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Ozai wove through the crowd, which was an unusual experience for him. Normally crowds parted before him naturally. But he’d chosen to slip away from his guards, curious to see what the festival was like outside the palace. Face hidden behind a mask and royal headpiece in a pocket, he was just another festival-goer. His clothes were of the most excellent quality, but everyone was dressed their best tonight, and it would take a keen eye to spot the royal quality of the silk brocade in all this chaos.
And it was chaotic. The formal party that he had abandoned had seemed interesting enough – a small fireworks display, courtiers in their best outfits, an illusionist creating elaborate pictures with her firebending. But compared to this it was sedate and boring.
Several different fireworks displays were taking place around the city, multiple firebending displays vied for people’s attention, merchants hawked their wares, small children ran underfoot giggling.
He caught a snatch of dialogue while walking past a puppet show and turned to look. A puppet version of his brother, surrounded by puppets representing court ladies, all simpering over him.
He should report the performers. Technically there was nothing insulting, but simply portraying his brother as a drunkard and a letch could easily be interpreted as treason if he was feeling petty.
But really, weren’t those things exactly why he was out here?
He’d given up waiting for his father to arrange a marriage for him, which was the normal way of things, and accepted that he’d have to seek out a bride for himself. The party was an ideal place to look; everyone present had been personally invited by the Firelord, demonstrating their status and royal favour. Anyone he chose from this select group would surely be met with his father’s approval.
(Perhaps Ozai himself might even earn his father’s approval…)
But every time he set his sights on a potential candidate, he was rudely interrupted by his brother. The man was already an incorrigible flirt, but one glass of sake in him and he would not leave a woman alone – including women that Ozai was trying to talk to.
(His wife had been dead less than a year, for Agni’s sake!)
And of course they all turned their eyes to him, the Crown Prince, mighty war hero, next in line for the throne. While Ozai was pushed off to the side like always.
It simply wasn’t fair.
He’d chosen to talk with his nephew, who he normally never deigned to speak to, but who was clearly dying from embarrassment at his father’s antics, so Ozai hoped to at least find a moment’s common ground.
But that common ground crumbled underneath him when Lu Ten mentioned that his grandfather was considering potential matches for him. Ozai was too enraged to hear anything more, only vaguely aware of his nephew chattering nervously about whether he’d like his betrothed (as if that mattered).
There might be only a few years between him and his nephew, but those years should still count for something!
He had made his excuses and left. His chances of finding a suitable bride out here were nil, but all he wanted to do right now was avoid his family for a while.
He wandered aimlessly for a while, looking around at the people celebrating. Then he caught sight of some palace guards. They were looking around for someone and he was pretty sure it was him.
It wasn’t as if he could have walked out of the palace unseen, and the guards at the gates had been extremely insistent about someone accompanying him and nothing he said would change their minds. Prince or not, his father was the one in charge, and if anything happened to him then they would be put to death. So he was forced to accept the offered bodyguards.
But since he a) could look after himself, and b) couldn’t care less if they were executed, he had immediately ditched his babysitters at the first chance he got.
He should have known they wouldn’t just give up.
One of them looked in his direction and he quickly turned away. He was wearing a mask, but it was only a half face one and his facial hair was enough to identify him.
As if to illustrate this, the guards moved towards a man with a pointy goatee, before realising that the man was too short to be their target and backing off to continue their hunt.
He quickly ducked down an alleyway into the next street, where a band was performing to a large crowd, as firebenders accompanied the music with elaborate displays that moved in time with the music.
He circled the edge of the crowd, not wanting to venture into the press of bodies, as he drank in the sights and sounds.
And then he stopped, transfixed.
He wasn’t sure what it was about her that caught his attention. The mask hid most of her face (though what he could see of it was pleasing enough). Her clothes were of fairly typical quality for Royal Caldera City, and not particularly fashionable. She was pale and dark-haired and slim, but so were many, many other women. And her movements couldn’t even be called dancing, surely, bearing no resemblance to any of the stiff, sedate court dances he’d been taught. She just… moved.
She moved with a breathtaking grace.
He didn’t realise that he was staring rather obviously until she stopped.
She beckoned him over with a crooked finger, and he went even as a part of his mind railed about how dare some commoner order a prince around.
“Do you want to dance?”
He was supposed to say something here. Ideally, “No, I do not want to do anything so unseemly as dancing!”.
Instead, he allowed her to grasp his hand and pull him closer, as she resumed moving with the music. What was she doing, manhandling him like this? (And more to the point, why was he letting her?)
He was completely out of his depth here. What was he supposed to do? Years of courtly etiquette lessons had failed to prepare him for this scenario.
He attempted a defence. “I- I don’t dance.”
It had sounded less weak in his own head.
She smiled at him.
“You’re a firebender, yes?” she asked, a thumb absently stroking over his hand, warm from his inner fire. Then went on, not waiting for an answer. “Dancing is like sparring, but you’re not trying to win.”
