Disclaimer: having so much fun filling the fic with my headcanons buuut the original ATLA characters and universe are not mine.

(Although….ATLA is heavily based on Asian religion and culture and I am Asian…so?)

Gardening was decidedly not one of Iroh's talents. He just wished he hadn't discovered that while attempting to impress his wife.

"Iroh," Ursa laughed, "you only need a pinch of soil to cover each seed. What are you doing?"

"Uh…you said to leave some room in between them?" Iroh stared at the too-big holes that dotted her careful garden plot. He had a sinking feeling that he might have ruined her plans with his overzealousness. "Sorry."

"Honestly, I went inside for ten minutes to get some lemonade." Playfully shaking her head, she set the tray of drinks down on the ground - quite the feat considering she was balancing it with just her one good hand - before picking up a small shovel. "Here, let me show you how to do it properly."

Thankfully, Iroh hadn't gotten around to actually putting seeds in the ground, which made cleaning up his mistake much easier. Chrysanthemums were indeed very straightforward to plant: each one only required only the barest cover of rich soil and about a foot of distance from the other seeds. Even with just her left hand, Ursa scooped small holes, dropped in seeds, and delicately covered them like it was muscle memory while Iroh clumsily attempted to do the same on the other side of the plot.

"You really don't have to help me with this, you know." Ursa elegantly adjusted her wide-brimmed gardening hat. "I can always ask one of the gardeners if I need it."

"Is that your way of telling me I'm doing a horrible job?"

"No!" She ducked her head, the hat hiding her blush. "I just meant…isn't this kind of beneath you?"

"Nothing that's important to you is beneath me. Besides, I'm enjoying watching you work. The only way you'd be a better gardener if you were an earthbender."

"Oh. Thanks." Her smile lifted his spirits enough that the dirt under his fingernails stopped bothering him, at least until she noticed it and giggled. "Why didn't you wear gloves? Are you digging with your hands instead of the shovel or something?"

"So I am bad at this."

"You've just got a lot to learn."

"Teach me, then. What happens after the seeds are planted?"

"Chrysanthemums really aren't that finicky. They like sunlight-" Ursa gestured at the unobstructed sun shining down on them- "and they need water whenever their soil dries out. Maybe some regular composting to help them get nutrients. My goal is for them to develop some strong roots before winter comes, and that way, they'll have a lovely bloom in the spring."

"I see." The sound of splashing and quacking somewhere distracted him. "I think your cat's terrorizing the turtleducks again."

"Oh- Xiliu!" Ursa sprang up to scold her blue-gray kitten, which had grown very comfortable in the palace after only a couple of days. "None of that!"

"You might be fighting a losing battle," Iroh called after her as she ran in the direction of the pond. "A cat's a hunter in its nature."

"So he should be hunting vermin instead of innocent turtleducklings!" Ursa scooped the kitten out of the water and cuddled him close. "Honestly, XiXi, you act like I don't feed you or something."

I am not jealous of a cat, Iroh told himself as he watched his wife plant a kiss on the purring Xiliu's forehead and coo about what a handsome little fellow he was. That would be ridiculous, and I am not ridiculous. "What about the other seeds?" he asked out loud. "From your mother?"

"I'll plant the rest in the spring. I just wanted to do the chrysanthemums now because they're so simple, and my favorite." Ursa knelt next to him in the dirt and passed him the damp bundle of feline. "Thank you again for suggesting this. It's going to be so nice seeing my mother's flowers here."

Iroh warmed his hands just enough to dry Xiliu without hurting him, smiling despite himself when the kitten rubbed his small head against his palms and purred. When "XiXi" wasn't competing with Iroh for his owner's affections, he was undeniably cute. "It's nothing. The gardens could use some new plants anyway."

"Don't disparage Niwa's efforts," Ursa said in defense of the head gardener. "It's not her fault you royal men have no appreciation for her art."

"Well, it's a good thing you're here now, isn't it?"

"I guess so," Ursa smiled, but it faltered as she caught sight of something behind him. Iroh turned to find his father watching them from the palace entryway. Wordlessly, the Fire Lord raised his eyebrows and inclined his head: a subtle but undeniable summons…for the war room meeting Iroh had forgotten about. Dragonshit. So much for his pleasant afternoon with Ursa.

"He wants me in the war room," Iroh said, gently shifting Xiliu out of his lap. "I forgot, I'm sorry. I'll see you two later?"

"Okay. We'll continue your gardening lesson some other time." Ursa waved her shovel in a playful goodbye. "Oh, wait! Don't forget your lemonade."

That was a good call, Iroh thought as he sipped the sweet drink. He definitely needed some sugar in this system to get through this.

"Doesn't she know we have gardeners?" Father asked as Iroh approached.

"She does. She just enjoys doing it herself."

"I suppose it's not a bad thing to have a princess who doesn't mind getting her hands dirty. Still, what an interesting girl."

Mentally, Iroh agreed. "Do I really have to be at this war council, Father? I've barely been home for two days."

