Lord Arza's office in the family's capital city manor looked like it had conquered three other offices and put their gilded remains on display.
Red silk banners embroidered with gold spearheads hung between tall windows. Shelves sagged under the weight of jade carvings, porcelain vases, and enough lacquered scroll-cases to drown a librarian. The desk was the worst offender: a monstrous slab of blackwood with clawed legs, gilt edges, and a polished surface that reflected every flicker of firelight.
It currently also had Lord Arza's face firmly fixed to the surface.
He lay folded over the desk like a felled tree, cheek mashed against an open ledger, one hand still holding a brush that had leaked ink across important-looking figures. His fingers drummed on the lacquered wood, the only sign he was still alive.
"I don't care if it's 'unladylike' or 'unseemly' or whatever other stupid words you want to hide behind!" Raven was saying, pacing tight circles in front of the desk. Twelve-years-old, furious, and heating up the entire room. "Zuko is competing! Azula is competing! She's ten! Ten, Father!"
"You are not Azula," Lord Arza mumbled into the paperwork.
"That's the point!" Raven threw her arms up. "She's the Fire Lord's daughter, she's younger than me, she's a whole PRINCESS, dad!" She stared at him in disbelief. "She's allowed to go out and fight in front of people, but I can't?!"
Outside the half-open door, Zuko pressed his back to the wall and tried not to breathe too loudly. He hadn't meant to eavesdrop. He'd been sent by his mother to spend time with Raven, which he begrudgingly agreed to, and she had insisted he be nice to her, which he begrudgingly agreed to. He was aware it was probably his father telling her to make him go, but it still felt like a bit of a betrayal.
He should have wasted more time on the way over, apparently.
"Mmm-hmm," Arza replied, voice slightly clearer as he shifted his forehead to a new patch of desk. "Please stop shouting so loud, pumpkin."
Raven spun on him. "It's not bare-knuckle brawling, it's a fancy firebending tournament for nobles! And if I can't do it because of 'House Arza's honor' then maybe House Arza's honor is some dumb garbage!"
Brush bristles creaked under Arza's forehead. "You're not ready, Raven..." he muttered, too low for Raven to catch as she went over to the unfortunately open window to scream at servants and soldiers below that the manor was full of garbage that needed to be tossed out, but he was exactly loud enough for Zuko to hear.
Zuko flinched. He thought the same thing, honestly. He wasn't even sure he should be going to the tournament, but the thought of his ten-year-old sister going when he stayed home was just too embarrassing, and Raven wasn't bad, but she definitely wasn't as good as him. He also knew saying that to her face was tantamount to a declaration of war.
Raven stormed back over and slammed both palms down on the desk. "You just think I'm an embarrassment!"
Lord Arza just sighed.
"I've been practicing every day! Zuko's seen—"
"That's great, sweetie..." he grumbled.
Fire flickered at Raven's fingertips. "You're treating me like a child!" she accused.
"You are a child," he flatly stated.
Zuko saw it happen in slow motion.
Raven's jaw clenched. Her eyes went shiny, just at the edges. Pride strangled whatever she'd been about to say, and all that emotion had to go somewhere.
It went into her hands.
A sheet of flame roared up over the desk surface.
Lord Arza moved without looking like he'd been expecting exactly that. His arm swept wide, grabbing the fire, pressing it down and away; it rolled in a molten wave that spilled harmlessly into the hearth and sent sparks up the chimney. Ink boiled, then sizzled out on the accosted ledger. A few scrolls curled at the edges, but perhaps only an hour's work writing was lost.
For the first time, Raven looked uncertain.
After lifting his head slowly like he was some slumbering ancient titan foolishly disturbed, Lord Arza looked truly done with her.
He stared at the wisps of smoke rising from his deeply expensive desk for a long heartbeat. Then he stood up very slowly, towering over his daughter, and said in a voice that made Zuko's shoulders lock from across the hall:
"Raven."
She swallowed. "Yes, Father?"
"Go to your room."
"No," she stated with far too much certainty for her own good.
Something like shock, or maybe just disbelief, flickered in his eyes. "No?"
