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Water. Earth. Fire. Air. Elders used to tell stories about the old days, a time of peace when the Avatar kept the balance between the Water Tribes, Earth Kingdom, Fire Nation, and Air Nomads. But that all changed when the Fire Nation attacked. Only the Avatar, master of all four elements, could stop the ruthless firebenders. But when the world needed him most, he vanished. A hundred years passed and two children of the water tribe discovered the new Avatar, the last airbender known as Aang. His airbending skills were great, and he was known as a formidable opponent to all who faced him. All four nations believed Aang could save the world and defeat the fire nation once and for all.

At least that’s how the stories used to be told. If you would ask anybody now, all would tell the same valiant story, of how the fearsome Fire Nation finally engulfed the world in its glorious flames, forcing every subservient citizen to their knees. And in the long-fated battle between Fire Lord Ozai and Avatar Aang, the person whose bending is said to be unmatched, fell, bringing the Hundred Years War to an end. Granted, many versions of tellings in history are glorified by its victors, and this story is no different. However, it does hold the truth in the end; the Fire Nation reigns supreme, and the Avatar, the last Airbender, is dead. Most, if not all of the Avatar’s allies have been arrested and left to rot in their cells, although nothing is known of the whereabouts of the Avatar’s closest friends. No searches have been conducted as of recently as their disappearance poses no threat to the Fire Nation. As the descendant of a lineage of excellence, granddaughter of the Phoenix King, and daughter of Firelord Azula, Ozaira, princess of the Fire Nation, will bring her family to greatness.

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Chapter 1: Golden Shackle

The smell of cinder, the aroma of ashes. A tell-tale morning for citizens across all nations, and a pleasant start to the day for the Fire Nation. Ever since the end of the Hundred Years War 32 years ago, The Fire Nation has expanded its influence to all corners of the world. All of the air temples, the Northern and Southern water tribes, and the entirety of the Earth Kingdom have been reduced to mere Fire Nation colonies. In theory, it might seem impossible to govern all nations; however, there are some who would do anything for money or guaranteed safety. Those who were deemed trustworthy by family and friends would just as soon as turn on them rather than try to survive at the bottom, especially now that any attempts to revolt are seen as a lost cause. Deals were made, promises were broken, and even lives were lost if necessary. There have been little to no efforts of rebellion for a long time. Even though the cycle of the Avatar is supposed to have continued, no one knows what happened to the next reincarnation, or what nation they belong to. The world fell into despair with the loss of the Avatar, and with that now exists only two types of people; those who accept submission, and those who would rather end their own life than see the world grovel at the feet of their tyrants.

Through all of the smoke and burning stench, the Fire Nation royal family basks in their privilege and status, having rested comfortably day after day for the last 32 years. Rustling in her bed trying to shield her eyes from the rising sun lies Ozaira, ensuring she gets the necessary rest for a princess and potential Firelord candidate, in opposition to her twin brother, Zairon. 15 years ago, Firelord Azula was briefly married to a Fire Nation noble of her father's choosing, but due to her harsh and cold nature, he was sent away, much like all of the other potential suitors in the years prior. She did not see him worthy of sharing the power she possessed, as she saw him as too compassionate and forgiving. Shortly after his departure, the Firelord was discovered to be blessed with the miracle of twins, something she saw as good fortune for the future. Unable to maintain the tradition of passing the title of "Firelord" onto the firstborn child, Firelord Azula decided on a solution of her own. Wanting her heir to pass on her legacy, she decided to observe each of the children from the day they were born to determine which child has the necessary qualities to continue the century-long standards of Firelord; to be cunning, sharp, and unequivocally feared. Only when both twins reach the age of 16 will they compete one last time to become the next heir; a final Agni Kai will set one's future in stone, and seal the other's fate.

A gentle knock at the door alerts a drowsy Ozaira. "Excuse me, Princess?" A meek voice calls from behind the door. "Your mother has summoned you to prepare for your departure this morning."

Ozaira lies still for a moment, then forces her eyes open. With a tired voice, she replies, "Thank you... tell her I'll be there soon." I probably could have taken it easy today instead of visiting the prison, but I can't exactly refuse my mother. Rubbing her eyes, she sluggishly sits up to yawn and stretch her arms, preparing to freshen up for the day. Using a bowl of fresh water on the dresser beside her bed, she splashes her face to freshen up. She looks behind her to a mirror barely taller than her, facing a pair of yellow eyes she knows all too well; every time she meets her reflection, she might as well be looking at her mother. Ozaira would prefer to dress herself at times, but to her, dismissing all of the servants is not worth the trouble. Adorning her in lavish attire, and styling her unusually curly top-knot with a golden headpiece, Ozaira's servants prepare her for a morning of royal duties.

Heading downstairs to meet her mother for breakfast, Ozaira sees her brother getting ready for the day as well. While Zairon might have their mother's sleek, dark hair, he does not share her scornful gaze, especially with his morning eye bags. His hair is never sleek when he wakes up, however, and he sure gives the servants a hassle when brushing it. Despite the well-known competition between the two, the twins do not seem to hold any obvious malice for the other, as anyone who knows the royal family can never see them harbor any obvious ill will towards the other. They both shoot each other a playful smile and continue on their way. As she walks down the gaping hallways, Ozaira takes some time to glance at the tapestries of the Firelords from times of old; there used to just be the hall of paintings, but Firelord Azula deemed it fitting to have another art form to display the magnificence of the past rulers. She remembers their stories well, of how Sozin began the Fire Nation legacy still known today, and how Azulon continued his father's work up until his untimely death. Ozaira best knows the accomplishments of her grandfather, Ozai, whom she was named after, much like her mother in relation to Azulon. After the death of the avatar, Ozai declared to be known furthermore as the 'Avatar Slayer', though Ozaira considers it a lazy nickname and chortles a bit every time she hears it. Coming upon her mother's tapestry, she stops in her tracks. Being this close, her eyes are always drawn to the individual fibers woven together to perfection. But, upon further inspection, one of the fibers is torn on the side. Such a minuscule detail would never have gone unnoticed by her mother, so Ozaira wonders how recently it must have appeared. With her and Zairon's birthday in exactly a month, the imperfection lingers in the back of Ozaira's mind; if a symbol of their mother could have such a disgraceful blemish, who knows what else could appear? The clanking of dishware snaps Ozaira out of her thoughts and continues her way to the dining room. Ozaira sees her mother sitting at the table and approaches her, waiting to hear a lecture on how to conduct herself on today's diplomatic escapades.

Without looking up from the table, Firelord Azula speaks in her commanding tone. "Ah, Zairon, you're here. Go to the throneroom, the general is ready for your training today."

"It's... Ozaira..." the princess awkwardly corrects.

