Rewrite, Rewind

So I'm not very confident in this one, go ahead and tell me your thoughts on it. I like the idea I've been brewing on it, but I'm not positive that'll it go anywhere good.

Eventual Zuko-Katara. Not sure when, but eventual.

He paced impatiently outside of the room, disgruntled that the maids had thrown him out of the birthing room. It wasn't every day that a woman gave birth to twins; it was difficult enough for women to give birth to one child at a time. For his love, Ursa, to give birth to twins at their second attempt, was an unthinkable occurrence to him. He heard the stories from the mid-wives tending to his wife and the stories his mother used to tell when she thought he wasn't listening. Childbirth may have been necessary for the royal line, but it came at a high price.

Sometimes the child didn't make it.

Sometimes the mother didn't make it.

Sometimes no one survived.

And the birthing that ended with the most casualties: twins.

Twins almost always killed their mother.

The only nation to ever successfully birth twins without the mother dyeing in the processes was the water nations. They were the only ones successful with twin-birthing's and the only country with the lowest birthing-mortality rate. While the northern water nation was renowned for its production of twins, their southern sister tribes were famous for their ability to produce at least eight children before dying in childbirth. The North may have their numerous twins, but the South had their multitudes of children.

"Prince Ozai, stop pacing," he turned to look at his mother, who was approaching with the practiced regality, not even his wife had been able to achieve despite all the years of training. "Whether she lives or dies, your pacing will decide nothing."

"If she and the children die, I will have no heir," Ozai sighed as he looked away from his mother.

"You are still young," his mother smiled at him as she stopped before him. "you can still remarry."

"Elder brother hasn't and will never remarry after his wife has passed," Ozai retorted. "and' she's been dead for ten years already."

"True," his mother agreed easily, "but that woman was weak, to begin with. She was a commoner tasked with the heavy reasonability of birthing the next fire-heir. Of course, she passed in childbirth. Iroh is a fool to believe she would've survived and an even bigger fool to remain loyal to such a weak woman."

"Mother," Ozai looked at her, a smirk playing on his lips. "Elder brother will not like those words." His mother shrugged carelessly, a real neutral party as she always has been.

"Do you plan to follow your elder brother's path?" she asked him, her golden eyes pierced him, seemingly probing his mind for an answer he was unsure of. "Since you're so tense, I'll go and ensure Ursa's safety. No promise on the brats though."

"Thank you, mother," Ozai smiled at her back as she moved to enter the room.

"Of course prince," His mother turned back in the doorway, a smirk on her lips and pride shining in her eyes. "This witch might be old, but she still has some tricks," Ozai smirked as the door closed after his mother, the guards protecting it, returned their spears in place. He rolled his eyes at the silent demand, knowing that his mother had ordered their presence and allowed their blatant defiance. There had been a reason why it was his mother who survived the fire-lady selection rounds to his father. His mother was something no one could explain. Her fire-bending did things to the human body no one could explain; when she fought, there was never any external damage.

Old witch indeed, Ozai thought as he turned and sat on the nearest seat, even going so far as to fold his legs beneath himself and began the arduous task of meditation. It was one of the few things he appreciated his elder brother for; The man knew how to calm his anxiety. With mother there, surly the twins and my wife will both survive. With their previous miscarriage, he wasn't too keen on having to bury another child. The first time had nearly destroyed Ursa; he won't allow that to happen a second time.

Eventually, all the maids were forced out of the room, and his mother's personal maids were the only ones in attendance to Ursa's birthing room. He didn't know or understand what his mother's intentions were for that, but he knew his mother meant the words she spoke. His wife would return to him, alive and well. She gave no promise about his children, but he knew his mother well enough to know that Iroh being the only one with an heir, was a vexing problem. While his mother preferred a neutral balance between Iroh and Ozai, she did have a strange bond with Ursa. With Ursa's previous miscarriage, his mother had sworn to the woman that she would never miscarry again.

His mother never promised anything to anyone. Her vow to Ursa, especially on something so fickle as childbirth, showed just how much she adored Ursa. Only heaven knew why.

"Prince Ozai?" he looked up, realizing that he merely been gripping his knees and glaring at the floor as he waited for his mother. instead, the one before him was a blood-soaked young maid, tears rolling down her face, a blood-soaked bundle in her arms. "Fire-Lady Lyra," the maid sucked in a deep breath, barely managing to stifle a sob, "pre-presents the prince wi-with his heir." He reached out and gently took the child slumbering in her arms. The maid collapsed immediately, curling up into a small ball and crying. She was trying to stifle her sobs by biting her hand and covering her face with her long sleeves, but it hardly worked.

"…where is my mother?" Ozai asked, his eyes not straying for the silent bundle in his arms. The child in question wasn't cute like his mother told him babies often were. Instead, it was quite ugly. The baby was fat and wrinkly, coated in a thick white past he couldn't wipe off with his fingers. The only sign of life he had was the steady rise and fall of the baby's chest. Its eyes were closed tightly, and its head bore a wild tangled mess of black frizz. "Where is my mother?" Ozai asked again when he realized the maid hadn't answered; he turned his eyes towards the young woman.

"For-for-forgive m-me!" the maid wailed suddenly, seemingly sinking into the floor like red silk to the blood-red carpet. He ignored the wailing maid as he moved towards the room, dashing inside without care to the guards who looked away in shame. He found Ursa in her birthing bed, still soaked in sweat, and blood coated her entire lower half. He approached his wife, his breath catching in his throat, his eyes locked to her face, praying somewhere in the back of his mind for a miracle. There, slow and shallow, her nose moved, and her brows scrunched ever so slightly. He breathed a sigh of relief, placing a hand on her shoulder to comfort her in delirious awakening.

