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Chapter Text

From the hand of Azulon III

Recorded on New Year's Day, 170 AG

In an examination of the Fire Nation's history, Lady Ursa's marriage into the royal family is widely regarded as the beginning of the end of the Hundred Year War, although perhaps not in the way as originally envisioned by my ancestor Azulon I. When he sought out Avatar Roku's granddaughter to be his son's bride on the advice of the Fire Sages, he hoped to create a new dynasty of rulers that would bring about the Fire Nation's unparalleled glory and long-awaited victory in the war.

While the marriage of Ursa into the royal family did indeed result in the end of the war, Azulon I failed to consider that the Avatar's deeply-ingrained duty to the world could also be passed down through a bloodline along with immense power. It is clear to even the most idle student of history that this sense of duty was present in Ursa and manifested itself greatly during her marriage to Iroh. However, the precise details of this marriage and its role in ending the Hundred Year War have become murky over the years, splintered across various recollections and distorted by clashes between traditionalist and reform perspectives on the Fire Nation's role as aggressor against the world.

Was Ursa the instigator of the war's end, or simply the motivation for her husband's choices? Was it her plan from the beginning to end the Fire Nation's violence? Was she aware of the consequences of her actions, and how they would ripple through history? These questions may never be truly answered, but they continue to capture the curiosity of scholars.

I am aware that I am in a unique position to help find these answers, for I have been blessed with easy access to the accounts recorded by several of the key players in the end of the war. While the Fire Nation has kept many of our own royal records from the time of war under lock and key, regarding them as private relics of a shameful past, enough time has passed that these accounts must be made public before the truth is transformed into a half-formed history. The story of Ursa and Iroh in all its truth must be known to fully appreciate how the war ended, and I have taken it into my own hands to present their story as honestly as possible to the world before it is too late, and I have chosen this auspicious new year as the best time to do so.

Following this letter are a series of records and accounts from members of the royal family who were familiar with Ursa and Iroh's marriage, including Ursa and Iroh themselves of course. There are also relevant testimonies from world leaders and freedom fighters such as Avatar Aang who bore witness to the couple's impact on the world. All of this is assembled in such a manner for the story to be as clear as possible, interspersed with my own musings and notes from over the years to contextualize these documents in places where I feel necessary. The story that follows is complex and deeply raw, and it transformed not only my family, but the world, irreversibly.

From the hand of Ursa

Recorded on an unknown date, 102 AG

Upon the request of many, including my husband, I have elected to chronicle the details of my life in the royal family as part of official record for future generations. I fail to see the import of my "role" in ending the war aside from the interest generated by my grandfather's identity as the previous Avatar, but nevertheless, honesty about my past can only help guide the future.

I suppose I should start at the very beginning and share how I came to be part of the royal family. I never dreamed such a thing would be possible as a girl - my parents had kept our heritage secret from me, so my life growing up was limited to being an aspiring actress in the small village of Hira'a. Even after everything that has happened, I still remember vividly the day it all changed, only a few weeks past my eighteenth birthday.

69 AG

Ursa felt lighter than air as she practically skipped home from her rehearsal with Ikem. The news was too much to bear; she wanted to call it from the rooftops for the whole world to hear rather than simply mention it to the animals she passed on the street. Ikem had asked her to marry him, and she had, of course, said yes.

It was the beginning of the next phase of her life. Approaching the end of her adolescence, she was beginning to chafe under the careful attention of her parents' home. She'd been seeing Ikem for quite some time, and while he was not the most well off man in the village, she knew the two of them together would be resourceful enough to be fine as a married couple. Maybe they could travel, like the drama troupes that came into town every so often, before finding a nice town a little closer to the coast to settle down in. Ursa had always loved the idea of growing up by the ocean, and it would be amazing to give her and Ikem's children the opportunity.

Her daydreaming was interrupted, however, when she ran into her house to tell her parents the news, only to find her mother crying on the floor with a strange relic cradled in her hands.

Ursa immediately ran to her side. "What's wrong? Where's Dad?"

"Your father's out back in the greenhouse," her mother said, wiping her tears. "With a visitor." Something about the way she said it sent a shiver down Ursa's spine. Who could be visiting them that would upset her mom like this? And what was the relic her mom was holding? It was clearly a Fire Nation hair piece of some kind, but she couldn't think of why her family would have such an expensive-looking item.

"I love you, Ursa. You know that, don't you?" Her mother cupped her face, drawing her out of her thoughts.

Ursa nodded mutely, noting that tears were brimming in her mother's eyes again. "What is it, Mom? What's happening?"

Her mother just pursed her lips. "Go find your dad and greet our visitors. They'll…explain." Her voice was choked off by a fresh wave of emotion. Ursa embraced her mother before obediently following her instructions and approaching the greenhouse with her heart in her throat.

"Daughter, show our guests the proper respect," her father called as soon as she opened the greenhouse door. She could not quite see who their guests were, though, until she moved a bit closer. At first, her mind struggled to compute the impossibility of what she was seeing, the finery of royal robes clashing with the surrounding simple greenhouse. Then, something like fear or intimidation kicked in, and she dropped to her knees in front of Fire Lord Azulon.

"Ursa, is it?" The man's sharp eyes and well-trimmed appearance clashed with the greeting in his voice. "Rise and let us have a look at you."

As she got to her feet, keeping her eyes carefully downcast, she became aware of another presence in the greenhouse aside from her father and the Fire Lord; someone not quite as imposing as Azulon, but who still carried themselves with the same noble pride. She didn't dare look at them, though, not with the Fire Lord's sharp eyes raking over her suddenly too-warm body.

"Magistrate Jinzuk, your wife has raised a daughter even more beautiful than her flowers! We've had such trouble finding Avatar Roku's descendants," he chuckled. "It's as if he wanted to keep you hidden from us!"

Startled, Ursa glanced up just long enough to see the twisted smile on the Fire Lord's face and her own father's guilty expression. Avatar Roku's descendants? Her family? As the Fire Lord continued talking, the grim truth of his words settled into her bones. There was no way the royal family was mistaken. And clearly, he had come here for something Avatar Roku would not have wanted.

"But now, clearly, the effort was worthwhile. The Fire Sages tell me that the pairing of the Avatar's granddaughter with my own son will yield a bloodline of great power, one that would help ensure my family's rule for centuries after I am gone."

Ursa was already paired to Ikem, in word and in heart, but there was no sense in saying this now, when the Fire Lord's intentions had been made clear. There was no power in the land, except apparently her long-dead grandfather, who could keep Fire Lord Azulon from achieving what he had set out to accomplish.

"Ursa, may I introduce you to Fire Prince Iroh, my firstborn son? He has a proposal for you."

It wasn't really a question, and as Ursa looked up again, Prince Iroh stepped forward. She was familiar with the man's image, having caught glimpses of it in official portraits of the royal family, but it was hard to capture flesh and blood in ink and paper. Iroh strongly resembled his late mother Lady Ilah, with the same solid stocky stature in contrast to his father's long lean build. Ursa knew the prince was a year or two older than her at most, but his stubbled chin gave him the appearance of a well-seasoned man that his guarded eyes and tight mouth did not contradict.

"Ursa," he spoke, and his voice was immediately fuller, warmer than Azulon's. "Would you do me the honor of accepting my hand in marriage?"

From the hand of Iroh

Recorded on an unknown date, 102 AG

My dear wife has informed me that she will only record her recollections of the war and its end if I swear to do the same independently of her writings. So I shall, for I have little left to do beyond please my wife.

There is not much to share of my early years that has not already been extensively recorded in history, from the death of my mother to my unfortunate rivalry with my younger brother. Ursa's life had no such scribe to capture it though, so I suppose I will have to attempt to fill that role. My reluctant nineteen-year-old self's meeting with her, fuelled solely by my father's desires, is one of those moments that has been transformed time and time again after decades of reflection.

Iroh's sense of apprehension only grew as the royal procession approached Hira'a. Despite his familiarity with the duties required of the crown prince, he'd assumed he would have more than a year out of school to enjoy his youth before being thrust into a life of military training, court sessions and… producing heirs. He might have had that time too, if his father's spies hadn't returned a week ago with the news that they'd finally found Avatar Roku's descendants, who happened to include a granddaughter around Iroh's age.

"Don't look so grim, my boy," Azulon told him with a hint of a smile. He was practically brimming with pride, both at himself for finding Roku's family and at Iroh for taking the 'next step' in his carefully planned path to the throne. "You do want this girl to agree to marry you."

"As if she has a choice." As if I have a choice, Iroh added silently. Typically princes had their pick of the finest Fire Nation noblewomen when selecting their brides, especially crown princes like Iroh. Yet here he was, being carted off to a village girl because of some nonsense the Fire Sages had spewed. Those "spiritual guides" had lost their credibility long ago, when Sozin wiped out the last of Avatar Roku's supporters in the Fire Nation. That wouldn't stop Azulon from hearing their counsel, though, nor would the fact that his oldest son was far more familiar with the true spiritual arts.

"Young people always think choice is crucial in a marriage." Azulon shook his head. "I spent over forty years of my life dithering over choosing a wife, and all it gave me was less time with a woman I love." He smiled at Iroh in that misty-eyed way that meant he was thinking about Iroh's resemblance to Ilah again. "A prince must fulfill his duties, regardless of his own desires."

Azulon would know better than anyone - he had assumed the role of Fire Lord at the age of only twenty. He would have had no time for all the things Iroh wished for, traveling the world and learning its wisdom. But he had not been in Iroh's specific predicament either. "You did get to choose Mom though."

"I did," he conceded. "But I only delayed the decision with my pride. It was suggested that my father wished for me to marry a woman from her family shortly after I ascended the throne, and I refused to take the advice for over a decade. Yet after I had my fun as a young king and began conducting my own research into suitable wives, I ended up coming back to her family over and over again. My father was right, in the end."

"But if you'd married right after you became Fire Lord, you wouldn't have married Mom. She would have been a child then."

Azulon raised an eyebrow. "And what would it have mattered? I would have simply come to love one of her older sisters or cousins just as deeply as I loved her, and fathered children just as clever and powerful as you." He flexed and squeezed his hands in his lap, no doubt fighting off some old battle pain. "You play with the pai sho tiles you are dealt, son. I am happy Ilah was my wife in this life, but I know I could have built a good life with another woman too. Marriage, especially for our family, is not about a soulmate or the one correct choice. It is about working together to create something bigger and better than your individual selves. Life will be easier for you and this young woman if you both learn that sooner rather than later."

Iroh grunted, turning over his father's words in his mind like a well-worn stone. Did having a choice matter? At the end of the day, his wife's main role would be to bear his children and preside over the palace's domestic matters once he became Fire Lord. This village girl would need a little extra training on royal life, but her allegedly being the Avatar's granddaughter would balance that out with the powerful heirs she was meant to produce. And outside of matters of spirituality, his father had never steered him wrong before.

"It appears we've arrived." Azulon glanced out the window with a dignified grimace. "I hope she doesn't live in one of these pig-chicken infested houses. The smell won't be pleasant on the return journey."

There were some pig-chickens to contend with at the magistrate's house, but not enough for the smell to be unbearable. "My daughter is out at the moment, honorable Fire Lord," the magistrate said from his kowtow. "She should be returning soon for dinner."

"Then we will wait," Azulon said without missing a beat. "My son and I would love to see more of how Avatar Roku's daughter and granddaughter have been living."

Iroh glanced at the trembling form of the magistrate's wife, still bent over in her bow next to her husband. Roku's daughter. Iroh wondered what her father must have told her of the royal family to make her want to hide away from them for so long.

"If it will please you, my lord, my wife keeps a lovely greenhouse."

There were certainly lovelier gardens than this in the Fire Nation capital, but Iroh couldn't begrudge a small town its achievements considering its limitations. The magistrate, to his credit, kept his cool better than many town officials who'd encountered far lower-ranking Fire Nation royals than Iroh's father - he blathered a good bit about town affairs and the state of the war, but for the most part, deferred to Azulon's questions about his daughter. Her name was Ursa, Iroh learned, and she was an actress with the town's troupe currently rehearsing a production of "Love Amongst The Dragons."

"Perhaps she can bring some local flavor to the capital's theatre scene," the Fire Lord suggested with a smile. "I know I'm getting tired of having to sail to Ember Island every time I want to see a half-decent show."

Iroh only grunted, watching how the magistrate's eyes kept nervously flicking over to him. He could see the anxieties written plainly all over the man's face: was Iroh as calculating as his father, or was he warm like his mother? Was he every inch the mighty soldier the palace claimed he was? And was this future ruler of the land going to treat Ursa well? Iroh couldn't find it in himself to offer the man reassurance; he had no intention of mistreating the woman, but he wasn't exactly in a romantic mood either.

Perhaps that would be the thread that tied him and his future wife together: mutual reluctance.

A noise from the greenhouse's entrance caught the attention of the men gathered inside. "Daughter," called the magistrate, "show our guests the proper respect."

Ursa fell into a bow, but as Azulon bade her to stand, Iroh got a proper look at her. She was beautiful to be sure, with a sweet, if pale, oval face and thick, dark hair falling to her shoulders. She was also clearly frightened, though she was maintaining her composure well, no doubt a result of her work as an actress. The palace ladies would have no trouble teaching her the grace and elegance required of her new life.

Iroh snapped back to attention as his father said his name. ""Ursa, may I introduce you to Fire Prince Iroh, my firstborn son? He has a proposal for you."

Ah yes, time for the "proposal" providing the illusion of consent over this whole affair. Iroh stepped forward, attempting to guide his face into a more neutral expression - unlike his bride-to-be, he had no proclivity to disguise his thoughts and feelings. "Ursa," he said simply, "would you do me the honor of accepting my hand in marriage?"

Neither of them had any real choice, of course.

Chapter Text

Iroh, cont.

My bride-to-be's trade as an aspiring actress was a source of amusement to my father. But to my younger self, an overgrown boy who was convinced his youth was being stolen away by his father's desires and some village woman's unfortunate identity as the Avatar's granddaughter, Ursa's acting ability seemed like a personal slight.

I was never adept at navigating the eternal drama that was palace life; I wore my heart on my sleeve and my thoughts on my face, especially after my mother's untimely passing. While this quality initially exposed me as an easy target for courtroom politics, I made it my greatest strength instead. I touted myself as an honest heir, a future Fire Lord who would not hide difficult truths from his people. Being wed to an actress felt like the antithesis of the image I'd cultivated of myself, for myself.

Unfortunately, our life as a couple began on the wrong foot due to an incident mere hours after our engagement that only solidified my nagging belief that Ursa was an actress first and foremost, and therefore, not to be trusted.

The young man's strong stance clashed with the trembling in his shoulders as he stood in the road, brazenly blocking the royal procession while brandishing a wooden sword. Azulon's upper lip curled slightly at the sight - peasant filth - before he bade the soldiers to take care of the interruption.

Ursa, the man had called out as he confronted the chariot, my true love. Iroh was no fool. This was the poor soul who'd been courting her before the Fire Lord came to town with his own plans. It was a shame she wouldn't be spending her life with someone who clearly wanted her for more than just her bloodline.

As the soldiers charged the commoner, Iroh couldn't help but admire his dedication to his love. Wielding his theater prop defensively, he scored multiple well-placed hits on his foes and managed to evade injury. If this was an act, Iroh decided, it was a very good one. He couldn't imagine faking this sort of devotion to a woman. Still, love alone would not save him from the Fire Lord's soldiers.

Ursa, who'd been watching the rapidly-escalating fight, now cut into Iroh's thoughts. "Call them off, my prince!" Startled, he turned to look into her wide, frightened eyes. "He's an old childhood friend of mine!" she continued. "He's-he's confused! I'll get him to leave, but you have to promise not to hurt him. Please, for me my…my love."

Iroh could choke. My love; what an actress she was. Regardless, killing her lover was just unnecessary bloodshed, and it would only sour their forced engagement further. Ignoring his father's warning gaze, Iroh opened the carriage door. "That's enough!" he ordered sharply.

As the soldiers fell back, Ursa descended from the carriage and approached her lover with a poise beyond any village girl.

"Tell me marrying that - that prince - is what you truly want," Iroh heard the man, Ikem, demand during the conversation. "Tell me, and I'll go home."

Ursa peered back at the carriage with an inscrutable expression, briefly meeting Iroh's eyes before turning away. He watched her take a deep breath, preparing for another performance.

"Fire Prince Iroh honored my family by asking for my hand in marriage. I joyfully accepted. Now, for your sake and mine, go home." Her voice cracked at the end of the sentence, and her eyes shone brightly when she turned around. Iroh wasn't sure who she was trying to convince more; her scorned lover who was dissolving into tears behind her, or the prince and Fire Lord who'd watched the whole exchange carefully.

"You're going to regret leaving him alive," Azulon murmured as Ursa walked back to the carriage.

Iroh shrugged. "I'm newly engaged, father. I'm in a good mood," he said in a deadpan voice. Automatically, he held his hand out to assist Ursa back to her seat and didn't say a word about the redness in her eyes.

What an actress, indeed.

Ursa, cont.

My wedding day, I regret to share, was an occasion fraught with sorrow, dread and misunderstanding. Even over thirty years later, even after all the heartache and loss I've faced since then, I still sometimes wake up with a fright after dreaming of that day's events.

I am fortunate in that my marriage itself has not been the nightmare I thought it would be. I can now, in peacetime, rely on my husband to calm the vestiges of my spirit that still feel the anxieties of my eighteen-year-old self. Nevertheless, it is my hope for the future that the Fire Nation is able to let go of some of its antiquated notions around nobility and royalty so no more young women have to spend their wedding days in fear as I did.

There was no denying the fact that she looked beautiful. Ursa watched her face in the mirror, even as she struggled to reconcile the person in the glass with her own self.

Gone was any trace of an actress from Hira'a. Instead, a princess-to-be gazed back at Ursa, dressed in the very finest red, gold and white garments the nation had to offer. Her hair had been combed through with intoxicatingly scented oils and braided into an intricate hairstyle that drew the eye to the smooth curve of her pale neck. Her face had been painted with makeup unlike any she had used as an actress in Hira'a; so light she could barely feel it upon her skin, yet the colors on her eyes, lips and cheeks were more striking than she'd ever seen while still giving the illusion of natural beauty.

Ursa held back the tears threatening to fall from her eyes, knowing the women around her would be displeased if she ruined their hard work on her bridal appearance. She'd already been reprimanded for drinking a pre-ceremonial tea incorrectly and smudging some of her lip paint; she hadn't even known there was a way to drink tea while wearing makeup without making a mess.

She would give anything for her mom, she thought dully as she stared into her own eyes and concentrated on not crying. Wasn't it her right as a daughter to be getting ready for her wedding with her mother at her side, doing her hair, whispering last pieces of advice for her marriage? Instead, her parents were in a carriage - albeit, a royal one - that had just arrived at the palace. They would barely have time to bathe before attending her wedding. The bride's parents should have traditionally been regarded as guests of honor, but amid the royalty and nobility of her groom's friends and family, her parents were simply commoners invited for formality's sake; just one more part of her cherished wedding day that had been overwritten by the royal family's will.

"Honored Fire Lord," whispered one of the women behind her, "this isn't proper."

Ursa looked away from her image in the mirror to catch a glimpse of Fire Lord Azulon entering the bridal preparation chamber. He cast a sharp look at the older head servant, Yuna, who'd spoken up against him. Despite Yuna's harsh words after the tea incident earlier, Ursa couldn't help but feel a twinge of pity at the fear that played across the woman's face. It hadn't taken long to see how harsh the royal family could be with the servants; the Fire Lord must have been making an egregious breach of etiquette for Yuna to dare to speak up. What reason would a man - a king, at that - have to visit his future daughter-in-law as she prepared for her wedding? A shiver ran up her spine as she considered the potential answers. The Fire Lord turned his gaze towards her and met her eyes in the mirror, smiling slightly. She quickly looked down to her hands folded in her lap.

"Leave us," he commanded. The other women in the chamber immediately put down what they were doing and bowed out of the room. Ursa hoped she wasn't visibly trembling as the Fire Lord approached, his reflection towering over hers as he stopped behind her.

"What a vision they've created out of you," he murmured. "If I'd found your mother as a younger man…or if I were a younger man now…"

She blinked, not daring to speak even as nausea rose in her throat.

"Your parents have raised you well, considering your circumstances," he continued, leaning back to assess her proper posture and demure demeanor. "Surely they taught you to speak when spoken to?"

"Yes, my lord," Ursa responded without missing a beat, although she kept her eyes carefully downcast as she always did around the Fire Lord. "My parents have always been good to me and strived to raise me to conduct myself properly. I'm simply excited for the wedding and for the opportunity to see them again."

"I can see that," Azulon said, and there was something like a leer in his voice. "Do be sure to bid your parents a proper farewell tonight. You unfortunately won't be able to see them again once you are wed."

Ursa glanced up in shock, registering the glee on the man's face before quickly schooling her expression into something more neutral. "I won't, my lord?"

"I'm afraid not," he sighed in feigned sympathy. "As a princess of the Fire Nation, and a future queen, your first duty is to your new family and to the nation. Ergo, it is customary for royal brides to sever their ties to the past in order to better dedicate themselves to their new role as a wife and a mother. I thought you might not be aware of the custom, so I decided to let you know personally to avoid any embarrassment."

Her heart felt like it might crumble to pieces within her chest. It was awful enough that she had given up Ikem, her friends, her dreams of acting in a little coastal town; now she had to give up her parents as well. The cruelty of it all was too much to bear, and Ursa silently cursed her dead grandfather for ruining her life as the tears that had been threatening to fall finally spilled over.

"It is an honor, dear Ursa." The Fire Lord continued even as she silently wept. "You now belong to the most powerful family in the Fire Nation. You belong to the crown prince, my dearest son Iroh, and you will bear heirs whose names will be etched in history forever. So, take comfort in the honor you've been given. You wouldn't want to seem ungrateful."

As suddenly as he'd arrived, he turned on his heel and slid out of her chamber. Ursa bent her head and steeled herself for Yuna scolding her for ruining her makeup again. She just hoped she didn't weep during the ceremony.

From the private recollections of Azulon I

Recorded on [wedding day of Iroh and Ursa], 69 AG

When my father lay on his deathbed, he whispered to me the remnants of what he knew of the Avatar. Not the current airbender who somehow still eludes my efforts to find him, but his predecessor.

My father's once-dear childhood friend, Roku, was all but guaranteed a position as a top general and trusted advisor after my father became Fire Lord. But his very destiny changed when he was named the Avatar on his sixteenth birthday. The advantage of a Fire Nation Avatar should have elevated our people to unprecedented heights of esteem, but traveling the world and mastering all four elements brainwashed Roku into turning his back on his own friend. My father had to wait until that traitor died a pathetic death failing to stop the Great Eruption of 12 BG to finally go forward with his plans of sharing our greatness with the world.

Despite his disdain for the Avatar's dreadful philosophy of globalism, my father never wavered in his belief that his old friend's power was unmatched by any human in the world. Roku once razed the palace in the blink of an eye in a confrontation over Fire Nation colonies in the Earth Kingdom. Such power, my father told me with his last breaths, could not be allowed to exist outside of our family's domain. Roku's daughter had escaped the Great Eruption on her island. The airbender had escaped the attack on the temples. Roku's spirit lived on in both of them, and as long as they were free, our empire was still at risk.

Wherever Roku's spirit is now, I hope it is in agony seeing what has befallen his family. His granddaughter is mine, and she will be reduced to a footnote in history that only empowered us to win the same war he so detested thanks to the prophesied heirs Iroh will sire with her. Roku's bloodline is as good as eradicated, and once I find the airbender, his spiritual line will be destroyed as well. My father's war will be won within my lifetime, and if it somehow is not, Iroh will do what is needed to uphold our family's legacy.

Roku, who haunted my father to his dying day, will fade out of memory as a failure of an Avatar, and even that will be too gentle of a fate for a traitor such as he.

Even if he was getting married sooner than he would've liked, there were worse fates than being betrothed to a beautiful woman. Iroh was a young man, after all. She was an actress, but she was also a commoner and a nonbender. The ability to lie convincingly was useful in the palace, as were her good looks, but he could be sure they posed no real threat to him.

Of course, he was in a more generous mood now than he had been in Hira'a. He was back in the palace, dressed in his most extravagant crown prince attire, which had a way of stroking his ego. While he wasn't looking forward to the wedding ceremony, he'd come to accept his marriage as an inconvenient reality and had even started looking at the bright side. Outside of their…marital duties, Ursa would not affect his life much. She would even have her own chambers, albeit in his wing of the palace, so there was no need to pass awkward nights together. Iroh was a Fire Lord in training, with plans of travel and conquest that left little place for a new bride. No one would blame him for not spending his youth chained to his wife. Father would get his Avatar grandchildren eventually, but for now, Iroh was content with his plan to not interact with Ursa unless absolutely necessary.

"None of this pomp will change the fact that you are marrying a village girl."

Iroh glanced over his shoulder at Ozai. His younger brother could always be counted on to point out the flawss in Iroh's plans. "You know as well as I that Father arranged this marriage for a reason."

Ozai, an uncanny replica of their father's teenage appearance, simply smirked. "Oh, I'm well aware of who this girl's grandfather is supposed to be. I just hope that 'reason' helps you overcome the stench of pig-chicken to perform on your wedding night - I hear it takes a full month to leave the skin."

"Don't be crass," Iroh said sharply, but quietly. The two brothers were waiting to enter the wedding hall, thankfully only surrounded by the servants holding the ceremonial candles for the crown prince's wedding. Iroh knew it was tradition for younger princes to serve as their older brother's groomsmen, but he wished Ozai could be with their father in the main hall instead of back here. His needling comments were dangerously close to ruining the good mood Iroh had worked so hard to achieve.

"Please. 'You know as well as I' that Father's reason for this marriage was finding good breeding stock for you," Ozai mocked.

Iroh cast a warning glance. Ursa's identity as the Avatar's granddaughter was not publicly advertised; as far as anyone outside the royal family was concerned, she was simply a fortunate woman who'd been chosen for the future Fire Lord, just like many of the women who'd come before her.

"Don't worry, crown prince," Ozai lowered his voice. "I won't make a scene during your ceremony. I'm certain the knowledge that she wishes she could be with her urchin lover rather than you will be more than enough to ruin the night."

Father's personal guard really needed a reminder of what exactly 'discretion' meant. Keeping his eyes trained ahead, Iroh said softly enough for only his brother's ears, "You overestimate how much of my pride is at stake, Ozai. Even if I were no crown prince or nobility, I would still be able to marry a village woman like Ursa. You, however, will have to live with the knowledge that whatever noblewoman weds you would not have looked at you twice if you weren't a prince 'of good breeding stock.'"

"My prince," a candle bearer interrupted the brothers' verbal sparring to gesture at a nervous manservant approaching. "The Fire Sages send a message."

Iroh waved his brother back, inwardly pleased at the fuming expression on his face. "Be at ease and speak," he told the servant who'd sunk into a bow at his feet.

"Honored prince, the Fire Sages say the sun will be in its most auspicious position in five minutes. They instruct that you and the lady Ursa should begin your walk to the wedding pavilion."

The candle bearers immediately straightened while Iroh dismissed the servant with a nod and a flick of his hand. "Put a smile on your face, little brother," he told a still-scowling Ozai, still feeling a bit petty after their spat. "It's my wedding day."

The curtains were drawn back as the groom's procession began. It wasn't long before he laid eyes on Ursa, looking nothing short of ethereal, leading the bridal procession from the other side of the hall. As he drank in her radiant appearance, he decided there really was a bright side to this whole affair.

Ursa experienced her wedding as something akin to a dream. Not quite a good dream or a nightmare, but something in between - one of those hazy, heavy dreams that seeps into the early morning waking hours and blurs the lines of reality. She hardly felt in control of her own body as she obeyed the cues of the Fire Sages. The vows were like ashes in her mouth. Iroh's large hand grasped hers with the heat of a flickering ember as he led her around the ceremonial fire and then to bow in front of his father. The corners of her mouth mechanically lifted upward as Azulon gave them his blessing. One of the only things that pierced through the haze was his sharp eyes lingering on her for a moment too long before he arose and pronounced the crown prince and princess officially wed.

Now, seated next to Iroh at the newlyweds' place of honor, she began to return to reality during the third course of the wedding dinner. Somewhere across the hall, dining at the back with the lower nobles, were her parents. She'd barely taken the time to look at them when walking up to the wedding pavilion; she wondered if she'd missed her last chance to really see them. No, she told herself, the Fire Lord had said she would be able to say goodbye. Did they know that this was the last time they would be with their daughter, or would she have to break their hearts and bid them farewell in one fell swoop?

"You've barely eaten."

Ursa couldn't help but start and look over at Iroh, who was watching her with a guarded expression. Those were the first words he'd spoken directly to her since 'proposing' in Hira'a.

"Forgive me, husband," she responded in her sweetest voice. "Today has been exciting, and a bit overwhelming for my nerves. I don't think I could stomach more than a cup of tea."

Iroh had nearly picked his plate clean, and it was no challenge to see why. After ignoring most of the two appetizer courses, Ursa's own plate was now filled with the most choice roasted duck, perfectly steamed white rice, and delicate circles of honey-braised peppers. Only a week ago, she would have salivated at being presented with such a meal. Her stomach felt like stone.

"What kind of tea?" he asked.

"Oh," Ursa hadn't considered that she would have options. Despite her knowledge of plants and healing teas, she normally just brewed a cup of whatever leaves her mother kept in the kitchen when drinking tea for pleasure. "Perhaps… green?"

His expression didn't change, though he stared at her for a beat before turning away and calling, "Ozai."

The teenager eating at a table a few feet away from Iroh's left immediately stood and walked over. "Yes, brother?"

So this was Fire Prince Ozai. Ursa vaguely recalled that the second prince was maybe five years younger, but despite the age difference, he had already caught up to Iroh in height. The resemblance to the tall Azulon was striking, and Ursa quickly dropped her gaze when the boy's golden eyes shifted to her. She'd had enough of royal men staring at her for a lifetime.

"Request Aisha to provide us with two cups of freshly-brewed sencha tea from my private collection. Tell her to add a pinch of cane sugar to both."

Ozai nodded and left. Ursa blinked, processing what she'd heard. She knew the delicacy cane sugar came to the Fire Nation from the Earth Kingdom colonies, but she had never heard of sencha tea. Then again, she was hardly an expert on gourmet tea-drinking; it was probably why Iroh had looked at her in that way when she requested green tea.

"Thank you," she said, offering a small smile when Iroh turned back.

He lifted his right shoulder in half a shrug. "If it's tea you like, you're welcome to any of it in the kitchen, including my own collection. But Aisha is the only one in the palace who can brew a respectable cup. Aside from me."

"Oh." It felt odd to simply sit in silence next to him again now that they'd exchanged a few words, even with her farewell to her parents still on her mind. Fire Lord Azulon's words about being raised properly rang in her ears; she suddenly felt certain he was watching her every move and felt compelled to speak. "What…is your favorite?"

"My favorite tea?"

"Yes," Ursa felt her face grow warm at how clumsily she'd phrased her question. She couldn't afford to be ineloquent as a princess.

"Jasmine."

"Why?"

Iroh cast her another glance that seemed less guarded and more curious. Ursa suddenly became aware that he really was young. He was broad-shouldered and dressed in finery, two things that she associated with much older men, but he was clean shaven for the occasion, and his eyes were quite warm compared to his father.

"It was my mother's favorite too."

As young as he was now, he would have been a small child when Lady Ilah had passed away over a decade ago. Ursa felt a surge of sorrow for her new husband and his brother. Even though she was saying goodbye to her parents now, she'd enjoyed a full childhood with them, and they would still be alive somewhere. No amount of luxury could have made up for losing her mother as a little girl.

"Don't feel the need to respond to that." Iroh picked at the few remaining grains of rice on his plate. "Most people don't know how to react to mentions of my mother, and few knew her. I barely did."

"I see," Ursa eyed his fidgeting chopsticks before looking at her own still-full plate. "Well, would you like the rest of my food?"

He raised an eyebrow. "I suppose if you're offering, I won't say no. You should at least have a bit of rice, though. The seafood course is next, and it prominently features raw sea slug tentacles." His nose wrinkled. "Even I can't stand the smell of that 'delicacy.'"

Rich people truly did eat strange things. Hoping her disgust at the mention of slug tentacles wasn't evident on her face, she obediently took a mouthful of rice before gesturing for Iroh to help himself to the rest. Watching him make quick work of the duck, she was reminded of Ikem's voracious appetite. The rice in her stomach settled heavily.

Two women suddenly materialized on either side of the couple, each kneeling and presenting a cup of tea.

"I was wondering where Ozai had gotten off to," Iroh inclined his head at his younger brother, who had returned to his seat, before taking his cup and sipping. "Good. Send my regards to Aisha."

Ursa picked up her own tea, trying her best to mimic Iroh's careful mannerisms as she cradled the cup in her hand and attempted to smile elegantly at the young maid who bowed and backed away. The hot brew already smelled fuller and richer than any tea she'd had, and just the scent helped calm her somewhat. She lifted the cup to her lips and sipped as delicately as she could, not wanting to smudge her makeup.

Immediately, she tasted a light sweetness that lifted her spirits and soothed her from the inside out. The tang of the tea settled in the back of her mouth, along with an earthy aftertaste that wasn't entirely unpleasant. Notes of the drink were definitely familiar; she could tell this was a more complex version of her mother's greenhouse teas.

"This is one of the best cups of tea I've ever had," she told Iroh, and she really meant it.

"I hope so. I do try to find the best leaves for my collection when I travel. I think this batch of sencha came from one of our easternmost islands." He studied the cup in his hand, seemingly trying to remember.

Ursa's next question about his travels died in her mouth when the gong rang, signaling the start of the fourth course. Only three more to go. A new scent hit her nose, and she quickly held her sleeve up to cover the grimace she hadn't been able to suppress. Iroh had not been exaggerating when describing the smell of sea slug: it was nothing short of nauseating, and it was quickly growing stronger.

She continued sipping her tea, inhaling the sweet fumes to block out the stench as a servant placed two plates of seafood in front of her and Iroh. Despite her best efforts, she was struggling to maintain a serene royal expression, and the sight of tentacles in front of her wasn't helping. She stared at them and tried to convince herself it wasn't that bad.

The tentacles suddenly seemed to move, and then writhe, on the plate. She blinked, but they didn't stop. The smell was unbearable. The world around her was starting to slip back into a dreamlike state. Whether it was the seafood finally overstimulating her senses beyond their limits, or the pressure of the wedding finally catching up to her, Ursa was crumbling. She felt like she was drowning in a slug-infested ocean, tentacles swirling around her, with sugary, earthy tea sliding into her mouth every time she gasped for air.

"Princess?" Iroh's quiet voice cut into her turmoil, and her eyes snapped open. She didn't even remember closing her eyes, but as the room swam before her, the decision made sense. "Take it away," she heard him tell someone, and then his large hand gripped her elbow. Her tea cup, thankfully empty, clattered to the floor as she clasped her free hand over her nose and mouth in a desperate attempt to steady herself. "Princ- Ursa, are you all right?"

People must have started staring by now. Azulon's eyes were burning into her; Ursa could feel it, even if she couldn't focus enough to see him or calm down. The conversation in the hall had slowed, or maybe she was just having trouble hearing anything past the roaring in her ears. The last of the tea in her throat was bubbling up, choking her even as the seafood stench refused to leave her alone, and she briefly registered that she was trembling even with Iroh's firm anchor on her arm.

"Tell Father to end the dinner early…" Iroh was whispering.

It was too late. Ursa retched, the bile dribbling past her hand to splatter onto her rich attire. She had the presence of mind to hope none of it got on Iroh before slumping against him as she finally, mercifully, lost consciousness.

Chapter Text

Iroh, cont.

Of all the ways I thought my wedding night would go, my bride throwing up on me was an unexpected low. I had predicted that we would pass an awkward night in my chamber before she moved into her own quarters the next morning, and we could assume a neutral coexistence. Her illness took me by surprise. What followed heralded challenging times to come.

A pool of perspiration was working its way from the small of Iroh's back to his shoulder blades. He diligently ignored it as he focused on maintaining his handstand form while the sun beat down on him. Though he was only wearing his lightweight training trousers, it was no surprise that his muscles were growing slick with sweat - he'd been practicing fire bombs for most of the afternoon before deciding to challenge himself to beat his personal record for a handstand.

Once he managed to correct the slight trembling in his legs, his mind wandered back to his responsibilities for the day. Flatter some nobles over an evening tea, attend another war meeting, check if his wife showed any sign of awakening from her third day of unconsciousness…

He wasn't sure what had come over Ursa at the wedding dinner. While he'd initially been content to ignore her and enjoy his wedding feast, a furrowed brow from the Fire Lord had made it clear he couldn't get away with that behavior during their very public first meal as husband and wife. Besides, Iroh hadn't been able to help feeling concerned about the fact that she wasn't eating the fine cuisine. Someone probably should have noticed she was feeling unwell earlier in the day, not that it would have postponed his father's wishes to see them married as soon as possible.

She really did have a lovely voice, even if it was part of her persona as a new princess. Talking to her actually hadn't been unpleasant, until the part where she'd started shaking and throwing up one of his most prized teas. Still, he did feel for her. No one deserved to end their wedding day by falling so ill, especially after she'd already been taken away from her home and her lover to marry him. Considering those circumstances, it was a shock the woman had conducted herself as well as she did.

If there was anything to be learned from this whole affair, it was that sea slug tentacles should not be part of the traditional wedding meal going forward. He really would have to see about banning that dish as Fire Lord.

"Your bride has awakened."

Iroh opened his eyes to see his father standing in the palace entryway, albeit upside down from his perspective. "Is that so?" It was a good challenge for his breath control to try and carry on the conversation while staying in his handstand.

Azulon stepped onto the sands of the training grounds and examined Iroh's form, nodding slightly before responding. "The physicians brought me the news. I thought you would like to accompany me to greet her."

It wasn't really a suggestion, but Iroh didn't mind. This was one of the longest handstands he'd managed even without the interruption. "Give me a few minutes to cool down and freshen up." He carefully maneuvered his feet to the ground to stand upright, blinking rapidly as the blood rushed out of his head. His body felt uncomfortably warm; he needed to keep working on mastering thermoregulation in heat as well as cold.

"My father used to punish me by forcing me into these blasted handstand holds, and you choose to do them as extra training." The aged Fire Lord shook his head with a sigh. "Every father hopes his son will surpass him and dreads the day it actually happens."

"Come on, mighty Fire Lord. I'm sure if you were still nineteen, you could make me look like a novice." Iroh playfully elbowed his father before grabbing a towel, pleased to see an answering smile on his face.

Ozai emerged from the palace entryway, dressed in his own training trousers. "Am I interrupting?"

"No, we were just leaving." Azulon's expression tightened again as he spoke to his younger son. "Make sure you focus on your lightning today. Iroh could generate lightning almost instantly when he was your age."

A shadow shifted across Ozai's face at the comparison, but he didn't speak. Now that a couple of days had passed since the wedding, Iroh felt bad about the childish argument they'd had before the ceremony. Ozai was tall enough to look Iroh in the eye, but he was still a boy. It was just hard to remember that when his sharp tongue was lashing out.

"You could try candle meditation," Iroh suggested as he wiped the sweat off his face and neck. "It helped me a lot when I was still learning how to separate the energies."

"Yeah, that definitely hadn't occurred to me." Ozai rolled his eyes, ignoring their father's disapproving glare as he walked off to warm up.

"Don't bother," Iroh whispered. He didn't want to watch Ozai be berated for no real reason again. "He's just being fourteen."

"You weren't like that," Azulon frowned. "No matter. Be quick - I want to see her before meeting with the trade minister."

As he dragged a damp cleaning cloth over his aching arms and shoulders, Iroh wondered about Ursa's condition. She'd been fully unconscious for two days after the wedding, which would surely leave a mark on her health. Hopefully her memory was intact; it would not be pleasant to explain the circumstances of their arranged marriage again.

He pulled on a simple day tunic and trousers, covered with his most basic outer robe. It didn't make sense to dress in his full crown prince attire while still heated from training. But he still took the time to carefully adjust his crown prince headpiece in his top knot: it was the one thing that only ever left his body for bathing and sleeping.

"The physicians say she's taking water and some broth, but still seems very weak," Azulon told him as they made their way to Ursa's chamber. "She has yet to speak or answer any question about how she's feeling beyond nodding or shaking her head."

The palace's head servant Yuna was waiting to greet them outside the princess's room. At least she was the one in charge of attending to Ursa; Iroh couldn't think of a more capable guide to palace life. She bowed to father and son before stepping inside. "The Fire Lord and the crown prince have arrived," she announced.

Ursa, Iroh immediately noticed, looked very pale. Her dark hair was spread out like a halo around her face as she lay back against the pillows, emphasizing the whiteness of her skin. A physician who'd been measuring her pulse immediately stepped back to bow to Azulon and Iroh. She stirred and looked at Iroh with half-open eyes. Something flinched inside him - there was a depth of sorrow in those eyes he hadn't seen before, not even on the carriage ride from Hira'a to the capital after she'd said goodbye to Ikem.

"Any change?" Azulon directed his question to the physician.

Ursa closed her eyes again as the man answered. There were no changes, but he hoped to be able to step away and prepare a herbal remedy with his colleagues that should strengthen her constitution. No, he still wasn't sure what caused the princess's ailment aside from wedding day stress, so all he could prescribe right now was rest and fluids.

"Go. Iroh is here to accompany her." The physician scurried out of the room, and Azulon laid a hand on Iroh's shoulder. "See what you can read in her energy pathways. I will step outside as well to let you concentrate."

Reading energy pathways was immensely challenging to anyone without a lifetime of practice, even to the royal physicians. Iroh had discovered he had some innate talent in the area thanks to his spiritual interests, but he was no expert. He also wasn't about to argue the point. "Yes, Father."

As Azulon left the room, Iroh took a seat in the chair that the physician had been occupying near the head of the bed. If he'd known he needed to read energy today, he wouldn't have pushed himself as hard in training earlier. He rolled his shoulders, trying to ease their aching as he willed his mind to find the heat traveling through Ursa's prone body.

A hand touched his knee, breaking his concentration. He looked down at Ursa, who was once again gazing at him with her sad golden eyes. Her bloodless lips moved inaudibly.

"What is it?" He leaned down, encouraging her to speak up.

She took a breath, an action that seemed to require a lot of effort on her part, and her lips moved again. "…pa…rents…"

"Your parents?"

She nodded.

"They were escorted back to Hira'a yesterday. The physicians weren't sure how long you would be unconscious, unfortunately." Even as Iroh explained, he felt guilty. It was the truth, as the palace couldn't host the magistrate and his wife indefinitely, but it still felt cruel that she hadn't been able to say goodbye after her wedding.

Ursa's expression crumpled as tears filled her eyes. She withdrew her hand from Iroh to cover her face and began to let out great, heaving sobs that wracked her slender frame.

He quickly stood to curl his hand around her shoulder. "I'm sorry, Princess, but I need you to try and stay calm." It was impossible for him to read her energy while she was like this. However, his words only had the opposite effect as she started to gasp out helplessly, clutching at her chest with her other hand. Blast it all, she was having trouble breathing. "Yuna, fetch me the incense!" he ordered.

Yuna, indispensable as she was, quickly appeared with a lump of sage incense that she offered to Iroh with a bow. Azulon watched from the doorway as Iroh took it into his free hand and ignited it with a low flame. He gently pried Ursa's hand away from her face, wincing at her feeble resistance, and held the incense to her nose.

Her gasping sobs were interrupted with coughs and splutters as the pungent sage forced its way into her lungs. Soon enough, her breathing returned to a somewhat regular pattern, and she slumped back against the pillows. Iroh sighed and placed the still-smoking incense on the nightstand. Hopefully, it would help her find a dreamless sleep.

"Thank you, Yuna. You may go."

He sat again, too exhausted to care that Azulon was still gazing at him and Ursa from the doorway. He was going to read her energy pathways, and then he was going to cancel the rest of his plans and take a long bath.

The sage would have slowed her frantic energy to some extent, but as he focused inwards and allowed his vision to shift into the plane of heat and light, he was startled by just how lethargic her pathways were. At the very base of her spine, the flow was blocked almost entirely and only faintly burned red. Some old book with a list of chi symptoms tickled at the edge of his memory as he tried to make sense of what he was seeing.

"This isn't a natural illness," Iroh said softly as his vision flickered back to the flesh-and-blood world. He looked at his father. "I think she's been poisoned."

[Azulon III, notated in the 3rd month of 168 AG

This is one of the most convoluted points in the story of Iroh and Ursa, which is admirable considering how early on in their marriage it occurred. The poisoning of Ursa on her wedding day is accepted to have happened by all parties. However, uncovering the who and how and why behind this incident proved to be a tenuous task. Solving this mystery became, in my opinion, the first challenge Iroh and Ursa truly overcame together, serving as a milestone in their marriage.]

Iroh was gone by the time Ursa woke up again. Her head felt heavy, and the smell of sage was still unmistakably clinging to her clothes despite the dim candlelight of her room showing night had fallen. How many hours had it been?

When she first awoke from her coma to the news that it had been a few days since the wedding, she'd known deep down her parents were gone. Still, she had clung to a brief hope that maybe the royal family had kept them here for her final goodbye. Maybe Iroh, her now-husband, had given her that small courtesy after the semblance of kindness he'd shown her during the wedding dinner.

He hadn't, and that had shattered something within her. She was married, and sick, and her head hurt, and she just wanted her mom whom she was never going to see again. Whatever Iroh had done to put her to sleep in the midst of her crying fit couldn't soothe the dull ache in her chest. She wasn't sure anything ever would.

"Princess?" A figure emerged from the physician's chair at the corner of her vision. He was dressed in the manner of a court physician, but he was much younger than the ones who had been attending to her earlier. "Do you feel well enough to speak?"

She did, but she didn't want to. She shook her head slowly.

"I see. Well, my name is Korzu." He bowed. "Fire Lord Azulon has entrusted me with overseeing your recovery. I know I am young, but I assure you I have trained at the finest academies in the nation."

Korzu spoke formally but earnestly, and there was a glint of good humor in his eyes. She would have liked to befriend him if she'd met him in Hira'a. Here, she didn't know who to trust. At least she could expect to receive good treatment while she was ill; Azulon hadn't gotten the heirs he wanted from her yet.

"Would you like to summon anyone for your needs? Yuna? Your husband?"

Two head shakes.

"Very well. I took the liberty to order some porridge for your evening meal. I will go fetch it now."

Ursa waited until the man was gone to sit up in bed. Her head still felt stuffed with cotton, but otherwise, her body was more tired than anything. She stretched out both her arms in front of her, flexing her hands, and then reached over her head. A bolt of pain arced down her spine, making her gasp softly, but otherwise everything worked as it should. She suspected it was simply tight muscles from being bed bound.

Not that anyone in the palace had bothered asking about her background, but Ursa did know more than a few things about healing and botany. Acting wasn't exactly a lucrative career, after all, and she'd always imagined she would tend a medicinal greenhouse like her mother to truly make a living. Perhaps she wasn't trained enough to challenge a royal physician, but she certainly knew her own body better than him.

Flexing and stretching her legs in bed, Ursa focused through her haze to recall the events that had led up to her coma. She had felt sick to her stomach for most of the ceremony due to nerves, but once she'd started talking to Iroh, that feeling had actually eased. She'd only gotten truly ill at the start of the fourth course, which she hadn't even touched. The only things she'd eaten and drunk that evening were the pre-ceremonial tea, a bite of rice, and Iroh's sencha tea. Iroh had also eaten all those things, in addition to hearty helpings of all the other wedding food, and he wasn't sick at all.

Well, would he have eaten all the same things she ate? Ursa compared their meals as she rotated her shoulders and upper back. He had eaten the rice off her plate without any ill effects, so it couldn't be that. Presumably, the sencha tea and the pre-ceremonial tea would have been brewed in the same pot for the couple. The sencha tea was apparently from Iroh's prized personal collection, and it was hard to believe that the palace would stock any subpar tea leaves for the crown prince's wedding, so she could safely assume there was nothing wrong with the leaves themselves.

But on the way from the kitchen to Ursa…she leaned back into the pillows with a sigh, content her body would recover, before returning to her train of thought. Iroh and she had consumed their tea from separate cups, brought to them by separate maids. It was possible that after the tea had been brewed, something could have been added to Ursa's cup specifically to make her ill. And Ursa wasn't familiar enough with either beverage to notice if something was wrong with them. Her brow furrowed as she tried to recall the taste of the teas she'd drunk.

It was possible she was just being paranoid. Fire Lord Azulon was a menacing man, and he had hand-picked her as a wife for his son because of her bloodline. Who would dare to poison a princess under Fire Lord Azulon's protection so publicly on her wedding night? Someone very important, someone high-ranking enough to feel like they could challenge Azulon and Iroh; or a traitor in the palace trying to sabotage the royal family's attempts to grow its power through her.

"Princess," Korzu greeted as he returned to her room. He carried a bed tray table with her porridge delicately balanced on top. "Are you ready to eat?"

If her suspicions were correct, that she'd fallen ill because of someone in the palace tampering with her food, it wasn't wise for her to eat. At the same time, she wasn't sure how to address her suspicions with this stranger without sounding like she was accusing someone in her new home.

Korzu's gentle smile was starting to strain as he watched her think. "Princess?" He asked again, an edge of anxiety in his voice.

She bit her lip, struggling to come to a decision. Fire Lord Azulon had placed this physician in charge of her well being, and she couldn't think of anything she could do that would supersede that order. But maybe there was one other person who'd shown concern for her health that could do something.

"I….would like my…husband. Please."

Korzu serving as Ursa's personal physician was the only thing that put Iroh at ease as he mulled over the poisoning, chewing his dinner without tasting any of it for once. It had been a very public show of a precise amount of aggression: intentionally not enough to kill her, but enough to make it clear that she could have been killed. There was no way to formally investigate the attack without admitting the Fire Lord and crown prince had been bested, openly marking themselves as vulnerable, so they had to plot in private. His pride smarted at the blow.

Azulon had initially raised an eyebrow at Iroh's suggestion that Korzu take the lead on treating Ursa. Even though Korzu was not technically a royal physician, Iroh couldn't think of any physician he trusted more. He and Korzu had met as boys in school and quickly bonded over a mutual love of pai sho, music, and candid discussion. Even though their lives had diverged as Iroh became the crown prince and Korzu pursued his lofty goal of healing the less fortunate, Iroh had made it a point to stay in touch with his friend over the years. Now, Korzu had thankfully responded to his call for help.

Still, interrupting the royal family's dinner was not the best look for a young physician.

"I'm terribly sorry, my lord, noble princes," he panted. Despite his training at several elite schools, he had always been awkward about proper etiquette, which was only exacerbated under stress. "She- the princess is awake, and she wants to see you. Iroh. Crown Prince Iroh. I apologize."

Iroh glanced at his father at the head of the table, who briefly nodded his assent. Dinner could wait until the Avatar's granddaughter was confirmed to be alright.

"I don't know what I did," Korzu babbled as he accompanied Iroh back to Ursa's chamber. Being most comfortable as a physician for the people, he became very anxious when he had to return to his noble roots. "I asked when she woke up if she wanted to see you, and she said no, and then I brought her dinner and she suddenly asked- maybe she hates the dinner, I was just trying to be mindful-"

"You have to calm down," Iroh hushed his friend, whose voice was rapidly rising. "Ursa is a modest woman, and she is not easily offended. Maybe she wants to ask her husband for something she was too embarrassed to ask of a physician."

Honestly, he wasn't sure why she wanted to see him. Between her slipping into a coma at their wedding dinner and having a breathing attack when he visited her earlier, he hadn't exactly been a healing presence. But he was confident she didn't have any complaints about Korzu, considering her humble origins and his friend's kindness.

"Give us privacy," he told the guards diligently positioned outside Ursa's chamber. He'd quietly doubled her guard since his afternoon visit. "Korzu, stand away for a bit. I'll summon you when we're done."

Korzu nodded while mumbling a prayer to Agni under his breath. Rolling his eyes fondly, Iroh straightened his back and double-checked his headpiece before walking into the room.

"Princess?"

Ursa was not in bed as he'd last left her, but standing somewhat shakily by her window. She gasped and clutched at the curtains to steady herself.

"What are you doing?" He rushed over to her, noticing that her face had gone pale again. "Korzu said your condition hasn't improved - you should be resting."

"He didn't…really…check." Ursa said haltingly before taking a deep breath. "I feel better…can move more…was just testing."

"You'll make yourself worse." There was no real admonishment in his words. He imagined chivalrous Korzu would have been too nervous to properly examine Ursa right away, and he respected the tenacity she was showing now. But he still held out his hand to her. "Please, lie down."

Her mouth set itself in a stubborn line, but she begrudgingly took his hand and wobbled her way to the bed.

Iroh seated himself in the physician's chair, watching her get her breath back as she settled into her previous position, lying against the pillows. He supposed she was technically in better shape if she was able to move around and speak, but she clearly wasn't fully healed. "Why did you want to see me?"

"Oh…" Ursa's eyes drifted up to the ceiling. "It's silly…maybe."

"You're quite ill," Iroh said diplomatically. "Even if it is silly, it's understandable considering your condition."

She glanced at him with wary, red-rimmed eyes. It occurred to him that she was in no condition to act right now, not with the blockage he'd seen in her energy earlier. What he was seeing of her today was assuredly the most authentic version of Ursa: alone, vulnerable, and clearly anxious, but still with a sharp wit about her and an innate sense of pride and independence. It was admirable, and it was a bit intimidating. Like it or not, he was responsible for this young woman now.

"My illness….isn't natural."

Well, Iroh knew that, but how on Earth had she? Before he could school his expression, she read his face.

"You….already know?" she whispered.

He never had been good at hiding his thoughts. "We found out when I was visiting you this afternoon."

"Physician…didn't say." Her head flopped back.

"Korzu doesn't know. As far as he and anyone beside my father and I are concerned, he's only here as an old friend of mine because I'm especially worried about my new wife's health."

"He's…your friend?"

Iroh nodded. "I asked him to be here because I trust him more than any other physician in the country."

"Oh…" Ursa glanced over at the lukewarm dish of porridge on her nightstand. "So that…probably…isn't poison."

"No. You have a taste-tester now, and Korzu is personally delivering all your meals. If the food is how you became ill, it's not going to happen again." He was surprised at the genuine reassurance he heard in his voice. Outside of his own pride, he really did want her to feel safe in the palace. It was the least he could give her after what she'd been through.

Ursa nodded, but she was still frowning slightly.

"Is there something else?" Unable to contain his curiosity, he added. "How did you know you were poisoned?"

She shrugged. "It's…my body."

He didn't quite believe that was the whole explanation, but he also wasn't going to pressure her into being more vulnerable right now.

"I didn't…eat much," she added. "You ate…my rice... But…the teas…"

He'd also been considering what she'd eaten that night. "So all you had was the rice, the sencha, and the pre-ceremonial tea?"

She nodded her confirmation slowly. Iroh filed the information away in his mind for later consideration. "I promise, once I know how this happened, you will too, and whoever did it will be punished." He hesitated, then reached out and laid his hand next to hers on the mattress. It was his best effort at a gesture of reassurance for his new wife.

Her hand inched just a bit closer to his in response. "Thank you."

Iroh, cont.

At the time I made that promise to Ursa, the first of many in our marriage, I did have every intention of keeping it. I thought it would allow us to put the tumultuous beginning of our relationship in the past and proceed into a harmonious coexistence.

Alas, it was also the first of many promises I failed to keep.

Chapter Text

Ursa, cont.

Once dear Korzu overcame his anxiety about treating a princess such as myself, I came to quite enjoy his company as I healed. He was sincere and awkwardly funny, traits that seemed hard to come by in the palace. I found comfort in his background working with the Fire Nation's rural populations and the simple treatment methods he'd learned from them. After all, they reminded me of my own mother's healing practices back home in Hira'a.

Of course, I wasn't able to tell him how much I appreciated his company at the time, or about our shared experiences as village healers. Azulon's warning about severing ties to my past lest I seem "ungrateful" still rang in my ears during the early months of my marriage. But Korzu's dedicated attention helped me regain my legs and voice almost entirely within a week or so of awakening from my strange coma. However, the ability to move and speak freely only presented new challenges in my life as a princess.

"Pull it tighter," Yuna told the tailor's assistant. Obediently, the girl tugged the sash even more snugly around Ursa's waist, making her suck in a breath. Once Korzu had cleared her for assuming normal palace activities, Yuna had arrived with an army of attendants and a list of tasks longer than a dragon's tail to "prepare the new princess." First and foremost had been fitting her for her formal princess attire. Ursa wondered if this was her punishment for ruining the wedding.

"Measure it," Yuna barked, then looked up at Ursa. "I'm afraid it can't be much looser than this, my lady. You are fortunate to have a slender frame."

Ursa nodded, wondering if she would pass out again the first time she had to wear these robes for an occasion. She knew better than to interpret Yuna's words as room for suggestion: Ursa may technically have been a princess now, but every servant in the palace was more likely to defer to Yuna.

It wasn't hard to see why. On closer look, Yuna was not as old as Ursa had initially thought; her hair was still dark and her hands were mostly smooth, so she had perhaps recently crossed forty years. Her appearance was aged by the deep scar that slashed across her face from left temple to right jawline, the wounded tissue masquerading as wrinkles. Whatever she had been through, surviving such an injury would have taken extraordinary strength, automatically prompting a measure of respect for her based on appearance alone.

She spoke again, drawing Ursa out of her thoughts. "Unfortunately, these robes won't be ready for your first royal dinner tonight, so you will have to make do with some pieces from the late Lady Ilah's wardrobe. The Fire Lord has given his permission."

"Tonight?" Ursa asked nervously as the assistant unwound the sash. She had enjoyed the brief reprieve from interacting with the royal family while still healing. Iroh had come by a couple of times to check on her briefly, but aside from that, she'd been pretty much left to Korzu's care.

"Of course. I'm certain Prince Iroh has missed his wife's company, and it has been ages since the royal family has had a woman at their dinner table." Yuna smiled, but there was something tight in it. "You needn't worry, my lady. I will make certain you are prepared, or you may have my resignation."

Ursa suspected the woman was speaking metaphorically again.

The hours before the dinner passed in a blur of memorizing noble names and faces, practicing dining etiquette, and learning the 'unspoken' rules of the palace. In all honesty, it wasn't too different from rehearsal for a show back in Hira'a: she had lines, blocking and costumes. Of course, after this performance, Ursa wouldn't be free to leave the character at the theater and be herself again. She would simply have to live as Princess Ursa forever.

At least acting helped a little in mastering the palace's intricacies, although it didn't make a significant difference considering how much there was to learn. Yuna quizzed her as the attendants prepared her for the dinner.

Ursa's hair was brushed and styled. She would pay her respects to the ceremonial seating for Lady Ilah, especially since she was wearing her late mother-in-law's robes to dinner. The pale red robes in question were carefully draped around Ursa's figure, golden embroidery shimmering in the light. She would not sit until the Fire Lord bade everyone to sit. She would then sit at Iroh's right (not his left!). Simple but elegant pieces of jewelry were added to the attire. She would not eat until both the Fire Lord and Iroh had begun eating (not just the Fire Lord!), but she did not have to wait for Prince Ozai, whom she technically outranked now. She would not leave her chopsticks sticking out inappropriately. The slow process of applying makeup began. She would not ask for another helping of food until Iroh did, and only if she was truly hungry. She would not speak unless spoken to.

With the way her stomach was tying itself into knots, she didn't think the last two rules would be an issue.

"Don't add too much lip color," Yuna advised as the attendants added the finishing touches. "It will be easier for you to eat that way, Princess."

Translation: Ursa was too incompetent to be trusted to dine properly while wearing a full face of makeup. She didn't care to be upset about the slight, though. Yuna was right: she had enough to worry about without adding the fear of smudging her lip makeup.

"Perfect," Yuna smiled at Ursa's appearance in the mirror, the warmest expression she had seen from the woman yet. "Don't you think she looks perfect, girls?"

The attendants nodded and chorused their agreement, polite smiles on all their faces.

"Good. I can attend to the princess myself from here. You are all dismissed for the night, with Her Highness's approval?" Yuna turned to Ursa out of formality more than anything.

She gave a quick nod of assent. "Yes, thank you. Good night."

They bowed and exited the room, leaving Ursa alone with Yuna.

"With your leave, Princess, I would like to speak to you about a more private matter before the dinner."

Ursa glanced up at her, feeling a fresh wave of nerves at the request. "Of course."

"Did your mother ever advise you on…your duties to your husband?"

The blood rushed to her face. Of course: now that she was well again, she would be expected to consummate her marriage and fulfill the Fire Sages' prophecy as soon as possible. Her hands instinctively tightened in her lap as she fought to steady her breathing and nodded.

"Good." There was something like sympathy in Yuna's expression for the first time. "Prince Iroh is a kind man. Listen to him well, and you might be spared some of the pain of your first time."

"Kind" seemed to have a different meaning when applied to the royal family, but Ursa supposed the word described Iroh more than his father or brother. He was formal, but he hadn't been harsh or lustful towards her so far. He had even given her some seemingly sincere reassurance after she'd told him her worries that someone had poisoned her. Perhaps, with Yuna's reassurance, she could hope that he wouldn't hurt her too much, if nothing else.

Ikem's earnest proposal flashed into her mind. She quickly banished the memory before she could start to cry.

"You should be aware, Princess," Yuna continued, "this particular robe was Fire Lord Azulon's present to Lady Ilah after the birth of the crown prince. He thought it would be auspicious attire for the occasion."

Ursa felt sick at the thought of facing the Fire Lord in his late wife's attire that he'd handpicked for her to wear for what was essentially her wedding night, especially given the context of this being Lady Ilah's birth present for Iroh. Azulon was clearly wasting no time securing his mighty Avatar-descended heirs.

"Would you like a moment before departing for dinner?" Yuna asked, seeming to read Ursa's distress.

Honestly, she would like an hour or so, maybe even a few days if possible. "No, thank you. I'm ready."

"Allow me to escort you to the royal dining room. Tomorrow will provide more ample opportunity to familiarize yourself with the palace." Yuna picked up the cane that Korzu had recommended Ursa use for longer walks and offered it to her.

Ursa knew now that her chamber was located in the crown prince's wing of the palace. Iroh's own chamber was on the other side of the hallway, with the entrances to their individual rooms being right across from each other. The implications were very clear.

Yuna murmured a few notes about palace history as they walked towards the dining room, which thankfully wasn't far. They passed the Royal Gallery, currently featuring Azulon in the place of honor, menacingly brandishing two fists of fire. Ursa wondered what Iroh's portrait would look like.

"Here, Princess. We're a bit early, but I thought you might like the time to collect your bearings." Yuna bowed. "I will not accompany you inside unless ordered; typically, only kitchen staff attend to the family in the meal."

Meaning that Yuna wasn't going to handhold Ursa through this dinner, and it would look childish of Ursa to ask her to. Nodding, she drew a deep breath and tried to project the attitude of a princess as the double doors to the dining room opened for her.

The only royal inside was Ozai. He was leaning back in his chair with his legs crossed brazenly on the table, the casual pose clashing with the finery of his attire. His eyes flicked over to Ursa.

"Oh, I didn't know you were coming tonight." He nodded at her, an attempt at the customary greeting from a younger royal to an elder that Yuna had taught her.

"I am fortunate to be feeling well," Ursa replied with a smile in what she hoped served as a good princess voice: confident but not forceful, smooth but not soft, with just a touch of musical flair. "I look forward to joining my new family for the first of many treasured dinners."

"Yeah, you don't have to do all that when Dad and Yuna aren't around." He yawned, jaw cracking. "She probably made you come here early, right? Tough luck - Dad and Iroh are in one of their war room meetings. It's going extra long tonight."

Ursa hesitated. Even if Ozai was right about not needing to be formal right now, she didn't want to drop her act when she was still so new to royal life.

"I don't mind waiting to dine with my husband," she said finally, opting to reduce some of the flowery language but still stick to the rules Yuna had taught her.

Ozai raised an eyebrow. "Well, you might get tired if you're going to stand and wait. Just keep an ear out and stand up when it sounds like Dad's on his way. That's what I do."

Her new shoes were starting to pinch a bit, and Korzu's warning about not staying on her feet for too long flashed in her mind even as Yuna's reminder to not sit until the Fire Lord says so battled against it. She grasped her cane a little more tightly as she tried to formulate a diplomatic response. "I understand, but I'd like to respect the traditions of the dinner for at least my first night."

"Suit yourself." The teenage prince rolled his eyes. "Dad's not going to care that much about what you do once you pop out some grandkids anyway."

The harsh words sliced through Ursa's act, and she replied almost reflexively, "Excuse me?"

He sneered, seemingly amused by seeing her upset. "You heard me, village girl."

Oh, she'd been through too much in too short of a time for this boy to be antagonizing her. "Prince Ozai, I left behind my past and my own desires to commit myself to a life as a future Fire Lady. I realize I did not have the luxury of simply being born into this palace, but I am working tirelessly to ensure I can one day oversee it at your brother's side. While you may not see the value in me or my role, I must insist that you at least treat me with the respect I am owed as a princess who is elder to you, if nothing else."

His eyes flashed as his sneer turned into a scowl. "Whatever."

"That means you won," Iroh's voice came from a corner of the room, startling both Ursa and Ozai, who nearly tipped over in his chair. The amusement on Iroh's face was illuminated as he drew closer, and she saw that he was dressed in armor from the war room meeting. "Apologies for the sudden entrance; I didn't feel like walking the long way around with Father, so I slipped through one of the tunnels."

This palace had tunnels? Ursa really did need a proper tour.

"You must be feeling much better if you can tell off Ozai," Iroh stopped in front of Ursa and assessed her appearance, tilting his head as he seemed to recognize her attire.

"I am, thanks to Korzu. I am also grateful to the Fire Lord for allowing me to borrow a robe from the late Lady Ilah for tonight."

Iroh nodded, suspicions confirmed. "I knew this looked familiar. I think I singed its sleeve once during a tantrum at some royal function." He glanced at Ursa's arms. "The tailors seem to have repaired the damage well."

"Or a toddler's firebending isn't actually that destructive," Ozai said in a tone that clearly indicated he didn't enjoy being embarrassed earlier.

"We thought you were a nonbender until you were six, so how would you know? Now stand up, the Fire Lord will be here soon."

Sure enough, Ozai had just gotten to his feet when the double doors were hauled open for the presence of the man inq uestion, who immediately frowned at Iroh. "You can't afford to spend much longer sneaking away from war room meetings, son."

"I can when it's dinnertime and you're already running late, Father." Iroh smiled, seemingly unafraid to tease Azulon a bit as he bowed from the waist in greeting. Ursa and Ozai copied the gesture.

"Forgive me for keeping a healing princess waiting," Azulon gestured at Ursa's cane. "It's good to see you are recovering, child. Don't feel the need to stand on my account if the physician says otherwise."

He seemed to be in an unexpectedly good mood. Ursa's mind scrambled for a response that wouldn't upset it. "Thank you, my lord, but I felt well enough tonight to wait for your presence."

"This old man appreciates your respect," he said with a smile. "And my dear Ilah's robe suits you wonderfully."

She remembered one of Yuna's instructions and recited the carefully-worded lines she'd been taught while being dressed. "I am endlessly grateful to you for allowing me access to her wardrobe for tonight, Fire Lord. I also wish to express my sentiment to the great lady directly, with your permission."

"Please do," Azulon gestured for her to walk with him towards Lady Ilah's ceremonial seat next to his chair at the head of the long table. She pursed her lips as her shoes continued to pinch, but thankfully made the journey. Now came her next lines.

"Lady Ilah, now passed, I am honored to appear before you in your cherished robe." She pressed her palms together and bowed to the chair as best as she could with her cane. "I ask for your blessing as I embark on my journey to become your successor, and I promise to treat your son and your legacy with the respect they deserve in return."

"She learns fast," Ozai muttered as Ursa straightened up.

Azulon looked at the younger prince with white-hot fury in his eyes. Fear shot through Ursa at the sight, and one of her knees buckled. She caught herself on the edge of the table as her cane clattered to the floor.

"Look what you're doing, agitating a sick princess," Azulon snapped at Ozai. "Iroh, help your wife to her seat."

In an instant, Iroh was next to her, offering his hand. She took it gratefully, stealing a glance at his expression in the process. He had tensed up as well following Azulon's outburst, but his eyes were focused on her.

"Are you alright?" he asked as she shakily straightened up.

She nodded, then glanced down. "My cane…"

He waved at a servant to pick it up and follow them as he steered her to her chair. Azulon sat down and nodded, prompting Iroh, Ozai and Ursa to take their own seats as well. Ursa was grateful for Iroh serving as a barrier between herself and the Fire Lord. Ozai, seated to Azulon's left, had no such protection as his father shot him another disapproving look.

"Do you enjoy history, Princess Ursa?" Azulon asked as the servants began flitting about to pour drinks and serve food.

"Yes, my Lord." The rote memorization of historical names and dates in school had never interested her, but she was fascinated by the dramatic stories that were featured in her textbooks.

"Well, my father Fire Lord Sozin started the practice of the royal family dining privately shortly after I was born. It used to be that we dined with the court and nobility every night, as is standard in the Earth Kingdom. However, my father believed our family would grow stronger through increased loyalty to each other if we prioritized spending one meal a day together." Azulon took a sip of wine. "He was a more brilliant strategist than I, and I confess, I greatly value this time with my family."

Anything Ursa could think to say about the importance of family involved her parents, who weren't supposed to exist anymore. "I am honored to be joining your esteemed father's wise tradition," she responded finally. "A strong family is the foundation of any successful legacy."

Azulon nodded and turned his attention to the plates of dumplings that were being set on the table.

"Princess," a servant placed a small cup of bone broth in front of her, "The physician Korzu recommends this to start your meal and advises you to avoid fatty meats."

"Thank you." She was starting to get a bit tired of broth, but she couldn't fault Korzu's caution; she was literally the most important person he had ever treated.

"He drinks that slop for fun, I think." Iroh said to her. Across the table, Azulon began to interrogate Ozai about his firebending training as he ate.

"It tastes perfectly fine, it's just that I've had a lot of broth recently. But it seems to be working." She picked up the cup as delicately as she could and hoped she didn't make a fool of herself as she sipped at it.

"Korzu is simple, but effective. It's more than I can say for much of the pomp that takes place around here."

Iroh may have been able to scoff at palace traditions with impunity as the crown prince, but Ursa was very aware of the fact that she was in full earshot of the Fire Lord. She took another sip as she mulled over the most diplomatic response. "I imagine that growing up with the etiquette of royal life might have chafed at a young boy."

"You would imagine correctly." He placed a dumpling in his mouth.

Belatedly, Ursa realized she'd accidentally begun eating before him. She tensed up - would she be reprimanded?

Iroh, who was proving himself to be quite observant, noticed her stress quickly. "Is something wrong? If you're going to throw up again, I encourage you to aim it at Ozai this time."

Despite herself, a nervous giggle escaped her. "No, I- I started eating before you. I'm sorry, I forgot."

"Oh, that old rule." Iroh picked up another dumpling. "I don't mind. Just don't forget when my father happens to be watching."

The knot in her stomach eased. Azulon and Ozai's conversation had escalated into an argument, and neither of them were paying her any mind. Iroh shook his head at the sight while he chewed.

"I apologize, but I'm going to have to use you as an excuse to interrupt this," he whispered to her. She nodded and quickly drained the rest of her broth. "Father," he raised his voice once she finished, "why don't you tell Princess Ursa about the Autumn Festival?"

Azulon turned away from Ozai with a huff. "The Autumn Festival is an important tradition in the capital, child. It serves as a celebration of the vitality of the Fire Nation as we exit our peak season of power, the summer, and encourages the people's spirits as winter draws near. It is also a favorite of mine."

"My mother was in charge of it when she was alive," Iroh added. "She took me with her on the customary procession around the country."

That would explain how he had gotten his start as a traveler. "It sounds like a very valuable event," she said politely.

"It's good you think so," Azulon said. "Since you've officially married into our family, I thought it might be your responsibility to plan the event."

Iroh stiffened next to her. Ursa blinked. There was a clear challenge being extended.

"Is that necessary, Father? It's only three months away. The governors' spouses have managed the festival so far - surely they can do so for another year while Princess Ursa continues to heal and adjust to palace life."

"It is tradition for the eldest royal spouse to oversee the festival, Iroh. It symbolizes our family's connections to the various lands that make up our great nation. When your mother died, the governors' spouses knew that the festival was only a temporary duty until you were wed. I'm sure Princess Ursa doesn't want to shirk her responsibility." Azulon directed his last sentence right at her.

"Of course not," she responded quickly. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Ozai's small smirk. "It is an honor to be entrusted with your favorite festival, my lord, and with your precious concern for my well being, my husband. I look forward to learning the traditions for this auspicious celebration."

"See, son? Your wife is perfectly capable." Azulon took a bite of his Komodo chicken and immediately wrinkled his nose. "How much money do we spend on salt for so much of it to be on my plate?"

As the Fire Lord turned his attention to berating a servant, Iroh gave Ursa a curious look. "Have you done much traveling before?"

"No," she admitted, "but this seems like a wonderful opportunity to start." Her chopsticks gathered up a delightfully stretchy helping of hand-pulled noodles.

"You know, it's also tradition for the crown prince to join the island procession, as a way of getting to know the people. I've done it every year except the year my mother passed."

Ursa's heart jumped into her throat. So, she would have to plan the Fire Lord's favorite festival, and then execute it under the watchful eye of her new husband who was a veritable expert on the event. "It is fortunate that you will be accompanying me on my first real journey," she told him with a smile.

"If you say so." He signaled a servant to refill his empty bowl with more noodles.

Had he protested her responsibility for the festival because he didn't want to travel with her on a journey that had previously been for his mother, and then him alone? There was no point mulling over that question now, but she knew the anxious thought would still eat at her during the next few months.

The dinner subsequently fell into a routine that didn't present many more challenges. Azulon asked a few simple questions about how she was enjoying the meal and the palace. Iroh and Ozai got into a couple of heated debates, including one over the Camellia-Peony War that Iroh seemed to win. Ursa didn't spill any food on herself and successfully avoided breaking any more rules.

As the minutes ticked towards the inevitable end of the meal, she found herself becoming acutely aware of Iroh's body next to her. His hands were large and callused - she recalled the feeling of them as he'd led her around the ceremonial fire at the wedding. He was clean shaven, but there was still faint stubble running along his jawline. The armor served to accentuate the broadness of his shoulders and chest, and although his arms were covered by his sleeves, there was no hiding the strength of his stocky build.

"Listen to him well, and you might be spared some of the pain of your first time."

Dessert, a mouth-watering assortment of miniature fruit pies, was tasteless in her mouth.

"This old man needs his rest," Azulon declared once the pies had been polished off. "Good night, my sons, Ursa."

Ursa, Iroh and Ozai all stood and bowed to Azulon before exiting the dining room, with Ursa in particular feeling nothing short of nauseous. Maybe she could force herself to vomit again and delay her marital duties for a bit longer. Then again, the Fire Lord might be impatient enough to force her regardless of her condition.

"Princess Ursa?" Iroh held a bent arm out to her. Ozai had already vanished. "Do you need assistance?"

Not wanting to risk another fall, she nodded and laid her hand at the crook of his elbow as Yuna had demonstrated for her that morning. "Thank you." She was grateful to have him as a guide, at least; it would be very easy for her to become lost in the grand hallways of the palace without him walking her towards their chambers.

"Of course. How did you like your first royal dinner?"

"I greatly enjoyed it. The chefs of the royal kitchen deserve every commendation."

"They work tirelessly." He leaned towards her to whisper the next part. "My father is just picky about his Komodo chicken."

Ursa nodded neutrally, before asking the question that had wriggled into her mind at dinner. "You said something about tunnels in the palace earlier?"

"Oh, yes. You'll need a tour of those. I'm not technically supposed to use them as much as I do since they're mainly an emergency evacuation route. Only the royal family and select members of our staff know their locations."

"Fascinating," she said sincerely. Hidden palace tunnels were exactly the kind of dramatic flair her actress self adored. "How long have they existed?"

"I believe Fire Lord Sozin had them built after the Avatar attacked the palace in 37 BG."

A wave of something like shock crashed over Ursa. Her grandfather had attacked the palace. What could have prompted him to do such a thing?

Iroh cast her a sidelong glance, seeming to remember that the Avatar in question was her grandfather. "It was over a century ago, before the beginning of the war and even my father's birth. We may be shaped by the past, but we are not defined by it."

Meaning he wasn't going to hold her grandfather's actions against her, if she was interpreting his proverbial sentiment correctly. "A most noble notion," she agreed softly.

The crown prince's wing of the palace drew near. Ursa's heart began to pound.

"What is your favorite meal?" He asked.

"Hm?"

"The chefs try to feature a different family member's preferred dish everyday. Komodo chicken is my father's favorite. What's yours?"

"Oh, um…" She was starting to run out of 'princess voice.' "Loco moco. But I suppose it's not really palace food."

"If it's what you like, it can be made into 'palace food.'" As they approached the entrance to his chamber, his manservants bowed before pushing open the double doors for them.

Ursa mechanically smiled at the men, but her blood was roaring in her ears. She followed Iroh's lead into the room, briefly registering that she was in what seemed to be his personal study. He continued further in, holding open another grand door. "Here, Princess," he waved her ahead of him, "make yourself comfortable."

Iroh's bedroom was significantly larger than hers, with what seemed to be a kettle and tea set carefully placed atop his ornate nightstand. Like most rooms in the palace, strategically placed lamps cast warm firelight over the space. Tall windows, which were thankfully covered, occupied one wall, and his wardrobe and dressing area took up the opposite. Of course, Ursa was most concerned about the four-poster bed, complete with a canopy, that lay against the center of the third wall. Iroh closed the door as he stepped in behind her.

"Can I offer you anything? Water, tea?"

Her old life back, or at least the chance to lose her virginity to the man she actually loved. "No, thank you."

Iroh was only about half a head taller than her, but the breadth and strength of his body had become even more evident as they'd walked together. As he hovered behind her, Ursa felt vaguely like prey caught in a corner. "Well," he said quietly, "let's not delay."

His hand at the small of her back guided her towards that looming, ominous bed. She perched uneasily on the edge of the mattress, watching him take off his bulky armor. Logically, she ought to be removing her own clothing too, but her arms were suddenly as heavy as tree trunks. He stripped off his outer robe as well before glancing at her, thin tunic and trousers doing little to obscure the shape of his well-muscled upper body. "Would you like assistance?"

Her tongue felt like it had swollen to twice its size in her dry mouth. She nodded.

"These are intricate robes," Iroh said, not unkindly. "Here, stand and turn around."

The sash that had been so carefully wound around her waist a few short hours ago came undone with a couple of firm tugs. His large hands moved upwards, brushing her hair aside to unclasp her necklace. It was so deliberate and intimate, the way this prince who was basically a stranger was undressing her. Ursa felt her eyes begin to sting.

"Are you able to manage the rest?" he asked. She nodded, holding back tears, and steeled herself for the next part.

The heavily embroidered outer robe from the late Lady Ilah was easy to remove now that the sash had been undone. Ursa briefly wondered if the woman had also been afraid when she'd first lain with Azulon, or if she had simply been honored to bear his children. She shrugged the robe to the floor and stepped out of her shoes, feeling very self-conscious in just her undergarments. Once she removed the cotton slip and underskirt, she would be in just her breast band and loincloth…and then…

A sob burst from her, and it was quickly followed by a dozen more as she began to weep.

Iroh's hand settled on her shoulder. She flinched, waiting for him to forcefully strip her bare and shove her to the bed. Instead, he turned her around to face him. She peered up at him, her vision swimming with tears, afraid of what she would find.

His warm eyes were watching her with the same mix of pity and thoughtfulness she'd seen in them when she'd first awoken from her coma. Somehow, it reassured her: this was not the expression of a man who was enjoying her plight. As her crying slowed, he removed his hand from her shoulder and folded his arms.

"The prophecy that brought you here," he said slowly, clearly still formulating his thoughts. "says that our…offspring…would be of immense power." He lifted his shoulders in a shrug. "If one believes in such things, as my father does, then one must also have faith that the future is set. You and I are married, and if this prophecy is meant to be, then it will come to pass in its own time. When we are both ready."

"I don't understand," she sniffed, feeling rather pathetic. It had only been one day, and she was already so tired of speaking in the flowery language of Princess Ursa, of trying to keep up with all the palace residents' roundabout passive-aggressive manners of communications.

"I'm not going to force you to lie with me, Ursa," he said bluntly. "You're still healing, and you clearly don't want this. We'll worry about the 'prophesied bloodline' once you've adjusted more."

Ursa felt like she might pass out from the relief that flooded her. "Thank you." It was the most sincere gratitude she'd felt since coming to the palace, and it brought a real smile to her face as she wiped away the last of her tears.

"It's nothing. Sleep here, though. That way no one will report to my father that we haven't consummated our marriage yet. I'll spend the night in my study."

"But this is your bed," she protested. "You should sleep here, and I can go to the study." It was a small price to pay.

"I'm not letting a sick woman sleep on a couch when there's a perfectly good bed available."

The most obvious solution was for both of them to share the spacious bed, but Iroh didn't seem any more interested in that than Ursa, and she certainly wasn't about to bring it up. Instead, she murmured another thanks as she sank down onto the mattress, completely worn out from the emotional turmoil she'd experienced. The palace really did have lovely beds, and this one was even more plush and luxurious than hers.

