The dream begins with flame, with Ozai's marble face contorted in that incomprehensible laughter. That sinister oil I do not recognize. It is all I can do not to scream. When I look into his eyes, I no longer see gold.

I only see the obsidian pits that are his pupils.

But through that laughter, a darker, rough voice speaks words I can finally hear. I can only make out a few, but they ring loud and clear, "You will learn respect, and suffering shall be your teacher."

I see little else before I wake.

Just dead eyes of malice.

The eyes of a stranger.

And a burst of flame.

The conscious world was a relief from the absurdity. I feared none of it, believed none of it, and yet I could not shake it. I could not prevent it, no matter how calm my heart was in the face of such a blatant lie.

For a lie, I knew it was.

I joined Lu Ten for his breakfast to hear even the servants whispering with glee. They were to confess, and celebrate, the fact that Li Mei had left the city. It should've struck me as suspicious, given the subject of my conversation with Ozai the night before, but it didn't, of course. Even at my most vigilant, I suspected him of very little.

I did suspect Li Mei of some new plot, but I tried not to question it too much and celebrate her absence for however long it may last.

I never dreamed that she would quiver every time she saw me again.

After a both exhausting and rejuvenating day with the littlest prince, I attended a dinner for no real purpose other than to visit with Piandao. Within a few minutes of listening and talking to him, I felt like I had a friend again. He was such a relief, centering and grounding me, allowing me to be myself without planning or second-guessing or self-censoring for the first time in so long… I didn't have to worry nor care about what I said, what he thought about what I said, nor what I thought about what he thought about what I said.

He had an insight and wisdom that reminded me of Iroh in some ways, but he'd been shaped by very unique experiences and circumstances. He would never share his stories when pressed, nor would he boast in any of them, but he couldn't help letting a few slip out here or there when I was really listening. As the weeks went by, we met more often. He could tell how much I valued whatever he had to say, and seeing him really could brighten my day. I didn't realize how much I was using him as a distraction until I finally noticed the way he viewed me, the way my presence brightened his day.

Before I knew what had happened, before I thought to check myself, Piandao was sending me the softest of smiles with blazing lights in his eyes. He'd try to shake it off and change the subject when he thought I noticed his admiration, but I caught a few of his "secret" glances, and it pained me. It pained me that I may have misled him or, at the very least, that I wasn't more cautious with his heart. It pained me that I never felt the warmth for him he felt for me—and never could. My head told me that it wasn't my fault, and it wasn't, of course. Still, I should have predicted given my past history.

Above all, it pained me that he could never look at me the way Ozai did.

Ozai saw me in a way no one else ever could, in a way I could never forget.

That prince, oddly enough, tried to give me space for the rest of the season. He would visit Lu Ten frequently, but he always allowed me to speak first or make the first move. Attending every social event I did, Ozai irked me at first, but eventually I realized he wasn't there to manipulate or remind me. He was watching over me, looking out to prevent another Zhao situation or another gossip craze. If I asked, I had no doubt he would leave and order a trusted guard to spy for him. His expression, though everyone else would think he had none, told me how much it pained him to stay away and how much he was determined to still do it. His goal truly seemed to be… bettering himself, being independent, becoming his own man, and addressing the issues he'd been ignoring for so long.

I wrote to Iroh so frequently even the servants were shocked. And for the first time in my life, I actually read every word of the letters he sent back. I'd even reread some of his older ones that I'd ignored when first sent. I practically lived in the Royal Library, consuming even the most irksomely metaphorical scrolls on philosophy and spirituality. Azulon's spies probably thought I wanted to become a fire sage based on my studies and all the questions I asked the palace sages. I let Azulon think what he would but continued to attend and contribute to every meeting. I listened to the other advisers more as well, analyzing them for patterns, mistakes, alliances, influences, power plays, and favoritism. It was important to know and be wary of, but I didn't use it to my advantage, and I strived to be just as critical of myself.

Ursa'd always made me a better person, but I needed to be someone that could make her better too. Someone secure and independent and capable of growth. Someone who wasn't only self-controlled, which I had always been, but self-aware. Someone who stood for something other than myself. I would never be perfect or deserving of her, but the least I could do was my best. The least I could do was give up everything.

She was my reason to change. She would always be my reason.

The months might have flown by for her, but time seemed achingly slow to me. Ursa trusted herself, and me, enough to have normal conversations again, but it wasn't the same. I began to question whether I'd given her too much space or not, thought it seemed incomprehensible that my best friend could ever love me less.

I refused to wait any longer.

I had to tell her, show her how I still felt and would always feel.

I had to chase after her.