"Got your cloak?"
"Yes."
"Got the money?"
"Yes."
"Got your fans?"
"Sokka, you're starting to sound like an overprotective father."
"Then you better listen to me, young lady," Sokka waggled his finger in front of her with a mocking smile.
Elyrie gave him a smirk as she tightened her cloak around her shoulders. She had directed them to a cave on the edge of the volcano that surrounded the Capital City. It was damp and chilly, but it was the perfect spot for them to land on the island unnoticed and the opening was wide enough for Appa. She looked over and saw through the opening that the sea was glittering and reflecting the stars in the dark sky. It was a near moonless night, which was ideal for them.
"I'll pick you up tomorrow," Sokka said as he climbed back on Appa, "Two hours after dusk, to avoid being seen with our enormous friend here." Lovingly, he patted the bison's enormous head as he took the reins.
"And I'll be here." Elyrie hoped that her smile was reassuring.
"I'll see to it that you keep that promise," Sokka answered. "I mean it, Elyrie, you have to be careful." His blue eyes became softer and she saw a flicker of fear in them.
"I will," she promised again, extending her hand to pat Appa's head. He gave her a loving nudge with his big snout as if to warn her too.
"Then I will see you tomorrow," Sokka answered with an encouraging nod and he guided Appa to the entrance of the cave.
"And I will be here," Elyrie promised for the last time, "Tomorrow evening, two hours after dusk." Appa waved his enormous tail and they set off to fly back into the dark night.
She watched them until they were indistinguishable in the dark sky.
She was here. She had to do her part. A shudder went through her and her stomach began to squirm.
No time for hesitations now, she took her hood to cover her head and walked further into the cave. A small path, just big enough for a person to squeeze through, allowed her to reach the main road to the Capital City.
The rough stones creaked under her shoes as she stepped out on the other side and the dust flew with every step into the dark night. She was grateful for the darkness, because she needed all the cover she could think of.
Her regular clothes, a red top and pants with a flowing skirt behind them, were ideal for in the capital. She would appear like a regular girl, probably a daughter of a shopkeeper or merchant. For her disguise as a maidservant however, she needed to get a basic uniform. And she needed to cover her hair as much as she could. Stupid, she murmured to herself as the path stretched on. She completely forgot that the colour of her hair had been one of the most distinct features she had. She should have coloured it with charcoal before coming here.
She pushed the thoughts to the back of her mind as she continued her path. In the distance, she could make out the lights of Hari Bulkan. The road up to the volcano was lit with at least a hundred torches. She squinted her eyes and tried to make out if there were lights going up the road to the inside of the volcano. She hoped there were, then she could probably ride with them. Nightlife was big in the Fire Nation, although she had to be careful.
Don't stand out, don't draw attention. Sokka had drilled those words in her mind. She was a regular girl, just on her way back to the Fire Nation Capital after a short visit to her family in one of the villages nearby.
The path was familiar now that she walked over the normal road. Every year, her parents had taken her with the carriage over these dusty roads. During those endless summers when they left the scorching heat of the city behind for a cool seabreeze on Ember Island.
And now, I come here as a maidservant, she thought with a mental chuckle.
Behind her, she heard the sound of stomping and the rattle of a wagon coming closer. She turned around and lifted her hand, lighting up the tips of her four fingers to draw the attention of the rider. With a screeching sound, the wagon stopped and the ostrich-horse swung his head impatiently.
"Can I help you?" the woman on the wagon asked, her long black hair braided back into a plaid on her back. Her clothes were modest but of good quality. Elyrie quickly calculated that she must be a merchant or a shopkeeper. "Do you need a ride to the capital?"
"Yes, please. If it is not too much trouble?" Elyrie answered with a polite smile, "How much do you want for it?"
"No need," the woman smiled as she pointed with her thumb to the back of her wagon, "If you don't mind sitting between the vegetables, that is."
"No mind at all!" Elyrie laughed as she extended her hand to the woman, "I am Saya, nice to meet you!" She had thought carefully about the name this time. A normal, common Fire Nation name. No more stuttering or surprises when somebody asked her name. And no unnecessary secrecy. Nothing to draw attention.
"Aiko," the woman greeted back, "Hop on!"
"Thank you!" Elyrie jumped on the back of the wooden cart. As she placed herself between the carrots and lettuce, she leaned against the back of the wooden panels and looked at the sky. It was cloudless, but the stars seemed to hide themselves the closer they got to the city. Light pollution, someone had once called it – was it Uncle? It must have been.
The Capital was always filled with lights and warmth. That is one of the perks of being the most important city of a nation whose element was intwined with those qualities. She had never thought about how light during the night was something rare in other parts of the world. True, they had oil lamps or torches to light parts of the street. In Ba Sing Se, the city had been filled with small lamps which gave of a warm glow. But in the Fire Nation, the light was just as bright as during the day. At least in the streets, that is.
There were only a few dark alleyways, such as in the Earth Kingdom. What could one expect from a city in which only the wealthiest people lived?
"So, how did you get stranded here?" Aiko turned around. Her eyes were dark, probably a chocolate-brown colour in the daylight. They were kind eyes, not suspicious.
"I lost track of time," Elyrie answered, "I visited my family for a few days, but I have to get back to the Capital to resume my duties." She twirled a lock of hair around her finger. "I am a maidservant." She added as convincingly as possible.
"Good thing I passed by then," Aiko grinned as she turned back to look at the road. The lights of the harbour were only a kilometre or two away, Elyrie estimated. "I was late too," Aiko confessed, "Missed the ferry in the afternoon."
"Do you have somewhere to be?" Elyrie asked
"I have to deliver the produce to the kitchens of the Royal Palace," Aiko answered.
