A/N: Look, this is a pretty important chapter, so let's cut me some slack for taking an extra week on it, okay?
Some general rambling about Asian culture and its role in ATLA: I know that Lunar New Year, which usually happens in like February-ish, is the most recognizable Asian New Years' celebration in the West, but the Fire Nation is THE solarcentric society - why would they follow Lunar New Year? Considering that the Fire Nation seems to be influenced by a lot of Southeast Asian culture (island nation, clothing, sun worship) I decided it makes more sense for them to observe the Solar New Year - which, in real life, normally takes place around April-ish. So if you're wondering where we're at in the timeline in Western terms, Ursa and Iroh got married at the end of June in 69 AG, the Autumn Festival progressed during September-October, and now we're starting to get into winter: January.
Disclaimer: I! Still! Don't! Own! It!
Ursa, cont.
As autumn turned to winter, and the outdoors grew cold, I settled into a comfortable routine within the still-warm palace. Thanks to instruction from Aiko and Ozai, my body grew stronger, and I even developed something like muscles worth showing off for the first time. I continued practicing physical therapy for my recovering arm in private, not wanting anyone to see how well I was doing lest I jinxed it. The formalities of the palace slowly became second nature with Yuna's careful guidance, and whenever I felt overwhelmed, I had places I could retreat to: baking in the kitchen with Aisha, tending to plants with Niwa, reading in the library under Qin's watchful eye, amusing myself with Xiliu, roaming the capital with Korzu.
Of course, there was always Iroh: Iroh who made sure I could write to my parents as frequently as I liked, Iroh who showed me the palace's tricks and secrets with a cheeky smile, Iroh whose tea was always just right and bedtime stories were always fascinating. The cold of winter hardly meant anything when I was with Iroh, whose inner fire kept me warm like nothing else; almost warm enough that I could ignore the heat starting to build within myself. His touch - his very presence in the same bed as I - was like a spark that might have ignited that desire at any moment, a possibility that thrilled yet terrified me.
Still, I danced around acknowledging those feelings until another challenge presented itself to me in midwinter: Iroh's twentieth birthday.
"What do you want for your birthday?"
Iroh breathed a red flame into his hands, warming them briefly amid the chill of the forest in winter, before half-smiling at Ursa. "Nothing in particular, but I appreciate you asking. I'm sure the party you're planning will be plenty."
"Don't do that," she whined, laying a hand on his shoulder (his broad, strong, get a hold of yourself Ursa shoulder). "There must be something you want."
"There are plenty of things I want. Victory in the war. The return of the dragons. Ozai growing an ounce of common sense." He waited for her to laugh before taking her cold hand in between his warm ones and continuing, "In terms of material objects, though, I'm very content."
"But I can't just not give you a present."
"You know what I like: tea, scrolls, music, art. And you, of course. I'll be happy with anything you give me simply because it's from you."
Ursa frowned at him, choosing to focus on her indignation rather than how his hand squeezing hers slightly made her heart flutter. "You're being difficult on purpose."
"Am not. What's so difficult about the options I gave you?"
"It's our first birthday as a couple, not to mention a milestone birthday for you. I have to give you something more interesting than what everyone else already knows about you."
"You're giving me a party already."
"The party's basically planned. It's the same thing as every year: friends and family, noble guests, dinner, and music. Everyone's very insistent you don't want anything more complicated than that."
"They're right. I don't."
"So I'm hardly planning the party, and you expect me to give you a mediocre gift on top of that? I'll look awful."
"You won't," he laughed, and Ursa was tempted to shake him until he understood her anxiety. "Because I'll be thrilled no matter what it is, and I'm not thrilled about many people's gifts. Nothing you give me could ever be mediocre."
"Whatever," she huffed, pulling her hand away from him.
"Ursa." He laid a hand on her waist, tentatively drawing her against him. "There really isn't anything I want besides for you to be happy. You know that, don't you?"
His embrace softened her irritation. "Yes," she begrudgingly admitted, resting her head on his shoulder.
"Are you happy?"
It was a complicated question, but when she was in Iroh's arms like this, it was hard to feel unhappy. "I'm…much happier than I thought I would be as a princess," she said carefully.
"I'll take it." He nuzzled her hair. "Now, how much longer do you want to be out here? I can feel you shivering, you know."
Ursa blushed. Walking through the hills and woods surrounding the capital was one of her favorite pastimes - especially with Iroh - but it was definitely more challenging in winter. "I might have overestimated myself…it's colder here than in Hira'a."
"It's further north, and the mountains make it chillier."
"I understand that now." She smiled when Iroh breathed another red flame for her, just enough to regain some feeling in her nose. "Does it ever snow here?"
"Maybe once or twice a year. It snows far more at my grandparents' place on Senlin. I used to love visiting them in the winter just so I could play in it. You didn't get snow in Hira'a?"
"No. I remember it snowed just once, during a terribly cold winter, when I was maybe four or five. I thought it looked so pretty, even though there wasn't enough of it to even make a snowball out of the stuff, and it melted away by noon." She gazed up at the blue-gray sky, remembering how her father had sculpted the world's tiniest snowman for her that day. "I do wish it would snow," she whispered. "It would be so wonderful to see again…"
"I'm sure it will soon. If it doesn't, we'll take a trip to Senlin so you can see it properly," Iroh promised. Ursa smiled at the earnestness in his voice, looking back at him to kiss his cheek in appreciation. His skin warmed beneath her touch.
"What does Iroh want for his birthday?"
"What makes you think I would know?" Ozai raised his wooden sword to block her wild slashes, meeting her blow for blow with ease as she attempted to score a hit on his torso. "You realize you might do better at this if you weren't daydreaming about your husband."
"Ozai, please. This is serious. I can't figure out what to get him."