"You'll find yourself at more important meetings with less energy as the years go by. Best build up the stamina for it now, lest people think you're soft again."

In short: yes, Iroh had to be there.

"What about Ozai?" he asked. "If it's a meeting of no special importance, isn't it time Ozai starts attending too? He's older than I was."

"You're going to be Fire Lord someday. Ozai's the spare."

"But he will likely be a general or an advisor under my rule, and he should be trained for that."

Father raised an eyebrow. "You're certainly optimistic about his career. Do you think he has anything of importance to contribute to these meetings?"

"He never will if he doesn't get a chance to see how they work," Iroh pointed out. "And all his teachers say he's a bright student. He'll learn quickly."

For a long moment, Father was silent, then waved down a servant and instructed him to deliver the war council invitation to the second prince. "If he embarasses us," he said to Iroh, "he won't be permitted in a council again."

Iroh made a mental note to pull Ozai aside and tell him to keep his mouth shut before the meeting started.

Her fingers trembled terribly, but they still curled into something like a loose grip around the handle of the shovel. It was working. Maya's dragonskin ointment was working.

Obviously, Ursa hadn't been able to tell Korzu or the other physicians about her new medicine. Only Iroh knew, since he was the one who helped her apply the cream every night, but the movement coming back to her injured arm was secret even to him. For now, at least, it was Ursa's private little joy.

Well, Ursa and Xiliu's. "Come here," she called, trying to steady her hand. What she hadn't told Iroh about her new pet was that he'd caught her eye because of his resemblance to another friendly blue-gray cat she'd met on her travels: Shui in Forgetful Valley. Still, Xiliu was very obviously a much younger and smaller cat, hence his name.

The fluffball obediently crawled into her lap and curled up, licking the quivering fingers that futilely attempted to scratch his ear. Perhaps such small movements were still beyond her. It would be a good time to seek out physical therapy, if only it weren't suspicious that she was healing so quickly.

"Princess Ursa?"

Immediately, she switched to petting Xiliu with her left hand and looked up as Mika and Rei approached. "Yes?"

"A letter arrived for you." Mika held out the scroll. "Would you like help opening it?"

"Who is it from?"

"Private Piandao. He's written to Prince Iroh and Lord Korzu as well."

Had something happened to Piandao on the frontlines? "Set it on my desk, please. I'll read it once I wash up."

"Of course, Your Highness." Mika lowered the scroll again, but she didn't walk away, instead fidgeting with the parchment a little.

"Is there something else?" Ursa pressed.

Rei finally spoke up, her voice steadier than Mika's. "We know this might not be the right time, Princess, but we wanted to apologize for our conduct during the Autumn Festival."

"Oh. Well, please do."

"We weren't aware," Rei continued, "that you didn't know about our background. It was not our intention to keep the truth from you. Our sincerest apologies."

"We never meant to deceive you," Mika added quickly. "We're really very sorry, Princess."

What they were referring to - what they couldn't say out loud in the garden - was that Mika and Rei weren't just Ursa's attendants. They were also bodyguards, trained to be Ursa's last and most secret defense against attackers. So secret, in fact, that they hadn't even told Ursa that was the case. She'd been holding them at arm's length ever since she'd found out the truth at Ningzhou, after Tiron's attack. It was irrational, how oddly betrayed she felt about her attendants' secret abilities, but…she'd really thought Mika and Rei, at least, were people she could somewhat trust.

"It doesn't matter," Ursa said aloud. "You're good at what you do, and that's what's important."

Rei nodded, but MIka wasn't satisfied. "It isn't, though, because you've obviously been upset with us. Isn't there anything we can do to make it better?"

"There's nothing to make better."

"But-"

"Mika," Rei interrupted her friend. "It's not good to pester the princess."

Mika checked herself and bowed. "I really am sorry, Your Highness. I'll take this letter to your desk as asked."

There was a twinge of something like remorse in Ursa's chest as her apologetic attendant-slash-bodyguards walked away, but she resolutely ignored it. They were just doing a job. She'd been silly to expect anything more than that in the first place.

But…

"Wait."

They stopped, peering back. "What is it, Princess?" Rei asked.

"You two…" Ursa sighed. "Look, regardless of what exactly your duties are, you two are loyal to me, aren't you?"

"Of course," Mika confirmed eagerly.

"If a situation arises again where I'm in conflict with my husband, whose commands are you going to follow?"

"Yours, Princess," Rei said without hesitation. "Our first loyalty is to you. It's our duty, the same way Jun serves Prince Iroh."

"Prince Iroh can certainly make suggestions to us, but your orders will always supersede his from now on," Mika added. "We swear."

"I appreciate that. Thank you for your apologies." Ursa waited for them to walk away before looking back down at the kitten in her lap. "Come on, Xiliu. Let's go inside too."

He leapt away and ran deeper into the garden.

"Oh, all right. Just leave the turtleducks alone, and stay in the palace."

It was strange, but Xiliu did seem to understand her commands more than any other cat she'd encountered. Perhaps he'd spent a lot of time picking up human speech as a stray. Whatever the reason, she was just grateful he seemed to like his new life enough to not try and escape the palace grounds.

