Author's Notes: This took a painfully long time to finish, but it's finally done. It took a couple of versions and it might not have been very conducive to write it backwards, but it's finished and I'm happy. Also, please read the back story. It really helps the story along.

Please enjoy and review!

Alisa

1. -- Toph is 14.

2. -- Toph is 16.

3. -- Toph is 19.

& one time she wasn't -- Toph is 21.

Backstory: At the Battle of Sozin's Comet, the Avatar defeated Firelord Ozai. That, however, did not bring an end to his reign of terror. A fight for the throne arose and loyalist groups began rebellions throughout the Fire Nation. Even with the Firelord gone, the war between the Fire Nation and the rest of the world continued. A year after the defeat of Firelord Ozai, Aang insisted that Toph, Sokka, and Katara visit their respective homes; they'd already spent too much of their childhoods at war. They grudgingly went along with Aang's plan. It didn't take long, however, for the Gaang to regroup. Some time later, Aang seized back the Fire Nation throne and handed it over to the most capable and most unwilling person for the job, Iroh. All the while rebellion broke out over the land. Iroh thought it would be most advantageous if the Fire Nation was to show its humility by marrying a foreigner into the royal family; that, however, did not turn out as he had planned. Several years passed, in which the Gaang traveled the world, trying to negotiate an end to the war and make peace. Things had just started to settle down when the largest group of rebel leaders struck along the Earth Kingdom's western coast. Recruits were called and the group was crushed. This put an end to most of the rebellion within the Fire Nation and the country slowly began to stabilize. The war lasted 110 years.

Three Times Toph Was Engaged (& One Time She Wasn't)

1.

She swaggers into breakfast ten minutes late and not caring one bit. The (always) disapproving looks of her parents ricochet off of her, bounce back to them (years of practice).

"Thank you for joining us," her mother intones in complete sincerity; her father snorts into his cup of tea.

She slumps into her seat and waits until she's shoved an entire sweet roll into her mouth before replying, "No problem."

Her mother takes a delicate sip of tea and her father clears his throat.

"Daughter," he begins, hands folded lightly on the table and now he's got her attention, "there's something your mother and I would like to discuss with you."

She washes down the bread with a swig of tea and delicately wipes her mouth on her sleeve. "I'm all ears," she announces, propping her elbows on the table (she can hear them wince) and cupping her chin in her dusty palms.

He clears his throat again; his nerves sing to her sensitive ears. She raises an eyebrow and wants to grin her cocky Blind Bandit grin. She doesn't.

"Now that people have… discovered what a lovely young lady you are—"

"You mean now that people know I exist," she helpfully supplies.

He ignores her—she chuckles darkly to herself—and continues, "Now that you've reached a marriageable age—"

"I thought marriageable age was seventeen."

Her father grips his hands tightly and plows on, "Your mother and I have decided you're to be engaged."

Silence (she thinks), and then…

A quiet buzz, like ants marching on sand, or light reflecting off water, fills the room (or maybe just her head). She blinks, slowly. Once, twice, three times. She hears voices in her head, maybe from memories, maybe from echoes, maybe from that thing called a conscience that's far more intelligent than she.

She jams a finger in her ear, rotates it, and says in a flat voice, "What?"

"He's a lovely boy, dear," her mother says smoothly. "He's handsome and charming and comes from a prominent family."

"I'm not getting engaged," she says, more loudly than necessary. The buzzing like a hive of bees or Aang's incessant chatter makes it hard to hear.

"He's heir to his family's estate," her father continues, as if she hadn't spoken. "He'll provide a large home and rich surroundings and everything you'll ever need."

"I'm not getting married." Even louder this time, just to get rid of that buzzing.

Her mother takes her hand and pats it soothingly. "Don't you worry about a thing, darling. Ren will protect you from everything, just as your father and I have."

Protect you just as your father and I have…

The Earth tremors; her chair topples backward as she stands; pink smarts across her face like a slap.

"I do not," she growls, fists tightening, eyes stinging, Earth dancing, "need to be protected. And I definitely don't need to be protected by some snotty rich kid who thinks he can get rid of me by locking me up in some fancy house!"

She turns from them, hides her face so they won't see the tear rolling from her eye. "There's only one person who's ever protected me," she says (imagines closing her hand around his), voice rising, louder, louder, "and it certainly wasn't either one of you!"

Silence, and in her ears, that thick ringing, buzzing, flying for the first time, too many hugs from Sokka, seconds from unconsciousness white noise. She thinks she can serve the tension as soup for lunch.

Her father clears his throat.

"You'll be meeting with Ren tomorrow for lunch," he says, as if she hasn't just thrown a tantrum. His voice isn't hard or disciplinary, but completely and utterly confident in his words. Hot anger scratches at her insides—so arrogant, such an overconfident man!

"I'm afraid I won't," she says, teeth clenched, trying to bring her voice back down from seething.