Azula meets her daughter's gaze. "Oh, how silly of me. Honestly, it's so hard to tell you two apart sometimes. Well, you can still train today anyways. Sit down, we need to discuss your whereabouts today." She beckons Ozaira to a seat across from her while she picks up a pile of documents on the table.

"Is this about the prison?" Ozaira sits and tries hard not to fidget with her hands underneath the table.

Azula's eyes remain fixed on the documents in front of her. "Eat. You don't want hunger to affect your performance today." Ozaira starts slowly picking at her food. "But yes, this is about the prison. The warden will meet you when you arrive and give you a tour of the grounds. You will determine if the prison is up to par with security and discipline. I recommend you ask for a demonstration of the disciplinary actions they provide. If there happens to be an altercation with the prisoners, do not be afraid to assert yourself. Understand?"

"Yes, mother. I will represent the family well."

"Good." The two sit there in silence while the crumpling of paper and the squishing of food resonate through the room. Being in front of her mother, Ozaira remains hyperfocused on holding her chopsticks and how she eats, not wanting to give her mother a reason for a lecture on propriety. She chews slowly as to not make too much noise, Zairon received a serious tongue-lashing for it when they were younger. Ozaira is half-finished with her breakfast when her mother breaks the silence.

"Your hair looks messy today. Are you sure the servants took their time with it? They should pull it tighter to get rid of those bumps." Azula takes a bite of her own dish without lifting her gaze from the documents.

Ozaira shrinks in her seat while taking one of her loose hair strands on her fingers. "I can't help if my hair isn't straight," she mumbles.

"But we can manage it. I'll tell the servants to pull it tighter from now on," Azula replies coldly. Ozaira returns to her food, thinking to herself, I don't know why I expect anything different from her.

Azula sets aside the papers. "Finish your breakfast and go spar with your brother. I want your mind to be sharp when you leave." Ozaira stuffs her mouth and gets up from her seat as quickly as she can to avoid the awkward silence. But before she can leave the room, Azula grabs her wrist, almost making Ozaira's heart skip a beat. Her composure suddenly shifts and she becomes as stiff and silent as their servants, trying not to wince in pain from the sharp nails pricking her skin. "You know better than anyone not to embarrass yourself right?" As her eyes twitch around, the only thing Ozaira can hear is her own breathing and heartbeat. "I have told you before, your grandfather is not a very forgiving man when it comes to failure. And neither am I."

Inhale... exhale...

"Ozaira." In a muffled voice, Azula calls on her daughter in vain.

Thump, thump, thump...

"Ozaira!" Azula's grip tightens. "Look at me." Ozaira's eyes met her mother's cold gaze, sending a shiver down her spine.

"I-I won't embarrass myself, I promise!" Ozaira spoke in one exasperated breath.

Azula held her gaze. Expectedly, her expression softened in satisfaction. She loosened her grip on her daughter and then caressed her cheek. In a milder tone, she consoled, "Your sixteenth birthday is almost upon you, so you must conduct yourself as a true leader would. I only want what's best for you and your brother." Holding Ozaira's hand, Azula whispered, "Make me proud."

Ozaira felt her defense drop at her mother's earnest talk and felt herself reciprocating her grasp. "I promise," Ozaira said as she managed a weak smile.

Azula let go of her daughter's hand just as quickly as she took hold of it. "Good girl. Now, go train."

"Y-yes!" Ozaira replied as she rushed to the throne room. Completely putting the conversation with her mother behind her, she forced herself to continue the day with an optimistic and determined attitude. Getting through the day the only way she knows how, she sets off to find her brother, Zairon, to commence their training.

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Chapter 2: Nothing But Dirt

The throne room was always so spacious, almost too spacious. Its empty space felt intimidating, like it was trying to prove something. Waiting for her brother, she stood in front of the Firelord’s throne. The blue-flame torches surrounding the throne towered over Ozaira, reminding her of the fire bender she could only dream of being. Just the thought of sitting in that very seat exhilarated her. If only she could, for just a moment…

Woosh. A slight glow appears from behind her, and without hesitation, she deflects the attack. “Your sneak attacks are lacking, General Fuzen.” Ozaira jokes, shaking the remnants of his flames from her hand.

Sporting a long-haired greying top-knot with a short, styled beard, the general gives a slight chuckle. “It’s only hard to sneak up on you, your highness. You certainly have your mother’s intuition. It’s unfortunate your brother didn’t inherit her punctuality.”

“He should be here soon,” Ozaira sighs, accompanying an eye-roll. “He always shows up. Eventually…”

And as if right on cue, the grand door creaks open, and in runs a panting Zairon. Dorning a sloppy top-knot, he stops to catch his breath. “Did you piss mom off this morning or something? Felt like she was talking forever…” Zairon speaks through heavy breathing.

“You’d best watch your tongue when speaking about your mother, young prince.” General Fuzen threatened.

Ozaira put up her hand, stopping the general in his tracks. “Don’t, General, there’s no need. It’s not my fault you slept in, Zairon. Some of us have the decency to get up on time.”

“Sorry I’m not some perfectionist freak. At least I don’t have to go to some sucky prison today.” Zairon seemed to finally catch his breath.

“You could have gone with me if you asked, you know?” Ozaira puts her hand on her brother’s shoulder. “I don’t want you to get left behind, plus our birthday’s coming up soon. I know we’re supposed to be competing, but I worry about you sometimes.”

Zairon puts his hand on top of Ozaira’s. “Hey, you may be mom’s favorite, but I can hold my own just fine. You’ll see that much at the Agni Kai.”

“Or,” General Fuzen chimes in, “You two could train now and stop wasting my time.”

“Oh! Sorry, General.” Ozaira bows and nudges her brother.

Zairon reciprocates her bow. “Yeah, sorry…” Both of the twins glance at each other and hold back a snicker.

General Fuzen’s expression remains unchanged. “I’m not sure what makes you two think this is a laughing matter. You both are in line for becoming the future Firelord, do you think that is funny?” The twins say nothing and share a glance. “If you’re really ready for your Agni Kai, why not demonstrate a practice duel?”

“Fiiiine,” Zairon draws out in a sigh. Ozaira gives him a punch on the arm as they go to stand across from each other. In a firm and sturdy stance, Zairon balls his hands into fists. In comparison, Ozaira maintains open palms while engaging in a stance keeping her body low to the ground. Waiting for the general’s signal, they maintain their position, anticipating their moment to strike.

