Cheojin was smaller than Suyin remembered. Whether it had gotten more run-down in the four years of her absence, or whether she'd simply grown up since then, Suyin couldn't quite tell. She remembered how the sea port used to dwarf her, how it was always so busy with fishermen and merchants that she was afraid she'd be trod underfoot. It didn't look like much now. It was still crowded, yes, but in comparison to the places she'd since seen-! Well, she supposed no city would ever compare to Ba Sing Se and its enormous walls.

She stepped off the boat with a racing heart, eyes scanning the crowd, wondering if someone would be here, waiting for her–

Suyin and her sister saw each other at the same moment. The little girl's eyes lit up and she broke out into a huge grin and waved her arm wildly. Suyin pushed through the crowd, elbowing her way through the busy fishermen to close the distance between them.

"Suyin! I'm so happy you're here," Jiyun exclaimed as she threw her arms around her.

"Me, too," Suyin eagerly returned the embrace, but they couldn't stay here, immobile in the middle of the busy port for long, so they had to cut it short and step away from the crowd.

The last time Suyin had seen her sister was two years ago, when the girl had visited Caldera city with Taio. She'd grown since then, but not so much that she was unrecognisable. She still only came up to Suyin's shoulders, and her face and arms and legs were still soft with youth and baby fat. She had the same dark brown hair Suyin did, so dark it was nearly black, though hers was cropped shorter, just down past her shoulders. She wore it differently, too. Rather than the braid Suyin preferred, she kept it up in a fashionable half topknot. And while Suyin's eyes were hazel like their mother's, Jiyun had their late father's eyes: amber flecked with gold, with that elemental life.

"Thanks for coming out to meet me," Suyin said.

"Mom and Taio wanted to come too, but… well, you know," Jiyun trailed off. Her expression had grown cloudy, troubled, but she must have banished those thoughts away, for she returned to face Suyin with a bright smile, "They're waiting for you at home, though. And mom said she'll make dumplings for lunch. Let's go!"

They linked their arms together as they walked through the city and talked of absolutely anything and everything. For all the time Suyin had been away, she still remembered the layout of her hometown perfectly. It was, after all, where she'd spent the first fourteen years of her life. And it didn't look as though much had changed, but- hm. Perhaps Suyin hadn't noticed the imperfections back then. Her memories of her hometown, of her childhood, were painted over in a sunny sort of fog, and though it didn't look as though much had changed, the greying reality was a stark comparison to what she remembered.

The roads were still uneven and riddled with debris, completely unlike the cobblestone streets in Royal Caldera city. The buildings were not in any sort of disrepair; the schoolhouse where her father had taught, where Suyin and her siblings had gone to school, remained erect and proud in the town centre and looked just as Suyin remembered it; it boasted of no renovations. Neither did any other building, really. There was no money for renovations, Suyin guessed. While the war was continuing on in their favour, it still drained the country's resources and took away from the working class.

Their home was just off of the town centre, away from the port and docks, among the other middle-class houses clustered close together, all built in the same style, all of them similar looking. It was a two story building, wider than it was tall, with off-white stone walls accented with wood. The roof boasted of their status: dark red shingles with decorative gold paint on the curved ridges, in a humble attempt to mimic the palace's own rooftops. But the paint was flaking, revealing beneath it ugly grey. Evidently, hiring someone to repaint the roof was not a priority right now. Suyin knew that very well, and yet she couldn't help the pang of shame that hit her when she set her eyes upon it.

As she approached her childhood home, she felt her heart squeeze in her chest. She'd been nervous throughout the entire three day journey – she'd been nervous ever since she received those letters not even two weeks ago. But to be here now, to know that she would see her brother with her own two eyes—she could scarcely find the courage to knock on the door.

Jiyun had no such hesitations. She threw the door open and ran inside, "Mom! We're back!"

Azula hadn't been back to Ember Island since Father had become Fire Lord, since Mother had left. Ozai was much too busy now for vacations, naturally, and Azula never had reason or leave to go on her own. They used to come every summer when they were kids, sometimes for weeks at a time, and those memories were some of the happiest Azula had. It would be strange being back here without Father and Mother, but she was looking forward to it anyway. Spending this time with her brother and friends would be as welcome as any, though, admittedly, she did wish Suyin had gone with them. What really pleased her was that this week off was a gift from Father, for a job well done. The highest praise she could imagine.

