Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"What did you do?”

The cook's shout reverberated across the courtyard, precise like a whip cracking against meat, jolting Mei out of her daze. She stumbled on the rough stones, narrowly avoiding the scalding broth cascading from the overturned pot. The acrid fumes of old grease and rotting scraps piled near the drain, burning her nostrils and making her gag.

‘Not again.’ She fiddled with her scratchy tunic. Every unfamiliar face and misplaced step served as a reminder that this was not her home, not even her world.

As she breathed, the towering red walls of the compound seemed to cage her, constricting her lungs. She recognized these structures and landmarks from Saturday mornings and TV reruns.

A gruff cuff landed on her shoulder. "Idiot girl! Daydreaming again?" The head cook glared with a face flushed with anger and steam. "Clean up this mess! Now!” The tension in the air was almost palpable.

Mei cowered, dropping to her knees without a word. The hot liquid seeped instantly through the fabric of her trousers, scalding her skin. She grabbed an old rag and scrubbed furiously at the floor.

The sting of the boiling liquid helped to ground her, reminding her that this was real. Stupidly and painfully real. 

‘Fire Colonies… A bastard child...’ The information waned like dying embers.

She recalled the stern, icy countenances of the locals who barely acknowledged her existence with scorn, and her mother’s fearful grip and haunted eyes.

Mei comprehended that she was destined to burn away before the main events of the show transpired.

The rag slipped from her palms and plopped into the greasy pool. She stared at her reflection in the murky liquid. Tanned features stared back, wide-eyed with a fear that no child should know.

A shadow loomed over the mess, but it wasn't the cook’s bulky frame. It was a leaner figure. 

Master Kenji, the estate steward, stopped in front of the broth with his shiny shoes. "Careless," he stated, his tone devoid of anger but colder than spilled soup.

Mei curtsied. 

"Lady Zhia requires her afternoon tea. Get it immediately, and ensure your hands are clean!" His gaze lingered on her stained trousers, and Mei felt his judgment cut through her more than any cuff. 

But the Lady’s, her father’s wife, was worse. Her looks stabbed her like icicles.

She hastened to the kitchens, which were a humid maze of clanging pots and shouting. Dodging steaming dumpling trays and sweaty cooks, Mei made her way through the chaos. She discerned where the fancy tea sets were stored—right on the high shelf in the pantry, locked behind a glassy door. 

Her hands fumbled with the key hanging from the spice rack. The porcelain was impossibly light and terrifyingly fragile. One chip or crack… 

Mei cradled the tray as if it were a bomb as she navigated back towards the main house. Each step echoed the agitated thumps of her heart against her ribs. 

‘Don’t drop it.’

She pushed through the giant oak door and entered into the cool silence of the Lady’s receiving room.

Incense oozed strongly, masking the polished, earthy sandalwood scent within. Sunlight streamed through wide-open windows, illuminating dust motes dancing above the plush carpets. And there, seated rigidly on a divan, was Lady Zhia herself. Her hair was styled in a black knot, fashioned after the latest capital fads. 

Beside her, a boy perched lazily upon a couch. His long black hair was adorned with exquisite, gold-colored ornaments, but his crimson silk robes and narrowed amber eyes told the girl everything she needed to recognize him.

Mei's chest tightened, and she struggled to take a breath.

This was Prince Ozai. 

The tray wobbled precariously as he glanced at her. It wasn’t brimming with hatred yet, but with something worse. Utter insignificance, as if a kitchen girl was less than nothing. 

As she curtsied, the porcelain tinkled, and her shoulders slumped with the weight of the world looming over her like a tombstone.

The thirteen-year-old boy dismissively rolled his eyes and let out a bored hum. 

"Place it here, girl." The Lady stipulated with a hardened gaze, dripping with disdain.

Mei rose slowly, attempting to hide her racing heart as she carefully set the teapot on the ornately carved table. Her index finger grazed the teapot’s spout, barely making contact. 

The prince's nose wrinkled slightly at the pungent smell of the kitchen clinging to her shabby tunic.

"Filthy.” His lips pursed in disgust.

Mei quailed, pulling her hands back as if burned as Ozai’s eyes darted towards them.

And then towards her face. 

"Does she even know how to serve properly?" he inquired, his voice high-pitched but already igniting a spark of ruthless curiosity behind his surveying.

Mei scrambled to bow with her forehead pressed against the cool floorboards. The aroma of the rich, exotic incense enveloped her, making her head spin.

‘Don’t react. Be invisible,’ she reminded herself, biting her lip to bury her anxiety and panic.

"She's... adequate. For now," the Lady commented with a measured sigh. "Pour in the tea, girl."

With quivering fingers wrapping around the smooth porcelain handle, Mei forced herself up. Hot liquid sloshed dangerously as she poured into his cup, with Ozai's intense gaze tracing her every move, resembling a predator stalking its prey. 

