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Ursa hadn't had a midnight snack in months. Not since her marriage, really. It seemed like such a childish thing to want, and she had never felt confident enough in the palace to request or indulge in childish things for herself.

But, she couldn't sleep. It was the night before the Autumn Festival, the last night she would have in the palace before a month on the road with Iroh, the night where she was well and truly exhausted from hosting the festival's kickoff party, and she couldn't sleep. She had spent enough time in the kitchen during her stint as a fake maid that her restless mind successfully convinced her that she could just tiptoe down there and get a snack to help herself settle down. Seeing as she was already thinking of her father - he was the whole reason she was having trouble sleeping, actually - it seemed prudent that she should follow one of his favorite pieces of advice.

"A fed body is a bed body!" he said with a big grin.

"Daddy, that doesn't make any sense," six-year-old Ursa rolled her eyes.

"Of course it does. Everything that rhymes makes sense," her dad said, pulling a silly face. "Besides, you can't sleep if you're hungry. Drink this, sunshine, then tell me a bedtime story." He handed her a cup of freshly-squeezed berry juice, her favorite.

"Shouldn't you be telling me a story?"

"Why do I always have to think of the story? I want you to tell me one for once."

Ursa giggled as her dad clambered into bed with her and cuddled up with her stuffed hippo cow in preparation for his bedtime story. The nightmare that had woken her up hardly twenty minutes ago, screaming for Daddy, already seemed so far away.

Berry juice would be nice, she decided, blinking away her tears. Considering the late hour, though, she was a bit caught off-guard when she nudged open the door to the kitchen and heard voices speaking.

"Ma," a young man said, "I'll be fine."

"You should ask Iroh-"

"I can't ask Iroh for anything else," he said firmly. "You and I both know he's given us enough."

"But he would if you asked."

"Ma, I can't. I've lived so much of my life on his generosity. I need to stand on my own two feet now."

A shuffling sound, a muffled sob, and then, "Oh, Ma…please, don't cry."

Ursa felt like an intruder. Slowly, attempting to back away without a fuss, she tried to close the door again. Of course, the traitorous hinges chose that exact moment to squeak: a perfectly innocuous sound in the day, magnified by a thousand in the quiet of night.

The crying stopped. Footsteps quickly approached, opening the door to reveal Aisha dabbing at her cheeks with a handkerchief. "Princess Ursa," she gasped, immediately dropping into a bow despite Ursa's attempt to stop her.

"Aisha, please. Are you crying? What's going on?"

"It's nothing, Your Highness. A personal matter. What can I do for you?"

Ursa glanced through the open door and caught sight of the young man whose voice she'd heard, his steady gaze dropping to the floor as he also bowed. There were plenty of new faces and names swirling around in her mind after the day's party, but this man with his uncommonly gray eyes thankfully stood out: Iroh's oldest friend, the swordsman Piandao.

"Your son," Ursa said, connecting the dots. "He's leaving for the war again."

Aisha stifled another sob, and something flashed across Piandao's face. Now that she knew of the relationship, Ursa could see the resemblance between mother and son: the same brown skin, stubborn jaw, and angular cheekbones, only decades younger and far more masculine in Piandao. The eyes and nose, though, came from somewhere else. Perhaps his father…but Ursa had never known Aisha to speak of a husband. Then again, she'd never known her to speak of a son either.

"Come now, Aisha," she beseeched the teamaker. "There's no need for this. I'm so sorry I interrupted. I'll leave; go finish speaking to your son."

Aisha shook her head, ever stubborn. "You must have come here for something. Whatever it is, allow me to assist."

"If I may, Princess," Piandao finally spoke, waiting for Ursa to nod before continuing, "she won't know a moment of peace if you go without letting her tend to you."

This was a very different man from the swaggering soldier whom she'd met at the party. He carried himself equally proudly in the kitchen as in the garden, but now with a stillness and a sense of apprehension that he hadn't shown before. His eyes, however, remained unerringly focused; he was studying Ursa, as she was him.

Although she hated to give Aisha a task at this hour, she knew Piandao was right. The dedicated chef would never forgive herself if she felt like she'd let down a member of the royal family. "I just wanted some berry juice, Aisha," Ursa said reluctantly. "I'm perfectly capable of making it myself."

"Nonsense," Aisha waved her off at once. "These hands may be old, but they can whip up a cup of juice in a moment. Puvi- Piandao, get the Princess a seat."

Ursa had never felt like more of a burden. Gingerly, she perched on the stool that Piandao brought her, whispering a thank you. He just nodded, eyes following his mother as she hurried over to the fruit stores to begin making the juice.

"I'm sorry," she told him, unable to bear the awkwardness. "I really didn't think anyone would be here…and I didn't know…"

Piandao returned his attention to her, eyebrows raising slightly.

"It must be so hard for both of you," she finished lamely. "You deserve more time together."

"Iroh didn't tell you about this. About me."