Ozai took advantage of her distracted plea to twist her sword out of her grasp, a trick she still hadn't figured out how to defend against. "You could give him a clump of dirt from your garden, and he'd treasure it for the rest of his days," he said as her weapon fell to the floor.
"He would not, and even if he would, I want to give him something a little more meaningful than that. This is the first birthday I'm celebrating with him. It has to be memorable."
"I don't recall agreeing to give you marriage advice on top of combat training." Ozai signaled for her to pick up her sword, rolling his shoulders in preparation for another round. "Iroh's very straightforward with what he likes: tea, music, musty old scrolls. It can't be that hard. Just invent a new tea by mixing two blends together or something."
Despite herself, Ursa laughed. "What are you getting him?"
"A new knife. Standard gift between princes."
"What will your father give him?"
"Anything from another knife to a mansion in the colonies," he shrugged, before lunging at her with his sword swinging for her neck. Ursa just barely managed to bring her own wooden blade up in time, the clumsy block straining her wrist.
"Ozai! You could've really hurt me," she scolded as he disengaged, taking up her sparring stance as they began circling each other.
"I thought the whole point of our practice sessions was that I don't coddle you. If I'd realized you would just be talking my ear off about Iroh, I definitely wouldn't have agreed to this little arrangement." He angled his sword for another attack. "That wasn't a bad block. Let's see if you can do it again."
"What does Iroh want for his birthday?"
Korzu examined the assortment of roots at the herbalist's stall, pulling his winter robe a little tighter around himself to protect against the chill of the Harbor City market. "Spirits' sakes, Ursa, you're the last person who needs to worry about that. He'd be thrilled if all you gave him was a smile."
"Don't be ridiculous."
"Please, I've probably spent more time observing you two together than anyone. He just lights up when he makes you laugh. I can't imagine a material object that would get that kind of reaction out of him. Now, how many of these kava kava roots do you think I should get?"
"Stock up, who knows if you'll be able to find them inland?" Ursa tugged her shawl up for extra cover; not that she needed it, given how Korzu's observation of Iroh's affection made her feel all warm and fuzzy inside. "Do you really have to leave after Iroh's birthday? What if I say I'm falling sick again?"
"As your physician, I hope you don't. It wouldn't make me look very good to the Fire Lord." Korzu half-smiled, adjusting his spectacles as the herbalist filled a bag with kava kava.
"I know," she sighed. "Honestly, Korzu, I wish I could go with you. You're doing what matters, healing the needy. Sometimes I feel I'm not making anything meaningful of my life."
"What's stopping you from doing something meaningful, Your Highness?" he said with a meaningful eyebrow raise.
"I'm not sure. I guess I don't know how."
"Perhaps that's something you should think about before the new year comes around. It's a good time to make a change."
"I think I've had enough change. If someone had told me last new year that this would be my life…I probably would have assumed I was dreaming or they were insane."
"But it is." Korzu accepted his bag from the herbalist and dropped a few coins into her hand with a smile. "Change will come anyway, so you should at least make it a change you can live with."
A change she could live with. It was an interesting thought.
"Come on, let's go look at the tea stall," he nudged her. "Perhaps you'll miraculously find the one tea Iroh doesn't have in his collection yet."
"What does Iroh want for his birthday?"
Aisha smiled at Ursa good-naturedly. "For as long as I've known him, the only things Prince Iroh has ever requested for his birthday are his favorite lychees and cream cake, and the company of his loved ones. I'm sure you celebrating with him will make him more than happy, Princess."
"Everyone keeps saying that," Ursa sighed, awkwardly kneading the dough on the kitchen counter with her left hand under the pretext of helping Aisha; it was more an outlet for her stress than an actual culinary task.
"If I may be so bold, perhaps everyone is saying it because it's the truth."
"I know it's the truth, Aisha, but I want to be able to give my husband a special gift for our first birthday together. Doesn't that make sense?"
"Of course it does." Aisha cut a portion of the dough Ursa was practically beating up and began shaping it into a bun. "You're still rather newly married, after all. It's a sweet sentiment, but you mustn't drive yourself mad over it. I'm sure any of the traditional gifts from a princess to her prince would delight him."
Traditional is the exact opposite of special, Ursa bemoaned in her head, but she bit her tongue to spare Aisha's feelings.
"You could always seek out my son's advice," Aisha suggested. "He knows the prince rather well, and he speaks frankly. Too frankly."
That was a good idea. She needed to write Piandao anyway to formally invite him back to Hari Bulkan for Iroh's birthday. "You're absolutely right. Thank you, Aisha."
"Anytime, Your Highness. Now, might I suggest you leave the rest of that dough to me? I'm afraid it's moments away from becoming overkneaded."
The mass of dough was indeed starting to lose its volume thanks to Ursa's nervous fingers. So much for helping Aisha. "Of course. My apologies."
"What does Iroh want for his birthday?"
Yuna, standing next to Ursa in the event hall, hardly looked up from the list of tasks for the birthday party as she replied, "There are a wide variety of presents that are acceptable for a princess to gift to her prince, including but not limited to-"
"Yes, Yuna, we've been over the list already," Ursa interrupted. "Robes, headpieces, artwork, and so on, but what does Iroh want?"
"Haven't you asked him yourself, Your Highness?"
"Of course I have, but he insists he doesn't want anything special. He doesn't understand how I'll look if I give him something mediocre."
"Ah," Yuna nodded in understanding, "Prince Iroh never has cared much for keeping up appearances at social events, especially not for his birthday."
Finally, someone who understood her predicament. Yuna spoke the language of palace politics like it was her mother tongue. "So, what do you think? You know Iroh and the capital better than anyone but the Fire Lord."
"You truly want my advice?"
"Please, Yuna, you know I'd be lost without it."
