"Thank you, pirates!" Vailea called back as she and Iroh waved to the crew.

"What pleasant gentleman," Iroh commented; readjusting the music box and turtle duck model he had just bought. "And ideal bargainers too; they give a fair price range, and the general selection is beyond that of a normal stall. I wouldn't mind going back."

It was true that the pirates had been surprisingly polite. Many of them he recognized from the 'WANTED' posters Vailea kept in her room. But instead of maintaining the bloodthirsty, ravenous expressions he had seen on those posters, the pirates actually smiled. Iroh imagined they were keeping their typical grunting and growling to a minimum in the presence of Vailea, whom they called 'Madam' and 'Miss'.

Iroh even noticed a few of them trying to hide their cutlasses when she first appeared. One man had been so eager to hide his dagger that he nearly sliced off a finger. This, Iroh thought, must have been the influence of Vailea's warning speeches against the dangers of violence. But honestly, they were pirates. Slicing a man within the inch of his life was simply in their nature.

"They come to our port about twice a year" Vailea informed him. "It's usually early winter or late spring. The Captain says that they make a round trip from the Fire Nation to the Southern Water Tribe to the Earth Kingdom to the Northern Water Tribe, and then repeat the cycle."

"Sounds a bit of a rigid schedule for men who are supposed to be answering the call of adventure," Iroh nearly dropped his music box as he said this, and Vailea had to help him rearrange all his purchases so that he could actually carry them.

"Well, the one with the scarf says they're usually lucky enough to find at least one good adventure with every cycle. And they like the security of sailing in a circle because it means that they're always going somewhere. It was the one with the ginger beard who told me that life on the sea can be quite dull at times, and it's nice to know that you're at least going someplace familiar and somewhat exciting."

"I didn't know pirates were so complicated," Iroh said honestly.

"You'd never know unless you asked them," she said while absentmindedly tucking her hair behind her ears. "You know," Vailea added thoughtfully. "Pirates see things we don't; things we can't. They aren't linked to one Nation, so they can travel freely—they're like nomads."

"Nomads with cutlasses," Iroh said in a dreamy tone; pretending to stare off into space. He waited for Vailea to hit him playfully like she often did. But when he looked at her, she was still staring at the ship; transfixed.

"It would be nice, wouldn't it? To have your own ship and be able to travel anywhere you want. You could just sail on forever…or you could sail home." Vailea said, still starring at the ship. "They invited me to go with them, you know; travel as long as I liked."

"What?" Iroh asked in disbelief. What had she just said? His brain was trying to register. Was she serious? What would pirates want with Vailea? What would Vailea want with pirates? Iroh could only imagine what that disgusting crew would want with a teenage girl.

"Mhmm," Vailea made a committal noise in her throat. "They said they've been meaning to invite me for a while now."

"Lea, you're not actually considering…"

Then she turned around. And there was an unmistakable look in her eyes. It was one Iroh had seen before; had seen countless times. It was the look she gave when she was lost in her storytelling; the deep look, where her eyes became portals. And now she was about to be lost in her own story if he didn't do something.

"Lea," Iroh said urgently; taking both her shoulders firmly in his hands. "Lea, you're home is here. You live here with me and your father…and Chef Ai and the maids and the servants and the Story Tree. Lea you belong here." He didn't shout at her, but rather spoke sharply and firmly. He wanted his message to be clear. She couldn't leave with those pirates. She didn't belong with them. Vailea belonged here. She wasn't a pirate or a nomad. She was a Firebender; she belonged in the Fire Nation.

Vailea stared at him. The look in her eyes faded. "How do you know where I belong?" She asked boldly. "Just because I live here now doesn't mean I should forever. What if I have things to do? What if there is something I'm meant to do and I can't do it here?"

"What do you mean?" Iroh asked, but she didn't respond. "Lea, you're a Firebender, where else would you belong?"

She maintained contact, but something behind Vailea's eyes stirred. "Where?" The question was one that didn't demand an answer, at least not from Iroh. Where did she belong? The answer was obvious, but Vailea seemed to be asking herself more than anybody else.

"Listen," said Iroh in a softer voice. He remembered the way Kisho had handled Vailea. He put his hand softly on her back, and rubbed back and forth. "The Messenger Hawk can fly for miles, but it always returns to its master. Do you know why?"

"Why?" She asked, and he could tell she was humoring him.