"Mother?" Ozai looked about the birthing room but found no sign of his mother. "Mother?" he moved to the end of the bed, dreadfully looking at the floor but only saw a single maid curled up in a bloody ball. He checked the to her side of Ursa's bed just in case, but he only saw the other two maids, they did not appear harmed, but their pink robes were drenched in blood. The three still feminine bodies worried Ozai. Due to the war, he was used to corpses, but the sight of his mother's favorite maids curled up in bloody balls worried him. his mother never let anyone harm her maids, to see them unconscious and covered in blood was baffling. Either way, he knows where all four Maids are. One outside the room crying hysterically, and the other three were curled up around Ursa's bed, unconscious and covered in her bed.

"Mother?" Ursa's voice was weak, like her eyes that could hardly open. Ozai glanced back at his wife before moving away from her, reassured that she was well enough on her own for now.

"Mother?" Ozai called as he moved towards the balcony, something his mother had always insisted on for Ursa's birthing room. He could see a shadow on "Mother?" Ozai called as he moved towards the back room. He could see a shadow on the floor, was the sun rising?

"Mother, are you out there?" he moved towards the balcony, a strange demand his mother made for Ursa's birthing room. "Mother?" he found her sitting on the balcony, basking in the dawn of a new day. That was strange; his mother hated watching the sunrise with anyone but his father. It was a particular pass time set between them that no one else was allowed to intrude on; instruction usually resulted in a burn scar. "Mother, what are you doing out here?" he hurried to her side, relieve flooding him. "with the way the maid acted, I thought something hap…pened…." she hadn't moved even once since his approach, and as he got closer, he could hear the sound being a strange strangled whimpering.

"Mother?" he finally reached her side, staring down on her in confusion. He could see a second baby, tiny and weak looking, sitting in her lap. It was wrapped up tightly in blood-stained sheets, it was frightfully thin, the bones of its cheeks protruding and its skin a sickly white. Even its whimpering sounded weak, like a kitten drowning in a river. Surely that was not the image of a healthy baby; there was no way it could survive.

"Mother?" he kneeled beside his mother, staring at her wrinkled face. Her eyes were still open, gazing down on the simpering mess of a living-corpse and, the strangest thing yet, she was smiling. It was soft, gentle, loving, genuine, motherly even; the kind of smile he's never seen her aim at anyone in his entire life—not even his father provoked that kind of smile from his mother.

"Lyra?" he leaned back from his mother, stunned into silence as his father approached them. "Lyra, I've told you a thousand times. We're to watch the sunrise together—"

"Father," Ozai called, silencing his father in his irritated scolding of his mother. The fire lord looked at Ozai; his youngest has never interrupted him before. Azulon moved to stand at his wife's other side, staring down on the squirmy bundle in her lap.

"…I've never seen her smile," Azulon murmured as he kneeled beside his wife. "Perhaps, if I left her where I found her, she'd still be alive." Azulon wrapped one arm around his wife and moved to let her rest against his shoulder, setting his head against hers. "Your mother was something else, Ozai," Azulon murmured. "She never let me forget her place."

"Father?" Ozai questioned, "What do you mean?"

"Take the boy to your wife," Azulon ordered, "The dying should stay together." Ozai nodded and moved the bundle of bedding atop of the tiny baby, lifting the newborn by the bloody sheets carefully before walking back into the room

"You stupid old crone," Azulon sighed, adjusting himself to look out at the rising sun. "you promised forever. How am I supposed to keep them tame now?" he could hear Ursa start crying, soon joined by the wailing of another newborn. Beneath the soft crying of Ursa and the shrill wail of the stronger twin, there was a soft whimpering of a sickly being on the verge of death.

"Was it necessary to use that water?" Azulon asked as he tugged the hidden bracelet off his wife's still frail wrist, tucking it safely beneath his sleeves. "you promised to use it on no one but me." He could almost hear her scoff beside him; he could very nearly see the glare she would've given him too. Without a doubt, he knew what she would've said next:

Should'a left me in the marsh then. That's where I belong, ya'know.

She always did like to throw her marsh-slang at him, like the dialect was a weapon. And she was right, as she usually was. Lyra did belong in the marshlands, it was her home, and he forcefully ripped her away from it. He threatened to burn down the entire forest if she didn't go with him, threatened to enslave every tribesman they found, threatened to burn alive any waterbender they discovered.

She agreed for the sole purpose of protecting her home, on the condition that firebenders were never to step foot into the marshes. He never forgot his promise, and her loyalty had never wavered. She was true to heart, water bending Marsh woman, but he hadn't seen that part of her in over sixty years. Since she stepped on fire nations soil, she's done everything she's ever could to present society with the perfect fire-nation woman. She even took on the persona of an ideal neutralist that had a strange penchant for favoritism towards nobility. Everyone in the country knew queen Lyra didn't give two horse-shoes about a woman marrying a commoner, but she sure did throw a tizzy when Iroh married a commoner.

He knew it was because she felt the woman was being taken away from her home. Lyra never forgave Azulon for stealing her from the marsh. She must've felt hatred for Iroh when she learned of his wife's humble birthplace. It would explain why Lyra stopped talking to Iroh so suddenly and why she never responded to anything he ever had to say.

"Stupid crone," Azulon mumbled again, closing his eyes against the bright rays of the morning sun; he ignored the damp feeling on his wrinkled cheeks. How am I supposed to keep them both alive now? There'll be a blood bath for sure now.

Never thought I'd see tha day. Lyra's voice was mockery and amazement, rough around the ages and full of energy like it used to be when they first met. The voice was that of a distant memory of a girl he fell in love with at first sight. A fire-lord cry'n? ne-va heard of it.

She sure did like to throw rocks at glass houses, mainly if that glass house surrounded Azulon.

again not confident in this one, please tell me what you think of it