A/N: Happy New Year, dear readers. I told you I wouldn't abandon this fic. Content warning for this chapter - mentions of rape, sexual assault.
Disclaimer: *dabs*
"...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; a few 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.
A/N: You know, Zuko and Ozai canonically look super alike, so I've been picturing young Ozai as pre-scar Zuko with a different hairdo and more snark. If that helps!
~ Bobbi