Disclaimer: Yeet.

Dawn. Something about dawn always made him feel calmer, no matter what the previous evening had brought. The sun warming his inner fire, the pink skies, the stir of a world waking to another day…yes, Iroh had always been a morning person.

Dawn sliced in through Ursa's curtains, shedding a gentle light across her room. Through it, Iroh could see Ursa herself on her bed, one foot dangling off the edge. Captain Moopotamus was squished under an arm, the other thrown across her face like she was shielding her eyes from the sun. When he sat up, he saw there was a small trickle of her drool from her slightly-open mouth. The image was amusing, and a little sweet in its vulnerability. The night she'd slept on his couch, he'd found her curled up in the morning very similarly to how he'd left her. Perhaps this was how she slept when he wasn't looking. Or maybe she only slept this way here, where she felt at home.

Maybe Ikem had seen her like this before.

The thought banished his morning warmth, reminding him of how sleep-deprived he was. At least the ashes of Ikem's letter were gone; if Iroh was lucky, Ursa wouldn't notice it was missing, and they could put this whole thing behind them. The sooner they got out of Hira'a, the sooner Ikem could leave both of their minds.

That didn't mean Iroh was going to wake her, though. He'd said she could sleep in, and besides, he liked having some time alone to center himself each morning. The fuzziness in his head from how late he'd fallen asleep told him he definitely needed the routine today, or he wasn't going to enjoy his time back on that ostrich horse.

Ursa shifted in her cot and pulled her dangling foot back onto the bed, shoving Captain Moopotamous off in return. Iroh allowed himself to smile at that. He grabbed the toy as he stood and tucked it next to her cheek. She immediately turned her sleeping face into the soft fur with a sigh.

Briefly, Iroh wondered how it would feel for her to delicately nuzzle and sigh against his skin like that.

Ikem probably knew.

He tried to ignore that thought as he diligently folded up his bedding and slipped out of the room.

The grass of the family's backyard was dewy beneath his bare feet: different from the sands and dirt he practiced on in the palace, but it was never a crime to learn how to ground oneself in different environments. For a few minutes, he closed his eyes and simply breathed, focusing on the sun climbing slowly into the sky and his own body's answering rise of power. Then, he turned to face the east. The sky was more gray than pink this morning;there was rain in the air, it likely wouldn't strike until maybe noon. That didn't mean anything for his sun salutations, though. Jinpa, the old captain of the guard, had taught him this particular exercise.

"How are stretches and breathing going to make me a better firebender?" A twelve-year-old Iroh demanded, sprawling out on his back on the sand of the training grounds. He'd accepted the offer for a dawn training session eager to learn something exciting - new forms, creative attacks, all the things Jinpa had picked up in the army before accepting the Fire Lord's offer to finish his career as captain of the royal guard and instructor to the princes - but the sun salutations Jinpa had just demonstrated looked beyond boring.

Jinpa's thick, gray eyebrows furrowed into a frown over his deep-set dark eyes. The man rarely took offense to the prince's preteen pushiness, but this seemed like one of those times when Iroh was supposed to just listen.

"Where does power in firebending come from?" Jinpa asked him.

"The breath," Iroh answered dutifully, sitting up cross-legged.

"What fuels our inner fire?"

"The sun."

"You really don't see the value, then, in an exercise that incorporates both those components?" Jinpa shook his head. "Perhaps I should go tell Master Qin to block your access to the library until you master your basics."

"Wha- that's not fair! I already know my basics."

"Use your head then, Prince Iroh. What's the value?"

Jinpa loomed above him, all burly, war-grizzled muscle that would have been intimidating if he didn't have such a grandfatherly twinkle in his eye. Iroh frowned, digging deep into his mind for the right answer. "Well…probably strengthening the connection to the sun, right? If you can feel it while it's just coming up, you'll learn how to fuel your fire with little to no sunlight by compensating with breath control."

"Exactly. Come on, show me the forms of the salutation yourself."

"But you only showed me them once."

"Once should be plenty for a 'prodigy,' Your Highness."

Iroh huffed and got to his feet. It turned out the forms were deceptively challenging; his spine did not bend as far back as Jinpa's had, and trying to maintain his slow breathing through each movement broke his concentration more than once.

"A good start," Jinpa said once he'd made it through one complete sun salutation. "Now do eleven more. And do a dozen every day at dawn from now on."

