Disclaimer: If ATLA was mine, Azula would have more screen time.

Ursa, cont.

No matter what difficulties I've faced over the years, I've learned to at least be grateful for good health. In war, especially, the things we take for granted - sight, hearing, walking - can all be ripped away in a moment. These are the tolls faced by thousands who were injured in the Hundred Year War, yet another cost of senseless violence.

Ah, but that's not the part of the story I'm on yet. Sometimes I get carried away while writing because I vividly remember the time when I thought I wouldn't be able to write like this ever again. My right arm, mutilated by Tiron, was unresponsive from the elbow down while I was healing. Between that and the loss of my voice, communication with those around me became an elaborate game of charades. Korzu's optimism that I would heal clashed with the evidence of my arm hanging uselessly day after day, and I resigned myself to having to learn how to live with only my left hand.

During those dark days at Ningzhou, Iroh was like a man with his spirit stolen. This isn't to say he was somehow unpleasant or inattentive: far from it. While I focused on healing, both mentally and physically, Iroh was busy rearranging the festival route, coordinating new security, communicating with allies, and checking on me during the moments in between. It was Iroh who figured out that while traditional writing with a quill and ink was too much for my clumsy left hand, a miniature chalkboard was adequate for me to express my thoughts via crude characters and drawings. But even while he was the ideal supportive husband, he wasn't himself. There was a coolness in place of his usual warmth, built by his guilt and unrequited feelings.

Ozai slid his rose tile into a perfectly respectable but ultimately meaningless position. It would have been a game-winning move if his only opponent were Ursa. But he was also facing Korzu and Iroh, who had sharpened their Pai Sho skills against each other over years, and who weren't inclined to go easy on Ozai like his novice sister-in-law.

"Rose is harvested," Korzu said flatly, claiming the tile with a tricky slither maneuver by his dragon.

Ozai's jaw dropped. "That is not a thing you can do."

"Iroh?"

"The dragon's slither is a technically not illegal move made possible by a loophole in Section 6 Subsection B of the Official Royal Rules," Iroh confirmed.

"He just moved across half the board in one go!"

"I'm merely knowledgeable of the rules, Prince Ozai." Korzu smiled. "Of course, you can always increase your wager to come out ahead in the end."

There was the familiar scratch scratch scratch of Ursa's writing, and she held up her chalkboard to display a single word to Korzu: Thief. Her playful smile clashed with the accusation.

"It's not thievery," Korzu defended. "Pai Sho is a perfectly honorable way for me to win money off the princes, especially since they have more than sufficient opportunity to defend themselves through gameplay."

Ursa fondly rolled her eyes as she put the board back down in her lap and moved to play her own turn. After a few days, she was feeling well enough to come out to the governor's courtyard for an evening of games and "conversation," but still struggled to do more than a few minutes' walking. The bandages on her limp right arm, kept just out of sight by her long sleeves, haunted Iroh. He focused on her left hand as she brazenly slid her lucky white lotus tile right into his territory.

It was the most obvious win in the world. He couldn't even see a trap waiting for him, and Ursa hadn't learned enough to expertly bait him just yet. Still, he ignored her play, choosing instead to team up with Korzu's assault on Ozai.

"This isn't fair," Ozai whined, before glancing at Ursa. "Any chance I could get a loan, Sister?"

Her lips quirked as she shook her head no. With a dramatic sigh, Ozai yielded, leaving the game to just the three of them.

Scratch scratch scratch. Ursa held up her chalkboard again: Me too.

"Why are you yielding?" Ozai asked. "You're in just as good of a position as these two."

Ursa mimed a yawn that looked a tad too real. She must have been more tired than she wanted to admit. "Here, I'll walk you back to your room," Iroh offered.

She shook her head once more, motioning for Ozai to come with her as she picked up her chalkboard and stood. Finish your game, she mouthed to Iroh.

"It's no trouble," he tried to insist, but she was already walking back into the mansion. Ozai glanced nervously between wife and husband before following Ursa.