Iroh placed his hands on his hips and began pacing around the room, clearly thinking about something. Ursa noticed that his new posture exposed more of his toned chest and quickly looked up at the canopy of the bed. There was a surprisingly intricate pattern embroidered inside with golden thread that shimmered delightfully in the lamplight.

"Here." A maroon night robe landed on the mattress next to Ursa. "Take off your garments and put that on. The servants might get suspicious if you're still wearing your own clothing in the morning."

She hadn't even thought of that. The robe, clearly one of Iroh's, was soft in her arms as she gathered it up and slipped behind the ornate dressing screen to change. Although she was hidden from Iroh's view, she still felt very self-conscious as she stripped bare and carefully put her arms through the sleeves of his robe. It thankfully wasn't terribly long on her, but the shoulders threatened to slip off even with the sash tied as tightly as possible. She pulled her hair out of its topknot to help further hide her neck and collarbones from view and wiped off her makeup with a hot towel, no doubt placed there in preparation for the prince's return by some dedicated servant.

Iroh had pulled the blankets back on his bed and was busy rifling through the sheets, thoroughly mussing them. Ursa realized what he was trying to make it look like, and her face grew warm.

"Toss your undergarments next to the bed, in case the servants come in here before you wake up," he instructed.

Despite feeling shy about lewdly throwing her intimate wear onto the floor, she obeyed. It was better than the alternative. "Won't they be suspicious if they see you sleeping in the study?"

"I'm always awake at the crack of dawn, well before they come in to tidy."

"You've…really thought this through," Ursa couldn't help but note. She absentmindedly wriggled her bare feet into the thick carpet as she spoke; it felt pleasant on her aching soles.

"There are a lot of princely duties I try to avoid." He stepped back from the bed, seemingly satisfied with his work, and gestured for her to sit. "I'm not much of an actor, so I've learned how to show my father what he wants to see instead of lying to him directly."

She'd never considered that the life of the crown prince might come with unwanted obligations. It occurred to her for the first time that he might not be happy with this marriage either. After all, he'd very much phrased the prophecy as something his father believed, not him. Maybe there had been an elegant noblewoman he was eying, or maybe he just didn't want to be tied to her. She wasn't sure if it was better or worse that he was also a reluctant party in this relationship.

Well, it was better in at least one way, she thought to herself as she sat back down on the now-rumpled bed. If he shared his father's intensity about those prophesied heirs… Ursa shuddered. For the moment, she was definitely safer with Iroh being a reluctant husband.

"Are you cold?" Iroh had noticed her shiver.

She glanced up at him. "Oh, no. Someone's talking to my spirit."

He stared at her with a bemused expression. "What?"

"Do people not use that here?" She felt self-conscious as she pulled up the shoulder of the too-large robe. "I learned growing up that when you get that little involuntary shudder down your spine, it's because someone's trying to talk to you from the spirit world. It's just a silly saying."

"Huh. I haven't heard that before, but I suppose we don't have a lot of 'silly sayings' in the capital." He half-smiled, then seemed to hesitate before sitting on the other side of the bed and continuing to speak. "Do they care very much about the spirits in Hira'a?"

Based on Azulon's warning before her wedding, Ursa had been under the impression that she wasn't supposed to talk about her life before marriage. But here was Iroh asking her about it directly, and they were alone in his bedroom. Surely, she couldn't be faulted for sharing.

"We weren't overly spiritual, but we had our superstitions. There was this forest nearby, Forgetful Valley, that was supposed to be full of spirit creatures, so we were always taught not to go there. And many of the plays we rehearsed were old tales about spirits. But it was nothing extraordinary."

"I believe I have read of Forgetful Valley before. You never visited?"

"Never," she shook her head vehemently. "As far as I know, no one who has entered that forest has ever returned. Rumor says only the most heartbroken people desperate to forget their lives go there."

"That's what the books say too. It's fascinating. I wonder if the spirits there really do help people forget, or if it's just a rumor." Iroh's eyes were shining as he spoke. He was genuinely interested in this, Ursa realized. She hadn't heard much talk of the spirits since leaving Hira'a; even the Fire Sages at their wedding had only paid obeisance to the Fire Lord and the power of the sun before deeming them married.

"Do you study the spirits, then?"

"A bit. They intrigue me," he admitted. "It's not commonplace to care for them in the capital, but historically speaking, that's a very recent development. In my grandfather Sozin's time, the royal family claimed it had the right to rule because spirit blood still flowed in our veins. Likely hogwash, of course, but it shows how important the spirits used to be. It's only after the war began that they started losing importance in the capital, so I'm always interested to hear if the rest of the country is facing the same phenomenon."

"I'm afraid I can't speak to much outside of Hira'a."

"That's alright. This is one of the reasons I enjoy traveling for the Autumn Festival. I first learned about the spirit world as a boy through the festival by watching the different islands and provinces incorporate their local spirits and traditions into the celebration. Every year, the traditions change just a bit, but it all adds up to a bigger shift in belief across the country that's impressive to observe in real time."

"I see," Ursa couldn't help but be drawn into Iroh's words. He would have been an excellent teacher in another life. "It does really sound like an exciting festival."

"It is, and you'll have lots of help planning it. I'm sorry if I sounded like I didn't trust you to handle it at dinner. Three months is a shorter timeframe, but it's doable."

She didn't want to think about the gargantuan task that stood ahead of her right now, so she just nodded quickly before veering the conversation back to him. "Have you taken your travels outside the Fire Nation before?"

"No, not yet. That's what I planned to do after finishing my studies, before I have to spend more time training with the military."

What he'd planned to do. The choice of words wasn't lost on Ursa. Marrying her hadn't been part of his plan.

"I still think I can see some of the Earth Kingdom, maybe through visits to army outposts now that Dad wants me to get involved in the war effort. The real challenge is making it to the Water Tribes, or finding what's left of the Air Temples…" He drifted off, noticing she was quiet. "I'm keeping you awake with my rambling. I apologize, Princess."

The title of Princess slammed shut whatever door had been opened during their spontaneous spirit talk. "Would you like a cup of tea before bed?" He continued, formality returning to his tone. "I usually prepare one for myself."

She really was getting tired, but tea sounded nice. "If you're making it anyway, I would appreciate a cup."

There was the kettle and tea set on his nightstand that Ursa had noticed earlier, and he produced tea leaves from one of the drawers, but she didn't see a place for a fire. Her half-asleep mind wondered how he was going to boil the water. She realized it had been a foolish thought as Iroh assembled a bowl of tea leaves, picked up the kettle, and lit a small fire beneath it with his hand.

"The servants fill it with water for me each evening," he explained as he noticed Ursa watching.

She nodded, but she was more interested in the mechanics of his firebending. Her mother was a bender, but she hadn't really practiced the ability beyond using it to start a cooking fire. What Iroh was doing, producing a slow, sustained flame, was unlike anything she'd seen in Hira'a. Even the young people who practiced their firebending for combat as part of the town's militia just flung their flames about wildly.

"Is it very difficult to boil a kettle like that?" she couldn't help asking.

"Perhaps for a beginner." There was a hint of pride in his voice. "I've done it this way for years. It's a deceptively challenging test for firebending students, though, to make sure they have enough mastery to produce a constant flame over an extended period of time."

It made sense that the crown prince would be a highly-trained firebender. It was his destiny from birth, to lead the nation to glory in the war, which would be difficult to do without some form of combat skill. Still, watching the small flame dance in his hand, Ursa felt entranced. There was a beauty to that fire that transcended even the elegance of this room.

"Ah, here we go." Iroh allowed the fire to dissipate as the kettle began to boil. He poured the water into the bowl of tea leaves and quickly covered it with a lid. "Just a couple more minutes."

Despite the finery of his kettle and dishes, Iroh's method of brewing tea was the same simple one her mother used. Once the brew was ready, he used the lid to the bowl to hold back the leaves as he poured.

"Chrysanthemum is supposed to calm the mind," he explained, handing her a cup. "I'll let you enjoy it in peace. Good night, Princess Ursa." With a wave of his hand, he extinguished the lamps in the room except for the one next to the bed.

"Good night, Prince Iroh."

He vanished into the study with his own cup, closing the door behind him. For the first time in what felt like ages, Ursa was alone. She held the hot drink to her lips and tentatively took a sip. It immediately warmed her body from head to toe, easing the last remnants of her tension from the day.

"Aisha is the only one in the palace who can brew a respectable cup. Aside from me."

At least she knew he hadn't been bragging about his abilities. It was a mere statement of fact: Iroh made excellent tea. She added that detail to the picture of her husband that was slowly forming in her mind. Between his curiosity about the spirits and his apparent reluctance to fulfill some of his father's wishes, it was evident that the crown prince was not just a younger replica of the Fire Lord as she'd initially feared. Maybe Yuna had not simply been showing deference when she'd described him as kind.

Ursa finished her tea and extinguished the last lamp before laying down to sleep, feeling much calmer as Iroh had predicted. Under the door to the study, she could see the flicker of candlelight, and she wondered if he was reading about spirits again.

Chapter Text

Iroh, cont.

It was evident to me by less than a month into our marriage that my initial plan to ignore Ursa as much as possible wasn’t going to hold up. For one thing, the poisoning essentially forced me to step up as not just a crown prince, but a husband protecting his wife. It felt impossible to be neutral to her given the promise I’d made, and the dire circumstances under which I’d made it. But the second reason, that I was far more loath to admit, was that Ursa was quickly proving herself to be more human than anticipated. 

When I’d laid my plans for my arranged marriage, I’d predicted my wife would be as any other woman chosen to join the royal family: pretty, polite, and painfully proper. Ursa certainly possessed the first two qualities, although she was still working on mastering the third as she assumed the role of Princess Ursa. There were moments where her mask slipped, where she stumbled over her court etiquette, that made me realize she was like me in significant ways: longing for life outside the capital and frustrated by the formalities of royalty. Even as my father dictated that she needed to leave her past behind and be trained into the perfect princess, I was curious about who she’d been before becoming my wife.

Ursa and Princess Ursa almost seemed like two separate beings at the beginning. Princess Ursa was the pretty, polite, painfully proper woman I’d predicted, who would bear my children and accompany me as future Fire Lord. Ursa was the person I saw when the princess didn’t need to perform, in hushed conversations away from my father’s hearing and shared glances of disdain for the roles that had been thrust upon us. Being able to reconcile these two as the same person was critical to the advancement of our relationship, especially as we started to look forward to the Autumn Festival.

“Block!”

Ozai raised his arms and dispelled Iroh’s fire stream into harmless wisps of smoke.

“Redirect!” Iroh spun and kicked another stream at his brother. Ozai blocked it and attempted to turn it back on Iroh as instructed, but it simply vanished into smoke again.

“Remember, Ozai, you can’t just grab at someone else’s fire to redirect it. You have to guide it and turn your opponent’s force against them,” Iroh wiped the beads of sweat from his forehead; the indoor training arena provided more props for their practice, but it also heated up much faster for obvious reasons . “Here, firebend at me and I’ll show you again.”

“Gladly,” Ozai didn’t hold back as he produced a fire lash and slashed directly at Iroh. Of course, Iroh had figured his younger brother would take out his frustration on him, so he was ready for it. Ozai’s lash broke apart and turned into fireballs that curved back towards him. He dodged without difficulty, since Iroh wasn’t aiming to actually burn him, but his face clearly showed his exasperation.

“Maybe you’ll get it next time.” Iroh didn’t want to keep drilling him on something that put him in a bad mood; Ozai’s firebending was very sensitive to his emotional outbursts. “Let’s work on fire knives.”

The practice dummies dressed in Earth Kingdom uniforms faced Ozai’s wrath as he attacked them. Fire knives were his favored technique for close-up combat, which was why Iroh had suggested it, and he utilized it with deadly precision. Iroh cut up a couple dummies himself for practice while mostly keeping an eye on Ozai’s form. Sometimes his anger during training sessions manifested itself as accidents, but lately, he seemed to have figured out how to channel it into his bending instead. Iroh wasn’t sure that was the best development.

Ozai beheaded the last dummy with a yell, and it clattered to the floor. Iroh noted that their instructors would have to put in an order for more dummies soon considering the rate Ozai was literally burning through them. “Extinguish that before you light the curtains on fire again,” Iroh called out, noticing one was still smoldering. Ozai stomped it out with a huff, a dark cloud clearly still hanging over him.

Iroh had one more trick up his sleeve when it came to calming down his younger brother. “Come on, I’m starving. Let’s raid the kitchens for lychee-nut smoothies.”

One of the most clever features of the palace was that the kitchens were located within a minute’s walk of the royal training arenas, which served excellently for hungry princes. Iroh slung a lightweight cotton robe over his shoulders for modesty’s sake as they exited the room, noticing Ozai wasn’t doing the same. He couldn’t blame him; it wasn’t that long ago that Iroh had enjoyed popping into the kitchen shirtless after training to have his ego stroked by the young maids’ giggling and blushes.  

“Aisha, dear, how is the loveliest lady of the kitchens?” Iroh greeted.

Aisha was the furthest thing from one of those young maids, of course. The palace’s master teamaker and dessert chef had always had a soft spot for Iroh, if only because he showed great enthusiasm for her two specialties. He swore the woman had looked sixty for his whole life, leaving her actual age a mystery, but her culinary skills remained unmatched.

“Busy as ever, Prince Iroh, Prince Ozai.” Aisha bobbed into a quick bow before going back to assembling a fruit tart. “Are you joining Princess Ursa in choosing dishes for the Autumn Festival’s menu today? We might need a moment to prepare extra samples if you are.”

“No, Aisha, I wasn’t aware she was taste-testing today. We’re just here for a post-training snack.”

“Ah, of course.” Aisha’s brown, wrinkled face pulled into a smile. “Lychee-nut smoothies for both of you, coming right up.”

“You know,” Ozai whispered to Iroh as Aisha turned away to prepare their drinks, “if your wife’s going to be taste-testing a bunch of dishes…maybe we should help her? She might want a second opinion, and we’re experts on the festival’s food.”

“She has plenty of people to give her a second opinion. You just want an excuse to stuff your face and get out of your geography tutoring this afternoon.”

“Dad’s always harping on me to become more engaged with our rich culture or whatever. I think he’d buy this as a decent substitute for geography, especially if he knew you were doing it too.”

Now that Iroh was standing in the kitchen, the smells of the tantalizing Autumn Festival dishes were starting to tempt him. He really couldn’t fault Ozai for preferring snacking to geography, either; old Master Ping had a way of turning an already dull subject into a veritable torture chamber of a lesson. 

“Fine, but we can’t accompany Princess Ursa in our training attire. Take your smoothie and go change. I’ll send a message to Master Ping.”

Ozai practically beamed with gratitude. “Thanks, crown prince. And Aisha.” He took the smoothie Aisha held out to him, playfully bumped shoulders with Iroh, and all but skipped out of the kitchen.

“He is already in a much better mood than when you came in,” Aisha said as she gave Iroh his own smoothie, speaking more frankly now that he was the only royal in the kitchen.

“Your food has a way of doing that. And I’m sorry to create more work for you all today, but-”

“I heard,” she waved him off. “It’s more work for the serving staff than for me. Plus, it’s smart of you to take the opportunity to spend the time with your new wife.” She lowered her voice conspiratorially. “I’ve seen she’s very pretty.”

Iroh smiled. “Don’t worry, Aisha, she’s not nearly as pretty as you.”

“You do flatter an old woman, Prince Iroh.” She pulled out a bag of sugar and began measuring for whatever dish she was preparing next. “Tell me, has she recovered from her ailment?”

“Yes, entirely, thanks to Korzu’s efforts.” It had been a couple of weeks since Ursa had attended her first royal dinner, and she had been integrating herself into other areas of palace life under Yuna’s careful guidance. Iroh hadn’t really spent any time alone with her barring the one night she’d slept in his bedroom (and he’d slept in his study), but based on what she shared during dinner and the walk back to their chambers afterwards, her symptoms were practically gone and she was absorbing an overwhelming amount of information each day.

“That is a relief. It is so inauspicious for a bride to fall ill. I was deeply worried.”

Iroh had been too, but for different reasons than Aisha’s superstitions. Although it was indeed a relief that Ursa had recovered, his father’s physicians and spies still had nothing to report on how she had become ill in the first place. But Aisha’s superstitions didn’t explain why her hands were shaking slightly now, threatening to spill sugar everywhere.

“Aisha, are you all right?”

She set the bag down with a gasp and wiped at her eyes. “Noble prince,” she whispered, the flowery title immediately indicating she had something serious on her mind, “I- I have to confess something to you.”

“Please, do.”

“I can’t here. Someone might overhear.”

What could she have to say that was so frightening that Iroh, the crown prince, couldn’t protect her from the consequences of saying it?

“Come, tell me in the pantry. Pretend I’m showing you some new teas for my collection.”

The pantry was essentially soundproof, something Iroh had discovered by accident when he was six. He had followed Aisha inside, hoping for an extra mochi, but had been trapped when she got distracted by a burning cake. His most desperate cries for help had gone unheard, but the fire he’d panic-started had definitely drawn attention. Years later, he’d learned that Azulon had punished the entire kitchen staff quite severely for the incident, something that still made him feel guilty. The ordeal had given him a touch of claustrophobia, but mostly, he regarded it as a funny story rather than a slight against his being. His father, clearly, disagreed.

“Here,” Iroh shut the door behind them and lit a small fire for light. “Speak freely, Aisha.”

The old woman had never looked so worried before. “I promise, my prince, I wanted to tell you sooner. It’s just- if I’m wrong, it could be disastrous for me.”

“I trust you immensely. If you are mistaken in whatever you say, I can vouch that it occurred from good intentions. Now please, my curiosity is killing me. What is it?”

She drew in a deep breath. “The night of your wedding, I prepared two cups of sencha tea for you and the new Princess Ursa, as Prince Ozai told me you’d requested.”

“Yes, you did, and they were perfect as always,” Iroh said, trying to ease her nerves.

“Once I’d finished the teas, I gave them to two serving girls to deliver to you and your bride, and then I prepared to retire for the evening as my bad leg was starting to ache. When I was about to leave the kitchens, though, I saw from the door that Prince Ozai had stopped the girls in the hallway. He appeared to have a vial with him, and he- my old eyes may have seen him- pour its contents into one of the cups before sending the girls on their way and following them back to the wedding dinner.”

Iroh’s mind raced to make sense of what Aisha was saying. He knew she would not lie to him, but he also couldn’t bring himself to believe Ozai would do something so foolish, if not downright cruel.

“I’d like to speak to the serving girls,” he said quickly. 

Aisha shook her head. “Prince Ozai dismissed them from the palace the morning after the wedding. If I saw what I think I did that night, I can only assume I am still here because he doesn’t know I witnessed his actions.”

Iroh sighed. Even if whatever Aisha had seen during the wedding was dubious, Ozai’s actions the next day didn’t paint a good picture. 

“I’m so sorry for waiting, and if I am mistaken, noble prince.”

“Don’t be. You did the right thing by telling me what you saw.” He smiled in what he hoped was a reassuring manner. “If anyone but the Fire Lord himself tries to remove you from this palace, they will have to answer to me. Now, please, let me worry about this matter from now on. My wife and I look forward to trying your Autumn Festival specials.”

His smoothie sat heavily in his stomach as he left the kitchens. Aisha’s testimony had given him much to contemplate. Ozai had been volatile and prone to overreaction since childhood, which had only been exacerbated once he’d entered adolescence, but going as far as poisoning Iroh’s wife was unquestionably out of character. Ozai’s style was temper tantrums, not this stealthy sabotage. Iroh couldn’t even think of what he might’ve done to provoke Ozai’s anger to such an extent, aside from their little argument before the wedding that hardly merited Ursa getting caught in the crossfire.

Ozai hadn’t been acting strangely towards his alleged victim either. He’d asked cursory questions about how Ursa was doing while she was in her coma, and he’d needled her a bit at her first dinner only to be promptly shut down, which had been amusing but not unexpected. Much of Ozai’s drastic behavior could usually be written off as teenage angst fanned by the stress of palace life and their father’s expectations. Iroh hated to think there was something more sinister lurking under the surface.

The chatter of female voices interrupted his thoughts. He stopped to calm himself down before he startled some poor woman, realizing he was breathing a bit heavily, and looked to see who was in the vicinity. Ursa, Yuna and a gaggle of attendants were down the hall about to enter the dining room, no doubt preparing for their tasting session.

Ursa caught his eye and nodded at him. She was dressed very simply today, with a classic maroon robe cut to show the shape of her slender waist. Her lips were painted a matching shade. Already, she was looking more and more natural as Princess Ursa.

“Good afternoon, Prince Iroh,” she greeted, breaking away from her small entourage to draw closer to him. “Are you just returning from training?” Her gaze flickered over his appearance, including the loosely tied robe that provided little cover for his chest. A small part of his ego was pleased by the faint redness he saw in her pale cheeks. Not quite the perfect princess yet. 

“Yes, Prince Ozai and I had a fruitful session. And if you don’t mind, we’ve invited ourselves to join the taste-testing of Autumn Festival foods today. Aisha informed me you would be starting soon when I stopped by earlier, and I’m sure Yuna can tell you how enthusiastic we princes are about this part of the celebration.”

Her lips, which drew Iroh’s attention more than he cared to admit with their dark red coloring, curved upwards in a delicate smile. “I’m more than happy to have you both. It is fortunate to have such refined palates helping with what I’m sure will be a difficult decision.” 

“I’m glad you think so. Allow me to make myself more presentable, and I will join you shortly.” 

The chance to observe how Ozai acted around her during the testing would help him contemplate Aisha’s evidence further.

Ursa cont.

When I first ventured into the whirlwind that was planning the Autumn Festival, I’d expected the menu would be the most straightforward part. I was, of course, sorely mistaken. I was presented with lists of the traditional dishes from no fewer than ten years of celebrations, and given the rural solitude of my early life, I was unfamiliar with nearly all of them. 

Yuna’s suggestion to separate the tasting process over multiple days so I didn’t become fatigued from fine dining was the only feasible way to sort through the overwhelming number of options. All I knew for certain at that point was that I had to feature the Fire Lord’s favorite dishes, which were thankfully well-recorded. Everything else on the menu was up to me.

Fortunately, “up to me” changed to “up to Iroh, Ozai and I” when the two princes enthusiastically decided to join my first tasting session. Although now I know there was a more dangerous drama playing out behind the scenes that day, at the time, I was simply relieved to have a bit more guidance in the simple task of menu selection, as well as amused by the brothers’ antics.

“You’re insane. ”

“Tread lightly, brother.”

“I’m not going to because that’s an insane opinion.” Ozai sat back in his chair with a thoroughly bewildered expression. “How can you insist that the pink berry scones are better than the ash-banana bread? This is literally the moistest bread I’ve ever had.”

“I’m not saying the bread is bad,” Iroh countered. “But the pink berry scones are more in theme with the Autumn Festival, and the subtle flavor of the berry is well suited to the palates of our noble guests.”

“Ash-banana is the most quintessentially autumn fruit there is! Ursa- Princess Ursa, I mean- what do you think?”

Both princes turned to Ursa, seated next to Iroh. Somehow, the tasting session had turned into her playing referee as the two brothers debated which dishes they preferred. She actually quite liked this format, although Yuna kept hinting that it wasn’t the most appropriate way to do the tasting. Iroh and Ozai were both familiar with the festival and the food, and they laid out the pros and cons of each dish more extensively than Ursa could have managed by herself. Plus, their competitive spirit had made both of them forget some of their formalities, which helped put Ursa at ease.

But their current debate over the pink berry scones versus the ash-banana bread was very well-matched. Ursa felt torn even after listening to them argue for the past five minutes. “Well, you both make really good points…”

“And I’m your husband,” Iroh added. Ozai flung a scone at his head, which Iroh easily caught and bit into with a cheeky grin.

“I’m only thinking about the food, I promise,” Ursa said to Ozai. “But I do agree the pink berry scones are more thematic. Perhaps the ash-banana bread could be put on the shortlist for the New Year’s celebration?” She tentatively addressed the question to one of the servers, who nodded.

Ozai sat back in his chair with a huff. “That’s the third dish of his in a row you’ve picked.”

“Maybe I just have better taste,” Iroh teased.

“Please, please, there’s so much food here I couldn’t possibly feature all of your choices even if I did ignore Prince Iroh.” Ursa could sense Ozai’s mood starting to take a foul turn from playful competition to true resentment. “I believe we’re almost done for the day, but you’d both be more than welcome to join again for the next session. Right, Yuna?”

“Yes, Princess,” she replied begrudgingly from behind Ursa. “All we have left today is trying the options for the festival’s signature tea.”

Ursa practically felt Iroh light up next to her while Ozai slumped lower into his chair. This was probably not the best note to end on if she wanted to avoid a fight.

“Excellent, bring them out,” she told Yuna, hoping the little tremble in her voice wasn’t overly evident.

While the Fire Nation boasted an assortment of autumnal teas, only one would serve as the Festival’s signature brew. It would be served at each province Ursa and Iroh visited, and it would enjoy an elevated status among Fire Nation nobility for the next year. So, if Ursa chose something that turned out to be unpopular, she would have to hear the consequences of it for quite some time. She tried to push that anxiety out of mind as the tea servers swooped into the room.

Iroh had clearly already formed his opinions on the options, as he mostly just examined the various cups of tea that were presented to him and only gave one or two a cursory sip. Across the table, Ozai rolled his eyes. “Why don’t you just pick already?”

“We’re here to help Ursa choose, remember? You’re welcome to leave if you’re not interested anymore.”

Ozai begrudgingly started sniffing at some of the options. Ursa wasn’t sure how Iroh was so familiar with all the different brews the palace had to offer that he knew them on sight, when she had to ask for clarification on what she was drinking for nearly every sample. It wasn’t lost on her that he’d pretty much finished his “tasting” and was just quietly watching her and Ozai now, making her a bit nervous. What if he, a veritable expert on tea compared to her, thoroughly disagreed with her choice?

“Well,” she said once she’d decided on her favorite. “Do you two have ones you prefer?”

“I’m sure Iroh does,” Ozai said drily.

The man in question shrugged. “Aisha is a master teamaker, and all her brews are enjoyable.”

“Don’t dance around the question.”

“Fine. For the purposes of the festival, I prefer the honey ginger tea.”

Ozai blinked in surprise. “Me too.”

The good news was that they were in agreement. The bad news was Ursa wasn’t. The honey ginger tea was certainly tasty, but it had struck her as being somewhat medicinal a flavor for the Autumn Festival, especially considering the subtleties of the other foods they’d carefully selected so far.

“Princess, is it settled?” Yuna asked politely. Ursa glanced up at her and felt strangely encouraged by her proper face. This wasn’t the princes’ decision, unless Iroh decided to formally overrule her. This was hers.

“I don’t think so,” Ursa said in her most regal voice, avoiding looking at the faces of the princes. She instead glanced down at the cups in front of her. “My choice would be the chai.”

“That’s a colonial drink,” Ozai said immediately. “It’s a bastardization of our spiced tea.”

“It utilizes Fire Nation black tea leaves along with an Earth Kingdom brewing technique involving buffalo milk, and a blend of spices from both nations,” Iroh explained more diplomatically. “Aisha introduced it to the palace when she came here from the colonies.”

“I see.” Ursa hadn’t known the politics of the drink, but it explained why it had stood out to her among the slew of options. She had especially enjoyed the use of milk, which she hadn’t encountered in tea before. “Well, I think its history only makes it more appropriate for the festival. We can showcase how the Fire Nation is growing its power through our colonies and allow our citizens across the sea to feel included in the celebrations by choosing a drink that is common to them.”

[Azulon III, notated in the 3rd month of 168 AG

Recent visitors to Republic City will know that chai and its variants remain popular in cross-cultural havens following the end of the war, which can at least partially be traced to Ursa’s favor for the drink.]

She looked up now to see how Iroh and Ozai were reacting. The latter was stone faced, but Iroh seemed to be suppressing a smile as he spoke. “I can’t find fault with your reasoning, Princess. It would be the first time we are featuring a tea that isn’t entirely native to the homeland. I, personally, welcome the expansion of our culinary borders.”

Expression unchanged, Ozai shrugged. “I mean, as long as you’re rejecting his choice as well as mine, I can’t complain. I guess it tasted fine.”

“All right, then. I believe we’re done here,” Ursa gestured for the servers to clear the table, still feeling quite awkward about waving them around. “Thank you,” she said, both to the servants and to the princes. 

Ozai got up and half-bowed to Iroh and Ursa before leaving, not saying a word. “Don’t take it personally,” Iroh whispered. “He was only here because he didn’t want to attend his geography lesson.”

“I can’t say I blame him,” Ursa whispered back, matching Iroh’s mock-conspiratorial tone. “And why are you here? Avoiding a war room meeting?” It hadn’t taken long for her to pick up on his disinterest in military matters. 

“I’m just a man who's fond of good food and good company. Not accounting for Ozai, of course.”

Ursa giggled in a very un-princesslike fashion before stopping herself. His humor had a way of tickling her at inopportune moments. Like now, for instance, when Yuna made a little huff indicating that Ursa needed to wrap this up and continue to the next task on her lengthy list.

“Give us a moment alone,” Iroh said suddenly, glancing at Yuna. Although she looked miffed, she stiffly bowed and led the remaining attendants out of the dining room.

Ursa was surprised, and somewhere between confused and nervous; had she done something wrong? As the doors closed, she realized that she hadn’t been truly alone with Iroh since the night she’d spent in his room a couple of weeks ago. True to his word, he’d woken and left his chambers well before her. The topic of consummating their marriage had yet to come up again.

“Don’t worry, nothing’s wrong.” Iroh said, turning his chair so he was facing her more directly, “I just realized I haven’t had a chance to speak to you privately in some time. How are you feeling?”

“Very well. Truly.” She smiled to show she meant it. “I’m still a bit dizzy trying to keep up with everything, but I don’t have anything to complain about.” Anything new, anyway: missing her parents, longing for Ikem, and dreading interactions with the Fire Lord were all things she could not mention to Iroh, nor could he do anything about them.

“I’m glad to hear it. Korzu is starting to get a bit antsy now that he doesn’t have to spend as much time treating you. If you’re feeling well, I was planning to release him from his position here so he can go back to healing villagers.”

A joke about how that was what he’d been doing for Ursa anyway was on the tip of her tongue, but she didn’t say it. She was a princess now, not a girl from Hira’a. “Of course. I will miss him though.”

“I will too, but he was doing me a favor. His heart is far outside the capital.” Iroh seemed wistful as he spoke before shaking his head slightly. “How did you enjoy the tasting today? I’m sorry Ozai and I interrupted.”

“I really did like having both of you here. It was much more interesting than if it had been just the attendants and I.”

Iroh chuckled. “I can imagine. Yuna has always been particular about palace rules to a fault, even when I was a boy.”

“How long has she been at the palace?” Ursa imagined it must have been a long time for her to garner the respect she did from almost everyone in the palace, even from the two princes.

“She was hired a few months before I was born to be my nanny.” Her shock must have been apparent on her face, as Iroh raised an eyebrow. “Ah, you didn’t know?”

“No.”

“I suppose she doesn’t let the servants talk about it much. Yes, Yuna was Ozai and I’s nanny. A position that became of utmost importance after my mother passed, as you might imagine.”

“I see.” It certainly made sense why Iroh and Ozai seemed to acknowledge her more than the other servants, then; she was the closest thing they had to a mother figure. Ursa wondered what it must be like for Yuna, to raise two small boys whom she now had to bow to as princes. 

“She’s a good and capable woman, but a bit old-fashioned.” Iroh said. “She’s more of my father’s mindset while you and I are the next generation of royalty. Don’t let her push you around too much.”

“Easier said than done,” Ursa replied without thinking.

Iroh laughed at that, the sound warm and full in the empty dining room. Despite her embarrassment at accidentally speaking so plainly, she felt pleased with herself for provoking such a reaction. “Don’t I know it,” he said sympathetically. “I’ll permit you to attend to the rest of your day now. Allow me to escort you out?”

He stood and held a hand out to her, which she took automatically. It had become almost muscle memory at this point, given that Iroh escorted her back from dinner nearly every night now.

“By the way,” he murmured as he opened the door for them, “if no one else has said so, you’re doing very well as Princess Ursa.”

Honestly, no one else had. “Thank you,” she whispered, something fluttering in her chest.

From the private recollections of Korzu Rinta

Recorded in 103 AG

Iroh and Ursa left Ember Island yesterday. They’ve been spending more of their time traveling since the war’s end, especially since Iroh is trying to avoid appearing as if he’s overly influencing the young Fire Lord behind the scenes. It’s strange, considering I always assumed that it was Iroh’s destiny to die on the throne as his father and grandfather before him, but retirement from royal life suits him much better. We have more time to do the things that catch our fancy, like run off to the beach for a week, without first informing a couple dozen guards and attendants and ministers of our plans. Iroh never had that luxury - all our boyhood trips to Ember Island occurred under close watch.

He and Ursa will have been wed for thirty-five years come next summer. I hardly feel old enough to have friends who have been married for so long, considering I only met my own love less than a decade ago, but I suppose we are in our fifties now. Iroh and Ursa were married so young as well, by Fire Lord Azulon’s will. It’s both a blessing and a burden, to be tied to a life partner at that age. You grow up so much, which is a wonderful thing to do together, but it also presents the risk of growing apart. Sometimes I wish I’d found Panaku as a younger man, then I recall how much more nervous and flighty I used to be...back then, I almost certainly would have been too terrified of breaking the law by being with a man to realize how misguided the law was and follow my heart anyway. 

I also would’ve been petrified of anyone, especially Iroh, even guessing at the truth. Not because I had any sort of attraction to Iroh - as many have implied since I came out as homosexual - but because he was a dear friend whose opinion I valued, and more pressingly, he was the crown prince. It turned out, though, that he didn’t really care.

“I suppose this shouldn’t be news,” he said after the war ended and I told him about Panaku. “You never seemed very interested in the same views as me on those beach trips.” He then apologized for not doing anything about that awful law sooner. Perhaps I’m biased as his friend, but I think he would’ve if he’d been in his right mind.

As I’ve mentioned before, along with others who knew him, Iroh was not the same man after everything that happened around Azulon’s death. It all twisted him greatly, understandably so. Ursa, I think, deserves more credit than she will accept for bringing him back to himself. They enjoyed several years of blissful marriage and parenthood before the bad times. Her belief in Iroh during those difficult years was pivotal towards the end of the war, especially after the Avatar returned. I hope history remembers her as more than a woman who was related to powerful men. She has power in her own right that is frequently overlooked. 

During this last visit, we actually ended up reminiscing a lot about the beginning of my friendship with Ursa. I don’t remember how exactly it came up - we were walking on the beach, Panaku and I, Iroh and Ursa, when the topic turned to my school days with Iroh. Panaku and Ursa started teasing us about our “pompous” upbringings, and somehow the conversation evolved into a discussion of Ursa’s troubles in her early years as a princess.

I still remember what a shock it was to receive that letter from Iroh informing of his impending marriage. He asked me to come home from whatever remote village I’d been in at the time and stand with him as a groomsman because his father had mysteriously found him a bride, and the wedding was happening as soon as possible. Back then, of course, I had no idea what had caused Azulon’s urgency, but I knew Iroh and his wanderlust would have been chafing at the yoke of marriage. I hurried to the capital to find that the wedding had already passed, his new wife was mysteriously ill, and I was the only one he would trust with her care.

Those few weeks I spent treating Ursa were nerve-wracking for me, but they also afforded me a close look at the beginning of her relationship with Iroh. His letter to me had dripped of derision for his new “obligation,” yet on my first night as her physician, he disappeared into her room for a private conversation and emerged with an uncharacteristically soft look on his face.

I liked her almost at once. She was tenacious, considerate, and wryly funny. I secretly thought that once Iroh got over his reservations about such a young marriage, he would find her to be a pleasant life partner. Maybe even more, if he gave her the time and space she needed to adjust to her new life. It was clear that she had been even more caught off guard by this marriage than Iroh, although she was putting on a brave face.

They were nowhere near in love by the time I left the palace, but there was…maybe a flicker of interest. Iroh had enjoyed himself as a teenage prince, but Ursa was already married to him and thus didn’t care about his status, which had been Iroh’s main quality of attraction for years. He was now forced to get to know her as an equal, and I think the novelty of it intrigued him more than he cared to admit. I didn’t know Ursa well enough in those days to speculate on her mindset, but it seemed that she did appreciate his kindness relative to the rest of his family. 

I remember as I was about to depart from the palace, Ursa was saying goodbye to me by the gates when Iroh arrived to do the same. They were both clearly surprised to see each other. Ursa politely excused herself so Iroh and I could talk privately. As she left, he gazed after her for just a beat too long with that strange softness in his face again. I wanted to tease him about it, but I restrained myself, knowing it might do more harm than good to point it out. I hadn’t seen him like that since he was a schoolboy with a crush who hadn’t yet realized just how many girls would gladly share an ice cream with the crown prince.

After three decades, he gazes at her that way much more lovingly and openly now, until she notices it and either kisses him on the cheek or playfully admonishes him. I imagine it’s just as foolish as I look around Panaku.

Anyway, I’m just rambling to myself at this point. I really must be getting old, spending so much time rehashing well-worn memories. Tomorrow, hopefully, my love and I will make some new ones. What more can anyone ask for?  

Chapter Text

The outdoor training grounds were bigger than Ursa’s childhood home and greenhouse combined. It made sense: the princes were both formidable firebenders, and they needed the space to be able to throw their flames around with impunity.

Ursa’s mother was a firebender, but she hadn’t trained for combat. It just wasn’t needed in Hira’a, where the war was a distant phenomenon, and firebending was a gift that eased daily chores rather than a weapon. Obviously, Ursa was aware that the royal family received the best firebending instruction in the land. They had to, in order to maintain their power and lead their armies into winning the war. But she’d never actually seen skilled firebenders in combat, or considered the reality that she was married to a man who was likely one of the most powerful firebenders in the world.

Today, though, Iroh and Ozai were circling each other on the sand, trading light taunts back and forth as they prepared to spar. This was actually one of their better days; they’d been in good spirits during their warm-up, laughing together over some minister who’d put his foot in his mouth during an audience with the Fire Lord and nearly gotten himself banished. Last week, she’d watched Ozai storm out of dinner after Iroh disagreed with him about the historical ethics of dragon hunting. If they’d dueled then, it might’ve turned into an Agni Kai.

She hadn’t meant to spy on their training session like this. It was just that she’d gotten a bit turned around on her way to the gardens, still not being completely familiar with the palace’s maze of hallways even after almost two months of living here, and had ended up spotting a very shirtless Iroh in one of the windows to the training ground. Even as her face grew warm, she couldn’t help drawing closer out of curiosity. She wasn’t doing anything wrong, was she? After all, Iroh was her husband, and he surely would have chosen a more private arena if he didn’t want an audience.

It was one thing to know that the man was a mighty firebender, but it was quite another to see the evidence of it with her own eyes. Underneath all his princely finery, Iroh was a solid, sturdy wall of sculpted muscle. The arm rings adorning his biceps highlighted their swell as he took up a firm fighting stance, planting himself in the sand. Ozai was dressed in similar fashion and assumed his own stance, although he looked much less imposing with his lean, still-boyish build in contrast to his older brother. Ursa briefly hoped neither of them caught her staring.

The first attack came from Ozai, who let out a quick exhale as a fire whip formed in his right hand and slashed at Iroh. Iroh blocked almost effortlessly, raising one forearm to dispel the whip and punching out with his other hand to form a fire blast. Ozai leapt aside and performed a series of short, sharp kicks that sent arcs of flame flying outwards. Iroh seemed unperturbed, absorbing them into his own wall of fire that moved towards Ozai menacingly. 

Ozai stopped the wall in its tracks, and the brothers were at an impasse for a moment as they fought for control of the flames in between them. Eventually, though, Iroh yielded and instead chose to break through the wall of fire, surprising his brother into dropping his stance to defend himself at close range. The fight ended quickly after that; without his stance, Ozai couldn’t do much but stumble backwards when Iroh spun out a layer of flames across the ground that threatened to burn his feet. The younger prince fell on his back.

Iroh lazily stalked over to help his brother up. “I think you actually made it a bit longer than usual.”

“Shut up.” Ozai took Iroh’s proffered hand and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet. “You have a head start of five years - it’s hardly a fair fight.”

“I watched you best a bunch of grown men during our visit to the military academy last week. Age is hardly an issue for your skill.”

“Please, they’re not training on the same level as us. Besides,” Ozai jerked his head towards the window Ursa was watching from, “You were obviously showing off with that last move.”

Iroh’s eyes met hers across the hot sand. “Maybe a little,” he said, his small smile holding a hint of cockiness. 

She pulled back from the window with her heart pounding. They’d known she was there the whole time.

“You want some real showing off?” Iroh continued from out of sight. “Let’s see how your lightning’s coming.”

Lightning generation was one of the most closely guarded techniques of the royal family, to the point where some folks in Hira’a didn’t believe it was actually possible. Despite her embarrassment at being caught, Ursa couldn’t pass up the chance to see it in action. She peered out the window again, hoping Iroh’s eyes weren’t still on her.

Thankfully, he’d turned away. Sweat glinted on his strong back as he spread his arms out and began moving them in a circular motion, crackles of lightning slowly forming at his fingertips. Ozai did the same next to him. Simultaneously, the brothers finished charging up and fired off their bolts of lightning into the sky. Iroh’s was noticeably more impressive. 

“Good,” Iroh praised. “Now, faster.”

In the blink of an eye, Iroh shot another, albeit smaller, bolt. Ozai attempted to do the same, but a blast flung him back onto the ground with a yelp instead. Iroh sighed and placed his hands on his hips as he turned to face his brother. Ursa tried very hard not to focus on how the stance highlighted his impressively toned abdomen.

“What did you do wrong?” Iroh asked in a voice clearly meant for teaching.

“I don’t know!” Ozai sat up with a grumble. “My lightning is just as good as yours was at my age when I do it the traditional way. I don’t know why I can’t figure out instant generation.”

“Well, that’s the first thing. You’ve got to stop thinking of it as something you need to do ‘as good as' me. Creating lightning is unique to you and your own energy. Aspiring to mimic other people isn’t going to help you improve.”

Ozai muttered something Ursa couldn’t hear, but it made Iroh shake his head as he responded. “That’s not true.” He squatted down next to his brother and continued speaking in a low voice. Ozai bowed his head in a strangely vulnerable motion, and Iroh reached out and rubbed his shoulder.

Clearly, the “showing off” had ended, and the brothers were now having a private moment. She pulled back from the window and continued on what she hoped was the way to the garden. Her heartbeat felt erratic from seeing such powerful bending for the first time; relaxing by herself in nature was just what she needed to calm down.

It wasn’t long before Iroh found her by the turtleduck pond, which was quickly becoming one of her favorite haunts. Thankfully, he was dressed in his usual palace attire now. Ursa knew the memory of what was underneath those robes would tease her imagination for a while.

“Did you enjoy the show?” he asked, a hint of amusement clear in his voice.

She kept her attention trained on the pond, feeling a blush start to rise again. “I didn’t mean to intrude.”

“If you were intruding, I would’ve said something.” He seated himself next to her. “Seriously, what did you think?” 

“It was impressive.” She glanced at him to gauge his reaction. “I’ve never seen firebending on such a grand scale before, and I kind of thought lightning generation was a myth.”

Iroh smiled. “Glad to hear it. I’d hate to think I failed to entertain a princess.”

“Can I ask…” Ursa hesitated, but he nodded for her to go on, “How does it feel, to create lightning?”

“Exactly like what you think it does. Indescribable energy buzzing through your entire body and releasing through your fingertips.”

“Is it frightening?”

 Iroh inhaled sharply and nodded. “The first time I made lightning, I couldn’t quite guide it to my fingers. It sort of…exploded out of my palms instead. It hurt even worse than what you’re thinking,” he said as he noted Ursa flinching in sympathy. “Worse than any burn I gave myself as an overzealous boy. I was left with this scorching, stabbing sensation that crippled my hands for weeks afterwards. It’s not an uncommon injury for beginners, so the healers were thankfully able to repair most of the damage, but some of it was too much.” He showed her his left palm. A white, star-shaped scar adorned its center. “So, yes, it can be frightening at times. Lightning is immediately deadly in a way that fire isn’t.”  

“It must be stressful to practice, then. One wrong move, and…” She made a vague explosion gesture with her hands.

“No more stressful than the prospect of running the country one day.” He shrugged. “I’m just glad my father is in good health for his age.”

A baby turtleduck splashed in the water, having accidentally flipped itself upside down. Its mother came and pushed it upright. Ursa smiled at the sight. 

“That’s how disoriented I feel about it, sometimes.” Iroh said, following her line of vision. “Except once I’m Fire Lord, I won’t have anyone to push me in the right direction.”

She had no idea how to advise someone with such a burden on his shoulders, but she certainly understood how lonely it could be in the palace. “You could let people try,” she suggested. “Like your brother. Maybe even me.”

He turned to her with that thoughtful look in his eyes. Ursa became aware of the fact that he was sitting quite close to her, and even through the gap between them, she could tell he was very warm. The not entirely unpleasant scent of smoke and sun from his training session clung to him faintly.

“I’ll remember that, Ursa.”

Ursa, cont.

As I gradually came to lose my fear of Iroh, and even allowed a delicate trust to take its place, I was able to view him as something besides a crown prince and my forced husband. Underneath all that, he was just a man, and I couldn’t help but notice he was quite a handsome one even without the regalia of his royal attire. Perhaps especially without it. 

This isn’t to say that all it took was one glimpse of his body for me to magically lose my unease with our arrangement and open myself up to the possibility of something more. It helped that Iroh maintained himself well as a young prince, but the physique of a nineteen-year-old is inherently temporary. The more important aspect was that after that sparring match, I began to see his…vulnerability. I’d felt very powerless as a new princess, and I was keenly aware that I was at his mercy if I wanted to retain my virginity and palace freedoms. To me, understanding that he had also been forced into not just this marriage, but his very destiny as a future Fire Lord, helped me see that he was more similar to myself than I’d imagined. We both wished to have a choice, and in the absence of our wish being granted, we slowly came to sympathize with each other.

In summary, I was married to an attractive man, who’d been unexpectedly kind in extremely disheartening circumstances, and who was beginning to form something like a genuine connection with me. Of course, in real life, it took me much longer than a few sentences to connect those dots and see the bigger picture they formed.

Mika and Rei were helping Ursa clean off the day’s stress and prepare for bed, when a knock sounded at her door.

“Who could be disturbing you at this hour, Princess?” Rei said with a slight frown as she put down the brush she’d been running through Ursa’s hair and got up to see. There were really only two possible answers to that question, and although she didn’t particularly want to see Azulon or Iroh at this hour, Ursa knew without a doubt which one she would prefer. She glanced at the door nervously as it opened.

One of Iroh’s manservants, whose name she couldn’t quite recall, bowed. “Crown Prince Iroh requests the company of his wife Princess Ursa in his chamber for the night,” he recited dutifully.

So much for Iroh being the better option. Ursa’s hands on her lap anxiously tightened into fists. He hadn’t said a word about consummating their marriage since he’d soothed her tears nearly a month ago by suggesting they wait until she’d “adjusted more.” Even after dinner earlier, he’d simply wished her good night and left for the library instead of walking with her back to their chambers like usual.

“I thank my husband for the invitation, and I will join him in a moment,” she told the servant, offering her elegant princess smile that she’d all but perfected. 

Rei closed the door on the man none too gently while Mika immediately flew into a tizzy over Ursa’s appearance. “Princess, would you like to change into one of your evening dresses? Or for me to help with your makeup?”

“Men never understand that they can’t just summon us on a whim so late in the day,” Rei said with a hint of contempt that Mika quickly shushed.

“Don’t speak in such a fashion. Prince Iroh likely just wants to enjoy some time with his wife. Would you like perfume, Princess? I’m sure he’d find your favorite rose scent charming.”

Ursa couldn’t help but smile at Mika’s earnestness and Rei’s quiet scorn. There was a reason she’d favored these two as her personal attendants: they were around her own age, and they balanced each other out well while supporting her through her various duties. In another life, they might have been good friends.

“Just fetch one of my night robes, Mika. I’m only going across the hall.” She glanced down at her red cotton nightgown. It wasn’t particularly fancy, but she also didn’t need to be dressed up for this.

Maybe Iroh assumed she had “adjusted more” because she’d spied on his sparring match with Ozai earlier. She replayed the scene in her mind as Rei went back to brushing her hair, face growing warm at the memory of his body in the sunlight. In all honesty, she had felt something stir inside her when he’d flashed that small cocky smile and confessed he’d been showing off for her. But that hardly meant she was suddenly ready to…

Or maybe his patience had just run out, and it didn’t actually matter if Ursa felt like she’d adjusted more. Perhaps crying again could delay it further; she certainly wouldn't have to try very hard to weep, she thought to herself as Rei finished braiding her hair.

“Here, Princess.” Mika held up the burgundy night robe. Ursa stood and slipped her arms into the sleeves, whispering a thanks. “Are you sure you don’t want anything else?” Mika asked once she’d dutifully tied the sash.

Well, if this was happening, it couldn’t hurt to add a few touches of beauty to at least put Iroh in a good mood. “I’ll have some perfume after all,” Ursa said, studying herself in the mirror. “My pearl earrings as well, and a dash of color for my cheeks.”

The same manservant, whose name she really needed to learn, pushed open the door to Iroh’s study to announce her arrival. 

“Show her in.” The tone in Iroh’s voice was unreadable. Steeling herself, Ursa stepped inside, flinching slightly as the door shut behind her. 

Iroh looked up from where he was seated cross-legged on the floor, a lengthy scroll sprawled out in front of him. He was dressed in a white nightshirt and loose red trousers - Ursa realized she’d never seen his actual sleeping attire. “Hello again,” he greeted with a smile. “Thank you for joining me.”

“It’s no trouble,” she said, although she felt very much the contrary. A curious glance over the scroll as she drew closer didn’t reveal much of what he was reading; it was written in an unfamiliar script.

“I know it was a sudden invitation. My father seems to think I’m not making enough of an effort in my marital duties, based on what he said when he found me in the library after dinner instead of with you.” Iroh shrugged, looking back at the scroll. “I’m content with our arrangement, but I think we have to at least make it look like we’re putting in an effort to keep him happy.”

Ursa hesitated. It sounded too good to be true. “You mean…like last time?”

“Mm-hmm.” He was distracted as he answered, studying a line in the scroll with a furrowed brow. Silently, she thanked the spirits that he was more interested in whatever he was reading than listening to his father.

Of course, now that she was free from her marital obligations for at least another night, she wasn’t actually sure what to do with herself. This was only her second time here, not that she’d spent much time looking around his study before. It was quite cozy, with the spacious couch, a currently dark fireplace, thick carpeting, and a somewhat messy desk with a window view. The shelves that dominated the room held several scrolls and tomes that no doubt covered a plethora of princely topics. 

One, however, caught her eye, and she couldn’t help but drift closer to it in curiosity. Unless she was sorely mistaken, this tome’s cover was marked by a drawing of the Blue Spirit, a legend she knew well.

“I’m sorry Ursa, I’m being rude,” Iroh said suddenly, startling her out of her thoughts. She turned to see him get to his feet, offering an apologetic grin. “Yuna always told me I was impossible to be around when I got lost in a scroll. Please, make yourself comfortable. You can sleep or read or whatever you like.”

“It’s all right.” If anything, it was a bit amusing. “What are you reading?”

“I’m not entirely sure, to be honest.” Iroh picked up the scroll and began rolling it up. “I know it’s a record from Fire Lord Zoryu’s time, but it’s written in his personal cipher.”

That explained why she hadn’t understood a word of it. “He had a personal cipher?”

“Every Fire Lord does. It’s a way to record private thoughts, things that he might not want revealed in his lifetime but would like his successors to understand. The problem is, not every cipher has been preserved very well. Zoryu’s, for instance, was almost entirely erased by Sozin.”

“Why would he do that?” 

“It’s most likely that something happened during his rule that doesn’t make our family look great. Sozin was always very particular about maintaining the royal image after the Hundred Year War began, even if it meant burying history,” Iroh shrugged. “I understand why, but I wish he’d at least let the true records be available to the royal family. I have to sneak into the Dragonbone Catacombs or talk to the right Fire Sage if I want access to scrolls like this one.”

“Is that…allowed?” Ursa was unable to keep the concern out of her voice.

“Not technically, but my dad has more pressing things on his mind, and it won’t be an issue once I’m Fire Lord.” Iroh flashed her that cocky half-smile again, and Ursa felt another surge of that strange something inside her. “I think I’ve cracked at least some of the characters,” he continued, clearly on a roll now that she’d asked a few questions. “I’ve been using old Fire Lord ciphers to sketch out some ideas of what mine should be.” He gestured at the mess on his desk.

Actress that she was, Ursa couldn’t help being drawn to the drama of a secret royal cipher. “Could I see?” she asked, before it occurred to her that he hadn’t mentioned Fire Ladies having access to the ciphers at all, and it might’ve been a foolish request.

“Why not? I can always change it if I need to keep a secret from you later.”

Ursa laughed, some of her tension easing as she followed him to his desk. 

“Here.” He shuffled through the pile of parchment and laid out one piece to write on, straightening a calligraphy brush and inkpot next to it. “I’ll show you a few words in different ciphers.”

His hand gripped the brush like it was second nature, in sharp contrast to Ursa’s struggles in her calligraphy lessons. He dipped it into the ink pot and expertly wiped off the excess on the rim before positioning it over the parchment. “This is my name in Sozin’s script,” he said, a few fluid movements producing the foreign characters. “This is my father’s, although I’m technically not supposed to know it yet. This is standard script, and this is what I’ve been working on as mine.”

The penmanship was unexpectedly graceful, considering the calluses and small scars marring Iroh’s hand. She considered the sparring match she’d watched earlier, and the smooth, almost effortless manner in which he’d blocked and attacked Ozai. There was a grace to that powerful bending born from his years of mastery. If he’d put equal effort into his calligraphy, no wonder it was pleasing to watch.

“Yours looks more like Sozin’s,” she noted. 

“I know, I think it’s too obvious,” he said. “Here, let me try your name.”

It was oddly delightful to see his skilled hand paint the characters of her name in four different fashions, even if she only recognized one.

“How is the resemblance in this one?” he asked.

“Less obvious, I think.” She glanced at him, noticing he was watching her reaction intently. Did he actually care about her opinion? “Your penmanship is impressive,” she added, feeling flustered.

“I hope so. My old calligraphy master was the type of man to make me practice until my wrist cracked.” Iroh sighed as he put the brush back. “You’re lucky he’s retired.”

“I really am,” Ursa rubbed her own wrist in a combination of sympathy and self-pity. “My lessons haven’t been going very well.”

“Oh?” His amber eyes sparkled playfully. “I don’t believe it. Show me.”

She immediately shook her head.

“It’s just the two of us, Ursa. I could help you if it’s really that bad.”

“Prince Iroh,” she protested, “I can hardly trouble you with calligraphy tutoring on top of everything else on your plate.”

He tilted his head, a mannerism that Ursa had come to recognize from dinner debates as a sign he was contemplating saying something potentially improper, and she braced herself for whatever came out of his mouth next.

“Why do you always use my title?”

A complete change of subject wasn’t what she had expected. “What?” 

“I’m always ‘Prince Iroh,’ even in private conversations where I address you as Ursa. Would you prefer for me to use your title?”

“No.” Honestly, she liked when he dropped some of his formalities and used just her name. It let her feel as if she could let go of some of her princess persona. 

“Well, why am I ‘Prince Iroh’ then? We’re meant to be equals now.”

Married or otherwise, how could she possibly be equal to a future Fire Lord? “It just feels improper,” she said, measuring her words carefully. “You’ve been a prince your whole life, and I only became a princess very recently. It doesn’t seem equal.”

“I know.” Iroh’s voice was soft, as if he’d heard the question Ursa had silently asked. “But I’d like for us to actually be equals, as much as we can at least, rather than feeling like you’re subservient to me. How else can I count on you to ‘push me in the right direction’?” 

She hadn’t thought he would actually remember her awkward attempt at advice during that garden conversation. It was nice that he seemed to take it seriously, but it felt like a bit of an empty gesture considering the dynamic of their marriage so far. “Perhaps you shouldn’t order me to your chamber at odd hours of the night, then,” she said quietly, half-expecting a reprimand for her small admonishment. 

He blinked, looking a bit taken back. “That was meant to be a request. Did Jun phrase it as an order?”

“Oh.” Refusing hadn’t seemed like an option, but as the manservant’s (whose name she now knew) words replayed in her mind, she supposed it hadn’t technically been an order. “No, he didn’t. I suppose I misinterpreted.”

“Would you like to leave?” he offered, gesturing to the door. “I won’t be offended.”

“Well…” She crossed her arms, feeling a bit deflated now that the miscommunication had been cleared up. “I’m already here, and it sounds like I would have to come back on other nights anyway to please your father.”

“Two true statements.”

“I’ll stay. Your chamber is far bigger than mine anyway.”

He snorted at that. “I promise, I’ll let you choose when to come here next time instead of springing the idea on you.”

“Thank you. Iroh,” she added, heart skipping a beat as she forced herself to drop his title.

“You’re welcome, Ursa. Now,” he tapped the parchment, “I’m certain you’re not that bad. Please?”

She pulled a face that made Iroh chuckle before begrudgingly picking up the calligraphy brush. “Just remember I’d never done this in my life until I came here.” 

Despite her best efforts to recall the calligraphy master Safa’s advice, her attempt to draw her name looked downright childish next to Iroh’s masterful handiwork. A very immature sense of embarrassment washed over her; maybe it was because she felt a sudden urge to impress him, but this seemed even worse than usual.

“I told you,” she whispered, feeling strangely dejected as he peered at her work.

“You’ve had maybe a month of lessons and, I’m willing to bet, not much time to practice with Autumn Festival preparations. This is perfectly appropriate for your skill level.”

Ursa just shrugged. “I guess.”

“Do you want my advice?” he asked, and it sounded sincere. She supposed he couldn’t be any worse than Safa.

“Okay.”

“I’m sure you’ve been fed that line about calligraphy being in the arm and not the wrist, which is true, but pretty hard to put into practice. What helped me was comparing it to firebending, because bending is a physical activity that I’m good at and comes to me naturally. Do you have a skill like that? You don’t have to tell me what it is.”

Yes, Ursa decided immediately. There was a physicality to acting that had always come to her naturally, born from her exuberance as a young girl. It felt embarrassing to admit to Iroh, though, so she just nodded in response to his question.

“Good. Think of calligraphy as an extension of that skill, something that you could do while practicing it. Try again?” 

Calligraphy as an extension of acting. Maybe she was in character as a diligent scribe, or a masterful instructor. Ursa exhaled, willing her arm to relax and move the brush as though it were part of her performance. 

The second attempt wasn’t as shaky as the first had been, but that only meant it looked like it had been drawn like a slightly older child this time. Ursa huffed, prompting another chuckle from Iroh.

“I’m not laughing at you, I’m amused by your frustration with yourself,” he clarified when she shot him a look. “That was a noticeable improvement already.”

“If you say so.” She didn’t appreciate feeling patronized.

“May I try something? Let me guide your hand this time.”

It was a reasonable suggestion, considering the number of times she’d accepted his helping hand before now, but this felt far more…intimate. And yet, she didn’t hate the idea of it. “Okay.”

He moved to her right, reaching out to place his hand on top of hers while still maintaining a respectful distance between their bodies. “Your grip is good, so just let your hand move with mine. All right?”

She nodded, acutely aware of his position out of the corner of her eye. This was as close as they’d been in the gardens, maybe even closer. His palm felt different when it was on the back of her hand like this, where the skin was more sensitive and unused to his touch. The warmth and the ridges of his calluses seemed magnified.

Together, they dipped the brush and wiped the excess, Iroh holding her back from pressing the brush too harshly against the rim of the pot. Despite the fact that he could easily control her movements from this position, he simply guided her as promised, allowing her to set the pace and the angle of her strokes while murmuring about adjustments he was making to her technique and why. 

“Did you feel the difference?” he asked once they’d written both his and her name together.

“Yes.” It wasn’t a total lie, even if her focus had faltered from his breath against her ear accompanying each correction he whispered. 

“Good.” There was a smile in his voice as he released her hand. Ursa was startled to realize she missed his warmth.

“Thank you for the lesson,” she said before that strange feeling could crop up again. 

“I’m happy to help. With calligraphy or anything else about the palace that’s difficult to learn. I should have made that offer sooner,” he said with a shrug. “I…haven’t been the most attentive husband, as you’ve noticed.”

Ursa decided to risk saying the quiet part out loud. “You didn’t want to be married either, did you?”

“No.” Suspicions confirmed. “My father didn’t have me until he was fifty, so I assumed I would have at least a few more years to myself. But he regrets wasting so much of his life before starting his family and considers it my duty to learn from his mistakes. The Fire Sages’ prophecy and finding you just accelerated things.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, feeling strangely guilty.

Iroh gave her a look that was equal parts amused and confused. “Why should you be sorry?”

“All I’ve done is inconvenience you.” She looked back at the calligraphy sheet as her mind retraced the events of their marriage so far. “I ruined your plans for your life by being the Avatar’s granddaughter. I threw up on you at our wedding. You had to get Korzu to take care of me. I still don’t know the first thing about being a princess, to the point where you’re offering me lessons after weeks . I’m probably planning the worst Autumn Festival since your mother passed away. You’ll have to worry about keeping me from making a fool of myself once we leave to visit the provinces. And you have to put on this elaborate charade of spending time with me because your father wants heirs and I’m not- I can’t-” She broke off, unable to finish the thought, and instead focused on making sure the tears that had sprung to her eyes didn’t splatter onto the parchment.

“Ursa,” Iroh’s voice was gentler than she’d ever heard it. “None of those things are your fault.”

One of the desk drawers slid open as he spoke, and a handkerchief was carefully placed in front of her. She took it gratefully. 

“The number one rule of the palace, as you learned just by having to come here, is that the Fire Lord’s will supersedes all. The Fire Lord chose to track down your family and make you my wife. The Fire Lord decided to have you plan the Autumn Festival. Everything I had before that, my plans of seeing the world as a young prince and my annual travels with the Autumn Festival, only existed at his pleasure too. He could have changed his mind about those things for any number of reasons, not just you.

“Besides, to me, none of these changes are intolerable. I am fortunate that I happen to be the Fire Lord’s heir; he values me enough to let me get away with a certain amount of circumventing his wishes as long as I remember my duty. As long as he gets his grandchildren eventually, it’s not hugely consequential if it doesn’t happen right away. As long as I’m prepared to ascend the throne and lead our war efforts, he doesn’t mind my itch to see the world first. You’re the one who has suffered a far greater change than me, which I’ve failed to properly acknowledge because of my own selfish feelings around this marriage.

“I don’t blame you for anything, though it says a lot about your character that you felt the need to apologize.” She glanced at him now, confused by that statement, and he smiled slightly. “You’re very empathetic, Ursa. There’s not much empathy in the palace, but we need it. I certainly should extend a little more to you.”

“You don’t have to,” she said, wringing the handkerchief in her hands. 

“I’m the crown prince. Except for my father’s wishes, I don’t ‘have to’ do anything. But I’d like to do this.” 

There was a candlestick on the desk, providing extra light for reading when there was no sunshine to do so. Iroh picked it up and snapped the flickering flame into a more steady burn.

“Here’s what I have in mind,” he said. “Neither of our hearts were really in our wedding vows. Maybe we can live up to those someday, but in the meantime, I can make simpler vows to you: I will not blame you for any of my unhappiness with the circumstances of our marriage. I will treat you as my equal. I will be good to you, to the best of my ability. Do you trust that I will do these things, my wife?”

He held the candlestick out for her to grasp as well, mimicking the wedding ritual that had accompanied the recitation of their vows. That first set of vows had been full of lofty notions of honoring each other’s wisdom and uniting their abilities for the good of the nation. Ursa had barely understood what she was saying as she’d repeated the Fire Sages’ words in a haze, committing herself to a stranger in front of an audience of hundreds. These smaller vows, recited in the privacy of Iroh’s study, felt more genuine now that she knew him just a little better. 

At the wedding, they’d held an ornate candelabra for the ritual. Now, she laid her hand on top of Iroh’s on the significantly smaller candlestick. “I do. And I will do the same for you…my husband.”

The candlelight cast a warm glow across Iroh’s face, his eyes shining in the flicker of the flame. “Then it shall be,” he said in a low voice, repeating the Fire Sages’ pronouncement of their marriage. Heat shuddered through her hand.

Iroh, cont.

I hardly remember our wedding vows, even though they were the generic ones recited at my brother’s wedding as well. But I can see, clear as day, Ursa’s face on that evening in my study as I made a new set of vows to her with a small candlestick in my hand. I can feel her hand wrapping over mine to make her own in return. 

I swore to be good to her. Agni save me if I ever lose sight of that again.

Chapter Text

“...I believe that concludes the overview of the festival plans for Shuhon Island. Are there any changes the palace desires?” The dutiful messenger looked up from the scroll containing the governor’s proposal for his leg of the festival. Shuhon Island was the last stop for the royal procession before it returned to the capital, meaning it faced the pressure of putting on a grand finale. It seemed Governor Shiru had planned an unusually extravagant affair since there was now a princess to impress in addition to the crown prince.

Iroh glanced at the princess in question, watching her contemplate the plans with the serene expression that he’d come to think of as her ‘princess face,’ matching her elegant princess voice and posture. She’d requested he join her in hearing the provincial proposals since he was very familiar with their traditions, but he’d silently decided that he wouldn’t share his thoughts unless she specifically asked for them. He’d vowed she would be his equal, and the Autumn Festival was meant to be her domain now.

“Is this event truly within the island’s budget?” Ursa questioned finally. “It sounds like a marvelous affair, but some of these touches strike me as inordinately expensive. I didn’t think swan doves were easily available on Shuhon Island, for instance.”

“They’re not, Princess. Governor Shiru plans to have them imported for the event and recaptured to return them after their display.”

Her brow furrowed, though not enough to break the mask of royalty. “Is that tradition?”

“It would be a new tradition. The governor thought it might be an auspicious way to mark Your Highness’s addition to the royal family.”

“I am honored by the governor’s respect. I wonder though, since this is a new tradition, is he certain that it would be healthy for the birds, or the island’s environment?”

The messenger blinked, clearly thrown by her question. “It’s only for a few days. Any effects would be minimal.”

A clear lie to try and pacify the princess. There was no way Shiru had considered protecting nature in his plans - it wasn’t the man’s style.

“Even so, importing and recapturing them sounds like a great expense.” Ursa didn’t sound convinced either. “Shuhon Island hasn’t requested any royal funds for this year’s celebration, so where is the money coming from for this new tradition?”

“Well…” The unfortunate messenger was clearly becoming more nervous as he realized the princess was not as enthralled by his island’s gesture as he’d hoped. “The governor was planning to levy a greater tax on street vendors to compensate for the difference.”

“I see. And am I correct in understanding that the swan dove display would only be for the enjoyment of royalty and noble guests on the island, not for the people at large?”

“Yes, Princess.”

Ursa’s eyes flashed with something that Iroh suspected was indignation, but her tone remained pleasantly neutral as she spoke. “I am touched that Governor Shiru wishes to celebrate my presence, but I unfortunately struggle to feel pleased by higher taxes or the potential mistreatment of the nation’s prized swan doves. If he wishes to proceed with an avian display, I would ask that he choose a bird that is native to Shuhon Island to do so and spend his tax money on a festival that is enjoyable for all his citizens.”

The messenger paled, but he nodded. “Of course. I will let him know.”

“Do you have anything to add, Prince Iroh?” Her eyebrows raised delicately as she turned to him.

“I think you spoke well for the both of us, Princess. Send Shiru my regards, and tell him I look forward to enjoying the island’s signature sun cakes again this year.”

“Of course, Your Highness.” The relief in the man’s voice was palpable; at least Iroh wasn’t adding onto the man’s unenviable task of telling Shiru that he’d displeased the new princess. 

“Thank you for presenting your island’s proposal so well.” Ursa’s voice was sincere. “Please, have a safe trip back. I’m excited to visit you all soon.”

As soon as the man was gone, leaving the two of them alone, Iroh turned to grin at his wife. “I think you scared him.”

“I didn’t mean to,” Ursa protested weakly, slouching a bit in her seat. “I’m just saddened by how many of these proposals involve extravagant animal performances for the nobility. Has it always been this way?”

“It’s been an increasing trend lately. Besides,” he reminded her, “you are a new princess and the new hostess of the Autumn Festival. They want to impress you by adding something unique to their usual celebrations.”

“I would be impressed by a simple celebration that everyone could enjoy.”

“I know that, but they don’t. Perhaps they’ll understand when they meet you, and next year will be different.”

“I hope so,” she sighed. “That was the last of them right? Shuhon Island?”

“Yes. And you hardly needed my opinions after the first few.”

“Well, I appreciate your help regardless.” Ursa smiled wanly. “I’m sure there are plenty of other things you could have been doing.”

“Only training with Ozai again. I can always beat him up some other time.” He tilted his head before adding, “Maybe when you’re available to watch. You might be a good luck charm.” 

It was a bit of a risky thing to say. He hadn’t minded his pretty audience during last week’s sparring match - if anything, she had motivated him to “show off,” as Ozai had put it - but she’d been embarrassed about it. Honestly, he didn’t see why; he knew he was powerful, and surely it was only natural for her to be curious about that power.

Thankfully, Ursa just laughed at his remark. “I don’t think I can take such credit. Haven’t you been training much longer than him?”

“Details,” Iroh waved her off, stretching out languidly in the chair. Listening to the proposals had taken a while, and he was feeling stiff. “What else do you have planned for today?” 

“Another calligraphy lesson, unfortunately, and perhaps a visit to the spa.” She ran her fingers through her hair, which had grown considerably past her shoulders since the wedding. Iroh caught himself admiring the way it seemed to fall back into place almost effortlessly and focused back on her face as she asked, “What about you?”

“I’ll probably just be in the library before dinner reading some dusty scroll,” he said with a self-deprecating smile. “Here, let me escort you to Safa; it’s on my way.” 

“Perhaps…” she paused as she accepted his hand, looking nervous, before continuing, “Perhaps I should visit your chambers tonight?”

It had been a few days since her previous visit, when they’d performed their spontaneous new vows to each other. Azulon hadn’t pressed the issue of ‘spending time together’ again, but Iroh knew it was best to keep up the act where they could. “That’s fine. Like I said, it’s your choice.”

“Alright.” Her voice lowered to a whisper as they exited the meeting room and entered the hallway lined with guards. “I might need your help with calligraphy again, depending on how this lesson goes.”

Iroh thought of the last lesson he’d given her, guiding her smooth, pale hand in its brushstrokes, carefully holding himself apart from her body so they weren’t pressed together as he instructed her. He didn’t mind the idea of doing it a second time.

“Of course. You’re my best student.”

The sound of her small laugh made him smile as well.

The large bath, sunken into the marble floor, was the perfect temperature, with just enough chrysanthemum to soothe Ursa’s stress without overwhelming her senses as she sank into it. Closing her eyes, she allowed the warm water to work its way into her muscles and loosen the stiffness from sitting through festival presentations all day. She’d never been so thankful for the royal spa’s amenities, especially as her arm still ached from calligraphy.

At least Iroh’s company had made the presentations more bearable. The looks they’d exchanged during the meetings, silently expressing disbelief or amusement at some of the proposals, had assured her she wasn’t alone in her opinions and helped her feel more confident about expressing them aloud. She didn’t know when they’d become capable of communicating with each other in that fashion, but she was thankful for it. It was nice, being able to look to her husband for support in the stiflingly formal palace. 

She was also thankful that she’d had the presence of mind to visit the spa before spending the night in his room again. Even though they’d slept separately last time as well, she felt very self-conscious as she recalled how close they’d gotten during that calligraphy lesson. Knowing she’d recently bathed and for sure smelled nice would help put her at ease if something like that happened tonight. 

Iroh always smelled nice, of course. He smelled just a little smoky, with a hint of something like a spicier sandalwood. Maybe it was a scent he’d painstakingly chosen for himself; he certainly hadn’t smelled like sandalwood after his sparring session last week, although the smoky smell had obviously been heightened from the firebending he’d been doing.

With a start, Ursa realized she was naked, in a bath, preparing for a night with Iroh, and thinking of his smell of all things. She sank lower into the water to mask the redness washing over her skin as she replayed the scene of him sparring with Ozai for what felt like the hundredth time. Her thoughts of Iroh seemed to be sliding in that direction rather frequently lately, which his little comment earlier hadn’t helped...

“Princess?” The sloshing sound had attracted the attention of the dutiful bath attendant, Selina, who poked her head around the door to the bath. “Is everything alright?” 

“Yes, thank you.” Ursa emerged out of the water enough to turn and smile at her. She couldn’t help feeling fond of Selina; the tall, willowy girl was one of the youngest attendants in the palace and clearly very nervous about her duties. Ursa could relate.

“Of course. I’m right here if you need anything else.” Selina bowed and made to leave the room again, but not before Ursa caught sight of something beneath the collar of her dress. 

“Wait,” she said with a small frown, “Did you hurt your neck recently?”

The girl froze, and a very familiar emotion flickered across her face before she schooled it back into careful servility. It might’ve worked on another royal, but Ursa knew what it was like to feel acute fear in front of a superior. “Oh, I must have burned myself while making dinner,” she said in a nonchalant voice.

“You burned your neck?”

“I can be very clumsy, Princess.” The words sounded hollow in Ursa’s ears; she wondered if they sounded any more convincing to Selina as she spoke them. “I apologize for raising your concern.”

“Selina,” Ursa softened her voice, knowing her next words would undoubtedly only scare the girl further, “please, close the door and come here.”

Predictably, Selina stiffened at the order but did as she was told, kneeling at the edge of the bath next to Ursa with her head bent. 

“I know you’re not telling the truth,” Ursa said. “I would like to know what really happened.”

Her arms went around herself protectively. “I…I can’t say.”

“Of course you can. You serve the royal family so well, you deserve to be able to speak openly with me about any problems you’re facing.” 

In reality, Ursa just wanted to make sure Selina was okay, regardless of how good of a bath attendant she was. She was so young, and she looked positively petrified now. But empathy was a language not very well-spoken in the palace, so Ursa had to extend hers to Selina through the confines of royal etiquette and hope for the best.

Selina, however, just shook her head even as tears brimmed in her eyes. Ordering her to tell the truth would undoubtedly only upset her more, but Ursa was unable to shake the suspicion that something awful had happened. 

“Just tell me this,” Ursa said finally, “did someone do this to you?”

 For a beat, the girl just sat there, poised like a swan dove in the moment before its dive. Then, she began to weep, and the truth came pouring out with her tears into the bath.

Ursa, cont.

She had been raped.

A fifteen-year-old orphan, who’d come to the palace with hopes of earning a steady living and a better life for her younger siblings, had found only the attentions of a lustful guard who refused to take no for an answer.

And it wasn’t just her, she sobbed to me as the bathwater cooled, but several girls like her: young, new, low-ranking, poor, whatever it was that made them desperate for the job. They all spent their nights harassed by off-duty guards, and more often than not, brutalized by them.

The guards were stronger than them, of course, and their captain didn’t care about the plight of some maids. If the girls said anything, the most that would happen was a slap on the wrist for the offending guards, and even worse retribution for their victims. At least, that was the story of the last one who’d tried to seek justice; about two months before I’d married Iroh, a young mother had attempted to lodge a complaint with the captain of the palace guards and ended up fleeing the capital with her son and a third-degree burn on her face.

I was infuriated, of course. What else could I be? The reality that girls like Selina, who worked so hard just for the opportunity to serve the royal family, were receiving only brazen assault for their efforts boiled my blood. No matter how low their rank, they deserved at least the bare minimum of respect and safety. My personal grief in the palace tamed in comparison.

Once I overcame my initial fit of rage, I couldn’t help but ask myself: how could Iroh, who’d chivalrously spared me on our wedding night, allow this much worse fate to befall other women?

Her hair was still damp as she exited the spa, and she hadn’t bothered applying a full face of makeup, but it hardly mattered. Not now, not with the fresh memory of Selina’s tears and the red, blistered skin marring the girl’s neck and collarbone suspiciously resembling the shape of a hand. She needed to talk to Iroh, needed to get help for Selina, needed to see in his face for herself if he knew-

If he knew-

Spirits, she would never be able to look at him the same way if it turned out he already knew.

Part of her had faith in her husband. It wasn’t just that he’d treated her well, but the fact that he seemed to be the favorite royal of most of the palace staff. Yuna wasn’t the only one who regarded her former charge as kind; the master teamaker Aisha practically doted on him, the librarians admired his mind, his personal manservants and guards shared a friendly rapport with him, even the stable hands who Ursa had only met once had freely narrated good-natured anecdotes of their time working with the crown prince.

Moreover, Tiron, the guard who’d hurt Selina, was not someone Iroh would necessarily know. She didn’t know the specifics about the others who’d been harassing attendants, but it sounded as if they were all patrolmen, not high up enough to actually interact with the royal family on a regular basis. That provided some comfort to her that maybe he genuinely wasn’t aware. He was kind to the staff, but he didn’t seem heavily involved with their personal lives.

But a complaint had been made to the captain of the palace guards only a few months ago. Could Iroh really not know about that incident, even if he didn’t realize the full scope of the problem?

As she approached the library, she truly hoped the answer was yes. 

“Master Qin,” she whispered to the elderly head librarian, “have you seen my husband?”

Qin peered over his spectacles at her, gray eyebrows drawing together as he considered her question. “He was indeed here earlier, pestering me for more records about Fire Lord Zoryu.” His eyes rolled fondly, a gesture few people could attempt; however, Qin had been one of Iroh’s first teachers, which afforded him a certain level of familiarity with the prince. “He left in a huff when I said he’d taken them all already. I believe he said something about the music chamber on his way out.”

Ursa hadn’t realized Fire Lord Zoryu was still on Iroh’s mind, nor that he spent any time in the palace’s music chamber. “Thank you, Master Qin.”

“Of course, Princess. Do remind him that I would like to have at least some of my scrolls back eventually. That study of his can’t possibly be big enough for all the ones he’s ‘borrowed.’”

Considering how well-stocked his shelves were, it wouldn’t surprise her to find out Iroh was indeed running out of space. With a nod and a smiling promise to relay the message, Ursa took her leave from the library. 

It was during her first tour of the palace that she’d paid her only visit to the music chamber. According to Yuna, the room had been lovingly furnished by Fire Lord Azulon for Lady Ilah shortly after their marriage, given that the women’s talent and passion for music had apparently caught Azulon’s interest. As a result, it was well-stocked with a variety of instruments, music scrolls, and comfortable playing spaces. 

The notion of Azulon of all men preparing such a chamber for his wife had felt incongruent with the image of the mighty Fire Lord; perhaps he’d been softer before Ilah’s untimely death. In any case, Ursa had been both too frightened of disturbing Ilah’s legacy and too grieved by the loss of Hira’a and its acting troupe to find any joy in music, so she hadn’t been back to the chamber since. Iroh’s interest in music was news to her; Yuna hadn’t mentioned it during the tour.

The song floating out of the chamber’s open doors slowed her urgent footsteps, the notes of a pipa capturing her attention. Even without any accompanying lyrics, the melody by itself was almost haunting in its slow, melancholy nature. Was it really Iroh playing? 

She hesitated as she approached, caught off guard by the music, before shaking herself out of it and stepping through the doors.

Sure enough, Iroh was seated on the couch by the room’s main window, gazing at the view while playing the pipa. As he started the song over, Ursa noted that he seemed to be plucking the notes rather absent-mindedly, like it was muscle memory. He turned at her entrance and smiled in greeting. “Why, if it isn’t my wife. Care to accompany me?”

Maybe some other time, since she found herself suddenly curious about his surprising talent, but not now. “I need to speak with you,” she said bluntly. “Immediately. Alone.”

His hands stilled on the instrument, abruptly cutting off the song. “Is something wrong?” he asked, a small frown forming over his previously calm expression. 

She nodded, the memory of Selina’s burn pricking at her eyes.

In an instant, he was off the couch, placing the pipa back in its holder and moving behind Ursa to order the guards to give them privacy before closing the chamber doors. 

“Tell me,” he said as he came face to face with her. “What is it? What can I do?”

His deep-set amber eyes were so intently focused, his square jaw set in a stubborn line that promised justice for whatever wrong she’d faced. But she wasn’t here on her own behalf this time.

“Do you know that palace guards have been raping attendants?” she asked, the harsh words nearly getting lost in the rage that threatened to close up her throat.

His lips parted slightly, eyes widening with shock. 

“At least four guards, from what I’ve learned,” Ursa said, purposefully speaking vaguely to protect Selina in case the conversation went south. “Low-ranking patrolmen, getting drunk during their evening breaks and using their firebending to coerce women.”

Iroh closed his eyes, adding another spike of anxiety to the emotions roaring inside her. Was this the part where he confessed he’d known, and that was just the way things were for women who weren’t princesses in the palace?

“Did you know?” she demanded.

“No!” The flames of the lamps around them suddenly leapt to thrice their height, threatening to scorch the walls as Iroh pinched the bridge of his nose. Ursa realized with a start that the lamps were responding to him - to the rawness in his voice - while he was trying to calm himself down. “No,” he repeated more steadily, lowering his hand and drawing in a shaky breath as the lamps settled down. His eyes blinked open, finding hers. “Of course not. Of course I didn’t know.”