"What?"

"You should be able to do as many as your age until you're thirty-six, and then you can start reducing the number of repetitions again," Jinpa said with a casual shrug and sat cross-legged. "You're twelve, and so you can do twelve. Every morning."

Iroh groaned, but obeyed. Even after just one repetition, he could tell there was something to what Jinpa was saying. The sun's rays already seemed sharper.

It was during his fourteenth repetition that Iroh sensed someone emerge from the house behind him. Not Ursa - not at this hour - but Iroh wasn't particularly troubled by either of her parents watching him either. He returned his attention to the sun, feeling his body awaken further with each salutation, each passing moment. This exercise was supposed to utilize every muscle in the body according to Jinpa, and while he'd never studied the anatomy of it that closely, he could feel those effects.

Finally, he finished number nineteen and sat to meditate. Behind him, he heard the creak of the greenhouse door opening. It was Rina, then. The woman had mentioned she was an early riser the previous night; before Iroh had gone inside, burned that letter from Ikem, and begun to think that maybe the family was talking about another man behind his back.

Those were not very meditative thoughts. He pushed them away.

The greenhouse door was still open when he finished. His plan had been to just walk back into the house and make himself scarce until it was time to leave, but his curiosity got the better of him. Ursa had mentioned how lovely the chrysanthemums were at this time of year, and he wanted to see them for himself, especially if they were going to be part of the palace garden going forward.

Rina was sitting cross-legged beneath the oak tree, the same place she'd been when Iroh and Ursa had first arrived the previous night. Her eyes opened at the sound of Iroh entering, and she immediately stood to bow. "Prince Iroh," she said, "how may I help you?"

"I don't mean to interrupt. I just came to see those chrysanthemums you and Ursa were talking about." Had she been meditating too?

"But of course." She beckoned him over to a plot in the northeastern corner of the greenhouse, where chrysanthemums of all colors were flourishing just as Ursa had described. "They'll bloom for another month or so," she explained. "I keep some spring varieties here too so it's not just an autumn bloom. Ursa loves them all. Especially pink and yellow."

"I see." Iroh made a mental note. "Do the colors change the meanings of the flowers? I know they're usually associated with longevity."

"Depends who you ask." Rina bent and gently wiped the dew off one of the plant's leaves. "On my childhood island, yellow was auspicious for new beginnings, and pink was for strong relationships."

Good wedding flowers, Iroh idly thought to himself. His and Ursa's wedding had primarily featured red roses. He liked roses well enough, but they were a little overdone in the capital. "They'll look marvelous in the royal garden," he said out loud.

"I hope so. It's very kind of you to allow Ursa to bring these humble flowers back to the palace with her."

"She's a princess. I don't have to 'allow' her to do such a simple thing. It's her right."

Rina cast him a sideways glance, one that reminded him of the way Ursa looked at him like she hadn't decided if he meant what he said or not. He suspected Rina was having a similar thought.

"I suppose not," she said finally.

Iroh glanced back at the plot of chrysanthemums, watching how the yellow ones in particular looked radiant in the light of dawn. New beginnings. "Madame Rina," he said, "could I ask you something, since we're speaking privately?"

"But of course," came the dutiful response.

Iroh glanced at the door of the greenhouse, making sure they were alone. "Can you tell me about Ikem?"

Rina's eyes, sunshine bright like her daughter's, went wide. "You know of Ikem, Your Highness?"

"There are few men brazen enough to attack the royal procession. I remember the ones who do. He was Ursa's partner before I came here, wasn't he?"

"Yes, but I assure you he's gone now. He left the town not long after Ursa did. No one's certain of where he went."

Iroh wasn't sure how to feel about that. On one hand, at least Ikem was far away from Ursa. On the other, it made Iroh uneasy to not know for sure where Ikem was. "How long were they involved?"

"That's…a complicated question." Rina dropped her gaze. "Ikem and Ursa were in the same class throughout school. They became very close friends, especially once they both started acting. I don't know when exactly it turned into something more, but I can't say I was surprised by it." She pursed her lips. "I think it was officially a romance by the time they were fifteen."

So at least three years, not accounting for all the time they'd spent together as budding actors before that. It made sense, then, why Ikem had called himself the Dragon Emperor in his letter to her: a reference to a play she loved that they'd both been practicing for together. Iroh wondered if Ikem had indeed won the part of the Dragon Emperor to Ursa's Dragon Empress. Maybe Ursa had only welcomed romance from Ikem after they'd bonded through their mutual love of theater.

