Normal font tells the story from Ursa's POV.

Bold font is Ozai's POV.

This ignores The Search's existence.

I was five years old when I met my future husband—the man who would turn greatest love into deepest tragedy, the boy who would define and destroy my life.

The phoenix who would consume me heart and soul.

She had fire in her eyes back then. Even as a child, those crystal flames blazed more fiercely than any firebender's. Even as a child, her gaze pierced my heart more deeply than any other's. They were flames and pools and jewels all at once. They were bottomless, fathomless, unending... Brilliant as the sun. Burning, unquenchable, until my darkness would finally snuff them out. They would gleam for decades. They would radiate and shine and overcome everything but... me. As much as they might seem to win me over, as much as they would shape and mold me, guide me towards the light, they couldn't prevent what I would allow myself to become. I alone was responsible. Only I could have saved me from myself, but I relied on her do it for me. And even her eternal flame had to dim.

Even her cleansing fire could only do so much to purify the corrupt.

It was spring, and I wanted to feed the turtle ducks. Though the royal gardeners had taken precautions to keep them out of the palace, the creatures still flocked there. There were always some swimming in—or hiding near—the dragon fountain. My mother had taken me there a few days prior and pointed out some eggs that were about to hatch. I would've forgotten about them if I hadn't been spending the way with my cousin. She was far from an engaging babysitter, and I escaped from her with ease. The guards let me inside with chuckles, trusting that a non-bending five-year-old could only do so much damage and not expecting the royal family to visit that day.

Somehow, they hadn't been aware of the little boy by the fountain. From their post, they couldn't hear the birds' angry cries as he growled and kicked at them.

I didn't know who he was. I saw the back of his crown, but it didn't register as a prince's. Even if it had, I would've done the same thing. After all, turtle ducks were my favorite.

"Bully!" the little girl declared with a wrath that rivaled my father's, interrupting my attempt to send a fireball towards one of the beasts.

I spun around to face my accuser, shocked by her forcefulness and authority. It was only the second time, in my young life, where I'd been addressed with that tone. The first had been earlier that same day and was, in fact, what caused me to take out my frustration on the turtle ducks.

She glared fiercely, hands on her hips, lower lip pouted out in the most adorable—

"You viper-bat!"

My jaw dropped for the first time in my memory. I had never been so insulted. Only my brother ever called me names, and he only did so in jest, out of affection.

Is she insane?

"Do you know who you're talking to?"

In the eyes of a five-year-old, he was nothing special. There was nothing remarkable "at first sight." He was a boy. He didn't look that weird. His clothes were nice. His hair was almost as long as mine. There was an odd glimmer in his eyes that he seemed to be wiping away... He was two years older than me, and much taller, which did annoy me quite a bit.

"They wouldn't play with me!" was his defense, glowering back with impossibly golden eyes I barely noticed.

Forgetting him, I tended to the turtle ducks, checking them for injuries and avoiding their pecks the best I could. The infuriatingly taller boy still stood, stunned that I would ignore him.

Is she dumb? Is she deaf?

"Did you hear me? They wouldn't play!" he repeated, yelling so loudly that I glared up at him.

"Of course not! They're afraid!" I scolded before returning to my turtle ducks, cooing and quacking and winning the approval of one. I stroked her feathers, and the boy sat down next to me, his eyes wide in awe.

"See? You have to be gentle," she said with a smile that would turn my world upside down, that would give my life a new purpose. "There's no excuse for acting like a dragon."

"I can be... gentle," he grumbled.

The word felt wrong in my mouth.

"It's not like I was going to burn them."

She scowled, seeing the truth, and her next words made my jaw hit the ground.

"That's a lie. If you lie to me again, I'm going to leave and never ever talk to you again," she threatened, starting to stand.

He reached out and grabbed me by the hand. He was, in fact, gentle, and his eyes were large and desperate, pleading in a way his mouth couldn't.

"I won't!"

"What's your name?"

Her question took me off guard, but I didn't mind. I answered instinctively, without hesitating, but leaving out my title. I'd never done that before. I always gloated in it. For the first time, I didn't want someone to know. For the first time, I was ashamed of being prince, and I didn't know why.