"Oh, but that is perfect!" Elyrie exclaimed, "I work for a family who lives near the Palace. Do you mind taking me that far?"
"Sure, I can take you!" Aiko answered, "I have to deliver my cargo tonight though, not tomorrow. Do you mind arriving tonight?"
"Not in the least." Elyrie couldn't believe her luck. With this lady, nobody would even spare her a glance as she sneaked past the guards. She could nip a maidservant costume and leave just as easily.
As they rode through the harbour onto the swirling road creeping up to the volcano, Elyrie felt her heartbeat quicken. Not out of fear, but out of excitement. She knew the streets were lively and full of chattering people, enjoying the versatile nightlife the Capital offered.
I'm going home.
"State your business." One of the guards asked once they reached the guarded gates. The other guard walked around to inspect the wagon.
"Delivering produce to the kitchens." Aiko answered. Elyrie made eye contact with the guard that inspected the wagon and smiled, and then cast her eyes downcast as if to pretend she was shy. She had a crop of lettuce on her lap and fumbled with it's crispy leaves.
"And you?" he asked Elyrie. He didn't look unkind, but she felt her pulse quicken all the same. "Maidservant," she answered with a soft, childlike voice, "The lady was so nice to give me a ride."
"Which household?" he squinted his eyes at her.
"The Young household," Elyrie answered without hesitation. The Youngs had been her neighbours in the Capital with three daughters younger than herself. She just hoped they were still living there, but she took her chances.
"Proceed!" the guard nodded. The gates creaked open. Elyrie nodded politely as they passed, but the guards didn't even blink. Well trained, she mused with an internal chuckle, You just let one of the most dangerous traitors walk into the Capital, covered in vegetables, but at least you keep a stern face.
She pinched herself as she felt a nervous giggle bubble up and immediately reprimanded herself for her carelessness. Now was no time for jokes or playing along – the situation was incredibly grave if she were to be discovered.
Her own reprimands were drowned out by the chatter and laughter of people walking in the streets as the wagon made its way down the road. The smell of spices and jasmine came wafting towards her as they passed the restaurants and the spa's, with which the city was filled. The Upper Ring of Ba Sing Se might have been for the richest citizens in the Earth Kingdom, but for her it paled in comparison to her Capital.
The wagon hobbled on the cobbled streets as she folded her arms over the side of the chart and rested her chin on her arms. With a deep sigh, she took in the City she had missed for such a long time. Citizens passed by, not aware they were being studied in their mundane activities. Their voices were filled with passion and the gestures were exaggerated – all wrapped in expensive silks and jewellery.
She lifted her eyes and saw the towering Royal Palace. The palace was the most recognizable structure in the entire Fire Nation, situated on a vast hill of rocky, barren scorched earth walled off from the remainder of the city. The tops seemed to touch the black sky, with the lights on it matching the stars as if to imitate the heavens.
The chart stopped just before the large iron gates that barred the Royal residence from the rest of the city. This was her stop.
"Thank you so much for your help tonight!" Elyrie said as she jumped off the chart and bowed to the woman.
"It was nice to have company," Aiko answered with a smile, "Makes the ride go faster, don't you agree?"
"Indeed it does!" Elyrie returned her smile. What she said was true, she had no time to overthink or panic when she had been alone with her thoughts. The company was nice – it almost felt normal. As if she was truly just a regular girl on her way back to work. "Goodbye!" she waved to Aiko as the gates opened and the chart hobbled on the stones.
Elyrie turned around to face the square in front of the Royal Palace. The large square was buzzing with all kinds of people: young girls, like herself; older married couples taking a stroll; children playing 'Catch the flame' – a game she used to play with Zuko as well: create a ball of fire and use your hands to direct it to your opponent. They will direct it back, but you have to maintain its size.
She chuckled as she walked away from the crowds – painfully aware that it was still dangerous for her to show her face here. So she walked with a steady pace and slipped out of the busy centre to walk to the one familiar place.
As she turned the corner, it appeared to her just as she had imagined it for those long months.
Her house. Her home.
Three stories high, white walls and stark red roof. Her father and mother had lived here with her, making a memories from a golden childhood. She had lived as a highborn lady here, destined for a life of luxury and prosperity.
But now, she had returned as a traitor. But it still belonged to her, didn't it?.
Stupid, stupid, stupid, she told herself as she walked passed the front door to the shadows at the side of the house. With her back pressed to the wall, she followed the curve of the stones. It was the most stupid idea to enter, but she couldn't help herself. She knew there was a backdoor, used by the servants, so she could see what had become of her home. Would it be empty? After all, they could keep the front clean to keep up appearances, but what happened behind the doors?
Her mothers beautiful garden destroyed or overgrown with weeds? The water of the pond muddy and crawling with insects?
Her fathers study emptied, all the beautiful furniture taken away? His treasured library carelessly trashed in search of valuables?
Why would you need to know? Why torture yourself? She was torn between her better judgement and the tugging feeling in hear chest.
Would you be at peace if you found the home emptied and trashed? No, it would tore at her insides and create a new hole in her heart. Her golden childhood had been the anchor which was the base of her character.
You knew, despite everything, that you were loved.
Uncle had told her the obvious, but only in the last months had she truly understood the meaning. Zuko had returned to his childhood home, but she wondered if he was happy now.
She turned around and her eyes went up again to the imposing towering shape of the Royal Palace, just visible from where she was standing in the shadows. Are you happy, Zuko? Was it all worth it?
If she had been a better person, she could have hoped that he had found happiness. Their former affection for each other would require that she would rejoice in his success. But he had hurt her and she hoped that he was as miserable as she would be if she found her house trashed and looted. Her heart would be even less forgiving if she found out that it could be torn out for a second time.
