The Early Days
That Prince Ozai would marry Lady Ursa was a fact which had been agreed upon by their fathers years before their actual marriage - an agreement which was, happily, much to the satisfaction of both young people. And though the road from that agreement to the marriage itself had not been entirely smooth, still when the wedding preparations began in earnest it was an event long anticipated.
Among those preparations, it was customary for the betrothed couple to seek out spiritual guidance from some appropriate source prior to their nuptials. Ozai did not expect this to be a complicated affair - when Iroh had married, he and his wife-to-be had met with the High Sage for less than an hour, and that was that. The High Sage would not be officiating at Ozai's wedding, but he didn't see why they couldn't meet with the sage from the Great Temple who would be.
Ursa, however, had other ideas.
Near her family's estate was a minor temple, dedicated to some ancient Avatar that Ozai had never even heard of. A single fire sage managed this shrine, and Ursa apparently put great stock in his wisdom. It was to this man that she wanted them to go for their spiritual counsel, and it would be no mere afternoon's interview, but a multi-day retreat at the rural temple.
"It seems harmless enough," Iroh observed when Ozai complained of this plan. "You'll spend a few days in the countryside, listening to the no doubt charming tales of an eccentric old man, and make your future wife happy in the process."
Ozai should have known Iroh wouldn't understand. He never did. "But Father…" he started to protest.
Fire Lord Azulon didn't let him finish. "Your brother is right," he said, moving one of his tiles in the pai sho game he and Iroh were playing. Iroh let out a distressed sound at the move, and Azulon grinned in triumph. "There's no reason not to give Lady Ursa what she wants on this matter."
No reason except that it was a waste of time, Ozai thought. But if the Fire Lord told him to go along with it, then he would have to. He supposed he should be grateful his father wasn't trying to marry Ursa off to anyone else this time, like the last debacle. "If you say so, Father," he replied sullenly.
Sure enough, as Iroh considered his next move in the game, the Fire Lord finally looked at his younger son. "You were the one who was so set on marrying her," he reminded Ozai, as if Ozai could have forgotten. "You'll have to learn how to manage her."
"Am I to do that by giving in to her on everything?" Ozai asked, his hands balling into fists where they rested on top of his knees.
Azulon laughed mirthlessly. "I leave that for you to determine," he said with the slightest narrowing of his eyes. "But you shall go on her retreat with her sage, and perhaps that will help you find your answer." Then he turned his attention back to the pai sho board just as Iroh moved another tile. "You may leave us now," he added, with a dismissive wave of his hand.
Ozai bowed, and took his leave.
In the corridor, he had the displeasure of running into none other than his eleven-year-old nephew. "Uncle Ozai!" Lu Ten greeted him cheerfully, the spitting image of his father - though of course, Ozai had never known Iroh so young.
"Prince Lu Ten," Ozai returned the boy's greeting with stiff formality. He never knew how to talk to the child, and had little interest in doing so, but unfortunately that did not seem to deter the boy. Ozai glanced about for a governess or a tutor - just because his mother was too ill to mind him didn't mean the boy should be allowed to roam about unsupervised, surely? But he saw no one.
He continued on his way down the hall towards his own apartments, hoping Lu Ten would simply go about whatever business an eleven-year-old could have and leave him be. But to his dismay, the boy fell into step beside him. "Can I ask you a question?" he said in the same bright tone with which he had greeted him.
"That was a question," Ozai pointed out.
Lu Ten laughed, but forged ahead. "When you and Lady Ursa get married," he said, apparently not caring that the permission he had sought for this interrogation had not been granted, "are you going to have lots of children?"
Ozai stopped short, and glared down at the boy. "What kind of question is that?" he asked sharply. It was an entirely inappropriate subject to discuss with a child, and a rude thing for even an adult to ask, let alone his nephew. What was Iroh teaching the boy, he wondered incredulously.
"It's just that there's no other kids in the family," Lu Ten replied, spreading his arms wide to indicate the empty corridor around them as if this illustrated his point. Then his eyes fell, and he lowered his arms back to his sides. "Dad says I can't have any brothers or sisters because Mom's too sick, but I thought it'd still be nice to have lots of cousins…"
Ozai frowned. "You have no shortage of playmates," he pointed out. The nobles who lived at court were naturally all eager for their own sons and daughters to befriend the young prince and heir presumptive.
"Yeah," Lu Ten agreed, the toe of his boot scuffing against the polished wood floor. "But it's not the same."
For a moment, Ozai felt a stirring of sympathy. There had been sycophantic nobles in his own boyhood as well, naturally, but his brother had been too old to be a real companion to him in his early years, and the only other child close to his age had been too sickly, too fragile to play with him, until she had been taken from him long before her time.