"Ozai."

"Promise me, Ozai," she commanded as though she were the royal. "Promise you'll never lie to me again."

Perhaps the most shocking about that day was that I did. I promised her in the name of every Fire Lord that ever was, in the name of my honor and my country.

And I meant every word.

"Okay," I replied to his solemn vow with cheer, not knowing how much it meant. "Now prove you can be gentle."

She thrust a loaf of bread in my face.

He tore the bread apart with inexplicable rage, maddening the turtle ducks in turn as their heads were pelted by bread crumbs.

"See! They hate me for no reason! They're scared of me. Like everyone else..."

We both pouted, but she tilted her head in curiosity while I sulked.

"Well, maybe if you weren't so angry all the time, they wouldn't be afraid."

His eyebrows shot up before frowning in confusion, as though the concept was unheard of.

"But, if no one fears me—"

"Try it like this," she ordered, demonstrating how to toss the crumbs in a way that guided the turtle ducks closer and teaching me how to feed them from my hand without losing any fingers.

After a few minutes of play, he dared to ask my name.

"Ursa."

I paused and threw more crumbs before remembering to ask, "Are you a prince?"

She asked it very matter-of-fact, as if she were asking my stance on fire flakes.

"Yes," I responded simply in turn.

She pouted a frown.

"Do I have to call you 'Prince' Ozai?"

"No," I insisted—even though I knew she did.

I demanded it of everyone else, but I didn't want her to. On her lips, the title seemed stuffy, formal, and sickeningly proper. The very idea of her addressing me with it, time and time again, was disgusting.

"Never," I promised.

She smiled, and I forgot how to throw breadcrumbs.

Eventually, a new turtle duck poked her head out from behind the dragon. We smiled towards her softly, throwing crumbs out in invitation. She swam out, followed by a train of fluffy turtle ducklings babes that made me beam with delight.

Ursa beamed with delight, and I never wanted her to stop. Her eyes shone on the turtle ducklings, and even I had to admit they were cute. I didn't have to admit it aloud, however, so I teased the girl about her glee, hoping that she would smile even more, devoted to seeing her eyes alight.

Ozai began to play with the little turtle ducklings, but the mother thought he was being too rough. She let out a warning that went unheeded so she leaped at his foot, clamping her beak down hard as he howled.

Ursa roared with laughter, but the music was worth all the dishonor in the world. I blushed for the first time in my memory, shaking my leg even harder in attempt to free myself. I sentenced the mother to a life in the volcano—and the hatchlings to death by soup.

I couldn't stop laughing, tears filling my eyes even as I tried to help him.

"Hold still! I'll tickle her!"

"Turtle ducks aren't ticklish!"

"Ya huh!" I contradicted, proving it once we held still.

She was right.

I was wrong.

It was all I could do to keep my face from flaring red. I'd been corrected. Put in my place for the second time in that day, and the second time in my life. If Ursa's eyes hadn't been so bright, if her smile hadn't been so sweet, or if her laugh hadn't been so song-like, she might have left the garden sobbing.

"That turtle duck is crazy!"the little prince declared before sitting back down to glare at any creature that came near him.

"That's what moms are like," I explained with a shrug. "If you mess with their babies, they're going to bite you back."

Mom. It was a word I didn't know. Not really. My head knew it, but my heart could never understand. It evoked no memories. No nostalgia or pain. The only emotion it evoked was guilt. I wasn't supposed to have happened. Fire Lady Ilah should've been too old to have me. She died trying to give me life, and I was, quite literally, born a murderer.

He turned on me suddenly.

"What are you doing here?"

"Feeding turtle ducks," I quipped oh-so-cleverly.

"I mean, what are you doing here?"

The palace garden was only open to the Royal family and their guests.

"Mommy brought me here and showed me the eggs. Daddy said we could go again after they hatched, but they're both too busy today. My cousin wouldn't take me. She wanted to paint her nails. So I sneakeded out."

"It's sneaked."

"Huh?"
"I sneaked out. Not sneakeded."

