A/N: I'm shocked I've been keeping up with updates this consistently lol…anyone who's read my work in non-ATLA fandoms knows I usually abandon fics for months at a time once I get like 4-5 chapters out of the way.
Disclaimer: *does the macarena*
"And can we expect any good news soon? Some are saying it's been an inauspiciously long time."
The sound of Mariko's voice carrying across the gardens immediately put Iroh on edge. He glanced sideways from his conversation with the agriculture minister to see a small audience clustered around Mariko and Ursa. To her credit, his wife was maintaining her elegant posture and serene royal expression well.
"Who can predict when new life graces us, Mariko?" Ursa's eyebrows drew together in a perfect picture of sympathy. "Why, one's husband could even suddenly emerge with a son two islands away; that would be markedly more inauspicious, don't you think?"
Iroh bit back a proud smile as he excused himself from the agriculture minister to make his way through the garden party. Ursa had expertly thrown Mariko's father's infidelity in her face, better than he himself could have phrased it. Still, he didn't like the way the crowd seemed to be slowly surrounding his wife as Mariko's face reddened with embarrassment.
"Mariko, it's been some time," he announced himself loudly, dispersing some of the women to plant himself at Ursa's side and lightly place one hand at the small of her back: just enough to remind the onlookers whose wife she was while making it clear she was capable of standing on her own. "How are you? I heard your father was hoping to find you a match by summer's end."
Alright, maybe throwing in the additional barb about her marital status was unnecessary, but Iroh was annoyed by the audacity she had to publicly question his wife's fertility. Mariko, like quite a few women of her class, had been a fixture at palace events for much of his adolescence, transparently hoping to join the royal family. Ursa's sudden arrival on the scene had clearly displeased her, and based on the small audience, Mariko wasn't the only one feeling slighted.
"My arrangements will be postponed until next summer," Mariko said stiffly. "My parents are having trouble deciding which suitor would be most advantageous to our family, and the auspicious wedding season is drawing to an end all too soon. I was so sad to miss yours, Prince Iroh. It happened so suddenly!" Her voice shifted back into the wheedling suggestiveness of noble conversations. Iroh focused on making sure his eye didn't twitch.
"It was such a lovely event," Ursa piped up, drawing closer to Iroh and placing a hand on his shoulder with just the right amount of possessiveness. "I hardly recall all the guests; my husband looked so regal I wasn't very interested in much else." Even as she smiled sweetly at him, the perfect picture of a doting new wife, he caught the quick flash in her eyes and knew she was also exasperated by Mariko.
"A shame it was cut short by your illness," Mariko snapped open her fan and waved it at herself delicately. "It is fortunate that the royal family is not fazed by such omens."
"The only 'omen' I noticed was bad sea slug," Ursa replied, turning her attention back to the woman, "but perhaps it's easier to see them if one has experienced many in her life."
Mariko's face was priceless, even as she attempted to hide it behind her open fan. "Perhaps. Pardon me, Prince Iroh, but I feel a touch of sun."
"Feel better," Ursa called after her, and Iroh had to purse his lips to prevent a smile. "It was wonderful to meet you all," she continued to the other women who'd been watching the exchange. "Do stay until the fireworks. I would very much like to hear more about the Royal Fire Academy for Girls, but I'm sure there are other guests of my husband I need to meet today."
There were mixed reactions on the women's faces, ranging from clear disdain to impressed admiration to grudging respect. He'd expected nothing less; Ursa had her work cut out for her as a newcomer to the capital, and although she'd been a princess for nearly three months now, this was her first real test. The palace's kickoff celebration of the Autumn Festival was an exclusive event for the Fire Lord's current favorites, many of whom hadn't had a chance to meet the new princess and were naturally curious. Ursa was handling the attention well, as evidenced by her clash with Mariko, but Iroh could tell the hours in character as Princess Ursa were starting to wear her down.
"Do you want a break?" he whispered as they turned away from the group.
"Please."
"You're doing remarkably," he said, guiding her to a relatively isolated cluster of rose bushes before signaling a server to bring them some drinks. "I couldn't have handled Mariko better myself. Take a moment to breathe."
"Thank you," she said, face relaxing to show her exhaustion. "I know you warned me about her, but…where I come from, it would've been acceptable for me to spill a drink on her dress for some of the things she said."
