For those of you that don't follow me, I do in fact ship Azula/Kuei. I haven't come up with a clever name for it yet, however. Maybe Kazula. It sounds like "kazoo."

This is how I spent my Sunday afternoon instead of doing my reading for class. Please enjoy.

Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me. Otherwise I would totally be rolling in cash right now. But I am not. I am a broke college student.

The aging ex-Fire Lord never understood why he got so many visitors-or visits in general-in his damp, dark, and all-around depressing prison cell. Why he hadn't been moved to the Boiling Rock was also beyond him. In the eight years since the war, he had come to terms with his defeat, and having spent time counseling his son, Ozai had come to the conclusion that as much as his family hated him, they definitely weren't going to forget about him any time soon.

One thing he could never grasp his mind around was when other people visited him. For example, Mai, Zuko's wife (just the thought of those two finally married made him feel old), stopped by nearly once a month just to pry information from him whenever Zuko started getting crazy ideas. "He's been talking to you, again, hasn't he?" Since his imprisonment, the Avatar himself had made an appearance to inform him of some mistake he'd made by consulting with Zuko, his older brother had come by once or twice if only to share decent tea with him and otherwise talk about nothing of any importance, and even once his wife made a brief appearance to him; although, her game of "I told you so" wasn't any fun.

Today though, today just baffled the aging man. At first, he just considered the event a delusion of senility. He was sure that the coughs and colds brought onto him in prison would've been enough to advance his aging. If there was one thing he would never believe, it would be today.

Ozai was woken by the sounds of voices outside his cell door. Two he recognized easily: Zuko and Mai. As he sat up and leaned against the cold wall, he was suspicious enough by the two of them there together that the third voice he heard didn't even matter to him. It seemed familiar enough, he supposed. When the door opened and let in the light of the torches in the hallway, he squinted his eyes to fight the sudden brightness. Before him stood a woman he couldn't recognize the shadowy silhouette of. As the light receded and his eyes readjusted, he could tell she was around the same age as Mai, some 22 or 23 years old. She knelt down in front of the bars between them, and he could make out her pale complexion and dark hair: something distinctly Fire Nation. The dress she wore was of a light green color, and this he couldn't wrap his foggy brain around. The only Fire Nation girl he knew of that had left for the Earth Kingdom was his daughter's silly friend, that Ty Lee. He knew the woman sitting before him wasn't her though.

Ursa had come to him in Earth Kingdom clothing, but she was as old and gray as he was.

"Have I become an attraction for the tourists?" he asked with a certain sarcasm he'd master using on his son.

The young woman's posture melted; now he realized exactly how straight and proper she'd been sitting. "Dad," the woman whispered, her voice trailing off as though she hadn't wanted to speak at all.

The old man raised an eyebrow at her one word. None of his visitors had spoken a word of his daughter since Zuko had chewed him out some six or seven years ago about how tortured she was because of how he had treated her. Zuko had been upset with Ozai plenty of times-and all justly so-but that day had been the absolute worse of his rage-fueled speeches. The family Ozai had single-handedly destroyed. Azula was the last piece of it. The rest of them had moved on, recovered, been able to live with the damage he'd done. Not Azula, as Zuko informed him.

A gold ring tied to a cord around the woman's neck glinted in the dim firelight of the dying torches on either side wall. Her hands sat folded in her lap directly under the simple necklace, and on her left hand was another ring of diamonds and emeralds.

This couldn't be real. That was Ozai's only consensus. It was some joke, some sort of prank by Zuko to induce him with guilt. A sick plot to ruin him and make him feel pain. In the state he'd last been told of his daughter, she was most certainly suicidal. Zuko had found someone to play her only to appear later and tell him she had finally done herself in. What a tragic plan, indeed.

"What did you say?"

The woman had been staring at her hands in her lap, and at the sound of his voice she looked up, gold irises that matched her jewelry connected with his eyes. "Dad," she repeated in a stronger, more clear voice. "You are my father, remember?" Again, at the end of her question, her voice dropped in volume and confidence.

