She hadn't seen Ozai in days.

When she peers out the window over the shoulders of her guards, she decides she's not going to go looking for him. The people are furious, and it's not uncommon to hear the outbreak of brawls outside. Buildings crumble under the awesome might of earthbending, the very ground seeming to protest beneath her feet as it shifts. Their forms are foreign and aggressive. Where firebending had a sort of fluidity to it, almost dance like, earthbending was all hard stances and rigid forms. The two couldn't be more different.

Pebbles rain against the glass as the earthbender's stones get blasted apart with a burst of fire. Ursa flinches away, drawing the curtains and returning to Zuko as he sits on the distressed rug before the fireplace. She'd occupied him with more ink and paper, and he's abandoned the brush to paint with his hands instead. Black is smudged across his forehead and cheeks. She chuckles, using her sleeve to wipe a droplet from his chin before it can fall onto his work.

"Can we—" He doesn't need to finish before she's shaking her head and settling onto her knees beside him.

"No, sweetheart." She says, taking a moment to enjoy the fire's warmth before her, "It's dangerous outside. There are people out there who would want to hurt you." Her hands settle on his shoulders and the possessiveness she feels at the thought startles her. It's an intense, all consuming need to protect him, and the thought of anyone taking him from her makes her hands tense. He notices the shift, frowning and looking up from his paper.

"Mom?"

"It's alright, though, you're safe in here." Another earth shattering rumble shakes the house, dust falling from the rafters above and making her cough. She stands and comes to the windows again, her curiosity getting the better of her.

"There must be a better way to do this." She sighs, lifting the curtain for just a moment before turning away again, "This is their home, I can see why they're angry—"

The stone hurled at their home is too large to get obliterated by fire this time. It shatters the window and buries itself into the ground with a spray of glass and splinters. Zuko cries out, stumbling to his feet and clinging to Ursa's robes. She quickly gathers him, holding him close. Through the broken window, she can distantly hear a shout.

"Cowards!" A young earthbender cries as he's tackled by Fire Nation soldiers, his hands already being chained behind his back, "Hiding in there while you tear our city apart! Come out and face us!"

He's so young. The cuffs around his hands are nearly too big for him, dwarfing his thin wrists. His clothes are threadbare and torn. Blood soaks his tawny hair and half his face before it soaks into his collar. He's hardly more than a child. Ursa looks down to Zuko, seeing his wide, scared eyes. She looks back to the boy, seeing similarly wide, terrified eyes as he struggles against the soldiers.

She hands Zuko to the nearest guard, kissing his forehead before she cautiously steps outside. Everything seems to pause, the soldiers and earthbender alike stilling as they see her emerge.

"Princess, you shouldn't be—" She raises a hand to silence the soldier, stepping out into the dense snow towards them. The earthbender is stunned, and she sees his bravado was merely surface level. He's terrified of her, shrinking towards his captors as she gets close. She can see panicked tears starting to streak his face.

"What is your name?" She asks, her voice barely carrying over the sound of the howling wind through empty streets. He mumbles something, unheard, and one of the soldiers jostles him.

"A member of the Royal Family is speaking to you, boy. Answer her."

"Dashi." He huffs out. She gives a polite nod.

"Ursa." She answers, "I wish I could say it was nice to meet you, but considering what you've done to my house…" She looks back to see the shattered window already being boarded by another guard.

"Yeah—yeah, well, I had to do something! I'm not going to just sit and hide while you guys take everything from us!" He finds a second wind, struggling against the soldier's grasp. She raises her hands, shaking her head.

"I understand why you're angry with us. You are a very brave boy to speak out the way you do." She says, and she can see the confused gazes of the soldiers as they glance at each other. No doubt, they were more accustomed to how her husband would handle a dissenter attacking his home.

"I…I don't need your approval!" He cries, clearly just as confused as they are. This was good, this was progress.

"I'm sure you don't. But I just wanted you to know that I respect your views on this. What's being done to your home…it's not pleasant. And it's certainly not fair. You're angry, and you wanted to act on it. But I can tell you from experience, acting on your anger will only hurt your cause further." His brows furrow with confusion and uncertainty as he watches her, and he even glances back at the soldiers for some kind of answer, "I'm sure you have a family that would miss you if you were taken away."

"Don't threaten me with them!" He snaps, renewed terror in his voice as he struggles.

"So, you do have a family." She smiles, coming forward and resting her hands on his. He goes completely still, staring down at her hands, "I want you to go back to them, and take care of them. Use this passion to keep them safe. Stay out of trouble for them."

"You're…you're letting me go?"

"There's no harm done, not really. Other than to my window, and I wasn't that attached to it anyway." She knows no one agrees with her decision, the soldiers holding him not moving to unlock his cuffs.