Iroh was not a connoisseur of theater, and he was decidedly not a good actor.

"They were in love, then." The words felt disconnected from himself even as he uttered them.

"Yes," Rina whispered, like it was a terrible secret.

For a moment, he allowed himself to simply absorb that knowledge. Then, he turned and half-smiled at Rina to show he wasn't upset with her for telling the truth. "Thank you for sharing. I knew I was taking her away from someone when I married her. I've just been curious about what exactly she lost."

Rina nodded, still watching him warily.

"Tell me something else," he said, changing the subject to something more casual. "Tell me about…her favorite things. What else might she like to have in the palace besides chrysanthemums?"

"What could I tell you that compares to what the palace offers?"

"A mother's perspective," Iroh responded honestly.

She smiled at that.

Ursa loved chrysanthemums, of course, but in the spring she adored plum blossoms, and in the summer she would travel with Rina to the nearest Fire Lily Festivals. Ursa was picky about her fruits and vegetables, but she had a weakness for anything with mangos. Ursa was a voracious tree-climber, even more so as a little girl, which had been the origin of the family nickname, 'Sunshine'; Rina had gone looking for her wayward daughter in the woods around the house at dusk numerous times, and would usually find her giggling on a tree branch with the setting sun silhouetting her hiding spot.

Iroh drank in Rina's knowledge of Ursa like watermelon juice on a summer day. There was a whole life - eighteen years - that he could never learn from just this, but…it felt like a new beginning, at least, to collect these pieces of her straight from the source. A beginning to what, though, he wasn't sure.

"I must say, Prince Iroh…" Rina hesitated, but continued when Iroh nodded for her to keep speaking. "You seem very different now than when you first came here."

It was a fair observation, considering the mood Iroh had been in when he'd proposed to Ursa in this same greenhouse. "Believe it or not, Madam Rina, I was not any more interested in this marriage than your family was," he shrugged. "But I've made my peace with it. You raised a good daughter, and there are worse women my father could have chosen for me."

"Is that would have happened if you hadn't found my family? The Fire Lord would have simply selected another bride for you?"

"In a few years, yes. Most likely a firebender from a noble line." Vaguely, Mariko's face as she'd taunted Ursa at the garden party flashed in his mind. "Sometimes I think I'm lucky to have Ursa instead. It's far more interesting to be married to someone with such a different background and perspective from mine."

"You really believe that?" Rina asked with something akin to wonder.

"Yes."

This seemed to astound her further. "I…worried so much for Ursa when she left," she confessed, and Iroh knew the simple words couldn't capture the depth of grief she must have felt for her daughter. "I worried that the smart mouth and dramatics her father and I had indulged would get her into trouble. Ursa was a surprise to us, you see; I'd thought I couldn't have children, until the spirits blessed me with her very late in my life, and so she had more freedom than we maybe should have given her. I worried that…the Fire Lord would be displeased to have such a strong-willed daughter-in-law."

In short, she'd worried that her daughter would be broken down and erased by the palace.

"But it seems to me she's hardly changed," Rina continued. "She has more responsibilities now, and she seems a bit lonely, but her spirit - who she is - hasn't changed. I have to assume, Prince Iroh, that you have something to do with that."

"All I've done is try to make sure she's treated well."

"Well, that's more than I thought Avatar Roku's line could expect from the Royal Family after all these years."

Iroh thought of the headpiece she'd surrendered to him so fearfully the previous night. "We are not our ancestors."

"No, we're not," Rina agreed, the corners of her mouth lifting ever so slightly. She reached out and plucked a petal off a chrysanthemum flower, placing it in her mouth. "Testing it for tea," she explained to Iroh.

"I see. Your chrysanthemum tea is marvelous."

"Would you like some to take with you?" she offered at once. "I've put together a parcel of seeds and whatnot for Ursa. There's room for tea."

"I do like to add new teas to my collection. Chrysanthemum from Hira'a would be lovely."

"In exchange for the tea, may I ask you something that's not at all my business?"

"That seems a fair trade to me," Iroh smiled.

"Those exercises you were doing outside: what were they?"

"Sun salutations. They're supposed to increase the connection between the sun at dawn and the breath for greater firebending."

Rina nodded, drawing the petal out of her mouth and flicking it into the soil.