Zuko did not appear to share her sentiments. He sulked the entire way there, looking so deeply unhappy that he put Mai to shame.

"This isn't a vacation," he told Azula with intensity burning in his eyes, "We're being sent away. He's planning something and he doesn't want us there."

"Please," Azula rolled her eyes, "You're much too paranoid, Zu-zu. The world doesn't revolve around you, you know? So Father wants to meet with his advisors alone, big deal. He meets with them every day, regardless of whether we're there or not. Don't take it personally."

"But don't you think it's suspicious? When's the last time he gave you a vacation?"

"What I think," Azula drawled, exasperated, "is that Father's rewarding us for our incredible accomplishments. You've earned this. Just enjoy it."

"I won't," Zuko stated, as highly-strung as ever. "Besides– it won't be the same without Mom."

If he was so intent on remaining dour, so be it. Azula could not change what he was feeling, though she'd certainly attempted to comfort him. She could not say she hadn't tried. He was right, though, that it would be different without Mother. Without Father, too. But Azula didn't like to think about her – she knew that if she did, she wouldn't be able to stop. It was better to keep her out of mind entirely.

"It won't be the same, regardless. We're staying at Lo and Li's old house, not our own."

On some levels, Ember Island was as it always had been. But their ship docked elsewhere, obviously, not by their summer house, but by Lo and Li's. The two women greeted them as they descended the ship and Azula looked around, taking in the sights. The island looked more developed now than it did all those years ago, with well-kept buildings and signs pointing to hotels and bars and all sorts of establishments. Evidently this place was booming and received a lot of money for its continuous development. No surprise there, when this was the place where the most important members of their society chose to vacation.

They could already hear the shrieks of laughter coming from the beach a few hundred metres away, the promise of fun and sand and lively children. That had been them, once upon a time. Azula remembered their parents taking them down to the beach, where they'd sunbathe or lie in the shade while Azula and Zuko splashed around in the water. She remembered Zuko teaching her to swim, and how she caught on so much more quickly than he'd expected, and he'd been a mess between proud and envious of his little sister. And she remembered that they'd called their parents over to show off Azula's new skill, and she remembered how Mother had swept Zuko up into her arms and praised him for being such a good teacher.

As Lo and Li led them to their beach house, Azula pushed the thoughts of her mother away.

Following Jiyun, Suyin stepped into the genkan, the antechamber of their home, and she slipped off her shoes and placed them neatly beside the others. Her mother immediately rushed in to greet her. Suyin saw her face only for a moment before she found herself in her arms, and she melted into her mother's embrace. Her scent was overwhelming, comforting. All these years, Suyin hadn't been able to recall her mother's scent, but now that she was in her arms again she wondered how she could have ever forgotten it.

"Suyin, my darling girl," she broke away with a teary smile as she looked her up and down, "Oh, how you've grown! You were such a child last I saw you!"

She showered her in kisses: on her forehead and her temples and her cheeks, and Suyin accepted this show of love happily, like a satisfied pet receiving attention. It had been four years since she'd been home. Since she'd last seen her mother. Of course she'd changed in that time – she'd been younger than the princess was now when she'd left. She didn't see the changes in herself much, but certainly they were obvious to her mother. Surely she'd grown into her years, from when she'd just barely been a teenager to when she was almost of age.

Her mother had changed since then, too. The wrinkles on her face were deeper than Suyin remembered. Crow's feet around her eyes and deep lines between her eyebrows. Her dark hair, pulled into a bun at the nape of her neck, was streaked with a few single grey hairs. Eunji Liu had always been a beautiful woman, and she retained her elegance even with age, with wrinkles, with droopy eyelids and soft fat filling her out. She held herself with grace and dressed neatly, always taking care of her appearance.

"Mom… I missed you."

"Me, too." Eunji wiped her eyes and sent her a bright smile, "I'm so glad you're home. Jiyun, take up Suyin's bags, won't you?"

Suyin moved to protest, but her sister would have none of it and she took her satchel from her hands and rushed upstairs to, presumably, put them in her old room. The genkan opened into a hallway, with a kitchen and dining room on one side, and a master bedroom on the other. She could hear Jiyun's footsteps on the stairs, and then on the floor above her.

