Fair warning: this is a dark story. An M rating seemed excessive since there's no explicit sex, graphic violence, or even vulgar language, but there are some heavy themes here – namely incest-as-abuse (as opposed to incest-as-smokin'-hot, which I think is an important clarification; the characters upon whom it's perpetrated don't always see it that way, but it is abuse) and the murder of children, not to mention that it all takes place in an apocalyptic Bad End AU in which a good chunk of the main characters are dead. If that's not your thing, I totally understand, but please just…don't read it. I've dealt with reviewers repeatedly insulting my work because they disagree with its basic premise, and it's fruitless for everyone involved.

Oh, and be advised that this story is NCC: non-comics-compliant. I haven't gotten around to reading the ATLA comics, and from what I've heard they're not my cup of tea. Since this AU diverges from canon before the point where they picked up, that shouldn't be too much of a problem, but there may be elements of backstory or characterization that are different from what's presented in the comics.

Chapter One: Wings of Flame

"Sorry I'm late, Father. Good palanquin bearers are so hard to come by these days. So, is everything ready for our departure?"

Father glanced over his shoulder. "Rise, Azula," he said, turning back toward the sea and the ship waiting for them. "Royalty does not greet the dawning of a new world on its knees."

Hearing Father announce his new title to the assembly in the plaza, watching the banners unfurl and the pillars blaze, Azula almost trembled with excitement. She could feel Sozin's Comet approaching, tantalizing her with its promise of untold power, and with it a glorious new era.

As Phoenix King, Father would need a queen by his side. Mother, while she was around, had held him back; a Phoenix Queen would have to be someone Father could trust with the future of his empire. Someone who would bear him children strong of body and sharp of wit, that wouldn't disappoint him like Zuko had. Someone who would be a capable ruler, but defer to the wisdom of his judgment – a consummate second in command.

It was her hand he would ask, she was certain of it. It wasn't as if she hadn't brought it up to him before. I'm not a courtesan, you know, she had said a few nights ago, her white legs unfolding on his red bedclothes. Her tone had been teasing, but her meaning, she trusted, was clear.

Time passed on swift wings once they left the plaza, and it seemed only moments before Azula stood on the walkway of an airship, the loose locks of her hair whipping in the wind. The fleet hadn't even reached land when she noticed one of the other airships falling out of formation. She leapt from her walkway and jetted over to it, arriving just in time to thwart a pathetic attempt at sabotage by some of the Avatar's band.

Between Azula and the firebenders in the crew, the Water Tribe boy, the escaped prisoner and the blind earthbender never stood a chance. They didn't go down without a fight, but they went down, for good.

Once the detoured airship had rejoined the fleet, Azula surveyed the inferno that had been the Wulong Forest. She realized, looking ahead, that Father's airship was no longer leading the charge. After casting about for a moment, she saw it downed and streaming smoke amid a field of tall stone pillars, and nearby, the fireworks of a bending battle.

A twinge of intuition made her take off toward them. Approaching the scene, she saw Father and the Avatar locked in combat, and was at first delighted; how truly propitious was this day, on which their most elusive quarry had offered himself up for slaughter. Then, with a plummeting feeling, she understood that Father wasn't winning. He wasn't even holding his own. The Avatar was unleashing his arsenal, his eyes and arrows aglow, and Father was fleeing.

The future Azula had imagined for herself flashed before her eyes like the life of a dying soldier: her place at Father's side, her magnificent reign, the generations of phoenix royalty she would beget. She would not let some sanctimonious little monk take it from her.

She ducked behind a pillar to await the perfect instant, knowing she'd have to strike true or fight. The Avatar slammed Father down onto a pillar and hovered above him, his sphere of elements spinning full tilt. When he flung up his arms to deliver the final blow. Azula tapped into the energy around her, swung her arm in an arc, and dealt a blow of her own: a massive bolt of comet-powered lightning, penetrating the sphere, connecting with the Avatar.

The sphere disintegrated as he plunged through the air. No sooner had he smashed to the ground between the pillars than Azula was with Father, helping him to his feet. He seemed stunned, breathing heavily, but after a few moments he shook Azula off and strode to the edge of the pillar.

"We've done it," he said, staring down at the Avatar's battered body. "At last. We've done it."

We? Azula thought, but said nothing. The muscles in Father's bare back flexed as he took a revitalizing breath. "Now that I have eliminated the Avatar, there will be nothing to stand in the way of the Great Purification. And nothing," he added, turning to face Azula, "to stand in the way of our rule."

Hearing our, Azula forgot I. "Father…?"

Father didn't smile often, so when he did, it was as if there were jewels between his teeth. He bestowed that honor upon Azula now. "Azula, I have been most fortunate to have you as a daughter, an officer, and a...companion." He took her hands and squeezed them gently. "I would be even more fortunate to have you as a queen."

They were wed not long after the Great Purification, in a ceremony that was also Azula's coronation as Phoenix Queen, and the last held in the old palace before it was demolished to begin construction on a bigger, better one. Everyone of consequence in the former Fire Nation was in attendance, watching from their knees as their new queen made her vows to her husband and her empire.

For the occasion, Azula had commissioned a special accessory: a series of elegantly-crafted bronze-and-gold pipes, worn over her gown on her back. They were sized and arranged such that when she focused fire through them, it emerged in sapphire plumes that resembled wings. Wearing them, standing beside Father, hearing the officiant proclaim them bound forever, she felt weightless – as if, on wings of flame, she could fly.