I'm sorry that it took so long to update! I ran into some plotting issues, and by the time I resolved them, this crazy thing called life prevented me from actually writing. I also want to apologize for the lack of Ozai/Ursa interaction, but I PROMISE the chapter after this will make you pretty darn happy. Those are all the excuses I have for you right now so read on!

I returned to the palace well before my eighteenth birthday. Azulon had lowered the age requirement for military service to sixteen, which also drafted every male firebender that young. I came home with the certainty of receiving my first commission, almost bursting with all the anticipation and eagerness that I'd never admited to myself, and certainly not Ursa.

The idea that I would receive no orders was so unfathomable that it had never reached my nightmares, much less had it crossed my mind.

That didn't stop it from reaching my reality.

I wasn't there when Ozai came home. Iroh was on leave, and he'd wanted to relieve me of my duties that I might relax with my cousins at Ember Island. If the prince had written to tell me, I would've come. Perhaps. Could I, at that time, have worked up the courage to see him again after... after the last time we "didn't" see each other?

In some ways, that summer at Ember Island was my last time of freedom, but had I ever been free from Ozai? Had I ever been free of his love since the day we met?

My cousins and I were, for the most part, the only Academy graduates on the island that summer. The others were at home, preparing for their debuts at court by primping, practicing, and perfecting all imperfections possible. We spent most of our time with each other and other students until a familiar face arrived on the island. A few years before, the Academy's sifu had gone on sabbatical, and a renowned soldier (given medical leave until his broken rib and hand could heal) took his place as swordsmaster. Sifu Piandao was a young man, thirty at most, but his skill with a sword was unparalleled. He'd visit our art classes quite frequently and shared his view on how painting and calligraphy assisted the precision and understanding needed for dueling. Part of me would've loved to take his class, but another part of me was loath to touch any weapon, whatever the purpose might be. Half of the girls in the school had fallen in love with him, even those who had to deal with his high standards and difficult tasks. He was never remotely cruel, but he demanded the best from his students and knew that they didn't need softening, that his girls could rise to any occasion and should not view themselves-or let others view them-as fragile petals. And if anyone did view his pupils in that manner, they'd learned to take advantage of that underestimation for their own benefit.

He was granted leave again for a couple months, and he became our dear friend. His discipline, kindness, and wisdom reminded me of Iroh, as did the chivalry and respect he displayed as the summer went on. Piandao's sense of humor was softer, less brazen, and not quite so cheesy, and he was friendly and amiable without being a charmer. He was rather dumbfounded when it came to the "attention" of women, but he never had to fear that from us. I, especially, appreciated his presence for its ability to ward off a certain... observer of mine.

That summer forced me to recognize that wide eyes and dropped jaws had become my new normal, but one young man took that to a new level. Since I no longer had the anonymity of a servant, they stared at me wherever I was, sometimes with disbelief or awe and sometimes with a wolfish hunger that lit fires of indignation in my every vein. My cousin referred to the oglers as my "admirers," but that included ever nobleman on the island. Only one of them continued to leer day after day.

His stare was impossible not to notice. His eyes-a dark amber-glowed like molten steel, and they stared withot blinking. He was nothing if not relentless. When I first noticed his notice, he was at the beach, sitting twenty feet away and facing me instead of the ocean. The young man had dark brown hair and, though he couldn't be more than twenty, a build that allowed for no description other than "man." Maylin thought she'd seen him disembark a naval ship in uniform so he was probably on leave. She didn't say his name, and I didn't ask. When I glanced at him, he didn't react. When I met his gaze, trying to embarrass him, he smirked, and the molten glow in his eyes erupted in volcanic flame. I had to look away first, but I felt him smile even wider at that. A few minutes later, he almost approached, but then he walked past us with that beyond-cocky smirk, and I scolded myself for the goosebumps tickling my arms.

I saw him twice or thrice a week from then on. For the most part, he was just annoying. I never feared him, but his unblinking stare would've given Azulon the creeps. He carried himself like a firebender, though he seemed to lack the patience and discipline bending demanded. Instead, he was bursting with enough arrogance to make Ozai seem humble, and enough intensity to rival, well, not Ozai. Or Iroh. Or... He rivaled me at a performance of Love Amongst the Dragons. Even so, his stubborness, power, and pride didn't bother me. His stare did. I felt watched enough as it was, but he made me reluctant to leave the beach house at all. He always managed to find me when I was alone: in the street, in a garden, by the shore... And he never broke the stare. He never looked away first.

