Even though you didn't review... *glares. I'll give you this VERY long chapter. Don't get too excited. There's not much plot, but thinks will pick up after this. Hopefully. Sorry that there are random Chinese characters. I honestly have no idea why that's happening. Again, PLEASE REVIEW.
My first few days of school would not be pleasant ones.
Having spent the rest of my summer at our Ember Island home, my heart was half-healed. While letters of love and comfort from Lu Sen and Iroh helped me, they were no substitute for the general's bear hugs and the princess's soft kisses. While I was accompanied only by servants at the beach-house, they were my dear friends who did everything to lessen my misery, when they weren't pitying me. Misery loved company even on that island, and the memory of my mother haunted every grain of sand. As cleansing as Ember Island's waters were, they could never erase her memory. They could never make me stop missing her, but they taught me how to honor her, how to live without her presence but still with her guidance.
I arrived at the academy with mixed feelings. There was a craving for new friendship, one untainted by grief, and for learning. I loved to learn, and I loved to read, but Ember Island only had so many scrolls to distract me. Part of me was desperate for a change of pace and scenery, but part of me clung to the comforts of familiarity, to the security of my past, however painful it might appear. Change was part of life, but it usually bore me ill-will. I feared change. I couldn't predict change. I liked knowing things. I liked certainty. I wasn't as insistent upon it as Ozai, but I still ached for it. Adults usually liked me because I was so concerned with being good, because I was so quiet and trusting of all authority, because I couldn't bear to disappoint them. Other children on the other hand... I'd become far too timid to talk to them. I could be open and free with those I knew well, with Ozai I never even thought of withholding something from him, but I was so cautious around others. I always had to think before I spoke or moved. The idea of approaching someone else was terrifying, much less initiating a friendship. Would the other girls like me? Would I be mocked for my shyness? For my grandfather? Where they all firebenders? Would I have privacy? Would they pelt me with questions about the royal family? Would they pity me for my mother? Would they know anything about me?
Was I asking too many questions?
"We're here," the cousin old enough to be my mother announced as the ship came to a stop.
The Royal Fire Academy for Girls covers a small island, occupied only by its teachers, students, servants, wildlife, and gardens. As a school for future noblewomen, there are few Fire Nation estates more lavish or expansive, but I was thoroughly accustomed to alabaster pillars and bronze statues, to ebony and mahogany walls, to rich velvets the color of blood, to jewel-encrusted murals and tapestries, and to gold glinting off every nook and cranny. Its appearance did not awe or frighten me in the least, but the girls running around it certainly did.
There were about eighty students, some six, some sixteen, some from the colonies, some from the continent...
All noble.
I'd never been around so many girls before. In Caldera City and on Ember Island, there were children everywhere but more were boys than girls, and there were always more parents or servants watching over them.
According to the schedule, we arrived on time, yet barely any parents remained. Most nobles had better things to do than hold their daughters' hands, instead sending servants to drop them off. Most nobles only cared that their upbringings were equal to or rivaled the upbringings of other young noblewomen, and no tutors could offer a more prestigious education than those at The Royal Fire Academy. It helped, of course, that there were no other schools exclusively for Fire Nation noblewomen, but the Academy truly had some of the greatest minds in our country.
The greatest minds worked at The Royal Fire Academy for Boys.
"Choir for your musical art, yes?" my cousin asked me without really asking, marking off another box on the scroll that determined my education. I had no complaints about what she signed me up for. I was rather surprised that she knew me so well. "Dance for your theatrical art... Calligraphy, sculpting, paint, or... Oh, painting I think."
"Every nonbending pupil must take a self-defense class," the administrator reminded us with a kind smile to me.
"Must she really?my cousin sighed, shuddering at memories where I defended very aggressively. "I'd prefer she take... 'The art of tea.'"
The administrator suppressed a chuckle at my grimace.
"I assure you, madam. Tea culture and ceremony will be covered in her culture and etiquette classes. Perhaps the young Lady Ursa might study swordmanship?"
She shuddered again.
"No, no, indeed. That is not ladylike in the least. Hand-to-hand combat will do, I suppose."