"Don't be so quick to discredit yourself, Princess. You've come into your own marvelously over the past few months." She crossed her arms in thought while Ursa processed the fact that Yuna had actually paid her a compliment. "By the time the prince's birthday rolls around, you will have been married for nearly six months. You two have had a more eventful honeymoon period than most. Perhaps your present to him should reference a milestone moment from your marriage, to remind the nobility in attendance that you are a capable princess, and to show him some sentimentality."
The proposal balanced her desire to please Iroh and her need to impress the nobility. "Thank you, Yuna. You're insightful as always."
"It's what I'm here for, Your Highness. Allow me to help make the rest of your husband's birthday a memorable affair. What would you prefer for the musical accompaniment: a classic percussion band or a modern string performance?"
Iroh, cont.
There was only one thing I wanted for my twentieth birthday, reader: Ursa. She was closer to me than ever, with her chaste cheek kisses every day and sleepy banter every night. But there was still something in the way, preventing us from truly embracing each other as husband and wife; I just didn't know what it was. And I certainly wasn't going to broach that subject, not after the fool I'd made of myself on Ember Island. I'd decided that any further advancements in our relationship would have to come from Ursa, and I would simply reciprocate whatever she offered me. It was the only acceptable way I could think to behave.
The issue was that I was nineteen (almost twenty), impulsive and impatient at my core despite my attempts to improve myself in those aspects. Which meant as my birthday neared, and I took stock of my life, all I could really think about Ursa. And it was driving me close to insane.
There was a pipa's melody floating out of the music room, which wouldn't have been notable except for the fact that no one but Iroh ever played in the music room. It was The Candle's Lament, or a somewhat shaky rendition of it. Only one person could be playing.
Iroh paused just outside the doors to listen; he was eavesdropping, it was true, but he hadn't heard Ursa play since… before. Before Tiron, before the burn, before music had become another thing stolen away by her injury. Before Iroh had failed her.
But how was she able to play a pipa at all with only one hand?
Just as the thought occurred to him, the song hit a harsh note and stopped. Iroh waited for a few minutes, then poked his head around the door. Sure enough, it was Ursa sitting on that yellow couch by the window, with her head bowed and a pipa cradled in her good arm. Her right hand lifted, trembling, to touch her face, and he was struck by two realizations: she could move her right hand now, and she was crying.
"Ursa," he dropped all pretense, "what's wrong?"
She let out a gasp of a sob. "What are you doing here? I thought you were meeting with the cultural minister."
"You got a letter from your parents." He held up the scroll, shutting the door behind him for privacy. "I like giving them to you myself."
"Oh, thanks," she sniffed.
"Why are you crying?"
She just shook her head, clumsily rubbing her cheek with her right hand. Iroh noted her fingers were still a bit awkwardly limp, like she hadn't gotten total control of them back yet.
"Here," he sat next to her. "Do you want to read the letter instead of talking, then?"
"Mm-hmm," she nodded, taking the scroll from him.
"Shall I leave you alone?"
Another shake of the head, so Iroh slid off his palace sandals and sat cross-legged on the couch as she read quietly. Usually, Jinzuk and Rina included some footnote or well wish for Iroh, and Ursa would relay that as well as the highlights of whatever was going on in Hira'a. Today, though, something in the letter made her inhale sharply, like she was going to burst into tears again. Iroh bit his tongue.
"My parents wish you a happy early birthday," she said finally, glancing up at him with heartbreakingly puffy eyes.
"A week in advance - that makes them the first ones." Iroh smiled, attempting to insert some levity back into the conversation.
"My mom sent you a blend of her winter berry tea as well."
"I'm touched. I'll write them a thank you myself." He leaned against a cushion, studying the way Ursa wasn't quite meeting his gaze. "What else is happening in Hira'a?"
"Um…" her fingers clenched around the paper, "...my dad's birthday was a few days ago. And Ikem's back in town."
No wonder she looked so guiltily torn, gripping the letter so hard it was in danger of coming apart. Iroh suddenly remembered burning a similar letter in a fit of jealousy over the same man. It was still a moment he regretted.
"I didn't know it was your father's birthday," he said lightly, choosing to ignore the Ikem factor, "Why didn't you tell me? We could've gone to Hira'a and celebrated with him."
Apparently, he'd made the wrong choice. She curled up into a ball and began to sob. He couldn't bear to watch it.
"Ursa, please, please talk to me. What's wrong?" Iroh scooted closer to her on the couch, resisting the instinct to reach out and embrace her. She was only pulling away as he neared.
"I wanted to go home and see them," she wailed. "I wanted to."
"I'm sorry, I didn't know-"
"No," she shook her head. "It's not your fault. I skipped it on purpose. I told them I couldn't make it away from the palace."
"But why?"
"Because look at me!" Ursa's head snapped up, unadulterated despair in her voice. "My arm looks like a raw pig-chicken and I can't even hold a spoon." Her voice broke. "They'd hate…they wouldn't be able to…they couldn't stand seeing me like this. It's better that they can imagine I'm doing better than I am."
"But you're doing so well," Iroh protested. "Even with just your one arm, you've been gardening and combat training and keeping busy all over the palace. And you've even got some control back of your right hand too. You were playing The Candle's Lament so wonderfully just now."
A fresh wave of tears filled her eyes. "You weren't supposed to hear that."
"Oh. Sorry. But you were playing beautifully."
"No, I wasn't." She wiped her eyes. "It doesn't matter anyway."
"Ursa," he whispered, and she thankfully allowed him to put his arms around her now. "I'm so sorry, my phoenix. I'm sorry. You deserve so much better."
She just pressed her face into his shoulder, sniffling. The pipa lay forgotten next to her. Looking at it gave Iroh an idea.
"Let's try something," he said to her. "Let me help you play the song."
For a moment, he thought she wouldn't want to do it. Then, she nodded slowly. "Okay."
"Here," he grabbed the pipa and positioned it between them so Ursa could handle the neck with her left hand while he plucked the strings with his right. "From the top? Or just the chorus?"
"Just the chorus."