But Lu Ten was eleven years old already, and every bit his father's son. "Whatever cousins you one day have," Ozai said sternly, "they will be far younger than you."
His nephew looked back up at him, apparently encouraged, which had not been Ozai's intent. "But they'll grow up!" he pointed out eagerly.
"So will you," Ozai replied. And then he borrowed his father's favorite tactic for ending a conversation. "Good day, Prince Lu Ten."
This time, the boy took the hint, and did not follow him.
The retreat itself was to last three days. But Ursa's family estate, and the shrine she insisted upon, were located on one of the middle islands, a full two days' journey from the capital by ship, which meant the total time Ozai would be away from court would amount to a full week.
"You know," Iroh had said to him before he left, with that roguish grin Ozai hated, "most young men would be thrilled at the chance to spend a full week alone with their betrothed."
Ozai, used to years of his brother's taunting about this, had nonetheless flushed with anger and informed Iroh that such dishonorable insinuations were beneath him, and the full proprieties would be observed on this trip. One of Ursa's maiden aunts was accompanying them as chaperone on the journey, and upon their arrival, Ursa would stay at the estate while Ozai himself would be quartered in the temple's guesthouse. They would be spending their days there in prayer and contemplation guided by an elderly fire sage, before returning to the capital once again under the supervision of Ursa's aunt. Furthermore, the mere suggestion of the idea that he would show such disrespect to the woman he was going to marry was outrageous.
Iroh had chuckled, patted Ozai on the shoulder, and wished him a pleasant trip.
Other than that, the two day journey to the shrine passed without incident. Ursa was in high spirits, which helped to draw Ozai out of his sour mood somewhat. Her Aunt Leona, who was a navy veteran, even proved capable of conversation which Ozai found halfway interesting, and her company was more than just a formality to be put up with. Ozai got the impression she teased Ursa rather a lot, though, for whenever he came upon the two of them together, Ursa was always blushing.
He thought she was very pretty when she blushed.
The temple itself was a small structure, located at the tip of a rocky peninsula on the island's southern coast. Ozai, used to the massive temples in the capital city, was unimpressed by this mere three story pagoda - especially as they drew nearer and he saw that its red paint was peeling, and there were tiles missing from the roof. "This is what we had to come all the way out here for?" he asked aloud.
Ursa gave him a patient look. "It's not the building we're here for," she pointed out.
"Right," her aunt agreed before Ozai could argue further. "It's the crack-pot wisdom of the fire sage that time forgot."
"Aunt Leona," Ursa scolded, as Ozai felt his expectations plummet even further.
"Hey," Leona said defensively, pointing one finger at her niece. "I grew up on this estate the same as you did, and he was ancient even when I was a little girl."
Given the distinguished woman's salt-and-pepper hair and pronounced laugh lines, Ozai realized that was saying something.
"Fire Sage Kung is a venerable and holy man," Ursa protested.
"That may be," her aunt conceded. "But he is not a young man."
Any further argument between the two women was thankfully forestalled when the venerable and holy man in question emerged from the temple to greet them.
Ozai was used to the appearance of old men - his own father was advanced in years, as were many of his advisors, and the High Sage had celebrated his ninety-fifth birthday just a few months past. But Fire Sage Kung made them all look hale and spry by comparison. His back was stooped and he leaned heavily on a walking stick, his face was wrinkled and liver-spotted, his hair pure white and his eyes dim - could the man even see, Ozai found himself wondering.
But he must have been able to, for he greeted them immediately. "Prince Ozai," he said with as much of a bow as he could muster - his voice was unexpectedly strong given his appearance. "Lady Ursa, Captain Leona," he greeted each of the women in turn. "Welcome to the temple of Avatar Roza."
"We're so glad to be here, Sifu Kung," Ursa replied. Ozai raised an eyebrow at this, for addressing a fire sage as sifu was an outdated practice, discouraged since his grandfather's reign. But he supposed it must be a concession to the old man's considerable age.
Leona took her leave of them there, handing Ozai and Ursa over to the supervision of Fire Sage Kung, who insisted their first order of business must be to offer prayers at the shrine - in thanksgiving for their safe arrival, and in supplication for their spiritual enrichment in the coming days. The inside of the temple was as unimpressive to Ozai as its exterior - dark, musty, the statue of its namesake not even life size, unless Avatar Roza had been an uncommonly diminutive woman. Her painted wooden likeness wielded a sword in one hand, and a dark red flame in the other, and seemed dwarfed by the emptiness of the sanctuary around her.
"There used to be a larger statue," Fire Sage Kung commented as they exited the temple some time later, as if he had read Ozai's mind. "It was made of gold." With a feeble gesture of his free hand, the old fire sage motioned them towards the guest house beside the temple. "Let us take some refreshment now."