"No. He said he would, but it's been a long day and it slipped both our minds. I was looking forward to learning about you, though. He called you his oldest friend."

His mouth curved, not quite smiling even as a fond light entered his eyes. "Yes, I suppose I would be. As he is mine."

Now that she was facing Piandao again, Ursa couldn't help the curiosity that pricked at her. Given his apparent closeness with Iroh, she had assumed he was like Korzu: hailing from a rich and respectable family, the kind that could afford to have their son running around with the crown prince from childhood. But, she supposed, it was only inevitable that the palace staff would have children, including a boy Iroh's age who could have met him early enough for status to not matter. She wondered how the friendship had lasted through so many years, even after they'd both grown into men who were now very aware of their statuses.

"Princess Ursa," he said, "is there something you would like to ask of me?"

She'd been staring, she realized, zoning out while lost in thought with her gaze fixed on his face. "I was wondering what my husband was like as a child. The only friend of his I've met is the physician Korzu, and he wasn't very forthcoming about those anecdotes."

Piandao smiled properly now. "You've met Korzu? How is he?"

"I'm sure he's feeling very well, now that he's off in some village far away from the capital."

He chuckled. "Yes, that is where he's happiest. When did you meet him?"

"I fell ill at my wedding, so Iroh asked him to nurse me back to health. He did an excellent job, of course."

There was a loud clatter, and Ursa turned to see Aisha picking up an assortment of cups she'd knocked over on a counter. "It's nothing, Puvi, nothing," she said when she saw Piandao and Ursa moving to help her. "I'm sorry, Princess. I'll have it ready soon."

"No rush at all," Ursa reassured, vaguely wishing she'd stayed tossing and turning in bed instead of coming down here and bothering Aisha, and wondering what 'Puvi' was now that Aisha had said it twice. It could have something to do with her colonial background. Piandao might know; Ursa debated asking him about it as she sat back down.

He saw the question in her face and sighed. "My mother named me Puvi when I was born in the colonies. But when we moved here, and I befriended Iroh, I became Piandao. Otherwise, I might as well have been walking around with a target on my back. A servant's son with an Earth Kingdom name tagging along behind the crown prince…you can imagine what our classmates would have thought, if they knew."

"I don't mean to be nosy."

"You're the princess now. You're bound to find out eventually, from Iroh if not me. What else do you want to know?"

Ursa hesitated, wavering between wanting to respect Piandao's privacy and her own needling curiosity. "So you did go to school with him," she said finally. "At the boys' academy."

"Oh, yes. One of the privileges of being his friend. He decided he wanted me with him, and his father generously made it happen."

There was something strange in his voice, almost like resentment. He's given us enough, he's said to Aisha. Iroh had called Piandao his friend, but Ursa knew better than most people how difficult it was to stand on "equal" footing with a future Fire Lord. Perhaps Piandao did too.

"That's…quite an opportunity," she said diplomatically, unsure of whether to probe him further.

"It is," he agreed, eying her like he was contemplating the same thing. "I was fortunate. The Fire Lord likely wouldn't have permitted it at any other time, but it was right after Lady Ilah's death. Iroh got pulled out of school for the mourning period and spent those months practically crawling up the walls of the palace. He was lonely, a bit stir-crazy, and acting out from grief a lot. I think his father would have given him pretty much anything to make him happy at that point. Letting him take a servant boy back to the royal academy with him was nothing."

"Did you want to go?"

His eyebrows drew together in clear surprise, and a touch of bewilderment. "Does it matter what I wanted? The crown prince wanted me to."

Ursa felt a sudden sense of kinship with Piandao. Chosen to accompany the crown prince, thrust into a life so different from his own, perhaps even without a real opportunity to say no: it was a bit too similar to her own circumstances. "I think it does," she said quietly, hoping he could see she meant it.

He stared at her for a moment, and then a real grin lifted his face. "You're a commoner," he said with something like glee. "How refreshing."

"Puvi, don't be rude." Aisha finally arrived with two generous glasses of juice, handing one to Ursa while directing a glare of maternal disapproval at her son. "Her Highness may not be from here originally, but pointing it out is inappropriate."

"I know, Ma, but I wanted to see for myself." He accepted the second glass from his mother. "Apologies, Princess. I find it fascinating that the Fire Lord married his heir off to someone who's a nonbender, an outsider to the capital, and a commoner."

Self-conscious about how he described her, Ursa straightened her back. Piandao's demeanor had changed too: not entirely the swaggering soldier again, but not so apprehensive either. It was something in between. "Is it so obvious?" she defended herself.

"It's not. You carry yourself very well, considering how recently you arrived here. I just know how to spot my own kind." His tone was reassuring, and he paused to sip his drink. "To answer your previous question, yes, I did want to go. Iroh was - is - my best friend, and the Royal Fire Academy for Boys was a thousand times more interesting than any other school. It was definitely challenging for me given my background, but I think it forged me into a more resilient soldier than my noble-born peers as a result. The same way that you-" he tilted his glass towards her now in a sort of mock-toast- "can hold your own against Mariko."

