Author's Note: I've been a member of FFN here for quite some time now, and on many occasions, I have stumbled across my fair share of LJ community challenges –many variations of this one being perhaps the most frequent (and interesting). Due to my style being as it is, I seriously doubt any of my attempts will be drabbles; most will follow one-shot lines, probably. We'll see, though. Well, actually this first one is drabble-sized, but I can't say the next ninety-nine will be.

For now, I am probably going to hold off any attempts to finish or update any of my other fics; I want to become one of the lucky few authors that actually make it to finishing this challenge. It is my new point of honor –wish me luck, Sokkla shippers!

Oh, Dixie, you made me do this too! Just so you know…

Frost and Flames

By: Passionworks

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001: Roses

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The rose is a mystical flower, blooming at just the peak of the Fire Nation's summer season. Their petals are like little red insignias, flags of the country's allegiance. Their thorns are challenging symbols that mark risk and peril, the certainty of danger –the thrill it brings to the holder. The bloom itself is the greatest embodiment of romance, for love is worth every possibility of doom.

But only fools offer flowers to the healing princess.

"Oh, Azula," calls the gaunt nurse who watches over her during the day, "he's sent another batch. He must really like you."

"It's folly, Nurse," a snappy Azula angrily answers back. "The man is just Zuko's Water Tribe ambassador –he's only out to make himself look good in the court."

The nurse shakes her head and hauls the bouquet, cradling it in her arm like a child. She lays it on the raven-haired princess' lap, smiling. "They say a man who is truly in love is willing to wait for the roses to bloom."

"Well, Uncle tells me that flowers belong to the earth." Azula picks up the mass of blooms and sets them on a nearby table. "From that, I'd say that picking them shows a man is only willing to steal from the land to harvest his own selfish interests."

"Why are you such a critical girl, Azula?"

Princess Azula sends a sly glare, her eyebrows furrowing. Her teeth clench. "Nurse, of what good would it be for me to be romantically inclined to someone of a different nationality? Besides, my purpose as the Fire Nation Princess is to marry a wealthy man's son, not a peasant who dwells in an igloo."

"He's a political ambassador –"

"A Water Tribesman, Nurse. Nothing more."

The nurse sighs in her loss. There is no swaying the girl's deranged mind once it is already set.

"Still," she says, "you should be thankful that he is thinking of you, wishing you well. Read this card he sent you."

Azula ignores this, sending a dismissive palm to her chin. "His sister is the sole reason I am locked away in this mental institution. Why should I further affiliate myself with my enemy?"

"But," the nurse interjects, "the war is over. The nations are no longer divided."

"If that was true, I wouldn't be in here right now. I would be pardoned for my crimes; you know this to be accurate, Nurse."

"Come now. Just read the card."

"I refuse." She yawns, her spine cracking audibly as she goes about stretching herself. "I am tired, Nurse. Be off with you; I need to rest."

"Yes, yes, Princess. I'll set the card here, in case you change your mind."

"Let it collect dust then."

The elderly nurse bows and exits, letting the door close slowly behind her.

Looking about the room in a curious manner, the princess seizes her opportunity and snatches the roses and the card from their resting place. She opens the parchment and reads it aloud –quietly, though, so the fair nurse cannot hear her.

But the nurse just discreetly watches from the door's small, rectangular screen. She beams warmly. How wonderful, she thinks, to see the princess finally open up her heart…