"What happened to it?" Ozai found himself asking as they made their way down the stone path to the guest house, his curiosity getting the better of him. "The old statue, that is."
To his surprise, it was Ursa who answered. "It was seized by Fire Lord Sozin," she explained, a bitterness coloring her voice that was at odds with her high spirits on the trip thus far, "when the temple was unable to pay his new taxes."
Ozai frowned at this answer. But Kung merely chuckled as he opened the door of the guest house to let them in. "Now, Lady Ursa," he chided in an avuncular tone. "Let's not talk politics."
"I should think that counts as history rather than politics," Ozai commented as he stepped inside the front room of the guest house, which also appeared to be its kitchen. Sozin's temple taxes had been instituted at the start of the war, nearly a century ago. Though there had been some opposition to them at the time, they were entirely uncontroversial now.
But Kung shook his head and gave another kindly laugh. "How short-sighted, the memories of the young," he said, as if to himself, as he stoked the kitchen fire and set the kettle on it. He made another feeble gesture indicating Ozai and Ursa should sit at the kitchen table - a plain but sturdy wooden table, with plain but sturdy wooden stools. "You are to be married in a month's time, yes?" he called over his shoulder as he stumped around the kitchen with his walking stick, getting the rest of the tea service ready.
"That is correct," Ozai replied. Ursa smiled at him, and he smiled back - to think, it was only a month to go now, when he had been waiting for his father to allow him to marry her for years.
"So soon," Kung muttered, bringing a tray to the table, delicately balanced on his one free hand, bearing tea cups and candied dates. "So little time to prepare." The kettle began to whistle, and the old man stumped back over to the fire to attend to it.
"Prince Ozai and I," Ursa spoke up, then gave another bashful look in his direction. "Well, it has been our intention to marry for some time."
"And yet you have not brought him to see me until now?" Kung asked as he poured the hot water into the teapot.
"There...hasn't been the opportunity," Ursa explained hesitantly. Ozai's obligatory journey to hunt for the Avatar had taken precedence, of course, and then there had been his father's thankfully short-lived attempt to take her away from him. "We only just received the Fire Lord's blessing recently."
The old fire sage chuckled again as he set the lid on the teapot to steep. "I am teasing you, child," he said fondly. But then he gave Ozai a rather more stern look. "It is good that you are here now."
Ozai refused to flinch under the old fire sage's scrutiny. Compared to his own father, Kung was hardly intimidating. "You have known Lady Ursa for some time?" he asked instead.
"Since she was born," Kung replied, banking the kitchen fire - he used his bare hands to handle the coals, Ozai noted approvingly. "And I knew her mother and her aunts since they were born, too." Belatedly, Ozai remembered Ursa's Aunt Leona had mentioned knowing him as a girl as well. Kung cleaned his hands on a kitchen rag, and went on, "If you want to know how long I have been the guardian of Avatar Roza's shrine, I was sent here after your grandfather's reforms, so that I would stop causing trouble." The old man smiled to himself, and shook his head. "But now I am the one talking politics," he added apologetically.
Sozin's religious reforms had come after his temple taxes, at the very end of his reign. That was still quite some time ago. Ozai narrowed his eyes suspiciously at the old man, wondering what sort of trouble he could have caused back then, and if he had been suitably chastened since.
But Kung either didn't notice Ozai's suspicion or didn't care. He served them their tea and turned the conversation to lighter matters, asking Ursa about her father's health and Ozai about his leisure interests - he was delighted when Ursa informed him that he played the pipa, though disappointed to learn Ozai had not brought the instrument with him.
After the tea was finished, the old fire sage produced reading material for each of them - a treatise on marriage written by Avatar Roza herself. He showed Ozai to his room in the guest house, and then left him to his reading while he escorted Ursa back to the estate, informing him that they would reconvene for dinner and more prayers that evening.
As Ozai set himself to his task, he remembered his brother's prediction about what this retreat would entail, and shook his head. The old man was eccentric enough, but so far Ozai was far from charmed.
They discussed what they had read so far over dinner. Ursa had made greater headway, for she was a faster reader, and consequently had far more to say. But Fire Sage Kung was not content to let her dominate the conversation, and insisted on asking Ozai's opinions on every one of her points. Keeping in mind his father's words, Ozai mostly agreed with what she had to say, for the treatise was a very spiritual work that he had a hard time seeing the relevance of, and he did not think it worth the trouble of arguing with her.
But the old man seemed to realize what he was doing. "You are a very accommodating man," he observed dryly. "Do you really take issue with nothing Lady Ursa has said?"
Ozai raised an eyebrow, challenging. "Perhaps she and I are simply of one mind."