The reminder of her small spat with the noblewoman made her grimace. "How long were you watching me for?"

"Maybe ten minutes, before I decided to approach. It would've been shorter, but…I didn't want to interrupt your time with your husband."

Piandao had walked up after Iroh placed a rose in her hair, the one that was now occupying a vase on Ursa's nightstand. "And that was enough for you to confirm that I'm…a commoner?" she asked, wishing her pale skin was better at hiding her blushes. "What am I doing that makes it so evident?"

"Nothing at the party. There, it was more the fact that everyone was clearly cautiously curious about you; that's not how nobles look at someone who's one of their own. I would've marked you as simply an outsider to the capital, but then you came in here and apologized to my mother and I. You asked about what I wanted." He gave her a small smile. "Those just aren't things that occur to nobles to do."

Ursa hesitantly returned his smile, both impressed and uneasy with how quickly he'd read her. For how observant Iroh was, Piandao's gray eyes put him to shame. "So you're saying I need to be more presumptuous to blend in."

"Princess Ursa," he emphasized her title ever so slightly, "you can't blend in, and you don't need to. I had to become Piandao because I assumed Iroh would tire of me eventually, and then I'd be left to fend for myself once I no longer had his protection. You, however, have Iroh's protection for life. No one who knows what's good for them will dare to cross you, because it would be the same as crossing Iroh, which is only one step short of crossing the Fire Lord himself."

Ursa had never considered that she wielded so much power as Iroh's wife. Obviously, she knew the servants had to bow to her, and she'd become more comfortable with probing into the guards' affairs since what had happened with Silena and Tiron. But the idea that the nobles - who'd spent the party questioning and prodding and scrutinizing Ursa like she was something strange they'd found on the bottom of their shoes - had to treat her with respect felt ridiculous. Yet logically, the chain Piandao drew made sense, and it lined up with what Iroh had said before about her being his equal.

"I suppose Mariko must not know what's good for her," she said drily as she turned Piandao's words over in her mind.

"Not all of them do," he agreed.

Aisha cut in now to gently admonish her son. "Puvi, don't talk Her Highness's ear off. She hasn't even had a sip of her drink."

"It's not a bother at all, Aisha," Ursa said. "I'm enjoying getting to know your son. He's a clever man."

"Too clever," Aisha replied. "And he wants to waste that brain by going off and getting himself killed."

"Ma." Piandao sounded exasperated, clearly resuming their earlier argument, "Iroh himself will be serving on the front lines soon. Do you think I'm better than him, to just sit here and watch the war unfold instead of fighting for my nation? After all the opportunities given to us?"

"You could serve your country from here-"

"Even the nobles prove themselves for those homeland positions through glory in the war. If Iroh just handed me a promotion, everyone would know how fake it was. You were the one who told me to make sure I knew how to stand on my own two feet."

"That was before standing on your own two feet meant you might die," Aisha said despairingly, voice thick with tears.

"Please, Ma," Piandao's eyes flickered to Ursa, "don't do this in front of the princess."

Seeming to regain some awareness of her surroundings, Aisha bowed to Ursa, murmuring an apology.

"It's alright, Aisha. It must be very difficult, watching your child go so far away." Unbidden, images flashed in Ursa's mind of her mother's tear-streaked cheeks and her father's grimly set mouth as she'd ridden away in the Fire Lord's carriage. "The fact that he is doing his duty, serving his country…it doesn't make it any less painful for you."

Her voice trembled. She quickly took a drink of her juice to disguise it. The refreshing sweetness of summer berries flooded her mouth, so different yet so reminiscent of the midnight juices her father had made for her. If only she could cry out for Daddy and have him appear to console her, instead of sitting here imposing on a mother and son who were still little more than strangers to her despite their kindness.

Aisha turned away to busy herself with some dishes. Piandao sighed, before saying to Ursa, "I didn't know you'd been sick at your wedding."

Blinking, she tried to remember what he was talking about. "Oh, yes. I'm surprised you didn't hear. I threw up on Iroh during dinner, thanks to some bad sea slug." She had to stop herself from looking at Aisha as she spoke; the woman was the only person outside of the royal family who knew what had actually happened to Ursa that night. It occurred to her that she'd never thanked Aisha for helping uncover the truth.

Piandao laughed. "I wish I could've seen it. We don't hear about all the palace news on the front lines, as you might imagine. I didn't even know your name until Iroh introduced us this afternoon."

"Probably because I'm a 'commoner,'" she joked.

"Probably," he agreed. "There's…not many like us, Princess Ursa, who know what it is to live this life without being born into it. I don't know much of your background before the palace, but it seems to me your rise to power was even more drastic than mine."

She shrugged, unsure of how much of herself to reveal to him. "I wasn't a servant," she volunteered vaguely. "I had a good enough life in my hometown, where my parents were of some influence. But they weren't rich, or nobles."

