NINE MONTHS LATER

The heat was scalding on our way to Ember Island, even for our nation. We were warm year round given our location, but summers felt as if all of our volcanoes erupted. My people seemed to be cold-blooded when it came to weather, comfortably lounging in and adjusting to the sun even in the hottest of summers. The fabrics we used in our layers and layers of robes were much cooler than it appeared, and very breathable, but days like those made me seriously question the history of fashion.

And almost regret burning my collarless clothes.

"I really do think they're twins," Maylin sighed on our way to Ember Island, letting me fan her while she played with Lu Ten.

"As all the midwives have agreed," I concurred, fanning myself for a turn, before reminding, "and I really do think you shouldn't name them after Lee. He can never say no to you, but you know he thinks it's self-absorbed to name a child after yourself."

"He's not because doesn't have a say in the name," she announced with triumph, beaming at her belly and the thought of seeing him again soon. "I'm the one who has to carry them, give birth to them, raise them while he's gone… I can name them in honor of whomever I please."

She corrected Lu Ten so he wouldn't make a mess and continued to play with him. She really would make a wonderful mother. I'd had my doubts at first, given her naiveté and innocence. However while she was still very likely to spoil her children, Maylin was a natural with Lu Ten. She'd shown surprising maturity, vigilance, and wisdom in the months prior as she helped me with the young prince, and her sense of gleeful, childlike wonder won his friendship easily. Her… centeredness and control protected him.

Of course, Maylin was given to more and more flights of fancy as her due date approached.

"I'm sure we'll have at least six girls. Yi Lee, Zi Lee, Ji Lee, Ty Lee—"

"Lee Lee?" Zhen suggested in jest before realizing Maylin might think it adorable.

Maylin must not have heard because she turned to me again.

"What if he doesn't come in time? Twins come early, after all. Oh! Why is the universe so cruel? What kind of twisted fate is it that Zhao will be here before him?"

Zhen crossed over to us, knowing I couldn't focus very well when his name was mentioned.

"Your husband will be here, Maylin," she assured her with a hand squeeze. "No force in any nation could keep Lee away from the birth of his first child."

"Yes, yes, of course," she nodded while I tried to convince Lu Ten to take a nap. "I shouldn't complain. We have so much to be grateful for… So much to celebrate!" She winked at Zhen. Maylin didn't know about her engagement, but she suspected a proposal by summer's end. She knew that Zhen and Kazou had been exchanging letters, and Zhen's reactions could only fuel her hopes.

"Ursa, it doesn't fit," Lu Ten whined over a puzzle piece that was stuck.

I helped him with a smirk, remembering what Iroh would say about Ozai's puzzle days. He never understood the appeal of them, unless he was competing against someone else. He'd slam and bang the pieces until they fit, and then he'd set the whole thing on fire when he was "done."

It was funnier when Iroh described it.

Lu Ten would've agreed. He'd received a letter earlier that day and was so desperate for it to be from his father. The fact that it was from Ozai dampened his spirits only slightly, but it was still sad to see that disappointment in his eyes. Guilt panged me a bit as well, seeing as the vast majority of the weather was written for my eyes only. No one thought to monitor the letters a three-year old received from his uncle and, as Lu Ten's guardian, I was the only one who read them. My speed reading skills had grown exponentially as the little prince was always very impatient for me to reach the end and as I had to make up several other messages on the fly while I read the much longer ones for me. He upheld the promise to write every week, doing his best to share everything with me, even when it came to the teaching methods he used that I did not approve of. He was connecting and learning more from his students and the leading officers than he'd ever admit even to himself, and he didn't try to hide how he felt when he was lonely or miserable or losing himself. I appreciated his honesty and relished every word, but it pained me so deeply that I couldn't write back.

With the puzzle finished, Lu Ten became bored.

"Ursa, are we there yet?"

"Not yet," I apologized, taking him into my lap. "But soon, and Daddy will be there waiting for you."

"As will Zhao," Zhen muttered, thinking I couldn't hear. She saw me flinch, however, and her expression melted into remorse. "Ursa, are you going to be okay? Do you have a plan to…?"