"I wonder," Kung replied, clearly unconvinced. "How much have you discussed your future together, as husband and wife?"
"Oh, plenty," Ursa assured him, setting down her chopsticks and fiddling with the edge of her napkin. "We've talked about the royal charities I shall work with, and which provinces we shall visit on our first tour…"
"Child," the old fire sage cut her off gently, with a fond but reproachful look. "You know better than that. I mean the things that really matter." He grasped the air in front of him with one hand and shook his closed fist as he said this. "Have you talked about your children, for example?"
Ozai met Ursa's eye across the table, and saw she was as at a loss as he was. They both knew they would have children, of course. It was expected of them. "What is there to discuss about children?" Ozai asked.
Fire Sage Kung chuckled. "How many of them you anticipate having, for one thing," he suggested.
"Ah," Ozai replied, just as Ursa said, "Oh, that's easy."
With a blithe smile, Ursa went on, "We'll have as many as the spirits see fit to give us."
"Two, of course," Ozai said at the same time.
"What?" both Ursa and Ozai said in unison, and equal degrees of alarm.
"You see," Fire Sage Kung said, far more smugly than Ozai liked. "It's a good thing I asked."
"Two?" Ursa repeated incredulously. "Just two?"
"At least I have a number in mind," Ozai shot back, "and not some ridiculous vague notion."
Ursa's eyes flashed with anger. So much for him being an accommodating man. But the old fire sage did not seem surprised by this turn the conversation had taken. "If I may ask, Prince Ozai," he put in mildly, "how did you arrive at that number?"
Ozai had to pause to think about it. Really, it had just been an assumption. "Well, one isn't enough," he began. Accidents happened, and illness touched even the royal family, as he well knew. "Two is much safer."
"But why only two?" Ursa pressed him. The color was rising in her cheeks, and though it was due to anger rather than any girlish blush this time, Ozai couldn't help but find it equally lovely.
Unfortunately, he had no good answer to her question. "What need is there for more?" he asked with a shrug.
"Whether or not they are needed," Ursa replied, spitting out the last word as if it were something distasteful, "it seems...that is, it's rather likely that…" She was having difficulty putting her thoughts into words - not a problem Ozai had ever known Ursa to have before - and he realized, to both his surprise and amusement, that she was embarrassed now, even as she was still angry. "Well, unless we are very unlucky, more than two will probably come," she finally said in a rush.
Ozai did not follow her meaning. But Fire Sage Kung apparently did. "You can not assume that, Lady Ursa," he said in the same tone of fond reproach. "Your own mother…"
"Sifu Kung," Ursa cut him off. Her face was quite red now, but her voice was firm, though her eyes were fixed at a nondescript point on the table. "Let us just say that I know my own health, and I do not share my mother's affliction."
"Very well," the old fire sage replied with a conciliatory nod. "That is also something your future husband should know, of course."
"But I don't understand," Ozai protested. "Why shouldn't we be able to stop at two?"
Urza looked up, and met his eye, and behind all her discomfort he saw at last the boldness he was used to in her. "It is not for us to decide," she said primly.
This did not really answer Ozai's questions.
"That is something else you must discuss," Fire Sage Kung pointed out. "But not, perhaps, right this moment." Ursa let out an audible sigh of relief at this pronouncement, and the old fire sage went on, "It will be a more fruitful discussion when Prince Ozai has finished reading Avatar Roza's treatise."
Ozai certainly hoped it would be, but he would not bet on those hopes. "Was Avatar Roza married?" he asked, suddenly wondering just why some woman from centuries ago was supposed to be such an authority on this subject.
Fire Sage Kung gave him a strange look. "No," he said. "What on earth has that got to do with anything?"
Ozai adjusted his hopes further downward still.
When the awkward dinner finally came to an end, he was almost glad for the silence of the temple as the old fire sage led them through evening prayers. He studied the painted wooden statue again, still wondering about this long-dead woman about whom he knew so little. Then, he snuck a sideways glance at Ursa, her eyes closed in prayer and an expression of fervent devotion upon her face. There she was, living and breathing beside him, soon to be his wife as he had always known she was meant to be - and yet how little he was beginning to suspect he knew about her as well.
The next day began with prayers again - Ozai was starting to see the pattern - followed by breakfast, and then more time for private reading and study. Ozai finished Avatar Roza's treatise, and sure enough there was an entire section towards the end dedicated to the question of children, though Ozai found it even more incomprehensible than the rest.
Fire Sage Kung spent part of the morning in private conversation with Ursa. Ozai had no idea what they discussed, but he was assured that his turn would come that evening.
