Prodigal.

Amazing.

Smart.

The best behind her father.

Izumi lay in her bed and listed the many names and labels she had been given. There must have been fifty that came to mind. They were flattering, yes, but also idiotic. The people were delirious to such matters, really. She was not a person to them. No, she was a pawn, the perfect Firelord. Izumi scoffed, pulling her knees up, wrinkling the red duvet that covered her. She was not perfect, far from it, though she had come a long way. Thinking back to her younger years made her conflicted, like she didn't know if she should laugh or cry or both at the same time.

Seven year old Izumi had been playing in the courtyard. The fire sages never came to the palace unless there was trouble or a coronation, everyone knew that. So when she saw the red clad men approaching her she sat up a little straighter and dropped the turtleduck she had been holding. The one who appeared to be the leader stopped in front of her and studied her quizzically.

He hummed slightly, following her father, who had appeared sometime as he studied her, into the palace. Izumi had run to the kitchen to hide, shedding uncertain tears. She couldn't remember why she was crying, just that she was upset.

The meeting between her father and the sages lasted only a few minutes before they all hurried away. She could hear her father cursing from her place beneath the sink. Her father came and pulled her out, having memorized all of her hiding places. He wiped away her tears and looked her straight in the face with a serious expression.

"Izumi," He said, his soft yet firm tone enticing, "Don't you ever let people tell you you're useless for something you can't do. You will be a great Firelord, even if you lack certain skills."

He pulled her off of the countertop on which she had been sat and they played Pai Sho until dinner. She hadn't understood it then, but he had been referring to bending. The idea of firebending had long since left her; in fact it might not have crossed her mind at all. She had never thought she'd be able to bend, and she never really wanted too. She didn't need bending to be a good Firelord. She'd never thought that way.

Izumi frowned at the memory. It wasn't an unpleasant memory, unlike others she would rather not dig up, but it was truthful. Izumi was non-bending Firelord, she did the best she could. She did everything the Firelord was supposed to. She had marched into battle with her soldiers against the rebellions, she had won many challenged matches with her dual Dao (In which both her father and her uncle Sokka had worked to train her with), and she was admired all the same, she'd never needed bending to be a good leader.

Though, bending was more spiritual, she would have thought being physically impaired would make all the people and fussy nobles turn their nose up at her.

Nine year old Izumi clutched the ink covered brush so hard it hurt. Her letters were jagged, and sideways. She felt her hand begin to cramp, the way it always did. When Izumi was born, the umbilical cord had been wrapped around her right arm, forever changing the bones in her hand. Her hand was crooked, pointing outward, and holding things was a struggle. She had learned to use her left hand as much as possible, though it wasn't proper. Things as simple as eating were difficult.

Auntie Katara had attempted to heal the bones when she was very young, trying to fix them. Aunt Toph had once tried to form a metal cast and shift the bones in to the proper form, to no avail. They would leave the cast on for months, but as soon as the cast was off the bones would gradually begin to slide back into their usual place, crooked and ugly. Not only was it excruciatingly painful, but she found it quite embarrassing.

She hated it, it was hard to do everything, and she was convinced that everyone would make fun of her. But they didn't, no one even really noticed it unless she brought it to attention. You never really notice the truly bad things unless you ask.

Izumi stretched her fingers experimentally. Her hand was still slightly crooked, but it had improved since her youth, and she could now do things easier. Granted she still requested a fork and spoon instead of chopsticks, and she often had her advisors sign papers unless they were extremely important, but it was still a step up.

Speeches were hard though, she never been good at those either.

"Father, I don't want too." Twelve year old Izumi complained as her father drug her by the hand.

"Hush, it's just a brief meeting. Besides, their son is your age, maybe you'll make friends." He said chidingly, pulling her along, "C'mon, we're late."

"I don't want any friends. You know what happens when I meet new people anyway."

The stepped out into the courtyard and he began to smooth his robes and hair, as she did the same, "You'll be fine, just focus."

He father took her hand again and pulled her over to a couple. They were nobles, she could tell by their clothing and the women's jewelry. Izumi didn't like jewelry, so she chose to stare at the jacaranda tree behind the couple instead. The adults greeted her and her father with the utmost stuffy politeness and respect.

"This is my daughter, Izumi." She looked up to meet the couples gaze. The man's eyes were warm and kind, the woman cold and rude. Deduction, their marriage had been an arranged one.

