Before Ursa even decides to tell him, before she can even begin to come up with how or when to let him know about the unexpected second child she's carrying, she knows this pregnancy is different. Ozai notices this about her as well, even without knowing it's caused by a pregnancy, being uncharacteristically gentle with her when she wakes in the middle of the night to vomit. When she needs to sit after only standing for a short while. When her muscles cramp and her head aches. His bouts of fury come less frequently. He watches her with something she can't name, brows pulled tight.

She overhears him speaking with Elua, trying to get more information when even the palace healers seemed to be avoiding answering him.

"Is she dying, then?" He asks abruptly. Elua starts, confused.

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean, my Prince—"

"Do not play coy with me. Something is afflicting my wife, and I'm sure Ursa and the healers know what it is. Yet they're all in some sort of pact to keep the truth from me. Why is that? Surely I'd deserve to know if my own wife is dying." His tone is still formal, as it always is with servants, but there's something Ursa's never heard before. A strained undertone that makes his voice sound different, tense.

"Quite the opposite, my Prince, but what is afflicting the Princess...you know as well as I, I can not go against direct orders from a member of the Royal Family."

"What has she ordered of you?" He restrains himself, arms held stiff at his sides.

"Only that the true nature of her condition be kept secret until she decides to let you know yourself. I swear to you, my Prince, I do not know what the condition is either. Only that it is between the Princess and her healers. They have agreed to her orders as well." She's shrinking under his intense gaze, keeping her eyes averted and head bowed. He growls, running a hand over his hair to try and occupy his hands.

"This is ridiculous. As her husband I should squarely outrank her orders."

"Only an order from your father would outrank her orders, my Prince. Or you can ask her yourself."

Ozai's footsteps are coming closer, she realizes, and quickly continues on her way. She ducks into Zuko's room, shutting the door behind her as she listens for any sound to indicate that he'd heard her. It's silent, save for Zuko's soft breathing. She smiles as she sees him curled in his sheets, hair engulfing half his head and drool dribbling across his chin as he thoroughly enjoys his afternoon nap.

She settles on the edge of his bed, stroking his hair, his chest, his cheek. He's Ozai's son, that much is undeniable. His temper tantrums, his stubborn nature, his very face, are all Ozai's. But he's kind, and he's very much a different entity all together. He feels everything deeply, strongly, and she hopes he'll stay that way as he grows. She wants him to keep feeling everything how he does now. To never lose that sense of empathy and passion.

Her hand settles on her stomach, still flat but she knows from experience not for long. She'd worried she couldn't love a child of Ozai's before she'd met Zuko. Even during the birth, in that short span of the midwife cleaning and tending to Zuko before she'd held him, she had panicked. New tears had streaked her face as she'd heard his gasping cries because she was afraid. She was terrified that she'd be handed this innocent child and feel nothing but revulsion. See this perfect copy of Ozai and fear for the world she had brought it upon.

But then she'd seen him, and she'd felt her heart break just to hold all the love she'd need for him. It was all consuming and terrifying in an entirely different way.

She knows that she has to remember that when she thinks of this second child. That as scary as it feels now, this child doesn't have to be any more like Ozai than Zuko is. She could raise it to be kind, and to feel and to love. To have a full heart, something she feared Ozai simply could never have.

Zuko shifts, rolling against her warmth. She smiles down at him, deciding a nap sounds particularly inviting. She shifts to lie beside him, and he instantly accepts the new position. His head rests against her shoulder as she wipes the drool away with her sleeve. She kisses the top of his head, and the quiet stillness of the moment eases her mind. She can imagine a second child in moments like these. Another curled into her side, looking up to her with those same golden eyes. She smiles, softly, surprising even herself. She wonders if it will be a boy, a brother for Zuko, or a girl. It had been a long time since a girl had been born into the Royal Family. Five generations at least, long before the war. Fitting of them to break those traditions.

As she listens to Zuko's breathing and continues pondering the future of her children, she closes her eyes. Paces his breaths until they match. She falls asleep easily, clutching Zuko close.

Ozai paces outside the doors of the infirmary, the healers swarming Ursa's bedside.

Zuko had run to him in a panic, stumbling into the sparring gym and very nearly getting kicked in the process. He'd clutched his leg like a lifeline, burying his face in Ozai's pant leg and wailing. It had taken longer than he had any patience for to understand his cries, but he'd eventually managed to decode what his son was saying.

