Disclaimer: *oonga-boonga*
When her marriage to Iroh had been arranged, she had assumed she would never act again, except in her lifetime role as Princess-and-future-Fire-Lady Ursa. Despite the unfortunate circumstances that had brought about this impromptu performance, she couldn't help feeling a bit thankful to shed that character and assume another one.
The cover of the evening light and the simple robes she'd procured from Rei helped obscure her identity, as did the fact that most of the scullery maids had never seen the new princess up close, let alone without makeup or carefully styled hair. It wasn't hard to relax her elegant bearing and slide her voice into a rougher register to further add to the disguise.
"Excuse me," she greeted a maid chewing a mint leaf in the kitchen courtyard, presumably on a break, "I'm new here. Could you point me to the servants' bathhouse?"
The maid looked worried in response, as Ursa had predicted she would. "At this hour? I wouldn't risk it."
"Why not?"
"You're new, you said?" Ursa nodded, and the maid lowered her voice. "Some guards around here…they like to drink and linger near that bathhouse when they're off for the evening. Trust me, you're safer waiting until morning if you can."
"Oh," Ursa reacted with false surprise. Selina had already told her as much, but it was good to corroborate her evidence. "Couldn't we go together?" she asked, feigning naivety.
"What, so they can get both of us?" She shook her head, a frown further dragging down her tired face. "Ten of us could go; it wouldn't make a difference against their firebending."
Ursa made a show of eying the nearby guard nervously. It wasn't much of an act; he wore the uniform of a lower-ranked patrolman, meaning there was a chance he was one of the offenders. "Do you know…who I should try to avoid, then?"
The maid smiled at her wryly. "You're pretty, new girl. I don't know how much avoiding you can do." When Ursa refused to drop her pleading gaze, she relented. "There's this real short one named Keema that can be nasty: he's not around often, but when he is, he's a miserable drunk that takes it out on us. Another is a wiry guy who's got a circle scar above his eyebrow and likes grabbing asses; sounds harmless, but he likes to make it hurt. The other guards call him Bullseye. That one over there," she jerked her head at the guard Ursa had been eying, "is actually decent. I don't think he's even on duty right now. He just hangs out here in the evenings and tries to keep some of his fellow guards away. They used to come all the way to the courtyard to holler at us before. At least now they stick by the bathhouse, most of the time."
Ursa looked at him more openly now. His face was obscured by his helmet, but he seemed to be quite young. Their eyes met briefly, and he nodded at her once before turning away.
"Do you know his name?"
"No. He's quiet, but very polite. The others kind of vary depending on what day it is and how drunk they are." The maid toyed with the good luck talisman around her neck, seemingly trying to remember. "One of them would like you a lot, I think. He likes the young ones," she shuddered. "Don't know his name, but he's got red hair. The only guard I know who does. Give him a wide berth."
The red hair matched Selina's description of Tiron. The added detail of his preference for young girls made Ursa skin crawl as she replied. "Okay. Thank you. What's your name, by the way?"
"I'm Tana. You?"
"Rin. Nice to meet you." She hesitated, not sure how to phrase the next question. "How do you…know all this, Tana?"
Her hard gaze focused on Ursa, and for a moment she worried that she'd said something too out of character. Tana was definitely older than her, maybe in her late twenties, but her eyes reminded her more of her mother's.
"I've been at the palace for nearly a decade," she said finally. "It was fine until a new captain took over the guards last year. The old one never let them drink on palace grounds, and he knew how to handle Keema's temper."
Keema and Tana. Ursa memorized the names, the guard and his victim, adding it to her list alongside Tiron and Selina.
"I wouldn't go asking too many questions like this in earshot of the guards," Tana said, stretching as she prepared to end her break. "You're lucky that one happens to be decent. The others don't like it when we warn the new girls. The surprise is part of their fun." Derision dripped from her voice. Ursa desperately wanted to throw off her disguise and promise her that this would be fixed.
"Can't we tell someone?" she asked instead, channeling the empty hope of a newcomer to the palace. It wasn't entirely an act.
"Who? New captain doesn't care, thinks it's a normal way for them to blow off steam. Anyone higher up than him is too important for us. You think the Fire Lord is bothered that his dishwashers can't use the toilet in peace after sundown?" She gestured at herself. "The money here's good, Rin. The women are good. Just don't go wandering around by yourself if you can help it, especially at night. And tone it down on the questions."
Tana returned to the kitchens without looking back, shoulders set firmly. She seemed brave, Ursa thought, and practical. In her position, that was really the only way to be.
Out of the corner of her eye, she registered the decent guard still keeping a watch on her. She turned and met his gaze again, smiling to show her gratitude for what he was doing, before following Tana inside.
As the sun slowly sank towards the horizon, Ursa flitted through the kitchens, eavesdropping on conversations and inserting small questions as the staff bustled in preparation for the night's royal dinner. Quite a few women blanched in fear when she innocently mentioned "a redheaded guard who'd been leering at her since she arrived," one of them naming him as Tiron. A serving girl who was apparently friends with Selina repeated the story of what he'd done to her.
