Disclaimer: I do not own the world of Avatar: The Last Airbender or its characters.

Opame walked down a hallway, the basket of clean clothes resting against her hip, chewing on her bottom lip.

I'm lost.

After she had hung up all her laundry and folded all the clean laundry into her basket, she had started to make her way back in the direction she assumed was the right way to get to the servants' hall but she supposed she must have taken a wrong turn. Looking up and down the hallway, there was no one in sight, of course, not when she needed someone. Sighing, she sat down her basket, sitting on the ground next to it. Might as well take a quick break. Her hands were a little shaky from all that scrubbing. And who told them that the palace needed to be this big?

Leaning her head against the wall, relishing in the breeze from the open hallway as she let her eyes drift up to the portrait across from her, a slight frown on her face.

The Royal Family

Or at least how they must have looked a few years ago.

Fire Lord Ozai looked stern, powerful, while Princess Azula had an odd, almost evil smirk on her face. There was a sadness in the former Fire Lady Ursa's eyes and Prince Zuko looked almost the same. Perhaps being Royal wasn't all it was cracked up to be.

Ash. Burning. Smoke.

Opame brought her knees up, wrapping her arms around her legs. She never thought she would come to work in a place like this. She was thankful that Izuma had given her such a high recommendation. It was bittersweet, truly; working here gave her and Ceba a place to stay, food on the table, but she couldn't say she liked it. She would never tell her brother that or let him see her upset. She had promised her mother she would be strong for him, that she would protect him and if working in the Fire Nation Capital was the way to do that, so be it. They would make do for now.

She did missed home, though.

She missed her mom and dad.

"Excuse me. Are you okay?"

Opame turned her head, her eyes going wide.

Of course, of course, of course!

The one and only, Prince Zuko.

She dropped her eyes quickly, before she could truly make eye contact with the Prince, scrambling to her knees, head bowed, hands folded in her lap. She had never dreamed of running into any of the Royals, especially on her first day here. It figured, honestly, knowing her luck. An image of Ms. Akuri flew through her head, her mole quivering as she yelled at her for breaking her precious rules.

Oh, she was most certainly going to lose her job today.

A pair of nice slippers (royal slippers), stopped in her line of sight, the robes brushing across the top of them. Clearing her throat, Opame nodded her head. "Yes, Prince Zuko. That is to say – everything is alright, or, I suppose. . . . I apologize, I shouldn't be sitting in the hallway. I'll get back to work right away."

Opame reached for the basket, moving to stand up . . . only to step on the bottom of her long tunic. The basket flew out of her hands as she fell forward, scattering the linens across the hallway. Her face burned as she scrambled to her knees again, picking up the nearest cloth, folding it and placing it into the basket. As she reached for another, a hand appeared, long fingers wrapping around it and picking it up.

"Oh, no, sir, you don't have to –" Opame started, glancing up before she remembered her manners.

"It's fine," Prince Zuko muttered, folding the robe he had been holding. She kept her eyes on his hands, surprised how well he folded. She supposed that came from spending so much time traveling. "Are you new here?"

Still keeping her head bowed, Opame gave a small nod. "Yes, Your Highness, it's my first day."

"I couldn't tell." There was a bit of amusement in that statement. Again, Opame fought not to look up. "It's . . . okay to look at me, you know. I realize that scar can be a bit disconcerting. . . ."

"Oh no, it's not that!" Opame reassured him, finally meeting his eyes. He looked just like the portraits she had seen of him, both in the colonies and here in the palace. Black hair pulled into a tight topknot, straight posture, impeccable clothing, golden eyes . . . the scar. She had seen other images of him as well, on wanted posters, his hair much shorter, but, obviously, those were obsolete. He looked uncomfortable, kneeling there in all that regal clothing. Uncomfortable . . . and almost sad, just like his younger self. He seemed – heavy.

The man who killed the Avatar.

And despite the scar, he was very handsome.

She was staring, she realized. Shaking her head, Opame reached for more linen. "I apologize, Your Highness, I was told I wasn't to look any of the Royal Family in the eye."

