Disclaimer: I don't own.
Royal Family
. . . A tree is know by its fruit . . .
Ozai shifted where he sat. His wife had yet to return and the full moon had already begun her steady rise upward. He sighed inaudibly, reaching over to light a candle, giving up on Ursa's hasty return. With another sigh, knowing he was going to regret it, he got out of his comfortable and lush bed to search for her.
The mini candle gave off only a small amount of light, but it was enough to help his steps across the palace floors. When the bustling servants gave him odd stares as he walked passed, he either ignored them completely or glared coldly at them. Filthy things, he thought as another servant did a double take seeing him walk around in the middle of the night for no apparent reason, they should be lucky that I am even allowing them in the son of the Fire Lord's presence.
When one specifically amused glint caught his eye, he harshly swirled on the unsuspecting worker. "If you have a problem with something, I suggest you take it up with the Fire Lord, my father, now. Or if not, I advise that you get back to work, peasant." The thirty-seven year old man twisted on his heel, leaving the stuttering servant in his dust.
From then on, all the servants kept their heads bowed as he passed or completely avoided crossing paths with him. Good, Ozai smirked, that should teach them. A treacherous thought crept in his head and he didn't mind in the slightest, Iroh is not worthy of the position of Fire Lord. My brother does not have the political gift. Despite himself, Ozai did respect Iroh in some ways . . . and not at all in others.
Parenting was where they completely differentiated.
As if his thoughts were leading him, his feet halted in front of his son's door. Zuko, his eight year old child, was murmuring in his sleep, loudly. Ozai had half a mind to just slam open the door and shake the boy until he woke up and ceased his moaning. However, another voice spoke from behind Zuko's door, and that feminine voice Ozai knew very well. Ozai shifted his weight from foot to foot, debating whether or not to drag his wife back to their room, or silently observe them for the moment being. Ozai decided to eavesdrop, instead.
Voices, muffled though they were, were still loud enough to hear and understand. Ursa spoke, elegantly sitting on Zuko's bed, her hands together and in her lap, "My dear son, your father does love you. He loves you very much."
Zuko's child-like and youthful voice perked Ozai's ears as he strained to hear more. "But Mama, Father yelled at me when I messed up Firebending, again! He hates me," Zuko paused, searching for what to say next. "And, and I hate him!"
Ozai had to; he just had to roll his eyes at the boy's response, behind the doorway.
Ursa's melodic voice shifted the Prince's attention back to his wife. "Zuko," she scolded, "don't say such things. Prince Ozai loves you very much, and you love him."
Ozai could practically see Zuko shrinking from his mother's gaze. The boy's voice snapped his attention back. "Well then, how come he never says that? Why has Father never once said he loved me?"
Good question, Ozai mused, interested on what his wife would say next.
Ursa bit her lip, struggling for words, "Darling, Zuko, your father…he just…has different ways of showing he cares." Ozai heard the rustle of sheets, the creak of strain on the bed. Ursa positioned herself closer to her son.
Ozai raised a brow from behind the door, pressing his ear against the door harder. He heard his wife continue. "He just wants you to be the best that you can be, that's the only reason he pushes you so hard." Ozai heard Zuko grumble something under his breath, but he couldn't dissect it.
Ursa went on, and the Fire Prince was sure that he, in his adult mind frame, was the only other one who was recognizing how carefully worded she was speaking. "So next time he yells at you, show him how strong you really are," she pep talked, "Show your father that his son, you, will be the best and strongest Firebender ever!"
Zuko squealed happily, motivated for the time being.
Ozai, deciding that they had had enough time alone, opened the door with one arm, slamming the door into the wall. Startled faces blinked at him in return. Zuko unconsciously gripped his sheets tighter and held them near his chest. Neither noticed their son's reaction, instead staring intently at each other.
"Are you having a staring contest?" asked Zuko after a couple minutes of silence with them staring at each other and neither breaking contact.
Ursa smiled at her son warmly, focusing her attention on Zuko, again. Ozai looked away, pursing his lips.
"Husband," she nodded to him, then turned her body towards the boy. "Zuko, sleep tight and don't let the bedbugs bite." Ozai looked away again, inwardly disgusted, as his wife gently kissed her son's forehead and rested his head on the pillow.
"G'night, Mother," Zuko softly whispered back, snuggling into his sheets and her retreating hand. The last things he saw before the darkness finally engulfed his room were his mother's smiling face and his Father's eerily lit golden eyes.
