Kick. She executed the move with perfect grace, her leg straight and strong. Step. With one foot slightly forward she lunged into a traditional firebending stance. Breath. She inhaled deeply, quickly expelling short white flames of fire from her nostrils. Punch. Her dominant hand flew forward, a hot fire blast shooting from it. Kick. She raised her leg again, this time an arc of flames following in her foot's wake. Step…
She continued her movements. Each blast stronger, each flame hotter. She appeared so comfortable with the exercise that it flowed effortlessly, a deadly fire dance. Her golden eyes glinted with determination, determination that fueled her fire and pushed her body to endure the pain of the endless movements. She was completely enraptured, so focused on her bending that she did not notice the man standing by the doorway.
His matching golden eyes watched her with pride. They resembled hers completely if not for the scar that covered one of them. The burnt flesh surrounding the eye was a dull pink that marked that it had been years perhaps decades since it had been burned onto his face.
A topknot rested on his head, the hair fine and black with a few streaks of gray that rather than hinting of age, hinted of a great stress he had once endured. A stress much more substantial than that of the continuing fire bending exercises he was watching his daughter now endure.
He wore the garb of royalty, as did she. Her clothing was armored, and lined with gold. His was similar if not more ornate. In both of their hair were golden hairpieces, single flames that held their topknots in place.
He continued to watch her movements. His expression flickered from one of pride to one of love. Finally, he raised a hand towards her and called out.
"Zahara, you've had enough practice for so early in the morning."
She looked towards him without surprise, her lips forming a quarter smile.
"Father, it was you who said firebenders rise with the sun."
"And they do." He paused, grinning, "But not on the day that honored guests arrive. You need rest or you'll fall asleep during the dinner tonight."
She shrugged in slight agreement, "Ok, maybe I've had enough for today." Assenting, she brushed the light sweat from her forehead and began to stretch her left leg against a wall.
"When will the Avatar arrive?"
"In an hour or so," her father answered.
She nodded, "And will Master Bei Fong accompany him?"
"Toph will be with him, " he said, emphasizing the name, "don't call her Master of anything, it makes her feel old." He grinned, adding, "You will find yourself under a pile of rocks in less than a second."
"I'd like to see her try," Zahara muttered.
"There are times when such arrogance can be mistaken for confidence or even courage, " her father commented, "if anyone who has had less then a life time of bending training thinks they can best her in a fight, they are foolish." He gave her a stern look. She huffed slightly, smoke blowing out of her nostrils.
"It has been too long since your mother and I have seen our old friends, I expect that you will welcome them and their children as guests in the palace," he said, motioning around him. She nodded, a silent promise.
"Will Gyatsa and Yang come as well?" she questioned, brushing a strand of hair back nonchalantly.
Her father nodded with a chuckle. Patting her on the arm, he said, "Go get clean and meet your brother in the formal chamber," he paused, "you have an hour."
With that he left, his red robes flowing behind him as he swiftly exited the training room that was connected to her quarters.
She shook her head, trying to rid it of its nerves. Sitting down cross-legged she attempted to do her breathing exercises but even that failed. Eventually leaning against a wall of the room she rested her head on her knees, trying to make sense of her thoughts, and the foreign sensation of her jackhammering heart.
She hadn't seen him in years, though the time apart made it feel substantially longer. He was nearing eighteen, as was she. In a few months time she would be officially presented as Princess of the Fire Nation, heir to the throne. In a few months time he would - what would he be doing in a few months time?
Zahara shook her head as she mulled over his carefree life. He was an air bender, one of the few the world had seen in over a century. He divided his time between the air temples, attempting to rebuild a civilization that had been proclaimed extinct long ago. The more she thought about him, the more she realized there was little she truly knew about Yang.
Butterflies batted around inside her stomach, the sensation foreign but not all together unpleasant. She knew what her body was saying yet she chose to ignore it and continued her thoughts.
She had only ever been alone with Yang twice. Once when she was a wisp of a girl, a six year old learning to control her inner fire. He had sat next to her in the Royal Garden and taught her an ancient breathing technique. She had at first been skeptical. But as his little hands reached out and helped her achieve the stance, she began to feel aware of everything in the surrounding clearing. The quaking of the turtle ducks in the pond, the light breeze murmuring, the boy next to her, and the erratic beating of heart. She had always wondered if he had noticed it and conceded that if he had he was too kind to embarrass her by mentioning it.
Zahara stood up, and after stretching slightly, walked into her room. She sat in front of her large mirror, gazing at the reflection. Shaking her head in frustration, she removed the topknot from her head. Her hair cascaded downward, long thick black strands that framed her aristocratic face: high cheekbones, slightly pursed lips, and the trade mark golden eyes of fire nation royalty. She felt ugly and she felt vain for even bothering to look at her self in such a way. Frowning, she blew a strand of hair from her face. Instantly a white flame shot out and burnt the piece of hair. She sighedin annoyance. Plucking the strand of burnt hair, she tossed it out the window where it was carried away by the breeze.
Still feeling antsy from her talk with her father, Zahara perched herself on the open windowsill and stared out at the fire nation capital; her city and the center of the kingdom she would one day rule. She never felt nervous when she reflected on the position she would inevitably inherit from her father. She was ready to serve her country and ready to, if the time every came, truly lead them. Her legs dangled out of the window. The slight breeze that tickled them relaxed her. She loved the view from her room, looking over all the burnt red roofs of the capital. Her love of heights only increased with each time she sat here.
That was the second time, they where both awkward teenagers. Yang had sat next to her on this very sill, taken her hand, and told her of his home in the Air Temples. She had listened intently to his light voice as it wove images of places far beyond the Fire Nation. Zahara smoothed her royal outfit as she thought.
She had once craved a life such as his, but now, as her coronation loomed, she had accepted that just as he was born to bend air and she fire, he had been born to live the life of a nomad and her of Fire Lady. She brushed her hair from her face, the wind blowing it this way and that. As she continued to think, she held a small white flame in her hand, its heat a small comfort and an old friend.
She still remembered what he had said to her as they gazed at the view, "There are millions of people in this city, no matter how many times I tell myself otherwise, I somehow know there must be an airbender out there." His determined expression made her know that he had officially adopted that quest, the quest to reestablish his people. It was also the day she knew she would lose him to his travels. Yet had she ever had him in the first place?
She continued to gaze off into the distance, eventually noticing the flying bison that soared over the city and landed in front of the stone walls of the palace. She looked once more at her nervous reflection. After carefully repining her topknot, she walked out of the room, reasoning with herself that it had been four years and that he had all but forgotten her.
Eventually reaching the door to the formal chamber, a guard acknowledged her politely and let her in. Upon seeing her brother waiting besides their father's throne, she waved half-heartedly at him and took a place on the right of the Fire Lord. Urzon seemed excited to see his old friends, although he was very obviously feigning boredom. At least the antics of her younger brother amused her. Maybe Yang's return hadn't completely up rooted her world, as much as it felt like it had.