Well, no use to dwell on what you cannot know, she said to herself as she slipped back. Her hands felt the stones change to wood and she knew she had made it to the back entrance. Get it quicky, grab a uniform and get out again. That was the plan.
The door to the servants quarters would be locked – obviously. Elyrie let her fingers slip above the door. Normally, there would have been a key there. Her fingers tentatively went over the rough edges of the wood, trying to avoid the splinters.
No key there, but that wasn't a problem. Pressing herself against the wall again and leaning down, she felt for the low window that let in fresh air from the kitchen. The glass was cold under her fingers, half-hidden by a tangle of ivy. With just enough force, she could pry it open far enough to slip inside.
She squatted down and placed both her hands against the glass. She eased the window open, its old hinges groaning softly in protest. It opened to the inside but she had to be careful not to knock something over. She untied her cloak and placed it under the window. Then she pushed her left leg through the opening, trying to find a steady spot to lean on. She felt something hard – her guess was the granite countertop. Shifting her weight, she squeezed her upper body through the opening. She paused momentarily, hanging halfway inside, as she listened for a sound. So close, she thought as she pulled her arm and other leg inside.
Placing her palms on the counter, she balanced herself as she let her eyes adjust to the darkness. Inside the kitchen, faint light from the dying embers in the hearth cast flickering shadows on the walls. The air was heavy with the scent of baked bread and herbs. She listened for any sound inside for a moment. Only the pounding of her own heart and low sound of her breathing broke the silence in the kitchen.
With a final, cautious glance around, she lit up one palm to allow herself some light. She had been right: she was standing on the countertop – she jumped down and turned around to grab her cloak and close the window. Placing her cloak on the counter, she enlarged the flame.
A large wooden table dominated the centre, surrounded by sturdy chairs. Copper pots and pans hung gleaming from hooks, and the counters were neatly arranged with various utensils and ingredients. The kitchen looked clean and tidy – no sign of looting here. The recently lit fire and smell of fresh herbs even proved the opposite: someone had used the kitchen quite recently.
She let out a sigh of relief as she walked out of the kitchen into the corridor that separated the kitchen from the laundry rooms and servants quarters.
She opened the door and listened again for sounds of servants or other people in the house. Nothing again, so she stepped very slowly into the corridor. Her flame lighting up only a part of the long, narrow hallway but Elyrie knew that the washing rooms were somewhere near the stairs to the main floor – after all, that was where the servants dropped off their used clothing and picked up their new set of clean clothing. Fire Nation protocol was very strict when it came to hygiene. She opened one of the doors carefully. It was dark, but it smelled of soap and beeswax in the warm chamber.
Her flame lit up the small room with warm light and she saw that the large baskets were filled with soft sheets. It was the laundry room, she had guessed that right. Slowly, she scanned the other baskets for clothing.
Bingo, she reached for a folded tunic in her size. It had been washed and pressed – just the way it was done here.
She had her disguise, she could go now. There was no sign of struggle or anything, so she could be certain everything was the way it was suppose to be.
Before she even finished her own thought, she walked out of the laundry room and up the stairs to the main floor.
As she stepped into the grand entrance hall, her breath caught in her throat. The sweeping staircase, adorned with intricately carved balusters and a richly carpeted runner, seemed to beckon her upward. Marble floors, inlaid with elaborate patterns, gleamed under the soft, golden light of her flame, which was reflected by a magnificent crystal chandelier hanging overhead.
Her footsteps echoed as she made her way to the drawing room, where the familiar elegance awaited her. Plush, velvet-upholstered sofas and chairs with carved wooden frames were arranged in perfect symmetry around a grand marble fireplace. Above the mantle, an oversized mirror reflected the room's opulence, doubling the effect of the rich damask wallpaper and heavy drapes in deep burgundy.
In the dining room, a massive polished mahogany table stretched out beneath another glittering chandelier. Fine china and silverware, displayed in glass-fronted cabinets, shimmered under the warm glow of wall sconces. The room exuded a sense of intimate luxury, with its deep red and gold hues creating a cozy, yet regal, atmosphere.
She ran upstairs and the first door she opened was her father's study. Her fingers brushed the spines of leather-bound volumes as she entered the room, the scent of old books and polished wood filling her senses. Floor-to-ceiling shelves lined the wall, cradling the wisdom of centuries. A large desk dominated the centre of the room, surrounded by plush armchairs inviting long hours of reading.
Across from the desk, the wall was dominated by two portraits. Elyrie walked over and fell a tear fall down her cheek when she realised they were still hanging on the wall.
She briefly looked at the one that was painted on her 20th birthday. She knew that one, but it was the other one that captured her full attention.
Their family portrait. Her father stood with his hand placed on the shoulder of his wife, his face proud. Her mother sat down. Her big blue eyes, a shade lighter than her daughter's, almost seemed to sparkle from the canvas. A younger version of herself stood between her parents, holding her mothers hand and the hand of her father was placed around her small shoulders. It had been the last family portrait before her mother had died.
She lifted her hand to touch the smiling faces on the canvas. It had been so long since she had seen their portraits. Her mother was wearing her sapphire ring in the portrait and Elyrie glanced at her bare fingers. A knife seem to cut through her again – a familiar feeling now.
"Mama, papa," she whispered, "I am home. I'm sorry it took me this long."
There came no answer, but she knew they had heard her. She walked over to the window and quietly opened the curtains to look over the balcony at the garden in the centre. Even in the darkness, she saw that the pond was shimmering and the roses were trimmed.
Her heart started beating faster as she lost her prudence and ran from one corner to the other, inspecting everything in a flash.
Her fathers study, the garden, the dining room – everything was still the way it had been when she had left it.
She ran to the last door on the second floor – her old bedroom. She burst inside, only to feel the relief flood over her again.