"Why do you ask?" Iroh asked, curiosity piqued.

"My father used to do them each morning," she answered, glancing at Iroh uneasily as she did. "He said he would explain it to me when I was old enough to learn more advanced firebending. Of course, he never had the chance. I was always curious."

"You're a bender?" Iroh was unable to keep the surprise out of his voice.

"Oh, yes. I might've even been one of some note in my youth. But I stopped training after my father's death. I figured it would be easier to hide that way."

Doing such a thing - hiding away his firebending, his ancestry, every integral part of himself, in search of a normal life - felt borderline impossible to Iroh. He couldn't imagine what it had been like for Rina, especially when it had all turned out to be in vain, and the Fire Lord had come to claim her family in the end.

"So you don't bend anymore?" he asked.

"I don't fight," she corrected, "not that I ever did. I light cooking fires and lamps. I manage fevers and burns. There's plenty of ways to live a fulfilling life as a bender without combat. That's how it was before the war."

Iroh wondered if she practiced energy reading; that was exactly the kind of thing a firebending healer could use to work miracles. "I guess I've never really thought about that."

"Well, why would you? Even in a world without war, a prince has to take care of himself." There was something a little sad in the words. "I used to be glad Ursa was born a nonbender. Now I worry that it's just another way she'll be defenseless away from home."

Iroh thought of Ikem, who'd stood in the Fire Lord's way regardless of his inability to bend and dueled his soldiers in a desperate attempt to get the love of his life back. That sort of devotion was hard to duplicate, if that was what Rina was hoping for her daughter.

"You don't have to worry about that," Iroh promised. "I'll take care of Ursa too."

Iroh could actually do that, unlike Ikem.

Iroh, cont.

It's almost funny, really, how sometimes the universe hears your words and decides to make you eat them.

Iroh had been quiet during the journey away from Hira'a, to the point where it was starting to unnerve Ursa, especially combined with the heavy clouds above them that looked like they might unleash their loads at any moment. She'd woken up a couple of hours ago to find her husband chatting with her parents over breakfast. The sight had warmed her heart, and he'd greeted her normally enough, but something about him seemed…reserved.

Perhaps it was because he was also worried about the weather. It could also be unspoken annoyance at everything she was hauling back to the capital with her. He'd said she could bring some new plants to the royal garden, which naturally meant she'd requested as many seeds as she could from her mother, and she could hardly bear to part with Captain Moopotamous, and there was of course her new jewelry box; maybe she'd gotten carried away.

It was also possible that he was simply tired of being undercover as a commoner and eager to get back to royal life. He'd been a good sport, humoring her desire to eat at a roadside inn like a regular person, then dutifully spending the night in her parents' modest home. But there was only so much he could take if he wasn't used to such a life. Perhaps his mood would warm up once he could put on his crown prince regalia and drink a cup of tea from his personal stash again.

At least he'd been kind to her parents, both of them having relaxed around him after just one night. He'd gone so far as to bow to them, a sign of respect from a son-in-law, as they'd left the house that morning, a gesture that had taken Ursa's breath away. He'd even pardoned her mother for the headpiece the previous night, something Ursa had never known existed. Azulon, she suspected, would not have been nearly as understanding about the strange story of friendship between Avatar and Fire Lord that had accompanied the artifact. Ursa was grateful Iroh had proved himself different from his father once again.

"Thank you for planning this," she whispered to him, breaking the calm silence that had marked their brief journey as they drew closer to the royal procession waiting for them. "Really. It was wonderful."

He turned to look at her, and there was something in his eyes that she couldn't quite read. "Of course. You're very welcome."

"I bet you're glad to get to be a prince again, huh?" she joked.

His mouth lifted, not quite a smile. "I enjoyed getting to know your family. But I'm happy to get back to the festival."

The festival. That Ursa was hosting. For a brief moment when she'd opened her eyes that morning and seen her childhood bedroom, she'd thought maybe her whole marriage had been a dream. Then she'd rolled over and caught sight of Iroh's bedding, neatly folded and tucked against the wall, and reality had come crashing in. It wasn't Iroh's fault, of course; it was just an unfortunate stumble of her mind. But that didn't change the disappointment that had been slowly growing in her gut with each step away from her parents' home.

