"You can have more when you go home. I’m hungry."
She slumped in the hard wooden chair she’d begun to call home, unable to do much else. For all her experience in healing, her role had been keeping diligent watch; unwilling to leave the bedside for more than a few moments.
The silence left her balancing between tired and worried, the steady slow rise and fall of the prisoner’s chest and the occasional physician being the only soundtrack for days.
She rested her head against her hand; tired tipping the scales in it’s favor before and unfamiliar sound shook the waterbender from her idle state.
A sharper intake of breath had Katara sitting upright, eyes trained on the man carefully, though seeing no sign of movement. Maybe she had imagined it…though he did seem to be breathing better.
Either way, she moved closer, letting her hand rest on his shoulder. Just in case.
That touch…. her touch was enough to force an eye open, slitted, his golden iris barely visible. After a few seconds he was looking up at her with both eyes. The corner of his mouth twitched.
He must have died…. or he was dreaming. If he wasn’t… then she must have saved him. Ozai wondered why she was even allowed to. The guards had told him over and over that he deserved the most miserable death possible: Slow starvation, cold winters, and little mental stimuli………….alone.
It wasn’t long before he realized that he was cuffed to the bed. This was an obvious sign that he may not have left the prison after all… but the room didn’t feel like the prison. It was clean, healthy… and he was not in his prison uniform because he could feel the soft fabric of the sheets against his pale skin.
Hopefully she would explain things.
"Just one… Maybe a piece?"
She watched his expression for a moment— terror pounded in her chest when she noticed the evident rage there. The thick flames that consumed the practice dummy into ashes; the heat even flickering from that safe distance between them.
She eyed his stance for a moment, which now mirrored her own. Her arms fell to her side in a dubious sign of submission. Despite her longing to confront the man, there was no way she would do such a thing especially in this one particular mood.
"I’m afraid I must have wandered here by mistake," she replied. "I’ll leave you to your privacy then."
Ozai grabbed a towel, his curiosity getting the best of him as usual. After patting himself down and motioning for his servant to open the windows, he pulled his bed robe off the hook and slipped into it, eager to see what she really wanted.
"I don’t believe you." He debated, approaching her….. slowly…. as if she were an untamed cat yearning for food but was too shy to approach the human to get it.
She had watched the slight movement from the corner of her eye before he completely vanished from her sight. His side of the bed was still warm there as though he had left his imprint there permanently, and she shied away to her left to avoid the venomous contact.
It was only for a while that she lay there until she crawled out of the covers. Her morning ritual soon followed afterwards before she wandered off again. Despite the few months living there, she didn’t know her place around the big palace. Often times taking a gander around in light exploration to make sure she learned her way around. She could hear the sounds of movements and grunts emmitting from the training room where she was sure to find her husband.
There was a bitter taste at the tip of her tongue whenever she thought of him.
She stood out the door, her arms crossed over her chest as she watched him practice his forms.
Ozai ignited two more dummies made of straw and armor with a swift kicking flame before he sensed a presence behind him.
It better not be that servant again.
He turned around with a rage filled face that quickly diminished once he took a gander at who it really was. Baffled by this unexpected visit to his comfort zone, he blinked and tried to slip his hands into sleeves that weren’t there while a flame-lit dummy fell behind him.
"What are you doing here?" Muttered the Prince to his Princess as he slowly regained his composure, mirroring her and crossing his arms over his chest as well.
It was well before dawn when the Second Born Prince left the bedroom to train in his personal training room, honing his skills just for the sake of feeling good about himself.
It was also a good way to let out the frustration that his newly wed Wife caused him. Ozai had never felt this much irritation. Not even with Iroh around.