"You'll wear a lovely little silk dress I had made," her mother adds, and distain at her daughter's choice of clothing leaves an aftertaste in the air.

"I won't, Mother," she spits, so disrespectful!, "because I'm not going to be going to any dumb lunch. I'm not getting engaged to some guy I don't know."

Her father clucks and shakes his head. "Don't be stubborn, Toph. Every proper young lady has an arranged marriage. It's our way of life."

A sharp, bright "ha!" falls from her lips. "It may be your way of life," she says, her mother lifts her perfectly painted eyebrows, "but it's not mine."

Picking up his chopsticks—did he even hear her talking?—her father states, "We will discuss this later, when you have your head about you," and brings some rice to his lips.

Her mother takes a sip of tea and puts in, "Chizu will come into your room later to get your measurements."

Never more in her life has she wished she could be a Firebender. She wants to breathe fire like Uncle Iroh, to set the table aflame, to make them see that her opinion does count for something, is worth considering, will make her future.

Instead, she turns on her heel and leaves the room. She walks with perfect ease (the house only shakes once) to her room. She uses her meteorite bracelet to lock the door. She gathers the calligraphy set she stole from her father's office. She grinds the ink stick just as Sokka had showed her (his hand warm over hers, guiding). A few drops of water from her wash basin and she dips the brush into the ink, blots the access off, puts brush to parchment and writes:

Come get me.

She's gone the next day.

2.

The doleful sweet melody of the tsungi horn sings through the high-chambered room. She can see the figure of Uncle Iroh behind the instrument—she asked him especially to play.

Her dress, layer on layer of fine silks imported from the farthest corners of the Earth, ruffles around her ankles and suffocates her in the sweltering Fire Nation heat. She has the sudden, biting, overwhelming urge to rip the expensive cloth from her body and continue on her walk in only her new underwear.

But that would be disrespectful, she thinks scornfully. —Disrobing in front of the royals, oh how very scandalous. Mother would be ashamed. (She almost laughs at the idea.) A bead of sweat trickles down her back teasingly. Can't disrespect the future in-laws, she thinks, and licks her dry lips.

Her feet, bare and dirty no matter what anyone says, halt next to the crown prince of the Fire Nation. Anxious waves roll off of him and crash over her body like the cold spray of the ocean; a chill shivers down her spine, sudden, enough to make her teeth rattle. He's nervous, pressed too hard, not particularly fond of her but it's for the good of the world and someone has to do it. She tries to keep the scowl from flashing across her face.

His eyes fall to hers, for just a second of a moment. She's not the woman he wants—she knows his eyes are seeking out a different face (with pretty eyes, not clouded gray).

She knows, if she could, her eyes would be seeking out a different face, too.

The Fire Sage's voice drones dully in the background, a backdrop to her thoughts. Uncle Iroh, that tea-loving, adopted grandfather of hers, the sweet, wise old man who thought that she would do some good for his nephew and his country, he was happy (as long as you're happy, Toph). Her parents, they would finally have their invalid (oh yes still little blind Toph, she hadn't fought in the war, never) daughter married off, out of their hair—someone else's problem now. Her friends, oh her friends, they were so happy (confused), happy for her and for Zuko.

(Hands tight on her arms, Are you sure this is

what you want?

No.

I'm sure.)

Her hands clench.

"No."

Voice echoing loud, defiant, every eye turning to stare, Fire Sage stuttering to a halt mid-word—Zuko blinks and questions quietly, "Toph?"

A flush splashes her face and she pulls the ornate headpiece from her hair. It clatters to the marble floor in dead silence.

"I can't do this." She pulls at the tight corset, and suddenly she can't breathe. "I won't."

She hears the startled gasps of the audience and her mother's soft cry of, "Toph!"

Zuko reaches for her arm. "Toph…"

"Don't be an idiot, Princess," she spits, chest heaving. "You don't want this any more than I do."

He recoils, but doesn't say a word.

The voice of the Fire Sage breathes in her ear. "Child, hold your tongue! You're about to marry the crown prince of the Fire Nation!"

"Shut up!" The shout tears from her body and she gasps for air. "I'm not marrying this idiot!"

The Sage gasps quietly at such blasphemy.

She gives a low, breathy, angry chuckle. "If you love him so much, you can marry him. But I'm not making such a stupid mistake."

Zuko places his hand on her shoulder. "I understand," is all he says, and a silent chill falls over the room.

All she can hear is her own raspy breathing, the heavy silks heaving with her chest, the lingering ring of her headpiece falling to the ground. She can feel the seconds passing, heavy and uncertain.

Her cheeks feel red for a different reason.

Blowing her bangs from her face with a huff of air, she crushes her silk skirt to her knees and stomps down the stairs from the alter to Agni. She pauses, sharply, and turns.

"Help me out of this thing, would you?" she barks, tugging fruitlessly at her corset, and Katara stands uncertainly.

