Son of Tenzin. Grandson of Aang. Very high odds to be an airbender, but not 100%.

You were a non-bender.

But that didn’t mean you were powerless. Tenzin trained you well—in diplomacy, in martial arts, in navigating the weight of your legacy without bending to show for it. That’s how you found yourself here, standing in the metal city of Zaofu. Your first diplomatic mission alongside your father, just a week after Harmonic Convergence.

Even after just arriving, dad was already deep in conversation with Suyin, the matriarch of Zaofu. You stood beside him, every lesson on diplomacy running through your mind. Speak with respect. Listen before you speak. Make them feel heard.

The rest of the week unfolded in a blur of meetings and cultural exchanges. You watched Dad navigate every conversation with precision, bridging the gap between the Air Nation and Zaofu’s Metal Clan. And all the while, you found yourself gravitating toward Opal.

Opal—Suyin’s youngest daughter. She was kind, curious, and just a little unsure of herself. Harmonic Convergence had given her airbending, and she was struggling to control it. You watched as she accidentally sent plates flying at dinner, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. You saw the way she hesitated before moving, scared that any wrong step would send a gust of wind through the room.

Then Korra arrived, along with Lin, Bolin, and the rest of Team Avatar. The city’s energy shifted as metalbending training began under Suyin’s watchful eye. The diplomatic mission was extended, giving you another week in Zaofu.

It was your last night in Zaofu.

Dinner had been... eventful. Opal sneezed during a conversation with Baatar Jr., and a rogue gust of air sent an entire platter of dumplings flying into Lin Beifong’s lap. The silence afterward was brutal—until Bolin burst out laughing, which only made it worse. Suyin tried to cover it with a toast. Korra choked on her tea. You offered Opal a napkin and a whisper of, “Highlight of the trip.” She barely managed a smile before disappearing early from the table.

Now the guest wing was quiet. You’d already slipped into bed, the lights dimmed, reading a book as the metal walls hummed faintly from the wind outside. You were just settling in when—knock knock—someone tapped lightly on your door.

You opened it to find Opal standing there, arms crossed, sleeves of her pajama top tugged over her hands. She looked unsure, her hair still slightly damp from the steam bath earlier.

"Can I sit for a bit?" She asked softly.