“Begin.” With a swipe of his hand, General Fuzen commences the duel. Pushing his arm forward, Zairon makes the first strike with a blast of fire. The orange glow of his fire is easily overwhelmed by the blue flames adorning the pillars. A graceful yet powerful leap upward allows Ozaira to evade the attack, and perform a kick to return fire of her own. Surprising him, Zairon struggled to deflect it. However, taking notice of how softly Ozaira landed, he struck a blow directly at her feet. Being taken off balance, Ozaira was forced to slightly retreat back. Refusing to show weakness, she rushed toward her brother, remaining light on her feet. With each and every blast from her brother, she easily dodged them while finally jumping over top of him and using her breath to shoot fire from her mouth. Despite the difference in the twin’s techniques, no one sibling was more of a match than the other. Even if it is a practice, it seems hard for them to hold back due to their excitement in combat.

Exhilarated by their friendly duel, the twins laugh and joke with each other afterwards about their fight. Zairon offers to see Ozaira off for her departure to the prison, just so she can see a friendly face before she leaves.

In an attempt to make her feel comfortable, Zairon asks, “So... how do you feel about going to the prison?”

Ozaira shrugs her shoulders. “I don’t know. I mean, I probably won’t be in too much danger. Not that I need protection, but I’ll have guards with me. Plus I’ve got my bending to keep me safe too.” she replies playfully.

“I’m just saying,” Zairon interrupts, “Please be careful.”

Ozaira raises an eyebrow. “Look, I’ll be-”

“I don’t want you to get hurt,” Zairon interjects her. “Look, I overheard some of the soldiers talking about the prison you’re going to, and trust me when I say there are plenty of people there who would love nothing more than to hurt you. Most of the prisoners are there from a rebellion that happened a while ago, and they really do not like our family. Just… make sure you watch your back, okay?”

Ozaira shows a small smile. “It almost sounds like you’re concerned about my well-being.”

“You’re one to speak, miss ‘I worry about you sometimes,’” Zairon jokes.

“Okay, well that’s different,” Ozaira scoffs while crossing her arms. The siblings laugh and share a quick hug. “I’ll be fine, just don’t try to be too much of a nuisance while I’m gone.”

Zairon laughs and releases his sister. “I’ll certainly try, though I can’t promise anything. See you later, soot sprig.”

“You too, smoke hog.” Ozaira retorts. With a friendly punch, she leaves her brother to board the airship transporting her to the prison. Along with her is General Fuzen, and only a few foot soldiers, as the mission isn’t at high risk. To pass the time, Ozaira sits on the outside of the ship just to get some fresh air, at least as fresh as you can get with smoke and ash. Looking beneath her dangling legs, she can see nothing but grimy factories and cities decorated with Fire Nation insignia. She might have expected to feel pride, but she didn’t know what she felt. It made a pit in her stomach and her chest felt as though it was sinking, but she paid it no mind thinking it was just nervousness. She had never visited a prison before, though it wasn’t the worst thing she’s seen. When Ozaira and Zairon were little, Azula would arrange Agni Kai’s for entertainment; most of the fighters were soldiers who didn’t meet her expectations. Azula made sure that every soldier who lost was branded with a burn from their opponent to show their failure, and she made sure Ozaira watched every single one. She can still hear her mother’s voice when she remembers those times, "This is what happens to those who don’t fit in. There is no room for weakness in our world, and you’d do good to remember that, my little spark..."

“Your highness!” As if in a trance, Ozaira is forced back into reality as one of the soldiers calls for her. “We have arrived!”

Seeing the prison below her, she returned back inside the airship. As they land, Ozaira can see the Warden and other prison guards awaiting their arrival. They appear to look slightly tense, which makes Ozaira chuckle slightly; her family name doesn’t exactly invoke excitement. Making her way to the entrance of the ship, she bumps into one of the airship engineers and moves out of the way. When the engineer apologetically bows, the back of their neck is exposed, and a burn scar is revealed. Even if it was only for a second, Ozaira’s stomach drops and she freezes in her place. She tells herself it isn’t what she thinks, but she can’t help but believe that it could be a possibility. Remembering where she is, she forces herself to put it aside and continue to the entrance. When the door opens, the Warden is first met with the soldiers and General Fuzen, followed by her highness, Princess Ozaira.

“Your highness,” the Warden spoke, “It’s an honor for you to grace our prison with your esteemed presence.”

“Thank you, It’s a… nice prison.” Ozaira tried to make some semblance of a conversation.

“Hearing that from you is a blessing in itself,” the Warden says in a pleased voice. “Please, come this way, we have much to show you.”

The start of the tour began with the prison cells, along with the Warden showing off the amount of security they enact to keep the prisoners in line. As per her mother’s request, Ozaira inquired the Warden about their disciplinary practices. From his memory, most prisons 30 years ago took inspiration from the Boiling Rock, making cells that would prohibit any bender’s ability accordingly; chilled cells for fire benders, wooden cells for earth benders, and dry-heated cells for water benders. For prisoners using their bending, they would be gagged and their hands and feet would be bound, and that would last for 3 days without food or water to ensure they were thoroughly weakened. The Warden asked if Ozaira would like to see the prisoners in their weakened state, but she politely declined. Just the thought of seeing starved, frail people bound and gagged made her nauseous. The final place they visited was the courtyard, which was conveniently at the time when the prisoners were allowed outside.

“Our magnificent walls measure 20 meters tall, nowhere near short enough for the prisoners to escape.” The Warden continued to marvel at the prison’s security measures, which just dragged on the trip for Ozaira. “In our prison, we have only ever had 7 escapes on record, and the last one happened 5 years ago.”
To make things more interesting, Ozaira decided to focus on that minute detail. “Only 5? It’s strange, but if I remember correctly, the Boiling Rock only ever had 3 escapes on record. All 3 were on the same day, and before then there had never been a successful one.” The Warden’s expression shifted from excitement to worry. “So, if you don’t mind me asking, what did you have to change for the escapes to stop?”

“W-well,” the Warden fumbled with his words, “The only thing we did was increase the number of guards present.”

“And when did that happen?” Ozaira inquired.

The Warden’s eyes shifted. “Each t-time it happened, princess.”

“And yet, they still occurred. If it’s only been 5 years since the last one, who’s to say another one won’t happen?”

“...I-”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” An unfamiliar voice resonated behind Ozaira. She turned around to face the voice, and what met her was a prisoner with a look that could kill. “That little bitch is here? The fucking princess, are you kidding me?!” The inmates around her tried to silence her, but she shoved them away. “That little shit’s family is the reason we’re all in here!”

Feeling everyone’s eyes on her, Ozaira has to respond. “I suggest you watch who you’re speaking to-”

“NO!” The prisoner shouted loud enough for the whole courtyard to turn their heads. “Don’t you EVER try to tell me who to talk to! Especially if it’s someone from your disgusting, trash family. All of you are the lowest scum of the earth, you’re entire bloodline is nothing but dirt!”

The Warden attempted to step in. “You’d do well to remember your place, prisoner.”

“I know my place! It’s to show those sorry pieces of shit not to fuck with the world! And it starts with her!" The inmates begin to express concern. “I challenge the princess to an Agni Kai!”