"Because that's where its home is; it returns to the place where people care about it."

"Is this your idea of convincing me to stay, then?" She asked, almost smiling.

"I'm not doing the best job, am I?"

"I can see what you're getting at, but the proverb could use a bit more work."

"I haven't practiced in a while."

"I can tell."

They stared at each other. A bit harsh, Iroh thought. He had somehow awoken the sleeping dragon; the fire inside Vailea. She hadn't been herself since the meeting with Kassan; her spirit had been snuffed. But here it was again, more vehement than before.

"Lea, I—"

"Don't want to talk about it," she interrupted. And without another word, with a flash of hair, she turned on her heel and walked away.

Iroh was left confused, angry and holding more bargained items than he could carry. But he let her go. Any idiot could tell something was wrong. Something had been wrong for a while now.

Leaving the music box on the side of the road, Iroh struggled to fit the remaining items in his arms. He was able to shuffle his way back to the palace where he dumped another batch of bargained objects in the bushes near the gates; he would pick them up later.

The guard grinned at him when Iroh reached the palace doors. Iroh smiled uneasily back. "I've just heard the good news, Prince Iroh," said the guard through his heavy, metal helmet.

"Good news?" Iroh asked. His mind had been with Vailea, and it had taken him a moment to register what the guard's words.

"Yes, sir. Haven't you heard?" Iroh couldn't read the man's expression from behind the helmet, but he sounded surprised. "Madam Aiko, your future wife, has finally come to visit. Her parents, the Nobleman Dato and the Noblewoman Hana are anxiously waiting to meet their future son-in-law. Your father has requested that—"

But Iroh didn't hear the rest. His head was spinning. Wife? Aiko? No. That was wrong. It had to be wrong. Iroh had always known in the back of his mind that his parents had found him a wife. All Fire Nation royals had arranged marriages; whether to gain wealth or power, politics always played a role. Parents sold their children to the highest bidder. Even so, Iroh had never really believed he would have to go through with it. Sure his parents, his grandparents and countless generations before them had married whomever their parents chose. But the idea of marriage had always seemed so far off. A part of him never really believed he would have to go through with it. He had, subconsciously, been making other plans…

"I hear she's quite beautiful too," the guard interrupted Iroh's thoughts. "She's around your age; black hair, golden eyes—Fire Nation through and through."

Iroh was still starring. "How long has she been here?"

"On a few hours, sir. Her family just arrived."

"Where is my father?"

"I expect he's with them. I was instructed to inform you that he and your mother desire a conference with you in the Great Hall. You best be getting a move—"

Iroh was off before the guard had a chance to finish. He was running faster than he ever had before. He was running beyond the walls of the palace; beyond reason; he was running to reclaim his life.

By the time the Great Hall was in site, Iroh was exhausted. His legs were weak and trembling because he had never stopped to take a breath. Even when confronted by members of the palace staff, Iroh only brushed past them. He expected they would have questions, even words of malice. He didn't want to hear any of it. Through years of secretly being together, Iroh expected that most of knew. How could they not? That Iroh and Vailea were more than they tried to let on. He didn't know how they had managed to quiet their tongues, and kept the gossip from reaching the royal court. But subconsciously, it seemed everyone knew that Vailea and Iroh were destined for one another.

"Ah, here he is now," said a voice, and Iroh looked for its source. Standing beside his father, dressed in extravagant robes, was who Iroh guessed must be Nobleman Dato.

"Yes, this is our son, Prince Iroh." Iroh's father spoke in a falsely cheery manor. He and Iroh's grandfather were also wearing their best attire. Iroh's mother stood beside them, beaming.

"Father," was all Iroh was able to blurt out. His tongue seemed to have swelled in his throat. He was panting heavily, and his mind was racing for what to say. How could he say it—especially in front of the Nobleman and Noblewoman?

"He's usually not late like this," Iroh's father explained. He looked disapprovingly at his son. "Iroh, this is your future father-in-law, Nobleman Dato. You will bow to him."

For a brief second, Iroh dared to disobey. This man would not be his future father-in-law because he would not marry his daughter. He needed to explain to his own father that Aiko would simply not become his wife. But then, with a surge of hatred towards himself and his family, Iroh bowed. "Sir," was all he could mange to say.

"Honestly," said the round-faced woman Iroh knew must be Noblewoman Hana. "He doesn't say much, does he? So quiet…I expect those are just the values of respect and reverence you have instilled in him. He must be polite to his elders."

