Disclaimer: still don't own anything
Ursa, cont.
Our beloved Lu Ten was born in the spring of 73 AG. It was not the customary season of birth for a Fire Nation child, especially one with such a lofty destiny laid out for him: future Fire Lord, savior of firebending, preserver of Azulon's line ... depending on what parts of the prophecy one chose to believe. Iroh and I had been married for just about four years by then, and his attitude on the prophecy hadn't changed at all in that period. Basically, he thought it wasn't something for us to worry about: if it was meant to be, it would come to pass, and we certainly couldn't influence it. He was right, of course. What can we do in the face of fate and chance and everything we can't control? My mother's own story of trying to run away from the prophecy was testament to the pointlessness of hoping to alter it. Lu Ten's birth (and my falling out with the White Lotus that had preceded it) made me think perhaps Iroh's approach was the correct one.
Iroh was—there's no other way to put it—enthralled with Lu Ten. I mused to myself that his fellow soldiers would have been tickled by the sight: the great Dragon of the West, delicately cradling an infant that wasn't even the size of his forearm and delighting himself with just the sight of his sleeping face. Not that I was any different. It fascinated me that I had grown this life for nine months, that he had made me sick, kicked my bladder silly, stretched my body to its limits, and finally emerged only to settle himself peacefully in his father's arms. Every breath he drew, every flicker of his eyelids, was a marvel. He was the most precious person in the world to me, and as I watched Iroh allow his pinky to be trapped by Lu Ten's small grip, I knew the same was true for him.
Azulon was thrilled, of course, because I'd given him his prophesied Avatar heir. He only saw my baby as a future Fire Lord, using his first time meeting his first grandchild to speak dreams of power and conquest over his crib until Iroh reminded him that Lu Ten had barely opened his eyes and needed milk more than plans for the throne. Yuna, who was thrown back into the nostalgia of her nanny days by Lu Ten's arrival, told me he looked very much like his father as a baby. Generally, I didn't think newborns looked like anyone at all, but I could see what she meant. His eyes were Iroh's, which presented the entertaining image of a strangely thoughtful-looking baby whenever I soothed his cries.
I loved Lu Ten more than I'd ever known I could love anyone. Once I had him in my arms, all my worries about the prophecy melted away…or so I thought. What did it matter that I hadn't wanted to be pregnant? What did it matter that he was going to be Fire Lord someday? All that was so far away. For now, I had the most precious little baby in the world. I had Iroh at home for a few more months thanks to Azulon's excitement at becoming a grandfather. For those brief months, I really felt like everything would be okay.
It took two weeks for Ozai to finally make his way to the nursery to meet Lu Ten. He hadn't fled the capital when Ursa had gone into labor like he'd threatened, but she suspected he hadn't been joking about wanting to do so. The look on his face when she opened the door was one of a man who'd been pushed out of a lifeboat into a raging ocean.
"Here," he muttered, shoving a box with a ribbon towards her. "For you and the baby. Congrats."
"Thanks." It wasn't particularly big, about the size and shape of a book. Her curiosity was piqued. "Are you ready to meet your nephew?"
"I guess."
It was a good time for a meeting. Lu Ten had just been fed, and he'd been drowsily enjoying Ursa singing a lullaby to him. She made Ozai wash his hands before walking him over to the crib. The mobile of dragons above Lu Ten swayed slightly, a gift from the Fire Lord for Ursa's own little dragon.
"Hi, my love," she cooed, reaching down to caress Lu Ten's adorable face. "Look who's here. It's Uncle Ozai."
Lu Ten gurgled, puffy cheeks and amber eyes turning towards her voice. A tuft of dark brown hair perched atop his head, the same warm shade as Iroh's. She hoped it would turn out just as wavy too.
"Ozai," she nudged him, "say something. Babies recognize voices."
"Okay…" He was gazing at Lu Ten with a strange look. "Uh, hi nephew. I hope for your sake you're a good firebender."
