The mother slouched against the cradle, rocking it with one hand and covering her mouth with the other as she yawned. Dark circles were drawn around her eyes and her muscles ached for rest, but despite her body's protests she remained awake and kept the cradle slowly swaying.
The ornate room filled with every need a baby might have - as well as a ridiculously fantastic cradle - was colored in a passionate crimson, but in the moonlight it remained dull. And before the woman's heavy eyes, it seemed to constantly blur.
The idea of rest, to simply let her eyes close and stop pushing the cradle back and forth in its hypnotic motions and finally sleep was her greatest temptation. She couldn't remember the last time she had a proper rest for if the cradle stopped for even a moment, the tiny child in it would immediately waken and let out an ear-splitting scream loud enough to keep the whole palace awake.
She didn't really have to do this, though. There were servants and maids, more than willing to see the rumored baby. They were more than eager to cast their envious eyes on her child and whisper excitedly amongst each other when the night was over. After all, when had they seen a child so vivid, so defined and so elegant even in its infancy? Despite all its needs and crying, it was truly a beautiful child.
But the woman had sworn to herself that she wouldn't let her children's earliest memories be of a servant holding their hand or singing them to sleep. She didn't want their lives to be empty of a caring mother and instead replaced with an eager noble.
Maybe she simply imagined the worst or maybe the lack of sleep had deprived her of reason, but the thought of her own children turning against her frightened her more than anything. That's why she couldn't leave her child now. Not when it depended on her so much to simply sleep. What kind of mother would she be then? What… sort of mother…
Her head drooped, her eyes closed and her body slumped against the cradle almost turning it over until another hand, larger and heavier than the woman's reached out and took hold of the cradle.
Immediately the woman jerked up and stared wildly at the sudden intruder.
"Hello Ursa."
"Ozai!" The woman looked up at her husband, all thoughts of sleep gone from her mind. "I thought you were at the South Pole! When did you come back?"
The large man, still dressed in his finely-pressed uniform, only sighed in reply, "How's Zuko?"
"You should see him yourself." Ursa said with a note of temper as her husband avoided her question.
Again, Ozai ignored his wife and continued on, "How about Azula?"
Ursa sighed, giving up on getting a straight answer from the prince and answered wearily, "She's been crying all night. She'll only stop if I'm rocking her cradle."
"And are you the only one who can rock her cradle?"
"No…" Ursa bit her lip, "But I'm not going to give up my duties as a mother to anyone else. This is my job and my job alo-"
"I'll do it."
She stopped and the cradle slowed still. "But… but you never…"
"Please, Ursa."
The baby began to move in its crib, waving its hands in the air lazily as it stirred from its slumber.
"O-okay…" Ursa pursed her lips together as she tenderly let go of the cradle, looking hesitantly between her daughter and her husband, "Are you sure…"
"I can handle it, Ursa, don't worry." Ozai put a hand on the cradle and began to gently push it back into a rhythmic lull and the baby made the smallest of yawns before slipping back to sleep. "Get some rest, you look tired." Ozai added.
She blushed. She didn't dare imagine what she must look like, she hadn't slept for days and every waking moment was spent over her children. Nodding, defeated, she turned away and walked to her bedroom where sleep called for her.
Ozai gave his wife one last look before turning back to his daughter. "Azula…" He stopped rocking the cradle for a moment and reached down to scoop the child up into his thick arms. She was tiny, even for a baby, but her breath came in strong. It was a powerful breath, thick with passion and focus, as if the child was already trying to firebend. The prince smiled at the thought. "I really shouldn't have favorites." His arms moved back and forth like a cradle of its own as he whispered quietly, "And you're an awfully noisy baby. I've seen you've been keeping your mother up, probably driving her mad with your crying." He chuckled, "But honestly, you're too cute for me to hate." Ozai gave one last smile and placed the baby back into its crib and took his wife's place in tending to the baby. "But maybe, I'll tell you a secret, Azula. Why I'm back from the war front." He hesitated for a moment, then spoke in a hushed voice, "We discovered something amazing, down south." Ozai closed his eyes, "It's not like anything I've ever seen in my life. It's… it's…" He laughed, "it's a rock! Just a rock smaller than my fist! But… it's not like a rock of the earth or anything like that." He paused, searching for the right words, "It's like… like when I went to the Forge once. When they begin melting steel, heating it so much that it loses all shape and turns into boiling molten liquid. It was like that. But… not. It wasn't liquid at all. It was definitely solid, as hard as any other metal I've felt. And hot!" He smiled, "So fiercely hot! It nearly scorched my hand off when I touched it." Ozai couldn't help, but grin. He had never been so happy that he would actually smile or grin or laugh for so long in only a few minutes, but that stone. That stone… it was so smooth, so hot. A perfect sphere of searing metal.