After midday prayers and lunch, the next item on the agenda was, to Ozai's surprise, a hike. He had been unable to hide his skepticism when the old fire sage had announced this as their afternoon activity, but though he leaned heavily on his walking stick, Kung proved quite more than capable of leading them on a vigorous trek into the hills.
Almost equally surprising to Ozai was what Ursa had chosen to wear on their expedition. He himself had left formal court attire behind in favor of a lightweight tunic and trousers, and he would have expected Ursa to change into something similar for the hike. Instead, she was still wearing what she had that morning: a dress. It was short-sleeved, and the skirt fell only to mid-calf, but it was very much a dress.
"Is that practical?" Ozai asked as they set out on their hike.
Ursa gave him a wry smile. "I've hiked this trail before," she reminded him. Presumably that meant she had also done it in a dress before. At least, Ozai noted, she had a sensible pair of boots on her feet. Still, he was perplexed.
They walked side by side, following Fire Sage Kung, without speaking for a while. But Ozai was still wondering. "Why not just wear pants?" he finally asked, an honest question.
Ursa looked up at him. Her hair was pinned back and off her neck, different from her usual style. "Have you ever seen me wear pants?" she said pointedly.
Ozai thought for a moment. "No," he admitted. But he had never seen her away from court, prior to this trip, and court protocol dictated long robes for both women and men, in most circumstances. "But I didn't think you had something against them."
Ursa shrugged. "I don't like wearing them. It's not ladylike." Then she picked up her pace, walking ahead of him as if to prove a point. "And I've always gotten by just fine in skirts."
At this oddly prideful pronouncement, Ozai was left wondering if Ursa was not, in her own way, as eccentric as the ancient fire sage she so revered.
They reached the crest of a particularly steep hill some time later. It was by no means the highest point on the island, but it did afford them a sweeping view of the peninsula where the temple was located and the sea beyond it.
"Let us rest here a while," Fire Sage Kung declared, and Ozai noted with some envy that the old man did not even look winded as he hobbled towards a low, flat stone that made a convenient seat. "I will sit here, and take in the view," Kung informed them as he sat. "Why don't you two go over there," he said, pointing with his walking stick, "and discuss what you were unable to yesterday evening."
As they followed the old man's instructions, Ozai quickly realized that the spot he hand indicated would keep the two of them well within the fire sage's deceptively sharp eyesight, but out of his earshot. A concession to Ursa's embarrassment, he supposed, and wondered if she had requested this of him during their morning conversation.
"Well," Ursa said, sitting down in the grass, her skirt fanning out around her, bright pink against the green grass. "You finished your reading, I suppose?"
"I did," Ozai confirmed, sitting next to her - not too close, wary as he was of propriety, and the old fire sage's eyes still on them. "But Ursa," he said, incredulous, "all that nonsense about the spirits and the divine purposes for which marriage was instituted...you don't really believe that."
Ursa raised her chin. "I do." Then, in an even more challenging tone, she added, "What else would marriage be for?"
Ozai sighed in frustration. "Obviously having children is part of it," he conceded, drawing his knees up and resting his elbows atop them, his hands clasped loosely. "But marriage is a human institution. It's of no concern to the spirits how many children we have."
"What about the Fire Lord?" Ursa asked, sitting up a little straighter. "Is his position a mere human institution?"
"Of course not," Ozai immediately replied. "But that's different. He is Agni's anointed."
"As solemnized in the sacred ritual of his coronation," Ursa agreed with a nod. Then she looked away, towards the temple, so small from this distance. "I happen to believe our marriage rites will be equally sacred."
"Sacred, yes," Ozai agreed. Marriages were officiated by the sages for a reason. "But not–"
"No," Ursa cut him off. "There is no 'but'. It is a sacred act with a sacred purpose, and to deliberately do anything which would...frustrate that purpose…" She folded her hands in her lap, and looked down at them demurely. "It would be wrong."
She was not, Ozai realized with a jolt, speaking of the rites which would take place in the Great Temple, but of the other act which would bind them as husband and wife. He felt his own face flush, as it did whenever Iroh would tease him about such things, but this time he could not pretend it was due to anger at any improper suggestion. "I never said we should...frustrate that purpose entirely," Ozai replied, defensive.
Ursa's eyes remained downcast, but she clenched her hands tighter. "I will not do it even once," she said, her voice soft but firm.
Ozai tried to imagine their future as she saw it. How many children would they end up with, if they did nothing to prevent them? Four? Five? Would Ursa change her mind at some point, and decide that they had adequately fulfilled whatever purpose she thought the spirits had for their marriage, or would she remain obstinate, bearing child after child for years on end?
Ursa looked up at him again, waiting for his reaction. Her eyes flashed, and her mouth was set. The latter option, in that moment, seemed alarmingly likely.
Even more alarmingly, Ozai found he did not want her any less for it.
