I do not on ATLA (sigh)

Ursa's Secret is this:

She knows.

She knows that what is happening to her now is not love.

She knows it is domination.

She knows it is humiliation.

She knows this because she has been shown the difference.

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He was being kind to her and it made her nervous. He was conscientious of her and it set her teeth on edge. But the worst, the absolute worst what she saw in his eyes when he looked at her. That she could bear no longer.

"You feel sorry for me."

"I do not feel sorry for you. I feel for you."

"You are lying. You pity me. I can see it in your eyes."

Ursa watched as he placed his cup down on the low table. She was going against all tradition ruining the sacred peace of the tea ceremony by speaking aloud, by speaking of disharmony. When the general's eyes met her own she could not read his expression. His jaw was set and she was suddenly afraid that he would tell her husband of what she had said. Ursa did not blink nor did she turn away. Instead she began to do as she had always does. She looked through him, saw past him, emptied her mind and began to exit existence.

When Iroh's fingers brushed the back of her hand she flinched. She was shocked back into herself not by the touch itself but by its tenderness. A flooding warmth rushed up her wrist though her arm and settled into a mad restless fluttering within her chest. She could feel the color rising in her cheeks.

She did not move away.

His fingers trailed up her wrist until it was underneath the folds of her ornate sleeve. Iroh moved with a gentleness that she had forgotten existed in this world and Ursa's eye lids became heavy as she drunk it in. He went slowly higher and higher until he reached the crease of her elbow. Ursa winced in pain as he brushed over the latest bruise that Ozai had given her. An aide memoire to keep alert during this tea ceremony, a reminder that she was to impress and beguile the war hero. An indication of what was to come should she fail to create a flawless façade of good will between the brothers.

It had become Ozai's little ritual. Before any event of importance he inflicted a tiny annoying wound, sometimes at the crease of her elbow, or the bend of her knee even the tip of her finger. The pain was to keep her present, since she seemed so distant of late.

Iroh's voice was soft. "I do not pity you…I feel for you." He moved his hand away but she caught it before his touch left her completely, pressed it deeper into herself, hungry for it. When she spoke it was more to herself than to him.

"I am his."

"You are your own."

Ursa stared at Iroh's hand upon her own, traced the outline of it with her eyes. She allowed her gaze to raise slowly with each breath up his arm, across his shoulder, to his neck, his jaw, his mouth, his face, his eyes.

"Show me." She whispered.

His gaze darkened. She took his hand and guided it to her face. She leaned into his fingers, brushed her lips against the side of it. Prayed into his palm. "Show me." Ursa could feel him shiver before he pulled away. Iroh stood turning his back on her. There was silence between them and beneath the sound of their breath they could both hear the sun hitting the horizon.

"If he knew he would have you executed"

"It is within his right to do so… though he can not kill that which is already dead"

"It would be a scandal on your name. I will not dishonor you or your father's house."

"He has already dishonored me"

"He is your husband. He is my brother."

"He is a monster." Ursa stood. Her whole self shaking uncontrollably as she screamed it, as she allowed her self to scream it. "He is a monster!" Iroh faced her then. She hurriedly began to unknot the obi around her waist.

"Ursa…" He stepped towards her, reached out for her but she stepped back and turned away from him. She couldn't unknot it fast enough. She began pulling at the cumbersome layers of silk. "Ursa, don't do this."

She was frantic "Ursa please stop this." She felt Iroh's hand on her but she shook him off. She needed him to see. She pulled the fabric down. "Ursa you don't-" He stopped short once she had succeeded in exposing the skin of her back. She knew she still had the scars.

She was in such a rush to show him and now she could not face him. She was ashamed. Ashamed because she felt the fault was somehow her own. That she should have fought harder. When she heard Iroh exhale sadly her insides clenched together. She felt his breath in her hair, the heat radiating from his body into her own as he stepped closer. He said one word. "Ozai" and it was a curse. She could hear the anger in his voice, the yawning abhorrence and the clenching became an unbearable throb. She flinched again when he touched her, she half expected his anger to be tangible but it wasn't. He had the hands of a warrior there was no mistaking that but when Iroh touched Ursa his fingers became brushes… her skin became the finest parchment and he wrote a song so sweetly upon her sensitive flesh that it broke her from within.

"Please"

There was the briefest moment of painful hesitation before she felt his mouth press against the exposed skin of her left shoulder. And the song broke though her lips in a sharp gasp and a deep moan Her knees went weak. He steadied her with his arms, taking the entire weight of her. He traced a path from the hollow of her neck to the curve of her mouth. Gently, gradually, gracefully he tended her, open her, healed her.

Iroh spent the next three hours showing Ursa a lifetime of love.

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So now as Ozai looms above her, rough as usual, brutal and callous as to be expected with hands so hot that she is certain that she will show bruises by the morning, Ursa resists the new found urge to fight back. She suppresses her screams, pushes back the bile rising in her throat and quiets the murderous thoughts in her mind. Ursa lets him have her. This time is different. This time it is not because she belongs to him.

She shuts her eyes, silences her mind and flies fast and deep within herself chasing after a sweet and bitter memory. In the blackness behind her lids she sees Iroh, feels only his touch, hears only his voice. Thinks only of him and his child that is forming within her womb. She thinks of all the love she will give him. All the love Ozai has denied her, all the love Iroh has shown her. Iroh. His name is a soundless cry within her. Iroh

Ursa smiles as she wraps her legs around her husband and draws him closer. She swears she can taste jasmine on his lips.