Chapter Text
“With all due respect, Your Highness, I must implore you to reconsider. While it is true that the farmers are only able to produce a certain amount of food, how will we feed our soldiers? The war is not yet over, Sire. The Earth Kingdom has not yet bowed its head, and the Northern Water Tribe is still at large. Please think about it.”
Ozai snorts at Councilman Zhuon. “I have thought about it extensively, as is my duty. You will not demand more food from the farmers until the drought has passed. In the meantime, why don’t you tell your soldiers to play nice with the colonies and humbly request food from them? Perhaps they’ll grant you an ounce of the grace you refuse to bestow upon our farmers.”
Staring daggers into his prince’s skull, the Minister of War bows his head and steps away, allowing the younger son of Azulon to pass by him. Though the meeting had already ended, Zhuon thought it necessary and acceptable to keep Prince Ozai in the room and speak with him, as if he were some kind of parent trying to lecture his son. Huffing indignantly, Ozai glares back at Zhuon over the tip of his nose and strides out of the war room with his back straight and eyes narrowed. Once he reaches his office, Ozai slumps into his chair and sighs. “What an asshole.”
His best and most beloved man-servant, Ikem, chuckles affectionately as he watches his Prince flop about. “Zhuon’s on your nerves again, is he?”
Ozai groans. “You have no idea. I cannot possibly understand how Father still employs that buffoon.”
Ikem rolls his eyes and smiles, patting Ozai’s shoulder gently. “Well, maybe he’s the best at his job, but he does tend to offer advice on other matters.”
“Whatever. Father should think about that quote. What was it again? Something about a master of none?”
“Yes, yes. ‘Jack of all trades, master of none, but oftentimes better than a master of one.’ Quite an interesting saying, don’t you think?”
Ozai huffs, rubbing a hand down his face. “Perhaps. But I care more that Father forgot about the first part. Zhuon has his fingers in multiple custards, and yet he still claims to only know about war. I’d prefer to keep that bumbling idiot out of our good works,” he argued.
Ikem shrugs. “I mean, if you want him out, I know some people.”
With an amused smile, Ozai chuckles. “What makes you think Ursa would approve of that?”
“Okay, look, just because she married you does not mean you know everything about her,” he warns, tapping Ozai’s head with the handle of his feather duster. “I’ve known her since childhood, and Ursa has always been a delinquent, whether or not she admits it.”
“Are you slandering the name of my wife, peasant? Maybe I should have you flogged,” Ozai jokes. If Ursa overheard, she’d probably throw a fit, but little did she know, Ozai and Ikem have the same humor.
Ikem just smirks and cages Ozai into his chair, putting both hands on the armrests and leaning forward enough that the Prince could stare down the collar of his shirt. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? How much does Ursa know about your weird preferences, Your Highness?”
Ozai tries to ignore the dryness in his mouth (he has responsibilities beyond staring at his gorgeous wife and her equally gorgeous boyfriend), but goddamn if Ikem doesn’t stop this teasing, they’d have to explain to Ursa why another servant found them fucking in the bathroom. “I admit nothing,” he tries to argue, tipping his head up to look Ikem in the eye. The other man just smirks wider and hums, rising to his full height. Ozai really wishes Ikem would bend down again, but the man was almost more stubborn than Ursa.
“Alright, then, my Prince. Let’s get you ready to work, hm?” he jeers playfully while turning around, making sure Ozai had a full view of his backside. Ozai just groans and begs him to stop playing around when both of them have so much work to do.
Ikem just grins and shakes his head. “No chance,” he jokes back, tossing a wink over his shoulder as he strolls away to clean up the smaller tea room within Ozai’s office. “Asshole,” Ozai mumbles affectionately, shaking his head even as he watches Ikem leave the room, hips swaying almost comically. Letting himself smile a little, the Prince returns his focus to the work at hand and immediately begins drafting letters to the farmers and colonies to ask their advice in handling the matter of the army’s reduced food rations.