"If you feel that strongly about it…" Ozai began, and then caught himself. Here he was, about to give in to her again. The force of her convictions was something he admired about her, but how could she hide that force behind her ancient Avatars and old-fashioned fire sages and all their backwards ideas? "If you really feel so strongly about following Avatar Roza's teachings," Ozai amended, reaching for her hands, still clasped tightly in her lap, "do you intend to submit to your husband's will as she recommends as well?"
Even more than the incomprehensible spiritual ramblings about the bearing of children, it was that section of Avatar Roza's treatise which had most shocked Ozai. Women in the Fire Nation were equals to men, and had been for generations. They served at every level of the government and military - as Ursa's own aunt had done. The idea that they should be made to occupy an inferior role in marriage was regressive, the sort of custom to be expected of the Earth Kingdom or the barbaric Water Tribes, perhaps, but hardly fitting for the most advanced nation in the world.
And Ursa - bold, confident Ursa, who spoke her mind without fear, who catered to no one's opinion but always did what she thought was right - she could never be content in such a degrading position.
But Ursa did not back down. "Insofar as my husband's will does not contradict the higher moral law," she said archly, words that sounded too academic to be her own and yet were spoken with full faith, "then yes."
"The higher moral law?" Ozai repeated.
Ursa unclasped her hands, taking hold of his. "That always comes first," she explained, leaning in closer. "All other authority - whether it is the Fire Lord's over his people, or a naval captain's over her crew, or a husband's over his wife - it is always subject to that."
"And you," Ozai said incredulously, placing his other hand atop hers, so that both of their hands were joined. "You would be subject not just to that law, but to me?"
He expected her to laugh in his face, or to fly into a rage. Surely he must not have understood, or she must not have fully thought it through, her antiquated idea of how marriage was supposed to work. But now she would realize. She was so spirited, and he was never going to learn to "manage" her, no matter what his father said…
But Ursa only smiled serenely at him. "That's how much I trust you."
It was Ozai who laughed instead. "I don't believe you."
That provoked her ire the way that his question had not. She glared at him, defiant - which Ozai thought rather proved his point - and pulled her hands away from his. "I am entirely serious!" she insisted. "But if it's all just a joke to you, then I'll…"
"You'll what, Ursa?" Ozai challenged her. "Report me to the officers of your higher moral law?"
Ursa did not reply. Her lips, pressed into a grim line, trembled. Vaguely, Ozai realized that this was the first time he had ever seen her rendered speechless. But any satisfaction he might have taken from this was swiftly quashed when she rose to her feet with perfect poise and walked calmly over to Fire Sage Kung, who was now studiously watching the clouds roll by overhead, as if either of them could be fooled into thinking he hadn't had his eyes on them all along.
"Sifu Kung," Ursa said politely. "Please take me home." Her voice was cold. It reminded Ozai of his father, and he scowled at the thought. "I have no wish to speak with this man any further."
Even the old fire sage seemed surprised by this declaration. "Alright, child," he replied softly. "If that is your wish." They hiked back down from the hills in tense silence, and Ozai was left at the temple guest house while Kung escorted Ursa back to the estate.
More than ever, Ozai was not looking forward to his private conversation with Fire Sage Kung that evening.
"It might comfort you to know," the old fire sage said as he poured Ozai a cup of tea, "that you are not the first prospective husband I have known to infuriate his bride during this time of preparation."
Seated once again at the kitchen table, Ozai frowned down at his teacup. "That is not very comforting."
Kung took his own seat, opposite Ozai. "Oh, we always work things out in the end," the fire sage continued, still trying to reassure him. "That's what this retreat is for, after all. Better to hash these things out now."
Kung took a sip of his own tea, but Ozai did not drink, nor did he eat any of the dried fruit that the old fire sage had set out on the table. Left alone at the guest house that afternoon when Ursa went back to her family's estate, he had re-read the controversial treatise by Avatar Roza that had sparked the whole argument, trying to understand. But he could not, and he had come away only more convinced that it was all nonsense, which Ursa would have to be a fool to believe.
He hadn't taken her for a fool.
"Can this be worked out?" he asked morosely, folding his arms and leaning his elbows on the table, not caring at all if Kung thought him rude for it. "If she is so set on her beliefs…"
"You do not share those beliefs, evidently," the old fire sage observed, apparently unperturbed by Ozai's poor manners.
"No," Ozai confirmed, for there seemed little point in denying it now.
Fire Sage Kung sighed. "At least you are honest about it," he said, shaking his head. "That's better than most men."
Ozai was struck by this comment, for he could see no point in dissembling on this matter. Why shouldn't he speak his mind? "I do not see the need for having some unmanageable brood of offspring like she wants," he insisted. "Let alone why it should be a moral question."