A flicker of a smile dashed across his father's face. "Yes," he said quietly. He paused before facing his son to say "Iroh, Nobleman Dato owns much of the land near the southern provinces. He promises me that Fire Nation factories will be stationed there to provide more weapons for the war effort."

"Oh," Iroh managed to form a response. This must be the reason for the marriage then; land. Iroh faced Dato; a smiling old man who looked almost twice the age of his wife. And he was large as his wife was small. "Hello sir," Iroh managed to squeak out again. Something inside of him had taken over. He couldn't shout what he had run through and entire palace to tell his father. He was trapped in the body of a prince; bound by the restrictions of royalty. His lips couldn't move to disrespect his father, even when he willed them to.

"Father," Iroh said again; forcing his words to obey. "Father, may I speak to you in private?"

Iroh's father frowned. "Not now Iroh, for I have a job for you. Nobleman Dato has a son, and this son has expressed interest in exploring the palace. You will be his guide."

Iroh was about to protest when he heard a sneeze. Everyone turned around. Standing behind her mother; clutching the side of her robes, was Aiko. Her black hair was tied into what looked to be a relentlessly tight bun. Her round face was white; porcelain. She was small; tinier than Iroh had been at that age.

As he stared, Iroh guessed that she couldn't be older than eight or nine. Her wide eyes, which were the same golden shade as Iroh's, were dim and lifeless. There was no curiosity, no vivacity behind them. She wore a blank expression. It was as if the life had already been crushed out of her.

"Forgive me," said Nobleman Dato; bringing his daughter into the light. "This is Aiko. Aiko, would you like to say hello to Iroh?"

The little girl stared up at him. "Hello," she said in a voice so quiet Iroh could barely hear. She bowed respectfully.

It took a moment before Iroh realized that his jaw was still open. "He—hello," he said in a hoarse voice. Where they kidding? Honestly, his parents had to be playing a cruel joke on him. This girl must have been at least eight years his junior. She was a baby in comparison to him.

"And over there," said Dato; pointing his fat finger to the corner. "Is our son, Keyung." Iroh looked to where Dato was pointing. A boy (who really was about his age), was talking sharply to a servant.

"And I want fresh towels every day; not once a week, not every two days, ONCE a day." The maid was nodding, and looked like she was about to cry.

"Keyung," Dato called over, and the boy turned. He was the spitting image of his father, large with fleshy lips and pink cheeks. But unlike the bubbling man in front of him, Iroh noticed that Keyung already had already developed frown lines.

"Hello," Iroh said again, bowing.

"Hi," mumbled Keyung coldly, bowing as well.

There was a brief pause where neither of them knew what to say next. But Iroh's mother interrupted the silence swiftly. "Iroh has agreed to escort you around our castle Keyung. I am sure you will find it an enjoyable tour."

Keyung forced what he must have thought was a smile. "Thank you Madam. I'm sure I will."

"Keyung is very interested in architecture," Dato interjected. "He loves looking at palaces, castles and all manner of buildings." There was a pause. "I hope the time you spend together will be the beginning of a fruitful friendship."

Iroh looked blankly from his mother to his father, and then to Dato and his wife. They smiled back at him; Dato and Hana with genuine glints in their eyes, Iroh's parents with meaningful stares.

It was all too obvious that this was not the time to explain to his parents that Aiko was simply not the right match for him. Moreover, the firebenders would have to go the same way as the airbenders before he agreed to marry her. But Iroh would have to act with stealth and cunning to find a loophole; a way out of this mess. He would approach the problem was he did a firebending opponent, or a Pai Sho game; go through all the options before acting.

It took a second for Iroh to realize that he was walking. His feet had started without him, and Keyung was already to his side. "So," Iroh began. "Where would you like to go first?"

"The kitchens," Keyung answered without delay.

Iroh tried to be pleasant. "I would highly recommend a different destination." He thought of Chef Ai, and how she would react if she was forced face-to-face with the brother of Iroh's supposed future wife.

"You asked where I wanted to go, and I told you," Keyung said sharply.

"Your father said you were interested in architecture. How about—"

"I'm hungry," Keyung interrupted before Iroh could make a suggestion. He was scowling now. It was obvious that visiting the kitchen was not just a suggestion; it was an order.

