The ruby necklace sat in the gift box in which it arrived, untouched and unwanted. "Opulence" seemed too soft a word to describe it. It could've been simple and elegant if there hadn't been string after string after string… all leading up to the gaudiest center gem imaginable. Its size was so massive and costume-like that, even knowing it was real, I couldn't view it as anything other than tacky. Surely my neck would break from that jewel alone, and I couldn't imagine turning my head at all with such a turtleduckneck trap.

It was a necklace that made me want to swear off all necklaces.

The scroll attached to it remained unread as well, and I longed to avoid it for as long as possible thanks to the horrible words inscribed on its outside.

"For my beautiful bride."

I had a feeling Zhao would begin every letter with that gruesome address.

Lu Ten, I reminded myself to force getting dressed, as unable to fathom how I should reply to such a gift as I was unable to fathom how he'd obtained it. He certainly couldn't afford it, but it could've been spoils from a raid… It looked very Fire Nation for something for anyone in the Earth Kingdom to have owned, which was why he chose it of course, but I kept trying to picture its previous owner. Had pirates snatched it? Had a colony craftsman designed it with a noblewoman or love in mind? Was there an Earth Kingdom merchant who simply loved the color red? How had Zhao taken it, and what had it really cost him—and the person he took it from?

I might've felt guilty about this expensive gift, or even felt sorry for all the effort he'd put in for a girl who despised him, if it hadn't been for the nightmares. They'd been plaguing me since I opened his gift, and their sense of… reality seemed to increase with each passing night.

In every dream, I stood on a bedroom balcony, my hair up and my back bared. He walked towards me with cruelty in his eyes. My heart felt impossibly heavy and impossibly empty all at once, crushed and threatening to explode. I longed to collapse into ashes, I longed to burst into flame.

Then he would kiss my neck with an icy hand on the small of back. His slimy skin on mine. My spine had never felt so cold, nor my body so frail. I felt like broken glass.

"Pardon?" I asked, almost stammering, in disbelief.

"Are you asking me to repeat myself?" Azulon stated rather than asked.

"I… Thank you for the… Tremendous opportunity and honor to serve the Fire Lord," I recovered enough to bow and slip on my "dutiful son" mask.

"You don't have to answer now, of course, but I wanted to extend the invitation," he replied, thoroughly nonchalant over something I couldn't begin to wrap my head around. "You're excused."

I bowed for a final time before leaving. For once, I forgot any need to say the last word.

For all the "whys" Lu Ten repeated at me, his favorite questions were about his mother. I would tell him story after story about the kind and lovely princess, and they were the only questions Ozai liked to answer. The Fire Prince understood what it was to grow up without the slightest trace of his mother's memory. He didn't just see the desire for knowledge in Lu Ten's young eyes; he felt it. He relived his own desperation to know the impossible, to remember what never happened. It was a vicarious form of living and learning and having a mom, but it was all they would ever have.

That day, however, Ozai said nothing.

Tense and distracted, the prince barely looked at us. In fact, he seemed to be avoiding me in particular rather than his usual pretending-not-to-look-but-staring-at-me-every-time-he-thought-I-couldn't-see.

That's how I knew something was really wrong.

While Lu Ten was distracted with a new toy to use in the fountain, I strolled over to the brooding prince.

"What did the Fire Lord say?" I asked.

"What does the Fire Lord ever say?" he deflected, burning some grass in his hands.

I didn't know it was possible for anyone to be so uptight while lounging, but the look on that chiseled face of his depressed me beyond words. I sat down next to him, reminded of that night when he finally admitted the insecurity beneath his masks.

"Ozai," I whispered, desperate to remove that mask again, desperate to help him help himself. "Talk to me."

"I don't feel like repeating Azulon's words at the moment. He dictates enough of my life as it is without understanding any of it. But then, why should I seek to understand him when he makes no attempt to do the same?"

Unable to decide between irritation and despair, I said something that I'd wanted to say for a while.

"Sometimes the most controlling fathers can be the most absent, yes, but sometimes the most absent fathers can be the most stifling."