"He's a monster," the girl whispered. "He gets off on our fear."
One of the cooks shushed her and rushed her away before she could say more. Ursa swallowed down the lump in her throat, moving to chop onions next to a different group of girls and ask them the same questions all over again. More names added themselves to her list, more accusations for her to look into on another day.
"I think tonight's Keema's night off, be careful…"
"Has anyone seen Meena? She had to go to the bathhouse earlier because she started bleeding, and it's getting dark, I'm so worried…"
"Terumo's in the sake already, you know what he did last time…"
"It won't happen again, just stay inside."
"Should we go looking for Meena?"
"It's too late. Stay inside, we'll check on her tomorrow."
It was so much, the noise and smells of the kitchen combined with the new, horrifying information swirling in her mind. Her head began to spin.
Stay inside, stay inside.
"New girl, you okay?"
It took Ursa a moment to remember the character she was playing. "Yeah, just need a quick break," she replied, carefully releasing the knife in her shaky hand. "Be right back."
Stay inside, stay inside.
Screw the advice: she couldn't bear to be in there any longer. In an instant, she was stumbling out into the courtyard for fresh air.
Her stomach rumbled, a combination of stress and hunger. Ursa realized with a shock she was fighting back tears as she placed a hand over her mouth. Some of those girls were so young…
"Are you all right?"
It was a guard asking after her, the same one from earlier. She wiped her eyes as she responded, "I'm fine, thank you."
His face was harder to see in the dying rays of the sun, not that she'd gotten a great look at it earlier, but the small smile gracing it was pleasant. "Busy day in the kitchens?"
"Something like that."
"There's a little copse not too far away that provides some quiet when the noise of the palace gets overwhelming." He pointed. "I've used it myself many times. I could show you?"
Getting to know him better might help Ursa's mission, especially if he could tell her more about his fellow guards. "That would be nice."
He offered his arm, albeit in a clumsier fashion than Iroh, and she tried to accept it in more of a servant girl's grace than a princess.
"I don't think I've seen you before," he said as the noise of the kitchen died out behind them. "Are you new to the palace?"
"Yes, I just started today."
"Explains why you needed a break, I imagine."
She laughed. "Yes, it feels like a lot."
The sun was almost completely gone now. Ursa knew she would have to return to the palace soon if she didn't want to be late for dinner. Hopefully, this could be a quick conversation in the privacy of the trees, and Iroh would likely have the decency to cover for her if she was too delayed.
"What's your name?" he asked, lowering his arm as they reached the cover of the copse.
"Rin."
"A lovely name for a lovely lady." He saluted and bowed chivalrously. "I'm Tiron."
Fear shot through her, as cold and sharp as she imagined lightning was. The helmet obscured his hair, and she'd foolishly allowed him to take her away from the safety of the courtyard under the mistaken assumption that he was the same guard as before. Her eyes flickered over her surroundings and found no one else; she was alone with him.
"I must say, you have beautiful hair." He reached up and ran his hand through it, settling his grip on her elbow as he finished.
Bile rose in her throat. "Thank you," she managed to stammer out. "This is nice, but I should probably be going-"
"They have you working so hard on your first day?" he asked, that smile seeming much toothier than before in the shadows of the woods.
"It's an honor to serve the royal family," she said weakly.
"Indeed." His grip on her elbow hadn't loosened.
"Please let go of me," she whispered, not sure what else to do.
"Why? I won't burn you unless you make me."
"Please, I'm- I'm married."
"Then your husband should have loved you enough to not send you around soldiers by yourself."
Soldiers, her ass. He was a patrolman who exerted his power over helpless girls. Right now, though, Ursa was clearly one of those girls.
"You don't know what you're doing," she told him, playing her last, most desperate Pai Sho tile. "I'm not actually a maid. Let me go now, and this doesn't have to end terribly for you."
"Oh? And who are you, if not Rin the new maid?"
"I'm Princess Ursa," she said, jutting her chin out stubbornly and allowing her spine to grow tall and straight again despite the terror rattling through her. "Wife to Crown Prince Iroh and future Fire Lady. Release me at once, if you know what's good for you."
Considering she was dressed in a maid's uniform, she thought she'd done well delivering her title. Her hopes were dashed as he laughed. "That's a new one," he said. "You're pretty, little Rin, but not pretty enough to be a princess."
"Iroh will have your head," she whispered, fear stealing away her voice as it became clear her options were running out.
"I'm sure he cares very much about what a patrolman and a maid get up to in the woods." Tiron moved towards her, attempting to back her up against a tree as his other arm went for the tie of her dress.
A wild, desperate instinct kicked in. Her leg flew up into his groin and then out at his knee. He buckled just enough for her to snatch her elbow out of his grasp; a short-lived victory, though, as his other hand grabbed her arm and wrenched it up painfully between her shoulderblades. She opened her mouth and screamed, the only course of action she had left, and even that was cut off too soon as he shoved her face first into the tree.
"Feisty bitch," he swore. "No one's taught you your place, huh?"
