When the heavy door slammed shut with metallic sort of clang, she winced.
Still, he didn't seem bothered. He looked up with a small smile, rolled up the scroll he had been reading, and gestured for her to sit at the chair across the table from him. She didn't need to be told where to sit—there wasn't anywhere else in the little empty room. The chair scraped against the floor as she dragged it back—a shriek of metal on metal that made her wince once again. She knew he preferred peace and quiet, and every time she came to visit she seemed to try her hardest in making the most impressive racket imaginable.
"Sorry." She said quickly, smoothing her pants beneath her needlessly as she sat down. "I know I'm late."
"That's perfectly alright." He said, setting aside the scroll. With a small sigh, he pushed forward his tray of watery soup and rice forward.
"Is something wrong with the food? I can ask them to bring something else…"
"I'm not feeling particularly hungry, is all."
She frowned at this. It wasn't right for him to keep refusing to eat. He wasn't as strong as he used to be.
"But never mind me." he said with a small wave of his hand. "Tomorrow is a very important day, isn't it?"
"Ugh." She shook her head, chuckling to herself. "Don't remind me. Everyone's making such a fuss over it; it's more trouble than it's worth."
"Nonsense." he said simply. "A woman's eighteenth birthday is an important event. You should be excited."
"I guess I am." she said, picking at the edge of her sleeve. "But I feel like a slab of meat being offered to a tigerdillo. Once this whole thing is over Dad's going to start talking about suitors and…ugh."
"Be grateful you weren't born in the Water Tribes. They marry off their girls at sixteen there." She laughed, and he went on. "You don't have to marry anyone you don't want to. Although, I would keep in mind that your grandmother and I had an arranged marriage, and we were very happy together."
"Were you really?" she asked. He raised an eyebrow, and she added quickly, "I mean, I'd imagine that it would be hard to be married to someone you hardly knew."
"Perhaps. But love is a spontaneous thing. It may occur with someone who you'd never expect. Just keep that in mind."
That was completely unhelpful. Time to change the subject. "Do you, er…Do you know if you'll be able to come to the party tomorrow night?" She already knew the answer to that, of course. She asked every year.
"No. I would hardly imagine your father would approve." He took another sip of his tea, his gnarled knuckles slightly white against the cup.
"Auntie's coming." she said. "She and Dad have been getting along a lot better, I don't see why you couldn't—"
"The answer is no." he said shortly. She blinked and sat back against the chair.
"Of course. I'm sorry."
The two sat in silence for several long moments as she stared at her shoes and he drained the rest of his tea. Eventually, he said, "She's really coming?"
"Mmm-hmm. Good behavior, apparently. Hopefully she doesn't burn down something again." She laughed softly at the memory, and his lips curled up.
"You remind me a great deal of her, you know."
"Really?"
"Of course. You're a very talented fire bender, after all, just as she was. You're intelligent and strong willed, with a passionate drive to see your goals completed. All excellent traits for any future leader."
She hardly saw the resemblance, quite frankly. But she didn't feel the need to add that. Instead, she inclined her head and said, "Thank you, Grandfather."
"Ah, I nearly forgot." From beneath his chair, he pulled out a long, flat box, wrapped in gold paper. "It's early, I know. Happy Birthday."
She beamed and took the gift. "Can I open it now?"
He gestured for her to go ahead, and she eagerly tore into the wrappings to reveal a shiny, wooden Pai Sho board. "Your last one broke, if I recall?"
She nodded sheepishly. "I got into a rather heated match with Uncle Aa—Ah. Uh, a friend." Her ears turned a shade of deep red as his eyes narrowed, ever so slightly. "It didn't break so much as burned."
"I see." A vein in his temple was pulsing.
Spirits guide her, was she a loudmouth. Rule Number 1 with Grandfather: Never mention the A word. Or the K, S and T words, for that matter. Actually, mentioning her father's friends in general was a terrible idea. Still blushing furiously, she unfolded the board onto the table and took out the small velvet purse of game pieces. "Um, do you want to play a game?"
"I don't think we have time for that."
"A short game?"
His lips twitched again. "Alright, then."
Beaming now, she happily set out the pieces, placing them down carefully so each piece sat perfectly in its own square. Her grandfather watched with something akin to amusement, and it was several long minutes before she had finished setting out the game.
He made the first move, as always.
She had always found Pai Sho relaxing, in its way. It only became infuriating when she lost. So until then, she enjoyed the simple strategy of the game. Capture your opponent's pieces, while protecting your own. No bending, no weapons, no heaps of rubble clustered among the wounded and dying. Just wooden pieces on a brown and tan board.
He captured her scarlet lily, and she sighed bitterly. He laughed.
Her grandfather didn't laugh much.
Her father didn't approve of these visits. That is, he didn't know about them, and would vigorously disapprove would he find out. So she paid off the guards that needed persuasion handsomely, and made the visits at night when regular visiting hours were over. It was an hour a week, but she knew he appreciated them. He seemed so lonely to her.
She was down to six pieces now, and his stack dwarfed hers. Normally, this would be the cause for her to get angry and careless, and make sloppy, poorly planned moves that only resulted in her imminent defeat. But she was turning eighteen tomorrow, and she supposed this was a good a time as any to practice that self-control and maturity her mother was always talking about.
He captured her violet blossom. She snorted steam out of her nose.
Several long minutes passed by, until she was left with only her white lotus. "It looks like I'm about to win again." he said casually, moving a piece across the board. "What does that make this…fifty to thirty?"
He was getting smarmy. He only got smarmy when he was winning, and boy did he know how much it annoyed her. Were this her uncles, she would have made a crack about cheating begotten from rapidly increased aging, but she knew better than to smart mouth her grandfather. That would just be rude.
Instead, she sighed and moved her single, lonely piece into the line of fire.
With a screech that caused her to jump in her seat, a guard pulled the door open. "Princess Ursa, your hour is up."
She tore her eyes away from the game and looked up. Just in the nick of time. "Is it really?"
"I'm sorry, but protocol is protocol."
"Right. Of course." With an apologetic smile towards her grandfather, she swept the pieces into the purse and tucked them into the folded up board. She gathered the wrappings and board and got to her feet.
"Next week, then?" he asked.
Ursa hesitated. This was the part where she was supposed to tell him the things that had been eating away inside her last minute, right? The things that kept her flustered and jumpy throughout the entire visit, and the one before that, and the one before that. Like how despite what people said, despite how the guards looked at him with disgust and contempt, she could never hate him. Or how she knew what Uncle Aang did to him, but he really was a wonderful man, with a son that she was more than a little excited to see tomorrow night. Or how she wished he could be celebrating her coming of age with the rest of her family, like a grandfather should. There were many "or"s, and "I wish"es, she supposed. A lot of things she wished she could tell him, but couldn't for one reason or another.
Someday, she supposed she would tell him. Today wasn't the day. "Definitely. Next week." She bowed deeply, then turned and followed the guard's gesture out of the cell.
The door slammed shut, the clang vibrating throughout the little metal room. With a small smile not unlike that of his granddaughter's, the former Fire Lord Ozai settled in his chair and took out his scroll to read once more.