Two hours into his work, Ozai is suddenly interrupted by his bright-eyed baby boy, who runs into the room with a big smile on his face. “Dad! I have news!”
“Oh? And what would that news be, Zuko?” Ozai wonders with a playful smile on his lips, still keeping his eyes on the paperwork. Zuko rushes over and throws his arms around Ozai’s shoulders.
Eyes almost glowing in the morning light, Zuko rushes through his words. “Grandfather said he wants to watch me in class today! And he even said he’d find a master swordsman I can learn from!”
“Is that so? And why don’t I get to pick your swordmaster to teach you?”
Zuko rolls his eyes with the kind of attitude only an actress’s son could develop. “You don’t even like swords. Grandpa has a whole collection of them. How would you know who’s a good swordsman and who isn’t?”
Ikem sprints back into the office, arms outstretched, face shining with a smile to light up a million Earths. “Is that my Zuzu I hear?!”
Zuko squeals like a mouse, scrambling out of his father’s grasp to launch himself at his secret parent. “IKA!”
Giggling brightly, Ikem drags Zuko into his arms, kissing all over the boy’s face, even as Zuko squirms to avoid the pecks of affection. “Ika, no! I need to tell you something!”
Ikem, amused now, humors the boy and sits down on the ground, cradling Zuko in his lap. “Is that so, little turtleduck? What do you need to tell me?”
Zuko beams and holds out his hand, which contains a small sweet packaged in bright pink confectioner’s paper. “I went to Grandfather’s office again today when he called me, and he gave me two more sweets. Do you want one?”
Chuckling softly at the boy’s childish generosity, Ikem nods. “Could you feed it to me, please, Zuko? I have my arms full with a mischievous little Prince who apparently told a guard to lock his parents in their bedroom,” he teases. Zuko’s face goes pink, but he pulls back the paper and feeds the honey-sesame sweet to his mother’s first love, giggling when Ikem kisses his fingertips.
“Thank you, Zuzu. Now, I actually need to do some work, unlike your father, so I’ll come by to play with you later, okay?” Ikem cajoles the boy into leaving to go play with his father while Ikem cleans up the tea room. Ozai may have the eye of a hawk, but he can’t ever keep his belongings in order, like a small child.
Zuko disappointedly climbs out of Ikem’s lap and bounces away to bother his father out of doing real work. Ozai seems a bit irked that neither of his loves will let him finish his work, but he’s helpless in the face of his doe-eyed baby boy and gives up on the letters quickly.
Shaking his head with a fond smile on his face, Ikem strolls away, picking up the feather-duster he’d dropped in his hurry to check if Zuko really had come in to visit his father. It was, as usual, a slow day for the favorite servant of the young Prince and Princess, but that’s how he liked things. Fire Lord Azulon wouldn’t have let him stay with the couple so freely if Ikem hadn’t sworn to serve Ozai and Ursa with the utmost reverence and perfect work ethic. This was the Royal Palace, not a guesthouse. He had to earn the right to be by his lovers’ side.
It really was such a dramatic affair the day Ozai and his father strolled into Hira’a. The beautiful village had just finished its last theater performance, and Azulon arrived with the intent to find a suitable bride for his youngest son. Ozai was as much the asshole he isn’t anymore. Arrogant, vain, thinking himself superior to all beings on the island. And then he saw Ursa.
That princely demeanor morphed into boyish awkwardness and the same pathetic desire to seem perfect in the eyes of the woman who now owned his heart. Ikem had laughed loudly at seeing the prince’s face go so red, but the man just stared at him, nearly open-mouthed.
“How dare you laugh at me!”
Ikem snorts. “How dare you show up to our village and gawk at my girlfriend?!”
Ozai goes red. “I wasn’t gawking! She’s beautiful! What, you don’t admire beautiful people in this town?”