It took a few tries, and thankfully some of Iroh's clumsier attempts to joke around while playing made her giggle ("Honestly, my wife, you should've mentioned to me that my left hand was getting so small and pale.") Eventually, they were able to play through the chorus together.
"Remind me how the words go?" he pressed. "How unimaginable it must be…"
"An incomparable sight to see."
"This sun that they speak of,"
"Hanging in a sky above…" she trailed off, not quite singing the lyrics despite his efforts.
"Come on, what about the next verse?"
"I can't sing it," she said, her fingers stopping their music again. "I was trying earlier. My voice…it can't hold the high notes anymore."
"Oh." Her voice had seemed recovered after Tiron's attack; he hadn't thought at all about her singing.
"Will you sing it with me?" she asked. "Maybe that would help."
"I don't know…I sing like a stuck deer-pig."
"That can't be true," she protested, giggling again. "Please?"
Her sunshine eyes weren't red anymore, but they were still puffy. Iroh's resolve wavered. He hated his singing voice, but not as much as he hated upsetting her. "Oh, alright. But don't say I didn't warn you."
The song played smoother than ever this time, their hands working in unison. Praying that he wouldn't horrify her with his voice, Iroh opened his mouth and attempted to harmonize with her soft singing.
How unimaginable it must be
An incomparable sight to see:
This sun that they speak of
Hanging in a sky above!
Is a sky brown like my roof?
Is a sun yellow like me too?
Or is it not for me to know
In the dark where I shed my glow
"You have such a nice voice," Ursa said, her bright smile making the whole ordeal worth it. "Why do you think you don't?"
"I don't know. I suppose when I sing I always think of my mother, and I never sound like her."
"I would hope not. You're an almost twenty-year-old man."
He chuckled. "Good point. Do you want to play another song?"
"No, thanks. I feel better now." Ursa curled into his side, kissing his cheek. "I guess I'll just have to think of another birthday gift for you."
"A birthday gift?" Something clicked; how surprised she'd been to see him, how she'd chosen to practice while he was busy. "This was for me?"
"Yes. I thought it would be nice, since it was the first song you played for me, and a way to surprise you with my hand getting better." She wiggled the fingers of her right hand meaningfully. "But I can't play it, and I can't sing. I would just look ridiculous. I probably would've looked ridiculous anyway…how can an actress from Hira'a impress the nobility?"
"Who gives a rat's ass about the nobility? I would've loved seeing you perform. But performing with you is just as nice."
"It's not a performance if there's no audience."
"It's a private show. That's what makes it special."
"Hmm," Ursa considered this, running her fingers over the strings of the pipa. "I suppose."
"I'll love whatever else you come up with for my birthday, you know. Don't worry too much about it."
"Too late."
Iroh's heart warmed, and for a moment, he nearly forgot the elephant rhino in the room he'd been trying to ignore. Then Ursa moved to roll up the letter from her parents, and he remembered.
"You should write to him, you know," he said before he could stop himself.
Ursa shot him a quizzical look. "Who?"
"Ikem." Under the circumstances, Iroh was rather proud of himself for saying the man's name without grimacing. "Now that he's back. You should see how he's doing." He shifted a bit away from Ursa as he said this.
"What are you saying?"
"I just mean you two were important to each other. It's natural to want to write."
"Iroh, please. I'm not going to do that."
"You don't have to appease me."
"I'm not trying to!" Her hand on his shoulder made him glance at her, that guilty conflict back on her face. "I- oh, how can I explain this? Ikem is part of my past now, from my life before. It's best for both he and I if he just…stays there. As a memory, rather than a person who still matters to me."
"I see."
"Iroh…" Ursa curled up against his side again. "I don't want to spend time dwelling on the past, or what might have been. I just want to enjoy what is. Like your birthday coming up, and how much fun we'll have celebrating it together. Am I making sense?"
"Yeah." Iroh didn't quite believe - couldn't believe - that something as insignificant as his birthday mattered in comparison with Ikem, but whether she was trying to make him feel better or was telling the truth or some combination of the two, he didn't see a point in pushing back. So she wasn't going to speak to Ikem again; that was good for Iroh, wasn't it?
It should have been. Because Ikem was the thing in between them, he realized, the thing that was stopping this marriage from moving past its faux-courtship phase. And yet even with Ursa leaning against him, linking her fingers with his, Iroh felt unsettled.
"Iroh?" she whispered.
"Yes?"
"Will you play me another song after all?"
"Of course I will," he said at once. "Any requests?"
"I just want to hear something you like."
Iroh contemplated this while she settled comfortably among the couch cushions and smiled up at him. Briefly, as he began to play a love song, he wondered if Ikem had once made music for her on the days when she felt sad.
Ursa, cont.
I truly meant it when I told Iroh I was ready to leave Ikem in my past. I'd been worrying for him since I knew he'd fled to Forgetful Valley, but the news that he was out of those woods and back in Hira'a safe and sound…it was mostly just a source of relief, along with a brief twinge of familiar heartache. If Ikem was ready to live a life without our love, that meant I could move on too; now, without guilt. I wanted Iroh to know that was the case. He understood, eventually, although apparently not without his own share of soul-searching first.
Looking back, it's amusing to remember how stressed I was about Iroh's birthday. It almost felt like more pressure than the Autumn Festival. The festival had been about introducing myself to the nation as princess, and proving to everyone that I was up to the responsibility despite the hardships I'd found along the way. The birthday was more about my role as Iroh's wife, and despite the progress we'd made in our marriage, I couldn't help feeling as if I'd been falling short of the mark. A good wife, I reasoned with myself, should be more affectionate, more committed to her marital duties - certainly, she shouldn't still be lingering in the courtship stage after six months. I was harsh on myself, back then, caught up in a swirl of guilty desire and new emotions that I didn't understand how to navigate. So, once I'd given myself permission to leave Ikem behind and accept Iroh fully, I felt that his birthday was just the time to make that transition fully.
