The summer I turned fifteen, Sen was closer to term than she'd ever been, much to her utter delight and Iroh's deep concern. He was optimistic but cautiously so, seeing his wife weaken with each passing day. The Fire Lord granted my brother an extended leave that he might be there for his precious wife and for the birth of his even more precious son.
If anything was certain to Azulon, it was that Iroh's firstborn would be a son, just as it had been for generations.
For once, the Fire Lord's extravagant generosity to my brother would work in my favor. I would never show the Fire Lord my joy anymore than Iroh would show Sen his worry, but Lu Sen's request delighted me.
Azulon allowed his daughter-in-law to send for Lady Ursa, probably forgetting who the girl was entirely. Lu Sen wanted her so Lu Sen would have her. Everything possible was to be done to please the princess. The Fire Lord would promise that woman half the nation if he thought it would guarantee him a grandson.
Then again, I would've rewarded that woman with half the nation if she could bring Ursa back, and my soul sang when she did.
Having returned a day earlier than expected, there was no one to greet me upon my arrival. I was halfway to the Royal Villa before I came across a familiar face. My servant friend Suzu embraced me warmly but had little time to speak, assuring me that Princess Lu Sen was still on bed rest, as she had been for months.
I visited her highness just as her barely-still-taller-than-me husband did. Iroh served tea to his wife each day, pleading with her to finally confess her favorite flavor, serenading her with his "beautifully broken" voice, and writing poem after poem to her. When she had the strength, Sen would sing Leaves From the Vine to her own precious "soldier boy" pet name never failed to make Iroh chuckle, just as her pet name of "my lotus flower" never failed to make her smile, even on her weakest of days.
After an hour of reminiscing, Sen urged me to leave and find Ozai on his tutor-free day. She insisted that her stuffy bedside was no place for a free-spirited young lady. I tried to protest, but there was no arguing with those impossibly blue eyes, guaranteed to strike unbearable guilt into the hardest of hearts. I left her with a kiss to her forehead and her bulging belly.
"Where is he?" I asked halfway out the door.
"Sparring probably," she replied absently. "Or watching his friends spar."
"Sparring?" I repeated, re-entering the room and swallowing back the urge to repeat the even more surprising "friends."
"Well, no one dares spare him unless unaware of the prince's identity, or unless Ozai commands him out of boredom."
I couldn't even picture him sparring.
He is fifteen now, I suppose. Nearly grown up. How strange.
Ozai had grown indeed. Taking after Azulon's height, he was a slight giant with somewhat lanky-but well-toned-limbs. His hair was even longer than before, falling to cover half his back, but it was just as lustrous and straight. I almost envied those locks. His fair, perfect face had changed little. His cheekbones were higher and sharper, making the deadly concentration of his gaze all the more lethal, and all the more heart-melting.
Oh, those eyes! Those eyes of burning, piercing, soul-penetrating honey! I could never fully realize how much I missed them, how much my memory failed to capture them, until I was in their presence once more.
And I could never realize how cruel they could be until they sparked at someone's pain.
The Fire Prince was watching three other teenaged boys duel in the Agni Kai chamber. They fought to amuse Ozai and prove they weren't "cowards" or "weaklings." Fortunately, it wasn't a real Agni Kai, and no killing was intended or allowed. Their feared Ozai's irritation more than they feared being declared weak, and death certainly seemed to annoy him. The goal was to knock one's opponent off the platform rather than to burn him, and the boys were careful to go no further.
Ozai had his soulless, neutral mask on, except when one of the boys fell flat on his face to avoid the flames, then the heartlessness changed into heartless laughter and mockery.
"Unfair! He turned around before the gong-"
"Stop whining, Zenjiro," my best friend ordered after conquering his pitiless mirth. His voice was unrecognizably deep. It belonged to a stranger. "It's pathetic. All's fair in war. The enemy has no honor. Why should we? Your turn Chan."
"Doesn't seem fair," the arrogant boy replied, flexing as he rose from his seat next to the prince. "He'll be crushed by me."
"Oh really?" he taunted, letting that horrible spark ruin his eyes again. "Well, in that case..." He rose and stepped onto the platform, much to young Chan's terror. "Why not fight me?"
"But, Fire Prince Ozai, you're... Fire Prince Ozai!" the older boy stammered.
"Which is why you'll all be fighting me," he replied nonchalantly.
