The first time I saw Ozai bend lightning was the first time I feared him.
My husband frightened everyone at some point, our friends and family, our enemies and acquaintances, even strangers, but never me before that day. He worried me half to death, he made me fear for him and for the man he might become, but he never scared me. I was the only one who could stare into his inner darkness without blinking, without fear.
Until I saw him embody and create that cold-blooded fire.
"I see his ship! I see it!" Zuko exclaimed with glee as he climbed a statue near the docks.
"You do not, you liar," Azula scolded as she tried to wiggle down off my shoulders.
I laughed and helped her down, having woken up to life and joy again the moment we heard of Ozai's scheduled return. I could be a mother again, delighting in and guiding my son and daughter, and they could be children again.
"If I couldn't see it from Mom's shoulders, then you—Move, Zuzu!" she whined as she fought to climbe after him.
"Shut up, Azula!"
"Mom! Zuzu said shut up!"
"Stop calling me that!"
"Your grandfather is waiting. Zuko, Azula, come down now and line up like we talked about, or you'll have to wait for Daddy at home."
The obeyed immediately, Azula snapping into place with overly perfect posture while Zuko took a little longer.
"Remember, I know you'll have a million questions for your father," I said as we walked to our places next to Iroh, "but this has been hard for him too. Give him some time, and don't overwhelm, alright? He loves you so much, but he might be really tired for a while, and that's okay."
They both nodded, having already heard this from the long conversation we had the night before. It had been particularly long because I had to explain that the ship he was coming home in would not be the same one he left in. I had to explain that he was the only sailor from the original mission returning, and that it was important to respect the fallen and their families with solemnity. Paradoxically, and perhaps hypocritically, a considerable amount of pomp was also expected, given that the fire prince had conquered more territory in six months than several generals had during the course of their entire careers.
Trumpets sang once the ship—more accurately, the glorified steam boat—appeared.
I immediately forgot all the advice I'd given to my children and ceased to care what else was happening. I nearly stood on my tiptoes, eyes glued to the deck, refusing to blink until they could identify which of the blurs belonged to me and mine.
It helped that he towered above the rest.
It didn't help that his back was turned to us.
"Mom, why is that man tied up?" Zuko whispered while resisting the urge to point at another blur, which Ozai was looking at.
I resisted the urge to wave frantically and just shrugged in answer, waiting for a small eternity for my love, my life, to turn around.
The ship had almost stopped moving by the time he did.
Ozai hadn't aged a day, though his cheekbones were five times sharper. His spotless armor couldn't hide how his muscles had grown impossibly larger. His flawless face knocked all breath from me, preventing me from fainting or weeping simply because my body couldn't decide which to do.
But his eyes, more golden than my memory could hold, weren't searching for mine, that I could tell.
In fact, something about his eyes seemed—
Ozai spoke.
"This man has been found guilty of mutiny and treason, and I hereby sentence him to death."
Before the weight of his words hit me, his arms began to move to perform a form I'd never seen him bend.
The lightning flash in his eyes was not born of cruelty, and it bore no sadistic spark. It was a reflection. No more and no less.
His eyes were too empty for anything else.
I couldn't tear my gaze away from him, but that didn't mean my children couldn't.
Under my breath, I spoke the order.
"Close your eyes."
Zuko obeyed; Azula didn't.
In silent fascination, she watched as lightning shot through the soldier, through his heart and through his blood. She watched as the man fell overboard, and she never batted a lash. I cringed at the splash, but she almost seemed to…
Smile.
I dismissed the idea immediately, certain I'd imagined it, and grabbed her hand. She let me hold it without any protest, too absorbed by the scene before her to care for anything else.
Ozai didn't smirk darkly with scorn or contempt. He didn't smirk at all, that I could tell, which disturbed me to the core.
Because I couldn't see past his mask anymore.
I couldn't even tell whether or not it was there.
For a brief second, her eyes widened and filled with fear. She leaned back as if to recoil and then forward again as if to act as a shield between the children.
And me.
Ursa.
Terrified of me.