Gasps echo across the courtyard, and no word is said for what seems like a thousand years. Knowing she can't afford to show weakness at this moment, Ozaira takes a deep breath. “Alright, fine. You want an Agni Kai? You’ll have it. Warden, prepare the prisoner for travel.”

The Warden is taken aback by her request. “I’m sorry? With all due respect princess, shouldn’t we have it here?”

“No, not here,” Ozaira replied. As she is her mother's daughter, her face wears a sadistic smile. “I want a little practice for my and my brother’s Agni Kai next month. I think it’s time for a little demonstration…”

Chapter Text

Chapter 3: The Girl and the Kintsugi Bowl

A golden hue casts itself over the fire nation, the nearly-setting sun seeming to bid the land farewell for the day. Although reduced to a haze by the surrounding smoke, its light always finds a way to peek through. Even the calm is bound to overstay its welcome, overwhelming a concerned Zairon with the feeling of dread. Slouched on his room’s balcony, he taps his fingers awaiting the return of his sister. Not even training could ease his mind, having been reprimanded more times than every instance in the past combined. Even behavior like this was unusual for him, he could hear his name echoing in the halls through whispers for hours. Only his mother’s presence outside his door could stop his fidgeting, but not in a good way.

“Zairon,” Azula calls, “I have something to discuss with you.” Zairon doesn’t answer, feeling himself shrink at the sound of her voice. Without hesitation, Azula invites herself into Zairon’s room.

“Don’t you ever knock?” Zairon mutters to himself.

As if appearing beside him suddenly, Azula catches him by surprise by grabbing his face, her golden eyes burning into his own. In a calm yet chilling tone, she reprimands him. “When you are speaking to someone, you don’t mumble under your breath like a coward. I expect you to repeat what you just said to me. Now.” Attempting to hold back tears, Zairon remains quiet while furrowing his brows, maintaining his gaze with his mother. “Pathetic,” she whispers while letting go of Zairon, nearly drawing blood from her fingernails scratching his face.

“What do you want?” Zairon asks with a shaky voice.

Putting her hands behind her back, Azula looks out onto the view below them. “Do you know why your grandfather became Firelord?”

“Because,” Zairon thinks. “... I literally have no idea–”

Azula interrupts him. “It’s because, he was willing to do anything to gain power. My grandfather Azulon neglected his eldest son’s inheritance because he did not have the willpower and dedication to better the greater good of our nation, and the world. Your grandfather Ozai is by far our history’s greatest Firelord because he did whatever it took to ensure the Fire Nation came out on top. I have carried on that legacy, and I expect my heir to do the same. Whether that becomes you or Ozaira is up to you. But you, my little Zairon, I did not raise to be weak.” Azula puts her hand on the side of Zairon’s cheek. “Did you forget about the Agni Kai next? What do you think is going to happen to the one who loses?”

Looking dumbfounded, Zairon replies, “I don’t know, I just thought we could be like an assistant, or general, or something–”

“You will no longer be welcome in the Fire Nation.” Azula raises her voice. Zairon’s expression changes to one of confusion. “If you are unfit to take the place of Firelord, then you are unfit to be here at all. You forget your position, past Firelords were lucky enough to have just been born first. You and Ozaira must prove yourselves worthy, or pay the price of being born at all. Am I understood?” Frozen in place, tears make their way down Zairon’s cheek. Azula lets go with a look of disdain. “Oh, spare me the tears, it’s almost like you don’t even want to be Firelord.”

“I do!” Zairon yells, almost taken aback by his sudden outburst.

Grabbing his wrist, Azula once again looks directly into Zairons eyes. “Then prove it. Words alone aren’t enough to convince me, so show me.” Wiping his tears away, Azula’s tone of voice softens. “Alright?” Before Zairon could respond, the both of them notice Ozaira’s ship approaching the capital. “Come, let us welcome her back.” Zairon silently agrees while a sudden chill runs up his spine.

Awaiting their ship’s landing, Ozaira sits impatiently, bouncing her leg and staring off into space. To prepare her to leave the ship, General Fuzen comes to check on Ozaira. “Your highness, the ship has almost landed.” Without saying a word, she turns to the general and smiles before reverting to an anxious state. “Are you alright, your highness?”

Ozaira impatiently replies, “Yes, I’m fine. I just didn’t expect this to be what I returned home with. I mean, what do you think my mother’s going to say? ‘Sure Ozaira, we will just let this prisoner feel right at home before you burn her to a crisp.’ I didn’t…” She takes a moment to collect herself. “I didn’t want this prison trip to turn into a big deal. I was nervous enough going there, and now I’m probably going to have to duel someone in front of the whole capital. I’m not ready for this.” Ozaira buries her head in her arms, ruffling her frazzled hair.

The two stay quiet for a moment. “Do you want to become Firelord?” General Fuzen asks.

Puzzled, Ozaira answers, “Yeah, but…”

“Then if you want to prove to your mother and the rest of the nation that you are worthy of such a position, you must show your resolve.” The general speaks confidently. “Never let anyone walk all over you under any circumstance. You are a descendant of many great firebenders, and if any of their power was passed down to you at all, you will do just fine in an Agni Kai. I have seen the way you fight, and that prisoner is nothing in comparison to you. Even your brother would stand a chance if given the opportunity.” He walks over to Ozaira and puts his hand on her shoulder, while she looks up at him with glossy eyes and a hopeful expression. “You can do this, kid. You’ve never let me down before, so don’t start now.”

Ozaira looks down slowly and smiles, feeling comforted by the general's words. She loosens her grip on herself and lowers her shoulders. “Than–”

“Your highness, the ship is ready for your departure!” One of the soldiers cries out to her.

Taking a deep breath, Ozaira sits up and attempts to fix her frazzled hair. Her arms lay restlessly at her sides, her fingers dancing around themselves while clasping her hands together. She manages to stand up straight, ignoring her wobbly knees and unable to focus on anything but her racing mind. Struggling to move, General Fuzen taps her on the shoulder.

“You don’t have to explain it to her if you don’t want to,” he whispers. “I can do most of the talking.”

“No,” Ozaira exhales. “I’ll tell her. I might as well, you know? It is my mess after all.” She attempts to laugh off her apparent nerves.

“Very well, princess. Come.” General Fuzen beckons her to the entrance to the airship, and she follows closely behind him holding her heavy head high.

Waiting for Ozaira at the bottom of the airship is Firelord Azula and Zairon, with Zairon’s eyes scanning around for his sister. As soon as Ozaira and General Fuzen depart from the ship, Ozaira immediately locks eyes with her brother, wanting to run up and greet him, only to stop at the sight of her mother. Keeping her composure, she mentally prepares herself for yet another conversation with the Firelord.