She sipped the last of her lemonade as she made her way into the palace, stopping for a quick exchange with Niwa ("Are your chrysanthemums all sorted, Princess?" / "Yes, Niwa, thank you for arranging a plot so quickly."). It rankled a little that Iroh had left her alone so suddenly, when she'd been thinking they might have a nice afternoon together, but- well, she was being ridiculous, wasn't she? They'd been practically attached at the hip during their travels, and of course he had war meetings and princely duties to attend to now that they'd returned.

Still…she'd forgotten how lonely royal life was without Iroh around. Everyone was nice enough, but no one was really a friend. Korzu was still in the capital for now, but he was just itching to go back to his disadvantaged patients in the villages, and then Ursa would be starved for companionship again. Human companionship, in any case; she always had Xiliu and the turtleducks.

At least Piandao had thought of her. She wondered what had prompted him to write-

"Oof!"

-before rounding a corner and walking right into someone.

"I'm so sorry, Princess!" Jeong Jeong dropped into a bow. "A thousand apologies."

"That's quite alright, Jeong Jeong- Captain Jeong Jeong, I mean. I heard congratulations are in order." She blinked the blur out of her eyes to take in his kneeling form. He looked a bit beaten up from the Agni Kai with his former captain Zhou, but the biggest change was the bandages covering his right eye. "Oh no, your eye!"

"An injury that's thrown off my eyesight, but still no excuse."

"You're excused, but what happened? Was your Agni Kai so brutal?"

"Yes, but this was a separate incident," he explained as he got to his feet. "Some of Zhou's favorites thought he might not have to leave his position if the Agni Kai victor were incapacitated in a mysterious midnight mauling. A failed venture, of course, but they landed a few blows."

"How awful. Have they all been caught?"

"And jailed. Leaving me with the unenviable task of filling about half our ranks after this whole affair." Jeong Jeong crossed his arms awkwardly. "But I assure you I will have higher standards than my predecessor, Princess. I am very sorry that my fellow guards caused you harm on your journey."

"It wasn't your fault. If anything, I have you to thank for sending Prince Ozai to help me."

"I appreciate that, but if I'd stepped up sooner, the whole conflict with Tiron might have been avoided in the first place. My old captain Jinpa suggested I should be his successor. I refused because I felt I was too inexperienced, then Zhou won the round of Agni Kais to be the new captain, and here we are. I'm not making the same mistake again."

Ursa hadn't known that aspect of the conflict, but that still didn't put Jeong Jeong at greater fault for Tiron's actions. "I'm sure you will be a marvelous captain now. You have my gratitude twice over for your help with Tiron now; please let me know if I can ever do you a favor in return."

Jeong Jeong smiled and bowed. "I could never trouble you with such a thing, but if the occasion arises, I will keep it in mind."

Ursa, cont.

I suppose it did arise eventually, but we did each other so many favors over the years, keeping count became redundant. I think if I did tally it all up, I would still owe Jeong Jeong.

From the Fire Nation Royal Family's official records

Letter delivered to Princess Ursa in the autumn of 69 AG

Dear Ursa,

I hope you're enjoying the Autumn Festival (or enjoyed, past tense; I'm not sure when exactly this letter will make its way to you from the Earth Kingdom). If the opening party I attended was any indication, I'm sure the rest of the events you planned were wonderful affairs.

I confess, my writing to you isn't unprompted. Korzu sent me a message when he became your physician again, and while I don't know the specifics, I do know that he came back because you were injured after some argument with Iroh. I'm so sorry that happened, and I wish you well as you heal. I also wanted to shed some insight on Iroh's mind, since spirits know he won't do it himself.

Iroh is the kind of man who is incapable of viewing himself in shades of gray. Ninety percent of the time, he regards himself as the prince among men he is. The ten percent of the time where he has bad days and makes mistakes like the rest of us commoners, he derides himself more harshly than we would. Part of that comes from his upbringing in the palace: a future Fire Lord can be nothing less than perfect, which has been impressed upon Iroh since birth. Part of that comes from the loss of his mother: Fire Lord Azulon, a mighty man in many ways, has rarely been a comforting presence in Iroh's life, leaving him with little support during those bad days. Yuna could certainly never replace a mother, and Korzu and I were just boys like him.

Your marriage is an interesting development for such a man. For one thing, it's a blow to his pride to be in a marriage he didn't want. A second blow is the fact that he actually quite likes you, which he didn't expect (and I'm extremely hopeful that he's confessed that to you by now; otherwise, I'll be in my own share of trouble). Finally, any hardship that befalls you is - in his mind - a failure on his part. If a future Fire Lord can't do something as simple as keeping his wife safe and happy, what does it bode for higher stakes affairs? That's the way he considers these things: in the context of his future rule.

