A/N: Greetings, tis I, Amaya. SashaL is around, but tis I who speaks. Through him. Anyway, so things have kicked up to level nope in the real world for us, so the only day we'll be able to upload from now on until the foreseeable future is Sundays, but the real kicker is that chapters might grind to a halt at some point if things get too busy. Neither of us can write up the next one. We'll try not to let that happen, but just a Lil warning for you.
As you were.
Zuko left the meeting, a slight frown on his brow. He found himself absently searching the small crowd of people chatting for the familiar splash of gold among the dark-haired people chatting and barely noted that he felt somewhat disappointed when he didn't find her.
"You're looking glum," his disappointment was immediately replaced by mixed annoyance and relief. "Did you think I wasn't going to come back?"
He turned to see her teasing smile. "You can't help yourself."
She giggled. "Well? How was it?"
His gaze lowered, and he continued to walk, albeit slower than before.
"When I got there, everyone welcomed me. My Father had saved me a seat. He wanted me next to him. I was literally at his right hand."
"And yet, you don't seem all that thrilled," she pointed out.
They paused at the end of the hallway, and Zuko looked up at the large, ornate picture of Ozai.
"During the meeting, I was the perfect prince," he said. "The son my father wanted. But it wasn't me."
"Well then, who are you?"
He turned sharply towards Amaya, but she had pulled another disappearing act. He thought about her question, and something from a half-remembered dream came floating back to him.
Remember this, Zuko. No matter how things may seem to change, never forget who you are.