“Ozaira,” Azula says, almost sounding relieved to see her daughter. “Welcome home, I expect your trip to have been worthwhile.”

Ozaira feels her palms start to sweat. “Yep, definitely worthwhile!” Unsure of what to say next, she knows she is silent too long to have not drawn any suspicion.

“Ozaira, what–” Baffled by the sight before her, Azula is cut short by an angry, flailing prisoner exiting the airship being held by two soldiers. Shouting every swear and every curse in the book, it would be no surprise if the entire Fire Nation stopped in their tracks to listen. At the sight of the Firelord, the prisoner delivered a look that could kill. Preparing to curse their entire bloodline, Azula pays it no mind. “General, put a muzzle on this savage, and don’t let me hear her again.”

“Yes, my Lord.” General Fuzen obliges and orders his soldiers to restrict the prisoner’s mouth until they can find something suitable to bind her arms and gag her with.

As they leave the landing area, Azula slowly turns to her daughter with a cold stare. “Would you mind explaining to me why you brought back a souvenir?” Still struggling to find the words, Ozaira tests Azula’s patience. “Ozaira.”

“O-okay, so, um…” Ozaira takes a deep breath. In one fell swoop, all words leave her lips in a matter of seconds, “The tour was going fine, the warden showed me around the prison and it was very nice, he told me about their punishments and it’s kinda fucked up but who am I to judge, so we went out into the courtyard where all the prisoners were because he thought it was a good idea to bring me around the inmates, which was fine I guess, but anyways, that prisoner started talking shit about me and the family because she recognized who I was, so she challenged me to an Agni Kai and I wanted to try to assert my power over her so I invited her to have the Agni Kai here instead of the prison which might’ve been kinda dumb, but I didn’t know what to do, and now she’s here so yeah…” Exasperated by her explanation, Ozaira catches her breath, while her mother stares at her bewildered.

Taking a moment to collect herself, Azula puts a hand on the side of Ozaira’s face. “Then we better prepare an audience.” The Firelord branded a sinister smile. She took her hand off Ozaira and started to walk inside. “I want an immediate invite sent out to all noble families of the Fire Nation, every available military official and soldier, and all citizens in the capital,” she orders General Fuzen and all present soldiers. “And I will personally request the presence of my father, the Phoenix King.”

Ozaira’s nerves are replaced with a new sense of worry. She abruptly asks, “Wait, what?”

“Well yes,” Azula casually responds. “An event as important as your first Agni Kai requires the most valued spectators, and I know your grandfather will be most pleased to watch that little imp burn by your hands.” Such a chilling thought can only be said so plainly by Azula, and it didn’t make Ozaira feel any less unnerved. “I expect you to be ready before sundown. It’s quite rude to keep your audience waiting.” The Firelord walks inside accompanied by the soldiers and general, and any servants attending to her beck and call.

Ozaira stands there dumbfounded, having not moved an inch from where she stood. Just as astonished by the scene before him, Zairon turns to Ozaira with wide eyes. “What the fuck just happened?” he questions her to break the silence.

She shakes her head. “I don’t know…”

“Well,” Zairon shrugs his shoulders. “Guess you’re fighting an Agni Kai.” Seeing Ozaira put her face in her hands accompanied by a drawn-out groan, he tries to change his demeanor. “Well on the bright side, you’re getting more practice than I ever will.”

“I don’t want to fight an Agni Kai!” Ozaira exclaims.

“Then WHY did you accept it? And also, let us not forget, bring her here?” Zairon replies exasperatedly.

Ozaiea grabs her hair in a tight grip. “I don’t know! I… I just wanted to impress mom, I guess.”

“Hey, no offense, but you’re kind of a pushover,” Zairon jokes, lightly punching her arm.

“I know,” Ozaira punches him back, forcing a playful smile. “I have to get ready, I promise we’ll talk more afterwards. You better be betting on me, smoke hog.” Zairon laughs quietly to himself, unable to stop the overbearing shadow of his sister from casting over him in a dark embrace.

Not wanting to go back to her room just yet, Ozaira makes her way past the palace and to a spot she used to always go to for some time away. When she was younger and just starting to indulge in her royal duties, she would wander around a cliff-side area surrounded by pillars of rock and earth just behind the palace to have some time to herself. She found this place by chance, but it somehow felt like she knew exactly where it was. Its small, rocky surface was flat but comfortable, and the towering mountains surrounding the area made her feel safe. But the crowning glory of this place was the view, unshrouded by the absence of mountains where the land touches the sea. No matter what time of day, the picturesque sky would always be a magnificent sight to see, resembling that of an intricate painting. It’s the one place in the Fire Nation the smoke won’t touch, which makes it that much more special to Ozaira. There was something else that made it special, but…

Finally making her way to the top of the cliff, Ozaira takes a deep breath to clear her mind. For the first time in her life, she felt so exhausted that she couldn’t even cry if she wanted to. All that stained her face was a blank expression, overcome by pressure and expectations. Staring off into the distance, she focused on watching the sea’s current carry the water in waves, pushing them along in a synchronized pattern. It was so rhythmic, that all other thoughts left her at that moment. A part of her wished to be one of those waves, to be but one fruit in a tree full of others hanging from its branches. Everywhere she looked were patterns, looking at many that come together to be one, but seeing the individuals out of place saddened her. She didn’t know why, but she knew she recognized that same heartache when she looked in the mirror. A princess, daughter of the Firelord, the leader of the Fire Nation, the nation that brought the world to its knees, the nation controlled by her grandfather, the man who slayed the Avatar. Thinking about it makes her head hurt. She sits down on the edge, letting one of her legs hang down. Not even this place helps, she thought, I just want today to be over. Despite her sulking, she could hear footsteps approaching up the hill. Ozaira quickly stands up, waiting alertly to see who it is, mostly anticipating her mother. With quick, short footsteps, a girl just about Ozaira’s age, runs up panting profusely. Through gasps, she speaks in a preppy voice.

“I don’t know how you go up here all the time,” the girl sighs with a smile. “It doesn’t get any easier.”

“Mayu!” Ozaira’s eyes light up as she runs to greet her lifelong friend. The both of them share a tender hug while giggling together. Mayu’s silky, black hair twirls around in a tight ponytail on the top of her head, almost tangling it with Ozaira’s. The nerves from Ozaira disappear when looking into Mayu’s light grey eyes, their downturned shape complimenting her ear-to-ear smile. “I didn’t know you’d be back this soon!”

Mayu displays a smug expression. “Well, when you’re just that good in soldier camp, they let you out early.” Ozaira raises an eyebrow. “...and if you know how to pull some strings. But, I’m here anyways!”

“But, why now?” Ozaira questions. “I thought you’d be in training for another month. It’s already been five…” Her smile starts to fade.