Thankfully, this wasn't a permanent departure. Iroh hadn't said when exactly Ursa could return, but he'd made it clear he intended for her to be able to visit again, and that had put a smile on her parents' faces as they'd waved goodbye. Maybe she'd even be able to write to them, once she got back to the capital. She didn't want to push her luck, but surely a letter wasn't as big of a request as an actual visit, right?

Briefly, Ikem's love letters flashed into her mind, and she pushed them away. Letters to and from Ikem weren't an option anymore. She was married now. She'd indulged thoughts of him too much last night, unable to help asking her parents how he was doing and feeling dejected when they'd gently informed her he'd left town not long after her engagement to Iroh. Even that much had been a mistake, like picking at the scab of a healing wound.

Iroh pulled up the ostrich-horse, and she dismounted, happy to see Mika and Rei coming to greet her.

"It's so fortunate that you made it back before the rain, Princess." Mika dutifully took the travel cloak and bag from her, glancing at the gray sky uneasily. "How was your night away?"

"It was lovely, thank you." Ursa turned to share a smile with Iroh but found he'd already gone off somewhere with Jun. He must've been very eager to get back into royal robes. Hopefully, that was all it was.

"There's a tent ready for you to change and rest before continuing with the journey," Rei informed her in her straightforward fashion. "Do you need anything before that?"

"Some water, if it's not already there."

Putting her princess attire back on was practically stifling after spending the last twenty-four hours in commoner clothes. Ursa knew it was a necessity since they would be nearing Ningzhou soon, and she could hardly meet the governor of the province while looking like a tree-climber, but she sort of wished she could. Her movements felt restricted as Mika tightened the sash around her waist and offered her delicate slippers. The makeup restored her back to her princess persona completely, polishing her features and hiding away her imperfections. In Hira'a, Ursa had liked wearing makeup for color and a touch of pizazz, not for this uncanny smoothness.

Her old rebellious instinct whispered inside her, pointing out that she could technically wear her makeup the way she wanted with little consequence. Yuna wasn't here. The Fire Lord wasn't here. Would Iroh really force her to change it?

She ignored that urge. It was best not to rebel against the confines of royal life. She was Princess Ursa again, no longer Ursa the magistrate and healer's beloved daughter or Ursa the actress. Despite how it chafed at her to have to step into this character once more, it was still her duty. No matter how much she hated it.

The thought caught her off guard while Rei brushed through her hair. Where had the word 'hate' come from? Did she really hate being a princess? It wasn't so bad, was it, now that she and Iroh were on good terms, and she had people like Mika and Rei she could somewhat relax around? Hate was such a strong word, one that she'd never associated with her new life before.

Be careful with hate, Sunshine, her mother had said once, when Ursa had declared she hated waterbenders after a history lesson about the Water Tribe's sexist tradition of banning women from combat. It's too easy to do, and too hard to take back.

Hate. The word settled uncomfortably in her mind. As long as she didn't speak it, surely it wouldn't have a hold on her.

"Would you like anything else?" Rei asked once she'd situated Ursa's headpiece in her topknot.

Ursa examined her wrists, adorned with the finery of royal bracelets, and had an idea. "Just one thing, I think." She rose to her feet, ignoring Mika's protests to look through her bag herself and dig out her mother's jewelry box.

"Princess, where did you get that?" Mika asked.

"It's…" Ursa faltered, unsure of how much information to give her. "It's from my family," she said finally, self-conscious about how plain the wooden box with the simple flame carving looked compared to everything else in her royal life.

"What a precious gift, my lady."

"Thank you." She opened the box and examined its contents carefully, placing the white lotus tile aside to try and find an accessory that wouldn't clash too much with the rest of her outfit.

There was the noise of someone approaching the tent, and Iroh's voice came in through the thin flap that separated her from the outside. "Is the princess dressed?"

"Yes," Ursa called, beating Mika to the punch. "Come in."

Mika and Rei quickly bowed to the crown prince as Iroh entered, and Ursa looked up long enough to see that he'd been restored to his palace glamor too. "You're not wearing the new-old headpiece?" she asked with a wry smile.

"No. I think I'll return it to my father first, and let him decide whether I should wear it." He didn't answer her smile, although his tone and manner were perfectly pleasant as he released Mika and Rei from their bows. "I was just coming to see if you were ready yet. No rush, of course, but it seems you might need more time," he continued, nodding at the jewelry box she was sorting through. "This is the one your mother gave you?"

