The silence hung between them, heavy and warm, filled only by the sound of their breathing.
Ursa looked deep into his golden eyes, searching, searching for any trace of doubt, any hint of obligation. Her own eyes were still glistening, her cheeks flushed and wet.
She took a shaky breath, her hand resting over his where it lay protectively on her stomach.
"Ozai," she whispered, her voice trembling, soft but insistent. "Tell me the truth. You really want this baby?"
He stared at her as if she had just asked him if he wanted air to breathe. As if she had asked him if he wanted fire in his veins.
The question hit him harder than any blow. It stripped away the Prince, the warrior, leaving only the man.
"Do I want this baby?" he repeated slowly, his voice rough, as if the very words were painful to speak. "Ursa… how can you even ask?"
He sat up straighter, pulling her closer so she was practically in his lap, his arms wrapping around her completely, trapping her in his warmth, in his certainty.
"Look at me," he commanded gently, gripping her chin so she couldn't look away. "You ask me if I want this child? This child that is half you, half me? This child that is made from everything we are?"
His eyes burned with an intensity that was almost frightening.
"I want it more than I wanted the throne," he said fiercely. "I want it more than I wanted power. I have spent my whole life being told what to do, who to be, who to marry. Ilah… Lee… they were duties. They were obligations stamped by my father."
He took her hand and pressed it against his heart again, so she could feel how fast it was beating.
"But this… you… this is the first thing I have ever truly chosen. The first thing I have ever created that is pure. That is mine."
Tears welled up in his eyes again, but he didn't blink them away. He let them fall.
"When you told me… when you put my hand here…" his voice cracked, "I felt alive for the first time. I felt like I wasn't just a weapon anymore. I was going to be a father. To your child."
He looked down at her stomach, his expression softening into something reverent, something holy.
"You ask if I want it? Ursa, I am terrified. I am terrified I won't be good enough. I am terrified the world will be too cruel for something this soft. But want it? Gods… I crave it. I dream about it. I look at you and I see my future. I see everything I ever wanted but never dared to hope for."
He looked back at her, his gaze piercing her soul.
"If you were not carrying my child… if this was just us… I would still love you. I would still burn the world for you. But this… this baby… it is the proof that we exist. That our love is real. That it is strong enough to make life."
He wiped a fresh tear from her cheek with his thumb.
"So yes," he said, every word a vow. "I want this baby. I want it more than anything in this world. I want it so much it hurts. I want it so much I would destroy anyone who tried to take it from us."
Ursa stared at him, her heart pounding against her ribs.
She saw it now. She saw it in the way he looked at her belly, in the way his hands shook slightly, in the raw, naked vulnerability he was showing her.
He wasn't doing this out of duty. He wasn't doing it because he had to.
He wanted it. He loved it. Already.
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