"And now you're going to be Fire Lady, a far greater position than any I could win through the academy or the military."

"Yes," she agreed, "and it seems both of us have to leave our families behind for the sake of these positions."

By the sink, Aisha was determinedly scrubbing at a bowl that definitely wasn't dirty enough to merit the harsh treatment. Piandao looked at her, then back at Ursa with a sad understanding. The sense of kinship returned.

"We should be good to each other, you and I," she told him. "Like you said, there are very few people in circumstances like ours. Plus, we now have a very important person in common."

"We do. I would have been good to you either way, Princess. I have too much history with Iroh to not. But if you wish to return the sentiment, I'll gladly accept it."

"Good. You can begin by calling me Ursa. I don't care about my title in private conversations…with peers." She turned back to her drink, leaving the offer on the table.

He smiled. "Very well, Ursa."

Aisha sucked in a breath, clearly a noise of disapproval, but didn't say a word. Piandao, however, seemed to receive the message. "May I escort you back to your chamber?" he asked Ursa. "It's on my way. I promised Iroh I would see him before I left."

"You think he's still awake?"

"It's likely. He's always restless the night before a journey, especially this journey."

All at once, guilt rolled through her. Iroh had been so helpful all day, swooping in to support her against Mariko, making sure she got breaks during the garden party, even comforting her when she'd become overwhelmed by memories of her father during the fireworks show. In return, she'd said good night to him so abruptly, sullen after a full day of festivities, without even asking how he was feeling. Wouldn't he have been thinking of his mother?

"I didn't know," Ursa said quietly.

"Well, he's not going to want his bride to know about his more mundane habits just yet." He shrugged. "You're still newlyweds. You'll learn these things about him."

"I hope so." Iroh had been kind to her, and he had begun to open up about his family and his dreams, but so much of him was still an intimidating mystery. Lowering her voice to a whisper, she continued, "I'll…walk back with you in a moment. I want to reassure your mother before I go. She seems a bit upset."

"Alright. I'll leave you alone, then. Ma?" Piandao walked over to his mother, who had shifted to drying dishes with a sort of mechanical focus and didn't acknowledge her son. "I'm going to see Iroh. Don't wait up for me, alright? I'll see you in the morning before I go."

She nodded stiffly, refusing to stop what she was doing.

"Don't stay here too long after the princess and I leave, either." He wrapped an arm around her, touching his lips to her gray hair. She paused long enough to lean into his half-embrace, before mumbling something and sending him off with a maternal flick of her dishcloth. Smiling, he released her and nodded at Ursa. "I'll wait outside."

Predictably, Aisha straightened up and looked around anxiously when she realized Ursa wasn't leaving with Piandao. "Is something wrong, Princess? Was the drink not to your liking?"

"Nothing is wrong at all, Aisha. That's what I wanted to tell you. The juice was wonderful, the desserts you prepared for today's party were exquisite, everything you've done is above and beyond." Hesitantly, she got off the stool and approached Aisha, not missing the way her grip tightened on the cloth in her hands. "Your son seems to be a good man. I'm not offended by what he said to me. Any friend of my husband's is a friend of mine, too. And you've done remarkably shaping him into a fine soldier."

"Thank you, Princess."

"I want you to know, I quite like making my own food from time to time. It's unusual for me to live in a place where everything is cooked and served to me. So if you see me poking around this kitchen again, don't feel the need to tend to me. I'm just looking for a taste of home sometimes."

Of course, it was unlikely dutiful Aisha would take her seriously, but maybe if they had this conversation enough times, it would sink in. Aisha did indeed hesitate before responding, "I've never heard you speak of your home or your family before tonight, Princess. It seems you miss them."

"I do," she said honestly, a lump forming in her throat. "That's…why I came to the kitchen. Berry juice was something my father made me when I couldn't sleep."

"It does something to a child, being thrust into such a different life. At least Puvi returned home to me every night when he started at that school. You…" Her eyes softened, the same look Ursa's mother gave to young patients with stomach bugs and skinned knees. "Well, I suppose you're not a child. But you're not much older, and your family is far away."

"Yes," she said tightly, feeling tears starting to well up.

"Oh, forgive me, Princess. I never thought of how hard this might be for you."

Maybe it was because she hadn't seen her own mother in so long, or because she always got weepy when she was tired, or maybe it was just the sorrow she'd been holding back since the fireworks, but suddenly, Ursa was crying. Reservations gone, Aisha held out her arms. Ursa welcomed the affection, sinking into her cinnamon-scented maternal embrace. If she closed her eyes, she could almost pretend it was actually her Mama.

"Poor dear," Aisha murmured. "There's always room in this kitchen for a girl missing home. I know a thing or two about that."

"I'm sorry, Aisha," she whispered between hiccuping sobs, "I'm keeping you up, and I really did mean to try and make you feel better. There's nothing to forgive you for. Nothing, nothing at all. I don't know what the palace would do without you."