The anguish in his gaze was too authentic for him to fake. Relief washed over her rage, softening it and directing it back at Tiron instead of her husband.

“You’re certain of this?” Iroh continued. “You have the names of the guards, their victims?”

“Only a couple. But I know it happened.”

“Then how do you want to proceed?” 

 She blinked, surprised at his question. There hadn’t been much of a plan in her mind beyond talking to Iroh, and she’d sort of assumed he would handle it once he knew. “I’m…not sure,” she admitted, folding her arms. “They need to be punished.”

“They do,” Iroh agreed. “Since you’re certain it happened, you have more than sufficient grounds for dismissal if you want.”

“If I want?” 

“Yes, you. You’re my wife, remember? Your word is good as mine, and my word is only second to my father’s. He doesn’t concern himself with matters of patrolmen, so this is really up to you.”

This wasn’t what she’d expected at all. She was used to feeling powerless in the palace, save for her small group of attendants. Disciplining the guards had seemed like it was firmly in Iroh’s domain, but here he was turning the matter over to her. Being his equal was more intimidating than she’d realized.

“I could look into this myself,” he suggested, noting her clear hesitation. “But I suspect I wouldn’t have as much luck as you collecting testimonials against the offending guards.”

Selina’s frightened face flashed in her mind again. There was no way she would discuss what had happened to her with Iroh, and Ursa couldn’t imagine the other victims were any braver after what had happened to the last one who’d spoken up.

The last one who’d spoken up…

“The captain of the palace guards is Zhou, right? How long has he held the position?” she asked.

“Almost a year.”

So he would have for sure been the one who’d failed to take the young mother’s complaint seriously. Her jaw tightened as she remembered what Selina had told her, how the poor woman’s face had been all but melted beyond recognition. There was no way Ursa could bring herself to speak to the man who’d indirectly caused that to happen and maintain her composure. Zhou had been perfectly polite in their few passing interactions, but she was a princess, not a maid.

“I would like you to ask Zhou about the complaint he received seven months ago from a woman named Lili, and why he didn’t pursue the matter further,” she said. Iroh commanded more respect from the guards than her, even if he insisted that they were equal now. “Maybe what his procedure is for dealing with those kinds of guards in his ranks. And in the meantime…I’ll find out the names of the other offenders.”

Iroh tilted his head. “You think Zhou is part of the problem?”

“He might be, if he’s not taking the women’s complaints seriously or protecting them from the guards’ retaliation.”

“Then I’ll make sure he starts doing those things. You have my word.”

Some of the anguish had left his eyes now, but they were still intense enough that Ursa felt the need to drop her gaze as she responded. “Thank you.”

He nodded and stepped back, drawing a hand over his face as he took another shaky breath. The flames of the lamps leapt up again, making Ursa jump slightly, but they subsided much more quickly this time.

“Rapists in the palace,” Iroh muttered to himself. “How could I not know…”

With the knowledge that he was just as surprised as her, and maybe even just as enraged, Ursa felt the sudden urge to reach out to him. “It’s not as if you were ignoring signs of it, right?”

He shrugged. “I’m aware that young people regardless of rank run around together in their spare time; that’s just the nature of things. Even I used to-” He cut himself off, color rising in his cheeks as faced away from her and her own blush. “I didn’t think anyone was being forced,” he continued, resolutely gazing at the window now. “You know I don’t condone such actions.”

Of course she knew, and she was grateful for it. “Well…you and your father don’t concern yourself with matters of the palace’s domestic staff,” she pointed out. “Especially not the lower-ranking ones, or the ones you don’t interact with often.”

“I suppose we don’t. It hasn’t traditionally been the duty of the Fire Lord or the crown prince. I know Yuna well of course, as well as the others like Qin who helped train me as a boy. I know my own guards and my personal manservants, and I know Aisha and a handful of the older chefs. Beyond that, many of them sort of blend together.” He scratched his jaw, an uncharacteristically informal gesture that drew her eyes to his five-o-clock shadow. “It might not be a great system, if this is what it leads to.”

She pursed her lips, not sure how to advise him further. 

“There’s not much I can do today, I suppose,” he said, not waiting for her to respond. He plucked the pipa out of its holder again and moved back towards the window couch. “Could I interest you in a song? It usually helps me relax.”

The idea of relaxation while Selina and who knew how many other women were likely trembling with fear as evening approached chafed at Ursa, but on the other hand, Iroh was right. There wasn’t anything she could do in the next hour besides fire Tiron, which might only invite retaliation against Selina if Iroh didn’t order Zhou to protect women like her first.

“I didn’t know you played,” Ursa said.

“I do, although I don’t play very expertly or frequently. I’ve learned the pipa, the flute and the tsungi horn.” He roughly ran his fingers over the pipa’s handle, producing a very unmusical twang. “My mother was something of a musician, as I’m sure you’ve heard.”

She sat on the other end of the spacious couch, trying not to think about the smoky sandalwood aroma that had teased her mind during her bath. “The song you were playing when I came in sounded very nice.”

“Thank you. She taught me that one.” He played a few warmup notes. “Here’s one that you might know.”

She didn’t think there could be much overlap between her music taste and a prince’s, but as he began playing, she realized she was sorely mistaken.

“I do know this one!” Her excitement bled into her voice; it wasn’t often she recognized something in the palace right away. “It’s…The Candle’s Lament,” she forced herself to say more calmly, feeling herself blush at the way he smiled at her reaction. 

“Indeed it is, although I’m afraid I only know the first verse from memory.”

“May I?” She held her hands out for the instrument.

“By all means.” 

It felt like a lifetime since she’d last held a pipa. The memories came back right away as he passed it to her. This was a much finer instrument than any she’d handled in Hira’a, but she instinctively knew playing it would be the same. Her hands found their positions quickly, fingers pressing against the strings like it had only been a few hours since her last rehearsal instead of a few weeks.

Iroh had successfully played through the first verse, so she picked up the song from the chorus, the familiar sensation of string vibrating under her touch bringing a smile to her lips. The Candle’s Lament was a popular folk song, narrating the sorrow of a candle aching to someday see the sun in all its glory instead of being extinguished and put away each morning. The music played a large role in stoking the listener’s empathy for the unfortunate candle, which would have otherwise been a ludicrous protagonist.

How unimaginable it must be 

An incomparable sight to see:

This sun that they speak of

Hanging in a sky above!

Is a sky brown like my roof?

Is a sun yellow like me too?

Or is it not for me to know

In the dark where I shed my glow…

“You have a wonderful voice,” Iroh said, drawing her out of her thoughts. She’d gotten absorbed enough in the song to sing softly to herself, the same way she would when practicing at home.

“Thank you,” she said quickly, stumbling over a few notes in her embarrassment. 

“I didn’t realize you were so skilled,” he said. “You could have anything you like put in this room if it would make it more enjoyable for you. It’s not as if anyone else makes use of this space; I’m really the only one who comes in here.”

Her playing slowed. “The room is perfectly lovely. It’s more about…memories, for me, that keep me from spending time here.”

Iroh’s gaze didn’t waver, but something softened in it. “I can understand that.”

Did the image of his mother haunt this room for him? Another wrong note twanged through the air, and she frowned slightly as she looked down at the pipa. “I’m afraid I’m out of practice.”

“Nonsense. You might be better than me.”

She blushed at the compliment, unable to bring herself to meet his eyes. “Where did you learn this song? I didn’t think the capital cared for folk music.”

“The capital doesn’t, but Mother did. She always wanted to see local music performances when she traveled for the Autumn Festival, and obviously the governors went out of their way to accommodate the Fire Lady. I slept through quite a few of them,” he confessed with a smile, “but this was one I liked.”

“You liked this tragedy as a boy?” Pointedly, she raised an eyebrow at him.

“It’s poetic,” Iroh defended himself, “and it’s not really a tragedy. The candle sees the sun in the end.”

“Only after it melts away and is tossed out of its home.” 

“We all face death eventually. Isn’t it nice to think that we might see our greatest wish come to pass first?”

“Does it matter that the wish was granted if you have no time to bask in the happiness of it?” 

“I think it depends on the person. For the candle, no, it would have been just as happy if it had seen the sun well before it melted. For you and I, we probably have loftier wishes than just hoping for a glimpse of the sky.”

“We probably do,” she conceded, wondering to herself what Iroh’s wish might be. “But I still think the candle would have enjoyed its life more if its curiosity had been satisfied sooner, rather than pining endlessly.”

He tilted his head at that. “Perhaps you should insert yourself into discussion at dinner more often. I’d prefer to hear what you have to say over Ozai’s asinine views on military maneuvers for the thousandth time.”

“I’ll…consider it.” Whenever the princes got into an intense debate at dinner, Ursa typically elected to make herself as small as possible and hope no one asked for her opinion. All the harried instruction she was receiving couldn’t match the lifetime of expertise that her new family boasted, something that she was desperately trying to hide.

“I hope so.” He stood and stretched. “I’ll freshen up and see you at dinner, then. Do you still plan to spend the night in my room?”

“Yes.” She had gone to the effort of bathing, after all.

“Maybe you can tell me how I’m misunderstanding another fable there.” There was a twinkle in Iroh’s eye, like he enjoyed her disagreeing with him. “I hope you find some enjoyment in the music chamber eventually. I like having someone to play with again.”

“Well…I like playing again,” she admitted. “I might stay and practice until dinner, at least.”

“Good. Between you and me, we’ll have a small band going soon.”

She laughed at that. Iroh grinned, looking rather pleased, before turning on his heel and pushing open the doors to the chamber.

“Think of a band name!” he called as he left, prompting her to giggle quietly to herself as she looked back at the pipa. It felt wrong to leave The Candle’s Lament unfinished, even if they had rather different views on the ending. 

A bit grateful to be alone, she closed her eyes and allowed herself to simply feel the music. Since she was out of practice, the calluses on her fingers had gotten a bit smoothed down, but this was a fine enough instrument that the strings didn’t hurt terribly. The wood was smooth in her hand, catching each reverberation of the song. With the doors open, she pursed her lips, not wanting to be overheard singing aloud again. It was one thing to perform onstage; it was quite another to be caught rehearsing. 

Now that I’ve shed my glow…

The last notes seemed to hang in the air for a moment, savoring the bittersweet finale of the song. Ursa smiled as she opened her eyes. The satisfying feeling of ending with such a flourish was difficult to find elsewhere.

“Beautiful.” Azulon’s voice cut into her little blissful moment. She jumped up, fumbling with the pipa to avoid dropping it before bowing clumsily to the Fire Lord standing in the doorway. “Be at ease, child. I was simply curious about who was playing, considering I’d just passed Iroh in the hallway, and Ozai doesn’t possess enough musical talent to find the right end of a tsungi horn.”

Ursa straightened up, still gripping the pipa a bit too tightly. The last time she’d been alone with the Fire Lord like this was before her wedding, which wasn’t a pleasant memory.

“Did you hear me speak, Princess Ursa?” Azulon raised his eyebrows.

Speak when spoken to. “Of course, my lord. I was simply taken aback by your praise for my skill, which is so small compared to that of Lady Ilah and Prince Iroh.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, now. The Candle’s Lament is a difficult one to play well. Ilah always hated when subpar musicians attempted to perform it,” Azulon shook his head. “My ear is not as refined as hers, but I believe she might have enjoyed your rendition too.”

Any comparison to his wife always set Ursa on edge. On one hand, it seemed to indicate that she’d pleased him in some way. On the other, she wasn’t sure she wanted her father-in-law thinking of her in the same vein as his wife, considering the way he’d spoken to her before the wedding. At least his eyes didn’t linger on her these days. “Thank you, my lord. That’s very touching to hear.”

“It would please her to know someone is accompanying Iroh in this lonely chamber. He loved to sit at her feet and listen to her play.” Azulon’s gaze swept over the room nostalgically, leaving his silent request in the air.

“Well, now I quite enjoy listening to him play,” she said, channeling the sweetness of a new wife gushing over her husband - not that she had to try very hard, surprisingly. “Although I don’t know if he would say the same of me.”

“If he cared enough to close the doors of this chamber instead of letting its music sound through the palace, I’m sure he values your company in some form.”

Belatedly, Ursa realized that the image of a newlywed couple demanding privacy before shutting themselves into a room had likely left very different implications in the minds of the guards outside, who’d no doubt relayed what they’d seen to the Fire Lord. The blush that rose to her cheeks was no act. “I hope so, my lord. I value his too.”

“As you should.” Azulon offered her a small smile. “Newlywed bliss only comes once in a lifetime. Enjoy it.”

He left her to contemplate that sentiment with a still-warm face and a too-fast heartbeat, Iroh’s smile and the brush of his hand against hers as he’d passed her the pipa flitting through her mind.

Iroh had lied to his wife, which was not something that was easy or comfortable for him to do.

To be fair, though, it was a white lie that was really serving to help fulfill the first promise he’d made to her about finding who’d poisoned her and bringing him to justice. He’d been putting that promise off long enough, after all, since talking to Ozai about what he’d allegedly done at the wedding was going to be awkward at best and downright violent at worst.

After what Ursa had said though…

“Do you know that palace guards have been raping attendants?”

It had been like a bucket of cold water dumped right over his head. He clearly didn’t know enough about what was going on in the palace if such atrocities could take place freely; first, his wife being poisoned, and now, the guards getting drunk and assaulting women. He had every intention of talking to Captain Zhou and making sure the offenders were disciplined, as he’d promised Ursa, but he had to handle Ozai first. Purging the rotten fruits was going to be difficult if it turned out his brother was one of them.

That was why, instead of freshening up before dinner like he’d told his wife, he went to the training room where Ozai was busy apparently trying to beat his record for number of dummies burned in a single session. If this talk was going to lead to a fight, Iroh would rather battle in an arena designed for it rather than almost burn down the dining room yet again.

The instructor, a new replacement for the last one Ozai had fired, bowed his way out of the room at Iroh’s quick dismissal. Ozai turned on Iroh with fiery eyes, clearly already worked up from training and irritated at being interrupted, but Iroh had enough of his own indignation to match.

A fire knife formed at Ozai’s fingertips and flew at Iroh’s face. He blocked it firmly, wrenching Ozai’s forearm down and twisting it over so the boy was pushed onto one knee unless he wanted a dislocated joint. 

“I know what you did,” Iroh said, trying to keep his face and voice impassive. “You poisoned Ursa.”

Something flickered across Ozai’s expression before he aimed a kick at Iroh’s leg. Iroh released him and jumped back. 

“At the wedding,” Iroh continued. “You dosed the sencha tea. You fired the serving girls who saw you do it the next morning.”

Fire lashes formed in each of Ozai’s hands and slashed at Iroh. He dispelled them with a wave, frowning at his brother’s lack of response.

“You sent her into a coma. You could have killed her.”

Ozai took a few steps back, his face twisting. For a fleeting moment, Iroh thought he was going to run away. Then, he launched off the wall behind him and leapt into the air, trying to bring a fire bomb down on Iroh. It would’ve been an impressive move if it weren’t so obvious. Iroh met him easily, raising both arms to block the bulk of the flames and redirect them to the sides before lunging forward and grabbing Ozai in a headlock. Sometimes, resorting to simple force was the best way to get through to his younger brother.

“What is the matter with you?” Iroh finally allowed his voice to rise as Ozai struggled in his grip. “Say something!”

“I didn’t mean to!” Ozai burst out, voice cracking. “I swear, I swear I didn’t!”

Hot tears dripped onto Iroh’s hand.

“Please, don’t tell Dad,” he continued pathetically. “I don’t want- I don’t want the box again.”

The mention of the box slackened Iroh’s grip. He let Ozai stumble away. “What do you mean you didn’t mean to?” he pressed. “How could it have been an accident?”

 “It was supposed to be your tea.”

“So you wanted me poisoned instead?” Iroh lurched towards him.

“No, no!” Ozai shrank away, rubbing at his eyes. “It was Red Ash, Iroh. It was just supposed to- just meant to make you look dumb, that’s all.”

Iroh frowned. “What are you doing walking around with Red Ash in your pockets?”

“I wanted to try a little on myself, and I had it on me and I thought-”

“Is this why you’ve been in such a terrible mood lately? Why your bending’s been erratic?”

“Probably, but-”

“You know the risks-”

“I’m not going to do it anymore after this batch runs out, okay?” Ozai burst out. “I just wanted to use it for a while and see if it would make me better.”

“And you wanted to see if it would make me, what? Sneeze fire? Fart smoke? Embarrass myself in front of every person of note in the country?”

Ozai muttered a vague something like that under his breath.  

Spirits, his brother could be bone headed, but this had to be one of the worst miscalculations he’d made. “Do you realize what you’ve done? Father is convinced there was an assassin at the wedding. If he finds out it was just one of your pranks gone wrong-”

“He can’t,” Ozai froze up again. “Iroh, please, he can’t find out. You know what he’ll do-”

“And do you think you don’t deserve it? After you saw how ill she became, and you said nothing to guide the physicians trying to heal her, did nothing but protect your own skin?”

It was a harsh thing to say. Ozai peered down at his feet. His hair had fallen loose while in the headlock; between that and the sheer anguish highlighting the lingering babyishness of his face, Iroh received a sharp reminder that he was only fourteen and rightfully terrified of their father’s anger.

“How would you atone for this?” Iroh asked with a sigh.

A wild hope emerged in Ozai’s eyes as he looked back up. “I don’t know. I’ll- I’ll be her personal bodyguard for a mon- a year. I’ll muck out the stables. I’ll- massage your feet? Whatever- just, anything, just don’t tell Dad.”

“You realize I’m going to hold this over you for the rest of your life?”

Ozai nodded.

“And it’s not me who’s going to decide this,” Iroh continued, “but Ursa. She’s the one you hurt.”

“Is she- do you think she’s going to tell Dad?” 

“That’s up to you. I want you to apologize to her in the next twenty-four hours. You’re going to be honest, and be sincere, and answer all her questions.”

“Yeah, sure, I can do that. Yeah.” Ozai’s head bobbed up and down nervously again.

“If she decides she’s fine with not telling Dad after that, I will be too. If she doesn’t…I think her opinion matters more than mine in this case.”

Another wince made its way across Ozai’s expression, but he stayed silent. Iroh didn’t need him to speak to know how much he hated his fate being in the hands of a village girl instead of his crown prince older brother.

“And if you don’t apologize in twenty-four hours, I’m telling Dad,” Iroh said with finality. “You’ve gotten away with this long enough.”

“I know,” Ozai said. “I didn’t mean to.” He wrung his hands. “Do you think I could talk to her after dinner tonight?”

“She’s going to be with me tonight, and I’d rather not have my brother interrupting that.” A small lie, since the most they would be doing together was likely practice calligraphy again, but he’d prefer to let Ozai stew in his anxiety a bit longer.

“Right, yeah, of course.” He rubbed the back of his head awkwardly. “I guess…yeah, I’ll talk to her tomorrow. I’ll figure it out.”

“You better.” 

Iroh didn’t know if he would actually tell his father if Ozai failed to meet the deadline. Ozai had been foolish, but not malicious. He wasn’t sure it merited the mighty Fire Lord’s harsh sense of discipline, or his penchant for sending Ozai to that blasted box. Still, pressure was the only way he knew of to coax some decent behavior out of his brother. 

“Fix yourself before dinner,” he added, noting Ozai’s eyes were still red. “That fire bomb was good, if you didn’t make it obvious that was your plan from a mile away. Try to maintain power while tightening up your arms.”

Ozai nodded, mouthing Iroh’s words to himself as he moved his arms inward to mimic the motion of a narrower fire bomb. “Thanks. Really.”

“Don’t thank me yet.” He turned to leave, thinking that he might actually need to freshen up now that he’d gotten all heated wrestling his brother. 

“Hey, if she accepts my apology…what are you going to tell Dad?”

It was a good question. “Like I said, don’t thank me yet.”

Iroh, cont.

History may denounce me for the way I chose to handle Ozai in this instance, and I can certainly understand why. But I beseech you, reader, to keep in mind that he was barely more than a boy at this time; a boy whom I still worry I failed by not protecting him enough from our father. I did not predict the extent to which his future would be shaped by the glimpses of his troubled mind I was only just beginning to see. 

Ursa fell asleep very quickly that night, just as exhausted as I was by the revelations the day had brought. She slowly sipped at the cup of tea I’d brewed - jasmine, if I remember correctly - while we further discussed the themes of The Candle’s Lament and other folktales we each knew, until it became evident she was having trouble keeping her eyes open. Chrysanthemum clung to her from her bath, a calming scent, and it made me wonder if I was doing enough to alleviate the stress the palace was putting on her. I’d viewed it as my duty to care for her as my wife - how could I do that when there was so much happening, from Ozai to the guards, that I was unaware of? 

As we both would come to learn, I couldn’t.

Chapter Text

When her marriage to Iroh had been arranged, she had assumed she would never act again, except in her lifetime role as Princess-and-future-Fire-Lady Ursa. Despite the unfortunate circumstances that had brought about this impromptu performance, she couldn’t help feeling a bit thankful to shed that character and assume another one.

The cover of the evening light and the simple robes she’d procured from Rei helped obscure her identity, as did the fact that most of the scullery maids had never seen the new princess up close, let alone without makeup or carefully styled hair. It wasn’t hard to relax her elegant bearing and slide her voice into a rougher register to further add to the disguise.

“Excuse me,” she greeted a maid chewing a mint leaf in the kitchen courtyard, presumably on a break, “I’m new here. Could you point me to the servants’ bathhouse?”

The maid looked worried in response, as Ursa had predicted she would. “At this hour? I wouldn’t risk it.”

“Why not?” 

“You’re new, you said?” Ursa nodded, and the maid lowered her voice. “Some guards around here…they like to drink and linger near that bathhouse when they’re off for the evening. Trust me, you’re safer waiting until morning if you can.”

“Oh,” Ursa reacted with false surprise. Selina had already told her as much, but it was good to corroborate her evidence. “Couldn’t we go together?” she asked, feigning naivety.

“What, so they can get both of us?” She shook her head, a frown further dragging down her tired face. “Ten of us could go; it wouldn’t make a difference against their firebending.”

Ursa made a show of eying the nearby guard nervously. It wasn’t much of an act; he wore the uniform of a lower-ranked patrolman, meaning there was a chance he was one of the offenders. “Do you know…who I should try to avoid, then?”

The maid smiled at her wryly. “You’re pretty, new girl. I don’t know how much avoiding you can do.” When Ursa refused to drop her pleading gaze, she relented. “There’s this real short one named Keema that can be nasty: he’s not around often, but when he is, he’s a miserable drunk that takes it out on us. Another is a wiry guy who’s got a circle scar above his eyebrow and likes grabbing asses; sounds harmless, but he likes to make it hurt. The other guards call him Bullseye. That one over there,” she jerked her head at the guard Ursa had been eying, “is actually decent. I don’t think he’s even on duty right now. He just hangs out here in the evenings and tries to keep some of his fellow guards away. They used to come all the way to the courtyard to holler at us before. At least now they stick by the bathhouse, most of the time.”

Ursa looked at him more openly now. His face was obscured by his helmet, but he seemed to be quite young. Their eyes met briefly, and he nodded at her once before turning away.

“Do you know his name?”

“No. He’s quiet, but very polite. The others kind of vary depending on what day it is and how drunk they are.” The maid toyed with the good luck talisman around her neck, seemingly trying to remember. “One of them would like you a lot, I think. He likes the young ones,” she shuddered. “Don’t know his name, but he’s got red hair. The only guard I know who does. Give him a wide berth.”

The red hair matched Selina’s description of Tiron. The added detail of his preference for young girls made Ursa skin crawl as she replied. “Okay. Thank you. What’s your name, by the way?”

“I’m Tana. You?”

“Rin. Nice to meet you.” She hesitated, not sure how to phrase the next question. “How do you…know all this, Tana?”

Her hard gaze focused on Ursa, and for a moment she worried that she’d said something too out of character. Tana was definitely older than her, maybe in her late twenties, but her eyes reminded her more of her mother’s. 

“I’ve been at the palace for nearly a decade,” she said finally. “It was fine until a new captain took over the guards last year. The old one never let them drink on palace grounds, and he knew how to handle Keema’s temper.”

Keema and Tana. Ursa memorized the names, the guard and his victim, adding it to her list alongside Tiron and Selina. 

“I wouldn’t go asking too many questions like this in earshot of the guards,” Tana said, stretching as she prepared to end her break. “You’re lucky that one happens to be decent. The others don’t like it when we warn the new girls. The surprise is part of their fun.” Derision dripped from her voice. Ursa desperately wanted to throw off her disguise and promise her that this would be fixed.

“Can’t we tell someone?” she asked instead, channeling the empty hope of a newcomer to the palace. It wasn’t entirely an act.

“Who? New captain doesn’t care, thinks it’s a normal way for them to blow off steam. Anyone higher up than him is too important for us. You think the Fire Lord is bothered that his dishwashers can’t use the toilet in peace after sundown?” She gestured at herself. “The money here’s good, Rin. The women are good. Just don’t go wandering around by yourself if you can help it, especially at night. And tone it down on the questions.”

Tana returned to the kitchens without looking back, shoulders set firmly. She seemed brave, Ursa thought, and practical. In her position, that was really the only way to be.

Out of the corner of her eye, she registered the decent guard still keeping a watch on her. She turned and met his gaze again, smiling to show her gratitude for what he was doing, before following Tana inside. 

As the sun slowly sank towards the horizon, Ursa flitted through the kitchens, eavesdropping on conversations and inserting small questions as the staff bustled in preparation for the night’s royal dinner. Quite a few women blanched in fear when she innocently mentioned “a redheaded guard who’d been leering at her since she arrived,” one of them naming him as Tiron. A serving girl who was apparently friends with Selina repeated the story of what he’d done to her. 

“He’s a monster,” the girl whispered. “He gets off on our fear.”

One of the cooks shushed her and rushed her away before she could say more. Ursa swallowed down the lump in her throat, moving to chop onions next to a different group of girls and ask them the same questions all over again. More names added themselves to her list, more accusations for her to look into on another day. 

“I think tonight’s Keema’s night off, be careful…”

“Has anyone seen Meena? She had to go to the bathhouse earlier because she started bleeding, and it’s getting dark, I’m so worried…”

“Terumo’s in the sake already, you know what he did last time…”

“It won’t happen again, just stay inside.”

“Should we go looking for Meena?”

“It’s too late. Stay inside, we’ll check on her tomorrow.”

 It was so much , the noise and smells of the kitchen combined with the new, horrifying information swirling in her mind . Her head began to spin.

Stay inside, stay inside.

“New girl, you okay?”

It took Ursa a moment to remember the character she was playing. “Yeah, just need a quick break,” she replied, carefully releasing the knife in her shaky hand. “Be right back.”

Stay inside, stay inside.

Screw the advice: she couldn’t bear to be in there any longer. In an instant, she was stumbling out into the courtyard for fresh air.

Her stomach rumbled, a combination of stress and hunger. Ursa realized with a shock she was fighting back tears as she placed a hand over her mouth. Some of those girls were so young…

“Are you all right?”

It was a guard asking after her, the same one from earlier. She wiped her eyes as she responded, “I’m fine, thank you.”

His face was harder to see in the dying rays of the sun, not that she’d gotten a great look at it earlier, but the small smile gracing it was pleasant. “Busy day in the kitchens?”

“Something like that.”

“There’s a little copse not too far away that provides some quiet when the noise of the palace gets overwhelming.” He pointed. “I’ve used it myself many times. I could show you?” 

Getting to know him better might help Ursa’s mission, especially if he could tell her more about his fellow guards. “That would be nice.”

He offered his arm, albeit in a clumsier fashion than Iroh, and she tried to accept it in more of a servant girl’s grace than a princess.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you before,” he said as the noise of the kitchen died out behind them. “Are you new to the palace?”

“Yes, I just started today.”

“Explains why you needed a break, I imagine.”

She laughed. “Yes, it feels like a lot.”

The sun was almost completely gone now. Ursa knew she would have to return to the palace soon if she didn’t want to be late for dinner. Hopefully, this could be a quick conversation in the privacy of the trees, and Iroh would likely have the decency to cover for her if she was too delayed.

“What’s your name?” he asked, lowering his arm as they reached the cover of the copse.

“Rin.”

“A lovely name for a lovely lady.” He saluted and bowed chivalrously. “I’m Tiron.”

Fear shot through her, as cold and sharp as she imagined lightning was. The helmet obscured his hair, and she’d foolishly allowed him to take her away from the safety of the courtyard under the mistaken assumption that he was the same guard as before. Her eyes flickered over her surroundings and found no one else; she was alone with him. 

“I must say, you have beautiful hair.” He reached up and ran his hand through it, settling his grip on her elbow as he finished. 

Bile rose in her throat. “Thank you,” she managed to stammer out. “This is nice, but I should probably be going-”

“They have you working so hard on your first day?” he asked, that smile seeming much toothier than before in the shadows of the woods.

“It’s an honor to serve the royal family,” she said weakly. 

“Indeed.” His grip on her elbow hadn’t loosened.

“Please let go of me,” she whispered, not sure what else to do.

“Why? I won’t burn you unless you make me.”

“Please, I’m- I’m married.”

“Then your husband should have loved you enough to not send you around soldiers by yourself.”

Soldiers, her ass. He was a patrolman who exerted his power over helpless girls. Right now, though, Ursa was clearly one of those girls.

“You don’t know what you’re doing,” she told him, playing her last, most desperate Pai Sho tile. “I’m not actually a maid. Let me go now, and this doesn’t have to end terribly for you.”

“Oh? And who are you, if not Rin the new maid?”

“I’m Princess Ursa,” she said, jutting her chin out stubbornly and allowing her spine to grow tall and straight again despite the terror rattling through her. “Wife to Crown Prince Iroh and future Fire Lady. Release me at once, if you know what’s good for you.”

Considering she was dressed in a maid’s uniform, she thought she’d done well delivering her title. Her hopes were dashed as he laughed. “That’s a new one,” he said. “You’re pretty, little Rin, but not pretty enough to be a princess.”

“Iroh will have your head,” she whispered, fear stealing away her voice as it became clear her options were running out.

“I’m sure he cares very much about what a patrolman and a maid get up to in the woods.” Tiron moved towards her, attempting to back her up against a tree as his other arm went for the tie of her dress. 

A wild, desperate instinct kicked in. Her leg flew up into his groin and then out at his knee. He buckled just enough for her to snatch her elbow out of his grasp; a short-lived victory, though, as his other hand grabbed her arm and wrenched it up painfully between her shoulderblades. She opened her mouth and screamed, the only course of action she had left, and even that was cut off too soon as he shoved her face first into the tree.

“Feisty bitch,” he swore. “No one’s taught you your place, huh?”

His thumb pressed into the groove between neck and collarbone - the same place Selina had been burned, she recalled dread - and ground down brutally. His body pushed up against her back, trapping her between him and the tree as the hand on her exposed skin went from warm to uncomfortably hot in a matter of seconds. 

“Guard!” A sharp voice cut into Ursa’s plight. Tiron suddenly released her. As she sank to the ground, her shoulder screaming with pain, she realized he was doing something very similar next to her in the dirt.

“My prince,” he said, bowing deeply, “how may I serve you?”

A prince had indeed arrived, but not hers.

“You can start by groveling at Princess Ursa’s feet,” Ozai said sharply, drawing towards Ursa and offering her a hand.

She allowed Ozai to help her up, still too dazed to say much or even question how he had suddenly come to her aid. The burning sensation across her neck and collarbone refused to abate, and her healer mind reminded her that she needed some cold water soon.

“Princess Ursa,” Tiron pressed himself even further into his kowtow. “A thousand apologies for my conduct. I am ashamed by my poor behavior this evening and will strive to do better by my station.”

“Is that the best you can do?” Ozai snapped. “You burned a princess of the Fire Nation, and I’m not a fool to miss what your other intentions were.” He released Ursa and towered over Tiron. “Better men than you have lost their lives for lesser crimes against a royal person.”

“I- I’m sorry,” the guard managed. “Truly. I should’ve known better. I’m worthless.”

Ozai just snorted derisively. “Sister, what would you have done to him?”

The new title of ‘sister’ startled her into looking at her brother-in-law curiously. His question very much reminded her of her conversation with Iroh the previous night, but the royal rage was all Azulon. He met her gaze with a frown, clearly waiting for an answer.

“Dismissed from service,” she said. “And…I’ll decide the rest later.”

Tiron just nodded stiffly. 

“The princess is generous to you,” Ozai said. “Her husband might just consign you to the Boiling Rock.” He turned to address someone behind him. “You: good job coming to get me. Have your former comrade taken to the capital prison, and go inform Captain Zhou and Prince Iroh of what’s transpired.”

A figure stepped forward with a lamp, and as Ursa peered around Ozai, the decent guard’s face came into view. He nodded at her in his reserved, polite fashion. She couldn’t believe she’d mistaken Tiron for him, even in the dark. 

“I remember you,” she said to the guard. “What’s your name?”

“Jeong Jeong, Princess.”

“Jeong Jeong, thank you for fetching Prince Ozai. I appreciate your quick thinking.”

“Of course. I’m…familiar with Tiron’s ways.”

“Could you do me one more favor? Look for a woman named Meena, and make sure she’s safe. She might be near the bathhouse.”

Jeong Jeong’s jaw tightened as he nodded and led Tiron away. She needed to have a longer conversation with him later, but not right now, when the world still felt hazy and her head spun. The last of the adrenaline left her body and she slumped against a tree. 

Ozai glanced at her with alarm. “Are you going to pass out again?”

“No,” she said, “that’s not something that happens to me often. I just need to rest.”

He lit a fire in his hand and examined her burn with guarded eyes. “Your injuries are mild. You should heal quickly.”

Given he’d likely sustained similar burns in his firebending training, Ursa was inclined to agree with him. It was good to corroborate a self-diagnosis with a second opinion.

“I’ll take you inside in a moment, Sister,” he continued. “Unfortunately, I…have to speak to you about something a bit private. I’d like to do it now, if you don’t mind.”

Ozai was still not much more than an acquaintance to her, and his request highlighted that. She’d seen him shrinking before his father’s admonishments, attempting to match wits and fists with his brother, rolling his eyes endlessly as teenagers did at many of her comments. This deference, a behavior which Ozai typically only reserved for when he accidentally aroused the Fire Lord’s ire too much at dinner, unnerved her. But she hesitated to turn him down when he’d just saved her, not to mention that he was her only assistance under the cover of the now-dark trees.

“Please, tell me what it is.”

The firelight caught his nervous swallow. “When you fell ill at your wedding dinner…that was my fault.”

Memories of the nausea that had washed over her and dragged her into unconsciousness made her reel back. What would he do to her now that he had her alone?

“It’s not what you think,” he pleaded as he accurately read the sudden tension in her form. “I didn’t mean to do anything to you. It was supposed to be a way to get back at my brother. I put something in his drink to make him lose control of his bending for a moment and look foolish because I was upset with him about a spat we’d had before the ceremony. Nonbenders aren’t meant to take it, so when your cups got switched…” He spread his hands in a helpless shrug.

Ursa had never heard of such a substance, but then again, there was a lot in the capital that was foreign to her. “What exactly did you put in his drink?”

“It’s called Red Ash. In small doses, it can be used to stimulate energy flow in firebenders and allow us to produce more powerful blasts. In large doses, it threatens to disrupt your control of your bending and your chi itself, which is what happened to you since the drug didn’t find any fire in you to stimulate. You can ask Iroh about it,” Ozai added. “He knows what it is.”

If he was lying, it was a detailed story. “Why are you telling me this now?” she whispered, head feeling heavy. “It’s been weeks since the wedding.”

“In all honesty, Sister…I’m doing it to beg for your mercy.”

Before her eyes, the proud prince who’d derisively called her a “village girl” in their very first conversation, got to his knees and pressed his forehead into the dirt, looking not unlike Tiron a few moments before.

“I’m desperately sorry for what I did to you,” he said. “I never meant to hurt an innocent woman. Instead of doing the right thing and speaking up when I saw the consequences of my actions, I stayed quiet to protect my own skin. Even now, I’m a coward who’s only here because Iroh found out the truth and forced me into owning up for my mistakes.” He peered up at her, face looking a bit dusty. “My brother greatly values your opinion. I believe he intends to leave my fate in your hands. Whatever happens to me now - whether you tell my father, or have me sent to a prison cell right alongside that bastard guard - is up to you. And…Sister, I will take any punishment you dole out to me, but I’m hoping you can find it in your heart to please not tell my father.”

His voice cracked in a very adolescent fashion while his golden eyes shone brightly. Although his gaze was not much like Iroh’s warm one, she still felt for him. Ozai was a boy who’d done a foolish thing and was now scrambling to fix it before his father noticed; she could hardly blame him for fearing Azulon, not when she felt the same way.

“What did you and Iroh fight about?” she asked, unable to help wondering about the argument that had sparked this whole affair.

Ozai looked back down, shame crawling over his face. “I said some crass things about you and your origins. He struck back. I was wrong to speak of a future princess that way, of course, but I was still angry when he ordered me to fetch him tea during the wedding and reacted poorly.”

It was so childish, it felt ridiculous to consider bringing Azulon into it. After all, Ursa was all better now, and Ozai hadn’t harmed her since. 

“I’ll consider keeping this between us,” she said finally, weary. “Brothers fight. But either way, I hope you’ll make sure I stay well out of any of your quarrels with my husband in the future.”

Ozai got to his feet. “Of course, Sister. Thank you.”

“You don’t have to keep calling me Sister.”

“Yeah, but I want to make up for being such a wretch to you for the past couple months.” He held an arm out to her, smiling wryly now that some of the fear had left him. She couldn’t remember ever seeing him look so friendly. “Let me escort you back to your chamber to recover. Iroh’ll be looking for you soon.”

The captain’s office had changed significantly since Jinpa’s retirement the previous year. Iroh eyed the showy, heavily jeweled decorative swords on the wall behind Zhou’s desk with mild irritation. Rank didn’t necessarily equal good taste. He missed the careful display of landscape paintings. 

“Prince Iroh,” the captain arose from his seat and bowed at the waist. “To what do I owe this honor?”

Zhou was a bit of a stranger. His predecessor Jinpa had been a mentor to Iroh, having served as captain since before Iroh was born and helping to train both him and Ozai into formidable fighters. Now that the princes were mostly grown, Zhou held no such role, and Iroh had been too saddened by Jinpa’s departure from royal service after the birth of his grandchildren to bother bonding with his replacement.

“A long overdue visit,” Iroh said evenly. “With my recent marriage, I’ve neglected getting to know the new captain of the guard. Better late than never, I suppose.”

“Indeed,” Zhou clasped his hands together. “I remember how fond you and Prince Ozai were of Jinpa. I can hardly live up to my old captain, but I hope you’ll find I’m doing my best.”

Zhou would have been a guard under Jinpa’s command, but Iroh failed to recall any memories of his thin, scantily-bearded face from before he’d become captain. Clearly, he was a firebender of at least some notable skill, as he’d had to best several other contenders in Agni Kais to secure his promotion.

“I hope so as well,” Iroh said. “I have some matters regarding the guards I’d like to discuss one on one, if you have the time.”

“Of course I do. Would you like a cup of tea? I’ve kept Jinpa’s stash of jasmine for you.”

How he missed sipping tea in Jinpa’s office and listening to his advice. “A thoughtful gesture. I’ll happily accept.”

“So,” Zhou said once the tea had been brewed and poured, “what does the crown prince have to say about my first year of command?”

“I’ve hardly noticed the transition in command outside of Jinpa’s absence, which is assuredly a good thing. In many cases, new captains mean a dip in performance as the soldiers take time to adjust.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

“But I am curious about your procedure for handling certain complaints against the guards.” This was the tricky part. Iroh hoped his discomfort wasn’t too evident in his face as he sipped his mediocre cup of jasmine. “I’ve become aware of a complaint lodged about seven months ago by a palace servant named Lili, accusing one of your guards of…unspeakable behavior. I wanted to hear about the case from your perspective and see any documentation you had on the matter.”

Zhou stirred his own cup. “I don’t recall the girl’s name, but I’ve only received one complaint of that nature, so I’m sure it’s the one you’re speaking of. There unfortunately isn’t any documentation of it because frankly, it wasn’t much of a complaint.” He shrugged lightly. “She accused one of my men. I asked her if she had any proof, which she didn’t. Servant girls run around with guards all the time, and they turn sour when they find out the guards don’t necessarily see them as something more. I can hardly go punishing men over their spurned lovers’ accusations.”

Iroh sat back in his chair, focusing on maintaining a neutral expression while he contemplated how to parse through what Zhou had just said. The dismissiveness towards the girl’s complaint, contrasted with the anger Ursa had shown on her behalf, didn’t sit right with him. “So you didn’t look into the matter at all?”

“I asked the guard if he’d been involved with the girl. He said he had, but things had ended badly. One of my trusted men’s words against a servant - it wasn’t a hard situation to decide.”

Put that way, the logic made sense. But Iroh couldn’t shake the unsettled feeling in his stomach, and he was certain it wasn’t just coming from the subpar tea. “I understand,” he said aloud. “I just felt the need to hear it from you directly once I became aware of the accusations.”

“Of course,” Zhou smiled, no less friendly than before. “Are there other matters on your mind?”

“Yes.” He set down his still half-full cup, deciding it wasn’t helping to calm him. “In the instance that a guard was found to be guilty of such conduct, what would you do?”

“He would be disciplined, of course. Likely some form of detention or extra hours of patrol.”

“And what would you do for his victim?”

“Should I be doing something for her? The servants aren’t under my command, now, are they?”

Zhou was starting to take a turn towards the overly friendly tone one uses when explaining complicated things to a child. Iroh had heard that same tone from his father’s advisors frequently as a boy, and he’d enjoyed showing them how they’d misjudged him. Zhou, clearly, was in desperate need of the same treatment.

“The servants are not under your command, but they are residents of the palace who are under your protection all the same,” Iroh reminded him, lifting his chin to meet Zhou’s gaze as a superior rather than as an equal. 

The other man’s smile vanished. “Of course, Your Highness.”

“How do you advise your guards to conduct themselves in their off duty hours? I know Jinpa had rather strict guidelines for you all.”

  “Yes, Jinpa was old-fashioned.” Zhou shook his head in a semblance of fondness. “I don’t concern myself much with what my men get up to in their spare time as long as they’re not embarrassing me or the palace. A little sake in the evenings never hurt anyone.”

Iroh begged to differ. “So since Jinpa left, you’ve relaxed the regulations on guards’ off duty conduct, including permitting them to drink on palace grounds, and then you suddenly received a complaint from one of their ‘spurned lovers’?”

“I know you prefer to speak plainly, Prince Iroh. I’m happy to meet your preference.” Zhou set down his cup none too gently. “Are you accusing my men and I of something?”

“I didn’t come here with the intention of doing so, but your answers to my questions are unfortunately leading me in that direction.” 

“It’s understandable that you’re uncomfortable with changes I’ve made since Jinpa’s departure, and I’m of course obliged to adjust as you prefer, but I wish you’d give me the benefit of the doubt in how I choose to lead.”

“Coming here and talking to you is giving you the benefit of the doubt.” Iroh pointed out. “Do you think I don’t hear things? What your men get up to when they’re drunk in the evenings? I was hoping to find you were oblivious, but it seems I’m woefully mistaken.”

“I don’t bother myself with what my men do in the evenings as long as they meet my expectations and they fulfill their duties of protecting the palace where it counts. Besides, when did it become a crime to chase the skirt of a pretty girl? It’s common knowledge in the palace you’ve engaged in such things yourself.” 

Zhou’s tone was lighthearted, poking fun at the prince, but his eyes had gone hard. Iroh let out a short, humorless laugh in response. “All my ‘pretty girls’ consented to it, which I’m not sure your guards can say about theirs. And I ended such behaviors after my wedding.”

“Of course.” A slow smile, more a baring of teeth, spread across Zhou’s face. “Men do go a bit soft as newlyweds.”

“Speak plainly, Zhou, rather than hiding your thoughts behind sweeping generalizations.”

“It’s not in your nature or your station to know anything about the servant girls, Prince Iroh, but your young wife surrounds herself with many of them and is new enough to the palace to take interest in their lives. I’m willing to bet this sudden concern of yours is an attempt to please her. Will she be delighted that her prince scolded the incompetent captain of the guard and chivalrously saved her favorite attendants? I can play that role, if you wish. Give me the names of the women she wants to protect. I’ll tell my men to stay away from them, and you can spend your night reaping the rewards of granting her wish.” 

Iroh wanted to blast the suggestive smirk right off the other man’s face. “The women I want to protect are every single one who calls the Fire Nation home. It dishonors the palace for any woman, regardless of her station, to be coerced by one of our guards. That is an order, Captain Zhou. If you know what’s good for you, you will learn to treat my wife’s wishes as the same as mine, and to never speak of her in such a manner again.”

Zhou made a sour expression. “Your Highness, I understand where you’re coming from, but what you are asking for is too much. There are better places to direct our resources, and a few dalliances gone wrong is hardly worth all this confrontation. Once you gain more experience as a soldier,” he added with an attempt at friendliness, “you’ll see. Especially in regards to your wife’s wishes being as good as yours.”

“That is an order,” Iroh repeated, rising to his feet. “I don’t need more experience as a soldier to best you in an Agni Kai if you dare to question my word again.”

The threat of lightning alone made Iroh too formidable of an opponent for most firebenders. Zhou frowned, but didn’t say anything else. 

“Prince Iroh, Captain Zhou,” Zhou’s secretary, a young man who looked thin enough that Iroh wasn’t sure he should be straining himself through royal service, poked his head into the office. “I’m terribly sorry to interrupt, but Private Jeong Jeong is here with what he says is an urgent message for the both of you from Prince Ozai.”

“Show him in,” Iroh said, not waiting for Zhou to respond. It might’ve been the captain’s office, but Iroh wasn’t finished showing him who was in charge.

Jeong Jeong entered, removing his helmet to reveal a young, honest-looking face crowned by a rather shaggy black topknot before bowing to his superiors. “Prince Iroh, Captain Zhou, I apologize deeply for the intrusion and for the heavy news I bring.” His voice was soft, and as he straightened up again, Iroh noted he seemed quite troubled. “My former comrade Tiron has been dismissed from his post as a guard by Princess Ursa and awaits further punishment in the capital prison.”

“What?” Zhou rose to his feet with a roar, cutting off the rest of Jeong Jeong’s message. “What- what could possibly be the honorable princess’s reason?” he asked in a less aggressive tone when he caught Iroh’s glare, but anger was still evident in his expression.

Jeong Jeong’s eyes flickered towards Iroh nervously. “Tiron burned and groped the princess. Prince Ozai believes that if he hadn’t intervened, Tiron intended to…go much further.”

Whatever Zhou felt was dwarfed by the mix of rage and worry that slammed through Iroh now. He shot Zhou a furious glare, pleased to see he looked properly stunned and shamed. “Not worth all this confrontation, is it?” Iroh parroted the man’s words with a sneer. “Remember my order, captain. I hope for your sake my wife is not too seriously harmed.”

“Yes, Your Highness. I wish her well.”

“Private Jeong Jeong,” Iroh addressed the guard as he swept out of the office. “Walk with me. Tell me exactly what happened.”

Jeong Jeong had no trouble matching Iroh’s swift pace through the palace. The tale that tumbled out of him was quick and to the point: Jeong Jeong had spotted Princess Ursa in the kitchen courtyard earlier that evening, alone and dressed in servant attire. Concerned at the sight, he’d kept watch on her talking to another maid until she disappeared into the kitchens, which she didn’t emerge from for over an hour. Assuming she wouldn’t return, he’d stepped away for a drink of water, and by the time he came back the princess had been cornered by Tiron. Not able to challenge the older guard by himself, Jeong Jeong had immediately gone into the palace for help and thankfully found Prince Ozai in the vicinity already looking for Ursa anyway. Once he’d led Ozai to Tiron, it became evident what Tiron’s intentions were, but thankfully they’d arrived in time to stop the worst.

“I apologize for not confronting Tiron myself,” Jeong Jeong said as he concluded his tale. “I can handle him in single combat, but he has the support of our fellow guards where I don’t. I was afraid I would make things worse for the princess if the incident turned into a brawl.”

“You made a quick decision in a tense situation. I understand,” Iroh said, mentally noting the comment about the guards’ allegiances. Now that Jeong Jeong had spoken a bit, he was starting to recall hearing the other man’s name before. “Refresh my memory: you were one of Jinpa’s last recruits, weren’t you? The street performer he picked up near the outskirts of the capital.”

“Yes, Your Highness, that was me. I only served under Jinpa for a few months before the change in command.”

There were several unspoken somethings in his answer, and in the way he shifted uncomfortably as he said it. Iroh didn’t have the capacity to explore those right now though, not with Ursa’s chamber in sight and Ozai hovering outside.

“I see. Is there anything else I should know?”

“Yes. Before I came to see you, Princess Ursa ordered me to check on one of the servants named Meena. I would appreciate it if you could relay to her that I did as she asked, and Meena is safe and unharmed.” 

Iroh wondered who Meena was, and what had prompted Ursa to worry about her. “Thank you, Jeong Jeong. The princess will be pleased to hear it, and I remember those who serve my family well. Enjoy the rest of your evening.”

The guard dipped his head in a quick bow and turned on his heel. Immediately, Iroh swooped next to his brother, speaking in a low voice.

“Let’s hear it from you, then. What happened?”

Ozai blinked nervously and repeated a story that thankfully lined up with Jeong Jeong’s, although with more details about what exactly Tiron had been doing that made Iroh seethe. “And I did apologize to her before bringing her inside,” he added. “I don’t know if she…if she wanted to hear it, but it had been twenty-four hours.”

Between Zhou and Jeong Jeong, Iroh had completely forgotten about the deadline he’d set for Ozai’s incident with the Red Ash. Part of him wanted to smack Ozai around the head for troubling Ursa with his pleas for forgiveness after what she’d been through, but he couldn’t blame his brother for not necessarily thinking straight with the threat of their father’s anger hanging over him. 

“Did she say she accepted your apology?” Iroh asked in a weary voice.

“Um…she said she’d think about not telling Dad.” Ozai cast a poorly disguised look of worry at the entrance to her room. “A physician’s in there with her now. D’you think you can talk to her about it more before dinner? I’m not sure I explained everything as well as she wanted since she was hurt and all.”

It was almost dinnertime. Iroh’s stomach twisted at the reminder. “I don’t think she’s in any shape to attend family dinner, but I’ll ask her about you if she’s feeling up to it.”

“Are you going to tell Dad what happened?”

“Probably, at least so he knows why she’s not at dinner.”

Ozai’s face fell. “Great. He’s going to yell at me for not getting there faster.”

“Well…” Unfortunately, there was no real way for Iroh to disprove his brother’s viewpoint; that was exactly the kind of harsh thing Father would say. “I think you fulfilled your duty. If you hadn’t been there, it sounds like things would’ve gone much worse. I’ll try to remind him of that.”

Ozai nodded, still looking a bit sullen. “Yeah, I guess. Go hang out with your wife,” he added with a jerk of his head. “She’s not too banged up.”

With a firm pat on Ozai’s shoulder, Iroh pushed open the door to Ursa’s room, half-afraid of what he’d find.

“There!” Ursa’s voice immediately rang out. “My husband is here now, so I won’t be alone. Please, Suma, go enjoy your evening. I promise I’m fine. ”

Suma, one of the older physicians, looked a bit as if he’d sucked a sour plum as he glanced at Iroh. 

“If the princess says she wants you out, you’re out,” Iroh said simply, feeling relieved that she at least had the strength to argue. “Anything to report, before you leave?”

Suma blew out an exasperated breath. “I found a first-degree burn and mild bruising across the neck and collarbone area, and minor abrasions to the face. Her right shoulder is also strained, potentially sprained but thankfully not dislocated. She should be completely recovered in a few days, although I’d like to observe her until she sleeps to be safe.”

“I’ve suffered worse injuries than this as a girl,” Ursa said from her bed, where she was holding a cold press to the injured area with her good hand. Her face did indeed look a bit scraped up: she was bleeding slightly from a torn lip, the sight of which made Iroh’s own mouth tighten. “I appreciate your thoroughness, but I really do just want to rest by myself for a while. Prince Iroh is here, and I can call on my attendants if I need anything.”

“Go, Suma. You have my permission as well,” Iroh told the still-hesitant physician. He would’ve preferred Suma stay, but he wasn’t going to force Ursa to submit herself to further medical examination when she was adamantly against it. With a good-natured grumble, Suma bowed and left, and the couple was alone. 

“So, am I correct in guessing that you probably don’t want to attend the family dinner tonight?” he asked.

 “Yes. Is that an option?” Ursa sighed, leaning back against her pillows. Between her simple clothing and her bare face, he was suddenly reminded of their first meeting in her village.

“Sure. I’ll ask your attendants to bring your dinner here.” He drew closer, eying her bloody lip uneasily. “Does your mouth hurt too badly to eat?”

“Oh, no.” Her hand left the press to delicately place a finger against the small injury. “I wasn’t lying when I said I’ve had worse.” 

“Such as?”

“One time in a school play, I tripped on the edge of my costume mid-monologue and knocked out my two front teeth. Thankfully, I was six and they grew back, but it was pretty bloody. I couldn’t eat anything but soup and pudding for weeks.”

Iroh raised his eyebrows. “I wasn’t aware I had such a tough wife,” he said appreciatively.

She laughed, but it seemed half-hearted compared to all the other times he’d heard it. Her hand clutched at the cold press again.
“Let me do that, if you don’t mind.” He seated himself on the edge of the mattress, noting her brief hesitation before she conceded. “How are you feeling? Really?” Her pulse seemed to jump in her throat as he applied a gentle pressure to her collarbone.

“I…I don’t know. I’ve never experienced such a thing.”

Rage rumbled in Iroh’s chest again. He forced it down, focusing on trying to comfort her. “It shouldn’t have happened.”

“It shouldn’t happen to anyone. The things I learned in the kitchens…” She glanced down, and Iroh suddenly realized why she was wearing servant clothes.
“You were posing as a maid? For information?”

“Well, what else could I have done? I can’t just order them to tell me the truth; that barely worked the first time. People commiserate with their peers, not with their superiors.”

It was a simple statement, but Iroh was struck by the insight she’d shown in handling the situation. “And that worked?”

“Yes. Apparently too well.” She offered him a wry smile. “I told that guard I was Princess Ursa. He didn’t believe me - I think he said I wasn’t pretty enough.” There was a dry humor in her words, but the lines around her eyes clashed with it.

The lamps on either side of the bed surged dangerously, making her look over at them with alarm. Iroh took a deep breath and tried to call them back down. Under the circumstances, he was rather proud of himself for not going straight to the prison and punching a hole right through Tiron’s worthless chest. 

Instead, he simply asked, “How do you think he should be punished?”

“I wasn’t sure what to do besides fire him.” She looked at him inquisitively. “Ozai said you might send Tiron to the Boiling Rock - what is that?”

Not a bad idea. “Our highest-security prison. It’s called that because it’s surrounded by a boiling lake inside an inactive volcano, making it impossible to escape. We use it for high-profile criminals, war prisoners, anyone who doesn’t deserve to see the outside again.”

Ursa frowned slightly, tilting her head to the side. Iroh suddenly became aware of the fact that his pinky finger was resting against her neck, the pale skin peeking out from beneath the cold press all reddened by heat. To a firebending student, such burns were common accidents from training, just a part of life. To a nonbender and a civilian like Ursa…his jaw clenched.

“It’s not what he did to me that bothers me most.” Her voice drew his eyes back to her face as he realized he’d been essentially staring at her neck while lost in thought. Thankfully, she didn’t seem to notice. “It’s that he’s done it to plenty of others. Apparently, he likes ‘the young ones.’” She all but spat out the words, disgust dripping from them. “Even outside the palace, a man like that can’t be trusted anywhere.”

Iroh felt nausea roll in his gut. “The Boiling Rock, then?” 

“If it means he’ll never get to hurt anyone again…then yes.” 

“I agree. He’ll be transferred there in the morning.”

She nodded, still looking troubled. “That’s only one of them.”

“How many more are there?”

“I don’t know. I need to keep talking to the maids, in the kitchen and in the rest of the palace. There were quite a few guards named.” 

Her shoulders sagged as she spoke. Iroh felt a surge of anger at the offending guards, both for abusing their power over women and for putting that sad, tired look on his wife’s face. “I have some news on that front. I spoke to Captain Zhou today and ordered him to get his men in line, so hopefully there won’t be more incidents like this going forward. I don’t think he’ll be any help finding past perpetrators, though. He was apparently quite lax on their behavior.”

Ursa nodded. “Thank you for doing that.”

“It was nothing. He should have been keeping a better eye on his men in the first place.”

She didn’t respond to that, instead reaching up to remove the cold press from her neck. Iroh obediently pulled his hand back. The extent of the burn was thankfully quite shallow as Suma had noted; her skin was peeling slightly, but there was no blistering or signs of deeper damage. Within a few days, it would hopefully be as if it had never happened.

“Um…” She’d caught him staring, and he inwardly cursed at himself. 

“What is it?”

“Ozai spoke to me,” she said. “About…my illness, and the Red Ash. He said you found out and made him apologize.”

“I did.”

“How did you find out?”

Iroh met her gaze evenly. “Aisha confessed that she’d seen him do it on the night of the wedding. She kept it to herself for a long time since she feared retribution from Ozai.” He didn’t mention that he’d been sitting on Aisha’s evidence for around a month without further investigation. It was hardly relevant now that Ozai had owned up.

“I see.” Her lips pursed absentmindedly, and she winced as the gesture clearly stung. 

“He’s very agitated about whether or not you’ll tell my father,” Iroh said with a small smile. “No rush, of course, but if there’s anything you want to know before making that decision, I’m here.”

“What would your father do to Ozai, if he found out?” 

“Nothing good.” 

“What exactly?” she pressed. “You clearly chose not to tell him yourself for a reason. I’d like to understand that before I make my own choice.”

He couldn’t exactly deny her the right to a well-informed decision after everything that had happened. Equals. With a sigh, he steeled himself to pull back the curtain on one of the uglier parts of palace life.

“I can’t say with certainty that he’d do this,” he said finally, “but it’s very likely he’d put Ozai in what we call the Box. It started as a training exercise when my grandfather began the war, to make sure the royal family could stand against any element. Ozai never did well in it though.”

Ursa was watching him intently. He grimaced as he recalled some of his bad moments in the Box but forced himself to continue. “Essentially, it’s a chamber that uses the elements to overwhelm a firebender. It can fill with water, ice, sand; even fire, in case of attacks from traitors. We would spend hours there as boys to build up our natural endurance, just treading water or shivering in the cold until Father decided it was good enough.”

“That’s awful.”

The genuine reproach in her voice surprised him. “I can handle it,” he assured her. “We don’t use it much now that we’re older. Ozai, though…he lost a toe to the ice, and he nearly drowned the first time he went in the water. He’s been scared of it since then. And Father believes punishment should make you stronger, with a healthy dose of fear. So, Ozai gets tossed back in the water whenever he gets out of line, as ‘extra training.’”

“Spirits,” Ursa whispered, looking nothing short of aghast while her hands anxiously twisted the cold press into a misshapen mess. 

“I know.”

“I won’t tell Azulon,” she said with finality. “I don’t think Ozai deserves that for what he did.”

“He’ll be relieved to hear it.” In an attempt to make her smile again, Iroh added, “If you need some ideas for how he should make this up to you, I’m happy to offer some.”

It worked; her torn lips curved upward. “I’ll keep it in mind.”

“Is there anything else I can do for you tonight, besides send you your dinner?”

She shook her head. “I just need some time to mull over everything I’ve learned. It’s…difficult, being the one to make decisions about things like this. The guards, and Ozai, and still planning for the Autumn Festival on top of all that. I can only imagine what you feel like.”

Even when she was ruminating over her own hardships, she still managed to turn it around to extend some sympathy to him. Iroh couldn’t help feeling a bit touched as he reminded her, “I’ve been training for it all my life. You’re just getting started. And you’re doing quite well, in my opinion.”

“Thank you. I’m glad you came and talked to me. Sometimes I feel silly asking anyone else questions about the palace.”

“I told you, I’m happy to help. It’s the least I can do for my wife.” He stood to leave. “I’ll arrange your dinner and let you rest. Send for me if you need anything.”

  “I will.”

A thought struck him as he was about to open the door. “Before I forget, Jeong Jeong asked me to tell you he found the servant named Meena, safe and unharmed.”

Relief washed across Ursa’s face, so pure and sweet it seemed to sink into Iroh as well. “That’s amazing news. Give him my thanks, if you can. He’s been very helpful.”

More than helpful. His insides churned again at what might have happened to her, burned and bruised as she already was, if Jeong Jeong hadn’t acted quickly. “Of course. Good night, Ursa.”

“Good night.”

The palace wasn’t safe enough, if such things could happen to women as high-ranking as a princess. He just didn’t know how to fix it yet. But, he reminded himself, he would have to face more difficult tasks as Fire Lord. At least he had Ursa at his side.

Chapter Text

“You’re feeding them peas?”

Ursa looked up to find Ozai of all people standing and observing her feeding the turtleducks beneath the shade of the willow tree. “Yes,” she replied, quickly concealing her surprise. “It’s healthier for them than getting bread all the time. They need the nutrients.”

“Huh.” Ozai contemplated her answer as if he’d never considered the question of turtleduck nutrition before; which, realistically, he likely hadn’t. “Why do you like them so much?” he continued. “They’re just…animals.”

“They’re cute, they have personality, and they can be quite entertaining.”

He cast her a look that made it clear he didn’t think much of her rationale. Ursa supposed she sounded a little simple-minded, but it was the truth. She’d liked feeding the pig-chickens and other animals back in Hira’a for similar reasons.

“Watch,” she instructed, picking up her last handful of peas and scattering them across the pond. Immediately, the turtleducks went into a frenzy, swimming into each other and locking beaks to grab at the food.

Ozai let out a small huff of amusement. “All right, I guess that’s a little entertaining.”

“I told you.” She wiped off her hands and peered back up at him, starting to feel uncomfortable with how he was still looming over her while she remained seated. Even if she’d elected not to tell Azulon about his little prank gone wrong, she couldn’t forget that he was the reason she’d suffered such an illness during her first week of marriage.

“Your lip is looking better already,” he said abruptly. “Is the burn healing fine?”

“Yes, thank you.” A cold press and a good night’s rest could work wonders.

“Iroh spoke to me this morning.” He finally moved to sit next to her, looking a bit hesitant about lowering his fine robes into the dirt. “He said you’re sending that guard to the Boiling Rock.”

“I am. You did give me the idea.”

“He also told me what you decided about me.”

Ursa nodded, waiting for him to finish his thought.

“I want to thank you,” he said very softly. “I know he spoke to you about the Box and…I don’t wish for you to pity me, but I won’t lie and say I’m not glad you’re not putting me in there.”

One of the turtleducks swam to her babies with a mouthful of peas and dropped them into the water, allowing the turtleducklings to practice finding food. The scene made her smile as she formulated her response to Ozai’s very vulnerable moment of gratitude. “It’s not just pity, if that makes you feel any better. I think a punishment should fit the crime. What Tiron did is irredeemable, so he gets the Boiling Rock. What you did was foolish, but I don’t believe it merits such measures.”

“What measures does it merit, then?” The little catch in his voice was unmistakable, no doubt put there by nerves. 

“I’m not sure yet,” she said honestly. “I’ll likely wait until after the Autumn Festival to decide. I don’t have room for much else on my mind with all the planning.”

“Right. Makes sense.”

“I’m sure you’ll enjoy having the palace to yourself while Iroh and I are gone.”

“It’s alright, I guess. I get the training rooms whenever I want, but Dad also gives me more attention so…” he shrugged noncommittally, leaving the implications in the air.

Ursa decided to ask a question that she’d been too nervous to voice to anyone else. “Wouldn’t you like to come on the Autumn Festival journey, Prince Ozai? You’ve never participated before.” With anything else, she would’ve guessed Ozai simply wasn’t interested, but he’d been very helpful with the tasting sessions and seemed to genuinely look forward to the festival. It puzzled her that he didn’t have a bigger role as a prince.

Ozai turned on her so suddenly she flinched back. “Don’t mock me,” he snapped, eyes fiery and teeth bared. “I know I owe you, but I’d rather be thrashed by my father than be denigrated like this.”

“What are you talking about?” she demanded, refusing to be cowed into backing down. As far as she was concerned, she’d asked a perfectly reasonable question, and he had a lot of nerve losing his temper on her when she was doing him a favor.

Those burning eyes searched her confused face, and the snarl that was giving him a frightening resemblance to Azulon melted away just as suddenly as it had appeared. “You don’t know.”

“Don’t know what ? Prince Ozai-”

“I’m sorry, Sister,” he muttered, getting to his feet with his gaze now resolutely turned away from her. “I shouldn’t’ve raised my voice. Just…ask Iroh, I guess. He’ll explain it better than me.” He rubbed his eye, the gesture making him look quite boyish once again. It was clear he wasn’t going to answer any other questions about whatever had upset him.

“I apologize if I offended you,” Ursa said finally, still not sure what she was missing. “I didn’t mean to.”

He cast her yet another strange look; he did that a lot, although it was better than when he rolled his eyes at her. “Um, it’s fine.” With that, he turned on his heel and left her alone with the turtleducks.

It would be nice if just once she could have a conversation with Ozai that didn’t end with her either wanting to yell at him or run away from him. For little moments here and there, he was actually quite decent. She was certain he was capable of more, if he could only get a handle on that teenage temper.

Maybe, like Ozai had said, Iroh could shed more light on the matter. 

Ursa, cont.

Thinking of Ozai still fills me with anguish. It’s nothing compared to what Iroh must feel, remembering the boy he believes he failed to protect and the man he became, but Ozai was not yet that man when I met him. He did intimidate me a bit, as I could see he had a temper and a deep resentment that Iroh did not, but as he went about trying to make amends to me for the Red Ash, I began to understand how the circumstances of his life had shaped him. 

I was an only child, so it took me some time to grasp how unhealthy the sibling dynamic was between Iroh and Ozai, as well as how their father fed into it. Learning the complexities of those relationships was crucial for me to integrate myself into them, hopefully for the betterment of the royal family. 

Even thirty years later, I still sometimes wonder if the aftermath of the Red Ash incident was the best way for things to play out. I know Iroh does as well. Looking back, it’s easy for outsiders to argue that of course Ozai wanted to hurt me at my wedding, because that was the kind of person he was from childhood, and the behavior should have been nipped in the bud instead of swept aside by his guilt-ridden older brother. But even after everything Ozai has done, I still believe in my heart of hearts that the Red Ash in my tea was a genuine mistake. You are welcome to disagree with me, reader, but I ask you to remember that you did not know Ozai as a boy. I did. I was his sister. 

“Again!” 

Ursa flinched at the sound of Azulon’s harsh yell ringing through the hall. Thankfully, it wasn’t directed at her. Instead, it was floating in from the windows to the training grounds, where the guards had told her Iroh was. She’d been hoping to ask him about Ozai’s strange behavior that morning, but the question didn’t seem that urgent if it meant facing an angry Fire Lord.

“Prince Ozai,” Azulon snarled, “if you know what’s good for you, you’ll stop testing my patience.”

Her stomach dropped. Had Azulon somehow found out about the Red Ash?

“I’m trying!” Ozai’s voice cracked as he defended himself. 

“Iroh, show him again.”

So Iroh was here. She risked a peek around the window and caught sight of her husband, producing a powerful jet of flame from each hand that propelled him into the air. He soared over Azulon and Ozai’s heads and landed lightly on his feet.

“It’s just about balance,” Iroh said to his younger brother in a much more neutral tone than Azulon. “Distribute your firepower and your weight-”

“He knows the theory,” Azulon cut him off, and Iroh’s jaw clenched. “All the studying in the world won’t make up for a lack of talent. Again, Prince Ozai.”

Ozai’s eyes remained trained on the ground as he attempted to mimic Iroh’s move. Although he was able to make it into the air, he immediately careened off-center and crash-landed onto his shoulder. Ursa winced. He looked very vulnerable as he gingerly rolled onto his hands and knees. His bare back was painfully lean, the curve of his spine in the sunlight appearing nothing short of fragile.

“Blast it all, boy!” Azulon reached down and jerked him to his feet, his hand like a vice on Ozai’s slim upper arm. “You are not leaving until you get this right. Iroh could fly across this entire arena when he was twelve .”

Iroh’s mouth only tightened further at the mention of his name, his displeasure at the scene evident in the small motion. Ursa wondered how frequently this sort of thing happened; Azulon usually had a shorter fuse with his younger son, but she had never seen him do more than raise his voice.

“Father,” Iroh spoke up, “jet propulsion is a technique best performed fresh. Perhaps-”

“Leave your brother’s instruction to me, Iroh. Don’t forget, prodigious talent does not make up for inexperience.”

“Of course, Father. In that case, I beg your leave to go have lunch. I’m not sure I can be of much more assistance here.”

Ozai bowed his head, his arm still caught tight as Azulon granted Iroh’s request with a dismissive wave.

Unable to bear watching anymore, and not wanting to risk one of them seeing her as Iroh left, Ursa tore her gaze away from the window and slumped back against the wall. She’d never heard the Fire Lord speak to his firstborn so harshly; Iroh was usually able to be jovial and contrarian with his father in a way no one else could. Clearly, Azulon was extraordinarily upset about something. She hoped it was nothing to do with her.

“What are you doing here?”

Ursa looked up with a start, blushing at being caught by a bare-chested Iroh. The cotton robe slung loosely over his shoulders, leaving his torso exposed, was his standard post-training attire; however, that didn’t stop her from feeling flustered by his appearance every time she ran into him after a session. 

“I was looking for you,” she managed to respond. 

There was still a hardness in his face that she wasn’t used to seeing. He hadn’t looked at her like that since their wedding day, back when they’d still been strangers. “You shouldn’t have watched. Ozai feels humiliated enough without you joining his audience.”

The admonishment made her face grow warmer. Of course he’d known she was there. She’d been foolish to think she could spy on the three mightiest firebenders in the world and get away with it. 

“I’m sorry,” she said, her gaze sliding away from him. Iroh had not once reproached her for any of the numerous other times she had accidentally breached royal etiquette. This new disapproval made her feel strangely ashamed.

He sighed, and Ursa registered him pinching the bridge of his nose out of the corner of her eye. “Don’t be. I’m wrong to scold you. It’s not your fault my father’s in a bad mood today.”

“I should have known better.”

“The training grounds are extremely visible. Any passerby in the palace can watch what’s happening. It’s part of why my father likes to harangue Ozai here.” There was the barest trace of resentment in his voice. “Just…try to keep walking if you see something like that again, okay?”

“Okay. I promise, I’ll remember.”

“You said you were looking for me?”

“Oh, yes. Ironically, I…I wanted to ask you something about Ozai.” In the background, she could hear Azulon launching into another beratement. “I had a bit of a strange conversation with him earlier, and he seemed to think I should talk to you.”

Iroh’s thick eyebrows furrowed into a small frown. Ursa wished he would smile to ease the knot of nerves in her stomach; she did not enjoy feeling this way around him, especially when they’d been getting along so well recently. “Should this be a private talk?” he asked.

“Probably.”

“Let’s do it over lunch, then. Once I’ve made myself more presentable.” He finally tied the robe into a loose knot around his waist, thankfully obscuring the distracting lines of his muscular abdomen. “Is that fine?”

“Of course. Where should I meet you?”

He tilted his head as he considered the question, a hint of a smile finally gracing his mouth before he spoke. “I need to get out of the palace for a while. Be at the gates in half an hour. Wear something comfortable that you wouldn’t mind dusting up a bit.”

Relief, and a nervous anticipation, prompted her own answering smile. “Okay.”

Ursa was hardier than he’d expected, scrabbling up the trail without need for assistance. To be fair, she was breathing heavily, but her face was alight with an energy he’d never seen before. It occurred to him that she hadn’t left the palace at all since becoming his wife. As spacious as it was, he knew better than anyone how stifling it could be.

“What?” she panted, cheeks a bit red from exertion as she joined him at the top of the hill. “Am I that out of shape?”

“I was actually thinking the opposite. Like I said last night, I wasn’t aware I had such a tough wife.”

“This is on the smaller side of the hills I used to climb in Hira’a. They had some rare herbs that wouldn’t grow in my mother’s greenhouse, so she would have me fetch them.”

“Your mother’s a herbalist?” He hadn’t really paid much thought to the magistrate’s wife’s occupation, even though she was the Avatar’s daughter. As nice as her greenhouse was, he’d sort of assumed it was for pleasure.

“Yes, the best in the area. People come from miles around to see her.” Ursa looked proud for a moment, and then it was washed away in a melancholy downturn of her lips. “In any case, I obviously haven’t been climbing in a while. And I’ve never had to do it in this.” She held her arms out and peered down at her fine red gown with clear distaste.

“I told you to wear something comfortable.” In anticipation of the climb, he had donned a day tunic and trousers instead of his usual palace robes.

“This is the most comfortable outfit I have.”

“Well, summon the tailor for some other ones when you get back. You’re a princess, remember?” 

Repeatedly pointing out her status made him feel not unlike a parrothawk, but he’d realized that Ursa was not the type to abuse her privileges, or even take advantage of them. He suspected some of that was because she didn’t realize she had them. 

“Yes, I suppose,” she conceded. She looked out at the view of the palace and the capital city, a summer breeze gently blowing through her long hair. “I didn’t know this was up here. Or that we could even come here.”

“I’ve come here since I was a boy, to meditate or have some alone time. Father’s never said a word about it.”

“Well, thank you for inviting me along. It’s very nice.”

As she smiled at him, he noted that her torn lip and small facial cuts had thankfully scabbed over. Some of his lingering tension melted away. Training with his father and brother was always high-pressure; adding Azulon’s bad mood over some escaped waterbender had only served as the inevitable spark for everyone’s fiery tempers to rise. Snapping at Ursa afterwards only highlighted how upset he’d gotten during the session, and he’d immediately regretted it. At least she didn’t seem to be holding it against him.

“Of course. Come, sit.” He shook out the picnic blanket he’d rolled up under his arm and spread it beneath a shady tree, lowering the basket of food onto it carefully. Ursa settled herself on one side, gazing at the view again. 

“I’ve really missed being outdoors,” she said suddenly. “Like…properly in nature, not just in a garden. I didn’t realize it until just now.”

Iroh felt a small twinge of guilt for not noticing her longing for the outdoors; it should’ve been obvious, considering how much of her free time she spent in the royal gardens. “You can always come here without me, you know. You’d just have to bring some guards.”

She wrinkled her nose slightly before carefully schooling her expression. “It’s not the same. Isn’t that why you told your guards to stay at the bottom of the hill?”

“Well, I can get away with that because I can take care of myself. So if you’d prefer to enjoy the outdoors without the guards hovering, we can carve out some time to do that during the Autumn Festival.”

Another smile lifted her lips. “I would like that.” 

Lunch was a simple affair, considering there was only so much that could be packed into a picnic basket and still taste good: dumplings, scallion pancakes, bok choy, and red bean buns for dessert. The buns in particular had been a deliberate request for Aisha since Iroh knew they were Ursa’s favorite. His efforts were rewarded when she caught sight of them and her eyes lit up.

“I love these!”

I know, he responded silently, but he just laughed as she nearly burned her fingers in her haste to grab a still-hot wrapped bun. “Don’t rush, Princess. They’re yours to enjoy.”

 She flashed him an embarrassed grin and picked up one of the scallion pancakes instead. “Sorry. I’m used to having to fight for the good desserts at festivals back home.”

Apparently, all it took was one trip out of the palace for her to slip into old habits. Her speech and posture had relaxed, and she ate her food without the tiny, restrained bites she normally utilized at palace dinners. Iroh wondered if she even realized she was doing it, or if her actress’ body subconsciously adjusted to the change in scenery as a new stage.

“What was your favorite festival?” he asked.

“The summer solstice. It had the best food and shows by far.”

“I like the summer solstice too. It’s a very grand celebration in the capital. You’ll see it next year.” This year’s summer solstice had passed about a week or so before Iroh had gone with his father to fetch his new bride, and his mood during the event had been marred by his impending wedding. At least she’d gotten to enjoy the solstice in her hometown one last time before being married off to him.

Ursa seemed to be having a similar thought as she chewed in silence for a moment. “Even bigger than the Autumn Festival?” she asked eventually.

“Yes. But it’s close; my father does love the Autumn Festival best, after all.”

The sun slicing through the branches gave an almost shimmering glow to Ursa’s dark dress and pale skin, each breeze that rattled the tree making the specks of light dance across her form. Iroh was grateful she was more focused on the food and the view than him because he was having trouble pulling his gaze away from her. It was just the light, he told himself, and his lingering concern over the previous night’s injuries. Plus, he’d always been aware she was an attractive woman, so it wasn’t like this was a new development-

“Ozai said something to me, about the Autumn Festival,” she interrupted his erratic thoughts. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

Right. “What did he say?”

“Well…I asked him if he wanted to come on the Autumn Festival journey. He got very angry and accused me of mocking him. Then he seemed to get that I didn’t know what he was upset about, so he apologized and said I should ask you to explain.” She shrugged. “Care to enlighten me?”

Iroh sighed. This was a very touchy subject for Ozai, and it appeared no one had made sure she knew not to talk to him about it. “He’s not allowed to go on the Autumn Festival, even though he’d very much like to. My father forbids it.”

“What? Why?”

“Officially, he says it’s poor policy for both the heir and the spare to travel together. Unofficially…” Iroh trailed off, not wanting to rehash the unfortunate history of the Fire Lord’s contempt for the second prince.

“Unofficially what?”

“Unofficially, he doesn’t want Ozai partaking in something so closely associated with our mother.”

Ursa frowned, confusion clear in her face as she wiped away a bit of dumpling sauce from her mouth. “Why not? You get to.”

Something like nausea swirled in Iroh’s gut as he stared at her, realizing just how much she didn’t know. This wasn’t the conversation he’d wanted to have this afternoon, and it threatened to drag his mood back into the tense training grounds with his father and brother. “Ursa,” he said finally, “do you know how my mother died?”

“She passed away from an illness, didn’t she? A long time ago.”

Iroh picked up a now-warm red bean bun, deciding he needed the sweet to get through these memories. “Something like that.” He unwrapped it and took a bite, savoring the rich, nutty texture in his mouth before he spoke again. “In my father’s eyes, though, Ozai killed her.”

He couldn’t bring himself to look at Ursa, but it wasn’t hard to picture her reaction: her eyes widening, her eyebrows raising slightly in shock, her lips parting with a question that she hesitated to ask. “How?”

“She died giving birth to Ozai. And my father has never forgiven him for living at her expense.” The bitterness of the words couldn’t be alleviated by the bun. “So Ozai doesn’t get to go on the Autumn Festival, or take music lessons, or even throw a birthday party, because those are all things that belonged to my mother first, and the Fire Lord believes Ozai doesn’t deserve to enjoy them.”

“That’s-” Ursa cut herself off, and Iroh finally allowed himself to turn to her. She took a breath and looked down at her hands. “That’s…difficult to hear,” she said more evenly, formality returning to her tone. “I’ve noticed the Fire Lord varies in his treatment of you and Ozai. I was just never certain of why, besides that you’re the heir and he’s not.”

“It certainly doesn’t help that he’s the second son. I’m surprised no one told you that history, but I suppose I should be grateful that there are some things the servants don’t gossip about.” Perhaps that was why Ursa had been able to warm up to him: because she didn’t know the full story of his and Ozai’s childhood. He pushed the picnic basket towards her and gestured for her to take a red bean bun. 

“You protect him,” she noted as she accepted his offer. “You did it at the training session, you did it with the Box…even at dinner, you argue with him all the time, but you try to keep your father from doing the same.”

“Yes. I try to, at least.”

She bit into the bun and sighed. “And sometimes your father gets angry with you for doing it. Like earlier.”

“Well, yes, but I have nothing to fear. My father has never punished me the same way as he does Ozai.”

“Still,” she shrugged, “it’s a very brave thing to do for your brother. And very kind.”

She wouldn’t think that if she knew everything. “It’s not much.”.

“You’re trying to do more, aren’t you?”

The question gave him pause. Was he trying to do more? He shielded Ozai from their father’s foulest moods, and he’d begun training with him regularly; aside from that, his efforts weren’t that great. Then again, even that much was a vast improvement over what he’d been doing for his brother even a year or two ago. And Ursa had asked as if it was a given, as if she was certain he was trying.

“Yes,” he said, a little hesitantly. 

Fortunately, that seemed to satisfy her, and she turned her attention to polishing off her bun. Her tongue flicked out and licked a few crumbs from the crook between thumb and pointer finger before she caught herself and blushed. Iroh blinked, trying to pretend it hadn’t affected him even as he felt his own face grow warm.

“Force of habit,” she said quietly as she lowered her hand. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. Aisha would be delighted to see you relishing her food.”

“Well, it’s easy to do.” She reached into the picnic basket and let out a disappointed gasp. “Oh, I think this is the last one.”

“Really?” He could’ve sworn he’d asked Aisha to pack four.

“Mm-hm.” She pushed the basket towards him so he could confirm. “You take it.”

“Absolutely not. I’m certain you like these more than me.”

“But this was your idea.”

“Ursa, I’m not going to eat it. You can have it, or you can let it go to waste.”

The pout she directed at him was decidedly informal and practically childish, yet it sent an unexpected thrill through his being. Her lips were not painted, wounded as they were, but that didn’t detract from their fullness.

“Fine,” she said with a huff, thankfully interpreting his silence as stubbornness rather than distraction. “Here, at least share it with me.” She picked up the bun and carefully tore it in two.