“Then what’s the point?”
She sighed, but there was a small smile on her lips. “Not everything is a competition, you know.”
This was clearly false, but he decided not to argue. He simply allowed her to pull him around, doing his best to move with her. His best was never enough for his father, but she didn’t seem to mind.
He told himself it was just for one song, a few minutes at most. He would suspend princely dignity for that long and no more. As soon as this song finished, he would assert control, sternly tell her that they should cease this unbecoming behaviour and find some more appropriate form of entertainment.
And then the next song started. A slower tune, and the woman pressed closer, arms around him and head reasting against his chest.
Ozai lost the ability to form words.
The song after that was a little faster, and she moved away a little to allow for more freedom of movement, but Ozai was too busy trying to pull himself together.
Why was he struggling to breathe? The dancing wasn’t that energetic and he was used to long firebending practices. His stamina was excellent. Was he falling sick? Had he caught something from one of these commoners? Maybe it was her! He should walk away immediately, go and wash his hands.
He did not.
That turned out to be the last song, however, and the musicians bowed to their audience and left the stage.
She pulled away. He was not disappointed. Not at all. Definitely not.
She did keep hold of his hand, and once again he completely failed to object as she dragged him along with her as she walked through the streets. He nodded and agreed with everything she said, not even noticing what was going on around them.
It occurred to him that he’d forgotten to ask her name. He should rectify that. But if she gave her name, then he would be obliged to introduce himself. That shouldn’t matter, but she would probably make a fuss. And somehow it felt as if a spell would be broken.
“Oh, look!” she cried, distracting him from his reverie.
The latest thing to catch her attention was a cluster of booths with carnival games. In particular a cuddly turtleduck toy hanging from one.
“It’s so cute!” She grinned at him. “Are you any good at this game?”
This was perfect. It was such a small thing, but giving a woman gifts was a sure way to impress her.
True, he’d never played this game (or any game aside from pai sho, which Iroh always beat him at) before. But he’d never encountered a challenge he couldn’t meet. (Well, except for impressing his father, but a stupid game had to be easier than that.)
He just needed to-
Oh, wait.
“I… don’t actually have any money…”
It simply wasn’t something he normally concerned himself with. A prince had no need to carry money. He simply ordered someone to bring him whatever he wanted, and the money came out of the treasury. Probably. It wasn’t something he had to think about.
“Oh really? Gambled it away on some games already, hmm?” She smiled up at him. (He needed to say something, to explain that he wasn’t the complete idiot she clearly thought. But he couldn’t think of a single thing to say.) “I guess I’ll have to make sure you won’t go home empty-handed.”
Her first dart came close, the second missed wildly, but the third struck its target dead centre.
She handed him the cuddly turtleduck, ignoring his objections. “I told you I was going to make sure you didn’t go home empty-handed, and I am a woman of my word.”
“But what about you? What prize will you claim?”
“Hmm…” She titled her head in a theatrical display of deep thought. “Well, there is something I’ve had my eye on.”
“Whatever it is, I will acquire it for you.” Whatever it cost, he could pay it. If it wasn’t for sale, he would demand it. If it didn’t exist, he would order it made. “Tell me what it is, and it will be yours.”
She smiled. “I will give you a clue, he is tall, dark, and handsome…”
So there was a man that she was interested in. Of course. (It was probably his brother; it always was.)
“I see.” He glared around at the crowd. “So that’s how it is. Who is the lucky man?”
She sighed, and rolled her eyes. Why was she being- Oh. Oh right.
“You mean me, don’t you?”
She playfully swatted him on the arm. “Yes, I mean you, idiot.”
She wanted him. Somebody actually wanted him! He grabbed her, sweeping her into his arms and pulling her in for a kiss.
The moment their lips touched, it was as if the rest of the world ceased to exist. It was exhilarating, like bending lightning. He wanted this to last forever.
There was a clank of armour.
He sighed, pulling away from her with extreme reluctance, but not letting go.
“Really? Now? Right now is when you have to show up?”
“Your presence is required,” was all their commander said. Nothing more was necessary. It would be a waste of breath when everyone knew why they were here.
Well, not everyone.
Her lips twisted in confusion. “Those are palace guards. Why are they looking for you? What crime could you possibly have committed against the Firelord?”
Ozai snorted, pulling off his mask and throwing it away. “As far as he is concerned, being born.”
“Prince Ozai?!”
He nodded, then turned to face the commander. “Fine. I’m coming.”
He took a grudging step forward.
“Uh, Your Highness?” one of the guards spoke up, pointing at the stupid turtleduck Ozai was still carrying.
He should drop it. But he couldn’t. He turned back to the lady. She’d removed her mask now.
(She was beautiful.)
“You know, we have a whole pond of these damn things.” He offered her his arm. “Would you like to see them?”
She took it. “I would love to.”