chapter fifteen: sunrise

The gentle light of early dawn was upon her face. Not yet yellow, but rather a warm pink visible through the curtains of his room. It was a kind light, not too different from the darkness, and yet it made all the difference. He could see every gentle arch and curve of her face, and the perfection of her rendered him silent - in awe. Her rosebud lips were still glossy and as delectable as ever. They were calling to him, but he didn't want to wake her. It was still so warm and luxurious, lying there in bed, the calmness of sleep still remaining in him. It was her skin, however that he couldn't help himself but touch. She was like a porcelain doll, except, she was real and breathing underneath his sheets. The sweet curve of her cheeks and her nose and her eyes made something boil in him. And for once, it wasn't anger. It was an entirely different kind of heat, and he almost felt uncomfortable in its newness. With the back of his finger, Ozai stroked the luminous skin of her face and her collarbones.

She was partially turned, her head turned towards him on the bed with her dark brown hair fanned out on the pillow and her hand closest to him laying open but gracefully curved by her face. The satin blankets covered most of her, ending at the top of her chest, allowing him just a glimpse of the delicate curves of her breasts. Compared with the dark red of the blankets, Ursa's milky white skin was entirely appetizing and completely enchanting. She looked like an angel. And the longer Ozai looked at her, the more that the strange feeling in his chest strengthened, as if he wanted to do something so urgently, but he had no idea what that was. It was a strange feeling. In some ways it simply felt as if he simply wanted to kiss her, and indeed he did want to be closer to her, but that was not truly the feeling within him. It was entirely different than lust and he almost angered himself in comparing it with something as simple as that. He would be kissing her for an entirely different reason.

Then, however, the feeling was overcome by drowsiness and Ozai decided it was best to give into sleep, for it was only dawn, and he did not want to ruin his first morning with his wife by leaving her alone when she rose. He lowered himself back down onto the bed and almost sighed at the feeling of the luxurious bed sheets against his bare skin. Ozai shifted a bit closer to his wife, feeling the warmth of her skin calling to him, and closed his eyes.

The first thing Ursa heard were the birds. It was strange, really, because they were such a familiar sound to her. She had awoken to the sound of birds every day as a child. But these birds, these were different. She opened her eyes suddenly in a flutter of lashes, and blinked rapidly as she took in her surroundings. The room she was in was beautiful and vaguely foreign. There were sheer curtains on either side of her, gentle chiffon bed hangings that moved slightly with the morning breeze. They were the first thing she saw, but quickly her eyes open fully and she noticed the vastness of the space. Ozai's room was very wide, with tall ceilings decorated in gold leafing. It was beautiful, and Ursa hadn't noticed it the night before as it had been too dark. Then, suddenly, Ursa remember the night before and remembered where she was. She turned over in bed, looking for her husband. She found not in bed beside her but rather standing at the terrace to her right, looking down at the city below. The sun was shining brightly, light shining in from the terraces on both sides of the bedroom. Ozai had thrown the terrace doors open, welcoming in the light and the morning breeze. It was lovely. Very faintly Ursa could smell the sea.

For a moment Ursa simply watched her husband. He was dressed in a dark silk shirt and pants, but his hair was still down and he wore no shoes. The morning light warmed his dewy features. When Ursa turned in bed she suddenly realized her nakedness under the silken sheets, drawing the fabric up her chest to cover herself more appropriately. Ozai heard her stir, turning to her and offering a gentle smile.

"Good morning," he breathed, his voice soft and deep. Ursa smiled back as Ozai sat down on the bed, disturbing the sheets. He leaned down to press a kiss to her forehead.

"Good morning," Ursa responded, smiling lightly as Ozai brushed his hand over her hair and her cheek. Then suddenly, his lips went for her mouth, another soft kiss landing there before he pulled away.

"How did you sleep?" he asked, his thumb grazing her cheek. His eyes were lower now, ghosting over Ursa's exposed skin.

"Well," she said, "too well, I'm afraid. I overslept." The sun was higher in the sky than she had originally thought.

"Nonsense," he rebuked, "You're a princess now, my darling. You can spend your days as you like." When Ursa looked up at him he was smirking.

"So I should bathe in milk and eat sweet mochi all day, awaiting your arrival?" Ursa asked, a tease for her new husband. Ozai chuckled heartily in her ear.

"I fear you might become too beautiful with all that pampering, my dear. The goddesses will grow jealous of you," he teased her back, taking a lock of her dark hair around his finger. Ursa shot him a look and he leaned back from her.

"Ozai, where are my clothes?" Ursa asked, then, still aware of her nakedness. Ozai looked down at her bare shoulders and arms.

"Do you really need them?" He asked, a giddy smile on his face. He was climbing into bed, then, the idea of her nakedness too appealing in his mind. He climbed into the bed and kissed her neck and her shoulders while she giggled underneath him.

"Yes," she said, her words not a reprimand but a tease. It was rather late in the morning. She had overslept. Ozai was still close to her, his face only inches away, and he kissed her brow.

"I'll send the maids in," he said, and then he stood up from the bed and exited the room through a door unknown to Ursa. She waited there in silence for a few moments, the sound of the birds providing an accompiable quietness. It reminded her a little of the morning before, when she was only a magistrate's daughter. Much had changed in such a short expanse of time. She was no longer her father's daughter. Now, she was her husband's wife. The fire princess.

And just as her moment of quiet had ended the previous morning, it was ended again, this time by the opening of the double doors of the bedroom. Ursa's eyes went wide at the intrusion as she saw in the entryway many maids and a headmistress of the household, held in higher authority than them, her head held higher when she bound. Her clothes were of finer quality and style than the others, ode to her rank. She bowed gracefully along with the multitude of handmaidens behind her.