"Mom!" He'd sniffled and hiccupped, breathing labored, "Won't get up!"

Ozai hadn't thought of what to do next, he'd simply acted. He had scooped Zuko up into one arm, his heart still racing from his sparring and adrenaline allowing him more speed than usual. He'd burst into Zuko's room, seen her pale and lifeless on his bed and assumed then that she was simply dead.

The emotions he'd felt were confusing, more than anything. He'd nearly dropped Zuko, and most likely would have had he not climbed down on his own and run to her. His chest feels tight, throat too dry and his eyes stung. He'd blinked rapidly to dispel the feeling, forcing his limbs to move as he came forward and knelt before her.

Zuko had held tightly to her, tugging her arm, desperately trying to get a response. He'd been babbling, and Ozai had wanted silence more than anything. He'd been angry. Devastated.

Heart broken? He'd pondered, as he tried to figure out that tugging in his chest. The paper thin razors tearing into him from the inside. All his threats and posturing, his violence, and this still delivered an unforeseen blow. This was not his will. He would not have her taken from him unless he wished it.

Even when he'd finally seen her breathing—a soft, delicate thing, but a breath still—the feeling remained. It was accompanied with a fear he'd never really felt before. He'd bolted from the room to find a healer, and they'd brought her here. They worked still, and he had no word on if she would live. If she was alive at all.

That stinging behind his eyes won't go away, and it makes him angry. Zuko huddled near the door, crying for her, makes him angry.

"Stop." He orders, pausing in front of his young son. Zuko looks up at him, blinking, "It is unbecoming of a member of the Royal Family to display such weakness."

"But...but mom—"

"Your tears will not save her life. Restrain yourself." Ozai's voice wavers, very nearly breaks. He braces a hand against the wall and breathes deeply. His hand steams, his jaw pops with how tightly he's tensing.

"You're sad too." Zuko's voice is small. Hesitant, but at least his crying has slowed.

"Restrain yourself." Ozai repeats, unsure if he's speaking to Zuko or himself. Such embarrassing weakness was unforgivable, and he forces that pain downwards, into a familiar spot where it burns and festers in his gut. It hurts, but in a way he can handle. This is familiar pain.

The doors open, and Ozai is instantly before the healer.

"My Prince." He bows respectfully, "The spirits must have greater plans for the Princess." Ozai's shoulders relax from a painful tenseness he hadn't been aware of, sighing. Zuko clings to his leg, again, and the weight is unfamiliar to him.

"She lives." Ozai affirms. The sting behind his eyes finally fades, the pain dulls. It's a dull blade he can put away; a bundle of emotions he can bury.

"She does." He answers, leading them into the room, "She was anemic. Simply not enough iron in her diet compounded with stress and the added complications of..." He trails, and Ozai glares sharply. His anger finds a target, and he snarls as he speaks.

"Agni's sake, oath to my wife be damned. This nearly killed her! Whatever this condition is, I must know of it!" The healer is protesting, but Ozai slams him into the wall, a brilliant ball of flames emerging from him opposite fist, "You tell me now or the secret dies with you."

"She is pregnant!" He immediately cries. The fire on Ozai's hand dies. He feels emotional whiplash from the sudden turn of events, stumbling back from the healer.

"Pregnant?" He looks back at her as she lays on the pristine cot. Zuko has climbed up to lie with her.

"She is. Yes. She wanted to tell you herself. She feared your reaction, though." The healer rubs his throat where Ozai had grabbed him, coughing.

"She thought this would displease me?" He shakes his head, "Another heir. The Fire Sages predicted this. This will appease...the Fire Lord. This is wonderful news." He approaches Ursa, his hand cupping her face. If he had known, if she'd told him why she was behaving this way, he would have done everything in his power to ensure her health. His heirs depended on it.

"Foolish woman." He says to her as if she can answer, settling in the seat by her bed. Zuko's face is buried in her hair, clinging to her chest for all he's worth. He allows it.

"She's ok?" Zuko asks into her hair, his voice still quivering with shed tears.