“If you insist, Princess.” He strategically grabbed the smaller piece despite her attempts to give him the bigger one. Somewhere above them, a breeze dislodged a flurry of leaves, blowing a few into her hair. She shook them away, looking up at the tree above her as she finished her dessert.

“This is a lovely oak,” she said. “Does someone care for it?”

“Not that I know of. It’s just always been here.”

“It’ll stay here for a long time, then, if humans leave it alone.” She touched its trunk fondly. 

“I hope so.”

A moment passed of just Ursa brushing her fingers over the rough bark, clearly contemplating something. “Do you think there’s anything I could do for Ozai?” she asked suddenly. 

Of course that’s what was on her mind. “You’re already protecting him from my father too,” he reminded her. “You can’t bring him on the Autumn Festival, if that’s what you’re hoping for. And Ozai is a prince. He has his pride. He won’t want any pity you have for him, especially not now that he owes you.”

“Yeah, he already told me something like that.”

Her wry tone made him smile as he responded, “Just…treat him as you normally would. You’ve always been perfectly nice to him, even though he’s a hothead and an occasional moron. He’ll be insulted if you change your behavior now.”

She nodded slowly. “That makes sense.” Her fingers left the tree, and she leaned back against it to peer out at the city beneath them once more. “Do you have to go back to the palace soon?”

Honestly, he probably did, to check if Ozai ever figured out jet propulsion and if Father’s temper had simmered down yet. “No. We can stay as long as you like.”

Golden eyes were common in the Fire Nation, but as Ursa smiled at Iroh gratefully, he noticed that her eyes were a few shades lighter than average, making them look like little drops of the sunshine dancing across her face.

Sunshine eyes. 

It was a beautiful sight. 

Chapter Text

Iroh, cont.

Some people are more motivated to stand up for others than for themselves. Ursa is one of those people. After Tiron assaulted her outside the kitchens, I’d half-expected her to take a step back from the investigation into the guards and let me handle it. She looked at me as if I were crazy for suggesting it. Within a month, she’d donned several disguises to mingle with the servants and persuade them to reveal the names of their attackers, half a dozen men in addition to Tiron whom I had dismissed from the palace at once. The truly egregious offenders were assigned to various jails. Once Ursa had exhausted the well of information about the guards, I foolishly thought that would be the end of the matter and turned my attention back to the approaching Autumn Festival.

As the event drew closer, Ursa and I attempted to establish some tentative boundaries for our marriage. We fell into a pattern of her spending the night in my chamber maybe twice a week to appease my father’s expectations, but these evenings developed into a routine well removed from physical intimacy. She would privately change into one of my night robes while I staged the scene, I would brew her a cup of tea, and we would discuss the things that we couldn’t elsewhere: our childhoods, the Spirit World, our dreams, private observations about the palace and its inhabitants.

I won’t lie to you, reader. I was a young, fire-blooded man. Ursa was, and still is, an enchanting woman. The sight of her wearing my too-big robe, sitting in my unkempt sheets, had a tendency to stoke impolite thoughts in my mind that were slowly becoming harder to ignore. At the same time, it wasn’t just her beauty that drew me to her. As she became more comfortable speaking to me candidly, especiaIly in the aftermath of the fiasco with the guards, I witnessed her stubborn yet fierce compassion, her love for nature, her unexpected dry wit and streak of mischief. And, maybe because I hadn’t expected any of those qualities, I was quite entranced by them. 

When she began telling me more about her hometown, through folk tales and childhood anecdotes, I finally understood that acting was not just about disguises and deceit like I’d thought. Performing, for Ursa, was about drawing her audience into a tale through her eyes, her voice, her hands, as they all created the vision of her story. I’d mistakenly marked her as a natural liar, but she was not, although she was still better than me. Her performances were best when she was speaking from her heart, and I was fortunate to be her enthralled audience of one in the private theater of my bedroom.

Beautiful women were abundant in the capital, but my Ursa stirred within me something that was shifting past the familiar terrain of physical attraction. I didn’t have occasion to probe the depth of those feelings until about a week before the Autumn Festival.

Iroh had shared some intense conversations with his wife, but this was proving to be one of the most challenging.

“Alright,” she said, eyes gleaming, “make one of those shapes with your hands when I say ‘bend’, okay? One, two, three, bend!”

Ursa’s hand turned into a fist as she finished counting down, while Iroh, sitting across from her on his bed, chose to make his hand into a wave motion.

“I win!” She proclaimed triumphantly.

“This doesn’t make any sense. How does earth beat water?” Iroh questioned.

“It’s the rules of the game. Air is beaten by water is beaten by earth is beaten by fire is beaten by air and so on. Besides, rock stops water from flowing, that’s common knowledge.”

“Have you seen how canyons and valleys are formed? When water flows through rock long enough and hard enough, it gets its way in the end.”

“Sure, ‘in the end.’” Ursa’s hands formed finger quotes mocking Iroh’s words. “But in the short term victory, which is what it’s relevant to this game, earth takes the win. Best of three?”

He agreed and chose fire. She chose air. 

“I have issues with the rules of this game,” Iroh complained as he extinguished the small flame he’d produced rather than mimic her silly hand motion for fire. “History has proven that air does not in fact beat fire.”

“That’s military history,” Ursa waved him off. “A strong gust of wind puts out fire, that’s logic.”

“Logic means nothing without practical application.”

She rolled her sunshine eyes at him. “You are quite a sore loser.” 

“Well, I’m not exactly training to be a Fire Lord that loses, am I?”

“I bet you’ve just never met anyone besides Ozai who could afford to beat you without getting punished for it,” Ursa said with a challenge. 

 “Why don’t you play me in a game that’s not for children and see if you’re still feeling so smug?”

“Fine with me. Choose a game,” She crossed her arms, looking every inch a haughty princess despite Iroh’s robe slipping off her pale shoulder. 

He forced himself to look at the laughter in her eyes instead of her temptingly smooth skin. “Have you played Pai Sho before?”

“No, it wasn’t terribly popular in Hira’a. But I’m sure I can learn quickly.” 

Iroh smirked. His Pai Sho set had been sitting undisturbed in his study for some time, seeing as most people with any sense had learned not to play against the crown prince a while ago. Unfortunately for Ursa, she was a newcomer.

“I’ve seen this before,” Ursa reached out and picked up a tile as Iroh was setting up the board between them. Iroh glanced at what she was holding.

“The white lotus tile? I thought you haven’t played.”

“I haven’t, but I’ve seen this. I didn’t realize it was part of the game.” Ursa held it up, examining it with a small smile. “My mother kept one of these in her jewelry chest. I asked her about it once, and she said she liked the design.”

“Maybe she picked it up from a market,” Iroh suggested. “Some pai sho tiles are sold individually, and that is one of the prettier ones.”

“It is,” she agreed. “Now, tell me the rules.”

[Azulon III, notated in the 6rd month of 169 AG

To this day, the rules of Pai Sho remain an unstandardized amalgamation of local variations and individual preferences. Based on my discussions with family members, it is generally accepted that Iroh favored the Official Royal Guidelines utilized by Fire Nation nobility during the latter half of the war, with a more methodical approach accompanied by an occasional penchant for gambling.]

Iroh won the first round, as he’d expected, but he couldn’t help but notice that some of the competitive spirit seemed to have left Ursa. “Are you following the rules okay? I would understand if they’re a bit difficult,” he teased as he cleared the board.

She snapped back to attention. “I can follow them fine. I’m simply learning the game.”

“Why don’t we put some stakes on the next round, then?”

“What do you have in mind?”

“How about if I win, you have to brew tonight’s tea?”

“That’s more of a punishment for you than for me,” Ursa pointed out.

“Focus on your own stakes.”

“Fine.” She thankfully noticed her robe was slipping again and yanked it back up. “If I win, I sleep in the study, and you sleep in your own bed for once.”

“Alright, but only because you’re not going to win.” Despite the fact that Ursa had fully recovered from both the Red Ash and Tiron’s attack, Iroh still refused to let her take the couch in the study. He was the early riser anyway, as he had pointed out, so it made no sense for him to sleep in the bed when he would have to wake Ursa up to avoid being caught sleeping separately. But he respected that his wife had her own streak of pride.

The second round featured a much stronger defense from Ursa, and Iroh begrudgingly had to admit that she had more of a knack for the game than he had as a beginner. But his experience triumphed in the end: Ursa huffed as he placed his winning tile in one of her blind spots.

“Don’t look so pleased,” she rebuked him. “We both know you’d rather be drinking your own tea as a reward.”

“How could I possibly know when I’ve never tried yours?”

“Trust me, it’s obvious.” Something melancholy slid across her face again. Only a few weeks earlier, Iroh would’ve guessed she was simply tired, but he watched her gaze settle on the white lotus tile and knew it was something more.

“Ursa, is everything okay?”

She nodded slightly. “It’s fine.”

“Is it your mother?” He ventured a guess. “Do you want to talk about her?”

“I… I shouldn’t.”

“There are plenty of things we ‘shouldn’t’ talk about that are worth discussing. Especially when it’s just the two of us.” She still hesitated. Iroh decided the moment called for a little vulnerability on his part. “Would you like to hear…how I handled missing my mother?”

 Ursa peered at him, clearly intrigued. “If you feel comfortable sharing, sure, but it doesn’t mean I’ll talk.”

“I understand,” he smiled, before taking a breath and digging up an old memory. “When she died, my father refused to speak of it. He left Ozai and I in Yuna’s care and went about his meetings and battles as if nothing had changed. There was a funeral, but nobody explained what a funeral was or what the Fire Sages were saying about my mom. Nobody even explained that she was dead, they all just kept saying she was sick and then ‘gone,’ as if she was coming back someday, so I waited. Almost six months went by of just waiting. 

“One night, I woke up from a nightmare and started crying for my mother. I cried so much that baby Ozai started screaming in the next room, and Yuna was forced to go get my father. When he came, something he’d never done when Mother was alive, I clung to him and begged him to tell me where she was, why she’d gone, when she’d come back. Suddenly, I saw tears in his eyes.

“I’d never seen him cry in my life, and I never have since. He finally explained that she was dead, which meant she wasn’t coming back, and he and I would have to be strong without her. He said he knew it was hard, but I had to be the brave prince she would have wanted. He told me anytime I missed her, I needed to try very hard not to cry about it around other people, but come talk to him about it instead. So, I did.

“Every night after dinner, I would go to Father and tell him that I missed her, and he would take me to the music room and talk about her until it was time for me to sleep. Slowly, I started being able to go a few days without talking about her, and then a few weeks, until eventually, I learned how to play her music to console myself. It’s been a few years since the last time we talked about her. But I think if I went to him tonight and told him I miss her, he would still sit with me in the music room and reminisce about her while I play her favorite songs.”

Ursa sniffed. Iroh was startled to realize he’d made her cry; he considered his storytelling abilities rather mediocre. Yet here she was, wiping tears from her face with the edge of her sleeve. 

“It was a long time ago, Ursa. I’ve come to terms with it.”

She shook her head. “You were so young… I feel foolish to miss my parents when you lost your mother so long ago.”

“I didn’t tell you that story to compete with your grief. I did it so you could see that even in this palace, there’s room for you to express your feelings, and if anyone will understand, it’s me.”

For a long moment, she was quiet as she dried the last of her tears. “Right around now,” she said slowly, “would be when we’re preparing for the chrysanthemums to bloom. My mother grows every kind of chrysanthemum in her greenhouse. When I turned twelve, she made it my responsibility to look after them. I had to water them, pile fertilizer on their roots, carefully apply insecticide and chase away the hungry critters that wanted to feed on them. I hated it: there were so many more interesting plants in Mother’s greenhouse, and I wanted to look after one of those. I wanted to make salves out of strangely stinky vines, or brew mysterious concoctions out of those herbs I plucked from the hillsides. But she only trusted me with the chrysanthemums, and she told me I couldn’t help her with anything else until I proved I could handle it.

“So, I became determined to show her that I was above this. At the crack of dawn, I would be out in the greenhouse, wiping the dew from their leaves and checking for bites. I went into the town stables” - her nose wrinkled here - “so I could prepare the best fertilizer possible, like she’d taught me. Rain or shine, it made no difference: I was there, after school, after rehearsals, down in the dirt making sure those damned chrysanthemums were not going to make me look like a fool.

“Finally, as autumn began….they bloomed.” A radiant smile lit up her wan face, lovelier than any bloom Iroh could recall. “It was more beautiful than I’d ever imagined. My mother had secretly planted some new chrysanthemums without telling me, you see, so it wasn’t just the red ones that unfurled their petals. Pink, yellow, white, even splashes of purple lit up the plot I’d been so carefully tending. 

“She knew she’d caught me by surprise. She asked me, ‘Sunshine, you see how a good, honest effort can lead to the most unexpected rewards?’ But I was upset that she’d tricked me, in the petulant way that girls that age can be, so I said, ‘All I see are useless flowers in prettier colors.’” 

The smile vanished as she spoke the harsh words, mouth drooping with the weight of what she’d said to her mother. 

“She just sighed,” Ursa continued after a moment. “And she sent me inside, saying she would pick the flowers herself. I was immediately upset, because she wasn’t letting me help and because I knew, deep down, I’d hurt her with my words. But I went and lay down in my bed, refusing to have dinner, refusing to say I was sorry because…pride, I suppose. Spiteful, silly, pride.

“The next morning, I’d calmed down enough to think maybe I should give her an apology. I went to the greenhouse, swallowing down my pettiness, and found she’d laid out an array of the flowers. Some of them were bundled up to sell as gifts or decorations, but others were being dried. I was still too proud to ask what she was doing, though, so I just stared at them and tried to puzzle it out by myself. Eventually, she laughed at me and called me over to explain. ‘Chrysanthemums are pretty, but they can do so many things if you do more than look at them: they can heal a heart, settle a mind, or just be a lovely cup of tea. And even if all they were was pretty, doesn’t it bring a smile to your lips to see them?’”

Her eyebrows raised in a good-natured impression of her mother lecturing her; Iroh suddenly saw a resemblance between mother and daughter that he hadn’t noticed before. “She told me, ‘Ursa, never make the mistake of tying worth to beauty. Beauty by itself isn’t a good or a bad thing - it is simply a quality that can be used to fulfill a purpose, or one that can mask so much more than you suspect.’ Then she told me I’d done a good job with the chrysanthemums, and I could start helping make the salves and medicines. 

“I was so happy, I forgot to apologize for what I’d said. By the time it occurred to me that maybe I should, enough time had passed that it seemed pointless to bring it up. So I never did. Now I think maybe I should have.” Her eyes watered again. “I keep thinking about all the things I should have done before I left, what I would’ve done if I’d known. Sitting in the greenhouse one last time. Listening to my father’s silly jokes with a smile. Leaving everything on the stage for my last performance, maybe stealing a mask from the theater as a keepsake since it wouldn’t matter anymore if they kicked me out,” she laughed wetly. “There’s so many…so many farewells I never said.”

Iroh had never seen the depths of the grief she held for her old life. Although he suspected there was one more farewell that she wasn’t mentioning, her village boyfriend Ikem, he wasn’t going to raise that issue. Instead, he nodded awkwardly in sympathy, searching for the right words as she stopped speaking and covered her face with her hands. Everything he thought to say felt so insignificant in the face of this mourning.

 “I won’t pretend to understand everything you left behind,” he said finally, “but I do feel for you.” A useless sentiment , he scolded himself.

Still, she wiped off her tear-streaked face and offered him a watery smile. “Thank you.”

“Maybe you can do some of those things during the Autumn Festival,” he added, grasping at the one reassurance that came to mind.  

But his words had the opposite effect. Ursa froze, eyes widening with clear shock. “What?”

“The Autumn Festival,” he repeated. “When we stop at your home…haven’t you made plans to visit Hira’a?”

“No.” She wrapped her arms around herself, something like nausea seeming to crawl across her face. “I didn’t- no one told me I could.”

“It’s tradition. One of the places that we visit is the royal spouse’s home, as a gesture of respect. I’ve visited my mother’s family every year even after she passed. No one mentioned it? Not even Yuna?” Iroh was becoming confused as well. It didn’t make sense why Ursa’s staff would have neglected to help her plan a very standard part of the festival journey.

“I thought…your father, he said…”

Well, that certainly shed some light on the picture. “What did my father say?”

She shook her head and shrank away from Iroh, bringing her knees up as a barrier between them while she curled against the headboard. There was fear in her eyes; real fear, the kind that he’d hoped she didn’t feel around him anymore.

“Ursa,” he forced himself to repeat more softly. “What did he say? Did he tell you to keep it a secret?”

“No…”

“Then surely it’s fine for you to tell me. It’s just us here.”

She dug her chin into her knees, looking unusually fragile as she eyed Iroh warily. “Before the wedding, he told me I had to cut off all ties with my past and my parents. He said it was customary for those marrying into the royal family.”

No wonder she’d been in such a state after the wedding; she’d thought she would never be able to see her family again and had missed her chance to say goodbye while unconscious. A sharp, bitter sensation filled him. His father had blatantly lied to his wife and isolated her from everything she knew, not even changing his mind when he’d seen the anguish it had caused her during her strange illness. Meanwhile, Ursa had been suffering in silence, believing that even her husband wanted her kept away from her family. It wasn’t right, and it struck him as being strangely cruel on Azulon’s part.

“Iroh?” Ursa was looking at the lamp next to the bed. He belatedly realized its flame was growing in size, responding to the budding anger inside him.

“I don’t know why he told you that, but it’s not custom,” he said as he forced the lamp back down, “I’m close to my mother’s parents. I write to them frequently. I want my children to have the same relationship with their mother’s parents, even if my father may disagree.”

“Please don’t say that. I’m sure your father has his reasons. Your mother was from a good and noble family, wasn’t she? I’m just a girl from Hira’a whose grandfather attacked the Fire Lord and betrayed his country. Why wouldn’t your father want to keep his heirs away from my family?”

She had hit the nail on the head, Iroh realized. Azulon feared the Avatar’s influence just as much as Sozin had before him, even as he hoped for his bloodline to absorb some of the Avatar’s power through Ursa.

“That doesn’t mean you should be forced to suffer unnecessarily,” he replied finally, not answering her question. “You haven’t even been able to write to them?”

“I tried to send a letter in secret once, but Yuna caught me and said she would have to tell the Fire Lord if it happened again.”

Her hands wrung the ends of her sleeves pitifully, evidence of the fright it gave her to think of the Fire Lord finding out. Iroh couldn’t help feeling perturbed at the sight. His father had enlisted Ursa’s staff in keeping her separated from her old life but hadn’t discussed it with Iroh at all. They definitely needed to have a father-son chat before Iroh and Ursa left for the Autumn Festival in a week.

“I…appreciate that you’re concerned,” Ursa said, starting to uncurl herself while Iroh was silent. “But I don’t want to push back against your father’s wishes and lose the privileges I do have here. Besides, it makes me feel better knowing you at least don’t agree with his decision.” 

Disagreeing with the Fire Lord was dangerous for anyone, even for his heir. Iroh would have to think carefully about his strategy for discussing this with his father; luckily, he hadn’t asked for any major favors in some time, so he had a decent amount of goodwill built up. For now, though, he just wanted Ursa to feel better. It was clear she was shaken by what she’d learned.

“I’m glad I can offer some comfort,” he told her, putting the Pai Sho board aside. “Is there anything else I could do for you tonight? Should I send for a red bean bun from the kitchens?” 

She giggled, the sound giving Iroh a bit of relief, and shook her head. “No, it’s fine. Can you just boil the kettle so I can make the tea? I think I’ll sleep soon.”

“I’m happy to brew it if you’re feeling tired.”

“A princess keeps her word.” Her chin jutted out stubbornly. 

She began preparing the tea leaves as he grabbed the kettle and produced his small handful of fire. Something about doing this in front of her made him feel a bit like a proud sabertooth moose lion puffing out his chest. She always watched his firebending with an almost awed expression, as if she was witnessing something magnificent, when he considered this to be a relatively mundane feat. He almost wished she would stop by the training grounds more often, so he could show off his true capabilities. 

Ursa gingerly took the kettle from him as it boiled. “You know,” she said as she poured the water and covered the bowl of tea leaves. “I can think of something else you could do for me tonight, if you want to make me feel better.”

“Anything.”

“Sleep in your own bed.” She smirked ever so slightly, knowing she’d caught him.

“Oh, all right . But don’t blame me when I wake you up at dawn to avoid you getting caught in the study.” While Iroh was usually up at sunrise to meditate and prepare for the day, he’d noticed Ursa had no such inclinations and much preferred to sleep in. 

Surprisingly, she just shrugged. “It’s worth it to get one over on the crown prince.”

One, then two cups of tea were carefully poured. “There,” she proclaimed through a yawn. “Two passable cups of ginseng.”

“I’m certain you’re selling yourself short,” he said as he took one. “If you don’t mind, I have a bit more reading to do in the study. I’ll be quiet so you can sleep.”

“Okay.”

The couch was spacious enough for Iroh to sleep comfortably on it, so he knew that rationally, it was more than enough for Ursa. Still, he couldn’t help eying it with some discomfort as she sat and began arranging the pillows into a sleeping position.

“What?” she challenged when she caught him staring.

“You’re really fine on the couch?”

“Iroh, my cot at home was about this size, and it wasn’t nearly as plush. I’m not as delicate as you think,” she laughed. 

Of course, he reminded himself. She was no noblewoman; she was from Hira’a, a village that she deserved to be able to see again. “Alright.”

“What are you working on?” she asked as she sipped her tea.

“The cipher, again. I have a new scroll from Zoryu to read.” It was a white lie, but it was one she would believe; he’d been making slow progress on Zoryu’s cipher for a few months now.

“Well, have fun reading. Tell me if there’s anything good.” She drained her cup and lay down on the couch. “Good night.”

“Will do. Good night.”

He brought his own cup of tea to his lips as he sat at his desk. It was certain that he’d had much better ginseng elsewhere, but he found he didn’t really mind. Something about tea that his wife had made for him just tasted…nice. 

Hopefully, he’d be able to give her something much more precious in return. Iroh lit a candle and attended to his real order of business: formulating his argument for why the Fire Lord should allow his wife to visit Hira’a again. He found the stack of letters from his grandparents that he kept in his personal files and thumbed through them with a smile. While he was no actor, he also wasn’t above a little emotional manipulation when he wanted something from his father. 

The candle had almost burned itself out by the time Iroh finished reading through all his letters, writing down pieces of recollections of his mother, and mumbling to himself in an effort to rehearse what he would say to his father about the issue. Ursa fell asleep while he was working, based on the sound of her slow breathing. He was just thinking he would run through his arguments one more time and then turn in for the night, when he heard her shift and murmur something from the couch.

“Miss…”

Had she woken up? “Ursa?”

She didn’t respond for a moment, then groaned, “Yellow…”

He peered over his shoulder to check on her, and a queer feeling overcame him as he realized he’d never actually seen her sleeping before; he’d always made it a point during her previous visits to his room to leave his chambers after waking up and give her privacy in the mornings. Feeling a bit like a voyeur, he padded over to the couch, bringing the candle with him for light. She was curled up on her side with her back to Iroh, dark hair splayed out onto the red cushions and partially obscuring her face. The candlelight cast a gentle, warm glow onto her form.

“Ursa, is something wrong?” he whispered.

“Pretty…” she sighed, turning onto her back. Her hair fell away, revealing her eyes were very much closed. She was a sleeptalker, he realized. It felt like a strangely intimate detail to know even though she was his wife. The less rational part of his mind felt an urge to reach out and trail his fingers across that soft hair and smooth skin.

Shaking away that thought, he focused his attention on the blanket that threatened to slip off the couch thanks to her change in position. Carefully, he pulled it up and draped it over her shoulders, hoping she wouldn’t wake up. Thankfully, she just relaxed and breathed, “Mama…”

She was dreaming of her mother. Iroh was painfully familiar with that feeling; he would’ve given anything to see his mother one more time. He couldn’t watch his wife go through the same agony when her mother was still very much alive.

“You’ll see her again,” he whispered, more for his own sake than for her sleeping ears. “I promise.” 

Chapter Text

“And can we expect any good news soon? Some are saying it’s been an inauspiciously long time.” 

The sound of Mariko’s voice carrying across the gardens immediately put Iroh on edge. He glanced sideways from his conversation with the agriculture minister to see a small audience clustered around Mariko and Ursa. To her credit, his wife was maintaining her elegant posture and serene royal expression well. 

“Who can predict when new life graces us, Mariko?” Ursa’s eyebrows drew together in a perfect picture of sympathy. “Why, one’s husband could even suddenly emerge with a son two islands away; that would be markedly more inauspicious, don’t you think?”

Iroh bit back a proud smile as he excused himself from the agriculture minister to make his way through the garden party. Ursa had expertly thrown Mariko’s father’s infidelity in her face, better than he himself could have phrased it. Still, he didn’t like the way the crowd seemed to be slowly surrounding his wife as Mariko’s face reddened with embarrassment.

“Mariko, it’s been some time,” he announced himself loudly, dispersing some of the women to plant himself at Ursa’s side and lightly place one hand at the small of her back: just enough to remind the onlookers whose wife she was while making it clear she was capable of standing on her own. “How are you? I heard your father was hoping to find you a match by summer’s end.”

Alright, maybe throwing in the additional barb about her marital status was unnecessary, but Iroh was annoyed by the audacity she had to publicly question his wife’s fertility. Mariko, like quite a few women of her class, had been a fixture at palace events for much of his adolescence, transparently hoping to join the royal family. Ursa’s sudden arrival on the scene had clearly displeased her, and based on the small audience, Mariko wasn’t the only one feeling slighted. 

“My arrangements will be postponed until next summer,” Mariko said stiffly. “My parents are having trouble deciding which suitor would be most advantageous to our family, and the auspicious wedding season is drawing to an end all too soon. I was so sad to miss yours, Prince Iroh. It happened so suddenly!” Her voice shifted back into the wheedling suggestiveness of noble conversations. Iroh focused on making sure his eye didn’t twitch. 

“It was such a lovely event,” Ursa piped up, drawing closer to Iroh and placing a hand on his shoulder with just the right amount of possessiveness. “I hardly recall all the guests; my husband looked so regal I wasn’t very interested in much else.” Even as she smiled sweetly at him, the perfect picture of a doting new wife, he caught the quick flash in her eyes and knew she was also exasperated by Mariko. 

“A shame it was cut short by your illness,” Mariko snapped open her fan and waved it at herself delicately. “It is fortunate that the royal family is not fazed by such omens.”

“The only ‘omen’ I noticed was bad sea slug,” Ursa replied, turning her attention back to the woman, “but perhaps it’s easier to see them if one has experienced many in her life.”

Mariko’s face was priceless, even as she attempted to hide it behind her open fan. “Perhaps. Pardon me, Prince Iroh, but I feel a touch of sun.”

“Feel better,” Ursa called after her, and Iroh had to purse his lips to prevent a smile. “It was wonderful to meet you all,” she continued to the other women who’d been watching the exchange. “Do stay until the fireworks. I would very much like to hear more about the Royal Fire Academy for Girls, but I’m sure there are other guests of my husband I need to meet today.”

There were mixed reactions on the women’s faces, ranging from clear disdain to impressed admiration to grudging respect. He’d expected nothing less; Ursa had her work cut out for her as a newcomer to the capital, and although she’d been a princess for nearly three months now, this was her first real test. The palace’s kickoff celebration of the Autumn Festival was an exclusive event for the Fire Lord’s current favorites, many of whom hadn’t had a chance to meet the new princess and were naturally curious. Ursa was handling the attention well, as evidenced by her clash with Mariko, but Iroh could tell the hours in character as Princess Ursa were starting to wear her down. 

“Do you want a break?” he whispered as they turned away from the group.

“Please.”

“You’re doing remarkably,” he said, guiding her to a relatively isolated cluster of rose bushes before signaling a server to bring them some drinks. “I couldn’t have handled Mariko better myself. Take a moment to breathe.”

“Thank you,” she said, face relaxing to show her exhaustion. “I know you warned me about her, but…where I come from, it would’ve been acceptable for me to spill a drink on her dress for some of the things she said.”

“If this wasn’t your very first public appearance, you might be able to do it here too.”

She giggled, the sound of her real laugh like music to Iroh’s ears. “I’ll keep it in mind if I see her again. Oh, thank you,” she told the server who arrived with two glasses of cool watermelon juice. 

Iroh took his gratefully; it may have been summer’s end, but the sun hadn’t gotten the memo, which wasn’t helped by his sweltering formalwear. He tugged open his collar just enough to feel a cool breeze against his throat, before telling Ursa, “I used to have a crush on her, you know.”

“On Mariko? When?”

“When I was seven.”

“Ah, I see. You were too young to know any better.”

“Exactly. I thought she was the prettiest girl ever and brought her a rose from our gardens to tell her so. She responded that she didn’t like big-headed ninnies. Broke my heart.”

Humor glinted in her eyes. “Now I understand. She’s upset because she knows she could’ve had it all if she wasn’t so mean as a little girl.”

“Probably, but it’s not my concern. I have a much kinder wife who apparently thinks I look ‘regal.’”

“Well, now that you’ve mentioned the big-headed thing…I might see where she was coming from.” She coyly raised her eyebrows at him as she took a sip of her drink.

Iroh played along with her teasing, placing a hand over his heart. “You wound me, Princess.”

“Maybe I’m just upset that I’ve never received a rose. Why were you more chivalrous as a seven year old than now?”

“I apologize.” He plucked a red rose from the bush next to him. “Here.” It was quite easy to position it behind her ear, her long hair serving as an anchor for the stem. The flower suited her well, the color complementing her robes and drawing attention to her lips while adding a gentleness to her otherwise prim and proper appearance. 

“Thank you.” Her eyes flickered away from his to admire the rosebushes. Perhaps it was his imagination, but her cheeks seemed redder with the rose in her hair as well…

“Am I interrupting?” A voice cut in, prompting a surge of irritation from Iroh. Wondering who considered themselves important enough to bother him in a private moment with his wife, he turned and found the answer to his question in his friend’s smug smile.

“Piandao!” Laughing, he dropped formalities to embrace him properly with his free arm. “You have a lot of nerve showing your face here after skipping my wedding.”

“I received that letter about your impending nuptials while in the Hu Xin Provinces facing a battalion of earthbenders. I was a bit busy fighting for your father, not to mention my own life.”

“I suppose I’ll pardon you. Ursa,” Iroh turned to introduce her, “this is Piandao. One of the most talented swordsmen in the Fire Army, and a dear friend.”

“It’s an honor, Princess.” Piandao’s shrewd gray eyes studied her as he bowed, forming a quick assessment of this new addition to the royal family. “I understand you planned most of this lovely event. Forgive my intrusion - I very rarely have time to make it back to the capital these days, let alone send an advance notice of my arrival.”

“There’s always room for one of our brave soldiers,” Ursa said generously. “Did you know Iroh in school?”

“Something like that.” Piandao cast him a knowing look. “He never had much luck with pretty girls back then unless he showed off his crown prince headpiece; is that what worked on you, Your Highness?”

“Something like that.” She matched his vague manner of sidestepping questions with a smile. It occurred to Iroh that they might get along well, if Piandao ever had time to get to know her. “How long will you be away from your post?”

“Maybe a couple of days before I have to sail back. I was hoping to steal a moment to surprise my mother?” He raised an eyebrow at Iroh as he asked.

“Of course,” Iroh answered immediately. “Tell her to take as much time as she likes. You just make sure you have time for tea with me before you leave.”

“As if you’d let me go without that.”

Iroh shook his head and clasped Piandao’s forearm in farewell. “Don’t do anything to make me change my mind,” he called after his retreating form.

“So, who is he?” Ursa whispered once Piandao was out of earshot.

“My oldest friend in the world. I’ll tell you more about him later.” He didn’t think Piandao would appreciate a discussion of his backstory out in the open like this.

“Well, he must be quite something if you’ve been friends so long.” The small, genuine smile that accompanied her words joined the watermelon juice in cooling Iroh’s exhaustion from the party so far. She drained the rest of her drink before continuing, “I see your father starting to stare at us. Should we venture back into the fray?”

Sure enough, Iroh turned his head and caught the Fire Lord’s raised eyebrow, sending a clear message. Considering the favor Iroh needed, he couldn’t afford for his father to be in anything less than a spectacular mood. “Very well. Princess?” He held an arm out to her. Her back straightened once she accepted it, her ‘princess face’ returning in full force. 

“Only three more hours until the fireworks,” she reminded him as he steered her towards General Hu.

Three more hours wouldn’t be so bad; not with her beside him, her sunshine eyes meeting his own between clever remarks and polite smiles to give him glimpses of her true reactions. As the party went on, he noticed none of the guests made her laugh quite like he did, something that made him feel strangely proud.

Soon enough, the sunset painted the sky with streaks of pink and orange, signaling that it was time for the party to move to the palace balconies for the firework display Ursa had planned.

“Remind me why we’re changing this part?” Ozai said in a bored voice, directing his question at Ursa.

Iroh bit his tongue to keep from reprimanding his brother for disparaging Ursa’s efforts as she responded, “This will be a better view for everyone in the capital. Releasing the fireworks from the harbor instead of the palace means the setting sun won’t block the show for the citizens who aren’t at the party.”

“And we care about them, why?” 

“Ozai, the Autumn Festival is a celebration for all Fire Nationals,” Ursa half-reprimanded him goodnaturedly. “Besides, I think our guests will enjoy the new view too.”

Hopefully, that would be the case. Ozai was the only one with the audacity to openly voice his discontent, but as the younger prince raised an eyebrow and melted back into the crowd, Iroh could spot similar sentiments in the sideways glances and prim lips of the nobility around them. Ursa peered at him, her slightly too rapid blinking indicating that Ozai had stoked her anxiety about people’s reactions as well.

“Would you deign to watch the fireworks with a big-headed ninny, Princess?” he asked playfully, aiming to distract her from her nerves. 

It worked; she smiled, reaching up to toy with the rose that was still behind her ear where he’d placed it earlier. “Oh, all right, if only because he presented his hostess with such a lovely gift.”

Iroh purposefully chose a spot a little away from his father for viewing the show; the last thing Ursa needed was to be stressing about the Fire Lord’s opinion. The rose got pulled out of her hair somewhere along the way so she could fidget with it in her hands; he was tempted to reach out and snatch it away before she cut herself on its thorns. Instead, he opted to still her fingers by making his silliest jokes the focus of her attention.

“You know what makes half a party?” 

“What?”

“Tea. Par-tea.”

“That was awful.”

“I can do worse. I know all about royal-tea.”

“...I’m walking away.” 

“No, you’re not. You said you’d watch the fireworks with me, and a princess keeps her word.”

Ursa sighed, the gesture undercut by the smile clearly tugging at her lips. “Fine. Tell me one that’s not tea, at least.”

“That might take oo-long time.”

“Do you have a list of these memorized?”

“I can’t guaran-tea I don’t.”

“Oh, that one was just lazy .”

“I know, I know, I hate myself for saying it. Alright, here’s an actual joke that’s not about tea…”

He didn’t get to the punchline, though, because the first firework lit up the evening sky, sending everyone into a hush for the show. 

Throughout his life, Iroh had easily sat through dozens of firework shows in the capital, let alone those he’d seen in all the provinces. He knew what a good royal firework show involved: astounding blasts of red, orange and yellow lighting up the palace and the sky around it in celebration of the summer solstice (or the Autumn Festival, a military victory, whatever event called for the festivities). The royals and nobles would enjoy the view with food and drink, chatter and background noise, either too accustomed to be awed or too new to dare show their awe. It was entertaining enough, but once Iroh had crossed the age of ten, it had become sort of a simple cherry on top of each party.

Ursa’s show was no cherry.

The first firework had been gold, a standard, radiant color to begin the show. A flute started playing somewhere as the crowd quieted down; when had she planned a musical accompaniment? The song made him suppress a shiver - Four Seasons, Four Loves , he knew it too well - but what followed dismissed those memories. A slow crescendo of white began, accompanied by the lone flute, each firecracker lighting up the sky gently like a star before going out with a blue flash. The effect was beautifully mirrored in the shimmering ocean, an unexpected advantage of the shift to the harbor. 

The blue-white flashes hit a climax along with the flute’s shrill peak and suddenly turned into pink and green fireworks as a pipa joined to pick up the pace, evoking a flowering imagery heightened by the strategic pairing of pink atop green with each explosion. Like a meadow in the sky, slowly sinking its roots into the ocean, Iroh thought to himself. It was beautifully done, especially with the music in the background. 

A solitary final flower bloomed into the traditional fireworks Iroh knew so well as drums and cymbals crashed into the soundtrack and replaced the pipa. Red and orange swirled into the sky like dragonfire, prompting oohs and aahs from the crowd as they combusted in powerful bending blasts, washing out the ocean. This was summer, he realized with a start. White and blue winter, pink and green spring, and now red and orange summer. It wasn’t just the song; Ursa had planned an entire show of the seasons. 

 Just as the drums and the cymbals were reaching a fever pitch, completely overwhelming the flute in the background, one last cascade of red and orange lit up the sky and dissipated into purple and yellow sparks that banished the percussion. A tsungi horn accompanied the flute now, the two wind instruments taking turns fading in and out as purple and yellow danced around each other, the contrasting colors performing the steps to some ancient choreography Iroh didn’t know but still recognized deep in his spirit. Finally, purple and yellow embraced each other at long last while the tsungi horn and the flute reached a perfectly unlikely harmony that hung in the air like a haunting goodbye. 

Of course it was ending on autumn. Of course she’d chosen this song.

Winter, spring, summer and fall

Winter, spring, summer and fall

Four seasons, four loves

Four seasons, four loves

The melancholy flute played through the song by itself one last time as a single gold firework ended the show the same way it had started. The cycle of the seasons beginning anew. A year somehow captured in a few minutes.

Iroh was in awe, not just of the fireworks, but of the woman who’d somehow turned them from just blasts of color into a performance fit for a celestial stage. He quickly glanced at her, wanting to give her the praise she deserved before the Fire Lord and the nobles interjected with their own reactions. Her head was bent so he couldn’t see her face, but her pale hands were clenched tightly around the thorny rose stem.

“Ursa,” he said, not caring who heard, “that was wonderful .” He covered her whitening knuckles gently, a poor attempt at coaxing her into letting go of the flower.

His words made her raise her head enough for him to see that her eyes were shining far too brightly. Her hands loosened their grip just a tad under his touch, her lips parted to speak-

“Wonderful, indeed!” His father’s voice came booming from where he’d been watching the show at the front and center of the balcony, cutting off whatever she’d been about to say. “Thank you, Princess Ursa, for that spectacular finale to tonight’s festivities.”

Seeing that both the Fire Lord and the crown prince had given their approval, the crowd around them broke into applause for the princess. Ursa’s mouth shifted into her princess smile, and she turned away from Iroh to assume the image of a dutiful hostess gracefully accepting her guests’ ovation. It was a tenuous mask: her eyes were still too bright, and as she bowed to the Fire Lord, a single shining tear made its way down her cheek.

“The Autumn Festival is officially underway,” his father continued. “Prince Iroh and Princess Ursa will depart tomorrow morning to bring the festival to the provinces, the first time in fourteen years that journey has been taken by two royals instead of one. To those of you who will be hosting my son and daughter-in-law in your homes, I’m sure they will return with bountiful praise of your hospitality.”

The speech droned on with something about auspicious signs for this year’s festival and the war efforts; Iroh seized the opportunity to whisper into Ursa’s ear, “Are you okay?”

She looked at him with a start, like she’d forgotten he was there while taking her bow. “Yes,” she said, too quickly, her too-sweet princess smile still plastered to her lips.

He raised his eyebrows at her and tapped his own cheek, drawing her attention to the tear that had left its track on her pale skin.

“Oh…” she breathed softly when she reached up and found the damp trail there. “I was just moved by everyone’s praise. And I’m a bit tired, of course.”

The way her grip tightened on the rose again was enough proof for Iroh that she wasn’t being honest. “Ursa.”

Her smile faltered at that. “I…was thinking of my father,” she whispered.

Azulon’s final toast interrupted her small confession. “Good night, everyone. To our nation’s glory this autumn.” 

“To our nation’s glory.” Iroh stepped back into prince mode just enough to echo the words and bid his farewells, making sure to keep Ursa at his side as the horde of guests bowed and flattered and swooped its way out of the palace. His father caught his eye and nodded for him to leave as well; the Fire Lord wanted a moment alone, as he always did at the start of the Autumn Festival with memories of his wife on his mind. Iroh held an arm out to Ursa and steered her back towards their chambers for the night.

“Tell me about your father,” he said to her, once they’d reached one of the inner hallways and could speak with some privacy. “I haven’t heard you talk about him much.”

She hesitated for a moment, studying him like she wasn’t sure he meant it, before smiling slightly. “He would like your awful tea jokes.”

Iroh chuckled, relieved that she was back to mocking him. “Is that right?”

“Yes.” The rose was thankfully tucked behind her ear again as she spoke. “That’s exactly the kind of thing he thinks is the pinnacle of comedy. Do you want to hear his favorite joke?” 

“Absolutely.”

“Knock knock.”

“Who’s there?”

“Interrupting hippo cow.”

“Interrupting hip-”

“Moo!” she cut him off, then giggled. 

He rolled his eyes, even though the knot that had formed in his chest when he saw her tears was slowly coming undone at the sound of her laughter. “So, he has a sense of humor, unlike his daughter. What else?”

“Hey!” Ursa scowled at him in false offense, but it softened as she considered his question. “He’s…a dreamer. He’s the one who really believed I could be an actress. My mother’s the practical parent, but my father likes to spin stories out of the clouds and constellations and ask why they can’t be real.” She shook her head fondly. “And he loves fireworks, although the ones at our festivals were tiny compared to here. He would point at the explosions and talk about the drama he saw in them, how the sparks were fighting or dancing or celebrating right along with us.”

“You must have been thinking of him, then, when you planned for tonight.” Hearing her describe her father’s view on fireworks made it clear how the man had left his fingerprints on Ursa’s show.

“Yes.” Her mouth turned downwards again. “I wish he could have seen it.”

“He would have loved it, I’m sure.” An empty sentiment, considering he’d met Jinzuk once and the man had been trembling with fear the whole time, but Iroh was sure he was correct. If nothing else, Jinzuk was a father who loved his daughter, and so he would love what she made too.

“Do you really think so?” Ursa asked, sounding almost surprised at his certainty.

“Of course. I saw the drama in it: the four seasons, the harmony, the music. I told you, it was wonderful.”

“I thought you were just being polite in front of everyone.”

“No. It was inspired, Ursa. And I know what I’m talking about. You have no idea how many inferior fireworks shows I’ve sat through.” He paused to let her laugh, pleased to hear her amusement again. “I have to ask though, what made you pick the song?”

“ Four Seasons, Four Loves? It just seemed appropriate,” she shrugged. “It’s thematic, yet simple enough to not overwhelm the visual display; an obvious choice, really. Why?”

So, no one had told her about his mother’s love for that specific tune. “Just curious about how a master performer’s mind works.”

“I’m hardly a master.”

“I don’t know how else to describe someone who successfully turned the sky and the sea into a stage for her show.”

She looked away from him, cheeks turning a pretty shade of pink. “It couldn’t have happened without all the festival hands and musicians who actually executed my ideas. But thank you.”

“You’re very welcome. Are you ready for tomorrow’s journey?”

“I will be after a good night’s sleep.” They came to a pause at her door, and she removed her arm from his. “What about you?”

“I’ve been ready.” It was the truth; the Autumn Festival had always been a time he eagerly anticipated, his chance to spread his wings outside the palace even if it was with the Royal Procession at his heels. “I’m just looking forward to seeing everything you’ve planned.”

“I hope I don’t disappoint.” She pursed her lips, looking a bit torn about something. “You really mean what you said? About my father?”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”

“I don’t know. It’s strange to hear you talk about him, like a reminder that he does still exist outside of my memories. I…try not to think of home too much.”

If her eyes had been too bright earlier, they were too dull now, like clouds had come over the sun. Missing home was wearing on her spirit, more than she’d admitted to him. Iroh hated to imagine what would happen to her as time dragged on and the memories of her old life faded. Would her eyes be cloudy forever? He couldn’t stand the thought.

“I understand,” he said. “It would be hard for anyone in your shoes.”

She didn’t respond properly to that, just hummed in acknowledgement and toyed with the handle of her bedroom door for a moment. Then, “Good night, Iroh.”

“Good night, Ursa. I’ll see you in the morning.” He definitely hadn’t done a good enough job comforting her, but he couldn’t think of anything else to say once she’d so clearly ended the conversation. The door opened and shut, and she was gone.

Maybe there was nothing else to say to her, but there were some things he needed to say to the Fire Lord that might help.

His father was exactly where he’d predicted: the music room, seated on the yellow couch that remained Mom’s even over a decade after her death. “Son,” he greeted, voice sounding a bit strained. “Shouldn’t you be with your wife?”

“She wanted to rest up for her first big journey. Besides, we’ll be seeing plenty of each other once we’re on the road.”

“I only ever joined your mother for one Autumn Festival journey. I would’ve gladly taken more if I weren’t already Fire Lord.” Father smiled sadly. “You’re fortunate.”

Fortunate, indeed, that his wife had left an entire life behind for this marriage yet somehow didn’t seem to hate him for it. Iroh swallowed down that retort and focused on his mission. He couldn’t just argue his father into this. “I miss Mom,” he said quietly, and it wasn’t a lie. “Hearing Four Seasons, Four Loves again…”

“Is that why you’re here?” 

“Yes. I know it’s been a while since we’ve done this, but I’ve been thinking about her a lot. Since the wedding, really. I’ve been wondering if she would’ve liked Ursa, what advice she would’ve given me for my marriage.” Iroh shrugged. “I wish I knew.”

“Come here,” Azulon beckoned him. “Play for an old man missing his wife, and I’ll tell you what I think.”

Iroh grabbed his pipa and seated himself by his father’s feet. It was a rather childish pose to assume, but he needed the Fire Lord to be feeling as sentimental as possible to have a chance at getting Ursa to Hira’a. “Any requests?” he asked, playing a few warm up chords. 

“Well, now that it’s on our minds, why not Four Seasons ?”

The song came to him almost effortlessly, seeing as it was already thrumming through him from the fireworks show, and he allowed it to flow out of his fingers without paying mind to the lump it put in his throat. “Funnily enough, Ursa has no idea this was one of Mom’s favorites. I never told her, and I assume you never did; she just happened to choose this for the show.”

“She is a musician,” Azulon said with something like approval. “Not a particularly trained one, but an instinctive one. Your mother would have liked that.”

Despite himself, Iroh felt his heart warm at the thought. “What else?” he asked, adding a few flourishes as the song started over to put a smile on his father’s face.

“Your mother would like how she’s dedicated herself to you and the palace, despite her less than ideal background. She would appreciate that she knows her place as a new princess.”

Iroh didn’t like these compliments as much. Less than ideal background, knows her place ; he needed his father to shift away from that train of thought for this to work. “And what do you think she would say about how I’m doing?”

“‘Your scrolls won’t warm your bed.’” Azulon gave him a meaningful look. “I received a similar comment after the tenth time I rejected her company in favor of poring over my father’s records of the Air Temples. You certainly shouldn’t let your wife dictate what you do, but a little goes a long way; honoring her wishes every now and then will keep both of you happier overall.”

For me, Father, honoring her wishes means leaving her alone rather than inviting her to my chamber and reminding her that she was forced into this marriage for some half-witted prophecy that condemns her to bearing my children- “I’m trying to remember that.”

“I’ve noticed. I know you weren’t thrilled about marriage, Iroh, but you’ve done admirably stepping up and committing yourself to it in the months since it occurred.”

“Well, it’s for the good of the family if Ursa and I like each other as much as possible, after all.”

“Of course.”

Now was a good time to start steering the conversation in the direction he wanted. Iroh transitioned the music to one of his father’s favorite love songs. “What was it like for you when you were newlyweds? Was it how Ursa and I are?”

Azulon gave a small huff of amusement. “Agni, no. It couldn’t have been more different. I was a Fire Lord in his prime, eager to enjoy my time with my beautiful bride, and yet carving out that time proved to be an immense challenge with the demands of the throne and the war. Which was part of what inspired her upset about the scrolls, naturally; she felt slighted that I used my brief stays at home to plan further battles instead of relishing her company. That’s why you’re fortunate to be married as a young prince, Iroh, even though you don’t see it that way. You have the time to indulge such heady desires, time I rarely had with your mother.”

Iroh nodded, as if he were truly considering his father’s words rather than carefully plotting his responses. “What did Mom do, while you were gone? Wasn’t it lonely for her to be without her husband?”

“She was a sociable woman, so I’m not sure loneliness came to her as easily as it did to me when we were apart. But she did like to spend the summers with her family whenever I was leading larger expeditions. Surely you remember some of those trips?”

“It’s hard to recall.” He slowed his playing, shifting into a sadder tempo. “Thinking of her too much…well, I’m sure you understand.”

A hand settled itself on Iroh’s shoulder, and he looked up into his father’s shining eyes. “No, my boy. I can never understand what it is to lose a mother at your age.” 

Feeling a flicker of guilt for how he was purposefully poking at old wounds, he pressed on. “I was lucky to have Granny and Grampa after she passed. Sometimes I think I remember her more through their stories of her, and yours, than my own actual memories. Especially during Autumn Festival time; I remember how it felt so…painful, yet comforting, to go to their home during the first year after she died and see their old portraits of her. I make sure to look through them every year now, and have Granny tell me about each one.”

“Family is everything. I am lucky hers have cared for you so well even after she passed.” Father’s hand shifted to adjust Iroh’s headpiece in his topknot, the most physical affection he’d allowed himself to show Iroh since the latter’s thirteenth birthday.

“They couldn’t have cared for me if I hadn’t been able to see them so often.” Iroh rested his head against his father’s knee, something he’d done as a much younger boy missing his mother in this same room. “It’s a strange thing, Father; I was looking forward to getting to know my in-laws so my own children could be cared for by them the same way some day, but I found out Yuna apparently neglected to help Ursa accommodate a trip to Hira’a in the plans for the festival.”

The Fire Lord stilled. Iroh quickly kept talking. “I went ahead and planned a stop in Hira’a myself, of course; Ursa’s had so much on her mind, I can hardly steal a moment of peace and quiet with her anymore, so I figured she would appreciate the help. I can’t understand how such an oversight happened, though, especially when Yuna’s been attending Ursa, and she knows perfectly well how important it is to visit the spouse’s family home as part of the journey.” 

None of what he was saying was a lie, and that was the critical part of this. Iroh had never been able to lie well - especially not to his father - but he’d discovered a way to talk in circles enough to present the version of the truth that favored him most. Right now, the version that favored him was casting himself as a well-meaning young prince who’d been terribly missing his mom while trying to improve his relationship with his new wife.

“I just thought you should know, Father, that it occurred. It strikes me as unusually lax for Yuna-”

“Iroh,” he finally interjected, “I instructed Yuna to cut the visit to the spouse’s home this year. I don’t think it’s in your best interest for you to know your in-laws too well.”

“Why not?”

“Use that fine brain, son. Why are you married to Ursa?”

“Because she is the Avatar’s granddaughter.”

“And what does that make her parents?”

Blast, Ursa had been right about his father’s agenda. “The Avatar’s daughter and son-in-law, of course. But Father, you saw the way they lived. They’re the magistrate and herbalist of some insignificant village we’d never even heard of before our spies found them. They’re hardly great bastions of the Avatar’s influence.”

“They’ve been hiding for decades precisely because of the Avatar’s influence.”

“After what Avatar Roku did, hiding was the only sensible option. Wouldn’t his daughter have been persecuted as a traitor if you’d captured her earlier? If it was really her mission to continue her father’s work rather than just survive, I’m sure she could’ve easily found a rebel group or Earth Kingdom spy to serve as her allies. Instead, all she’s done with her life is plant a greenhouse and raise a daughter.”

His father frowned at him. “She could be biding her time.”

“Biding her time for what? If she was capable of some great act of vengeance against the Royal Family, I’m sure she would have launched it the day we came to her doorstep looking to claim her daughter. Our spies are thorough; did they reveal that she’s part of some conspiracy we should be concerned about?”

“No.”

“Then what’s the harm?”

“The harm, Prince Iroh , is that Roku’s traitor blood flows in that family’s veins. Ursa is young enough that she is no threat as long as she stays in our influence, but her mother has had a lifetime of internalizing her father’s legacy. I will not see her Avatar witchcraft infect you for sentiment’s sake.”

The use of his title in that tone was a sharp warning to Iroh to drop it, a signal he knew well. In any other disagreement, he would’ve obediently shut his mouth and let the matter go. But this wasn’t just an issue of wanting to skip a trade briefing or a strategy session.

“Father,” he said, allowing more emotion to enter his voice for the riskiest part of his argument, “I don’t want to fall asleep next to a grief-stricken wife. I don’t want my children to have only she or I as family if something were to befall one of us. I don’t want resentment towards us to grow in her heart in the absence of her parents. If I let her have just this, just a brief visit to her hometown that she misses as anyone in her shoes would, we can both be much happier overall. Isn’t that what you told me?”

There was a fifty-fifty chance that this impertinence gave Iroh the result he wanted. He held his breath, waiting to see which side the coin would land on. Fortunately, his father’s frown wavered, and instead of raising his voice he simply said, “Explain.”

Perhaps this would actually work. “I think it’s very simple. She misses her home, and she likely associates that feeling with us since we took her away from it. As dutiful as she is, it’s only natural that such a drastic change in her life will breed resentment over time towards those who caused it. But if we were the generous Fire Lord and crown prince who allowed her to hold a piece of her old life despite the dangers it presents to us, any cause for resentment would be removed and replaced by genuine loyalty to her new family. You and I both know that true loyalty is far harder to break than its forced, duty-bound duplicate.”

The Fire Lord studied him with an impassive expression, not unlike the one he used in the war room when hearing competing generals’ proposals. “Did she ask you for this?” he questioned finally.

“No,” Iroh answered honestly. “As you said, Father, she knows her place. It would never cross her mind to ask me for this.”

Another moment of consideration passed. Iroh resisted the urge to keep talking and spinning further arguments for Ursa’s sake; he’d pushed enough, and the way his father was flexing his hands indicated that he seemed to be close to a decision.

“Take her,” he said. “But discreetly. It’s not a good look for the Royal Family to maintain a regular presence in a village such as that, and I don’t want word of her family’s background spreading.”

Spirits, he’d actually done it. He’d changed his father’s mind about something to do with the Avatar . It was unheard of. “Thank you,” he said, unable to hide the smile that pulled at his lips. “I’ll take her by myself, then, without the royal procession.”

“Only her parents’ house. Only one night.”

“Understood.”

“And Iroh…” His father’s hand rested on his shoulder again. “Winning her true loyalty is all well and good, but make sure you do not give her your own in return. Nothing and no one can ever stand above your duty to the throne.”

Rationally, Iroh knew this to be true. But considering it in the context of this conversation, something sat sourly within him. Had the throne been more important than his mother? Was it now more important than Iroh himself?

“Of course, mighty Fire Lord. You’re the only one with my loyalty,” Iroh said with a grin, prompting a chuckle as Father clasped his shoulder fondly. 

“As it should be, crown prince. Now, I need my rest, and so do you.”

From the hand of Azulon I

Recorded on [First day of the Autumn Festival], 69 AG

I miss Ilah dearly tonight, as I’ve written at the start of every Autumn Festival since she passed. Despite the fact that she presided over it for less than a decade, she still defines it for me in a way no one else can. Perhaps her successor will do the same for Iroh.

The young princess quite unexpectedly impressed me today. Changing the tradition of fireworks at the palace, a tradition that was established well before her time…a shockingly unorthodox choice that, even more shockingly, proved to be the correct one. I allowed her to implement whatever ideas crossed her mind because I expected to be amused by the colossal failure of the Avatar’s granddaughter and then return to form next year; the notion that she might actually prove herself a capable hostess never occurred to me.

Speaking with Iroh tonight, about the issue of letting Ursa visit her hometown, showed me how self-contradictory I have been when considering her. In the same breath, I think of her as the Avatar’s granddaughter and the blood of my nation’s sworn enemy, while also positioning her as my son’s bride, my wife’s successor, my future heirs’ mother. I did not expect reconciling these two images to be as challenging as it has been, but based on what Iroh has told me about their relationship so far, perhaps I’ve been standing in the way of a true bond forming between them due to my concerns about the girl’s family.

I maintain that the Avatar’s daughter is not to be trusted. Whatever lies her father filled her head with could be dangerous. But Ursa is young enough, with such little knowledge of war and politics, that I may be too harsh on her by keeping her away from her parents entirely. Besides, my son is a prize of a husband like many princes before him. I can see that he has gotten over his childish inhibitions about marriage enough to charm her to some extent, based on how I caught her admiring him more than once during tonight’s festivities. Given that foundation, his aim of earning her true loyalty makes sense. I only hope he does not find himself too charmed by her in return; I’ve never known him to lose himself in the company of a woman before, but none of those previous women ever had the distinction of being his wife. He seemed to be in his own world when he was placing a rose in her hair, which is nothing of note by itself, but perhaps something to watch as their marriage progresses.

Newlywed bliss only comes once in a lifetime. I hope he soaks it up for all it's worth, before he realizes just how taxing a marriage can be for a man of his status.

Chapter Text

Ursa hadn’t had a midnight snack in months. Not since her marriage, really. It seemed like such a childish thing to want, and she had never felt confident enough in the palace to request or indulge in childish things for herself. 

But, she couldn’t sleep. It was the night before the Autumn Festival, the last night she would have in the palace before a month on the road with Iroh, the night where she was well and truly exhausted from hosting the festival’s kickoff party, and she couldn’t sleep. She had spent enough time in the kitchen during her stint as a fake maid that her restless mind successfully convinced her that she could just tiptoe down there and get a snack to help herself settle down. Seeing as she was already thinking of her father - he was the whole reason she was having trouble sleeping, actually - it seemed prudent that she should follow one of his favorite pieces of advice. 

“A fed body is a bed body!” he said with a big grin.

“Daddy, that doesn’t make any sense,” six-year-old Ursa rolled her eyes.

“Of course it does. Everything that rhymes makes sense,” her dad said, pulling a silly face. “Besides, you can’t sleep if you’re hungry. Drink this, sunshine, then tell me a bedtime story.” He handed her a cup of freshly-squeezed berry juice, her favorite.

“Shouldn’t you be telling me a story?” 

“Why do I always have to think of the story? I want you to tell me one for once.”

Ursa giggled as her dad clambered into bed with her and cuddled up with her stuffed hippo cow in preparation for his bedtime story. The nightmare that had woken her up hardly twenty minutes ago, screaming for Daddy, already seemed so far away.

Berry juice would be nice, she decided, blinking away her tears. Considering the late hour, though, she was a bit caught off-guard when she nudged open the door to the kitchen and heard voices speaking.

“Ma,” a young man said, “I’ll be fine.”

“You should ask Iroh-” 

“I can’t ask Iroh for anything else,” he said firmly. “You and I both know he’s given us enough.”

“But he would if you asked.”

“Ma, I can’t. I’ve lived so much of my life on his generosity. I need to stand on my own two feet now.”

A shuffling sound, a muffled sob, and then, “Oh, Ma…please, don’t cry.”

Ursa felt like an intruder. Slowly, attempting to back away without a fuss, she tried to close the door again. Of course, the traitorous hinges chose that exact moment to squeak: a perfectly innocuous sound in the day, magnified by a thousand in the quiet of night.

The crying stopped. Footsteps quickly approached, opening the door to reveal Aisha dabbing at her cheeks with a handkerchief. “Princess Ursa,” she gasped, immediately dropping into a bow despite Ursa’s attempt to stop her. 

“Aisha, please. Are you crying? What’s going on?”

“It’s nothing, Your Highness. A personal matter. What can I do for you?”

Ursa glanced through the open door and caught sight of the young man whose voice she’d heard, his steady gaze dropping to the floor as he also bowed. There were plenty of new faces and names swirling around in her mind after the day’s party, but this man with his uncommonly gray eyes thankfully stood out: Iroh’s oldest friend, the swordsman Piandao.

“Your son,” Ursa said, connecting the dots. “He’s leaving for the war again.”

Aisha stifled another sob, and something flashed across Piandao’s face. Now that she knew of the relationship, Ursa could see the resemblance between mother and son: the same brown skin, stubborn jaw, and angular cheekbones, only decades younger and far more masculine in Piandao. The eyes and nose, though, came from somewhere else. Perhaps his father…but Ursa had never known Aisha to speak of a husband. Then again, she’d never known her to speak of a son either.

“Come now, Aisha,” she beseeched the teamaker. “There’s no need for this. I’m so sorry I interrupted. I’ll leave; go finish speaking to your son.”

 Aisha shook her head, ever stubborn. “You must have come here for something. Whatever it is, allow me to assist.”

“If I may, Princess,” Piandao finally spoke, waiting for Ursa to nod before continuing, “she won’t know a moment of peace if you go without letting her tend to you.” 

This was a very different man from the swaggering soldier whom she’d met at the party. He carried himself equally proudly in the kitchen as in the garden, but now with a stillness and a sense of apprehension that he hadn’t shown before. His eyes, however, remained unerringly focused; he was studying Ursa, as she was him. 

Although she hated to give Aisha a task at this hour, she knew Piandao was right. The dedicated chef would never forgive herself if she felt like she’d let down a member of the royal family. “I just wanted some berry juice, Aisha,” Ursa said reluctantly. “I’m perfectly capable of making it myself.”

“Nonsense,” Aisha waved her off at once. “These hands may be old, but they can whip up a cup of juice in a moment. Puvi- Piandao, get the Princess a seat.”

Ursa had never felt like more of a burden. Gingerly, she perched on the stool that Piandao brought her, whispering a thank you. He just nodded, eyes following his mother as she hurried over to the fruit stores to begin making the juice.

“I’m sorry,” she told him, unable to bear the awkwardness. “I really didn’t think anyone would be here…and I didn’t know…”

Piandao returned his attention to her, eyebrows raising slightly.

“It must be so hard for both of you,” she finished lamely. “You deserve more time together.”

“Iroh didn’t tell you about this. About me.”

“No. He said he would, but it’s been a long day and it slipped both our minds. I was looking forward to learning about you, though. He called you his oldest friend.”

 His mouth curved, not quite smiling even as a fond light entered his eyes. “Yes, I suppose I would be. As he is mine.”

Now that she was facing Piandao again, Ursa couldn’t help the curiosity that pricked at her. Given his apparent closeness with Iroh, she had assumed he was like Korzu: hailing from a rich and respectable family, the kind that could afford to have their son running around with the crown prince from childhood. But, she supposed, it was only inevitable that the palace staff would have children, including a boy Iroh’s age who could have met him early enough for status to not matter. She wondered how the friendship had lasted through so many years, even after they’d both grown into men who were now very aware of their statuses.

“Princess Ursa,” he said, “is there something you would like to ask of me?”

She’d been staring, she realized, zoning out while lost in thought with her gaze fixed on his face. “I was wondering what my husband was like as a child. The only friend of his I’ve met is the physician Korzu, and he wasn’t very forthcoming about those anecdotes.”

Piandao smiled properly now. “You’ve met Korzu? How is he?”

“I’m sure he’s feeling very well, now that he’s off in some village far away from the capital.”

He chuckled. “Yes, that is where he’s happiest. When did you meet him?”

“I fell ill at my wedding, so Iroh asked him to nurse me back to health. He did an excellent job, of course.” 

There was a loud clatter, and Ursa turned to see Aisha picking up an assortment of cups she’d knocked over on a counter. “It’s nothing, Puvi, nothing,” she said when she saw Piandao and Ursa moving to help her. “I’m sorry, Princess. I’ll have it ready soon.”

“No rush at all,” Ursa reassured, vaguely wishing she’d stayed tossing and turning in bed instead of coming down here and bothering Aisha, and wondering what ‘Puvi’ was now that Aisha had said it twice. It could have something to do with her colonial background. Piandao might know; Ursa debated asking him about it as she sat back down.

He saw the question in her face and sighed. “My mother named me Puvi when I was born in the colonies. But when we moved here, and I befriended Iroh, I became Piandao. Otherwise, I might as well have been walking around with a target on my back. A servant’s son with an Earth Kingdom name tagging along behind the crown prince…you can imagine what our classmates would have thought, if they knew.”

“I don’t mean to be nosy.”

“You’re the princess now. You’re bound to find out eventually, from Iroh if not me. What else do you want to know?” 

Ursa hesitated, wavering between wanting to respect Piandao’s privacy and her own needling curiosity. “So you did go to school with him,” she said finally. “At the boys’ academy.”

“Oh, yes. One of the privileges of being his friend. He decided he wanted me with him, and his father generously made it happen.” 

There was something strange in his voice, almost like resentment. He’s given us enough, he’s said to Aisha. Iroh had called Piandao his friend, but Ursa knew better than most people how difficult it was to stand on “equal” footing with a future Fire Lord. Perhaps Piandao did too.

“That’s…quite an opportunity,” she said diplomatically, unsure of whether to probe him further.

“It is,” he agreed, eying her like he was contemplating the same thing. “I was fortunate. The Fire Lord likely wouldn’t have permitted it at any other time, but it was right after Lady Ilah’s death. Iroh got pulled out of school for the mourning period and spent those months practically crawling up the walls of the palace. He was lonely, a bit stir-crazy, and acting out from grief a lot. I think his father would have given him pretty much anything to make him happy at that point. Letting him take a servant boy back to the royal academy with him was nothing.”

“Did you want to go?” 

His eyebrows drew together in clear surprise, and a touch of bewilderment. “Does it matter what I wanted? The crown prince wanted me to.”

Ursa felt a sudden sense of kinship with Piandao. Chosen to accompany the crown prince, thrust into a life so different from his own, perhaps even without a real opportunity to say no: it was a bit too similar to her own circumstances. “I think it does,” she said quietly, hoping he could see she meant it.

He stared at her for a moment, and then a real grin lifted his face. “You’re a commoner ,” he said with something like glee. “How refreshing.”

“Puvi, don’t be rude.” Aisha finally arrived with two generous glasses of juice, handing one to Ursa while directing a glare of maternal disapproval at her son. “Her Highness may not be from here originally, but pointing it out is inappropriate.”

“I know, Ma, but I wanted to see for myself.” He accepted the second glass from his mother. “Apologies, Princess. I find it fascinating that the Fire Lord married his heir off to someone who’s a nonbender, an outsider to the capital, and a commoner.”

Self-conscious about how he described her, Ursa straightened her back. Piandao’s demeanor had changed too: not entirely the swaggering soldier again, but not so apprehensive either. It was something in between. “Is it so obvious?” she defended herself.

“It’s not. You carry yourself very well, considering how recently you arrived here. I just know how to spot my own kind.” His tone was reassuring, and he paused to sip his drink. “To answer your previous question, yes, I did want to go. Iroh was - is - my best friend, and the Royal Fire Academy for Boys was a thousand times more interesting than any other school. It was definitely challenging for me given my background, but I think it forged me into a more resilient soldier than my noble-born peers as a result. The same way that you-” he tilted his glass towards her now in a sort of mock-toast- “can hold your own against Mariko.”

The reminder of her small spat with the noblewoman made her grimace. “How long were you watching me for?”

“Maybe ten minutes, before I decided to approach. It would’ve been shorter, but…I didn’t want to interrupt your time with your husband.”

Piandao had walked up after Iroh placed a rose in her hair, the one that was now occupying a vase on Ursa’s nightstand. “And that was enough for you to confirm that I’m…a commoner?” she asked, wishing her pale skin was better at hiding her blushes. “What am I doing that makes it so evident?”

“Nothing at the party. There, it was more the fact that everyone was clearly cautiously curious about you; that’s not how nobles look at someone who’s one of their own. I would’ve marked you as simply an outsider to the capital, but then you came in here and apologized to my mother and I. You asked about what I wanted.” He gave her a small smile. “Those just aren’t things that occur to nobles to do.”

Ursa hesitantly returned his smile, both impressed and uneasy with how quickly he’d read her. For how observant Iroh was, Piandao’s gray eyes put him to shame. “So you’re saying I need to be more presumptuous to blend in.”

“Princess Ursa,” he emphasized her title ever so slightly, “you can’t blend in, and you don’t need to. I had to become Piandao because I assumed Iroh would tire of me eventually, and then I’d be left to fend for myself once I no longer had his protection. You, however, have Iroh’s protection for life. No one who knows what’s good for them will dare to cross you, because it would be the same as crossing Iroh, which is only one step short of crossing the Fire Lord himself.”

Ursa had never considered that she wielded so much power as Iroh's wife. Obviously, she knew the servants had to bow to her, and she’d become more comfortable with probing into the guards’ affairs since what had happened with Silena and Tiron. But the idea that the nobles - who’d spent the party questioning and prodding and scrutinizing Ursa like she was something strange they’d found on the bottom of their shoes - had to treat her with respect felt ridiculous. Yet logically, the chain Piandao drew made sense, and it lined up with what Iroh had said before about her being his equal.

“I suppose Mariko must not know what’s good for her,” she said drily as she turned Piandao’s words over in her mind.

“Not all of them do,” he agreed. 

Aisha cut in now to gently admonish her son. “Puvi, don’t talk Her Highness’s ear off. She hasn’t even had a sip of her drink.”

“It’s not a bother at all, Aisha,” Ursa said. “I’m enjoying getting to know your son. He’s a clever man.”

“Too clever,” Aisha replied. “And he wants to waste that brain by going off and getting himself killed.”

“Ma.” Piandao sounded exasperated, clearly resuming their earlier argument, “Iroh himself will be serving on the front lines soon. Do you think I’m better than him, to just sit here and watch the war unfold instead of fighting for my nation? After all the opportunities given to us?”

“You could serve your country from here-”

“Even the nobles prove themselves for those homeland positions through glory in the war. If Iroh just handed me a promotion, everyone would know how fake it was. You were the one who told me to make sure I knew how to stand on my own two feet.”

“That was before standing on your own two feet meant you might die ,” Aisha said despairingly, voice thick with tears.

“Please, Ma,” Piandao’s eyes flickered to Ursa, “don’t do this in front of the princess.”

Seeming to regain some awareness of her surroundings, Aisha bowed to Ursa, murmuring an apology. 

“It’s alright, Aisha. It must be very difficult, watching your child go so far away.” Unbidden, images flashed in Ursa’s mind of her mother’s tear-streaked cheeks and her father’s grimly set mouth as she’d ridden away in the Fire Lord’s carriage. “The fact that he is doing his duty, serving his country…it doesn’t make it any less painful for you.”

Her voice trembled. She quickly took a drink of her juice to disguise it. The refreshing sweetness of summer berries flooded her mouth, so different yet so reminiscent of the midnight juices her father had made for her. If only she could cry out for Daddy and have him appear to console her, instead of sitting here imposing on a mother and son who were still little more than strangers to her despite their kindness.

Aisha turned away to busy herself with some dishes. Piandao sighed, before saying to Ursa, “I didn’t know you’d been sick at your wedding.”

Blinking, she tried to remember what he was talking about. “Oh, yes. I’m surprised you didn’t hear. I threw up on Iroh during dinner, thanks to some bad sea slug.” She had to stop herself from looking at Aisha as she spoke; the woman was the only person outside of the royal family who knew what had actually happened to Ursa that night. It occurred to her that she’d never thanked Aisha for helping uncover the truth.

Piandao laughed. “I wish I could’ve seen it. We don’t hear about all the palace news on the front lines, as you might imagine. I didn’t even know your name until Iroh introduced us this afternoon.” 

“Probably because I’m a ‘commoner,’” she joked.

“Probably,” he agreed. “There’s…not many like us, Princess Ursa, who know what it is to live this life without being born into it. I don’t know much of your background before the palace, but it seems to me your rise to power was even more drastic than mine.”

She shrugged, unsure of how much of herself to reveal to him. “I wasn’t a servant,” she volunteered vaguely. “I had a good enough life in my hometown, where my parents were of some influence. But they weren’t rich, or nobles.”

“And now you’re going to be Fire Lady, a far greater position than any I could win through the academy or the military.”

“Yes,” she agreed, “and it seems both of us have to leave our families behind for the sake of these positions.”

By the sink, Aisha was determinedly scrubbing at a bowl that definitely wasn’t dirty enough to merit the harsh treatment. Piandao looked at her, then back at Ursa with a sad understanding. The sense of kinship returned.

“We should be good to each other, you and I,” she told him. “Like you said, there are very few people in circumstances like ours. Plus, we now have a very important person in common.”

“We do. I would have been good to you either way, Princess. I have too much history with Iroh to not. But if you wish to return the sentiment, I’ll gladly accept it.”

“Good. You can begin by calling me Ursa. I don’t care about my title in private conversations…with peers.” She turned back to her drink, leaving the offer on the table.

He smiled. “Very well, Ursa.”

Aisha sucked in a breath, clearly a noise of disapproval, but didn’t say a word. Piandao, however, seemed to receive the message. “May I escort you back to your chamber?” he asked Ursa. “It’s on my way. I promised Iroh I would see him before I left.”

“You think he’s still awake?” 

“It’s likely. He’s always restless the night before a journey, especially this journey.”

All at once, guilt rolled through her. Iroh had been so helpful all day, swooping in to support her against Mariko, making sure she got breaks during the garden party, even comforting her when she’d become overwhelmed by memories of her father during the fireworks show. In return, she’d said good night to him so abruptly, sullen after a full day of festivities, without even asking how he was feeling. Wouldn’t he have been thinking of his mother?

“I didn’t know,” Ursa said quietly.

“Well, he’s not going to want his bride to know about his more mundane habits just yet.” He shrugged. “You’re still newlyweds. You’ll learn these things about him.”

“I hope so.” Iroh had been kind to her, and he had begun to open up about his family and his dreams, but so much of him was still an intimidating mystery. Lowering her voice to a whisper, she continued, “I’ll…walk back with you in a moment. I want to reassure your mother before I go. She seems a bit upset.”

“Alright. I’ll leave you alone, then. Ma?” Piandao walked over to his mother, who had shifted to drying dishes with a sort of mechanical focus and didn’t acknowledge her son. “I’m going to see Iroh. Don’t wait up for me, alright? I’ll see you in the morning before I go.”

She nodded stiffly, refusing to stop what she was doing.

“Don’t stay here too long after the princess and I leave, either.” He wrapped an arm around her, touching his lips to her gray hair. She paused long enough to lean into his half-embrace, before mumbling something and sending him off with a maternal flick of her dishcloth. Smiling, he released her and nodded at Ursa. “I’ll wait outside.”

 Predictably, Aisha straightened up and looked around anxiously when she realized Ursa wasn’t leaving with Piandao. “Is something wrong, Princess? Was the drink not to your liking?”

“Nothing is wrong at all, Aisha. That’s what I wanted to tell you. The juice was wonderful, the desserts you prepared for today’s party were exquisite, everything you’ve done is above and beyond.” Hesitantly, she got off the stool and approached Aisha, not missing the way her grip tightened on the cloth in her hands. “Your son seems to be a good man. I’m not offended by what he said to me. Any friend of my husband’s is a friend of mine, too. And you’ve done remarkably shaping him into a fine soldier.”

“Thank you, Princess.”

“I want you to know, I quite like making my own food from time to time. It’s unusual for me to live in a place where everything is cooked and served to me. So if you see me poking around this kitchen again, don’t feel the need to tend to me. I’m just looking for a taste of home sometimes.”

Of course, it was unlikely dutiful Aisha would take her seriously, but maybe if they had this conversation enough times, it would sink in. Aisha did indeed hesitate before responding, “I’ve never heard you speak of your home or your family before tonight, Princess. It seems you miss them.”

“I do,” she said honestly, a lump forming in her throat. “That’s…why I came to the kitchen. Berry juice was something my father made me when I couldn’t sleep.”

“It does something to a child, being thrust into such a different life. At least Puvi returned home to me every night when he started at that school. You…” Her eyes softened, the same look Ursa’s mother gave to young patients with stomach bugs and skinned knees. “Well, I suppose you’re not a child. But you’re not much older, and your family is far away.”

“Yes,” she said tightly, feeling tears starting to well up.

“Oh, forgive me, Princess. I never thought of how hard this might be for you.”

Maybe it was because she hadn’t seen her own mother in so long, or because she always got weepy when she was tired, or maybe it was just the sorrow she’d been holding back since the fireworks, but suddenly, Ursa was crying. Reservations gone, Aisha held out her arms. Ursa welcomed the affection, sinking into her cinnamon-scented maternal embrace. If she closed her eyes, she could almost pretend it was actually her Mama. 

“Poor dear,” Aisha murmured. “There’s always room in this kitchen for a girl missing home. I know a thing or two about that.”

“I’m sorry, Aisha,” she whispered between hiccuping sobs, “I’m keeping you up, and I really did mean to try and make you feel better. There’s nothing to forgive you for. Nothing, nothing at all. I don’t know what the palace would do without you.”

“Your husband would go mad without a decent teamaker on staff, for one thing.” Ursa let out a wet giggle. “But the palace would be fine. It has you.” Aisha pulled back and looked at Ursa very seriously. “You should know, Princess, I heard what you did for the maids. Many of us old folks did, and we thought it was remarkable. Lady Ilah, may she rest in peace, wouldn’t have involved herself directly like that even if she sympathized with the girls. Prince Iroh, bless him, is kind but not the most observant or knowledgeable about the domestic staff. I think a ”commoner” like you, pardon my words, may be exactly what the palace needs.”

“Thank you,” Ursa said with a sniffle, although her insides turned into jelly at the comparison to her late mother-in-law. Yet another person expecting her to live up to, or even surpass, a legacy she knew so little about. “But you are indispensable Aisha. I really believe that. You…” Ursa lowered her voice, “you told Iroh about that incident with Ozai at my wedding. I’m not sure it could have ever been resolved if you hadn’t said anything.”

Aisha paled, but offered up a trembling smile. “So that matter’s been taken care of, then? The princes have sorted it out?”

“Yes. Thanks to you.”

“Oh, the spirits are good,” she sighed, like a great weight had been lifted off her shoulders. “I was feeling so badly that I’d waited so long to say anything, but-”

“I understand completely, and Iroh does too.”

“You are a very understanding young couple,” she laughed. “With anyone else, waiting three weeks could have cost me everything.”

Three weeks? 

Tired and sad as Ursa was, that didn’t add up. Ozai had come and apologized to her on Iroh’s orders nearly two months after the wedding. Iroh had made it sound like Aisha had only just confessed when she’d asked him about it. Where did three weeks figure in?

“Of course,” Ursa said lightly, trying to figure out how to probe Aisha further without clueing her into her confusion. “Three weeks after the wedding was hardly any time in the grand scheme of things. If you recall, I was starting all the Autumn Festival preparations around then and was too busy to do anything about Ozai either way.”

“Yes, that’s true. I believe it was the day of your first tasting that I mentioned it to Prince Iroh. You seemed rather overwhelmed.”

Three weeks. Why had Ozai apologized two months later if Iroh had known well before that? He’d promised….

“Princess?” Aisha inquired gently, and Ursa snapped out of that thought spiral to reassure her.

“I was,” she agreed. “I still am, honestly. Thank you for this, Aisha. I really mean it.” She clasped Aisha’s tough chef’s hands and smiled. “I echo what your son said: don’t stay up too late once I’m gone. Good night.”

“Who am I to refuse you, Princess? Good night. May the spirits watch over you on your journey.” 

Lost in thought, Ursa half-forgot that Piandao was waiting for her outside the kitchens. “How’d it go?” he asked, making her jump a little.

“Well, I think,” she said too quickly, hoping it wasn’t evident she’d been crying.

The way his eyes narrowed made her think he would press further, but he simply said, “Good. She likes you. I’m sure it meant a lot to her,” before gesturing for her to walk with him.

“May I ask you something about Iroh?” she inquired, still running through the timeline of events in her mind.

“Of course.”

“You said that I have his protection for life. What makes you so sure?”

“You’re his wife.”

“And you think that’s enough?”

He shot her a quizzical look. “Yes. Iroh has vowed himself to you. I won’t pretend to know the state of your relationship, but if nothing else, he is a man of his word and his duty.”

A man of his word. I promise, once I know how this happened, you will too, and whoever did it will be punished. Those had been his words to her, after she’d woken up for her coma. Had he held himself to them?

“You don’t seem convinced,” Piandao noted.

“I…am aware that he did not wish to be married.”

“No. But it is still his duty.”

Ursa shrugged.

“I never did tell you what he was like as a child,” Piandao said with a small smile. “Do you still want to hear it?”

Despite her inner turmoil, her curiosity was piqued. “Absolutely.”

“Well, like I said, we met after his mother died. While wandering around the palace looking for a new place to slake his boredom, he made his way into the kitchen. That was where he found me, also bored out of my mind, building a tower out of dirty dishes while my mother wasn’t looking. He thought the game was marvelous and immediately joined in, which resulted in us building a tower so high it inevitably crashed spectacularly to the ground.

“My mother was horrified by the scene, and even more so when she realized that the crown prince was involved. Then Iroh told Ma that it had been his own fault. It only distressed her further, as you might imagine, but he was adamant that she shouldn’t yell at me. Even at that age, he’d figured out that he could compel most people who weren’t his father or nanny to listen to him. And he used that power to get me out of trouble, not himself.” He paused to assess her reaction. “That really sums up what he was like. A willful, headstrong young prince who loved to stick his nose where it didn’t belong but always tried to make sure others weren’t punished for it.”