"No, I sneakeded."

He sighed.

"Why were you so mad?" I asked, petting a chick's belly.

"Huh?"

"When you were about to burn the turtle ducks."

I thought about denying it, but I had a strange feeling that she would see through the lie.

"Why were you so mad?"

I pictured my father's face, remembering the drastic change in every feature when I mentioned, "When I become Fire Lord..." The amused grin morphed into a cruel grimace. My brother winced as Azulon let out a sharp reprimand and seemed half-prepared to set me aflame. He couldn't fathom such impertinent treason and insisted on punishing my tutor for not informing me that only a crown prince could become Fire Lord. Even knowing my ignorance, Father looked at me as though I wished my own brother were dead. When I started to say sorry for perhaps the first time in my life, he cut me short. "A prince of the fire nation NEVER apologizes."

Azulon would never smile at me again.

A dark cloud fell over his face, and my heart went out to him. He looked angry, yes, but more sad than anything else. Part of me wondered if—maybe, just maybe—that glimmer in his eyes had been a tear. He was so terribly sad that I wanted to throw my arms around him and never let go.

"I can never be Fire Lord," he answered honestly, dropping his head in shame.

I didn't expect her to understand. How could she? She was five. She was a girl. She would probably laugh at this "problem." She would mock me for being so silly and impossible. She would call me proud and greedy.

But she didn't.

She wasn't very sympathetic, but she tried to understand. She pouted in thought rather than irritation, confused, trying to rleate.

"So? Why would you want to be Fire Lord? He's so old, and my cousin says he never smiles. He doesn't have time for fun and games cause he has to win the war."

Ozai just blinked at me, realizing he didn't have an answer. He opened his mouth to explain why it was so great and desirable, but he seemed to realize the weakness of his own arguments. The dark cloud came back again, however, and he seethed.

"And my dad... my dad hates me."

This she did dismiss as absurd.

"Daddys never hate their children. They get mad sometimes, and they can seem really mean and scary, but that's just cause they're scared too. My mom and dad told me."

The prince sneered with a child held high.

"My daddy never gets scared."

She looked at me with those big eyes that made me question everything I knew to be true. When she looked at me like that, head tilted, long hair hanging off her face, my tummy felt funny and my head got fuzzy. I didn't like it.

"Everyone gets scared, Ozai."

At age seven, the prince had already mastered scoffing.

"Everyone? Even you?"

"Mm-hmm!" she nodded happily.

He grinned at me for the first time, and his eyes somehow sparked even more. Others might've been frightened by their mischief, but I was too wrapped up in their gold warmth. They burned and glowed and melted all at once, with fire all their own. How were they possible? How could anyone have eyes so like honey? So like two blazing suns?

"Prove it," he ordered like the prince he was, but I refused to obey.

Ursa didn't even blink, baffling me yet again. She smiled more, which I couldn't complain about, but I hated that I couldn't understand her. I understood everyone—or at least I understood their fear. Anyone else would've obeyed me instantly, swiftly, with fear in their eyes. But she didn't. She just smiled. She treated me like the little boy I was.

"I'll tell you if you tell me."

"Never!" he declared with that ugly sneer again, and I rose to leave.

"Goodbye then, Ozai."

I began to walk off, but my steps were slow and few, waiting for the prince to catch up.

"Ursa!" he whined, gently grabbing me by the arm. "You have to do what I say!"

"Why?"

He released me and stammered, never having had to explain it before.

"Because... because I'm the prince!"

"That's no reason to be bossy," I informed him, leaving his mouth agape for the fifth time that morning. "My daddy says that when a boy tells me that I have to do something, I should kick him in the pants."

He took a step back and raised a suspecting brow before resuming a tone of nasal authority.

"But I'm the prince! And I say tell me!"

"You have to ask nicely. And say please."

I glared my irritation, crossing my arms.

"Fine. Please, Ursa—"

"Lady Ursa."

"Your mom's not dead."

Again, not a blink.

"So?"

"So you're not a lady."

"Please, Lady Ursa," she repeated firmly, unabashed.

He glowered even more, making me giggle.