Iroh sighed. Ursa was still angry with him. What else could he expect?

"Double or nothing?" Korzu suggested, attempting to bring him back to the game.

"I don't really feel like finishing." He gestured for Korzu to take his money. "How was Ursa? Did you notice anything?"

"She's doing fine. Her mind is as sharp as ever, she didn't seem unusually fatigued, and her gait as she left the room was basically back to normal. Can't you let me do the worrying? I don't like it when I'm the one who has to console you."

"I still think starting the procession again tomorrow is too soon."

"Unless she develops new symptoms overnight, it's a perfectly fine plan. She'll just need frequent rest, fluids, and shade. And since you've practically ordered me to come along, I'll make sure she has those things." Korzu cracked his knuckles, one of his nervous habits. "Iroh, she wants to get on with the festival. You can't… keep her in a gilded cage because you're shaken up about the attack."

There was a lamp by the entrance that was close to going out. Iroh concentrated on willing it back to life as he contemplated Korzu's words.

"She's so angry with me," he muttered finally. "Did you see how she left? She'd rather be around Ozai than me."

"Come on, she just saw that we were in the middle of a game. Don't drive yourself mad over a little thing like that."

It was good advice. Iroh wasn't going to take it. He'd been trying to make it up to Ursa where he could - including letting her win during tonight's Pai Sho game - but although she was pleasant to him, it was clear he hadn't been forgiven.

Korzu sighed before starting to pack up the Pai Sho set, reading Iroh's silence correctly. "Good night, then. Get some rest before tomorrow."

"Sure." Iroh knew he wouldn't.

Of all the things Iroh had done, purposefully losing to her at Pai Sho somehow felt the most insulting.

Ursa hadn't been certain that he was throwing the match until she'd finally tested him with her white lotus tile: in one move, he could have claimed two-thirds of her treasury and crippled her offense, but he'd chosen to pile on an already-struggling Ozai instead. Luckily, she had the excuse of damaged vocal cords so she could fume in silence as Ozai tagged behind her on the way back to her room. It was bad enough that she couldn't use her right hand or talk to anyone. What did Iroh think he was accomplishing by not even playing a simple game with her properly?

Still, she must have been doing a poor job of disguising her face. "Are you mad at Iroh?" Ozai asked once they'd gone far enough to have some privacy. "I mean- you don't have to tell me, of course," he stammered, turning a bit red when she turned to frown at him. "It's just that Iroh seems to feel bad about something, so…."

That was an understatement. Ursa considered the initial question, then held up her left forefinger and thumb pinched together: A little.

"What'd he do?"

Ursa shot him a withering look.

"Sorry. I'm not trying to be nosy, it's just that no one ever gets mad at Iroh."

His curiosity, while definitely inappropriate, didn't seem malicious. Ursa wondered if he'd been told what had happened between her and Iroh, or if he was just reading signals to piece together his own understanding. Drawing to a stop outside her room, she waved for him to hold her chalkboard so she could write.

No one? she scratched out.

"Yeah. Well, no one whose opinion he cares about, at least."

Doesn't care.

"Of course he does," Ozai said without missing a beat. "You think he doesn't?"

She shrugged.

"He wouldn't have thrown that game if he didn't."

Had that been Iroh's logic? Ridiculous. Ursa pulled a face.

"Ohh," Ozai realized. "That's why you're mad at him? Not the fight you guys had or whatever?" There was a hint of mischief in his eyes, and now Ursa understood: Ozai was a little brother pettily delighting in the golden child getting in trouble for once. "You know, if it's really just that, you could have some fun with it. I've never seen him this worked up about a girl before."

Her interest was piqued; she'd never heard much about Iroh's romantic past, and now here was his brother giving her a glimpse into it. She tilted her head curiously.

Ozai caught himself and swore. "I shouldn't have mentioned that. Iroh will kill me."

I won't tell.

He laughed nervously. "It's not like he ever talks to me about that stuff. I just know he was mopey after his last breakup for a few months. But it wasn't nearly as dramatic as this whole not sleeping thing he's been doing."

