9
He takes the next day to wander in the city himself, telling no one but Li. Despite their awkward banter – a result of their simultaneous breakdowns the night before – she was still his friend, through and through. She had told him to be careful, too, before he left, but Ozai just smiled faintly.
What was there to fear in a city of your father's?
He takes off his headpiece first, setting it on the table. The faint glow of the morning sun bounces off the brilliant gold, and it seems to shine and come to life with a fire of its own. He turns his back to it and swings a brown cloak over his shoulders, covering up most of his prince's armor.
He wonders, for the briefest of moments, why he has to hide his face from his own people. Weren't leaders supposed to know their people, so that they knew how to protect them – their interests? He grips the edge of his cloak, fist clenching so hard he leaves creases on the brown fabric when he lets go.
Perhaps today will be the day for him to know his people, and they him.
He stalks out the door and the guards close it behind him. One of them steps forward when Ozai makes for the far end of the hallway, to the steps that lead down the tower.
"Prince Ozai, do you need one of us to accompany you?"
The Fire Prince shakes his head, eager to leave the palace and his princely status behind – for as long as he can, before the citizens recognize him on the streets. It is a cheap thrill, to feel like one of the men under royal authority, but it is a thrill nonetheless.
He doesn't actually know why he wants to feel this way, but then again, anything is better than his feelings of revolt, his desire for the birthright of the Crown Prince. He keeps walking. He moves his feet fast and faster, until he leaves his curious guards behind.
He stops when he reaches the staircase winding down and sits on the bottom step, just before the last flight. Strangely, Ozai feels short of breath. An aching throb in his head forces him to shut his eyes, and he suddenly feels the need to throw up. His skin crawls when Iroh chances upon him, standing at the bottom of the stairs with a look of pure concern.
Ozai drops his face into his hands, still trying to breathe deeply for air. Why does he have to look at me like that? He feels his brother rush to his side, plopping down on the steps.
"Ozai, what's wrong? You look –"
"Terrible?" Ozai sighs heavily, but keeps his face hidden. "I probably just need some air. That's why…I'm heading out." It wasn't a lie. Not really.
Iroh grips his shoulder, tense. "I'll bring you to a healer."
"No need." Ozai looks up at last, putting his hand atop Iroh's. He frowns in disapproval. "I know when I need to see one. I'm fine." He begins to stand up, but his brother holds him down. Now, it is Iroh's turn to look disapproving.
So much like Mother, Ozai distractedly thinks.
"You've been so closed off," Iroh's voice is a little more than a sharp whisper, as if he were afraid of anyone else overhearing. "You don't know how worried I've been, that you've been missing meals with us –"
"Us meaning you and the guards?" Ozai narrows his eyes, despite his better judgment. Now was not the time to get caught up in a fight with Iroh. The less they spoke, the better.
And yet, he had no idea what 'better' looked like.
Iroh looks like he is biting back his tongue before looking away, huffing. Something softens in his gaze when he looks back, his golden eyes reflecting more than just regret. Ozai felt an instinctive shudder ripple through his body, from the top of his spine downwards.
He resents everything to this point.
"It's not like Father doesn't ask after you," Iroh says, almost with an air of childish defiance. Ozai resists the urge to grimace and elects to look the other way; Iroh always did have a lot of love for both parents. Ozai had stuck with his mother.
If only he'd known then…the fragility of human life.
"Ozai."
The younger prince looks up absently. "I didn't say anything about Father."
"And that's what's the problem."
Ozai glares at Iroh, hands balling into fists, tight and painful. "You don't know a problem when you see one, then," he says darkly, leaping to his feet despite himself. His head – or the inside of it – whirls uncontrollably and he presses a palm to the wall; he will not fall before Iroh here. Not like this. Not ever.
He is halfway to a time of freedom and solitude when Iroh's voice catches him at the last moment.
"You know if I can't get anything out of you, I'll talk to Sze Li eventually, right?"
Ozai almost laughs. The muscles in his jaw twitch, either with irritation or extreme amusement he did not know. "You know she won't tell you anything, right?"
Iroh's silence was Ozai's victory.
He is alone for an hour, out in the streets – and then someone recognizes him. It is most definitely not who he expects. His cheeks begin to burn when she approaches him, a smile so bright on her lips he isn't sure if he is smiling himself or making a face at this point.