"Yes." He answers, tugging him by the back of his shirt and forcing him to sit up. Zuko sniffles, looking away under his father's gaze, "But had she not been, it would be in your best interest to control your emotions. Your age is the only reason I will allow this behavior now. You will hold yourself with dignity, in all situations." He lets go of Zuko's shirt. He slumps back into his mother, but he keeps his eyes on Ozai. They glisten with restrained tears, hiccups still leaving him.

"Do you understand me, Zuko?"

"Y-Yes." He answers with a small nod. Ozai reaches forward again, his firm hand wiping the lingering tears from his face. He's tense beneath his hand.

"Good. And should you ever not understand me, I'll give you reason for tears." He stands swiftly, looking back to the healer, "Have her taken to my chambers as soon as you determine it's safe to do so. There are arrangements to be made."

"Of course, my Prince." He leaves without a second glance, the doors shutting solidly behind him.

When Ursa wakes, she expects to see the interior of Zuko's bedroom. She reaches out blindly to search for him, wanting him close, and stills when her hands meet the solid wall of Ozai's back. She opens her eyes to a low throbbing in her head, thankful for the darkness of the room, and spreads her fingers out on his back, confused. He seems to be asleep, turned on his side with the expanse of his bare back facing her. She looks back over her shoulder to see the curtains drawn shut, no light escaping from beneath them. It must be well into the night.

She rubs her head, sitting up slowly and trying to recall anything after falling asleep in Zuko's room, but nothing comes. She goes to stand and pauses as Ozai's hand grips her wrist, pulling her back. He rolls over so she's pressed to his chest, eyes trained on her without a hint of drowsiness. She doubts he'd been sleeping at all.

"You're staying here." He orders.

"But Zuko—what happened? How did I get here and—" Ozai shushes her, smoothing a hand over her hair before he tightens his grip in it, forcing her head back to look up at him. She bites her lip, the pressure only making the throbbing in her head worse.

"My dear." He starts, his tone smooth and deceptively affectionate. His smile is bitter, anger pressed into the firm line of his mouth, "Zuko came to me believing his mother to be dead. I come to find that you seemed to, in fact, be very much dead. And why is that? Because you lied to me."

Ursa doesn't know where to start to absorb that information. She's immediately worried for her son, wanting to go to him and be sure he's alright. She wants to ask what he means, why he would believe that, what happened in general, but she knows not to interrupt him.

"You had me believe you had no idea what was wrong with you. Or that there was nothing wrong at all. You were determined to keep this—" The hand not tangled in her hair glides down to her stomach, his fingers curling into the fabric of her gown possessively, "—from me. Now why was that?"

"Ozai…I just wasn't sure… I didn't know how to tell you." She whispers, the distance small enough for that to resonate loudly.

"The idea of having a second child is something to be celebrated. This child could be the powerful heir we were promised. My father will be thrilled." His fingers have loosened in her hair, but they remain where they are. She's mindful of that as she stares up at him in confusion.

"Zuko is the powerful heir you were promised."

"Hardly extraordinary. He's progressing at the rate of any regular firebender. He's certainly no prodigy, not even on par with myself."

"He's a toddler!" She exclaims, going to sit up and move away from him. He tightens his grip in her hair and yanks her down. She cries out, clutching her head.

"No matter. If we can produce another heir, one that surpasses Zuko, and prove to my father that the Fire Sages were correct, I will be in his good graces again. I should have been informed of this immediately. How long have you been pregnant?" Despite his harsh grip on her hair, his tone is conversational. He rolls onto his back, keeping his eyes on her as he toys with the hair twisted around his fingers.

"I won't have you comparing them like that. It isn't fair to either of them." She yanks against his hold anyway, and he grips her hip tightly to pull her on top of him. She knows she can't get any leverage now, her arms braced on his chest in an awkward position.

"How far along are you?" He repeats.

"From what I can guess, something near two months." She concedes, but she isn't going to let that matter settle permanently.

"And how long have you known?" It's a loaded question. His eyes search her face, and she can practically see the fuse she's about to light if she answers honestly.

"Only a few days." She lies. He relaxes a little beneath her and she has to withhold a sigh of relief.

"Do not ever try to hide anything from me ever again." He says with deceptive softness, "Do you understand me?" She hesitates. Only a beat, a moment. But it's long enough for his brow to furrow and anger to flash across his face. She hurriedly puts a hand on his jaw, nodding.

"Yes."

"No. Sorry."