The administrator swallowed back a speech on the importance of every woman knowing how to protect herself and took the completed scroll.
A servant offered to guide me to my room so my cousin made her attempt at a heartfelt farewell. Though she hadn't managed to muster genuine tears, she proceeded as though she had, giving me a flowery speech of 兎ncouragementand a stiff embrace before bowing out.
And leaving me utterly alone.
While the other girls played with their friends, I unpacked and remained in my room. I was grateful that my father's guilt paid for extra privacy, but part of me wished for roommates, if only to have someone to sit with at dinner.
Instead, I sat in the worst seat possible.
"Excuse me," a girl my age stated with an authority that startled me.
Even at that age, Li Mei had a cruel and terrible beauty. Her name meant beautiful rose, but she would come to be known by most of the students-and some of the teachers-as Ji Mei, which meant beautiful thorn. The young noblewoman would do nothing to silence these whispers, unless whispered to young noblemen. She cherished the fear and respect her nickname inspired too much.
"Yes?" I cracked out, surprised and mortified by the hoarseness of my voice.
"I know that you're new here so your transgression shall be forgiven, but that seat is reserved, as is every seat at this table. My table."
"Oh, I'm sorry! I'm so-" I apologized, frantically getting up.
She smirked at by timidity and obedience, calculating what competition I might one day pose to her and deciding whether or not I was an enemy to be kept close or closer, whether or not I should join the ranks of her paling-in-comparison, wanna-be companions.
"Perhaps, however, I might permit you, on a trial basis of course-Ah! You brat!" she screeched as she rose.
In my hastiness, I knocked over drink and sent a staining splash to her dress.
Her topaz eyes flashed with an icy ferocity not unlike a certain prince's.
"Do you have any idea how much this COST?"
"No," I answered honestly, unused to rhetorical questions, and even more unused to angering anyone. "But you don't need to be so mean about it."
She gaped at me, dumbfounded, and seemed prepared to burst into flames AND to strangle me.
But Li Mei was trained well, becoming calm as the ice that filled her veins and shone through in her piercing eyes.
"Who do you think you are?" she hissed. "Who are your parents?"
I told her instinctively, unused to concealing anything, and she laughed in my face.
"You're the Avatar's granddaughter? Roku is your...? Oh, that's too pathetic!"
Her cruelty brought tears to my eyes, thoroughly against my will.
"Ladies, please!" a woman begged while coming over. "Is everything all right?"
"Yes, ma'am. Everything's... perfect," she declared with a burning cold gaze of scorn and superiority.
Thus began our lifelong rivalry and her lifelong hatred of me.
My first class began awkwardly as well. Our teacher asked a series of questions that reviewed the previous year, and the class answered each like a simultaneous choir. When she shifted to new questions that hadn't been covered, the class was silent and clueless.
I, however, was not.
She seemed startled by my answers, knowing that few of the oldest students could answer them, but proceeded to ask me questions that wouldn't be covered in any class.
I didn't understand what the big deal was. Having competed academically against an older prince for my entire childhood, I thought my knowledge was normal. We had countless scrolls of history, strategy, art, language, poetry, literature etc. at our disposal, and I used them to make sure Ozai never knew something that I didn't, refusing to give him the satisfaction. Whatever our age difference, whatever our heritages, I was his equal in wit and understanding. If I wasn't, he would've dismissed me for ignorance and inferiority, and it would've give him justification to be even cockier than usual.
My fellow classmates stared at me as though I'd morphed into a platypus bear but then chuckled at my inability to answer questions on fashion, charm, etiquette, and conversation. Naturally, I'd picked up the core rules of royal protocol, but there was a shocking amount that I missed out on or misunderstood. To me, they seemed all subtlety, but they were glaringly obvious to my teachers and peers.
For these questions, Li Mei took over, more than happy to name, list, explain, and demonstrate my every failing in the laws of charisma and nobility. I found myself fighting back those hated tears again as she apologized for my ignorance, blaming it on "The House of Roku" and guaranteeing that my classmates would forever shun me.
Just as I was about to cry myself to sleep that night, a servant knocked at my door to deliver the most beloveds letter I'd ever received.