"Where's Taio?"

"I think he's still asleep," Eunji said in a soft voice, and nodded towards the master bedroom.

"Oh… I won't wake him, then." Suyin decided.

She wanted to speak with him, of course, but rest was most important, wasn't it? She shouldn't disturb his peace. Even so, she wanted to at least see him now, and so she opened the door and crept quietly inside to what used to be her parents' bedroom. They must have given it to Taio now, with his illness. It had the largest bed, after all, and wouldn't exhaust him going up and down the stairs.

He was asleep, just as Mom had said. His chest rose and fell at a steady, even pace. Suyin sat down on a chair besides the bed—surely one for keeping vigil over him—and looked him over. Even only looking at his face, Suyin could tell he'd lost weight—but not as much as she'd imagined. He still looked healthy. Rosy. No sweat beading at his temple, no sign of laboured breathing. She allowed herself to draw what comfort she could from those deductions and murmured a prayer of thanks beneath her breath.

It was then that Jiyun stepped into the room, and, seeing their sleeping brother, said in a sing-song voice, "Taio, wake up! Wakey, wakey!"

She reached out a hand as if to shake his shoulder, but Suyin grabbed her before she could do so, and looked at her with a stern expression, "Don't. He should sleep."

Jiyun rolled her eyes and pulled her arm out of Suyin's grasp, "That's stupid. He asked me to make sure he's awake when you come. He said he doesn't want to waste a single minute with you."

"Oh…" Her chest squeezed. She hadn't considered it that way – but of course she felt the same. She had just over twenty four hours to spend together with her family; she wanted to spend every single second of this time wisely.

With that, Jiyun gently shook their brother awake. His eyes fluttered open, unfocused, for a moment, and then understanding overcame him.

"Taio—" Suyin whispered. Her eyes stung with tears, but she wasn't about to embarrass him or herself by letting them fall.

"Suyin…"

He sat up slowly, first propping himself up on his forearms, but the grin on his face betrayed his enthusiasm. As soon as he was sitting up he pulled Suyin into an embrace. His arms were thinner than the last time she saw him; the muscles wasting away from disuse. The bedsheets had fallen to his lap when he sat up, revealing his abdomen. It was distended awkwardly, particularly on the right. Not fat, but masses, nodules, attempting to poke through his skin. Suyin tried not to let her panic show; she pretended she hadn't noticed it at all.

"How are you feeling?" Her voice came out as more of a whisper than she'd intended.

"I'm fine," Taio assured her, and when Suyin furrowed her brows in a silent disbelief, he rolled his eyes and smiled, "Well enough. I'm just tired. I'll get better soon. Promise."

Torn between wanting to know everything and not wanting any answers at all in fear that they were too heavy for her to carry, that if she asked out loud she may jinx him, Suyin didn't say anything for a moment. Taio was only five years older than her. His chin and cheeks were covered in soft peach fuzz, just the beginnings of facial hair. His hair, out of his usual military style topknot, was long and unbound and nearly reached his shoulders. It looked clean and brushed, evidently well taken care of even in his sickbed. She wondered whether he had the energy to do it himself, or whether their mom took care of his hair for him.

"Does it hurt?" Suyin asked quietly.

Taio shrugged, "It's not bad. Just my back, really. It helps when I lie down. But nevermind me– I want to hear all about your adventure."

"Me, too!" Jiyun piped in.

The relief Suyin felt was almost embarrassing – she was glad that they steered away from the uncomfortable topic of illness. Though she knew it did not matter whether they spoke of it or not, the urge to bury her head was strong. That maybe if they didn't speak of it, it would cease to exist.

"Wait one moment, Suyin. I want to hear, too." Eunji said, suddenly appearing in the doorway with a smile. "I put some tea on. How about we go to the living room? Taio?"

"Yeah, I can go."

He got up slowly, but without any hint of pain. If rising on his feet was a challenge, it wasn't one that warranted an extra hand – Jiyun offered him her arm, but he shook his head and managed on his own. So they made their way to the living room together, and sat down before the tea table.