Not sleeping? Ursa frowned.

Ozai looked like he wanted to punch himself in the face. "Forget I said that. Forget I said anything in the last five minutes, actually. Can I go?"

Ursa debated ordering him to stay and tell her more, but he had a sleepily-terrified look that reminded her he really was too young for all this. A few days ago, he'd killed someone, and his voice hadn't even deepened yet. She granted his request with a nod and a smile.

"You're um…you're not going to tell Iroh the stuff I said about him, right?"

It wasn't as if she could even if she wanted to. She shook her head.

"Okay. Thanks." He handed back her chalkboard. "I think it's impressive that you're still going forward with the Autumn Festival even after this whole thing, honestly. Showing the people that the royal family is too strong for one attack to rattle us and all that." Ozai shrugged, before giving her a tight but surprisingly pleasant smile. "Anyway, Sister, if I don't see you before I head back to the capital in the morning, safe travels and get well soon. Maybe get back at Iroh a little while you're gone."

As he left, Ursa realized that - for the first time - there was no dread or anxiety gnawing at her insides after a talk with Ozai. She filed that thought away for later examination. Her room was warm. Her bed was cozy. Her mind and body were more than ready for a good night's sleep.

Still, just as it had been since the attack, sleep was quite hard to find. Every time Ursa drifted off, she found herself back in that cabin, in those woods, with Tiron's smirk and Bullseye's pawing hands and burning-

A choked cry slipped out of her as she jolted awake yet again. She didn't even remember falling asleep that time; it was like the nightmare had seeped into her waking moments to take her. Heart pounding, she sat up and swept her gaze around the moonlit room. Nothing had changed, but her body remained in fight or flight mode, too charged with adrenaline for sleep to approach again.

If she was in Hira'a, Ursa would have gotten up, grabbed a quick bite, and gone outside to stargaze until she felt tired. Of course, this was a governor's home, where she was already overstaying her welcome thanks to her unfortunate injury. It felt like too great a liberty to demand a midnight snack on top of the hospitality her host had already shown her, but maybe she could slip out to the garden without bothering anyone: it wasn't too far away. Gingerly, she placed her bare feet on the floor and felt around for her slippers.

Her plans were briefly interrupted when she opened the door and found none other than Iroh, looking as if he'd been debating knocking. Surprise briefly flickered across his face, mirroring her own.

"I heard you cry out," he said, recovering faster than her. "Is everything okay?"

Ursa's cheeks warmed as she quickly nodded; she didn't think she'd been that loud.

"Is there anything I can do?"

She shook her head and pointed vaguely down the hallway, in the direction of the garden.

"You want to go for a walk? Let me come with you."

Ursa hesitated. Her whole plan had been to not bother anyone.

"Korzu said you shouldn't walk around by yourself too much," he gently reminded her. "I can get someone else if you'd prefer?"

Waking someone else was worse. At least Iroh was already up and about. She shook her head again and waved for him to join her, smiling slightly to ease his visible tension. He didn't smile back.

The governor's gardens paled in comparison to the royal ones, but they were still far more expansive than her mother's small, clustered greenhouse. She would have preferred the greenhouse, though. There were some things that luxury couldn't replace. But these gardens had what was important to her right now: an unobstructed view of the twinkling night sky. Thank the spirits it was a cloudless night.

Iroh followed a few steps behind her, a solid and silent shadow. Impulsively, she reached down and removed her slippers, wanting to bury her feet in the dewy grass. It helped her feel more rooted in nature, even in a governor's mansion. With every step, she wriggled her toes into the well-manicured lawns, until she found a clearing near the center of the garden that could let her pretend she was somewhere else. Iroh must have thought she was pretty foolish, flopping down with a sigh and spreading out on the grass.

He shifted on his feet next to her, not joining her quite yet. "Would you like a blanket or something?"

She shook her head. Her mind would be focused on the stars in a second, but for now, she was content to feel the grass through her clothes.