For a second, he looked as though he might apologize and focus on my pain for a moment, but he glanced towards the women who'd replaced me to watch Lu Ten and thought better of it.

"You forget who my brother is. I've had more than enough sage-like wisdom for one lifetime," he sighed with the apathy only he could convey.

As always, she didn't believe it.

"Perhaps. Or perhaps I know you need it in his absence."

"I believe his son has more needs in his absence than I do. Needs that those entitled servants," he hissed contempt at the other guardians, "certainly can't meet."

"Entitled servants who happen to both dote on and guide him, and who happen to be my very good friends," I reprimanded with an open glare that forced his gaze. "They're genuinely kind, and if you can't even see that…"

I never appreciated the way servants acted around the elder prince. Or rather, the way they were forced to act by him. Ozai's presence meant my friends couldn't speak unless he spoke to them first, which he would never do, and they had to stay several feet away at all times to avoid disturbing him. Ozai loathed the idea of being waited on hand and foot. From the moment he knew that he could, child Ozai dismissed all personal servants. His father had been slightly irked by the break with tradition, but he didn't care enough to do anything about it, particularly after Iroh interceded on the young prince's behalf. Adult Ozai still resented them, claiming most were hypocrites with "false modesty" and "arrogant humility. They were nothing more than, "Proud snobs who thought themselves better than peasants because they cleaned marble floors rather than oak." When met with servants no one could accuse of being insincere, whose selflessness was clear but far from dramatic, who went off their way to please him with things so small he didn't always notice, Ozai preferred to, at best, tolerate them. Iroh thought he was simply too independent and paranoid about losing control

I knew the truth.

Ozai disliked servants because he couldn't comprehend being served.

He couldn't comprehend being loved.

"Nothing discomforts you more than what you can't understand, does it?"

She had no idea.

"You and Iroh have to be the last two people in the Fire Nation to believe total altruism is actually possible," he groaned, still deflecting but choosing a very well-calculated topic for that deflection. "There's something to be gained from every act of 'service,' Ursa, or at least the perception of it. Warm, mushy feelings, an avoidance of guilt, self-satisfaction, whatever may have you. Even if that reward lasts for one millisecond, there's always a reward—"

I wanted to ask him if my choice to love him again and again, year after year, was selfish, but I couldn't.

"What did your father say?" Ursa insisted with a softness to those crystal eyes that could not be dismissed by all the sighs and teenaged angst in the world.

"He wants me to… Assist with basic training. Combat training. Firebending, of course, but combat training in a camp run by experienced, decorated veterans with decades of war victories who can't help but resent working alongside some royal brat who's never—"

She was chuckling.

"Is this the closest you come to stammering?" she asked.

I almost smiled at the light in those amber pools.

"AND you just referred yourself as a brat? Oh, if only Lu Ten could've heard…" she sighed in longing, glancing back to the tot, mostly succeeding in her attempt to cool me down.

"It's not much. It's barely anything. He may very well intend it to be no more than a distraction, but it's more of an opportunity than I ever dreamed he'd give me. Even if it's not a legitimate test to prove myself, it's a chance at responsibility and actual exposure, a chance for others to really see that I'm—" I cut myself off, my brain working double-time again.

"So isn't that what want?" she asked sincerely, as if that was all that mattered to her.

"It's… one of the things I want," he said, meeting my gaze full on for the first time with a look so pointed that it finally hit me.

"How long?" a soft voice that seemed to be mine finally managed to ask.

It was a small miracle he heard me.

"A few months at least. Perhaps more."

It was her turn to avoid eye contact.

"Lu Ten, come here!" I called.

"Stay where you are, Lu Ten!" Ozai countered. "Practice the form I taught you!"

"But Uncle Ozaaaai—"

"Practice."

He stared at me, and I pretended to stare at the sky for a few moments of roaring silence.

"What do you want me to say?" I demanded at last, totally unaware of whether I was glaring or frowning or smiling or… nothing.