Ursa sighs heavily as she sets Zuko down on the lush carpet. He crosses his arms, indignant.

"There's not much of a choice in the matter. They're on their way." She sits with him, pushing the wooden blocks to the edges of the paper between them. Ozai sits at a desk, focused on dictating his own letters to some dignitary or another. Zuko looks up at him repeatedly as he holds a brush between his clumsy hands, trying to mimic his father.

"I don't want 'em." He says, scribbling randomly across the paper. Ursa picks up a brush as well, gracefully painting a simple character onto the page. Zuko watches in rapt interest.

"You don't want a brother or sister?" She asks, gently taking his hand to help him paint the character as well. He bites his lip in concentration.

"No."

"They can be taxing." Ozai says as he sits back in his chair, fanning the wet ink on his own paper.

"That's not helping, Ozai, please." She shakes her head, smiling down at Zuko as he finishes the shaky copy that barely resembles the original, but he takes pride in it. She gently points to it, "That's how you write your name."

He seems astounded at that, running his hand through the ink and smudging it, coming back with ink covered fists.

"Yours?" He points at an empty spot, and she draws out her own name. He's thrilled, scribbling in a way that somewhat resembles it, and somewhat resembles a blob. She gives her approval anyway, lifting him and settling him in her lap. He waves around the brush, splattering ink across the page.

"Are you nearly finished?" She asks, looking up to Ozai. His scroll is long, the finished end curling off the edge of the desk and nearly touching the floor. His handwriting is perfect, straight and even with fast brushstrokes. Zuko stares in awe of the collection of characters.

"Impatient, my dear?" He asks, starting to roll the scroll closed.

"Hardly." She answers, standing and taking the brush from Zuko's hand, "The carriage is leaving soon." Ozai had been working on the scroll for the better part of an hour, writing and rewriting it as they sat on the floor and stained it with ink. Zuko enjoyed himself, but the position was taxing on her. Four months into the new pregnancy and she had yet to feel any better. Always tired, always aching. Her nausea and constant discomfort were ever present. She wonders why this one was putting such strain on her.

"I'm well aware." He stands, grabbing his cloak from the back of his chair. It's made of a thick and heavy red fabric, lined with shining black fur and embellished with golden thread. Her own and Zuko's outerwear are much thinner, still fur lined but far less embellished. She's sure Ozai made sure of that. It's unusual of them to need such warm clothing, but well into the dead of winter and venturing outside in the Northern Earth Kingdom, they would need it. The only place colder on the planet would be either of the Water Tribes.

The walk to the carriage is a silent one. Zuko stays securely in her arms as they settle inside of the hulking thing, all sharp edges and brilliant reds that stand out in the white landscape of snow and earth. She settles her son on her lap, letting him watch out the window as it starts moving, the landscape all much the same but drawing his attention anyway. Ozai holds the scroll in his lap, similarly protective of it.

"What did you write?" She asks, if only to break the silence. Ozai is distracted, looking out the opposite window, his face stern.

"I have been honored by the Fire Lord to deliver a speech on his behalf." He holds up the scroll, "He's conquered another province, a rather significant one. He'd like us to stay here to oversee its integration as a Fire Nation colony. The speech will be announcing our presence." She's taken aback, blinking.

"How long are we expected to stay there?" She asks quickly, hardly giving him time to finish his statement. When they had traveled to the Earth Kingdom on sudden orders from the Fire Lord, it had seemed almost like a vacation. They had stayed in a well established Fire Nation colony set up on the shores of the Earth Kingdom in a town that had long accepted the occupation of their kind. Their quarters were rich and comfortable, attended to by Earth Kingdom servants who seemed more or less at peace with the situation. Going into a freshly occupied province, an area with likely resistance and disdain towards firebenders and the Fire Nation Royal Family was an entirely different entity. It didn't sit right with her. Ozai's tense features spoke of a similar opinion.

"They need to construct the embassy, schools, prisons for decenters. My father predicts it will take the better part of a year. He wants us to stay to oversee it." Her hand settles on her stomach, as it so often started to as of late.

"A year? But the baby—"

"Will be born in the Earth Kingdom." Ozai grits out through clenched teeth. His breath has been coming in puffs of steam due to the weather, but his anger makes it plume forward like a dragon's smoke. This is a clear message from the Fire Lord. A sign of utter disrespect and loathing to purposefully send his son, as well as his known-to-be pregnant wife, to another land for the birth of their own child. Not just any land, but the northern most area of the Earth Kingdom in the harshest point of their winter. A general or even a slightly higher ranking soldier could do this task, and everyone was aware of that.