"Who told you that?"

"Ms. Akuri, Sir."

A slight smile came to the Prince's face as he looked away. "Sounds like her. I don't mind, if you make eye contact. Maybe . . . just don't do it with Azula."

Opame bit her lip to try not to laugh. "Thank you, Prince Zuko."

"You're not from around here, are you?"

"I came from the colonies, Prince Zuko."

"You don't have to do that either," the Prince said with a wry smile. "Call me "Your Highness" or "Prince" all the time."

She cleared her throat, a blush coming to her face. "First day hazards, I'm afraid. . . ."

"Have – have you been crying?" Opame looked up, surprise evident on her face. Prince Zuko shrugged. "Your eyes look a little red."

"I, er –" She thought to lie, blame it on the steam from the washroom but found she couldn't, not when he was looking at her so openly. "Yes . . . There's nothing wrong with working here," Opame assured, quickly. "We just moved here from the colonies and I'm a bit home sick, is all."

The Prince nodded, staring down at the linen in his hands. "I can understand that."

This was strange, she knew, sitting here in the hallway with the Prince of all people, folding clothes and linens. Spirits be praised, no one else had come down that hallway while they worked. She would have gotten in so much trouble.

"Thank you," she said, softly, as he placed the last cloth into the basket. "I appreciate your help."

"It was my fault." Prince Zuko picked up the basket as they stood. Quickly, Opame took the basket back, curtsying to him. "Where were you headed?"

"Uh . . . . the servant's hall," Opame told him. "I got a bit turned around."

"I'll say. These are the Royal Quarters."

"Are they?" Opame squeaked. She cleared her throat at the look of amusement Prince Zuko gave her. "Yes, well . . . you wouldn't be able to point me in the right direction, would you?"

"If you head back down this hallway," Zuko started, pointing in the direction she had come from, "you have to turn right and then it'll be the second left."

Opame gave the Prince a smile and another curtsy. "Thank you, Prince Zuko . . . It was nice to meet you."

The prince looked shocked, but he nodded. "It was nice to meet you as well."

Quickly, Opame turned around, walking in the direction the Prince had given her. She chanced a swift glance back, but the Prince was already moving into a room she assumed was his.

That was the man who killed the Avatar?

Opame sighed as she pulled her hair out of its large bun, ruffling her fingers through the brown locks as it tumbled down her back, looking out the window as the carriage approached the North District. There were about ten other servants traveling with her and they were just as quiet, just as tired, so she didn't feel bad. The rest of the day had gone smoothly enough. She finished her washing, managed not to get lost again, was on time with all her tasks and she thought Ms. Akuri had even looked approving.

The carriage stopped at the entrance to their District and they all clambered out, murmurs of 'good evening' shared as they walked their separate ways. As she approached her home, she couldn't help but think back to her interaction with the Prince. She was surprised to still have a job, honestly; she had thought for sure Prince Zuko would mention her to someone and she'd be out on the streets. Not that their conversation had been inappropriate, she supposed, but the circumstances were. He was a noble, she was a servant, that was all there was to it, even if he didn't act like how she imagined Nobles would. It was still mind-boggling to compare the man she had met to the ruthless killer stories had painted him out to be. She had heard it had been a great battle between him and Avatar Aang, but that the Prince somehow surpassed him and was now welcomed home with open arms.

She'd be lying if she said it wasn't a shame that the Avatar was gone; looking up at the volcanic crater that cradled the castle in the distance, she wondered what life would be like if she and Ceba could finally live a normal existence. No hiding, no running, no more war. A normal life sounded too good to be true.

Her cottage came into view, the candlelight flickering in one of the windows. Yawning, she reached for the door, pulling it open. "I'm home."

Ceba looked up from where he sat on one of the cushions, a candle beside him, reading a scroll. Her little brother looked up, grinning, "Welcome home."