"Princess, he's a rebel who attacked the Royal Family, that's easily punishable by—"

"I know what it's punishable by. He's just a child." She says with just a touch of sharpness. This boy had a mother, a family. Just as she couldn't imagine losing Zuko, she couldn't imagine inflicting that kind of pain on someone else. Not over something as petty as a stone through a window.

Still, no one moves.

"Release him." She finds herself ordering. They stumble over each other to get the keys, hurriedly unlocking his cuffs. The boy stares up at her as his hands are freed, but the soldiers keep close by, hands tensed to strike with fire and sword if they needed to.

"Run home now. Stay with your family." She adds. He rubs his wrists sorely, his pale skin already starting to bruise from their weight. When his eyes meet hers this time, there's something else there. A major shift, turmoil and confusion as his expectations are challenged. He doesn't answer, backing away before running like he's being chased. She sighs, turning and slowly walking back towards the house.

Ozai would have made the boy a martyr. He would have killed him where he stood, bent on displaying his power and iron will. All that would have done is embolden resistance. They would have used his death to strengthen their dissent. But with her kindness, perhaps this could pass more easily for that boy and his family. Perhaps they won't resist, and they'll be left alive and mostly intact. She can only hope that will be the case for them. That's all she can do for them.

She closes the door behind herself, pulling Zuko close again and burying her face in his wild mass of dark hair.

"My Prince!" Ozai lets out an aggravated sigh, dropping the soldier to the ground to settle in a heap of armor. The clatter is enough to make the man approaching still, looking between the terrified soldier and the Prince. He shuffles away, his back meeting the wall, his eyes never leaving the man's towering form.

"You think you're entitled to an audience with me?" Ozai asks, turning to face the intruder. He was little more than a delivery man, his ostrich horse visible outside of the tents open flaps, its saddle burdened with the weight of dozens of yet to be delivered scrolls. He's a slight man, as most delivery men are, and he bows low before holding out a scroll.

Ozai's breath catches as he sees the Royal insignia on the tie holding it closed, anticipating correspondence from his father, before the delivery man speaks.

"News from General Iroh."

Ozai tosses it into the air, and ignites it without a second glance. The delivery man stares, and Ozai grabs a few wayward gold pieces from the nearby desk, dropping them into the man's still outstretched hand.

"Thank you for the message of such great importance. And I'm sure he had you personally deliver it to me as opposed to a messenger hawk to ensure I received and read it." Ozai pointedly glances down at the gold pieces, "And I have. Be on your way and report that back to him."

"Well, I can't be sure what I saw…" He says as he shifts the coins around in his hand. Ozai rolls his eyes and grabs more coins from within the desk's drawer. He dumps them onto the ground without ceremony. The man kneels to pick them up.

"Perhaps this jogs your memory, boy." He has no desire to read anything Iroh had to say. Whatever it was, he wasn't interested. After his last encounter on Ember Island, there was nothing further for Ozai to gain from him.

"Oh, now I remember. You read it." He's gone as soon as he's shoved the coins into his pocket, riding off. Ozai turns back to the soldier, finding him half crawled out the back of the tent. He plants a heavy boot on his back, leaning his weight into it and making the man cry out as he crumples. Ozai's new armor is heavier than the royal robes he was accustomed to, but it serves the unforeseen purpose of giving his threats a little more weight.

"As I was saying." He says with a cruel smile, yanking the man's helmet off and tossing it aside, "My wife released a rebel and you let her?"

"I-I can't stop her! I have to follow orders from members of the Royal Family, your father instructed—" Ozai lifts his heel and brings it down hard. His armor is the only thing saving him from a broken rib.

"You follow my orders!" He yells, "Not my father's, not my wife's, no one else's! My father isn't here. So as far as you're concerned, I am the only man you need to listen to. And when I tell you to lock up or kill every rebel or dissenter, I mean every rebel or dissenter. If the Princess tells you anything different, it means nothing. She answers to me, as you all do."

"Yes, my Prince." He says shakily, head lowered to the point of touching the frozen ground. Pathetic.

"Get out of my sight right now. You are a disgrace to our Nation." He lifts his boot off the man's back, turning from him. The man is gone suddenly, running from the tent and closing the flaps behind him. Ozai settles at the desk, sitting back with a heavy sigh. Even the soldiers here disappointed him, the more he worked with them. They had grown complacent in their power over the decades of conquest, expecting any city to yield to them. And then his wife was making it worse, allowing rebels to attack without punishment. It's a recipe for disaster.

He pauses as he sees the last flashes of fire engulfing the burning scroll. As the fire burns itself out, he sees a lump in the embers. He brushes aside the spent ashes to reveal a charred metal tube that had previously been wrapped in the scroll.