"A pleasure to meet you, Princess." The man said, bowing slightly.

Izumi bit her tongue fiercely, feeling her father tense beside her. She returned the bow, "And I you Minister Shaozu."

Her father relaxed beside her momentarily, only to tense again when the Minister gestured beside him, "This is my son, Kazuo."

Izumi looked at him and froze, her eyes widening. Hi hair was jet black, his eyes almond shaped, and amber. He had broad shoulders, clad in a fine silk training tunic. He had a strong jaw line, wide, and a smile played on his pink lips.

"Why don't you two go for a walk while Minister Shaozu and I go over business?" Her father suggested brightly. He turned to the minister, "That wouldn't be a problem would it?"

Minster Shaozu shook his head, "No, not at all."

Izumi nodded and gestured for Kazuo to follow her.

He walks nice, she thought. They ended up stopping underneath the jacaranda she had been looking at earlier as the adults entered the palace.

"Oh, where are my manners." Kazuo muttered to himself. He faced her

Instead of bowing, Kazuo held out a hand, "Nice to meet you, Princess Izumi."

She reached forward and accepted it.

Alright, c'mon focus, she thought, they're just words.

"The pleasure is mine, Kazuo." She said. Relief flooded her. Now no questions, she would never-

"How old are you?" He asked. Agni.

She took a deep breath, focus. "I'm t-t-twelv-ve."

She felt herself flush deep red, and she wished she could curl into a ball and disappear. Stupid mouth, stupid stuttering, stupid attractive boy. It always happened, when she got nervous, or excited, or upset, she started to stutter terribly.

"Uh, is something the matter princess?" Kazuo asked.

Izumi snapped her head up, her eyes going wide. Was he insulting her?

"You're face is all red." She relaxed.

"N-no. I'm f-fi-ine." Tears prickled at her eyes. Why did this always have to happen? He was going to tease her, she knew it.

"You're embarrassed." He noted blankly. Izumi wrapped her arms around herself and took a step back.

"It's fine, I don't mind." Izumi looked up at him in wonder, mouth slightly ajar. He didn't mind? Really? It was hideous, who would want to converse with someone who stuttered?

"Actually," He said, smiling slightly and standing straighter, "I think it's kind of cute, if it's not too bold for me to say so."

Izumi chuckled breathlessly, thankful that no tears had spilled. She faced him head on and grinned.

She tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, "No, no it's not too bold. None too bold at all."

Izumi picked up the small, round frame that sat on her bedside table. It was picture of her husband. Kazuo was currently in the army. As the Firelord's husband, there was no need for him to fight in the army, but he had gone anyway, claiming that they needed him.

Izumi loved her husband. He didn't mind that she stuttered when she got flustered, or that her hand was a little crooked, or even that she couldn't bend. He loved her as she was with her little imperfections. He found them cute, something she still marveled over.

A thump in the hallway made her set down the frame and look up. The door to her room opened and closed quickly. She tensed, expecting an attacker, only to have her son, little Iroh II, climb over the foot of the bed. He stopped slightly, pausing when he saw that she was awake, but climbed on top of her when he saw that she wasn't mad. Izumi smiled as he set himself down on her stomach.

"You're awake." He said. Izumi chuckled.

"You're not either. Why is that? I tucked you in."

Iroh II sighed the most serious sigh a four year old could manage.

"I don't think I could thleep in there, tho I came here. Can I thtay here?"

"Hmm, yeah I guess you could." She said. She pointed a finger in his face, "But no snoring."

He giggled as she pulled him under the duvet, wrapping a protective arm around him and holding him close. He poked her in the side with his toes. They were ice cold, and he laughed when she squirmed.

"Mommy, I wanna thsee your toes." Well, he kind of got that word right. Izumi pulled her toes out from beneath the covers and laid them out straight. Iroh copied her. She wiggled her toes. Iroh copied her.

He reached up to scratch his arm, but she grabbed his hand, shaking her head. Iroh was allergic to lily flowers. She had learned that the hard way, letting him near the plant and only removing him when she noticed the red rash making its way up his arm.

She supposed that was one of her sons little imperfections.

But she didn't mind. She loved him. She loved his allergy to lilies.

Just like she loved his lisp and his left foot, which was a little crooked.