A/N: Well, that's enough Ozai content for now. Back to the main ship with this one!

Disclaimer: not mine.

Iroh, cont.

Some people are more motivated to stand up for others than for themselves. Ursa is one of those people. After Tiron assaulted her outside the kitchens, I'd half-expected her to take a step back from the investigation into the guards and let me handle it. She looked at me as if I were crazy for suggesting it. Within a month, she'd donned several disguises to mingle with the servants and persuade them to reveal the names of their attackers, half a dozen men in addition to Tiron whom I had dismissed from the palace at once. The truly egregious offenders were assigned to various jails. Once Ursa had exhausted the well of information about the guards, I foolishly thought that would be the end of the matter and turned my attention back to the approaching Autumn Festival.

As the event drew closer, Ursa and I attempted to establish some tentative boundaries for our marriage. We fell into a pattern of her spending the night in my chamber maybe twice a week to appease my father's expectations, but these evenings developed into a routine well removed from physical intimacy. She would privately change into one of my night robes while I staged the scene, I would brew her a cup of tea, and we would discuss the things that we couldn't elsewhere: our childhoods, the Spirit World, our dreams, private observations about the palace and its inhabitants.

I won't lie to you, reader. I was a young, fire-blooded man. Ursa was, and still is, an enchanting woman. The sight of her wearing my too-big robe, sitting in my unkempt sheets, had a tendency to stoke impolite thoughts in my mind that were slowly becoming harder to ignore. At the same time, it wasn't just her beauty that drew me to her. As she became more comfortable speaking to me candidly, especiaIly in the aftermath of the fiasco with the guards, I witnessed her stubborn yet fierce compassion, her love for nature, her unexpected dry wit and streak of mischief. And, maybe because I hadn't expected any of those qualities, I was quite entranced by them.

When she began telling me more about her hometown, through folk tales and childhood anecdotes, I finally understood that acting was not just about disguises and deceit like I'd thought. Performing, for Ursa, was about drawing her audience into a tale through her eyes, her voice, her hands, as they all created the vision of her story. I'd mistakenly marked her as a natural liar, but she was not, although she was still better than me. Her performances were best when she was speaking from her heart, and I was fortunate to be her enthralled audience of one in the private theater of my bedroom.

Beautiful women were abundant in the capital, but my Ursa stirred within me something that was shifting past the familiar terrain of physical attraction. I didn't have occasion to probe the depth of those feelings until about a week before the Autumn Festival.

Iroh had shared some intense conversations with his wife, but this was proving to be one of the most challenging.

"Alright," she said, eyes gleaming, "make one of those shapes with your hands when I say 'bend', okay? One, two, three, bend!"

Ursa's hand turned into a fist as she finished counting down, while Iroh, sitting across from her on his bed, chose to make his hand into a wave motion.

"I win!" She proclaimed triumphantly.

"This doesn't make any sense. How does earth beat water?" Iroh questioned.

"It's the rules of the game. Air is beaten by water is beaten by earth is beaten by fire is beaten by air and so on. Besides, rock stops water from flowing, that's common knowledge."

"Have you seen how canyons and valleys are formed? When water flows through rock long enough and hard enough, it gets its way in the end."

"Sure, 'in the end.'" Ursa's hands formed finger quotes mocking Iroh's words. "But in the short term victory, which is what it's relevant to this game, earth takes the win. Best of three?"

He agreed and chose fire. She chose air.

"I have issues with the rules of this game," Iroh complained as he extinguished the small flame he'd produced rather than mimic her silly hand motion for fire. "History has proven that air does not in fact beat fire."

"That's military history," Ursa waved him off. "A strong gust of wind puts out fire, that's logic."

"Logic means nothing without practical application."

She rolled her sunshine eyes at him. "You are quite a sore loser."

"Well, I'm not exactly training to be a Fire Lord that loses, am I?"

"I bet you've just never met anyone besides Ozai who could afford to beat you without getting punished for it," Ursa said with a challenge.

"Why don't you play me in a game that's not for children and see if you're still feeling so smug?"

"Fine with me. Choose a game," She crossed her arms, looking every inch a haughty princess despite Iroh's robe slipping off her pale shoulder.

He forced himself to look at the laughter in her eyes instead of her temptingly smooth skin. "Have you played Pai Sho before?"

"No, it wasn't terribly popular in Hira'a. But I'm sure I can learn quickly."

Iroh smirked. His Pai Sho set had been sitting undisturbed in his study for some time, seeing as most people with any sense had learned not to play against the crown prince a while ago. Unfortunately for Ursa, she was a newcomer.