"Well, well, looks like we have a runaway." Ursa seems more lighthearted than usual, out in the open – perhaps that's what happens when one is away from high-nosed nobles and the intimidating higher ups. Ozai thinks he prefers Ursa this way, and then he remembers that he probably prefers her no matter who she chooses to be.
He realizes he is staring too long at her without saying a word, and manages a strangled laugh. He tugs at his collar.
"Don't tell anyone. I'm surprised you're the only one who noticed," he says, fighting the grin on his face.
Ursa's smile softens into something gentler. "I knew you by the way you walked."
"Really?" Ozai pretends to look skeptical. He feels himself failing. "That's…interesting. Care to tell me more, Lady Ursa? If you have the time, of course."
Ursa's laughter is all the answer he needs.
"You have this stance when you're walking," Ursa says, hugging the cup of tea in her hands and looking pointedly at the steaming liquid instead of Ozai. "It's kind of animalistic, like a lion or something…and yet, so regal." When she looks up at him with a smile Ozai chokes on his tea. He passes it off as a sneeze at the last moment.
Ursa didn't fall for it.
"You don't agree?" she asks.
He directs his gaze to the steaming cup of tea. "Well, no – I mean, yes I do agree –" He clumsily rises to his feet with the intention of walking away, if only to escape those hypnotizing eyes, but his knee hits the underside of the table and rocks the teacups, spilling some tea. He hisses and grabs the falling cups, his and Ursa's, and sets them back into place. "Forgive me, Lady Ursa –"
Ursa hides a smile behind her hand, shaking her head at him when their eyes meet. He lets out a strangled chuckle and tugs at his collar again.
They decide to leave the little teashop after several heads turn to stare at Ozai, some suspicious and others simply irritated at the commotion caused. Ozai takes Ursa down the winding streets, ignoring passing glances and using the crowd as cover. They end up on the outer walls of the palace some time later, walking through a villa, one of the many possessions of Fire Lord Azulon.
"I think it's better here," Ozai says, taking her through the empty residence and emerging into the villa's garden. "No one to see me here." He turns and gestures towards the inner garden when he sees the look of uncertainty on her face. "It's okay. This belongs to my father."
She relaxes a little, much to his dismay, but soon forgets her unease when she sees a family of turtle-ducks swimming in the pond at the center of the garden. Her eyes, even her whole face, seem to glow with childish excitement at the sight of the creatures in the pond – an excitement Ozai does not understand. Nonetheless, he follows her, and they settle down in front of the pond together, side by side.
She is cooing at the turtle-ducks happily when she notices that he is not doing the same. "You don't like them?"
"Well," he pauses to clear his throat, "they're not really my thing."
Ursa looks scandalized for a brief moment before she remembers whom she's with. "Well…" Then something strikes her – an epiphany of sorts. "Does anyone come here? Ever?"
"Not really, but if we have honored guests then we will house them here for the duration of their stay," Ozai explains. "Other than that, no one else, it seems."
"That's terrible!" Ursa says, and it seems she has forgotten once again that he is a prince, a man to be respected and feared. "Who's going to feed these poor things?"
Ozai lets out a laugh, loud and clear as day. He decides that he likes it when she forgets what he is.
"We have caretakers for every villa, my lady." Ozai beams when Ursa's cheeks turn pink. "How else do you think this place stays dust free? So these little ones are being fed day by day. They'll be fine."
"Oh," is all Ursa says, and they spend the next hour in silence as Ozai lets her feed the little ducklings in the pond. He still doesn't understand her love for these creatures, but he is at least glad she seems happy here.
He would do anything to make her happy.
He falls asleep some time later, sprawled on the grass beside Ursa. Somebody pokes him on the hand and he wakes up. A turtle duckling is pecking incessantly at his hand, having found its way into the water, and he pulls away irritably. He is still groggy with sleep.
It takes a moment for the panic to settle in when he realizes Ursa is no longer by his side. He removes his cloak and moves swiftly through the villa, searching every room and every inch of the place until he finds her in the main suite, looking out the window at the auburn sky above. He wonders how long he slept, and he wonders why she went away.
