Chapter Text
Ayame glided a comb through Ursa’s hair, it was silky and there was no force required for the comb to move through it. It was oddly calming, Ayame needed something calming, something to focus her mind on.
“Ayame…You’ve been brushing the same section of hair for the past few minutes. Is everything okay?”
Ursa’s words snapped her out of her daze.
“Of course, Princess.”
Ayame was never very good at lying.
“I find that hard to believe. You’ve been out of sorts all morning.”
“It’s nothing worth troubling you.” She shook her head.
“Ayame, it is hindering your ability to work. Tell me what happened.” Ursa’s voice was soothing yet firm.
“...It’s…my son.” Ayame breathed deeply. “He’s a firebender. He started showing signs about a year and a half ago, but now the signs are more obvious…”
Ursa paused for a second, “Is that not a good thing?”
“You’re right Princess, and it is…” Ayame trailed off.
“But…”
“But they might send someone from the Junior Corps, the army.” Ayame looked out to the gardens from the window in Ursa’s room, trying her hardest to keep her voice steady. “They’ll take him away from me.”
There was a pause, the air seemed to still.
“I see…”
“I’m being incredibly selfish… I’m sorry.” Ayame whispered.
After a while, Ursa began to speak again. “Something similar happened to Zuko, only he didn’t show signs of being a firebender at a young age. He’s just started bending and he's already eight years old. Ozai didn’t want a non-bending son.”
Ayame looked into her eyes through the mirror. “Really?”
Ursa nodded. “You’re not being selfish Ayame, it’s a mother’s duty to care for her children.”
There was a silence, the sort of silence when you can tell the other person is coming up with some kind of plan. “Zuko spends a great deal of time under watch, but not all of it is… structured.”
Ayame stilled behind her. “Princess…?”
“There are moments,” Ursa continued, “when the attendants struggle to keep his attention. He wanders. He resists instruction. He grows… frustrated.”
Ayame hesitated. “I don’t see how that—”
“I could assign your son to remain nearby in those moments.” Ursa cut her off, a sparkle in her eye at her new idea.
The comb slipped slightly in Ayame’s hand. “I don’t understand…”
“As a presence,” Ursa clarified smoothly. “Another child, close at hand. Someone quiet. Unintrusive. He would not be there as a companion, but as someone to help keep him practicing and focused, someone who he can show his skills to, without competition.”
Ayame’s voice dropped to a whisper. “You mean… keep him near Prince Zuko?”
Ursa met her eyes through the mirror. They were soft and calming, yet commanding at the same time.
“I mean,” she said carefully, “that a child who is already within the royal household draws far less attention than one who must be sought out.”
The implication settled heavily between them. No one would look for an unreported firebender in the heavily guarded Royal Palace.
Ayame swallowed. “The army…”
“…looks for promise where it is visible,” Ursa finished. “And where it is unclaimed.”
Silence stretched for a moment.
“If your son is seen as belonging here, if his presence is constant, ordinary, then there is less reason to question where he should be.”
Ayame’s grip tightened on the comb. “And the Fire Lord?” Her voice dropped, “If he notices…”
A flicker of something unreadable passed through Ursa’s expression at the mention of Ozai.
“He need not concern himself with the movements of a servant’s child,” she said evenly. “Not unless given reason to.”
Ayame exhaled shakily. “It sounds dangerous.”
“It is,” Ursa replied, without hesitation.
Ursa looked at Ayame's eyes in the mirror, “So is doing nothing.”
The painful part was that it was true.
Ursa’s tone softened, just slightly.
“Your son must be careful. He must never draw attention to himself. And whatever abilities he may have…they cannot be displayed, not yet.”
Ayame nodded quickly. “Of course. I’ll make sure he won’t.”
“And Zuko,” Ursa added, more quietly now, “is not unkind.”
Ayame blinked, surprised.
“If the boy remains near him,” Ursa continued, “he will not be alone. That, too, has its value.”
The room fell quiet again, but it was a different kind of silence now, tense, but threaded with possibility.
Ayame lowered her gaze. “You would do this… for us?”
Ursa did not answer immediately.
“I am ensuring,” she said at last, “that the child is where he is loved. And that his mother does not have to part from him”