"Please, LADY Ursa, tell me what you're afraid of."

"Okay!"

I was almost startled that she agreed, but I was excessively pleased.

"You have to promise not to laugh."

"I promise."

She became very grave, and I became grave with her. There was nothing more precious to her than confessing a secret, and there was nothing more sacred to me than receiving it. Ursa took my hand in hers to form the holy connection, interlacing our fingers as she whispered with large eyes and a weak voice.

"I'm afraid of the dark."

Ozai looked confused.

"But... why don't you just firebend?"

She should've been offended, but she just looked at me.

"I can't."

He disagreed.

"Of course you can! You're a firebender! You have to be with eyes like..." he trailed off when I tilted my head in question. "Nevermind. You don't have to be afraid of the dark, Ursa. I can teach you."

"But... what if you can't?"

He scoffed again, dismissing my concern with a wave of his hand, and led me towards a grassier space in the garden.

"I can do anything I want."

"Except become Fire Lord," I pointed out only to receive an icy glower.

She giggled again. How could so many others quake at what she found so amusing?

"I'm going to be your firebending master."

She frowned at the word.

"Master?"

"Er, teacher!"

"But Ozai, what if...?"

"Don't worry, Urza. You'll never have to be afraid of the dark again. I'll light it for you."

Our roles would be so reversed, and I had not the faintest idea. But I should have known. Even then, I should have known from the way her gentle smile brightened my innermost being.

I should have known from the way her amber flames ignited my soul.

"Come on!" he encouraged rather than commanded as he began to demonstrate something. "Stand like this!"

"I don't know about this..."

"Don't you want me to learn how to bend? Let me teach you!"

"Ozai, I can't! I've never bended before! Fire does change at all when I'm angry or sad or—"

"That doesn't mean anything. My brother didn't bend until he was eight years old. He says it's because he never had a reason to. Our dad was really impatient for him to bend already, which made everyone else nervous so the maids let the fire in Iroh's room die out one night. He woke up and called for them, but they refused. Even the guards wouldn't go. Still, it wasn't the cold that made him bend. He just wanted hot water for tea so he lit the fireplace himself."

"Prince Ozai?" an exasperatingly familiar voice called from across the garden.

Speak of the devil, and the devil shall appear.

"Whaaat?" the young prince complained, turning to glare at the young man approaching us.

"Is that your dad?" I asked innocently enough.

"Of course not!" Ozai scoffed again, irking me.

"I think there's something wrong with your nose."

"Huh?"

"You keep squishing it up like this," she explained, wrinkling her nose and tilting her head back so far I thought she might fall.

Ozai didn't laugh, of course, despite how hilarious my imitation was. Instead, he found a way to glare, sulk, and pout all at once.

"He's my brother. Fire Lord Azulon is my father."

He said this with pride, puffing up his chest and standing straighter than I thought possible, clearly not anticipating the reaction he would receive.

Inexplicably, Ursa found this to be more humorous than anything else.

"No, he's noot!" she denied through her uncontrollable mirth.

"He is too!" I insisted, angry and letting it show.

"But... the Fire Lord's too old to be your daddy!"

I had no right to laugh. My father was even older than his, but he looked so young I couldn't tell.

Had I understood where children came from, I would've leaped at the chance to correct her, but all I could do was shrug in my own confusion. At sixty-seven years old, my father was old enough to be my great-grandfather. At thirty-one, my brother was old enough to be my father.

The short man had almost reached us when he asked, "Prince Ozai, who's this?"

"Ursa," he said while I mentally rehearsed my curtsy. "She's my..."

He cut himself off and looked to me for permission. This deferential glance dumbfounded the elder prince into slackening his jaw and widening his eyes into saucers—if only for a few seconds.

I took her tiny smile as encouragement, and ended the sentence with "friend."

Iroh had never seen his younger brother bend to the will of another unless it served him as student, son, etc. Ozai had witnessed the consequences dealt to those who questioned his father or firebending master and never repeated their mistakes. He followed Iroh's "recommendations" out of habit more than anything else, but he always manipulated his way out of unappealing tasks.

