sorry about the punctuation. it's all lower cased but i thought it would be nicer and have a better affect if I kept the punctuation in place. This I wrote randomly today while pondering about Ozai and his feelings for Ursa. Hope you enjoy it!

Don't own, don't sue plz.

when the devil starts to sweat

the ringing in his ears stretches out more and more wider than usual days. the only thing keeping him solace now were the flames that burned and danced in front of him where he sat, on his throne, alone. the palace no longer smelled like it used to, it no longer had that warmth that he looked forward to during the old days.

then again it did make sense, she wasn't around anymore.

she disappeared in the middle of the night.

she...

the fire lord didn't have the luxuries of keeping his guard down, of letting himself slip. many, many traitors out there were waiting for the perfect moment. he would not give them that satisfaction of handing over his dead body so easily.

but...still...

still there were moments where all he wanted to do was stay and sleep and wonder about the days, those days when things were easier and better and much more fuller than the cold and bitter days he had now.

he slipped...he fell...for a few seconds. he saw her there, standing and smiling, lips red and pout and ready to be taken by his. figure slim and covered in red robes that signified her status as his, his princess. her hands were smooth and perfect and white, silkier than any silk sheet or robe he could purchase...

her eyes were golden and beautiful, her hair long and black and soft...

how he longed to touch her again, like he used to. how he longed for her to touch him like she used to. like they used to during those private and long nights. it was the only place he allowed himself to cry, to scream, to laugh and to smile...to kiss and love and be tender. where the fire was more evident, more passionate, more scorching to the touch...

when he's in his room, alone at night, alone from sight...he slips and dreams and thinks of her, relieving each and every single night of those years in one full moon, one dark sky all together. the power, the heat, it's so much, so so much.

it consumes him, burns and devours him. he could feel the heat rising and pulsating throughout him, more so lower than the most. he tries to grab it, to hold it, to control it but oh he cannot and his pride falls and falls. deeper, much more controlling...

but she's always had him, she's always disarmed him and made him feel so, so weak. so not the fire lord, but ozai. himself. his own urges and desires and wishes and drives and dreams and wants.

her name escapes from his mouth, a whisper of a secret in the night, as he reaches his maximum, and falls back into reality. sweat glistening from his face, down his chest, still holding on, still waiting, still wanting.

and then, then the cold air that fills his bedroom, the cold air that tells him that she's no longer here and will never be here again, touches him.

it is here, right here, that he realizes that he'd rather live in that dream, that thought, than to live in the world he had shaped. drop the titles, drop the clothes, drop everything. if he had her, he would've.