A single drop splashed onto the pristine saucer, creating a small ripple in its wake. 

Her body jolted back in surprise, a gasp escaping from her lips as Ozai's hand shot out like a scorpion snake, digging his fingers into the soft flesh of her forearm.

The hot tea splattered across the gleaming tabletop, leaving a trail of dark stains and a faint aroma of bergamot.

"Clumsy," the spoiled prince sneered, releasing her. His eyes gleamed with malicious satisfaction as Mei winced and gripped her arm. Her skin quickly reddened and stung beneath her sleeve.

The Lady, nevertheless, remained stoic and composed, sipping her own tea as if nothing had occured. "Clean it," she ordered, gesturing vaguely at the spill. 

Mei snatched a spare cloth, her fingers sticking to the damp fabric as she desperately tried to remove the stains. 

‘He’s just a boy, but he’s already this cruel.’ The knowledge of his future tyranny weighed heavily on her comparable to a boiling teapot, fragile yet lethal in her grip. A fiery and terrifying desire surged through Mei, urging her to smash the teapot onto his smug face. 

Ozai's boredom was quickly replaced by acute, calculated interest as he finished observing Mei's actions. "What’s your name, kitchen rat?" 

She twitched.

The Lady cleared her throat. "Answer His Highness." 

Mei kept her eyesight glued to the floor. "Mei, Your Highness." 

The future main villain cocked his head. A small, unpleasant smile formed on his lips, revealing his true nature. "Like the flower?" 

Mei nodded mutely.

"Weak. Easily crushed." He said with a tinge of contempt towards a stray tea-leaf on the table. "Like you."

"Enough.” The Lady dismissed her harshly. "Remove yourself, girl." 

She clenched the stained cloth, desperate to leave. As she reached the heavy oak door, Ozai’s command sliced through the choking scent of incense. 

"Wait." 

Mei froze. 

The spoiled prince inspected the rim of the teacup that Mei had touched, and he wrinkled his nose in fake disgust.

"This cup smells of grease… Fetch me a new one." Amber eyes deliberately locked with golden ones, and he raised his cup with a possessive gleam in his eyes, silently asserting his dominance over her. "Clean your hands this time. Disinfect them."  

Her throat constricted with fear. All she could do was comply.

Mei collapsed against the scrappy stone wall, fighting for air in the sweltering heat. Ozai's pinch left her forearm throbbing and with a bruise forming.

‘He’s testing me,’ The scorching sun beat down relentlessly on the courtyard, intensifying the already oppressive heat. ‘Like poking at a spider-roach to see it scamper.’ The future Fire Lord wasn’t merely callous; he was honing his claws on anyone he deemed weak.

And it seems he has located his next target. An invisible, expendable, and perfect prey. A.k.a., Mei. 

The cooks bustled past.

‘Why was Ozai even here?!’ She ran her hand through her short, dark hair in frustration. The Lady’s estate was minor and provincial. He shouldn't be wasting his time here, unless…

Her stomach churned. 

Did her “noble father” come to visit them? Or worse, were the colonies being shown to Ozai like some tourist? Taught about subjugation? 

She shoved the disturbing thought away. ‘I refuse to go down the Fire Nation rabbit hole.’

Her only job was to survive and bring food to her mother.

…Well, maybe that was two jobs, but this was her reality, not some cartoon plot.

In the end, everything would work out without her intervention, and she had more pressing concerns to worry about than a future that seemed out of reach.

Chapter Text

‘One would expect that living in an occupied Fire Nation territory would include the luxury of hot water.’ But Mei had to wash her hands again in the frigid water until they turned pink and "properly" disinfected them. 'I'd kill for decent plumbing.'

She snatched the replacement cup. A sturdy porcelain with a delicate gold design. ‘Head in the game, Mei. Don’t provoke the little monster! Be quieter than smoke.’

The walk back resembled a journey through a desolate graveyard, with skeletal trees casting eerie shadows against the twilight sky. Each step she took on the cobblestones reminded her of the fire-bender's conquest of their land. The banners hung lifelessly on the stone walls, their once vibrant green now faded to a dull crimson.

As she arrived, the servants averted their sight, sending a clear message to stay away. 

'But I don't have much of a choice...' She sighed and opened the door, slipping inside unnoticed.

The Lady hadn’t moved from her position, her back elegantly resting against the divan. 

Prince Ozai, however, had abandoned his cushion. He stood by the open window, hands clasped behind his back, gazing at the courtyard where Mei almost spilled the broth earlier. His profile was sharp and eerily similar to his future self, despite being the same age as Mei.

He didn’t acknowledge her as she knelt and placed the fresh cup silently on his saucer. The room was packed with an oppressive silence as the lingering incense tickled her nose and made her eyes water.