After spending the day running around making final preparations for the party, and hardly seeing anything of Iroh himself, I dressed for that night like it was a second wedding. I wore a lovely rose pink gown from Lady Ilah's younger years that had been gifted to me by her parents and retailored for the party. It was a showcase of the northern Fire Islands' deceptively simple style, skillfully composed of dozens of thin silk layers cut in such a fashion that the dress practically rippled and fluttered every time I moved. Wearing it really did make me feel like a princess, but more importantly, I was certain Iroh would like it too since it had come from his mother's family. I was so certain that the birthday party would be something special for us now that I was ready for more, and I wanted it to be a night to remember.
In the end, the party was really nothing memorable: a standard royal affair, although it was still a milestone since it was the first royal birthday I witnessed. The nobles applauded the present I gave Iroh, a painting I'd commissioned of Ran and Shaw that I passed off saying Iroh was the red dragon and the one he'd slayed was the blue. I spent most of the event talking to the people I knew - Iroh's relatives, Korzu and Piandao - rather than with Iroh, who was swamped by the well-wishers attempting to curry favor with the Fire Lord by making a good impression on his heir. By the time the day was over, I was exhausted and yet had hardly spent five minutes alone with Iroh, who promptly went off with his friends for an afterparty I was too tired and nervous to join. I worried that I'd been wrong: perhaps this night wasn't meant to be anything special, perhaps Iroh didn't have the same desire for me that I did for him, perhaps I'd waited too long to reciprocate his feelings and now we'd be a politely affectionate couple and nothing more forever.
I was wrong. I'd never been so happy to be wrong. Remember, reader, that the important moments in life rarely find you when you think they will. More often than not, it's in the quiet of some everyday occurrence that everything changes in a way you never imagined.
"Piandao!"
Iroh just barely managed to contain a slightly drunken giggle, watching Korzu - somehow still the most sober of them - attempt to talk Piandao down from the wall the latter was skipping along on. The three of them had been roaming the streets of Harbor City in commoner garb for a couple of hours, alcohol and friendship keeping them warm despite the chill of the winter night, but Korzu's patience with his friends was finally wearing out.
"Piandao, you'll break your neck!"
"And then you'll nurse me back to health!" Piandao began to sing. "Korzu, dear Korzu, aren't you just the best?"
"You'd be even finer with hair on your chest," Iroh continued the rhyme, making Piandao nearly slip off the wall as he cackled while Korzu turned bright pink.
"It might be your birthday," he said to Iroh, before pointing at the chuckling swordsman, "but you would be well served by me leaving you here to split your head open and paint the streets with your brains."
"Ohh, but you won't," Piandao grinned down at him, "because you looove me."
"Don't be ridiculous."
"Why do you stay, then?" Iroh taunted, slinging an arm around his taller friend with some effort.
"Because your wife asked me to, Your Royal Drunkenness, and I like her enough to make sure her husband and friends return in one piece."
"Aren't you just a peach?" Piandao laughed. "Come on, neither of us are actually that drunk. If we were, I wouldn't be able to do this-" he performed an impressively precise backflip on the wall - "and Iroh wouldn't be able to do this-" he lazily flung his knife at Iroh's head, which Iroh deflected with a quick fire blast. "See?"
"Yes, marvelous. Soldiers who are just drunk enough to have poor judgment but not so drunk that they're not still deadly. I should jump for joy."
"Oh, come on." Piandao leapt down from the wall and wrapped an arm around Korzu as well, sandwiching the lanky physician between the prince and the swordsman. "One more bar and we're done, okay? Iroh's got to get back to his princess for his birthday gift," he grinned, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.
Korzu promptly buried his fist in Piandao's stomach, saving Iroh the trouble of doing it himself.
"Nice form," Iroh complimented Korzu while Piandao doubled over and wheezed. "Good to know you haven't forgotten all your combat training from the academy."
"How could I, when it still gives me nightmares?" Korzu rolled his eyes. "Please, let's just find a good last spot to wrap up your birthday."
"I know one!" Piandao piped up. "By the harbor, a bunch of navy boys drink there."
"I'm not spending the last moments of my birthday with drunk sailors," Iroh wrinkled his nose.
"But Irohh, when you try the scallion noodles-"
"He's drunk and has a craving, and it's not that long until midnight," Korzu interjected. "Unless you have somewhere you feel strongly about, why not give it a shot?"
"Alright, but these noodles better be as good as you say, Piandao."
It was a good thing the harbor was near, seeing as thin Korzu was starting to shiver even with his cloak around him. He wasn't drunk or a firebender, making him most vulnerable to the cold. Iroh made sure to sit near the fireplace inside the bar and warm their surroundings a little while Piandao immediately went off to rustle up food and drinks. An open window across the room showed a view of the ocean gleaming under moonlight. Briefly, Iroh closed his eyes and allowed the sea breeze wafting in to cool his wine-warmed face. If he ignored the bar noise around them, he could almost transport himself to Senlin or Ember Island…
Ursa's soft thumb tentatively traced along his bottom lip, sending electricity down his spine that was only magnified when she threaded her fingers through his hair next; her pale skin and full lips looking temptingly, invitingly smooth in the moonlight-
Stop thinking about Ember Island!
The scene in his mind shifted to earlier that night: Ursa in that beautiful rose pink dress, the delicately silk layers fluttering like petals as she talked with her hands and laughed along with Korzu and Piandao before catching his gaze and smiling, and oh Iroh wanted more than anything in the world to go over there and hear what was making her sunshine eyes sparkle like that if this general would just shut up-
"...and since armadillo-bears are fans of honey, our wedding will include a selection of fresh honeycombs from all around the Fire Nation to accommodate my future bride…."
Iroh shot the monologuing Korzu a quizzical look, noticing a very amused Piandao had also returned to the table at some point. "Um, what?"