"I've seen this before," Ursa reached out and picked up a tile as Iroh was setting up the board between them. Iroh glanced at what she was holding.

"The white lotus tile? I thought you haven't played."

"I haven't, but I've seen this. I didn't realize it was part of the game." Ursa held it up, examining it with a small smile. "My mother kept one of these in her jewelry chest. I asked her about it once, and she said she liked the design."

"Maybe she picked it up from a market," Iroh suggested. "Some pai sho tiles are sold individually, and that is one of the prettier ones."

"It is," she agreed. "Now, tell me the rules."

[Azulon III, notated in the 6rd month of 169 AG

To this day, the rules of Pai Sho remain an unstandardized amalgamation of local variations and individual preferences. Based on my discussions with family members, it is generally accepted that Iroh favored the Official Royal Guidelines utilized by Fire Nation nobility during the latter half of the war, with a more methodical approach accompanied by an occasional penchant for gambling.]

Iroh won the first round, as he'd expected, but he couldn't help but notice that some of the competitive spirit seemed to have left Ursa. "Are you following the rules okay? I would understand if they're a bit difficult," he teased as he cleared the board.

She snapped back to attention. "I can follow them fine. I'm simply learning the game."

"Why don't we put some stakes on the next round, then?"

"What do you have in mind?"

"How about if I win, you have to brew tonight's tea?"

"That's more of a punishment for you than for me," Ursa pointed out.

"Focus on your own stakes."

"Fine." She thankfully noticed her robe was slipping again and yanked it back up. "If I win, I sleep in the study, and you sleep in your own bed for once."

"Alright, but only because you're not going to win." Despite the fact that Ursa had fully recovered from both the Red Ash and Tiron's attack, Iroh still refused to let her take the couch in the study. He was the early riser anyway, as he had pointed out, so it made no sense for him to sleep in the bed when he would have to wake Ursa up to avoid being caught sleeping separately. But he respected that his wife had her own streak of pride.

The second round featured a much stronger defense from Ursa, and Iroh begrudgingly had to admit that she had more of a knack for the game than he had as a beginner. But his experience triumphed in the end: Ursa huffed as he placed his winning tile in one of her blind spots.

"Don't look so pleased," she rebuked him. "We both know you'd rather be drinking your own tea as a reward."

"How could I possibly know when I've never tried yours?"

"Trust me, it's obvious." Something melancholy slid across her face again. Only a few weeks earlier, Iroh would've guessed she was simply tired, but he watched her gaze settle on the white lotus tile and knew it was something more.

"Ursa, is everything okay?"

She nodded slightly. "It's fine."

"Is it your mother?" He ventured a guess. "Do you want to talk about her?"

"I… I shouldn't."

"There are plenty of things we 'shouldn't' talk about that are worth discussing. Especially when it's just the two of us." She still hesitated. Iroh decided the moment called for a little vulnerability on his part. "Would you like to hear…how I handled missing my mother?"

Ursa peered at him, clearly intrigued. "If you feel comfortable sharing, sure, but it doesn't mean I'll talk."

"I understand," he smiled, before taking a breath and digging up an old memory. "When she died, my father refused to speak of it. He left Ozai and I in Yuna's care and went about his meetings and battles as if nothing had changed. There was a funeral, but nobody explained what a funeral was or what the Fire Sages were saying about my mom. Nobody even explained that she was dead, they all just kept saying she was sick and then 'gone,' as if she was coming back someday, so I waited. Almost six months went by of just waiting.

"One night, I woke up from a nightmare and started crying for my mother. I cried so much that baby Ozai started screaming in the next room, and Yuna was forced to go get my father. When he came, something he'd never done when Mother was alive, I clung to him and begged him to tell me where she was, why she'd gone, when she'd come back. Suddenly, I saw tears in his eyes.

"I'd never seen him cry in my life, and I never have since. He finally explained that she was dead, which meant she wasn't coming back, and he and I would have to be strong without her. He said he knew it was hard, but I had to be the brave prince she would have wanted. He told me anytime I missed her, I needed to try very hard not to cry about it around other people, but come talk to him about it instead. So, I did.

"Every night after dinner, I would go to Father and tell him that I missed her, and he would take me to the music room and talk about her until it was time for me to sleep. Slowly, I started being able to go a few days without talking about her, and then a few weeks, until eventually, I learned how to play her music to console myself. It's been a few years since the last time we talked about her. But I think if I went to him tonight and told him I miss her, he would still sit with me in the music room and reminisce about her while I play her favorite songs."

