A/N: Look for symbolism in this chapter, I'll give you a shout out if you notice!

Please review!

It was Sozin's birthday. The whole palace was buzzing with activity, servants running about setting up for the party that would take place after sunset. Ozai had just walked out of his rooms. He had wanted to take breakfast alone, but he had gotten a letter from a servant telling him Iroh wanted to dine with him. Ozai nearly shut the door in his servant's face.

Sighing, Ozai straightened his shoulders and tried to shake off his anger. It was unbecoming of royalty, he knew, but he couldn't stop the sour feeling at the pit of his stomach. He hated Iroh. He didn't want to see him. But that isn't proper, so Ozai put on his mask of feigned indifference. He knocked on the door to Iroh's rooms. They were even larger than his, reserved especially for the prince regent. And there he was, only a moment later, opening the door with a wide smile. Ozai squinted immediately. Iroh had drawn all the shades in his rooms and the sunlight was nearly blinding on this side of the palace. Ozai's rooms were much darker in comparison.

"Ozai! Good morning," Iroh was practically beaming, and it took a considerable amount of effort to contort his face into a smile. Iroh was guiding him inside, his hand on Ozai's arm.

"Good morning brother." Ozai blinked at the blinding light. He could already feel a headache coming on. They were only in the threshold of his rooms.

"Sit, sit," Iroh encouraged. Ozai obliged, tucking his robes beneath him comfortably.

"How are you? I haven't seen much of you the past few days." Ozai looked at the table, noticing that it's beautiful glossy surface had nothing on it. Ozai realized that Iroh probably wanted to drag this out as far as possible. He looked up at the crown prince, already so old. So much older than him. Nearly forty-two. He could have done this at any time before, when Ozai was younger. But instead, he had been ignored. Was he trying to make up for it now? Ozai expected so, but he knew his brother was trying to achieve a worthless pursuit. The small, naive boy that Ozai had been was long gone. He no longer wanted Iroh's attention. Not really. And if he wanted to never spend time with Ozai, that was fine. He had given up trying to hold Iroh's attention for years.

"I'm doing well," Ozai's voice was silky and deep. I displayed none of his thoughts. He no longer wore his heart on his sleeve. Iroh poured some tea into Ozai's cup. He took a sip.

"And you?" Ozai asked, enjoying the way the tea burned in his throat. Iroh grinned at his brother's words, pouring tea for himself.

"Very well! I'm so glad to be back. I've been gone so long I feel more like a stranger in this palace than I should. And it's such a joy to see everyone," he looked up after taking a small sip, "and to see you, of course, brother." Ozai smirked and then looked out the windows, wondering how it would feel to stab the letter opener into Iroh's neck. Before he could explore the fantasy two servants entered and set down identical bamboo trays, painted red and black in tiny, intricate designs. The rich aroma of the food quickly overcame the room. Iroh grinned with excitement in his eyes akin to his young son as he saw the food in front of him. Ozai set down his cup. This meal could not go fast enough. Unfortunately for him, however, a day of festival called for even more elaborate and plentiful dishes than normal. His tray was covered with various porcelain plates and utensils. There was grilled salmon-eel with steaming rice, pickled vegetables, fragrant miso soup, seaweed wraps, and tamagoyaki - a rolled omelet.

"Thank you," Iroh beamed at one of the servants, "This might be what I missed the most! Good food!" Ozai chuckled out of courtesy and calmly ate his breakfast, imagining slitting his throat.

By the time that night drew in, Ozai's spirits had thankfully improved. Ursa had arrived around an hour ago. They stood in the courtyard, underneath the warm light of the lanterns strung across. Ursa was wearing the Kimono he gave her, he small waist accented by the obi. She looked gorgeous. He knew she would. Ozai asks her to dance and she accepts. They perform the Bon Odori dance, done to commemorate their ancestors. Later, when they are walking along the edge of the party, he glances to the statue of Sozin. He can only wish that his descendants will worship him the way he did Sozin. They way everyone worshipped Sozin. He was like a god incarnate: omnipresent and revered unconditionally, the perfect beacon of power and strength. Ursa sees Ozai's eyes on the statue of his ancestor, contemplative, but she does not smile. She looks too.