"Your husband would go mad without a decent teamaker on staff, for one thing." Ursa let out a wet giggle. "But the palace would be fine. It has you." Aisha pulled back and looked at Ursa very seriously. "You should know, Princess, I heard what you did for the maids. Many of us old folks did, and we thought it was remarkable. Lady Ilah, may she rest in peace, wouldn't have involved herself directly like that even if she sympathized with the girls. Prince Iroh, bless him, is kind but not the most observant or knowledgeable about the domestic staff. I think a "commoner" like you, pardon my words, may be exactly what the palace needs."

"Thank you," Ursa said with a sniffle, although her insides turned into jelly at the comparison to her late mother-in-law. Yet another person expecting her to live up to, or even surpass, a legacy she knew so little about. "But you are indispensable Aisha. I really believe that. You…" Ursa lowered her voice, "you told Iroh about that incident with Ozai at my wedding. I'm not sure it could have ever been resolved if you hadn't said anything."

Aisha paled, but offered up a trembling smile. "So that matter's been taken care of, then? The princes have sorted it out?"

"Yes. Thanks to you."

"Oh, the spirits are good," she sighed, like a great weight had been lifted off her shoulders. "I was feeling so badly that I'd waited so long to say anything, but-"

"I understand completely, and Iroh does too."

"You are a very understanding young couple," she laughed. "With anyone else, waiting three weeks could have cost me everything."

Three weeks?

Tired and sad as Ursa was, that didn't add up. Ozai had come and apologized to her on Iroh's orders nearly two months after the wedding. Iroh had made it sound like Aisha had only just confessed when she'd asked him about it. Where did three weeks figure in?

"Of course," Ursa said lightly, trying to figure out how to probe Aisha further without clueing her into her confusion. "Three weeks after the wedding was hardly any time in the grand scheme of things. If you recall, I was starting all the Autumn Festival preparations around then and was too busy to do anything about Ozai either way."

"Yes, that's true. I believe it was the day of your first tasting that I mentioned it to Prince Iroh. You seemed rather overwhelmed."

Three weeks. Why had Ozai apologized two months later if Iroh had known well before that? He'd promised….

"Princess?" Aisha inquired gently, and Ursa snapped out of that thought spiral to reassure her.

"I was," she agreed. "I still am, honestly. Thank you for this, Aisha. I really mean it." She clasped Aisha's tough chef's hands and smiled. "I echo what your son said: don't stay up too late once I'm gone. Good night."

"Who am I to refuse you, Princess? Good night. May the spirits watch over you on your journey."

Lost in thought, Ursa half-forgot that Piandao was waiting for her outside the kitchens. "How'd it go?" he asked, making her jump a little.

"Well, I think," she said too quickly, hoping it wasn't evident she'd been crying.

The way his eyes narrowed made her think he would press further, but he simply said, "Good. She likes you. I'm sure it meant a lot to her," before gesturing for her to walk with him.

"May I ask you something about Iroh?" she inquired, still running through the timeline of events in her mind.

"Of course."

"You said that I have his protection for life. What makes you so sure?"

"You're his wife."

"And you think that's enough?"

He shot her a quizzical look. "Yes. Iroh has vowed himself to you. I won't pretend to know the state of your relationship, but if nothing else, he is a man of his word and his duty."

A man of his word. I promise, once I know how this happened, you will too, and whoever did it will be punished. Those had been his words to her, after she'd woken up for her coma. Had he held himself to them?

"You don't seem convinced," Piandao noted.

"I…am aware that he did not wish to be married."

"No. But it is still his duty."

Ursa shrugged.

"I never did tell you what he was like as a child," Piandao said with a small smile. "Do you still want to hear it?"

Despite her inner turmoil, her curiosity was piqued. "Absolutely."

"Well, like I said, we met after his mother died. While wandering around the palace looking for a new place to slake his boredom, he made his way into the kitchen. That was where he found me, also bored out of my mind, building a tower out of dirty dishes while my mother wasn't looking. He thought the game was marvelous and immediately joined in, which resulted in us building a tower so high it inevitably crashed spectacularly to the ground.

"My mother was horrified by the scene, and even more so when she realized that the crown prince was involved. Then Iroh told Ma that it had been his own fault. It only distressed her further, as you might imagine, but he was adamant that she shouldn't yell at me. Even at that age, he'd figured out that he could compel most people who weren't his father or nanny to listen to him. And he used that power to get me out of trouble, not himself." He paused to assess her reaction. "That really sums up what he was like. A willful, headstrong young prince who loved to stick his nose where it didn't belong but always tried to make sure others weren't punished for it."

Ursa couldn't help smiling at the description; it sounded like the natural beginning of the Iroh she'd come to know, who snuck forbidden scrolls out of the Dragonbone Catacombs and protected his little brother from the Fire Lord. "So, you became friends after that?"