Iroh sat somewhere behind her, thankfully without pressing the matter. Despite her lingering upset, his presence was still a comfort with all the nightmare fuel rattling around her skull. He was quiet, though. He'd been quiet since his apology and the…accompanying confession. Solid and silent, only speaking to her with yes or no questions about how she was feeling and if he could help. The detachment of it all bothered her, reminding her of the beginning of their marriage. She didn't want things to be that way again.

Unsure of how else to break the silence without her voice, she pointed at the sky.

Iroh cleared his throat. "Do you know the constellations?"

She wiggled her hand in a so-so gesture. While she was an expert on the constellations of Hira'a, the official royal astronomy guide had some differences she hadn't quite mastered yet.

"Well…that one to the northwest, the rectangle with the one bright corner, that's The Twins. Do you see it?"

She nodded. That one had the same name.

"In the south, there's The Archer, with the three stars that make up his bow."

That was a new one. Ursa scanned the southern sky, then shook her head.

"Um…" Iroh shifted to lie down next to her, although maintaining a respectful distance between them. "There," he pointed, "do you see that brilliant blue star? That's the center of the bow."

Oh, Ursa did know that constellation, but not as an archer. She turned to Iroh and made a slithering motion with her good hand.

"A…weasel snake?"

She nodded, then pointed back at the sky.

"The bow's a weasel snake?" She nodded again in confirmation. "Well, what's the body of The Archer?"

Miming that would be more difficult, although it helped that being an actress had made her very good at charades. She bared her teeth in a growl and curled her hand into a firm fist.

His lips twitched at the sight. "An armadillo bear?"

Apparently, Iroh had a knack for charades too. She nodded, smiling from the simple pleasure of him getting it right on the first try.

"Are they part of the same constellation?"

Yes, she nodded.

"I think I can see it. Are they fighting?"

No, she shook her head.

"Hm, what are they doing then? Hugging?"

Kind of, she wiggled her hand.

"This is a story you learned in Hira'a, I assume?"

Yes, she nodded again.

"You'll have to tell me when you're better. I'm very curious about it."

Smiling, she made a pinky promise with her left hand to show she would do just that. Iroh wavered for a moment, then linked his pinky with hers.

The night sky provided surprisingly plentiful conversation, with Iroh pointing out each constellation and Ursa "telling" him how each one differed from the ones in Hira'a. It was astonishing, the way Iroh understood her even without her voice: he studied her while she "talked," amber eyes warm and steady, like he was noting each of her movements in some mental diagram of her. Maybe he was.

Finally, Ursa yawned, interrupting Iroh's explanation of the navigational importance of the Canine Star.

"Do you want to go back to your room?" he asked, unfazed.

She nodded, stretching out on the grass. Stargazing had worked; her mind felt settled once more, ready to try sleeping again. Iroh helped her to her feet, and she smiled in gratitude. This time, he hesitantly smiled back. It wasn't the kind of smile she was used to seeing from him - no self-assured arrogance, no charming confidence - but it was pleasant in its own way, gentle and tentatively sweet.

What had she been upset with him about? It was hard to remember as he walked her back to her room. Ozai's perspective on the matter - that Iroh had been letting her win at Pai Sho because he cared - softened her earlier anger. It was an odd way for him to show it, but then again, everything had been odd since the attack. Was there even a normal way for him to behave under the circumstances?

"Well, good night. I'm right across the hall if you need anything."

Ursa allowed herself a good look at Iroh in the dim lighting of the hallway now. The circles under his eyes had only darkened over the past few days, and there was a sort of haunted look to him that made her wonder if he'd been sleeping any better than her.

"What?" he asked.

There wasn't a polite way to mime what she was thinking, so she ran a finger under her own eye. Iroh mirrored the gesture, and his mouth tightened. "Yes, I suppose I don't look very well-rested at the moment. Korzu's told me the same."

Why? Ursa mouthed.

"I've been feeling restless, although I'm sure it's nothing compared to you. Don't worry about it."

Ozai had said something earlier about Iroh not sleeping, and he'd made it sound like it was related to Ursa. Of course, getting Iroh to open about it through charades would be difficult. Why? she mouthed again.

