's shoulders, stroking her arms gently. "Tell me everything."

Azula felt gentle sobs trying to escape her throat. She opened her mouth to speak, but a soundless cry emerged, and Ursa tightened her grip and pulled her daughter into a hug. Azula clung so hard she thought the girl might rip her robe. "Dear please, you have to tell me—" Ursa found Azula's terrified gaze. "—What happened?" Her own voice splintered into a strangled sound.

Oh, Agni. The poor thing was wavering like never before, Azula was fearless, Ursa noted—Ursa hated. But it couldn't be true… Had Azula's acting improved? Was she deceiving her mother once again?

"I followed dad into Grandfather's throne room," Azula started, voice frail. "H-he said that he should be Fire Lord instead of Uncle, b-because Uncle is weak and his son is dead." Ursa frowned, ignoring how Azula's words emerged like fact. "Grandfather got angry." She continued, eyes shooting to her feet. "Very angry. He said, 'You must know the pain of losing a firstborn son' and dad smiled."

Ursa's heart stammered against her chest, her throat constricting as the words washed over her with the force of a violent tidal wave. "But then Grandfather laughed and said he knew dad didn't love Zuko. He said, 'You will sacrifice your precious daughter if you ever want to sit my Throne.'"

Ursa felt her breath shake as a shocked gasp pushed from her throat. Azula looked up slowly, her eyes grasping for her mother to save her. "He meant it, mommy… Daddy just bowed…" She choked back another sob, "I thought he loved me!"

Azula stiffened as Ursa pulled her into a far tighter hug than Azula's own had been. A mother let her own tears stroll down her cheeks as she felt her daughter's heart thumping against her chest. "I love you, Azula." She resolved with an authority so unlike her. "I love you, and I won't let anything happen to you." Azula melted within her mother's arms, then Ursa cupped her cheeks and angled her eyes to connect with her own. "You're a smart girl, Azula. I know you are, you remember the passages? The ones I always tell you off for exploring?"

The young girl nodded. "You were so very smart to explore them anyway. I need you to go and hide, okay? Go and hide, I promise this will be over soon."

Azula slowly relinquished her grip on Ursa's robes, "I will." She held her chin high, some small measure of bravery returning. "I will..."

Azula knew all the cracks and crevices that ran throughout the Palace like veins. So with her orange fire-like-torch, she navigated the claustrophobic dark with expert ease. She never expected to be using them to hide from her own father. A foreign invasion, perhaps. Assassins? Understandable.

But this was… monstrous. Dad betrayed her.

Dad was one of the strongest firebenders ever. Mom couldn't bend, she was going to die, dad would kill her. Then he'd kill Azula, too—all to be Fire Lord.

Azula's glare hardened into rock. The fear was melting. Dad always said to be decisive, be unwavering, be strong in all decisions. He said that. What if—what if she killed dad first? He didn't know she knew, and if he did, he would underestimate her. She was only eight. Dad would be a fool to underestimate her. If dad was dead, Uncle would have to be Fire Lord and even if Uncle was a quitter and a loser, he wouldn't kill her.

She kept moving through the passage, burning away cobwebs, ignoring the thin lines of sulphur and smoke. She swallowed her coughs and doubled her effort to avoid the dusty clouds that rose to greet her. Mom told her to hide, but Azula wasn't hiding. Cowards hide. Azula was brave.

"How could you…" Azula flinched, her mother's voice, muffled and distant from behind the entrapping of the Palace passages. She was near her parents' chambers.

"HOW COULD I?!" Ozai's terrible scream shook the foundations of the world and an explosive boom smashed the wall above. His daughter winced back in fear. "I need to. I must. The Throne will be mine; nothing will get in the way of my destiny…" The man's voice drifted, soft, almost sad. "Not even my daughter."

"Husband, please…" Ursa pleaded, her voice a high-pitched squeal. Desperate.

"I will not hear your cries anymore, woman." Her own father snapped curtly, "This… is the price I must pay… I would pay any price. Any price!" Silence, terrible silence, his voice a bare whisper behind the cavernous passage. "Even Azula."

Azula quivered beneath her small red silks as she heard her sentence, an oppressive tightness weighed heavily on her heart. Ursa's tears were gone now, no more pleas. Had her mother given up?

"I'm going to make you a deal." Azula raised her face to the wall. Mother was speaking with command again.

"You have nothing I want," Ozai dismissed, Ursa would not accept such a dismissal so easily, she replied, "You want the Throne."