"Yes. He came and picked me up from the kitchen everyday to play out in the garden, the training grounds, the secret rooms he'd already begun to find in each corner. Then he went back to school, and I went with him. I learned how to talk and act and fight like the other boys, so I could stand on my own two feet once Iroh moved onto other friends. But while he was indeed popular, somehow, none of his new friends ever replaced me."

"I would've been surprised if they did," Ursa said sincerely. "I've only known Iroh for three months, but I don't believe he views people as replaceable."

"He definitely doesn't, but I didn't know that back then. I asked him once, maybe six years ago on a trip to Ember Island, why he was still friends with me. He asked me why on Earth he wouldn't be. I didn't know what to say, and he jokingly 'sentenced' me to a lifetime as his friend before tackling me into the ocean as 'punishment' for questioning him." Piandao's eyes rolled fondly. "I had the burn of saltwater in my nose for days after, but I never asked him that again."

Ursa thought back to how Iroh's eyes had lit up when he'd seen Piandao, how readily he'd embraced him in front of everyone at the party. "I don't think you'll ever have to."

"I won't. Because once Iroh decides to give someone his trust…well, I've never seen what they'd have to do to lose it. Even if he didn't choose to marry you, I'd be shocked if he withheld his trust from you forever."

Iroh traced secret ciphers for her in flickering candlelight and traded folktales and myths with her while pouring sweet jasmine tea into her cup. Those were things that he didn't seem to do with many others, but did that equate trust?

"Perhaps," Ursa said with a yawn. With her bedroom in sight, it was much too late for her to give this any serious thought, torn as she was by what she'd learned from Aisha. "Thank you for your company, Piandao. I hope you stay safe in your return to battle."

"Of course. Safe travels to you as well."

A thought struck her, and she turned back to him with her door half-open. "Why are you called Piandao?" she asked. "What made that your Fire Nation name?"

He smiled, and it occurred to her that although he and Iroh looked very different, they smiled in the same slightly crooked but self-assured way. "Piandao is an old name for a rare type of sword, characterized by a deep curve. Iroh and I found one in the armory on one of our escapades, and I thought it was fascinating. I decided to name myself that at school, picked the sword as my weapon of choice, and the rest is history."

"A committed swordsman from the beginning, I see."

"Indeed. I appreciate the question. Like I said, you ask things that would not occur to many people." He inclined his head at her meaningfully. "Good night."

"Good night."

Ursa slipped into her own room before Piandao knocked on Iroh's door, not sure what it would do to her to see her husband right now. Her eyes landed on the vase on her nightstand, the single red rose looking unearthly in the pale moonlight slicing in through her window. Iroh tucked the stem behind her ear, the woodsmoke spice of sandalwood on his wrists, his fingers warm where they brushed against her own quickly warming skin-

An entire month on the road with Iroh. With his amber eyes and awful jokes and, apparently, half-promises. What would it do to her?

Iroh, cont.

Regardless of whether it is a function of his birth, or simply who he is, Piandao has always been able to see things - and people - more clearly than I. It drove me up the wall when we were younger. He is methodical in his observations, playing the character he thinks will show him a person's true self. Once that self is revealed, he can be all but smug in his newfound knowledge, his success in peeling away others' pretenses. Putting it that way, it was inevitable he and Ursa would quickly sense the similarities in each other's spirits.

I'm just fortunate that Piandao has never been the sort to use this specific skill of his with malicious intent. To this day, he moves with the purpose of bringing the truths he discovers to light. I wish I'd been sensible enough to remember that about him as we grew out of our boyhood bond.

Piandao arrived at Iroh's door with a packet of ginseng. "A little souvenir from Hu Xin," he said. "Ready for tea?"

After the party, his debate with his father, and the jitters he always got the night before the Autumn Festival, the opportunity to catch up with his oldest friend could not have come at a better time. "Of course," Iroh said, holding the door further open. "Come on, tell me what it's like knocking earthbenders' heads together."

"I'm a swordsman, Iroh. If I'm knocking heads together, something's gone very wrong."

Piandao regaled him with the story of the battle in Hu Xin as the tea was prepared. Iroh already knew the technical details of what had happened, having been obligated to hear the reports during one of many war meetings. But the droning of the generals never quite compared to the eyewitness accounts from the foot soldiers. In Piandao's voice, Iroh heard swords clashing, soldiers' war cries, blood roaring with the adrenaline of battle.

"I really thought I would die," Piandao said. "If that earthbender hadn't hesitated for a fraction of a second before trying to crush me, I probably would have."

"That's really all that made the difference?"

"Absolutely." He accepted the cup Iroh handed him before sitting in an armchair and continuing. "All that drivel they fed us in school about decisiveness on the battlefield: it's all true. Things happen in the blink of an eye, and you can't dither about what to do."

Iroh took the other armchair and sipped his own cup, relishing the new flavor of this Earth Kingdom ginseng blend. It was a thoughtful gesture from his friend, picking up tea for Iroh of all things on his way back to the homeland. "I'm glad you didn't dither, then."