Ursa pipes up, not liking that those idiots were talking about her like she wasn’t literally next to them. “Not without their permission, Your Highness. While the compliment is appreciated, the attitude is not. You can either respect me and have my attention, or you can leave.”
Azulon smirks secretly to himself as he stands at a distance from the trio of youths. He wanted his son to marry a spitfire the same way Azulon had. Only a true spitfire would keep his son’s violent ego in check. This Ursa was perfect.
Ikem was the only one to notice the Fire Lord's devious grin. He didn’t know the Fire Lord’s internal monologue, but he knew the man’s smirk, and he wants in.
“Fire Lord Azulon, may I request an audience with you?” Ikem asks delicately when the prospective spouses leave to talk in private. Azulon hums and waves his hand, giving the permission in a kind of dismissive way. “You want to get Ursa and your son married, right?”
Azulon raises an eyebrow. Okay, maybe this idiot villager is smarter than he lets on.
“If you want her to give up everything in her home and come to you, you’ll need to let me come with her.”
“Why? And what makes you think I’d agree to something like that?”
Ikem only grins, shrugging his shoulders. “I’m her lover. We’ve planned on marrying for a few months now. But this marriage is important for you, politically. I just want to see Ursa safe and happy with all the riches she deserves. Now, your marriage with the Fire Lady Ilah was bright, strong, and sweet. She was a dragon.” Ikem’s grin turns sharp. “My Ursa is a dragon too. She doesn’t bow to anyone’s will but her own. If she wants me, she will have me. But that means she won’t agree to your terms if you won't let her have what she wants. Now, if you want the marriage, the possible grandchildren, and her cooperation in the Royal Palace, she’ll only give it to you if I’m there too.”
Azulon huffs. “I could take her away and have you killed. What stops me from doing that?”
Ikem shrugs. “Not much, but your son is enamored with her already. I wore the same face when I met her for the first time in our childhood. If you want your son to be happy–and I have a feeling you have not brought Prince Ozai much happiness throughout your life–, you’ll need me there too so Ursa will consider even caring about his existence.”
Azulon chuckles darkly, shaking his head. “You must work for your place in the palace, boy. It will not be given to you like a gift.”
Ikem, though he expected to be let in as some kind of consort or something, didn’t really want to deal with palace politics or rules. “I can be their servant. Just theirs. I’d gladly do anything they asked of me.”
Azulon considers it, sighing as he looked back at the hunched, shy frame of his second son. This boy wasn’t wrong. Azulon was not loved by his second son, merely respected. That was his own fault, of course. He had shown such disdain for the boy’s existence when Ilah died. Maybe this would save his relationship with the boy, maybe save the crumbling structure of the Royal Court as well. “Very well, boy. You may come along. Remember, you are but a servant. What happens between them will remain between them.”
Ikem just smirks the same way he saw Azulon do a little while ago. The old man raises an eyebrow but says nothing, possibly impressed. “That’s for them to decide, Fire Lord Azulon.”
Well, maybe this village wasn’t full of fools, Azulon muses as Ozai returns, looking like a dejected puppy. “Did the girl tell you she would not join if she could not bring her lover with her?”
Ozai stares at him like he didn’t think Azulon was capable of understanding anything about his younger son. “Yes, sir, how did you-”
Azulon sighs. “Tell her that her lover may join her in the palace, but only as a servant. She will change her mind.”
Ozai takes a measured glance at Azulon, raises his eyebrows high after peeking at Ikem, and walks back towards Ursa. He mumbles his father’s change of plans, and she smiles hesitantly, nodding her head. Azulon will remember the face Ozai made that day for the rest of his life. Ozai smiles like the world has been put into the palm of his hand. He kneels and delicately holds Ursa's hand, reciting the poem his mother taught him, as a vow that he will always do good by her, no matter the state of the world at large.
