Remember what I said in my last author's note?

-explodes-

I am so incredibly overjoyed at all the reviews I'm getting on this. Thank you for the praise, the compliments, the constructive criticism, the suggestions, everything! I have a few more things to say, and if you don't care to read them, then go ahead and start reading the chapter. BUT, I suggest if you don't want to be confused about the chapter, then you continue to read the A/N.

First of all, there were no specifications made in the series regarding the Royal Fire Academy for Girls, if I recall, so I took some creative liberty and made it similar to a boarding school. Also, I'm not sure how long Azula spent there, but... actually you'll find that out in later chapter, so never mind.

I know I have some apologizing to do, but I'm going to do it at the end of the chapter so you all can start reading now.

Twelve. I always perceived this age and number as both awkward and overlooked. Ten was special; ten was the first time a being could say that they had graced the earth with their life for a decade. Some looked at it with pride, claiming that now in their age, they could see two digits, one to comfort and befriend the other, instead of one lonesome digit. Eleven was interesting as well. Twins, I'd always thought; two one's that alone look small and lonely, but together look happy and complete. Even thirteen was better than twelve was. At thirteen children could call themselves teenagers, as if some great and wonderful metamorphosis had taken place in the course of one night, and they were suddenly catapulted from being an immature, irresponsible brat to being a sophisticated and intelligent adult. That was not the way I saw birthdays or aging. I'd always been perfect. I didn't need a number to tell me I was.

But twelve was awkward and gauche. At twelve, changes start taking place both in and on a being; I was no exception. With the coming of this age also came feet that seemed too large for my legs and arms that reached out farther than I remembered them to. In practicing my firebending, I would often knock into myself, whether it was a foot hitting my leg, or an arm scraping my back as I tried to perform a routine, and my skills suffered. The reason behind these trivial faults was because I was not used to these sudden proportions that seemed to spring out of nowhere. My mind told me one thing, but my body was indeed something completely different. Failure was not something I was used to. It was the kind of thing that enraged me, the kind of thing I thought only happened to people like Zuko.

Of course I remembered when he was twelve. How I laughed at him, whether out loud or quietly to myself, whenever he took a wrong step in a routine, or awkwardly hit himself. How it amused me so, when he would notice my laughter, and point a finger at me, saying, "Azula, stop laugh-" he would then immediately clamp his two hands over his mouth and glare at me even more, as I doubled over in laughter, tears streaming down my face as he tried speaking again, hoping this time his voice wouldn't make that embarrassing and sudden change in tone.

But now unique changes of their own were taking place in me, and it often threw me off while I was practicing or sparring with some soldiers. They knew better, though, than to snicker behind their helmets when I took a wrong step and tripped over my own feet. But embarrassment is an emotion that even I couldn't discard, and as my face blazed red I would emit large flames from my hands, and breathe heavily as I screamed, "Augh! Why can't I do this right?" I would then proceed to launch fireballs at the soldiers I had been sparring with, watching them with slight satisfaction as they quickly dodged and rolled to avoid being burnt. I didn't care if they got hurt. I was trying to hurt them, after all. It must have been their faults, of course, for my misfortune. It couldn't have been my fault.

The awkwardness did not last long. Though for most children my age, it continued the entire year, I was determined to never misstep again, and after hours of vigorous practice, focusing my attention on how my body moved and what space it would occupy next, I perfected my routines all over again with these 'new proportions', and overcame the rut I had so inconveniently fallen into for a short time. No one makes a fool out of me, I thought to myself as I strutted back to my room after performing a flawless routine. Not even the laws of nature.

However, my short time in which I was prone to accidents did not go unnoticed by my father. He had eyes and ears all over the palace, and other places besides. Nobody ever did something of importance, or something of insignificance for that matter, without his knowledge. It was with a strange feeling in the pit of my stomach that I approached him one day, though I cannot say that emotion was fear. Fear had been purged from me at an early age, and sometimes a sick feeling would make up for the lack of sentiments I had. But these spells never lasted long.

"Azula," he said in his authoritative voice. I stayed bowed, perspiration forming on my brow from the flames that were constantly ablaze in front of his throne. "How have your routines been going?"

Though it was a question he asked, and an answer he wanted, I knew he already was aware of what had been going on. That was his way; he would play with his prey first, make it speak oftentimes, only to capture them in their own actions or words later on. They often became the reason for their own condemnation. That was how it happened with Zuko, after all. I knew the truth was all that would save me in this situation, my lies would only harm my chances. Father, after all, knew a lie when he heard one. He had become so accustomed to their nature and ways, that I could suppose the only other person better at lying than me was him.