"If this wasn't your very first public appearance, you might be able to do it here too."
She giggled, the sound of her real laugh like music to Iroh's ears. "I'll keep it in mind if I see her again. Oh, thank you," she told the server who arrived with two glasses of cool watermelon juice.
Iroh took his gratefully; it may have been summer's end, but the sun hadn't gotten the memo, which wasn't helped by his sweltering formalwear. He tugged open his collar just enough to feel a cool breeze against his throat, before telling Ursa, "I used to have a crush on her, you know."
"On Mariko? When?"
"When I was seven."
"Ah, I see. You were too young to know any better."
"Exactly. I thought she was the prettiest girl ever and brought her a rose from our gardens to tell her so. She responded that she didn't like big-headed ninnies. Broke my heart."
Humor glinted in her eyes. "Now I understand. She's upset because she knows she could've had it all if she wasn't so mean as a little girl."
"Probably, but it's not my concern. I have a much kinder wife who apparently thinks I look 'regal.'"
"Well, now that you've mentioned the big-headed thing…I might see where she was coming from." She coyly raised her eyebrows at him as she took a sip of her drink.
Iroh played along with her teasing, placing a hand over his heart. "You wound me, Princess."
"Maybe I'm just upset that I've never received a rose. Why were you more chivalrous as a seven year old than now?"
"I apologize." He plucked a red rose from the bush next to him. "Here." It was quite easy to position it behind her ear, her long hair serving as an anchor for the stem. The flower suited her well, the color complementing her robes and drawing attention to her lips while adding a gentleness to her otherwise prim and proper appearance.
"Thank you." Her eyes flickered away from his to admire the rosebushes. Perhaps it was his imagination, but her cheeks seemed redder with the rose in her hair as well…
"Am I interrupting?" A voice cut in, prompting a surge of irritation from Iroh. Wondering who considered themselves important enough to bother him in a private moment with his wife, he turned and found the answer to his question in his friend's smug smile.
"Piandao!" Laughing, he dropped formalities to embrace him properly with his free arm. "You have a lot of nerve showing your face here after skipping my wedding."
"I received that letter about your impending nuptials while in the Hu Xin Provinces facing a battalion of earthbenders. I was a bit busy fighting for your father, not to mention my own life."
"I suppose I'll pardon you. Ursa," Iroh turned to introduce her, "this is Piandao. One of the most talented swordsmen in the Fire Army, and a dear friend."
"It's an honor, Princess." Piandao's shrewd gray eyes studied her as he bowed, forming a quick assessment of this new addition to the royal family. "I understand you planned most of this lovely event. Forgive my intrusion - I very rarely have time to make it back to the capital these days, let alone send an advance notice of my arrival."
"There's always room for one of our brave soldiers," Ursa said generously. "Did you know Iroh in school?"
"Something like that." Piandao cast him a knowing look. "He never had much luck with pretty girls back then unless he showed off his crown prince headpiece; is that what worked on you, Your Highness?"
"Something like that." She matched his vague manner of sidestepping questions with a smile. It occurred to Iroh that they might get along well, if Piandao ever had time to get to know her. "How long will you be away from your post?"
"Maybe a couple of days before I have to sail back. I was hoping to steal a moment to surprise my mother?" He raised an eyebrow at Iroh as he asked.
"Of course," Iroh answered immediately. "Tell her to take as much time as she likes. You just make sure you have time for tea with me before you leave."
"As if you'd let me go without that."
Iroh shook his head and clasped Piandao's forearm in farewell. "Don't do anything to make me change my mind," he called after his retreating form.
"So, who is he?" Ursa whispered once Piandao was out of earshot.
"My oldest friend in the world. I'll tell you more about him later." He didn't think Piandao would appreciate a discussion of his backstory out in the open like this.
"Well, he must be quite something if you've been friends so long." The small, genuine smile that accompanied her words joined the watermelon juice in cooling Iroh's exhaustion from the party so far. She drained the rest of her drink before continuing, "I see your father starting to stare at us. Should we venture back into the fray?"
Sure enough, Iroh turned his head and caught the Fire Lord's raised eyebrow, sending a clear message. Considering the favor Iroh needed, he couldn't afford for his father to be in anything less than a spectacular mood. "Very well. Princess?" He held an arm out to her. Her back straightened once she accepted it, her 'princess face' returning in full force.