She trudges from the room, forcing her feet not to run, Katara scuffling along behind her. The moment they pass through the great iron doors (oh to punch one right now!), a wave of shuffling feet and whispered exchanges and scandal hits her ears.

"Toph!"

She turns to his voice, relief flooding her to her very core.

Not a moment to think before she's in the air, stolen from the earth, dress flying around her. His arms are warm around her waist and his chest is hot through his thin shirt, but this kind of heat she welcomes.

He lowers her to the ground but his body continues to press unfamiliarly against hers.

"You had me worried there," he breathes against her neck. "I almost thought you were gonna go through with it!"

She presses her hot face against his chest and grasps his shirt in her tiny fists.

"So did I."

3.

"Listen," he says, voice soft, comforting, "I'll be back. I'll come back. You know me."

A frown skates across her face and her hands clench delicately. "Just because you say that doesn't mean it's going to happen, Hotaru. I knew people who said the same thing—" Her frown deepens as memories, fresh as yesterday and just as painful, flash through her mind. "—and they never came back."

His hand brushes lightly along her jaw line and moves to cup her cheek. She wants to turn away, turn away and fight him until he hears reason, but instead she shifts her cheek into his palm and closes her eyes.

"I love you," he murmurs, breath sweeping across her brow. "I love you. I'll come back."

Her face hardens characteristically.

He brings his eyes down to hers and presses his lips lightly against her own. She tries to remain firm (for him for her but oh the way he moves his lips) but he's warm and inviting and too familiar and she can't help but love it when he kisses her this way.

He pulls back and his breath washes warm over the pink of her cheeks. "I have something for you," he whispers, suddenly, voice flush with excitement as he moves. He kisses her again, quick, a peck on the lips, a smile in the touch, and presses something into the palm of her hand.

She blinks and tries to hold in her surprise. Her fingers move over the tiny object. Smooth, warm from his heat, engraved, she can tell, by a skilled Earthbender. She slips it over the finger on her right hand.

"Toph!" he says, sharp and offended. His fingers move deftly and the ring is tugged off. "I'd think an intelligent EarthKingdom girl like you would know that engagement rings go on the left hand."

Her breath hitches in her throat as he brings his hand to hers, slides the ring in to place, kisses her wrist tenderly.

He gives a nervous, airy exhale and grips her fingers. "What d'you say?"

Her lips meet his fiercely. Then she pulls back and shoves him.

"You idiot!" she yells, stomping her foot, tears tracing paths down her cheeks. "You're leaving today!"

He tries to pull her into his embrace, but she fights. A wave of energy quakes the ground; she tightens her fists.

"You're going off to fight in the damn war and you choose today to propose?" she says, trembling with fury. "You could get killed!"

"But I won't," he replies calmly. He reaches for her, and this time she doesn't fight his arms. "I love you," he repeats into her hair. "I'm going to come back."

Unfortunately,

(he doesn't.)

& One Time She Wasn't

His lips brush past her cheek (just missed the corner of her mouth, she doesn't notice) in a gesture she isn't entirely prepared for. She can feel a hot flush suffocating her as he leans away and the heady scent of sweat and dirt and too much rice wine rushes past her nose.

"Toph," he whispers excitedly, his face very close to hers, the heat of his skin tickling her cheeks (she wonders if her heat tickles right back), "I finally did it."

The warm air of her own breath bounces off his face and back into hers as she replies faintly, "Did what?" She knows there's too much wine in his blood for him to notice, but the breathiness in her voice irritates her nonetheless.

"It took me forever," he says in a rush of air, half-sliding half-tripping into the small space next to her, the small space clearly only meant for one. A lanky leg folds under his body as he turns to face her.

"To do what?" she asks again, her voice gaining authority that is lost the moment his hands grasp at her waist and drag her half into his lap.

She tucks one leg under her body in a reflection of his position and fights the furious blush spreading over her body. His hands are still hot on her skin, riding up her hips and down the full length of her arms. He grips her hands tightly in his.

She can feel his eyes sliding over her face in that intimate way she's learned to get used to but is still not quite comfortable with. He leans in closer and she knows he's smiling at her, that smile she knows so well.

"I want you to stand next to me at the wedding," he breathes.

Her breath catches in her throat and the alcohol in her stomach sloshes around unbidden. Something painfully similar to hope wells up in her chest before she has the chance to crush it.

"What?"

That smile never leaves his face. "You're my best friend, Toph," he murmurs, his breath bathing her in sweet wine. "I want it to be you."

She has to choke the words out. "Sokka, I thought—"

"I want you to be my best man."

The words halt against her teeth. —you were dating Suki.)

"Well, not best man," and he laughs. "Best woman."

Suddenly, suddenly, he's out of focus, and all she can see is herself: blood pounding through her veins, throat tight and constricting, breath coming in sharp gasps. Heart. Heart, broken.

No, not broken. Gone.

She's had her chances, it seems. And he's not one of them.