I woke before dawn for the first time in my memory. Ordinarily, I lived for the night like Ozai lived for the day, inflamed by the light of the stars. Iroh said I was like a waterbender in that respect. I rose with the moon; they rose with the sun.
My sunrise forms consisted of an Agni Kai that morning. It'd become a tradition for newly promoted officers to duel with me before leaving the capital, though none came close to besting me. Success for my opponents was, instead, determined by how many seconds they managed to stay unburnt. The record was five. The only method that worked for them was to attack me with all the force they could manage in the moment after the duel began, knowing I'd block, evade, or even use the blast against them, but also knowing that—if I attacked first—there was no way to defend or escape. Because no one's honor was truly at stake, we dueled outside rather than the traditional Agni Kai chamber, and our half-asleep audience was much smaller.
The Agni Kais, while not even remotely challenging, freed me from boredom like nothing else could, never monotonous and always reminding the people of my power and skill. I took delight in forming newer, more elaborate, and even more pointed attacks, but I never toyed with my opponents. If I had, that would've given them more seconds to their reputations, and more opportunity for watchful audience members to analyze possible weaknesses in me.
The boy I fought that day was barely old enough for conscription, much less promotion. Part of me wondered how he managed to prove himself at all from the sweat on his brow and fear in his eyes, but then I realized his strength. The skinny kid's chest heaved with short, rapid breaths, but his hands never shook. Solid footing, firm stance, determination and speed in spite—if not because—of his own terror. I assumed that his lanky limbs were agile, flexible, that his quick feet would leap if given the chance. Even a frightened squirrel toad could be dangerous if underestimated.
I made these observations in the millisecond before the gong sounded, expecting the boy to attack instantly, but the half-risen sun glinted off a familiar figure in my periphery. My pupils darted towards a red robe sitting on the short wall surrounding us, a red robe with dark hair half-up and half-down, a red robe leaning forward to meet my gaze.
Ozai grinned.
And knocked the breath out of me.
In that moment, he radiated a joy that I hadn't seen since our childhood, seeming to tower over the world, infinitely confident and infinitely justified in being so. His bare chest, lit by the sun, was fair-skinned and impossibly musclular. Well, perhaps not impossibly, but still ridiculously, distractedly, and mind-bendingly. It was difficult to focus on the fire with muscles like that.
His opponent used the time it took for Ozai to turn to me to his best advantage, choosing to leap out of the prince's firing range rather than attack first. The prince turned with him, waiting, and attacked only to knock him off balance mid-form. The boy, over-excited by his luck and Ozai's steely stare, stumbled easily, but not before he let off a stream of fire with an aim so terrible—
He sent a fireball straight towards Ursa.
I didn't flinch. My eyes didn't blink. My heart didn't skip a beat. The other ladies screamed, but my lungs continued to breath with quiet confidence, absolute certainty in Ozai.
She didn't move—she couldn't—until I leaped at the wall, taking her up into my arms and shoving her to the ground so swiftly it was more instinct than decision, more reflex than action. After a half-second to ensure her well-being, I rose with hate in my bones.
More hate than I'd ever felt before, and that was saying a lot. More than I'd felt for anyone or anything. My father. My brother. My masks. Myself. More hate than I knew anyone, even myself, to be capable of. It was animalistic hate. Irrational. All-consuming.
Draconic.
I'd seen Iroh firebend the move that earned him his "Dragon of the West" title. I'd never seen my prince do the same.
Until then.
"FOOL!" Ozai roared fire, every muscle in his body tensing as they sought to contain his wrath. He unleashed a series of attacks that sent the boy tumbling backwards, ferocious and unyielding, merciless. "Your recklessness nearly KILLED SOMEONE!"
Finally, his victim crumbled to the ground, too petrified to crawl backwards as Ozai prepared for the final blow.
There was murder in his eyes.
"Ozai, DON'T," she ordered, leaping between us and cupping my face in her hand. She either ignored or forgot our audience of nobility. "Promise me, Ozai," she whispered, eyes pleading as I lowered my fist. "Promise you won't hurt him."
"Ursa—"
"Promise me."
"I promise," I agreed through gritted teeth, focusing all my loathing into one glower. "I will not harm the pathetic, incompetent leech who couldn't have earned whatever promotion was bestowed upon him."
With a sigh of relief, she stepped back and walked away, leaving the nobles to their gossip and the worm to his weakening bladder control.