"Only three more hours until the fireworks," she reminded him as he steered her towards General Hu.
Three more hours wouldn't be so bad; not with her beside him, her sunshine eyes meeting his own between clever remarks and polite smiles to give him glimpses of her true reactions. As the party went on, he noticed none of the guests made her laugh quite like he did, something that made him feel strangely proud.
Soon enough, the sunset painted the sky with streaks of pink and orange, signaling that it was time for the party to move to the palace balconies for the firework display Ursa had planned.
"Remind me why we're changing this part?" Ozai said in a bored voice, directing his question at Ursa.
Iroh bit his tongue to keep from reprimanding his brother for disparaging Ursa's efforts as she responded, "This will be a better view for everyone in the capital. Releasing the fireworks from the harbor instead of the palace means the setting sun won't block the show for the citizens who aren't at the party."
"And we care about them, why?"
"Ozai, the Autumn Festival is a celebration for all Fire Nationals," Ursa half-reprimanded him goodnaturedly. "Besides, I think our guests will enjoy the new view too."
Hopefully, that would be the case. Ozai was the only one with the audacity to openly voice his discontent, but as the younger prince raised an eyebrow and melted back into the crowd, Iroh could spot similar sentiments in the sideways glances and prim lips of the nobility around them. Ursa peered at him, her slightly too rapid blinking indicating that Ozai had stoked her anxiety about people's reactions as well.
"Would you deign to watch the fireworks with a big-headed ninny, Princess?" he asked playfully, aiming to distract her from her nerves.
It worked; she smiled, reaching up to toy with the rose that was still behind her ear where he'd placed it earlier. "Oh, all right, if only because he presented his hostess with such a lovely gift."
Iroh purposefully chose a spot a little away from his father for viewing the show; the last thing Ursa needed was to be stressing about the Fire Lord's opinion. The rose got pulled out of her hair somewhere along the way so she could fidget with it in her hands; he was tempted to reach out and snatch it away before she cut herself on its thorns. Instead, he opted to still her fingers by making his silliest jokes the focus of her attention.
"You know what makes half a party?"
"What?"
"Tea. Par-tea."
"That was awful."
"I can do worse. I know all about royal-tea."
"...I'm walking away."
"No, you're not. You said you'd watch the fireworks with me, and a princess keeps her word."
Ursa sighed, the gesture undercut by the smile clearly tugging at her lips. "Fine. Tell me one that's not tea, at least."
"That might take oo-long time."
"Do you have a list of these memorized?"
"I can't guaran-tea I don't."
"Oh, that one was just lazy."
"I know, I know, I hate myself for saying it. Alright, here's an actual joke that's not about tea…"
He didn't get to the punchline, though, because the first firework lit up the evening sky, sending everyone into a hush for the show.
Throughout his life, Iroh had easily sat through dozens of firework shows in the capital, let alone those he'd seen in all the provinces. He knew what a good royal firework show involved: astounding blasts of red, orange and yellow lighting up the palace and the sky around it in celebration of the summer solstice (or the Autumn Festival, a military victory, whatever event called for the festivities). The royals and nobles would enjoy the view with food and drink, chatter and background noise, either too accustomed to be awed or too new to dare show their awe. It was entertaining enough, but once Iroh had crossed the age of ten, it had become sort of a simple cherry on top of each party.
Ursa's show was no cherry.
The first firework had been gold, a standard, radiant color to begin the show. A flute started playing somewhere as the crowd quieted down; when had she planned a musical accompaniment? The song made him suppress a shiver - Four Seasons, Four Loves, he knew it too well - but what followed dismissed those memories. A slow crescendo of white began, accompanied by the lone flute, each firecracker lighting up the sky gently like a star before going out with a blue flash. The effect was beautifully mirrored in the shimmering ocean, an unexpected advantage of the shift to the harbor.
The blue-white flashes hit a climax along with the flute's shrill peak and suddenly turned into pink and green fireworks as a pipa joined to pick up the pace, evoking a flowering imagery heightened by the strategic pairing of pink atop green with each explosion. Like a meadow in the sky, slowly sinking its roots into the ocean, Iroh thought to himself. It was beautifully done, especially with the music in the background.