"Blast." Korzu handed a few coins to Piandao. "We were betting on how long it would take you to stop daydreaming about your wife. I thought I could at least describe the honeymoon before you noticed."
"I was not-"
"Sure you weren't," Piandao shoved a glass of beer towards him. "Relax, it's sweet. A world of difference from what you two were like when I visited during the Autumn Festival. I've never seen two people who so obviously wanted to just be alone together."
"Shut up."
"You were like a bee circling a flower," Korzu added, grinning.
"I'll have you both banished."
"Please do, I'll never have to step foot in the capital again. Sounds like paradise."
"And I can quit the army!" Piandao chimed in.
Iroh groaned and dropped his head to the table.
"Alright, seriously," Piandao pressed as a barmaid arrived with platters of food. "How's it going with her?"
I want nothing more than to be rid of this desperate longing for her smile, her touch, but the only way that will happen is if she suddenly forgets about Ikem or if I die- "Fine. Can we talk about something else?"
He made the critical mistake of stabbing his chopsticks into his food with excessive force, making both his friends frown. They knew his mannerisms too well.
"You want to answer honestly this time?" Korzu asked. "Or Piandao could tell us the story of how he lost his virginity."
"Ooh, it was a hot summer night in the colony of-"
"Okay!" Iroh burst out, not wanting to hear whatever Piandao had cooked up. "She tolerates my courtship while missing the man she wishes she'd married. Happy?"
That certainly killed the mood. Not meeting his friends' eyes, he picked up the beer Piandao had gotten him and drained it in one go like it might douse the burning jealousy inside him.
"Iroh," Korzu began softly, "that's just not true."
"How would you know-"
"Let him talk," Piandao interrupted.
"I know because I have eyes, Iroh. A woman who's merely tolerating a man's courtship does not…she doesn't smile for him the way Ursa does for you."
"She doesn't drive herself half-mad trying to pick out the perfect birthday gift for him like Ursa did for you," Piandao continued. "I mean, I thought she was going to drive me mad from just the one letter asking about it. 'What oh what does my dear Iroh want for his birthday? A fountain of tea? A golden sculpture? A-' Ow, Korzu!"
"The point is," Korzu said calmly, as if he hadn't just stomped on Piandao's foot beneath the table, "Ursa clearly does more than tolerate you."
Iroh wouldn't hear any of this false hope. He took a breath, noticing someone must have stoked the fire with the woodsmoke in the air. "She cared about the present because she wanted to make a good impression at a royal event."
"I'm not going to speculate on what you do behind closed doors, but I know you two have at least been sleeping in the same room since the Autumn Festival. That's significant," Korzu rebutted.
"Because she has nightmares otherwise."
"Iroh, I've seen her kiss you at least twice."
"Because-"
"Oh, for crying out loud!" Piandao slapped the table. "You can rationalize the signs Ursa likes you all you want, but she does. So, why are you so determined to believe otherwise? What has she actually said about this other man that's making you burn up with jealousy, huh?"
"I'm not burning up with jealousy."
"You've scorched a handprint into the table, Your High Obliviousness."
Iroh looked down at his left hand to find Piandao was right. So that was where the woodsmoke had been coming from…
"I'm interested in the answer to his question as well," Korzu said mildly. "I can only assume she's said something about this other man recently if it's eating at you like this, so what did she say?"
Ikem is part of my past now. It's best for both he and I if he just…stays there.
"Nothing of importance," Iroh replied.
"Did she say anything at all about still having feelings for him?" Piandao cut in.
"Of course not, but-"
"Then you're being ridiculous."
"I'm not. She loved him, Piandao." His voice cracked on that accursed word. "For years. That doesn't just die when the Fire Lord orders you to marry his son."
His food had gone cold. He ate it anyway, chewing to distract from the burning that had renewed itself in his hand, spreading through his chest and to his eyes now. He feared he might puke smoke like he had with the Sun Warriors, or burst into tears, and he wasn't sure which would be more humiliating for him.
"Iroh," Korzu started again, and Iroh really hated that doctor-bedside-manner tone, "have you considered that Ursa's affection is not a finite resource?"
Iroh just stared, waiting for him to elaborate.
"Perhaps she still loves this other man, as a reflex of the heart. Fine. That doesn't mean her affection for you can't exist. I know it's unorthodox, and it's not what's expected between a husband and a wife, but…frankly, your entire marriage so far has defied expectations. Maybe you just need to accept that you are in the unique circumstance where your wife has a lingering attachment to another man that does not nullify her growing feelings for you."
"She doesn't-"
"Spirits of the islands," Piandao groaned, "I will bet my right testicle that she does, okay? Now, although I care very much about both you and Ursa, this is really not birthday celebration material." He threw back another beer. "I'd try and start a wager about which one of us could get a token of appreciation from that pretty barmaid, but you're married and you're more sexually repressed than some species of trees, so it would be faster if you both just gave me the ten coins apiece now."
"You're leaving out the possibility that she might just reject you anyway," Korzu pointed out, breezing past the fact that Piandao had called him a repressed tree. "Drunken sword boys are in no short supply in the capital these days, and you're not even the finest of them."
"And what swordsman do you know who's finer than me, dear Korzu?" Piandao smirked. "Watch."
Iroh obediently watched Piandao swagger off in the direction of the curly-haired barmaid, remembering something else Ursa had said to him in that conversation about Ikem: I don't want to spend time dwelling on the past, or what might have been. I just want to enjoy what is.
Perhaps his friends were onto something. Perhaps there was hope for him and Ursa. With Piandao gone, Iroh could see clearly out the window again as he ruminated. And outside, there were white flurries streaking through the air.
Snow.
It was snowing.