Iroh had anticipated Ozai would burn his scroll. He nearly laughs in astonishment, picking up the tube and tearing open its seal. If he'd gone to so much trouble, perhaps he could oblige him.

Ozai.

Unusually direct, as far as his brother's writing usually goes.

I know of your attempt on my life.

Ozai stills, his blood running cold. If anyone, especially their father, found out about what he'd attempted to do on Ember Island, he could be punished for treason. An assassination attempt on the Crown Fire Prince was of the highest offenses, punishable by death.

I will not tell our father, and I fully expect you to burn this after reading. But I do so on one condition.

Ozai groans, tapping the metal tube against the desk. He doesn't even want to continue reading. He had no choice but to do whatever it is his brother wanted of him.

Be kind to Ursa and Zuko. I was unable to convince you of this before, but I believe with this unique situation we've found ourselves in, this will be more motivating for you.

He rereads the line repeatedly.

If you do not lay a hand on them, if you make any effort at all to improve your behavior toward them and I get no word from Ursa of any abuse on your part, then our father will never know of this.

The paper starts to singe and burn under his fingertips, his rage so powerful and overwhelming he can't contain the heat.

Your loyal brother, Iroh.

The paper ignites completely in a flash. Ashes rain across his hands, and he slams his fist onto the desk hard enough to crack the wood.

This was Ursa's doing, he's sure of it. She must have told him. Did she have any idea what she'd done? If Iroh had gone to their father, he would have been executed. Zuko and herself would most likely have been banished. Perhaps that's what she'd hoped for, vile rat snake that she is.

No, that was too easy. Perhaps she'd been conspiring with Iroh all along, telling him of the assassination attempt in an effort to secure her safety. Either way, he realizes there's nothing he can do. He can't punish Ursa and risk her sneaking a letter out to Iroh. If his word was broken, he had no doubt Iroh would alert their father and his own soldiers would be executing him by the morning. He couldn't attack Iroh. No threat would resolve this.

He stands, tying his hair back and sliding on his helmet as he exits the tent. He needed to speak to the traitorous Princess herself.

Ursa thinks they're being attacked when the front door slams open, a hulking, armored figure silhouetted in the doorway as flurries of snow blast in around it. The book in her lap is forgotten, tumbling to the floor as she stands. Zuko startles awake in the seat beside her, poking his head out from beneath the heavy blankets curled around him. She puts herself between the intruder and her son.

"You owe me an explanation." He snarls, and she blinks in confusion as she recognizes the voice. Ozai pulls his helmet off, tossing it onto the table nearby and coming closer. As he was normally dressed, he was an intimidating presence. Covered in heavy Fire Nation armor that bulked his already broad shoulders and gave each step a sort of thunderous footfall made her back away from him with a tremble.

"What—What do you mean?" Ursa asks.

"Zuko, leave now." The mass of blankets shuffles off the couch and hurries down the hall. A door slams shut. Ozai gestures to the boarded window. "I thought your foolish decision to let the rebel who did this go free would be all that I would need to chastise you for. But you've done something so…treacherous, I can hardly begin to fathom it." He reaches up, a harsh click resounding as the plates around his neck fall away and clatter to the floor, "You told my brother about that night."

He's being purposefully obtuse, aware of the guards positioned just outside the door. She blinks, having nearly forgotten about which night he was referencing. And then she recalls, relaxing slightly.

"I thought he deserved to know." She sighs.

He approaches her so quickly that she stumbles back into the chair she'd vacated, staring up in terror. His fists are accented with metal, any strike from him now would cause more damage than ever before. But no attack comes. He stands before her, hands clenched into tight fists as he restrains himself.

"Do you want me dead, woman?" He asks, and there's something in his voice she can't place. His eyes are wide, panicked, and she realizes it's fear. The shaking in his hands is from terror, not rage.

"Ozai, what—no, of course not." She had hated him, more than once. He had taken so much from her. But never, even in her darkest, most desperate moments, had she wished him dead. That kind of hatred wasn't within her. It separated her from him.

"Don't lie to me!" He orders, removing more of his armor. Hefty domed pieces of metal on his shoulders that he throws back across the room where they collide with the wall, "Telling Iroh that could only be because you wanted me executed! If Iroh had told our father, he would have killed me for treason. You would have been banished, and that's exactly what you wanted!"

She stands quickly and risks putting her hands on his cheeks, steadying him as he breathes deeply. Fire burns in his eyes, and she's sure he wants to strike her down now. His teeth are grit tightly, hot breaths rushing out and nearly scorching her. She tries to maintain her confidence.