A solitary final flower bloomed into the traditional fireworks Iroh knew so well as drums and cymbals crashed into the soundtrack and replaced the pipa. Red and orange swirled into the sky like dragonfire, prompting oohs and aahs from the crowd as they combusted in powerful bending blasts, washing out the ocean. This was summer, he realized with a start. White and blue winter, pink and green spring, and now red and orange summer. It wasn't just the song; Ursa had planned an entire show of the seasons.
Just as the drums and the cymbals were reaching a fever pitch, completely overwhelming the flute in the background, one last cascade of red and orange lit up the sky and dissipated into purple and yellow sparks that banished the percussion. A tsungi horn accompanied the flute now, the two wind instruments taking turns fading in and out as purple and yellow danced around each other, the contrasting colors performing the steps to some ancient choreography Iroh didn't know but still recognized deep in his spirit. Finally, purple and yellow embraced each other at long last while the tsungi horn and the flute reached a perfectly unlikely harmony that hung in the air like a haunting goodbye.
Of course it was ending on autumn. Of course she'd chosen this song.
Winter, spring, summer and fall
Winter, spring, summer and fall
Four seasons, four loves
Four seasons, four loves
The melancholy flute played through the song by itself one last time as a single gold firework ended the show the same way it had started. The cycle of the seasons beginning anew. A year somehow captured in a few minutes.
Iroh was in awe, not just of the fireworks, but of the woman who'd somehow turned them from just blasts of color into a performance fit for a celestial stage. He quickly glanced at her, wanting to give her the praise she deserved before the Fire Lord and the nobles interjected with their own reactions. Her head was bent so he couldn't see her face, but her pale hands were clenched tightly around the thorny rose stem.
"Ursa," he said, not caring who heard, "that was wonderful." He covered her whitening knuckles gently, a poor attempt at coaxing her into letting go of the flower.
His words made her raise her head enough for him to see that her eyes were shining far too brightly. Her hands loosened their grip just a tad under his touch, her lips parted to speak-
"Wonderful, indeed!" His father's voice came booming from where he'd been watching the show at the front and center of the balcony, cutting off whatever she'd been about to say. "Thank you, Princess Ursa, for that spectacular finale to tonight's festivities."
Seeing that both the Fire Lord and the crown prince had given their approval, the crowd around them broke into applause for the princess. Ursa's mouth shifted into her princess smile, and she turned away from Iroh to assume the image of a dutiful hostess gracefully accepting her guests' ovation. It was a tenuous mask: her eyes were still too bright, and as she bowed to the Fire Lord, a single shining tear made its way down her cheek.
"The Autumn Festival is officially underway," his father continued. "Prince Iroh and Princess Ursa will depart tomorrow morning to bring the festival to the provinces, the first time in fourteen years that journey has been taken by two royals instead of one. To those of you who will be hosting my son and daughter-in-law in your homes, I'm sure they will return with bountiful praise of your hospitality."
The speech droned on with something about auspicious signs for this year's festival and the war efforts; Iroh seized the opportunity to whisper into Ursa's ear, "Are you okay?"
She looked at him with a start, like she'd forgotten he was there while taking her bow. "Yes," she said, too quickly, her too-sweet princess smile still plastered to her lips.
He raised his eyebrows at her and tapped his own cheek, drawing her attention to the tear that had left its track on her pale skin.
"Oh…" she breathed softly when she reached up and found the damp trail there. "I was just moved by everyone's praise. And I'm a bit tired, of course."
The way her grip tightened on the rose again was enough proof for Iroh that she wasn't being honest. "Ursa."
Her smile faltered at that. "I…was thinking of my father," she whispered.
Azulon's final toast interrupted her small confession. "Good night, everyone. To our nation's glory this autumn."
"To our nation's glory." Iroh stepped back into prince mode just enough to echo the words and bid his farewells, making sure to keep Ursa at his side as the horde of guests bowed and flattered and swooped its way out of the palace. His father caught his eye and nodded for him to leave as well; the Fire Lord wanted a moment alone, as he always did at the start of the Autumn Festival with memories of his wife on his mind. Iroh held an arm out to Ursa and steered her back towards their chambers for the night.
"Tell me about your father," he said to her, once they'd reached one of the inner hallways and could speak with some privacy. "I haven't heard you talk about him much."