"I told you, don't worry about it."

Frowning, she crossed her arms as best as she could with one hanging limply. That seemed to rattle Iroh; he glanced at her bandages, and for just a moment, that heartrending guilt flashed across his face.

"What can I say, Ursa?" he whispered. "I haven't known a good night's sleep since I lost you. Even though you're back now, I can't sleep in my room because I worry I won't hear if…if something else happens to you…so I keep pacing the hall and listening for sounds out of your room like a deranged watchdog. As if anything I'm doing now will make a difference when the damage has already been done." He shook his head. "It's my problem, not yours. So really, don't worry about it."

Something indescribable flooded her chest, making it ache for him. Her poor husband, torturing himself over Tiron's attack when that hadn't even been his fault.

"Do not give me that look," he said more firmly. "Don't. I've told you already, you can hate me all you want, but don't pity me."

That was the second time he'd said that, and this time, she wasn't going to let him get away with it. "I don't hate you," she rasped, cringing at the effort it took to form the words.

"Don't," he said at once. "Please, rest your voice."

"I don't hate-"

"Ursa-"

"Tell me you understand," she insisted as her throat spasmed, "or I swear I'll scream."

Iroh closed his eyes. "I understand," he said. "You say you don't hate me."

She huffed. That was not what she was trying to convey.

"You don't hate me." The words were empty; he didn't believe them. "I understand, okay? Let me make some tea for your throat."

How could she make Iroh believe her? Perched on the edge of her bed, Ursa mentally ran over her interactions with him as he returned with a kettle to prepare a batch of peppermint tea. Had she said she hated him? She didn't think so, but frankly, one of her worse traits was that she sometimes 'blacked out' when she was truly angry and ranted without thinking. Maybe she'd said she hated him during their argument after Hira'a, although she didn't think she had…it felt like a lifetime ago.

"Here." Iroh set a cup on her nightstand. "I hope you like it. Do you need anything else before I go?"

The night couldn't end like this. She reached for her chalkboard, and he obediently handed it to her.

Stay, she wrote. Sleep here. Less worry.

He glanced at her uncertainly. "Would it help you?"

She nodded.

"You're sure?"

Yes, she nodded again.

Iroh studied her for a minute further, and Ursa wondered what he was noting on that mental diagram of his. "Alright," he said finally. "I'll stay and sleep on the floor. Wake me if you change your mind."

It really would help her, Ursa decided. Tiron and his minions couldn't touch her, in nightmares or real life, as long as Iroh was near.

The sky was still dark and starry when Iroh opened his eyes, so it took him a moment to figure out what had disturbed his sleep. Then, there came a whimper from the bed that set off every protective instinct he hadn't even known he had.

"Ursa?" He quickly sat up.

Her eyes were squeezed shut as she curled into herself, panting. "No…" she gasped out through her strangled throat. Her bad arm was desperately clutched against her chest; hopefully, she wouldn't start clawing at it.

Iroh had trained for a lot of things, but his wife having a nightmare about her kidnapping was not one of them. This never should have happened. Squashing down that thought, he knelt next to the bed and tried to figure out what he could do that wouldn't make things worse. There would be time for guilt later. She cried out, the sound of a wounded animal, and buried her face into the pillow.

"Ursa," he breathed, "You're safe now. it's not happening again. They're gone, remember? I made sure of it this time."

A muffled keening responded. Iroh couldn't recall ever hating a sound so much. He vaguely remembered advice from some mindfulness book about not waking people from nightmares, but hearing her relive her pain was torture.

"You're safe now," he repeated, resisting the urge to reach out and provide some physical comfort. His hand was already on the mattress, itching to bridge the gap between them. "Please, if you can hear me, I promise you're safe now."

With a choked gasp, her eyes snapped open, staring emptily into the night. He conjured a fire for light, then immediately extinguished it when he saw how it made her flinch away. Idiot, he scolded himself. She was a nonbender who'd just suffered a burn that put many firebenders' wounds to shame. Fire in her face was the last thing she needed.