"No," she repeated, throat tight but gaze steady. "If you won't let me compete, I won't—"
That was as far as she got before six and a half feet of very large, very tired noble lord decided he'd had enough debate for one day. Zuko yanked himself back and stood flat against the polished wall, half afraid of being seen, and half just not wanting to watch his betrothed be turned into sizzle-crisps.
The sounds Raven made became incoherent out of sight, from words to yowling as the rush and fluff of firebending could be heard, followed by a brief but chaotic struggle ending in a shriek. Lord Arza stepped coolly out of his office, didn't even look Zuko's way as he held Raven upside down by her ankle aloft over his own head, and had both her wrists clasped in his other hand to keep her from fussing as her dress fell over her face and blinded her. Her hair hung in a dark curtain a foot off the floor.
From Zuko's vantage point, Raven looked distressingly like a thrashing wild animal.
"Put me down!" she yowled, wriggling so hard she swung in a small arc. "What about my dignity, huh?!"
"Out," he grunted, and actually tossed her—but at least on the long carpet and not the stone floor.
Zuko flattened himself even harder against the wall, not wanting to get dragged into it.
For a fraction of a second, their eyes met: Lord Arza's tired and furious, Zuko's caught between horror and hysterical laughter, not wanting to make father or daughter any more angry. A strange, fleeting camaraderie passed over Arza's face, as if to say, you see what I live with?
And he slammed the door. A breath later, white hot fire crawled around the frame with a hiss as he welded it shut from the inside.
Raven stared at the door, fists trembling.
Zuko pressed his lips together so hard they hurt.
"Don't you dare," she hissed without looking at him.
"I wasn't going to," he managed, voice strangled.
"Yes you were," she accused.
"Nuh-uh," he poorly lied.
For a long moment they just stood there, the muffled sounds of Lord Arza moving around on the other side of the sealed door filling the silence.
"Come on," Zuko said at last, awkwardly. "Let's find something to do... not near your dad."
She puffed up her chest, but turned on her heel and let him fall into step beside her, stomping down the corridor like she wanted to break anything and everything.
"I could drop out," he offered after a bit. "If you're not going, I don't really want to either."
She cut him a sidelong look. Some of the heat in her shoulders eased. "…liar," she said, but without venom.
"I can just say I lost interest," he tried. "Or had plans with you or something?"
"You still want to go, though."
He winced. "…a little."
"Then go," she snapped. "Don't be an idiot just because my dad is one. I'll just… save up my fire for next year."
Zuko let himself smile, small and honest. "That's not how bending works," he laughed, knowing she knew that.
For a few steps, the tension between them thinned. Then, like an absolute fool, he opened his mouth again.
"I mean, I barely think I'm good enough to compete now," he said, frowning thoughtfully. "I think he just wants you to wait. Next year you'll be stronger and—"
Raven stopped walking.
"You barely think you're good enough," she repeated, very quietly.
He realized what he'd just said a heartbeat too late. "That's not— I didn't mean—"
"You're calling me weak," she said flatly.
"I'm not! I'm saying he doesn't want you to get hurt—"
"Because you both think I'm weak," she bit out. "Say it."
He threw up his hands. "Fine! You're weaker than me right now, so what? We're both weaker than your dad, or mine!"
Her eyes narrowed to slits. "Says the boy who gets his butt kicked by his little sister and cries," she said, voice sugar-sweet and deadly.
Heat flared in Zuko's cheeks. "Are you serious?!" he snapped. "Hey, remember how you used to cry about EVERYTHING? Like not even a year ago?! Did I make fun of you for crying then?!"
Her breath hitched. For a flash of a second he saw hurt, raw and unguarded. "Not to my face," she downright pouted, but refused to go back to how she was.
"Actually I liked you better when you were a crybaby and not such a... a brat!" he blurted, and immediately wanted to drag the words back into his mouth. His composure faltered and he slightly stammered, "I was just trying to make you feel better, and you—"
"Oh, you haven't seen anything yet," Raven snarled. "Let me show you."
She took a step toward him, shoulders set, hands curling.
Zuko set his own stance without thinking, heat rising in his chest. "You're not as strong as you think you are," he threw back. "You should know your place."
Something in her expression snapped, and things were about to get very tantamount.