"I have a plan," I only half-lied.

His letters were not as welcome, and it pained me that I had to write back. They'd become increasingly ardent of late, to the point where I refused to dignify his sugared flattery and pathetic poems with a response. Every time he praised my beauty, I thought of something one of my teachers always said, "Great beauty is a burden that attracts more trouble than it's worth." I had to agree.

Zhao's less romantic words were somehow worse. Everything he wrote revealed how enterprising, manipulative, and conceited he was, how he dismissed everyone else and cared only for himself and his reputation. His greed and obsession with advancement was so… blatant and blunt and unapologetic. He didn't hide it from me. I could give him credit for that, but he wasn't even aware of how wrong it all was. It was one thing to delight in a victory for his country, but it was quite another thing to detail the burning down of an entire village. He wrote as if the slaughter of women and children was not only normal but as if it needed no excuse or justification, as if the need for it was obvious to all, and then he'd switch immediately into speculation on his current standing both with his superior and with the Fire Nation nobles. He never gave a second thought to dead women in the Earth Kingdom, but

Bile rose in my throat every time I read his letters, and every time I thought about what his cruelty meant. What did it say about my country if men like him could hide and even thrive in our military? How many monsters fit their roles so perfectly?

How many other people had nightmares like me?

I wished I could share that with Ozai. That I could whisper to him about my dreams and my fears and my questions… But not yet. For now, I had to be satisfied with listening to his.

Being a sifu to teenagers not much younger than myself appeared odd to anyone observing, but it felt natural soon enough. My students still seemed uncomfortable, but that was no reason to disturb me considering how easy it was to win their attention. Those few recruits who didn't worship me for simply being Fire Prince did so once they saw me bend for the first time. Even if I didn't have to deal with true combat conditions or earthbending, the efficiency and skill in which I took down twenty men made me a god in their eyes.

The other commanding officers, however, were not so easily won, and they were to whom I had to prove myself.

It wasn't particularly difficult to determine which of the masters respected me as much as their manners and masks claimed, but it was annoying. Most were shockingly diplomatic for men of battle and action, but the appearance of honor and politeness was something they all understood. They implemented that appearance very well, regardless of what they truly felt, but I needed to make that submission sincere if I had any hope of legitimacy. It took time, and it was something I had to earn without guile or masks. Terribly boring, but it eventually won over everyone it could.

For those it couldn't, a different method was required.

The stubborn masters, clinging to their prejudices and hatred of nepotism, remained blind to any skills I had and even to any progress my students made thanks to my discipline and tutelage. They, of course, had to be bought or taught. They had to be shown why they should obey me in just the right way, or they might plot against me from either too much fear or too little. Support was only support if I could depend upon it when my back was turned. I achieved that well before summer began after only a few confrontations.

Back then, I didn't have any particular goal in mind for all this support. It was out of protection more than anything else. Fire Nation royals, second sons especially, needed solid influence for survival. Resting on Azulon's affection gave me no safety, and resting on my brother's made me weak, a mere tool for others to use while he lived, easily thrown away once he didn't.

Teaching was more enjoyable than expected. My students usually exasperated me with inability or servility, but when I caught glimmers of true talent or insight… The boredom wore off just long enough for me to care. The connections were still felt mostly by them, and I barely learned anything in comparison to how exponentially their skills grew, but it helped me to ground me—or at least convince Ursa I wasn't totally detached from humanity.

Writing to her was, as always, more necessary than air. She couldn't write back, but just thinking about her reading my words, knowing what she would think and want to say… The relief was like water to a burn victim.

But it wasn't enough. It couldn't be. This separation, more than any other, had taught me how much I needed to see her every day, how much I needed her fire and spirit, her moralizing and righteous anger, her compassion and generous heart, her selflessness, peace, and calm. Her cascading hair and moon-like skin. Her flawless face.

Her amber eyes.

So I left the camp to make her mine, to meet her again on the isle that would always be ours.