What was it? Something related to the Fire Nation, he was sure. Nothing could burn so hotly except for fire itself which was why he had taken it with him. Slipped it into his pocket and disobeyed orders to head out to the South Pole. He'd be reprimanded, his father would scold him, maybe even banish him, but that burning metal stone, pervaded his every thought and he knew he had to keep it safe.
He knew he couldn't let his father find it. No doubt he would take it and claim it for himself. Maybe he would fall into his father's favor, but the old man was so rooted in his "first-born" tradition that Ozai deeply doubted it. More likely, his father would just take the stone for himself, give Ozai some worthless medal or award and then proceed to forget about him completely.
He would die before he allowed that to happen.
Then there was a loud bang from the door, completely disregarding the awful time it was and the sleeping child inside.
"Prince Ozai, Firelord Azulon wishes to have a word with you."
Ozai cursed under his breath. How did his father even know that he was here? He must've grown more paranoid over the months. The Firelord had once dismissed his entire admiralty and executed them all, claiming that they were conspiring to overthrow him. As for Ozai, there was no doubt in his mind that he was being constantly watched under his father's orders.
"Prince Ozai," The door opened, its handle and lock completely melted and a trio of soldiers entered, "I apologize for your door. But this is an urgent matter. Firelord Azulon has requested your immediate presence."
"You dare enter my daughter's room without my permission?" He glared at them, still rocking the cradle with one hand, the other clenched in a fist.
The soldier didn't even look at the Prince, staring straight ahead as he replied, "Again, I apologize Prince Ozai. But Firelord Azulon demands it."
He knew what his father would do now. He had nearly committed treason and he would have to pay the price. But before that, his father would have him searched and the seething silver orb in his pocket would definitely be found.
He couldn't let that happen.
"Alright, fine. I know what this is about. Just give me a moment with my daughter."
The soldier looked to his compatriots for a moment, then turned back to Ozai and with an almost sympathetic look on his face, nodded.
With one hand he scooped up his daughter and with the other, he took the orb from his pocket. It wasn't hot, though. No longer burning as it had days before. Perhaps it sensed the danger, Ozai didn't know, all he knew was that he had to hide it without any of the soldiers noticing. He couldn't move over to any piece of furniture without being seen and they weren't exactly stupid enough to be fooled by some sleazy trick.
The only place he could put it was with his own child. Azula. The stone wasn't searing hot anymore, in fact it was almost soothingly chilling, but still, Ozai couldn't help but be filled with the thought of his daughter being burned alive.
"I'm sorry, Prince Ozai, we must be going now."
Ozai swallowed. "I understand." He set his baby down into the crib, dropping the stone beneath the covers alongside her before standing back up resolutely. "Lets go."
Immediately the soldiers moved so that there was one on either side of him and one in front. It was a typical formation for any VIP and his bodyguards, but it wasn't the prince who was leading them and Ozai knew it. Casting one last glance at his daughter, he followed the soldiers to face his father's scorn.
As soon as they left though, the baby stirred in its sleep, unconsciously knowing that its cradle was no longer moving. It squirmed for a moment, preparing to fill the palace with its deathly screams when the silver sphere glowed crimson. There wasn't a speck of heat pulsing from it and the baby still had its eyes shut, but when the orb reddened, the child slowly relaxed. Calmly falling back into place and without either parent doting over her, Azula fell asleep.