"As you wish," Iroh said with a sigh. He wasn't sure which was worse; meeting Chef Ai, or angering the pudding ball in front of him. Then again, Iroh did not want Keyung giving irritated reports to his family when Iroh was so desperate to win their favor. He led Keyung downstairs.

Most of their trip was completed in silence; broken only by the gurgling sounds coming from Keyung's stomach. At one point, Keyung did comment on the architecture, but his voice was haughty and pompous when he said "that door was welded with a technique the northerners use. It's typically employed in ship building. The southern provinces are much more efficient when it comes to door hinges."

And then the smell reached them before the door was even in sight. It was heavenly, as the food from the Chef Ai's kitchen always was. Iroh felt Keyung's pace quicken beside him. They reached the entrance, and Iroh took a deep breath. He heard Keyung do the same. But he was probably inhale the smell, whereas Iroh as trying to send as much oxygen to his brain as possible. He would need it.

The kitchen was so busy that nobody noticed them slip inside. Keyung sniffed greedily at the air, before looking expectantly at Iroh. "Well, this is it." Iroh said with a smile. "Beautiful, yes? I think so too. The cooking pot is over here. Tonight's dinner is in the corner, and oh look here comes Chef Ai. Doesn't she look lovely?"

Chef Ai was glaring as she carried a pot of soup towards the burners. She brushed past Iroh as if he didn't exist; destroying the hope Iroh had that perhaps she was unaware of Aiko's family and their connection to his own.

"What's wrong wit her?" Keyung asked loudly.

"Nothing," Iroh said dismissively. "Here, try this soup." He handed Keyung a spoon without looking at him, and hurried through the crowd towards Chef Ai.

"I'm sorry," was the first thing he said when he reached her. Iroh didn't know why he was apologizing. None of this had been in his control. But it felt right ask for forgiveness. "It was never my idea. It was never my wish. I never wanted—I never want to marry her." He explained, but Chef Ai was not looking at him. "Ai, please." Iroh tried coaxing her, but her eyes remained firmly forward. "Ai," he paused. "You know your hair looks beautiful, are you trying something new?"

She slammed the stirring spoon down on the table next to her. Iroh tried not to flinch. "Do not test me, Iroh!" The spoon was pointing at him now, as was Ai's piercing stare. "Do not think for a moment, a single moment, that you are doing yourself any favors by joking about this." She was yelling. They were causing a scene. But if anyone else in the kitchen had noticed the quarrel, they pretended not to. Iroh swore he caught one of the maids flinch when Chef Ai's voice rose. But she only swept her broom a bit faster away from them.

"I wasn't joking I was just—"

"Don't you test me!" She repeated. Chef Ai's upper lip was quivering dangerously now. Iroh was not surprised. In the absence of a mother, Chef Ai had become the dominant female figure in Vailea's life. Now that another girl threatened Vailea's place with Iroh, it seemed natural that she would react defensively.

Iroh was silent. He was sure that anything that came out of his mouth would just make things worse.

"And maybe," she continued fiercely. "In the midst of all this apologizing, you have forgotten what night it is."

"What night?" Iroh mouthed as he thought it.

Food from the stirring spoon splattered across his face as Ai swept it in the direction of the kitchen's one, tiny window. It was twilight, but in the fading colors Iroh could faintly make out the outline of the moon. It was round; full.

Iroh's heart skipped a beat.

"You were going to break the mold," said Chef Ai, and her voice was trembling now. Iroh looked back to her. "I thought you two, I was sure you two…" Ai paused. She turned away; probably, from what Iroh could tell, to wipe the tears out of her eyes.

Iroh opened his mouth to protest; to explain to Chef Ai that he and Vailea were just friends. He did so more out of habit than anything else. It seemed natural now to deny that there was anything between him and Vailea other than a strong friendship.

"Don't pretend. Don't you dare lie to me, boy. We all know. We've all known. We kept silent for her, and for you. We knew your parents wouldn't like it. She was never good enough for them," Chef Ai continued; spitting out the last word. "And this is how you repay us? This is how you repay her?" Chef Ai shook her head and turned away again, and Iroh was thankful. He couldn't handle the look in her eyes; the absolute loathing mixed with a deeper sadness.

Time passed before Iroh touched her back. He struggled for what to say but words weren't coming easily. "Chef Ai," he finally whispered. "Turtle ducks that swim together cannot control who else fills their pond. I never invited Dato and his family, it wasn't my choice." He paused. "I understand that you feel hurt, and betrayed. But don't you think it's possible, that I feel just as helpless as you?"

