A/N: The thing no one tells you about writing a slow burn is that you have to slow the burn yourself even though you know exactly where the story is going and how the characters are going to end up UGH

Disclaimer: *hold music plays*

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.

A/N: Cut, I guess? Also, I'm going to be flying around on vacation for the next few weeks so updates might be sporadic depending on when I have WiFi/time to write and post chapters. Loving this fic though, so I'm optimistic I won't abandon it.

~Bobbi