Urzai Month: Day 5
Moonlit walks were the things of romance novels not of princes. A prince was power and control. Unfortunately Ozai felt nothing like a prince, which was why he found himself taking a moonlit walk alone. His feet knew the palace grounds so his mind was free to wander.
On this particular night, it wanted to wander into the past. His feet took him in front of an intricate carved door. He pushed it open and stepped into the faint smell of cinnamon and roses. He ripped the white sheet from the nearest loveseat and threw it on the ground. From the dust and cobwebs he could tell it had been a long time since anyone had walked into these rooms.
He closed his eyes, remembering when there was sunlight, fire flakes and laughter in the room. He had been so young when she passed; remembering was like looking into murky water.
He wandered into her bedroom; it was as desolate as the parlor. He didn't want to linger in her private room. Briskly he walked to her vanity and retrieved a small golden box.
"Prince Ozai?" Ursa's voice called out for him in the parlor.
"Ursa, what are you doing here?" He asked in a harsh tone.
Relief washed over her face, "I was worried about you."
He faced softened, "You don't need to be. How did you know to find me here?"
"Iroh told me what today was. When I couldn't find you…well I thought it was worth a try coming here." Ursa admitted.
Ozai took Ursa's hand, leading her to the ancient loveseat. "Ursa, what do you smell?"
Ursa gave him a confused look before sniffing the air. "It smells like dust and cinnamon…and roses?"
Ozai nodded, "My mother liked the smell of cinnamon and always kept fresh roses in her rooms."
Ursa squeezed his hand, "What are you holding?"
"This was her treasure box." Ozai removed the gold lid. "She kept the first rose my father gave her. A poem Iroh wrote and a comb from her childhood."
Ursa picked up a piece of paper. It was a drawing made by a child. "Who drew this?"
"I did. She's the tall one and I'm the small one firebending." Ozai gave a small smile at the memory of when he presented the drawing to his mother. She had declared it the most beautiful artwork in the palace. It had once hung proudly in her bedroom.
"It's cute." Ursa gently put everything in its place, handing the box back to Ozai but he pushed it back in her hands.
"You keep it."
"Ozai, I couldn't. It has too much sentimental value." Ursa protested.
"Please, Ursa." His voice was a small plea.
She took the box back. "I'll take good care of it."
They sat in silence, mourning the loss of a woman almost forgotten.
Auhtor's Note: Okay to I'm having lots of fun writing for Urzai Month. I want to give a special shout out to zarnihteti7 for being a huge supporter of all my work. You rock!