"Recently, Father," I started, my head still fixed in a downward position. "I will admit I have been having some trouble, but --"

"Trouble, Azula?" He said, his voice poisonously sweet. "The royal children of the Fire Lord do not have trouble. Perfection does not rise out of trouble." His voice took on a more demanding and firm tone, though I stood my ground.

"I beg your forgiveness," I said, kneeling on the floor. "It has been fixed, though, my Lord. I worked around these difficulties --"

"Difficulties are not to be merely worked around, Azula. Difficulties must be triumphed over, crushed to the ground, and completely taken care of. If you do not rid yourself of these difficulties," he said, a strange tone taking his voice as he emphasized the word, "they will come back to haunt you in the future. Now, tell me again…" he said, folding his hands to rest his chin upon them. "How have your routines been going?"

"All difficulties that once plagued me have been overwhelmed and defeated," I explained quickly. "They are no longer alive to pester me and throw me off. The problems have been eliminated permanently."

"Good," he said, drawing out the word with a satisfactory manner. "However, to ensure that these difficulties do not rise from the dead, you are being sent to the Royal Fire Academy for Girls. You had better pack quickly," he said, almost sounding as if he was evilly amused by the news. "You are leaving tomorrow."

"Yes, Father," I said, never raising my head from looking at the floor. My expression remained unflinching, my voice stayed calm and steady; practically emotionless. A few seconds later he dismissed me from his presence, and I stood up from my previous kneeling position, backing out of the room with my head bowed, as it was considered rude to turn one's back on the Fire Lord, even when exiting a room.

I was not surprised nor conflicted by my father's decision. He had spoken before of sending me to the Academy, and before it didn't bother me, either. I listened as my footsteps echoed against the empty corridors, a completely expressionless look spread across my face. My thoughts seemed washed out of me at the moment. I certainly wasn't expecting to be told such news at the moment, and yet at the same time it wasn't so shocking that my head was spinning with confusion.

You are being sent to the Royal Fire Academy for Girls. The phrase echoed in my mind, failing to create a permanent impression or scar that would leave me wondering about it for years to come. It seemed to only bounce off the sides of my head, flooding my thoughts and taking up any other room that might be occupied by other, more meaningful thoughts. The words did not affect me, their tone or meaning did not cause me to run into my room, crying with despair. Rather, I walked rather stiffly to my dresser once I reached my room, and began pulling out garments that I would take with me, though I had no place to put them at the moment.

I was not sad, nor was I angered, nor shocked, nor surprised. Life at the Academy would be normal for me, just like any other day; filled with firebending lessons, educational studies, and interactions with girls my own age. It crossed my mind that I would be going to the Academy with Ty Lee and Mai, for, their parents were definitely contemplating the option of sending them, and I knew that if I was going, they would follow the Fire Lord's example and send their own daughters there as well.

I arranged the belongings I would bring with me on my bed, realizing that I did not have a pack or bag in which to place them. Hearing the footsteps of some unfortunate soul outside in the hallway, just passing my door, I ran out to meet him.

"You!" I said, pointing my lanky finger at him. He stopped immediately and turned to face me with a slight bow.

"Fetch me two bags that I might pack. I'm leaving for the Royal Fire Academy for Girls tomorrow."

He bowed again. "Yes, Princess Azula," Turning around, he made as if to leave, but I gave him one last order.

"And make it snappy."

"…Yes, Princess."

I watched as he scurried down the hall. No doubt he was silently rejoicing about my sudden departure. I knew all the guards in the palace feared me; some even hated me with a passion. I'm sure he would soon spread the news to all his fellow guards and servants, telling them to be glad, because the annoying little brat that had been ordering them around for as long as she could talk was leaving the palace. My father would be all alone in the large building, now; that is, besides the servants, guards, and various soldiers that patrolled the grounds. That would be the first time in many years.

The first to leave of the Royal Family was Lu Ten. He did not leave of his own choosing, however; he was a soldier in the war and died during a battle. I was never particularly close to the man, nor did I know him very well considering the gap in our ages. But I always secretly thought of him best out of all my relatives, besides my father of course. My cousin died in battle after all, as a brave soldier for the Fire Nation army. In my small mind, that was the most courageous way to die, and I myself wouldn't have it any other way.

Next was my mother. Her departure to this day has left me baffled and confused. She did not come to me in the middle of the night, shaking my shoulders and waking me up to tell me some important proverb or give me advice I would remember for the rest of my life. No, she did none of that to me; although Zuko would later confide in me later that the very experience had happened to him. I merely scowled at him after he told this to me with wide eyes, and I believe the only reason he told me was because he did not know where Mother went, either. He happened across me the next day, and asked me where she was. I scoffed, saying that nobody knew of her whereabouts. After running off like the pathetic child that he was, he came back to me, asking if I had spoken to her in the middle of the night. I said no, I hadn't, and he related the story to me. Jealously arose in my chest, I could feel it bubbling up from the pit that was my heart and spreading throughout my being. But I did not tell him that. I laughed forcibly, saying that if Mother really did run away, than she was even weaker than he.