At the heart of the room stood a magnificent four-poster bed, its intricately carved mahogany posts reaching towards the ceiling, draped with rich, velvet curtains in deep burgundy. The plush bedding, a harmonious blend of silk and satin, invited one to sink into its luxurious embrace.
Against one wall, a large closet and a set of built-in bookshelves stretched from floor to ceiling, filled with an eclectic collection of leather-bound volumes. The scent of old books mingled with the faint aroma of lavender, creating an atmosphere of intellectual retreat. Each shelf was meticulously organized, with brass bookends holding the precious tomes in place.
Next to the bed, athe vanity table bathed in the soft light. Made of polished walnut, it was adorned with a large oval mirror framed in gilt. On its surface lay an array of delicate grooming items: silver-handled brushes, crystal perfume bottles, her old music box and a porcelain dish for jewellery. The padded stool, covered in embroidered silk, complemented the elegance of the table.
Opposite the bed, a writing desk occupied a quiet corner of the room. This exquisite piece of furniture, also crafted from dark mahogany, featured intricate inlays and brass handles. The desk was neatly arranged with writing implements: a brass inkstand, quills, a brush, and a stack of creamy, thick parchment. A comfortable high-backed chair with plush upholstery invited long hours of study.
The walls were adorned with soft, floral-patterned wallpaper in muted tones, harmonizing with the rich wooden furnishings. A plush rug in shades of deep red and gold covered the floor, adding warmth and comfort to the space.
Everything is all right.
Memories flooded back as she let her fingers go over the spines of the books on the shelves. Her music box was standing on dressing table, next to a crystal bottle of perfume – not a speck of dust spoiled it's shining top.
She felt deflated as she sank down on the bed. Her bed. The sheets were clean and fresh, obviously changed recently. Who had been taking care of everything like this?
She let herself fall on her back on the soft mattress. She inhaled the comforting smell of her childhood home. She felt safe. She felt at peace, as she stared at the canopy in the dark. At peace, and tired.
"What do you think you are doing here?" a voice rudely disrupted her slumbering thoughts. With a jolt, Elyrie sat upright and looked around. Light came through the window – not the coal black darkness of moments earlier.
She blinked rapidly as she took in the elements around her and realised where she was. But now, it was definitely morning and the doorway to her bedroom was blocked by a small silhouette.
"I- I just-," Elyrie stammered. She was fully awake now but her brain refused to cooperate.
"Help!" the silhouette – definitely female - called over her shoulder, "We have an intruder! Help!"
"I'm not-" Elyrie began indignantly, but two men – boys actually, judging by the lack of hair on their faces – stormed past the girl. Elyrie sprung to her feet as the both ran towards her.
The first boy reached for her but she was faster and grabbed him on both his upperarms. She pivoted her body, so he was forced to move with her. The other boy ran straight into his back. She extended her arms, pushing them both away from her.
"Hey!" one of them yelped as they stumbled backwards and fell on the carpet lying on the floor. Elyrie watched slightly amused as she took her right fan from her thigh.
The older boy scrambled back on his feet to reach for her again, but she slapped his arm away with her closed fan. The metal only hit his wrist, but he shrieked and pulled his arm back.
The second tried again as well, and she grabbed his arm and twisted it behind his back. He squealed in pain as his knees buckled. With a soft kick of her foot against the back of his knees, he fell face down on the soft rug.
"You hurt me!" He cried, his voice muffled by the fluffy fabric in which his face was buried now. The first boy was still rubbing his wrist – a red spot was visible were the metal had hit the skin. His large brown eyes looked accusingly at her.
Elyrie only shrugged as she grabbed the uniform that was still lying on the bed. Then, she stepped over the boy on the rug and she walked over to the girl who had screamed and woken her in the first place. She was still standing in the doorway, her small frame shuddering and her lower lip quivering. Elyrie walked towards her and she took a step back – then reconsidered it and stepped forward. With a shaking hand, she lit up her palm and looked at Elyrie.
"Don't do that here," Elyrie said and placed her own hand over the girl's, closing it into a fist and extinguishing the flames, "The bed and curtains catch flame too easily."
"But, but-.." she stammered. She couldn't be older than fifteen years old, Elyrie estimated. She had never seen her before when she lived here.
"I mean no harm," Elyrie said gently as she released her grip on her fist, "I shall leave now, and I apologise if I startled you. I fell asleep at an inopportune moment."
The girl only gaped at her when Elyrie slipped past her. As soon as she was outside of the room, she began to run.
"Help!" the high voice of the girl followed her as she took quick steps down the stairs, "Intruder! Help!"
Elyrie made the mistake of looking over her shoulder. Her foot caught on the edge of the runner lying at the bottom of the stairs in the hall - she stumbled and slammed right into the person standing in front of her.
"Oof," she gasped as she fell backwards from the force. The figure kept standing, but was knocked back a few steps by the impact.
"Now what is this fuss all about?" a familiar voice echoed off the marble walls. Elyrie looked up and saw that the person in front of her wasn't a child. The eyes were a light golden colour, set in a beautiful face. Her hair was jet black and pulled back in a traditional topknot. In her left hand, she was holding a giant set of keys and she used her right hand to impatiently tap on her hip.
As soon as their eyes met, the woman's right hand flew to her mouth and she stifled a surprised scream. Elyrie was about to do the same thing from her position on the floor.
Jin, her former maidservant.
For a moment, they stared at each other. Jin hadn't changed a thing, but Elyrie became painfully aware of how much she herself had changed. But there wasn't a chance that she wouldn't have recognised her. Or realised that her face was plastered over the entire Fire Nation as a traitor and a fugitive.
A few seconds ticked by before Jin found her voice again.