His thumb pressed into the groove between neck and collarbone - the same place Selina had been burned, she recalled dread - and ground down brutally. His body pushed up against her back, trapping her between him and the tree as the hand on her exposed skin went from warm to uncomfortably hot in a matter of seconds.
"Guard!" A sharp voice cut into Ursa's plight. Tiron suddenly released her. As she sank to the ground, her shoulder screaming with pain, she realized he was doing something very similar next to her in the dirt.
"My prince," he said, bowing deeply, "how may I serve you?"
A prince had indeed arrived, but not hers.
"You can start by groveling at Princess Ursa's feet," Ozai said sharply, drawing towards Ursa and offering her a hand.
She allowed Ozai to help her up, still too dazed to say much or even question how he had suddenly come to her aid. The burning sensation across her neck and collarbone refused to abate, and her healer mind reminded her that she needed some cold water soon.
"Princess Ursa," Tiron pressed himself even further into his kowtow. "A thousand apologies for my conduct. I am ashamed by my poor behavior this evening and will strive to do better by my station."
"Is that the best you can do?" Ozai snapped. "You burned a princess of the Fire Nation, and I'm not a fool to miss what your other intentions were." He released Ursa and towered over Tiron. "Better men than you have lost their lives for lesser crimes against a royal person."
"I- I'm sorry," the guard managed. "Truly. I should've known better. I'm worthless."
Ozai just snorted derisively. "Sister, what would you have done to him?"
The new title of 'sister' startled her into looking at her brother-in-law curiously. His question very much reminded her of her conversation with Iroh the previous night, but the royal rage was all Azulon. He met her gaze with a frown, clearly waiting for an answer.
"Dismissed from service," she said. "And…I'll decide the rest later."
Tiron just nodded stiffly.
"The princess is generous to you," Ozai said. "Her husband might just consign you to the Boiling Rock." He turned to address someone behind him. "You: good job coming to get me. Have your former comrade taken to the capital prison, and go inform Captain Zhou and Prince Iroh of what's transpired."
A figure stepped forward with a lamp, and as Ursa peered around Ozai, the decent guard's face came into view. He nodded at her in his reserved, polite fashion. She couldn't believe she'd mistaken Tiron for him, even in the dark.
"I remember you," she said to the guard. "What's your name?"
"Jeong Jeong, Princess."
"Jeong Jeong, thank you for fetching Prince Ozai. I appreciate your quick thinking."
"Of course. I'm…familiar with Tiron's ways."
"Could you do me one more favor? Look for a woman named Meena, and make sure she's safe. She might be near the bathhouse."
Jeong Jeong's jaw tightened as he nodded and led Tiron away. She needed to have a longer conversation with him later, but not right now, when the world still felt hazy and her head spun. The last of the adrenaline left her body and she slumped against a tree.
Ozai glanced at her with alarm. "Are you going to pass out again?"
"No," she said, "that's not something that happens to me often. I just need to rest."
He lit a fire in his hand and examined her burn with guarded eyes. "Your injuries are mild. You should heal quickly."
Given he'd likely sustained similar burns in his firebending training, Ursa was inclined to agree with him. It was good to corroborate a self-diagnosis with a second opinion.
"I'll take you inside in a moment, Sister," he continued. "Unfortunately, I…have to speak to you about something a bit private. I'd like to do it now, if you don't mind."
Ozai was still not much more than an acquaintance to her, and his request highlighted that. She'd seen him shrinking before his father's admonishments, attempting to match wits and fists with his brother, rolling his eyes endlessly as teenagers did at many of her comments. This deference, a behavior which Ozai typically only reserved for when he accidentally aroused the Fire Lord's ire too much at dinner, unnerved her. But she hesitated to turn him down when he'd just saved her, not to mention that he was her only assistance under the cover of the now-dark trees.
"Please, tell me what it is."
The firelight caught his nervous swallow. "When you fell ill at your wedding dinner…that was my fault."
Memories of the nausea that had washed over her and dragged her into unconsciousness made her reel back. What would he do to her now that he had her alone?
"It's not what you think," he pleaded as he accurately read the sudden tension in her form. "I didn't mean to do anything to you. It was supposed to be a way to get back at my brother. I put something in his drink to make him lose control of his bending for a moment and look foolish because I was upset with him about a spat we'd had before the ceremony. Nonbenders aren't meant to take it, so when your cups got switched…" He spread his hands in a helpless shrug.
Ursa had never heard of such a substance, but then again, there was a lot in the capital that was foreign to her. "What exactly did you put in his drink?"
"It's called Red Ash. In small doses, it can be used to stimulate energy flow in firebenders and allow us to produce more powerful blasts. In large doses, it threatens to disrupt your control of your bending and your chi itself, which is what happened to you since the drug didn't find any fire in you to stimulate. You can ask Iroh about it," Ozai added. "He knows what it is."
If he was lying, it was a detailed story. "Why are you telling me this now?" she whispered, head feeling heavy. "It's been weeks since the wedding."
"In all honesty, Sister…I'm doing it to beg for your mercy."
Before her eyes, the proud prince who'd derisively called her a "village girl" in their very first conversation, got to his knees and pressed his forehead into the dirt, looking not unlike Tiron a few moments before.
