A simple premise, that's how every story has a beginning.

Rogue traders from the Free City of Braavos have become ever more ambitious and farsighted. They trawl the furthest reaches of the globe, searching for new lands to trade with, far beyond the waters of Ironman's Bay.
And against all tall odds, they find one:

A land the likes of which that has not been known before or ever. Westward of the Sunset Sea, an expansive mainland, never before recorded by the surveyors and map-makers of the Seven Kingdoms. And they cannot believe their luck. They know that fame and riches await them. Wonders and items, fine produces and exotic new things with which to barter. Tradable wares, whom the eyes of Westeros and its peoples have never known before.

They thank their gods, if they believe in a god, and bless their luck and fortune for this brave new discovery of theirs. Yet, all is not well. For a nation is in uproar and in outcry. Chaos roams the streets of their towns and capital. Scared and angry mobs of citizens bray, and beg for a promise of explanation and security.

The Fire Nation is in turmoil. Catastrophe has struck their great and bountiful realm. The seas boil, and the air wails as if in scream around them. Vistas and ill omens penetrate the air, the citizens see them with their eyes and hear them with their ears. And yet for these powerful winds, the air seems still, and close. Unnatural.

All is not well. They have lost contact with their colonies. The stars in the sky have shifted in their places, and the constellations are strange and all but unrecognisable. Ships of commerce, iron-clad warships, fishing fleets and pleasure boats long since expected to return, have failed to return. And many are days and if not weeks overdue in their voyages home.

From his balcony, a Monarch hears the angst and fear of his subjects' voices. The restless mobs of his people far below. Where are their sons and husbands? Many a wife and mother shouts in demand. For contact has been lost with all of their garrisons and outposts from abroad.

Where are the trade and resources, which ship in from the colonies during every hour of every day? Angry and insecure merchants curse and scream in demand of answers. Ambitious, single-minded entrepreneurs. Men who have grown wealthy from the wares and trade that so many rely on. Food that so many people count on. And the fine and bountiful things of pleasure, that many a rich man takes for gluttonous, and often complete granted.

Yes, his subjects were in outcry. His bureaucrats and empire's administrators working night and day now to mobilize guardsmen, and the infrastructure required to bring order to the realm. And yet, even then, all is still not well. For he was undermanned and understaffed. And from his armies, came news of the most horrifying and curious calamity of all.

Something from within the back of his mind felt wrong, out of place. There was something amiss. Something instinctual that he couldn't put his finger on. A spiritual imbalance of some kind? He did not know for sure. Sacred matters had never before been of concern to him. But indeed, something was horribly wrong.

For whatever the reason, however possible. The Fire Nation not only finds that their colonies have disappeared, but also the powers of their fire benders! The abilities of talented individuals, gifted women and servicemen. Whom upon his country not only relied, but who were essential to them. Essential to everything they had ever strove to accomplish.

They were the core of his armies, the engines and motors of his navies. Upon the powers of fire benders did much of their technology and intricate innovations hinge on. It would take months, decades perhaps to rectify the damage that this tragedy had caused. Boilers, foundries of industry. Steam engines, steam pumps, trains and tanks and automated transportation. Why had they ever required complex kilns and furnaces? For they had always had a fire bender on had to power these systems. Now, much of his nation's infrastructure had slammed to a complete halt.

Only he himself, his trusted daughter, and perhaps others of the royal family remained unaffected by this great and horrific tragedy. The twisting, reassuring golden fires of his throne room, sustained by his own force of will continued to burn behind.

So, not all was lost then? But, still. Why had this curse been inflicted upon him? For all logic, and against all odds, it had been confirmed. How else had entire landmasses taken up and abandoned the oceans where they rested in eternal? Search ships had been dispatched, and there were no traces of the colonies. Not of any surrounding continents or familiar lands. Countries of bare rock and ice, lands not recognized by the eyes of experienced sailors.

Gone were the grassy plains, the steppes and dusty, sandy ground of the Earth Kingdom. How else had the stars, permanent in their stations for generations, upped and fled the heavens above? All other possibilities had been exhausted, all other explanations disproven. The entire homeland of the Fire Nation, had moved. Had been transported to some uncharted sea. How would this affect the minds of his subjects? They would never feel sanctuary again, not for centuries. Ozai certainly didn't feel secure himself, not for any of his power. Not for all his strength. This impossible moment would be remembered for eternity, and would never be forgotten.

This would surely be the greatest test of his rule. A challenge unprecedented, a challenge no other Fire Lord has ever had to answer. His nation would have to expand, form new alliances. The entire system had crashed and they had no other choice. To make what they could of these new lands, before his country descended into a great depression, one too terrible to think about.

Yes, it would certainly be the greatest test to a Fire Lords rule. So why did he smile? Why did he feel joy from the promise of hell? Why? Because Fire Lord Ozai welcomed such a challenge. Completely sure in his ability and will. This trial would be the making of him, the making of the greatest Fire Lord ever to grace the throne! It was...wonderful...how blessed he felt that such woes would be inflicted upon his people.

