Ursa didn't love Ozai, and that was fine, simply because she was sure he didn't love her either. He couldn't love her. She was fairly sure he simply couldn't love anything, and that thought makes her almost pity him. What a sad life it must be, to have such a hole in your heart that any love that might have once attempted to inhabit it slipped away with such veracity that you never felt it at all. Of course, Ozai was also a gifted liar—actor, she told herself sometimes, because that made her imagine a different Ozai in a different life. With kinder eyes and at least one shared passion with her—and he could always tell her I love you when he felt like she wanted to hear it.
He could hold her, arms meant to be comforting but there's no true care in them. He could kiss her, smiling against her lips but if she opens her eyes she's sure to see his open; distant. He could make love to her, or better phrased, use her, but just as it was with everything else, it was very much about him. So she came to the conclusion that she could never love Ozai. They could grow old together, and she would never even develop much of a fondness for him.

And once she'd come to that realization, she worried for the small life growing in her. It was as much Ozai as it was herself, and when she lie awake at night beside him, her hand wandered to the rise that pushed her silk sleeping gown outwards. Their child—her child —was barely even a child yet. Far too early for any movements to be felt, but she couldn't help but expect something. She needed a sign from somewhere or something to tell her everything would be all right. She needed something to tell her that the child inside of her wouldn't become the man beside her. She felt the sting of withheld tears as she imagined bringing someone onto this earth with the same hole in their heart that Ozai had. If it did lack the capacity to love as its father did, could she ever love it in return? Could she ever comfort it after a nightmare as her parents had done for her? Could she ever pick it up after a fall, and kiss the pain away? Could she heal their heartache after their first tumultuous relationship? Could she ever truly care for it when she couldn't love the man who'd made it?

She turns on her side, restless, and her shift rouses Ozai, the ever light sleeper, slightly. He doesn't fully wake, but he shifts closer to her and turns towards her onto his side. She can't make out many features of his face in the gloom, but with a shift of the wind that pushes the curtains, moonlight spills in through the towering windows and dimly illuminates the room. She can't help but feel a wave of calm come over her as she really looks at her husband's sleeping face. All the intense lines of his face, that scowl on his lips and the enraged fire in his eyes, had calmed with the night. She finds herself reaching forward, hand cupping his strong jaw and thumb rounding his prominent cheekbones back to his ear. It's a nice face, a handsome face. Masculine and full of hard edges that seamlessly blend into the rounded shapes of his nose, lips and eyes. She hadn't ever bothered to notice how long his dark lashes were.

In this rare calm state, she can imagine a place where she did love him. A place where she'd caress him this way, and he'd take her hand, sleep in his eyes, and lovingly smile at her. They'd share a truly intimate moment as husband and wife, where the love between them was all the assurance she needed for who her child would be. She had no reason to worry, not when her husband was such a good man to his core.

She doesn't realize she's sobbing until Ozai's eyes flicker open suddenly, and the fire ignites in them as if it had never been extinguished. There's confusion in their golden depths as well as he realizes the source of the noise, his own hand grasping his wife's from his cheek.

"Ursa?" He asks, and it's rare for him to use such a soft tone. She attributes it to sleep still weighing on him. She's pulling away already, hands furiously wiping at her cheeks.

"Hormones." Is all she chokes out, expecting him to accept that and turn back over, returning to a peaceful sleep. Ever since he'd found out about the pregnancy, he was more or less reluctant towards her. He didn't know how to care for anyone in this state, and he had no desire to. So when she was hunched over, suffering morning sickness, it was a long-suffering servant, not him, holding her long locks back.

"You're not a very good liar." He answers after a long moment, and she almost jumps in surprise. He's shifted, resting his head on his arm tiredly and looking over at her, "You should probably work on it."

"I'm not lying." She says indignantly, huffing as she wipes another tear from her cheek, "I don't know why I'm crying, I just am."

"You lied just now." He counters, and she can feel annoyance that he won't just go back to sleep so she can suffer in silence. What does he want?

"Ozai," She starts, training her voice to be calm and formal. Half asleep or not, his temper could be triggered by nearly anything, and her tone had already gotten sharp once, "I mean no disrespect, but I'm really not in the mood for this. I'd appreciate it if you went back to sleep." She watches him carefully for a reaction, and when the candles by the bed spontaneously light, she feels her blood run cold.

"I think I'll decide when I want to sleep, dear." He speaks the last word through clenched teeth, and she can't meet his eyes, "And I can't do much of that with you weeping in my ear." He flicks a hand like he's batting off a particularly annoying fly. His tone has gotten more aggressive, but he's still lazily lying on his side with his head resting on his arm, hand hanging in the air above his head. It's a bit jarring.