"I'm desperately sorry for what I did to you," he said. "I never meant to hurt an innocent woman. Instead of doing the right thing and speaking up when I saw the consequences of my actions, I stayed quiet to protect my own skin. Even now, I'm a coward who's only here because Iroh found out the truth and forced me into owning up for my mistakes." He peered up at her, face looking a bit dusty. "My brother greatly values your opinion. I believe he intends to leave my fate in your hands. Whatever happens to me now - whether you tell my father, or have me sent to a prison cell right alongside that bastard guard - is up to you. And…Sister, I will take any punishment you dole out to me, but I'm hoping you can find it in your heart to please not tell my father."
His voice cracked in a very adolescent fashion while his golden eyes shone brightly. Although his gaze was not much like Iroh's warm one, she still felt for him. Ozai was a boy who'd done a foolish thing and was now scrambling to fix it before his father noticed; she could hardly blame him for fearing Azulon, not when she felt the same way.
"What did you and Iroh fight about?" she asked, unable to help wondering about the argument that had sparked this whole affair.
Ozai looked back down, shame crawling over his face. "I said some crass things about you and your origins. He struck back. I was wrong to speak of a future princess that way, of course, but I was still angry when he ordered me to fetch him tea during the wedding and reacted poorly."
It was so childish, it felt ridiculous to consider bringing Azulon into it. After all, Ursa was all better now, and Ozai hadn't harmed her since.
"I'll consider keeping this between us," she said finally, weary. "Brothers fight. But either way, I hope you'll make sure I stay well out of any of your quarrels with my husband in the future."
Ozai got to his feet. "Of course, Sister. Thank you."
"You don't have to keep calling me Sister."
"Yeah, but I want to make up for being such a wretch to you for the past couple months." He held an arm out to her, smiling wryly now that some of the fear had left him. She couldn't remember ever seeing him look so friendly. "Let me escort you back to your chamber to recover. Iroh'll be looking for you soon."
The captain's office had changed significantly since Jinpa's retirement the previous year. Iroh eyed the showy, heavily jeweled decorative swords on the wall behind Zhou's desk with mild irritation. Rank didn't necessarily equal good taste. He missed the careful display of landscape paintings.
"Prince Iroh," the captain arose from his seat and bowed at the waist. "To what do I owe this honor?"
Zhou was a bit of a stranger. His predecessor Jinpa had been a mentor to Iroh, having served as captain since before Iroh was born and helping to train both him and Ozai into formidable fighters. Now that the princes were mostly grown, Zhou held no such role, and Iroh had been too saddened by Jinpa's departure from royal service after the birth of his grandchildren to bother bonding with his replacement.
"A long overdue visit," Iroh said evenly. "With my recent marriage, I've neglected getting to know the new captain of the guard. Better late than never, I suppose."
"Indeed," Zhou clasped his hands together. "I remember how fond you and Prince Ozai were of Jinpa. I can hardly live up to my old captain, but I hope you'll find I'm doing my best."
Zhou would have been a guard under Jinpa's command, but Iroh failed to recall any memories of his thin, scantily-bearded face from before he'd become captain. Clearly, he was a firebender of at least some notable skill, as he'd had to best several other contenders in Agni Kais to secure his promotion.
"I hope so as well," Iroh said. "I have some matters regarding the guards I'd like to discuss one on one, if you have the time."
"Of course I do. Would you like a cup of tea? I've kept Jinpa's stash of jasmine for you."
How he missed sipping tea in Jinpa's office and listening to his advice. "A thoughtful gesture. I'll happily accept."
"So," Zhou said once the tea had been brewed and poured, "what does the crown prince have to say about my first year of command?"
"I've hardly noticed the transition in command outside of Jinpa's absence, which is assuredly a good thing. In many cases, new captains mean a dip in performance as the soldiers take time to adjust."
"I'm glad to hear it."
"But I am curious about your procedure for handling certain complaints against the guards." This was the tricky part. Iroh hoped his discomfort wasn't too evident in his face as he sipped his mediocre cup of jasmine. "I've become aware of a complaint lodged about seven months ago by a palace servant named Lili, accusing one of your guards of…unspeakable behavior. I wanted to hear about the case from your perspective and see any documentation you had on the matter."
Zhou stirred his own cup. "I don't recall the girl's name, but I've only received one complaint of that nature, so I'm sure it's the one you're speaking of. There unfortunately isn't any documentation of it because frankly, it wasn't much of a complaint." He shrugged lightly. "She accused one of my men. I asked her if she had any proof, which she didn't. Servant girls run around with guards all the time, and they turn sour when they find out the guards don't necessarily see them as something more. I can hardly go punishing men over their spurned lovers' accusations."
Iroh sat back in his chair, focusing on maintaining a neutral expression while he contemplated how to parse through what Zhou had just said. The dismissiveness towards the girl's complaint, contrasted with the anger Ursa had shown on her behalf, didn't sit right with him. "So you didn't look into the matter at all?"
"I asked the guard if he'd been involved with the girl. He said he had, but things had ended badly. One of my trusted men's words against a servant - it wasn't a hard situation to decide."