For a brief second.
Azulon said something that my mind refused to register, probably some formal words of welcome or congratulations, as Ozai disembarked the ship.
He still wouldn't meet my gaze, though he seemed to be looking for something.
I didn't care. Forgetting everything I'd said to my own children, forgetting Azulon and the crowd of welcomers and even the execution, I bolted forward and rushed into his arms.
Not all of my instincts were lost, so I reached out to slow her down, to prevent her slamming full force into my armor, but the awkwardness of our embrace couldn't be blamed solely on metal plates.
It felt like hugging a statue, which should've come as no surprise, but there was a delay in his hands resting on my back, a hesitation in his response. His arms barely moved at all, while mine wormed around his waist even if it meant slicing skin.
"Ozai."
She said my name, and whatever blackened heart I had left melted. My lungs ceased to breathe, and for a moment I thought my eyes could form tears again.
"Good morning, wife," I whispered in her ear.
Her voice cracked as she said, through tears, "Good morning, husband."
I stepped back to wave Azula and Zuko to join us, and the crowd began to clap and cheer for the reunited family.
"Give your father a hug," I laughed from the relief, glancing towards Iroh in order to gauge Azulon's reaction without having to feel his glower.
Azula obeyed immediately, hugging her father's legs before he could think to kneel. Zuko hesitated a bit more, not moving until he saw Ozai hug her back, but then leapt into the group hug.
I eased them off to give their father some space to breathe. Ozai didn't want to stop staring at them, despite his state of shock, but knew he had to acknowledge Iroh and Azulon.
Iroh swept in to spare us from any of Azulon's ire, embracing his brother and then holding up his hand to the cheers of the crowd.
The crown prince gave a brief speech praising Ozai's victory, and then Ozai asked everyone for a moment of silence to honor his fallen countrymen.
How those countrymen actually died, he left out.
And from the look on Azulon's face, he wouldn't be satisfied until that mystery was solved.
Palanquins paraded in to carry us home, and I helped the children into theirs while Azulon whispered something to Ozai.
Her brow wrinkled in concern, so I walked back and answered the question before she could even ask it.
"He just wants to meet with me later. It'll be fine," I assured her before she climbed into our palanquin.
I followed as quickly as possible, struck with sudden urgency and a desire to hide my face from everyone else, to escape.
He sat more than a foot away from me, which I tried not to take personally given that he couldn't hold me very well in full armor, and given that he'd just returned from war and executed a member of the fire nation.
"Ozai?" she whispered when I closed my eyes, trying to keep the worry out of her voice but unable to because it was me.
"Just… talk to me. Keep talking about anything. Everything," I said stoically, apathetic even when I tried to force emotion and humanity to come out.
So I did. I told him about how I taught Azula to swim, how I had to coax her into the water despite numerous, familiar protests that the liquid was weak, treacherous, and otherwise appalling, how Zuko demonstrating his own ability forced her competitive nature to leap in and try far too much at once. She'd tried to firebend at Zuko multiple times, frustrated by his continued dives under the water, so I sent him away, but she learned swiftly and already wanted to surf as well.
Ozai listened with no perceptible reaction, but some part of me sensed that my constant speaking still helped, if only to keep out some unknown madness for a little bit longer.
"We're here, your highnesses," one of the servants announced before the palanquin was lowered.
"Iroh offered to keep Azula and Zuko entertained for the day, so you can settle back in."
I knew it all should've been surreal. I knew I should've been relieved or confused, either struggling to breathe or finally able to breathe, but I felt nothing as we walked into our villa and through the halls, as I came home. I didn't feel separated from my body or myself in the least. I just didn't feel.
As long as I didn't look into her eyes, I didn't have to.
"I've been sleeping in the other room, so ours might seem…" Her eyebrows shot up when she opened the door on two servants she didn't recognize.
"Oh! Hello—" she tried to greet with that insufferable warmth and kindness of hers.
I scolded myself for the reaction but interrupted her anyway.
"They're mine," I explained and stepped in so they could remove my armor.