"That hasn't stopped you before." She whispers out before she can even process the words, and she practically chokes after they've left her mouth. That gets him up. He shifts his arms beneath him, powerful muscles rolling under his skin as he pushes himself up to sit up above her, settling to be on his knees. The candles light him dramatically, and she can almost feel the heat rolling off of him.

"What?" He demands, and she doesn't sit up to challenge him, simply staring up at him.

"Nothing. I'm sorry for speaking out." The words are clipped and practiced, her heart beating in her chest incessantly.

"Are you saying—" He leans in, arms caging her on either side, and one leg rounding her hips to settle opposite the other, "I can't keep my own wife happy? What kind of man would that make me? What are you implying?" She realizes she's holding her breath, hands instinctively cupping the rise of her stomach.

"N-Nothing, my love." She whispers. She can feel his breath—so hot, it feels like flame. She can smell smoke—ghosting along her face, "It's just…hormones. You keep me v-very happy, Prince Ozai." A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth, and she can see the brilliant white of his teeth. They feel dangerous, predatory, as if he's about to lean down and tear into her throat. She swallows heavily.

"I know." He responds, letting her fear fill the silence as he bends his arms and leans down, burning lips capturing hers violently in a clash of teeth and skin that makes her internally cringe, "Now sleep silently or find another bed." And as soon as he'd pinned her, he's gone. The candles extinguish with an audible hiss and she's left staring at the ornate ceiling and feeling him sliding back beneath the sheets. His breath evens out within a matter of minutes.

Her hands don't leave her stomach for the entirety of the night.

Iroh was always someone who's company Ursa enjoyed, and as of late, he was her sole source of hope for her unborn child. If this man and his kindness, his whole heart, existed in Ozai's bloodline, perhaps there was hope for her child.

As she sits across from him at the small tea table, the weight in her stomach already making her movement slightly awkward, she can't help but wonder how he and Ozai could possibly be related. Iroh was a naturally kind spirit, contrasting both his brother and father, and was much slower to intimidation despite his ruthlessness and persistence in the military. As a man, he honored the wellbeing of those he served and was always a listening ear on the rare occasion he returned to the Fire Nation capitol city.

"It's a joy to see you, Ursa." He says, respectfully bowing his head before picking up the steaming kettle between them, "And my niece or nephew as well, of course." He adds, eyes flicking to her stomach beneath her respectfully folded hands. Her royal robes hang loosely, and her small bump is just barely visible even in tight clothing, so she assumes he's been told by any number of people about the pregnancy.

"Thank you, Iroh. I'm very happy to see you." She answers, "And I'm sure it's happy to see you as well." She watches him pour the drink and takes her cup once he's filled it. The warm drink immediately calms her restless stomach, and she can feel herself physically relax.

"This tea is very good for upset stomachs." He murmurs into his cup, and she hums a positive response. It's quite good, and it did calm her stomach, but her mind is truly what needs to be put to rest. Iroh couldn't have come at a better time.

"It's very good." She says, trying to at least get niceties out of the way before she broaches the topic weighing on her mind, "If I may, can I ask you something fairly personal? It's alright if you don't want to answer." He simply nods, setting down his cup and looking her in the eye. She smiles, hands fidgeting around her cup, "I…what do you think of your family? Your father, and you brother…" There's genuine surprise on his face, and he strokes his well-groomed beard as he considers his answer. The silence makes her worry, and her nails tap nervously against the expensive china under her fingers.

"They are who they are." She blinks, brows furrowing as she stares into the spare pieces of tealeaves that have settled on the bottom, "Why do you ask?"

The words spill out of her in a flood, her polite filter falling away.

"I'm worried about my child. I want to love it with my entire heart, to be the mother my mother was to me, but—" She has to breathe, air coming in in halted gasps, "I don't know if I can love a child of Ozai's." It's the first time she's said this out loud, and voiced how she really feels about the subject. When she and Ozai had told Azulon, she'd kept her face a trained vision of happiness, nodding politely and bowing when her father-in-law had congratulated them and wished them luck in bearing a strong, fire bending Prince. All her fears had stayed within her, suffocating her. But now that she's said it, she realizes that she is nearly as much of a monster as Ozai. What kind of mother couldn't love her own child?

"I understand." Her brows arch, and she blinks away the tears that threaten to fall, "My brother takes after our father. He's ruthless, aggressive, and heartless. It's his nature, unfortunately, and with how deeply that runs in him, I can understand the fear of the child inheriting that." She nods tightly, just content to finally have someone at least reaffirm her fears, "I wish I could tell you that the child won't be like that. But there is a chance it will inherit my brother's negative traits."

Her gaze drops to the floor, her hands leaving the cup in favor of her lap.

"But there is hope, still." She doesn't look up, won't let her spirits be raised quite yet, "A mothers love is stronger than you might think. Even if Ozai's hatred is born into the child, you can always tame it with love. Love will always overpower hatred, no matter how deeply it's bred into him."