Without taking note of her, he spoke.

"That cook, the one who shouts. She calls you 'idiot girl.' Why is that?"

The bruise on her forearm flared. A bitter taste rose in her throat, constricting it with a tightness that threatened to choke her. ‘Because that's what I am here.’ 

Despite being able to read and speak the local language, she cringed at the deafening roar of crowds and orders, forgot Earth Kindgom and colonial customs, and stared too long at things everyone else understood instinctively. She didn't belong in this world, and it showed. (Who wouldn't stare at a mongoose lizard?)

But admitting weakness to Ozai was like handing him a stabby, heated-up weapon.

"I… I tend to spill things, Your Highness," she stammered, espying the intricate weaves of the carpet. The scent of cedar oil wafted out, providing a sense of cleanliness and relaxation.

Ozai turned to face her slowly. His gaze was no longer dismissive but rather analytical, as if he were dissecting a pinned beetle. 

"Spilling things," he echoed, stepping closer. His polished boots stopped just inches from her kneeling form.

"Is that why you reek of cabbage water?" He dipped slightly, dropping to a conspiratorial murmur that sent chills down Mei's spine. "Or is it because you're thinking about things you shouldn't? Things that… others wouldn't understand?" His eyes drilled into her, searching for any cracks in her facade. 

A cold sweat trickled down her back, making her almost shiver. Mei pressed her forehead against the carpet, attempting to hide from his honey-like shade transforming into an intense golden-yellow.  "Just clumsy thoughts, Your Highness," she choked out, tasting the sour lie on her tongue.

Changing the plot wouldn't save her mother or fill their empty bellies. To survive, she had to become like stone—quiet and unremarkable. This boy craved a reaction, a flinch, or a spark of defiance to crush, so she meekly submitted to his demands, offering him the dull, obedient behavior of a servant while her stomach churned.

‘Go away! Attend to your royal lessons, or torment palace tutors! Why bother a kitchen girl nobody?’ Every part of her body recoiled with dread and revulsion from the calculating monster in front of her.

“Tell me, Kitchen Rat,” he leaned in, his murmur drifting through the thick, sweet scent of incense. “What do servants whisper… about the Fire Lord's second-born?" He pinned her with his gaze.

‘A test.’ Mei swallowed as her mind went back and forth through dangerous options, each more perilous than the last. She weighed the consequences of each potential answer, her heart pounding in her chest.

Truth was treason, and lying was defiance. 

She kept looking at the floor, her answer barely audible, as if she were afraid to speak too loudly. "Servants speak only of duty, Your Highness. To serve the Fire Nation faithfully." 

This was the safest answer she could muster. 

However, Ozai’s smirk vanished, replaced by annoyance. "Duty?" He scoffed, tapping the rim of his cup. "Duty is for fools. Power is the only truth." He studied her, his eyes lingering on her white-knuckled fists.

"You fear me," he stated, not as a question.

Mei’s breath hitched.

Denial or admission was a death sentence.

She held her tongue with her features frozen like a rock.

The boy's brow furrowed in irritation.

"Pathetic," he declared, dismissing her with a flick of his sleeve. His momentary intrigue evaporated like spilled tea. "A waste of time." 

A wave of relief flooded Mei's body like a soothing balm as she hurried towards the door, gripping her tunic as if it were a pardon. 

The door was only just inches away, and she could perceive the cold metal latch biting into her fingertips, leading her towards the blissful anonymity of doing chores under the blazing sun. ‘Almost there.' 

"Hold.”

She stopped dead in her tracks at his behest.

The second prince of the Fire Nation faced the window, tall and regal in his red silk robes that billowed behind him with unspoken power.

"Tomorrow morning, you will serve my tea again."  

It wasn't a request but a decree carved into the stifling atmosphere. 

"Ensure that you don't… spill." The deliberate pause hung, packed with an insinuating threat.  Mei couldn't help but feel frustrated by how the main antagonist continued to change his mind.

She bowed, her forehead almost brushing against the floorboards again. "Yes, Your Highness," she replied, the title seared into her brain.

‘Why?’ The question screamed louder than the cook’s bellowing.

Why torment a scullery peasant? Never mind, that must be pretty normal for him at this point. Was she just an easy target for an annoying prince, or did he genuinely realize something was off? Was it because of her abnormal pliability, or were her eyes too precocious for her face? 

In the kitchen's humid chaos, the dark-haired girl cleaned out the broth crusts from the pots until her fingers blistered. 

Panic clawed at her throat, albeit with a teeny bit of curiosity, but the latter wouldn't save her; it was a liability. She had her mother to worry about, and she couldn't have royalty beheading them like a certain Queen of Hearts... Although, at least the Red Queen had a heart.