Put that way, the logic made sense. But Iroh couldn't shake the unsettled feeling in his stomach, and he was certain it wasn't just coming from the subpar tea. "I understand," he said aloud. "I just felt the need to hear it from you directly once I became aware of the accusations."
"Of course," Zhou smiled, no less friendly than before. "Are there other matters on your mind?"
"Yes." He set down his still half-full cup, deciding it wasn't helping to calm him. "In the instance that a guard was found to be guilty of such conduct, what would you do?"
"He would be disciplined, of course. Likely some form of detention or extra hours of patrol."
"And what would you do for his victim?"
"Should I be doing something for her? The servants aren't under my command, now, are they?"
Zhou was starting to take a turn towards the overly friendly tone one uses when explaining complicated things to a child. Iroh had heard that same tone from his father's advisors frequently as a boy, and he'd enjoyed showing them how they'd misjudged him. Zhou, clearly, was in desperate need of the same treatment.
"The servants are not under your command, but they are residents of the palace who are under your protection all the same," Iroh reminded him, lifting his chin to meet Zhou's gaze as a superior rather than as an equal.
The other man's smile vanished. "Of course, Your Highness."
"How do you advise your guards to conduct themselves in their off duty hours? I know Jinpa had rather strict guidelines for you all."
"Yes, Jinpa was old-fashioned." Zhou shook his head in a semblance of fondness. "I don't concern myself much with what my men get up to in their spare time as long as they're not embarrassing me or the palace. A little sake in the evenings never hurt anyone."
Iroh begged to differ. "So since Jinpa left, you've relaxed the regulations on guards' off duty conduct, including permitting them to drink on palace grounds, and then you suddenly received a complaint from one of their 'spurned lovers'?"
"I know you prefer to speak plainly, Prince Iroh. I'm happy to meet your preference." Zhou set down his cup none too gently. "Are you accusing my men and I of something?"
"I didn't come here with the intention of doing so, but your answers to my questions are unfortunately leading me in that direction."
"It's understandable that you're uncomfortable with changes I've made since Jinpa's departure, and I'm of course obliged to adjust as you prefer, but I wish you'd give me the benefit of the doubt in how I choose to lead."
"Coming here and talking to you is giving you the benefit of the doubt." Iroh pointed out. "Do you think I don't hear things? What your men get up to when they're drunk in the evenings? I was hoping to find you were oblivious, but it seems I'm woefully mistaken."
"I don't bother myself with what my men do in the evenings as long as they meet my expectations and they fulfill their duties of protecting the palace where it counts. Besides, when did it become a crime to chase the skirt of a pretty girl? It's common knowledge in the palace you've engaged in such things yourself."
Zhou's tone was lighthearted, poking fun at the prince, but his eyes had gone hard. Iroh let out a short, humorless laugh in response. "All my 'pretty girls' consented to it, which I'm not sure your guards can say about theirs. And I ended such behaviors after my wedding."
"Of course." A slow smile, more a baring of teeth, spread across Zhou's face. "Men do go a bit soft as newlyweds."
"Speak plainly, Zhou, rather than hiding your thoughts behind sweeping generalizations."
"It's not in your nature or your station to know anything about the servant girls, Prince Iroh, but your young wife surrounds herself with many of them and is new enough to the palace to take interest in their lives. I'm willing to bet this sudden concern of yours is an attempt to please her. Will she be delighted that her prince scolded the incompetent captain of the guard and chivalrously saved her favorite attendants? I can play that role, if you wish. Give me the names of the women she wants to protect. I'll tell my men to stay away from them, and you can spend your night reaping the rewards of granting her wish."
Iroh wanted to blast the suggestive smirk right off the other man's face. "The women I want to protect are every single one who calls the Fire Nation home. It dishonors the palace for any woman, regardless of her station, to be coerced by one of our guards. That is an order, Captain Zhou. If you know what's good for you, you will learn to treat my wife's wishes as the same as mine, and to never speak of her in such a manner again."
Zhou made a sour expression. "Your Highness, I understand where you're coming from, but what you are asking for is too much. There are better places to direct our resources, and a few dalliances gone wrong is hardly worth all this confrontation. Once you gain more experience as a soldier," he added with an attempt at friendliness, "you'll see. Especially in regards to your wife's wishes being as good as yours."
"That is an order," Iroh repeated, rising to his feet. "I don't need more experience as a soldier to best you in an Agni Kai if you dare to question my word again."
The threat of lightning alone made Iroh too formidable of an opponent for most firebenders. Zhou frowned, but didn't say anything else.
"Prince Iroh, Captain Zhou," Zhou's secretary, a young man who looked thin enough that Iroh wasn't sure he should be straining himself through royal service, poked his head into the office. "I'm terribly sorry to interrupt, but Private Jeong Jeong is here with what he says is an urgent message for the both of you from Prince Ozai."
"Show him in," Iroh said, not waiting for Zhou to respond. It might've been the captain's office, but Iroh wasn't finished showing him who was in charge.