Taking notice of Ozaira’s shift in tone, Mayu puts a hand on her cheek. “Hey, I know it’s been a while, but look at you! You actually look like a future Firelord. Plus your hair grew out nicely,” she teases while flicking a strand of Ozaira’s hair.

Feeling her face flush, Ozaira retorts. “If we’re talking about hair, look at yours. It might almost touch the floor at this point. You sure you want it so long with you becoming, you know, a soldier?”

“Oh please,” Mayu retaliates. “You know I’d never get rid of these luscious locks. Plus, if I really cared about that, I never would have grown it this long in the first place, you goof.” She ruffles Ozaira’s hair and the two share a laugh. Mayu sits down, patting the spot next to her beckoning Ozaira to sit. She obliges, and the two watch the golden sun paint the sky pink and orange. “So,” Mayu questions, “I know it’s not the first thing you’d want me asking about, but what’s up with this Agni Kai business?”

Hanging her head back, Ozaira lets out a long whine. “It’s a long story, but some stupid inmate wanted to fight me, and me being my brilliant self, decided to have it here.” She leans onto Mayu out of instinct. “And my mom’s basically calling the whole capital here, and my grandfather.”

“What?” Mayu almost yells out of shock. “I mean I’m not surprised, but why does she want so many people to be there? Isn’t this kind of like, I don’t know, a you problem?”

“It should be,” Ozaira scoffs. “But as always, she wants to show off. She probably doesn’t even care about my feelings in this, even though it… kind of was my idea in the first place.”

Mayu giggles. “Well duh, when’s the last time your mom ever cared about how you feel?”

Ozaira grabs her hair. “I know! It just…always seems to surprise me for some reason. Like every time something happens between us, there’s this part of me that keeps hoping that she might start to care. And then I get disappointed again, and I never learn my lesson. I just keep getting hurt, and I can’t stop myself from expecting anything different.” Feeling the warmth of Mayu against her, Ozaira buries her head onto Mayu’s shoulder, and she finally begins to cry. Mayu strokes her head to comfort her, it being the only thing she can think to do in this moment. “Why am I always so pathetic? I can’t ever be like her, I’m always just holding myself back from being everything I could be. I wanted to be intimidating so badly, but I still can’t do anything when it comes to her. How am I supposed to be Firelord if I’m scared of my mom?”

The two stay quiet for a minute, then Mayu leans her head up to look at the view in front of them. “Maybe you’re just not meant to be intimidating.”

Ozaira furrows her brows out of confusion. “What?”

“I’m just saying,” Mayu continues, “What if you’re not supposed to be intimidating? I mean sure, your mom is probably the most intimidating person anybody in the Fire Nation knows, not including your grandfather, but what if you’re supposed to be different? Maybe you don’t have her kind of intimidation, but instead, an intimidation that comes from the mutual respect of those around you not fueled by constant fear. Or, you’re the type of person that appears harmless, but shows people what you’re made of after the fact, kind of like them underestimating you.” Both girls look at each other, Ozaira’s eyes catching the sunlight in a way that highlights how impressed and touched she was by Mayu’s words. Both realize how close they are to each other and look away. “Just trying to make you feel better about this whole mess. I do feel kinda bad being gone for so long…”

“No, don’t!” Ozaira shouts. “I don’t want you to give up what you want for me. I can do just fine on my own, I mean look at me. I’m fine!” Mayu glares at her. Unable to keep her facade in front of Mayu, Ozaira quits before she starts to hurt herself with her lies. “I just want what’s best for you. Don’t stay away from your plans just to take care of me. It’d make me feel bad.”

“‘Zaira,” Mayu playfully responds, “I’ll always be here for you. Whether or not I’m here in the capital or halfway across the world, you’ll always know where to find me, and I’ll know where to find you. Because you know, you’ll probably be here in the palace for the rest of your life, but you know what I mean.”

“Thanks, Mayu, I really needed—” Ozaira cuts herself off at the sound of more footsteps. “Someone’s coming.”

Mayu sighs. “I swear, sometimes you act more like a soldier than I do.”

Ozaira waits impatiently to see who else is walking up to their spot, and all of her worries are confirmed when she hears her mother’s voice. “Ozaira, your grandfather is here, and the guests have just about arrived, so I expect you to get ready now. You’ve wasted enough time lounging around up here.” The girls stand still for a moment, looking at each other awkwardly. “Yes, Mayu, I see you,” Azula added in annoyance while walking back down towards the palace.

“Come on,” Ozaira whispers to Mayu, “I wanna get you a good seat in the arena.” The both of them laugh quietly, descending the mountain hand-in-hand.

After the long walk down from the mountainside, Ozaira is led by a group of servants to prepare for the Agni Kai. Ozaira never enjoys being surrounded by so many people in such a vulnerable state, but she holds her tongue just to not cause an issue. Sitting in her dressing room surrounded by servants, Ozaira awkwardly fidgets in her seat trying to resist the pulling of her hair.

“Please hold still princess,” one of the servants kindly suggests. “Your hair needs to be perfect for this special occasion.”

Ozaira sulks. “Okay, I’m sorry…” Resuming her attention to her hair, Ozaira stiffens her posture to not cause any more disturbances for the servants. One of them gets a little sidetracked while grabbing a hold of Ozaira’s hair, and pulls it a little too hard, causing Ozaira to exclaim in pain. “Ow! What the f-”

“Oh!” The servant shrieks in response. “I-I’m so sorry your highness, I’m sorry! Please forgive me!” Despite Ozaira attempting to calm her, the servant continues her pleading. “I never meant to hurt you, I was just holding your hair and I forgot! I’m sorry, please!”

“It’s…okay.” Ozaira consoled, unsure of how to respond. “I’m not mad, just please remember to pay attention next time, okay?” She showed the servant a shy smile, and before she could respond to the princess, the elder servant next to her intervened.

“Have you no shame?” The servant lady grabs the younger one by the arm. “In the presence of her highness, you’d do well to show some restraint instead of crying out like a child.” Her words cut deeper than any sword, as Ozaira watched the girl’s expression grow blank. Feeling as if she’s unable to say anything else, Ozaira keeps quiet and lets the servants continue to pamper her.

Looking as polished as a steady flame, Ozaira dons a ceremonial cloak and exits the dressing room to head for the arena, waiting to be escorted by soldiers. Awaiting her arrival at the rendezvous area is her mother, appearing both impatient and pleased at the sight of her.

“Ozaira, look at you.” Azula takes one of the free strands of Ozaira’s wavy hair in her hand, letting it fall off her fingers. “I may not have expected your first Agni Kai to come this soon, although, it is a pleasant surprise. You’ll do well to not disappoint me or the people who took time out of their day to come watch. Do not falter.” And with those departing words, Azula makes her way towards the arena, beckoning Ozaira and her escorts to follow behind.