"Go on." Her father spoke, slow and deliberate.

"I know how to make a poison that is colourless and odourless, completely untraceable." Azula raised her brows; she hoped mother would teach her one day. "It causes a person to pass as if he'd simply fallen asleep. I'll give you a vial of it in exchange for Azula's life, once the poison is in your hands, you do whatever you wish."

Ozai's voice was curious now, no longer vindictive, no longer ambitiously ruled by kinslaying. "Just where did you learn to concoct such a substance?"

Ursa straightened her back and raised her chin, "My mother was a master herbalist."

"Very clever, dear wife. Very clever." Azula crawled closer to the wall and pressed herself against it. "I accept your plan… On one condition."

Azula couldn't see them. But she could feel the tension return. She could picture her father turning slowly to regard her mother with that cruel smile he liked to sport. "You will poison my father. If you refuse… You know the consequences."

Ursa took a sharp breath, folding her arms tightly about herself as if to shield from her husband's harsh gaze. "I will do anything to protect my children." The woman spat, with such strong hate Azula wondered if her father bristled. "—What an injustice it is they should be cursed with a father like you!"

Ozai did not react, "Make me Fire Lord tonight, wife." An emotionless command. "Your time is running out."

Azula felt her breath leave her. She turned and scurried through the passage as quickly as she could. Back to Zuko's bed, back to his irritably oversized room. But she did not leave the passage as she neared, if mother failed... She sucked in a sharp breath and bit her lip. She would stay here. Just close enough to flee deeper beneath the Palace if she needed to, but beside Zuko's room if mother succeeded.

It wasn't sleep that took her, but somewhere amidst the hours, unconsciousness settled on the girl like a comfortable blanket.

"Azula?" Azula lurched awake, blinking through heavy eyes as she peered through the passage to her mother's soft, if strained, smile.

"Mom?" She asked, a little lost, with her wits on edge as she searched behind for father.

"Azula, listen to me. I know I haven't always been here for you, but everything I've done, I've done to protect you. Please—"

"You're leaving." Azula cut in, accusation in her voice. "But you can't!" The accusatory tone faded into urgency, Azula grabbed at Ursa's cloaked sleeve as if to hold her back. "You can't leave! You can't, you can't! I forbid it!"

"Azula, listen to me. I have to. I—I don't have a choice. I'm so sorry!"

"You… You traitor." Azula pulled back and yanked her arm away. She crawled deeper into the passage as if to escape her mother's touch.

"Dear, please—"

"Go away! JUST GO AWAY!" Azula screamed, she did not wince as Ursa's tears fell like rain. She did not wince as her own did, too. Her hateful parents had both betrayed her in the same night.

"I love you, Azula." Ursa's frayed voice called, it begged, "I do." Azula clenched her eyes shut and covered her ears. She held herself there for a long time. Rocking back and forth with only her thoughts for company. When she finally found the strength to look up from her sanctuary, no more gold eyes remained to greet her.

"I'm sorry…" She spoke to herself, softly. "I didn't mean it, I'm sorry… Come back…"

Little Azula cried herself to sleep in that dark passage, but she was safe, safe and alive.

When dawn finally broke, harsh bright rays littered the sky in pretty, false colours, hiding the horror hidden within the night before. News of Azulon's death spread throughout the Palace like wildfire. With Iroh in the Earth Kingdom still, the new Fire Lord was to be her father. For a moment, Azula's stomach lurched at the thought.

She found her way from the passages. Then through the long-winding halls that bustled with courtiers and officials. Stupid servants, she didn't care about them. Even as they tried to pull and pry to clean up her ransacked appearance, she shooed them away—torching one with a plume of fire who tried to insist too harshly.

The gardens were quiet today. Soft ripples of water sailed through small rivers, trickling from the emblazoned stone of a marble fountain that lay beside the wooden walkway. The Fire Lord stood immobile before a pond. She did not wonder if he heard her approach, she did not care.

"You sent mom away." Azula accused with such bitter hate that Ozai himself jolted to attention. Then he turned slowly, dark angry eyes bore down on her with the promise of retribution. Azula remembered how little Grandfather's own retribution phased father, she internalized that, another lesson from dad. She was grateful. And she held firm with a furious glower - even as they locked eyes - with all the intensity of a volcano.

That scathing glare would forever be burned into Ozai's memory. He would raise her, he would teach her, he would mould her into his weapon. But one day she would threaten him. That defiant glare…

It was foreboding.