"I didn't even think of that when I told him. I was scared for him, and I wanted to warn him to be careful around you, but I didn't—he wouldn't—" She's not sure how to calm him, his wild eyes searching her face for any hint of deception. It's like he's being physically held back, his hands held out tensely at his sides. He rips himself from her, turning away and releasing a burst of flames from his mouth and hands so bright and brilliant she has to shield her face from the light. It could almost be called a tantrum if he wasn't still wearing the heavy steel. The fireplace roars higher as he turns back to face her. His shoulders seem to have lost a fraction of their tenseness.

"I received word from Iroh today." He starts with a new calmness, working on the clasps of his chest plate. It falls to the ground loudly, and he steps over it, "It stated that if he received any word of…misconduct on my part, in regards to you or Zuko, he would tell our father. And I certainly can't do much to stop him. I can't count on no one telling him, even if I could keep you from sneaking correspondence with him. These soldiers respect him too much."

His fingers find her chin, holding it in a mockery of a gentle embrace. She'd thought an outright furious Ozai was terrifying, but this was something new. He's containing his rage, holding it behind his eyes like a smothered flame. The smoke of it was choking her.

"My only other option would be to kill you, as then you certainly couldn't tell him anything then, but then there's the issue of Iroh finding out about that and assuming that's why I did so." He lets her chin go and she staggers back. She won't sit now.

"I…I won't—I won't tell him anything."

"No, a lack of your correspondence will be as damning as a confession." More armor, the pliable steel chain over his stomach sliding off onto one of the seats, "I will keep this promise with my brother. But do not think I have forgotten what you've done." He sits in her empty seat, working the armor from his thighs and shins. He's left in only the thick winter clothes beneath, standard protective gear underneath any set of armor.

"Ozai, I know you think I wanted to hurt you by doing this, but I was only trying to protect Iroh. I'm sorry, I didn't think about what your father could do to you." She slowly sits as well, and he leans back into his chair, yanking his hair free of its tie and letting it splay freely over his shoulders. He smiles bitterly, glancing over at her. It's a loaded gaze.

"My father loves Iroh more than anyone. Perhaps he cared for our mother more, I wouldn't know, but of anyone alive, Iroh is his favorite. He knows we don't like each other, and he's never cared, because he doesn't think I could ever best Iroh in combat. He thinks I'm not a threat, and that if I ever attempted to kill him, Iroh could defend himself." He's speaking to the fireplace, refusing to look at her, "It's the method that would seal my fate. Poisoning is cowardly, without honor. That in itself is worthy of execution."

"He…would be upset that you didn't try to kill him the right way?" She asks.

"More or less. It's why our fight in the library was of no great concern to him. He knew I would lose that fight." He admits.

"I'd call that more of a draw."

"If it's not a win, it's a loss." Ozai counters, "The point is, this is possibly the only thing I could have done that would warrant execution. My father would kill me himself if he found out, and I would have to accept that." She blinks, pulling back in surprise. That wasn't like him.

"You—what do you mean accept that? Just let him kill you?"

"He's the Fire Lord. If he made a decree that he was going to kill me, I'm already dead. It's his right to kill anyone he pleases." She's sad for him. She reaches over and touches his hand, testing for resistance. He doesn't move, his eyes still on the fire. She clasps his hand in hers.

"I don't want that for you." Is all she can whisper. The thought of knowing that your own father had every right to kill you, that it was something he just had to expect, was something she couldn't fathom. She thinks of her own father, and his kind eyes and touches. Her family had been loving, supporting her in all things. Never once had she doubted their love for her, or feared even mild retribution. If anything, they'd let her get away with too much.

She wonders what it's like to live with the burden of that unique fear as Ozai did. He feared his father, possibly he was the only person that he feared. His hand is tense in hers. She kisses the back of his gloved hand.

"I love you." She says, and it snaps his attention away from the fire for the first time since he'd started speaking. "I'll write to Iroh and work this out with him. Perhaps he can even come here, and we can talk, just so he knows you aren't forcing me to talk him out of this." He watches her for a moment before pulling her hand closer until she's pressed to his side.

"My dear, I fully expect you to." He answers, voice dripping with artificial sweetness as he kisses her, "You caused this, and I expect you to fix it. If you do that for me, this whole matter can be forgotten, and you will have proven your loyalty to me."

She wonders how he flips his emotions so suddenly, going from a sullen dejection to that now familiar composure. He's an enigma, always, and every time she thinks she'd dug down to his core she finds yet another wall.

"And as for that rebel?" He adds after another fleeting kiss, his free hand cupping her face and pinning her under his gaze, "I will find him and make him face his proper punishment, publicly."

"Wait, please, he was just a boy—"

"It's late. I'm going to bathe and rest. You should do that same." He stands, disappearing down the hall without another word. Ursa doesn't go to bed, instead dragging out one of the few unmarked pages from the pile Zuko had left. She picks up the brush, rights the bottle of ink, and starts to write.

N/A: Ozai in armor. OZAI IN ARMOR. Chef Kiss.