Princess Lu Sen had returned to the palace and could send me scrolls that the Fire Lord would not have intercepted and read. Ozai and I could not exchange letters, but we could send messages through Lu Sen.
Her words, of course, warmed my heart, but I was overjoyed by the added message.
I smiled and laughed aloud at the prince's complaints, quips, and clever comments as he summarized his past few weeks. If he sought to comfort me, he had no idea how to go about it. But simply by being Ozai, he freed my soul of every burden and care and made my tears those of mirth.
I went to bed laughing, and my luck changed overnight. Familiar faces greeted me-finally!-when my first cousins once removed arrived at the Academy a day late. Before then, we only saw each other two or three times a year, but we would become inseparable.
Though they were twin sisters, Zhen and Maylin couldn't have been more different in looks or personality. Maylin was all curves, Zhen all angles.
Maylin-the younger sister-was the only person I knew who could hold a candle to Lu Sen's natural sweetness. Like the princess, she touched every heart that she came in contact with. Kindness and warmth bubbled out of her like a pure spring, oozing joy and energy. The short, pleasantly plump girl had a round, cherubic face that filled the world with light, as did her huge, rich brown eyes that filled the world with light. Her heart was too massive for her brain to do much, though she was far from stupid. Maylin was simply... feather-headed, devoting her time to romance and imagining over studying. Still, she never failed a thing in her life, though she came close whenever grace and balance were involved. Ironically enough, considering who her future daughter would be, Maylin was the worst klutz on earth.
Zhen-the elder sister-contrasted her sister in almost everything. The baby sister was all curves, Zhen all angles. Zhen towered over the both of us, more slender than bamboo no matter how much ash banana bread she ate. Her eyes were a dull, light amber, invisibly small in comparison to her sister's. While Maylin kept her brown curls short and close to her face, Zhen's lengthy, raven locks hung stick-straight to her waist. The only aspect they shared was heart, but Zhen revealed it very differently. Alhough she was thoughtful, empathetic, and selfless, she rarely expressed that-or any emotion-and could be mistaken for a statue. Propriety and perfectionism were the young scholar's life, and Zhen's reserve made the shyest version of myself seem like a wildfire. Her personality was more subtle, a gentle river of constancy and strength. She showed love through mothering and listening and being a rock of stability for others.
Opposites though they were, they understood each other perfectly. Zhen planned and reasoned for a carefree, careless sister that could not see the need for rationality, and Maylin giggled, comforted, and charmed for an introverted, introspective sister that could not convey her thoughts to others.
These sisters would make school not only bearable but truly enjoyable. Their friendship and love opened my eyes to all the Academy had to offer, strengthening me even when Li Mei made me weep, allowing me to glide through my tedious classes and to relish those that caught my interest.
And there were classes that caught my interest, holding it well past my last tests and allowing me to keep up with Ozai. The charisma, etiquette, and culture classes came with surprising ease, sometimes enjoyable, sometimes burdensome from the constant vigilance and effort they demanded. My defense, dance, and art classes were great, freeing comforts, as was choir when I wasn't put on the spot. Though I loved to sing, it took years for me to realize I did have a beautiful voice, and that my mother's compliments were not solely out of love. Even when I began to realize it, I could not sing for an audience. My throat would close up, and my voice would shake and croak like a hoarse badgerfrog quivering on one leg. Since Li Mei was in my choir, she was always a witness to this and made the experience infinitely worse with one smirk or "pitying" pout. I'd avoid her gaze for a solid week after those traumas, certain that her every laugh was at me. With time and the help of my friends, I stopped caring, taking away her power and freeing me to be me.
While Ursa found joy during our separation, I only found bitterness. My resentment towards Azulon grew exponentially. When she left, so did my mentor and tutor, replaced by a team of three scholars, a diplomat, a fire sage, a retired general, a retired admiral, and two bending experts that pulled me in hundred directions and demanded perfection in every aspect of my life all while reminding me that I was the second born. Though given the education of a future Fire Lord, I had no purpose beyond 妬n case of emergency.I lived in a prince's prison without the promise of a prince's power. I was the spare, never to be freed and never to be used, and my resentment . My advancement could come only with my loved one's torment. Any legacy I might leave could only begin with tragedy, either denying my brother a long life or denying Lu Sen of motherhood.