Chef Ai had returned to her stirring. She had set her jaw and was breathing heavily. Iroh waited for her to speak again. "Turtle ducks," she mumbled. And for a moment, he thought she was going to scream at him again. But she turned back in Iroh's direction, and when they made eye contact Ai was no longer glaring. She sighed. "Iroh baby," she shook her head. "Baby I love you, but turtle ducks?"
A wave of relief washed over him. "I'm still fine tuning the analogy." He said defensively.

Chef Ai looked behind him; watching Keyung devour the bowl Iroh left him with. "That was supposed to be the second course—it was going to feed the whole party."

"Oh, well, sorry about that." Iroh said awkwardly. "Erm, on the bright side of things it looks like he enjoyed it." This was an understatement. Keyung had finished with his spoon and was now proceeding to stick his entire face in the bowl as he licked the bottom.

Chef Ai smiled and looked at him. "Baby, what are we gonna do about this?"

"I'm working on it," said Iroh, who was still watching Keyung. "Do you think you could keep him busy for a while? I'd rather he wasn't with me when I see Lea."

"No problems, honey. I've got five more courses to keep him occupied." She smiled and kissed him on the cheek. Then she paused as Ai searched Iroh's face. "You're growing into such a handsome young man," she said after a time. Iroh had nothing to say to this, so he smiled pleasantly. "Well, anyway, Good luck, Prince Charming."

Iroh was able to slide out the kitchen door without drawing anymore attention. He walked briskly through the halls of the palace, careful not encounter anyone noble who would alert his parents.

By the time he reached the exit, the sunset colors had faded almost completely. And the lingering light cast eerie shadows as Iroh walked through the garden. He clung to the hope that Vailea had not heard the news about Dato and his family. Sure, Chef Ai knew, but she knew everything. There was still a chance.

And then Iroh saw Vailea. She as sitting by a fire she had made herself; tea in her hands; huddled in a little ball against the story tree. She wasn't crying. But the look on her face told Iroh all he needed to know. Vailea knew. She was pale; almost as pale as he was. Her knees were at her chin as she stared off into space. Her eyebrows were knitted together painfully.

"Lea," Iroh ventured quietly; half hoping she wouldn't here. But Vailea turned to face him.

"What?" She came out of a trance. "Oh, Iroh it's you!" Vailea said in surprise. Quickly shoving a piece of hair behind her ear, she poured another cup of tea. Most of it spilled on the grass. Iroh noticed her hands were shaking.

"Lea," Iroh tried again. But she shoved the cup of tea into his hand. He could smell the scent of orange.

"Drink," she said encouragingly.

Iroh did as he was told. He followed Vailea's lead and drank the tea. There was something missing from it.

"So," Vailea continued in a falsely cheery tone. "Do you want to tell a story or shall I?" She moved to the opposite side of the fire. The tree cast shadows in the firelight.

Iroh watched her, but stayed silent. He knew what he had to say, but he was sure neither he nor Vailea wanted to discuss it. Yet it needed to be discussed. He looked down at his tea cup. Part of it was cracked. He rubbed his finger up and down the slit thoughtfully. "Lea," Iroh said finally. "I've been thinking."

"About what?"

"Dragons."

"Dragons?"

"Yes. Dragons. I remember reading something in the library; it was about dragons." Vailea looked at him questioningly, but Iroh continued. "Dragons can live for hundreds of years, you know." Iroh sipped his tea. "And dragons, well they mate for life." Vailea was still looking at him. Iroh couldn't help feeling that the tables had turned. There had been so many times throughout their friendship when Vailea led him into a story this way; slowly releasing various and seemingly useless facts until she revealed their purpose at the very end. "Even though dragons live for hundreds of years," Iroh continued "they still manage to stay together. Sometimes they might separate—fly in opposite directions for a while—but they always find each other in the end." He sipped his tea again. "You once said we were dragons."

Vailea didn't respond right away. She was looking at the fire. Iroh didn't rush her. "She's very beautiful."

"Who?"

"You know who."

Iroh paused. "You're beating around the bush."

"She has glossy black hair." Vailea continued as if she had not heard his last comment. "Any man would be lucky to have her."

Iroh looked at her. "She's not my dragon."

"What?"

"You're my dragon, Lea. You've always been—even when you were covered in bark." Iroh smiled at the memory. Vailea, curiously, seemed to be at a loss for words.