At least he's in his pajamas, she thought as she slid the door closed behind her. He put his scroll down and rushed forward, into her arms. Opame shot a quick glance at the open window before she wrapped her arms around her brother. "Have you eaten?"

"Yes."

"Done your homework?"

"Yes."

"Had a good day at school?"

"It was fine. I made some friends! The teachers are a lot stricter here than they are in the colonies, though. We have to bow every time we approach a teacher and recite the Fire Nation Anthem."

"Sounds like an interesting day. Now you should be in bed," she told him, placing her hands on his shoulders and turning him towards the bedroom.

"Nooooo," her brother whined, dragging his feet. "You haven't told me about work yet!"

"It was dry and boring," Opame said, reaching down to swoop up the scroll he had been reading. She looked down at it, frowning at her brother. "You haven't been practicing, have you? Not with the windows wide open."

"Of course not!" Ceba muttered as Opame moved to blow out the candle by the window, closing the shutters. "I just wanted to read it!"

"Probably shouldn't do that with the windows open, either." They entered the bedroom, Ceba moving to his bed as Opame tossed the scroll on her own, reaching to close the window in their room.

Ceba snuggled under his covers. "Tell me about work!"

"Nothing exciting happened," she told him, kneeling next to her brother's bed. "Izuma says hello."

"When will we go visit her and Razo?"

"On our next day off, for sure." She hesitated, running her hands over his covers. "I met the Prince."

Her brother sat up quickly, his big, gray eyes wide. "You did?"

"Yes. I spilled some laundry in the hall and he helped me pick it up."

"Did you punch him?"

"Of course not!"

"Hmph." Ceba crossed his arms, glaring at his covers. "You should have punched him."

"I would have lost my job. . . . He was actually – rather kind."

Ceba looked at her incredulously. "Opame, he killed the Avatar. They talked about it in school today. They called it the Fire Nation's Greatest Accomplishment."

"I know." Opame stood up, brushing dust off her dress. "Enough talk, time for bed. We both have an early day tomorrow."

"Will you tell me a story?" he asked, giving her that big, eyed look she knew he knew she couldn't resist.

Opame sighed. "Scooch over."

Ceba moved towards the wall so that Opame could sit next to him, snuggling under her left arm once she was settled. Opame ran her fingers through her brother's hair. "What story should we hear?"

"You know the one," Ceba told her, trying to stifle his yawn.

"Hmm. . . . Well, we know of the Water Tribes, the Fire Nation, and the Earth Kingdom," Opame started, telling the story just as their father used to. "But there was once a fourth nation that existed a long time ago, one hundred years ago to be precise."

"Air," Ceba finished. "The Air Nomads."

"Yes." Opame looked up at the wall across from them, a sad smile on her face. "The Air Nomads. Among the Air Nomads, there was a young woman of great spirit. Her name was –"

"Shenden," Ceba supplied.

"Shenden," Opame agreed, smiling at her brother and tapping him on his nose. "Otherwise known as Great-Grandmother."

Opame slipped out of her brother's bed, laying him down gently and pulling the covers up to his chin. Leaning down, she placed a kiss against his forehead, smoothing his hair back. The little boy sniffed in his sleep and rolled over, curling up before settling. Opame watched him sleep for a moment before turning towards her own bed.

He was right, she knew. It didn't matter how 'nice' Prince Zuko was. He had killed the Avatar, his family had devastated this world. . . . She would need to remember that and keep a wide berth.

Quickly, she changed into her own pajamas, deciding she would wake up with the first bell to go to the bath house. As she climbed into bed, she picked up the scroll her brother had been reading. Hesitantly, she unrolled it, running her fingers across the familiar, fading pictures. Her mother had shown this to her when she had been about Ceba's age, a relic from a time long since past. . . .

An Airbending scroll.

Sighing, Opame let the scroll furl back up, leaning down to pull out an old satchel. She carefully placed the scroll back among the others before putting the bag in her place, sitting up. Biting her lip, she looked at the dancing flame of the candle on the table between her and Ceba. A slight smile came to her face. She flicked her wrist . . .

And blew it out.