She pretended to fuss over the newly cleaned room while I changed, but her subtle glances were easy for me to see. As the metal was removed and replaced with cloth, she kept searching my skin for scars, wishing to prepare herself for any surprises and prevent any gasps or horrified expressions, desperate to have some idea about what I'd been through and had happened to me.
She needn't have bothered. The scars I bore would never be visible. That would be too easy. She was looking in the wrong place for the wrong. It wasn't what had happened to me. It was what happened because of me.
His marble skin was as flawless and blemish-free as ever, which should've been a relief but wasn't. It was horrible of me to desire some scar, some sign of what I'd miss, something I could work with and understand and know. I'd missed out on so much. I knew so little. I'd never be able to experience what he had.
They left, and I noticed another difference. He no longer radiated heat. On the contrary, he seemed to absorb all the heat in the room. His skin, I'd soon discover, was cold to the touch, as if his transformation into marble was now complete.
I'd seen so many men come back from war. I'd seen so many changed by it.
But something deep in my gut told me this was different, and not just because the man changed was the one I loved most, was my Ozai. This change was something else entirely. This prince…
"So… you have servants now?" She smiled to hide her obvious discomfort.
"Managing armor is not a one-man task," he said in answer, still avoiding my gaze.
He needn't have bothered. I would go to him.
"Ozai," she purred my name again, my name on her lips, walking up to me and forcing our gazes to meet.
With every look into those eyes, I felt it all. Every memory flashed by, and every emotion flooded in. Everything we shared, everything she'd ever made me feel, and everything I felt in order to come home to her. Everything I'd done and atrocity I'd committed in the ruthless and relentless pursuit of that one goal.
"You know…" I trailed off teasingly, tugging on that darling goatee. "You haven't said my name yet."
A sliver of a smirk pulled on his lips, but it didn't reach his eyes. None of his "smiles" had yet.
I regretted the observation as soon as I spoke it. Of course he hadn't said it. He hadn't said it aloud for a year. I was sure he'd thought it, written it, a million times, but to say it aloud…
"Ursa."
And even though he said it without any passion or slightest emotion, I didn't care. All that mattered was he said it. All that mattered was the sound of his voice saying it.
Even if it wasn't the same.
She leaned into me before I could react, her hands on my face, her lips on mine.
It felt like kissing a stranger.
She kissed me deeply, desperately, loving me intensely even if I couldn't show the same.
I broke away first, holding her hands, scalded by the hunger in her eyes.
"Not today, Ursa."
She almost blushed, ashamed and guilty, stepping back to give me space.
I'd struck and wounded a pup for her unconditional love.
"Of course, I'm sorry. You must be exhausted."
I wasn't. Not in the least.
But how could I explain that to her?
How could I explain anything to the woman who'd never needed any explanation to know me inside and out?
"It's not that… It's… I'll hurt you."
I'd break her.
His touch hadn't been gentle in over a year. He'd forgotten what it was to soften a grip, to merely brush skin against skin, to be anything but hard and heavy. His all-or-nothing world dealt only in extremes—either fierce violence or complete stillness, either an attack or a defense. There was no room for comforting or being comforted. There was no room for love or laughter.
He could survive, but he could not live.
She was glass, and I was marble. I could only crush her, shattering her and the pedestal I'd placed her on.
There was nothing I wouldn't do to protect her from that.
"I should talk to Azulon," he said as if this was obvious, as if we hadn't been separated for a year, as if we'd been alone for hours instead of seconds, as if everything that could be said was said.
I meant to give Ozai time and space. I meant to respect that he had experienced things I never could. I meant to refrain from any questions and wait for him to share when he was ready.
But he had just slain a man without emotion, without expression or pain. With eyes of total apathy.
If he'd shown something, whether it be remorse or anger, contempt or delight, at least it would've proven that he was still human, that he could still feel something.
That my Ozai was still in there, behind the mask.
"Ozai!" she cried as I walked out.
My feet stopped to await her words.
"What happened?" was all she could ask.
He turned around and met my gaze directly.
"I happened."