Sozin stands there, forged in gold and bronze, unsmiling. His face is set in a solemn, yet still burning expression. It's the eyes. They are the key to his character. On an otherwise impassive, calm expression, Sozin's eyes burn like an inferno. She could see things in his gaze, underneath the gauze of mystery. He wants power, glory, immortality. He wants everything. Why does that look seem familiar? She wonders. Then, she turns to Ozai. There are no more questions.

"You have his eyes," she states. There is no emotion in her voice. Ozai cocks a brow and turns to look at her.

"My grandfather's?" He asks, and she can't help but notice how in the past Ozai had always referred to his father as Fire Lord Azulon, and yet he draws familial connection between himself and Sozin immediately.

"Yes. I think so." Ozai looks back to the statue, thinking.

"What do you think of this holiday?" He asks, and she wonders why he says it. There is something different in his gaze now, something searching. He isn't just making small talk. He was talking about her opinion of Sozin as a whole. Her gaze quickly flickered to the statue and then back to him. Sozin. Her grandfather's greatest enemy. Her grandmother said that Sozin killed him. Murdered him in cold blood up on the edge of the volcano, struck him dead where he stood. Ursa blinked away the thought.

"It's one of my favorites," she remarked calmly, "why shouldn't it be? Sozin was the best ruler in history." She looked up at him. Suddenly she realized how he was tall, and broad in the shoulder. She noticed his dark, silky black hair and his strong jaw. Suddenly she was drawing comparisons she didn't really want to.

"I respect him." Ursa said, and as she did it burned like acid down her throat. She wholeheartedly accepted that statement on the surface, but denied it deep inside. Deep inside she knew that Sozin must have killed him. Killed her grandfather. Something in her felt sour, her own lies boiling in the pit of her stomach. Ozai smiled, just barely. She had answered correctly.

"As do I." Ozai turned to the statue again, "He was a great leader." Only sometimes did Ursa notice his accent, well defined by his rank in the social class, sharp and smooth at the same time. Only the richest spoke with such an accent. Momentarily Ursa wondered if he was stressing it on purpose. To prove a point. To prove that he would be a great leader to, as if he deserved it. Then she corrected herself, wondering if she was going mad. Iroh was the heir inherit. He was the crown prince. Not Ozai. Surely she was making it up. Maybe she wasn't hearing him right. It was loud after all, the musicians and the people trying to talk over one another. As Ozai was pursuing the yard, Ursa picked up the present she had brought with her.

"I brought you something," she said softly, holding up the small box. Ozai turned to her fully, scowling lightly.

"You did? Why?" Ozai protested, "You had no need to get me anything in return."

"I know. I got it for you anyway." She smiled this time.

Ozai opened the lid, not knowing what to expect. It was a tiny black dragon, made of blown glass. Ozai chuckled only lightly, but his rich tenor still filled the room. It was cute.

"It's you. It's your seishin - your spirit animal." Ozai raised an eyebrow, and then he understood. It was a common gift between lovers in the southern isles. Giving the other their spirit animal. Ozai quickly understood the implication. She likely wanted to marry him.

"A dragon?" Ursa nodded, and soon the both of them were smiling. Ozai looked at her fondly as his smile faded. She had complimented him. A dragon. He liked that. A dragon was power. Ferocity.

"Thank you." Ozai then put the tiny animal back in the box and set it down, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms.

"And what is your seishin? A panda?" Ozai laughed as she narrowed her eyes at him playfully, laughing as well.

"No," she said, traces of humor still evident on her lips, "My spirit is a pheonix." Ozai leaned his head back, observing her. It suited her as well. The dragon and the phoenix.

"Beautiful."

A/N: Review please!