"Why is that your first thought?" she scolded. Lu Ten had already been confirmed to be a firebender; Azulon had tested him on the third day, holding the traditional bundle of oily cloth under Lu Ten's little nose. It had burst into flame almost immediately, delighting the Fire Lord. Ursa had just squeezed Iroh's hand with shock, startled at fire appearing so close to her baby's face. She didn't want to worry about his bending right now. That would be Iroh's domain of parenthood anyway.
"What?" Ozai raised a brow at her. "I'm just being honest. Life won't be fun if the Fire Lord's not happy with his firebending progress."
"He'll be fine. Iroh's his father, not the Fire Lord. Iroh knows better."
"Well, my brother is perfect at everything he tries," he admitted, leaning on the crib. "No reason fatherhood should be any different."
Ursa decided not to unpack that statement. "Do you want to hold him? Now's a good time to try."
"Absolutely not." He jumped back from the crib like she'd threatened to cut him open.
"Alright, relax. It was just an offer." Rolling her eyes, she turned away to open up the gift. It was a miniature Pai Sho board, clearly a child's toy. Get him started early, the note inside read. She smiled.
Behind her, Ozai yelped, making her whip around. "What happened?" Had Lu Ten set something on fire? Had Ozai hurt him?
"He's got my finger!" Ozai cried out a little helplessly, standing by the crib once more.
The absurdity of it made her giggle. "Is that all?"
"He's not letting go."
Sure enough, Ozai's right pinky was trapped in Lu Ten's tiny fist. The baby looked as nonchalant as he had a moment ago, except with the addition of his uncle's finger held hostage. Ozai must have reached down to touch his little nephew's hand and been caught off guard by the surprisingly strong grasping reflex.
"Calm down, Uncle Ozai. He's just a baby." Ursa took Lu Ten's wrist and gently pried his fingers off Ozai's pinky, at which point Ozai immediately jumped away once more.
"Is that normal?" he demanded.
"Yes. Something about their nervous systems developing, I think." Lu Ten had latched onto her finger now. Ursa allowed it, watching him nod off again. Pretty much all he did was sleep and eat, yet she found every moment of it so fascinating.
"It's more interesting than other baby stuff." Ozai glanced around the room. "Does he even need all of this?"
No expense had been spared on the nursery. Lu Ten's crib was made of the finest oak, intricately carved with fiery designs and polished to perfection. A rocking chair that she'd already discovered Lu Ten loved, a couple of plush armchairs for visitors, a spacious couch for when she or Iroh wanted to sleep next to the baby, an extravagant changing table and washing station, not to mention all the toys people had gifted him…yes, it was kind of excessive for one baby, no matter how important he was.
"More of it is for me than him," Ursa admitted. "It'll be rearranged when he gets old enough to spend the night on his own."
Ozai nodded, looking as if he was considering something. "So, uh…"
"So….?"
He shook his head slightly, like he'd changed his mind. "Will you reuse the stuff for baby number two?"
"What do you mean, baby number two? Baby number one just got here."
"Sure, but you were talking about wanting a girl. And this one's not all that cute, no offense. He's got Iroh's big head."
"All babies have big heads! They grow into them."
"Iroh didn't."
"Ozai," she sighed, "honestly, only you would think it's a good idea to come here and call my baby ugly."
"I didn't say he's ugly. I said he looks like his big-headed dad, which is very different."
"Who's a big-headed dad?" Iroh chimed in, popping back into the nursery.
Ozai tensed up at once, but Iroh didn't seem particularly upset by his brother's insult. He placed the special lactation tea from Aisha in Ursa's hands, kissed her temple gently, and only after that did he reach out and swat Ozai across the back of the head with no real force behind the move.
"Hey!" Ozai scowled.
"If you two are going to start, take it outside," Ursa scolded. "The baby's falling asleep."
"Not starting anything. I'm too old for it now, being a father and all." Iroh grinned unrepentantly at Ursa's pouting face. "Do you want to nap too? I'm here to keep an eye on him."