I knew what Iroh would. I'd come up with some argument about how, "I'm a prince of the Fire Nation. We are a people of will. And will there's a will, there's a way." Then he'd say, "Yes, Ozai. You can get anything you want, but you can't have everything you want."

Which would be his convoluted way of telling me to stop being selfish, prioritize, and help my best friend who was trapped in an arranged marriage to a man she loathed long before she could even fathom being married.

"What do you want to say?" I asked like a fool.

I was definitely glaring.

"I've already said all that I've wanted to say. I believe it's still your turn," I hissed and left him for Lu Ten.

I felt like shooting fire at an unsuspecting guard—or at myself—but I stormed off instead, ignoring my nephew's cries of, "Uncle Ozai, wait! Uncle Ozai, play!"

Contrary to what Azulon might believe, I didn't envy Lu Ten very much. Having a father who loved him was certainly mentionable, but I wouldn't wish my childhood on anyone. There was only one thing he had that made me truly jealous…

Ursa. Every day. Every morning. Every afternoon and evening. Every meal and every kiss goodnight. The excuse, nay, the requirement to have her every day. Well, almost every day.

But I still made the choice that I made.

As the "season" winded down, Maylin drowned out my record for the quickest proposal by being the first, and fastest, to marry.

We were far from the only ones to be engaged. Marrying—or at least promising to marry—young was common for nonbending girls especially. Many felt as though they had little to offer in the war effort other than having children, and young men in the military felt a pressure to find wives whenever they were on shore. Engagements usually lasted a couple of years, partially just to see if the fiancé was skilled enough to survive battle rather than leave a widow.

Her short engagement came a week before her love was supposed to leave. She'd been miserable at the prospect of Lee leaving, especially after he'd met her parents and won their total adoration. Her despondency, and his physical need to wipe away her every tear, led him to propose early, but the two were so in love and so certain of who they were that no one could dismiss it as a heat-of-the-moment decision. They knew it would be difficult, and they knew the risks, and they were much more rational than it appeared on the surface. Neither one took the commitment lightly, and they weren't just doing it because Lee would get an extra month of leave for their honeymoon or because they were afraid of waiting or falling out of love. Even their parents could acknowledge that they were as ready as an unmarried couple could be, given, of course, that no one is truly ready for marriage.

The wedding was simple and sweet, planned without decadence or lavish trappings, so they could begin the rest of their lives when it felt the most natural. The love on their faces would be far more beautiful than decorations could ever be. Zhen and I helped make most of the decorations, which consisted of paper lanterns, dragons, turtleducks, and phoenixes, and we participated in the hair combing ceremony on the eve before their wedding.

The only real expense came with her expedited gown. The garment of red silk had long, billowing sleeves that fit Maylin perfectly, and gold embroidery on the skirt depicted the ultimate symbol of a blissful union: a dragon and a phoenix. She had bracelets to match these symbols, given her to her by the groom, and every step of the rituals and traditions left her giddier than she'd ever been. We arranged her hair up in the intricate style Fire Nation brides usually wore and, though I'd never really saw the appeal before, Maylin had never been more beautiful. She owned the web of combs and braids as though it was made for her face alone, and it displayed her warm bloom in a way that nothing else could.

On the day of the wedding ceremony, and the last day of "the season," her giddiness faded away. It was replaced by an eerie peace that unnerved the frantic-for-the-first-time Zhen, but that total calm said more about Maylin that morning than a smile ever could.

"It's time, love," I told her as Zhen shouted at someone about the bride's palanquin. "Are you ready?"

"Yes," she said, pleasantly surprised by the truth of her answer. "Although if you want to remind me of the order we're supposed to honor the Fire Lord, spirits, ancestors, our parents, and each other…"

"Do you want to practice the tea ceremony again too?" I laughed.

She feigned wide-eyed fear/scarring from overfamiliarity with the process.

"Oh no. I can never forget that."

We proceeded to the groom's home in the Royal Caldera city. Lee couldn't stop blushing and grinning, and neither could Maylin. Her calm never wavered, but her face glowed with bliss that… went beyond words.