I felt as if he was determined to stifle me, to suffocate me with his vigilance, but no one could do that to me on Ember Island. I was free there. I was wild and blazing, and I found ways to thrive even when anticipation of him kept me inside. I could dance and paint and sing, and he could not affect me. He could watch, he could look, but he couldn't tame. He never approached, and he never could. I wanted to thrust this fact in his face, but sanity kept me from confronting him (and from wandering the island alone). Everything about him, after all, screamed, 杜an,and I still felt like a girl. I knew he couldn't harm me. I knew I could defend myself, but logic told me to prevent the need for that in the first place. My cousins began to worry about him, and even Piandao offered to do something about it, so I worked to soothe that fear, unaware how that submission worked against the very fire they wanted to protect.

The firebender's name was Zhao.

In the blindness of my youth and ambition, I forgot to think. I forgot all the caution and lessons I'd learned-by both neccessity and choice-since birth. It wasn't as insane as forgetting how to firebend, but it was similar to forgetting how to breathe. I forgot muscle memory and exposed myself to the flames of him I once called father.

I burst into Azulon's war meeting, despite the fact I had no right to speak before the court of advisors, and fell to my knees, bowing for his recognition and failing to suppress a smile like the over-confident fool I was. For what was the first time in my life, I caught the Fire Lord in a good mood because he actually acknowledged me, addressing me as, "Fire Prince Ozai... welcome."

Some part of me breathed a sigh of relief. Given past experience, it was more in his character to ignore me entirely, which would've forced me to remain on the floor until the meeting ended hours later, and which would've humiliated before the whole council.

Every other part of me, however, was so eager that I almost forgot to slap on the mask of gracious, dutiful son, and I did forget to thank the Fire Lord for his attention.

"Father, I have come to receive my commission," I announced and slickly added, "At the Fire Lord's behest."

I should've assured him that I was his humble servent, I shouldn't have barged in, I should've done so many things...

Instead, I looked to him with absolute certainty. Azulon leaned back to ponder over me; his mild curiosity for what I had to say had been depleted so he considered the best way to manage me. I didn't see his condescension. I only saw my dreams of battle and victory and glo—

"No."

The mask fell.

I opened my mouth only to close it. No one else dared to breathe. If they took an eye of the Fire Lord, it was to examine the dumbfounded and disgraced object he never looked away from. He dismissed me cooly, patronizing beyond belief, as if I were the child of someone else entirely.

"My dear father,I attempted to coat my voice in oil so sickly sweet that bile rose in my throat. With the shock wearing off, I had to veil myself before anyone saw my outrage. Iwill always submit to your will and discretion, but if it's my age that gives you pause, I ask you to remember the youth of our nation's sons and of your majesty upon ascending-"

"Silence!" he roared with eyes of fury. It was the fury that always came when he perceived me as a threat to Iroh or Lu Ten. "Ihave no need of reminders, though you most certainly do. The Fire Lord's word, Prince Ozai, is law. Once spoken, it is never undone-not even by the Fire Lord himself. You ask for my discretion? I have given it." Remembering himself, he covered wrath with apathy. If he was too forceful with me, the advisors might deduce that the source of his anger came from fear. "You have only just come home, and home is where you can best serve your nation. For the safety of our nation's future, you will stay."

I bowed again, that I might be both excused and free to blink back hot tears. They stung for the first time in years葉ears of wrath and fury and resentment, tears of outrage at myself.

I was a fool.

I was a fool to think he'd ever let me leave his reach, to think he'd allow me too be anything other than another spare to his heirs. I was a fool to think that my tour had been anything other than a distraction, something to keep me entertained and out of the way. I was a fool to think he'd give me half the opportunity he gave Iroh. Azulon knew the only true advantage Iroh had was his reputation as a general, his widly successful conquests and victories, and he knew I was capable of rivaling that, given enough time. He would never risk that. As desperate as he was to win the war, he needed a permanent nation, a lineage, at its end. I was a wildcard. I was out of his control. I posed a probem at the palace if I won support amongst his advisors, but not even the strongest ally could promote a prince without victory.

I was a fool to think I'd ever be free of the masks.

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