The future tyrant didn't. Mei had aimed to become invisible as a pebble, yet Ozai’s gaze had bored in, seeking to break. He concluded her fear and silence to be signs of weakness, entirely for his amusement when he could provoke a reaction. As if power were his sole truth.

A squeaky, chirrupy noise startled her, and she whipped her head around to see a tiny, jewel-green lizard scurrying over a discarded melon rind. Its scales and miniature horns shimmered in the light.

The reptile’s bright eyes peered at her. 

“Run,” she urged softly. “Before someone crushes you.” 

She had no clue if it understood her, but the horned lizard darted away, vanishing into a crevice in the wall. 

Mei hissed in pain, tucking a charred vegetable root and bruised apple into her sleeve, and ran for her life as well.

She had survived thirteen years of colonial hunger and noble disdain, pulled through her fevers, endured guards' harassment, and persevered serving in the Lady's household. 

Survival was her truth. 

Mei had lived a whole life before this, one with libraries, pets, and buffets, and she was going to live again, discreetly, and patiently until she could punch whichever spirit had creolized her into this mis-marked existence.

As the sun began to set over the courtyard, she darted through the patrols and snuck into the stables. Fortunately, the stables only carried the smell of damp hay and bitter herbs, masking her presence from any wandering guards.

"Mei?" Her mother's raspy coughs reached her ears. "You're late. Are you... well?" Her tone was laced with worry.

Even in the dim lighting, Rei's eyes, the color of melted chocolate, carried a warmth that Mei knew she didn't deserve. 

She gently placed the apple into her mother's frail hand. "I found some extra food," Mei evaded the question and lied with forced cheerfulness.

Her mother's smile was as fragile as a delicate glass figurine, ready to shatter at any moment.

"We will share then," Rei insisted, her voice firm and unwavering, despite Mei's protests about splitting the fruit in half.  

‘She’s starving because of me,’ Mei thought, her guilt melting into the sweetness of the apple. ‘Because I exist.’

Everyone in the colonies was painfully aware of the harsh reality of life there. Only the Lady’s "mercy" spared them from being burned to ashes, a punishment often used to conceal the shame of a family member, namely, her father's. Those bronze eyes refused to see her mother and her as anything other than stains instead of victims.

Calluses and scars marred her clenched fists. ‘You deserve better, Rei.’

As she huddled closer, Mei could hear her mother's ragged, labored breathing, the sound of her struggling for each breath filling the cramped space. The tiny green lizard scurried out from behind a damp ceiling beam, clinging upside-down as it surveyed the room.

'Be small,' she eyeballed the creature. 'Be unseen.’

‘Don’t even breathe.’ Mei poured the tea as if it were her lifeline, her movements precise and careful with shaky precision under the prince's predatory watch. Not a single drop escaped. ‘Good. Thank Agni for that.’  

What wasn’t good was that the crazy monster was content to observe her taciturnity. He played a game with her, deliberately clinking his cup too loudly to see her squirm. How tightly could she control her nerves before they snapped?

"Tell me," the boy murmured, not looking up, "what frightens you more? My father’s wrath… or mine?" 

She kept her face impassive and her hands folded on her lap. "I fear failing my duties, Your Highness." 

He let out a sharp, humorless snort from his nose. Mei was nonplussed by that. “Liar. You fear pain, as all weak things do." 

A dangerous glint appeared in his eyes, and he crossed his hands. "Tell me something interesting. A story or a secret, or I'll find new ways to test that fear." 

The prince's edict hung over her like a venomous threat, saturating her with dread.

She bowed. ‘What secret wouldn’t doom me?’

Mei couldn’t speak about her past life; that would be disastrous. Sharing colonial gossip was a dangerous act that could result in severe punishment, and nothing in this life is interesting save the foreknowledge. 

Mei's golden eyes remained glued to the floor with a desperate desire to disappear into the ground, wishing to be small and unseen-

Her pupils widened in surprise as she blinked. An idea sparked, fragile and desperate, as Ozai drummed his fingers against the polished mahogany furniture.

"Well?" he badgered, looking up. Amber eyes locked on hers with a haughty and demanding look.

"Your Highness…" Mei's hands trembled as she clasped them together, striving to conceal her hushed rebellion. "There lives a small horned lizard in the stables."

Ozai never said it had to be something he found interesting.

"A vibrant emerald green, it blends in with the lush greenery of the stables and hides in cracks, eats scraps… and survives." She hesitated, heart hammering like a wild armadillo stallion, threatening to burst out of her chest as she offered him a story of something overlooked. "It fears nothing… but being seen." 

The prince was reticent for a long while. 

(Mei should've taken into account how one small thing could affect and alter the world.) 

"A lizard," he repeated, his tone dripping with contemptuous amusement. A chilling, sinister grin spread across his face.

"How… pitifully apt." The boy picked up his cup, yet his fixation was not at the tea but at her capitulated posture.