My heart burst for the two of them, and I watched them go through every ritual and the beginning of their banquet without thinking of anything other than their lives and their love—

Until he arrived.

The chaotic joy of the banquet was already in full swing so no one noticed a disguised Fire Prince. Well, only one person did. She was out on the terrace, waiting for the fireworks that Azulon would light to close the season. We hadn't had a real conversation since the day I told her about training, but I couldn't bear another second of it.

He strolled up next to me without a word, but I felt like I could finally breathe again. I needed my best friend, and he needed me. Of course, that didn't mean I had to hide how I felt, how truly hurt and overwhelmed and worried—

"Ursa."

The way he said my name shouldn't have relieved me so. It shouldn't have made me want to bury my face in his chest as desperately as it did. And I shouldn't have to show that to him, of all people.

"So you're really leaving tomorrow?" she sighed more than asked.

She knew the answer, but I turned to face her fully, concerned and actually trying to show it for once. She met my gaze, and I would've killed to destroy the sorrow in her once perfect eyes.

"We're going to be okay, aren't we? Because if I thought we weren't…" She tried to avoid my gaze, and I reached for her hand. She didn't withdraw it. "Nothing is worth… I'll be back for you, Ursa. I'll always be back for you. And I'll always wait for you."

As will I.

"Ozai," she whispered with that horrible heaviness to her eyes that pierced every wall my heart tried to hide behind.

"I'm sorry," he apologized, speaking with a sincerity and softness that left my spirit soaring. For a moment. "But you understand why I'm doing this, don't you? I know I can't have everything. I don't want everything, but I have to try to see… What kind of destiny—"

"Is it your own destiny?" she demanded with flames of anger replacing those of sorrow. "Or is a destiny someone else has tried to force on you?"

His eyes lit up too.

"Do you have any idea how patronizing and self-righteous and Iroh it is to—" My eyes widened, and he wisely shut up. "Okay. I deserved that, and you're right, but how am I to tell the difference unless I first explore it? Ursa… Please," I sighed, tucking a loose curl behind her ear, begging my only friend to forgive me.

"I understand. I do, and I'm not happy about it, but… I'll always wait for you too. Haven't these years taught you anything about that?" she promised, eyes sparkling with something other than anger or pain, lips parting in a smile that ignited all hope.

"I'll write to you every week," I claimed with a grin from ear to ear.

"You can't," I chuckled because, well, he was a prince and I was engaged.

Is anyone watching us? Oh, who cares?

"I can find a way," he teased with the infuriatingly adorable flash in his golden eyes that I fell in love with.

"I have no doubt, but I can't reply."

I wanted to tell Ozai everything. I wanted to rant and rave about Zhao and my father and my nightmares, but I couldn't. Not knowing he was about to leave again.

"Every week," he promised again as reality began to fall on us once again, as another separation drew ever near.

I smiled softly, and he bowed to kiss my hand.

"Lady Ursa."

"My prince," she fare-welled and backed away with a long look in her eyes, reluctant to break the gaze but determined to burn with as much strength as ever.

The fireworks began, and everyone else rushed onto the terrace. I went home to sing Lu Ten to sleep for the last time.

Giving my last regards to the ecstatic bride and groom, I went to check on Zhen only to catch her whispering with Kazou in a dark corner. The tears led me to almost interrupt, but I soon realized they were tears of joy and realized that he'd proposed as well, though he'd be leaving at sunrise with the other ships. She came back out unable to stop grinning, confirming my suspicion in confidence but begging me not to tell and spoil Maylin and Lee's night. Zhen hadn't even met his parents yet, and she was nothing if not proper and traditional… and totally in love.

I fell asleep to more nightmares, but the thoughts before were pleasant. Of sharp cheekbones and fiery eyes. Of Maylin and Lee having the dozen of kids they so wanted. Of Zhen being understood and cherished and seen beneath all the layers she covered herself in. So many dear friends and couples.

So much love to be torn apart by war.