Jeong Jeong entered, removing his helmet to reveal a young, honest-looking face crowned by a rather shaggy black topknot before bowing to his superiors. "Prince Iroh, Captain Zhou, I apologize deeply for the intrusion and for the heavy news I bring." His voice was soft, and as he straightened up again, Iroh noted he seemed quite troubled. "My former comrade Tiron has been dismissed from his post as a guard by Princess Ursa and awaits further punishment in the capital prison."
"What?" Zhou rose to his feet with a roar, cutting off the rest of Jeong Jeong's message. "What- what could possibly be the honorable princess's reason?" he asked in a less aggressive tone when he caught Iroh's glare, but anger was still evident in his expression.
Jeong Jeong's eyes flickered towards Iroh nervously. "Tiron burned and groped the princess. Prince Ozai believes that if he hadn't intervened, Tiron intended to…go much further."
Whatever Zhou felt was dwarfed by the mix of rage and worry that slammed through Iroh now. He shot Zhou a furious glare, pleased to see he looked properly stunned and shamed. "Not worth all this confrontation, is it?" Iroh parroted the man's words with a sneer. "Remember my order, captain. I hope for your sake my wife is not too seriously harmed."
"Yes, Your Highness. I wish her well."
"Private Jeong Jeong," Iroh addressed the guard as he swept out of the office. "Walk with me. Tell me exactly what happened."
Jeong Jeong had no trouble matching Iroh's swift pace through the palace. The tale that tumbled out of him was quick and to the point: Jeong Jeong had spotted Princess Ursa in the kitchen courtyard earlier that evening, alone and dressed in servant attire. Concerned at the sight, he'd kept watch on her talking to another maid until she disappeared into the kitchens, which she didn't emerge from for over an hour. Assuming she wouldn't return, he'd stepped away for a drink of water, and by the time he came back the princess had been cornered by Tiron. Not able to challenge the older guard by himself, Jeong Jeong had immediately gone into the palace for help and thankfully found Prince Ozai in the vicinity already looking for Ursa anyway. Once he'd led Ozai to Tiron, it became evident what Tiron's intentions were, but thankfully they'd arrived in time to stop the worst.
"I apologize for not confronting Tiron myself," Jeong Jeong said as he concluded his tale. "I can handle him in single combat, but he has the support of our fellow guards where I don't. I was afraid I would make things worse for the princess if the incident turned into a brawl."
"You made a quick decision in a tense situation. I understand," Iroh said, mentally noting the comment about the guards' allegiances. Now that Jeong Jeong had spoken a bit, he was starting to recall hearing the other man's name before. "Refresh my memory: you were one of Jinpa's last recruits, weren't you? The street performer he picked up near the outskirts of the capital."
"Yes, Your Highness, that was me. I only served under Jinpa for a few months before the change in command."
There were several unspoken somethings in his answer, and in the way he shifted uncomfortably as he said it. Iroh didn't have the capacity to explore those right now though, not with Ursa's chamber in sight and Ozai hovering outside.
"I see. Is there anything else I should know?"
"Yes. Before I came to see you, Princess Ursa ordered me to check on one of the servants named Meena. I would appreciate it if you could relay to her that I did as she asked, and Meena is safe and unharmed."
Iroh wondered who Meena was, and what had prompted Ursa to worry about her. "Thank you, Jeong Jeong. The princess will be pleased to hear it, and I remember those who serve my family well. Enjoy the rest of your evening."
The guard dipped his head in a quick bow and turned on his heel. Immediately, Iroh swooped next to his brother, speaking in a low voice.
"Let's hear it from you, then. What happened?"
Ozai blinked nervously and repeated a story that thankfully lined up with Jeong Jeong's, although with more details about what exactly Tiron had been doing that made Iroh seethe. "And I did apologize to her before bringing her inside," he added. "I don't know if she…if she wanted to hear it, but it had been twenty-four hours."
Between Zhou and Jeong Jeong, Iroh had completely forgotten about the deadline he'd set for Ozai's incident with the Red Ash. Part of him wanted to smack Ozai around the head for troubling Ursa with his pleas for forgiveness after what she'd been through, but he couldn't blame his brother for not necessarily thinking straight with the threat of their father's anger hanging over him.
"Did she say she accepted your apology?" Iroh asked in a weary voice.
"Um…she said she'd think about not telling Dad." Ozai cast a poorly disguised look of worry at the entrance to her room. "A physician's in there with her now. D'you think you can talk to her about it more before dinner? I'm not sure I explained everything as well as she wanted since she was hurt and all."
It was almost dinnertime. Iroh's stomach twisted at the reminder. "I don't think she's in any shape to attend family dinner, but I'll ask her about you if she's feeling up to it."
"Are you going to tell Dad what happened?"
"Probably, at least so he knows why she's not at dinner."
Ozai's face fell. "Great. He's going to yell at me for not getting there faster."
"Well…" Unfortunately, there was no real way for Iroh to disprove his brother's viewpoint; that was exactly the kind of harsh thing Father would say. "I think you fulfilled your duty. If you hadn't been there, it sounds like things would've gone much worse. I'll try to remind him of that."