At first, Chan seemed relieved, but then he glanced at the other boys to share in their concern. Fearsome as Ozai was, they were confident in their combined ability to defeat him and didn't know what kind of loser he was.
Even that simple certainty enraged Ozai's eyebrow into twitching, but then he let loose a quarter-smirk that should've sent his young victims flying.
If only they knew.
"Are you sure, your highness? I mean... You're clearly outnumbered. Anyone would-"
"And you're clearly outmatched," he interrupted coolly with a smirk even they could see.
They faced off, and the Fire Prince seemed nearly omniscient, aware of every sight and sound and scent.
Except me.
When Ozai could bend, he could forget everything else. He was free. He was independent and joyful and... himself. Firebending-like nothing else could-allowed him to access the deepest, truest core of his self. Even when he didn't know himself, even when he forgot what was and wasn't a mask, bending revealed the truth. It burned away the lies, the facades... It left Ozai at his rawest, purest form without making him feel vulnerable. Exposed and honest as he may be, no one else realized it. No one else felt it. No one except me. For the millionth time, I longed to bend. For the millionth time, I wished to feel what he felt, to be free and independent and... my truest self.
In awe, I watched him bend better than anyone I'd ever seen, effortlessly powerful and wholeheartedly relentless. And in awe, I stepped out of the shadows as the prince spun in around in a wave of fire.
She's back.
From the moment I met her, I knew Ursa was the prettiest girl on earth and would've incinerated anyone who said otherwise. Despite this, I took the fact for granted. My childhood was so lavish and opulent that perfection was the norm. Everything around me was kept beautiful so every flaw disgusted me, even in others. Her appearance that lacked any imperfection did not awe me as a child. It simply made it acceptable for me to spend time with her, it made looking at her day after day bearable. If I found a flaw in her, my obsession over it would've driven me mad, would've turned her into a grotesque caricature that I couldn't bear to look at.
But I never found one.
She's BACK.
And for the first time, her perfection left me dumbstruck. Possibly because of the years apart. Possibly because of the years spent with very imperfect faces.
Possibly because...
Ozai grinned.
The mask cracked. The cynical instructors' words fell on deaf ears. His suppression of all sympathizing emotions failed.
For all his years of training, Ozai grinned.
At me.
Maybe I should stop toying with my opponents. Ursa will figure out I'm just showing off.
I sent them flying in one move.
All right so it was in half a move, but even I thought that sounded pretentious.
While his supposed friends crashed into the stands, Ozai crossed over to me with an ear-to-ear smile that almost made me ignore what came next.
Almost.
More crashes sounded from the stands, and I turned to see Zenjiro slide down row after row of seats. Flail as he might, he landed on his rear for each brief, painful step.
And Ozai cracked up, ruining the light in his eyes .
"Ozai," I growled and glowered so fiercely that I forgot to resent our unbearable height difference, and he forgot to be shocked over my smallness.
He actually gulped when I glared in his face, taking a step back and flashing that infuriatingly-gorgeous grin again. Meanwhile, the other boys filed in around him, flanking him like the future soldiers they were and staring at me like I posed a threat to national security.
Or like I have cooties. It's hard to tell the difference with them.
"Ursa," was his form of greeting, doing nothing to dismiss these strangers despite my obvious discomfort.
He knew I hated strangers. He knew I hated when strangers stared at me, when I had to talk in front of them, and yet he did nothing, as indifferent and insensitive to me as he was to the noble puppets vying for his favor.
Where was the little boy I loved?
Where was my best friend?
"You viper-bat!" I cried.
It was like a slap across the face.
She spun on her heel to storm out, and I chased after her, sending a halting look to the others who tried to follow.
"Ursa, STOP," I ordered, gently grabbing her by the wrist.
"Why?" she spat back, standing on her tip toes in a vain attempt to get in my face. "Because you've so commanded it, oh mighty Fire Prince Ozai?"
"Well... Yes," I teased with a slight curl to my lip, but she did not find it funny.
"You really are an insensitive viper-bat," she half-gasped in disbelief before trying to storm off again.
"You know I didn't mean it. Stop acting like a five-year-old."
