In the dead of winter, Ember Island seems untouched by the shift in seasons. The air is warm and has a constant breeze that keeps the heat from being stifling. Their huge house on the shore takes advantage of that. It has large windows that face the direction of the wind, so when they're opened, a cross breeze blows through the house and cools it. Beyond that, the food delivered to the house from the island market was even fresher than that of the palace, the fruits and vegetables of every variety being grown in the rich volcanic soil of the island, as well as the meat being raised in a pristine environment.
Even Ozai seems different here. Talk of Zuko's firebending is forgotten in the coming and going of days, and Ursa finds herself—it's almost too unbelievable to think—enjoying her husband's company. Without him constantly worrying about impressing his father and one-upping his brother, she found he could actually be rather interesting to talk to. He was extremely intelligent and well versed in many things, his years of royal tutoring showing when they discussed any range of topics that caught either of their interests. She's amused to find that one of their shared favorites is mythology, and when he explains a myth to her he suddenly becomes very animated, getting onto his knees in the sand to truly demonstrate the drama of the scene he's depicting.
It was all very charming, surprisingly, and during their early mornings on the beach, they could talk for hours about such things.
"So, are they enemies or lovers?" She asks, keeping Zuko entertained when she sets the basin of seawater before him. He hadn't been taught to swim yet, and with the unpredictable surf she wasn't about to allow him near it. Nonetheless, he seems pleased, splashing his hands into it.
"Hmm?" Ozai asks, a scroll spread across his lap and his eyes staying trained on the paper as she settles beside him on the blankets covering the sand.
"The phoenix and the dragon. The one's you told me about last night." She elaborates, resting her head on his shoulder. She can't help but peak down at the scroll, trying to catch what it was he was so enthralled with lately. He seems to catch on, though, before she can make out anything and quickly rolls the scroll closed. She lets out a small sigh, keeping her cheek rested against him anyway.
"It depends. Most interpretations I've read have described it like this." He takes her hand, spreading out the fingers before pressing his own palm against hers, "The dragon, basically the embodiment of power, which is usually the male, is the Yang. Strong, ferocious, courageous. But the phoenix, also powerful and most often female, is the Yin. They're more…graceful and beautiful. They're meant to balance each other out, existing together and constantly in a battle of power and balance." She looks at their hands, frowning. His hand was larger than hers, the tips of his thick fingers extending beyond her own. She could feel the raw power in his touch and see the scars patterning his knuckles, but when she pushes against him with her own, smaller, more delicate, fingers, she finds his bend easily.
"What's your interpretation, personally?" She asks, gaze shifting from their hands to his face. He's contemplative, looking out at the sea before them.
"I think they're both." He finally says after a long moment and his fingers intertwine with hers, enveloping her hand in warmth, "Enemies and lovers."
"How is that possible?" She asks quietly, speaking only loudly enough to be heard over the tide and Zuko's splashing.
"It's not as impossible as you'd think." Ozai replies, "And it's the ultimate balance. The culmination of Yin and Yang to maintain something like that. It's fitting, don't you think?" Her eyes finally catch his, and something smolders there. Enemies and lovers. The phrase reverberates in her mind, the three words infecting her thoughts long after he's said them. The conversation continues past it, idling.
The sun climbs higher in the sky, and Ozai eventually leaves her to go for a swim, but even once she leaves the beach she still can't shake the thought of the phoenix and the dragon. The Princess and the Prince.
Scroll after scroll had only told him one thing; Iroh had been nearly mortally wounded in the Earth Kingdom. Ozai had only received word of it recently via messenger hawk, and had since gotten regular updates on his brother's condition. From what he could gather, Iroh had faced an unusually powerful earthbender, and had managed to get himself cornered. It had resulted in a broken arm, several cracked ribs and a collapsed lung, as well as some bruised organs and excessive blood loss.
He'd even received word from his father stating he was pleased at the concern Ozai showed for his brother by repeatedly inquiring about his well-being. Ozai had been thrilled to receive such a letter, and had immediately gone to write a response as soon as he'd returned to the beach house that afternoon.
It was now dusk, and he hadn't moved from the desk sitting in the corner of the master bedroom. Fresh ink stains his fingers as he once again crumples the parchment in front of him before setting it ablaze between his hands. He draws out a fresh sheet, laying it out on the desk and sliding the paperweights to its edges. He had to handle this situation delicately if he was to avoid further angering the Fire Lord. He couldn't even hint at the fact that he was only so interested in Iroh's condition in hopes that he would eventually receive word of his death.
Ozai wouldn't need to be trying as hard as he was if Iroh simply died, he would simply gain the throne by default. At that point, he would only have to wait for his ancient father to pass before the crown was given to him. He taps the blunt end of the calligraphy brush thoughtfully, grinning at the thought. His prodigal brother, the fabled Dragon of the West, dead, leaving only the second son to take his place as heir. It was a dream come true, and the joy was having an affect on how well he could lie to his father, even on paper.
Fire Lord Azulon,
It was an honor to receive word from you. As you know, I've been keeping close track on my brother's condition, and am hopeful that he will make a full recovery. He carefully paints out each character, frowning. It all read so stiffly, and his own lies seemed so obvious to him. But in the tragic event that he does not, I will do my best to fill his role as crown Fire Prince—
He burns the paper again, leaving only ashes on the now scorched table. He slams the brush down in frustration, dragging his hands across his face as he sits back in his seat. No, that wouldn't do, he had to approach this more tactfully than that. He was definitely in a hard position when it came to his brother, having not spoken to him properly since the battle in the library, and Azulon still hadn't fully forgiven him for it. Ozai couldn't let his father believe that he was happy about this in any way, lest he believe his second born had plotted this.