It must be crushing for him. She feels for him, her hand settling on his own.

"This is no banishment. We'll return home soon enough." She reassures him. He yanks his hand away, gripping the edge of his seat tightly.

"It may as well be. A child of the royal family born outside the borders of the Fire Nation. Unheard of." He scoffs, "I thought with the knowledge that you were pregnant, perhaps he would be more lenient. The promise of producing a stronger heir would please him…but he sends us here." He waves out the window, the snow gathering higher and higher as they travel north. Their bags shudder and jolt above them as the wheels of the carriage struggle over snowbanks and stones.

"I'm sorry this displeases him." She says with her own bitterness. The pregnancy was hard on her as it was. Ozai's own bid to please his father another stress she could very much do without.

"I am involved with it, of course it displeases him." The glare out the window as he sits back in his seat and crosses his arms distantly reminds her of Zuko's pout whenever she scolds him. She restrains an amused huff.

"Maybe we can change his mind." Zuko leans further out the window and she has to pull him back.

"How so?"

"If you lead this reconstruction he's put you in charge of and do it well enough, he may be impressed by it." She suggests, kissing the top of Zuko's head as he struggles. He's reaching out the window, determined to grab at the birds as they swooped by, "You can use this opportunity to prove yourself as an asset to him." It feels wrong to her to use that word in reference to a father's view of his son, but it's how the royal family seemed to view each other. Assets and tokens, pieces in a Pai Sho game to use against one another. It was the only lens in which Ozai could view the world.

Ozai considers this, his tensed shoulders relaxing beneath the heavy fur of his cloak.

"You may have a point. I suppose I could reform whatever huts and mud pits they're living in now. Perhaps even establish a military base. I don't believe there are any this far north." She doesn't try to dispute his unfair claim on their homes, having never been to the Earth Kingdom before. But from what she'd seen so far, they seemed more deserving of credit than that.

The snow seems to continue forever, falling throughout the day as they travel farther and farther north. The cold bites at her very bones, a sensation she's never experienced. She'd never even seen snow before a couple days prior. She keeps Zuko tucked under her cloak, yet he still shivers beneath it. She eventually relents in trying to warm him on her own, curling into Ozai's side and pulling his heavy cloak around the both of them. He accepts the movement, seeming surprised by it and resting a hand on her back.

His heat is welcomed. Despite the flush of his cheeks, he's warm beneath the cloak and it washes over her comfortingly. Zuko eventually falls asleep curled in her lap and surrounded by his parents' warmth. She rests her head on Ozai's shoulder, watching out the window with him as the light wanes and the snowflakes finally start to lessen to a light flurry. They've settled in his hair and beard, along his shoulder closest to the window. He slides his hand along his beard to clear them out.

"We're here." He finally says. She isn't sure what he means, unable to see much from her position, but the noise ahead finally reaches her. There's a loud clattering as the carriage comes closer to its destination. Shouting, she realizes. The rumble of earth being ripped apart and reformed, shattering and flying. The whoosh of fire spiraling through the air and lighting the snow a bright orange. She clutches her sleeping son closer, uncertain.

"It seems there is more need for a prison than I believed." He murmurs, mostly to himself, "Stay in the carriage. Do not let them see you." He's gone before she can respond, jumping out of the carriage and slamming the door behind him. The sound rouses Zuko who peaks out from under her cloak, looking around in confusion.

"Mom—" He's interrupted by screams, and she curls in around him. A thump rattles the carriage. Fire lights the snow around them so brightly it begins to melt, and more earth shakes. Another thump, another scream that's suddenly cut short. Ozai's silhouetted figure stomping through the snow as he drags two bodies behind him and dumps them on a snowbank. The path behind him is streaked red. She covers Zuko's eyes.

"Continue on." Ozai says to the man leading the carriage, settling back inside. More snow flakes his hair. Blood paints his jaw, and tiny shards of earth are peppered into his skin. He picks each piece out and rubs the irritated area.

She pets Zuko's hair, watching when windows and doors shut loudly as the carriage passes.

N/A: It's been a minute, huh?