I couldn't see the Fire Lord at first. I couldn't see anything in the dark, massive room. The only light came from the throne, blinding me for several seconds until my eyes adjusted. Even then, half of Azulon's aged face was covered in shadow so I couldn't even project any reaction on him.

Somehow, I knew he could see me as plain as day, and I suddenly wished Ozai could too. If he'd had the opportunity, he would've hidden behind one of the pillars, but alas, there was no way for him to enter now without his father seeing.

"You may begin, Lady Ursa," he invited after my face had spent a few seconds on the floor.

I began.

The servants had set up the tea supplies and tools just as I requested. The tea ceremony was a highly ritualized, tedious process. For personal reasons, which really boiled down to one, it'd been years since I performed it, but I'd learned and relearned it so many times that it was impossible for my muscle memory to forget. In fact, I deliberately chose not to think about the steps.

I didn't think about how straight I should sit or how my hands should move. I didn't think about what kind of grace or strength, confidence or humility, independence or reverence, maturity or youth, he wanted me to have. Trying to convey anything wouldn't work. His icy-yet-scalding gaze seemed to see through everything, and the simple fact was…

The Fire Lord would see in me whatever he wanted to see. He'd already made that decision.

The only way he might see something else would be if I didn't force anything. I was not Ozai or Li Mei. I couldn't conquer this sea of masks and traditions as they did. I could keep myself from drowning, floating and fighting the waves with all I had, continuing valiantly in that swim, but I would never be victorious. I could pass, but I couldn't flourish. No matter how hard I tried, it would still be "trying."

So I simply served. Clearing my head of all thoughts and worries, ignoring the almost unbearable heat and the smoke that threatened to choke my lungs, I completed the process as if I was serving tea to a favorite teacher rather than the most powerful man on the planet.

Something strange happened once I connected to my inner sanctuary of peace and harmony… For the first time, the tea ceremony really felt like an art. For the first time, I could move with passion, both fast and slow, completely outside of time yet completely present in every temporary moment.

Whether it took me seconds or hours to make the tea, I couldn't tell you.

Before I knew what had happened, before I had even begun to feel the art, I was done.

Still separated from the Fire Lord by a wall of flame.

Without a word, he stood and lowered the fires enough so that he could cross over.

Even with a bowed head, I saw every detail of his long face… The age spots, the wrinkles, the cheekbones so like Ozai's…

And the dead eyes that resembled nothing save a fiery abyss.

A small gasp escaped my lips before I could suppress it, but he didn't react, taking the cup and returning to his seat.

Every second of silence in that room felt like a century.

"You may drink," he stated without inflection, without the slightest hint of any inflection.

Perhaps I will see in him whatever I want to see as well. A projection of my own insecurity.

I bowed my head in thanks and brought the cup to my lips.

His eyes flashed, cold but not cruel… Curious?

"You didn't drink it," he observed more than he asked.

The question was implied.

"I don't like tea."

I can't believe that was the first thing I've ever said to the Fire Lord.

"Your majesty—"

He replied faster than most, not even taking time to blink.

"No wonder Iroh doesn't want you for himself."

I paled instead of blushing, unsure if this was an attempt at humor—assuming Azulon remembered humor—and stared at serves his feet in submission.

He drank the tea with his brows furrowed, eyes focused on my face, searching for a memory of his.

"You look familiar..." His face smoothed as the momentary confusion abated. "You were at Lu Sen's funeral."

"Yes, sire."

"You started the song."

"Yes, sire."

I felt a little ridiculous.

"Tell me, Lady Ursa. Are you a compulsive gambler?"

It was my turn for confusion.

"I beg your majesty's—?"

"You seem to enjoy taking risks."

And my face's turn to smooth.

"Only when it could save someone I love."

I'd anticipated his next question, but I hadn't anticipated that he'd ask it so soon.

"Do you love my son?"

I didn't take time to blink either.

"Yes. More than I have ever loved anyone, your majesty. I understand if I understand if that doesn't mean much, coming from a seventeen year old girl… But I do love your son. Please know that."

That fierce gaze examined me for a few seconds more, considering and calculating before asking a question I hadn't anticipated.

"Why?"

"Why do…?"

"Why do you love Ozai?"

I bowed again for the insult I was about to deliver.