The trick to Iroh is knowing how to pull him out of those destructive thought spirals. For me, a light round of sparring and a good drink of tea (or something stronger) typically does the trick. His wife, though, should likely have a gentler touch. Not that I'm discouraging you from sparring; everyone can benefit from some basic weapons training and self-defense lessons, especially a woman in your position. A shortsword or a dagger would be a good starting weapon, and both are easily concealable with those princess robes as well. Perhaps you should consider one, once you're feeling better.

Best wishes for your recovery. Hopefully, we will have an occasion to see each other again soon. Do have some patience with your husband until I return to beat some sense into him.

Your ally,

Piandao

Admiral Gun was clearly nervous as he shared his proposal with the war council. The only person more nervous than him was Ozai, seated to Father's left and looking much too slight for his armor. At Father's right, Iroh very much wished he could tell his brother to stop fidgeting with his arm guards like that. Anything that drew attention to him - even if it wasn't words - just increased the chances that Father would find a flaw to scold about.

"The raids on the Southern Water Tribe have, um, have proceeded in the same fashion for over thirty years: we attack on a new moon day, we linger just long enough to round up a handful of their waterbenders, we retrea- strategically retreat." Gun, who was presenting to the Fire Lord for the first time after a recent promotion, was not handling the pressure well: beads of sweat had appeared on his forehead, too many even for the Fire Lord's blazing war room. "This has successfully tripped- stripped- the Southern Tribe of their waterbending population, as not a single waterbender has been spotted in the last ten raids. My recommendation is that we cease the raids, and turn the Southern Raiders' attention to the Earth Kingdom's islands in the South Sea."

"Why not move the forces to the Northern Water Tribe?" General Hu questioned. "We could use our combined naval might to overwhelm the waterbenders once and for all, and claim another one of the four nations in the war."

A few other generals murmured in agreement. Then, Ozai scoffed, and the flames behind Father's throne flared in contrast with his disconcertingly calm demeanor. "Is there something you would like to say, Prince Ozai?"

Shut up, Iroh prayed, stomach churning as his brother hesitated. Shut up shut up shut up-

"It seems to me," Ozai began overconfidently, "that the answer to General Hu's question is obvious. It would be a waste of time to take a well-established naval force in the South and have it spend months, if not a full year, moving northwards."

Iroh really, really wished Ozai didn't make it so hard to be a good big brother. "There would be no chance of taking the North by surprise with such a large movement," he quickly added before Father could respond. "Where the South was already fracturing before our attacks, the North has unified and would simply consolidate further when they catch wind of us shifting our forces north. Besides, it's recorded that at least some waterbenders have migrated into the Southern Earth Kingdom, among the sparse islands in the sea and the swamps of the southwest. If we want to ensure that the waterbending presence in the South remains eradicated, Admiral Gun's proposal is a step in the right direction."

Thankfully, Father had looked away from Ozai to hear Iroh's argument. His eyes narrowed in consideration.

"A step in the right direction, you say. What would you change?"

"The genetics of bending are unpredictable, meaning there is always a possibility that new Southern waterbenders will be born. Therefore, we cannot pull out of the water tribe entirely. There should remain a minimal intelligence network, to monitor any rumors or whispers of new waterbenders, and at least one fleet in proximity of the tribe to conduct future raids as the need arises."

Admiral Gun, who'd frozen up during Iroh's analysis of his plan, seemed to relax once it became clear the crown prince actually supported him. "That would certainly be possible, Your Highness."

"Once again, my son proves himself a gifted strategist." The Fire Lord flashed him a brief smile. "Perhaps General Hu should spend more time on Pai Sho before his next war meeting to stop asking such obvious questions."

Thankfully, Ozai kept his mouth shut after that. Not that there was much worth commenting on; as the year marched towards winter, the Fire Nation would transition into maintaining current colonies rather than starting new battles during its weakest season, and the details of that transition were basically routine after decades of war.

"Well," Iroh whispered to his brother as they slipped out of the war room, "that wasn't too bad. What did you think?"

"I think you totally stole my thunder," Ozai huffed, elbowing Iroh away from him. "I had that question about Gun's proposal. I could've said what you said, but you just have to be the gifted strategist."

"First of all, no you couldn't have said what I said, because you keep blowing off your studies of the water tribe. Second, even if you had, it wouldn't have mattered. I told you to keep your mouth shut. Father doesn't care what you say, he cares that you know your place during your first time in the war room. I was doing you a favor by stopping you from making a fool of yourself."

A lamp on the wall blazed. "I don't want your favors!" Ozai snapped. "I'm a prince of the Fire Nation just as much as you, and I've gotten along fine without your help."

The guards unsubtly backed away as the younger prince stormed down the hallway. Blast. At least they hadn't fought in the war room itself.

Something rubbing up against Iroh's ankles distracted him from his worry for his brother: Xiliu, purring and crawling over his feet. "What are you doing here?" he asked, crouching down to scratch the kitten under his chin. It was one thing for the princess's cat to have free reign of the palace, but it was quite another for him to be venturing so close to the throne room. "We don't need the Fire Lord mistaking you for an ambitious stray and getting upset."

In response, Xiliu rolled over onto his back, sinking his tiny claws into Iroh's hand when the latter attempted to rub the fuzzy belly.

