Seven months later...
"Have you decided on flowers, Ursa?" Rina asked, making conversation as mother and daughter sat together in the living room. Ursa pulled needle through thread, and stitched into the silk.
"Roses, mother," she said. Rina raised a brow.
"Roses? But, my dear, they wilt so easily. Fire lilies would last much longer." Ursa shook her head.
"It's my wedding, mother. And roses are my favorite." Ursa was quiet, but it seems that as the months passed and every day grew closer to the day when Ozai would return, she had grown more confident. She was nineteen, and engaged to a prince, she told herself, it was childish to fear her parents. She wasn't a child anymore. Rina only pursed her lips and eyed her daughter scrupulously.
"It's only your engagement party. The wedding is not yet for months."
"For the wedding as well, mother," Ursa decided as she pulled needle through thread once more.
"For the wedding?" Her mother asked loudly and with expression. Ursa sighed gently and pricked her finger with the needle.
"Yes," was all she said. Rina scowled at her.
"That is not your decision, dear, the royal family will be assembling the wedding. Not you. It is tradition," her words were punctuated in their necessity. Ursa sucked on her finger, tasting the blood there.
"I don't care if it is tradition," Ursa said calmly, quiet as ever, "It's my wedding. And Ozai would never care about such things. The wedding should be up to my discretion as well."
Rina scoffed at her daughter and set down the silk.
"You're growing into quite a cocky little thing, you know that?" She was upset.
"Just because you will be a princess does not exempt you from tradition or humbleness," her sneer was growing, "Or from doing what you're told." Ursa breathed a sigh. She was never quite perfect enough for her mother, no matter what she did, and so she simply closed her eyes and let it go. There was one person who thought she was perfect.
I have not spent a day without wanting you; I have not spent a night without embracing you; I have not so much as drunk a single cup of tea without cursing the pride and ambition which force me to remain separated from the moving spirit of my life.
In the midst of my duties, whether I am at the head of my army or inspecting the camps, my beloved stands alone in my heart, occupies my mind, fills my thoughts.
If I am moving away from you with the speed of the torrent, it is only that I may see you again more quickly.
If I rise to work in the middle of the night, it is because this may hasten by a matter of days the arrival of my sweet love. You are perfect, my dear, in every sense of the word.
His letters had been consuming her, body and soul. She knew his mission there was drawing to a close, and the excitement within her drowned out any childlike fears within her. Ozai was incorrigible, and she loved it. She was beginning to think that she loved him. Something in that frightened her however. It shouldn't, she knew, but it did. He was to be her husband, the companion of her life, what harm would it be to fall in love with him? Her own mind made little sense to her. However strange it was though, it was true. There was something in him that scared her, something she couldn't quite name. It was somewhere in his eyes, which she pictured many times in the dark of night while awaiting his arrival. Somewhere behind the golden flecks and calculating depths, there was something frightening. She was, however, disillusioned to it and knew only of his love for her and the way it felt to be held in his arms.
And perhaps in that year before their marriage, if she had known him in another light, full of rage and mania, everything would have been different. But he was only kind and persistent, and she knew nothing of what lurked behind his burning golden eyes. She could only wonder because when she saw his gaze in her memory she remembered only passion and lust, and perhaps the passing woe of a jilted lover. She did not remember anger. And when her hand ventured up her sleeping robe in the late nights of his absence, she dreamed only of the feeling of fire on her lips. And of him. Everything was him. Her mother ceased to matter. The vindictive taunts and barbs she sent her way didn't sting. She had a future now. It lay before her, unmoving, and she was stuck in the stasis between childhood and adulthood.
But the more Ursa thought about her future the more she was settled and at ease. Even if it was just another cage, it would certainly be a better one than her home. Anything would. For even in her relative wealth and comfort, her mansion felt like a prison. She decided nothing - made no choices for herself, even if she thought that she did. There was nothing for her now other than the Prince. No man would ever want to pursue a woman that the prince has clearly made claim to. And when she thought of him in the middle of the night, and wrote to him alone in the day, she knew that she was already his.
Ursa clenched her teeth, trying her best not to shake. The Fire Lord stood before her. She bent down on her knees and pressed her forehead to the ground. Her parents kneeled behind her. Azulon smirked. As horrible and fearsome as he was, the image of the avatar's family kneeled in utter supplication could only make him smile. They were silent in their submission, and Azulon spoke first.
"Welcome," he began, his voice like thunder even in his old age, "Rise, Ursa, my son will be here soon to greet us." Ursa did as she told and shuttered at her name on the lips of the Fire Lord. Even a formal meeting such as this seemed too personal. She would rather wish him to be a far-away figure, unreachable and seen only on an image on a gold coin. To be only feet from him, it was awful. The sun of midday beat down on her pale skin and she could feel a beat of sweat running down her back. Her formal clothes were really much too hot and stifling to go outdoors in for any length of time, but she tried to ignore it. After all, it was tradition. And nothing mattered more than tradition.