"You are to leave us alone!" Jin motioned with her right arm to the young trio standing in the hall. With her left arm, she pulled Elyrie back up and pressed her tightly against her – so much that she was struggling to breathe properly. "She is my cousin! I shall speak with her for her behaviour."
"She hurt me!" Elyrie heard one of the boys mumble from her tight position.
"She did?" Jin took a step back to look Elyrie in her eyes with a stern look, "That was not very nice of you."
"I apologise," Elyrie said as she turned around to the boy. He huffed at her and turned on his heels, followed by the other two.
"Come," Jin took her by the hand and led her to the dining room. She sat Elyrie down at the head of the table and Elyrie pondered how strange it all felt. After all those month wondering what happened to Jin after Zhao had dismissed her, and now she was here. Even Jin seem to think so, since she sat down opposite her and drew the chair closer to inspect her.
"Miss," she began, but halted as her eyes had went over her face, her hair, her hands. Elyrie saw herself through her eyes: The chopped-off hair, which hang in messy tangles around her face, the rough hands, the bruises on her arms and legs from excessive training.
It was as if Jin tried to convince herself that the Lady of the house had returned in such a state. "I have trouble comprehending this situation." she finally finished.
That was putting it lightly. "As do I," Elyrie answered as she started twisting her fingers and avoided the penetrating gaze.
"Then I shall start," Jin said as she placed her hand on Elyrie's, "After I was send back to the Fire Nation, I returned to my hometown. But it felt too small, and after I received your gift,- " she squeezed her hand with a small smile, "- I decided to travel to the Capital. When I arrived here, your housekeeper informed me of what happened at the North Pole. She offered me a job to wait upon your return."
She arched an eyebrow before she continued. "But," she tapped her finger on the back of Elyrie's hand, "You didn't and we had to rearrange the staff. Madame Ling, the housekeeper, allowed for me to oversee the house as she stepped down. She checks on me once a month."
Elyrie gaped at her as she tried to comprehend the situation. Jin was here as her new housekeeper – albeit unofficially – and had been taking care of the house she loved so much.
"Now, can you tell me why you decide to show up here unannounced and assault the staff?" Jin said with an arched eyebrow.
"I didn't assault them, merely defended myself." Elyrie answered, but she squeezed the hands of the other woman, "But thank you for not betraying me."
"Did you think that I would?" Jin asked with a frown.
For a moment, it had indeed crossed Elyrie's mind. Jin had been by her side during the difficult months as Zhao's fiancée – only for her to be dismissed. She had recognised her and the price for her capture was well worth the effort. But as soon as Elyrie saw the gentle look in the golden eyes, she knew she had been mistaken.
"It has been a very difficult time," Elyrie answered instead as she felt tears prick behind her eyes.
"I can tell," Jin answered as she turned over Elyrie's hands. Her palms were callused and her fingers suddenly appeared bare without the rings, "Will you tell me about it?"
Elyrie took a breath and told the modified story – trying to stick to the truth without betraying the plan for the invasion or the fact that she was here to gather information.
"So, I left the Avatar and his group," she lied as she looked around the room, "I came here because I couldn't stand the thought of never seeing my house again."
"You can rest assured then," Jin patted her hand and leaned back in her chair, "Since we weren't sure when and if someone would return to the house again, we converted it into some kind of teaching establishment."
"A what?" Elyrie asked.
"Youngster who wish to learn the skills necessary to work in a big household come here to be taught the basics, like making the bed the correct way, baking bread or presenting tea," the black haired woman elaborated, "Those three are our newest students. They usually stay a month or three before they go on and find work."
"How clever!" Elyrie exclaimed, "And you teach them? All by yourself?"
"Heavens, no," she laughed in response, "But I do manage all this."
"That's why the house is in such impeccable state," Elyrie smiled warmly, "I was afraid that it might have fallen into disrepair or that it had been looted."
"Is that why you have returned?"
"For a day, yes," Elyrie answered, partially truthful, "I couldn't live with the uncertainty of everything here being taken away as a consequence of my actions."
"I cannot say that I think it is a very good idea that you have returned," Jin's tone became clipped, "But what are your plans now?"
"I wishto see the familiar places, ease myself in my worries," Elyrie said as she placed the maidservant tunic on the table, "Disguised as a servant, I want to make my way around the city."
"Not near the Palace, I hope?"
"No, but I do wonder: how are the Prince and Princess?" Elyrie's jaw tightened and she closed her hands in her lap in a tight fist.
"Princess Azula hasn't changed: she rarely leaves the Palace," Jin shrugged, "Prince Zuko does pass by from time to time. He visits his girlfriend – that gloomy girl, the daughter of the governor of Omashu."
"Mai." Elyrie filled in automatically, but felt her chest tighten. "And General Iroh?" she asked against her better judgement, "What have you heard about him?"
"I'm very sorry, but he has been in prison for months now."
"Months?" Elyrie feigned surprise, hoping to convince her, "Not the Boiling Rock I hope?"
"No," Jin patted her hand, "The prison here in the city. But I certainly hope you do not intend to visit him?" Her gaze went stern as she looked at her, "No need for you to be sneaking around when you too are labeled a criminal."
"Of course not!" Elyrie replied breezily, "I wouldn't dream of it!"
"Mhm," Jin was not convinced.
"Truly, I don't plan to visit him in jail," Elyrie looked the older woman straight in her eyes. She wasn't lying: now she didn't have to.
"So," Jin, "I am to believe that the girl who travelled all over the world, breaking the rules, would not be capable of visiting a highly guarded jail?"
"None of my actions actually involved a jail," Elyrie replied innocently, enlarging her blue eyes on purpose.
Jin laughed when she saw it. "Don't test me," she lifted her finger to her with mocking look.