"And what if I flew away?"

"Then I would follow you."

The two of them looked at each other.

"That's ridiculous, Iroh." She said finally.

"Why?"

"Because it is!" She fired up. "When people leave they do it for a reason. They run away so that they can't be followed! They run away to start a new life; or to fix past mistakes—they run away to conquer life themselves!"

Iroh looked at her. He tried to maintain a pleasant expression. Iroh expected that something small like this might set her off. He sipped his tea. "Then I'd be selfish and follow you."

Vailea continued to fume for a moment, but then her expression softened. She let herself fall onto the soft grass. "I know it isn't your fault." She said. "It's not even that girl's fault. You could even argue that it isn't your parents fault."

"No, no" Iroh interrupted her "feel free to blame them. I do."

Vailea smiled sadly. "It's just the way things are, Iroh. You are a royal. The royals have arranged marriages. That's the way it's always been. I just fooled myself into thinking maybe that would change, and maybe we could change it." She shook her head. "I've always told myself that nothing was impossible. That just because no one—"

"—ever has done something, doesn't mean no one ever will." Iroh finished her sentence.

Vailea looked surprised, but it quickly faded into the same sad smile from moments earlier. "Exactly."

"And I think you're right. Don't doubt yourself, Lea."

She looked up at him. "Do you believe in fate?" Vailea asked suddenly.

"Pardon?"

"Fate, you know, a destiny. Do you think people have destinies?"

Iroh thought for a moment. "Some people, perhaps."

"What if you're supposed to do something," she continued quickly "and it doesn't get done? What if you miss your chance?"

Iroh thought he knew what she was talking about. "If you feel it in your gut, don't let the ship sail. Chase—or in this case swim—after it." Iroh assumed Vailea was talking about them—Vailea and Iroh together. He wanted to encourage her. Iroh didn't want Vailea to give up yet. He hadn't.

She looked intently at the fire. Iroh watched as Vailea lifted her own fiery dragon out of the flames.

"So you are a firebender, then?" A new voice cut the silence. Both Vailea and Iroh spun around. With a great sinking feeling, rather like plunging off a cliff, Iroh noticed Keyung march his way into the clearing.

"How long have you been there?" Iroh asked sharply.

"Only a few minutes," Keyung said carelessly. "I followed you out of the kitchens, but I got lost. Your orchard isn't very well designed, Prince Iroh." Then Keyung faced Vailea. "You're a firebender."

"I am." She responded. Iroh could tell Vailea was still in a state of shock, but she quickly recovered. "My name is Lea." She said; forcing a smile. In the midst of everything, Iroh thought it was absolutely ludicrous to be cheerful. Keyung was intruding. How had he gotten away from Chef Ai? Had she run out of courses? But Vailea never missed an opportunity to make new acquaintances; even ones with heads as big as Keyung's.

"You're a firebender." He repeated. "I was watching from the bushes. You can make a dragon out of fire."

Iroh resisted rolling his eyes. Vailea looked like she was about to respond, but Iroh cut her off. "What do you want?" He asked harshly to Keyung.

"You were supposed to be touring me," Keyung said accusingly. "It doesn't matter what I want. I'm supposed to be with you. You can't make me leave or I'll tell your parents."

A new feeling of hatred rose inside Iroh. Before this he had just found Keyung arrogant, rude and annoying. But he had been able to tolerate him, until now. "You're intruding." He said.

But Keyung ignored him. "I'm glad you're a firebender." He said to Vailea. "The only people worth dealing with are firebenders. Everyone else is just a servant, and should be put in their place."

Iroh expected Vailea to lash out, but she didn't. Her face was surprisingly calm. The look in her eyes was understanding, not loathing. It was as if she comprehended completely where Keyung was coming from. "How did you come to that conclusion?" She asked, giving another little smile.

"My father," said Keyung; sitting down on the grass near Vailea. "But it's not an opinion; it's fact. That's why the war is such a good idea. We need to put the rest of the world in its place."

"You're—" Iroh began, but Vailea put her hand out so stop him. Iroh shut his mouth reluctantly. What was she playing at?

"That's too bad. There are a lot of nice people in other nations," said Vailea.

"They're inferiors," said Keyung; pulling out a handful of grass and throwing it into the fire. "Show me one of your moves." He ordered. "Do you know fire daggers?"