Eunji brought in ornate ceramic cups, the set that she had received as a wedding gift over twenty five years ago, each one hand painted with delicate cherry blossoms and golden flakes. They were one of the nicest things they owned – as nice as the ones the princess drank from in the palace – and Suyin was glad that their mom hadn't sold them. Already she could see that the living room was missing items: their father's antique scrolls, his silver pipe, her mother's favourite wood carving. Probably sold, maybe already months or years ago. But this tea set was gorgeous, and had always been Suyin's favourite. She'd get down on her knees and beg Azula for money before she let her mother sell it. Hopefully it would come to neither.

Eunji brought out the steaming pot of tea and set it on the table before them. A plate of dasik, colourful pressed cookies soon followed, but they all - Jiyun included - waited patiently until their mother sat down with them.

"How was your journey?" Eunji asked as she poured them all tea, as gracefully as she always did.

Suyin cracked a smile, "I'm sick of boats, I'll tell you that. But I've gotten better with them. They don't make me so sick anymore."

She told them about her trip to the Earth Kingdom. About how amazing it was to see those foreign lands, about how they were nothing like she'd imagined. About the princess and prince and her friends and all their accomplishments. About how wonderful Azula was - how talented, how smart, how pretty she was. Kind, too, although that was a rather recent development. She told them about her brilliant blue fire and the grace and beauty with which she wielded it. It was only after a while that she realised, with a small blush, that she'd been going on and on about the princess for a long while, and she reigned herself in and spoke again about the Earth Kingdom.

She told them everything save for that unfortunate incident with the Kyoshi warriors, though, in all honesty, Suyin considered telling them that, too, but ultimately decided against it. Jiyun wanted to know whether she'd seen the prince kill the Avatar, and was very disappointed when Suyin said no.

Taio told her, too, about his experience in the Earth Kingdom. He'd been stationed in a small colony the last two years, and found, much like Suyin, that it was completely different from what they'd been told all their lives. He'd enjoyed it, even. Said that he'd have gladly stayed there longer, if only he could. If only he hadn't been dismissed on account of his health.

"The people there were cold at first," Taio said, "They didn't trust any Fire Nationals. And no wonder. There was this little boy, though… Wasfi. He was a firebender. He hated himself for it. Barely seven years old and already full of self-loathing. And he hated every Fire National in the town, for what one had done to his mother. He was always getting into trouble, and it always fell to me to discipline him. Well– I took it upon myself. The others would whip him for it, but I'd just take him home to his mother. He was just a kid, after all, and one that didn't know how to use his bending. So I taught him some techniques, even not being a bender myself, and he gradually warmed up to me. As did his mother. Siska."

He'd fallen silent here, but silence was enormous, still containing within it multitudes. And Suyin, entranced in his story and in what he was saying between the lines, felt that he still had more to say. That he wanted to speak more, but was afraid, in some way.

"...Did you love her?" She prodded.

Taio nodded slowly. No one else said anything, and Suyin realised that her mother and Jiyun must have already known this.

"I was heartbroken when I had to leave. She was so good to me. So sweet. I begged her to come with me, and she kissed me and said she'd go anywhere with me – but here. That she'd never go willingly to the Fire Nation. I can't even blame her for it. Not after how she'd been hurt. But I miss her."

Suyin didn't know what to say. The words hung heavy in the air, so tenderly balanced, safe in their home. Marrying someone from the Earth Kingdom – or just loving them, admitting it – was not something that happened often here. Not something that happened without gossip and snide remarks. Not for someone of Taio's standing.

But Suyin certainly couldn't fault him for it. Didn't think less of him. How could she when he was her own beloved brother, when she'd seen for herself how wonderful the Earth Kingdom could be, and when her own love was considered so unacceptable? Of course she didn't. Even so, the words were hard to come by, it was difficult to find the right thing to say.

"Then you need to get better soon," Suyin said, "so that you can get back to her. To them."

"Yeah," Taio smiled, "That's the plan."

Jiyun interrupted the gentle silence when she reached out and stuffed an entire dasik into her mouth, and then spoke before she was done chewing, "How about you Suyin, do you have a boyfriend?"

("Jiyun–" their mother warned in a stern tone, probably about her uncouth table manners.)

"No." Suyin said quickly.