Ikem smiles then. He wasn’t super into the old stuff in terms of the fine arts, but this Prince would definitely win over Ursa. And in that case, maybe he’d win over Ikem too. Besides, the asshole was nice on the eyes, and his long silky hair looked so nice to touch.
The duo return and bow to the Fire Lord. Ursa beams at Ikem, who bows beside her. Azulon rubs his face. What was he to do with these mischievous brats?
Ikem nearly jumps out of his skin when he feels heavy, strong arms coiling about his waist from behind. “What the shit, man?!”
Ozai laughs like thunder, pressing scalding-warm kisses to the nape of Ikem’s neck, letting his fingers trace fiery patterns into the front of the other man’s uniform.
“What are you doing?” he murmurs against the slowly-reddening skin.
Ikem shoves at the Prince’s chest, grumbling as he turns around in the other’s embrace. Ozai just grins at him loosely, replacing his lips to the curve of Ikem’s neck. “Well, I was trying to do some actual work, which is more than you do, lazy-ass.”
Ozai pouts. “That’s rude. The only reason I don’t work is that you, Ursa, and the children don’t let me. If you all weren’t so distracting, maybe I’d actually get something done, asshole.”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever, Your Royal Snootiness. You got anything better to do, or are you just going to harass me all day?” Ikem smirks down at the Prince, who’s started kissing at his neck again. “If you keep going with this, I might have to tell Head Housekeeper Inza that you’re a fucking pervert that likes to mess around with the servant-folk,” Ikem jokes. Ozai grumbles, pulling away from the shorter man’s neck to instead rest his head on Ikem’s shoulder.
“Jerk.”
“Love you too, shithead.” Ozai chuckles at that one.
Ikem sets down his cleaning supplies and reaches his arms around to grab onto Ozai’s robes. “You alright?” Ozai shrugs, not saying much anymore. His mood had been off all day, but it was only now that Ikem got to see the extent of it. Sighing, Ikem dares to ask, “What exactly is going on, Ozai?”
With baleful, exhausted, dreary eyes, Ozai sits his partner down on the nearest couch and explains everything that had transpired over the last day or so. “I just am so concerned now for Zuko’s safety, but also Ursa and Azula’s. Being sent to the frontlines is no joke. My brother has survived this long because of his bending prowess and tactical genius. But me? I’ve learned little to nothing compared to him, and now we’re not even getting any responses from him. I don’t even know what the most recent movements are, and any news from Iroh is cryptic and vague, more than usual. I just don’t know what to do…” Ozai’s admissions come in a whirlwind of confusion and heartache, moving his hands up to his eyes to hide any tears from his partner.
Ikem knows very little about the struggles his partners face, no matter how much they tell him. He’s still not part of those circles and will never understand the complexities. But he knows human emotion, he knows that emotional toll will always take a physical toll and makes it his job to keep both Ursa and Ozai free of excessive stress. He’s good at it, he likes to think. He’s funny, charming, quick on his feet, understanding. Ikem is the perfect partner, except when he’s not, like right now.
He really does not know what to do, so he just sits and wraps his arms around Ozai, cradling the man gently and letting him express all of his woes. Ozai is a very delicate man, in that other people’s perception of his masculinity is what gives him a feeling of pride and self-worth. Which is dangerous, but Ikem hasn’t yet been able to break through to him. Azulon’s influence is still quite strong in the Palace, and Ozai will need to be independent from his father to be truly free of that feeling that he cannot and should not express his heartache and fears to anyone except his closest male confidant, Ikem himself.
But Ikem loves the man. Ozai has changed so much since that first day, and he has strived to be better for Ursa and Ikem every single day they’ve been together. Ikem frankly cannot imagine life without his girlfriend’s husband, and it hurts to think that Ozai would be so far from home in ten years. It’s kind of a nightmare. But what Ozai needs right now isn’t pity or fear or worry. It’s comfort. And Ikem offers it in the only way he knows. He puts on a fucking show.