Ursa couldn’t help smiling at the description; it sounded like the natural beginning of the Iroh she’d come to know, who snuck forbidden scrolls out of the Dragonbone Catacombs and protected his little brother from the Fire Lord. “So, you became friends after that?”

“Yes. He came and picked me up from the kitchen everyday to play out in the garden, the training grounds, the secret rooms he’d already begun to find in each corner. Then he went back to school, and I went with him. I learned how to talk and act and fight like the other boys, so I could stand on my own two feet once Iroh moved onto other friends. But while he was indeed popular, somehow, none of his new friends ever replaced me.”

“I would’ve been surprised if they did,” Ursa said sincerely. “I’ve only known Iroh for three months, but I don’t believe he views people as replaceable.”

“He definitely doesn’t, but I didn’t know that back then. I asked him once, maybe six years ago on a trip to Ember Island, why he was still friends with me. He asked me why on Earth he wouldn’t be. I didn’t know what to say, and he jokingly ‘sentenced’ me to a lifetime as his friend before tackling me into the ocean as ‘punishment’ for questioning him.” Piandao’s eyes rolled fondly. “I had the burn of saltwater in my nose for days after, but I never asked him that again.”

Ursa thought back to how Iroh’s eyes had lit up when he’d seen Piandao, how readily he’d embraced him in front of everyone at the party. “I don’t think you’ll ever have to.”

“I won’t. Because once Iroh decides to give someone his trust…well, I’ve never seen what they’d have to do to lose it. Even if he didn’t choose to marry you, I’d be shocked if he withheld his trust from you forever.”  

Iroh traced secret ciphers for her in flickering candlelight and traded folktales and myths with her while pouring sweet jasmine tea into her cup. Those were things that he didn’t seem to do with many others, but did that equate trust?

“Perhaps,” Ursa said with a yawn. With her bedroom in sight, it was much too late for her to give this any serious thought, torn as she was by what she’d learned from Aisha. “Thank you for your company, Piandao. I hope you stay safe in your return to battle.”

“Of course. Safe travels to you as well.”

A thought struck her, and she turned back to him with her door half-open. “Why are you called Piandao?” she asked. “What made that your Fire Nation name?”

 He smiled, and it occurred to her that although he and Iroh looked very different, they smiled in the same slightly crooked but self-assured way. “Piandao is an old name for a rare type of sword, characterized by a deep curve. Iroh and I found one in the armory on one of our escapades, and I thought it was fascinating. I decided to name myself that at school, picked the sword as my weapon of choice, and the rest is history.”

“A committed swordsman from the beginning, I see.”

“Indeed. I appreciate the question. Like I said, you ask things that would not occur to many people.” He inclined his head at her meaningfully. “Good night.”

“Good night.” 

Ursa slipped into her own room before Piandao knocked on Iroh’s door, not sure what it would do to her to see her husband right now. Her eyes landed on the vase on her nightstand, the single red rose looking unearthly in the pale moonlight slicing in through her window. Iroh tucked the stem behind her ear, the woodsmoke spice of sandalwood on his wrists, his fingers warm where they brushed against her own quickly warming skin-

An entire month on the road with Iroh. With his amber eyes and awful jokes and, apparently, half-promises. What would it do to her?

Iroh, cont.

Regardless of whether it is a function of his birth, or simply who he is, Piandao has always been able to see things - and people - more clearly than I. It drove me up the wall when we were younger. He is methodical in his observations, playing the character he thinks will show him a person’s true self. Once that self is revealed, he can be all but smug in his newfound knowledge, his success in peeling away others’ pretenses. Putting it that way, it was inevitable he and Ursa would quickly sense the similarities in each other’s spirits.

I’m just fortunate that Piandao has never been the sort to use this specific skill of his with malicious intent. To this day, he moves with the purpose of bringing the truths he discovers to light. I wish I’d been sensible enough to remember that about him as we grew out of our boyhood bond.  

Piandao arrived at Iroh’s door with a packet of ginseng. “A little souvenir from Hu Xin,” he said. “Ready for tea?”

After the party, his debate with his father, and the jitters he always got the night before the Autumn Festival, the opportunity to catch up with his oldest friend could not have come at a better time. “Of course,” Iroh said, holding the door further open. “Come on, tell me what it’s like knocking earthbenders’ heads together.”

“I’m a swordsman, Iroh. If I’m knocking heads together, something’s gone very wrong.”

Piandao regaled him with the story of the battle in Hu Xin as the tea was prepared. Iroh already knew the technical details of what had happened, having been obligated to hear the reports during one of many war meetings. But the droning of the generals never quite compared to the eyewitness accounts from the foot soldiers. In Piandao’s voice, Iroh heard swords clashing, soldiers’ war cries, blood roaring with the adrenaline of battle.

“I really thought I would die,” Piandao said. “If that earthbender hadn’t hesitated for a fraction of a second before trying to crush me, I probably would have.”

“That’s really all that made the difference?” 

“Absolutely.” He accepted the cup Iroh handed him before sitting in an armchair and continuing. “All that drivel they fed us in school about decisiveness on the battlefield: it’s all true. Things happen in the blink of an eye, and you can’t dither about what to do.”

Iroh took the other armchair and sipped his own cup, relishing the new flavor of this Earth Kingdom ginseng blend. It was a thoughtful gesture from his friend, picking up tea for Iroh of all things on his way back to the homeland. “I’m glad you didn’t dither, then.”

Piandao laughed humorlessly. “Thank you.” His gray eyes looked quite dull; now that Iroh was getting a good look, he could see how dark the circles beneath them were.

“Having trouble sleeping?”

“Oh, nothing compared to what you must be experiencing as a newlywed.” Piandao wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. Anyone else would’ve received a challenge to an Agni Kai for such a comment, but Piandao’s whole life was based on him being an exception to the rules.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Iroh retorted, silently cursing the blood rushing to his face.

“Don’t I? You’re slipping away with your pretty wife at garden parties, putting roses in her hair, so entranced by her you didn’t even notice me until I was right next to you. I’m shocked you have time for tea with me when you could be spending the night with her instead.”

“It’s not like that.”

“What’s it like, then?” Piandao sat forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I’ve got to say, I’m still confused about how this marriage of yours came to be. Your father suddenly ordered you to be married to a woman no one’s ever heard of, as quickly as possible? Honestly, I kind of assumed he was trying to save face because you’d gone and knocked someone up during one of your trips.”

“I promise you, I definitely haven’t knocked anyone up.”

Piandao’s brows raised. “Does that mean what I think it does?”

If Iroh got any more embarrassed, the armchair was going to end up with some scorch marks. “Ursa and I were entirely strangers before our wedding, so we’re…taking things slow. Shut up about it.”

“Alright, but now I’m really confused.” He leaned back and took a swig of his tea as if it were something much stronger. “Why’d your father marry you off so urgently if you really were strangers?”

“Politics.” Iroh desperately wanted to tell Piandao the truth - they’d always shared pretty much everything, after all - but he wasn’t sure Ursa’s identity as the Avatar’s granddaughter would do her any favors if it somehow got leaked. “The capital nobles were swarming trying to get their daughters into the royal family. Father decided I should marry an outsider to stem any rivalries, and you know what he’s like about making sure I’m prepared for the throne. So she’s stuck with me.”

“Poor girl,” Piandao teased, unfazed by the rude gesture Iroh made at him in return. “Well, even if it started off as a political thing, it seems like you two are getting along well.”

“I suppose.”

His oldest friend, who could read him better than his own family, caught the small hesitation in his answer. “Is there any reason you wouldn’t?”

Quite a few, really. Iroh decided to share the most obvious one. “There was…someone in her hometown who apparently loved her deeply. She had to leave him when my father ordered the marriage.” The memory of her tearful goodbye to Ikem made him cringe. “With those circumstances, I doubt she has much affection for me.”

Piandao languidly stretched out his legs as he considered this. “I ran into her on my way here, you know.”

“She’s still awake?” Iroh asked, worries immediately raised.

“Yes. She made her way down to the kitchen for a cup of juice.”

Ursa had seemed exhausted when they’d said good night a couple of hours ago; had she been lying awake, thinking of her father? Had she just not wanted to talk to Iroh? The questions settled like stone in his gut. 

“So,” Piandao continued, generously ignoring his friend’s turmoil, “tell me, how many people actually know your wife’s a commoner?”

Of course. If Piandao had run into Ursa at this hour - alone, tired, off-guard Ursa - it wouldn’t have taken him long to slice through the layers of her princess guise and figure out her truth. That technique was how he’d protected himself in years of masquerading as a noble, after all. “Come on, Piandao, don’t tell me you were an ass to her.”

“Only a little.” He held his hands up defensively. “She figured out my story when she walked in on me and Ma. It’s only fair that I get the same courtesy, don’t you think?”

Iroh’s frown made his displeasure clear, and Piandao heaved an overly dramatic sigh. “Well, she said I seem very clever and even asked me to drop her title, so I don’t think she’s that upset about it.”

“She asked you to drop her title?”

Piandao nodded. “She called me a peer. Doesn’t have a lot of allies yet, does she?”

“No. Today was her first public appearance. People don’t formally know that she’s a commoner, but they’re certainly curious about her.” His frown remained in place as he recalled Mariko. “Many of the noblewomen who ought to be her allies are hostile to her since she ‘stole’ me away from them.”

“Many, but not all, I’m sure. Even with that crown piece headpiece, you’re not that big of a prize.”

Iroh made another rude gesture, and Piandao cackled.  

“I like her,” he declared once his fit of laughter had subsided. “And Ma does too. Not at all what I expected from the new princess.”

“You and me both. Probably because she’s an outsider and a commoner. No Royal Academy, no etiquette training, no weapons mastery: a rather simple upbringing, compared to us.”

“Yes. Plus, she strikes me as…genuine. I figured you of all people would like having a wife like that.”

Iroh couldn’t help but smile at the irony. “Actually, she is quite the actress.”

“Sure, but that doesn’t have to mean she’s ingenuine. She’s…I don’t know how to describe it. She seems authentic, even when she’s acting her part as a princess. And I think she likes you.”

“Why?” Iroh asked, realizing he’d done it too quickly when he saw Piandao’s eyes shine. “Oh, screw you.”

“Come on, I’m being serious. I saw how she looked at you at the party. I don’t think anyone’s that good of an actress. But I doubt she likes you as much as you clearly like her.”

 The emphasis on clearly grated on Iroh’s nerves. “You shouldn’t base too much of your impression on the party. Again, that was her first public appearance, and our first event as a couple. We obviously behaved a bit differently.”

“Of course.” Piandao’s small smirk made it clear he didn’t believe him. “Prince Iroh doesn’t pine after women, after all.”

“I’m not ‘pining . ’ I’m being mindful of the fact that she doesn’t want to be my wife,” he said bitterly. “What else am I supposed to do?”

The smirk vanished, and Piandao frowned at him. “You’re really bothered,” he said, sounding somewhat surprised.

“Obviously, I’m bothered. Would you be thrilled by a wife who doesn’t want you?”

“No, but I didn’t think you wanted her either. Don’t you remember what you wrote to me:  all that self-pitying trite about how your youth was being stolen away and the shackles of marriage and oh me, oh my, how ever will the crown prince survive?” His voice pitched high as he mocked Iroh’s letter. “Not one word about your bride-to-be or how she must have been feeling about the whole affair.”

Remembering how upset he’d been before the wedding was like remembering a past life. At the time, he’d really thought his world was ending. But how much had his daily routine really changed? The biggest difference was that there was now another person at dinner each night, which was honestly a welcome reprieve from the triangular tension of his family. A kind and clever person, who sometimes followed him to his room after dinner to continue their conversation, drinking his tea and laughing so musically at his remarks, retorting smartly with her sunshine eyes bright…

Piandao snapped his fingers. “Hello?”

A person who’d been happy in Hira’a, with a lover and a family and a life that had been taken away. “I didn’t want her,” Iroh said. “But now that the marriage is a done deal, I don’t see a point in holding onto the sentiment. It’s a bigger change for her, though. She needs more time to adjust, and I know that.”

“But do you want her now? Or do you just want her to want you?” Piandao was not one to beat around the bush once he’d figured out the facts. Iroh normally respected that about him. Right now, though, he hated it.

“I want us to have a good partnership.”

The arch of his friend’s eyebrow told Iroh it wasn’t a convincing answer. “Well, you’ll be spending the next month together. You should probably use the time to secure that.” 

That was more or less the logic Iroh had used to convince his father to let him take Ursa back to Hira’a, and it hadn’t been a total lie. If he could make it so that marriage wasn’t entirely a prison for her, it would likely be easier for her to eventually be open to the…marital duties they’d both been stubbornly avoiding. But it made him feel sour to view the journey to Hira’a as a way to buy Ursa’s “true loyalty,” as he’d put it. He just wanted her to stop looking so sad whenever she remembered her home, loyalty be blasted.

“Perhaps,” Iroh said vaguely.

Piandao studied him for a minute longer, like he was considering asking another uncomfortably perceptive question, then grinned mischievously. “She asked me what you were like as a child.”

His heart skipped a beat, both at the notion that Ursa might care about such things and at the possibility that Piandao might have made him look ridiculous. “What did you tell her?”

“Nothing that wasn’t true.” 

Iroh groaned. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

Thankfully, the conversation steered away from Ursa after that. The hour passed, young men bantering, candles dwindling, teapot emptying, until Iroh finally let out a jaw-cracking yawn.

“I’ll take that as my cue,” Piandao said, stretching as he stood. “I don’t think I’ll see you before you set off in the morning, so safe travels. Don’t do anything stupid.”

“Same to you.” Iroh embraced his friend, noting how tired his eyes looked, how hollow the parting smile was. There were soldiers who’d died in Hu Xin, soldiers whose deaths Piandao might have seen, soldiers he’d refused to talk about by changing the subject each time Iroh subtly tried to raise it. Iroh kept his arms around him just a bit longer than needed.

“Take care of Ma while I’m gone?” Piandao asked, voice uncharacteristically rough with exhaustion and something that hadn’t been there before the army.

“Of course.”

“And Ursa.”

Iroh rolled his eyes as he released him. “She’s my wife, you ass.”

“I know, I just figured you needed a reminder.”

“Get out.”

With Piandao playfully banished from the room, Iroh drained the last of his tea and permitted his thoughts to drift across the hall, into his wife’s chamber, where she was hopefully sound asleep. It was too easy to recall the image of her dozing on his couch, dark hair falling against pale skin, candlelight casting her in an almost ethereal frame; almost, because his irrational urge to touch wouldn’t quite abate even in a memory. Was she talking in her sleep again tonight, calling for her father this time? 

Iroh listened for a moment, as if there were any way the whispers of her dreams could breach through the walls between them. He said a silent prayer for her to sleep well, for her spirit to hold on just a little longer. Hira’a was not that far away anymore. I promise.

Chapter Text

Ursa, cont.

If I’d known everything that was going to happen on that first Autumn Festival journey, I’m not sure I would have had the courage to step foot in the carriage. But I was no fortune teller: I wasn’t much more than a girl, really, despite masquerading as the confident hostess of the Fire Lord’s favorite Autumn Festival. 

All I can really tell you about how the journey began is that I was exhausted that morning. I hadn’t slept very well the night before, too curious about what I’d learned from Piandao and anxious about spending a month on the road with Iroh following Aisha’s revelation. I barely kept my eyes open as Azulon saw us off, and I was asleep in the carriage within moments. 

It made sense, then, that when I woke up a few hours later…I really did think I was still dreaming.

Ursa lightly leapt out of the carriage, waving off Iroh’s attempts to help her down. Her neck was a bit sore from spending most of the morning dozing - for how luxurious the carriage was, it was odd that there wasn’t a better place to rest her head - but otherwise, she felt surprisingly well. The Autumn Festival was officially underway, and so far, she hadn’t done anything to mess it up.

“We’ll take an hour for lunch,” she instructed the procession. “Please let me know if anyone needs longer. Thank you!”

Iroh was smiling at her when she turned to him, eyes shining in a way that set a nervous anticipation alight in her gut. “What?” she asked.

He shrugged. “You’re a gracious princess.” 

“That can’t be true. I spent most of the morning asleep instead of providing you with company.”

“Well, you needed it. I heard you had trouble sleeping.”

Piandao would have mentioned something to him, of course. “I spent a lot of time tossing and turning, worrying about getting everything right for today.” She didn’t mention what she’d learned from Aisha, even though it had played its part in keeping her awake. Iroh had waited a month to do anything about his brother poisoning her: it unsettled her, but she’d decided somewhere in the wee hours of the night that she didn’t want to confront him about it when they still had so much of the journey ahead of them.

“So far, so good, I’d say.” Iroh turned and gestured at his manservant Jun. “I’m going to freshen up and stretch my legs, and then we can grab our own lunch?”

“That sounds perfect. I’ll do the same.”

Mika and Rei, whom she was eternally grateful to have with her on the journey, dutifully accompanied her to the cover of the trees. The procession had stopped on the outskirts of a town somewhere to the west of the capital - Ursa tried to mentally picture the route she’d spent weeks planning, but she’d never been great with geography - and they were secluded enough for her to have some privacy in the woods. One of the nearby inns was emitting some rather tantalizing smells. It didn’t seem like palace food, and Ursa’s stomach growled at the thought of eating a regular lunch for the first time in months. Perhaps she could convince Iroh to eat here instead of looking for a more noble establishment.

“Here, Princess.” Rei handed her a change of clothes, something soft and cotton and plain that made Ursa frown in confusion. 

“What’s this?”

“Prince Iroh thought you might like a different outfit for the rest of the day,” she shrugged. “Mika and I will keep watch while you change.”

Still unsure, Ursa unfolded the garments to find a maroon women's tunic and a black pair of leggings. A change of shoes was hiding underneath them, sturdy boots rather than delicate slippers. The perfect clothes for a long journey, but not the sort of thing Princess Ursa would wear: these were more reminiscent of what she would’ve donned in Hira’a while trekking up hillsides. She wondered where Iroh had gotten them, and why he was giving them to her now.

Well, she’d certainly rather wear these than a palace robe. The change was immediately refreshing; she hadn’t realized how much it had felt like wearing someone else’s clothes - someone else’s life - since becoming a princess. Impulsively, she tugged her hair loose. Since she was reverting to her old appearance, she might as well go all the way. Mika handed her a simpler headpiece to go with the style.

Iroh had changed into traveler’s attire as well, wearing a salmon vest and dark trousers with boots similar to hers. The lack of sleeves, she couldn’t help noticing, was a great favor to his folded arms. “Your hair’s different,” he said, thankfully giving her something to focus on besides the way his armbands hugged the curves of his biceps.

“Should I change it?” she asked, self-consciously running her fingers along the small side braids that joined at her topknot. This half-up half-down style had been her favorite before marriage.

“No. It’s nice.” He tilted his head in the direction of the inn Ursa had been eying, and she realized he’d removed his crown prince headpiece. “Lunch?”

“Yes, please. I was hoping you would choose that place.” There was definitely komodo chicken and sausage being cooked inside, the smell making her already-growling stomach lurch eagerly. “What made you decide we needed to change outfits?”

“I’ve been on enough of these journeys to know that royal attire isn’t always great on the road.” His eyes were shining again, something like mischief in them, as he beckoned for a pair of guards to accompany them on their way to the inn. Ursa suddenly felt a twist in her gut at the thought of marching into that roadside establishment as royals. That wasn’t the normal lunch she wanted.

“Wait,” she said. “Let’s go in alone.”

He paused, casting her a sideways glance. “You sure?”

“I don’t want to make a big fuss over getting lunch. It’s just an inn. We’re already dressed as commoners. The guards will be outside, and you can take care of yourself, right?”

“Right.” A smile pulled at his lips as she quoted his own words back at him. “Let’s go, then.”

Ursa was glad that they’d removed their palace garbs when they stepped into the inn. She could just imagine the scene if the crown prince and princess walked in: the bowing, the flattery, the special treatment. But without their robes and retinue, they were just another young traveling couple among many in the inn’s swarm of lunch hour customers. Old habits came back quickly, and she found herself snapping her fingers for the innkeeper’s attention and hollering for a table for two before she even registered that she’d practically pushed Iroh aside to do it.

“Sorry,” she said quickly, blushing as she lowered her hand. “You go ahead.”

“Are you kidding? It’ll be an hour before we get a table if you let me handle this. Keep going.”

Encouraged, she elbowed her way through the crowd to make her case directly to the innkeeper, a middle-aged woman with a stern but not unfriendly look. “My husband and I are newlyweds,” she said, hoping she looked the part of a blushing bride as she pointed out Iroh. “We’ve been traveling all day. Please?”

The woman’s face softened. “I suppose I can make room for that. But don’t go expecting any discounts.”

“Of course not. Thank you very much!” She motioned for Iroh to follow as the innkeeper led them to a table.

“What did you do?” he asked.

“I just told her that we’re newlyweds on the road,” she replied nonchalantly, winding her arm through his to add to the pretense. The warmth of his bare skin and the shift of his muscles under her touch made her insides flutter. 

“You keep doing the talking, then.” He winked, flustering her further. “I’m not so good at this.”

“Well, you should at least relax your shoulders a bit. You look like you think you run this place.”

Iroh clumsily attempted to correct his posture as he slid into his chair across from her, but the innkeeper had already taken note of his physique and regal bearing. “You a soldier, young man?” she asked, curiosity plain in her raised eyebrows.

“Um…yes, ma’am.” he replied, looking a bit nervous. Ursa reached across the table and gently touched his wrist to sell the story, remembering Aisha’s grief over Piandao leaving. 

“Oh, poor dears. Love is hard in war.” She cast them a pitying look before handing over two menus and rushing to tend to the next table. Ursa’s cheeks warmed at the mention of love, and she quickly pulled back her hand to concentrate on choosing her food instead of whatever Iroh’s reaction to those words was. 

“I’ve never done this before,” he said lightly, thankfully not mentioning what the innkeeper had said.

She peered at him over the top of her menu. “What? Visit an inn?”

“Visit an inn…by myself,” he said carefully. “It’s very chaotic.”

“That’s part of the charm.”

Ursa selected the chicken skewers, Iroh the komodo sausage, and the innkeeper generously slid two bowls of vegetable soup that they hadn’t asked for onto the table. “Good fortune for newlyweds,” she said when they tried to protest. “Don’t reject it.”

“Her bark’s worse than her bite,” Ursa whispered to Iroh once the rest of their food appeared. “That’s the best kind of innkeeper.”

“So, you ate at places like this often?”

“Not often, but maybe once a month or so my mother would decide she didn’t feel like cooking, and we would visit an inn or restaurant.” She took a bite of her chicken skewer, relishing the explosion of chili-scallion flavor in her mouth. There was something in ‘commoner’ food that the palace kitchen just couldn’t replicate. “Perfect,” she sighed. “I missed this.”

Iroh looked at her with a ghost of a smile on his lips, then pushed his plate towards her. “You can try mine if I can try yours.”

“Deal.”

The komodo sausage was excellent as well, with that ever so slightly charred flavor that noble palates would never tolerate. Ursa waited for Iroh to say something about how it didn’t live up to the palace kitchens, but he scarfed it down and let out a hearty belch that made her giggle even as she wrinkled her nose in playful disgust.

“What do you think I should try for dessert?” he asked once both their dishes were clean.

“Dessert? Aren’t you full?” Between soup, skewers, and sausage, her previously ravenous appetite had been well satisfied.

“Come now, my wife. Surely you know there’s always room for something sweet.” 

“Hmm…” Ursa cast her mind for a dessert she’d been missing, a dish that the palace kitchen couldn’t get quite right. Her eyes landed on a child a few tables away going to town on his messy sweet. A memory flashed through her: sticky fingers on humid days, her mother chiding her for getting it on her clothes while her father laughed and licked the syrup off his own hands. “Mango sticky rice.”

“Alright, as long as you take some too.”

The first spoonful tasted like sunshine. The second was like nectar. It turned out there was indeed room for something sweet in her full belly, and she ended up taking more than her fair share of the dessert, cloying nostalgia filling her mouth with each bite.

“Maybe I’m hungrier than I thought,” she said, suddenly feeling very improper for eating so greedily.

“You should be. You barely ate breakfast.” Iroh offered her the last slice of mango, then shrugged and scooped it up when she adamantly shook her head. “Sure you don’t want anything else?”

“I’m sure. It won’t be good for anyone if I get sick to my stomach after this.”

That mischievous light entered his eyes again before he glanced around, looking uncharacteristically lost. “Okay. Out of curiosity, how does one go about paying in an establishment like this?”

Ursa laughed. “Here, we’ll pay on our way out.”

She briefly wondered if it was an abuse of royal funds to leave a generous tip for the kind innkeeper, but it turned out Iroh was well ahead of her. He discreetly placed a small pile of gold coins, enough to cover their meals fifty times over, into the shocked woman’s hands. 

“Good fortune from newlyweds,” he told her when she tried to protest. “Don’t reject it.”

“I-” Her eyes flickered over Iroh’s regal bearing once more, and Ursa could see the gears turning in her mind as she tried to piece together the identities of these strangely well-off young travelers. Fortunately, even if she did recognize them, she simply shut her mouth and ducked her head. “Thank you. May the spirits watch over you on your journey.”

A glance at the inn’s sign revealed its name as they left. “ Madam Su’s Bites and Brews,” Ursa read. “Do you think she was Madam Su?”

“If she was, I should give her some suggestions for her brews,” Iroh said, not having found any drink options to his liking. “But otherwise, I enjoyed this place. I’ll try to remember it.”

“So, your first time as a commoner was a success?” she joked.

“I’d say so. I was a bit skeptical when you suggested it, but I think you’re right. There is a certain charm about being just another customer. Plus, I overheard a lot of things I wouldn’t have if I’d gone in as myself.”

“Really?” Ursa had been too preoccupied with the food to pay much attention to her surroundings, but she supposed it wasn’t a surprise that Iroh had been listening. “What did you hear?”

“Rumblings about the war. Discontent about how many have been drafted, how the military has seeped into their towns, how the taxes have been raised…it’s interesting, hearing what the citizens have to say when they think no one of authority’s listening. Like you said, people commiserate with their peers rather than their superiors.”

“You heard all that, and you still gave her that money?”

He gave her a quizzical look. “Of course. The food was excellent, and a little honest feedback never hurt anyone. Why wouldn’t I?”

If it had been Azulon who’d overheard the inn’s guests speaking so poorly about his rule as Fire Lord…Madam Su certainly would not have received a month’s wages, let alone any praise. “I’m not sure your father would have,” she said quietly, leaving the rest of it unspoken.

Something shifted in his expression. “Well, it’s not my decisions they’re deriding. And I heard nice things, too. People journeying to see family, celebrating a birthday, laughing with old friends. It balances out.”

Azulon likely wouldn’t have found any pleasure in the mundane niceties of his citizens’ lives either, but Ursa didn’t voice that thought. “Perhaps you should do this again, then. Every town will have different ‘feedback.’”

“Perhaps. It worked well for you dressing up as a maid, after all.” He flashed her a quick grin. “But you’ll have to help me. Like I said, I’m not great at this.”

“Of course. I’ll just have to give you some acting lessons along the way.”

He seemed a bit surprised, raising his eyebrows at her words. “Acting lessons,” he repeated. “Yes, I suppose I might need some.” 

The reaction struck her as odd, and she quickly ran over her words in her head. Perhaps he didn’t like what she’d said about his father? He was hardly paying attention to her now, instead scanning his gaze over the landscape as he led her back towards the royal procession. The hour was almost up, and then they’d be in the carriage again…maybe she should apologize to avoid it being awkward.

Before she could get the words out, though, he pointed her towards the trees. “Come on,” he said. “We have to do one more thing before we get back on the road.”

“Okay,” she said, heartbeat picking up. There was something mischievous in his face once more; she’d thought maybe the change of clothes and the tip he’d left for the innkeeper would be the end of it, but apparently, he had more surprises planned.

“I have a confession to make, my wife,” he told her once they were under the cover of the woods. “I’ve gone and tweaked some of your plans for the festival behind your back.”

Ursa felt a flash of anxiety and, strangely, irritation spark through her. After all the time she’d spent on the festival, he chose now to tell her there was something wrong with what she’d done? How could she be his equal if he unilaterally overruled her whenever he felt like it? She thought of Aisha’s confession again - Iroh had been sitting on knowledge of Ozai poisoning her for a month before doing anything, how could he? - but swallowed it down. “What did you change?” she asked. 

“I added a stop for tonight, before we reach Ningzhou.”

While her geography wasn’t great, Ursa was relatively sure there weren’t any towns notable enough for the royal procession to make a formal stop between the capital and Ningzhou. “Where? Why?” she questioned. 

“I promise you it’s important,” he said, a poorly-disguised smile pulling at his lips. “It’s something that’s long overdue. I believe now is an auspicious night for a husband to visit his in-laws’ home for the first time.”

Ursa’s mind stuttered over his words. Iroh’s in-laws were, logically, her own parents. Azulon had made it clear that she was never to see her parents again. Iroh had not agreed with that decision, and she’d told him she didn’t want to go against the Fire Lord’s wishes, but he’d never actually said he was going to leave the matter alone. Could he have…was it possible…

“I don’t understand,” she stammered, not daring to hope, waiting for him to clarify whatever miscommunication was making her think this way. “You added a stop at…”

“At my in-laws’ home, of course. In Hira’a.” He grinned at her openly now. 

It couldn’t be. But surely Iroh wouldn’t lie to her about this. “Really?” she asked, voice audibly trembling. 

“Yes, really.”

Instinctively, her hands curled into fists and dug her nails into her palms as hard as possible. It hurt, but it didn’t wake her up. Thank the spirits; she would be inconsolable if it turned out this was a dream. “How?” she whispered.

“My father has his more agreeable moods,” he said vaguely. “It’s not perfect. We’ll have to go alone, in disguise-” he gestured at their outfits- “and we can only see your parents, but…I thought it would be better than nothing.”

That slightly embarrassed look on his face, like he was self-conscious about not doing enough, finally shook her out of her state of shock. Better than nothing? Until five minutes ago, she’d been resigned to the fact that she would never see anyone or anything from her old life again, and now...

“It’s so much better than nothing. It’s…” She faltered, searching for the words, but they failed to come amid the rush of excitement and hope that choked up her throat. “Iroh, I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” he said. “This should have been part of the journey to begin with.”

“It’s not about what ‘should have been.’” You stood up to your father. You pushed back against the Fire Lord’s wishes for me. For me, the treacherous Avatar’s granddaughter. “Thank you, Iroh. Thank you so much.”

She was on the verge of tears now, shaking a little bit from the sheer joy of this revelation, and Iroh offered her a gentler smile. “I haven’t even done anything yet. Thank me when you see them again, my wife.”

“I will.” Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to meet Iroh’s gaze, calm spreading through her when she saw the warmth in his amber eyes. “How are we getting there if we’re going alone?” she asked, turning her mind to more practical matters.

Iroh gestured for her to follow him further into the woods. In a private copse, Jun and Mika were waiting with some cloaks, travel packs, and-

“An ostrich horse?” Ursa asked, eyes widening with disbelief. She didn’t think a crown prince would lower himself to such a common animal. 

“It’s inconspicuous. We can’t exactly take the carriage.”

“I agree, but…no offense, do you actually know how to ride one?”

“Of course I do,” he defended himself a little too quickly. “I learned this and all sorts of riding in school. It’ll be fine.”

His uncharacteristically red cheeks gave Ursa a sneaking suspicion it wasn’t going to be fine. But, as she accepted her pack and travel cloak from Mika and wished her a quick farewell, she found she didn’t really care. After all, she was on her way to see her parents, thanks to Iroh. No amount of ostrich horse shenanigans could take that - the excitement, the hope, the joy - away from her.

The afternoon passed by with lighthearted banter and lessons on village life. Although Iroh regarded his plan to visit Hira’a as impressive, considering that he’d literally argued with the Fire Lord and won in order to buy his wife this opportunity, Ursa had simply burst into giggles when he’d clambered onto the ostrich horse commissioned for their secret journey. 

“You sit on that thing like it’s a throne, and you couldn’t stop talking like a prince if you tried,” she’d said, laughter dancing in her eyes. “If we’re going to make it through this, we need to start your acting lessons now.”

Ursa, he suspected, was enjoying his plight a bit too much. He wouldn’t begrudge her the small pleasure, though. It wasn’t everyday she got to be the one who was guiding him through an event.

“This doesn’t feel natural,” Iroh complained once he’d slouched and allowed the reins to hang loosely in his hands as instructed.

“And perching on an ostrich horse with a ramrod straight back is?” she countered. He supposed she wasn’t wrong. 

Next, they had to work on his stance. He carried himself like a warrior, in her words, which would certainly draw attention. She coached him as they took a break in a meadow to let the ostrich horse rest. The sunshine on her skin gave her eyes an extra sparkle as she told him what to change: his feet didn’t need to be shoulder-width apart, and speaking of his shoulders, they didn’t need to be so far back, and his chin should be lowered a bit, and if he wasn’t careful his eyes would give the impression of someone looking for a fight-

“This is too many things to remember.”

“Sorry,” Ursa shrugged, “I feel I’m being pretty nice compared to some directors I’ve had.”

“You probably are. Acting is just tricky for me. I’m not a great liar,” Iroh defended himself. 

There was no response to that, which struck him as odd considering the easy nature of their conversation so far. He turned to find her staring at him intently, plucking the petals off a flower in her hand.

“What?” he asked. “Is my stance that bad?”

“You think I’m a liar?” she asked, voice strained. There was something in her eyes that he didn’t want to examine too closely.

“No.” Surprisingly, he meant it. Once upon a time, when she’d been a stranger and he’d been a resentful groom, he’d regarded her as nothing more than an actress, and therefore, a natural liar. But looking at her now, he found it hard to reconcile that first impression with the Ursa he knew.

“Then what does that mean, that you can’t act because you’re not a good liar? What are you saying, if not that I’m a liar?”

Blast, he’d offended her. Iroh cursed his thoughtless tongue and scrambled for the right words to fix the situation. “Well…pretending to be something I’m not. That’s what acting is, isn’t it? It feels uncomfortable to me, even if it’s just for entertainment, because I’ve always tried to be honest.”

“And I haven’t?”

“Ursa, that’s not what I meant. Of course you’re an honest woman.”

Iroh waited for her to scold him further. He could see it brewing in the way her lips pursed, the way her brows furrowed - the same expression she wore during after-dinner talks when she was gearing up to let him know his interpretation of a song or a folktale was completely wrong - and prepared to be told all the ways he was mistaken this time.

“Honesty isn’t just not lying,” she said. “A prince should know the difference. I’m not any less honest than you because I like to perform as something I’m not. And how honest do you think the palace is? After everything I’ve had to change about myself to be royal enough?”

Her gaze had turned away from him, focused on tugging at some grass by her hand as she spoke, a little too focused on the task.

“I know it’s not,” Iroh said. “That’s…part of why I try to be honest myself. Because I don’t like that it’s that way.”

She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, and he felt encouraged to keep talking. “I wish neither of us had to worry about being royal enough. I guess that’s pretending too, in its own way. It just doesn’t seem the same to me, probably because I started learning all of it so young.”

Ursa half-smiled now. “I started acting very young as well.”

He sat cross-legged in front of her, enjoying the early autumn sun on his skin and the fact that her upset seemed to have thankfully melted away. “What was your first role?”

“That’s a good story.” Absent-mindedly, she began weaving together some grass and flowers as she told the tale. “I was six years old, and the town was putting on a production of Why the River Roars for the summer solstice festival. I was cast as the main character, Neelu.”

Iroh knew the tale. Neelu was a curious little girl who formed a connection with the spirit of the titular river, eventually convincing it that humans were worth protecting. A six-year-old Ursa seemed perfect for the role. “I’m sure you were a natural.”

“Oh, absolutely. I practiced my lines day in and day out, especially my important line in the finale: ‘Great River Spirit, have mercy!’” She swung her arms out dramatically, her flower chain swinging in the breeze. “But on the day of the show…I got stage fright.”

“ You got stage fright?” he asked incredulously.

“It was my first performance! No one gets through their first performance without a touch of stage fright. I managed the first few scenes okay, but by the time we got to the finale for my big moment, I was a mess. I was just a little girl playing pretend in front of practically the entire town: what if I couldn’t impress them? What if I embarrassed my parents?”

Even though she was recalling something inconsequential that had happened over a decade ago, the furrow of her eyebrows and the rise and fall of her voice transported him to the moment and let him share in the childish panic of six-year-old Ursa. “So, what did you do?”

“I said I had to go to the bathroom, and I decided I would hide in some dusty corner of the theater until they had no choice but to skip my line or replace me.”

He raised his eyebrows. 

“I didn’t say I was a clever child,” Ursa said, reading his expression. “But…my friend must have guessed what I was thinking. He followed me, and convinced me I could do it. He called me the greatest actress he’d ever seen, not that either of us had seen many, but it still felt like an immense compliment. So, I got on the stage and delivered my line, stopping the river spirit’s rampage. Everyone applauded. When I saw my parents cheering me on in the crowd, my fear of the stage turned into love instead. And the rest is history.” She held up the flower chain in her hand. “Here, let me put this on your wrist.”

“Why?”

“It’ll help you blend in. Around here, a handmade token like this is good luck; it’s supposed to provide a wife’s protection for her husband. Unless you’re too noble to wear such a common thing,” she challenged.

“Please. If you can be a princess, I can be a villager.” He held out his left hand, allowing Ursa to deftly wind the makeshift bracelet around his wrist and knot it into place. It was quite intricate on closer look; he marveled at her ability to create it while talking. “You must have made a lot of these.”

“Yes,” Ursa looked away. “I used to for… my friend.”

Iroh suddenly felt uneasy about this ‘friend,’ but the more sensible part of his mind pushed him to not be ridiculous. It was no secret that she’d loved someone else. Moreover, she was clearly at least attempting to not mention Ikem. There was no point nursing negative energy over her private feelings.

“Are you ready to keep going?” he changed the subject. “It should be an hour to Hira’a.”

She sucked in a breath. “Really?”

Iroh nodded, getting to his feet. “Remember, even if we get there sooner, we’ll wait until dusk to ride in so we have some cover. They would recognize you very quickly, but I’m optimistic they won’t be expecting to see the crown prince without his royal attire and entourage, so you just hide your face and let me do the talking.”  

“I know, I know. Just make sure you don’t sound like a boy king when you speak to people.”

Since Ursa’s father was the magistrate, it would be a straightforward affair to pose as travelers looking for shelter for the night and be directed straight to Jinzuk. No one would think twice about the magistrate taking in a young couple passing through the town at sunset who vanished the next morning; it was standard practice in the area, as Ursa had told him.

He helped her up, enjoying the sight of the grateful smile on her face. “Do you want a boost?”

“I’ve spent more time on ostrich horses than you,” she reminded him.

“Force of habit; I was raised to be a gentleman.” He swung himself into the saddle, attempting to steady the ostrich horse as it bucked and trotted under his less-than-perfect seat. “Not a word,” he told Ursa, who was doing a poor job of smothering her grin as he struggled to rein in the animal. “I’d like to see you do any better on a komodo rhino.”

“That’s not very gentlemanly of you.” She hopped on behind him with much less trouble,  hands settling gingerly at his sides for balance. He told himself he was just noting it so he could have a sense of where she was behind him, not because his body was suddenly hypersensitive to her touch.

“All set?”

“Yes.” He could hear the excitement in her voice. “Thank you, again. In case I forget to say it later.”

They proceeded at a slow pace, Iroh figuring that it would be better to take their time on the way rather than arrive early and have to wait for dusk. He wasn’t sure Ursa could handle being just minutes away from her parents’ home and unable to approach; she was already practically trembling with anticipation behind him.

Not that he was paying an abnormal amount of attention to her, of course.

She was quieter in this last stretch too, only speaking up once or twice to call him out for sitting too straight or holding his head too high. They didn’t run into many other travelers, seeing as Hira’a was not a particularly remarkable destination unless one had a niche interest in Avatar Roku’s descendants. Soon, the road began to deteriorate into little more than a forest path, streaked with slowly lengthening evening shadows. 

Finally, they crested a hill that Iroh vaguely remembered from his last time here. Ursa drew a sharp breath, her hands clenching into fists in Iroh’s shirt. Hira’a was in sight, the setting sun casting the village in a golden light. 

He turned to relay a final instruction to his wife, catching a glimpse of the raw emotions playing across her face. “Be still, and keep your head down.”

She nodded and pulled her hood further up before wrapping her arms around his waist and leaning against him, getting into the character of a wife who was tired and slightly sick from a day on the road. Chances were it wasn’t too much of an act.

When he’d first visited Hira’a, he hadn’t really bothered to look around. The royal procession wasn’t the most convenient for sightseeing, and he had been in a sour mood over his looming engagement anyway. His father hadn’t wanted to linger either once they’d found Ursa, so all in all, they’d spent probably an hour in the village before riding out with his new bride. Aside from her family’s greenhouse and the vivid memory of pig-chicken stench, he couldn’t recall any distinguishing features of the place.

Now, he looked upon it and saw Ursa’s childhood. In the schoolyard, children were playing hide-and-explode, and he wondered if this was where she’d played as a girl too. A group of women about Ursa’s age walked by, casting him poorly-disguised glances and tittering among themselves about the handsome stranger; they might have been her friends at one point. Maybe she’d spent her evenings walking these streets after rehearsals, picking up a quick snack from the street vendors selling fresh fire flakes…likely with Ikem. 

The fire flakes did smell good. He chose to focus on that over the sudden tightness in his chest. 

“I’ll stop to get some food and ask for directions,” he told Ursa.

“Okay.” She pressed her face into his back, playing up the act of a sick wife to hide her identity further. The tightness eased.

“Excuse me.” He pulled up the ostrich horse in front of a stall run by a gray-haired but sturdy man, internally grateful that it had only taken one try to get the beast to stop. “Which way to the magistrate’s house?”

The man’s eyes flicked over Ursa behind him. “Young couple seeking shelter?”

“Pretty much,” Iroh attempted to match his more casual manner of speaking. “She doesn’t handle travel well, and I’ve heard strange stories about these woods.”

“Wouldn’t be the first.” The man hawked and spat. “You’ll find Magistrate Jinzuk if you keep going down that way and take a right at the town square. It’s the house with the greenhouse in the back. I’m sure he’ll be happy to have you. He and his wife have been lonely since their daughter left.”

Ursa stiffened. Iroh scrambled for a normal response. “Flew the nest, did she?”

“Got snatched out of it, from what I heard.” He shook his head. “Ah, that’s hardly my business to be running my mouth about. I wouldn’t ask them about it either. No need to upset kind folks.”

“Right, thanks. And how much to buy what you’re selling?”

“My fare’s free to travelers, so long as you tell everyone back home that Lonnie in Hira’a gave you the best fire flakes of your life.” He scooped a generous helping into a pouch and stood to hand it to Iroh, who took it with a smile. 

“Will do, Lonnie.”

Since fire flakes were definitionally street food, Iroh hadn’t tried them often, but these were better than any he’d eaten before. They were crispy and light, with a hint of sweet sausage flavor that added an extra depth to the spice. Maybe he could coax the kitchen staff into preparing these just as an informal treat for the younger royals. He made it a point to tie the pouch to his belt once he’d eaten a handful; Ursa would appreciate them far more.

“Am I going the right way?” he whispered once he reached what he thought was the town square and turned as instructed. 

She hummed in confirmation. Although Lonnie was out of sight now, she was still tense, no doubt thinking about what he’d said of her parents. Guilt rolled through Iroh.

The familiar greenhouse was hard to spot in the evening light, but Iroh recognized the unique carving in her house’s gateway. It looked like an old spirit, which he hadn’t wanted to ask about in front of his father during his first visit, but it had piqued his curiosity nonetheless. 

Ursa hardly waited for them to come to a stop before sliding off the ostrich horse and opening the gate, her trembling fingers losing their hold on the simple latch a few times before she finally undid it. Iroh dismounted and kept a hold on the ostrich horse, hanging back to let her have her small reunion with her parents. She ran ahead, up the wooden porch steps, to the front door, knocking with small, rapid taps signaling her urgency. 

The door opened. Iroh caught a glimpse of the magistrate’s tired face in the porchlight, freezing as he laid eyes on his daughter for the first time in months.

“Daddy, please don’t freak out.” Ursa’s voice was low as she explained the circumstances, gesturing over her shoulder at Iroh. Her father received a second great shock as he looked towards the gate and saw the crown prince standing there. Iroh awkwardly raised his hand in greeting, not sure what else to do.

Jinzuk seemed to come out of his stupor after a moment and whispered something to Ursa. She turned and relayed, “He says to tie the ostrich horse to the gateway and come inside at once. He’ll take it around back later.”

Iroh did as he was told, hoping the knot he created wasn’t too tight or too loose, before following Ursa into her parents’ home. As soon as the door was closed, Jinzuk sank into a bow, trembling slightly. It wasn’t too different from the first time Iroh had surprised him at his front door.

“Honored prince,” he said in a thick voice, “I am so grateful to you for bringing my daughter back, even for a night.”

“Please, rise. Don’t worry about formalities tonight; I’m here unofficially, and it’s an honor for a husband to visit his in-laws’ home for the first time. I should be bowing to you.”

Jinzuk made a strange noise, something between a cough and a laugh, as he stood. Iroh realized his eyes were swimming with tears.

“You can trust him, Dad,” Ursa stepped forward and hugged her father. “It’s so wonderful to be back.”

His daughter’s embrace seemed to dispel any lingering discomfort over Iroh’s presence. Jinzuk wrapped his arms around her and wept. “Oh, my sunshine, I thought I would never see you again.”

“I know,” she whispered.

“When you fell ill at the wedding, I was so worried, and those palace guards didn’t tell us a thing before sending us away…they just said to forget we’d ever had a daughter.”

Ursa began to cry properly now as well. Shame joined the pile of emotions that had been building up inside Iroh. There was so much sorrow that had been brought to this family because of him and his father. 

“Where’s Mom?” Ursa asked as she pulled back.

“She’s in the greenhouse. She’s there most of the time, these days. Come, let’s go tell her the good news.” Jinzuk kissed his daughter’s forehead as he wiped away her tears, the tender affection putting a lump in Iroh’s throat. 

Iroh was perfectly content to wait in the living room while they had their reunion, but Jinzuk turned and beckoned for him to follow. “You as well, Prince Iroh. She’ll want to thank you.”

Feeling a bit like a voyeur, Iroh trailed behind the father and daughter towards the greenhouse. The duo walked arm in arm, Jinzuk asking questions about how she’d been and Ursa answering lightheartedly, prompting a few laughs. She was sugarcoating her experience, Iroh noted, but it was understandable. Why burden her parents with the full knowledge of what she’d been through if she could make them believe she was thriving in her luxurious life as a princess?

Rina was sitting cross legged beneath the mighty oak tree at the center of the greenhouse, looking about ten years older than the day the Fire Lord had come knocking at her door. Ursa called out to her. Their eyes met, and all at once, the extra years melted away. Rina got to her feet, reaching out as her daughter ran forwards and all but fell into her arms.

“Mama!”

“What are you doing here?” Rina demanded, a mix of worry and surprise coloring the question. “What…” The question died off once she saw Iroh behind Jinzuk. Immediately, she untangled herself from Ursa’s embrace to bow.

“Please, don’t,” Iroh said quickly. “I’m not officially here anyway.”

“Iroh brought me here for a secret visit,” Ursa explained. “We have to go in the morning, but we can stay for the night.”

Rina reluctantly straightened up, casting Iroh a poorly-disguised look of concern. “I wish I’d known you were coming,” she said to Ursa. “I hardly have enough food for your first visit here as a married couple.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’ve only been making her favorites since she left,” Jinzuk said with a smile. “I’m sick of cauliflower stir-fry.”

“Well, maybe it’s what she needs.” Rina cupped Ursa’s face, scrutinizing her with the intensity only a parent’s gaze could hold. “You look a bit pale, darling. Are you eating enough vegetables in the palace? Without me there to cook them the way you like?”

“Mom!” Ursa protested while Iroh suppressed a smile. “I’m not a child.”

“You’re my child, and I know how you are.” Her mother’s eyes swept downward over the rest of her body. “You’ve definitely lost weight. Is it because of how sick you got at your wedding? I knew so much rich food couldn’t have been good for you.”

“That was months ago. I’m fine now.”

“But what happened?” Jinzuk interjected, glancing at Iroh. “No one ever told us what happened.”

Mother and daughter looked at Iroh as well, leaving it up to him to judge what details to share. “Bad sea slug,” Iroh said, repeating the lie that they’d been telling nobles who expressed similar concerns. “Someone got lazy in the kitchens - they were immediately fired, of course. Suffice it to say we won’t be having much sea slug around the palace anymore.” He hoped his wry smile was sufficiently convincing.

Ursa nodded. “Iroh and the physicians were very attentive while I was recovering. It’s like it never happened.” She spun around for emphasis, grinning widely. “Can I help with dinner, Mom? I’m starving.”

“No, no, you sit and rest. You’ve come a long way.”

“They arrived on an ostrich horse,” Jinzuk told her.

“An ostrich horse!” Rina looked aghast. “You both must be exhausted. Here - put your things down in Ursa’s room. Sunshine, show Prince Iroh while I start cooking. Your father will find extra bedding.”

Once they had split off from her parents, Iroh removed the pouch of fire flakes from his belt and handed it to Ursa. “You said you’re starving.” 

Her eyes lit up. “Lonnie is arrogant, and overpriced, but he is the best,” she explained as she took a handful of flakes into her mouth, sighing happily.  

“We’re lucky he doesn’t charge ‘travelers’, then.”

She laughed. It sounded different here, in her home. She was almost completely at ease, moving less like a princess and more like…herself. The girl she’d been before the marriage. 

“Here’s my room,” Ursa said, opening the door. “It’s not much compared to the palace, of course.”

It was maybe a quarter of the size of Iroh’s study, with a modest cot pushed up against the wall. The small window with a view of the backyard and greenhouse boasted a few choice plants on the sill that had clearly been tended by someone in their owner’s absence. Posters of old performances by the Hira’a Acting Troupe decorated the walls. A wardrobe stood in the corner that Ursa immediately opened. 

“My old things are all here,” she noted with a shaky voice. 

Of course her parents wouldn’t have gotten rid of anything. Iroh’s mother’s belongings were still gathering dust in the Fire Lady’s chamber after over a decade, waiting for someone to be brave enough to either repurpose or get rid of them. With Ursa still alive, why would her family dispose of the mementos they had? He stepped behind her, curiously looking over the assortment of clothes and trinkets that had characterized her old life. She hadn’t brought anything with her to the palace, seeing as everything she could possibly need was easily provided to her as a princess. The notion that she might want something from home hadn’t even occurred to him at the time.

“Your room is very nicely decorated.” He found he really meant the compliment as he looked back over the swath of posters. “Are these all shows you’ve been in?”

She nodded, and Iroh pretended not to notice that she was wiping her eyes as she turned to answer. “Yes. I just did stage help or small roles for most of them, but I was involved with pretty much every show for the past few years.”

“Which one was your favorite?”

“ Love Amongst the Dragons, ” she said without hesitation, pointing. The show’s poster, depicting a romantic drama of spirits and dragons, occupied the place of honor right by her cot. “It was always my favorite, even as a girl. I was so excited when the troupe announced we would be performing it.”

Iroh smiled, enjoying the passion in her voice. “Which role did you play?”

“I was cast as the Dragon Empress.” The light left her eyes as she suddenly glanced at the floor. “I- I didn’t get to perform.”

He didn’t have to ask what had happened. It was obvious in the way she pulled away from him, looking back at the wardrobe.

I’m sorry. 

The words were on the tip of his tongue, for all the nothing they would do for her now. He swallowed them down, leaving himself with the uncanny, empty sensation of helplessness. That wasn’t something future Fire Lords were meant to feel.

“Ursa?” Jinzuk appeared in the doorway, his arms holding an assortment of blankets. “Do you think these will do?”

“Yes, thanks Dad.” 

Ursa brushed past Iroh to take the bedding from her father. Jinzuk glanced at Iroh warily before addressing him, “Your ostrich horse is in the back now, with some feed. You should be able to keep an eye on him from the window.”

“Thank you,” Iroh said sincerely. “I’m not the best with that animal, unfortunately.”

A small smile lifted Ursa’s face at his attempt at self-deprecation, but she didn’t jump in to make fun of his poor attempts at riding like he’d hoped.

“Few are on their first try.” Jinzuk, at least, seemed to warm up to him. “Dinner will be ready soon. Your mother’s cooking in a fervor.”

“I should go help,” Ursa said.

“Nonsense. You’ll only get in the way at the rate she’s going. At least wash up and change out of your travel clothes,” he advised. “Prince Iroh, I’m not sure I have any clothing that would fit you.”

“That’s all right.” Iroh patted his travel pack. “I came prepared. I’d appreciate it if you could direct me to where I can wash up, though.”

Jinzuk beckoned for him to follow. With one last glance at Ursa’s downcast eyes, he left.

Reuniting her with her parents was supposed to bring her joy. But now, Iroh was starting to think that all he’d done was reopen a painful wound…and remind her that it was he and his father who had inflicted it in the first place.

Chapter Text

With Iroh out of the room, Ursa allowed herself to kneel and look through the more personal contents of her wardrobe. Her jewelry, so cheap compared to what she wore as a princess. Some childhood belongings, including a few dress-up dolls that hadn't been played with in ages, although her favorite hippo-cow was oddly missing.

A box of love letters from Ikem.

She knew it was wrong, seeing as she was a married woman, but her heart still throbbed painfully. The love for Ikem that she'd desperately tried to bury when she'd left Hira'a had begun slowly fighting its way to the surface as she'd returned to her childhood home, and now it demanded to be acknowledged. Iroh had left to bathe, hadn't he? Surely she could indulge a few old memories in private, especially since there was no way she would actually see Ikem again. Only her parents' house, Iroh had told her.

To the most beautiful woman in town, Ursa (or should I call you Dragon Empress now since the role is basically yours?),

I'm blown away by your performance today. I can't believe I get to-

Her vision blurred over with tears, and she crumpled up the paper before she could read the rest. The last note he'd ever given her, slipped into her pocket after they'd rehearsed together the night before auditions for Love Amongst The Dragons. The Dragon Emperor and Empress, their dream roles: won and then torn away so quickly…

"Ursa," her mother's whisper pulled her attention away from the heart-rending memories. She was standing in the doorway, eyes wide and anxious, beckoning for Ursa to join her. Haphazardly, Ursa shoved everything back into the wardrobe, a strange guilt adding to the pain in her chest.

"What is it, Mom? Do you need help with dinner?"

"Come with me," she said, voice low and urgent. "It's important."

Confused, and a little apprehensive, Ursa got to her feet and followed her mother past the kitchen, into her parents' bedroom. Her mother shut and locked the door behind them, checked that the windows were closed and covered, then knelt to pull up a floorboard by the bed.

Anxiety spiking, Ursa quickly moved to help. "What's going on?"

"I need to show you something. Something you can't tell him."

There was no need to ask who 'him' was. Dread joined the guilt, curdling unpleasantly. "You want me to keep a secret? From my husband, the crown prince?"

"It's for your own good." Floorboards removed, her mother pulled out, of all things, a Pai Sho set. Ursa frowned at the sight.

"Mom, what's the big deal? Iroh plays Pai Sho. He's even been teaching me."

"This is more than just a game, love. But it's good that he's teaching you. It gives you an excuse to know it." Hands shaking slightly, she opened up the bag of tiles. "Please, watch this. Memorize it. I promise it's important."

Her mother was a bit unsteady as she started placing tiles on the board, beginning with a white lotus at the center, but then picked up the pace as she seemed to grow more confident in her moves. Obediently, Ursa watched the pattern form, her mother adding to each side of the board one tile at a time until the two halves joined to create an image of a flower with the white lotus tile at its core.

"Normally, two people form this by taking turns placing titles. The guest starts with the white lotus tile in the middle, then has the first move and initiates the creation of the pattern. The host follows the guest's moves to create it," her mother explained. "The guest has to be able to do it without asking the host for help. The host cannot offer hints or guidance to the guest. Understand?"

"Okay, but what kind of play is this? Who even wins, the host or the guest?"

"It's not really a winning play. It's more of a show of teamwork." Her mother carefully scooped the tiles off the board. "There's a dialogue that goes with it. You should know it as well. Here, pretend you're the guest." She handed Ursa the white lotus tile. "Put it down on the board."

Still lost, Ursa did as she was told, sliding the tile into the center of the board like her mother had.

"Then the host will say, 'I see you favor the white lotus flower. Not many appreciate the beauty of nature's perseverance.' And the guest will reply, 'Those who do can always see clearly through the woods.' Got it?"

"Yes."

"Repeat the lines back to me."

Ursa obeyed, reminded of when her mother had helped her memorize her lines for school plays.

"Good. Now, lay out the pattern as the guest."

If this was like practicing for a play, then laying out the pattern was just a piece of intricate blocking. With that mindset, Ursa began recreating the flower, taking note of how her mother mirrored her tiles on the board. The host follows the guest's moves. The corners of the pattern proved challenging - her mother tapped the correct spots and made her start over when she hesitated - but eventually, the complete image stared up at them.

"Tell me the lines again," her mother ordered. Ursa obeyed, earning a curt nod of approval. "Good." With that, the tiles were swept back into their bag.

"Mom, I still don't understand what-"

"You'll understand when you need to," her mother cut her off, pulling a second pouch out from the floor before placing the Pai Sho set back in its hiding spot and securing it once more. "Knowing too much too soon might bring you harm. Even this much…I'm only telling you because I really think it'll be important. But you can't mention any of this to him."

"Why do I need to know it then?" Ursa asked, queasiness overtaking her at the thought of hiding this from Iroh for the rest of her life.

Her mother's urgency softened, and she gently touched Ursa's face. "I wish you didn't," she whispered. "I really hoped you wouldn't have to. I thought perhaps I'd hidden well enough. Now I know I was foolish to believe so, but at least I have the chance to pass on some of the things I should have taught you sooner. Remember them, Sunshine. Hold them close. They'll make sense when it's time."

Even through her confusion, Ursa felt a lump form in her throat at the sadness in her mother's eyes. She'd tried so hard to give Ursa a normal life, without any appreciation for it, and it had all been in vain. "Okay. I will."

Blinking rapidly, her mother got to her feet and found her jewelry box on her dresser. "Here," she handed it to Ursa. "Take it."

"Mom, I can't possibly-"

"I want you to have it. The only reason I was holding on to these was to pass them down to you someday. I know you have much nicer things in the palace, but some of these are family heirlooms." She opened the box and nudged the white lotus tile that was sitting on top. "You should keep it with you. You'll know when to use it."

"Alright." Ursa hesitantly accepted the box and closed the lid, trying not to think about the mystery of the white lotus tile and hiding its meaning from Iroh. "It means a lot, Mom. I'll be careful with it."

"Good." Her mother picked up the second pouch and tucked it in her sleeve. "Now, go get ready for dinner. Don't let your husband think anything's amiss. We need to make sure we're appropriately grateful for his generosity."

"You don't have to worry about that so much. Iroh's a kind man. The Fire Lord was the one who ordered me to stop talking to you, and Iroh even convinced him to change his mind." Her unease settled a bit as she spoke, remembering how upset Iroh had gotten on her behalf when he'd discovered Azulon's order to cut off ties with her past.

"The prince might be kind compared to his father, dear, but that does not make him someone we shouldn't worry about. Not with our families' history. Be careful."

Ursa wanted to ask more about that history, but her mother's pursed lips told her she wasn't going to get answers right now. Nodding, she turned to leave, mentally weighing the Iroh she knew against her mother's warning and the white lotus tile in her newly-acquired jewelry box.

Iroh, cont.

Ursa's parents, may they rest in peace, were good people. Sometimes I think that in another life, where Rina might have claimed her identity as Avatar Roku's daughter with pride, she and her family would have held the status they deserved in Fire Nation society. I could have even met Ursa that way too, as a young noblewoman at a garden party where we might've done the normal thing and fallen for each other before marriage. But then, I think that life in Hira'a might have been what suited them best. Hira'a helped make Ursa into the woman I love: a commoner actress with passion and a big heart rarely seen in the capital. And her parents are finally receiving some of the credit they're due in the aftermath of the war.

Reuniting Ursa with them made a world of difference in our marriage, it's true, but it made a difference to each of us as people too. Returning home put Ursa back in touch with who she used to be, the parts of herself that had been sanded down for the sake of becoming a princess. It reintroduced me to her as her own person on her home turf. It forced me to realize, for the first time, just how little I actually knew of her. Subconsciously, I had to reckon with how the little I knew had still been enough to stoke my affection for her beyond what I was willing to acknowledge.

Well, I ended up being forced to acknowledge it thanks to that first visit.

Laughter echoed in the dining room, warming the atmosphere along with the gentle lamplight as a freshly-bathed Iroh approached the sounds and smells of a family reminiscing over a home-cooked meal. Jinzuk had a hearty laugh, one that seemed to burst out of him uncontrollably as he kept restarting the same story about some silly dream Ursa'd had as a girl and failing miserably. Rina was quieter, breathier, gasps of laughs escaping her like she was trying to hold them back. And Ursa…he'd thought he knew her laugh well, but it was more vibrant here than he'd ever heard it, echoing like birdsong off the walls while she tried to argue with her dad.

"No!" Ursa shrieked, reaching over and snatching something away from Jinzuk as Iroh walked into the scene. "Dad! Don't be embarrassing."

"Come on, Sunshine, surely your husband should meet one of the most important men of your childhood." Jinzuk dissolved into giggles again while his wife swatted at him for the remark, her own smile playing on her lips.

"Who am I meeting?" Iroh asked, feeling awkward about not being in on the joke. Still, it was hard for the feeling to persist: the family's joy at being reunited had clearly overcome the deference they'd been trying to show Iroh, and he was determined to make sure it stayed that way. He was here to escort Ursa and maybe get to know his in-laws a little, not to pull the attention away from her time with her family.

"No one," Ursa insisted, putting something behind her back in a clear effort to keep him from seeing it.

"His name is Captain Moop-"

"Dad!" She turned bright red as she screeched, her voice drowning out her father's laughing attempt to embarrass her. "Stop it!"

Smiling, Iroh sat cross-legged between Ursa and her father at the low dining table, dutifully not looking at the object she quickly hid in her sleeves. She'd changed into a nightgown and robe, providing ample cover. "If what you two have is just that special, I understand," he told her teasingly.

"Don't you start," she whined. Thankfully, most of her melancholy from earlier seemed to have been forgotten as she matched Iroh's banter.

"I said I understand."

"You're mocking me," she huffed, turning to her mother. "Mom, can't we eat yet? I'm so hungry."

It was hard to disagree with Ursa's declaration of hunger as Rina nodded and began to uncover the serving dishes of hot food. A day on the road had a way of doubling his already hearty appetite. Iroh's eyes surveyed the spread, taking note of what he assumed were Ursa's favorites: the aforementioned stir-fried cauliflower, broccoli tempura, loco moco with what seemed to be deer-pig, spicy chicken skin skewers not unlike those Ursa had ordered at the inn, and an assortment of candied fruits for dessert.

"The mangos around here aren't as sweet as they should be this time of year, or I would have made your mango custard," Rina said apologetically to Ursa.

"It's okay, Mom. We actually had mango sticky rice at the inn we stopped at for lunch, so I've had my mango fix." Ursa rose to her knees to serve herself some food before taking Iroh's plate and adding generous helpings of chicken and vegetables before he could protest. It came so easily to her, slipping out of her princess persona. Iroh suddenly felt embarrassed that he was still being catered to as a prince.

"I'm astounded at how quickly this delicious meal came together," he said to Rina, who sat across the table from him. "We've hardly been here for half an hour."

"Oh, I already had the chicken and vegetables prepped for tonight's dinner anyway. The candied fruit hardly takes ten minutes, and loco moco is an extremely adaptable dish. Have you ever tried it?"

"Ursa's introduced it to our family dinners, but the palace kitchen typically prepares it with cuts of hippo-ox."

"Hippo-ox." Rina shook her head with a smile, glancing at her daughter. "You really have been eating like a queen."

"It gets old fast," Ursa complained. "Do you know how heavy hippo-ox is? I can never have as much of it as I want. Not like when you cook deer-pig." She eyed the loco moco on the table greedily. Deer-pig was a commoner meat, Iroh knew, but it smelled just as good as any luxury meat right now. And clearly, Ursa preferred her mother's cooking. He chewed carefully, trying to memorize the flavors and sensations of his wife's favorite foods. If deer-pig was what she liked best, maybe he could convince the palace kitchen to include it for her, even if the Fire Lord would turn his nose up at it.

"My daughter tells me you are a lover of tea, Prince Iroh," Rina said politely. "I'm afraid I don't have any jasmine at the moment, but I could present you with a cup of chrysanthemum after dinner if it would please you."

"Of course. Anything is fine, as long as it's made with care. And I understand you grow lovely chrysanthemums. I've heard a thing or two about the wonders of your greenhouse from Ursa."

"I don't know about 'wonders,' but I certainly try to make good use of nature's gifts. Though I'm sure my efforts pale in comparison to the capital's gardens." Rina's modesty was not unusual; Iroh had received similar attitudes many times before in conversations with local officials. The difference was, he got the sense she actually meant it.

"I actually don't think we keep chrysanthemums in the royal garden, do we?" Iroh glanced at Ursa, who would know for sure with her eye for plants and affinity for the garden.

She shook her head with a mouthful of cauliflower, before swallowing and responding. "No. But the rose bushes are lovely, and the berries are amazing. The freshly-squeezed juice Chef Aisha makes out of them is almost as good as Dad's."

Jinzuk smiled. "Oh, I'm sure I can't compete with a royal chef."

"It's very close," Ursa replied, grinning mischievously.

The family laughed at that, and Iroh allowed himself to join them. Vaguely, he remembered a time when his own parents had been like this: his mother the one with the loud laugh that coaxed a smaller answering one out of his stoic father. Nowadays, the Fire Lord would give his son a genuine smile if he was in a good mood and Iroh said the right things, but his laughter had pretty much evaporated after his wife's death. This - a family dining together happily - was something Iroh hadn't realized he'd been missing. Had this been the norm for Ursa? How strange did she find the royal family, with their passive-aggression and arguments and army of servers hovering over dinner each night?

"Is it difficult growing chrysanthemums?" Iroh asked Rina. "Are they sensitive plants?"

"Not at all. They're very resilient. I actually had Ursa raise them for her first solo gardening project when she started showing interest in helping me in the greenhouse more. I knew they would handle anything she did to them."

"Hey, I did great on that!" Ursa protested. "They sold like hotcakes. Dad, you remember, right?"

"It seems to escape me," Jinzuk said drily as he polished off a skewer.

"Liar," she huffed. "Iroh, I told you this story. All the stuff I did: getting up early, making fertilizer from scratch?"

"I remember," he assured her, leaving out the part where she'd cried about how badly she missed Hira'a after telling it. "I have trouble believing it though, considering how much you hate getting up early."

Ursa made an indignant noise and turned away from him, sulkingly shoving a large helping of rice into her mouth.

"Oh, we're just teasing." Rina reached over from Ursa's other side and stroked her daughter's hair. "She did very well, for her first project. She's a wonderful gardener. Not that a princess needs such things."

"One of the luxuries of being a princess is that she can indulge in such things for pleasure, of course," Iroh pointed out. "The garden could always use new plants, Ursa. Why don't you bring some of your mother's chrysanthemum seeds back and plant them in the spring?"

Both mother and daughter looked at him with wide eyes, and he decided at that moment Ursa really did look more like her mother. Her father's high forehead threw off the resemblance to an idle viewer, but the eyes, the mouth and chin, were all distinctly Rina.

"I can do that?" Ursa asked, once she'd gulped down her rice. "Bring in new plants?"

"Well, yes. You spend the most time in the garden anyway, and it falls under your purview as the future Fire Lady."

"Huh." The idea must have legitimately never occurred to her before, because her eyes lit up like she'd glimpsed a new world. "I guess I have a lot of new plants to bring back to the capital, then."

"I can't wait to see them," he said sincerely.
Loco moco with deer-pig turned out to be delicious, and much lighter than hippo-ox, like Ursa had said. Iroh gently probed Jinzuk and Rina with inoffensive questions, trying to learn more about their lives and Ursa's childhood, but he found he couldn't keep his gaze off Ursa herself for very long. She was more animated here than he'd ever seen her: rolling her eyes overdramatically, pulling faces at her parents when they shared embarrassing details, laughing with her dad so hard she let out a very undignified snort and then clasped a hand over her mouth while continuing to giggle uncontrollably. It was the kind of thing Yuna would have reprimanded Iroh for as a boy. Perhaps she'd done the same to Ursa, and that's why he'd never met this side of her. Or perhaps Ursa had simply never felt at home in the palace, even though it was technically her home now.

Maybe she could only be this way here, in her childhood home. Maybe this Ursa would vanish once they left Hira'a, replaced by the princess mask that only let cracks of her true self shine through in guarded moments. Iroh had thought he'd gotten to know her somewhat well, considering how much of himself he'd shared with her, but seeing her now made him realize how mistaken he was.

"Alright," Rina said as everyone's plates cleared, "Why don't you young ones make yourselves comfortable in the back, and I'll brew up that tea I promised?"

"Mom, let us help clean up at least." Ursa moved to stand; and at that crucial moment, the secret object fell out of her sleeve, landing next to Iroh.

It was a stuffed hippo-cow, staring up at him with large bead eyes and picture-perfect black and white fur. Ursa squeaked and dropped back down to snatch it away while her father laughed in the background. "Don't look!"

"I wouldn't dream of it," Iroh said with a smile as she protectively cradled it away from him. "But I have to say, I'm a little sad you don't want me to get to know someone so important to you. What's his name?"

With a theatrical sigh, she held the toy out to him. "His name is Captain Moopotamous, and I named him when I was three, so you can keep your comments to yourself."

"I have no comments." Iroh playfully turned the toy this way and that, pretending to examine it. "He's very handsome. What's this scar on the side of his belly?"

"That's from when one of the stray cats got ahold of him. Dad had to stitch him back up because Mom was observing a patient overnight, and I wouldn't go to sleep without him." She lowered her voice. "Dad's not a great seamstress."

"I believe I did a good job considering the circumstances," Jinzuk retorted from where he was helping his wife gather up dishes. "Don't forget, I won you that thing to begin with at the summer solstice festival."

"I didn't forget," Ursa said. "You're the one keeping it on display in your office now that I'm gone, anyway. I think you won it for yourself."

Jinzuk shook his head and followed Rina into the kitchen. "Show your husband the back!" he called. "Make sure that ostrich-horse is still there."

Ursa rolled her eyes but picked up Captain Moopotamous and beckoned for Iroh to follow her out into the night. The beast was thankfully still where Jinzuk had left it, tied to the family's shed, although it squawked and pawed at the ground when it saw Iroh. "Aw, he missed you," Ursa joked.

"Give me a komodo rhino over this beaked menace any day," Iroh grumbled, not enjoying the way it was eying him while Ursa checked its ties and made sure it had enough water for the night.

"Do you want me to take the reins tomorrow morning?" she teased.

"Not needed. Tomorrow's journey will be shorter. We'll meet the festival procession about an hour away and proceed to Ningzhou from there. I figured that way we wouldn't have to leave here terribly early, and you can sleep in."

"How considerate of you." She smiled at him, and the unadulterated warmth of it spread through his chest.

"Ursa, Prince Iroh," Rina's voice and the scent of chrysanthemum called his attention away from the small moment with his wife. "Here's your tea." Jinzuk stepped out onto the back porch with her, balancing a tray of teacups and brushing off Rina's efforts to help him.

Brightening, Ursa practically skipped over and took a cup from her father's tray, before seating herself comfortably with her legs swinging over the edge of the porch in a very girlish fashion. The stuffed hippo-cow remained clutched protectively in her arms as she sipped her tea and sighed happily.

"Thank you," Iroh said to Jinzuk and Rina as he accepted a cup. "A brew from the greenhouse, I assume?"

"Indeed. I hope it's up to your standards," Rina said.

"Don't beat yourself up if it's not, Mom." Ursa winked at Iroh as he sat next to her. "The crown prince is very particular about his tea."

"That's only when I'm in the palace," he defended himself. "I'm flexible on the road. And it's an honor to share a meal and a drink with my in-laws."

Rina smiled at that, but there was something strained in it. She hadn't warmed up to him as much as Jinzuk, who sat on Ursa's other side with a beaming smile and toasted her and Iroh playfully. Iroh could only assume it was because Rina was the one who was actually related to the Avatar, and therefore had more of a reason to be cautious with the royal family. He studied the woman's shadow in the lamplight and wondered again what her father had told her.

"Not as good as Aisha's right?" Ursa teased, bringing him out of those thoughts.

"Not the same as Aisha's, but certainly good."

"He won't drink anyone's tea but Aisha's or his own when he's at the palace," she told her parents. "It was one of the first things he told me, at the wedding dinner - that's how important it is."

"That's not quite true. I drink your tea as well," he reminded her. She blushed, and he suddenly felt very self-conscious about saying such a thing in front of her parents.

"Well, a spouse is always an exception," Rina said good-naturedly, and Iroh didn't miss the way she was examining her daughter's pink face as she finally seated herself next to her husband. "Jinzuk always said he hated lemonade, until I told him it was my favorite. Now he makes it better than anyone I know."

"The secret ingredient is love, of course." Jinzuk kissed his wife on the cheek.

Love. The word had come up at the inn earlier, and again now. There was no love in this marriage - at best, there was tentative like - and the display of casual affection made Iroh acutely aware of the utter lack of it between him and Ursa. The even stranger thing, though, was the desire for that affection that cropped up inside him. His mother leaned over to press a kiss to his father's nose in the middle of a Pai Sho game, the mighty Fire Lord faltering in his strategy before playfully frowning at his very giggly, very pregnant wife, while Iroh lay half-asleep on the bed beside them building a tower out of their unused tiles-

That had been one of the last nights of his mother's life. He didn't know why he was remembering it now.

"Dad, couldn't we have some lemonade now, please?"

"You're having tea!"

"But I like your lemonade too," Ursa pouted. It was incredible, how evident it was that she'd grown up as a beloved only child and a daddy's girl. Jinzuk sighed and trudged off into the kitchen.

"Have some shame, ordering your father around," Iroh said to her in a mock-scold.

"He won't let me help. Just like Mom wouldn't either." Ursa put down her empty teacup and hugged Captain Moopotamus closer to herself. "It's like they forgot I'm an adult while I was gone." The irony of her complaining about such a thing while clutching her stuffed toy so protectively wasn't lost on Iroh, but he decided against pointing it out.

"We didn't forget, Sunshine. It's just that sometimes, we wish you weren't." Rina scooted closer to Ursa and Iroh and smiled at both of them. "But you are growing up, now that you're married and all. That's why I gave you my jewelry box; marriage is when heirlooms should be turned over to the next generation. And…" Suddenly seeming nervous, Rina pulled a pouch out from her sleeve. "Prince Iroh, I would like to give you something too."

"Oh, no," Iroh said at once. "I can't accept anything more from your family."

"This is rightfully yours." She reached into the pouch, looking anxious enough that Iroh was automatically on edge, and pulled out an ornate headpiece with a golden flame carved into each side. He noted the artistry at once: it was too fine for this little village. In fact, he was willing to bet…

"That is a royal artifact," he said, the sheer surprise blunting his statement. "How do you have it?"

"Please, Your Highness, I swear I didn't take it." Rina instinctively shrunk under the crown prince's interrogation, Ursa placing a protective hand on her mother's elbow and frowning at Iroh. "This was passed down to me from my father. He claimed it had been given to him by- by Fire Lord Sozin."

A small gasp slipped out of Ursa, mirroring the shock Iroh himself felt. Avatar Roku was a traitor to the nation who had attacked Fire Lord Sozin; how could his family hold such a gift from that same Fire Lord?

"Why was it given to him?" Iroh asked, softening his voice as it became evident how frightened Rina was to talk about this; not to mention how upset Ursa was getting at the sight of her mother's distress. He wanted to coax the Avatar's narrative around this headpiece out of Rina, regardless of how true it was. "I believe it came into your possession through your family line. I'm just curious about your father's story."

"He said that when he was leaving to travel the world and train as the Avatar, his…best friend at the time, then-crown prince Sozin, handed him his own headpiece as a remembrance." She held the headpiece out for Iroh with a trembling hand as she explained, Ursa between them gazing at the artifact with a still-stunned expression. "I have no idea if it's true. Either way, I would have given this to you sooner, but I feared punishment from the Fire Lord if he discovered I held a royal artifact. I apologize for waiting."

So Rina herself admitted she didn't if the story was true. Iroh didn't know how it could be; wouldn't such an important connection between the Avatar and the Fire Lord be part of the royal family's history studies? He accepted the headpiece from her and turned it over with careful examination. Ursa's eyes were keenly trained on him, mother and daughter waiting for his reaction.

"I understand," he said. "Thank you for returning this, and for your honesty. You needn't worry about punishment."

Relief washed across both women's faces, and Rina half-bowed even as Iroh protested the gesture. He wanted to ask Ursa if she'd heard the story before - if she believed it - but as good of an actress as she was, he didn't think she'd faked her shock at hearing this revelation. Especially not when she'd been so open and relaxed all evening. She caught his eye and smiled, something like gratitude in it.

"Put it on, crown prince," she told him. "Let's see how it looks."

With a chuckle, he did just that, sliding it over his topknot and slotting the hairpin into place. It was bigger than his usual headpiece, and that detail made him feel taller. "What do you think?" he asked her.

"Very regal," Ursa said, Rina nodding politely in agreement. He was inordinately pleased by the compliment.

"Perhaps it's time to go back to the traditional design."

"Only if I can have a matching one," she joked, eyes sparkling.

"I'm sure that could be arranged."

Now that she'd passed the headpiece back to Iroh and been pardoned, Rina seemed to finally relax around him. Still, he could see what Ursa had meant when she'd described her mother as the practical, more reserved parent. She seemed rather content to sit and listen to Ursa's animated storytelling, drinking in the sight of her daughter next to her once again. Iroh wondered how quiet the house had been without Ursa to fill it with her sunshine.

At some point, Jinzuk returned with glasses of lemonade. Iroh politely sipped at his, eyes slowly growing heavier from the warm tea in his belly and the brunt of the day's travel finally hitting him. Ursa, however, seemed far from sleep even as she leaned on her dad's shoulder and talked, describing a detailed itinerary of the Autumn Festival and all the plans she'd made. She was probably due for some time alone with her parents, now that he'd dined with them and even received a family heirloom from Rina.

"I'm going to head to bed, if you don't mind," he said to Ursa. "Don't feel the need to join me. You can sleep in since I'll just be up at dawn and can wake you when it's time to go."

"Ah, another early riser," Rina said fondly. "I'll likely be following your lead soon and let these two gossip until midnight. It's what they do best."

Ursa rolled her eyes. "Weirdos," she said with no real venom. "You can take the bed in my room, Iroh."

"You know I'm not going to, and you can't stop me." He smiled when she huffed at him. "Good night, Magistrate Jinzuk, Madam Rina."

The family resumed its chatter, the sounds muffled as he slid the backdoor shut behind him. It felt oddly lonely to be walking away - part of him wanted to go back, to sit with them and integrate himself into Ursa's family further - but he resisted the urge. He needed his rest to make sure he and Ursa got back in time tomorrow morning, and the family deserved to be able to enjoy each other's company freely without worrying about the prince in their midst.

Still, he cracked open the window in Ursa's room so he could listen to their talking in the backyard. They now seemed to be going down a list of Ursa's friends and what they'd been up to since she'd left town. None of the names were familiar, of course, but it seemed they were all doing well except for missing her. Iroh wished she could be reunited with them too. Maybe, if she worked herself further into Azulon's good graces, next year she could be allowed to speak to some people besides her parents.

As he moved away from the window, his foot caught on a crumpled piece of paper next to the wardrobe. Odd, he hadn't noticed it in the room previously, and he'd done a rather thorough sweep. He picked it up, planning to discard it as trash, but then he caught sight of the words scribbled on the corner.

To the most beautiful woman in town, Ursa-

This was a letter to Ursa. It would be an invasion of her privacy to read it. But…who could be calling her beautiful? There was only one answer, and the thought of Ikem pushed aside his better instincts and smoothed out the letter.

To the most beautiful woman in town, Ursa (or should I call you Dragon Empress now since the role is basically yours?),

I'm blown away by your performance today. I can't believe I get to escort you off the stage every time you enchant the town with your passion and your grace. How lucky am I, Ikem (soon to be Dragon Emperor) to know Ursa beyond the stage, to hold her hand in the streets and dine with her family on slow nights? I'll never stop being thrilled by the wonder it is to love and be loved by you, Ursa. You're an empress in my heart, always, no matter how this audition goes. I'm just excited for the entire town to see the same thing about you when we perform these roles together. Break a leg tomorrow!

Love,

The most handsome man in town, Dragon Emperor Ikem

It was a nothing of a letter, really, barely more than a note. A quick scribble on parchment, casually crumpled up and forgotten in the corner of her room. And yet- and yet- Iroh's mind wouldn't stop racing against his better instincts, dissecting the message and analyzing its pieces.

A quick scribble on parchment- likely one of many, had she kept them all?

The Dragon Empress and Emperor- from Love Amongst The Dragons, Ursa's favorite play, the one where she'd won her dream role and then lost it when the Fire Lord came to town, meaning this had been written not long before she'd married Iroh.

Casually crumpled up and forgotten- it hadn't been here earlier, Iroh knew it hadn't been here earlier, he'd studied the room, had she dug it out and read it while he was gone? Was this what she'd been doing while he bathed: reminisce on Ikem, who'd called her his 'true love'?