Elyrie got up from her chair and walked over to her, placing her arms around Jin's slender figure. "I know, and I am beyond thankful for what you have done for me."
With a chuckle, Jin tapped her on her back. "It was the least I could do for an old friend." She took the set of keys from her waist and took off a small, copper-coloured one. "Here, this is the spare key," she handed it to Elyrie, "After six o'clock, the house will be empty and you can return the uniform. Just leave the key on the table and pull the front door close behind you."
"Thank you so much," Elyrie took the key, "You didn't have to do this."
"It would be wrong not to allow a lady a key to her own house," Jin shrugged casually with a wink.
Elyrie got up, but Jin placed her hand on her arm. "Miss, If you'll allow me..?"
"Yes?"
"Can I please cut your hair so it doesn't look like a bird's nest anymore?"
From the corner of her eye, Mai looked over her boyfriend, who was slouching on her couch. His black hair hang in messy strands over his high forehead and his golden eyes stared out of the window without looking at anything.
With a sigh, she picked up the porcelain teacup a servant had brought in. She placed the tealeaves and herbs in the sieve and submerged it in the boiling water of the teapot. As she did this, she was trying to think of something - anything, really – to ease Zuko's mind.
She had called on Zuko in the early morning hours to invite him to have breakfast with her. He had come down, but his face had remained impassive the entire meal. She understood why: today was the war council. And Zuko wasn't attending it.
"Maybe it is for the best," she had tried to cheer him up, "Remember the last time you attended a war council?"
As soon as she had said it, she saw the look in his eyes change from melancholy to anger. His expression – already closed off from emotion – withdrew even further and he pressed his lips so tightly together that the blood seemed to be drawn from them.
He had gotten up from the table and sat down on the couch, his forearm placed on the armrest with his chin resting on it. For more than a half hour, he had been sitting in this position.
Mai wasn't the chatty type, but now his silence was unnerving to her. She stirred in the pot as she weighed her options. What could she do? She didn't seem to find the right words, but remaining silent wasn't a solution.
Not for the first time, her thoughts drifted off to their shared childhood. Zuko had always been a complicated individual – like herself, he had a taciturn personality. Not many people could pry a smile from him. Well, except his Mother and Elyrie, she finished her own thought. She felt the familiar tug at her heartstrings. Was it possible to be jealous of someone who wasn't even here? She mentally shook her head as she poured a cup of tea. She wasn't the jealous type, especially not now Zuko was her boyfriend – and he had never been Elyrie's.
She picked up the cup and handed it to Zuko, who ignored her gesture.
"Prince Zuko," one of the manservants walked unceremoniously past her into the room and bowed before the prince, "Everyone's waiting for you."
"What?" Zuko sat upright again. His eyes went from the servant to Mai and back again.
"The high admirals, the high generals, the war ministers, and the princess have all arrived. You're the only person missing." The servant elaborated, still bowing to him.
"So, my dad wants me at the meeting?" Zuko asked with wide eyes.
"The Fire Lord said he would not start until you arrived, sir."
Mai saw his face lit up as he smiled her. She smiled back as she gestured for him to make his way back. "I'll wait for you!" she called after him, "I'll find you when you are done!"
"So there is a war council on today?" Elyrie asked as she looked up at the Royal Palace, fanning her eyelashes, "that is very interesting. You must be very important then if they have you on guard today!"
She turned back to the guard with who she had struck up a conversation – after she had intentionally bumped into him. "Indeed," the young guard puffed out his chest proudly. Elyrie looked down and pretended to be shy as she tucked a loose lock under het cloth that covered her short hair. Jin had cut it so there were no uneven ends anymore. Now, it was cut straight into a long bob, reaching just above her shoulders. And after that was done, Jin had taken care of her battered hands.
How wonderful had it felt to have someone taking care of her again. Yet, she had come here with a mission and she had left – with Jins blessing, albeit begrudgingly – with the uniform to stroll around the city. And if she got in trouble, Jin would cover for her as her cousin.
"I am just so nervous about the next few days!" Elyrie continued as she kept looking down, "What could happen?"
"Don't worry," the young man patted her shoulder in a friendly manner, "The Fire Lord is prepared for the upcoming Day of Black Sun."
"But how can you prepare for something like that?" now she was genuinely curious, "It is such a big event!"
"Strengthening the defences of course!" He said matter-of-factly, "The harbour would be guarded the entire day."
"Oh, thank Agni!" she exhaled, "Is it silly to be nervous about all this?" she fanned her eyelashes again.
"Not at all," he said with a smile, "It is our job to protect all the Fire Nation citizens, so we shall!"
"How very brave of you!"
"Make way!" shouts around them drew her attention, "Make way for the Royal Palanquin!"
Elyrie turned around to see the palanquin approaching, curtains closed and the servants almost tripping over themselves in their hurry. She stepped back and prepared to turn around, but the guard placed a hand on her shoulder. "Look, it is the Prince on his way to the war council!" he pointed to the silhouette that was visible through the sheer curtains. Around them a small crowd gathered to watch as the Palace gates opened slowly
Elyrie swallowed thickly and wanted to shake off the hand on her shoulder and run. She knew she had to. She was so dangerously near him, Zuko only had to turn around and he would see her.
But she remained standing. Almost as if in a dream, she saw that he stepped out of the palanquin. The chatter around her seemed to disappear when she first saw his leather boots, followed by his broad physique dressed in the finest black and golden silk. His hair hung loose – it was longer than she remembered. His face hadn't changed: the same high forehead, straight nose and high cheekbones. And the distinctive scar on the left side of his face.
Her hands began trembling as she saw him walk toward the Royal Gates. He hadn't turned around or even looked at the crowd. She hadn't expected him to – he was on his way to a war council after all.