She hesitated for a moment, studying him like she wasn't sure he meant it, before smiling slightly. "He would like your awful tea jokes."
Iroh chuckled, relieved that she was back to mocking him. "Is that right?"
"Yes." The rose was thankfully tucked behind her ear again as she spoke. "That's exactly the kind of thing he thinks is the pinnacle of comedy. Do you want to hear his favorite joke?"
"Absolutely."
"Knock knock."
"Who's there?"
"Interrupting hippo cow."
"Interrupting hip-"
"Moo!" she cut him off, then giggled.
He rolled his eyes, even though the knot that had formed in his chest when he saw her tears was slowly coming undone at the sound of her laughter. "So, he has a sense of humor, unlike his daughter. What else?"
"Hey!" Ursa scowled at him in false offense, but it softened as she considered his question. "He's…a dreamer. He's the one who really believed I could be an actress. My mother's the practical parent, but my father likes to spin stories out of the clouds and constellations and ask why they can't be real." She shook her head fondly. "And he loves fireworks, although the ones at our festivals were tiny compared to here. He would point at the explosions and talk about the drama he saw in them, how the sparks were fighting or dancing or celebrating right along with us."
"You must have been thinking of him, then, when you planned for tonight." Hearing her describe her father's view on fireworks made it clear how the man had left his fingerprints on Ursa's show.
"Yes." Her mouth turned downwards again. "I wish he could have seen it."
"He would have loved it, I'm sure." An empty sentiment, considering he'd met Jinzuk once and the man had been trembling with fear the whole time, but Iroh was sure he was correct. If nothing else, Jinzuk was a father who loved his daughter, and so he would love what she made too.
"Do you really think so?" Ursa asked, sounding almost surprised at his certainty.
"Of course. I saw the drama in it: the four seasons, the harmony, the music. I told you, it was wonderful."
"I thought you were just being polite in front of everyone."
"No. It was inspired, Ursa. And I know what I'm talking about. You have no idea how many inferior fireworks shows I've sat through." He paused to let her laugh, pleased to hear her amusement again. "I have to ask though, what made you pick the song?"
"Four Seasons, Four Loves? It just seemed appropriate," she shrugged. "It's thematic, yet simple enough to not overwhelm the visual display; an obvious choice, really. Why?"
So, no one had told her about his mother's love for that specific tune. "Just curious about how a master performer's mind works."
"I'm hardly a master."
"I don't know how else to describe someone who successfully turned the sky and the sea into a stage for her show."
She looked away from him, cheeks turning a pretty shade of pink. "It couldn't have happened without all the festival hands and musicians who actually executed my ideas. But thank you."
"You're very welcome. Are you ready for tomorrow's journey?"
"I will be after a good night's sleep." They came to a pause at her door, and she removed her arm from his. "What about you?"
"I've been ready." It was the truth; the Autumn Festival had always been a time he eagerly anticipated, his chance to spread his wings outside the palace even if it was with the Royal Procession at his heels. "I'm just looking forward to seeing everything you've planned."
"I hope I don't disappoint." She pursed her lips, looking a bit torn about something. "You really mean what you said? About my father?"
"Of course. Why wouldn't I?"
"I don't know. It's strange to hear you talk about him, like a reminder that he does still exist outside of my memories. I…try not to think of home too much."
If her eyes had been too bright earlier, they were too dull now, like clouds had come over the sun. Missing home was wearing on her spirit, more than she'd admitted to him. Iroh hated to imagine what would happen to her as time dragged on and the memories of her old life faded. Would her eyes be cloudy forever? He couldn't stand the thought.
"I understand," he said. "It would be hard for anyone in your shoes."
She didn't respond properly to that, just hummed in acknowledgement and toyed with the handle of her bedroom door for a moment. Then, "Good night, Iroh."
"Good night, Ursa. I'll see you in the morning." He definitely hadn't done a good enough job comforting her, but he couldn't think of anything else to say once she'd so clearly ended the conversation. The door opened and shut, and she was gone.
Maybe there was nothing else to say to her, but there were some things he needed to say to the Fire Lord that might help.
His father was exactly where he'd predicted: the music room, seated on the yellow couch that remained Mom's even over a decade after her death. "Son," he greeted, voice sounding a bit strained. "Shouldn't you be with your wife?"
