Disclaimer: I do not own avatar, but I do own a bed so goodnight.
It is in fact rather late so this could possibly not make any sense.
The Extinguishing of Love
She sits watching the candle burn down. It is the only light in the room. If there had been light it would have revealed an almost Spartan room, bare walls, a bare wooden floor, a single bed and a wax stained desk. She sits at this desk, brush in hand, dripping ink on the paper underneath. A few words have been written on the page but most of it is covered in ink and tear stains. The words run down the page, mingling. This was meant to be a letter, but even the words seem to want to run, not wanting to be pinned down. Words like love, son, husband and goodbye mixed together in a painting of ink and tears.
The flame flickered from the draft that chills the room. An image of marble floors, rich wall coverings and warmth dance in the centre of the flame, all burning. The room is grey and her clothes a dull green, she counts all the shades of red in the flame, all so familiar.
The tears have long since dried, salty streaks on her beautiful cheeks, long dark hair down from its usual style, splayed across her back.
The brush falls from her thin fingers and rolls onto the floor, she closes her eyes. A face, sharp handsome features seared into her mind, smiles at her. A smile so rare and only ever for her.
A moment of weakness, "Why?". Then the spell is broken by a different face, softer, younger but so very like the first it breaks her heart. This is the why, the reason. Her weakness fades, she cannot go back, she cannot love him anymore, but she does. We do not chose who we love, even the monsters.
He sits watching the flames rise and fall. They are the only light in the room. This room is plush but devoid of comforts such as a bed or desk. Cushions still bearing impressions lay on the floor, surrounding maps. He sits on his dais raised above all else,( though in a nearly empty room what is there to be above) lotus blossom comb in hand.
His eyes wander the maps, game pieces and flags mingling. This was meant to be a world, but the lands are covered with miniature soldiers and flags, the waters with ships. Battles fought, being fought or yet to be fought, in it all he searches, where is she?
The flames grow and shrink as he breathes. An image of cold metal ships and dull grey rooms dance in the centre of the flames, all burning. He is surrounded by intricate tapestries and silk robes and deep carpet, all shades of red. He ignores them, all so familiar.
His face is stoic, sharp, elegant features betraying no emotions, long dark hair fixed perfectly in its usual style, adorned with a new golden ornament.
The comb falls and shatters onto the floor, he closes his eyes. A face, soft beautiful features seared into his mind, frowns at him. A frown so rare and only for him.
A moment of weakness, "Why?". Then the spell is broken by a different face, harder, older so unlike the first, golden flames glittering in grey hair. This is the why, the reason. His weakness disappears completely, she cannot come back and neither can he. She cannot love him anymore and he cannot love anymore, but a love for power. We do not chose to become monsters, even in forsaking love, but we do.
She blows out the candle.
He diminishes the flames.
They both say goodbye.
AN: in need of clarification she is Ursa, he is Ozai and they both miss each other but each have leave the other. Ursa for Zuko, Ozai for the crown.