AZULA woke in chains. She discovered this when she went to stretch and couldn't move her hands more than six inches apart. She was considering setting the chains ablaze when a hand rested on her shoulder. "Good to see you awake."

"What do you want with me?" She spat.

Ozai chuckled. "Forget who you're with, Princess?"

She bit back a sarcastic remark. The people she had been around as of late tolerated her rudeness far more than her father did. "I'm sorry, Father. Forgive me."

"I will, just this once. As for what I want with you, I'd like to have my most powerful ally back."

Azula's chest swelled with pride. His most powerful ally? What an honor to have that title. "Really?"

"Of course. What can I do without my little prodigy?"

She smiled, but it soon melted into confusion. "Why am I in chains then?"

"Because I have to make sure you won't spy on me for Zuko."

Azula barked a laugh. "Me? Help little Zuzu? Since when was that ever a threat?"

Ozai smirked. "I didn't think it was. Now, Azula, would you like to join me in taking back our rightful throne?"

Azula thought about it. She wanted the throne. She'd been raised to. But her father had lost his bending. Could he really still lead and protect the nation without it?

"Why so skeptical?" Ozai growled.

"Father, it is just... how are you going to lead without your bending?"

Suddenly, there was a fist around her neck and her back was to the wall. "Don't speak of it."

Her eyes were wide, and she clawed at his hand. He let go, and she dropped to the floor. She gasped for breath, talking as quickly as she could. "I'm sorry, father. I really am. I spoke out of turn. I didn't mean to. I've been around weaklings like Zuko and Mother who won't do anything when-"

"Don't waste your breath making excuses."

"Yes, sir."

He grabbed the chain between her cuffs and yanked her to her feet. "Come on, Azula. There are some things that I need to show you."

Azula followed him out of the cell and down the dimly lit passageway. She jumped to the side, biting back a shriek as a spider-rat scurried by her feet. Her face morphed into one of disgust.

Ozai chuckled darkly. "I see Zuko put you up somewhere nice."

Azula shrugged. "It depends on your idea of nice. It wasn't the palace, that's for certain." She didn't dare mention the insane asylum. If he didn't already know, it would be much better if he never did.

"I did find you in the palace though. Why is that?"

"Zuko had some ridiculous idea about 'redeeming' me. As if he's not the one who decides what's right and what's wrong, and can't just 'redeem' me by saying the word."

"Your brother has a ridiculous moral code that he got from your mother. Speaking of the wretch, I heard that she moved back into the palace."

Azula nodded. "With her new husband and daughter."

"Replaced you already, has she?"

"Apparently."

"What have I been telling you for years? She doesn't care for you."

Azula thought of the conversation that she'd had with her mother. "She said-"

"Oh, I'm sorry! Did she suddenly 'apologize' and try to make up? I didn't realize that she would suddenly turn around her whole view of you in two weeks!"

"She said that... that you lied to me. That she's never thought that I-"

"Believing her over me now, darling? What has she done for you that I haven't?"

Azula went silent.

"Do you remember when she left?"

"Of course," Azula cringed at the painful memory.

"How can you remember that and still believe her?"

Azula sent silent. In all honesty, she wasn't sure what to think. Was her father right? Should she really trust him? Two weeks ago, she would've. With her life, even. But, now? She wasn't so sure.

"Not sure? That's what I thought. Come along. We have a lot of planning on our plates."

Azula nodded, following her father. Regardless of the uncertainty of her mother, whether or not she would work with her father wasn't in question. She loved her dad. He loved her. She had given up so much to him, simply because he wanted her to. His side was the one she would always take. After all, she had never fully hallucinated him. Not even in her weakest, most pathetic of moments. That had to count for something. It had to.