The walk itself felt like a blip in Ozaira’s mind, her eyes not taking themselves off a fixed point in front of her feet. The closer she got to the arena, the clearer she could hear the crowd. Her heart thumped louder, almost like it would break through her ribcage. Her stomach constricted as if she were to vomit, and as a lump formed in her throat she attempted to swallow it. It instead heavied her chest, dragging her down like a weight. Nearly bumping into the escorts, it finally rendered with her that this was actually happening. She would be fighting an Agni Kai in front of nearly the whole capital. She had never fought in front of anyone but her family, and the thought of humiliating herself consumed her. Her deprecating thoughts only stopped when she heard her mother’s commanding voice speak to the audience.

“Exalted guests, lifelong allies, and proud members of our esteemed military, welcome.” Azula had the entire crowd at her mercy, taking her time with each word she speaks. “I thank all of you for joining here to witness my daughter Ozaira’s very first Agni Kai. It was she who made the noble decision to make an example out of a wretched prisoner who cursed our esteemed family. That deviant’s downfall will be our Ozaira’s revenge. With the presence of our beloved Phoenix King Ozai, may we and our ancestors give her strength.” And with a slight bow, Azula retreated to her seat next to Ozai while percussionists below the arena sounded their inciting drums. Each bang on the drums excited the crowd more and more, their anticipation for the fight growing dramatically.
Following the guards in front of her, Ozaira moved toward the entrance, getting a glimpse of the crowd at the other end of the arena. As soon as she steps inside, her eyes widen as she had never seen the arena from where she stands now. The crowd always seemed insignificant to her as a kid, but now, its sheer size looks as if it could cave in on her at any time, like a tsunami towering over a seaside city. She looks over to the left to see her family sitting in their “thrones” among the others of high status placed around them. Zairon shoots Ozaira a thumbs up, trying to reassure her in these final moments, but not even her brother can ease her. Azula’s posture sets her off from the rest of the crowd, her pompous aura resonating all the way down to Ozaira at the very bottom. Sitting in between the two of them is the person Ozaira wished to see the least, her grandfather, Ozai. His callous expression could be seen from the other side of the continent, as if letting everyone how beneath him they are. The extravagant cloak and headpiece he wears catch the light of the flames emerging from the torches in a way where the gold shines brighter than the sun. It’s when Ozaira meets his cold gaze that she realizes the gold from his outerwear isn’t the sun, but rather his eyes – his golden searing eyes that have been passed down to Azula and Ozaira herself, the eyes that she meets in the mirror every day. In that split second of meeting each other’s eyes, Ozaira glances away just before taking notice of his scowl, feeling the pit in her stomach sink deeper. Trying to avoid eye contact with anyone else, Ozaira sees Mayu sitting a few rows below her family, and looking right back at her with a sympathetic grin on her face. Ozaira can feel her face flush, but not from the torches lining the stage, and she reciprocates a shy smile.

Stopping at her end of the stage, Ozaira sheds her cloak to reveal her Agni Kai uniform. A baggy, dark red tank top cropped just above her midriff, the bottom taped around her waist, allowing her shoulders and arms to move freely. In between her right bicep and tricep are two gold bands, a glimmering reminder of her nobility. Her belted pants, matching the color of her shirt, sag at the knee, stopped only by darker coverings on her calves. Her feet were left barefoot, embracing the heat from the stage given by the flames surrounding her. She stands there waiting for her opponent with impatient breaths, it being the only thing she can hear among the noisy crowd. The prisoner is brought out onto the stage with her hands tied behind her back and a gag in her mouth. Without being able to change her attire safely, she is left to fight in her prison uniform. Once they remove her gag, she burns her binds to ash, her hands trembling at the thought of striking a member of the royal family down. She dons a sinister grin, and one can only imagine the thoughts inside her at that moment. Ozaira assumes her usual stance, ready to move at the soonest given opportunity. The prisoner’s body leans forward, ready to lunge at her target, all the while not noticing her jaw trembling.

The crowd waits on the edge of their seats with bated breath, and as soon as the signal is given, the flames glow brightly over the setting sun. The prisoner is quick to throw powerful blows of her rageful fire with fists that couldn’t be clenched any tighter. Using her own bending to catch her opponent’s flames, Ozaira spins around and uses her precision to aim directly and swiftly. Heightened by her exhilaration, the prisoner ducks early enough for only the ends of her hair to be singed, and uses her feet to throw her fire from below. Ozaira leaps gracefully into the air, being supported by propelling herself up with her fire. She takes a deep breath and roars a powerful blaze down below. The prisoner leaps towards the flame, surrounding herself with flames of her own, but only when the flames disappear does she realize she is jumping towards nothing. Glancing below her, she sees a smirking Ozaira ready to land a blow. In vain, she tries to block the princess’s strike, but she is launched all the way to the other end of the stage and is rendered breathless for a few seconds. Ozaira flinches from her opponent’s stray flames touching her hand, but she is taken aback by a guttural and almost animalistic scream from the prisoner. She barrel’s towards Ozaira throwing everything she has, attempting to push the princess back, but Ozaira remains where she stands, deflecting every attack with ease remembering days when her brother couldn’t contain his own frustration with being bested by her. She knew to keep a calm demeanor and to not give into passion so easily. After watching her mother demonstrate moves for her for so long, she figured she might as well have picked up something from her. Blind by anger, the prisoner maintains her aggressive approach in comparison to Ozaira’s defensiveness, enabling the princess to catch her off balance. Forced to her hands and knees, the prisoner pants profusely, and only now does she grasp her fate at the result of her loss. With Ozaira in front of her, she throws a last attempt to attack with weakened flames, but her wrist is caught mid-strike by Ozaira. She tries to breathe fire at close-range, but her head is forced back by Ozaira’s other hand and is let go of just as quickly. Still holding the prisoner’s wrist, Ozaira knows what the crowd waits for – a reminder of what happens to those without honor, those who stand against her great nation, and those who don’t deserve to be a part of this world.

Ozaira raises her other hand and produces a glowing flame, shaking ever so slightly at the slightest twitch of her fingers. She looks down at the prisoner in front of her, shaking, panting, and letting her head hang down, but in a split second, her body goes limp. Her hands unclench, her shoulders lower, her body unmoving and almost corpse-like. Even if Ozaira could see her face, she knows the kind of blank expression she would see, the face of someone who failed – the face of someone who no longer cares for their own life. Taking herself out of the Agni Kai, Ozaira has a moment of reflection, imagining if she could be the kind of person to permanently scar someone without remorse. Through muffled hearing, she can hear the cheer of the crowd become more restless. Ozaira knows she must make a decision. She can’t look into the crowd to see their faces, her face remaining stuck on the prisoner. Her heart makes the decision for her as her flames dissipate and her arm relaxes. She lets go of the fallen woman and takes a step back, unsure of what to do next. Still remaining fixed on the woman in front of her, Ozaira hears groans and gossip uttered throughout the arena, knowing exactly why. Guards hurry onto the stage to take her opponent away, while General Fuzen comes behind Ozaira to pull her away from the fuming crowd. Before they both could leave, Ozaira catches a glance at her mother, feeling her heart drop – her blazing eyes filled with absolute hate and her mouth forming an unnatural frown around her clenched teeth. If she could, she would burn down the entire arena in her perfect, blue flames, and paint the whole world with its ashes.

