Written for the Ursozai challenge
Prompt: There are wounds a heart can die from

I make no money from this fic. Don't own ATLA.

Ozai was no longer the man Ursa had married. He had become so distant, so different and she remembered exactly when it had happened. She blamed Azulon for stealing her husband from her. Azulon: whom she despised ever since she overheard him talking about her one morning with one of his generals. 'My son's pretty broodmare' was his name for her. It was Azulon who had fed into Ozai's obsession to master lightening. Iroh had conquered the technique. Azulon's second son could not fail in this or risk being relegated to a footnote of history.

And that was unacceptable.

The training accident had been horrific. The healers had taken care of all of the visible wounds but the hidden ones were a different story. The blast seemed to fragment Ozai's soul. Of course the prince didn't see it that way. Emotions were to blame for his very public failure and he would not tolerate it. It was a weakness to overcome. He worked at burning away every trace of humanity in himself, like father, like son. Self doubt, fear: those were failings of mere mortals. With those so too went compassion and benevolence. Ozai honed his edge, tempering his mind and body to make himself a hard, hard man.

She had thought of leaving but there was simply no way she would leave without her babies. What was the alternative? If she simply took them and fled, Ozai would have brought down the heavens to find them all. The children were part of his legacy and that would not be denied.

The prince's drive never faltered, not for a moment. His appetite for power grew and grew. This included his appetite for other things. He still came to her at night, seeking her out. And she opened her doors to him. She couldn't say no.

In moments of weakness, the deepest, darkest part of her coiled in her belly and whispered to her. 'Couldn't' or 'wouldn't' say no? The mother in her was ashamed to even consider that the reason she stayed had nothing to do with her children. His hands and mouth still knew how to make her body sing and she needed it. Fed off of it like fire needed air even if it did choke her spirit. Ozai used this to bind her tighter to him even as she fought to hide it from herself.

She still loved him though and in some small way he must have as well. In the dark, when they were all alone, there would still be some small tenderness. And it was still like it had been at the beginning, when her husband had still been alive. Raw and rough in all the right places. It was irresistible.

One day. One day soon, it was coming. This other Ozai would push and push and push. One day it would reach a point and she would push back. For now, she simply waited until he came to her again.