I'll never stop being thrilled by the wonder it is to love and be loved by you, Ursa. You're an empress in my heart, always- Always? Did Ikem still love her, even after Ursa had spurned him and married a prince? Was Ursa asking after him right now, outside with her parents, away from her husband's attention? Iroh's ears strained to pick up the family's conversation, but the syllables of Ikem's name didn't float through the air.

The most handsome man in town- Ikem was taller and leaner than Iroh, he'd seen that much from the carriage the day he'd met Ursa. Iroh had inherited his mother's smaller, stouter stature rather than his father's imposing kingly build; he knew he could still be attractive to women, when he dressed well and showed off his strength, but he didn't have the effortless physical charm of men like his father and Ikem. Had Ursa noticed that too?

Had Ursa been reading this because she still longed for Ikem? It was one thing to know in his mind that she'd loved another man and likely still privately clung to that love. It was another thing to be confronted with the evidence of it so openly. He'd brought her here, to her parents' home, at great risk to his relationship with his father, and this was what she chose to do with the precious opportunity: dig up old love letters and read through them behind her husband's back-

Before he even recognized how dangerously heated he'd gotten, the letter in his hands burst into flame. It was too small, too delicate for him to save even as the regret - the guilt - slammed through him. The ashes slipped through his fingers, a piece of Ikem and Ursa's love gone forever.

He knew he had no right to destroy something so precious to his wife, even if it had been given to her by another man. Yet part of him wanted to open up her wardrobe and give any other mementos of Ikem hiding in there the same treatment.

Ikem.

It was his imagination playing tricks on him. He was irrationally upset about something that he'd already logically known, and now his mind was trying to convince him that he could hear Ursa's voice outside saying Ikem's name. It was just paranoia. That was why he was hyper focused on how the family's voices had dropped, like they were discussing something they knew Iroh shouldn't hear-

Stop it, he told himself, feeling his hands starting to heat up again. Stop it. He couldn't get angry here. Anger was for people who'd done something egregious: Ozai slipping Red Ash into wedding tea, Captain Zhou letting rapist guards run wild. Anger was not needed here. Iroh had promised himself long ago he would not be like his father with anger, wielding it at every perceived slight. And even the Fire Lady had never been subject to her husband's temper; not that Iroh knew of, at least. He was not about to break that tradition.

Breathe in, breathe out. Iroh closed his eyes and tried to focus on the other sounds around him. Cricket song. Night breeze. Not Ursa saying Ikem's name-

Perhaps he should shut the window. But even that didn't help him sleep, despite the facts that the room was a pleasant temperature once he'd stabilized his body heat, and the bedding on the floor was perfectly passable. He tossed and turned, alternating between trying to put thoughts of Ikem out of mind and still wanting to know more about the man; specifically, about Ursa's affection for him.

Eventually, after enough time that Iroh knew he was going to be very tired at daybreak, the backdoor slid open and shut once more. The family was turning in for the night. Footsteps padded down the hall, and he half-debated greeting Ursa as she came in. But she would only argue with him about the sleeping arrangements if she found him awake on the floor. Besides, if she saw his face, she might also see the guilt of what he'd done to that letter from Ikem.

He rolled onto his side, closing his eyes and evening out his breathing just as she opened the door. She slipped past him silently, light on her feet so as to not disturb him, and went straight to her cot. Thankfully, she'd opted not to rifle through more mementos of Ikem while she thought Iroh asleep. At least he had that small comfort.

She drifted off quickly, based on the sound of her breathing. Soft, slow, calm breaths, no whispers of nightmares accompanying them this time; they lulled Iroh to his own sleep soon enough.

Ursa, cont.

The thing about marrying so young - before the age of even twenty, in my case - is that young people do not necessarily know how to discuss or even understand the uncomfortable emotions that are bound to arise in a long-term relationship. This isn’t to say that grown adults are always more capable, but usually having a few more years of experience can help prevent petty misunderstandings from spiraling out of control in a marriage.

Iroh and I - especially Iroh, to be honest - did not have those years of experience. Maybe if we had, some of the more regrettable events of that first Autumn Festival could have been avoided. I know he still feels bad, as much as I try to tell him that I’ve long since forgiven him for that first petty misunderstanding. But some scars just don’t fade.

Chapter Text

Dawn. Something about dawn always made him feel calmer, no matter what the previous evening had brought. The sun warming his inner fire, the pink skies, the stir of a world waking to another day…yes, Iroh had always been a morning person.

Dawn sliced in through Ursa’s curtains, shedding a gentle light across her room. Through it, Iroh could see Ursa herself on her bed, one foot dangling off the edge. Captain Moopotamus was squished under an arm, the other thrown across her face like she was shielding her eyes from the sun. When he sat up, he saw there was a small trickle of her drool from her slightly-open mouth. The image was amusing, and a little sweet in its vulnerability. The night she’d slept on his couch, he’d found her curled up in the morning very similarly to how he’d left her. Perhaps this was how she slept when he wasn’t looking. Or maybe she only slept this way here, where she felt at home.

Maybe Ikem had seen her like this before. 

The thought banished his morning warmth, reminding him of how sleep-deprived he was. At least the ashes of Ikem’s letter were gone; if Iroh was lucky, Ursa wouldn’t notice it was missing, and they could put this whole thing behind them. The sooner they got out of Hira’a, the sooner Ikem could leave both of their minds.

That didn’t mean Iroh was going to wake her, though. He’d said she could sleep in, and besides, he liked having some time alone to center himself each morning. The fuzziness in his head from how late he’d fallen asleep told him he definitely needed the routine today, or he wasn’t going to enjoy his time back on that ostrich horse.

Ursa shifted in her cot and pulled her dangling foot back onto the bed, shoving Captain Moopotamous off in return. Iroh allowed himself to smile at that. He grabbed the toy as he stood and tucked it next to her cheek. She immediately turned her sleeping face into the soft fur with a sigh.

Briefly, Iroh wondered how it would feel for her to delicately nuzzle and sigh against his skin like that.

Ikem probably knew. 

He tried to ignore that thought as he diligently folded up his bedding and slipped out of the room.

The grass of the family’s backyard was dewy beneath his bare feet: different from the sands and dirt he practiced on in the palace, but it was never a crime to learn how to ground oneself in different environments. For a few minutes, he closed his eyes and simply breathed, focusing on the sun climbing slowly into the sky and his own body’s answering rise of power. Then, he turned to face the east. The sky was more gray than pink this morning;there was rain in the air, it likely wouldn’t strike until maybe noon. That didn’t mean anything for his sun salutations, though. Jinpa, the old captain of the guard, had taught him this particular exercise.

“How are stretches and breathing going to make me a better firebender?” A twelve-year-old Iroh demanded, sprawling out on his back on the sand of the training grounds. He’d accepted the offer for a dawn training session eager to learn something exciting - new forms, creative attacks, all the things Jinpa had picked up in the army before accepting the Fire Lord’s offer to finish his career as captain of the royal guard and instructor to the princes - but the sun salutations Jinpa had just demonstrated looked beyond boring.

Jinpa’s thick, gray eyebrows furrowed into a frown over his deep-set dark eyes. The man rarely took offense to the prince’s preteen pushiness, but this seemed like one of those times when Iroh was supposed to just listen.

“Where does power in firebending come from?” Jinpa asked him.

“The breath,” Iroh answered dutifully, sitting up cross-legged.

“What fuels our inner fire?”

“The sun.”

“You really don’t see the value, then, in an exercise that incorporates both those components?” Jinpa shook his head. “Perhaps I should go tell Master Qin to block your access to the library until you master your basics.”

“Wha- that’s not fair! I already know my basics.” 

“Use your head then, Prince Iroh. What’s the value?”

Jinpa loomed above him, all burly, war-grizzled muscle that would have been intimidating if he didn’t have such a grandfatherly twinkle in his eye. Iroh frowned, digging deep into his mind for the right answer. “Well…probably strengthening the connection to the sun, right? If you can feel it while it’s just coming up, you’ll learn how to fuel your fire with little to no sunlight by compensating with breath control.”

“Exactly. Come on, show me the forms of the salutation yourself.”

“But you only showed me them once.”

“Once should be plenty for a ‘prodigy,’ Your Highness.”

Iroh huffed and got to his feet. It turned out the forms were deceptively challenging; his spine did not bend as far back as Jinpa’s had, and trying to maintain his slow breathing through each movement broke his concentration more than once.

“A good start,” Jinpa said once he’d made it through one complete sun salutation. “Now do eleven more. And do a dozen every day at dawn from now on.”

“What?”

“You should be able to do as many as your age until you’re thirty-six, and then you can start reducing the number of repetitions again,” Jinpa said with a casual shrug and sat cross-legged. “You’re twelve, and so you can do twelve. Every morning.”

Iroh groaned, but obeyed. Even after just one repetition, he could tell there was something to what Jinpa was saying. The sun’s rays already seemed sharper.

It was during his fourteenth repetition that Iroh sensed someone emerge from the house behind him. Not Ursa - not at this hour - but Iroh wasn’t particularly troubled by either of her parents watching him either. He returned his attention to the sun, feeling his body awaken further with each salutation, each passing moment. This exercise was supposed to utilize every muscle in the body according to Jinpa, and while he’d never studied the anatomy of it that closely, he could feel those effects.

Finally, he finished number nineteen and sat to meditate. Behind him, he heard the creak of the greenhouse door opening. It was Rina, then. The woman had mentioned she was an early riser the previous night; before Iroh had gone inside, burned that letter from Ikem, and begun to think that maybe the family was talking about another man behind his back.

Those were not very meditative thoughts. He pushed them away.

The greenhouse door was still open when he finished. His plan had been to just walk back into the house and make himself scarce until it was time to leave, but his curiosity got the better of him. Ursa had mentioned how lovely the chrysanthemums were at this time of year, and he wanted to see them for himself, especially if they were going to be part of the palace garden going forward.

Rina was sitting cross-legged beneath the oak tree, the same place she’d been when Iroh and Ursa had first arrived the previous night. Her eyes opened at the sound of Iroh entering, and she immediately stood to bow. “Prince Iroh,” she said, “how may I help you?”

“I don’t mean to interrupt. I just came to see those chrysanthemums you and Ursa were talking about.” Had she been meditating too? 

“But of course.” She beckoned him over to a plot in the northeastern corner of the greenhouse, where chrysanthemums of all colors were flourishing just as Ursa had described. “They’ll bloom for another month or so,” she explained. “I keep some spring varieties here too so it’s not just an autumn bloom. Ursa loves them all. Especially pink and yellow.”

“I see.” Iroh made a mental note. “Do the colors change the meanings of the flowers? I know they’re usually associated with longevity.”

“Depends who you ask.” Rina bent and gently wiped the dew off one of the plant’s leaves. “On my childhood island, yellow was auspicious for new beginnings, and pink was for strong relationships.”

Good wedding flowers, Iroh idly thought to himself. His and Ursa’s wedding had primarily featured red roses. He liked roses well enough, but they were a little overdone in the capital. “They’ll look marvelous in the royal garden,” he said out loud.

“I hope so. It’s very kind of you to allow Ursa to bring these humble flowers back to the palace with her.”

“She’s a princess. I don’t have to ‘allow’ her to do such a simple thing. It’s her right.”

Rina cast him a sideways glance, one that reminded him of the way Ursa looked at him like she hadn’t decided if he meant what he said or not. He suspected Rina was having a similar thought.

“I suppose not,” she said finally. 

Iroh glanced back at the plot of chrysanthemums, watching how the yellow ones in particular looked radiant in the light of dawn. New beginnings. “Madame Rina,” he said, “could I ask you something, since we’re speaking privately?”

“But of course,” came the dutiful response.

Iroh glanced at the door of the greenhouse, making sure they were alone. “Can you tell me about Ikem?”

Rina’s eyes, sunshine bright like her daughter’s, went wide. “You know of Ikem, Your Highness?”

“There are few men brazen enough to attack the royal procession. I remember the ones who do. He was Ursa’s partner before I came here, wasn’t he?”

“Yes, but I assure you he’s gone now. He left the town not long after Ursa did. No one’s certain of where he went.”

Iroh wasn’t sure how to feel about that. On one hand, at least Ikem was far away from Ursa. On the other, it made Iroh uneasy to not know for sure where Ikem was. “How long were they involved?” 

“That’s…a complicated question.” Rina dropped her gaze. “Ikem and Ursa were in the same class throughout school. They became very close friends, especially once they both started acting. I don’t know when exactly it turned into something more, but I can’t say I was surprised by it.” She pursed her lips. “I think it was officially a romance by the time they were fifteen.”

So at least three years, not accounting for all the time they’d spent together as budding actors before that. It made sense, then, why Ikem had called himself the Dragon Emperor in his letter to her: a reference to a play she loved that they’d both been practicing for together. Iroh wondered if Ikem had indeed won the part of the Dragon Emperor to Ursa’s Dragon Empress. Maybe Ursa had only welcomed romance from Ikem after they’d bonded through their mutual love of theater.

Iroh was not a connoisseur of theater, and he was decidedly not a good actor.

“They were in love, then.” The words felt disconnected from himself even as he uttered them.

“Yes,” Rina whispered, like it was a terrible secret. 

For a moment, he allowed himself to simply absorb that knowledge. Then, he turned and half-smiled at Rina to show he wasn’t upset with her for telling the truth. “Thank you for sharing. I knew I was taking her away from someone when I married her. I’ve just been curious about what exactly she lost.”

Rina nodded, still watching him warily. 

“Tell me something else,” he said, changing the subject to something more casual. “Tell me about…her favorite things. What else might she like to have in the palace besides chrysanthemums?”

“What could I tell you that compares to what the palace offers?”

“A mother’s perspective,” Iroh responded honestly.

She smiled at that. 

Ursa loved chrysanthemums, of course, but in the spring she adored plum blossoms, and in the summer she would travel with Rina to the nearest Fire Lily Festivals. Ursa was picky about her fruits and vegetables, but she had a weakness for anything with mangos. Ursa was a voracious tree-climber, even more so as a little girl, which had been the origin of the family nickname, ‘Sunshine’; Rina had gone looking for her wayward daughter in the woods around the house at dusk numerous times, and would usually find her giggling on a tree branch with the setting sun silhouetting her hiding spot.

Iroh drank in Rina's knowledge of Ursa like watermelon juice on a summer day. There was a whole life - eighteen years - that he could never learn from just this, but…it felt like a new beginning, at least, to collect these pieces of her straight from the source. A beginning to what, though, he wasn’t sure.

“I must say, Prince Iroh…” Rina hesitated, but continued when Iroh nodded for her to keep speaking. “You seem very different now than when you first came here.”

It was a fair observation, considering the mood Iroh had been in when he’d proposed to Ursa in this same greenhouse. “Believe it or not, Madam Rina, I was not any more interested in this marriage than your family was,” he shrugged. “But I’ve made my peace with it. You raised a good daughter, and there are worse women my father could have chosen for me.”

“Is that would have happened if you hadn’t found my family? The Fire Lord would have simply selected another bride for you?”

“In a few years, yes. Most likely a firebender from a noble line.” Vaguely, Mariko’s face as she’d taunted Ursa at the garden party flashed in his mind. “Sometimes I think I’m lucky to have Ursa instead. It’s far more interesting to be married to someone with such a different background and perspective from mine.”

“You really believe that?” Rina asked with something akin to wonder.

“Yes.”

This seemed to astound her further. “I…worried so much for Ursa when she left,” she confessed, and Iroh knew the simple words couldn’t capture the depth of grief she must have felt for her daughter. “I worried that the smart mouth and dramatics her father and I had indulged would get her into trouble. Ursa was a surprise to us, you see; I’d thought I couldn’t have children, until the spirits blessed me with her very late in my life, and so she had more freedom than we maybe should have given her. I worried that…the Fire Lord would be displeased to have such a strong-willed daughter-in-law.”

In short, she’d worried that her daughter would be broken down and erased by the palace.

“But it seems to me she’s hardly changed,” Rina continued. “She has more responsibilities now, and she seems a bit lonely, but her spirit - who she is - hasn’t changed. I have to assume, Prince Iroh, that you have something to do with that.”

“All I’ve done is try to make sure she’s treated well.”

“Well, that’s more than I thought Avatar Roku’s line could expect from the Royal Family after all these years.”

Iroh thought of the headpiece she’d surrendered to him so fearfully the previous night. “We are not our ancestors.”

“No, we’re not,” Rina agreed, the corners of her mouth lifting ever so slightly. She reached out and plucked a petal off a chrysanthemum flower, placing it in her mouth. “Testing it for tea,” she explained to Iroh.

“I see. Your chrysanthemum tea is marvelous.”

“Would you like some to take with you?” she offered at once. “I’ve put together a parcel of seeds and whatnot for Ursa. There’s room for tea.”

“I do like to add new teas to my collection. Chrysanthemum from Hira’a would be lovely.”

“In exchange for the tea, may I ask you something that’s not at all my business?”

“That seems a fair trade to me,” Iroh smiled.

“Those exercises you were doing outside: what were they?”

“Sun salutations. They’re supposed to increase the connection between the sun at dawn and the breath for greater firebending.”

Rina nodded, drawing the petal out of her mouth and flicking it into the soil. 

“Why do you ask?” Iroh asked, curiosity piqued.

“My father used to do them each morning,” she answered, glancing at Iroh uneasily as she did. “He said he would explain it to me when I was old enough to learn more advanced firebending. Of course, he never had the chance. I was always curious.”

“You’re a bender?” Iroh was unable to keep the surprise out of his voice.

“Oh, yes. I might’ve even been one of some note in my youth. But I stopped training after my father’s death. I figured it would be easier to hide that way.”

Doing such a thing - hiding away his firebending, his ancestry, every integral part of himself, in search of a normal life - felt borderline impossible to Iroh. He couldn’t imagine what it had been like for Rina, especially when it had all turned out to be in vain, and the Fire Lord had come to claim her family in the end. 

“So you don’t bend anymore?” he asked.

“I don’t fight ,” she corrected, “not that I ever did. I light cooking fires and lamps. I manage fevers and burns. There’s plenty of ways to live a fulfilling life as a bender without combat. That’s how it was before the war.”

Iroh wondered if she practiced energy reading; that was exactly the kind of thing a firebending healer could use to work miracles. “I guess I’ve never really thought about that.”

“Well, why would you? Even in a world without war, a prince has to take care of himself.” There was something a little sad in the words. “I used to be glad Ursa was born a nonbender. Now I worry that it’s just another way she’ll be defenseless away from home.”

Iroh thought of Ikem, who’d stood in the Fire Lord’s way regardless of his inability to bend and dueled his soldiers in a desperate attempt to get the love of his life back. That sort of devotion was hard to duplicate, if that was what Rina was hoping for her daughter.

“You don’t have to worry about that,” Iroh promised. “I’ll take care of Ursa too.”

Iroh could actually do that, unlike Ikem.  

Iroh, cont.

It’s almost funny, really, how sometimes the universe hears your words and decides to make you eat them. 

Iroh had been quiet during the journey away from Hira’a, to the point where it was starting to unnerve Ursa, especially combined with the heavy clouds above them that looked like they might unleash their loads at any moment. She’d woken up a couple of hours ago to find her husband chatting with her parents over breakfast. The sight had warmed her heart, and he’d greeted her normally enough, but something about him seemed…reserved.

Perhaps it was because he was also worried about the weather. It could also be unspoken annoyance at everything she was hauling back to the capital with her. He’d said she could bring some new plants to the royal garden, which naturally meant she’d requested as many seeds as she could from her mother, and she could hardly bear to part with Captain Moopotamous, and there was of course her new jewelry box; maybe she’d gotten carried away. 

It was also possible that he was simply tired of being undercover as a commoner and eager to get back to royal  life. He’d been a good sport, humoring her desire to eat at a roadside inn like a regular person, then dutifully spending the night in her parents’ modest home. But there was only so much he could take if he wasn’t used to such a life. Perhaps his mood would warm up once he could put on his crown prince regalia and drink a cup of tea from his personal stash again.

At least he’d been kind to her parents, both of them having relaxed around him after just one night. He’d gone so far as to bow to them, a sign of respect from a son-in-law, as they’d left the house that morning, a gesture that had taken Ursa’s breath away. He’d even pardoned her mother for the headpiece the previous night, something Ursa had never known existed. Azulon, she suspected, would not have been nearly as understanding about the strange story of friendship between Avatar and Fire Lord that had accompanied the artifact. Ursa was grateful Iroh had proved himself different from his father once again. 

“Thank you for planning this,” she whispered to him, breaking the calm silence that had marked their brief journey as they drew closer to the royal procession waiting for them. “Really. It was wonderful.”

He turned to look at her, and there was something in his eyes that she couldn’t quite read. “Of course. You’re very welcome.”

“I bet you’re glad to get to be a prince again, huh?” she joked.

His mouth lifted, not quite a smile. “I enjoyed getting to know your family. But I’m happy to get back to the festival.”

The festival. That Ursa was hosting. For a brief moment when she’d opened her eyes that morning and seen her childhood bedroom, she’d thought maybe her whole marriage had been a dream. Then she’d rolled over and caught sight of Iroh’s bedding, neatly folded and tucked against the wall, and reality had come crashing in. It wasn’t Iroh’s fault, of course; it was just an unfortunate stumble of her mind. But that didn’t change the disappointment that had been slowly growing in her gut with each step away from her parents’ home.

Thankfully, this wasn’t a permanent departure. Iroh hadn’t said when exactly Ursa could return, but he’d made it clear he intended for her to be able to visit again, and that had put a smile on her parents’ faces as they’d waved goodbye. Maybe she’d even be able to write to them, once she got back to the capital. She didn’t want to push her luck, but surely a letter wasn’t as big of a request as an actual visit, right?

Briefly, Ikem’s love letters flashed into her mind, and she pushed them away. Letters to and from Ikem weren’t an option anymore. She was married now. She’d indulged thoughts of him too much last night, unable to help asking her parents how he was doing and feeling dejected when they’d gently informed her he’d left town not long after her engagement to Iroh. Even that much had been a mistake, like picking at the scab of a healing wound.

Iroh pulled up the ostrich-horse, and she dismounted, happy to see Mika and Rei coming to greet her.

“It’s so fortunate that you made it back before the rain, Princess.” Mika dutifully took the travel cloak and bag from her, glancing at the gray sky uneasily. “How was your night away?”

“It was lovely, thank you.” Ursa turned to share a smile with Iroh but found he’d already gone off somewhere with Jun. He must’ve been very eager to get back into royal robes. Hopefully, that was all it was.

“There’s a tent ready for you to change and rest before continuing with the journey,” Rei informed her in her straightforward fashion. “Do you need anything before that?”

“Some water, if it’s not already there.”

Putting her princess attire back on was practically stifling after spending the last twenty-four hours in commoner clothes. Ursa knew it was a necessity since they would be nearing Ningzhou soon, and she could hardly meet the governor of the province while looking like a tree-climber, but she sort of wished she could. Her movements felt restricted as Mika tightened the sash around her waist and offered her delicate slippers. The makeup restored her back to her princess persona completely, polishing her features and hiding away her imperfections. In Hira’a, Ursa had liked wearing makeup for color and a touch of pizazz, not for this uncanny smoothness. 

Her old rebellious instinct whispered inside her, pointing out that she could technically wear her makeup the way she wanted with little consequence. Yuna wasn’t here. The Fire Lord wasn’t here. Would Iroh really force her to change it?

She ignored that urge. It was best not to rebel against the confines of royal life. She was Princess Ursa again, no longer Ursa the magistrate and healer’s beloved daughter or Ursa the actress. Despite how it chafed at her to have to step into this character once more, it was still her duty. No matter how much she hated it.

The thought caught her off guard while Rei brushed through her hair. Where had the word ‘hate’ come from? Did she really hate being a princess? It wasn’t so bad, was it, now that she and Iroh were on good terms, and she had people like Mika and Rei she could somewhat relax around? Hate was such a strong word, one that she’d never associated with her new life before. 

Be careful with hate, Sunshine, her mother had said once, when Ursa had declared she hated waterbenders after a history lesson about the Water Tribe’s sexist tradition of banning women from combat. It’s too easy to do, and too hard to take back. 

Hate. The word settled uncomfortably in her mind. As long as she didn’t speak it, surely it wouldn’t have a hold on her.

“Would you like anything else?” Rei asked once she’d situated Ursa’s headpiece in her topknot.

Ursa examined her wrists, adorned with the finery of royal bracelets, and had an idea. “Just one thing, I think.” She rose to her feet, ignoring Mika’s protests to look through her bag herself and dig out her mother’s jewelry box.

“Princess, where did you get that?” Mika asked.

“It’s…” Ursa faltered, unsure of how much information to give her. “It’s from my family,” she said finally, self-conscious about how plain the wooden box with the simple flame carving looked compared to everything else in her royal life. 

“What a precious gift, my lady.”

“Thank you.” She opened the box and examined its contents carefully, placing the white lotus tile aside to try and find an accessory that wouldn’t clash too much with the rest of her outfit. 

There was the noise of someone approaching the tent, and Iroh’s voice came in through the thin flap that separated her from the outside. “Is the princess dressed?”

“Yes,” Ursa called, beating Mika to the punch. “Come in.”

Mika and Rei quickly bowed to the crown prince as Iroh entered, and Ursa looked up long enough to see that he’d been restored to his palace glamor too. “You’re not wearing the new-old headpiece?” she asked with a wry smile.

“No. I think I’ll return it to my father first, and let him decide whether I should wear it.” He didn’t answer her smile, although his tone and manner were perfectly pleasant as he released Mika and Rei from their bows. “I was just coming to see if you were ready yet. No rush, of course, but it seems you might need more time,” he continued, nodding at the jewelry box she was sorting through. “This is the one your mother gave you?”

“Yes. I’m just having trouble picking a bracelet, but then I’ll be ready to go.” She beckoned Iroh over. “Do you want to help me choose one?”

“That’s alright,” he said, not moving. “I trust your taste.”

It was a perfectly polite rejection, but it was a rejection all the same. Things like that had been happening all morning - his slipping away as soon as they’d dismounted, his silence during the journey from Hira’a, his refusal to let her serve him at breakfast - all inconsequential by themselves, yet disconcerting when she added them up in her mind. 

Just the previous day, she would’ve simply swallowed down her concern and waited to see if the crown prince would raise an issue, as a good princess would. But she felt rejuvenated from Hira’a, not ready to be constricted back into her royal role again, and so she asked, “Iroh, is everything okay?”

“Of course,” he replied, his tone as mild as it was when he spoke to ministers he didn’t really know that well. It was unusual that he was using that tone on her. 

“You just seem…” she hesitated, then waved Mika and Rei out of the tent in case their presence was keeping Iroh from speaking freely. “You just seem a little off today,” she whispered once they’d gone. “Did you not sleep well on the floor? I told you to take the bed.”

“I don’t think the bed would have made a difference,” he said with a shrug. “I’m always a little restless when sleeping in a new place.” 

It was a reasonable answer, one that Ursa might have believed if he’d looked her in the eye when he said it.

“What is it, really?”

“There’s no ‘it’ to worry about.”

“Come on, Iroh,” she said with a wry smile, “haven’t we already established that you’re a terrible actor?”

The joke, the small reference to a previous laugh they’d shared, should have lightened the mood. Instead, his jaw clenched, and he looked at her in a way that suddenly reminded her intensely of the Fire Lord.

“Yes,” he said with something like irritation. “Yes, I’m a terrible actor. And you- you’re a marvelous one, aren’t you? The Dragon Empress of Hira’a.”

“I think I’m alright. Hira’a is a pretty small town, so…” she trailed off, unsure of how to respond. She’d never seen him like this.
“The Dragon Empress who misses her Emperor,” he muttered, almost more to himself than her. “I haven’t seen that play, but that’s the gist of it, isn’t it? You wait for your Emperor to come back and reunite with you. Is that what you're waiting for now? Is that what you were hoping for when we went back to Hira’a? For Ikem?”

Hearing his name on Iroh’s lips was a shock, her love’s name spat out with such venom. “What are you talking about?” 

“I’m talking about you digging out your old love letters from him and reading through them while I was bathing.”

Nausea stabbed into her stomach. “How do you know about that?” 

“You should be more careful if you want to sneak around behind my back. And I’m not a fool. I know you love that man. I know you didn’t actually mean it when you told him you wanted to marry me and sent him away; you did it to save his life, and I supported that. But I thought you at least respected me and what I’ve done for you enough to act like a decent wife and not openly pine for another man. Such an honest woman like yourself…” he trailed off, lips pulling back in a very Ozai-like sneer. 

Not too long ago, she would’ve simply accepted his anger and apologized. But there were accusations in his words that her pride wouldn’t let slide, and with her own knowledge of what Iroh had been doing behind her own back, she wasn’t going to allow him to paint himself as some sort of wronged husband. 

“How dare you accuse me of dishonesty, of not being a decent wife, when your own brother poisoned me, and you did nothing about it?”

Now it was his turn to be confused. “What are you talking about? You chose Ozai’s punishment yourself.”

“But you didn’t tell me everything. I know you found out Ozai had dosed my tea from Aisha only three weeks after our wedding, and yet you didn’t breathe a word of it to me until a month later. You promised I would know the truth as soon as you did, and you lied .”

“How-”

“‘You should be more careful if you want to sneak around behind my back,’” she mocked. “Or does that only go one way, equal husband of mine?”

“Fine,” he gritted his teeth. “I shouldn’t have waited for so long with Ozai, I concede that. But that doesn’t cancel out your dishonesty.”

“My dishonesty?” Did Iroh even hear himself? “I might have had a lapse in judgment, but let me tell you something. The only reason I have to be dishonest is because of you . Because of your palace and your family and all the dishonesty they demand from me to be your wife in the first place. Do you want to hear me be honest, husband?”

He didn’t answer that, watching her with hard, hard amber eyes, but she didn’t need his permission. The truth was bubbling out of her, unable to stop after three months of being tamped down-

Ursa, cont.

Did you ever watch milk boil on the stove as a child, reader? Do you remember how it happens? How it just sits there, for minutes on end that feel like hours? How it all at once comes bubbling to the top, more often than not crashing over the edges of the pot to create a huge mess because of course it has to boil right during the half-second when you weren’t paying close attention? How afterwards, when you’re explaining the mess to your parents, you can’t find the words because honestly, you’re not sure what exactly happened and can only really see the aftermath?

That’s what my first fight with Iroh felt like. Everything I had been holding back for months in my efforts to be a good princess came boiling over, heated by the frustration of having to return to my royal life after a taste of my old freedom. By the end of it, I was ranting at him, barely in control of my own tongue as it lashed out. I didn’t say anything untrue - of that I am certain - but I said things that were overly harsh, things that were meant for his father rather than him, things that I wish I hadn’t; especially since I barely remembered many of them afterwards.

But in the moment, I didn’t rationalize my words to him that way. I didn’t care to hear his responses, even though he was much more careful than me in what he said; it’s easy to be careful, after all, when you’re not the one who’s had your whole life stolen away from you. I just wanted to hurt him, to make him feel a sliver of the hurt I’d experienced during our marriage. 

And hurt him I did. Afterwards, I was never sure why I’d thought hurting him would make anything better. Milk boiling, I suppose; all we had to remember the fight by was the mess it left in the aftermath.

Iroh’s hands were shaking. He didn’t notice it until he tried to pour his tea, and it went everywhere except the cup. It was a good thing it was just for himself, if it had happened in front of someone else - in front of Ursa - he never would have heard the end of it-

“I never wanted you.”

“Jun,” he called, “I need a cloth.”

Jun dutifully appeared, wisely not saying a word about his master’s demeanor or the uncharacteristic mess he’d made of his jasmine tea. Iroh didn’t care. He knew Jun had heard the whole thing. The whole procession had. Ursa had stopped caring about the volume of her voice at some point during her rant, and she definitely hadn’t cared about everyone watching when she’d stormed into the woods in a huff. At least he’d been able to send Mika and Rei with her; she and Iroh both probably needed the space to cool off, but it didn’t feel right to leave her alone out there, especially with the looming rain.

“I’ve hated every moment of being Princess Ursa.”

Oh, the gossip mills would have a field day with that one. Iroh just hoped news of her outburst wouldn’t reach his father’s ears: the Fire Lord would not be pleased to hear that his daughter-in-law had lost her temper and spoken so poorly of the royal family in such an unprincesslike manner. 

Even if everything she’d said had been true.

“Prince Iroh, would you like me to pour the tea?” Jun asked once he’d wiped down the makeshift table and the wet dishes. 

“No.” The aroma of jasmine had soaked into the air, and it wasn’t helping Iroh calm down like he’d hoped. “Go seal up any leaks.”

Iroh had started saying this to Jun a long time ago, a short-hand way of telling him to make sure the guards/servants/whoever shut their big mouths about the sensitive thing they shouldn’t have seen/heard. Jun had his ways of quashing gossip without feeding into it himself. It was a big part of why Iroh kept him close.

“Of course,” Jun bobbed his head in a quick bow and left.

 With a shuddering breath, Iroh tried to still his hands enough to rub his tight temples. Maybe he shouldn’t have sent Jun away. Ursa’s words were echoing even more loudly in his ears now that he was alone.

“I’ve been such a fool to think you might actually care for me. You are exactly like your father.”

No he wasn’t, had been his mind’s immediate instinctive response. He wasn’t. Iroh admired his father as a mighty Fire Lord, but he knew the man wasn’t perfect. There was his attitude towards Ozai, his narrow approach to life, his temper: things Iroh had inherited, sure, but had recognized as flaws and attempted to correct. Didn’t he deserve some credit for that? And he certainly didn’t view Ursa as…his thoughts faltered as he recalled how she’d described herself in his father’s eyes.

“At least your father is honest in how he sees me: a bed warmer for his son, a broodmare to carry his heirs. You, you dress it up in your proclamations of equality and being good to each other when all you want is the same things out of my body.”

Iroh didn’t think of her that way. How could she think he did? How could she be so unfair, to accuse him of only showing her kindness with ulterior motives of getting her into bed? What had he done to make her believe him capable of that deception?

Aside from hiding the truth about Ozai…and snooping through her personal letters.

Alright, he begrudgingly admitted, her outburst was justified. He just hadn’t realized how much raw emotion she’d been burying since they’d met. It had been foolish of him to be so ignorant, considering the little glimpses he’d seen of her big heart. Of course she’d been suffering. Of course she’d been bottling it up. Of course it had been overdue to burst out of her, and Iroh was the natural target for it. Meeting him had coincided with her life changing forever, entirely against her will. She couldn’t exactly berate the Fire Sages who’d recommended their marriage or the Fire Lord who’d arranged it, so why wouldn’t she take it out on Iroh instead?

He’d been stupid. What had he been thinking, snapping at her about Ikem, when he knew full well she had many more grievances to lay against him? He’d always been aware she’d loved Ikem; why did he have to lose his temper about a letter Ikem had written to her well before Iroh had been in the picture?

Maybe he really was just like his father. 

Rain began to patter on the tarp above him. The clouds had finally opened as they’d been threatening all morning, the usually-pleasing sound feeling like the skies themselves condemning him. How long had Ursa been gone: ten, fifteen minutes? He’d had enough time to come back to his tent, brew (and spill) tea, and sit here stewing in his thoughts, so it couldn’t have been much longer. With the rain, she would likely be back soon, meaning he had to figure out what he was going to say to her. She needed to at least be able to tolerate him, or the rest of the journey was going to be downright unpleasant.

But what could he say?

The words came at once. I’m sorry.

He owed her that much, even if it was nothing compared to all the grievances she’d slung at him.

There was more he needed to do besides apologize. Bringing her little souvenirs of Hira’a back to the capital was a start, but it clearly wasn’t enough based on how she’d almost literally thrown them in his face during the argument. Maybe her parents could visit the palace, and that would make it feel a little more like home to her. Maybe-

Maybe she would never be truly happy away from Ikem.

Shut up, he told that part of his brain. Ikem had been what started the fight, but she hadn’t mentioned his name once in her rant. Thinking about him more would just drive Iroh back into whatever irrational upset had kicked off this whole thing in the first place.

Rina’s chrysanthemum tea was sitting in his bag. Maybe if he served Ursa her mother’s tea when she returned, she would at least hear him out.

His hands trembled less when he made this batch of tea. He poured his own cup first to make sure he wouldn’t spill any this time, then hers. Thunder rumbled somewhere in the distance. He frowned, covering the two cups before opening the tent flap and peering out in the direction Ursa had stormed off in. The rain had gotten thick enough that he had trouble making out the trees in the distance. Why wasn’t Ursa back yet? Mika and Rei were capable enough to not get lost in something as simple as a rainstorm.

Unless something else had happened.

Iroh hesitated for all of a minute, then a second clap of thunder made his decision for him. Ursa wanting to be alone was one thing, but he couldn’t in good conscience let her wander around in weather like this. He picked up his cloak and signaled to the guards by his tent that he was leaving, when he caught sight of a woman in the distance.

Thank the spirits. His shoulders sagged with relief.

But it was only one woman, and as she drew closer, it became evident that it wasn’t Ursa. The clothes were wrong, the hair was shorter, and most concerningly, she was running towards him, stumbling through the mud in her urgency. 

“Mika?” he called, worry quickly replacing the relief as he recognized her. “What’s going on? Where’s the princess?”

She came to a stop in front of him, and he glimpsed tears mingling with the raindrops on her face. The worry in his gut transformed into unadulterated fear. “Prince Iroh,” she sobbed, dropping to her knees in a way that was more exhausted and desperate than respectful, “I’m so sorry. The princess is…she’s missing.”

Iroh, cont.

That moment, when Mika told me my wife was gone, is irreversibly seared into my mind. I remember the shock - the sheer disbelief - hanging over me even as I went into the woods to search for myself, thinking that I could find something that Mika and Rei had missed. But they were good, skilled women, who’d upheld their station. What had happened to Ursa was simply beyond them, and even me, although I didn’t realize just how beyond at the time. 

I returned to my tent soaked to the bone, without Ursa, and caught sight of the teacups I’d prepared for us when the day had still been simply miserable instead of downright heartwrenching; when I’d had a sliver of hope that I could maybe patch up what had broken between us. Something about those cups just got to me: the tea, Ursa’s mother’s tea, cold, never to be drunk by Ursa.

Never to be drunk by her, maybe ever again.

I upended the table. I stared at the shattered teapot and cups and thought of how I’d told Ursa’s mother I would take care of her daughter, then how Ursa herself had accused me of being exactly like my father. And I went back into the storm. 

Chapter Text

Ursa…

Floating. Or falling. Or floating. It wasn't clear what exactly was happening to her, not that she felt conscious enough to differentiate. Darkness surrounded her (was it darkness? Or were her eyes closed? Or did she even have eyes anymore?) and she could barely even feel her own body, let alone anything else. 

Ursa…

Was she dead? Was someone calling out to her from the afterlife? Whatever was speaking her name didn’t sound like any human she’d ever heard; instead, the deep voice seemed to reverberate through her from inside her own mind.

Ursa!

A bone-chilling cold slammed through her body. Her eyes snapped open with a gasp. She was very much alive, but as she took in her surroundings, she wondered how long that would last.

The last thing she remembered, the forest, was gone. Instead, she was in the middle of what seemed like a dimly lit cavern that extended into a tunnel. The source of the light was a mystery, but it cast blue-ish luminescent ripples over the rocks around her, like the sun shining through the surface of a clear lake. Panic welled in her throat; she was not a strong swimmer. If she was underwater, she hoped whatever pocket of air she’d found herself in would last long enough for her to get out of this mess.

“Hello?” she called out hesitantly, half-hoping the voice that had woken her would come back and tell her what to do, half-fearing she would catch the attention of whatever unsavory creatures roamed around tunnels like these. Fortunately, or unfortunately, nothing responded.

At least Ursa herself seemed to be in decent condition. Her clothes were damp (from the rain, she vaguely recalled), so she couldn’t have been unconscious for too long, and there was a dull pressure inside her skull, which could explain why she’d been unconscious to begin with. As she got to her feet, she gratefully noted that she didn’t feel dizzy or nauseous, a promising sign that she hadn’t suffered a concussion.

Unless, of course, this whole thing was a hallucination brought on by severe head trauma.

Even that was the case, there still remained the mystery of where exactly she was and how to get out. Squeezing her eyes shut, she tried to trace through her most recent memories. She’d been walking - no, storming through the woods - when it had begun to rain, quickly turning thick enough to obscure her vision. Mika and Rei had been with her, calling to her that it was dangerous to be out in the downpour, that she should turn back, but she hadn’t wanted to because she’d been angry. She’d been so angry…with Iroh.

Iroh. Something twinged in her chest. Yes, she remembered now: the argument over Ikem and Ozai that had turned into a fight without reason or rules, the harsh words that had rolled off her tongue so easily. 

“I’ve hated every moment of being Princess Ursa.”

It had felt so good to throw that hate in his face, to make him feel just a sliver of the heartache she’d experienced as a princess. But now that she was looking back on it… 

“ You are exactly like your father.” 

As soon as she’d said the words, she’d known she was wrong. Azulon would not have been fazed by such a comparison - if anything, he would have been thrilled by it - but Iroh had just looked stunned. Even…hurt. Not enough for her to apologize as she’d pushed past him and stormed out of her tent in a huff, but enough for her to feel a semblance of guilt in hindsight. Maybe, potentially, she’d gone a smidgen too far. Of everything she’d been through since leaving home, Iroh was the least of her problems. He’d actually served as something of a bright spot: when she was with him, she was able to be herself, or as much of herself as she could allow in the palace. Iroh never minded her smart remarks or her challenges to the palace’s status quo. If anything, he seemed to enjoy and encourage them, to the point where she’d tentatively started looking forward to spending time with him.

Until she’d found out how much he’d covered up for Ozai…and how possessive he was apparently capable of being, as evidenced by his upset over Ikem.

In the grand scheme of their marriage, Iroh letting her be herself was so little to be grateful for. Convincing the Fire Lord to let her visit Hira’a again had admittedly been a much more substantial gesture on his part, but she refused to be treated like she was completely beholden to him in return; especially after what had happened with Ozai. She was thankful that Iroh had brought her to see her parents, but it didn’t change the fact that Iroh had taken her away from them in the first place.

“ Do you think this was what I wanted for my marriage, Ursa? To steal a woman away from her life and have her resent me for it for the rest of mine?”

No, Iroh wasn’t the one to blame. Ursa sighed. He was not as powerless as her, but he was still effectively powerless against the Fire Lord’s will. It was much harder to maintain her anger with him now that the sting of their words to each other was no longer fresh. Even when they’d been arguing, he hadn’t seemed truly angry once the subject had turned away from Ikem. More…tired. Dejected. Spirits, there were so many ways to say he’d looked sad . 

They would have to continue that discussion a little more calmly if she got out of this. When she got out of this, Ursa corrected herself. Having a bleak outlook would only shape a bleak reality to match.

Ugh, that was definitely something her mother would say. And Iroh would probably agree.

There was nothing to do but walk. Unable to see a difference between the tunnel to her left and her right, Ursa chose to walk right. She always played to the right first in Pai Sho, not that it had helped her beat Iroh yet, but she wasn’t about to change strategies now.

Walking through this strange, underground (underwater?) tunnel quickly became nothing short of nerve-wracking. The blue light, wherever it was coming from, was not consistent, and there were strange, misshapen shadows dotting her path. For a few steps every now and then, Ursa had to move in complete darkness until she reached the next patch of visibility; in those moments, a fear bubbled up in her frazzled mind that the light would never actually get any closer and she would remain futilely plodding through pitch-black forever. 

At some point, she began to hear things as she walked, whispering her name. None of them sounded familiar. She wondered where the deep voice that had woken her up had gone, and oddly found herself wishing it would return.

Suddenly, Ursa walked smack into a wall. She cried out and pinched her aching nose, hoping it wasn’t bleeding. Was this the end of the tunnel? She blinked and squinted, trying to make sense of the dimly-lit path through her watering eyes. It was not an end, but an intersection, giving her the option to turn left or right.

One of Iroh’s bedtime folktales surfaced in her mind. He’d spoken of a maze in a mountain, formed by a pair of earthbender lovers who secretly rendezvoused at its center, with the only way out lit by nothing but crystals. This wasn’t that maze, of course - Ursa was relatively confident that she had not somehow teleported to the Earth Kingdom, and there were no crystals producing the strange light anyway - but Iroh had mentioned something else. The key to getting out of a maze, he’d told her as her eyelids grew heavy, was to pick one wall and follow it. Follow it in as many consecutive turns and dead ends as it took until eventually, there would be nowhere left to go but out.

The idea of touching the walls of this strange place sent a shudder up her spine that wasn’t just from her damp clothing. But if she didn’t…there were so many shadows obscuring the path that it was inevitable she would eventually miss a hidden turn. If this was some sort of maze, that could be a death sentence; her mouth was already starting to become dry with thirst. It didn’t seem like anyone else had stumbled across whatever hidden entrance had brought her here yet. 

Well, she’d all but broken her nose on the wall in front of her earlier, and nothing had crawled out of it to try and eat her. If she was continuing her pattern, then she had to keep following the wall to her right. Ursa closed her eyes, braced for something awful to happen, and thrust her hand onto the dark wall.

Nothing but cool stone made itself known beneath her touch. Tentatively, she opened one eye, then the other and relaxed slightly. She could actually see her hand on the wall, and…had some of the shadows gone away?

Ursa .

The deep voice had returned. “Hello?” she whispered. Maybe it would say something besides her name now.

Come.

It was gone again, but it had seemed less faint than before. Feeling encouraged, she continued forward. 

The blue, rippling light didn’t grow any brighter, but there were fewer shadowy patches on Ursa’s path now. She walked with a new urgency, cognizant of the fact that her body would only last so long in this tunnel, and her hand lightly traced over the cave wall’s ridges and bumps. She found one turn, then another, then a deadend, and another turn at what seemed like a grand four way crossroads. If this really was a maze, it was an intricate one. Ursa just hoped it included an exit.

It was after the crossroads that Ursa saw her first sign of life. Ahead of her, dressed in plain but ragged green Earth Kingdom clothing, stood a man. A firebender, as evidenced by the small fire he held aloft in his right hand as he glanced around the tunnel. Perhaps he was from the colonies?

Before Ursa could call out to him, she accidentally kicked a small pebble, and the man immediately spun to face her in a fighting stance that clashed with the simplicity of his clothes. Ursa had seen that stance before, assumed by both Iroh and Ozai as they prepared to spar. His body was wrong for his attire as well, with broad shoulders and a brawny build that boasted a history of battling far worthier opponents than Ursa and emerging victorious.

His face…looked familiar. Hard yet warm amber eyes studied her from under thick eyebrows, clear frown lines highlighting a thoughtful gaze accentuated by a full beard. The graying and thinning of his dark hair indicated that he was much older than her, but that didn’t stop the strange recognition between them. 

“Ursa?” he whispered, face and stance slackening with shock. 

His voice had deepened with age, yet as she glimpsed the star-shaped scar on his left palm in the firelight, it was undeniable. She was looking at an older version of Iroh.

“My love, what are you doing here?” he asked, sounding heartbreakingly earnest. Unabashed wonder overcame him as he took in her appearance. “How…” he breathed.

The words my love sliced through her like a knife. “Go away!” she gasped, nails scraping against the wall as she stumbled backwards. She didn’t know what trick this was, but she wanted no part of it.

Immediately, his hands went up in a clear show of peace, extinguishing his flame. As the fire vanished, so did he.

Ursa blinked rapidly, eyes readjusting to the dim blue light now that the warm orange of the fire was gone. Although her gaze swept across the tunnel, looking for the vision of Iroh or something else lurking in a shadow, she found nothing. Her trembling hand remained anchored on the wall. 

If that was just the first of what she was going to see down here, she wasn’t sure how much longer she would last.

Thirty hours.

Ursa had been gone for thirty hours.

It didn’t feel right. Surely it had been longer, Iroh’s instincts protested as he watched the sun sink towards the western horizon. Surely it wasn’t just at noon the previous day that she’d disappeared. It must have been weeks ago, that was why Iroh felt this empty and exhausted; surely just one night of her missing couldn’t do this to him. One night that had passed too slowly, with Iroh tossing and turning, unable to shake the feeling that he should be doing something to bring her back from wherever she’d gone; the nagging sense that even with the anger she’d thrown at him, she was somewhere in need of his help.

He’d had a dream, when he’d finally managed a brief hour of uninterrupted sleep, that he’d found Ursa in the trees. Not giggling at him for missing her hiding spot like Rina had described, but silent, her sunshine eyes filled with sorrow and her face deathly pale like it had been after the Red Ash and her bloodless lips parting to accuse him once more- 

“ You are exactly like your father.” 

The trees around camp had been empty when he’d checked them again at dawn. Iroh had been relieved. Then he’d scolded himself for feeling that way because surely, her returning to repeat those haunting words would be better than her being gone.

Now, in the light of the setting sun, he came back upon the spot where Ursa had vanished for what felt like the hundredth time. It was unmistakably marked with his knife in a tree to avoid the soldiers walking in circles as they fanned out across the area. Not that the searching was doing much good.

“Prince Iroh?”

He turned. “Rei.”

Rei and Mika were probably the only people whose worry for Ursa was anywhere near Iroh’s, as evidenced by the redness of Rei’s eyes. Iroh doubted either she or her partner had slept more than him last night. 

“There’s still nothing to report,” Rei updated him dutifully. “If she was taken, the trail was washed away in the rain, and there’s nothing to track.”

Iroh nodded. It would be a ballsy move, abducting his wife right out from under him, and he couldn’t imagine who would be brazen enough to try it. “Tell me again what happened.”

“It was so fast.” Her low voice trembled uncharacteristically before she drew a breath to steady herself and continued. “The princess stormed into the woods with Mika and myself following. She was clearly upset, so we tried to give her some distance, but once the rain began, we started to quickly lose sight of her. We called out to her to return to camp, or to at least wait for us, but she didn’t want to. She started ranting about…your disagreement, before she suddenly went quiet. By the time we made it to this area, she was gone, and we found no trace of a struggle or anyone else nearby. Her tracks seemed to end at this tree.” She tilted her head at Iroh’s knife marking the tree in question.

Aside from her awkward phrasing around Ursa and Iroh’s fight, the explanation had not changed at all. He could have recited it from memory while clearly recalling the look on Mika’s tear-stained face when she’d delivered the news that Ursa was missing.

“Prince Iroh,” she pressed hesitantly when he didn’t respond, “Jun and I believe it would be prudent to speak to her parents now.”

“No.” 

“Forgive me, Your Highness, but without evidence of a kidnapping, there’s not many other places she could’ve gone.” 

Iroh had arranged for patrols between here and the nearest villages as soon as the rain had let up, in case Ursa somehow made her way to one of them. Hira’a was one of those villages. But he just couldn’t stomach the thought of going to Rina and Jinzuk to tell them of their daughter’s disappearance, let alone accuse them of having something to do with it. How could he look them in the eye, having lost their daughter so soon after promising to take care of her? It had been hard enough to face their tearful reunion with Ursa. This would be so much worse.

“Do you think she ran, Rei?” he asked, turning his attention back to the tree. “You’ve been attending to her closely since she came to the palace. Does it seem like something she would do?”

The waning sunlight made the blade of his dagger look unusually molten, like it had been forged out of gold instead of steel. “No,” Rei whispered from the edge of his eyesight. “But I have to think practically, Your Highness. I don’t know what else could have happened.”

“The storm was forceful enough that a kidnapper’s tracks would have been washed away, isn’t it true?”

“Not in a matter of minutes. I was not that far behind her when she vanished.” Guilt tinged the words, and she bowed her head when Iroh glanced at her. Despite himself, he knew she had a point, one that he could not afford to spend much more time ignoring. If Ursa didn’t turn up soon, Iroh would have no choice but to get his father involved, and the Fire Lord would not hesitate to accuse the Avatar’s daughter.

“Do you truly believe we’d find her in Hira’a? With her parents?” 

“No,” she confessed, voice trembling once more. “But she has to be somewhere . We can’t leave that stone unturned, can we?”

Molten gold couldn’t be good for a tree. Iroh thought of how Rina had thanked the plants in her greenhouse when she’d plucked their fruits for breakfast, like they were creatures with feelings, and pulled his knife out of the oak’s trunk with a mental apology. 

“I’ll go to Hira’a tomorrow morning,” he told Rei as he wiped down the blade, “but I want additional patrols dispatched tonight.”

“Of course, Your Highness. Where to?”

Iroh took a breath and uttered the other possibility he’d been avoiding, “Forgetful Valley.”

It was pure speculation, the notion that the domain of the spirits might have had something to do with Ursa’s disappearance, but Iroh had reached a point where he would accept even the most unlikely explanation.

“If you believe that’s best, Your Highness.”

“I do.” Iroh raised an eyebrow, pointedly reminding her that he was the superior even if she didn’t agree with his idea. “Forgetful Valley is in the vicinity, and few people venture there because of superstition around its spiritual activity, meaning anyone lost in those woods has little chance of being found without an active search effort. Regardless of personal beliefs around those superstitions, we can’t leave that stone unturned either.”

“Of course,” Rei swallowed. “I meant no offense, Prince Iroh.”

“I know. Go dispatch the patrols, please, and try to get some rest.”

If it were up to him, Rei and Mika would face no punishment for this fiasco. They felt bad enough, and considering that Iroh himself was unable to figure out what had happened to his wife, it hardly seemed reasonable to penalize others for the same difficulty. Of course, the Fire Lord was much less likely to see things that way, especially after he’d been so reluctant to give Ursa her night in Hira’a. Iroh could already hear the accusation that she’d used her time back home to plan a desperate attempt at freedom.  

“My ‘freedoms’ as princess are at your generosity, which only extends as far as your father permits.”

She had been right, of course. She had been right about so much in their argument, and it had bruised Iroh’s pride more than anything. 

His wife, the one person who was meant to be by his side for the rest of his life, was more beholden to his father’s wishes than his own, and there was close to nothing he could do about it. At least he would be Fire Lord someday, and then he and Ursa would be free to do as they pleased, but he wasn’t sure their marriage would make it that long without crumbling into a pile of resentment or even hostility. Blast it all, even if he hadn’t chosen to marry her, he still liked her. He liked her passion, her empathy, her tongue-in-cheek sense of humor. The two of them had been getting along pretty well, all things considered; if nothing else, he didn’t want to lose that companionship.

But he couldn’t fix what had broken without her. And with every passing minute, the likelihood of her coming back and things returning to normal decreased. Once the morning came, he would be forced to alert his father and go looking for her in Hira’a, and the involvement of their parents in the whole mess would for sure banish any chance of salvaging their delicate partnership. Time was running out. If he was going to find her his own way, tonight would be his last chance to do it.

Of course, his plan was incredibly desperate and entirely theoretical. Iroh had read some accounts of people using the Spirit World to find lost loved ones, but they had all been masters  searching from a highly-regarded spiritually active zone, like the Northern Water Tribe’s spirit oasis. Iroh was an inexperienced prince in a random patch of the woods. To be fair, he would rather try this in a forest than in some Fire Sage temple; any spirituality in those places had likely withered away over decades of corruption. Plus, if the spirits actually had taken his wife, any residue from that activity would ease his venture.

Fortunately, he did have one thing that the accounts of spirit-searchers always recommended: a token of his lost person to guide him to her. He pulled the white lotus tile out of his pocket and nestled it in the palm of his hand, feeling its cool, round weight. Ursa had left it behind when she’d stormed out from their fight, and as she had sharply reminded him during said argument, it was the one of the few possessions that truly belonged to her instead of the royal family.

Feeling somewhere between hopeless and ridiculous, Iroh turned and sat cross-legged at the base of the marked tree. He lay the tile on the ground in front of him and focused on it as he began to breathe slowly and evenly, feeling his vision begin to blur into the heat and light of energy pathways. 

If his wife could be found this way, he was going to do it. Sorting through everything else - the fight, the regret, the confusing swirl of emotions in his chest - could come later.

Azulon III, cont.

Where did Ursa go during that fateful first Autumn Festival? The Royal Family’s official records settled on a very human account of events - the reasons for which will soon become clear - but the first couple days of her absence have always been murky in the details. In hindsight, with the aid of Ursa’s honest testimony recorded here, it’s clear she was swept into some part of the Spirit World. Iroh himself even suspected it at the time, although he wasn’t proven correct until much later.

The Spirit World remains literally uncharted territory thanks to a century of war, further limited by the fact that very few humans are both educated enough and spiritual enough to explore it. Avatar Aang, raised as an Air Nomad, naturally led the charge in reconnecting our world with the spirits, but he was never interested in technicalities like mapping out the realm for future scholars. Perhaps his successor can aid in that effort, once she has completed her training.

But until we gain the expertise of an Avatar’s guidance once more, I think we can tentatively regard these tunnels that captured Ursa as a ‘location’ within the Spirit World, as much as such things can exist. I believe that these tunnels, or whatever spirits guide its actions, are not particularly malicious or benevolent towards humans. They are a neutral place, seemingly with their own flow of time, but inexplicably drawn towards people who find themselves at a crossroads moment in the physical world. Perhaps a more spiritual person than I can dub them with a more appropriate name, but I’ve come to think of them as “The Tunnels of Turmoil” in my attempts to piece together this story. 

What made Ursa’s turmoil worthy of the tunnels’ attention? I propose that part of it was the same thing that caught the Royal Family’s attention to begin with: her lineage as the Avatar’s granddaughter. But I also argue the influence of her family itself brought her to the Spirit World, trying to shape her destiny into something more. Indeed, if Ursa had remained separated from her family as Azulon I wished, she may have ended up a footnote in history: the woman who bore Fire Lord Iroh’s mighty heirs. But returning to Hira’a so early on in her marriage opened the window of opportunity for her to carry forward her family’s legacy as a Fire Princess, and it’s evident that The Tunnels of Turmoil lived up to their name by pushing her further along that path.

With a little help from her family, of course.

The unchanging blue light made it difficult to judge how long it had been. Ursa’s only clues of time passing came from her own body, through the dryness of her mouth and the growing ache in her feet. She was really regretting not putting on appropriate shoes before storming out on Iroh. Her stomach was starting to growl, so it must have been a few hours by now. At least she knew she wasn’t dead; she was pretty sure dead people wouldn’t have to deal with hunger and sore feet.

There hadn’t been any other visions since running into the older Iroh. That didn’t stop questions about him from rattling around in her mind, though. Was he really the future of her Iroh? Why had he been clad in Earth Kingdom attire? Why had he called her…his love? He had gone so soft as he recognized her, transforming from a fearsome warrior to a tender husband in the blink of an eye. She wanted to stick to her belief that it had been some sort of trick, but she couldn’t stop thinking about his thoughtful gaze and the scar she’d recognized him by. Any trickery that could mimic such specific details was more than she could handle.

  The deep voice hadn’t helped her much either. She had called out to it a few times in desperation, both in her mind and out loud, with no response beside Ursa and Come. Still, she couldn’t shake the persistent feeling that she was being watched, but every time she worked up the courage to peer behind her, there was nobody in sight.

She wasn’t sure if it would be better or worse to see someone at this point.

Her foot suddenly skidded on a stone that sent her sprawling, scraping up her hands as they broke her fall. She tried to get back on her feet only to wince as her ankle sharply protested. A sprain, better known as the last thing she needed right now. She sat with her back to the wall and pulled up her dress to massage the wounded joint, casting an angry glare at the pebble that had gotten in her way.

But… that wasn’t a pebble, was it? It was unnaturally smooth and flat, almost like a large coin, except it wasn’t reflecting any light. Ursa reached out towards it cautiously, and when nothing bad happened, picked it up to get a closer look. She squinted and blinked a few times to make sure the lighting wasn’t making her see things, but there was no mistaking it. It was a white lotus tile.

So, this was the second weird vision she was going to have down here. She was certain she had left her white lotus tile in her tent - she distinctly recalled brandishing it while yelling at Iroh that the contents of her mother’s jewelry box and a stuffed toy were all that were truly hers now, all that was left that hadn’t been molded and polished by the royal family’s will after which she’d slammed the tile down in a huff - but now it sat nestled in the palm of her hand as if it had been accompanying her the whole time.

It felt strangely solid for a vision.

As soon as she had that thought, it began to flicker and glow faintly orange. She jerked her hand away from it in a shock, half-expecting an explosion, but it simply clattered to the ground. The contrast of the orange against the blue-ish light of the tunnel reminded her of the older Iroh’s fire, and she quickly looked up to see if he was in the vicinity. 

He wasn’t, but another flicker of orange light was, just a few feet away. Figuring a relatively harmless vision was better than continuing to walk endlessly, Ursa grit her teeth and crawled towards it. A second white lotus tile lay on the ground, virtually indistinguishable from the first one that had tripped her. Yet another orange light shimmered into existence, the three tiles forming a trail. 

This was definitely new. Her heart leapt into her throat; maybe her mother was somehow reaching out to her. She’d never known her mother to have any talents such as this, but until a few months ago, she hadn’t known she was related to the Avatar either.

That is promising.

The voice was now stronger than ever, and it sounded like it was coming from right behind her. She whirled around, drawing her legs in front of herself protectively. A tall silhouette looming over her was just barely distinguishable within the dim blue lighting. 

“Who are you?” she asked, proud of herself for not letting her voice shake. “Did you bring me here?”

Dear child, I’m so sorry for what’s happened to you. I thought I was protecting you by hiding away my family. But destiny is a funny thing that can rarely be understood, not even by me, let alone the royals.

Details were starting to become visible. The tall figure was dressed in red robes, and sported long white hair along with a matching beard. 

“Who are you?” she repeated a bit more quietly, attempting to get to her feet while bracing against the wall. As she rose to her feet, she caught sight of the headpiece in the man’s topknot: the same headpiece her mother had given to Iroh, the one she’d said had belonged to Avatar Roku.

She found a shaky stance, panting from both effort and shock, as her grandfather’s face became clear in the dim blue light.

“Prophecies are not always what they seem,” he told her, examining her with wise golden eyes. “Princes are still growing into the kings they will one day be. I am just this now, and the prince I knew is long gone. But you…maybe you and your prince will be different. Maybe you can fix what we broke.”

Ursa wondered if all grandfathers were this cryptic. If her mother was to be believed, the prince Roku had known was Fire Lord Sozin, whom he’d attacked. If he wanted Ursa and ‘her prince’ to be different, to fix things…did he mean for her and Iroh to repair the bond between their families? She knew she should ask - there were so many things to ask, really - but it felt inappropriate to demand answers from this very old, very tall spirit. Had he been this tall in life too?

“You sound so much like your grandmother, do you know that?” Roku said with a sad smile, unfazed by her lack of response. “My beloved Ta Min. I suppose you never met her.”

Ursa managed to shake her head. She hadn’t even known Ta Min was her grandmother’s name. 

“She was a lovely singer. Perhaps she would’ve been a good actress too, if she’d been able to try such things.” 

“You know I’m an actress?” she asked, caught off-guard by the revelation.

“I know a great many things about you, dear granddaughter, and yet none of it will ever make up for not being able to know you or your mother properly.”

Her mother had always said her parents had passed away in a volcano eruption when she was very young, refusing to speak of them because of the tragedy. Ursa wondered if that was the truth, but she didn’t dare ask the Avatar how he’d died.

A flare of orange light from behind her drew her attention away from the conversation and the lump in her throat. An entire trail of glowing white lotus tiles had appeared.

“Go,” Roku instructed. “I can’t speak to you like this much longer. Remember our family, dear. Keep an open heart, and friends will find you.”

“How?” she asked, whipping back around in hope of more information. But the light was washing Roku away: he was fading into a silhouette, the grandfather she’d never known vanishing once more. “Wait, please wait! Avatar Roku - Grandpa - what do I do?”

Remember our family.

“Will you talk to me again? Will you tell me how to fix it?”

I can try, if you keep an open heart. 

With that non-answer, the sensation of being watched vanished, leaving Ursa feeling both lost and found. 

Avatar Roku had spoken to her. Her dead grandfather’s spirit had somehow materialized and shown her the way out of here. More than that, he’d given her a new purpose; a new destiny. It wasn’t one she would’ve chosen for herself, but if he believed it was her ‘destiny’ to atone for his betrayal and restore her family’s honor as Princess and future Fire Lady Ursa at Iroh’s side, so be it.

She set her jaw, turned towards the trail of tiles, and began hobbling along their path. 

Chapter Text

Ursa was not a strong swimmer. Naturally, that meant the universe decided to drop her right into a body of water.

Streams of bubbles enveloped her sight as she flailed wildly, trying to make sense of her surroundings. The last thing she remembered was following the white lotus tiles, and then all of a sudden, she was here. While she couldn’t puzzle out what had happened between those two moments, thinking about it was not an option right now. With the way her lungs were burning, there wasn’t time to focus on anything but survival.

Up, something whispered in her mind. No duh, she wanted to reply, but which way was up? In response, a current formed beneath her and began pushing her towards what was hopefully the right direction. Blindly, she swung her arms and kicked to assist the water’s efforts, some half-formed instinct guiding her erratic movements. 

Finally, just as her lungs felt as if they couldn’t take anymore, her head breached the surface. Her desperate gulp of air earned her a mouthful of lake as the water carried her to land with a mind of its own. Soon enough, her hands and feet were scrabbling over mud and rocks instead of blindly sloshing through the depths. With one last burst of energy, she dragged herself out of the lake and collapsed on the shore. 

Having successfully accomplished the task of not drowning, her body immediately alerted her to hunger and thirst and full bladder . At least the bladder part would be easy enough, considering this lake seemed to have spat her out in the middle of a forest at what appeared to be dawn. The water looked surprisingly clear and blue under the slowly lightening sky, enough so that she was tempted to take a sip in her dehydrated state. She held back though, half-hearing a murmur that she needed to get away from the water now that she was no longer drowning. Maybe it was Roku still trying to talk to her - maybe he’d somehow brought her here and pushed her out of the water - but the more she tried to focus her mind on the voice, the more scrambled it became.

Deciding to obey whatever was urging her away from the lake, she painstakingly shifted onto her hands and knees and began crawling for the treeline, wincing at how each motion sent a sharp jolt of pain into her ankle. If she was at her mother’s house or in the palace, a sprained ankle would be nothing, but it could be life or death in the wilderness. 

Once she’d relieved herself under a tree, which proved to be an extraordinarily challenging feat with an ankle out of commission, she turned her attention to her clothing. She’d lost her shoes in the lake, and her once-fine red robes were soaked, which threatened to make her sick if she wore them for too long. Deciding even the royal tailors couldn’t save the outfit, she sacrificed the hem to form a makeshift wrap for her ankle. It was a poor substitute for the real thing, considering how wet and inelastic it was, but it would have to do. 

While wrapping her ankle would hopefully prevent any further injury, it didn’t magically make it possible for her to walk on it. Ursa grit her teeth and placed her hands against the tree, fighting her way into a standing position without putting any pressure on her bad ankle. A walking stick would be perfect, if only she could find one. With both feet and a good knife, it would’ve been an easy matter to scale a tree and fashion one herself. Ursa couldn’t remember ever feeling so helpless - even when she’d been a newcomer in the palace, she had at least been able to literally stand on her own two feet.

Self-pity would never get her anywhere. She scanned her surroundings, trying to figure out which way to go. The sun was rising up from the horizon, thankfully marking the east. Of course, that didn’t help if she didn’t have a destination.

Her attention turned back to the lake. Now that her mind was a bit clearer, the water struck her as being almost unnaturally still and clear and blue. Not to mention the shape was a circle - a perfect circle. Unease rattled her nerves; something wasn’t right here. Had she truly escaped the tunnels, or was this just another part of the same odd landscape?

Go, came the whisper in her mind. East. 

Praying that this wouldn’t lead to her dying of thirst, she turned her back on the lake and began hobbling east, into the woods.

Time once again slid into a sort of semi-suspended state. She eventually found a fallen branch that was sturdy enough to serve as a walking stick, but she honestly ended up making better progress on her hands and knees than she had been limping on her bare feet. The only issue was her dress was really not meant for crawling, meaning it was slowly becoming more and more mangled.

And there was, of course, hunger and thirst. Hunger she could manage, but the thirst was threatening to become overwhelming. At least this wasn’t happening during the summer; this forest was humid and sticky enough without heat on top of it. 

The whispers in her mind hadn’t returned. Instinctively, she knew that they wouldn’t, not while she was crawling away from that lake, whatever it was. She suspected she’d stumbled upon some sort of gateway between this world and the Spirits - how else could it have been possible for her to speak with her very dead grandfather? - but she was no Fire Sage to know for sure.

Finally, as Ursa was only holding back her desperate tears because she knew her body couldn’t afford to lose any more hydration, she heard it. The most beautiful sound in the world: the babble of a brook. It came into sight only a few minutes later, convincing her it wasn’t just a trick of her imagination. She scrambled forwards and all but collapsed in it, immersing herself up to her elbows in the clear, flowing water. There was no unnatural blue or calm or perfection about this stream, so she plunged her face in and drank greedily. 

Fish swam by, the first sign of animal life she’d seen in the forest. Ursa didn’t know much about fish in the wild, having only ever seen them at markets or on a dinner plate, but these fish struck her as being rather large. Their scales shimmered beautifully, catching the sunlight and reflecting it into such a vivid rainbow she couldn’t tell what their true colors were. In contrast, their eyes were large and black and…seemed to be unerringly fixed on her. Suddenly feeling like an intruder, Ursa withdrew from the stream and shook off her wet forearms. She’d hoped to gain some relief for her ankle by soaking and rewrapping it, but maybe that wasn’t meant to be.

Her stomach rumbled, drawing her attention to the promising plants growing alongside the stream. The position of the sun in the sky indicated that it was now mid-morning, and Ursa hadn’t eaten since she’d fallen into those tunnels an undetermined amount of time ago. Her mind flashed briefly to Iroh - was he looking for her, was he somewhere nearby? - before the pressing matter of food distracted her from those thoughts. 

Meadowsweet was hardly a full meal, especially without anything to accompany it, but the herb had never tasted so precious to Ursa before. She was careful not to uproot the plant as she pulled off pale white flowers and dark green leaves for her watering mouth. Hopefully she would find something more substantial soon, but this would hold her over for now. The shimmering fish continued to flash by; Ursa couldn’t shake the feeling that they were judging the way she ate, not unlike the nobles at the garden party. 

“Thank you,” she whispered to the meadowsweet once she’d finished her meager breakfast, an old habit from her mother. As she turned to examine the flow of the stream, wondering if maybe she could follow it to civilization since it was blocking her eastward path, she realized with a start that someone was approaching her from a distance. Automatically, she tensed up, deeply aware of the fact that she was a young woman alone and injured in the woods. There was no way anyone who saw her right now would believe that she was Princess of the Fire Nation.

The person drew closer at what seemed like an unearthly speed, moving faster than should have been possible considering how leisurely they seemed to be walking. It was a woman, presumably an older one from the silver of her hair. For a brief moment, Ursa thought it looked like she was moving through - no, on - the river; then she was suddenly in front of her, standing very much on the land.

“Who- are- you?” The woman spoke haltingly, the words seeming to fight their way out of her throat. “Speak- slow-ly.”

“My name is…” Ursa hesitated, then decided lying might only make matters worse. She wasn’t entirely convinced this woman wasn’t another vision or test of some kind. “Ursa.”

The woman was staring at her very intently as she responded in her chopped manner of speaking. “Ursa, why have you come here?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t mean to come here. I’m just trying to go back home.” She made sure to form the words slowly as instructed, noting that the woman seemed to be following the motion of her lips. “Could you tell me where I am?”

The woman examined her. “Come with me,” she said, ignoring Ursa’s question.

“I…I can’t,” Ursa said, feeling rather pathetic. “I hurt my ankle.”

The woman gestured for her to come closer to the stream. “Put your foot in.”

Ursa had been thinking about doing just that anyway, so she obeyed despite her misgivings. Cool relief, the kind she’d been aching for all morning, flooded through her sore ankle. It was so soothing, it almost felt like the sprain was gone. She experimentally rolled her foot around in the water, trying to gauge how bad the injury was, but there was no roar of pain like she’d come to expect.

It couldn’t be…

She lifted her foot out of the water and repeated the motion. Still no pain. She carefully placed it back on the ground and tentatively placed some pressure on it. There was no sharp protest, no spiking agony telling her to stop. Slowly, she rose onto her own two feet for the first time in hours, her ankle completely healed.

The woman watched with a neutral expression, clearly not surprised.

“Where am I?” Ursa asked again. “Is this the Spirit World?” It felt like a foolish question: where else could possibly have streams of healing water and pools that portalled you to other lands?

“No. It is a place favored by some spirits, though. I believe humans like you know it as Forgetful Valley.”

The name automatically sent a shudder of fear down Ursa’s spine, but as she whipped her head around to take in her surroundings, she found it hard to reconcile this place with the haunted forest she’d heard so much about as a child. The sky was blue, the water was rushing along happily, even the woods didn’t seem so intimidating now that she’d been fed, watered and healed. The valley hadn’t tried to kill her or wipe her mind at all; if anything, once she’d gotten away from the pool, it had been quite helpful.

“Humans don’t always choose names well,” the woman said, seeming to read Ursa’s reaction. She was shorter than Ursa had thought, which was evident now that they were standing face to face. “Come with me.”

Ursa followed her downstream a bit apprehensively, mind turning over the way her guide had phrased her answers. “Excuse me,” she said hesitantly after a few minutes, “are you a spirit?”

No answer. The woman kept walking ahead, silver hair gleaming in the sunlight, spine straight and tall. 

“Excuse me?”

A fish suddenly splashed out of the water, flashing brilliantly for a moment before continuing on its way. The woman turned her head to look back at Ursa. “Are you trying to speak to me?”

“Yes,” she said, losing her nerve. “I was just wondering what your name is.”

“You may call me Neelu. Do tap my shoulder if you want to speak to me. These ears have never really worked.”

Ursa nodded, noticing how Neelu’s stormy gray eyes remained trained on her mouth. A deaf woman who got by with lipreading seemed like a very human phenomenon. “Neelu, where are we going?”

“My home. You seem to need some dry clothes and food before finding your way out.”

To be fair, she was completely right. “Okay. Thank you.”

Neelu’s home was a small cabin that was nearly directly on the river itself, to the point where it looked like it might collapse into the rushing waters at any moment. A series of stepping stones across the stream led up to the front door; the older woman hopped across them with ease despite her age. Ursa eyed the slippery-looking rocks uneasily, not eager to sprain another ankle or repeat her near-drowning, but Neelu beckoned her across.

“Come, Ursa. This is a calm river.”

No gut instinct screamed at her to get away, so Ursa held her breath and mimicked Neelu’s light-footed leaps from stone to stone, finally landing at the door of the cabin. Her feet were wet, but surprisingly, it hadn’t been nearly as challenging as she’d feared.

The house was as cozy as could be expected from a forest cabin, with a fireplace, a small kitchen and eating area, and plenty of open windows to let in the sun. From somewhere in the rafters, a cat mewed, then leapt deftly into Neelu’s arms. 

“Hello there, Shui.” Neelu ran a hand through the cat’s blue-gray fur. “Here’s that guest I went looking for. What do you think?”

Shui poked his nose out towards Ursa, silver whiskers twitching. She’d never thought a cat could have eyebrows before, but something about this cat’s bushiness made her picture a pair of thick eyebrows on a wizened face with a beard to match. 

“Nice to meet you, Shui.” Ursa held her hand out for the cat to sniff as she’d done with dozens of strays before, inordinately pleased when the cat meowed again and flicked its rough tongue out at her thumb.

“Do be patient with Shui here,” Neelu told her as she placed the cat on the ground. “He’s as blind as I am deaf, not that you’d know it from how keen his nose and whiskers are. I’m his eyes and he’s my ears.”

Ursa had already noted the uniqueness of Neelu’s name, and now she couldn’t help remarking on her relationship with Shui. “Just like in Why The River Roars. ”

“What is that?” Neelu asked, tilting her head as Shui purred.

“You haven’t heard of it? It’s a folktale in the towns near here actually, about a little girl named Neelu who befriends an old river spirit by telling him about the things he can’t see himself. At the end he floods his river to save her town from invading bandits and decides to coexist with humans after all. It’s funny that your name is Neelu, and you act as eyes for someone too.”

Neelu seemed to find this immensely amusing, as did her cat, who wound through Ursa’s legs before darting over to the fireplace. “How quaint,” Neelu said. “Shui has the right idea. Let’s start a fire and get you out of those damp clothes while I cook.”

The cabin quickly filled with the smell of something spicy as Ursa changed into the pink tunic and black leggings Neelu had handed to her. The tunic was a bit short on her, which made sense with the height difference between her and Neelu, but Ursa was just grateful to be in clean, dry clothes. The fact that this was a simple outfit, like the one Iroh had given her for the trip to Hira’a, further improved her mood. 

Iroh. Ursa had been gone for at least one night, based on the sunrise. What was Iroh doing? What did he think had happened? It would be terrible if he believed she’d abandoned him, but she wasn’t sure how she would explain everything she’d been through in the past day without sounding crazy. Iroh had a reverence for spirits, but would he believe the Spirit World had somehow trapped her? After the way she’d yelled at him? 

Shui wound through her legs again, purring contentedly. Ursa smiled; she’d always wanted a cat but had never been able to do more than feed strays due to her father’s allergies. Perhaps an appropriately regal-looking cat would make a fine pet for a princess. She wondered if Iroh liked cats.

The soup Neelu prepared - something spicy and strangely smooth - was just what Ursa needed, filling without being heavy in a way few foods were. “This is lovely,” she told her host, making sure to wait until Neelu could watch her lips. “What’s in it?”

“A few specialties of Forgetful Valley. It should give you strength for your journey.” Neelu poured a small portion of soup into a plate that Shui immediately began lapping from. “One of Shui’s favorites as well.”

“I can see why.” Ursa gulped down the rest of her soup appreciatively before addressing the matter at hand. “So…do you know how I can safely make my way home?”

Neelu inclined her head at Shui, who slunk away from his empty dish and out an open window. “I think so. Soldiers arrived on the outskirts of the valley this morning, in search of the missing Princess Ursa.”

Ursa’s heart leapt into her throat. It couldn’t be that easy. “Really? You’ve seen them?”

“No, but the river tells me they’re here. Just as it told me you were here, and that the soldiers are not the only ones looking for you.”

The river told her? “What do you mean?”

Shui leapt up onto the windowsill, catching Neelu’s attention, then darted out again. “Here,” Neelu beckoned Ursa as she stood, “I’ll show you.”

Outside the cabin’s front door, the river’s water had begun to swirl unnaturally, the shimmering fish creating a radiant vortex. Unperturbed, Neelu knelt and beckoned Ursa to join her. Dimly, Ursa knew this was exactly the kind of thing that should disturb her. But there was no instinct telling her to run, so she somewhat hesitantly looked into the water.

At first, she couldn’t make sense of anything but the fish scales’ shimmering so brightly she had to squint. Then, an image formed: a man, with bedraggled dark hair and a beard, sitting with his head bent under a tree on the riverbank. Ursa didn’t understand why she was seeing this, until the man lifted his head, and she gasped.

Ikem. 

Beaten down by the wilderness, but unmistakably Ikem. She would recognize those eyes anywhere, as sad as they were now, and the crooked nose from when she’d accidentally kicked a ball into his face when they were seven.

“What is he doing here?” Ursa gasped, before remembering to turn to Neelu and repeat the question slowly. “What is he doing here? How are we seeing this?”

“He came to the valley a few months ago bemoaning his lost love, Ursa. Yet somehow, I don’t think he’s the prince who’s searching for his missing princess.” Neelu’s eyes narrowed knowingly. “As for how, well…the river has its tricks. Ever since I was a girl.”

There were more questions battling for her attention in her mind, but the vision of Ikem vanished, and she let out a sob. “Is he okay?” she begged Neelu. “He always hated being outdoors for too long, is he okay?”

“He is alive, and he’s been respectful to the valley so far, so it hasn’t done him harm. But I suspect that’s not what you mean.”

It wasn’t, but Ursa didn’t need Neelu to tell her that Ikem wasn’t okay. The fact that he’d left everything behind - his friends, his acting, his family - to brave Forgetful Valley was enough of an answer. 

“So, Princess Ursa, where are you going from here? To this man or to your prince?”

Her heart screamed what it wanted at once. But Ursa knew the choice wasn’t just about what she wanted.

“Why did you show me this?” she whimpered, allowing the tears to flow freely now. “I- I’m supposed to return to my husband, but…” How could she leave Ikem here to suffer alone?

Neelu laid a cool hand on her arm. “I have trouble understanding you when you cry, but I can tell this is hard for you. Do you not want to go back to the prince?”

Numbly, Ursa thought over the question. Given the choice between Iroh and Ikem, her heart still belonged to Ikem. But abandoning Iroh also felt like a betrayal after the vows they’d made. Even with their recent fight, she knew they were still bound to each other. Not to mention what Roku had said to her about fixing his mistakes with Sozin. If Ursa ran away with Ikem, it would besmirch her family forever and paint a permanent target on their backs, and Roku’s legacy would remain tainted.

There was no real choice here. But the brief illusion of one made the whole thing worse.

“I have to return to my husband,” Ursa said clearly, wiping away her tears. “Tell me where the soldiers are, and I’ll go there.”

Neelu pursed her lips, and Ursa could see a hint of pity in her eyes. “Would you like to see the other man first?”

“No,” she said at once. “No, if I see him I…” I don’t think I’d be able to walk away. “It’s best if I just go straight back.”

“Well, Shui can show you the way out.” Neelu gestured upriver, and Ursa turned to see Shui sitting in a small canoe. Where on Earth had that come from?