"And here I thought we were bonding," Iroh mock-sighed. "Where's your mistress, hm?"

Promptly, the kitten got up and began trotting away. Did he actually…understand that? Feeling more than a bit silly about this, Iroh followed Xiliu down the hallway, around a corner, and into the library. Sure enough, the cat scurried to a table in the weapons section, where Ursa was bent over a scroll, wearing the cutest concentration face.

"Oh, hello handsome." Ursa bent down to lift Xiliu to the table. Iroh briefly wished he was the one she was calling handsome. "Did Master Qin let you back in, or did you slip around him?"

"He snuck in," Iroh replied, prompting her to gasp softly.

"You scared me!"

"Sorry. I just got out of the war council."

"Yes, I can see that." Her cheeks were slightly pink as she focused on petting Xiliu. "Nice armor."

That blush stroked his ego. "You like the armor, do you?" he teased, sliding into a chair next to her.

"All I said was 'nice armor.' How was the meeting, anyway?"

"It was…fine. Some talk about scaling down raids in the Southern Water Tribe, and Ozai came along for his first war council."

"Good for him. Was he excited?"

Iroh thought of their small argument and winced internally. "Maybe too excited, I'd say. But he didn't get challenged to an Agni Kai, so I'll count it as a success."

"That's a pretty low bar."

"Father didn't want to invite him in the first place. It doesn't get much lower than that."

"Is that so?" She raised her eyebrows at him. "What changed his mind?"

"I might have talked him into it. And then semi-effectively talked Ozai into behaving himself."

"Look at you, being a good big brother."

Ursa's small smile of approval lifted his spirits. He glanced at the scroll she was reading, curious about what had drawn her to the weapons section. It was a study in bladed weapons, discussing the merits of various styles of swords and daggers. "Since when are you interested in swords?"

"Since this afternoon, I guess. Piandao thinks I should take up a sword of my own."

"Piandao thinks everyone should take up a sword. If it were up to him, there wouldn't be other weapons in the world."

She giggled. "That may be, but I think he has a point. Isn't it standard for all members of the royal family to be trained in combat?"

"Well…typically, yes. But usually, they pick it up at the Royal Fire Academy as students, not after marrying into the family."

"So I can't learn now?" she questioned, raising her eyebrows.

"That's not what I meant. Of course you could learn, but should you be worrying about it when you're still recovering?"

"I feel fine except for my arm," she shrugged. "And I think I would feel even better if…I were able to defend myself."

Iroh straightened up at that, automatically setting his shoulders a little wider. "I'm here to defend you."

"I know that, but it's more of an irrational fear. Besides, I don't want to be an exception to the rules for the royal family. Not when I'm already such an unorthodox addition."

Her reasoning was perfectly sound, but it still made Iroh a bit uncomfortable to think of his wife getting anywhere near a fight, even a practice one. What if something went wrong, and she got hurt again?

"Alright," he said aloud. "You know, Headmistress Aiko at the girls' academy is a highly acclaimed instructor. My grandmother practically handpicked her to be the next headmistress when she retired. I'm sure she'd be happy to give you some private lessons."

"I'm sure she would definitely have a choice in the matter," Ursa pointed out wryly, raising an eyebrow. "But I would appreciate that."

Xiliu whined, digging his claws into the table. "Hey!" Ursa scolded, tapping him lightly on the head with a finger. "That's what got you thrown out of the library in the first place."

"I think he's just pointing out that he's a very fit instructor as well. Sharp instincts, finely-tuned senses, quick reflexes…and some rather deadly nails." Iroh flexed the hand that Xiliu had scratched up earlier.

"Oh no, did he do that?"

"He was just playing. I think."

"They do play a little rough until they learn otherwise." She scrutinized the scratches with a small frown. "He didn't break skin, at least."

"No, and I can handle a little kitten's scratches."

"I know, but it doesn't hurt to have some help." Ursa brought his hand to her lips, kissing the claw marks carefully. "There: all better, right?"

"Absolutely," he grinned.

Xiliu yowled again. Stay jealous, furball.

A week later, Ursa found herself in the training room standing in front of Headmistress Aiko: a tall, slim woman with jet black hair, who projected a fierce Fire Nation pride from her sharp features. Ursa tried not to be intimidated; you outrank her, she reminded herself. It was a hard thing to remember when looking at such a clearly experienced woman. How many battles had she seen to fight her away into becoming headmistress of the Royal Fire Academy for Girls?

"No training at all?" Aiko questioned, circling Ursa like a hawk about to go in for the kill.

"None. It wasn't a priority where I grew up."

"And the war wasn't a priority either?" Aiko questioned, before smiling in a humorless way. "Ah, things look different all over the nation. The point is you're ready to learn now.."

"Yes."

"And what is it you want to learn?"

"Whatever a woman of my station is supposed to know in relation to combat," Ursa said, hoping it wasn't too vague of an answer. "I have instructors for the academic side of things, but I have no knowledge of how to defend myself. I imagine I should."