"She wanted to rest up for her first big journey. Besides, we'll be seeing plenty of each other once we're on the road."
"I only ever joined your mother for one Autumn Festival journey. I would've gladly taken more if I weren't already Fire Lord." Father smiled sadly. "You're fortunate."
Fortunate, indeed, that his wife had left an entire life behind for this marriage yet somehow didn't seem to hate him for it. Iroh swallowed down that retort and focused on his mission. He couldn't just argue his father into this. "I miss Mom," he said quietly, and it wasn't a lie. "Hearing Four Seasons, Four Loves again…"
"Is that why you're here?"
"Yes. I know it's been a while since we've done this, but I've been thinking about her a lot. Since the wedding, really. I've been wondering if she would've liked Ursa, what advice she would've given me for my marriage." Iroh shrugged. "I wish I knew."
"Come here," Azulon beckoned him. "Play for an old man missing his wife, and I'll tell you what I think."
Iroh grabbed his pipa and seated himself by his father's feet. It was a rather childish pose to assume, but he needed the Fire Lord to be feeling as sentimental as possible to have a chance at getting Ursa to Hira'a. "Any requests?" he asked, playing a few warm up chords.
"Well, now that it's on our minds, why not Four Seasons?"
The song came to him almost effortlessly, seeing as it was already thrumming through him from the fireworks show, and he allowed it to flow out of his fingers without paying mind to the lump it put in his throat. "Funnily enough, Ursa has no idea this was one of Mom's favorites. I never told her, and I assume you never did; she just happened to choose this for the show."
"She is a musician," Azulon said with something like approval. "Not a particularly trained one, but an instinctive one. Your mother would have liked that."
Despite himself, Iroh felt his heart warm at the thought. "What else?" he asked, adding a few flourishes as the song started over to put a smile on his father's face.
"Your mother would like how she's dedicated herself to you and the palace, despite her less than ideal background. She would appreciate that she knows her place as a new princess."
Iroh didn't like these compliments as much. Less than ideal background, knows her place; he needed his father to shift away from that train of thought for this to work. "And what do you think she would say about how I'm doing?"
"'Your scrolls won't warm your bed.'" Azulon gave him a meaningful look. "I received a similar comment after the tenth time I rejected her company in favor of poring over my father's records of the Air Temples. You certainly shouldn't let your wife dictate what you do, but a little goes a long way; honoring her wishes every now and then will keep both of you happier overall."
For me, Father, honoring her wishes means leaving her alone rather than inviting her to my chamber and reminding her that she was forced into this marriage for some half-witted prophecy that condemns her to bearing my children- "I'm trying to remember that."
"I've noticed. I know you weren't thrilled about marriage, Iroh, but you've done admirably stepping up and committing yourself to it in the months since it occurred."
"Well, it's for the good of the family if Ursa and I like each other as much as possible, after all."
"Of course."
Now was a good time to start steering the conversation in the direction he wanted. Iroh transitioned the music to one of his father's favorite love songs. "What was it like for you when you were newlyweds? Was it how Ursa and I are?"
Azulon gave a small huff of amusement. "Agni, no. It couldn't have been more different. I was a Fire Lord in his prime, eager to enjoy my time with my beautiful bride, and yet carving out that time proved to be an immense challenge with the demands of the throne and the war. Which was part of what inspired her upset about the scrolls, naturally; she felt slighted that I used my brief stays at home to plan further battles instead of relishing her company. That's why you're fortunate to be married as a young prince, Iroh, even though you don't see it that way. You have the time to indulge such heady desires, time I rarely had with your mother."
Iroh nodded, as if he were truly considering his father's words rather than carefully plotting his responses. "What did Mom do, while you were gone? Wasn't it lonely for her to be without her husband?"
"She was a sociable woman, so I'm not sure loneliness came to her as easily as it did to me when we were apart. But she did like to spend the summers with her family whenever I was leading larger expeditions. Surely you remember some of those trips?"
"It's hard to recall." He slowed his playing, shifting into a sadder tempo. "Thinking of her too much…well, I'm sure you understand."
A hand settled itself on Iroh's shoulder, and he looked up into his father's shining eyes. "No, my boy. I can never understand what it is to lose a mother at your age."