Ursa sniffed. Iroh was startled to realize he'd made her cry; he considered his storytelling abilities rather mediocre. Yet here she was, wiping tears from her face with the edge of her sleeve.

"It was a long time ago, Ursa. I've come to terms with it."

She shook her head. "You were so young… I feel foolish to miss my parents when you lost your mother so long ago."

"I didn't tell you that story to compete with your grief. I did it so you could see that even in this palace, there's room for you to express your feelings, and if anyone will understand, it's me."

For a long moment, she was quiet as she dried the last of her tears. "Right around now," she said slowly, "would be when we're preparing for the chrysanthemums to bloom. My mother grows every kind of chrysanthemum in her greenhouse. When I turned twelve, she made it my responsibility to look after them. I had to water them, pile fertilizer on their roots, carefully apply insecticide and chase away the hungry critters that wanted to feed on them. I hated it: there were so many more interesting plants in Mother's greenhouse, and I wanted to look after one of those. I wanted to make salves out of strangely stinky vines, or brew mysterious concoctions out of those herbs I plucked from the hillsides. But she only trusted me with the chrysanthemums, and she told me I couldn't help her with anything else until I proved I could handle it.

"So, I became determined to show her that I was above this. At the crack of dawn, I would be out in the greenhouse, wiping the dew from their leaves and checking for bites. I went into the town stables" - her nose wrinkled here - "so I could prepare the best fertilizer possible, like she'd taught me. Rain or shine, it made no difference: I was there, after school, after rehearsals, down in the dirt making sure those damned chrysanthemums were not going to make me look like a fool.

"Finally, as autumn began….they bloomed." A radiant smile lit up her wan face, lovelier than any bloom Iroh could recall. "It was more beautiful than I'd ever imagined. My mother had secretly planted some new chrysanthemums without telling me, you see, so it wasn't just the red ones that unfurled their petals. Pink, yellow, white, even splashes of purple lit up the plot I'd been so carefully tending.

"She knew she'd caught me by surprise. She asked me, 'Sunshine, you see how a good, honest effort can lead to the most unexpected rewards?' But I was upset that she'd tricked me, in the petulant way that girls that age can be, so I said, 'All I see are useless flowers in prettier colors.'"

The smile vanished as she spoke the harsh words, mouth drooping with the weight of what she'd said to her mother.

"She just sighed," Ursa continued after a moment. "And she sent me inside, saying she would pick the flowers herself. I was immediately upset, because she wasn't letting me help and because I knew, deep down, I'd hurt her with my words. But I went and lay down in my bed, refusing to have dinner, refusing to say I was sorry because…pride, I suppose. Spiteful, silly, pride.

"The next morning, I'd calmed down enough to think maybe I should give her an apology. I went to the greenhouse, swallowing down my pettiness, and found she'd laid out an array of the flowers. Some of them were bundled up to sell as gifts or decorations, but others were being dried. I was still too proud to ask what she was doing, though, so I just stared at them and tried to puzzle it out by myself. Eventually, she laughed at me and called me over to explain. 'Chrysanthemums are pretty, but they can do so many things if you do more than look at them: they can heal a heart, settle a mind, or just be a lovely cup of tea. And even if all they were was pretty, doesn't it bring a smile to your lips to see them?'"

Her eyebrows raised in a good-natured impression of her mother lecturing her; Iroh suddenly saw a resemblance between mother and daughter that he hadn't noticed before. "She told me, 'Ursa, never make the mistake of tying worth to beauty. Beauty by itself isn't a good or a bad thing - it is simply a quality that can be used to fulfill a purpose, or one that can mask so much more than you suspect.' Then she told me I'd done a good job with the chrysanthemums, and I could start helping make the salves and medicines.

"I was so happy, I forgot to apologize for what I'd said. By the time it occurred to me that maybe I should, enough time had passed that it seemed pointless to bring it up. So I never did. Now I think maybe I should have." Her eyes watered again. "I keep thinking about all the things I should have done before I left, what I would've done if I'd known. Sitting in the greenhouse one last time. Listening to my father's silly jokes with a smile. Leaving everything on the stage for my last performance, maybe stealing a mask from the theater as a keepsake since it wouldn't matter anymore if they kicked me out," she laughed wetly. "There's so many…so many farewells I never said."

Iroh had never seen the depths of the grief she held for her old life. Although he suspected there was one more farewell that she wasn't mentioning, her village boyfriend Ikem, he wasn't going to raise that issue. Instead, he nodded awkwardly in sympathy, searching for the right words as she stopped speaking and covered her face with her hands. Everything he thought to say felt so insignificant in the face of this mourning.