"Stop acting like a four-year-old whose toy's been taken away," she bit back, calm before snapping again. "And stop grabbing my wrist! Did you 'mean it' when you told future soldiers to show 'the enemy' no honor? When you called that poor boy pathetic for protesting a cheater? When you laughed at his pain instead of making sure he was all right? When you blatantly showed off and mortified your supposed friends to feel-"
"All right, all right," he groaned. "I'm...I sent him a look. "Sorry. There. I said it. Are you happy now? Can we go get some ash banana bread?"
Oh no you don't. That won't tempt me this time. I already had some of Lu Sen's.
"No. I'm not the one... Forget it," she sighed in defeat, turning to leave and stabbing me in the heart.
Ursa was back. Ursa was finally back, and she was going to leave me alone again?
"Stop this!" I demanded again, getting mad and blocking her path. "Idon't want to fight with you."
"Neither do I, but you make it very difficult for me not to when you fight with everyone else, when you're cold and cruel and find some sick pleasure in... Please, just... Just let me be angry at you for a little while, Ozai," she begged with big, sorrowful eyes and stepped around me to walk away. "We'll both cool down, and-"
"Please," I requested, swallowing back bile from having to say the word. "You're finally back. I want-"
And then she looked up at me with eyes that truly were sorrow-filled. She seemed to age twenty years, and the unfamiliar tone in her voice tore away at my heart.
"Oh Ozai, When will you realize that you can't have everything you want?"
Well, perhaps not immediately...
Seeming to hear my thoughts, Ursa looked half ready to slap me.
I smirked anyway.
"Come on," I chuckled carelessly. "You know you're-"
"NO."
Ursa was the only girl to say I couldn't have something, to act like something other than a possession, to say I couldn't have her. So, of course, she was the only girl I wanted. However to accomplish that, I knew better than to follow her when she left.
She left.
Again.
She was supposed to understand. She was supposed to see that leaving me to sulk in my own misery only made me turn into a monster all the more, that leaving me turned me into the soulless person that so disgusted her. Yes, I was insensitive and bitter and cynical, but she made me that way! She was the only door I had to anything else, but she kept slamming it in my face! It was her fault not mine! It was Iroh's fault. It was Azulon's fault. It was—
"Where's that brat going?" Chan asked.
I set his hair on fire.
It's my fault.
The next day, Lu Sen banished the General from her presence, knowing how he worried over her condition. The more the prince tried to hide it, the more clearly the princess saw it. He gave in once she insisted nothing else would please her more than for him to take a day off, and he was, at that moment, sparring with Fire Prince Ozai.
"Ozai and Iroh?" I asked when Suzu told me. My state of disbelief that made me forget to use their titles in front of her. "Sparring?"
This can't end well.
Ozai towered over his brother as they seemed to engage in a true Agni Kai. They weren't even in the official chamber, simply sparring in the Coronation Plaza because they decided to do their sunrise bending there. The need for such formality became clear when I realized that Fire Lord Azulon was among their large audience, enthroned above the rest with a stare of deadly concentration almost exactly like his son's.
But the Fire Lord's was far colder.
Aware of every movement, of every breeze and blade of grass, Ozai moved against his brother with a terrible glory and ruthless majesty, and yet more grace than any dancer. Both princes relied on instinct over training, letting the element breathe from their spirits, but it was Ozai whom I could not look away from.
Whom I could never look away from.
Iroh seemed to understand fire in its relation to everything else, every other element and part of nature, and he seemed to understand every part of fire's nature, moving, flowing, and breathing with it, but Ozai WAS fire. There was no way around it. For better or worse, Ozai embodied flame. All the enlightenment and experience and wisdom in the world could not change make fire better than fire.
Even when that fire was fueled by jealousy.
And that it was.
I'd been looking up to Iroh my entire life, but then I outgrew him. Quite literally. For the first time in my life, I could take on my brother. I could be his match in bending.
I might, even, be able to defeat him.
Iroh had more experience. Nearly forty or not, he was in better shape than most of our army, and he understood fire better than almost anyone. He was possibly stronger and more powerful than he had ever been, but I knew what he was capable of. I'd been watching him for years, and I knew his moves, his technique, his strengths, his strengths that could be used as weaknesses (since he didn't have real weaknesses), and his entire philosophy of bending. I knew him. I knew his bending.
But he didn't know mine.
Well, not my bending of the past two years at least.