Ursa slowly closed the door, desperately trying to not make any more sounds for Zuko, and winced when Ozai slammed it shut, his patience fried.
"Ursa."
"Prince Ozai."
They stared at each other for a long moment. "You will not leave your room until morning," he ordered. Ursa nodded, looking into his eyes to show her sincerity. Ozai held onto the gaze for as long as he could. A soft sound echoed a few doors down, and Ozai was immediately curious.
They both began walking, however Ozai stopped after a couple of steps. Her head tilted to the side in slightly masked confusion. "Are you not joining me, Prince Ozai?"
Deciding to grace her with his answer, not that he had to oblige her or anything, he said, "I have some business to take care of. I will meet you in our room when I am finished."
Ursa nodded, mentally shrugging her shoulders. "As you wish, Prince Ozai." As she turned to walk, she remembered something. Looking back at him, she called, "Ozai, don't forget that you have a war meeting tomorrow, early in the morning. So do not stay up too late," and with that reminder she left him.
Ozai watched her retreat in hidden awe. She had just given him an order. And despite himself, he didn't mind all that much. Ozai waited a breath before heading off purposely in a direction. He stopped in front of door. The sound that had caught his interests moments ago turned out to be none other than sniffles. Children, Ozai mentally moaned, exasperated.
Ozai opened the door, albeit more gently than he did with Zuko's but still pretty blunt, "Azula?"
The sniffling ceased immediately. The bump from beneath the covers shifted ever so slightly.
The prince crossed his arms, put out. "Azula, come here." The covers moved again but no head emerged.
A desperate attempt to mask a hiccup answered him.
A tick had begun thumping beneath his right eye. "Azula, I am not going to repeat myself." Finally, Azula's six year old head emerged from the covers swallowing her. If it was in his nature, Ozai might have cheered at getting the stubborn child to give in, but alas it wasn't in his character, so all he did was glance at her.
"Why were you crying? What made you show this weakness?"
His daughter choked down another sniffle. "Nothing," she cleared her dry throat, "Father."
"Uh-huh."
Almost immediately, Azula smiled slyly. "Want to see my Firebender?" Before Ozai even nodded his head, Azula had slid into the taught Firebending stance. She performed the advanced move for her age perfectly, and Ozai couldn't help the pride from swimming in his eyes.
Yet, instead of voicing his pride in her, he said, "You can do better than that, Azula." His daughter nodded in return.
Azula spoke, bringing his attention back to her, "Can I light Zuko's bed on fire as practice?" She asked maliciously, excited, and Ozai smiled at her warmly. "How about right now?"
"But, Azula, he's sleeping in it right now," Ozai reminded her, impersonating his wife as if she was the one to respond instead of the Fire Prince. Ozai could see Ursa shaking her head, saying "very mature" sarcastically, if she had seen him just then.
Azula smirked, a glint in her big, wide eyes. "But that just makes it all the more fun!" she giggled happily, dreaming. "Plus, Father, it will teach him how to evade fire better. And you know how much he needs to learn that better."
Ozai looked down at her, sighing happily at his daughter's progress as his child. "Not now, Azula."
"Maybe tomorrow then, Father?" she questioned hopefully. Ozai plucked her up and threw her on her bed. She gasped as she sank into the covers. When Azula climbed out of the cover's grip, she made herself in a comfortable position. Ozai watched silently as she sniggled into her bed in the warmth.
He told her, "You will see to it that your skills progress." Azula's eyes closed against her will, but she managed a nod in response.
Satisfied, her father silently made his way out of her room, leaving her victim to her dreams. The door shut closed, not as loud as with Zuko's, but not quite silent either.
When Ozai finally made it back to his room, the sun had just begun to reach his fingers across the pink-hued sky. Ursa groaned when the light invaded through her shut lids. She sat up, and blinked when she saw her husband sheepishly standing before her. She coughed, "Uh, I think your meeting is going to start in a few minutes."
Ozai blinked owlishly at her, and since it was so out of character for him, Ursa had to bite down on her bubbling up laughter.
A giggle escaped through her clenched teeth, soon turning into a fit of laughs. "I, uh, think you had better leave now if you want to make it there on time." She shifted on their bed, the white sheets rustling.
"Prince Ozai," she began, about to repeat herself and tell him to go. He interrupted her.
"Aw, damn."
A/N: Sorry if the characters are OOC...this was mostly to rid myself of writer's block. I don't think it worked, though. Sorry for its shortness, too. But, anyways, please read and review! I'd like to know what you liked vs. what you didn't!
