Disarm, one. Block, two. Swipe, three…
They must have been far beyond the Capital's borders by now, as she could imagine, by the receding amount of noise that was gradually fading away from her ears. Ursa never did suit well in enclosed spaces – one reason her eyes were shut so tightly in that dark palanquin – and she had made a point to measure the distance by the volume of sounds she would hear through its walls.
Three hours, she counted. These Fire Nation guardians had to have carried an exiled Lady of the Royal Court, on foot… out of the city… for over three hours now.
How painful could it be for these men, she thought, to fall into such blind loyalty?
The Sages had wasted no time in seeing this banishment through, in the middle of that November night, just hours after this always-gentle Lady Ursa had single-handedly committed the most horrific crime in the Fire Nation. Pools of tears filled her eyes, but not of guilt. Hate.
She hated how the Sages had barely given her time to say goodbye to her babies. One small pinch of love on Azula's cheek was the only thing she could do to keep herself from crying, and Zuko… that brave, wonderful boy… there was no way she could've left without seeing his eyes.
As she remembered the warmth of holding her son that one final time, Ursa gazed into the dark nothingness of her moving prison, keeping a smile that only she could see. She held her plain-clothed cloak tightly over her head, knowing that soon, the guardians would stop. They would pound on her wall to make sure she was awake – alive – and offer her five minutes to be out of the palanquin.
Rice, water, and the chance to relieve herself in the woods… everything under surveillance with chains around her wrists.
It would be the last time she would set foot on Fire Nation ground, as was traditional procedure to any banished citizen of a murderous crime. What would follow would be another arduous journey into the night, welcoming a sunrise with the exchange between a palanquin and a boat at the edge of the Capital island. Eventually, these loyal guardians would assure to the Court that their criminal had drifted off to dangerous seas with a day's worth of rice and a tiny bottle of poison… to certainly welcome death.
In the history of their Nation, no banishment had ever been executed poorly.
Ursa had made a point to know this in advance, because those five minutes would perhaps be the most crucial grains of time she would ever have… if she ever wished to see her loves again.
Disarm, one. Block, two. Swipe, three. Throw four. Kick, six. Pierce, five (if necessary).
She had practiced the movements alone in her bedchamber, not long after she and Ozai had started sleeping in separate quarters, because she knew… she knew that the worst was yet to come. Azulon had poisoned her husband with these horrific ideas of power and conquest, and while she had made her vows of loyalty to the Fire Nation for all to hear, in her heart, she had made those vows to one man.
The man she was not meant to fall for, according to the plan of the Fire Sages.
Oh, Little Dragon.
She had come to the Capital as a girl betrothed to the great "Dragon of the West," had witnessed their cruel intentions unfold as she fell for the other prince, and left it… completely stripped of her honor, with her husband now certainly doomed to madness.
As sick as it was to admit, she rejoiced in smothering her father-in-law that night, since this was all his fault. It was he who had taken her beloved Ozai's goodness, replacing it with dry ambitions to rule.
She had to go back. Ursa knew she would have to plan a way to return someday and save her family.
But first things first.
Suddenly, the palanquin shifted to a halt.
Then a rough pounding at the metal wall.
"Get up."
"Rest Stop, your Highn- er, Assassin Number Twenty Two."
Ursa shook her head from the inside, sadly. These men sounded no older than boys.
"Alright," she gathered with all her dignity, as she felt the hilt of a small blade reassure itself behind the long nape of her neck. "I'm ready."
She swiftly moved the knife as the men unlocked her palanquin hinges, placing it snugly inside one of her robe sleeves. Two dark silhouettes against the moonlight greeted her as they opened the palanquin, and her face stayed hidden in the shadows of her cloak.
One of them already had the chain dangling on his hand ask for her wrists, but Ursa did not give him that satisfaction. She simply gestured kindly for a hand to help her out of the palanquin, and by the time she had set foot on the ground… that hand had been detached.
And those woods of darkness immediately awoke with human noise, and all Ursa could do was breathe, praying that all those years of Festival Stage-Combat had finally paid off.
A/N: Hello! Has anybody been reading Avatar: the Promise, like I have? Well, SPOILER ALERT… part 1 of The Search left me in slight dissatisfaction, not just because of the fact that there's this (maybe false) theory that Zuko's not royal blood, but also that Ursa never wanted to be with Ozai! I refuse to believe that Ursa didn't love him, because it doesn't justify how Zuko claimed that his family was once very happy. The Search is implying that their relationship was cold and distant. My personal thought is, yeah, the Fire Nation Royals had skeletons in their closet, but something went down that made Ozai turn into the way he was. I wanted to write a story that focused on Ursa as a woman who was 1) obligated to enter royalty because of her Avatar ancestry and 2) genuinely in love with a man who happened to make poor choices based on where he stood in his family. I mean, Ozai is messed up, but there's gotta be a reason behind it, right? =P