"Good morning, Princess Ursa," she began, recovering from her bow, "I am Lady Fumiko, headmistress of the household." Fumiko entered then, with ladies following, and came closer to the side of the bed.

Ursa, not knowing quite what to do in her awkward position, bowed her head slightly. She was in an uncomfortable position on the bed, half sitting up and half lying down, her nakedness apparent to her. She blushed to the roots of her hair as the maids simply stared at her. She could only imagine what they were thinking.

One of the maids approached the bed holding an ornate golden tray laden with wrappings and a juban, her underdress. Ursa realized she was supposed to stand, then, and she did, trying not to be sheepish as she was completely bare. The headmistress did not look down and the maids did not change in expression but it made her uncomfortable still as they assembled her wrappings. The privacy she was afforded in her formative years was gone. After the juban was wrapped around her the maid appeared again, this time with a kimono of fine crimson silk.

"Does it please you, Princess Ursa?" Fumiko asked, gently opening the silken fabric to show Ursa the design.

"Yes, very much." Ursa smiled lightly. This was all so foreign. The titles, the formality of the ceremony. It was not what Ursa had been accustomed to. Back on her home island life was slower and simpler, and names were not weighted down by heavy titles and proper speech. The capitol was a whole other world. When her kimono had been assembled she was seated at the vanity. A few of the maids began to apply makeup and powder while the others changed the sheets. Ursa watched them through the large mirror of her vanity and caught a brief glimpse of red on white. Blood. Ursa blushed again. She did not know how to feel about them knowing such intimate details of her life. It was normal for a princess, it not normal for Ursa. She thought on that subject for several minutes while the maids plated her hair, braided it, and painted her lips crimson. Her old life was gone, and she should not ache for the past. After all, she had been ever so eager to be here, to be a woman and not a child. Not only was it unbecoming to think such things, it was stupid. This was what she wanted.

It was a strange feeling, because really, what had she accomplished? She had secured a prince, and made herself royalty. What did it really come down to? Her ability to earn Ozai's affections. Ursa blinked, thinking of the months before. She hadn't really done very much. What was it that had attracted him? Her beauty? It was such an odd thing, love. The chances of it were so small. Ursa briefly thought back to that night, so many months ago, when she had met him in the garden. It was only by chance that she decided to go to that section of the garden, at the same time he did. If they hadn't met she'd be back home in Hira'a, still under her parents oppressive thumb. She shouldn't look back, she decided. She should never look back.

"Where is my husband?" Ursa asked, turning to Fumiko who had approached her.

"He is ready to see you now, Princess. I will show you to the breakfast room." Her manners and speech were stoic and proper, much like an old school teacher. Fumiko did have a sense of grace to her character, but it was cold and dulled by so many years of routine. It was a cold grace, one Ursa hoped she never would adapt. It made Fumiko seem much older than she really was.

"The breakfast room?" Ursa raised a brow at her older counterpart, "Is there a room for each meal of the day here?" Her words were not quite sarcastic, but lightly teasing in a way that was central to Ursa's personality.

"Yes, your highness, along with other rooms of ceremony. Prince Ozai could give you a proper tour of the palace, if he desires it, but I would be more than happy to give you one as well." Ursa nodded.

"Will you be providing guidance for me, Fumiko?" Ursa asked, a harmless question, and yet one that Fumiko was careful to answer, for fear that she would speak out of turn in some way.

"I can certainly provide guidance when you wish it Princess, although it would be entirely up to you if you follow it or not." She picked her words carefully, bowing her head when she spoke. Ursa turned her head to the side, looking at the headmistress.

"But you are not in control of me in any way?" She asked. Fumiko's eyes widened and she smirked slightly, a rare sight.

"No, madam. That is the responsibility of your husband." Ursa chucked lightly as she stood. The maids approached again, this time with a tray bearing red slippers. Ursa extended her feet one by one as the maids put them on, bowing again. Ursa almost had the urge to tell them to stop with all the ceremony but she knew she should not. It was custom. She didn't want to upset the balance in the palace, that she knew for sure. She didn't want to cause any trouble by changing the customs.

Suddenly Ursa heard a tiny gasp behind her, Fumiko's doing, and Ursa turned quickly to see what was the matter. Then she saw them, stationed at the open doors of the room. Prince Ozai was turned, standing slightly behind his father. Ursa didn't catch his gaze, she didn't have time to, for immediately she was bowing to the floor, gracefully, the way she had been taught to. Ursa no longer bowed like a maid or a little girl. Her kowtow was completely elegant, her movements languid and smooth as the touched her hands to the wooden floor, her head slightly inclined but not completely, her eyes downcast bit still open. Her hair ornaments dangled in front of her face, little beads of gold and jade. She looked up first, her eyes meeting Azulon. Then, she straightened, the epitome of grace as she stood. After many moments of silence, the Firelord smirked, huffing slightly as he looked her over. He glanced over to Ozai.

"One night and you've turned a peasant girl into a princess." Ursa looked away from the Firelord then, preferring the pretty silks of his robes to the callous coldness of his face.

"No," Ozai said, his voice warm and quiet, and Ursa looked up at him, shocked at his discourtesy much more than his father's, "She's done that all by herself."

A/N: I'm really sorry I didn't edit this yet, I will soon! New chapter should be up sometime soon (a few weeks at most). BTW I do not have a beta reader, so if anyone is interested please let me know! Thank you all...

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