Zhao left, and the next week flew by. I played with, watched, and taught Lu Ten while I tried to regain my freedom. It wasn't as easy as it seemed, despite the distance, despite Lu Ten's ceaseless questions, despite the discovery that I wouldn't have to meet Zhao's parents who lived in the colonies, and despite my father's retreat into the shadows of our home… There were so many reminders, even before I was "obligated" to write to him.

For my friends and myself however, I tried to forget the inevitable. I tried to connect with the truths I knew and the self-awareness I'd always had. Inner peace had never been a problem for me, despite how spoiled and privileged I might've been. What my mother hadn't been able to teach me, life had. Reflection and knowledge of self were things I valued as much as empathy and education. How could I learn anything if I didn't know myself? How could I empathize with, how could I understand anyone if I didn't understand myself?

That worked, in many ways. I could finally be there for them, and I could finally get to know Lee and Kazou better. The shipmates had been friends since their school days, and they were everything I could ask for in cousins-in-law.

Lee was short, sweet, and sincere. His charm lacked any wiles or ruses, and he had a face that defined "trustworthy." Everyone loved his friendly, eager personality, and he loved everyone, always seeing the best in people, so similar to Maylin it boggled the mind. As enthusiastic as he was, Lee lit up infinitely brighter than normal whenever he saw her. She was his light in a world of darkness, and he was water to her in a drought. She hung on his every word and looked at him as if held the key to life, to all insight and knowledge, yet neither was blind to the others faults. They teased each other and knew each other as if they hadn't been separated since birth. Lee and Maylin were so in love that they should've made any witnesses sick, but they didn't. They were so genuine and real that you just couldn't resent them, no matter how super sweet or doe-eyed they appeared. I couldn't worry about them falling too fast because it was just so… natural. They knew one another. They understood what was happening, and they were living in the joy of their present moment. I had no doubt that they would flow from one step to the next without any real snags and that, once they did meet a real challenge, they would tackle it together as surely and as certainly as they tackled days of bliss and peace and young love. Both of them were so innocent and soft, even the military man, and Zhen I referred to them as the "turtle love ducks."

Zhen's suitor was more reserved, far from a people-pleaser, yet perfectly polite and considerate. Everyone respected Kazou, for his bending as well as his manners. I'd seen him practice and teach several times, and his discipline was more than admirable. He could be a great sifu someday and might, in a few years, earn fame for his skill, but his soul wasn't in it. And the fire wasn't in him. He put every effort into his moves and strategies and senses, but he didn't have the heart. Bending was a means to an end for him, not a life. The flames were weapons to him, to be used in moderation and when necessary, rather than extensions of himself.

Zhen, however, captured his soul, and he brought out a side of her even I'd never seen. It wasn't a false front she put on to please him, but it was a piece of herself she'd never been able to reveal before. Kazou wasn't particularly expressive or affectionate, but the way he softened whenever he saw her… The deep, certain look of true love in his eyes. He rotated around her. Zhen seemed to blush whenever he spoke to her, and I never saw her smile so often and so broadly. It always reached her eyes, and it always boosted her confidence. If she was with him, she could be elegant and charming to everyone in the room. If she was with him, she didn't have to worry about anything or anyone else. She forgot to analyze and regulate herself or her appearance, and she just melted into who they were underneath. They could talk to each other for hours on philosophy, history, politics, academics, spirituality, noble society, and ordinary, everyday things without hesitation but with plenty of deep thought and considerations. Most onlookers couldn't see the passion in either of them, but those who knew them will did. They weren't passionate as most of our citizens were, but there was so much boiling beneath the surface and driving their wills, entwining their souls together. I loved watching them, listening to them, hearing their opinions and arguments. They were so in sync that even their "debates" were similar and patient and absurdly attentive.

Kazou had always been comfortable and content in social situations before meeting her, being there for others but quite happy to be little more than a sounding board or occasional source of knowledge. He was a supportive, helpful friend to everyone but rarely had "close" ones, satisfied with a reputation of respect and acceptance with no attempt at influence. When he met her, however, he actually tried in social situations, tried to be vulnerable, tried to connect with her whenever possible, to unravel any enigmas she seemed to offer, tried to persuade her to lower her guard by ripping off his own. He itched to help her in any way he could anywhere he could. Zhen, meanwhile, had gone from a woman who viewed every social situation as a monstrous web of complexity and protocol and analysis and self-restraint to a woman who could be herself in a room full of nobles. With his humility and chivalry and heart, he brought down her walls and let her feel safe no matter what, comfortable no matter what. He was her shield and shelter. She was his treasure and hope.

They were a far more practical, realistic couple than Maylin and Lee, more world-weary and wary. Still, none of us dreamed of the havoc war would wreak on our loves.