"Yes. I'm just having trouble picking a bracelet, but then I'll be ready to go." She beckoned Iroh over. "Do you want to help me choose one?"

"That's alright," he said, not moving. "I trust your taste."

It was a perfectly polite rejection, but it was a rejection all the same. Things like that had been happening all morning - his slipping away as soon as they'd dismounted, his silence during the journey from Hira'a, his refusal to let her serve him at breakfast - all inconsequential by themselves, yet disconcerting when she added them up in her mind.

Just the previous day, she would've simply swallowed down her concern and waited to see if the crown prince would raise an issue, as a good princess would. But she felt rejuvenated from Hira'a, not ready to be constricted back into her royal role again, and so she asked, "Iroh, is everything okay?"

"Of course," he replied, his tone as mild as it was when he spoke to ministers he didn't really know that well. It was unusual that he was using that tone on her.

"You just seem…" she hesitated, then waved Mika and Rei out of the tent in case their presence was keeping Iroh from speaking freely. "You just seem a little off today," she whispered once they'd gone. "Did you not sleep well on the floor? I told you to take the bed."

"I don't think the bed would have made a difference," he said with a shrug. "I'm always a little restless when sleeping in a new place."

It was a reasonable answer, one that Ursa might have believed if he'd looked her in the eye when he said it.

"What is it, really?"

"There's no 'it' to worry about."

"Come on, Iroh," she said with a wry smile, "haven't we already established that you're a terrible actor?"

The joke, the small reference to a previous laugh they'd shared, should have lightened the mood. Instead, his jaw clenched, and he looked at her in a way that suddenly reminded her intensely of the Fire Lord.

"Yes," he said with something like irritation. "Yes, I'm a terrible actor. And you- you're a marvelous one, aren't you? The Dragon Empress of Hira'a."

"I think I'm alright. Hira'a is a pretty small town, so…" she trailed off, unsure of how to respond. She'd never seen him like this.
"The Dragon Empress who misses her Emperor," he muttered, almost more to himself than her. "I haven't seen that play, but that's the gist of it, isn't it? You wait for your Emperor to come back and reunite with you. Is that what you're waiting for now? Is that what you were hoping for when we went back to Hira'a? For Ikem?"

Hearing his name on Iroh's lips was a shock, her love's name spat out with such venom. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about you digging out your old love letters from him and reading through them while I was bathing."

Nausea stabbed into her stomach. "How do you know about that?"

"You should be more careful if you want to sneak around behind my back. And I'm not a fool. I know you love that man. I know you didn't actually mean it when you told him you wanted to marry me and sent him away; you did it to save his life, and I supported that. But I thought you at least respected me and what I've done for you enough to act like a decent wife and not openly pine for another man. Such an honest woman like yourself…" he trailed off, lips pulling back in a very Ozai-like sneer.

Not too long ago, she would've simply accepted his anger and apologized. But there were accusations in his words that her pride wouldn't let slide, and with her own knowledge of what Iroh had been doing behind her own back, she wasn't going to allow him to paint himself as some sort of wronged husband.

"How dare you accuse me of dishonesty, of not being a decent wife, when your own brother poisoned me, and you did nothing about it?"

Now it was his turn to be confused. "What are you talking about? You chose Ozai's punishment yourself."

"But you didn't tell me everything. I know you found out Ozai had dosed my tea from Aisha only three weeks after our wedding, and yet you didn't breathe a word of it to me until a month later. You promised I would know the truth as soon as you did, and you lied."

"How-"

"'You should be more careful if you want to sneak around behind my back,'" she mocked. "Or does that only go one way, equal husband of mine?"

"Fine," he gritted his teeth. "I shouldn't have waited for so long with Ozai, I concede that. But that doesn't cancel out your dishonesty."

"My dishonesty?" Did Iroh even hear himself? "I might have had a lapse in judgment, but let me tell you something. The only reason I have to be dishonest is because of you. Because of your palace and your family and all the dishonesty they demand from me to be your wife in the first place. Do you want to hear me be honest, husband?"

He didn't answer that, watching her with hard, hard amber eyes, but she didn't need his permission. The truth was bubbling out of her, unable to stop after three months of being tamped down-

Ursa, cont.