Feeling a flicker of guilt for how he was purposefully poking at old wounds, he pressed on. "I was lucky to have Granny and Grampa after she passed. Sometimes I think I remember her more through their stories of her, and yours, than my own actual memories. Especially during Autumn Festival time; I remember how it felt so…painful, yet comforting, to go to their home during the first year after she died and see their old portraits of her. I make sure to look through them every year now, and have Granny tell me about each one."
"Family is everything. I am lucky hers have cared for you so well even after she passed." Father's hand shifted to adjust Iroh's headpiece in his topknot, the most physical affection he'd allowed himself to show Iroh since the latter's thirteenth birthday.
"They couldn't have cared for me if I hadn't been able to see them so often." Iroh rested his head against his father's knee, something he'd done as a much younger boy missing his mother in this same room. "It's a strange thing, Father; I was looking forward to getting to know my in-laws so my own children could be cared for by them the same way some day, but I found out Yuna apparently neglected to help Ursa accommodate a trip to Hira'a in the plans for the festival."
The Fire Lord stilled. Iroh quickly kept talking. "I went ahead and planned a stop in Hira'a myself, of course; Ursa's had so much on her mind, I can hardly steal a moment of peace and quiet with her anymore, so I figured she would appreciate the help. I can't understand how such an oversight happened, though, especially when Yuna's been attending Ursa, and she knows perfectly well how important it is to visit the spouse's family home as part of the journey."
None of what he was saying was a lie, and that was the critical part of this. Iroh had never been able to lie well - especially not to his father - but he'd discovered a way to talk in circles enough to present the version of the truth that favored him most. Right now, the version that favored him was casting himself as a well-meaning young prince who'd been terribly missing his mom while trying to improve his relationship with his new wife.
"I just thought you should know, Father, that it occurred. It strikes me as unusually lax for Yuna-"
"Iroh," he finally interjected, "I instructed Yuna to cut the visit to the spouse's home this year. I don't think it's in your best interest for you to know your in-laws too well."
"Why not?"
"Use that fine brain, son. Why are you married to Ursa?"
"Because she is the Avatar's granddaughter."
"And what does that make her parents?"
Blast, Ursa had been right about his father's agenda. "The Avatar's daughter and son-in-law, of course. But Father, you saw the way they lived. They're the magistrate and herbalist of some insignificant village we'd never even heard of before our spies found them. They're hardly great bastions of the Avatar's influence."
"They've been hiding for decades precisely because of the Avatar's influence."
"After what Avatar Roku did, hiding was the only sensible option. Wouldn't his daughter have been persecuted as a traitor if you'd captured her earlier? If it was really her mission to continue her father's work rather than just survive, I'm sure she could've easily found a rebel group or Earth Kingdom spy to serve as her allies. Instead, all she's done with her life is plant a greenhouse and raise a daughter."
His father frowned at him. "She could be biding her time."
"Biding her time for what? If she was capable of some great act of vengeance against the Royal Family, I'm sure she would have launched it the day we came to her doorstep looking to claim her daughter. Our spies are thorough; did they reveal that she's part of some conspiracy we should be concerned about?"
"No."
"Then what's the harm?"
"The harm, Prince Iroh, is that Roku's traitor blood flows in that family's veins. Ursa is young enough that she is no threat as long as she stays in our influence, but her mother has had a lifetime of internalizing her father's legacy. I will not see her Avatar witchcraft infect you for sentiment's sake."
The use of his title in that tone was a sharp warning to Iroh to drop it, a signal he knew well. In any other disagreement, he would've obediently shut his mouth and let the matter go. But this wasn't just an issue of wanting to skip a trade briefing or a strategy session.
"Father," he said, allowing more emotion to enter his voice for the riskiest part of his argument, "I don't want to fall asleep next to a grief-stricken wife. I don't want my children to have only she or I as family if something were to befall one of us. I don't want resentment towards us to grow in her heart in the absence of her parents. If I let her have just this, just a brief visit to her hometown that she misses as anyone in her shoes would, we can both be much happier overall. Isn't that what you told me?"
There was a fifty-fifty chance that this impertinence gave Iroh the result he wanted. He held his breath, waiting to see which side the coin would land on. Fortunately, his father's frown wavered, and instead of raising his voice he simply said, "Explain."