"I won't pretend to understand everything you left behind," he said finally, "but I do feel for you." A useless sentiment, he scolded himself.

Still, she wiped off her tear-streaked face and offered him a watery smile. "Thank you."

"Maybe you can do some of those things during the Autumn Festival," he added, grasping at the one reassurance that came to mind.

But his words had the opposite effect. Ursa froze, eyes widening with clear shock. "What?"

"The Autumn Festival," he repeated. "When we stop at your home…haven't you made plans to visit Hira'a?"

"No." She wrapped her arms around herself, something like nausea seeming to crawl across her face. "I didn't- no one told me I could."

"It's tradition. One of the places that we visit is the royal spouse's home, as a gesture of respect. I've visited my mother's family every year even after she passed. No one mentioned it? Not even Yuna?" Iroh was becoming confused as well. It didn't make sense why Ursa's staff would have neglected to help her plan a very standard part of the festival journey.

"I thought…your father, he said…"

Well, that certainly shed some light on the picture. "What did my father say?"

She shook her head and shrank away from Iroh, bringing her knees up as a barrier between them while she curled against the headboard. There was fear in her eyes; real fear, the kind that he'd hoped she didn't feel around him anymore.

"Ursa," he forced himself to repeat more softly. "What did he say? Did he tell you to keep it a secret?"

"No…"

"Then surely it's fine for you to tell me. It's just us here."

She dug her chin into her knees, looking unusually fragile as she eyed Iroh warily. "Before the wedding, he told me I had to cut off all ties with my past and my parents. He said it was customary for those marrying into the royal family."

No wonder she'd been in such a state after the wedding; she'd thought she would never be able to see her family again and had missed her chance to say goodbye while unconscious. A sharp, bitter sensation filled him. His father had blatantly lied to his wife and isolated her from everything she knew, not even changing his mind when he'd seen the anguish it had caused her during her strange illness. Meanwhile, Ursa had been suffering in silence, believing that even her husband wanted her kept away from her family. It wasn't right, and it struck him as being strangely cruel on Azulon's part.

"Iroh?" Ursa was looking at the lamp next to the bed. He belatedly realized its flame was growing in size, responding to the budding anger inside him.

"I don't know why he told you that, but it's not custom," he said as he forced the lamp back down, "I'm close to my mother's parents. I write to them frequently. I want my children to have the same relationship with their mother's parents, even if my father may disagree."

"Please don't say that. I'm sure your father has his reasons. Your mother was from a good and noble family, wasn't she? I'm just a girl from Hira'a whose grandfather attacked the Fire Lord and betrayed his country. Why wouldn't your father want to keep his heirs away from my family?"

She had hit the nail on the head, Iroh realized. Azulon feared the Avatar's influence just as much as Sozin had before him, even as he hoped for his bloodline to absorb some of the Avatar's power through Ursa.

"That doesn't mean you should be forced to suffer unnecessarily," he replied finally, not answering her question. "You haven't even been able to write to them?"

"I tried to send a letter in secret once, but Yuna caught me and said she would have to tell the Fire Lord if it happened again."

Her hands wrung the ends of her sleeves pitifully, evidence of the fright it gave her to think of the Fire Lord finding out. Iroh couldn't help feeling perturbed at the sight. His father had enlisted Ursa's staff in keeping her separated from her old life but hadn't discussed it with Iroh at all. They definitely needed to have a father-son chat before Iroh and Ursa left for the Autumn Festival in a week.

"I…appreciate that you're concerned," Ursa said, starting to uncurl herself while Iroh was silent. "But I don't want to push back against your father's wishes and lose the privileges I do have here. Besides, it makes me feel better knowing you at least don't agree with his decision."

Disagreeing with the Fire Lord was dangerous for anyone, even for his heir. Iroh would have to think carefully about his strategy for discussing this with his father; luckily, he hadn't asked for any major favors in some time, so he had a decent amount of goodwill built up. For now, though, he just wanted Ursa to feel better. It was clear she was shaken by what she'd learned.

"I'm glad I can offer some comfort," he told her, putting the Pai Sho board aside. "Is there anything else I could do for you tonight? Should I send for a red bean bun from the kitchens?"

She giggled, the sound giving Iroh a bit of relief, and shook her head. "No, it's fine. Can you just boil the kettle so I can make the tea? I think I'll sleep soon."

"I'm happy to brew it if you're feeling tired."

"A princess keeps her word." Her chin jutted out stubbornly.