"I do wish it would snow," Ursa whispered, gazing up at the blue-gray sky with fluttering eyelashes and the prettiest little wistful smile. "It would be so wonderful to see again…"
An idea struck him; what he could do, tonight, to make her happy and move their relationship forward. "I have to go back to the palace," he told Korzu, handing him a few coins to cover the tab. "I need to see Ursa. I'm sorry, can you handle Piandao by yourself?"
Korzu raised his eyebrows, half-smiling like he could see Iroh's intentions. "Of course I can. Good luck."
"Piandao," Iroh clasped his friend's shoulder on the way out of the bar, not feeling too bad about interrupting the disastrous flirtation, "I'm heading back. Don't give Korzu too much trouble."
"Yeah, okay," Piandao smirked knowingly. "Go get her, buddy."
The snow - which was coming down unusually heavily for the capital - wouldn't last forever. It had already begun layering the streets, making them dangerously slippery. Mentally, he plotted the shortest route back to the palace; he would need to take one of the tunnels and pray that Aisha had left his customary piece of cake out for him.
Keep snowing, he begged the clouds. Please.
He nearly twisted an ankle on the snowy streets, and in his haste he had to backtrack twice in the maze of palace tunnels, but snow was still falling when he burst into the kitchen and found his slice of lychees and cream cake thankfully waiting for him. From here, it was no time at all to wake Ursa up and get her outside to see the snow-
Except she wasn't in her room.
For one full minute, Iroh stood in her doorway, completely lost. Where could she be? Was this a sign that his plan was doomed to fail?
Then, he spun on his heel and went into his room. So it wasn't meant to be…well, that was fine. He'd been thinking all along that it was foolish to assume she felt anything more than an obligatory sort of fondness towards him-
Ursa was asleep in his bed.
He blinked, then he pinched his nose and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to make sure he wasn't just having a drunken vision: he didn't think he was that tipsy. But she was still there when he looked again, stretched out diagonally with her head on his pillow and Xiliu curled up at her feet. She'd pulled all the sheets and blankets into a half-formed cocoon around herself, but he could see from the glimpse of her shoulder that she was still wearing that lovely rose-pink-petal dress from the party.
Her favorite book from his study - A Collection of Fire Nation Folk Tales in Rhyme - was sitting on the nightstand. She must have been exhausted, reading herself to sleep in his bed without even changing her clothes. Maybe he should just let her be.
But the snow was still falling…and it rarely fell more than once a year in the capital.
"Ursa," he whispered, reaching down and nudging her shoulder. "Wake up."
She stirred and hummed, swatting his hand away and snuggling deeper into her cocoon. "Iroh," she sighed. His heart skipped a beat; was she dreaming about him?
"Ursa," he tried again, setting down the plate of cake on the nightstand and tugging some blankets off her. "Come on, wake up. It's important."
A disgruntled sound, like Xiliu being forced to take a bath, escaped her. "Iroh?" She rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. "What time is it?"
"Almost midnight. Here, get up. There's something you have to see."
Xiliu pawed at Iroh's knee, a clear indication he was displeased with his sleep being interrupted. Ursa giggled at the sight, sitting up to grab her cat and pull him close. "Tell us, what's so important that you're bothering XiXi and I?"
"It's snowing outside."
"What? Really?" Her eyes widened, sleepiness gone.
Iroh nodded.
"Let's go see! Come on, come on."
He just barely managed to remind her to slide her feet into boots and grab a cloak before she ran to the garden, her rose-pink dress fluttering around her like petals on a breeze. Purposefully, he lingered behind her just so he could enjoy the view.
"Oh, wow," she gasped, boots crunching onto the freshly-fallen snow as she spun around with her face tilted to the sky to watch the flakes fall; a flower in bloom in midwinter, Iroh thought to himself, a rare and enchanting sight. "It's so beautiful!"
"Yeah," Iroh agreed quietly. "Beautiful."
He peered up at the sky as well, picturing the Scarlet Dragon constellation that he knew was hiding behind the snow-filled clouds. Never forget, dear heart, the memory of his mother whispered, that even in winter, the mighty dragon took to the skies just for your birth. Never forget that you were born lucky.
Ursa came to a standstill and opened her mouth, laughing as she caught a bit of fresh snow on her tongue poking out. "I'm so glad you woke me. This is completely worth it." She turned to bestow a glowing smile upon him, before registering what he was holding. "Why do you have a piece of cake?"
"Midnight snack?" he suggested, making her giggle. "No, it's a tradition for my birthday."
"What's the tradition?"
"Well…" It felt vulnerable to share, but that was the point. "I was born very close to midnight, when the Scarlet Dragon constellation was high in the sky. The Fire Sages regarded it as an auspicious sign for a Fire Prince born in midwinter, which might have otherwise been a bad omen. My mother used to bring me out here after my birthday party each year to offer a piece of cake to the Scarlet Dragon and thank him for blessing me. She said I was born lucky because of him."
Which made me feel wonderful, he added silently, until my father started calling Ozai lucky to be born.
"I still do it every year," he concluded. "And…well, I want you to be part of it."
"That's such a sweet tradition. I'd love to be part of it." She peered skyward again. "The offering still works even if we can't see him?"
"Of course."
"So, what do we do?"
"It's simple. We burn half the cake for him, and we eat the other half." He dug two spoons out of his pocket and handed one to her.
"Good, I was hoping there would be eating involved. Aisha really outdid herself with this cake."
"Yeah, she did." Iroh carefully divided the cake in two, then split one of the halves into quarters. He took the other half and set it on the ground, away from any trees or plants that might catch on fire, and set it alight. "Here, pray to the dragon and then eat while this half burns."
She closed her eyes, lips moving inaudibly. The snow still falling around her, landing in her dark hair, made Iroh briefly wonder if this was all just a beautiful dream; he prayed that it wasn't. Then, Ursa's eyes fluttered open, and she dug her spoon into her quarter of the cake.