He lost all that control when I blasted the ground next to him and whispered in his ear, "I didn't promise that I wouldn't have someone else harm you."
I had no reason to expect her there. The darkened clouds threatened to burst on us at any minute, and they began to drizzle before I was halfway there. Still, I walked on. I looked. I hoped. I begged the spirits that—
Ursa sat by the dragon fountain, face upturned to embrace the falling water.
Feeding the turtleducks.
Even more glorious in the rain.
"Have you ever seen someone firebend in the rain?" my prince called with the voice that made my young, naïve self forgive and forget the morning. He'd been worried sick, I told myself. He'd been trying to save me. His wild temper, his out-of-control anger was justified.
The murder in his eyes was just "passion."
"No, I can't say I have," I chuckled.
"Then follow me," he invited, pulling me to my feet and leaving me to stand as he began the dance.
As always, he radiated careless power, effortless might, every move involuntary and yet somehow awakening him, making him—and his golden eyes—more alive than ever before. I couldn't dance along with him, too in awe, spellbound by his majesty and grace, entranced by his skill, trapped in his power, drowning in his pools of honey.
Thunder boomed in the sky above us, but if he felt the rain, it only energized him all the more, piercing his skin and his consciousness to make him all the more aware and alert and... flawless. As the storm came to its crescendo, I expected the prince to join with the lightning, but he didn't, and my rising chest fell in mild disappointment, surprised, confused, as was he when he fell to one knee, frowning at the sky.
She walked over to me, sitting on the wet grass behind me, and I didn't turn around, trying to return from the higher plane that was bending.
"I've never seen someone bend lightning before," she whispered after a pause. "Not even you. I asked Iroh about it once, and he said—"
"There is energy all around us. The energy is both yin and yang—positive energy and a negative energy. Only a select few Firebenders can separate these energies. This creates an imbalance. The energy wants to restore balance, and in the moment the positive and negative energy come crashing back together, you provide release and guidance, creating lightning." he quoted calmly and then explained. "It's more than detachment. You can't detach from yourself, no matter how much you might want to. It's more than control. You can't control lightning any more than you can control violence or even fire. It's untamable. It's about guidance."
"Then why haven't you shown me?"
The thought to ask whether or not I was able to do it never entered her mind.
I rose and turned to face her, to explain. The darkened sky made her all the more beautiful and ethereal. Her fair features were made marble, curls obsidian, and eyes amber flame. She stood as well, stepping forward, seeking to decrease the distance between us as much as possible, indifferent to the rain.
"I've been able to do it since I was thirteen," he confirmed, "but... Lightning is the cold-blooded fire. Precise and deadly. A pure expression of firebending without aggression. It is not fueled by rage or emotion. It is fueled by certainty-by inner peace. Of mind. Of spirit. Of identity. And when I'm around you..."
She just stared at me with big, blinking eyes of amber.
Blast it! How's a man supposed to think, much less speak, with...?
"I lose that. To bend lightning, I must be absolutely certain. But you make me... Ursa, you make me—"
Her lips interrupted.
He didn't taste of smoke. No disciplined firebender would. Only a bender out of balance, out of control from rage and obstinancy would pollute his lungs with smoke. Ozai tasted of tea and ginger.
He tasted of steam.
My heart froze before melting and then burning and then electrifying every cell in my body, leaping into my blank mind as my fingers trembled in her hair.
I was numb.
And then I ignited.
Our hearts, our blood, and everything within our very spirits us blazed into one singular inferno. I knew not where his heart ended and mine began. There were no walls or masks between us, not even air. We were one and our heart flamed and leaped, unable to beat, everything other than our lips unable to move.
We parted for fear of bursting.
Ursa beamed at me with the most beautiful smile I'd ever seen, even on her, laughing as she spoke.
"And you always hated the rain. 'Weather for turtleducks and water benders,' you called it. 'Unfit for a prince of the—"
"I love the rain," he whispered as he tucked back my wet hair and then swept me up into his arms.
Music poured from her mouth as the water poured from the sky and as I spun her around and around until dizziness led both of us to crash into the fountain.
We spent another half hour splashing and chasing each other, frightening the turtleducks, soaking and freezing ourselves through to the point that we were sick in bed for days, but that day would've been worth a lifetime of recovery.
We were granted a week of bliss, of innocent young love, before we had to suffer for our recklessness. We should've been more careful. I knew to beware Azulon, but I never considered her father a threat. I never imagined that his hatred for me—for my family—would lead to what it did.