We were children then, Ozai and I. We loved as children do, with purity and passion and utter madness, so in love with the idea of romance—the idea of love—that we frequently forgot the invention of kissing. I woke up and went to sleep with one thought in mind, seeing his eyes everytime I blinked, so anxious and eager to see him every day that the time he had to spend in war meetings and other princely duties drove me mad. Lu Ten whined and whined about my distracted playing, and I couldn't muster up any guilt over it. I could only stare at the door and sigh, lost in a world of dreams and bliss. Iroh would simply smile, smug and silent, quite content to entertain Lu Ten himself and glance at me in his periphery.

When we weren't overfeeding the turtleducks, we wandered the gardens and halls and city streets, sometimes playing with Lu Ten, often in disguises, and always avoiding the nobles and their "events of the season." I barely even held her hand that week; as much as I felt for her, affection was still a foreign concept to me. Seeing her was enough. Talking to her. Listening to her voice and laugh... Existing next to her left me in a state of awe. I relished her every movement, every flick of her wrist or turn of her head. Just having her head rested on my shoulder left me breathless.

After our week of blissful ignorance, I came home expecting to be bombarded by my cousins. They'd given up teasing me because I never even noticed, but I always made valiant attempts to listen to Maylin's gushing. Her young naval officer made a point to seek her out at practically every event, and even Zhen admitted—to me only—that he seemed to be even more infatuated with Maylin than she was with him. Zhen never admitted to admiring or having any admirers, but she would blush quite fiercely and protest a bit too much whenever Maylin pestered her about Lee's shipmate. Eventually, the reserved young woman confessed that, not only was Kazou a "very nice young man," but he was even chivalrous, thoughtful, and polite. She would never give so many compliments all at once, but the fact that she ever gave more than one was a declaration of love. They managed to drag me to one picnic while Ozai was in a war meeting that week, and I'd met both of their gentlemen. Lee was a short, slender fellow with eyes surprisingly wide and bright for someone who'd seen war. Li Mei also attended said picnic, and she kept glancing and turning my way to show off the young nobleman on her arm. His being a nonbender might shock or disappoint some, but not to her calculating mind. Nonbenders were more secure—in that they were much exponentially less likely to die during that time of war. Not to mention that his high rank and great wealth more than made up for what he lacked in glory.

Unfortunately my cousins did not greet me, my father did. We'd been sharing the house for two weeks, but it was the first time we saw each other in years. I thought I caught a flash of pain—of my mother's memory—in his eyes, but it vanished so swiftly I must've dreamed... Did I look enough like her to wound him? Or did he miss the eleven-year-old girl he'd last seen?

Before I could greet him, he took a step back and swung out his arm, introducing an almost-stranger I hadn't seen in the shadows.

"Daughter, I believe you've met Lieutenant Zhao. He will be joining us for dinner tonight."

"Lady Ursa," he half-cooed before bowing. I returned the greeting as hiseyes of molten steel made me shiver. "It's a pleasure to see you again."

I murmured something about it being our first formal introduction and broke his gaze as soon as I could.

Dinner was... uncomfortable for everyone. While our guest watched me like an object he was lusting after her, I ignored him and tried to catch my father's eye multiple times. He stared on ahead, refusing to glance my way even when prodding me to speak. I gave up after a couple of minutes and stared at the table, pushing my food around more than I ate, distracted beyond words. Zhao's watch was a blazing heat, threatening to suffocate me again, and I couldn't stop thinking about why father had invited him and about my own firebender. Sadly, both Zhao my father probably approved of how demure, be-seen-not-heard, and don't-speak-unless-spoken-to I appeared. I couldn't muster up the will to care about that. All I could care about was O—.

"Ursa?"

What did Zhao just say? Why were he and my father smiling like that? He'd been rambling on for so long that I didn't think to pay attention.

"Hm? I'm sorry, I... I don't feel well. Please, excuse me," I stuttered, rising and rushing out before they could.

They'd practically finished their dinner, but that didn't make my action any less rude. I couldn't help it. I couldn't stand another minute in there. My father, my daddy, hadn't seen me in years, and he wouldn't look at me. He couldn't even have a meal alone with me, and somehow he managed to find the last man in the fire nation I would ever want to dine with.

I used the basin to wash myself before changing into a robe more suited for sleeping. Before I could turn in for the night, there was a knock at my bedchamber door.

"Ursa, that was incredibly rude," my dad scolded through the door. "Fortunately, I believe I salvaged the evening, but you're lucky I did. If I hadn't, he may have revoked his offer."

"What offer?" I asked without opening the door.

There was a small pause, and then he stated—in that calm, be-rational, don't-over-react voice that only fathers have—

"Lieutenant Zhao has asked for your hand in marriage."

I laughed so hard that I almost couldn't open the door. When I finally did, I fell to the ground with tears in my eyes, unwilling and unable to stop. Dad sent me a look as he entered and towered above. My sides stopped aching after a few more seconds, and I forced myself to rise.

"You can't be serious. What century is this? I don't even like Zhao, much less love him, and the fact that he asked you—"

"Ursa," he sighed and sat with a fatigue that silenced me. My dad had never seemed so... "I am old, and I know I haven't been much of a father to you since..." he trailed off, overcome, and I sat next to him. "You're becoming a young woman. As beautiful as your mother." The significance—and tenderness—of his words moved me to reach out, but he avoided my touch and rose. "And I want to make sure you're secure when I'm gone."

"I can take care of my—" I interrupted to his great irritation.

"Lieutenant Zhao comes from a good family, and he's set to become a captain in just a few years. Perhaps the youngest ever."

"He's not a good man," I hissed and rose.

He didn't expect that form of accusation, but he was too irate to believe me.

"Well, I can name at least one man far worse, and I don't have much faith in your judge of character as of late."

Apparently, he had another reason not to believe me.

Who told him? And why does he hate Ozai so much? He's never said a word against the royal family before, but he is the Avatar's son...

Before I could ask any of the million questions I had, he referred to a law so archaic and absurd that it hadn't reached even the farthest corner of my mind. It was a law so rarely upheld that no one had bothered to have it repealed.

A law that allowed my father to select my husband.

"Don't do this," I whispered, falling to the floor as swiftly as if he were the Fire Lord himself. "Please, Daddy, I'm begging you. Please, don't do this!" I screamed, trying to grab the hem of his robe as he turned to leave. "Daddy!"

He slammed the door in my face.