I visited Ursa and Lu Ten several times in that first week of Zhao's absence, helping my nephew with his bending forms while also giving her some space. In truth, my presence relieved Ursa in many ways. Lu Ten was in that incessant questioning period of childhood, and I would have none of it. She'd learned to say, "No," to him much more since she first began guardianship, but nothing shut him up like a look from me. As I modeled moves and corrected his stance, she got a break, and she taught me to have more patience with the little prince. I also managed to find moments, here and there, to remind her of the most nostalgic and comedic events from our childhood.

"Ursa, fire flaaaakes," Lu Ten whined on a particularly scorching afternoon.

"Lady Ursa," I corrected immediately with a pointed look. He was a prince of the Fire Nation, and he had to learn to use titles without slipping for one moment, even if the mentioned lady was dressed in servant robes.

"You can call me whatever you like," she assured the boy, fanning him when she should've been focused on keeping herself cool.

"Not in front of me, he can't."

"What exactly am I allowed to call you in front of him?" she quipped back with a false air of propriety, and I nearly grinned.

"Fire flaaaakes."
"You've had enough," I snapped.

"What your uncle means to say," she redirected, "is that you'll burn your tongue if you have any more. Remember what happened last time?"

"You're one to talk," I chuckled. "Lu Ten, have you ever seen Lady Ursa eat fire flakes?"

My mind flashed back to one of the best weeks in my life. One of the last nights Ozai and I spent together before my father decided to dictate my future. The Ember Island players were touring, but Ozai paid no attention to the play.

Her head had rested on my shoulder, leaving me breathless, and she was completely absorbed in the plot, scooping fire flakes out of her bag and not caring whether they reached her mouth. Most fell in her lap and filled the room with spices that made me grimace.

"Want some?" I'd teased when I saw his scowl.

The human manifestation of fire couldn't stand spicy food, and I loved the irony almost as much as I loved him.

He'd stuck out his tongue but made no protest as I resumed my place on his shoulder.

And now I couldn't even hold his hand.

"Fire flakes?" the boy asked as Ozai and I smirked at each other.

"No. Let's—hey!" I cried as the elder prince snatched my fan and bolted for another garden.

Lu Ten chased after his uncle, giggling for so long and at such a high volume that it was a bit worrisome. I raced after them both until Ozai finally stopped.

He stood in the dragon fountain, holding my fan up with defiance, golden eyes egging me on, daring me to take it.

Lu Ten splashed around in the water as the other servants and guards caught up with us, lurking in the edges of the garden but watching us for every second.

"Uncle Ozai, plaaay!" Lu Ten ordered, jumping up and down in attempt to grab the fan.

He did so gladly, kneeling down to splash and tickle him, circling the fountain and holding the fan out in just the right wa—

I dove for it when he seemed distracted, and when I knew I couldn't get wet, but I couldn't get away fast enough. Laughing, Ozai took me by the waist and pulled me back in, and Lu Ten tuggled me until I fell into the water with him. Ozai cackled over us so I, soaked beyond hope, reciprocated with the largest splash I could muster. He came after us, and I carried Lu Ten to the other side of the fountain. Ozai grabbed the little prince back and persuaded him to switch sides. After all the splashing and chasing, there was too much water and laughter for me to keep my eyes open, but I drank in the sound of Ozai's full on chortle, as well as the touch of his hand on my waist as he tried to drag me back down…

And as a messenger came for him again.

One of my father's personal messengers.

I tried not to blush over my disarray, and I tried not to think about whether or not our audience disapproved of how I—an "engaged" woman—conducted myself. I just kept playing with Lu Ten while Ozai went to hear the message, totally undisturbed and drying himself off with a few heat blasts. The Fire Lord wanted him to attend a meeting he'd never been privy to before, and the strangeness of the request actually made the Fire Prince's brow furrow.

Princes were expected to attend general war meetings, but this was a minor, specific one regarding the basic training of new soldiers. To prepare them for combat. Something I had absolutely no experience in.

Yet.

I overheard a bit of this message, but Ozai left without glancing back. That somehow worried me more than the message itself, given that he usually had to tear himself away from looking at me, but I refocused that worry onto drying off Lu Ten. At least on the surface.

Azulon offered no explanation as to why I was invited, but he asked multiple questions of me to see what I would suggest. None of the other advisors seemed to understand what was going on, but I answered to the best of my ability, and they listened to every word without question. As usual, the collect fear of giving us so much as a funny look drove them to petrified silence.

Those meetings went on for several more weeks before Azulon finally revealed the point.

At the end of the week, my father finally spoke to me again with a heavy-handed hint regarding my at-sea fiancé. I forced myself to write Zhao, careful to set a formal tone and to focus on what I'd been doing with Lu Ten. It was my personal goal to squeeze in as many reminders as possible about our young prince needing me until he could begin school. Internally, I kept a running calendar of how many months were left before I had to stop postponing and take more drastic measures.