"Oh, I don't use firebending that way," said Vailea pleasantly.

"What do you mean?"

"I don't like to hurt people with my firebending."

Keyung looked taken aback. "What's the point of it then?"

"You saw her dragon." Iroh cut in caustically. "There are better ways to use fire than just killing people. You should try it some time."

Keyung glared at Iroh, but quickly turned back to face Vailea. "I bet you could conjure something up, if you were in danger." There was an edge to his voice that Iroh didn't trust. "You could probably make a fire blast if you needed to." And then it happened so quickly that Iroh barely registered what had happened. Keyung hurled a ball of fire straight at Vailea, who dodged it by inches.

"What do you think you're doing?!" Iroh flew in front of Vailea defensively. There was something bubbling inside of him that had nothing to do with the tea he was digesting.

"If she was a real firebender, she would defend herself," said Keyung mater-o-factly.

"Get out!" Iroh yelled. But Keyung stayed put, which only infuriated him more.

"I'm going to be your brother-in-law. You should be nicer to me," he said smugly. "If we're going to be family, I can't tolerate you hanging around with filth like her—she can't even firebend correctly."

And the flames left his hand before Iroh had finished his thought; it was instinctive. Keyung had hit a cord. "Don't you dare call her that!" He roared.

Keyung, like Vailea missed his shot my inches. "Oh," he said gleefully. "She won't fight, but you will. Let's see how good you are. If you want to be in my family, you have to be the best."

The part of Iroh's mind that controlled logic dropped out completely. He was beyond reasoning. This was, perhaps, the way Oazi felt when they practiced. Iroh was firing irrationally and at random. It didn't matter that Vailea was there and that she disapproved. It didn't matter that any injury to Keyung would have his parents roaring with furry. Iroh was shooting madly into the darkness. His eyes were wide, but not as wide as Keyung's. The boy, who seconds ago had been so sure of himself, was staggering helplessly as he tried to avoid Iroh's jets of fire.

"Iroh!" Vailea screamed, but he wasn't listening. "Iroh stop it!" She ordered.

Keyung had managed to find his way to his feet, and was rolling to get a better shot at Iroh's body. He fired, but Iroh dodged it easily.

"I believe you wanted fire daggers," Iroh spat fiercely; immediately the flames shot from the back of his fists. Iroh lunged forward; swinging madly. Every tactic, every combination he had ever learned, Iroh used them all. Keyung dove to the right, and shot flaming disks at Iroh's feet. It was a basic move, one that Iroh had practiced too. And he knew how to counter it. Releasing the fire daggers, Iroh jumped into a cat-like position while the flames rolled under him.

"I learned that tactic when I was thirteen!" Iroh laughed darkly. "And when I was fifteen, I learned this!" Throwing his arm out in front of him, a fiery whip appeared. Iroh cracked it. Keyung tossed another fire ball past his ear, it missed by a wider margin this time. Iroh spun the fire whip around this head before it shot out towards Keyung. It caught the front of his robes on fire, and Keyung screamed. Falling backwards, he began rolling helplessly on the grass; trying to extinguish the flames.

Iroh began walking forward, but a flash of pink robes beat him to the body. Vailea, equipped with the teapot, threw the tea onto Keyung's chest; extinguishing the flames. Keyung squealed when the water, now warm, hit him. He looked up at Iroh, and the fear in his eyes was evident.

The two boys stood panting. Vailea leaned over Keyung. She was crying, and this realization was a sword in Iroh's chest. He had gone too far. He had become like Oazi, like his father, like his family. And then Iroh noticed the warmth on his back; turning around he found, to his horror, that their Story Tree was in flames. The twisted branches looked like arms reaching out for help, but Iroh could only stare transfixed.

Keyung, who had finally come to his senses, noticed his hand in Vailea's. "Get off me!" He spat, as he tried to shuffle away. "You're not even a real firebender! You don't belong here! You don't belong anywhere near the Fire Nation!" This seemed to be all he could say to recover some of his lost pride. In a last fleeting look to both Vailea and Iroh, Keyung escaped into the darkness.

"No," Vailea put her arm out to prevent Iroh from following.

He looked ashamedly down at his feet instead of into Vailea's eyes. And then they both faced their beloved Story Tree. The tangled bark and knots completely engulfed in flames.

"I'll get help," Iroh said frantically.

"No," Vailea whispered, and Iroh looked at her. "It's already too late."