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The Fire Lord refused to have guards stationed at his private chambers, it shattered the illusion of his divinity that he began to believe in during his old age. He did not fear death, much less the mother of the child he condemned to death. Ursa was a moderate Fire Bender at best, disappointing of her linage but safe enough to become Ozai's bride.
The Princess would have liked to choke the Fire Lord. To steal the breath of a master Fire Bender was the only way for a lesser to have their chance and she could not find a more fitting end for the old man. In her youth, Ursa was no coward, and would have preformed the deed gladly. The scars down her body due to Agni Kais fought against her tainted family was proof that long ago, she would only die one time.
She was no longer a youth, but a mother.
Instead of throwing a pillow over the nose and mouth of a sleeping Fire Lord, she merely made tea. Fragrant green tea mixed with crushed pomegranate juice and just enough flavorless powder to kill a komodo rhino.
Ursa did not care if she saw her husband again, whatever his plan was or his promises that she'd eventually be forgiven. Zuko and Azula were the only reasons why she did not commit the deed by her own hand.
It always fascinated Ursa how dark the Throne Room was in the full blazing light of the throne.
When she was younger, her ancient father had told her in stories that the Throne Room hadn't been designed for enlightenment but for domination. An old expression that she forgot until she first stepped into the Throne Room so many years ago as Ozai's intended.
Unlike the dark luxury of the Palace, the Fire Lord's throne was designed to convey power. Made of bronze, the throne was designed with two fire pits to veil the Fire Lord's features and to cast his shadow. The raised seat of the throne was wide but short and made from basalt; made to seat a solitary figure. Fire Lord Sozin had not considered the role of a Lady when he accepted the design for his new Throne Room, for there was none by his side until the War began.
However, the Ladies never lived as long as their husbands during the past three generations. Sozin's wife died as Lord's Mother when she was barely in her 40s, Lady Ilah died in Ozai's childhood, and Princess Yumi died along with her second child. It had seemed that Iroh would be yet another Fire Lord without a Lady and was certain that the future Fire Lord Ozai would not have a Lady by his side as he ascended.
Ursa didn't consider such implications as she walked to the throne, fury and wonder kept the other in check. Long shadows streaked the chamber's marble floors, light and sparks escaped from the tongues of flame. The throne shouldn't have been lit, casting shadows and causing dancing lights. It should have been dark and quiet as death in the room.
She had to leave.
Azuon's death could easily be placed on Ozai, but if she were gone, the fault would squarely be placed on her shoulders. Her boy, her girl, and her husband would be safe. Yet, the idea of escape, of hiding, was momentarily forgotten as Ursa raised her eyes to the figure cloaked in fire and smoke.
She knew his gaze was on her, locked and intent of her movements, judging her breath and the air surrounding her. He sat his hands on his knees, back straight, posture high and well. The flames held him in silhouette, featureless to her eyes, a mysterious divine in her presence.
"You're a fool." But Ursa was the one stripped to her waist and straddled on Ozai's lap, fire circled around them.
"You're a fool." She repeated quietly, her hands moved on their own accord, and tangled into her husband's beard. "I can't stay."
But she knew that light in his golden eyes, the slight flare of his nose, and felt him through robes. Ursa's pulse flicked as Ozai took her hands from his beard, and studied her palms; his full mouth turned into a frown. "How did you kill him?"
The Princess bit her lower lip as Ozai's thumbs brushed over the clean skin of her hands, as if disappointed to find them clean. He knew her, Ursa supposed. He knew her base desires and impulses well enough by now. Ozai often knew when she did something that wasn't her.
"Poison." She scowled at his expression as his hands slid up her arms, "Did you expect blood? Ozai, I need to live. They need me to live." Her tone is harsh but his hands worshiped her skin, lingered on burn marks gained from lovemaking.
A wife of a master Fire Bender is often scarred, but under Ozai's fine silk, Ursa had often left marks on her husband's body.
Ozai drew her head to rest on the curve of his neck. "You do." He murmured in the shell of her ear. His hands skimmed up her back and ghosted over the small fire-bite scar he gave her on their wedding night. His hands were smooth, smoother than any man his age should be, and his breath was labored. She could smell his hair and felt the heat radiating from his body, so much warmer than the flames she's trapped behind.
Her crown and topknot had fallen off somehow, Ursa could barely see through the veil of her hair. The glitter of her husband's crown resting on the basalt barely caught her eye as she studied him. His robes were stripped away, porcelain fine flesh exposed; a hard stomach and defined chest. Ozai's hair was spread about him like a halo and his body was sprawled on the throne's seat.
He had drawn his attention way from the flames to focus on Ursa.
Her husband's eyes were bright and his hands rested on her hips, her fingers interlocked with his. Ursa closed her eyes, her body still. His body was coiled at the sensation of her wrapped snug and still around him, and he was ready to snap. She knew Ozai was studying her, admiring her.
A last touch, a last look.
Ursa began rocking, slowly, and back and forth. She heard Ozai moan her name and felt his hands cup then kneaded her breasts.
The fire surrounding them flickered as they slowly lost control.
They shared a last kiss, hot and desperate. When they parted, she was gone and he was alone.
-fin-