In the Name of Ambition
Prologue
"Where is my mother?" The new Fire Lord repeated, his expression darkening.
"And why should I tell you?" Ozai drawled from his corner of the prison cell. A highly amused look graced his face.
Zuko growled, sparks flying from between his teeth and smoke curling from his flaring nostrils. He stared hard at the floor for a moment, gathering himself mentally. If he lost his cool then Ozai would never tell him. He would dangle this over his son's head for the rest of Zuko's life. He thought of threatening his father with torture, a public flogging perhaps. No. That wouldn't work. Ozai wouldn't bend under threats, and Aang would be furious. He would have to be more subtle. He stood up and thought for a moment, trying to channel his inner Azula. His sister would know just how to twist the information out of their father without ever laying a finger on him. She had always known him better than Zuko ever had. She had been his beloved favorite and look where it had gotten her.
And then it came to him. "Because," he rasped, "you want to see her too. How long has it been six years? Six years since you sent away your own wife to the Spirits know where. Tell me you don't wonder how she is. Tell me you don't miss her."
Ozai's expression grew defiant behind the curtain of his disheveled hair. His thin mouth hardened into a line, and he let his hands dangle carelessly between his knees. "I don't. You think if I had I would have kept her away?"
Zuko laughed now, easily reading the lie in his father's words. "You're no Azula. Not even you can deny it."
"Then great Fire Lord why would I have kept her in exile if I still wanted her?" His voice dripped with venom and acid as he glared at Zuko who eerily reminded him of a younger version of himself at the moment. Perhaps he had underestimated the boy after all.
"Because you couldn't admit you were wrong. You couldn't stand the thought of making a mistake and you were terrified of it. You were terrified of seeing her again no matter how much you wanted it. You think I don't remember the way you used to look at her. You loved her, and she loved you. You sent away the one person in your life who honestly believed in you, and you can't stand it."
Ozai's face faltered for a moment as his son's words washed over him, raising the old pain again. The one he had tried to banish through the force of power and pride. The one that sometimes kept him up at night looking at the ink drawings of his and Ursa's wedding day."You're not as stupid as I thought," he spat, contempt written on his features.
The Fire Lord's face lit with triumph at the slight. "Tell me where she is. Do you have anything better to do while you contemplate the downfall of your life?"
"Fine," Ozai whispered, lapsing into a depression that had been plaguing him lately. "I banished her to the Shi Wong Desert. Near a place called the Oasis."
Zuko nodded. "Do you know where she would be now?"
"I kept up with her for a year or two after. Last I heard, she was living among a tribe of Sand Benders."
"Thank you," Zuko said softly. He meant it. This was the kindest thing his father had ever done for him. I'm going to go find her now. When I come back you might see her."
The former Fire Lord lifted his head suddenly. "Might?"
"It will be her decision. Now I'm headed to the Earth Kingdom," the Fire Lord said before he walked out of the tower.
**************
Months passed as Ozai sat rotting in his cell. The guards came in three times day to feed him and empty his pail but did not speak to him. He slept on his pile of rags and reminisced. He dreamed often of Ursa, and the early memories came flooding back to him in vague deluges. Half-washed memories of brighter times when he had been young and ambitious came back to him.
He woke one day from his afternoon nap to the rustling of heavy fabric and the whispered voices of guards and a woman. Lifting one heavy eyelid, he could see dark swirling skirts and one ivory hand dangling by someone's side. Hesitantly, he uncurled himself and crept forward to see what the noise was about. The voices stopped once they realized he was awake.
"Leave us," a familiar voice commanded.
"But milady-"
"Leave," she repeated, and the guards shuffled away reluctantly.
His throat constricted in a painful way that it hadn't in years and his heart sped up. Fear and anxiety filled him to the brim. He hoped. Oh how he hoped and dreaded that the voice belonged to her.
The woman knelt in front of him, her face hidden by the heavy cowl of the cloak she wore. He could make out the vague shape of a woman's face but nothing more. Two long fingered hands came up and threw the hood back.
His heart stopped in his chest.
Ursa stared at him through the bars of the prison cell. They did not speak for a long time, but studied the trails of time on the other's face. She had aged in an unexpected way. He had still had an image of her as a young woman in his mind after he banished her. He could see strands of silver lacing her dark hair, and the harsh sun and wind of the desert had created new lines on her face. She looked not old but worn and tired. She seemed taken aback by his appearance as well. He did not know what she saw. He hadn't been given a mirror in months and had not been allowed to bathe as much as he would have liked. It frightened him that he had changed so much without his own knowledge or concern. He had always been vain. He had always prided himself on the sharp edge of his handsomeness. Now, it seemed time and his fall from grace had taken their toll.
He reached up absentmindedly and felt the thick new growth of hair on his cheeks and the tangles of his long hair. He was nervous. She always made him nervous staring at him with those too compassionate eyes and understanding expression.
"Ursa," he said finally, his throat dry and tight with suppressed emotion.
She only nodded, her eyes full of tears and complex feelings. So much was between them and so much more was yet to come.
"Are they treating you well?" she asked gently, the answer clearly written on her face.
He came to himself. He laughed bitterly, dragging himself away from the bars to sit on his haunches. "Oh yes, our son only gives his father the best accommodations," he said, gesturing carelessly with one hand.
She frowned at his answer. "But they are at least feeding you, aren't they?"
"I wouldn't exactly call what they give me food."
"That's more than what many have right now, Ozai. You should be grateful to be alive at all. Many aren't after this war."
The thrill of hearing his name from her mouth was lost in the tide of indignant anger at her words. She still had some spirit he saw. The kind that he both loved and hated in her. How could she know anything, anything? The war had brought a greatness to their country that it had never known before. He had brought greatness to his family, to her. "Like my father?" he hissed.
She recoiled as if struck, and he regretted putting that expression on her face. He forced it down. It could not be undone.
Her hands clenched the bars then and she leaned forward, pressing her face between them. "What I did I did because of you. What I did I did for our son. You were willing to sacrifice him as if he were nothing."
"That was my father's choice not mine."
"And you did nothing to stop him! Nothing at all!"
"I warned you didn't I? I gave us a way out."
"You warned me because you saw a convenient path to the throne and took it." She stood up. She brushed off her skirts methodically and turned to leave.
He did not know what made him do it, but he reached out between the bars and grabbed a handful of silk. "Don't leave," he whispered. He hated himself for saying it. He hated himself because he still wanted her there beside him.
She looked down at him, the tears in her eyes still unshed and shimmering. Something flickered in their depths. She paused a moment as if she considered staying, but then she wrenched the fistful of clothing out of his grasp. "You have lost everything, Ozai. You sacrificed everything and everyone to attain your kingdom, and look at where it has gotten you. Will you never learn? You've sacrificed everything in the name of ambition." Without another word, Ursa turned and strode down the hall, her steps quick and precise. And the Phoenix King hung his head in despair.
There you have it the first piece of Ursa and Ozai fanfic that I've ever written. I may continue this into a longer fanfiction that details the earlier years of Ozai's life and their relationship depending on the reception this piece gets. Feedback would be nice. Also, note, this was meant to be kind of fluffy and I tried to keep a nice balance between Ozai's love for Ursa, because I do think that he loved her, and his own faults. Thanks to all who read this and I would love comments.