That was the last I ever spoke to somebody about my mother. Her absence did not mar life at the palace, rather, everything went on as if she never existed in the first place. Sometimes I would doubt my own sanity, and think to myself that perhaps she was really a figment of my imagination, and she never really lived. Then I would walk by her former room and stare in at the belongings that she had left because of the terrible hurry she was in, and I would realize, yes, she was real. And though she was gone, her property still lay in her room, untouched by another soul since she last lay hands on it; Agni knows when that was.

The third and fourth members of my family to leave the palace were my Uncle Iroh and brother, Zuko. That tale has often been told, and I saw no need to repeat it to myself in my mind, nor turn over the possibilities of their departure within my memory.

As I was thinking these thoughts in my head, realizing that I was the fifth person to leave, and probably the only person that ever had a chance of coming back, the guard I had sent to fetch the bags for me returned. He held two large packs in his hand, bowing as he handed them both to me at once.

"Here you are, Princess," he said humbly as I snatched them from his hands and began inspecting them.

"Acceptable, I suppose," I said, pretending to scrutinize the items I held. "Next time don't take so long." I stared at the man as he panted, knowing that he had done it as fast as he possibly could. An evil smile spread across my face as I saw the look on his face that clearly meant he did not have the capacity to run any faster. I knew this. But I pretended I didn't. It amused me to watch him suffer, the weak-minded fool. Playing with others' minds was entirely too easy, and entirely too fun.

I sauntered back into my room, opening the bags and placing them on my bed. Slowly and deliberately, I started placing my clothes and various other belongings into the packs, making sure that everything was placed perfectly. Normally I would have ordered a servant or two to do the packing for me. But I was going to be staying at the Academy for an unknown amount of time -- I was unsure how long my father intended for me to stay there -- and I wanted the job done perfectly the first time. There was no trusting a servant to do a job perfectly. Only I was capable of that.

Placing the bags delicately on the floor by my bedroom door, I went back to my bed and sat down, feeling the mattress slowly sink beneath me as it grew accustomed to my weight. Crossing my legs and closing my eyes, I began my breathing exercises and started meditating.

"Princess," the voice of the guard broke the silence and considerably raised my anger.

"What?" I snapped, turning around immediately. He simply began to cower as I stared at him with a glare that would have him burnt to a crisp, had my eyes been able to shoot fire out of them, as my hands and feet could.

"I - um, your father…"

I smiled wickedly. "Twelve." I said. "Are you frightened of a twelve-year-old?" I gave a quick, short laugh. "How I quiver to even suggest that thought. How old are you, guard?"

"Thirty-two, Princess," he responded, fear still lingering in his voice.

"Twenty years difference?" I said, pretending to be surprised. "Tell me, guard, which is the larger number? Twelve or thirty-two?"

"Thirty-two, Princess," he answered my question with the same words he used to answer my previous one.

"Hm," I said satisfactorily. "I'm glad you're an intelligent one. Now, get out!" I said venomously, and he immediately left. I chuckled as I saw him leave, knowing that he would be back. After all, he had mentioned my father, and his orders were obviously to deliver some sort of message to me. It was entertaining, however, to realize what tight a grasp I held on these people. They obeyed my every order and catered to my every whim at the drop of a hat. Soon the man would be back, realizing that I was the lesser of two evils, and he would rather listen to my screaming then face my father's rage. But it was fun to play with and twist his mind.

A toothy smile crossed my face, as I realized what wonderfully gullible pawns I would hold in my grasp at the Royal Fire Academy for Girls.

Apologizing time: I'm sorry for waiting for quite a while before updating. I explained some of this in my profile (I'm not sure how many of you actually were able to read it) but by the time I got inspired to actually write this chapter, exams at my school had started and there was simply no time to work on studying for those, doing an art project, AND writing this fic. So I prioritized and put this at the end of my list. However exams are over (the last one was today) so hopefully the next update won't take as long as this one did.

TrueThinker, I know I can't send you a review reply like I can with the reviewers that are actually members of this site, so I'm sticking it in here. I'm sorry you started getting angry and impatient with my lack of update... but as I just explained, there was simply no time this past week, and of the course I was busy during the holidays, too. And if I try to write when I don't feel inspired to, then the chapter turns out crappy and I'm sure you would rather have a quality chapter over a hurried one, right? But you still deserve a cookie for reviewing three times on chapter four!

Thanks again to anyone who reviewed, whether logged in or anonymously.