Chapter Text
When Azula awoke from her bout of dizziness, she felt the unevenness of sand beneath her instead of the solid wooden deck. Blearily, she tried to recall what had happened.
The last thing she remembered was chasing her traitorous mother through the storm and casting lighting from her palms. She felt something course through her entire body followed by a chorus of screams. Then silence.
Unwilling to suffer the indignity of laying on the beach any longer, the young princess forced herself to stand and take in the carnage around her.
Azula could feel the intense heat, even as a firebender, from the flaming wreckage around her. The vessel was almost unrecognizable as a burnt husk and the smell of burnt flesh hung in the air.
It was too much for even the stoic girl and she immediately emptied the contents of her stomach.
Thankfully, many of the bodies were missing, presumably washed out at sea. However, the coast still almost resembled a scene straight from hell.
All of this overwhelmed Azula's mind with horror and she mercifully felt herself slip back into darkness.
The next time Azula returned to the land of the living, she could hear a cacophony of voice around her and panicked.
She began thrashing against the restraints, but was quickly overwhelmed with pain. She felt firm hands guide her back into the sheets and a whispered voice in her ear.
"It's okay your highness. You're safe in the colonies now..."
Azula was too exhausted to snap back at the mysterious man, so she simply went under once more.
The last time Azula became conscious enough to stay awake, she found her body much more responsive. She threw the covers off of her and stormed out, ignoring the concerned looks from her healers.
She received a few curious glances from the villagers, but none gave the royal any attention.
Azula felt oddly thankful for it.
When she was certain that she was alone by the cliffside, the once proud princess let a scream of pain and sorrow out into the world.
For once in her lifetime, Azula was truly alone with her failures.
Across the ocean and beyond the vast storm, a great change was taking place in the heart of the Fire Nation.
For almost a century, the vast flames of the Caldera fed the Fire Nation's military might; churning out legions of tanks, weapons, and armor.
However, on that day, the great engine of war fell silent and a dark shadow fell over the isles.
A fleet of ships stormed out of the harbour in disarray with a banished prince at the helm. Nobody tried to stop them under the glare of the dark sun.
As one dynasty came to an end, another took its place.
On that day, a new flag was raised over the nation. Citizens and soldiers alike bowed to their new lord in fear or adoration.
Above the imperial palace, the emblem of a red lotus waved defiantly as an omen of the dark times ahead.