These are some random scenes from their childhood together.
"This is boring," I complained in a whisper. "And these peasant clothes are really scratchy."
"Hush!" she warned, eyes glued to the stage.
"Last year's was better. The new costumes-"
"Shh!" the ten-year-old Ursa silenced me again but with far more force.
"We forgot the ash banana bread. You know how much I hate fire flakes."
The human manifestation of fire couldn't stand spicy food, and I usually loved the irony... But not during Love Amongst the Dragons.
She met my eyes with a ferocity that had me shrink back and slink down in my seat.
Sorry.
What did I expect? Nothing got between Ursa and Love Amongst the Dragons. It was her favorite play of all time, and back then the Ember Island players were great. Though I'd never admit it aloud, I loved the performance as well. It was, without fail, one of the highlights of my summers, but even more than I loved the play, I loved how she loved it. She delighted in every aspect, her eyes blazing with the fire I cherished above all else. The characters, story, sets, costumes, special effects, dialogue... I really liked it, but she half-lived for it. Ursa insisted that there was never a better story ever written. None more romantic. None more touching or powerful. None with wittier dialogue or funnier jokes. None more thrilling and mesmerizing.
None so likely to fall from its high pedestal.
"Ozai, stop burning my hair!" I reprimanded only to receive a barely-perceptible smirk.
"Why, Ursa, I'm hurt! You know sifu forbade me from using fire in front of a nonbender."
It was true. For all our training sessions,I never saw him control actual flame. He merely demonstrated the forms and had me repeat them until he was satisfied. He never broke his mentor's rules, genuinely respecting the man.
"Uh huh. But you can make smoke and embers, hm?"
The eleven-year-old did not reply, but I could practically read his thoughts. "Actually, it was a bit of electricity."
"I can burn your hair too," she reminded me with a spark of mischief in her eyes. "It's called a candle."
I stopped burning it, but I'd never stop pulling it. Then again, she never stopped yanking mine right back. Iroh and my tutors explained, "That's just how women are."
"It's not going to work, Ozai," I sighed, only encouraging him. "If I could firebend, you would be little more than a burnt crisp by now," I pointed out to Crown Prince Iroh's great amusement.
But certainly not his.
"Very well. I won't show you the new form,he said with that adorable pout of a scowl.
She rolled her eyes.
"Oooh, I'm soooo disappointed. I don't even get to see you firebend. I might as well show you the latest dance I learned."
He was horrified.
"Dancing and firebending forms are not..."
I trailed off as she began the sweeping, driven movements that were, indeed, very much like firebending. Even then, she could convey more force and grace than most benders. Each move somehow made bending forms more fluid and effortless, each move simply an extension of the previous. They were swift yet slow, warm yet cool, passionate yet controlled.
I grinned when he admitted they were similar,confessing that they had been inspired directly by firebending forms.
"Speaking of which...he switched subjects, breaking out in his own stances and urging me to copy him until we could do them simultaneously.
I quit mentoring her about the time she turned ten, though I always refused to admit that I was wrong about her being a firebender. At times, I would consider it to be her deepest imperfection. I thought she would be complete with bending. She could understand me fully and meet with me on a level... Then again, I would be grateful for that. She would've been flawless with firebending, and that would've driven me mad. And with our stubborn, competitive tempers, we'd never stop trying to best each other, and we'd never stop getting hurt.
Besides, a prince of the fire nation hadn't married a bender in centuries.
"You shocked me again," I whined to the ten-year-old as the shorter strands of his long hair began to stand on end from the static.
He chuckled, smiling wide enough to show teeth.
"NOW you smile? You never smile!"
He made no attempt to deny it; we both knew it was true. With each passing year, I would become more shy around strangers, and Ozai would become more stoic and reserved, especially after Fire Lord Azulon assigned even more tutors to educate him. Though he would do his best to remove the masks when he was with me, the prince couldn't help but soak up their cynical, mercenary lessons day after day. Even his sifu, the only man whom he both sincerely respected and wouldn't always be inferior to, was jaded and dark. Almost everyone Ozai spent time with was either disdainful or sycophantic.
"Smiling is weakness A prince of the Fire Nation never shows weakness,I recited by rote, tearing at some of our garden's grass.
"That's just silly.