"Ursa?"
She jumps as if struck, turning to look at him. He notices her trembling and moves forward in concern. "What's wrong? You look so pale –"
"It's nothing," she says, turning away. "I'm just –"
"What's wrong?" he asks, moving up beside her. He takes her hand, but she is too quick for him. She withdraws her hands from the window ledge and hides them in her sleeves, as if she were afraid of being touched. As if she were afraid of him.
"You were sleeping." Ursa looks at him. "You…said some things in your sleep."
Ozai cocks his head to the side. "What things?" He does not remember having any dreams.
"You were talking about the Crown Prince, the Fire Lord your father," Ursa manages, avoiding his gaze now. "You said you hated them. You hated them very much."
"Did I…say anything else?"
Silence is his only answer, and he wants to hear no more. He wants to know no more. He takes her by the hands and he is faster than her this time – she gasps, afraid, but strangely does not pull away.
"I swear, I am not what you think I am," he says in a whisper, though they are very clearly alone in the room. "I'm not a bad person. I'm just…" He loses his strength and his shoulders droop. "I am human. I feel things. I feel too much." He looks away and releases her from his grip, almost embarrassed. He feels naked, so he turns away from her and crosses his arms over his chest.
He thinks she is gone before her voice startles him. "Do you want to talk…about this?"
"Talk?" Ozai lets out a breath. "I'm surprised you're still here."
"I was scared at first." She pauses, as if choosing her words. "But then I realized, when I saw the look in your eyes, that you're just as real as anyone else."
He looks over his shoulder at her. He sees the pity in her eyes – or was it sympathy? He did not want either one – not even from her. But he met her gaze, simply because he was curious.
"What do you mean by that?"
Ursa walks around him so they are standing face to face. In the late afternoon glow, she looks almost unreal. A ghost of fire, he thinks. Come to haunt me for the rest of my life.
"Up until young Prince Lu Ten's birthday, I had never seen you, your brother or the Fire Lord before." She takes a step closer towards him. "And then I talked to you that night, on the balcony. I always thought of you as a faraway dream, and after I met you I thought – I thought you seemed so graceful, so perfect. It's foolish, but I believed princes like you only knew duty and honor and the power you're born with. I thought you knew nothing of our lives. The people."
Ozai bites his lip, tensing up at their proximity. He knows he is supposed to pay attention to what she's saying, but her eyes, the smell of her – he is intoxicated beyond all hope, and he doesn't want to come back from it.
"And?" he manages.
Ursa's lips stretch into a smile, slowly but surely. "And then you proved me wrong when you almost flipped the entire table over in the teashop."
He feels his cheeks burning.
"What about now?" Ozai asks. "Am I too real for your liking?"
"Maybe," she inclines her head in a slight nod. "But if it's not a dream, then I'm honored to know you as you are." Her smile is complete, and he is breathless – from the look on her face and her words. "I'm not afraid of you. Not anymore. I don't quite understand you fully…and why you said what you said. But we can talk about this, if you'll let us."
Us. It is such a sweet word. It washes away his bitterness, cleanses the rot inside him.
"It's not a dream. Is it?" Ozai turns his palms up and stretches them out to her. "This. You."
"Me?" Ursa looks down at his hands, uncertain but not uncomfortable. "What are you talking about?"
Ozai keeps his hands where they are.
"I just hope you're real like me, that's all. That you're not some faraway dream."
When she takes his hands in response, he feels something expand in his chest. He is suddenly all too aware of the heart beating in his chest, too loud and too fast. He forgets Iroh, forgets Azulon. He thinks he may be able to forget them forever if he stays in this moment. If she lets him.
The only thing he thinks of asking her after that is: "Did you receive the invitation I sent you?"
He figures he's not very good at being in love, but Ursa seems content with the way he is.
It should be enough.
No.
It is enough.
"I know that the night must end, and that the sun will rise.
I know that the clouds must clear, and that the sun will shine."
-'Endless Night', The Lion King on Broadway
A/N: No, I'm not going all out with the fluff or romance from this moment on. I really don't think I'd like this story if Ursa/Ozai romance dominated it - that's not really the point of this fic. Thanks for reading and stay tuned or something. Though I'll probably take a while. But stay tuned anyway.