Piandao laughed humorlessly. "Thank you." His gray eyes looked quite dull; now that Iroh was getting a good look, he could see how dark the circles beneath them were.

"Having trouble sleeping?"

"Oh, nothing compared to what you must be experiencing as a newlywed." Piandao wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. Anyone else would've received a challenge to an Agni Kai for such a comment, but Piandao's whole life was based on him being an exception to the rules.

"You don't know what you're talking about," Iroh retorted, silently cursing the blood rushing to his face.

"Don't I? You're slipping away with your pretty wife at garden parties, putting roses in her hair, so entranced by her you didn't even notice me until I was right next to you. I'm shocked you have time for tea with me when you could be spending the night with her instead."

"It's not like that."

"What's it like, then?" Piandao sat forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "I've got to say, I'm still confused about how this marriage of yours came to be. Your father suddenly ordered you to be married to a woman no one's ever heard of, as quickly as possible? Honestly, I kind of assumed he was trying to save face because you'd gone and knocked someone up during one of your trips."

"I promise you, I definitely haven't knocked anyone up."

Piandao's brows raised. "Does that mean what I think it does?"

If Iroh got any more embarrassed, the armchair was going to end up with some scorch marks. "Ursa and I were entirely strangers before our wedding, so we're…taking things slow. Shut up about it."

"Alright, but now I'm really confused." He leaned back and took a swig of his tea as if it were something much stronger. "Why'd your father marry you off so urgently if you really were strangers?"

"Politics." Iroh desperately wanted to tell Piandao the truth - they'd always shared pretty much everything, after all - but he wasn't sure Ursa's identity as the Avatar's granddaughter would do her any favors if it somehow got leaked. "The capital nobles were swarming trying to get their daughters into the royal family. Father decided I should marry an outsider to stem any rivalries, and you know what he's like about making sure I'm prepared for the throne. So she's stuck with me."

"Poor girl," Piandao teased, unfazed by the rude gesture Iroh made at him in return. "Well, even if it started off as a political thing, it seems like you two are getting along well."

"I suppose."

His oldest friend, who could read him better than his own family, caught the small hesitation in his answer. "Is there any reason you wouldn't?"

Quite a few, really. Iroh decided to share the most obvious one. "There was…someone in her hometown who apparently loved her deeply. She had to leave him when my father ordered the marriage." The memory of her tearful goodbye to Ikem made him cringe. "With those circumstances, I doubt she has much affection for me."

Piandao languidly stretched out his legs as he considered this. "I ran into her on my way here, you know."

"She's still awake?" Iroh asked, worries immediately raised.

"Yes. She made her way down to the kitchen for a cup of juice."

Ursa had seemed exhausted when they'd said good night a couple of hours ago; had she been lying awake, thinking of her father? Had she just not wanted to talk to Iroh? The questions settled like stone in his gut.

"So," Piandao continued, generously ignoring his friend's turmoil, "tell me, how many people actually know your wife's a commoner?"

Of course. If Piandao had run into Ursa at this hour - alone, tired, off-guard Ursa - it wouldn't have taken him long to slice through the layers of her princess guise and figure out her truth. That technique was how he'd protected himself in years of masquerading as a noble, after all. "Come on, Piandao, don't tell me you were an ass to her."

"Only a little." He held his hands up defensively. "She figured out my story when she walked in on me and Ma. It's only fair that I get the same courtesy, don't you think?"

Iroh's frown made his displeasure clear, and Piandao heaved an overly dramatic sigh. "Well, she said I seem very clever and even asked me to drop her title, so I don't think she's that upset about it."

"She asked you to drop her title?"

Piandao nodded. "She called me a peer. Doesn't have a lot of allies yet, does she?"

"No. Today was her first public appearance. People don't formally know that she's a commoner, but they're certainly curious about her." His frown remained in place as he recalled Mariko. "Many of the noblewomen who ought to be her allies are hostile to her since she 'stole' me away from them."

"Many, but not all, I'm sure. Even with that crown piece headpiece, you're not that big of a prize."

Iroh made another rude gesture, and Piandao cackled.

"I like her," he declared once his fit of laughter had subsided. "And Ma does too. Not at all what I expected from the new princess."

"You and me both. Probably because she's an outsider and a commoner. No Royal Academy, no etiquette training, no weapons mastery: a rather simple upbringing, compared to us."

"Yes. Plus, she strikes me as…genuine. I figured you of all people would like having a wife like that."

Iroh couldn't help but smile at the irony. "Actually, she is quite the actress."

"Sure, but that doesn't have to mean she's ingenuine. She's…I don't know how to describe it. She seems authentic, even when she's acting her part as a princess. And I think she likes you."

"Why?" Iroh asked, realizing he'd done it too quickly when he saw Piandao's eyes shine. "Oh, screw you."

"Come on, I'm being serious. I saw how she looked at you at the party. I don't think anyone's that good of an actress. But I doubt she likes you as much as you clearly like her."