He almost wishes he had. If he'd had someone assassinate Iroh, at least they would have finished the job.
"Fire Prince Ozai?" One of the more elderly servants interrupts him timidly, her quavering voice almost going unnoticed before he turns to look at her. She can't meet his eyes, speaking to the floor as she approaches him, "You have another message from the Earth Kingdom."
"So soon?" He asks, extending a hand for the scroll. It was tied shut with a deep red ribbon, marking its urgency. He feels a flash of anticipation as he opens it before finding this isn't at all the letter he'd been hoping for. It was from Iroh.
I will be arriving at Ember Island in one week to recover away from the Earth Kingdom and the Fire Nation capital.
The characters are written somewhat sloppily, obviously having been scribbled with a shaking hand, and it's oddly direct for Iroh. He slowly rolls the scroll closed, chuckling deeply. The servant seems unsettled, staring and awkwardly standing opposite from him.
"Set up a room for my brother." Ozai purrs out, setting the scroll aside and retrieving the brush. He didn't have to wait and hope, he could finally take the situation into his own hands. He could finish what that incompetent earthbender had started.
Every day of their vacation, at dusk, Ursa had gotten into the habit of taking Zuko with her and walking along the shore up to the cliffs that looked out over the endless ocean around them. It was a breathtaking view if she reached it at just the right time, and she occasionally stayed there well after the colors had faded from the sky and the sun had disappeared, listening to the waves crashing below. It was serene, and she felt she could truly be herself up here, away from the judgmental eyes of her husband and father-in-law.
She settles Zuko on the soft grass before her, keeping them both a safe distance from the cliff's edge. He immediately busies himself tugging up blades of grass, clutching the growing bundles of foliage in his fists. He holds them up to her proudly, and she chuckles, reaching out to take them from him when smoke rises from his fists. The grass starts to wilt, browning before they spontaneously burst into flames and Zuko drops them in shock. Ursa expects a negative reaction from the toddler, but is surprised to find him staring down at the small flames of the burning grass between them. He smiles, thrilled.
"Fire!" He says excitedly, yanking up another bundle of grass and attempting to burn it as well before she snatches it from him quickly.
"No, Zuko, you don't want to do that. Fire is dangerous." She frowns and pats out the residual flames from the last attempt.
"Bad?" He asks, confused.
"Not…bad, but you need to be careful. You can hurt yourself if you're not careful. And others. You don't want to hurt anyone, do you?" She asks softly, holding her hand out and offering the grass to him again. He looks up at her with those wide, soulful eyes of his and shakes his head. His hand rests on top of hers, patting the grass in her palm.
"Sorry, grass." He mumbles, carefully scooping it up and returning it to the patch of dirt he'd pulled it from. Ursa can't help but laugh, pulling him onto her lap and tickling his sides. He shrieks, delighted, the sun almost touching the horizon before the smoke of an approaching warship conceals it. Her hands still on Zuko before she picks him up and holds him against her, watching it as it nears the dock closest to the royal home. It's a small boat, at least by warship standards, and she wonders what it could possibly be doing here. She sees a form leave the house and start down the dock, immediately recognizing it as Ozai.
He's standing at the end of the dock when the boat arrives, catching the rope one of the crew throws him and tying it around the hitch to anchor it. A ramp extends from the deck of the boat, and someone—it's too far away, she can only make it out as a hunched human shape—staggers across the ramp. Ozai had clearly been expecting whoever it was, offering his hand to them. The mysterious person seems surprised by this, hesitating before taking Ozai's hand and using him as support as they start to walk back towards the house together.
Ursa starts back down towards the docks in an attempt to get closer, only able to vaguely make out Ozai's voice.
"—can see them in the morning. Besides, you don't want to worry Ursa by letting her see you like this." The other man's voice is too quiet for her to hear, and if she gets any closer she risks Ozai spotting her. She feels like she can almost pin who it is, risking getting just a little closer and shushing Zuko to try and get a better view. The stranger turns his head, the setting sun catching his features and she blinks in surprise.
Iroh. His face is drawn and tired, dark bags under his eyes, and he seems to be covered in bandages with a light robe drabbed over him. She feels her heart drop, gasping. Even after his fight with Ozai, he hadn't seemed so broken. Yet here he was, hunched and leaning heavily against his brother who, little more than a year and a half ago, had taken pleasure in hurting him. She doesn't catch anything more of their conversation before they disappear into the house. She doesn't need to hear anything more to know Ozai is hiding something.
When he'd spoken to Iroh, he'd sounded so kind. His voice had been so soft, so caring, but at the same time so scripted, as if he'd practiced them for days in advance. But why would he bother acting? The last time he'd interacted with Iroh, he'd made no secret of his distaste for his brother. She knew him well enough to know he would only force himself to play nice if he were getting something out of it. And he would only play that nice if he were gaining something incredibly important.
She quietly follows the pair inside, fearing the worst.
A/N: Ohhhhh wow. It seems like only yesterday that I posted a fun little one shot about my fave problematic couple (cough actually I just noticed Chapter 11 was posted exactly one month after the first chapter) and now here we are. 12 chapters in to a story I have no idea where it's going, and don't really know when it's going to end. Zuko is barely over 1 and if you put all of the chapters into one text doc, it's 54 fucking pages long. I've written a fucking novella. Send help.
R&R and all that. Thanks for reading! ~ Jiggle