Ursa gracefully stood and her eyes strayed from Firelord Azulon to look up at the magnificent ship docked in the harbor. It resembled nothing so much as a spear. At the top of the ramp a small group of soldiers came to attention and walked in-step down to the pier. Behind them, in full armor, came Iroh. There was a small crowd down below the dais where royalty was welcomed, cheering and clapping at the return of their crown prince. Out of the corner of her eye Ursa could see Azulon smile in perhaps the most earnest way he ever did. Behind Iroh came Ozai, armoured as well, with a slightly quieter welcome.
When the princes reached the platform they both bowed before their father and Ursa allowed herself the luxury of looking and looking. Ozai was almost completely the same, she thought, but he somehow seemed taller, if that was even possible. When he walked over and bowed to Jinsuk their height difference was comic. Ursa thought her father looked like a dwarf in comparison. Finally, he made his way over to her. He was arm's length away, and yet she could do nothing but bow and murmur welcome. They did not touch.
"It's good to see you, my prince," Ursa said, looking in his eyes at long last. She took in everything she could. The curve of his lips, the elegant arch of his nose. He looked slightly tanner, she thought. It had been so many months. And he looked so imposing in his heavy armor. She had never seen him that way before.
"You as well, my lady." He barely smiled, but Ursa could see the joy, or perhaps relief, in his smouldering gaze. He had always been serious. But Ursa could pick out the little details in his expression that told her otherwise.
"I quite enjoyed your letters," Ozai remarked, quieter this time.
"I did as well," she responded, thinking of his silken words. It was better to see him in person.
"How are you?" Ursa asked, wishing desperately that they were somewhere far away so Ozai could speak his mind. He never did so in public gatherings. He was a mask.
"I'm very well. The journey was shorter than expected," he began, but her mother cut in much to Ursa's dismay.
"Oh! That's wonderful. It's so good to see you all come home safely, and successful in your mission, I'm assured?" Ozai turned his gaze on Rina and nodded impassively, showing very little expression. Ursa tried to read him, but failed. He was a better actor than she, and if he was upset, he would not show it on his face. It occurred to Ursa that he was not entirely happy.
"Indeed," was all he said. Rina did not stop however, it seemed she never did.
"Everything is coming along splendidly in way of the engagement party, Prince Ozai, you will feel most delighted with the ceremonies, I assure you."
"That's good to hear."
"Of course! And only a day until the party! How marvelous..." Rina kept on, and Ursa thanked the spirits that her father was the one to intervene. He put his hand on her shoulder and she stilled.
"I think it's best we give them a while alone, my dear," Jinsuk said, smiling at Ursa in supplication. She sighed gently and looked at him with gratitude. The couple bowed.
"It is wonderful to see you again, Prince Ozai. We will see you again at the banquet." When Ozai bowed, Jinsuk took his wife in arm and ushered them away to talk with Iroh and the other generals.
"I'm so sorry about my mother, she-" Ursa began, in apology, but Ozai raised a hand to stop her.
"It's alright." The sun was relentless, and suddenly Ursa felt a bit dizzy. The kimono she was wearing was belted very tightly around her waist, as it was the newest fashion, her mother assured her, but it was constricting her ability to breathe. She took out her fan as Ozai looked her over.
"You look lovely, as always." He was still not smiling.
"Thank you," she said, blushing. It very well might have been because of the heat, however.
"I feel lightheaded," Ursa said, trying to take a deep breath despite her obi. Ozai scowled and reached out to touch her back, but stopped himself.
"Let's go back to the palace. I'll have a servant fetch you some water." Ursa looked up at him, her large eyes searching. He seemed different somehow, and Ursa didn't realize that she was staring.
"Are you alright?" Ozai murmured, stepping closer to her. Ursa swallowed thickly, closing her fan and lowering her gaze.
"Yes," she breathed, but Ozai's gaze did not stray from her. When they were in the carriage on the way back to the palace Ursa felt a bit better, being out of the summer sun.
In the relative darkness of the coach Ozai reached out for her hand. Ursa gasped a little. His hands felt rough, rougher than they were before. His thumb brushed over her knuckles. Ursa only looked at their joined hands, unsmiling. She wanted more. She wanted so much more.
"I missed you," he said, little more than a desperate whisper that spoke of her absence. His eyes caught her. A fire of gold.
"I know. I missed you too."
And they sat, perfectly still, like porcelain dolls, and thought only of their future.
A/N: Review please! I live for your comments! Thank you so much for your support...