Did you ever watch milk boil on the stove as a child, reader? Do you remember how it happens? How it just sits there, for minutes on end that feel like hours? How it all at once comes bubbling to the top, more often than not crashing over the edges of the pot to create a huge mess because of course it has to boil right during the half-second when you weren't paying close attention? How afterwards, when you're explaining the mess to your parents, you can't find the words because honestly, you're not sure what exactly happened and can only really see the aftermath?

That's what my first fight with Iroh felt like. Everything I had been holding back for months in my efforts to be a good princess came boiling over, heated by the frustration of having to return to my royal life after a taste of my old freedom. By the end of it, I was ranting at him, barely in control of my own tongue as it lashed out. I didn't say anything untrue - of that I am certain - but I said things that were overly harsh, things that were meant for his father rather than him, things that I wish I hadn't; especially since I barely remembered many of them afterwards.

But in the moment, I didn't rationalize my words to him that way. I didn't care to hear his responses, even though he was much more careful than me in what he said; it's easy to be careful, after all, when you're not the one who's had your whole life stolen away from you. I just wanted to hurt him, to make him feel a sliver of the hurt I'd experienced during our marriage.

And hurt him I did. Afterwards, I was never sure why I'd thought hurting him would make anything better. Milk boiling, I suppose; all we had to remember the fight by was the mess it left in the aftermath.

Iroh's hands were shaking. He didn't notice it until he tried to pour his tea, and it went everywhere except the cup. It was a good thing it was just for himself, if it had happened in front of someone else - in front of Ursa - he never would have heard the end of it-

"I never wanted you."

"Jun," he called, "I need a cloth."

Jun dutifully appeared, wisely not saying a word about his master's demeanor or the uncharacteristic mess he'd made of his jasmine tea. Iroh didn't care. He knew Jun had heard the whole thing. The whole procession had. Ursa had stopped caring about the volume of her voice at some point during her rant, and she definitely hadn't cared about everyone watching when she'd stormed into the woods in a huff. At least he'd been able to send Mika and Rei with her; she and Iroh both probably needed the space to cool off, but it didn't feel right to leave her alone out there, especially with the looming rain.

"I've hated every moment of being Princess Ursa."

Oh, the gossip mills would have a field day with that one. Iroh just hoped news of her outburst wouldn't reach his father's ears: the Fire Lord would not be pleased to hear that his daughter-in-law had lost her temper and spoken so poorly of the royal family in such an unprincesslike manner.

Even if everything she'd said had been true.

"Prince Iroh, would you like me to pour the tea?" Jun asked once he'd wiped down the makeshift table and the wet dishes.

"No." The aroma of jasmine had soaked into the air, and it wasn't helping Iroh calm down like he'd hoped. "Go seal up any leaks."

Iroh had started saying this to Jun a long time ago, a short-hand way of telling him to make sure the guards/servants/whoever shut their big mouths about the sensitive thing they shouldn't have seen/heard. Jun had his ways of quashing gossip without feeding into it himself. It was a big part of why Iroh kept him close.

"Of course," Jun bobbed his head in a quick bow and left.

With a shuddering breath, Iroh tried to still his hands enough to rub his tight temples. Maybe he shouldn't have sent Jun away. Ursa's words were echoing even more loudly in his ears now that he was alone.

"I've been such a fool to think you might actually care for me. You are exactly like your father."

No he wasn't, had been his mind's immediate instinctive response. He wasn't. Iroh admired his father as a mighty Fire Lord, but he knew the man wasn't perfect. There was his attitude towards Ozai, his narrow approach to life, his temper: things Iroh had inherited, sure, but had recognized as flaws and attempted to correct. Didn't he deserve some credit for that? And he certainly didn't view Ursa as…his thoughts faltered as he recalled how she'd described herself in his father's eyes.

"At least your father is honest in how he sees me: a bed warmer for his son, a broodmare to carry his heirs. You, you dress it up in your proclamations of equality and being good to each other when all you want is the same things out of my body."

Iroh didn't think of her that way. How could she think he did? How could she be so unfair, to accuse him of only showing her kindness with ulterior motives of getting her into bed? What had he done to make her believe him capable of that deception?

Aside from hiding the truth about Ozai…and snooping through her personal letters.