"Indeed you should. Better late than never." Aiko squinted at her bandaged arm. "Are you right-handed, Your Highness?"

"Yes."

"An unfortunate injury, then. The good news is, since you have no prior training, it won't be terribly difficult to teach you to favor your left hand in combat." Aiko clasped her hands together. "I'll start you on the basics of course: all students must gain experience with hand-to-hand combat and receive at least minimal training with a variety of weapons, before selecting a weapon or combat style of expertise. Do you have an idea of what you may like to be your specialty?"

"I just think I should have some weapon that I can conceal easily on my person."

"Absolutely, you should. Especially as a nonbender in the royal family."

Aiko's choice of words reminded Ursa of something. "And…I've heard the royal academy teaches the skill of chi-blocking."

"Oh, yes. It's a rather advanced skill, and I confess it requires quite a bit of prior training. But if it's something you wish to learn, we can work towards it."

With her rudimentary studies of the Air Nation diagram Maya had given her, Ursa hoped learning chi-blocking might enhance her understanding of chi as a whole. "I would like to learn chi-blocking eventually, but I don't want to get ahead of myself. Let's just focus on the basics."

"Very good, Princess."

The basics turned out to be the most grueling physical conditioning Ursa had ever experienced. Aiko was not cruel - if anything, she was rather mindful of Ursa's disability and lack of training - but she was firm, and while Ursa had plenty of experience hiking through forests and hauling bags of fertilizer around her mother's greenhouse, she'd grown rather soft as a princess. The rotation of exercises activated muscles Ursa hadn't even known she had.

"Not bad at all," Aiko said at the end of the hour, releasing Ursa from her one-armed plank. "I'll see you again next week, but you should be practicing what I teach you for a couple hours a day to build up your strength and stamina."

"Of course," Ursa panted, rather proud of herself for being able to form words. "Thank you, Sifu Aiko."

The next month or so of her training progressed in the same fashion: weekly sessions with Headmistress Aiko, followed by Ursa practicing on her own during the days in between. The issue arose when her instruction progressed to actual sparring.

"You're doing well," Aiko concluded after one such session. "But you won't see much growth unless you're sparring outside of our lessons as well."

But who could Ursa spar with?

"That's hardly an issue," Iroh said when she voiced her problem to him. "I can spar with you."

"Are you sure you won't pull a muscle lowering yourself to my level?"

"Of course not. Besides, it's good to refresh one's knowledge of the basics every so often, and teaching others is the best way to refresh."

That was how Ursa ended up on the training grounds on a brisk late autumn day, standing across from Iroh.

"Alright, show me your stance," he instructed.

Ursa attempted the modified beginning stance Aiko had shown her, angling her left arm further outward to guard the parts of her body that her disabled right arm couldn't.

"Almost perfect." Iroh moved behind her, the heat from his body enveloping her as he set his hands on her elbows. "You're aiming to protect your most vulnerable areas: your torso, especially your heart and lungs. Keep your elbows drawn in to guard them while still staying ready to strike."

"Uh-huh," Ursa managed to whisper, certain she was blushing pink all over. Iroh's breath was warm on the back of her neck, all his warrior's strength and knowhow evident in just the small correction he was making to her form. This was not going to be a productive session if this was all it took to fluster her so much.

If Iroh coaching her through something as simple as a stance was difficult, sparring with him was practically impossible. It wasn't just that his white training tunic was thin enough for the hard lines of his muscles to still be tantalizingly visible, or that his skill was so far above hers that he could have handled her one-handed and blindfolded…or much she enjoyed being distracted by both those facts. It was that Iroh treated her so delicately despite his obvious strength, "blocking" her novice blows in the gentlest fashion possible and "attacking" her with light taps like his hands were clad in kid gloves. He caught her shin mid-kick and nudged it away with no real force, allowing her to return to a standing position with ease. Her weak punches were met with equally delicate jabs of his hands, like an intricate piece of stage choreography. It would've been enjoyable if it were an actual dance instead of a sham of a sparring match.

"I'm not going to learn anything from this," Ursa protested after about half an hour of dance-sparring. "You're treating me like I'm made of glass."

"Why is that a bad thing? There's no reason for me to hurt you."

"I'm not asking you to hurt me." Wiping the beads of sweat from her forehead made her notice that Iroh was hardly even out of breath. Was she really that incompetent? "But I need to learn how to defend against at least a minimal level of force so I can get better at this. There's a spectrum between hitting hard enough to hurt and not hitting at all."

Iroh made a noise that hinted at disagreement.

"Iroh, will you at least try it?"

"Fine." He took up a sparring stance again. "Show me what you've got."

What Ursa had "got" wasn't very much. To his credit, Iroh used a smidgen more pressure in deflecting her attacks, at one point batting away her left arm hard enough that she lost her balance. And just like that, her feet were suddenly in each other's ways.

Then Iroh's hand on her torso pulled her back to him, preventing her from falling to the ground. "You okay?"