Her heart was beating so wildly that she was sure he could hear it. Against her better judgement, she hoped that he would turn to the crowd – she desperately wanted to see a glimpse of those golden eyes.
No, you can't. She pulled her gaze away from his form and forced herself to focus on the dozens of women, all darkhaired, who were standing around her. Some were wearing finer robes, probably daughters of merchants, and others were maidservants, passing by on their errands. All faces were smiling at Zuko, excited to catch a glimpse of their Prince. He is their Prince, she thought as he walked to the gates.
Just as she allowed herself one last look, Zuko turned around and waved in delight at the crowd. His smile cut through her like a knife, but she couldn't force herself to look away.
That is, until the golden eyes looked directly into her blue eyes.
"So, how did it go?" Mai walked up to Zuko as he left the throne room. The sun had almost set, but the room had been buzzing with excitement.
Zuko had almost forgotten her promise to visit him after the war council. "When I got to the meeting, everyone welcomed me," he answered, hearing the disbelief in his own voice, "My father had saved me a seat. He wanted me next to him. I was literally at his right hand."
"Zuko, that's wonderful!" Mai smiled genuinely at him and it made his stomach constrict in guilt, "You must be happy."
Zuko didn't answer immediately. Instead, he halted in his step to gaze upon the enormous portrait of his Father, Firelord Ozai. Despite the grand successes of Fire Lord Azulon and Fire Lord Sozin, it was Ozai's portrait that was the most ornate, Zuko noticed.
His father was portrayed bending black fire and with multiple metal cogs and smokestacks behind him. A large red-and-gold design was painted behind, and like all of the previous Fire Lords, he was depicted with the sun behind his head.
And like all previous Fire Lords, he is ambitious and ruthless, Zuko thought as he looked at the cold face that stared down from the portrait. Is this the kind of ruler I wish to be?
"During the meeting, I was the perfect prince." He heard himself say, "The son my father wanted. But I wasn't me." Zuko averted his gaze from the stern-looking portrait and looked down at his boots. His head was throbbing and his eyelids were heavy.
"Oh but Zuko, you were!" Mai said as she placed her hand on his cheek and turned his face to look at her, "You just have to realise that your place is here! This is who you are meant to be!"
She didn't understand. How could she? She didn't know about the dreadful things that were discussed in that room. Or the doubts that had been plaguing him for weeks.
She couldn't, because he didn't tell her.
"I am tired." Zuko only replied as he withdrew from her touch and turned on his heels. As he walked through the palace, he pulled of pieces of his royal armour and unceremoniously threw them down. It was too hot for it, he felt almost suffocated. Only dressed in his black tunic, he entered his room.
"Leave me alone," he ordered the servants who were waiting to undress him. Without a word, they left his room and closed the door.
Zuko pulled the ornament from his topknot and his hair fell over his face. He began to pace the length of the chamber. What his Father had suggested – it was inconceivable. He couldn't possibly be that cruel?
Oh, but he is, a voice whispered to him, you of all people must know that he is.
The voice was light and musical, and he knew to whom it belonged. I must be losing my mind, Zuko thought as he pressed his hands against his temples, I'm seeing and hearing things now.
This morning after het had stepped out of the palanquin, he had waved at the crowd standing near the gates. He had seen the face of the woman who was standing behind the others. In a flash, he saw that she didn't smile and that her blue eyes were wide. He had turned back again, his eyes frantically searching the crowds. The figure was standing no longer in the crowd. His eyes went over the square, trying to make out the familiar face. But he recognised no one.
His hand went to the pocket of his tunic and he felt the small bump of her ring under the fabric.
It was your imagination, he reminded himself as he began to pace again. She wasn't here, she couldn't be here.
Yet, he had been here and now he knew what his Father had prepared for the rest of the world when Sozin's Comet arrived.
It was too much – he had to get out of here. He had to speak to the only one who could understand: his Uncle.
Without thinking, Zuko opened the window in his room and climbed outside of the stuffy chamber. As he swiftly ran over the roof of the Palace, he saw that dusk had already fallen.
Quickening his pace, he jumped over the tiles and roofs until he reached the guarded gates. It was almost comical how easy it was for him to sneak out of the Palace by now. He had done it so many times in the last weeks.
The city sprawled beneath him like a restless beast, its lamps flickering against the velvet blanket of night. Zuko moved with the grace of a shadow, his form a dark silhouette against the starry sky. The rooftops were his domain, a labyrinth of gables and chimneys that he navigated with an ease born of practice.
It did help that the roofs of the houses were connected in logical pattern, so he could easily jump from one to the other. In the Earth Kingdom, it had been harder to do this in small villages, but here he could move around like a panther-shark.
He paused at the edge of a building, the wind sweeping though his loose tresses. Below, the cobblestone streets thrummed with life, the clip-clop of hooves, distant laughter, the occasional shout. Up here, it was a different world, silent save for the rhythmic thud of his boots on the weathered shingles.
A sliver of the moon peeked through a break in the clouds, casting a silver sheen over the cityscape. Zuko moved again, leaping effortlessly from one rooftop to the next, his movements precise. He landed soundlessly on a lower roof, crouching to maintain balance. His heart beat steady and controlled, a metronome to his measured pace.
He halted when he saw the stars reflected in a pond in the garden below. Rosebushes were trimmed and neatly arranged. The smell of the summer flowers reached his senses all the way atop the roofs of the house. He knew this garden. He knew this house.
Without thinking, he leapt again and landed on the balcony, descending silently. Drawing a deep breath, Zuko pushed against the doors. To his surprise, they weren't locked and swung open allowing him to step into the darkness within.
