"Children see magic because they look for it."

―Christopher Moore, Lamb: The Gospel According to Biff, Christ's Childhood Pal

white violets~*

(and tender innocence)

Once, in a courtyard that no longer exists, Iroh found laughter.

The girl was smaller than he, perhaps a year or two younger, but her smile was big enough to reach beyond her cheeks and tug out his own.

Her mirth bubbled contagiously in her throat, and when she would throw back her head to relinquish it to the air, fiery tresses sweeping from her shoulders, Iroh's had no choice but to burst from his chest and keep it company.

It was a sound unfamiliar to him at first; one that he had never known to accompany him down tall palace corridors or sit with him on his father's right hand in the smouldering heat of the throne room. Not until her arrival.

It took a bit of getting used to; to allow his mouth to split into a grin that curled around these squeals of delight that gasped from his lungs and split his sides in the rush of their game.

Her smile was like a slice of the milky white moon that the spirits had carved specially for him to hold in his palms for safe keeping. And it was a duty he learned to revel in.

He would report to his post at the same time as she; just after calligraphy classes in the hour before he had to go for his bending lessons. He would salute her like their fathers saluted each other as they entered their grown-up war meetings, and she would always laugh at him and call him Admiral as she bowed.

General, he would remind her almost every day. General! Admirals just paddle around in their silly boats, Generals are the brave ones who actually get the fighting done!

She would only giggle some more, her round eyes creased with her smile as she snatched his hand and ran.

They were soldiers and captains and, above all else, they were royalty in the noblest and most fantastic sense of the word. Branches discarded by trees on the lawn became their loyal weapons of steel and flames. Smooth white rocks from the pond became the magical talismans they fought valiantly to retrieve. A small footbridge disintegrated each day to a rickety rope ladder swaying precariously over a boiling volcano. Her pale red robes would billow into the gowns of warrioresses and his modest prince's headpiece became the elaborate ornament of a king supreme. She would giggle with glee as they sprung upon the branches of their foes and he would chuckle when she stumbled on the roots that were rigged precisely to the size of her small toes. Her hair was her cape - the crimson of a true hero's valour - that tailed them as he grabbed her hand and tugged her over her fumbling steps to charge headlong into a new battle. Their hour together each day became a lifetime in itself.

Some days the battles fell forfeited when stern-lipped men came to whisk the prince away for the various commitments he had been born to. He always felt helplessly cruel abandoning his happy comrade for the grey tutors and governesses who never had a smiling word to give.

But Iroh found his torturous lessons were always a little more bearable after he'd felt the moon's warmth at midday.

Against all odds, laughter became his secret friend.

Author's Note: I'm so sorry. The chapters will definitely get longer. I wanted this one to be longer, but it wasn't working, and I was eager to put it up and get this story rolling... I promise they'll get longer and better as we go!

So yeah. Let me know what you think?

Also, amazing cover image credit goes to EagleOfTheStar on Deviantart! Like, actually, so so much credit; this artwork is amazing!