Ozai nodded slowly. "I have a daughter, but she's insane and most likely taken her life by now." The voice was even recognizable. Zuko had found one astounding imposter.

"I'm right here," the woman claimed. "It's me, Azula. How could you not recognize me?"

This act wasn't going to go away without his compliance. He leaned back against the wall. "Alright, alright. What brings you to my lowly prison cell?" he asked. "Thought you might follow the trend of the rest of my family? If you've brought tea or insults, I'm sure they're nothing I haven't heard or drank before."

A certain pout came across her lips. He'd seen it before, last when he'd told his daughter to hold her tongue on the morning of his invasion, but plenty of times in the fourteen years before that. It was something he knew meant she was disgruntled, frustrated, confused, or just generally unhappy with whoever was the one to be receiving it.

"I'm married," she snapped. "Have you heard that one before?"

Ozai had to admit, this story was pretty good. Azula getting married had been spoken of once between him and his wife. Tradition was to marry princesses off for political purposes. They had decided Azula was going to have more political use in her own abilities than any man marrying her off to would have.

"I suppose that is a new one," he pondered aloud. "And I also suppose you've found some noble earthbender of sorts to tie yourself to?"

"No, he's not a bender at all," she admitted. "He's the Earth King."

A crooked smile slipped onto his face before he began to laugh. Did Zuko think he was mad? That he would actually be able to believe that Azula could've possibly married the Earth King? "Impossible!" he declared.

The woman would have none of his shenanigans. The pout deepened in her face until lines on her cheeks and forehead reflected in shadows of the burning light. Now this was a face he could recognize. "You've turned into your mother," he told her when his laughing had lost its fun. "Even betrayed your country like she did."

"Don't talk about what my mother did." Hurt bled into her words now. "I'm nothing like her."

Something in Zuko's tirade about how he had destroyed Azula came back to him now. The only complaint about his mother, it seemed. She had taken part in destroying Azula, too. Obviously this imposter had been practicing some time to sound as pained as she did.

"No, of course you're not," he said.

"I'm pregnant," the woman said before Ozai could say anymore about Ursa. "That's why I came here today."

Certainly this woman didn't look pregnant, and besides, this charade wasn't working. "With the Earth King's child?" he asked suspiciously.

She nodded. "Hopefully his son." Her voice was soft again, and a smile came across her lips for the first time since she'd come into Ozai's cell.

"And why has this brought you here?"

"You're my father," she explained. "I thought you should know. I thought you might want to hear something good."

His brother had been the last person to talk about anything other than his behavior and bad ideas. "Something good?" the ex-Fire Lord repeated her words. "There is no such thing as good news for me anymore."

The woman's posture sank again, and her eyes fell back to her hands. "I should've come by a long time ago, or not at all." She pushed herself up to stand, and in the moment she turn to leave, Ozai thought he could detect the hints of a swollen belly. "You haven't changed much at all," she said before reaching for the door handle and pulling the door open. Sie disappeared into the light which she came from, and once the metal door shut behind her, silence filled his cell.

Zuko never came by to tell Ozai what had really happened. Maybe he knew his plan failed. Maybe that had been his plan all along. Or maybe, Ozai had imagined the whole thing to entertain his boredom of sitting by himself. He couldn't really decide, he just knew she wasn't real. At very least, she wasn't the real Azula.

Outside the prison, Azula asked to sit down; the walk down the stairs had made her light-headed. Zuko helped her sit and held onto her hand while Mai called for the coach to come around. "Is it the baby?" he asked softly.

She shook her head. "I don't think so."

"What's wrong, Azula?"

"He laughed at me," she murmured.

Zuko placed the back of his hand on her cheek to feel how warm she was. Her cheeks were flushed pink and her skin wasn't just warm, it was borderline hot. "Maybe you need to drink some water," he offered.

"I don't think he believed me," she elaborated. "He said I was-" The tears brimmed her eyelids. "That I had killed myself."

"Azula," Zuko said in the way one would speak to an upset child. "He's just a bitter old man."

She nodded, leaning into his hand on her cheek.