As Ozai realized that he could gain the upper hand, that Iroh's stance wasn't prepared for the forceful blast he could create, his eyes flamed with more resentment than even he knew he had within him. Fifteen years worth of neglect, favoritism, misunderstanding, and suppression overtook my prince, making the little boy I held so dear unrecognizable.
Just as began my move, I glanced at the audience, feeling her presence like I felt the sun's heat, needing to know my best friend was there for me, that Ursa—
She shook her head, the look in her eyes unmistakable.
Don't.
Please.
For me.
DON'T.
So I did something that I hadn't in years.
I hesitated.
Ozai had to finish his move in a way that blocked Iroh's breath of fire. While the audience cheered their 泥ragon of the West,the forgotten prince looked at me, angrily. "Why?" his golden gems seemed to demand.
Her thoughts were plain to read.
If you love me, prove it.
Lose.
If I lost, I would win her. If I won, I would lose her.
To lose her would be a fate worse than death, but was it worth the loss of my pride?
The prince shifted ever-so-slightly and gave Iroh an opening. Few others would've noticed it, but Iroh couldn't miss it. Even then, it was too subtle for the General to suspect anything at the time, and he took his chance to knock Ozai down.
He fell, and the crowd roared.
Nothing was worth losing her.
"Well done, brother," Iroh complimented sincerely, offering me his hand. I took it, and he raised an eyebrow once I stood back up. "Did you...?" he started to consider, frowning slightly before a chant of his moniker began.
"Drag-on-of-the-West! Drag-on-of-the-West!"
I bowed to him, and he bowed in turn before clasping my hand in his and holding them high.
"Fire Prince Ozai!" he shouted, and I pasted on a wide smile to hide my fury.
"General Iroh!" I shouted before he could get any ideas about giving me an epithet. "Crown Prince and Dragon of the West!"
They roared once more, and I glanced at the Fire Lord. It was difficult to identify any emotion other than anger on that man's face, but he seemed to be wavering between two. He was either outraged or relieved, and he couldn't tell any more than I could.
I bowed my head to him, and his chin almost-imperceptibly dipped in reply, eyes of the coldest flame calculating once again.
I left Iroh to his fans, going where I knew she would go. Prince Charming joked with and flattered and thanked the "humbling" people, but I was too frustrated to envy him their adoration. I'd appeased Ursa, but that didn't mean I had to be happy about it.
She just sat there on the fountain's edge, feeding turtle ducks without a care in the world.
"Why on earth...?" he demanded, marching into the garden with shaking fists. "I could have beaten him!
Once he finished yelling in my face, I spoke patiently.
"And what would that have proven? That you're just as, if not more powerful than, your brother the heir apparent? The Fire Lord knows that, Ozai! And it terrifies him," I whispered, fear for him crushing my heart. "It terrifies him that the biggest threat to his firstborn son... is his second. Proving that for all the world to see, Azulon would've had no choice but to..."
I trailed off, staring at the grass, unable to meet his eyes.
"To what?" he asked in a low voice without emotion.
"I don't know," I lied, muttering. "To answer it in some way. It wouldn't have been good, Ozai. Can't you see that?"
She was right.
I was wrong.
He didn't say anything for a while. He didn't express anything. He just sat down and sighed, resting his head on his hands.
She sat next to me, but she didn't speak. She didn't have to. We breathed in the silence, simply existing. Then, when she thought I was ready...
"I didn't realize you were so mad at Iroh."
"I wasn't. Not really. Not at Iroh."
Just the world.
She nodded her understanding and watched the turtleducks.
"You know, my favorite teacher, she says that fire is life. And it is. Fire is energy, passion, light, hope, and beauty. But it's also such a great representation of anger, bitterness, pain... human nature. It stands for all the good and bad of human nature. It's the only unpredictable element. It's what the world revolves around. Fire can cleanse, but if left unchecked, it either fizzles out, or it builds and builds until it consumes everything in its path. Rage? Bitterness? Heartache? They can be used to right wrongs, to combat injustice, to grow wiser and stronger, but if you let them, they can eat away at you until nothing's left. Just ash."
I didn't hear her words at the time. I listened, but it didn't click.
I was still reeling from the confirmation that the Fire Lord feared me.
And I would never fear him again.
This chapter is longer than expected so I'll just cut it off here. I also want to thank my reviewers, especially ElloZo. Your words mean so much to me! Let me know if random Chinese characters show up again!