"It is an honor to meet you, Lady Ursa," he complimented with a bow—every inch the diplomat.

Ursa curtsied back, transforming into the perfect little noblewoman with a soft smile and lowered chin.

"The honor is mine, Crown Prince Iroh," I replied in the way my mother had trained me, relieved that I remembered his name. "I thank you for…"

She pouted, shattering the illusion as she failed to remember the next few words. Her expression made it impossible for my brother to suppress a chuckle.

"I am sure you are very welcome, my lady."

"Ursa's not a lady," I informed him. "Her mother's not dead."

"Every woman is a lady, Ozai."

"Ursa's not a woman," I adjusted. "She's a girl."

The "girl" scowled at me, and Iroh let loose several chortles.

"And what has my rude little brother been up to, Lady Ursa?"

"Nothing!" I protested before she could answer. "I was going to teach her—"

"He was going to burn the turtle ducks, but I saved them. He fed them with me, but then a mommy turtle duck—"

"We want to play by ourselves now," I declared, offering my hand out for her to take.

She was still focused on Iroh, and my eyebrow twitched out of envy.

"He wants to teach me how to firebend," she explained, glancing towards me and knocking the flame out of me. "I told him I can't, but he doesn't believe me."

I was so ashamed of my jealousy that I almost felt like blushing for a moment; the realization made me sneer again.

Iroh examined me with a gentle-yet-critical eye, kneeling down to my height. After completing the evaluation, he expressed confusion as well.

"You certainly have the eyes of a bender, my dear. Are you quite certain you cannot?"

She ignored the question, eyes glued to me.

"Can we play tag instead?"

"O-okay…" I agreed the instant she took my hand.

Iroh's jaw dropped enough for us to see his tongue.

"You can go now," Ozai informed him happily, starting to lead me away.

"And you're sure that you're… all right, little brother?" the baffled prince asked with a raised eyebrow, still recovering from the shock.

He was so delighted that I valued another's opinion that he would do anything to aid the developing friendship, yet he was hesitant to leave us alone, afraid either that he would wake from the dream or that my temper might combust in reality.

"We're fine," I snapped.

Ursa punished me for my tone with an icy-yet-scalding look that was already infamous in my mind, and I grumbled a more polite farewell as we left.

Had we turned around, we would have seen the great Crown Prince Iroh scratching his head in disbelief.

As my philosophical brother might say, I came to a fork in the road that day. I met with two paths for the first time and didn't realize it. I didn't realize that my life would be consumed by one or the other, that I could only straddle both for so long, that I could only change directions so many time.

One was my greatest love, the other my deepest lust. One called out to the good in me, to the core of who I once was. The other tempted the ambition, the refusal to be denied. Two births. Two fires. Two thirsts. For love and understanding. For power and control. One path would feed the flames with hope and passion. Devotion and conviction. Love. The other would feed the desire to have all that I wanted, to want for nothing, to be denied nothing. It would prey on my doubt and rage. Hatred and despair. It would give birth to fury, hunger, wrath, ambition... madness.

Fierce madness.

Cruel madness.

Hopeless madness.

Enough madness to overtake the unconquerable, the untamable...

The girl who loved turtle ducks.

I would just like to apologize for my heavy-handed foreshadowing. Hopefully, there won't be too much more of that, I can let Ozai and Ursa be cute kids for a little while. Also, this chapter was MUCH longer than I expected it to be. Sorry. If you're wondering about the weird ages, most of them are either estimated guesses or demanded by canon. I'm treating Ozai as if he was 35 (which is pretty old considering how young he looked in Zuko Alone) when he became Fire Lord, 40 during Sozin's Comet. Iroh was definitely 64 at the time of Sozin's Comet, which makes him 24 years older than his brother, and Azulon was 95 years old when Ozai became Fire Lord, which makes him 60 at Ozai's birth. Ursa's two years younger than Ozai just for the sake of the story and because I felt like it. Her parents are ancient too because, well, they'd have to be. The creators of Avatar don't seem to like math that much.

Please leave a review, even if you hated it. I'm going to keep writing this no matter what, but if no one reviews I won't update.