Ozai nodded, still looking a bit sullen. "Yeah, I guess. Go hang out with your wife," he added with a jerk of his head. "She's not too banged up."
With a firm pat on Ozai's shoulder, Iroh pushed open the door to Ursa's room, half-afraid of what he'd find.
"There!" Ursa's voice immediately rang out. "My husband is here now, so I won't be alone. Please, Suma, go enjoy your evening. I promise I'm fine."
Suma, one of the older physicians, looked a bit as if he'd sucked a sour plum as he glanced at Iroh.
"If the princess says she wants you out, you're out," Iroh said simply, feeling relieved that she at least had the strength to argue. "Anything to report, before you leave?"
Suma blew out an exasperated breath. "I found a first-degree burn and mild bruising across the neck and collarbone area, and minor abrasions to the face. Her right shoulder is also strained, potentially sprained but thankfully not dislocated. She should be completely recovered in a few days, although I'd like to observe her until she sleeps to be safe."
"I've suffered worse injuries than this as a girl," Ursa said from her bed, where she was holding a cold press to the injured area with her good hand. Her face did indeed look a bit scraped up: she was bleeding slightly from a torn lip, the sight of which made Iroh's own mouth tighten. "I appreciate your thoroughness, but I really do just want to rest by myself for a while. Prince Iroh is here, and I can call on my attendants if I need anything."
"Go, Suma. You have my permission as well," Iroh told the still-hesitant physician. He would've preferred Suma stay, but he wasn't going to force Ursa to submit herself to further medical examination when she was adamantly against it. With a good-natured grumble, Suma bowed and left, and the couple was alone.
"So, am I correct in guessing that you probably don't want to attend the family dinner tonight?" he asked.
"Yes. Is that an option?" Ursa sighed, leaning back against her pillows. Between her simple clothing and her bare face, he was suddenly reminded of their first meeting in her village.
"Sure. I'll ask your attendants to bring your dinner here." He drew closer, eying her bloody lip uneasily. "Does your mouth hurt too badly to eat?"
"Oh, no." Her hand left the press to delicately place a finger against the small injury. "I wasn't lying when I said I've had worse."
"Such as?"
"One time in a school play, I tripped on the edge of my costume mid-monologue and knocked out my two front teeth. Thankfully, I was six and they grew back, but it was pretty bloody. I couldn't eat anything but soup and pudding for weeks."
Iroh raised his eyebrows. "I wasn't aware I had such a tough wife," he said appreciatively.
She laughed, but it seemed half-hearted compared to all the other times he'd heard it. Her hand clutched at the cold press again.
"Let me do that, if you don't mind." He seated himself on the edge of the mattress, noting her brief hesitation before she conceded. "How are you feeling? Really?" Her pulse seemed to jump in her throat as he applied a gentle pressure to her collarbone.
"I…I don't know. I've never experienced such a thing."
Rage rumbled in Iroh's chest again. He forced it down, focusing on trying to comfort her. "It shouldn't have happened."
"It shouldn't happen to anyone. The things I learned in the kitchens…" She glanced down, and Iroh suddenly realized why she was wearing servant clothes.
"You were posing as a maid? For information?"
"Well, what else could I have done? I can't just order them to tell me the truth; that barely worked the first time. People commiserate with their peers, not with their superiors."
It was a simple statement, but Iroh was struck by the insight she'd shown in handling the situation. "And that worked?"
"Yes. Apparently too well." She offered him a wry smile. "I told that guard I was Princess Ursa. He didn't believe me - I think he said I wasn't pretty enough." There was a dry humor in her words, but the lines around her eyes clashed with it.
The lamps on either side of the bed surged dangerously, making her look over at them with alarm. Iroh took a deep breath and tried to call them back down. Under the circumstances, he was rather proud of himself for not going straight to the prison and punching a hole right through Tiron's worthless chest.
Instead, he simply asked, "How do you think he should be punished?"
"I wasn't sure what to do besides fire him." She looked at him inquisitively. "Ozai said you might send Tiron to the Boiling Rock - what is that?"
Not a bad idea. "Our highest-security prison. It's called that because it's surrounded by a boiling lake inside an inactive volcano, making it impossible to escape. We use it for high-profile criminals, war prisoners, anyone who doesn't deserve to see the outside again."
Ursa frowned slightly, tilting her head to the side. Iroh suddenly became aware of the fact that his pinky finger was resting against her neck, the pale skin peeking out from beneath the cold press all reddened by heat. To a firebending student, such burns were common accidents from training, just a part of life. To a nonbender and a civilian like Ursa…his jaw clenched.
"It's not what he did to me that bothers me most." Her voice drew his eyes back to her face as he realized he'd been essentially staring at her neck while lost in thought. Thankfully, she didn't seem to notice. "It's that he's done it to plenty of others. Apparently, he likes 'the young ones.'" She all but spat out the words, disgust dripping from them. "Even outside the palace, a man like that can't be trusted anywhere."
Iroh felt nausea roll in his gut. "The Boiling Rock, then?"
"If it means he'll never get to hurt anyone again…then yes."
"I agree. He'll be transferred there in the morning."
She nodded, still looking troubled. "That's only one of them."