"Yeah." Her heart was pounding; she told herself it was from adrenaline rather than the closeness of his very warm body. "But, um, maybe that's enough for today?" she managed to get out. His chest was so solid behind her.

"I think so too." Iroh quickly released her, putting a respectable distance between them again. "You're doing well, though. Well. Anyway, I'll go cool off."

Considering how hot her face felt for a multitude of reasons, Ursa needed to do the same.

What was that? she mentally shrieked as she peeled off her sweaty training clothes in the changing room. It wasn't like it was new for her to be close to Iroh. For Agni's sake, they'd been sharing a bed for nearly two months. Ursa had literally fallen asleep in his arms many times before. Why was it suddenly affecting her now?

Because falling asleep in his arms never involves his thumb brushing under my breast, his hips pressing into my behind, his breath hot on my neck...

Ursa poured a mugful of cold water over her head before her thoughts could wander too far down that direction.

What would his lips feel like on my neck?

Oh, spirits.

She knew Iroh was a handsome man. She knew she liked him. But this, this was different, this…desire. A shiver ran through her as she acknowledged that it was, indeed, a very physical desire blooming inside her. It had been a long time since she'd felt this way: hyper aware of a man's touch, with her mind spiraling into fantasies about all the things that could accompany his hands on her body.

It's just the training session, she told herself. Of course, of course it was just the training session. With Iroh's strength on display and both of them getting very literally heated up, it was only natural she would get a little distracted.

Which meant she couldn't keep practicing with Iroh. Between his overprotectiveness and her own rampant imagination, there was no way it would be productive for her.

But who could take his place? Headmistress Aiko was a wonderful instructor, but she only had one hour a week to spend with Ursa. And even she was hesitant to push a princess too hard during training: one wrong move, even in a practice match, risked the end of Aiko's career. Considering Iroh held similar power over pretty much everyone in the Fire Nation, it was hard to think of anyone who would dare train with her properly.

Well, there was one person who regularly scoffed at Iroh's power, in addition to being a skilled fighter and somewhat equal to him. The only issue would be getting him to agree. Fortunately for her, he tended to be in a better mood once he'd eaten, and she was pretty sure he would be in the kitchen for an afternoon snack soon.

"Absolutely not," Ozai replied before she'd even gotten the request out, walking away without waiting for her to respond.

Feeling a little ridiculous, she hurried after him as he rifled through the cupboards in search of whatever he was craving. How was he this much faster on his feet with only a few inches more height? "Ozai, you didn't even think about it."

"It doesn't require much thinking." Ursa just barely managed to avoid running into him as he whirled around to make his point. "I have nothing to gain from sparring with a novice nonbender, and everything to lose. If I put so much as a scratch on you, Iroh will skin me and throw me off the roof of the palace."

"He will not. Skinning you before throwing you off the roof is far too much work." Her moody brother-in-law did not crack a smile at that. "Oh come on, I wouldn't let him. You know he listens to me."

"Doesn't change the fact that I have nothing to gain."

"Well…" Ursa scrambled for a convincing argument. "They say that the best way to test one's knowledge is by teaching others. Sparring with me would be proof of your mastery."

"Pass." Ozai shoved an almond cookie into his mouth and waved as he turned to the exit.

"But- hey, I'm not done!" Ursa ran to the kitchen door, quickly positioning herself to stop him from leaving. "And you can't push me out of the way, or you'll be in trouble."

"This really isn't proving your point," he said through another mouthful of cookie.

"Fine. Here's an excellent point: spar with me or…or…"

"Or?" Ozai raised his eyebrows, clearly amused by her struggle to think of a good consequence.
"Or…I'll tell your father."

"Like you have it in you to tattle to my father."

"About the Red Ash," she whispered, feeling a weird mix of pride and shame at how he paled. "Don't forget, you owe me. This is what I want in return."

"You're not going to tell my father," he said, albeit less confidently now. "You pity me too much."

"Maybe I won't be the one who goes to your father. Maybe I'll tell Iroh, and maybe he'll be so upset that you didn't make amends with his wife that he won't listen to me about not taking it to the Fire Lord this time."

"You're not going to do that." It was more a reassurance to himself than a statement of fact now.

"I won't if you just do me this favor. Otherwise, you're leaving it up to chance," Ursa shrugged, hoping she looked more nonchalant about this blackmail than she felt as she met Ozai's hard gaze. He was right: she didn't have it in her to bring the Fire Lord's wrath down on his head, but she also didn't need to confirm those suspicions for him.

Thankfully, he looked away first with a sigh. "I hope you take to combat as quickly as you did palace politics."

"So...you'll-"

"One hour of practice, twice a week. Deal?"

It had actually worked. "Deal."

"Great. Now can I please leave?"

"Um…get me some cookies too, first." She pointed back at the cupboards he'd snatched his from. "I didn't know they were up there."

Ozai rolled his eyes.

Iroh, cont.