The latter seemed increasingly more likely.
Iroh was always away on one military campaign or another, spending what little leave time he had with his often bedridden wife as she struggled through illnesses and failed pregnancies. Such constant heartbreak-for a woman who loved so deeply-did nothing for her weak health. Lu Sen always dreamed of being a mother, adoring children above anything else in the world, but the longer her pregnancies lasted, the weaker she became. Secretly, Iroh was partially relieved by each miscarriage, terrified that his love wouldn't survive full term. The guilt from this relief, accompanied by his desire to be a father and knowledge of her terrible ache, pained him tenfold.
I'd come to love my sister-in-law, but I was incapable of cheering even her-the most easily pleased woman in our nation. Nothing took me so outside of my comfort zone as a sickbed, and I was already an awkward, brooding teenager. My presence could only depress her spirit so I visited rarely. That, of course, wounded her also, but I thought my acidic influence would have been worse.
Despite my best efforts, resentment towards Iroh grew. Even my self-pity wasn't great enough for me to resent the time he devoted to beloved Lu Sen, but I envied him. The older I became, the more obvious Azulon's favor became. Iroh came home to a hero's welcome every time, having earned the respect of everyone that wasn't already awed by his status as Crown Prince. Some part of me recognized that he'd charmed many through humility, wit, and humor, but all I saw were his military victories. They were, quite glaringly to me, the reason Iroh was so loved. Watching the Fire Lord's snobbiest advisers bow to his opinion in every war meeting irked me to no end, especially due to Azulon's dead silence on what role I would have in our fight and when I might have it.
As I aged, my relationship to Iroh tensed. I knew that Iroh had to wear and exchange many masks as Crown Prince, General, husband, brother, bender, friend, tea-maker, and man, but he did not share my hatred for them. He accepted them, and I railed against the hypocrisy, leading him to point out I wore them anyway and to put on another mask. My brother realized葉oo late洋y need for a real father-figure. His attempts to be that, to convict and guide me, came off as an affront. I had enough criticism from my tutors, and to hear more from him strained every nerve. Before my angst-ridden teen years, Iroh had been a comfort to me, someone who could make me laugh, someone I could exchange barbs with, and someone I could be myself with. That was no longer the case.
His shift from friend to father ordered me to conform, yet again, to someone's else mold for me. I would conform to his will, but I wouldn't make the mistake of opening up to him again. He gave me a new mask so he couldn't expect me to take it off. Iroh urged me to be an adult by treating me like a child, opening my eyes to the fact I could compete with him as an adult also.
And compete with him I would.
With the comfort of Iroh and Lu Sen denied to me, Ursa's letters were all I had left, but they too were lacking. Time flew by for a girl with such a busy, happy schedule, but she would've found a way to write more often if she knew my loneliness. Cutting off my own hand was preferable to worrying her. Instead, I tried to share in her happiness and add to it despite my own misery, which only drained me further.
It was easier to hide my emotions-even from Ursa-in correspondence, but it still took effort. It helped that she was so young and that she didn't expect me to feel the scrutiny and solitude as much as I did. She knew me to dismiss almost every opinion that wasn't hers or my own. She knew me to scoff at public opinion, to ignore ever-watching eyes, and to let even the harshest criticisms (unless from Azulon) slide off my back. Even when infuriated, I was never injured. She knew me to vent and fume without dwelling or feeling burdened, but I no longer had someone to vent TO, and I wasn't half so scrutinized before she left as I was afterward.
When her messages come less frequently, I said nothing, unable to resent her but equally unable to keep up the facade. I made my replies less frequent in turn, writing even more rarely but needing her words so much more. Ursa had no way of knowing my desperation, and I didn't expect her to. I didn't even realize the strain I was under until it was too late.
Still, I cherished every parchment she sent, every line of ink, every sketch and painting. She didn't realize how far apart we were, but I didn't begrudge her. I knew I hadn't left her heart for one moment, and she hadn't left mine. Missing her was my constant state of being, but I found distractions that made it bearable.
They were not, however, distractions she would have chosen.