"How many more are there?"
"I don't know. I need to keep talking to the maids, in the kitchen and in the rest of the palace. There were quite a few guards named."
Her shoulders sagged as she spoke. Iroh felt a surge of anger at the offending guards, both for abusing their power over women and for putting that sad, tired look on his wife's face. "I have some news on that front. I spoke to Captain Zhou today and ordered him to get his men in line, so hopefully there won't be more incidents like this going forward. I don't think he'll be any help finding past perpetrators, though. He was apparently quite lax on their behavior."
Ursa nodded. "Thank you for doing that."
"It was nothing. He should have been keeping a better eye on his men in the first place."
She didn't respond to that, instead reaching up to remove the cold press from her neck. Iroh obediently pulled his hand back. The extent of the burn was thankfully quite shallow as Suma had noted; her skin was peeling slightly, but there was no blistering or signs of deeper damage. Within a few days, it would hopefully be as if it had never happened.
"Um…" She'd caught him staring, and he inwardly cursed at himself.
"What is it?"
"Ozai spoke to me," she said. "About…my illness, and the Red Ash. He said you found out and made him apologize."
"I did."
"How did you find out?"
Iroh met her gaze evenly. "Aisha confessed that she'd seen him do it on the night of the wedding. She kept it to herself for a long time since she feared retribution from Ozai." He didn't mention that he'd been sitting on Aisha's evidence for around a month without further investigation. It was hardly relevant now that Ozai had owned up.
"I see." Her lips pursed absentmindedly, and she winced as the gesture clearly stung.
"He's very agitated about whether or not you'll tell my father," Iroh said with a small smile. "No rush, of course, but if there's anything you want to know before making that decision, I'm here."
"What would your father do to Ozai, if he found out?"
"Nothing good."
"What exactly?" she pressed. "You clearly chose not to tell him yourself for a reason. I'd like to understand that before I make my own choice."
He couldn't exactly deny her the right to a well-informed decision after everything that had happened. Equals. With a sigh, he steeled himself to pull back the curtain on one of the uglier parts of palace life.
"I can't say with certainty that he'd do this," he said finally, "but it's very likely he'd put Ozai in what we call the Box. It started as a training exercise when my grandfather began the war, to make sure the royal family could stand against any element. Ozai never did well in it though."
Ursa was watching him intently. He grimaced as he recalled some of his bad moments in the Box but forced himself to continue. "Essentially, it's a chamber that uses the elements to overwhelm a firebender. It can fill with water, ice, sand; even fire, in case of attacks from traitors. We would spend hours there as boys to build up our natural endurance, just treading water or shivering in the cold until Father decided it was good enough."
"That's awful."
The genuine reproach in her voice surprised him. "I can handle it," he assured her. "We don't use it much now that we're older. Ozai, though…he lost a toe to the ice, and he nearly drowned the first time he went in the water. He's been scared of it since then. And Father believes punishment should make you stronger, with a healthy dose of fear. So, Ozai gets tossed back in the water whenever he gets out of line, as 'extra training.'"
"Spirits," Ursa whispered, looking nothing short of aghast while her hands anxiously twisted the cold press into a misshapen mess.
"I know."
"I won't tell Azulon," she said with finality. "I don't think Ozai deserves that for what he did."
"He'll be relieved to hear it." In an attempt to make her smile again, Iroh added, "If you need some ideas for how he should make this up to you, I'm happy to offer some."
It worked; her torn lips curved upward. "I'll keep it in mind."
"Is there anything else I can do for you tonight, besides send you your dinner?"
She shook her head. "I just need some time to mull over everything I've learned. It's…difficult, being the one to make decisions about things like this. The guards, and Ozai, and still planning for the Autumn Festival on top of all that. I can only imagine what you feel like."
Even when she was ruminating over her own hardships, she still managed to turn it around to extend some sympathy to him. Iroh couldn't help feeling a bit touched as he reminded her, "I've been training for it all my life. You're just getting started. And you're doing quite well, in my opinion."
"Thank you. I'm glad you came and talked to me. Sometimes I feel silly asking anyone else questions about the palace."
"I told you, I'm happy to help. It's the least I can do for my wife." He stood to leave. "I'll arrange your dinner and let you rest. Send for me if you need anything."
"I will."
A thought struck him as he was about to open the door. "Before I forget, Jeong Jeong asked me to tell you he found the servant named Meena, safe and unharmed."
Relief washed across Ursa's face, so pure and sweet it seemed to sink into Iroh as well. "That's amazing news. Give him my thanks, if you can. He's been very helpful."
More than helpful. His insides churned again at what might have happened to her, burned and bruised as she already was, if Jeong Jeong hadn't acted quickly. "Of course. Good night, Ursa."
"Good night."
The palace wasn't safe enough, if such things could happen to women as high-ranking as a princess. He just didn't know how to fix it yet. But, he reminded himself, he would have to face more difficult tasks as Fire Lord. At least he had Ursa at his side.
A/N: No journal entries in a chapter? It's more likely than you think. This one was a pain to end so if that's evident in the writing, my bad.
~Bobbi