After a moment of tense silence, she beckoned him closer. He leaned towards her, mattress creaking as he rested more of his body weight on it. "I'm here, Ursa. What can I do?"

She gestured at the empty lamps on the wall. Obediently, he lit them, not moving from his position next to her as he sent small fireballs into the holders. Her eyes looked unusually dull in the light.

"Anything else?"

Tentatively, she pointed to her chalkboard on the nightstand. Iroh handed it to her and perched on the edge of the mattress while she sat up and began to write.

Dreaming? she scratched out.

"No. This is real."

Sure?

"Yes."

How?

The question gave him pause. He knew what it was like to be held in his mother's embrace, so relieved that the nightmare of her death wasn't real, only to wake up and find he'd gotten his dreams and reality mixed up again. It had left him very mistrustful of his own mind until he'd taken up meditation. But he couldn't exactly take Ursa through a lesson right now.

Well, maybe he could.

"I'm sure because I can feel my heart beating in my chest and my lungs filling with air. I can feel the thrum of energy down my spine and into my limbs. No matter what happens around me, my dreams have never been able to lie to me about those things."

Ursa gazed at him for just long enough that he began to contemplate whether he sounded ridiculous, before she erased the board and started to write again. This time, she showed him a drawing of a heart and a bird.

"Your heart…feels like a bird?" he guessed.

Nod.

"Is it beating fast?"

Feels light. Strange. Still dreaming?

"No," he said. "Not unless we're both dreaming. And if we are, I'll make sure you make it back to the real world safe and sound."

That made her mouth lift a little, and she scribbled out a Thanks.

"How does the rest of your body feel?" he asked.

Shrug. Hard to think.

"It could be because you woke up rather abruptly. Maybe your mind's not entirely out of the dream world yet."

So, still dreaming.

"Why are you worried that you're still dreaming?"

The question made her face fall again, and her hand trembled as she wrote. Scared. Tiron. What's real?

That fear was something he didn't know how to fight for her. "Oh, Ursa…"

Tears brimmed in her eyes, and the chalkboard fell to the mattress as she curled up and dissolved into quiet sobs. Tiron was already dead, but Iroh couldn't help feeling as if the wretch had gotten off lightly. "He's gone," he said vehemently, scooting closer to her. "He can't hurt you. I promise you- I swear on my life- this is what's real. I'm here. You're safe."

Her good arm reached out blindly, and he finally allowed himself to touch her. She grabbed his hand like she was afraid it would vanish, running her slim fingers over each callus and crease, only stopping when she found his pulse at his wrist.

"See?" he whispered. "I'm here. You're safe. It's real."

This finally seemed to convince her, and her tears slowed as she peered at him, although she didn't let go of his hand.

"Stay?" she rasped. Iroh suppressed a wince at the sound.

"Of course. As long as you want me to."

She nodded, satisfied. Iroh moved to withdraw his hand and return to his bedding on the floor, but she suddenly tightened her grip. He glanced at her, heart clenching when he saw the fear had returned to her sunshine eyes. "What is it?" he asked.

"Stay," she repeated, bruised voice trembling.

He'd already said he would, hadn't he? Unless she meant… "Stay…in the bed?"

She nodded.

What kind of husband would hesitate with his wife looking at him so pleadingly? Careful to maintain an overly respectful distance between their bodies, he moved the chalkboard and shifted to take one side of the bed. Ursa took the other. They lay facing each other, their joined hands forming a bridge between their bodies.

"Is this okay?" he asked.

She nodded again, already looking much more peaceful. Iroh whispered a good night and waved out the lamps.

He didn't remember falling asleep. All he knew was one moment, he was watching her closed eyes and slow breathing to make sure another nightmare didn't come upon her; the next, he was drifting awake at dawn, Ursa curled into his side with her head on his chest.

A/N: I promise we're getting out of depressing Ningzhou next chapter! I just wanted Iroh to suffer some more first.

~Bobbi