She did not tell them about the marriage proposal. She didn't want to talk about Lian at all - just thinking about him sent her into an anxious sort of rage. It was still so recent, still so raw, and she feared she would again be reduced to tears if she lingered on it too much. Even knowing he was behind bars, comforting as it was, did not erase what fear he'd left her with.

As for whom she had feelings… Maybe her family would understand. If anyone did, then it could very well be them. Even so, she wasn't ready, and opted to keep those feelings within her for just a little longer…

No one was paying her any attention and Azula hated it. Mai and Zuko had each other, at least, and boys flitted around Ty Lee like flies to dung, and Azula was standing in the middle of the room, entirely invisible. If she'd at least had Su with her–!

She'd thought it would be fun to pretend to be a commoner for the week. Or, well, not a commoner exactly, but a girl of marginal nobility with no real political power. Not the princess, in any case. Not anyone well-known. To see how she'd be treated if she were just a regular girl…

Not well, apparently. No one paid her any mind at this party. No one talked to her, no one danced with her, no one offered her a drink (not that Azula would have accepted – she was much too young and important to allow herself to be hindered by alcoholic intoxication). It was true that she didn't exactly approach anyone, either. But was she really so unattractive? Everyone always told her she was beautiful – generals and governors and nobles and servants alike. She'd always believed it, too. But now, faced with terrible disregard, she couldn't help but wonder – had that all just been a lie to appease her, as princess?

She wasn't at all surprised that Ty Lee was popular even here, but she wasn't so good-natured that she could be happy for her. No one had ever flirted with Azula. No one had ever kissed her. She was the most powerful woman in the country and no one had ever loved her.

Even Su - Su! her handmaid! - had received a marriage proposal–

That ugly thought immediately made her hot with shame. She shouldn't be jealous of Su – what had happened was awful, and not at all her fault. She shouldn't envy the poor girl at all, not in a terrible circumstance, not when she'd been frightened nearly half to death. Not when she hadn't wanted it in the slightest. Not when the lieutenant had turned out to be human excrement personified. And yet, the jealousy remained, one that Azula couldn't even begin to understand. The thought of Su and Lian together… or anyone else with her, for that matter, filled her with a rage she couldn't name. Suyin wasn't much older than her at all – it wasn't fair that she'd already received a proposal, ill-matched as it was, before Azula had ever even been kissed. Was it that? Maybe. She couldn't tell. Or maybe she simply didn't want to go through the bother of finding and training yet another handmaid if Su married and left her. But it seemed, at least, that the girl had no plans to marry, maybe ever. Good. Then she could devote herself entirely to serving Azula, forever.

That boy caught her eye – Chan, was it? He was the one hosting the party, and he'd boasted of his parents' importance. She'd seen him talk with a few girls, but it didn't look as though he had a girlfriend. He seemed as good a choice as any, Azula decided. She was sick of having no experience: she would kiss a boy even if she had to hold him down by force.

"Well, I do." Jiyun said, evidently exasperated that Suyin hadn't bothered to ask her about her relationship status, "His name is Peizhi and he's really good at jump rope."

Suyin raised a brow - her sister was twelve and she already had a boyfriend? "Peizhi, the tailor's son? That one?" She remembered him from years ago, sometimes dropping off deliveries for his father.

Jiyun nodded emphatically and then went to a happy monologue about her boyfriend, about how he was the funniest boy in their class, and how she sometimes helped him with the lessons he didn't understand, and that the other day he'd brought her a hairpin that she now wore every single day (and here she pulled the hairpin out of her hair and handed it to Suyin to inspect and admire).

They sat together until their tea ran out and Eunji went to make some more, and then she brushed Suyin's hair until it shone and plaited her hair into her favourite braid, the kind that went around her head like a crown. The one that was too intricate for Suyin to style on herself, and the one she'd always made for her daughter on special occasions. Suyin leaned back into the comfort of her mother's touch and, surrounded again by her family for the first time in years, felt a comfort that had since grown foreign to her.

Their time together was all too short. They had lunch, and then dinner, and as night came over, Suyin dreaded having to leave them again tomorrow. So although she had her own room in this house, cleaned specially for her arrival, Suyin asked her brother whether she could sleep with him, and Jiyun asked the same. And that night they slept in their parents' old bed, now Taio's, curled up together, against one another, like a litter of puppies.