It likely isn't a surprise for you, reader, to learn that I wasn't particularly thrilled about Ursa's new arrangement with my brother. For one thing, her decision pricked at my younger self's inflated pride. For another, Ozai's attitude towards me varied wildly from even hour to hour, and I disliked the possibility - however remote - that he might vent that frustration on Ursa. But she trusted him, for whatever reason; perhaps because he'd saved her twice, or because she felt bad for him.

I didn't think it would do any good to protest the arrangement, given that one of the major contentions of our marriage was Ursa wanting freedom to make her own choices as princess, and there were no rational arguments I could formulate against Ozai acting as her sparring partner. The most I was able to get away with was observing part of their first session, before Ursa shooed me away on the grounds that I was making them nervous. Still, even that much, and the glimpses I caught of their budding sibling-like relationship after that, showed me that I had nothing to fear from Ozai…with respect to Ursa, at least. Whether it was his guilt over poisoning her or his appreciation for having a family member who didn't blame him for our mother's death, Ozai tolerated all manner of sisterly fussing from Ursa with standard teenage snark rather than any real hostility.

In the end, Ursa might have been a better older sibling to Ozai than I. He certainly thought so.

It took five minutes of convincing and just as many kisses (two on his cheek, two on his nose, one on his jaw) to make Iroh leave them alone, but he eventually did. "If he does something stupid…" he warned, glaring at Ozai unsubtly, before Ursa all but shoved him out of the training room and shut the door.

"And here I thought his ego issues might be able to get me out of this," Ozai sighed, his casual demeanor clashing with the tension in his shoulders.

"He's overprotective, which is…sweet, but sometimes a lot. That's the whole reason I asked you to help me."

"Yeah, yeah, marriage trouble. Not my concern."

"We're not having- oh, whatever. I have an hour, and I'm not wasting it arguing."

"Foiled again," he smirked. "Let's get to it, then. I assume we have a lot to do, what with your village background and all."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing offensive. It's just that you're from a different background - a different pedigree - than the other students of Headmistress Aiko, so this will be harder for you. It's like that swordsman friend of Iroh's. Sure, he graduated from the Royal Fire Academy along with the sons of nobles, but he had to work twice as hard to stand on their level. You can ask him."

"Ozai, what a narrow way to view Piandao's achievements. If he had to work twice as hard at the academy, it was because he didn't have the riches and privileges of a noble family to support him outside of school, not because he was of a different…pedigree. Given the proper resources, plenty of commoners could be just as successful as nobles. The idea of pedigree is nonsense."

He laughed. "It'll be interesting for you if you're right. How do you think my father will feel if his prophesied Avatar heirs aren't extraordinarily powerful after all?"

"You know about that?" Ursa asked, caught off-guard.

"Of course I do. And if pedigree doesn't matter, you being the Avatar's granddaughter doesn't either. What a predicament that puts you in for your marriage."

She hadn't thought of that. Would there be consequences for her if it turned out there was nothing special in her womb, no leftover Avatar power to be passed down to her and Iroh's children? A sort of queasiness overcame her.

"Well…" Ozai hesitated, seeming uneasy at her silence, "you know, the good news is it doesn't matter which one of us is right for the purpose of these training sessions."

"What do you mean?"

"If you're right, and it's access to resources that matters more than pedigree, you will be a skilled fighter soon enough; you have all the resources of the royal family at your disposal." He gestured at the dummies and practice weapons around them meaningfully. "If I'm right, and your bloodline does make a difference, your grandfather's power will help you pick this up. Either way, you'll be fine."

"I guess you're right. About that specific statement, not the overall argument," she added quickly.

"I'll accept that." Ozai scanned the assortment of wooden swords lined up on one of the weapon racks, picking up one and weighing it in his hands. "Why are you suddenly so interested in combat anyway? I didn't think Dad cared."

"He doesn't, that I know of at least. I just wanted to learn to protect myself."

"Oh. That makes sense." He added a quiet curse against Tiron and his friends as he flipped the sword in the air and caught it. "Bastards, thinking they can lay hands on a princess."

His choice of words struck something within her sourly. "Ozai, what Tiron did to me would have been awful even if I weren't a princess. You understand that, don't you?"

For a moment, he looked at her like he didn't. Then, "Yeah, I do." He held the sword out to her. "Here, let's see how long you can hold onto this in a match."

The answer, it turned out, was less than a minute. Ozai cackled as it clattered to the floor. "This might actually be some fun."

Ursa, cont.

Sometimes, I remember moments like that - when I looked into Ozai's eyes and wondered if he saw me as a fellow human rather than a fellow royal - and I can't quite figure out if there really was a hollowness to his gaze, or if my knowledge of what he would become tricks me into thinking there was. Memories are not as set as we like to think; they're malleable to our biases, our tendency to contextualize the past within the present. The Ozai of today grew out of the Ozai of the past, it's true, but were those seeds already sprouting inside him at the age of fourteen?

I don't know. I'm not sure I'll ever know.

A/N: writing this chapter was so! Ahhhhhhhhh! I just had bits and pieces of scenes but transitioning between them was such an aodijfoeuhgbhgksnjr you don't even know. I hope it was kinda readable anyway.

~Bobbi