"It's true," I shrugged, repeating the words of my father and my tutors. "A prince of the Fire Nation never shows emotion but to serve his own purposes.
"A prince of the Fire Nation never has fun. Where's the purpose in that?"
"I can have fun! OW!"
"OZAI," Ursa reprimanded, leaping back from the static.
"I can't help it! You brush too hard!" he defended before crossing his arms and pouting as I smoothed down the locks and braided them. "I still don't understand why you can't practice on your dolls."
"I still don't understand why you can't control lightning better. And I told you. Real hair is different. Yours is so much more... I wish I had it."
"Brown looks better on you. Black would make you too pale."
"It doesn't make you look too pale."
"No other boy in the whole Fire Nation would be caught dead wearing braids!"
"Don't be a baby. It'll just take a minute."
"One minute is still too long. I'll look like some Water Tribe or Earth Kingdom-"
"Trust me."
"A prince of the Fire Nation trusts no one," I continued to quote. "Trust is for fools. Fear is the only reliable way to achieve-"
"You trust me, don't you?
I answered instinctively and without thought, surprised by how much I meant it.
"Yes. Always."
"Good. Then shut up and let me-Do you hear that?"
She was up and walking before I could reply. I followed her towards the next part of the garden, but she jerked me behind a corner before I could enter.
"Winter, spring, summer and fall..." a familiar voice sung while stringing his liuqin to his future wife.
Colonel Iroh was courting a distant cousin of my mother's, twelve years his junior. Her name was Lu Sen, and she had porcelain skin, obsidian curls, and impossibly blue eyes unlike any I'd ever seen. She was beautiful by any definition, but I loved her for her deep compassion and unfailing ability to see the very best in people. Sen was the sweetest woman I would ever know, and she was far wiser than anyone would expect. At the surface, she seemed to nave and clueless, but no one could be less blind. It took a woman of great perception to match wits with Iroh and even convict him about his mistakes.
And it took a woman of the purest heart to capture his.
"Winter, spring," the prince continued, delighting his future bride and fellow music-lover. "Summer and fall! Four seasons, fo-o-our loves..."
"Isn't she so beautiful?" I sighed a child's compliment.
Ozai shrugged.
"She looks like a ceramic doll," I commented, unable to suppress a sneer that, thankfully, went unnoticed by Ursa.
"I know!"
"You say that like it's a good thing."
"Four seasons, fo-o-or love..."
By the time she turned to me, my expression was blank.
"It isn't?"
He shrugged and pretended to be distracted by the grass again.
"Ceramic cracks. And she looks like Iroh could break her by breathing too hard."
"Iroh can breathe fire. That'd break anyone," I snapped back with a frown, unable to deny how fragile the woman was.
Despite her youth, Lady Sen was far from healthy. The fair, so-widely-admired complexion resulted from the weakest of constitutions and a lifetime of chronic illness. Her diet consisted of little more than rice, fish, dried fruit, and tea. Her stamina was almost nonexistent. For all her patience, Sen could never stand or walk for long without feeling faint. However much she might insist that she was "fine," too much light brought her intense headaches that made even her cross. A third of her year was spent coughing or sneezing, more often than not confined to her bed with a fever, and another third was spent catching or recovering from colds, flus, etc.
"Why don't you like her?"
"She blushes too much. I hate when girls blush. It's..."
"If you say weak one more time..." I warned in irritation.
"Meek. And she never does anything. She's always tired or coughing or sneezing or making tea."
As much as she adored children and their games, Sen couldn't even play dolls without fatiguing rapidly. This irked Ozai to no end for he, of course, preferred games that demanded far more exertion. She desperately wanted to bond with the little prince, but forming any sort of connection with him was difficult even when he would play with you.
Lady Sen applauded Iroh's song and blushed蓉gh-at whatever he said next, looking away because she couldn't bear the weight of his gaze.
We didn't hide fast enough.
Sen tilted her head in confusion before hiding a grin with her hand, giggling to Iroh as Ozai and I came into the open and presented ourselves "properly."
"Lady Ursa! Prince Ozai!" my brother greeted us with a grin so broad I couldn't help but be suspicious. "I love your braids!"
From the tip of his toes to the roots of his hair, Prince Ozai of the Fire Nation blushed.
So much for childhood! Now on to some pre-teen/teen years full of sorrow...