"With all due respect, your majesty, I think I see something in him you don't."

"Perhaps," he replied with a glare targeted more at the universe than me. "I'd say that I see something in him you don't."

"Perhaps we're both right," I agreed.

"Enlighten me. What do you see?"

The list rushed through my thoughts faster than I could say it.

His life. His unquenchable passion. His effortless power and strength. His resolve. His incredibly vulnerable heart. His ability to be selfless and thoughtful in the stealthiest of ways. The way he committed himself fully or not at all. His fiery spirit but utterly cool head. His imperturbability to all but me. His attentiveness. His surprising softness. His unsurprising courage. His deep, deep flaws. The way he listened to everything I said and understood everything I didn't. The way he loved and forgave me no matter what simply because I dared to care for him. The confessions and deep thoughts only I heard. The wisdom and knowledge he revealed only sparingly. His multi-dimensional thought process and mind-numbing intellect. His even more mind-numbing cheekbones. His hair. His muscles. The way he towered over me without making me feel the least bit small. His fourth-smiles. His grins. His scowls and glares and sulking. Even his total lack of expression. His laugh. His dry humor and piercing wit.

His even more piercing eyes.

But how did I say that? How did I say any of the truth without being dismissed as absurd or delusional or immature by this cynical man?

"I love him… because I love him. I have loved him from the moment I met him twelve years ago. I couldn't stop any more than I could stop my heart from beating."

The shadows hid even more of his face now, but this somehow spurred me on.

"And what do I see in him? I see the embodiment of fire. I see a phoenix who can rise from any ashes."

I said it as if I was daring him to disagree, even while remaining respectful and conscious of his being, well, the most powerful man in the world. Another moment of silence rang out as he probably examined me again, thinking, calculating, predicting…

The room seemed to sense when he made his decision. I felt in the smoke, saw it in the flames, heard in a somehow shifted silence.

"Someday, my dear, you will see what I see now. Your mistake is that you think you haven't seen enough of him, while I know I've seen too much."

I bowed again as he excused me and said, "Send Ozai back in."

The doors opened, and a pale Ursa could only blink in her shock. Relieved beyond words, I embraced her the second I could. I'd been terrified by the only half-rational thought that Azulon might not let her out of that room alive, and I refused to ever let her go again.

Ozai glared at the guards that held the doors open still, and I rested my cheek on his shoulder for a few moments before finally insisting that he go back in and talk to his father. The idea seemed to startle him, raising his eyebrows enough that even our onlookers noticed, as he couldn't seem to fathom why he should do anything other than hold me.

Those eyes of hers bore down on me, unflinching, so I hugged her one last time, kissing the top of her head, before returning to what I dreaded more than anything.

"Do you love her?" Azulon demanded.

I didn't even have time to bow.

It was a question with no "right" answer. I couldn't lie to him—or anyone—about her. He would be able to tell. However from the way he straightened in his throne, flaunting his full height, for the first time ever eager to hear me speak, I knew he was waiting for leverage. To say, "Yes," was to reveal the first vulnerability he could use to his full advantage… for my entire life. To say it was to give up any fight I had, any chance to manipulate or plot, to burn the mask I always put on for him. To say it was to acknowledge his sole and all-encompassing power over my life and my weaknesses, giving him something to use and lord over me forever. To submit my deepest, truest core to his control without any opportunity to change his mind or my own fate, without it being surface-level or for appearance's sake…

To say it was to admit defeat.

His eyes had never been brighter than when I answered honestly and softly, but carrying across the room without apology.

"Yes. More than I know how to love myself."

It was not a calculated risk. There was nothing to calculate. It was all-or-nothing, and I didn't have anything to barter with to achieve my desire or influence his decision. It was the first time in my life I went to Azulon asking for something I needed more than air without any tricks or fall backs, without knowing what his answer would be. I, along with everyone else in the Fire Nation, had assumed he would give me a commission so even though his answer was unexpected, it hadn't been a calculated risk. I didn't really lose anything. My pampered life in a gilded cage stayed the same.

But if he said no, I would lose everything.

He said nothing so I rose to leave.

"You have a decision to make, Prince Ozai," he announced as I was walking out.

His next words made me freeze in my place.

"You may marry Lady Ursa once you turn twenty, or you may lead a battleship on a mission to search for the Avatar."