Wrapping a spare cloak around a trembling Ozaira, General Fuzen hurries her back to her room to get her away from the heat of the Agni Kai. In the middle of the hallway, Ozaira can’t contain herself and begins to cry and hyperventilate, crouching down and holding her head between her arms while rocking back and forth. All she wants to do is disappear, closing her eyes to shut out the rest of the world. General Fuzen kneels down in front of Ozaira and tries to shake her to keep her going.

“Don’t do this here,” he orders in a stern but low voice. “Just make it to your room, you can do it there, but not here. Not where they can see you.” Failing to catch her breath, all she has the strength for is a shaky nod. The general must carry part of her weight the remainder of the way as Ozaira struggles to have feeling in her own legs. Her memory fades from this moment until General Fuzen gently pushes her into her room. The only thing she can make out is a gentle, I’m sorry, from him before leaving her to face her actions alone. Finally, on her own, her throat swells with the desire to scream until the point where her voice runs dry, but all she does is cry. She cries as quietly as she possibly can, her throat becoming sore from her silencing herself. Why did I do that, why did I do that, why did I do that over and over again, trying to make sense of her actions. She slams her fist against her head, perhaps to punish herself for her own stupidity. With the other hand, she punches her thigh, not caring if she leaves a bruise. No matter how much it hurts, she can’t stop. Knock, knock. She freezes, afraid of who might be behind the door. She says nothing.

“Princess?” A meek voice resonates from outside. “I was sent to let you know that we are to change the old water in your bowl tonight. We put the old water on the shelf above your dresser so that you wouldn’t use it. I will be back with the new water soon.” Just a servant, but a voice Ozaira always remembers.

Composing herself, Ozaira manages a response. “T-Thank you. I’ll…be here.” The servant hesitates to move for a second and then continues on her way. With a deep breath, Ozaira sits up with the support of her bed. She walks over to her dresser, needing something else to help her stand. The day flashes through her head, remembering how normal it started out. It wasn’t supposed to be like this, she could have had a normal day, come home to her family and her best friend for dinner, and gone to sleep like usual. Frustration festers in her mind, replacing the fear that always remains. In a sudden urge, she slams her fists down on her dresser. The whole room shakes, but she remains unmoving. She can’t afford to care about how badly that hurt her hand, she never wants to feel this weak ever again. In her head, she makes a vow to never allow herself to be shown like that in the future, blindly committing to a falsehood. She feels herself become numb again, until from above her, she hears her water bowl rock along the shelf. Not noticing the bowl was teetering over the edge until now, it only takes a second for the bowl to fall over and for Ozaira to lose her balance. In that quick instant, Ozaira can only think to shield her face from the falling bowl with her arms outstretched as she falls onto her floor. The bowl thuds, its gold lining failing to keep the bowl intact. Ozaira’s eyes are closed shut, waiting to be soaked in the old water. However, it doesn’t take her long to realize that she's still dry. It’s only then that she realizes it’s not just her that wasn’t drenched, the entire floor doesn’t have a single drop of water. Feeling mere droplets trickle on her head, she looks up in curiosity. The water that was supposed to spill remains suspended in the air, moving with subtle waves and delicate swirls. Having to take a moment to process the image in front of her, Ozaira jerks back in shock, thinking she is going crazy. The water splashes onto the ground and herself as well. She sits there for a minute not knowing what to think, until she gets an idea that only a child would have. She sits on her knees and looks at the spilled water on the ground, and she thinks to herself, That can’t be it, that wasn’t real, it wasn't... Ozaira raises her hand and-

“Excuse me, princess?” The servant girl’s intrusion snaps Ozaira out of whatever is going through her head but fails to avert any suspicion of what happened.

Ozaira speaks in a frazzled voice. “Oh, um…tha-thank you. You can…uh…”

The girl opens her door ajar, to check on her. “Oh! My goodness, are you okay?” She rushes over to Ozaira but puts the new bowl on the desk before crouching down next to her. “I-I can go get some towels! I’m so sorry, I never should have put it up there-”

“It’s…fine.” Ozaira interjects her, not wanting this to be a big deal after what happened today. “I’m fine, I don’t need towels, just take that bowl to be fixed, please. I just…don’t want anything else happening today. Please...”

The servant nods and exits her room with the broken bowl, carefully gathering the pieces in a piece of cloth as to not cut herself. Ozaira moves aside the wet hair stuck to her face and stands up to meet the new bowl on her dresser. Hesitating, she puts her hand above the water, staring with a fearful expression. She knows this can't possibly be real, but it would eat away at her if left unknown for sure. Ozaira shuts her eyes and looks away, anticipating the worst, whatever that may be. Her reluctant hand drags upwards in the air, her fingers tingling with the thought of making some kind of connection... but to what?

Ever since Ozaira was little, the Fire Nation would hold brilliant festivals in honor of her family, one most notably celebrating the end of the Hundred Year War. As if the Fire Nation couldn't be more proud of themselves, they engaged in capturing benders from the other nations to force them to perform in the festivals, treating them like animals in a circus all in the name of honoring their Firelord and exalted King. Ozaira never thought much about it while she was still young, but the older she got, she started to see how frail and bony the bender's faces were — their conservative clothes made sure to hide the rest of their dying bodies. For some reason, Ozaira was always so enamored with the water benders, she would've thought they were made of water with how loose and graceful their movements were. Even their skeletal bodies made their bending look captivating, but instead of ethereal beings, they now looked more like melancholic spirits to her, their bending reflecting how sad and desperate they were to be free. It was something Ozaira could never get out of her head, no matter how hard she tried. Sometimes in secret, she would try to bend like them, perhaps to honor them in her own way. Azula, unfortunately, caught her doing this when she was 10 years old and successfully scared her into never doing it again. But some things, no matter how much time passes, will never be forgotten...

Having lifted her arm high enough, she opens her eyes one after the other, not ready to see what could be right in front of her. Gazing upon what she cannot deny, she sees the center of the water rising to reach her touch. Her hand jolts back and the water falls back into the bowl. Ozaira stares at her hand, a hand she thought she knew. Her body didn’t feel like hers anymore, and she felt every sin committed by her ancestors crawl through her skin.

“No…”