"Happy birthday," she whispered, holding it out to him. His heart did something like a flip in his chest as he allowed her to spoon feed him the cake. It was as perfect as it had been at the party, his favorite blend of delicate lychees and sweet cream on moist vanilla cake, but it paled in comparison to her pleased smile.
"Thanks," he replied a little breathlessly, debating whether it would be appropriate to return the gesture.
"You have some frosting right there." Her thumb rubbed along the side of his mouth, before she brought it to her own lips. "Mmm, sweet."
It was a bad idea, watching her lick the frosting off her fingers like that…
"Iroh, aren't you supposed to eat while the cake's still burning?"
"Yeah." He blinked himself back to reality. "You can have some of mine too, if you want."
"No way! It's your birthday."
She pouted in that playfully stubborn way, and he couldn't help finding it adorable. Obediently, he spooned the rest of his cake into his mouth and kicked a bit of snow over the smoldering cake ashes on the ground once they'd finished.
"There," he declared, "another successful birthday."
"How long do you think it will snow for?" she asked, looking up again.
"I don't know." Perhaps his prayers had been too successful. "This is the longest I've seen it last in years."
"I want to stay until it ends," she said, even as she visibly shuddered and tugged her cloak tighter around herself. Her cheeks had started to turn red from the chill.
"Sure. Do you want me to build you a fire?"
"No. You're enough." Her cold fingers wound through his, and he instinctively warmed himself further. If she thought he was enough, he would be. For her. "Hey," she whispered. "I have a surprise for you. Close your eyes."
"A surprise?"
She nodded mischievously. Iroh did as he was told, a lump forming in his throat when her fingers slipped out of his grasp. There was the rustle of her clothes as she moved further and further away, and then-
Thump.
A snowball hit his face.
"Did you just…throw a snowball at me?" he asked incredulously, wiping the cold slush from his eyes. Ursa was crouched over a few feet away from him, hand clasped over her mouth as she dissolved into an uncontrollable fit of giggles. The sight made him smile as a plan formed in his mind. "Oh, Princess. Don't gleefully fire the first shot if you aren't prepared to battle."
Her eyes widened as he knelt to gather up his own ammunition, and she promptly turned and fled into the garden.
Catching her wouldn't have been hard, even with her newfound speed and strength from lessons with Aiko, but that wasn't the point. The fun of this was in the chase, in the ducking and hiding behind trees as Ursa shrieked with laughter and attempted to pelt him with more snowballs while he grinned and did the same. Iroh scored a creative shot at a tree branch that shook a wave of snow down onto her. In return, she snuck up on him and shoved a snowball down the back of his tunic, only to be rewarded with him grabbing her around the waist and lifting her off her feet as she squealed and kicked the air uselessly.
"Surrender," he told her, trying to focus on the game rather than how much he enjoyed holding her like this. "Or you're going down into a snowy defeat."
"Never!" Ursa giggled, linking her arms around his neck. "If I'm going down, I'm taking you with me."
"Mutual destruction, you say? Fine by me." Iroh pulled her close and fell backwards into a snowdrift, making sure she wouldn't actually end up covered in snow. The cold was definitely getting to her more than him. He inhaled, remembering Sunook's lessons on the breath of fire and airbenders' temperature control techniques, and felt his body warm accordingly.
"Ha! Final blow." Ursa grabbed a fistful of snow and sprinkled it over him. "I win."
"You can't fire a final blow after you've already been defeated. It's unethical."
"Oh, please. All's fair in love and war, don't you know?"
"All's fire," he corrected her. "It's 'all's fire in love and war.'"
"Nuh-uh, that's just what the Fire Nation changed it to after the war began. I read the romance novel that introduced the saying. It's 'all's fair,' in the rest of the world too."
Love and war, fire and fair. Why were those things linked together like that? What was the point of the change? Iroh contemplated it, running his warm hands along Ursa's newly toned arms to make sure she was comfortable. She'd lost her cloak at some point during their little kerfuffle, leaving her in just that rose-pink-petal dress again. It looked especially enchanting now, with the snow in her tousled hair glinting like silver stars in a night sky, and her cheeks all red from the cold nipping at them. The silk layers rippled temptingly against her pale skin as she shifted in his arms.
"Iroh?"
"Yeah?"
"You're staring," she pointed out, self-consciously touching her cheek. "Do I have snow on my face?"
"No. Not at all."
"What is it, then?"
This was the moment, wasn't it? It had to be. "You're so beautiful."
If her cheeks weren't already red, he was certain they would have reddened just then as she looked away from him shyly. "Oh…thank you."
"You're welcome."
"Tell me something," she whispered, leaning in to nuzzle his nose. "What do fire-blooded men like you do, when you have a beautiful girl all to yourself on a cold winter night?"
All sorts of tempting images flashed through his mind, spurred on by her half-closed eyes and pouting lips so close to his. "I've never had a girl like you," he managed to respond. "What would you have me do?"
"Maybe…" her cold hand cupped his chin, "...something like this?"
Her lips still had a hint of sugar on them. Iroh relished it, burying his hands in her perfect hair and deepening the tentative kiss, prompting a soft moan from her that shuddered through his being. Spirits, she was sweet; not in a literal sense, but in the way she tasted of springwater and sunshine and something else lovely that he couldn't quite describe but was uniquely Ursa.
"Iroh," she whimpered as she pulled away for air, but even that half second of his lips leaving her was unbearable now that he'd known her taste. His mouth wandered hungrily to her jaw, her neck, finding a spot under her ear that made her whine and pull him back to her lips once more.
It was really happening. There really was cold snow at his back and hot alcohol thrumming through his veins, and Ursa was really in his arms whispering his name in between sweet, intoxicating kisses, and there was nothing in the world that could have possibly made him happier.
This, Iroh decided as her lips parted for his tongue, was the best birthday he'd ever had.
A/N: See! It needed some extra time to come together, I was doing something important!
~Bobbi