Saturday: Youth

Everything looked...bigger than it was supposed to.

Ozai looked up at the cover over his bed and wondered why it seemed so tall. Surely it was the same height, right? That's what his eyes were telling him, but his brain insisted it was tall, so tall. He didn't understand. He reached up—

—and realized that his hands looked really different. Chubbier. Smaller fingers. The hands of a four-year-old, at best.

Today was going to be really, really weird.

Ursa was back in the royal palace. This was surprising, but not as surprising as the fact that she was now approximately three years old.

There was a servant standing over her, confusion clear on his face as he watched her look at herself in the mirror. At least some of her clothes had shrunk with her—she now wore a tunic that wouldn't look out of place on a child in the streets of Hira'a. But most of the fabric from her clothing was now piled on the floor around her.

"Servant?" she said imperiously, trying not to wine at how her voice now sounded.

"Yes, um…little one?"

Her title was not the most important thing right now. "What year is it?"

"It's the sixth year of Ozai's reign, little one."

"Don't call me little one. I am a lady." Okay, so she hadn't gone back in time. Had she just…turned into a three year old? And been transported to the palace? Whatever spirit was involved here, they had some serious explaining to do. What was she even supposed to do? Would she ever get back to her proper age? "Is Fire Lord Ozai here? Take me to him."

"Litt—lady, I'm not sure I can do that—"

"Do you know who I am?" she inquired menacingly, or at least tried to. Her new three-year-old voice got in the way.

The servant swallowed. "Um, I'm afraid I don't—"

"I am Ursa. Fire Lady Ursa. Ozai's wife. I don't know what happened, or who cussed me to become three years old, but I am still your Fire Lady and you will treat me with respect."

"Alright. If you say so." It was clear that the servant didn't totally believe her. But still, he opened the door and escorted her to a chamber, whose doors she couldn't see behind a mass of guards and servants clamoring about something. Ursa caught the words child and Fire Lord and curse, but not much else.

She stood up as tall as she could in this younger body and said, in her clearest voice, "Let me through! I need to see Ozai!"

The crowd quieted as they turned to see her, standing up as straight and regal as she could in a three-year-old body, and some of them even seemed to recognize her.

"Uh, ma'am," one of them said, "I'm afraid something strange has happened to our venerable Fire Lord-"

"Something strange has happened to me, too," she snapped. "I need to see him."

Murmurs and arguments broke out again, until someone just snapped "Let her through!" and the crowd parted to let her walk to the ajar door to her husband's quarters. (Wait, could she have a husband in a three-year-old body?) Inside it was quiet and dark. She didn't immediately see anything, but she did notice a small bump in the covers, maybe the same size as a pillow.

"Ozai?" she asked on a fleeting thought. "Is that you under there?"

"Ursa?" a small voice says from under the blanket. "Ursa, is that you?"

Ursa went over to the bed and struggled to get on top of it. "Yea, it's me. Come on out. Let's talk."

Whatever was happening here, they'd get through it together.