A/N: Love writing an AU that is kind of niche in the fandom and doesn't prominently feature any of the Gaang (yet) it's so great for views and my morale as a writer wheeee.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

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 elderly maid, 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 wrinkled 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 88 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 of good standing who'd been chosen for the future Fire Lord, just like many of the women who'd come before her. There was no telling what the outrage from the nobility would be if they knew their daughters had been passed over by the crown prince for a girl from Hira'a due to some prophecy.

"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.

A/N: Don't have sea slug at your wedding, kids. And don't forget to like and subscribe (bit of Youtube humor for you there).

~Bobbi