“I’m not the best rower,” Ursa said nervously.

“That’s okay. The river will carry you where you need to go.” 

Ursa clambered into the boat, feeling oddly calm now that she’d made her decision. Still, there was one more issue to address. 

“Neelu,” she said, “will you help Ikem find his way home too?”

The sun shining on Neelu’s silver hair lent her the appearance of a halo, contrasting with the sad way her mouth turned downwards. “Not everyone who wanders into this valley is like you, Ursa. Some people imprison themselves in their own grief more than the spirits ever could.”

“But can you try?” Ursa pressed. There was truth in what Neelu was saying, especially considering Ikem’s sensitive temperament, but Ursa couldn’t just accept his fate. “Please? I won’t know a moment of peace otherwise.”

“I will try,” Neelu promised. “It will be his choice at the end of the day. But you must learn to find peace in your own circumstances. Otherwise, you’ll find yourself chasing it endlessly.”

Easier said than done. “Okay. Thank you, Neelu. For everything.”

“Thank you for telling me about how I'm remembered outside of this valley,” Neelu smiled. “Goodbye, Ursa. Be well.” 

The boat was already moving downstream by the time Ursa had processed those words. “Wait!” she called. “Do you mean- are you actually Neelu? From the myth?”

They were too far apart for Neelu to read her lips, but Ursa thought she already knew the answer. 

“What does that make you, then?” she asked Shui, who remained languidly stretched out on the side of the boat. The cat’s ear twitched in response. He definitely wasn’t a normal cat, but it didn’t seem like he could talk either. 

No matter. True to Neelu’s word, the river was guiding the boat of its own volition. All Ursa could do was sit and wait, running her fingers through Shui’s soft, sun-warmed fur. A pet cat really would be nice. 

Find peace in your own circumstances, Neelu had said. Even though her heart was breaking at leaving Ikem behind again, this was a peaceful moment. Despite the circumstances of her marriage, she’d been able to find peaceful moments there too: feeding the turtleducks, baths in the spa, drinking tea with Iroh. She could hold onto those moments, and fulfill Roku’s instructions to fix her relationship with Iroh, if she could put Ikem out of mind first.

“I’m sorry, Ikem,” she whispered into the wind, half-hoping the river would carry the message to him. “Please, get yourself out of here, and find peace in your own circumstances too.”

Shui meowed and headbutted her hand. She sniffed, realizing she’d started to cry again, and scratched the cat behind the ear. “It’d be nice if you had a friend who could stay with me,” she told him. “I don’t really have a lot of friends where I’m going.”

In response, Shui leapt into her lap. Ursa took a deep breath, prayed for Ikem one last time, and then dutifully turned her mind to her husband. Iroh. Was he worried, upset, angry? What could she say to explain where she’d been? What would he say about their fight?

Her thoughts chased themselves around her mind, over and over again, until suddenly Shui yowled. She looked for what had caught his attention and saw a soldier standing with his back to the river. He was clearly not particularly alert, based on how he was leaning to one side and cleaning out his ear with his pinky finger, but he was a soldier nonetheless. The river seemed to agree, steering the boat sharply towards the bank.

“Hello!” she called out, startling the man. The boat bumped onto land not too far away from him. “Excuse me! I think you’re looking for me, right? I’m Princess Ursa.”

The soldier stared at her with wide eyes. He was definitely a younger recruit, based on the roundness of his face. “Um…are you sure?”

Well, she knew she wasn’t dressed the part, but that was just rude. “Yes, I’m quite sure. Can you get me to Ningzhou, or at least to the nearest town so I can arrange a transport from there?”

The hapless soldier seemed too shocked to make much sense of her request, but his captain had a somewhat more sensible approach once she’d been brought to the scene. Ursa ended up in an army office, waiting for soldiers from the royal procession to arrive so they could confirm her identity and escort her back to Iroh. She was given a decent spread of snacks and a wide berth while she waited: nothing too formal in case it turned out she was a commoner pretending, but not too simple to avoid offending her if she actually was the princess. It was strange, wading back into this life where no one except Iroh and occasionally Ozai treated her like a normal person. Ursa already missed Shui’s calm company. She really would have to see about getting a cat in the palace.

Embarrassingly, she didn’t recognize the four royal soldiers who came to get her, but they thankfully knew her. “Princess Ursa,” one spoke as they bowed, “what a relief it is to find you safe and sound. Prince Iroh has been beside himself with worry.”

It was just flowery language, she told herself, even as an odd warmth filled her at the thought of Iroh worrying about her. “I’m so sorry to have been the subject of such a fuss. Please, how far is he from here? I would like to be reunited with him as soon as possible.”

“It’s a mere two hours’ journey, Princess. If you’re ready, we can set off at once.”

With a brief thanks to the patrol that had found her, Ursa allowed one of the soldiers to boost her onto a komodo rhino, remembering how Iroh had challenged her to ride one of these beasts nearly as well as he could ride an ostrich horse. What would he say if he saw her now? Based on how the saddle dug uncomfortably into her rear, Ursa had a feeling she was doing it wrong.

It was good she wasn’t taking the journey alone, at least. Her rhino seemed content to follow the others in the pack, and her geography was shaky enough that she wouldn’t have known where to go without guidance. Still, it was a painfully awkward ride, considering that royal soldiers weren’t ones for small talk.

“How much longer?” she asked once the sun lowering in the sky indicated it had been a couple hours. Oddly, there were no signs of civilization that they should have been passing on the way to camp: no villages, no inns, nothing but trees. They didn’t even look like the trees she remembered…maybe the camp had shifted while she was gone?

“Not too long now, Princess. Would you like a break?”

Ursa was starting to feel a bit stiff. “Yes, please.” 

The rhinos came to a halt, and one of the soldiers came to help her down.

“Thank-”

She was cut off by his hand clasping over her mouth, stifling her instinctive scream as his other hand held a fireball dangerously close to her face.

“Behave, Princess.” A man stepped out of the trees to address her now. Ursa’s heart sank as she caught sight of auburn hair on top of a familiar leer. Tiron. 

The other soldiers dismounted and removed their helmets, similar grins gracing each of their faces. “I don’t know if you’ve met these other good soldiers whose lives you ruined,” Tiron continued. “These are Teromu, Siru, and Keema. And the man holding onto you is charmingly known as Bullseye. You should be flattered; he very much wanted to have the chance to touch you.”

Bullseye chuckled and ground his hips into Ursa’s backside, moaning lewdly when she tried to squirm away. The fireball that threatened to set her hair alight made it impossible for her to resist meaningfully.

“The Boiling Rock didn’t particularly suit my fancy, and my comrades here didn’t care for their new homes either. I mean, years of dedicated service, only for some stuck-up new princess to walk into the palace and decide a few servant girls’ hurt feelings are worth imprisoning us? It just didn’t feel fair. So as reparations, we just want a little ransom from your husband. Don’t look at me like that,” Tiron chided as Ursa glared, “It could be a lot worse. You’ll be safely back with the prince at the end of this, as long as you and he both don’t do anything stupid.”

Like she hadn’t been stupid enough, getting herself into this. How could she not have realized she was being led into a trap? 

“Now give me a nod like a smart girl so I know you understand, Princess,” Tiron instructed.

Slowly, her pride rebelling, Ursa nodded. 

“There you go. Bullseye, Siru, come with me. Teromu, go stash the rhinos. Keema, send off our ransom note to the prince. If he’s fast enough, we might only have his wife for a night.” He bared his teeth in a hungry grin. “We’d better make it a nice one for her.”

The three men led her up a hill, Bullseye slapping her ass when she tried to stubbornly dig her feet in. Her eyes watered, both at the sting and the humiliation of Tiron and Siru laughing. Even if Iroh came for her as soon as he got the ransom note, how would she last in the meantime?

Please, she prayed to Avatar Roku and the spirits of the forest around her, please, please. Help me. 

“Here we go,” Tiron hauled open the door to a run-down cabin, camouflaged by the shade of the trees with the sun slowly sinking to the west. “Our lovely home for the foreseeable future.”

Unceremoniously, Bullseye shoved her down onto the pile of bedding in the corner. Ursa just barely managed to catch herself in time to avoid breaking her nose. “Pigs!” she spat out, hoping it sounded more forceful than she felt on the inside.

“Oh, Princess, that’s just not smart.” Tiron grabbed her by her hair, making her cry out, and pulled her up to her knees. “Didn’t we just have a talk about not doing anything stupid?”

“Who are you to lecture me about stupid?” she hissed through the pain in her scalp, allowing that and her desperate fear to fuel her rage. “Do you really think you can get away with this? That Iroh won’t see you straight back to the Boiling Rock, if not worse, for laying hands on his wife?”

“There’s the feisty bitch I remember,” Tiron smirked. “Your prince isn’t that worried about you, bitch, not after the way you humiliated him in front of the royal procession. I wouldn’t be surprised if he takes his time coming here to let us show you how to behave. Agni knows that sheltered, snotty prince has no clue how to tame a wild bird.”

“Don’t you dare speak of him that way.” Ursa whispered, losing her rage despite herself. Tiron had every reason to lie to her but…was Iroh really that upset about the fight?

“I’ll do what I want until he pays me not to.” Tiron released her and shoved her back down to the floor. “Including this.”

Dread and nausea clogged up her throat as he moved to straddle her body. “Get off me!” she shrieked, successfully jamming her knee up into his groin. He fell to the side, gasping for air as Siru and Bullseye laughed. Ursa desperately searched for something, anything she could use as a weapon, but the pillow she ended up swinging at his head only provoked more laughter.

“Wow, Tiron, you sure you can handle all that?” Siru taunted. Ursa vaguely remembered that he was the one who’d assaulted a female stablehand. 

“Shut up,” Tiron snarled. “You see what I mean about her husband not teaching her how to behave?”

The pillow was tossed aside in a shower of sparks, and Ursa shrank further back into the corner as he bore down on her once more. A hand grabbed her ankle and pulled her towards him, her attempts to kick him again quelled when he sat on her waist and crushed the air out of her lungs.

“Bitch,” he swore, pinning down her wrists. “You’ll pay for that.”

“You’ll pay ten times over when my husband finds you.” 

“Hm, it’ll be worth the joy of him raising a child that he’ll never be quite sure is his own, don’t you think?”

Ursa’s entire body went cold with horror at Tiron’s intentions being made so clear. “You can’t.”

“Watch me.” A hand released one of her wrists to pull up her tunic. Hoping to at least delay the inevitable, Ursa rashly grabbed his hair and slammed her forehead up into his.

That had not been her best idea, she decided as pain exploded behind her eyes, but it was just a little worth it to hear him groan. Of course, he shook it off faster than her, and then his forearm was pressing into her throat.

“I never did burn you that first night I met you, did I? My mistake. Let’s fix that.”

The hand still gripping just below her right wrist tightened with bone-crushing strength, going from warm to hot in a matter of seconds just like that first night.

“Who’s going to come save you now, Princess?” he taunted.

No one came. His hand escalated to a burn, one that she could not escape no matter how she tried to claw at him and thrash against his entire body weight on top of her. It hurt , spirits, it hurt worse than anything she could’ve thought possible; every burn she’d ever suffered - quick flashes of heat from careless cooking - paled in comparison. Distantly, like an audience member in her own body, she realized she was screaming through her strangled throat and unable to stop even as she saw Tiron’s smirk indicating how much he was enjoying it.

“Tiron,” one of the other men said from somewhere Ursa could not see with her vision going blurry with tears, “Don’t hurt her too much. If she gets an infected wound it’ll be a pain.”

“Relax, Bullseye.” All at once, the burning sensation vanished, but Tiron maintained his iron grip. “I’m going low and slow,” he said. “I have to treat the Princess carefully, after all.”

He moved to kiss the back of her burned hand in a sickening mockery of chivalry, releasing her as her screams reduced to sobs. Even though the pain was gone, Ursa could smell the charring of her own flesh, which combined with the absolute lack of feeling from her right hand, curdled her gut. Dazed, she just barely managed to flop her head to the side and immediately regretted it when she saw the browned and blackened mess that had become of her once-smooth skin. 

Shock, she thought vaguely as she felt her breathing shorten and the rest of her body turn cold and her bruised throat go dry, I’m going into shock. It was a normal physical reaction to such an injury. Knowing that wouldn’t stop it from happening, though.

“I bet you she’ll be nice and quiet now,” Tiron said, finally clambering off her. “But give it long enough for the smell to dissipate. It’s kind of rough to get it up with that.”

“Maybe for you,” one of them laughed.

“Hey, I planned most of this, I get to go first!” 

Can’t fade away, can’t let them…take me… Holding onto that train of thought was turning from challenging to impossible. The shock dragged her down, enveloping the world in a haze that softened the men’s lewd comments into background noise and the swaying room into a candlelit fog. Ursa’s mind curled deep into itself to protect her from the grim reality of the situation.

Tiron’s face suddenly leering in front of her jolted a semblance of alertness back into her being. Rain pattered onto the roof of the cabin, thunder rumbling somewhere in the distance. A glimpse out an open window showed the world outside had gone dark. How long had she been lying here?

“How’s she looking?” someone asked.

“Definitely still dozy enough to cooperate. Wouldn’t be surprised if this arm gets infected though.” He nudged the limb in question. “She’ll just get it fixed up once her husband forks over the ransom.”

“Good, we need to move,” Keema said, sounding a bit nervous. He and Teromu must have returned from their tasks at some point. “The storm’s gonna pin us down.”

Another crash of thunder sounded, much closer this time. “The storm’s already pinned us down, from the sound of it,” Tiron said with a shrug. “No problem. They don’t know where we are, and we’ve certainly got a way to pass the time, don’t we?” His hand reached out and stroked Ursa’s clammy face, trailing from her cheek to her neck to pull down on the collar of her tunic. “Small tits for a princess. You make up for it elsewhere?”

Ursa would claw and kick and cry out if she could. But her whole body was frozen in fear, every nerve focused on his hand groping her chest while she silently prayed his touch wouldn’t suddenly turn burning, blistering, blackening hot-

Lightning struck again, so close her hair stood on end. The man all jumped.

“Agni,” Siru muttered, “That was a narrow miss.”

Not so narrow, Ursa thought, as the smolder of burning wet wood suddenly flooded her nose. The cabin had been hit.

Tiron swore. “One of you go put it out. It shouldn’t last long in the rain anyway.”

Keema sighed, but obediently walked to the door. Opening it revealed just how frenzied the storm outside had gotten, the wind slamming the door back with a howl as rain whirled into the cabin. Automatically, Keema held his hand up to shield himself from the deluge. 

So, of course, he didn’t see it coming. 

Lightning arced through the doorway, wrapping Keema in its splintered grip before he could do so much as scream. He’d hardly dropped to the floor when a figure was moving into the cabin, surrounded by crackling blue lightning that next leapt at the terrified Siru who didn’t even produce a wisp of smoke before he was struck. Teromu and Bullseye had better luck conjuring their flames, but their defense was pitiful: they went down immediately as well, their shrieks of agony and convulsing bodies imprinting themselves into Ursa’s mind within the split second in which it all happened, before Tiron hauled her up in front of him.

“None of that, Your Highness,” he panted, hooking an arm around Ursa’s waist so he was shielded by her limp body. “Can’t blast me without getting her too, can you?”

The lightning vanished, leaving Iroh standing amid the scorched cabin. Now that Ursa was upright, everything was spinning far too much for his face to be clear, but she could see he was wearing armor. His hands at his sides were curled into tight fists.

He’d come for her. Against all odds, he’d come for her.

“Move out of the way,” Tiron told him. “Or I’ll burn her. You can ask her if I’m bluffing.”

Without a word, Iroh moved. Ursa’s head lolled bonelessly to the side as Tiron dragged her past her husband - so close yet so far - and towards the door. She just barely caught sight of Iroh’s hard amber eyes and clenched jaw before the rain was shuddering over her.

“Stay away!” Tiron yelled, continuing to half-pull and half-carry Ursa further into the woods, the thick summer night rain disorienting her more. All she knew was she was going away from Iroh and Iroh had been right there and why isn’t he doing anything who’s going to help me if he can’t oh spirits please I don’t want to be burned I don’t want to be raped I don’t want to die-

Tiron let out a scream, his grip on her failing. She collapsed onto the muddy forest floor, vaguely aware of Tiron being yanked away by someone who blocked his firebending and made him howl with agony again. Iroh? There was an unnaturally wet crunch, a final pained groan, and then the attacker was kneeling next to her in the dirt, panting in a very un-Iroh fashion. 

“Sister, are you alright?”

Her overwhelmed senses strained to reconcile the garbled sounds and sights with the impossibility of that voice being here, but there was only one person in the world who called her Sister. Ozai rolled her onto her back, letting out a quiet curse as he got a good look at her. 

“I’m sorry I wasn’t fast enough this time,” he whispered. “I…”

The rest of the apology was cut off by heavy footsteps running to the scene. Strong arms pulled her into a lap, amber eyes piercing through the rain to find hers. Iroh. 

“She’s in shock, I think,” Ozai said to his brother. “Her right arm…it’s bad.”

 Iroh’s eyes flashed to look at the limb in question, narrowing at the sight.

“Ozai,” he spoke in a deadly serious voice unlike any he’d used before, “is he still alive?”

“Yes. I thought you might want to…well, yes, he’s alive.”

Iroh’s instructions echoed as if they came from a great distance, like a dream fading away. “Wait for us to go. Then make him suffer.”

“Yes, Brother.”

The world spun again when Iroh’s arms curled around her back and legs, lifting her with him as he stood. Some half-awake part of her mind knew she was far from okay, with the burn and the shock and the fear branded into her, but the immediate danger had passed. Iroh was here. She was safe for now. 

It was a relief to succumb to the soft blackness that had been threatening to overwhelm her for hours, eyes finally sliding shut while the rain poured and her husband held her close.

Chapter Text

From the Fire Nation Royal Family’s official records

Missive delivered to Fire Lord Azulon during Autumn Festival, 69 AG

To my revered father, Fire Lord Azulon,

In accordance with my esteemed brother Crown Prince Iroh’s wishes, I am writing to let you know that I have successfully helped him recover Princess Ursa from the traitorous plot I brought to your attention. All five of the co-conspirators Iroh and I found at the scene were former members of the Royal Guard who had recently been dismissed from service and sentenced to prison by Iroh following Ursa’s investigation into their sexual crimes, just as was initially described to me by Private Jeong Jeong when he caught wind of the plot. 

Iroh was most impressive in the battle against the traitors, if you can even call it a battle: he killed four of them in moments with his skilled lightning attack, and he only required my assistance to distract and surprise the last one who dared to attempt using the princess as a human shield. Although you recommended capturing one of the traitors for interrogation purposes, Iroh commanded they all be executed. Given the gravity of the crimes they committed - kidnapping a royal person, causing her grievous injury, and clearly intending to assault her further if they had not been tracked down - I deferred to Iroh’s judgment on the matter, as you have always advised me to do in uncertain circumstances. 

While I write this letter, Princess Ursa is unconscious, battling infection from a third-degree burn on her right forearm in addition to strangulation injuries. Governor Kato here at Ningzhou has been a gracious host to us under the circumstances, providing us with the greatest hospitality and deference. Still, Iroh has refused to leave her bedside, hence why I am the one drafting this letter and passing along his urgent message to you: Given the severity of the trauma inflicted upon his wife and the uncertainty of how deep this conspiracy among the guards goes, Iroh wishes to cancel the remainder of the Autumn Festival procession and return to the capital as soon as Ursa is able to travel. He asks you to consider that he will be better able to uncover the conspiracy at home, and his wife will also benefit from the full royal healing staff at her service, both of which he encourages you to view as more important than autumn celebrations at this critical moment. 

In the meantime, Iroh has asked me to stay in Ningzhou to help him keep watch over Ursa since his trust in the guards has declined greatly as a result of this whole affair. Until ordered otherwise, I will be at his side. 

Respectfully,

Fire Prince Ozai

[Notated by Azulon III, 167 AG

Writings by Ozai’s hand are few and far in between. Unlike his brother, Ozai was never one for journaling or putting his inner thoughts to paper. The few records from Ozai I have incorporated into this story, such as the letter above, are often direct messages with little rumination. Consequently, we have almost no insight into Ozai’s mindset during his life, relying primarily on the observations of those around him to deduce his thoughts and emotions. Some historians argue that this is not enough for such a significant figure. I am inclined to agree, but unfortunately, it is all we have.]

The cabin was on fire.

Ursa couldn’t breathe, both from the panic welling up in her throat and the smoke seeping into her lungs. Waves of heat were inexorably rolling towards her, the fire consuming her vision and every means of escape. Soon, it would consume her too.

“Nowhere to run, Princess.”

Tiron.

His hazy form took shape out of the smoke. Ursa froze, attempting to back away even as flames threatened to overwhelm her.

“Do you really think you can escape?” he laughed. “That anyone is coming for you?”

Iroh would come for her. He would.

“Not in time, he won’t.” Tiron’s face twisted, and he lunged towards Ursa. Even as she braced for the impact, he dissipated back into smoke that slid through her, setting her right forearm alight with a burning agony.

No. 

She collapsed backwards onto the wooden floor, no longer caring about the fire surrounding her as she tried to scream through her smoke-ravaged throat. But despite her mouth hanging open and her head arching back uselessly, not a sound escaped.

No.

The burning was spreading out from her forearm to her entire body, inescapable and unbearable. Spirits help her, she was going to die here-

Cool relief suddenly spread across her forehead, gentle droplets of water trickling down her face. 

Blinking, Ursa witnessed a sudden rain rushing down to meet her from a now-open sky, washing away most of the burning to leave just her throat and her arm crying for relief. Iroh knelt next to her, gently pulling her into his lap and holding her close.

“You’re safe, Ursa.” His voice came in a whisper, although she couldn’t quite focus on his face as he uncharacteristically smoothed her hair back from her damp forehead. “You’re safe. Just breathe.”

That was right, her mind faintly recalled. Iroh had already come for her, on a night very much like this, so what on earth was she experiencing now? Dazed, she allowed her eyes to slide shut, too tired to figure out the answer. 

Remember our family.

Not now, she silently told her grandfather’s insistent reminder.

Keep an open heart.

“Ursa?”

A hazy view of a bearded face greeted Ursa’s half open eyes. Was Avatar Roku really not going to let her be unconscious in peace?

“Spirits,” the man whispered, “this is…this is after Tiron, isn’t it? During that first Autumn Festival?”

No, this wasn’t her grandfather. But something still tickled at the edge of her memory, telling her she knew this voice regardless. The image in front of her sharpened into Iroh - or rather, the future version of Iroh - gazing at her with an expression so raw it made her heart clench. The rainy night was gone, replaced by those strange blue-light tunnels.

“I’ll never stop being sorry for this, you know. This was the first time I really failed you. Before…” His voice faltered. “Well, considering how long ago this was, I suppose I need to be careful about what I say.

“I’m failing again. Even right now. I don’t know where I am, except that apparently this place seems determined to remind me of all the times I failed before. I can’t….Spirits, I need to get back to you, but I don’t know how, and all I see are these reminders of how people suffered for my mistakes. How you suffered. Maybe this is my punishment,” he laughed harshly. “I’ve read of places like this in the Spirit World, where humans are tormented by their fears and regrets until their minds unravel. Perhaps this is my eternity now.”

He reached out to touch her face, but his hand just passed through her. His eyes, the familiar amber aged by his lifetime, were so sad. “Perhaps I deserve it. I just hope that you remember this, years from now. Maybe that way you’ll understand why I didn’t come back this time. I’m so sorry, Ursa.” His deep voice broke now, tears starting to stream down his cheeks. “For…everything that’s going to happen. You always deserved so much better than I could give you. I see that clearer than ever, now that it’s too late.”

She had no idea what fears and regrets and suffering she was talking about, but the sight of Iroh’s tears twisted something inside her. The notion that this version of her husband, whatever he’d done, deserved to spend eternity tormented by his worst memories just didn’t sit right with her. She strained to speak, to whisper something to him.

“I….” A strangled sound escaped her mouth, scraping painfully against her hoarse throat. “I…roh…” Don’t give up. 

“Ursa?”

Iroh was still next to her, but now it was her Iroh, clean shaven and dark-haired, seated in a chair. The tunnels had thankfully vanished; in their stead, a room slowly took shape around her. There was a fire roaring away behind Iroh, silhouetting him so she couldn’t quite see his expression. She was lying in bed, with her burnt arm resting on a pile of pillows, thankfully wrapped in clean bandages. 

The cool sensation on her forehead hadn’t left; there was a cold cloth lying there, she realized as Iroh reached over to keep it from covering her eyes. She attempted to say thank you, but all that escaped her was something like a wheeze. Ugh, her mouth was so dry and her throat felt like sandpaper.

“Here, try to drink.”

A bowl of something warm was held to her lips, the familiar scent of bone broth filling her nose. She parted her lips just enough to allow a trickle of the salty liquid to enter, swallowing with great effort. A couple more mouthfuls helped soothe some of the persistent dryness in her mouth, and her head began to feel a little less fuzzy.

“Thanks,” she managed to rasp out.

“Of course. Rest your voice. Do you want more of the broth?”

Now that she’d had some, her body cried out for nourishment. She nodded, allowing herself a proper look at Iroh’s face as he held the bowl to her lips once more. Dark circles ringed his eyes, and there was a slight frown that looked like it had been there for days. His tired gaze found hers when he withdrew the now-empty bowl. 

“Ursa,” he whispered, and something in the way his voice trembled made her see the sad, old Iroh he might become in the future, “I…”

His lips kept moving, but whatever words were passing through them were beyond Ursa as a sort of buzz filled her seemingly cotton-stuffed head. The warm broth in her belly was working its charm, lulling her heavy eyelids closed again despite her best efforts to listen to Iroh. 

A hand brushed against her cheek, wiping away a bit of spilled broth she hadn’t noticed. “Never mind,” his whisper penetrated the buzz. “Rest, my wife. You’re safe.”

Ursa wondered if she was already dreaming.

From Master Piandao’s estate,

Letter delivered to him during the Autumn Festival, 69 AG

Dear Piandao,

I can’t believe you and I missed each other at the capital once again. Of course the one year I decide I won’t return home for the Autumn Festival’s opening ceremony, you have to secure leave from the front lines and make me look inconsiderate. How was the party? I heard Princess Ursa planned a marvelous affair, which is no surprise of course. She was very diligent about learning her duties when I last left her, and I’m sure she’s flourished since then.

I’m writing with some unfortunate news about how our favorite newlyweds are doing. Something has happened during their travels that I can’t discuss freely, but it ended with Ursa being rather grievously injured. I’m treating her in Ningzhou now on Iroh’s request (I think he’s going to order me to become a royal physician any day now, considering how little he trusts anyone else with his wife’s care), but I’m reaching out to you because I can’t seem to treat Iroh’s ailment. You know that while I’m an expert on physical injuries, matters of the heart - especially Iroh’s heart - are really much better left to you.

Iroh blames himself terribly for what’s happened to Ursa. He believes he failed her by allowing this calamity to befall her (and I really do apologize for how vague I have to be about this, but I’m sure Iroh will let you know the details if he thinks it necessary). I haven’t seen him sleep more than a nap in a chair since I arrived, preoccupied as he is with staying at Ursa’s bedside and making sure she is safe. It would be endearing if it weren’t taking such a toll on him. My discussions with Ozai and the attendants indicate that she and Iroh had argued rather intensely before she wound up getting hurt. Based on what Iroh himself has told me, I think he may have convinced himself that his part in the argument led to his wife’s injury even though all other evidence indicates that the two events were unrelated, and the injury was very much out of his control.

I can’t get through to him, Piandao. I think the only people who can are you and Ursa, and Ursa is unfortunately rather indisposed at the moment. Please, I know you have more compelling things to handle as a soldier, but you need to say something to him. Tell him driving himself ragged with guilt over Ursa isn’t doing either of them any good, and it certainly won’t win him the forgiveness he can’t seem to give himself. Work whatever magic it is that makes him lend you his ear while he remains deaf to the rest of us. Otherwise, I fear his marriage with Ursa will suffer an injury that cannot heal.

Stay safe, my friend, and write back to us when you can. I hope you and I find ourselves in the same place sometime soon to catch up properly; perhaps for the new year, or for Iroh’s birthday. In the meantime, keep making us proud on the front lines.

Sincerely,

Your friend Korzu

Ursa’s burned arm looked disconcertingly exposed with the bandages removed. As soon as Iroh had gotten her to safety, the governor’s physician had trimmed away the mass of blackened, leathery skin that had marked her injury. Iroh was just grateful she’d been unconscious for that procedure; the physician had been clumsy, hands trembling with nerves as the crown prince had watched him work. It was nothing short of a miracle that Korzu had been in a nearby village. Iroh felt much better with his friend back in charge of Ursa’s care.

Still, better didn’t necessarily mean good. Iroh kept his gaze focused on Ursa’s closed eyes as Korzu examined her wound. Focusing on her face was important. Otherwise, he would catch a glimpse of the bruises on her pale throat, and those had already made him spiral into one slightly unhinged rant against the guards.

“The infection seems to have cleared up,” Korzu said quietly. “Once her fever breaks, we should be seeing some promising signs of recovery. I’ll clean the wound and rebandage it.”

“Why hasn’t her fever come down yet?” Iroh asked. “She woke up briefly and took some broth and went right back into a deep sleep. What’s going on?” His amateur readings of her energy hadn’t revealed anything more than what Korzu had already told him, frustrating him further.

“The burn by itself would be bad enough, but the fact that it got infected made it much more complicated. Her body needs a lot of recovery time.” Korzu’s thin lips twitched apologetically. “Her waking up shows that the worst of the fever has passed. We just have to watch and wait.”

He dabbed at the edges of the wound with a wet cloth, cautiously moving towards the center. Ursa began to stir, groaning quietly as Korzu washed the worst of it and patted it dry. But when he gripped her arm to rebandage it, she cried out, weakly attempting to pull herself free. 

Iroh’s heart leapt into his throat, and he half-fell out of his chair to kneel by the head of the bed. “You’re hurting her!”

Korzu was unfazed, studying Ursa with the physician’s calmness Iroh could not understand. “Believe it or not, it’s good that she’s reacting. It means she’s somewhat conscious, and any nerve damage she’s suffered isn’t too deep.” He offered Iroh a weak smile, brushing some of his brown hair out of his face. “I’m being as gentle as I can, but some discomfort is inevitable with burns. You know that.”

Iroh had recovered from his fair share of burns, but even the lightning that had scarred his palm seemed less painful than what had happened to Ursa. “Just…be careful.”

“Of course. Hold her arm still for me.”

Iroh obeyed, wincing as Ursa began to whimper and writhe against his hold on her elbow. “Ursa,” he said, silently praying for Korzu to hurry up, “You’re safe, you’re safe. Just breathe.”

He’d been whispering those words to her intermittently during her coma, hoping they would reach wherever her mind was trapped. Now, they had the desired effect: Ursa, still breathing a bit heavily, settled down. Iroh stayed next to her, gazing at her face to make sure she didn’t start to panic again while Korzu finished his work. 

“Iroh,” Korzu said as he released Ursa’s arm, “You should go get some proper rest.”

“For the tenth time, I’m fine here.”

“You’re very obviously not. That chair’s going to give you an awful crick in the neck. Go lie down.”

“We had much worse beds than that in academy training, remember?”

“Iroh,” Korzu sighed, “I know I can’t actually make you follow ‘physician’s orders,’ but be sensible. By your account, you haven’t gotten more than a nap or two in at least three days. That sort of thing is going to make you less alert, less intelligent, less articulate, no matter how much training you have.”

He was right, of course. Despite himself, Iroh could feel a sort of weight settling down over him with each passing hour, dragging his movements into sluggishness. Still, he trusted his sluggish skills over the guards right now.

“I’ll live,” he said stubbornly.

“Let’s consider a different angle. What makes you think a sleep-deprived, cranky husband is what Ursa will want to see when she wakes up properly? Do you think that’s the version of you she’s likely to forgive?”

Iroh cast his friend a dirty look, pleased to see Korzu at least flinch back a little. As steady of a physician as he was, he still scared easier than a baby turtleduck sometimes.

“You sound like Piandao,” Iroh told him.

“Well, he’s not here to knock some sense into you, so I thought I might give it a try. I have to say, I don’t like it much.”

“The trick is, Piandao can pull it off because he can go toe to toe with me in a sparring match.”

“I can’t do that, but I could just slip sleeping drugs into you. Which I’m very close to doing.” Korzu raised his eyebrows meaningfully. “You wouldn’t even see it coming.”

“I could have you arrested for that.”

“And then who would take care of Ursa?” 

Iroh sighed. “Fine. I’ll go lie down. But I want you at Ursa’s side until I return, and I want to be woken up the moment she wakes up.”

Korzu had a point about the value of sleep, Iroh decided as he walked towards his room. He rapped sharply at Ozai’s door, waiting for it to open to reveal the groggy teenager. “What?” Ozai yawned, rubbing his eyes. “It’s the middle of the night. Did she wake up?”

It was the middle of the night, wasn’t it? Iroh hadn’t been paying much attention to the passage of time while sitting with Ursa. “No, not yet. I’m going to lie down. Go keep Korzu and Ursa company until I get back.”

“Yeah, of course.” Ozai ran a hand through his hair. “I’ll straighten up and be right there. You sleep.”

Iroh was half-tempted to stand and wait for Ozai to follow through, but his younger brother had proven himself capable in the last few days, and Iroh’s eyelids were starting to drag. “Come get me if anything happens,” he said before slipping into his own room next door.

Even a cup of tea felt like too much work at this point; plus, Korzu’s comment about the sleeping drugs put him on edge about consuming anything for a while. Iroh barely took off his tunic before collapsing into bed. He was asleep in moments, dreaming of the last time he’d seen Ursa happy: drinking chrysanthemum tea with her parents on the back porch of her childhood home, laughingly telling stories about the palace and poking fun at Iroh. It felt like a lifetime ago. 

He would have given anything to go back to that moment and stop himself from ruining everything that had come afterwards. 

From the Fire Nation royal family’s official records

Missive delivered to Crown Prince Iroh during Autumn Festival, 69 AG

To my firstborn, Prince Iroh,

First and foremost, it is a relief that your wife is once again back with you. Ozai told me how valiantly and decisively you attacked and eliminated her kidnappers, which pleases me to hear even in these dire circumstances. He also informed me that you chose to execute all five of the men involved despite my advice to the contrary. I certainly would not have been able to show the restraint I preach if such an ordeal had befallen your mother, may she rest in peace, so I will not condemn your decision. 

Now, to address the matter of your request. My son, I understand the impulse to rush home with your wife and nurse her back to health. However, you must recall that your duty as crown prince comes before your duty as husband. While I still do not have a clear picture of the conspiracy that led to this kidnapping, my ongoing investigation leads me to conclude that the general belief among the palace guards is that you are soft from a life of luxury and susceptible to manipulation from your new bride. They viewed your penalties for the sexual deviants among their ranks as Ursa pulling your strings, and so they brazenly felt free to target her as a way to exact vengeance on both of you. 

You and I both know you are neither soft nor manipulable, Iroh, because I have raised you better than that. In our positions, though, perception of truth matters just as much as truth itself. If you slink back to the capital to lick your wounds now, the perception of you as a sheltered, lovelorn prince will be cemented among onlookers. Not to mention, abandoning the Autumn Festival will undoubtedly send a message that our family is shaken, considering that the last time we suspended the royal procession was the year your mother passed. We cannot afford such cracks in our image, not when we are still uncovering the depths of the conspiracy that has been growing right beneath our noses.

I acknowledge that I have my part to blame in this as well. I’ve all but abandoned the battlefield since you came of age, scarred and bent as I am from decades of war. But I failed to maintain my image of strength as a wise king, and I fear I’ve allowed you too much freedom in shirking your own responsibilities as crown prince. By the time I was your age, I’d successfully faced the Earth Kingdom and Water Tribe in battle, and I’d assumed the mantle of Fire Lord in all but name as my father lay on his deathbed. I thankfully still have some decades before I reach my father’s age of death, but I believe my resentment over my too-brief childhood and my grief for your mother have indeed led me to shelter you too much in some areas. We have to rectify this together. 

While I have no intention of passing the throne to you any sooner than I must, I do need you to swallow down your worry for your wife and see the Autumn Festival through to the end. I know you’re more than capable of keeping yourself and Ursa safe now that you’re on guard, and rearranging the festival to accommodate for her injuries is a simple affair. Although I appreciate your eagerness in investigating the guards at home, my mind is more than capable of handling this matter even though my body has aged. You and Ursa must restore our image now: the future Fire Lord and Lady, unfazed by attack or treachery, continuing to honor our traditions across the nation. 

In the meantime, I would like for Ozai to return to the palace once you begin traveling again, so he can assist me in my investigation. I believe he will be of more use here than getting under your feet during the procession. Let me know of anything you may need in your journey, but otherwise, I expect you to follow my directions in this regard. I promise, son, this small sacrifice of your personal wants will be worth it in the long run. Be well, and try to enjoy the rest of the festival.

Regards,

Fire Lord Azulon

There were chrysanthemums on the nightstand next to the bed. Ursa hadn’t noticed them the first time she’d woken up, but she could see them very clearly now that she was sitting up and more alert. Yellow and pink, artfully arranged in a vase: for new beginnings and strong relationships, according to her mother’s flower language. Ursa wondered where these chrysanthemums had grown.

“Princess,” Korzu called her attention away from the flowers and back to his examination, “do you feel that?”

He was tapping her right thumb. Ursa couldn’t feel it. With a lump in her throat, she shook her head.

A small, sympathetic frown flashed across his face. “Nod for me when you start to feel something.” He continued tapping, moving down to her wrist, then at the edge of her bandaged forearm, which finally made her flinch and nod. 

Dutifully, he scribbled something down in his notebook. “I’m going to add more pressure now. Nod when you feel it.”

He pressed down hard on the center of her palm. The sensation should have made her fingers instinctively curl up, but he might as well have been tickling a pillow for all the reaction Ursa’s body gave him. This time, however, she felt the greater pressure on her wrist and quickly nodded.

“Encouraging,” he said with forced cheeriness. “It seems that the nerve damage on your injury site isn’t irreparably deep. Once your body rebuilds the connections to your hand, physical therapy should prove very helpful.”

So her hand was useless from Tiron burning her, and her voice was basically useless from Tiron choking her. Ursa stared at her unresponsive fingers despairingly, trying not to cry in front of Korzu. 

“For your diet, I recommend primarily warm, easy to swallow-” Korzu was cut off by the door slamming open. Iroh walked in, fuming, followed by a very apologetic-looking Ozai. Ursa’s heart leapt into her throat. Fortunately, though, his anger didn’t seem to be for her.

“You,” Iroh growled at Korzu. “What part of ‘wake me up the moment Ursa wakes up’ did you not get?”

If he was intimidated, Korzu didn’t show it. “I sent Ozai to get you, didn’t I?”

“After an hour!”

“I needed to do my examination, and you needed the rest. I’m done now, if you want to talk to her.” Korzu stood and gestured for Iroh to take his chair.

Iroh seemed to finally register that Ursa was watching him, and all the fight went out of his body when their eyes met. He was only wearing an undershirt and trousers, with his hair uncharacteristically hanging loose, like he’d rolled out of bed and immediately come to see her. Maybe he had. The hair in particular caught her attention; she’d never seen him without his topknot before, and now his mane of dark brown hair reached his shoulders, messy and wavy in a way that begged for fingers to comb through it.

“Ursa,” he said softly, “do you…do you want to talk? Or should I let you rest?”

Vaguely, Ursa remembered the strange dream-slash-vision she’d had of the older Iroh, and how sad he’d looked. Right now, her Iroh didn’t look much better. She beckoned for him to come sit next to her, swallowing down her nerves. There was a lot to discuss 

“We’ll give you two some privacy, Ursa,” Korzu said, pointedly elbowing Ozai out of the room. “It’s my understanding your husband has a lot he needs to say.”

Iroh didn’t respond to Korzu’s unusually snarky comment; instead, he took a moment to add more wood to the fireplace, stoking the flames higher. Ursa sank back into her pillows as a fresh wave of heat filled the room. Even under this plush quilt, she was so cold…

“This is for you.” Iroh set a small box on the nightstand before sitting down. “I picked it up, and the flowers, from your parents while I was looking for you. I know the pink and yellow are your favorite.”

Ursa turned to glance at what he’d given her, eyes widening with shock as she recognized it: The box of Ikem’s letters from her wardrobe.

“I thought you might want the letters to remember him since you’re stuck with me.” He stared resolutely at his feet instead of her. “One’s missing because…I burned it, by accident, when I saw you’d been reading it. I’m sorry about that, but I copied down what I remembered from it and put it in the box with the rest so you still have them all.”

What was he doing? Giving her Ikem’s letters like he hadn’t yelled at her for reading them? Was this some sort of test? 

“I’ve had Ozai send a message to your parents, by the way, to let them know we found you. I didn’t want to tell them too much about what happened without your consent, so whenever you feel up to it, I can help you write something to put their minds at ease as well. 

“I’m sure you want to know what happened…it’s complicated, but essentially those guards we fired had been plotting their revenge for some time and seized the opportunity while we were separated. Jeong Jeong - you remember Jeong Jeong?” - he waited for her to nod - “well, he found out about the plan and told Ozai, who told our dad and raced out here to help me find you since he didn’t think a letter would make it in time.

“We weren’t fast enough, of course.” Ursa watched him shift to stare at her bandaged arm, his hair hiding his eyes from view. “I’m so sorry for all of this, Ursa. I really am. It never should have been possible for Tiron to get his hands on you: he took advantage of my foolishness, my stupidity in picking an argument over nothing and driving you away from me. And now…Spirits, Ursa, I’m so sorry. Maybe if I’d just said that instead of letting you walk away that day, all of this could have been avoided. I’m sorry for hiding the truth about Ozai, for my stupid jealousy about Ikem, for breaking my promises. I’m making you a new promise - a real promise - that I’m going to make up for this somehow and earn your forgiveness.”

Ursa’s mind reeled, attempting to unpack everything that had just spilled out of Iroh as he shut his mouth and bowed his head. The guards’ plot, the apologies, the…jealousy? Everything else at least somewhat made sense, but what possible reason could Iroh, the crown prince, have to be jealous of Ikem?

“Why?” she whispered, wincing at how it taxed her throat to speak.

“Don’t strain your voice,” he said at once, leaning towards her. “Why what?”

“Jealous…” she managed to eke out before obediently falling silent.

“Why am I jealous of Ikem?” he pieced together.

Ursa nodded. He sat back and sighed heavily. 

“Do you really have to make me say it? Ursa, I…I’m jealous because he has your heart. And I know it’s not fair because you never wanted to leave him behind to marry me in the first place, but I wish…I wish you felt about me the way I feel about you. I wish it so badly, when I have no right to wish such things, and I didn’t even realize I wished it until I was confronted with the evidence that you don’t.”

He tapped at the box of letters on the nightstand, then finally glanced at Ursa and grimaced at whatever he saw in her face. “Don’t look at me like that. Please. Hate me all you want, but don’t pity me.”

“I-” I don’t hate you. 

“And stop straining your voice,” he admonished gently. “You were choked. I promise, I’ll listen to everything you have to say once Korzu says your vocal cords are better.”

Somewhat reluctantly, she closed her mouth, giving him a look that hopefully conveyed her plans to hold him to that statement.

“In the spirit of honoring my promises, there’s something I want your opinion on as my equal. I asked my father to let us cancel the rest of the festival procession and come home so you can recover. He doesn’t want to because he thinks it would make us look weak. I believe he’s overreacting, and I could probably convince him to see my perspective. But at the end of the day, you’re the one who’s put the most work into the festival, and the one who most needs the recovery time, so I wanted to consult with you first. Do you wish to return to the palace?”

Absolutely not. The thought of displeasing Azulon and being trapped by those stifling palace walls in her injured state made Ursa shudder. At least with the festival, she would have fresh air and some measure of freedom. She shook her head no.

Iroh tilted his head, studying her. “Are you sure? You want to go on with the festival, even with your injuries?”

Yes, she nodded. Even with her injuries, it wasn’t that much work to sit in a carriage and journey from place to place. Surely physicians like Korzu would help make it easier as well. 

“Alright. I suppose I’ll tell my father we see his wisdom, then.” Iroh didn’t look pleased with her decision, but he didn’t argue with her further. One advantage of being ill, she supposed. “I assume Korzu has planned out a meticulous recovery diet for you, so I’ll tell him to arrange your breakfast. Is there anything else you want me to talk about?”

There was a lot, but Ursa didn’t think any of it was possible to discuss while her voice was missing. She shook her head. 

“Well, I look forward to hearing what you have to say when you’re up to speaking.”

What was he expecting her to say? For now, at least, she had a convenient reason to not disclose what she’d been through while gone: Forgetful Valley, seeing Ikem, meeting her grandfather…she had no idea how Iroh would react to any of that, if she ever ended up telling him.  Would he ask for a detailed account of everything that had happened between their fight and Tiron?

“I’ll leave you to rest and eat,” Iroh interrupted her thoughts. “And I’ll think of a better way for us to talk while you’re healing besides yes or no questions. Send for me if you need me, otherwise I’ll come back in a while and see how you’re doing.”

He stood to leave, and Ursa was struck by the realization of what was making her so nervous about this conversation: Iroh hadn’t smiled once. And it was especially odd for him to not leave her with a parting smile. Fortunately, he was on her left: she patted the mattress, prompting him to meet her eyes, and she smiled. Thank you, she tried to say silently.

Iroh studied her warily, like he wasn’t sure what to make of it. His lips twitched slightly, not quite smiling, before he turned away again, and then he was gone.

It took her a moment to figure out what had been in his face. Guilt . 

She glanced at the box of letters he’d left on her nightstand. Guilt.

Her body wasn’t all that would take some time to heal, it seemed. 

Chapter Text

Ursa, cont.

No matter what difficulties I’ve faced over the years, I’ve learned to at least be grateful for good health. In war, especially, the things we take for granted - sight, hearing, walking - can all be ripped away in a moment. These are the tolls faced by thousands who were injured in the Hundred Year War, yet another cost of senseless violence.

Ah, but that’s not the part of the story I’m on yet. Sometimes I get carried away while writing because I vividly remember the time when I thought I wouldn’t be able to write like this ever again. My right arm, mutilated by Tiron, was unresponsive from the elbow down while I was healing. Between that and the loss of my voice, communication with those around me became an elaborate game of charades. Korzu’s optimism that I would heal clashed with the evidence of my arm hanging uselessly day after day, and I resigned myself to having to learn how to live with only my left hand.

During those dark days at Ningzhou, Iroh was like a man with his spirit stolen. This isn’t to say he was somehow unpleasant or inattentive: far from it. While I focused on healing, both mentally and physically, Iroh was busy rearranging the festival route, coordinating new security, communicating with allies, and checking on me during the moments in between. It was Iroh who figured out that while traditional writing with a quill and ink was too much for my clumsy left hand, a miniature chalkboard was adequate for me to express my thoughts via crude characters and drawings. But even while he was the ideal supportive husband, he wasn’t himself. There was a coolness in place of his usual warmth, built by his guilt and unrequited feelings.

Ozai slid his rose tile into a perfectly respectable but ultimately meaningless position. It would have been a game-winning move if his only opponent were Ursa. But he was also facing Korzu and Iroh, who had sharpened their Pai Sho skills against each other over years, and who weren’t inclined to go easy on Ozai like his novice sister-in-law.

“Rose is harvested,” Korzu said flatly, claiming the tile with a tricky slither maneuver by his dragon. 

Ozai’s jaw dropped. “That is not a thing you can do.”

“Iroh?” 

“The dragon’s slither is a technically not illegal move made possible by a loophole in Section 6 Subsection B of the Official Royal Rules,” Iroh confirmed.

“He just moved across half the board in one go!”

“I’m merely knowledgeable of the rules, Prince Ozai.” Korzu smiled. “Of course, you can always increase your wager to come out ahead in the end.”

There was the familiar scratch scratch scratch of Ursa’s writing, and she held up her chalkboard to display a single word to Korzu: Thief. Her playful smile clashed with the accusation.

“It’s not thievery,” Korzu defended. “Pai Sho is a perfectly honorable way for me to win money off the princes, especially since they have more than sufficient opportunity to defend themselves through gameplay.”

Ursa fondly rolled her eyes as she put the board back down in her lap and moved to play her own turn. After a few days, she was feeling well enough to come out to the governor’s courtyard for an evening of games and “conversation,” but still struggled to do more than a few minutes’ walking. The bandages on her limp right arm, kept just out of sight by her long sleeves, haunted Iroh. He focused on her left hand as she brazenly slid her lucky white lotus tile right into his territory.

It was the most obvious win in the world. He couldn’t even see a trap waiting for him, and Ursa hadn’t learned enough to expertly bait him just yet. Still, he ignored her play, choosing instead to team up with Korzu’s assault on Ozai.

“This isn’t fair ,” Ozai whined, before glancing at Ursa. “Any chance I could get a loan, Sister?”

Her lips quirked as she shook her head no. With a dramatic sigh, Ozai yielded, leaving the game to just the three of them.

Scratch scratch scratch. Ursa held up her chalkboard again: Me too.

“Why are you yielding?” Ozai asked. “You’re in just as good of a position as these two.”

Ursa mimed a yawn that looked a tad too real. She must have been more tired than she wanted to admit. “Here, I’ll walk you back to your room,” Iroh offered.

She shook her head once more, motioning for Ozai to come with her as she picked up her chalkboard and stood. Finish your game, she mouthed to Iroh. 

“It’s no trouble,” he tried to insist, but she was already walking back into the mansion. Ozai glanced nervously between wife and husband before following Ursa. 

Iroh sighed. Ursa was still angry with him. What else could he expect?

“Double or nothing?” Korzu suggested, attempting to bring him back to the game. 

“I don’t really feel like finishing.” He gestured for Korzu to take his money. “How was Ursa? Did you notice anything?”

“She’s doing fine. Her mind is as sharp as ever, she didn’t seem unusually fatigued, and her gait as she left the room was basically back to normal. Can’t you let me do the worrying? I don’t like it when I’m the one who has to console you.”

“I still think starting the procession again tomorrow is too soon.”

“Unless she develops new symptoms overnight, it’s a perfectly fine plan. She’ll just need frequent rest, fluids, and shade. And since you’ve practically ordered me to come along, I’ll make sure she has those things.” Korzu cracked his knuckles, one of his nervous habits. “Iroh, she wants to get on with the festival. You can’t… keep her in a gilded cage because you’re shaken up about the attack.”

There was a lamp by the entrance that was close to going out. Iroh concentrated on willing it back to life as he contemplated Korzu’s words.

“She’s so angry with me,” he muttered finally. “Did you see how she left? She’d rather be around Ozai than me.”

“Come on, she just saw that we were in the middle of a game. Don’t drive yourself mad over a little thing like that.”

It was good advice. Iroh wasn’t going to take it. He’d been trying to make it up to Ursa where he could - including letting her win during tonight’s Pai Sho game - but although she was pleasant to him, it was clear he hadn’t been forgiven. 

Korzu sighed before starting to pack up the Pai Sho set, reading Iroh’s silence correctly. “Good night, then. Get some rest before tomorrow.”

“Sure.” Iroh knew he wouldn’t.

Of all the things Iroh had done, purposefully losing to her at Pai Sho somehow felt the most insulting. 

Ursa hadn’t been certain that he was throwing the match until she’d finally tested him with her white lotus tile: in one move, he could have claimed two-thirds of her treasury and crippled her offense, but he’d chosen to pile on an already-struggling Ozai instead. Luckily, she had the excuse of damaged vocal cords so she could fume in silence as Ozai tagged behind her on the way back to her room. It was bad enough that she couldn’t use her right hand or talk to anyone. What did Iroh think he was accomplishing by not even playing a simple game with her properly?

Still, she must have been doing a poor job of disguising her face. “Are you mad at Iroh?” Ozai asked once they’d gone far enough to have some privacy. “I mean- you don’t have to tell me, of course,” he stammered, turning a bit red when she turned to frown at him. “It’s just that Iroh seems to feel bad about something, so….”

That was an understatement. Ursa considered the initial question, then held up her left forefinger and thumb pinched together: A little. 

“What’d he do?”

Ursa shot him a withering look. 

“Sorry. I’m not trying to be nosy, it’s just that no one ever gets mad at Iroh.”

His curiosity, while definitely inappropriate, didn’t seem malicious. Ursa wondered if he’d been told what had happened between her and Iroh, or if he was just reading signals to piece together his own understanding. Drawing to a stop outside her room, she waved for him to hold her chalkboard so she could write.

No one? she scratched out.

“Yeah. Well, no one whose opinion he cares about, at least.”

Doesn’t care.

“Of course he does,” Ozai said without missing a beat. “You think he doesn’t?”

She shrugged. 

“He wouldn’t have thrown that game if he didn’t.”

Had that been Iroh’s logic? Ridiculous. Ursa pulled a face.

“Ohh,” Ozai realized. “ That’s why you’re mad at him? Not the fight you guys had or whatever?” There was a hint of mischief in his eyes, and now Ursa understood: Ozai was a little brother pettily delighting in the golden child getting in trouble for once. “You know, if it’s really just that, you could have some fun with it. I’ve never seen him this worked up about a girl before.”

Her interest was piqued; she’d never heard much about Iroh’s romantic past, and now here was his brother giving her a glimpse into it. She tilted her head curiously.

Ozai caught himself and swore. “I shouldn’t have mentioned that. Iroh will kill me.”

I won’t tell. 

He laughed nervously. “It’s not like he ever talks to me about that stuff. I just know he was mopey after his last breakup for a few months. But it wasn’t nearly as dramatic as this whole not sleeping thing he’s been doing.”

Not sleeping? Ursa frowned.

Ozai looked like he wanted to punch himself in the face. “Forget I said that. Forget I said anything in the last five minutes, actually. Can I go?”

Ursa debated ordering him to stay and tell her more, but he had a sleepily-terrified look that reminded her he really was too young for all this. A few days ago, he’d killed someone, and his voice hadn’t even deepened yet. She granted his request with a nod and a smile.

“You’re um…you’re not going to tell Iroh the stuff I said about him, right?”

It wasn’t as if she could even if she wanted to. She shook her head.

“Okay. Thanks.” He handed back her chalkboard. “I think it’s impressive that you’re still going forward with the Autumn Festival even after this whole thing, honestly. Showing the people that the royal family is too strong for one attack to rattle us and all that.” Ozai shrugged, before giving her a tight but surprisingly pleasant smile. “Anyway, Sister, if I don’t see you before I head back to the capital in the morning, safe travels and get well soon. Maybe get back at Iroh a little while you’re gone.”

As he left, Ursa realized that - for the first time - there was no dread or anxiety gnawing at her insides after a talk with Ozai. She filed that thought away for later examination. Her room was warm. Her bed was cozy. Her mind and body were more than ready for a good night’s sleep.

Still, just as it had been since the attack, sleep was quite hard to find. Every time Ursa drifted off, she found herself back in that cabin, in those woods, with Tiron’s smirk and Bullseye’s pawing hands and burning -

A choked cry slipped out of her as she jolted awake yet again. She didn’t even remember falling asleep that time; it was like the nightmare had seeped into her waking moments to take her. Heart pounding, she sat up and swept her gaze around the moonlit room. Nothing had changed, but her body remained in fight or flight mode, too charged with adrenaline for sleep to approach again.

If she was in Hira’a, Ursa would have gotten up, grabbed a quick bite, and gone outside to stargaze until she felt tired. Of course, this was a governor’s home, where she was already overstaying her welcome thanks to her unfortunate injury. It felt like too great a liberty to demand a midnight snack on top of the hospitality her host had already shown her, but maybe she could slip out to the garden without bothering anyone: it wasn’t too far away. Gingerly, she placed her bare feet on the floor and felt around for her slippers.

Her plans were briefly interrupted when she opened the door and found none other than Iroh, looking as if he’d been debating knocking. Surprise briefly flickered across his face, mirroring her own.

“I heard you cry out,” he said, recovering faster than her. “Is everything okay?”

Ursa’s cheeks warmed as she quickly nodded; she didn’t think she’d been that loud. 

“Is there anything I can do?”

She shook her head and pointed vaguely down the hallway, in the direction of the garden.

“You want to go for a walk? Let me come with you.”

Ursa hesitated. Her whole plan had been to not bother anyone.

“Korzu said you shouldn’t walk around by yourself too much,” he gently reminded her. “I can get someone else if you’d prefer?”

Waking someone else was worse. At least Iroh was already up and about. She shook her head again and waved for him to join her, smiling slightly to ease his visible tension. He didn’t smile back.

The governor’s gardens paled in comparison to the royal ones, but they were still far more expansive than her mother’s small, clustered greenhouse. She would have preferred the greenhouse, though. There were some things that luxury couldn’t replace. But these gardens had what was important to her right now: an unobstructed view of the twinkling night sky. Thank the spirits it was a cloudless night.

Iroh followed a few steps behind her, a solid and silent shadow. Impulsively, she reached down and removed her slippers, wanting to bury her feet in the dewy grass. It helped her feel more rooted in nature, even in a governor’s mansion. With every step, she wriggled her toes into the well-manicured lawns, until she found a clearing near the center of the garden that could let her pretend she was somewhere else. Iroh must have thought she was pretty foolish, flopping down with a sigh and spreading out on the grass.

He shifted on his feet next to her, not joining her quite yet. “Would you like a blanket or something?”

She shook her head. Her mind would be focused on the stars in a second, but for now, she was content to feel the grass through her clothes.

Iroh sat somewhere behind her, thankfully without pressing the matter. Despite her lingering upset, his presence was still a comfort with all the nightmare fuel rattling around her skull. He was quiet, though. He’d been quiet since his apology and the…accompanying confession. Solid and silent, only speaking to her with yes or no questions about how she was feeling and if he could help. The detachment of it all bothered her, reminding her of the beginning of their marriage. She didn’t want things to be that way again.

Unsure of how else to break the silence without her voice, she pointed at the sky.

Iroh cleared his throat. “Do you know the constellations?”

She wiggled her hand in a so-so gesture. While she was an expert on the constellations of Hira’a, the official royal astronomy guide had some differences she hadn’t quite mastered yet.

“Well…that one to the northwest, the rectangle with the one bright corner, that’s The Twins. Do you see it?”

She nodded. That one had the same name.

“In the south, there’s The Archer, with the three stars that make up his bow.” 

That was a new one. Ursa scanned the southern sky, then shook her head.

“Um…” Iroh shifted to lie down next to her, although maintaining a respectful distance between them. “There,” he pointed, “do you see that brilliant blue star? That’s the center of the bow.”

Oh, Ursa did know that constellation, but not as an archer. She turned to Iroh and made a slithering motion with her good hand.

“A…weasel snake?”

She nodded, then pointed back at the sky.

“The bow’s a weasel snake?” She nodded again in confirmation. “Well, what’s the body of The Archer?”

Miming that would be more difficult, although it helped that being an actress had made her very good at charades. She bared her teeth in a growl and curled her hand into a firm fist.

His lips twitched at the sight. “An armadillo bear?”

Apparently, Iroh had a knack for charades too. She nodded, smiling from the simple pleasure of him getting it right on the first try.

“Are they part of the same constellation?”

Yes, she nodded.

“I think I can see it. Are they fighting?”

No, she shook her head.

“Hm, what are they doing then? Hugging?”

Kind of, she wiggled her hand.

“This is a story you learned in Hira’a, I assume?”

Yes, she nodded again.

“You’ll have to tell me when you’re better. I’m very curious about it.”

Smiling, she made a pinky promise with her left hand to show she would do just that. Iroh wavered for a moment, then linked his pinky with hers.

The night sky provided surprisingly plentiful conversation, with Iroh pointing out each constellation and Ursa “telling” him how each one differed from the ones in Hira’a. It was astonishing, the way Iroh understood her even without her voice: he studied her while she “talked,” amber eyes warm and steady, like he was noting each of her movements in some mental diagram of her. Maybe he was. 

Finally, Ursa yawned, interrupting Iroh’s explanation of the navigational importance of the Canine Star. 

“Do you want to go back to your room?” he asked, unfazed.

She nodded, stretching out on the grass. Stargazing had worked; her mind felt settled once more, ready to try sleeping again. Iroh helped her to her feet, and she smiled in gratitude. This time, he hesitantly smiled back. It wasn’t the kind of smile she was used to seeing from him - no self-assured arrogance, no charming confidence - but it was pleasant in its own way, gentle and tentatively sweet.

What had she been upset with him about? It was hard to remember as he walked her back to her room. Ozai’s perspective on the matter - that Iroh had been letting her win at Pai Sho because he cared - softened her earlier anger. It was an odd way for him to show it, but then again, everything had been odd since the attack. Was there even a normal way for him to behave under the circumstances?

“Well, good night. I’m right across the hall if you need anything.” 

Ursa allowed herself a good look at Iroh in the dim lighting of the hallway now. The circles under his eyes had only darkened over the past few days, and there was a sort of haunted look to him that made her wonder if he’d been sleeping any better than her.

“What?” he asked. 

There wasn’t a polite way to mime what she was thinking, so she ran a finger under her own eye. Iroh mirrored the gesture, and his mouth tightened. “Yes, I suppose I don’t look very well-rested at the moment. Korzu’s told me the same.”

Why? Ursa mouthed.

“I’ve been feeling restless, although I’m sure it’s nothing compared to you. Don’t worry about it.” 

Ozai had said something earlier about Iroh not sleeping, and he’d made it sound like it was related to Ursa. Of course, getting Iroh to open about it through charades would be difficult. Why? she mouthed again.

“I told you, don’t worry about it.” 

Frowning, she crossed her arms as best as she could with one hanging limply. That seemed to rattle Iroh; he glanced at her bandages, and for just a moment, that heartrending guilt flashed across his face. 

“What can I say, Ursa?” he whispered. “I haven’t known a good night’s sleep since I lost you. Even though you’re back now, I can’t sleep in my room because I worry I won’t hear if…if something else happens to you…so I keep pacing the hall and listening for sounds out of your room like a deranged watchdog. As if anything I’m doing now will make a difference when the damage has already been done.” He shook his head. “It’s my problem, not yours. So really, don’t worry about it.”

Something indescribable flooded her chest, making it ache for him. Her poor husband, torturing himself over Tiron’s attack when that hadn’t even been his fault. 

“Do not give me that look,” he said more firmly. “Don’t. I’ve told you already, you can hate me all you want, but don’t pity me.”

That was the second time he’d said that, and this time, she wasn’t going to let him get away with it. “I don’t hate you,” she rasped, cringing at the effort it took to form the words.

“Don’t,” he said at once. “Please, rest your voice.”

“I don’t hate-”

“Ursa-”

“Tell me you understand,” she insisted as her throat spasmed, “or I swear I’ll scream.”

Iroh closed his eyes. “I understand,” he said. “You say you don’t hate me.”

She huffed. That was not what she was trying to convey. 

“You don’t hate me.” The words were empty; he didn’t believe them. “I understand, okay? Let me make some tea for your throat.”

How could she make Iroh believe her? Perched on the edge of her bed, Ursa mentally ran over her interactions with him as he returned with a kettle to prepare a batch of peppermint tea. Had she said she hated him? She didn’t think so, but frankly, one of her worse traits was that she sometimes ‘blacked out’ when she was truly angry and ranted without thinking. Maybe she’d said she hated him during their argument after Hira’a, although she didn’t think she had…it felt like a lifetime ago. 

“Here.” Iroh set a cup on her nightstand. “I hope you like it. Do you need anything else before I go?”

The night couldn’t end like this. She reached for her chalkboard, and he obediently handed it to her. 

Stay, she wrote. Sleep here. Less worry.

He glanced at her uncertainly. “Would it help you?”

She nodded.

“You’re sure?”

Yes, she nodded again.

Iroh studied her for a minute further, and Ursa wondered what he was noting on that mental diagram of his. “Alright,” he said finally. “I’ll stay and sleep on the floor. Wake me if you change your mind.”

It really would help her, Ursa decided. Tiron and his minions couldn’t touch her, in nightmares or real life, as long as Iroh was near.

The sky was still dark and starry when Iroh opened his eyes, so it took him a moment to figure out what had disturbed his sleep. Then, there came a whimper from the bed that set off every protective instinct he hadn’t even known he had.

“Ursa?” He quickly sat up. 

Her eyes were squeezed shut as she curled into herself, panting. “No…” she gasped out through her strangled throat. Her bad arm was desperately clutched against her chest; hopefully, she wouldn’t start clawing at it.

Iroh had trained for a lot of things, but his wife having a nightmare about her kidnapping was not one of them. This never should have happened. Squashing down that thought, he knelt next to the bed and tried to figure out what he could do that wouldn’t make things worse. There would be time for guilt later. She cried out, the sound of a wounded animal, and buried her face into the pillow.

“Ursa,” he breathed, “You’re safe now. it’s not happening again. They’re gone, remember? I made sure of it this time.”

A muffled keening responded. Iroh couldn’t recall ever hating a sound so much. He vaguely remembered advice from some mindfulness book about not waking people from nightmares, but hearing her relive her pain was torture.

“You’re safe now,” he repeated, resisting the urge to reach out and provide some physical comfort. His hand was already on the mattress, itching to bridge the gap between them. “Please, if you can hear me, I promise you’re safe now.”

With a choked gasp, her eyes snapped open, staring emptily into the night. He conjured a fire for light, then immediately extinguished it when he saw how it made her flinch away. Idiot, he scolded himself. She was a nonbender who’d just suffered a burn that put many firebenders’ wounds to shame. Fire in her face was the last thing she needed.

After a moment of tense silence, she beckoned him closer. He leaned towards her, mattress creaking as he rested more of his body weight on it. “I’m here, Ursa. What can I do?”

She gestured at the empty lamps on the wall. Obediently, he lit them, not moving from his position next to her as he sent small fireballs into the holders. Her eyes looked unusually dull in the light.

“Anything else?” 

Tentatively, she pointed to her chalkboard on the nightstand. Iroh handed it to her and perched on the edge of the mattress while she sat up and began to write.

Dreaming? she scratched out.

“No. This is real.”

Sure?

“Yes.”

How?

The question gave him pause. He knew what it was like to be held in his mother’s embrace, so relieved that the nightmare of her death wasn’t real, only to wake up and find he’d gotten his dreams and reality mixed up again. It had left him very mistrustful of his own mind until he’d taken up meditation. But he couldn’t exactly take Ursa through a lesson right now.

Well, maybe he could.

“I’m sure because I can feel my heart beating in my chest and my lungs filling with air. I can feel the thrum of energy down my spine and into my limbs. No matter what happens around me, my dreams have never been able to lie to me about those things.”

Ursa gazed at him for just long enough that he began to contemplate whether he sounded ridiculous, before she erased the board and started to write again. This time, she showed him a drawing of a heart and a bird.

“Your heart…feels like a bird?” he guessed.

Nod. 

“Is it beating fast?”

Feels light. Strange. Still dreaming?

“No,” he said. “Not unless we’re both dreaming. And if we are, I’ll make sure you make it back to the real world safe and sound.”

That made her mouth lift a little, and she scribbled out a Thanks.

“How does the rest of your body feel?” he asked.

Shrug. Hard to think. 

“It could be because you woke up rather abruptly. Maybe your mind’s not entirely out of the dream world yet.”

So, still dreaming. 

“Why are you worried that you’re still dreaming?”

The question made her face fall again, and her hand trembled as she wrote. Scared. Tiron. What’s real?  

That fear was something he didn’t know how to fight for her. “Oh, Ursa…”

Tears brimmed in her eyes, and the chalkboard fell to the mattress as she curled up and dissolved into quiet sobs. Tiron was already dead, but Iroh couldn’t help feeling as if the wretch had gotten off lightly. “He’s gone,” he said vehemently, scooting closer to her. “He can’t hurt you. I promise you- I swear on my life - this is what’s real. I’m here. You’re safe.”

Her good arm reached out blindly, and he finally allowed himself to touch her. She grabbed his hand like she was afraid it would vanish, running her slim fingers over each callus and crease, only stopping when she found his pulse at his wrist. 

“See?” he whispered. “I’m here. You’re safe. It’s real.”

This finally seemed to convince her, and her tears slowed as she peered at him, although she didn’t let go of his hand. 

“Stay?” she rasped. Iroh suppressed a wince at the sound.

“Of course. As long as you want me to.”

She nodded, satisfied. Iroh moved to withdraw his hand and return to his bedding on the floor, but she suddenly tightened her grip. He glanced at her, heart clenching when he saw the fear had returned to her sunshine eyes. “What is it?” he asked.

“Stay,” she repeated, bruised voice trembling. 

He’d already said he would, hadn’t he? Unless she meant… “Stay…in the bed?”

She nodded.

What kind of husband would hesitate with his wife looking at him so pleadingly? Careful to maintain an overly respectful distance between their bodies, he moved the chalkboard and shifted to take one side of the bed. Ursa took the other. They lay facing each other, their joined hands forming a bridge between their bodies.

“Is this okay?” he asked. 

She nodded again, already looking much more peaceful. Iroh whispered a good night and waved out the lamps.

He didn’t remember falling asleep. All he knew was one moment, he was watching her closed eyes and slow breathing to make sure another nightmare didn’t come upon her; the next, he was drifting awake at dawn, Ursa curled into his side with her head on his chest.

Chapter Text

Iroh, cont.

Ursa’s injury had two immediate effects. First, it shortened the planned Autumn Festival journey, allowing us to skip several mainland cities after Ningzhou and focus only on the strategically important stops, places with dense populations or military relevance. Second, it brought us literally closer together. After Ningzhou, I regularly spent nights with Ursa, so she could sleep as close to me as needed to keep the nightmares away. Her favorite way to fall asleep was by feeling my heartbeat, with her head on my chest or her fingers resting against my pulse. I remember that because she falls asleep the same way now as well; although the war ended two years ago, its nightmares remain.

You’d think, reader, that this meant our marriage was in a better place. Alas, what should have been a step towards greater intimacy for us had been tainted by Tiron and his debauchery, leaving me unsure of how to interpret our newfound closeness. Eventually, I reasoned that this was merely a coping mechanism on her part: she had experienced something traumatic, she felt vulnerable, and so she sought out my presence for protection and comfort. The ache it put in my chest to wake in bed with her each morning, a brief moment where I could pretend my wife actually returned my affection, was nothing compared to the pain she was battling. So, I simply ignored it.

But such emotional turmoil can only last for so long without demanding to be resolved. In my circumstances, it lasted about one week after Ningzhou, making it through two mainland cities before deciding to surface at our first island. And as it has done for others since time immemorial, Ember Island stripped my soul bare. 

Ember Island was, in Iroh’s opinion, a wonderful summer resort but not his favorite Autumn Festival stop. Its air was still heavy with moisture; not as much as in the peak of summer, but enough that he wondered if the spirits of the island were aware it was autumn. Its beaches were closed for the season, meaning half the fun of the place was gone. Its nobles, including their host Governor Mushu, were unabashedly eager for royal attention, making it difficult for him to enjoy the festivities. And, his most recent reason to dislike the island: Ursa had gotten seasick during the voyage here.

What Iroh did like about Ember Island was that rather than hosting a structured dinner with a show like most places, Governor Mushu held a more casual walk-and-talk style of dinner party in the center of town with food stations and servers circulating so guests could socialize as they pleased. Iroh also had a lot of good memories here of trips to the beach with his friends; including Korzu, who was hovering at the outskirts of the party in case Ursa needed medical assistance. Plus, now that Iroh had an actress for a wife, he was very grateful for the Ember Island Players. 

Most importantly, Iroh was always grateful for ice cream, and he suspected Ursa would be too after her bout with seasickness. “Here,” he walked her to the ice cream station once they’d chatted with everyone of importance. “Ice cream. An Ember Island specialty.”

“ This is ice cream?” The various serving dishes displayed a rainbow of the enticing confection, their temperature maintained by the cool metal iceboxes beneath them. “I was picturing...well, ice and cream, which sounds stupid now that I’m saying it,” she laughed a bit hoarsely, before coughing. Iroh made a mental note to have her rest her voice soon; her vocal cords had recovered significantly since Ningzhou, but they definitely weren’t back to normal.

“Oh, it’s much better than ice and cream,” he said out loud. “You should try some.”

“Which color do I pick?” 

A serving boy dutifully rattled off the options in response to Ursa’s question. Iroh’s personal favorite was lychee, but he wasn’t surprised when she immediately selected mango. He still remembered how eagerly she’d doven into the mango sticky rice at that inn before Hira’a: the slices of mango dripping their juices onto her palms, down her slender wrists, trickling a tempting trail towards her forearms…

Perhaps ice cream wasn’t the best idea. Iroh knew he was in trouble when she brought a spoonful to her lips and moaned in delight. “This is amazing!” 

“Ember Island’s best, Princess,” the boy replied, shooting Iroh a nervous glance. “Would you like anything, Your Highness?”

“None for me, thank you.” 

“You’re not taking any?” Ursa asked as she carefully picked up her bowl one-handed. “I thought you like this.”

“I do, but…” he trailed off, glancing at her limp, bandaged arm. Ursa couldn’t hold her bowl of ice cream and eat at the same time. He wanted to make sure he could help her if needed.

“Oh.” The slight droop of her mouth made his heart clench. “Iroh, I can manage.”

“I don’t mind.”

“We can at least share.” Before he could protest, she was asking the server for another scoop of ice cream and a second spoon. “Here. Make yourself useful and hold this for both of us.”

Arguing with the playful sparkle in her eyes was hard; he did like ice cream, and it was exclusive to Ember Island. He accepted the bowl with a smile and took his own spoonful. It melted in his mouth readily, sweet mango and delicate cream in perfect harmony.

“How is this made?” Ursa asked the server. “I’ve never seen it before. How is it kept so soft and cold at the same time?”

The boy answered her question with a well-rehearsed speech about the process of churning and storing ice cream, and the unique offerings of Ember Island that made it possible to create the dessert in large batches here, but Iroh was hardly listening. He was watching Ursa spoon more ice cream into her mouth and thinking that he really shouldn’t have gotten her a dessert with this much licking -

“Fascinating.” Ursa interrupted his dangerous train of thought. “Thank you so much for telling me. What’s your name?”

“I’m Skai, my lady.” 

The boy looked nervous as he replied, no doubt fearing his name was being collected as part of some complaint. But Ursa simply told him, “Skai, you are a credit to your island. I’ll try and mention it to your governor here before I go.”

“Th-thank you, Princess,” Skai stammered, bobbing in a quick half-bow. Ursa turned away, smiling at Iroh as she scooped another spoonful of ice cream from the bowl in his hand.

“Do you want to sit somewhere so you can finish this and rest your voice?” he asked.

“This is actually helping my throat feel better, but some quiet would be nice.” She leaned in to whisper, “Ember Island is definitely our loudest stop so far.”

Ignoring the little shiver from her breath on his ear, he steered her through the crowd, smartly weaving around servers and waving away nobles with excuses until he found what he was looking for: a bench just outside the party, hidden around the corner of a sweetshop. 

Ursa sat with a sigh, holding a finger to her lips to signal she would be silent for a bit. Iroh was content to sit next to her and hold her ice cream, only taking a spoonful for himself whenever she waved for him to do so. There was something about quietly sharing a dessert on the outskirts of such a large gathering that made everything feel more…intimate. 

“It’s a good thing your father isn’t here,” she said softly, once she’d polished off the ice cream. “He’d be staring us down.”

“I’m sure he’d make an exception for an injured princess.”

“It’s not even that I’m injured, honestly. I’ve never had great stamina for big gatherings like this, and it’s worse when it’s all strangers. I…don’t have your gift for making friends. Life might be easier if I did.”

“I think you’re mistaking friendliness for people sucking up to me.”

“No, I’m not. People suck up to me now too, but I don’t charm them so quickly the way you do.”

“I’ve had more practice. And why does it bother you whether or not you can ‘charm’ them?” Iroh asked, ignoring his urge to reply that she’d very easily charmed him. 

Ursa was silent for a moment, watching the ocean in the distance. “I don’t have many friends now,” she said finally. “Not anymore…and maybe if I was better with talking to these nobles, I could find someone to call a friend, but…I’m not.”

There was nothing he could really say to counter that. “I wish I could tell you that will change, but getting these people to like you doesn’t make them your friends. Not with status like ours. But the nice thing is that when you do come across someone who is capable of being true friends with a royal - like Korzu and Piandao - it’s a friendship that lasts.”

“And what do you do when even your husband won’t be your friend?” Ursa asked.

Iroh looked at her with a start.

“You’ve been different,” she continued. “Since the attack and everything. First you were distant, then you were just serious, and now you’re…you’re so respectful you might as well be another servant. And you know I don’t enjoy the servants hovering around me as it is.”

“I…” Iroh didn’t know how to respond to that. “I just feel like I can’t be the way I was, Ursa. Not after Tiron, and how awful I was to you when we left Hira’a. All I’m trying to do is make it up to you.”

“But all I want from you is to do as you promised. Treat me as your equal, and be honest. Be…be my friend.”

“Is that something that’s important to you?” he asked. “Friendship in a marriage?”

“My mother always said I shouldn’t marry anyone I wouldn’t want as a friend. My dad called her his prettiest friend,” she recalled with a smile. “So, yes, it is important to me even if we are already married. You and I can be friends, can’t we?”

“We can. We are. And you’re definitely my prettiest friend, not that your competition is stiff.”

“Come on, give Korzu and Piandao a little credit.”

Iroh chuckled, but he wasn’t quite at ease yet. “Well, as my honest friend, will you tell me one thing?”

“Of course.”

“Have you forgiven me? For the fight, Ozai, everything that happened before Tiron? Think about it; don’t just say yes because I’ve been acting differently since then. I want it to be real.”

The moment she took to think seemed like the longest of Iroh’s life. “I don’t know,” she said, the words like a cushioned punch to his gut. “I’m not really upset about it anymore, but at the same time, I’m having trouble separating out everything I feel about Tiron and the fight. It’s all jumbled up together and thinking about it too much is-”

“I understand,” Iroh said quickly, not liking the way her good hand had tightened in her lap. “I’m sorry I asked. I just wanted to know where I stood. Come on, do you want some more ice cream? Or, Ember Island makes an excellent spicy nut mix.”

“Both sound delicious.”

The party continued with Iroh and Ursa making small talk with nobles, sampling Ember Island’s specialties, and ducking away for breaks in between. Even as Iroh pushed her to conserve her energy and her voice, he could tell it was a useless sentiment as her excitement for the Ember Island Players grew. The finale of the night was a special performance by the island’s famed acting troupe, where the play they would be performing was kept secret as part of the fun. Iroh was the only one who knew what was coming: he just hoped Ursa wouldn’t mind his being a little dishonest about it. 

“I’m so excited,” she told him, practically beaming as they slid into their front-and-center theater seats.

“I can tell. You’ve been practically shaking for the past hour. I figured it was either anticipation or the sugar from your fourth helping of ice cream.”

“To be fair, they’re not mutually exclusive. If it is the sugar though, I’ll probably crash during the intermission.”

“You can nap on my shoulder if that happens.”

“Thank you. Now, when the curtains go up, shhh!” Her eyes twinkled as she held her finger to her lips.

“Yes, I know. I’m familiar with some theater etiquette, believe it or not.” And I know how important this is to you. 

Ursa rolled her eyes playfully before turning to chat with Korzu on her right. Iroh sat back, listening to his wife and his friend with a light heart. Korzu definitely had more of an appreciation for the dramatic arts than Iroh, who’d always preferred music over acting. Still, Iroh felt confident that he’d at least chosen a good play for her. 

Soon enough, the director of the troupe strode out on stage. “Your Royal Highnesses, Prince Iroh and Princess Ursa, it is an honor to welcome you to our humble theater.” She bowed, while Iroh and Ursa generously smiled and nodded. “I hope you find our performance to be an appropriate celebration of your recent marriage and this most auspicious Autumn Festival you have embarked on together. Ladies and gentlemen, The Ember Island Players proudly present our celebrated production of Love Amongst The Dragons! ” 

Next to him, Ursa gasped. “Oh, how lucky!” she whispered to Korzu, sheer joy bubbling from the words. “This one’s my favorite.”

Yes, Iroh had chosen well.

The play began, a thrilling romantic drama of the mighty Dragon Emperor condemned to live amongst the mortals by a dark water spirit and his Empress who followed him into the mortal world to help bring him back, her love for him never wavering.

“Dark water spirit!” The actor portraying the Dragon Emperor, a tall and tan young man with a commanding voice, perfectly embodied the role. “You shall rue the day you condemned the mighty Dragon Emperor to dwell amongst the mortals!”

“For as long as I live, as long as I have breath in my body, I will not rest until I have my vengeance upon you and restore my rightful place on the throne of dragons,” Ursa mouthed the words along with the actor, watching with bright eyes that Iroh suddenly wished were looking at him so reverently.

“You’re not being quiet,” he teased. “And didn’t you play the Empress, not the Emperor?”

“I know all the lines,” she proudly informed him. “I learned the script forwards and backwards, to make sure I could be cast in even the smallest role. I never dreamed I would actually be the Empress.” 

The Empress, Iroh decided, was the most interesting character. Oddly, although she was already married to the Emperor at the beginning, their relationship was portrayed as rather one-sided: she adored him, while he merely tolerated her. Yet while he was exiled as a mortal, she devotedly followed him with her own mortal disguise, the two of them eventually learning to love each other properly without throne or immortality.

