Since the official "Peace Dinner" wasn't until tomorrow, tonight's dinner around the Firelord's table was just a reunion of old friends… with Shang and I in addition. I made sure I was properly groomed, then made my way down to the grand dining hall. What I loved about the Firelord's palace was that all of the rooms had fancy names. Back home it was just 'his room' 'her room' 'my room' 'the kitchen;' everything was so much more proper here. Eventually, it would drive me mad: another reason I couldn't live here as Shang's wife.
When I reached the grand dining hall, I realized I was the second to last one there. The last person to show up was, of course, Shang. I sat next to my mother and, to my dismay, I noticed that they had saved a seat for Shang right next to mine. Was this a clever attempt to encourage our friendship or a romance that would never exist?
Once Shang arrived, the quirky man who appeared to be the palace's main server brought out what looked to be ocean kumquats. I saw my father grimace, and I stifled a giggle. This was obviously a tacky tribute to my family's arrival. And through it's total lameness, I must say that ocean kumquats have nothing on sea prunes.
"So how have you and Shang been getting along?" the Firelord asked me politely. I suddenly felt cornered; Shang was right next to me, what was I supposed to say?
"Well, I mean, we haven't really had much time to get to know each other yet, sir," I answered. It was the only thing I could think of that hurt no one.
"I see,' the Firelord replied, "Perhaps you two should fix that. I think you two could be great friends."
"Oh, but mister Firelord, that's all we'll be."
That's what I wanted to say.
What I actually said was, "Perhaps," and went back to my ocean kumquats.
I did, though, notice my mother's expression when the Firelord was asking me about his son. I assumed that perhaps she knew about the proposed arrangement (oh look, a pun) and perhaps she felt the same way I did about it. The scary thing is, though, that my father was the one that had the main say in the matter and, quite frankly, he's more likely to listen to his old friend the Firelord than assess the situation completely on his own. And the Firelord wanted me in the royal family.
Much was said throughout the remaining courses of the faux-Water Tribe meal, but nothing came up in conversation that I truly cared about and I, therefore, stayed passively silent until everyone was finished.
I went back into the room that posed as my own, silently wondering if later in life I'd be forcedly promoted to the master suite, lulling myself into marred slumber lying next to a man I barely knew.