Kung smiled patiently. "Even most men would not draw the line at two before they considered it an unmanageable brood."
"We have already established," Ozai replied sullenly, "that I am not like most men."
The old fire sage chuckled, irritating Ozai further. "Still," he said with a pointed glance at Ozai's untouched tea. He then took another sip from his own cup. "Is there a reason you settled on two?" Ozai opened his mouth to protest that he had already explained his reasoning, but the fire sage cut him off, anticipating this. "You have told me your reasons, such as they are, why you want more than one, and why you don't want a large number," he clarified. "But why two, specifically, and not, say, three?"
Ozai frowned. He still hadn't given the exact number much thought. Two seemed reasonable. Manageable. "I am one of two," he replied. And so he had been, since he was five years old.
"I see," Kung said, setting his teacup down gently on the table. "And were you happy, growing up that way?"
That question, Ozai really didn't have to think very hard to answer. "I doubt more would have improved the situation," he muttered, as much to himself as to the old man. His oldest two sisters he had never known, dead before his own birth, but the third he remembered. Even had she lived, what would it have changed? Iroh would have been what he was anyway. Worse yet, their sisters might have grown up to be like him.
"Lady Ursa has no brothers or sisters," Kung interrupted his thoughts to point out, though Ozai was well aware of this fact. With a wistful smile, the old man went on, "I knew her as a girl, remember. She was a darling child. But desperately lonely."
Of course. Ozai should have realized. Ursa, growing up alone, had romanticized the idea of siblings, and now she was still desperate to vicariously fulfill that old longing. Little did she know, what trouble siblings could be, and little would she listen to his opinions on the matter. "She would give me more power over her than I ever asked for or expected," he complained aloud, "and yet the one place I wish to draw the line, she refuses."
The old fire sage was silent for a moment, slowly rotating his teacup on the table between his thumb and forefinger. "There are some things, Prince Ozai," he said at last, in a solemn tone, "not even you have the right to do."
Ozai sat up straight, bristling. "You think I am asking for too much?" he demanded, fixing the old man across from him with a hard look.
"It is not what I think," the fire sage replied levelly, raising his dim eyes to meet Ozai's glare, "but what Lady Ursa thinks that concerns you. So what you should be asking is which is stronger: your objection to her beliefs, or your love for her?"
The old man's words were like a knife to Ozai's heart. He narrowed his eyes. "That is an insolent question."
Fire Sage Kung took another sip of his tea. "It is the only question that matters," he insisted. "And I think it is one you know the answer to."
Ozai got up from the table, stalking over to the small kitchen window. From there, he could see the dirt path that led towards the estate where Ursa had grown up, where she had retreated to now in her anger at him. If he yielded now, what sort of man was he? He would not let himself be bullied or cajoled by anyone, least of all her. He should leave her there at her ancestral home, let her stew in her anger and return to court alone…
To face his father, alone, and tell him he had cast aside the woman he had insisted on for years? To face his brother and his hideous efforts to set him up with some other bride, or concubine, or worse? To never again hear her laugh, never see her eyes beaming with admiration for him again, never know the gentleness of her touch or the taste of her lips? Was that what he wanted, because he had to be in control?
"Damn her outrageous beliefs," Ozai said through gritted teeth, his hands clenched tightly. But it sounded miserable, pathetic and weak, even to his own ears, and he knew the fire sage would see through it. He rounded on the old man, pointing accusingly. "Am I to give in to her on everything?" he demanded, the same question he had asked his father, the question he was supposedly on this retreat to answer for himself. "Is that what you would have me do?"
"Not on everything," Fire Sage Kung replied, still seated at the kitchen table, unperturbed. "Only when she is right." Then he too rose to his feet, and came to stand beside Ozai at the window, looking out towards the estate as he had done. "Most of all, what I would have you do is not break her heart."
It seemed absurd to Ozai, in that moment, the idea that he could ever do anything to hurt her.
"How can I," he replied gruffly, crossing his arms, "if she will not speak to me?"
The fire sage's face remained towards the window. "Oh, she will return for prayers this evening," he assured Ozai with remarkable confidence. "You will speak to her then." He turned to look at Ozai - to look up at him, for Ozai had a good deal of height on the stooped old man. "I suggest you reflect carefully on what you will say to her."
Ozai scowled down at the old man, but said nothing.
After a moment, Fire Sage Kung nodded anyway. "But first, let us return to our tea, before it gets cold."
Ozai resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the old man as they returned to the table. "We could always warm it up again." They were both of them firebenders, and it would take nothing more than a thought.
This turned out to be the first thing Ozai had said that visibly offended the eccentric old fire sage. "Reheated tea?" he said scornfully, shaking his head. "Perish the thought."
