WARNING: Spoiler for anyone who has not read The Search.
Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender. If I did, Zuko would still be Ozai's son. I mean, I know he was a horrible father to Zuko, but Zuko being Ikem's son RUINS the whole 'Zuko is the descendent of both Avatar Roku and Firelord Sozin' thing. Anyway, that's just my opinion.
The Royal Flower
The first time Prince Ozai saw her, he thought her beautiful.
A beautiful flower, just like those displayed proudly in her mother's greenhouse. Delicate, lovely, just waiting to be picked... He eyed her clothes with disdain and wondered why fate had allowed a woman with beauty surpassing even the finest noblewomen and the most exotic courtesans in the palace to grow up in that pathetic sty of a village.
He silently thanked the fates for allowing him to find her.
It would have been a pity to allow such a flower to wilt and rot, unseen by the world in that rundown village.
He decided then that the commoner rags she wore did not do her justice. When he becomes Firelord- when he takes the throne from his foolish older brother- the whole world would bow at her feet, at their feet. She would stand by his side for all the world to see, beautiful and glorified in the fine silk woven by the best tailors the fire nation had to offer.
But there was this peasant boy in the way.
He barely spared a glance out the window of the carriage. What could a peasant boy with wooden swords do anyway? He would be burnt to a crisp by the royal guardsmen in an instant. But his flower was visibly distressed. Her face had turned worryingly pale and her shoulders were stiff as if tensing for a fight. Finally, she turned towards Prince Ozai with imploring eyes.
His breath did not hitch when she called him by that endearment. His heart did not skip a beat. None of that foolishness, for he was not a pathetic romantic like his older brother. Still, he called off his guards as she had asked and waited patiently as she told the peasant boy to go home. He allowed himself a moment to bask in victory. It was strangely satisfying, watching the silhouette of the peasant boy grow smaller and smaller as the carriage drew further and further away from Hira'a.
She was his flower now.
His very own royal flower.