But...where to start? The ships had reported that these lands to the east were not abandoned of men. Some seemed sparse in population, yet others were strong, and well developed. In these alien kingdoms, Ozai saw opportunity. If they had strong and powerful infrastructure, then surely it should be repurposed. Repurposed for his own nation's needs. The Fire Nation knew no superior, and in time his dominion would be inevitable.

But for now, such a thing was impossible. His armies were gone, only his homeland guard remained. He had war fleets, yet no possible way to get them out of harbour. Oh how the loss of the fire benders had injured them! No, conquest was no option. Only subterfuge would yield results. He would need to be coy, he would need to learn how these strange new nations functioned. To learn their ways, learn how to play their games, their intricate games of politics.

But Ozai knew this world well. The game of thrones was not one for the naïve or faint hearted. It took drive, unflinching will, and the forked-tongue of a fawning dragon to oil ones way into achieving their agendas. He could not achieve this himself, his nation was in turmoil. And they needed him. Like his acolytes and bureaucrats, he would be required to work night and day to move them towards recovery, to raise his crippled and bisected realm towards its former glory.

And who could he trust with such a promise? Such importance? Not a politician, they had their own schemes and agendas. No, he needed someone uncompromising in their loyalty and devotion to him. Someone who would on no account betray him, who never fails to realise the needs of their nation. There was none whom he trusted so, paranoia was a fine defence in the game. None he trusted so, save for one. One who had proven herself and her trustworthiness, time and time again.

"Sorry we're late, father. Working engines seem so hard to find these days!" A voice oiled its way from the chamber doors behind, making Ozai smile as he continued to look down from his balcony. The pink, hazy hue of the evening light, casting long and spindly shadows across his realm. His daughter knelt in bow, and was alone, except for one other. Who also bowed in kind beside her.

Indeed, there was only one whom he trusted so. His blood. His right hand. His Azula, his daughter. Only she had the calibre to perform the task he required. "Welcome home." He told her, still facing away from her as he watched his country move below. "You played your part so well in Ba Sing Sae. Never before have I known someone so young, who can achieve so much in so little time."

He was sure at that point that he heard a soft laugh. The laugh of a young woman, adamantly sure of her own unstoppable talents.

"Oh, well...infiltrating those peasant's simple society: It was child's play. Child's play to anyone with half a brain to their person. It was effortless really. There was no one up to the task of defying me." Her confidence knew no bounds. She was the obvious choice for this.

"It is only a shame that your efforts would yield no produce." He replied, reminding her of the difficulty they were in before she got ahead of herself. He began to turn towards her, so he could look her in the eye while he addressed her.

"Our country finds itself in dire circumstance, my daughter. And..." He paused, then stopped cold as he stared out ahead. His eyes fixed on the figure, the other figure in bow before him. He recognised him at once, how could he not? Tall, ungainly, a fop of thick unmanaged hair. A dark and twisted burn over his left eye. His mark, of failure and shame. Of course, Azula had said "Sorry we're late." It had not even registered at first, so much on his mind at this given time.

Yet there he was.

His nervous gaze, bore into the floor below. Dressed in his simple clothes of brown and green, as if he was a lowly peasant, not a failure of a prince kneeling before him. What nerve the boy showed, returning to him with near nothing to show for it! Azula had masterminded the subjugation of their adversary's capital. Zuko had been muscle, nothing more. But...perhaps his exile had indeed improved him. This was no longer a naïve boy. But a young warrior, hungry and eager to prove his worth. Still young, still learning, he could yet be moulded into someone useful to their nation. And to its Fire Lord.

Ozai's mind was made up, and his furious gaze softened. A desperate nation and desperate Lord needed every asset they could get. Whilst he did not trust the boy, he trusted his hunger for success. "So, you have returned to me." He announced softly, pacing slowly forward. "During our time of need, a young prince returns. Willing to serve his wounded country, however he can."

The boy didn't move, refusing to give anything away that might alienate his father. "But, you return in victory. Whilst the Earth Kingdom is lost to us, you remain."

You could cut the tension with a Sai.

"And in your actions, you have proven worth." His voice was like milk and honey, yet loud and magnificent as well. Zuko couldn't help but flinch as he addressed him. He had grown no less formidable during the few years they'd been apart.

"You have been away for a long time. The weight of your travels have changed you, I sense it. I sense your strength. And it makes me proud, what is more."

This made Azula flinch a little. She hadn't expected this. Was daddy just seducing Zuko? Acquiring a useful tool when he saw it? Or, was he genuinely proud of her weakling brother?

"I am proud, as when your loyalty was tested, you chose to serve your country. You remained loyal to your people, and performed all of your duties admirably. You have redeemed yourself, my son. Welcome home."

And that was that, his will was spoken. Zuko was here to stay. And would play his part, in the plan currently formulating in Ozai's mind. "GUARD!" The Fire Lord commanded, summoning a lone soldier to the door. "Summon my daughters' advisors, Lo and Li. I require them. The people require hope, they bray for it, and I shall provide it." With a bow, the guardsmen turned to leave.

"What plans do you have for us, father?" Azula asked him eagerly. She knew him well, knew that there would be work for her. And she welcomed it. Anything that would improve her political standing.

Ozai smiled. Whilst the road ahead of them was both hard and long, he knew. That they would prevail...