Why did the Empress love him so much, even when he had no power or prestige to offer her anymore? What was it like, to love and be loved so thoroughly? Iroh couldn’t stop himself from glancing at Ursa - whose gaze was unerringly fixed on the stage like a woman in a trance -  wondering if she’d considered those questions while preparing to portray the character. 

The second half of the play drew Iroh in more than the first, depicting how the Dragon Emperor clawed his way back to his throne. The thrilling final battle with the dark water spirit, scored by bone-shaking drums, pulled Iroh to the edge of his seat; he’d never known how exciting a ribbon-dance fight could be. Finally, with name and honor restored, the Emperor reunited with his Empress in all his glory.

“Though I was trapped in the body of a mortal, you willingly gave me your heart,” he told the Empress, holding the slender actress tenderly in his arms. “I cannot help but give you mine in return!”

“Only with your glory hidden in false form could you finally recognize my devotion!” The Empress replied, reaching up to cup her husband’s masked face. The audience sent up a cheer as the reunited couple sealed their renewed love with a kiss. Iroh couldn’t help applauding along as well. 

A shuddering breath distracted him from the finale. He turned to see tears trickling out of Ursa’s eyes. 

“It’s so beautiful,” she said when she caught his concerned gaze. “I…I love this ending.”

Something about these tears told him she wasn’t just moved by the romance. As she wiped her face with her good hand, it occurred to him: she wasn’t meeting his eyes. 

“Ursa, do you need a moment?”

“No, I…I don’t want to miss the curtain call. That would be disrespectful.”

Still, as Ursa continued to inhale shakily and exhale with half-sobs, it was evident to him that she needed a break. Faster, he mentally urged the actors as they took turns elaborately bowing to both the audience and then specifically to the royal guests of honor. To her credit, Ursa remained graciously smiling and applauding through it all, passing her tears off well as simply being overwhelmed by the emotional ending. 

Finally, the actors portraying the Dragon Emperor and Empress bowed together, and the curtains closed. Iroh wasted no time; leaning over to Korzu, he whispered, “Tell the director the princess needs a moment, and we’ll be back shortly,” before helping Ursa up and escorting her out of the theater, shielding her from the rest of the audience with his body.

“Balcony,” she whispered once they were away from the crowd, pointing down the hallway. Iroh took the direction in stride, making sure the balcony was empty before ushering her out onto it and closing the door.

“Alright,” he said. “We’re alone.”

Sighing, Ursa sank down onto the balcony steps, pulling her legs up in a very childish pose. “Thanks,” she rasped, then buried her face in her knees as her shoulders began to shake with muffled sobs.

This wasn’t the reaction he’d been expecting. “Ursa,” he hesitantly lowered himself next to her, “what’s wrong?”

She shook her head.

“Please?”

“You’ll get upset,” she replied, or at least that was what it sounded like she was trying to say.

“My wife’s crying. I’m already upset.”

Her eyes were all puffy as she peered at him. “Well, you’ll get more upset.”

“I promise I won’t.”

The way she dug her chin into her knees made him think she didn’t believe him. “I’m trying very hard not to think about him,” she whispered, “I really am, but…Ikem was the Dragon Emperor, when I was cast as the Empress.”

Iroh had already suspected that, but it still took the breath out of his lungs to hear it confirmed. He hadn’t considered Ikem’s role, or how much it might upset her, when he’d chosen this play. “Oh.”

“I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s just, one of the last scenes we rehearsed together was that final kiss, before…”

Before Iroh had shown up. “I understand,” he said quietly. “I’m the one who should be apologizing to you, Ursa. I didn’t think of how it might be difficult for you to watch Love Amongst The Dragons. ”

“What are you talking about?” She wiped her eyes. “The play was a secret. You couldn’t have known.”

“Um…” He cringed as he prepared to confess his own secret. “I actually did know.”

“What?”

“I sort of asked the Ember Island Players to perform Love Amongst The Dragons for us since it’s your favorite. But I didn’t think it through, of course. I’m sorry.”

“You picked the play?” 

“Yes.”

“For me?”

He nodded, embarrassed. 

To his surprise, a smile lit up her tear-streaked face. “Iroh…thank you. That’s really sweet. And I did enjoy most of it.” She scooted closer to him and placed her good hand on his forearm. “Besides, I’m glad you got to see my favorite play. What did you think?”

“I thought it was marvelous,” he said honestly. “Especially the Dragon Empress. I see why she was your dream role.”

“I’m so glad you think so! People always dismiss her as passive or boring because of her love for the Emperor, but there’s so much more to her than that. Love doesn’t make her weak, either. It takes strength to care for and fight for someone the way she did: not in hope of reward or reciprocation, but because it’s what’s right.”

Ursa’s hand was still on his arm, and now he allowed himself to hesitantly brush his fingers across hers as she spoke so passionately. Thankfully, she didn’t protest or pull away, instead steadily meeting his gaze with something in her sunshine eyes that made him want to hold her close like the Dragon Emperor had with his Empress on stage.

But this wasn’t a play, and Iroh was no dragon.

“Well said,” he replied, turning away. “Do you want to go back inside? After thanking the director and governor, we can duck out quickly and get some rest.” Technically, Iroh had planned a few other things for her, but he didn’t think they were worth it when she was clearly physically and emotionally worn out.

“That sounds good.” She withdrew her hand, leaving him feeling oddly cold. “Thank you, Iroh. Really.”

Unfortunately, his plan for a quick exit was foiled by the well-meaning director. “Oh! So, Your Highnesses don’t want the tour anymore?” she asked, frowning in the overdramatic fashion of a seasoned actress.

“What tour?” Ursa asked, even as Iroh tried to signal the oblivious director to shut up. 

“We were informed that you take a special interest in the performing arts, Princess Ursa, and would like to spend some time backstage touring our theater and learning its history,” the director continued without heeding Iroh. “For example, did you know we’re actually the oldest still-active theater troupe in the nation?”

“I didn’t,” Ursa said with clear interest. “I also didn’t know there was a tour planned, or I certainly wouldn’t be in such a hurry to leave.” She frowned at Iroh.

“You seemed tired,” he defended himself weakly. “I thought it would be better if we just turned in for the night and did this the next time we visited Ember Island.”

“I have an idea, husband. Why don’t you just ask me what I want to do?”

Point taken. “What would you like to do, my wife?”

“I would very much like to take the tour. Oh!” she gasped as a thought struck her. “Where’s Korzu? He’ll love this as well.”

Korzu was summoned from where he’d been waiting at the theater’s entrance, and Iroh watched as Ursa proceeded to whisper excitedly to his friend during the tour. I’m not jealous, he told himself. Korzu just knows more about theater than I do, and Ursa was just saying she wants a friend. It’s good that she likes talking to him. She’ll be less lonely, and more comfortable with him treating her. So, I’m not jealous.

Still, he was doing a poor job of convincing himself, as evidenced by Korzu dropping back while Ursa engaged in a spirited conversation with the Dragon Empress actress. “Why are you just staring at us instead of participating?” Korzu asked. “You planned this whole thing, and she’s having a wonderful time. Talk to her.”

“Not all of us are experts on the theater, Korzu.”

“I’m hardly an expert: I know more than you but less than her. Don’t get pissy with me because you don’t know how to talk to your own wife.”

Iroh debated the merits of firing Korzu from his temporary role as Autumn Festival physician; then again, that was probably exactly what his anti-social friend wanted. “I didn’t ask you for relationship advice.”

“Well, someone’s got to give it to you.” Without warning, Korzu shoved him in Ursa’s direction.

“Ah, Prince Iroh,” the director caught his awkward stumble. “If I may escort Your Highnesses in the final part of the tour?”

“Of course,” he said quickly, hoping he didn’t look as embarrassed as he felt.

“It’s already the final part? Oh, I wish I could spend a whole day just here.” Ursa’s proclamation was cut off by a yawn.

“I’m honored to hear you say so, Princess. This right here is our prop room,” the director pushed a backstage door open, “with a special gift for you.”

“A gift?” Clearly curious, Ursa followed the director to the table at the center of the room, before letting out a gasp. “Oh, wow!”

Iroh already knew what was there, so he allowed himself to simply enjoy Ursa’s delighted smile. Her eyes shone as she picked up the blue mask that marked the dark water spirit.
“I always liked this mask best,” she said. “Even though it’s for the antagonist in Love Amongst The Dragons, it can become so many other characters.”

“What character would you make it?” Iroh asked.

Mischievously, she held the mask over her face, vanishing into the guise. “The Blue Spirit,” she said in a low, gravelly voice, “the scourge of the Fire Nation’s ruthless and faithless.”

“I’m not familiar with that character, Princess. Is it from a royal play?” The director asked politely.

“It’s more of a legend from my home.” Ursa lowered the mask, her glowing smile remaining as she surveyed the other masks on the table: a complete collection of the characters from Love Amongst The Dragons . “But you’re saying these are for me? Don’t you all need them?”

“Not at all. These were handmade especially for your visit here on Prince Iroh’s orders. The palm tree wood used to create them gives them a unique scent and lightness unlike those sculpted on the mainland, making them highly sought after among fans of the theater. We rarely grant requests from outsiders to take them as gifts, but of course, it’s a privilege to prepare a set for the royal family.” The director bowed. “I hope you find them to your liking.”

“Absolutely. They’re perfect. What you’re saying about the palm wood makes sense: it really is a unique touch.” Ursa ran her thumb lightly along the bottom of the Dragon Emperor’s red mask. “I’m impressed by how quickly you all put this together. The show, the tour, the masks…it’s all been so wonderful.”

“Please, Princess, we had plenty of time. We normally don’t select the show for the Autumn Festival until the governor receives approval for his plans from the palace anyway.”

Ursa looked up from the masks with brief surprise that she quickly hid away. “You mean to say my husband requested all of this…back when the palace was still approving Autumn Festival plans?”

“Yes. Well, except the masks. That request came maybe a week before the festival began, but it was still hardly a rush job. And Prince Iroh made it clear it was an important gift for his new bride,” the director added with a coy smile. It was evident the woman thought she was being helpful, but Iroh was very tempted to order her to stop talking . Hadn’t she ever heard the term ‘discretion?’

“I see,” Ursa replied. “Well, you all did a wonderful job keeping his secret and thoroughly surprising me. I’m honored to be one of the lucky few who gets to call an Ember Island mask my own.” Out of the corner of his eye, Iroh sensed her looking at him, but he didn’t dare turn and find out what was in her face. More importantly, he didn’t want her to see how warm his own face had gotten.

Fortunately, Ursa didn’t press the issue until they had left the theater. “I don’t understand,” she whispered once they had some privacy in the evening shadows that marked the route to the royal family’s beach house. “You planned all this before the Autumn Festival even started?”

“I did.”

“But…how?”

“It was just a letter-”

“No, I mean…” Ursa trailed off, searching for the words. “How did you…how did you get it all right, Iroh? I didn’t even tell you about Love Amongst The Dragons until we visited my parents.”

Pride swelled in his chest as he answered her question: she thought he’d gotten it all right. “You didn’t, it’s true. But the day we met, before you’d come home, your father told me you were at an audition for one of your favorite plays, Love Amongst The Dragons . So, when the messenger from Ember Island was presenting the festival plans to us, I noticed you seemed very interested in the Ember Island Players and figured it would be simple to have them perform a play you liked and give you a tour.”

“But what about the masks? You requested those later. How did you know I would like the masks?”

“Do you remember a few nights before the festival, when I taught you Pai Sho and we talked about missing our moms?”

Her face softened in the lamplight as she nodded. That had been a very vulnerable night for them, including the first time Iroh had heard her talk in her sleep.

“Well,” Iroh continued, “during that talk, you said you wished you’d taken a mask from your old theater before leaving home. I thought some fancy ones from Ember Island might be a decent substitute.” He paused to hold an arm out to Ursa as they reached the rocky, uphill path to the beach house.

“I can’t believe you remember all that,” Ursa said as she linked arms with him. “I barely even remember talking about the masks.” 

“Of course I remember. You’re my wife. Did you think I was simply filtering out everything you said that wasn’t relevant to me? I’m not Ozai.”

She laughed. “No, nothing like that. I suppose I thought you’d planned all this at Ningzhou since you’ve been so focused on making things up to me lately. I guess I didn’t realize…” 

“Realize what?” Iroh asked as they stepped onto the porch of the beach house, noting that the inside had thankfully already been prepared for them. 

“I didn’t realize… you cared for me so much, I suppose.” 

Her words from the fight rang in his ears: I’ve been such a fool to think you might actually care for me. 

“Well, I’m sorry I haven’t done a good enough job of showing it, my wife. But I do. And I’m trying to be better.”

“I know that now.” She peered at him with a blushing smile that made his heart flutter. “Thank you, Iroh.”

“Of course. Do you need anything before we turn in for the night?” 

“Just some quiet. I think I might change and sit out here for a bit. The view’s lovely.”

With the way her sunshine eyes gleamed in the porchlight, Iroh was inclined to agree.

The day had been long. Even if Ursa’s body had been in peak condition, the travel to Ember Island combined with participating in the Autumn Festival celebration would have been enough to tuck her right into bed. She’d summoned a second wave of strength for Iroh’s surprises - a sleepy smile came to her lips as she thought of how wonderful it had all been - but now, she desperately needed rest.

She refused to succumb, though. Instead, she remained seated on the porch of the royal family’s beach house, gazing out at the ocean. Her heavy eyes slid closed occasionally, allowing her to bask in the salt air and the crash of the waves on the shore, but she determinedly forced them to reopen and watch the twinkling night sky disappearing into the yaw of the mighty dark waters. 

All her dreams of living by the beach couldn’t have predicted this wonder.

“Are you turning in soon?”

Ursa turned her head to see Iroh standing in the doorway, barefoot in his sleepwear with his hair down. He was clearly ready for bed, even if he had better stamina than her.

“You don’t have to wait for me. I’m just enjoying the view.”

“I know. It’s just that I’ve been watching you nod off on the porch and wake yourself back up for the past hour. I’m a little worried that if I go to bed, I’ll find you curled up out there in the morning.” The corner of his mouth lifted fondly as he spoke.

“There are worse beds.” She turned back to the beach, trying to convince herself to pull away and turn in for the night. “I just…it’s silly, but I just feel like if I sleep now, I’ll never get this moment back again.”

“I’ve had moments like that. Sometimes they come back, sometimes they don’t.” The floorboards creaked as Iroh joined her, seating himself to her left. “Stay up as long as you want. I’ll sit with you and make sure you don’t pass out here.”

She smiled at him gratefully. “What was one of those moments for you?”

He scratched his jaw as he considered the question. “The second time I generated lightning. I’d been terrified to try it again after how the first time went, but doing it successfully felt…very literally electrifying. I did accidentally blast a hole that ripped from the outdoor arena to the kitchens, but my father was still proud; he called it a promising sign that I showed such power on only my second attempt.”

“Do me a favor, and never generate lightning around me.”

“Relax, I was eleven.” He showed her his left palm, flashing the mark of his first lightning. “And I have this as a reminder to be careful.”

The itch to touch that curiously star-shaped scar had been growing since she’d first seen it. Now, she hesitantly gave in, reaching out and gently circling it with one finger to test his reaction. His arm twitched.

She quickly withdrew. “Does it hurt when I do that?”

“Not at all. It just feels…tingly. I wasn’t expecting it.”

“It doesn’t happen when you touch it?” Not hearing any protest, she resumed what she’d been doing a little more confidently, tracing the edges of the jagged white mark. 

“No. And there aren’t many people who get to delicately trail their fingers across my scarred palms.” 

The suggestion in his voice made her blush. She pulled back again.

“It’s not a bad thing, Ursa.” He lowered his own hand. “You are my wife.”

“I know.” 

Iroh didn’t press the matter. “So,” he changed the subject. “What is it that makes this moment so enchanting to you? Is it that you’ve never been on a beach before?”

“Not just that.” Ursa turned the question over in her mind. “This is a bit like… a glimpse of a fantasy come true for me.”

“How so?”

“I always wanted to live by a beach,” she explained. “It seemed like the most charming life imaginable, especially since I grew up nowhere near the ocean. I thought I would get married and join some traveling acting troupe until my husband and I found a theater in a beach town like Ember Island. Then we would settle down to raise a family, with our children growing up playing in the waves.”

Even without turning her head, she knew Iroh was watching her with that expression that was both guilt ridden and fascinated, the one that he usually had when she discussed her life before marriage. 

“I guess it just feels like I can pretend right now,” she concluded. “Like this is just my house, and I’ve had a long day, and I’m going to go to bed with my husband now, and the beach will still be there tomorrow night too.”

“I suppose my asking is breaking the moment a little.”

“A little.” She turned to meet his gaze, shivering slightly from both an autumn breeze and the intensity she found there. “But it’s also creating its own moment, in a way.”

He lit a small fire in his hand. Ursa instinctively curled against him for its warmth, murmuring a thanks. She hadn’t realized how chilly it had gotten since she’d been sitting outside.

“Do you know how to swim?” he asked.

“Kind of. I assume you received the best instruction possible for a young swimmer when you were five?”

“Four, actually. Have you even touched the ocean before?”

“No.”

“Come on, then.”

Ursa pulled back a little to look at him, confused. “You don’t mean go down to the beach? At this hour?”

That familiar grin answered her, making her stomach flip when paired with his messy hair. “Of course that’s what I mean, Princess. A moment is only what you make it.” He got to his feet and offered his free hand. “Unless you prefer your imagination to real memories?”

Not one to back down from a challenge, she took his hand. His flame flickered slightly as another breeze drifted past them.

“It’s so strange that the sands are black here,” Ursa whispered. “I understand it’s because of the volcano, but it’s so…ethereal.” They walked down the stairway, Ursa lightly grasping Iroh’s elbow for support in the dim lighting. The moon was full and bright, and his fire was casting a lovely glow over their path, but it didn’t make the dark steps much more visible.

“I thought this was normal for a beach for most of my childhood. I realize how pompous that makes me sound, of course.” 

“Good, that means I don’t have to tell you.”

The sound of his laugh rose harmoniously with the waves. Ursa inhaled sharply as her bare feet left the stairs and sunk into cool sand for the first time. 

“What do you think?” Iroh asked, noting her reaction.

“It’s so soft.” Her toes wiggled. “But very grainy.”

“Yes, make sure you rinse off when we go back. There’s no getting it out of the sheets.”

She took a step and peered back to see her footprints, childishly delighted by the phenomenon. “It’s pretty tricky to walk in. Like mud, sort of.”

He nodded. “My father used to make me run laps and spar on the beach when we visited. He said that if I could maintain my speed and stance on treacherous sand, I would be unstoppable on solid ground. Which is especially crucial considering I’ll mostly be battling the Earth Kingdom.”

Fighting on this shifting, unstable sand sounded impossible. “Can earthbenders turn the earth into sand?” she asked, wondering what exactly he would be up against. 

“They can, but it’s not really a common skill. The desert dwelling tribes are the ones who really hone their sandbending, out of necessity.” He lowered his voice conspiratorially. “I’ve heard of earthbenders who could melt earth into lava right beneath the feet of approaching armies.”

What possible defense could there be against lava ? Ursa shuddered at the thought of her husband facing such an attack.

“It’s more of a legend than anything these days,” Iroh reassured. “There haven’t been any confirmed lavabenders since before the war began. And even if there were, my grandfather Sozin had a way to deal with them.”

“How?”

“Lava is molten earth, so the heat required to produce it is still in the domain of fire.” The flame in his hand briefly grew for emphasis before shrinking back down. “A highly skilled firebender is capable of extracting the very heat out of lava, reducing it back to cold earth. And even the most inexperienced of our soldiers know how to deal with earth.”

Controlling heat itself. Ursa supposed it made sense for a firebender, considering how warm Iroh was when she slept next to him. “Have you ever done it?”

“Not yet,” he said with a rueful grin. “My grandfather was a more powerful man than I. Maybe I’ll equal him someday.”

For not the first time, she saw the weight of his family’s legacy on his young shoulders. It was astounding that he hadn’t buckled under it. “You will,” she said confidently. 

He tilted his head at that, his smile softening as the wind brushed through his hair. “Well, if my wife believes it, it must be so.” 

They’d neared the ocean as they talked, and now the waves were washing up just a few feet away. The moon and stars loomed above, casting their silvery glow over each ripple.

“Some firebenders fear approaching the beach at night,” Iroh said in a hushed voice. “The mighty ocean underneath the watchful eye of the moon, the two great sources of waterbending power. There’s worry that they’re just itching to drag unsuspecting firebenders out to sea.”

Ursa made a face. Spirits could certainly be vengeful, but fearing the ocean simply because she was a Fire National seemed to be going too far.

“Superstitious nonsense, of course,” he agreed. “The ocean has no more interest in drowning us than the air does in suffocating an earthbender.”

On cue, a wave crashed against a cliff in the distance.

Iroh laughed at the timing. “I mean no disrespect, great ocean. We’ll still be careful. The ocean is definitely stronger with the moon above, and they’ll drown anyone, bender or otherwise, who behaves foolishly.”

“And this isn’t foolish?” Ursa raised her eyebrows. 

“Not yet.” 

He extinguished his fire and stepped towards the waterline, allowing the small ripples to wash over his feet.

“It’s quite cool,” he warned as he went deeper, “but I think that makes it more memorable.”

Ursa gathered up her nightgown, not wanting the salt water to damage the fine silk, and hesitantly moved to join him.

The water rushed to meet her, immediately submerging her ankles. She gasped and instinctively tightened her hold on her clothing. It was cold , not entirely unpleasantly, but definitely colder than she’d ever imagined the ocean being in any of her fantasies. 

“You’re trying to make me sick again!” she accused.

“And here I was starting to believe your insistence that you don’t need help.” Iroh was still a few feet away from her, having rolled up his pants and waded in until he was almost knee-deep in the water.

“I’m not delicate, I’m new to this. There’s a difference.” She eyed his position. “You can’t expect me to join you.”

“Not at all; only come as far as you’re comfortable with. I’m just here to make sure the big mean ocean has to go through me to get to you.” The silver light highlighted his smirk.

Lighthearted or not, Ursa couldn’t let his taunting slide. She clumsily tied up her nightgown into a makeshift knot above her knees and forced herself to venture deeper into the water, until she was standing right in front of her husband.

“There,” she said, unable to hide the shiver that rolled through her as she crossed her arms defiantly. “Now, you can build me a fire to warm up when we get back.” 

“I was just teasing. You’re actually going to make yourself sick at this rate.” Iroh’s face was both impressed and concerned as he held an arm out. “Come here.”

She hesitated, but a sudden splash of cool water up to her knees convinced her. He wrapped his arm around her with a chuckle as she pressed herself into his side, once again grateful for his warmth.

“I would’ve been more excited about a firebending husband if I knew having a personal heater was one of the perks,” she joked.

“Personal heater, lighter, firebuilder, teamaker…What would you do without me?”

The moon gave him an unusually bright look with his wild dark hair catching its sine, almost as if he himself were glowing. “Well, I wouldn’t have come out here. I’d be up at that lovely house, half-asleep on the porch, imagining a day at the beach.”

“And now you’re nowhere near asleep because you’re having the often underrated night at the beach. It’s better than imagining, isn’t it?”

As cold and wet as Ursa’s legs were, she had to admit this was far more memorable. “It is,” she admitted.

“I told you it would be.”

“Don’t get carried away.”

“I’ll try.” Another wave crashed against Iroh’s legs, though he hardly reacted. She supposed he hadn’t been exaggerating about his father training him to hold his stance in any environment. “Had your fill?” he asked, peering out at the ocean. “Seems like the wind might pick up soon. We could step out and dry off for a bit before going back.”

“Okay.” She was grateful for his arm around her as they waded back to shore; the water was forceful enough that she worried a bit about losing her footing even in this shallow depth. 

“There’s one more thing we should do,” he said, releasing her to crouch down and pat the sand. “If you want your children to love the beach, you have to know how to build a sandcastle.”

The novelty of Iroh very seriously proposing the childish activity tickled her. “Is it required that royal family members know how to build the very best sandcastles?” she teased as she kneeled next to him, sand clinging to her wet legs.

“It isn’t not a requirement.” His eyes sparkled with humor. “I’ll build a fire. Let’s see what you get started in the meantime.”

Ursa’s vision was simple: a tower with an outer wall, and maybe a waterway coming to it from the ocean. But with only one functional hand, her actual outcome was resembling something like a mound of sand.

“Here’s a tip,” Iroh said as he dropped an array of palm leaves and dead wood a few feet away from her. “You can’t be afraid to use wet sand. It’ll give it more structure.”

“Won’t the whole thing collapse if it gets too wet?”

“Yes, that’s why it’s about balance.” 

Ursa stopped her work for a moment to watch him aim his palm at the pile and create a brief burst of flame. The kindling lit up immediately, settling into the crackle of natural fire and sending a wave of heat towards her.

“Is that fine? Too hot, not hot enough?” Iroh was watching her reaction, the firelight playing across his face leaving half of it in shadow. 

“It’s perfect. Thanks.”

The corner of his mouth she could see lifted in that familiar expression. “Alright,” he moved to sit next to her, allowing more of his face to come into view. “Tell me what we’re trying to do here.”

“Something resembling a tower would be nice.”

“Easily done. Come on, show me your technique.”

Iroh helped her shape the sand into something like a column, showing her how to use her one good hand to smoothen its edges and test the integrity of the structure while slowly adding water to provide more stability.

“Now,” he said once they had a respectable tower, “in my childhood trips here, this would be the part where Ozai came over and kicked it down because I didn’t help him with his, and then I would get distracted putting his head in a hole and forget about sandcastles altogether.”

She cast him a slightly alarmed look.

“Maybe your children will have a less combative relationship,” he shrugged. “I’m not sure how much of Ozai’s behavior is because of my father versus normal brotherly bickering.”

“I don’t know either. My parents always seemed happy with just me.” It wasn’t lost on her that Iroh kept referring to these hypothetical children as ‘hers’ rather than ‘theirs.’ There was no way for her to have a child that wasn’t his, but she appreciated the small word choice that gave her at least some agency over her future children’s lives. “If you want to be realistic, though…” She pushed her foot into the base of the tower with a mischievous smile, collapsing half of it.

His jaw fell open in mock-surprise. “You’re lucky I don’t believe in putting girls’ heads in holes.”

Ursa laughed, before scooting closer to the fire to savor its bright heat. Now that she was warm and somewhat dry, her sleepiness was starting to return. Iroh relaxed as well, legs sprawled out in an uncharacteristically boyish pose that was enhanced by his messy hair.

“Tell me that story again,” he said suddenly. “About the armadillo-bear and the weasel-snake in the stars.”

“They’re a bear and a snake,” she corrected. Teaching him about the fantastical animals in the myth had been contentious, considering he’d never heard of them before.

“Please, just tell me again? I like hearing your stories.” He lay down on his back in preparation, crossing his arms comfortably behind his head.

Ignoring how her face suddenly felt too warm, she lay next to him and obliged. The fire began to dwindle as she recounted the tale: the bear and the snake, unlikely friends, struck down by a tragic misstep. When the bear had accidentally disturbed the snake in her sleep, she’d instinctively bitten him with all the poison in her sac, only to find she’d made a grave error. In the bear’s dying moments, the snake had wrapped herself around his body and cried to the stars to give half her life to his. 

“So, each autumn and winter, the bear and the snake celebrate their eternal half-lives among the stars that granted them their half-happy ending. In the spring and summer, they return to the land beyond the stars, waiting for the chance to embrace each other in the skies once more.” Ursa traced the outline of the constellation in the sky with her finger. “Satisfied?”

Iroh was gazing at her , not the stars, with half-closed eyes that gave him an oddly peaceful look. “Of course. But I do have a question.”

“Alright, but remember that I didn’t come up with this story.”

He rolled onto his side so he was facing her properly. “Which one would you rather be? The bear or the snake?”

Ursa raised her eyebrows, shifting onto her side too as drowsiness settled into her bones. ”Why is that your question?”

“The beach at night makes me pensive,” he shrugged. “Do you want to hear my answer?”

“Absolutely.”

“I would rather be the snake. At least then, I would know for sure what had happened and why. The bear died in pain and confusion, thinking his friend suddenly hated him for something he’d done with good intentions.”

“Really? I think I would rather be the bear.”

“Why’s that?” Iroh asked, producing a small fire between them as the beach fire died down. 

“I don’t know if I could take the guilt of what I’d done to my friend, even if it was an accident.”

The glow of Iroh’s flame illuminated the scar on his hand as he replied, “I thought the same thing. It’s difficult, putting yourself in the shoes of such tragic characters.”

Another autumn wind blew, extinguishing the remains of the beach fire. Ursa drifted further towards Iroh, the warmth radiating from him calling her closer.

“What about happier characters?” she asked. “Like from Love Amongst The Dragons ?”

“You’re the Dragon Empress, obviously.”

“Obviously, but who are you?”

Iroh’s mouth turned downwards. “Probably the dark water spirit who separated her from her emperor.”

“No,” Ursa protested at once. “Don’t say that.” 

She reached out, Iroh extinguishing his flame so she could sleepily grasp his warm hand the same way she did before going to sleep each night.

“Who would I be, then, since you’re the expert?” he asked.

“You’re a firebender and a prince. Why couldn’t you be the Dragon Emperor?” Again, Ursa traced the star-shaped scar on his palm as she spoke.

“I’m not a dragon, for one thing.”

“Neither am I.” 

“And…the Dragon Emperor had a wife who…cared for him.”

His logic made her heavy eyelids blink wider in surprise. “Do you not?”

Iroh glanced at her, moonlight dancing across the sudden tightening of his jaw. “Do I?”

“Of course you do.” She left his hand to touch his cheek, intent on making him understand this even in her half-asleep state. “You do.”

A ghost of a smile appeared on his lips. “Thank you for telling me. I wasn’t aware.”

The simplicity of that response - the genuine, unassuming gratitude - suddenly pinned down what had been dancing in her mind since they’d shared a bowl of ice cream that afternoon. “Iroh?”

He frowned slightly at her hesitant tone, pushing himself up onto an elbow so he was almost hovering over her. “What? Is something wrong?”

“No, I…I just wanted to tell you…” Languidly, her fingers trailed along his jaw, to his chin, pausing just under his lips. 

“Tell me what?”

Ursa had never paid close attention to Iroh’s lips. His mouth frequently conveyed how he was feeling, with twitching and pursing that showed his amusement or lack of. But with how relaxed he was now, his lips themselves were fuller than she’d realized, and they were oddly welcoming in the pale light of the moon. She wondered how they felt.

“I forgive you,” she murmured, hardly remembering what had brought that thought to her dozy mind as she traced along his bottom lip.

“Oh,” he breathed, the motion almost like a kiss against her curious thumb. “I…I’m glad to hear that. Is…that all?” 

It wasn’t, but Ursa didn’t know how to put words to everything else inside her. Instead, her hand left his lips and satisfied another guilty urge: burying itself in his soft, wavy hair. The ocean crash in the background made remembering why this was a bad idea difficult, or maybe that was just her own heartbeat filling her head. The cool sea breeze urged her to just ignore that confusion and pull Iroh’s familiar warmth closer, heavy eyes sliding shut as he tenderly cupped her cheek and the smoky sandalwood of him enveloped her. 

“Ursa…” 

His nose brushing against hers startled her out of her trance. She froze, prompting Iroh to tense as well. What were they doing?

After a moment, he pulled away from her. In the absence of whatever had been swirling between them, a painfully awkward silence took its place. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, placing her now-trembling hand over her heart, blinking her eyes open to determinedly look at the sky. Focusing on the stars usually helped when she felt this shaken up, but it wasn’t calming the erratic beating in her chest.

“No, I’m sorry. You have nothing to apologize for.” His voice was formal again, no trace of the intimacy with which he’d said her name a moment ago. “It’s been a long day, and a long night now as well. Let’s get some rest.”

“Iroh, I really-”

“Ursa,” he cut her off. “It’s okay. I told you, I want it to be real.”

“It was,” she said quickly. “I do forgive you. I meant that.”

“I’m not just talking about your forgiveness.”

His meaning hung in the air, unspoken. The stars looked too bright, the sky too clear, for the storm that was raging inside Ursa now.

“Come on,” he stood, extending a hand to her. “You’re starting to shiver. I’ll build you a fire, make you some tea, get you warmed up. Did anyone tell you about the hot tub in the beach house?”

There Iroh went again, overcompensating to make her feel better and somehow holding her at arm’s length in the process. “No, but that might be good for next time,” she replied, allowing him to help her up.

“Of course. Between the beach and the theater, we’ll have lots to do next time.”

Ursa gave the ocean one final look. The moonlight continued to ripple across the waves, looking unchanged from before she and Iroh had ventured down in the darkness to test the shallow depths. She wondered what it would feel like - if she would be ready - to dive in next time.

Chapter Text

I’m an idiot.

“Iroh,” Korzu’s voice cut into his thoughts.

I’m the biggest idiot to be born into the royal family in seven generations. Except Ozai.

“Iroh, don’t tell me you’re thinking about it again.”

“Of course I’m thinking about it again!” Iroh leaned against the ship’s railing with a sigh. “I can’t believe I almost-”

“The important thing is that you didn’t go too far, right?”

He wasn’t sure. Remembering Ember Island - Ursa’s slim fingers delicately mapping his face and threading through his hair, the salt air and her chrysanthemum perfume dancing around them - made him fear that he’d gotten carried away with it all. Of course she hadn’t been tenderly drawing him closer for a moonlit first kiss, and of course her eyes hadn’t fluttered shut in preparation for their lips to meet. How stupid could he get, caressing her cheek like a lover? How foolish did she think he was?

“Hey, snap out of it.” Korzu elbowed him. “You’re overthinking.”

“Extremely rich for you to tell me I’m overthinking.”

“Whenever I get married, I promise I’ll overthink twice as much to compensate.” He waited for Iroh to smile before continuing. “Come on, you were both tired, you’d just come from a very romantic play, and the beach at night is…special. There probably was something between you two that got a bit misinterpreted. You immediately apologized, and things have been fine. Don’t linger on it.”

Iroh grunted, watching the horizon instead of his friend. There were a few clouds gathering, but not enough to worry about it interfering with the journey.

“Besi-ides,” Korzu said in a sing-song voice, “she’s about to meet your grandparents. They’ll definitely like her, and she’ll like them too. It’ll be good for you both.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“I can count the number of people who don’t get along with your grandparents on one hand. And Senlin Island’s a lovely place, especially at this time of year. Just let things be, and I’m sure you both will have a relaxing time over the next few days here.”

“You just like Senlin because it’s so sparsely populated.” Frankly, the only reason Senlin Island remained part of the condensed Autumn Festival route was because it was home to the late Fire Lady’s parents. 

“Maybe, but you know what? I bet Ursa will too.”

As Senlin appeared on the horizon, Iroh hoped Korzu was right.

Ursa, cont.

Ah, Senlin Island. A brief spot of peace sandwiched between the emotional turmoil of Ember Island and the dangers that came…after. My wish that I had idly expressed to Piandao - to know Iroh better, to know his past better - was granted here, when I met the non-royal side of his family. 

Of course, having my wish granted only added to the conflict inside me. If I’d wanted a friend before, I was desperate for a friend of my own now, so I could seek advice for the romantic quagmire I’d never found myself in before: was it possible that I had feelings for two men? And was it right for me to hold one of those men - my husband - at arm’s length because he was the one I’d met second?

My feelings for Iroh were difficult to untangle. His solid strength made me feel safe, something I needed after Tiron. His curiosity, kindness, and sense of humor were so charmingly sweet I couldn’t help being drawn to him. But what I was experiencing wasn’t ”real” enough for Iroh’s standards. He wanted something I wasn’t ready to give, not when so much of me was still worrying about Ikem, and I knew his pride would be wounded by any half-formed substitutes. 

It felt like an untenable conflict. I’d agreed to marry Ikem, I’d wanted to marry Ikem, and even though that marriage would never come to pass, I still felt like I was betraying him by feeling anything for Iroh. How could I lie next to Iroh each night and lose myself in the warmth of his embrace when, for all I knew, a heartbroken Ikem was still lost in Forgetful Valley because of Iroh’s presence in my life? Yet how could I place another man over my husband in direct contradiction of my wedding vows?

No matter what I did, I felt like I was betraying a man I cared about, and there was no one who I could trust to guide me through those feelings. The closest I had to genuine advice was what Avatar Roku had said to me, the words that continued to echo in my dreams even as he failed to return and explain himself further: remember our family, and keep an open heart.

“It’s not that funny,” Iroh whispered as he helped Ursa off the ship.

“It’s very funny,” she retorted. “Your grandparents run a tea plantation. Your mother’s family made its money off tea. It explains everything about you.”

“It explains at most one-third about me. My grandparents both had successful careers in the capital before deciding to retire and oversee the family business. It’s not like tea’s my family’s defining trait.”

“That’s exactly what it’s like.”

“If it amuses you to believe that, fine.” The smile on his lips clashed with his dismissive words. “But you’re wrong.” 

Ursa giggled, before breathing in the cool air of Senlin. Located to the north of the capital and Ember Island, the small isle boasted lush fields of tea leaves fed by mountain springs and rich soil. “This place feels peaceful,” she said. “You must have loved visiting as a boy.”

“Not just as a boy.” 

“So you know all the good spots. You’ll have to show me.”

“My grandparents are very enthusiastic hosts. They’ll show you before I have a chance.” He held an arm out to her. “Ready to meet them?”

Although everyone had spoken very highly of Iroh’s grandparents, including Yuna who was coincidentally from Senlin, Ursa’s stomach still twisted. These were the parents of the Fire Lady, the woman Ursa was compared to at every turn. What would happen if they met her and found her to be a poor successor to their daughter? Would that change Iroh’s opinion of her? He thankfully hadn’t been too strange after that awkward moment on Ember Island, but surely there was only so much he could tolerate. 

“Of course,” she lied, linking arms with him. “I’m looking forward to it.”

Iroh’s grandparents lived in a hilltop mansion with an ocean view, straight out of a storybook. Thankfully, they were waiting to greet Iroh and Ursa at the bottom of said hill.

“There’s my grandson!” A man who looked somewhat like the older version of Iroh she’d seen in the tunnels - if old Iroh were shorter and rounder with whiter hair and darker eyes - approached with open arms. “And the granddaughter-in-law I’ve been so eagerly waiting to meet. Princess Ursa,” he bowed deeply, pink robes brushing the ground. “What a shame your wedding was cut short before we could speak, but I’m honored to be in your presence now and welcome you to Senlin Island. I am retired General Lu Ten, and this is my wife Lihua, former Headmistress of the Royal Fire Academy for Girls.” 

“Princess,” Iroh’s grandmother, taller and leaner than her husband, bowed in greeting as well. As she straightened up, it occurred to Ursa that she had Iroh’s smile. “It’s wonderful to have you here. Please, you must tell us how my mule-headed grandson convinced a beauty like yourself to marry him.”

“Granny,” Iroh said quietly while Ursa forced a polite laugh. She didn’t think his grandparents would enjoy hearing the true story behind their engagement.

“I’m just teasing, sweetheart. Of course you’re a catch.” Lihua wrapped Iroh up in an embrace. “Oh, I can’t believe I’m old enough for you to be married! It feels like just last week you were toddling around the beach with your mother.”

“To be fair, I am rather young to be married,” Iroh reminded her.

“Ah, well, the Fire Lord knows best about these things, hm? But do me a favor, you two, and don’t give me more great-grandchildren just yet. I’m not ready to feel quite that old.”

Lu Ten nodded in agreement with his wife. “We feel fifty most of the time until the young ones show up and remind us otherwise. Now come along. Princess Ursa deserves a tour before the party begins.”

The group was accosted at the front door of the mansion by a very pregnant woman. “Iroh!” she sang out. “Have you missed your favorite cousin?”

“Kai Ming?” Iroh delicately embraced her. “Aren’t you supposed to be on bed rest?”

“Please, I couldn’t miss this. Princess Ursa,” she turned and awkwardly saluted, freckled face flashing a winning smile, “forgive me for not being able to bow. I am Kai Ming, daughter of Fire Lady Ilah’s older sister Cyrah. It’s wonderful to meet you.”

“The honor is mine, Kai Ming. A warm welcome is far more meaningful than a bow. How is your pregnancy?”

“Put briefly, exhausting. I’m having twins; it was the whole reason I wasn’t able to attend my little cousin’s wedding.”

Iroh scoffed. “Kai Ming, I’m married now, and you’re only six years older than me. The ‘little cousin’ thing is getting old.”

“You should grow a little taller before puffing out your chest.” Kai Ming straightened her back so she matched Iroh’s height, clearly having inherited Lihua’s stature. HIs cheeks reddened. 

“Kai Ming,” Ursa interrupted the small spat. “Is the rest of your family here as well?”

“My husband is at sea, but my parents and older sister are here and excited to meet you. I’m simply the most excited, of course.” She lowered her voice secretively. “Tell me, did Iroh catch your attention with a fire rose? Because I taught him that, and I’d like the credit.”

“No? What’s a fire rose?” 

Kai Ming raised her eyebrows at Iroh, who turned redder. “It’s just a party trick,” he stammered. “I’ll show you later, if you like.”

Lu Ten and Lihua’s mansion was filled with balconies and large windows, welcoming the cool mountain air that carried in the scent of the ocean and tea plants. The walls were cheerfully adorned with fresh flowers and bright oil paintings. Enchanted by the views both inside and out, Ursa found herself smiling widely while the grandparents chattered about their history in the mansion, Kai Ming having stayed behind to rest her swollen feet.

“We both grew up on Senlin, but it was about a year before Iroh was born that we decided to come back,” Lihua reflected. “With our youngest daughter married and the older ones already having their own children, we figured it was time. Especially since Lu Ten was getting tired of the war room, it didn’t make sense to keep going on in the capital.”

“The family mansion had been sitting empty for a few years after my older brother gave his life to the war, so sprucing it up again was a wonderful retirement activity. Of course, we just barely got it done before this one showed up.” Lu Ten clasped Iroh’s shoulder. “So it didn’t really matter, seeing as once he got the hang of his fire he was wreaking havoc all over the place anyway.”

“I never burned anything that didn’t deserve it,” Iroh defended himself. “Some of the decor in here used to be disgusting.”

The group drew to a stop in front of a family portrait. “This is one of my favorites,” Lu Ten remarked. “We had it done right after our oldest, Mynah, got engaged: one last portrait of just us and our girls.”

Ursa peered at the portrait curiously, not having seen many images of her late mother-in-law. A younger Lu Ten and Lihua were seated, their three daughters standing behind them. It was evident which one was Ilah: she was at the end next to her father, the only daughter who had inherited his looks, standing shorter and curvier than her older sisters. The smile that had been passed down from Lihua to Iroh was on her lips as well, and there was something in her round face that echoed her son’s kindness. 

“We have a few with Iroh too,” Lu Ten continued, “but they’re in storage somewhere since he put some scorch marks on them. He was never a fan of sitting for portraits.”

Ursa stage-whispered to Iroh, “How old were you when you started firebending?”

“Hmm…maybe two or three? I don’t really remember discovering it.”

“Is that normal?”

“No,” Lihua cut in. “Iroh was very much a prodigy. Most children don’t start actively firebending until they’re four or five. Ozai even took until he was six; terribly late by the royal family’s standards, but not unusual in the grand scheme of things.”

“Darling,” Lu Ten quickly shushed, “you know Iroh doesn’t like us talking about Ozai.”

Lihua immediately looked both horrified and apologetic. “Ah, I’m sorry sweetheart. Come on, let’s go see if lunch is ready.”

What was that about? Ursa nudged Iroh with a curious frown, but he just shook his head, face having gone tight. Maybe he would tell her when they were alone.

Lunch was indeed ready, and the array of guests joining them for the meal made Ursa instinctively press herself closer to Iroh’s side. Even though she’d studied these people in her preparations for the festival, it was still overwhelming to see them in person. Lady Ilah’s oldest sister Mynah was in the colonies, but the second sister Cyrah had come with her husband, Sen, and her two daughters, Qian Lu and Kai Ming. Qian Lu was still single despite being the older sister, but Kai Ming was married to her childhood sweetheart Ru, a newly-promoted captain in the Fire Navy. 

Memorizing the family tree had made Ursa’s head spin, but Kai Ming and her husband had stuck out. For one thing, she was relatively certain Kai Ming was in fact Iroh’s favorite cousin based on Yuna’s rundown of the maternal family, and for another, Ursa was a bit jealous of the older woman’s childhood love story that had actually come to fruition. 

Of course, the family tree didn’t account for the handful of noble families on Senlin that had also descended on the grandparents’ mansion to greet the new princess and enjoy the Autumn Festival. “Princess Ursa, it’s an honor,” each new face smiled and bowed as they entered the grand dining hall, quickly blending together. Ursa mechanically smiled back and nodded politely, simply focusing on making sure she didn’t offend anyone while Iroh handled most of the chit-chat. Clearly, he knew these people quite well after spending childhood summers on Senlin.

Still, she wasn’t prepared for the way her husband stiffened when a young woman who introduced herself as Jade bowed before them. “I’m honored to meet you, Princess Ursa, and to see you again, Prince Iroh,” Jade spoke in a sweet, lilting voice that made Ursa feel like a commoner again. Her eyes were a unique hazel that seemed to change colors each time she blinked. “It’s a wonder to witness your swiftly joyful union. Royal love is truly unique.”

There was something bubbling beneath the surface of her polite comments that was clearly putting Iroh on edge as he replied, “Jade, I didn’t realize you were back at Senlin. Thank you for your kind words. I look forward to hearing how the past year has treated you.”

Ursa could tell he didn’t mean it. Who is that, she wanted to ask as Jade moved towards her seat, but another couple was approaching to introduce themselves. One more thing for she and Iroh to discuss once they were alone. 

Spirits, how was it she already had a list of things to discuss and they hadn’t even made it through lunch?

“Princess,” Kai Ming whispered as Ursa slid into the seat between her and Iroh. “May I ask, what did Jade say?”

Ursa quickly glanced to her right at Iroh, who was caught up in a conversation with his grandmother. He wouldn’t be listening.

“Nothing remarkable,” Ursa replied in a tone that she hoped came across as unbothered. “She paid her respects to our marriage. What prompts you to ask?”

Kai Ming blinked, looking a bit surprised. “Did my little cousin not tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

Her cheeks flushed. “Well, you know, don’t pay a pregnant woman’s ramblings any mind. Now, what has been your favorite part of the festival so far?”

Ursa was ready to insist Kai Ming tell her what was going on with Jade, but Iroh turned his attention back to her and gently touched her right elbow. “How are you holding up?” he asked. “Is your arm doing okay?”

“Same as ever,” she replied with a weak smile. Her arm didn’t hurt, but it was still unresponsive from the elbow down. “But I’m holding up fine. With all the left-handed tasks I’ve been doing, I’ll be ambidextrous by the time my arm heals.” 

“Do you want to be ambidextrous?”

“Absolutely. I think that would be a very useful ability.”

He grinned in that easy way that made Ursa’s face warm. “Well, I’ll try to make sure your left hand gets enough practice then. Tell me if you need help? Korzu’s just a few chairs down as well.”

“Of course.”

Lunch was a mellow enough affair, as Iroh’s family were just as easy to converse with as Iroh himself. But even as she laughed at their jokes and delighted in stories about Iroh’s childhood, she couldn’t help feeling hypersensitive to Jade's presence at the other end of the dining hall. Jade was elegantly assured of herself as she ate, a noblewoman comfortable in this life she’d been born to, in direct contrast with Ursa still sneaking glances at those around her to make sure she didn’t accidentally commit an error of etiquette. The way Jade laughed - just enough to draw attention to herself, but not enough to overpower others - was the kind of ideally royal behavior Ursa had yet to master. 

Suddenly, Jade met her curious eyes. If she was surprised, she didn’t show it, smiling in a perfectly pleasant fashion. Ursa offered a strained smile in return, quickly glancing away. She’d been caught staring at a woman who she was increasingly certain had some history with Iroh. How would that make her look? 

“Princess Ursa,” Lu Ten spoke to her once again as servers presented cups of chai to all the guests, “I must say, I’m fascinated that you selected chai as the Autumn Festival’s tea for this year. What inspired your decision?”

“My official reasoning was celebrating our progress in the war and including our colonial citizens in the festival this year. But to be honest, General, I simply liked it best.”

Lu Ten laughed. “I appreciate your honesty. Mynah is also a lover of chai, so she was elated by your choice. It appears you’ve reached your goal of including the colonies.”

“I’m glad to hear it, and I hope I’m able to meet Mynah someday. But since your family are the tea experts, please tell me, how do you feel about chai?”

“Oh, I adore it. I absolutely agree with your reasoning about our progress in the war, Princess. That’s the whole reason the war exists, in my view: for us to share our greatness with the world, yes, but also to reap the world’s greatness in return.”

Ursa couldn’t help raising her eyebrows at that; she’d heard the line about sharing the nation’s greatness many times in school, but never anything about the rest of the world’s greatness. “What do you mean?”

“It’s like this, Princess,” Lihua continued her husband’s explanation now. “Chai would not exist if not for the brewing techniques of the Earth Kingdom, and it doesn’t stop there. The construction and architecture of the Earth Kingdom is unmatched since they can manipulate the earth itself into whatever structure they desire. At the Royal Fire Academy, we teach chi-blocking, a technique that developed out of the Air Nation’s understanding of chi and nerve systems in the body. The Water Tribes boast the greatest healers of the world, using their element itself to knit the body back together. If the Fire Nation can take all the strengths of these other nations and unite them into common good, we would usher a new age of harmony and technological advancement into the world.”

Lu Ten nodded in agreement. “Fire is the superior element, of course. Why else would we be able to conjure it at will where the other nations can’t? But that doesn’t mean the others don’t have any value. We just need the war to do away with these pesky borders and political divides between us so that value can be enjoyed by everyone in the world.”

“You’ll forgive us if this talk sounds a little unorthodox, Princess,” Iroh’s aunt Cyrah spoke from the other side of the table. “My parents have always been more globally minded than the capital nobility. It stems from Senlin’s history; before the war, our family was one of the most famed suppliers of tea in the world. Now we’re limited to the Fire Nation, but my father still dreams of restoring our former glory.”

“Too true,” Lu Ten sighed sadly. “Some day, the Earth Kingdom will know the taste of our family’s tea leaves again. Likely once our boy Iroh breaks through the walls of Ba Sing Se.”

“Ba Sing Se?” Ursa inquired, glancing at Iroh. “Is that your plan?”

“It’s what he’s destined to do, of course,” Kai Ming chimed in. “Honestly, Iroh, haven’t you told your wife anything ?”

Frankly, Ursa was starting to wonder the same thing. Iroh, who’d been rather quiet during this whole conversation, made a sort of scoffing sound. “I had a dream about bringing down Ba Sing Se as a boy. Everyone on both sides of my family believes it was a vision even though I’d just learned about Ba Sing Se in class that day. I hardly think that counts as destiny.”

“Perhaps the dream alone doesn’t, but practically speaking, who can conquer Ba Sing Se besides you?” Lu Ten pressed. “The Fire Lord has withdrawn from combat, yet the Earth Kingdom capital still stands. No one but his heir can lead the army in such a crucial mission.”

“Come now, dearest. Don’t pester him with military talk. He comes here for a break from those things.” Lihua rubbed her husband’s shoulder affectionately. “How about this? Once we’re done with lunch, we’ll be moving the party outside. We can continue the tour out there so Princess Ursa can see the grounds. Iroh tells us you’re rather fond of gardens and nature.”

“I am,” Ursa said, flashing a brief, grateful smile at Iroh. “That sounds like a lovely plan, thank you.”

They’d barely stepped out of the mansion for the grounds tour when Kai Ming was tugging Iroh away from Ursa and their grandparents to duck behind a hedge for a private conversation. A memory of playing hide and explode in similar fashion rippled through him before he glared at his cousin.

“What is going on with you? You’re doing an awful lot of pushing me around for someone who’s supposed to be on bed rest.”

“For Agni’s sake, if you’re that concerned, I’ll go lie down after this. Tell me something, though: did you not know Jade was going to be here?”

Recalling how passive-aggressively his ex-girlfriend had greeted him and Ursa made Iroh wince. “No, of course not. I didn’t even realize she’d come back from the colonies. We haven’t exactly been in touch.”

Kai Ming sucked in her cheeks and blew them out. “So you didn’t warn Ursa about her.”

“No- oh, spirits, what did you do?” he demanded as he recognized the guilty look on her face.

“I didn’t realize she didn’t know! It’s not my fault. And all I did was ask what Jade said, so it’s not that bad. Still, any princess is smart enough to put two and two together, so you should maybe talk to her about Jade before she draws her own conclusions.” 

“Talk to her and say what?” Iroh asked. “Jade was just a girlfriend. Ursa’s my wife.”

“Well, you should tell that to the look you got on your face when you saw Jade.”

“You don’t think I-”

“Of course not. I’d slap you if I thought you did. But Ursa doesn’t know everything, and if she saw what I saw, she probably thinks you do. You noticed she spent quite a lot of her meal glancing at Jade, right?”

He had indeed noticed it, even though he didn’t know exactly what to make of it. “Yeah. Fine, you’re right. I’ll talk to her at some point.”

Kai Ming nodded, turning back to the mansion. “Oh,” she called over her shoulder as she went, “don’t forget to give her a fire rose as well. Your wife of all people should get one.”

Sometimes, Iroh forgot how lucky he was to have his cousins.

“There you are, Iroh,” his grandfather greeted as he caught up with the trio again. “I was just saying your wife seems like a sencha lady, and she told me you’d already introduced her to it at your wedding. Your intuition for tea is getting better each year.”

“You really consider yourself a sencha lady?” Iroh asked Ursa. “Even though you got sick that night?”

“Well…I do still like it, now that I can drink it without throwing up. But I suppose I prefer herbal teas over the traditional tea plant.”

“A good herbal tea has its place,” his grandmother nodded in agreement. “Chrysanthemum, for instance, always helped Iroh sleep.”

“Chrysanthemum’s my favorite as well. My mother grows them.”

“Oh, you must see our flower garden then,” Granny said at once. “The chrysanthemums are lovely this time of year.”

Here was Iroh’s opportunity. While he technically wasn’t making her a fire rose, he thought to himself that she would like this better as he discreetly slipped a few of her favorite yellow and pink chrysanthemums up his sleeve.

“...and these are the jasmines we use to make Iroh’s favorite jasmine tea,” Lu Ten was pointing out to an eagerly listening Ursa. “The chrysanthemums are-”

“Right here.” With a burst of yellow flame, Iroh conjured the bouquet in his hands and presented it to Ursa, ignoring the way his grandparents chuckled and applauded to focus on her reaction. 

Her eyebrows raised and lips parted slightly in that endearingly familiar expression, before a small smile came across her face. “Oh…is this the party trick that gets you all the girls?” 

“Something like that,” he confirmed, not enjoying the way she’d worded it. “What do you think?”

“It’s…flashy,” she replied in an oddly quiet voice as she accepted the bouquet with her good hand. “The flowers are really lovely.”

That wasn’t what Iroh had been expecting. Maybe this conversation about Jade was more important than he’d thought. 

Still, it wasn’t until much later, after the fanfare and the festivities were done and the couple was free to retire for the night, that the opportunity to talk presented itself. 

“Long day, hm?” Iroh awkwardly attempted to break the ice that had somehow formed as they walked towards their room. “How are you feeling?”

“A little overwhelmed, I guess. Your family’s very nice. I liked meeting them.”

“Good. They were excited to meet you as well.”

“I could tell. I appreciated it, though. I felt like…they actually wanted to know me, not just make a good impression on the princess.”

“That’s one of the perks of being related to the Fire Lady: the rest of the royal family becomes your family as well,” Iroh grinned, before pushing open the bedroom door. “Anyway, here we are. My mother’s old room.”

“This was her room?” Ursa asked, blinking a little sleepily as she took it in. It didn’t look too different from a palace bedroom - four-poster bed, tall windows, the flowers he’d given her sitting on the nightstand in a vase - but this room was decorated in more yellow and green rather than shades of red, and boasted a balcony to take in the view better.

“Yup. I always slept in here with her when we visited, and then I just kept staying here after she passed, so now it’s pretty much my room, I suppose.”

“Where does Ozai stay, then?” 

The question caught him off-guard, as focused as he’d been on the Jade issue. “Uh…usually in one of the guest rooms. He doesn’t come here that often.”

“Is that because you don’t like your grandparents talking about him?” she asked, frowning a little as she recalled his grandmother’s slip of the tongue. “What does that even mean?”

Dragonshit. He wanted to talk about this even less than he wanted to talk about Jade. 

“Well, it’s…” he faltered. “Um…”

“Forget it. Don’t tell me. Maybe Kai Ming or your grandparents can instead.”

“What?”

She shook her head, mumbling something about just being tired. Iroh didn’t believe it.

“Ursa, did I do something wrong again?” he asked a little pleadingly, closing the door so they could have some privacy. “Whatever it is, I’m sorry, just…can you tell me what it is?”

“How can you be sorry if you don’t know what it is?”

“Because you’re upset, and I’ll always be sorry for upsetting you unnecessarily. Please, what did I do?” 

 The little crinkle between her eyebrows vanished, and now she did look very tired. “I don’t think you did anything,” she said quietly. “Being here just makes me feel…”

“Feel what?”

“Can we sit down first?”

“Yeah, yeah, of course.” What was he doing, keeping her on her feet needlessly? 

Ursa sank onto the mattress with a sigh. “It’s difficult to explain,” she began once Iroh settled himself to her right. “I was finally starting to feel kind of…normal?...as a princess. But being here makes me realize that I don’t know anything.”

“What do you mean? You’ve been doing great.”

“No, I’m doing fine, after trying so hard every minute every day. There’s still so much I’m missing about…about this life. About you. And you don’t even seem to want to tell me any of it.”

“Ursa, I’ll tell you anything you want. You want to hear about Ozai and my grandparents? I’ll tell you about that. I hesitated because…it doesn’t make me look great.”

“How bad could it be?”

A weight settled in his stomach. He and Ursa had been getting along rather well lately, barring the awkwardness on Ember Island; he wasn’t ready for that to end once she saw this side of him. “Pretty bad.”

She studied him, a sort of sleepy curiosity on her face, before scooting towards the head of the bed and curling up against a pillow. “You don’t want to tell me.”

“I don’t want you to think differently of me,” he sighed. “The truth is, I used to be really awful to Ozai. When my father told me that my mother was gone, he also told me it was the new baby that had killed her. And I believed him, of course, because he was my father so…well, I was nasty to Ozai. And that lasted much, much longer than I care to admit.”

“So, your grandparents…”

“My father and I both didn’t let Ozai visit Senlin very often. My father pretty much forbade it on the grounds that my grandparents shouldn’t be forced to spend time with their daughter’s killer, and whenever they were able to see us both, I threw awful tantrums until they stopped trying to include Ozai. He’s not nearly as close with the family as I am thanks to that. And they really want to be close with him too. I got in the way.”

He couldn’t bring himself to meet Ursa’s eyes although he could feel them trained on him. “Do you regret it?” she asked softly.

“Of course I do. My father was blinded by grief, and I followed him down that path. All Ozai did was be born. Even if he’s an annoying little shit, he didn’t deserve to be deemed a murderer.”

“Did you ever tell Ozai that?”

That made him peer up at her. “No. No, I don’t think that would be well-received. He’s just barely started to trust me again.”

The frown on her face made his heart clench. Was this the part where she decided he was horrible, and everything between them was destroyed?

“You were five,” she said finally. “Your mother had just died, and your father told you it was your new baby brother’s fault. I don’t know what I would have done if that was me.”

“I think you would’ve opened your eyes a bit sooner.”

“Maybe, but who knows?” Ursa sat up straight and placed her good hand on his shoulder. “What matters is what you’re doing now that you feel regret. I’ve seen how you and Ozai act. I never would’ve imagined you’d once shared your father’s view on him if you hadn’t told me. And Ozai is only fourteen. There’s time for you to be better.”

“Do you really think so?” 

“Of course. There’s always time for people to be better. That’s what my mom always says, at least.”

“I guess I can’t disagree with your mom.” Iroh leaned back on the pillows next to her with a sigh. “So, what else do you want to know?”

Ursa withdrew her hand, suddenly looking nervous. “That woman, Jade…”

“I figured you would ask about her,” he said quickly. “I courted her for about a year and a half, then I ended it after the last Autumn Festival. It was a rather nasty split. I hadn’t spoken to her since until today. I had no idea she was back at Senlin, or I would’ve warned you.”

“I see.” Ursa drew her knees up in front of her, still looking rather insecure. Iroh knew he shouldn’t be finding that pose adorable. “Why…did it end?”

“She hated tea.”

His little joke worked: a surprised giggle burst out of her, the shine returning to her eyes. “Did she actually?”

“Well, she didn’t love it,” Iroh grinned back at her. “No, she started talking about getting married. She wanted to come on the Autumn Festival journey with me because ‘it would be her job someday anyway.’ It made me pretty uncomfortable, so I ended things after the festival was over.”

“So…you didn’t want to marry her.”

“No, I didn’t. I told her we were too young to be considering our courtship so seriously. She disagreed, but that’s not my concern.” Iroh didn’t tell her the rest of it: how Jade had snapped at him that she’d never loved him anyway, and the only reason any woman would put up with a too-short, tea-loving kook like him was to be Fire Lady.

“If you’d known you would’ve ended up married to a village girl only a year later, would you have given her more consideration?”

“Absolutely not. I like you much better.”

“Is that so?”

Suddenly self-conscious of what he’d just said, Iroh felt his face warm. “Yes.”

Ursa smiled. “Well, now I don’t feel as jealous anymore.”

“You were jealous?”

It was her turn to blush. “Maybe a little…” she murmured, hiding her face in her knees. “Is that okay?”

“Sure. I like you being jealous.” At least he wasn’t the only jealous one anymore. “Anything else you want to know about?”

“The fire rose trick,” she perked up at once. “Show me again. I can’t figure out how it works.”

“Ah, you have to look closely. Watch my hands instead of the fire.” Iroh reached over to the nightstand to pluck a flower out of the bouquet from earlier, purposefully slowing his movements so it would be easier for Ursa to follow. “Ready?”

“Mm-hmm.”

This time, he produced a smaller yellow flame, allowing himself to be a little more obvious about pulling the flower out of his sleeve. “Got it?”

“With one flower, sure, but how do you manage a bouquet?”

“Bigger flame, quicker wrists,” he shrugged. “Do you like it? You didn’t seem too impressed earlier.”

“I do, I’m sorry if that wasn’t clear.” She took the flower from him and sniffed it, cheeks pink again. “It just made me think…how odd it was that I’m your wife, but I never got courted by you.”

Iroh frowned. “Do you wish I’d courted you?”

“I don’t know,” she sighed. “It probably wouldn’t have made anything better when we first met, seeing as neither of us had a choice. But lately, I’ve been feeling…like I want that? Maybe it's jealousy, knowing you courted other women first. Is that silly?”

“No, of course not. But, Ursa, you know you’re far more important to me than any other woman, right?”

The petals of the flower brushed against her cheek as she hit her face in it. “Yeah…”

“That being said, if you want me to court you now, I’d be honored. Consider the bouquet the start of it.”

“Alright,” she smiled, before holding the flower out to him. “Put this back in the vase for me? I’m going to change clothes.” 

Iroh waited for her to slip into the dressing room before adjusting her flowers on the nightstand and quickly changing his own sleepwear. Then, he nudged open the balcony door and strode outside, feeling himself relax as he took in the sight of his family island. Leaning on the railing, he breathed in the cool mountain air while the ocean pushed against the cliffs in the distance and the stars danced in the sky. This was one of his favorite views in the world; if he closed his eyes as the breeze brushed over him, he could almost feel his mother combing his hair as she told him stories about the spirits of these islands. 

“What are you looking at?” Ursa appeared at his side, dressed in her nightgown. 

“Just the view.” Iroh shifted over so she could peer out as well. “I love the way Senlin looks at night.”

“It is beautiful,” she agreed. “We’re staying here for a few days, right?”

“Four. Any fewer, and my grandparents would be inconsolable.”

“Well, I’m glad. Being on the road - and the ocean - all the time was starting to get to me.”

“Me as well. That’s why the festival usually stops here for a few days before going on, so I can take a little break around the halfway mark. Plus, there’s lots to do in these parts.”

“Like what?”

“Here, I’ll show you one of my favorites. Do you see, off to the northwest, that little island hiding on the horizon? It’s barely visible.”

For a moment, Ursa squinted out into the distance. “Not really,” she finally admitted. “What is it?”

“It’s the Sun Warriors’ island. It used to be anyway, but now it holds the remnants of their civilization.”

“The Sun Warriors? Like, the first firebenders?”

“The same. They were primitive, sure, but incredibly connected to the spiritual side of firebending. I’ve been there during the past few Autumn Festivals to poke around the ruins. It’s amazing stuff. But do you want to know the most interesting part?”

“What?” Ursa leaned towards him, eyes sparkling.

“Sometimes, people see strange lights coming off the highest mountains of that island. Some think it’s the sun. Some think it’s spirits. Some think it’s a dragon, possibly the last dragon left.”

“Wow.”

“I know.”

“You’ve been out there. What do you think?”

“If there’s a dragon or spirits making noise, they’ve never done anything to me,” he shrugged. “It’s likely just the sun.”

“Still…that is fascinating. The ruins of a civilization. It must be something to see.” Ursa peered back out at the sea with clear admiration. “Are you planning to visit it this year?”

“No, I couldn’t leave you here to wander off to some island.”

“Why would you leave me?” she challenged. “Couldn’t I come with you?”

He raised his eyebrows. “Do you want to visit?”

“Do you not want me to?”

“I didn’t say that. Full disclosure, though, there are some booby traps scattered around the ruins. But if you’d really like to see it, I know the safe spots. I’ve cleared out a lot of the traps in my past visits.”

“Now, the booby traps make it sound very fascinating,” Ursa smiled at him. “I trust you to keep me safe. You know that.”

The simple declaration took his breath away. She trusted him, even after how he’d let her down with Tiron. He couldn’t disappoint her again.

“Let’s visit tomorrow, then?” he suggested. “We can leave first thing in the morning and be back in the evening.”

“Okay. Ooh!” Her face lit up with an idea. “We can pack lunches and have a picnic on the island. That would be fun.”

“Yeah,” he grinned, her excitement drawing him in as well, “and we can watch the sunset from the ship on the way back. It looks beautiful when you’re on the water.”

“And we can go down to see Senlin’s beach tomorrow night?”

His heart skipped a beat as he remembered the last time they’d been on a beach. “Sure. Whatever makes you happy.”

Her bright smile was interrupted by a yawn. “Gosh, look at me. I’m getting tired just making all these plans.”

“Come on, let’s go to bed.”

It was such a casually intimate thing to say, a dialogue from a sweetly domestic life that did not belong to Iroh, but he didn’t care. He allowed himself to indulge in the fantasy for exactly as long as it took for him to lie down, Ursa hesitating before settling herself a few inches away from his side.

“Can you tell me one more thing?“ she asked.

“Sure.”

“Are you really this warm all the time, or can you control it?”

“I can control it. Why, are you uncomfortable?”

“No, just curious. It seemed like it might be difficult for you to sleep in the summer if you were always this warm.” She paused before continuing, “Are you controlling it now?”

“A little,” he confessed, putting out the lamps in the room to hide his blush. “I’ve noticed you get cold pretty easily.”

“Oh, thanks. I do like to be warm,” she added shyly, before reaching for his left hand. Iroh gladly allowed her to take hold of it, delighting in how she traced across the scar on his palm before resting against his pulse at his wrist. Even though it was routine now, he couldn’t help loving it.

“You know, I used to sleep next to Piandao on overnight hikes with the academy, and I’d make it boiling in the room just to mess with him.”

Ursa giggled, before snuggling closer. ”How did he get back at you?”

“Slipped a huge spider-ant into my shoe.”

“Sounds like you deserved it,” she laughed again and finally settled with her head on his chest, so close it would be nothing at all for Iroh to just tilt his chin and ghost his lips across her hair. A whisper of a kiss. The idea was tempting enough for him to tighten his jaw and resolutely stare at the ceiling.

“Good night, Iroh,” she sighed, oblivious to his plight, the gentle puff of her breath on his chest like an autumn wind brushing his very spirit. 

“Good night, Ursa.”

It was a dream, really, to fall asleep with her in his arms like this. His wife. The woman he was courting, he reminded himself silently. It meant something, didn’t it, that she’d asked for that? As her breathing slowed, he decided not to think about it too hard. Jealousy or not, he was grateful for anything real she had to give him.

Chapter Text

Azulon III, cont.

Before delving into the next part of the story, both Iroh and Ursa included specific instructions that their recollections of the events on the Sun Warriors' Island (known to us now as Sun Island) should not be publicly shared until deemed fit by both the Avatar and the Fire Lord. Avatar Aang had begun openly discussing his own experiences on Sun Island before his death, which for the purposes of this record, his wife Master Katara agrees constitutes tacit approval on his part. Likewise, the Fire Lord's consent has also been obtained. Hence, we now proceed to one of the most closely-guarded secrets from the Hundred Year War: how Iroh won his title of Dragon, and what Ursa learned along the way.

Iroh easily leapt down from the small skiff that had carried them to Sun Warrior Island, using the anchor to pull it to shore on the small beach.

"Are you sure this is fine?" Ursa called out from the deck, a little nervous about the fact that it was just the two of them. "Won't the boat get stuck?"

"Nope. The engine's strong enough to push it back into the water. Worst case scenario, it stalls, and we have to wait a few hours for my grandparents to send backup." He grinned up at her. "If you're changing your mind, we can always turn back."

"Who said I'm changing my mind?" Ursa clumsily swung her legs over the edge of the boat, grateful to be in a tunic and leggings again. "Should I come join you?"

"Yes, toss the supply bag down to me and then jump. It's not too far."

Hoping he was right, Ursa obediently dropped the bag into his waiting arms before taking a deep breath and pushing herself off the edge. She stumbled as she hit the sand, Iroh quickly steadying her with his warm hands on her shoulders.

"All right?" he teased. "Feeling seasick at all?"

"I'm fine, thanks," she blushed, hoping she could pass it off as the late morning sun beating down on her.

"Let's get going, then." He slung the bag over his shoulder, waving off her protests that she could carry it. "It's a bit of a trek to the city, so just let me know if you need a break."

Ursa was determined to not need a break. This was her first real test since the incident with Tiron; Iroh had wanted to bring Korzu along on their little day trip, but she'd insisted that was unnecessary since she was feeling much better and wanted Korzu to have a break too. If she ended up struggling here, she would be back under near-constant medical supervision, which got annoying quickly even though she enjoyed Korzu's company.

Still, as she followed Iroh further inland, she felt a momentary shudder of apprehension. But none of that mattered when he turned and smiled, holding out a hand to help her hop over a small stream.

"All right?" he checked again, running his thumb over the back of her fingers before releasing her.

"Yes." There was a strange tingle of heat left behind from his touch. Ursa decided not to think about it.

Soon enough, they found the winding path leading uphill to two stone pillars that marked the entrance to the civilization. At the top, Ursa's breath was taken away by the gorgeously sculpted, but thoroughly abandoned, city of the Sun Warriors.

"Wow," she whispered, eyes drinking in the intricate carvings covered by vines and the proud pyramid rising at the center of the city. "You said these people were primitive."

"Primitive compared to us," he clarified. "But ahead of their time for sure. Look, if you examine some of the carvings, you'll find that they're much like the ones in Fire Sage temples. I bet these were the basis for our modern spiritual designs."

"I've never actually been to a temple. Not one of the fancy ones, at least."

"We'll have to visit one while we're traveling, then. They're not nearly as spiritual as they used to be, but they're still something to behold from an architectural standpoint."

"Which one is most impressive?" Ursa questioned. "I'd like to see that."

"Definitely Avatar Roku's," he said with a laugh, the words making her stiffen with shock. "Only the best for your family, hm? It's rather far east, on the way to Ma'inka. Maybe we can make a brief stop there."

Her grandfather's face appeared in her mind's eye. What would happen if she stepped foot in his temple? A wild idea took shape; would he be able to speak to her again if she went there? But how could she explore her connection to Roku with Iroh watching?

"When did you visit Avatar Roku's temple?" she asked, shoving those nerve wracking thoughts away as they began walking into the city.

"I went there after my father told me about the prophecy of our marriage. I wanted to see if the Avatar's power was really worth it even after he's been gone for decades."

"And what did you decide?"

"That there's no denying the power of the Avatar." He cast her an appreciative look. "Even the temple is otherworldly. Some of that comes from how strategically it's built, at the island's spiritual center, but I felt…a kind of presence there. The Sages say Avatar Roku carved parts of it out of the volcano himself, so he may have even infused it with his own energy to guide future Avatars."

Perhaps it would guide Ursa too, if she made her way there. "You must have been rather disappointed when you met the Avatar's nonbending granddaughter, then."

"No." A gentle touch to her arm prompted her to meet his eyes. "I wasn't pleased to be married, but your lack of bending never bothered me. I've got enough fire for both of us."

"Oh," Ursa smiled. "Well, lead the way, mighty firebending husband of mine."

"As Her Highness wishes," he laughed. "I'm just taking you down the central path of the city. I've been through it enough times to have cleared out all the traps, and when we reach the pyramid at the center, it'll have a great view for lunch. Sounds good?"

"Sounds great."

Despite her professed enthusiasm, Ursa couldn't help thinking that walking through this abandoned sandstone city alone would've been quite eerie; Iroh managing the trip by himself for years was astounding. She allowed her eyes to travel over the vine-covered architecture, drinking in the details as Iroh told her his knowledge and theories about the Sun Warriors. The traps he'd triggered over the years were primarily designed to catch clumsy, careless explorers, indicating a respect for intelligence and curiosity. Clearly, their civilization hadn't been entirely hostile to outsiders - just a certain type of one.

One particular stone mural caught her attention. "What is that?" she whispered, taking in the image of what appeared to be a Sun Warrior cornered by a dragon on each side, their fire consuming him.

"I'm not entirely sure, to be honest. Everything I know about the Sun Warriors indicates they worshipped the dragons as the original firebenders, so I don't understand why this mural depicts the dragons attacking them." Iroh's eyes roamed over the wall. "Of course, this probably isn't too far from what actually happened: human benders becoming too close to beasts and getting devoured by them. Maybe the Sun Warriors saw it coming somehow and accepted it as an honor."

Ursa shuddered. "I suppose…there are less honorable ways to die."

"Sure, but there's a difference between dying in combat with a dragon as opposed to simply taking it. I don't know," Iroh shook his head. "The Sun Warriors were the first firebenders in the world. They had a connection with the dragons and the origins of firebending unmatched by any civilization that came after, yet they were still wiped out by the same dragons. How could that have happened? It just doesn't make sense. And since the Sun Warriors and the dragons are both gone now, it never will."

His voice had taken on an oddly depressed tinge. Ursa leaned into his side. "You think about this a lot, don't you?"

"Not constantly or anything. Every now and then the Sun Warriors cross my mind, and I think that maybe there's a dragon left in the world I could see, and then I spend a few days terrorizing Master Qin in the library for information before a more current topic comes along." He smiled at her. "There's something a little more light-hearted that this place reminds me of, though."

"What?"

"A poem. It goes like this: In shadows of past / new roots take hold/ finding purchase in soil / nourished by old / bygones and watered / by memories made gold / in the sunrise until / a new story is told." Kneeling, he plucked a dandelion flowering out of a crack in the ground.

"That's lovely," Ursa told him. "I see how this place is like the poem; the foundation for something greater, gone now."

"You know, there's another poem I quite like that reminds me of you."

Her heart fluttered. "Really?"

"Do you want to hear it?"

"Of course."

"Gliding on a west wind / silhouetted in sunshine / A mystery to all but few / who've seen her wide eyes," Gently, he reached up to brush Ursa's hair behind her ear. "A blessing indeed for any man / to be trusted by a bird so wild." With a small flourish, he tucked the yellow flower into place.

"That makes you think of me?" Ursa asked, voice faltering as Tiron's voice calling her a "wild bird" suddenly echoed in her ears.

"Yes. Is that okay?" He pulled back hesitantly. "Or too much too soon in our little courtship?"

"No, it's…it's fine. Just, um…" Suddenly, Ursa felt nauseous. "Um…Tiron."

Iroh immediately straightened. "What about him?"

"He said something…kind of similar about me. He said a prince like you had no clue how to tame a wild bird."

"Ursa…" Iroh's warm hand gingerly cupped her face, and she realized she'd started to weep. "I'm so sorry I said anything that made you think of him. He's…spirits, I'm sorry."

"Was he right?"

"What are you talking about? He wouldn't know his ass from his face."

"No, I mean…" Ursa leaned into his touch as his thumb brushed away her tears. "Am I too wild…too unsophisticated…too irrational for you?"

"Never in a million years," he promised. "If you are a wild bird, I have no desire to tame you. Your 'wildness' is what I adore."

She laughed. "What you 'adore,' really?"

"Yeah." He pulled back again. "Is that fine?"

"I suppose, since you're courting me and all." Ursa wiped the remnants of the tears from her face, the wave of sorrowful fear gone as suddenly as it had come upon her. "Thank you."

"Hey, if you were a wild bird, which one would you be?"

"I don't know," Ursa said honestly. "Maybe a songbird of some kind?"

"No," Iroh tilted his head. "You'd be something with more fire. Like a phoenix."

"That's giving me too much credit."

"It's not. You're one of the most resilient people I know. And just as enchanting as a phoenix too."

"Have you ever seen a phoenix to know?"

"I don't need to. I've seen you."

His easy response made her turn away, toying with the flower behind her ear as a pretext for hiding her red face. Such a compliment surely called for a response in the same vein, but she couldn't find the words to match Iroh's literally poetic manner of speech.

"Do you really wish you could see a dragon?" she asked instead.

"I do."

"What would you do if you saw one?"

"My father would like for me to slay it. Family tradition: Sozin started the dragon hunts, Father continued them, and it's only fitting that I should end them by killing the last one, if it's not dead already."

Ursa had learned how to pick up the careful phrasing of Iroh expressing his father's wishes rather than his own. "But what would you do?"

He chuckled. "Honestly…before the dragon hunts, the royal family and nobility used to ride dragons as mounts."

"You'd want to ride one?"

"In a perfect world, sure. But the dragons returned to their wild nature after Sozin's Comet came; Sozin thought they'd maybe never been truly domesticated. If I found a dragon now, I would have to kill it, even if it would be a tragedy to wipe them out."

"What if…it was a baby dragon?" Ursa suggested playfully, noting the depressed tinge was returning to his voice.

"Well, I suppose we could keep it and train it in that case," he laughed. "Come on, we should keep moving if we want to be at the central pyramid by lunchtime."

"Okay." Ursa had never been great with affectionate words, but as they continued moving past the strange mural, she wound her arm through his. Iroh flashed her a smile, and they continued down the path in a comfortable silence.

This is nice, she thought to herself as more of the ancient city became visible. I never would've imagined myself traveling the country like this a few months ago. I'm grateful for all the places you've shown me outside of the festival. Once she'd practiced those lines a few times in her head, she prepared herself to open her mouth and say them out loud, but Iroh suddenly jerked to a stop.

"What is it?" she said instead, anxiety roaring to life at the small frown on his face.

"I need to check something out." He removed his arm from hers. "Stay here."

Keeping his gaze intently focused on the ground, he took a few steps forward even as Ursa tried and failed to find what had aroused his suspicion. Cautiously, he picked up a pebble and threw it ahead. The area where it landed dissolved into a yawning pit. Ursa gasped.

"That's so strange," Iroh muttered, more to himself than her. "I could've sworn I'd triggered that exact trap already, on my first trip here. How could it reset itself?"

"Maybe it's a duplicate?"

He hesitated, then nodded as he looked back at her. "Yes. I probably just got mixed up."

The casual words clashed with the tight worry in his face. Iroh was a master navigator, and on top of that, he was fascinated with the Sun Warrior civilization. This wasn't something he would mix up.

"Let's go," he said, urgency seeping into his voice. "It's not safe here if I don't have my bearings about me."

Before he could take a step towards her, fire shot up from the ground between them, forming a makeshift barrier. Ursa shrieked, instinctively turning away from the flames as the memory of Tiron's burning grip surged up from her subconscious.

"Ursa, run!"

The desperate cry pulled her out of her episode enough to register what was happening to Iroh. On his side of the fire wall, six men dressed in tribal attire had emerged to surround him. Two attacked at once, unleashing fire streams that he quickly redirected at the other warriors in the circle. He was fast, but he was trapped and dangerously outnumbered.

There was nothing Ursa could do for him right now. If she made it to the skiff, and somehow got back to Senlin by herself, she might be able to get help before it was too late. Knowing those facts was one thing; actually bringing herself to break out of her terror enough to leave Iroh here was another. Just as she finally convinced her petrified legs to run like he'd said, another wall of flames leapt up behind her, cutting off her escape.

Not just cutting it off, she realized with alarm, but drawing closer to her. She was sandwiched between two impenetrable fiery barricades, unable to do anything but shrink into herself as she stared at the slowly approaching burning wall.

"Leave her alone!" Iroh's voice, heavy with exhaustion but commanding all the same, echoed through the crackle of fire. "She's a nonbender, you cowards, leave her!"

"Surrender, then." A deep female voice, not one of the warriors, responded to Iroh's demand. Ursa peered over her shoulder, through the fire to see a figure standing atop one of the stone walls and surveying the scene. "We have no interest in hurting anyone we don't have to, Prince Iroh."

Did these people…know Iroh? Did he know them?

Whatever the answer, Iroh immediately lowered his hands. "Fine. I surrender."