Igniting his palm, he looked around. He was standing in the old study of Elyrie's father. The large desk brought back the memory of long hours studying together, with her father to help them.
What am I doing in here? Zuko thought as his eyes glossed over the neatly stacked bookcases. Was it melancholy that drove him in here? It was foolishness, he knew that. He prepared to turn around when two portraits caught his eye. He only remembered one of them, he realised as he drew closer and inspected them.
One had been the latest portrait he had seen from the family. Her mother had died not soon after the portrait had been commissioned. Zuko studied the portrait for a moment. This family had been the epitome of happiness. A man who loved his wife, a woman who loved her husband. Who had defied all the social rules to marry. They kept the secret to themselves to protect their only daughter from social disgrace. And they had loved their daughter. How much had they loved their only daughter. She was the centre of their entire world. And in turn, their daughter loved them as much as her big heart could.
But next to it, there was a new portrait one Zuko had never seen before. It was life-size, as if the young woman sat in the room with him. But seeing the picture, it was painfully clear that the person was not with him.
It was Elyrie, most likely on her 20th birthday.
Sitting in a chair with her back straight, she looked directly at him from the painting. The painter had captured her essence, her being. Her ankles were crossed, her hands loosely placed in her lap.
But her hair was down, the wave of curls cascading down her back. How long it had been before she cut off her hair. It had been past her waist then. She wore a purple dress, with a tight bodice and a flowing skirt. Zuko knew now it was to combine the colours of both the Water Tribe and the Fire Nation, though very subtle.
On her lips was a sly smile and her sapphire eyes looked mischievous. She looked as cheeky and playful as he remembered.
He didn't know how long he stood there, but he was lost in his memories. Her smile, her bubbly personality, her calm sense of self, her intelligence, her comforting words.
When he looked at her, he remembered every last detail of her. Her sapphire eyes, her small nose, the reddish-brown shade of her curls, the ivory colour of her skin. The way she pursed her lips whenever she was amused. Her hair parted slight sideways, with stubborn locks of hair always escaping. How her slender fingers pushed aside the hairs, to no avail. How she could arche her left eyebrow whenever she was curious. The two birthmarks in her neck, beneath her right ear.
Zuko extended his hand and carefully touched the linen of the painting. His fingers trailed the painted forms of her cheeks, the long auburn curls, her small nose. Her lips were captured perfectly, he knew that now: her small, round mouth. The lower lips round, slightly fuller than her upperlip. It was as if it were a rose in bloom.
He could see her, feel her, even smell the rosy scent that was always surrounding her. He grinned to himself as he remembered how it had been imbedded her skin, even during their travels.
And he could hear her. He could always hear her. The voice that could send him to the heavens, but now let him live down below when he remembered her last words to him.
He took her ring out of his pocket and placed it in his hand. The blue was so similar to her eyes and every time he looked at it, it almost felt as if she was looking back at him.
In the palace, he was given everything he ever wanted. But this was what he was denied. In his darkest thoughts, he wished he never had learned how deep love can go. And that she had never returned it to him. He could have been happy with Mai, he could have been content if he didn't know any better.
But he did know better. And he knew Mai wasn't the one he loved.
Loved.
Elyrie had kissed him, she had been the one who wasn't afraid to show what she felt. No, that wasn't true. She had been terrified but still showed her most vulnerable side to him. And how had he returned it? A knife in her back.
He stalked out of the study and made his way to her bedroom. As he pushed open the door, he wondered what he might find.
Everything still looked the same after all those years: the bed in the centre, the bookcases lined up against the wall, her desk where she had spent hours reading and studying. He walked past the familiar things. It was as if she could walk in any second now. But he knew the books hadn't been read, the mirror hadn't been used and the closet was empty.
On her dressing table were still a few things, among which a crystal bottle of perfume. He picked it up and opened it: the familiar smell of rose and vanilla reached his nostrils. Yes, that was her perfume.
He reached in his pocket and took out the ring. He had carried it for weeks now, and never knew what to do with it. He placed it on the dresser and pondered for a moment to leave it here.
He was startled by the sound of a key in the lock and the light sound of footsteps on the marble floor downstairs. He spun around and waited. Had one of the maids come back?
The footsteps came closer. He panicked and looked around for an escape. What possible explanation could he have for being in someone else's house? Even if he was the Prince?
He dimmed the flame in his palm and crept quietly to the enormous redwood closet with the double doors on the far end of the bedroom. He slipped inside, just leaving a crack in the doors. From this position he could just make out the door. I must be mad, he thought to himself as he squatted down.
The door opened slowly and he placed his hand over his mouth to quiet his breathing. A shadow walked into the room. Zuko squinted his eyes to see through the small crack, but it was difficult to make out in the darkness.
The figure was dressed in maidservant clothing. Her back was turned to him but he could she that her hair was covered by a white cloth, binding it in the back. The figure walked over to the small dresser and she lit up her hand.
Zuko could make out the silhouette as she reached for something on the dresser. As she picked it up, he saw the glittering in the light of the flame. Elyrie's ring! He mentally cursed and automatically patted his empty pocket. He had forgotten to pick it up again.
The figure inspected the ring for a long time. Put it down, Zuko groaned inwardly as he tried to switch positions in his uncomfortable squat. But she didn't put it down. Instead, she shot a little fireball at the candle on the side of the dresser. The room was dimly lit, but apparently enough for her to extinguish her own flame and study the ring more carefully. She placed it in the palm of her hand and with her finger, she gently touched the stone.
She placed it on her finger.
"No!" Zuko ignored his aching muscles as he stood up and pushed open the doors, "Put it down!"
The figure spun around, her hands going down to her sides. His furious gaze met her startled one. But only for a second before those blue eyes widened even further, just as his golden ones did.
"No."
"You?"