Ursa returned to the temple that evening just in time for prayers, as Fire Sage Kung had predicted, though she cut it so close that Ozai had no chance to say a word to her beforehand. And throughout the ritual, though Ozai tried to catch her eye several times, she remained studiously reverent and aloof. Only when the final mantra had been chanted and they had made their way down the temple steps outside did she look at Ozai at all.
The sun was in its last stages of setting, but even in the twilight Ozai could see plainly that Ursa was still angry. "Do you deign to speak to me now?" he asked, his own ire once again provoked by her stubbornness.
Ursa was unabashed, as always. "That depends," she said cooly, "on whether you have anything to say that will be worth listening to."
She was infuriating, Ozai thought. But his own anger felt futile, powerless, flagging just as his inner fire ebbed as Agni's rays retreated below the horizon. He would not live without her, no matter how infuriating she was.
"I spoke rashly, earlier," he admitted.
"Yes, you did," she agreed, not sounding terribly impressed.
At the top of the steps, Fire Sage Kung closed the temple doors for the night, and waited, watching them. Self-conscious, Ozai reached for Ursa's hand - she did not pull away, a good sign - and drew her a few paces further, out of earshot but still within sight, as they had been that afternoon in the hills.
"One way or another," Ozai began, still holding Ursa's hand, "we will be expected to have children, once we are married."
Ursa nodded, but said no more. In the fading light, Ozai could see that some of her anger had abated as well. She knew, after all, what he was like, how difficult this was for him, just as he knew how strong and proud she could be. She was listening patiently, now.
"I am still unconvinced about these...ideas you have," Ozai went on, choosing his words carefully. For a moment, he was afraid she might pull her hand away, and his grip tightened. "But I can see that you believe in them strongly, and I…" Ozai hesitated, searching himself, taking one final stock of just how much he was willing to concede.
"I am willing to leave the precise number of the children we will have an open question," he said at last.
Ursa raised an eyebrow, wary. "An open question?" she repeated.
"Yes," Ozai said with a nod.
"How open?" Ursa challenged him. But in the last golden rays of Agni's beneficence, he saw the spark in her eyes, and knew that he had won her, and it was only a matter of time now.
"More than two," Ozai allowed, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He could handle three, certainly, perhaps even four. They would be his children, and he would be vigilant about their upbringing - and Ursa would love them. "We can...revisit this subject in future years."
Ursa held out a moment longer. He knew it was not the full concession she wanted. But it was as much as she was going to get, at present. She seemed to realize this as well, and her expression softened. "That is...acceptable," she finally said. Then, remarkably, she blushed again. "It should be something a husband and wife discuss often, anyway."
Ozai bowed his head and kissed the back of her hand, an old-fashioned gesture he knew she would appreciate. Ursa smiled up at him, and squeezed his hand slightly in return.
The final day of their retreat with Fire Sage Kung consisted, aside from the requisite prayers, in far more practical advice and instruction than Ozai had expected, some of it quite humiliating to discuss with the old man. But he endured it all, for Ursa's sake, until her Aunt Leona finally returned that afternoon to escort them on their journey back to the capital.
"Remember," the old fire sage told Ozai as his final parting bit of wisdom, "you must always guard with care the treasure you are being given."
"Always," Ozai agreed, looking at where Ursa stood a ways away, talking to her aunt. With all her eccentricities, her pride and her stubbornness, he still loved her, and would never let any harm come to her.
"Being married to her will challenge you," Fire Sage Kung went on. Ozai gave a short chuckle at this pronouncement, for he could certainly imagine that it would indeed be the case. "But if you can rise to the challenge, you will be a better man for it," the fire sage concluded.
Ozai thanked the old man politely, and they left the temple at last.
"So," Leona asked him after they had boarded the ship that would take them back to the capital, "was Sifu Kung everything you expected him to be?" She used the old-fashioned honorific with a touch of irony, unlike Ursa.
"I do not believe anyone could have expected that," Ozai replied neutrally. Fire Sage Kung had to be seen to be believed.
Leona seemed to take his meaning, and laughed, but Ursa either missed the implication or chose to ignore it. Ozai suspected the latter, but either way she simply looped her arm through his, her hand resting on his forearm, and smiled up at him. "I'm so glad we came here," she said earnestly.
Ozai was more glad they were leaving, but knew better than to say so. Instead he just laid his other hand over hers on his arm, and pulled her a little closer to his side. Very soon, less than a month now, and she would be his at last.
Ursa blushed once more at this gesture, causing her aunt to raise an eyebrow and make a teasing remark. But for the rest of the voyage back to the capital, there were no more arguments between Ozai and Ursa.
Perhaps his father would call that learning how to manage her after all.