Alright, he begrudgingly admitted, her outburst was justified. He just hadn't realized how much raw emotion she'd been burying since they'd met. It had been foolish of him to be so ignorant, considering the little glimpses he'd seen of her big heart. Of course she'd been suffering. Of course she'd been bottling it up. Of course it had been overdue to burst out of her, and Iroh was the natural target for it. Meeting him had coincided with her life changing forever, entirely against her will. She couldn't exactly berate the Fire Sages who'd recommended their marriage or the Fire Lord who'd arranged it, so why wouldn't she take it out on Iroh instead?

He'd been stupid. What had he been thinking, snapping at her about Ikem, when he knew full well she had many more grievances to lay against him? He'd always been aware she'd loved Ikem; why did he have to lose his temper about a letter Ikem had written to her well before Iroh had been in the picture?

Maybe he really was just like his father.

Rain began to patter on the tarp above him. The clouds had finally opened as they'd been threatening all morning, the usually-pleasing sound feeling like the skies themselves condemning him. How long had Ursa been gone: ten, fifteen minutes? He'd had enough time to come back to his tent, brew (and spill) tea, and sit here stewing in his thoughts, so it couldn't have been much longer. With the rain, she would likely be back soon, meaning he had to figure out what he was going to say to her. She needed to at least be able to tolerate him, or the rest of the journey was going to be downright unpleasant.

But what could he say?

The words came at once. I'm sorry.

He owed her that much, even if it was nothing compared to all the grievances she'd slung at him.

There was more he needed to do besides apologize. Bringing her little souvenirs of Hira'a back to the capital was a start, but it clearly wasn't enough based on how she'd almost literally thrown them in his face during the argument. Maybe her parents could visit the palace, and that would make it feel a little more like home to her. Maybe-

Maybe she would never be truly happy away from Ikem.

Shut up, he told that part of his brain. Ikem had been what started the fight, but she hadn't mentioned his name once in her rant. Thinking about him more would just drive Iroh back into whatever irrational upset had kicked off this whole thing in the first place.

Rina's chrysanthemum tea was sitting in his bag. Maybe if he served Ursa her mother's tea when she returned, she would at least hear him out.

His hands trembled less when he made this batch of tea. He poured his own cup first to make sure he wouldn't spill any this time, then hers. Thunder rumbled somewhere in the distance. He frowned, covering the two cups before opening the tent flap and peering out in the direction Ursa had stormed off in. The rain had gotten thick enough that he had trouble making out the trees in the distance. Why wasn't Ursa back yet? Mika and Rei were capable enough to not get lost in something as simple as a rainstorm.

Unless something else had happened.

Iroh hesitated for all of a minute, then a second clap of thunder made his decision for him. Ursa wanting to be alone was one thing, but he couldn't in good conscience let her wander around in weather like this. He picked up his cloak and signaled to the guards by his tent that he was leaving, when he caught sight of a woman in the distance.

Thank the spirits. His shoulders sagged with relief.

But it was only one woman, and as she drew closer, it became evident that it wasn't Ursa. The clothes were wrong, the hair was shorter, and most concerningly, she was running towards him, stumbling through the mud in her urgency.

"Mika?" he called, worry quickly replacing the relief as he recognized her. "What's going on? Where's the princess?"

She came to a stop in front of him, and he glimpsed tears mingling with the raindrops on her face. The worry in his gut transformed into unadulterated fear. "Prince Iroh," she sobbed, dropping to her knees in a way that was more exhausted and desperate than respectful, "I'm so sorry. The princess is…she's missing."

Iroh, cont.

That moment, when Mika told me my wife was gone, is irreversibly seared into my mind. I remember the shock - the sheer disbelief - hanging over me even as I went into the woods to search for myself, thinking that I could find something that Mika and Rei had missed. But they were good, skilled women, who'd upheld their station. What had happened to Ursa was simply beyond them, and even me, although I didn't realize just how beyond at the time.

I returned to my tent soaked to the bone, without Ursa, and caught sight of the teacups I'd prepared for us when the day had still been simply miserable instead of downright heartwrenching; when I'd had a sliver of hope that I could maybe patch up what had broken between us. Something about those cups just got to me: the tea, Ursa's mother's tea, cold, never to be drunk by Ursa.

Never to be drunk by her, maybe ever again.

I upended the table. I stared at the shattered teapot and cups and thought of how I'd told Ursa's mother I would take care of her daughter, then how Ursa herself had accused me of being exactly like my father. And I went back into the storm.

A/N: If you know anything about fanfiction and slow burn romances, you know fully well that we were overdue for a conflict so you can't complain about this chapter.

~Bobbi