The emphasis on clearly grated on Iroh's nerves. "You shouldn't base too much of your impression on the party. Again, that was her first public appearance, and our first event as a couple. We obviously behaved a bit differently."

"Of course." Piandao's small smirk made it clear he didn't believe him. "Prince Iroh doesn't pine after women, after all."

"I'm not 'pining.' I'm being mindful of the fact that she doesn't want to be my wife," he said bitterly. "What else am I supposed to do?"

The smirk vanished, and Piandao frowned at him. "You're really bothered," he said, sounding somewhat surprised.

"Obviously, I'm bothered. Would you be thrilled by a wife who doesn't want you?"

"No, but I didn't think you wanted her either. Don't you remember what you wrote to me: all that self-pitying trite about how your youth was being stolen away and the shackles of marriage and oh me, oh my, how ever will the crown prince survive?" His voice pitched high as he mocked Iroh's letter. "Not one word about your bride-to-be or how she must have been feeling about the whole affair."

Remembering how upset he'd been before the wedding was like remembering a past life. At the time, he'd really thought his world was ending. But how much had his daily routine really changed? The biggest difference was that there was now another person at dinner each night, which was honestly a welcome reprieve from the triangular tension of his family. A kind and clever person, who sometimes followed him to his room after dinner to continue their conversation, drinking his tea and laughing so musically at his remarks, retorting smartly with her sunshine eyes bright…

Piandao snapped his fingers. "Hello?"

A person who'd been happy in Hira'a, with a lover and a family and a life that had been taken away. "I didn't want her," Iroh said. "But now that the marriage is a done deal, I don't see a point in holding onto the sentiment. It's a bigger change for her, though. She needs more time to adjust, and I know that."

"But do you want her now? Or do you just want her to want you?" Piandao was not one to beat around the bush once he'd figured out the facts. Iroh normally respected that about him. Right now, though, he hated it.

"I want us to have a good partnership."

The arch of his friend's eyebrow told Iroh it wasn't a convincing answer. "Well, you'll be spending the next month together. You should probably use the time to secure that."

That was more or less the logic Iroh had used to convince his father to let him take Ursa back to Hira'a, and it hadn't been a total lie. If he could make it so that marriage wasn't entirely a prison for her, it would likely be easier for her to eventually be open to the…marital duties they'd both been stubbornly avoiding. But it made him feel sour to view the journey to Hira'a as a way to buy Ursa's "true loyalty," as he'd put it. He just wanted her to stop looking so sad whenever she remembered her home, loyalty be blasted.

"Perhaps," Iroh said vaguely.

Piandao studied him for a minute longer, like he was considering asking another uncomfortably perceptive question, then grinned mischievously. "She asked me what you were like as a child."

His heart skipped a beat, both at the notion that Ursa might care about such things and at the possibility that Piandao might have made him look ridiculous. "What did you tell her?"

"Nothing that wasn't true."

Iroh groaned. "I hate you."

"No, you don't."

Thankfully, the conversation steered away from Ursa after that. The hour passed, young men bantering, candles dwindling, teapot emptying, until Iroh finally let out a jaw-cracking yawn.

"I'll take that as my cue," Piandao said, stretching as he stood. "I don't think I'll see you before you set off in the morning, so safe travels. Don't do anything stupid."

"Same to you." Iroh embraced his friend, noting how tired his eyes looked, how hollow the parting smile was. There were soldiers who'd died in Hu Xin, soldiers whose deaths Piandao might have seen, soldiers he'd refused to talk about by changing the subject each time Iroh subtly tried to raise it. Iroh kept his arms around him just a bit longer than needed.

"Take care of Ma while I'm gone?" Piandao asked, voice uncharacteristically rough with exhaustion and something that hadn't been there before the army.

"Of course."

"And Ursa."

Iroh rolled his eyes as he released him. "She's my wife, you ass."

"I know, I just figured you needed a reminder."

"Get out."

With Piandao playfully banished from the room, Iroh drained the last of his tea and permitted his thoughts to drift across the hall, into his wife's chamber, where she was hopefully sound asleep. It was too easy to recall the image of her dozing on his couch, dark hair falling against pale skin, candlelight casting her in an almost ethereal frame; almost, because his irrational urge to touch wouldn't quite abate even in a memory. Was she talking in her sleep again tonight, calling for her father this time?

Iroh listened for a moment, as if there were any way the whispers of her dreams could breach through the walls between them. He said a silent prayer for her to sleep well, for her spirit to hold on just a little longer. Hira'a was not that far away anymore. I promise.

A/N: Look, I don't mind if you dislike this backstory for Piandao, but you can argue with the wall about his characterization! In ATLA, he recognized Sokka was lying and decided to train him anyway, then recognized the Avatar on SIGHT and still attacked Sokka to test him…you can never convince me that he was not a sneaky little pot-stirrer as a younger man. It's probably what got him involved with the White Lotus.

~Bobbi