Perhaps this would actually work. "I think it's very simple. She misses her home, and she likely associates that feeling with us since we took her away from it. As dutiful as she is, it's only natural that such a drastic change in her life will breed resentment over time towards those who caused it. But if we were the generous Fire Lord and crown prince who allowed her to hold a piece of her old life despite the dangers it presents to us, any cause for resentment would be removed and replaced by genuine loyalty to her new family. You and I both know that true loyalty is far harder to break than its forced, duty-bound duplicate."
The Fire Lord studied him with an impassive expression, not unlike the one he used in the war room when hearing competing generals' proposals. "Did she ask you for this?" he questioned finally.
"No," Iroh answered honestly. "As you said, Father, she knows her place. It would never cross her mind to ask me for this."
Another moment of consideration passed. Iroh resisted the urge to keep talking and spinning further arguments for Ursa's sake; he'd pushed enough, and the way his father was flexing his hands indicated that he seemed to be close to a decision.
"Take her," he said. "But discreetly. It's not a good look for the Royal Family to maintain a regular presence in a village such as that, and I don't want word of her family's background spreading."
Spirits, he'd actually done it. He'd changed his father's mind about something to do with the Avatar. It was unheard of. "Thank you," he said, unable to hide the smile that pulled at his lips. "I'll take her by myself, then, without the royal procession."
"Only her parents' house. Only one night."
"Understood."
"And Iroh…" His father's hand rested on his shoulder again. "Winning her true loyalty is all well and good, but make sure you do not give her your own in return. Nothing and no one can ever stand above your duty to the throne."
Rationally, Iroh knew this to be true. But considering it in the context of this conversation, something sat sourly within him. Had the throne been more important than his mother? Was it now more important than Iroh himself?
"Of course, mighty Fire Lord. You're the only one with my loyalty," Iroh said with a grin, prompting a chuckle as Father clasped his shoulder fondly.
"As it should be, crown prince. Now, I need my rest, and so do you."
From the hand of Azulon I
Recorded on [First day of the Autumn Festival], 69 AG
I miss Ilah dearly tonight, as I've written at the start of every Autumn Festival since she passed. Despite the fact that she presided over it for less than a decade, she still defines it for me in a way no one else can. Perhaps her successor will do the same for Iroh.
The young princess quite unexpectedly impressed me today. Changing the tradition of fireworks at the palace, a tradition that was established well before her time…a shockingly unorthodox choice that, even more shockingly, proved to be the correct one. I allowed her to implement whatever ideas crossed her mind because I expected to be amused by the colossal failure of the Avatar's granddaughter and then return to form next year; the notion that she might actually prove herself a capable hostess never occurred to me.
Speaking with Iroh tonight, about the issue of letting Ursa visit her hometown, showed me how self-contradictory I have been when considering her. In the same breath, I think of her as the Avatar's granddaughter and the blood of my nation's sworn enemy, while also positioning her as my son's bride, my wife's successor, my future heirs' mother. I did not expect reconciling these two images to be as challenging as it has been, but based on what Iroh has told me about their relationship so far, perhaps I've been standing in the way of a true bond forming between them due to my concerns about the girl's family.
I maintain that the Avatar's daughter is not to be trusted. Whatever lies her father filled her head with could be dangerous. But Ursa is young enough, with such little knowledge of war and politics, that I may be too harsh on her by keeping her away from her parents entirely. Besides, my son is a prize of a husband like many princes before him. I can see that he has gotten over his childish inhibitions about marriage enough to charm her to some extent, based on how I caught her admiring him more than once during tonight's festivities. Given that foundation, his aim of earning her true loyalty makes sense. I only hope he does not find himself too charmed by her in return; I've never known him to lose himself in the company of a woman before, but none of those previous women ever had the distinction of being his wife. He seemed to be in his own world when he was placing a rose in her hair, which is nothing of note by itself, but perhaps something to watch as their marriage progresses.
Newlywed bliss only comes once in a lifetime. I hope he soaks it up for all it's worth, before he realizes just how taxing a marriage can be for a man of his status.
A/N: Other all-Iroh chapter…. I was planning to include an Ursa scene but it was just getting so LONG so I guess I'll push it to the next update.
~Bobbi