She began preparing the tea leaves as he grabbed the kettle and produced his small handful of fire. Something about doing this in front of her made him feel a bit like a proud sabertooth moose lion puffing out his chest. She always watched his firebending with an almost awed expression, as if she was witnessing something magnificent, when he considered this to be a relatively mundane feat. He almost wished she would stop by the training grounds more often, so he could show off his true capabilities.

Ursa gingerly took the kettle from him as it boiled. "You know," she said as she poured the water and covered the bowl of tea leaves. "I can think of something else you could do for me tonight, if you want to make me feel better."

"Anything."

"Sleep in your own bed." She smirked ever so slightly, knowing she'd caught him.

"Oh, all right. But don't blame me when I wake you up at dawn to avoid you getting caught in the study." While Iroh was usually up at sunrise to meditate and prepare for the day, he'd noticed Ursa had no such inclinations and much preferred to sleep in.

Surprisingly, she just shrugged. "It's worth it to get one over on the crown prince."

One, then two cups of tea were carefully poured. "There," she proclaimed through a yawn. "Two passable cups of ginseng."

"I'm certain you're selling yourself short," he said as he took one. "If you don't mind, I have a bit more reading to do in the study. I'll be quiet so you can sleep."

"Okay."

The couch was spacious enough for Iroh to sleep comfortably on it, so he knew that rationally, it was more than enough for Ursa. Still, he couldn't help eying it with some discomfort as she sat and began arranging the pillows into a sleeping position.

"What?" she challenged when she caught him staring.

"You're really fine on the couch?"

"Iroh, my cot at home was about this size, and it wasn't nearly as plush. I'm not as delicate as you think," she laughed.

Of course, he reminded himself. She was no noblewoman; she was from Hira'a, a village that she deserved to be able to see again. "Alright."

"What are you working on?" she asked as she sipped her tea.

"The cipher, again. I have a new scroll from Zoryu to read." It was a white lie, but it was one she would believe; he'd been making slow progress on Zoryu's cipher for a few months now.

"Well, have fun reading. Tell me if there's anything good." She drained her cup and lay down on the couch. "Good night."

"Will do. Good night."

He brought his own cup of tea to his lips as he sat at his desk. It was certain that he'd had much better ginseng elsewhere, but he found he didn't really mind. Something about tea that his wife had made for him just tasted…nice.

Hopefully, he'd be able to give her something much more precious in return. Iroh lit a candle and attended to his real order of business: formulating his argument for why the Fire Lord should allow his wife to visit Hira'a again. He found the stack of letters from his grandparents that he kept in his personal files and thumbed through them with a smile. While he was no actor, he also wasn't above a little emotional manipulation when he wanted something from his father.

The candle had almost burned itself out by the time Iroh finished reading through all his letters, writing down pieces of recollections of his mother, and mumbling to himself in an effort to rehearse what he would say to his father about the issue. Ursa fell asleep while he was working, based on the sound of her slow breathing. He was just thinking he would run through his arguments one more time and then turn in for the night, when he heard her shift and murmur something from the couch.

"Miss…"

Had she woken up? "Ursa?"

She didn't respond for a moment, then groaned, "Yellow…"

He peered over his shoulder to check on her, and a queer feeling overcame him as he realized he'd never actually seen her sleeping before; he'd always made it a point during her previous visits to his room to leave his chambers after waking up and give her privacy in the mornings. Feeling a bit like a voyeur, he padded over to the couch, bringing the candle with him for light. She was curled up on her side with her back to Iroh, dark hair splayed out onto the red cushions and partially obscuring her face. The candlelight cast a gentle, warm glow onto her form.

"Ursa, is something wrong?" he whispered.

"Pretty…" she sighed, turning onto her back. Her hair fell away, revealing her eyes were very much closed. She was a sleeptalker, he realized. It felt like a strangely intimate detail to know even though she was his wife. The less rational part of his mind felt an urge to reach out and trail his fingers across that soft hair and smooth skin.

Shaking away that thought, he focused his attention on the blanket that threatened to slip off the couch thanks to her change in position. Carefully, he pulled it up and draped it over her shoulders, hoping she wouldn't wake up. Thankfully, she just relaxed and breathed, "Mama…"

She was dreaming of her mother. Iroh was painfully familiar with that feeling; he would've given anything to see his mother one more time. He couldn't watch his wife go through the same agony when her mother was still very much alive.

"You'll see her again," he whispered, more for his own sake than for her sleeping ears. "I promise."

A/N: Some soft Iroh content to balance out the Ursa-heavy chapters. Hope you like.

~Bobbi