"Hmm…" On one hand, she loved watching Lu Ten sleep, but on the other, he never slept for very long, which meant she didn't either. "Alright. I'll go lie down for a bit. Ozai-"
She turned to thank him for the gift before leaving, but found he'd already quietly slipped away.
"Some uncle he's going to be," Iroh remarked.
Lu Ten was three months old.
Three long, long months. Three months that had sped by. Iroh marveled at it, how the tiny wailing thing his wife had grown now flourished on her milk. Lu Ten had nearly doubled in size, and his energy had doubled as well: he swiped at the dragons above his crib every chance he got, and he smilingly kicked out with his little feet during playtime. Oh, Iroh's boy had such a precious smile, one that lit up the room like his mother's did too. Lu Ten apparently had a lot to smile about in his life; he loved to intensely study the faces and voices of the adults around him before grinning widely and attempting to mimic them with his baby babble and silly faces. Perhaps he had the makings of a little actor, like his mother before him. The mother that had spent nine months growing this perfect, perfect son that Iroh hadn't known he could love so much.
"You're miraculous," he told Ursa night after night, watching her feed and soothe their baby for bed. "You're incomparable. You're perfect. You're-"
"Going to sleep," she cut him off whenever she was tired of it, but not really since she always said it with a smile.
Ursa had a strange streak of pride about parenthood, insisting that she didn't want servants raising her son for her. Iroh wasn't about to question her philosophy, even if it wasn't traditional for Fire Princes to be so hands on with their children. He and Ursa were a new generation of royalty, setting their own standards. After three months, he could change a diaper one-handed. He could warm the baby's bathwater to the right temperature in one well-measured breath. He'd even learned the delicate art of trimming Lu Ten's shockingly sharp little fingernails.
But most of what Lu Ten did was sleep and eat intermittently, and those were things Iroh couldn't help with. Only Ursa could give him milk, and when Lu Ten cried in the wee hours of the morning, she stumbled to his crib diligently to take care of it. Iroh had tried to take the night shift a few times, but inevitably, he couldn't get Lu Ten to settle without a feeding. That was what frustrated him most about this whole parenthood thing: the fact that Ursa hadn't had a full night's sleep since somewhere in her second trimester. He always tried to take Lu Ten in the mornings and let her sleep in as much as possible, but the baby inevitably needed breakfast, disturbing her again.
"It's ridiculous," he remarked to Aisha one day in the kitchen, "that we haven't come up with a better way to feed babies besides attaching them to their mothers."
"We have, Your Highness. Your wife just doesn't want to use that method." Aisha measured out the lactation tea for Ursa. "How do you think Prince Ozai was fed?"
Ozai had been raised with a wet nurse after Mother's death. Iroh had too, technically, although he obviously had no memory of his mother's supposed struggles with breastfeeding. Ursa, however, refused to hear any discussion of that option for herself.
"I know, Aisha. But she's a proud mother. She doesn't want the help."
Aisha shrugged. "Plenty of young mothers don't have the luxury of wet nurses and do just fine. I'm sure the Princess will be no different, especially with the palace at her service and her husband being so helpful. Besides, it's only three more months until the baby prince can start taking food and milk substitutes in addition to breastmilk."
That was true. Each day was somehow longer than ever and gone in the blink of an eye. Lu Ten would no doubt grow tremendously in another three months that slipped by just as fast as the last three.
The problem was that Iroh wasn't going to be able to watch.
"Are you sure you're fine with me going?" he asked Ursa, curled up with her and Lu Ten in bed on his last night of paternity leave.
Ursa shifted Lu Ten in her arms once he was done feeding, cooing softly at him as he gurgled. "I am," she said once the baby had settled. "I mean, I'd prefer you'd stay, but I knew you'd have to leave by the summer solstice. Your father said so from the beginning."
"I could ask him for more time," he offered again. Lu Ten turned his amber eyes to Iroh, reaching one chubby arm out for his father. Iroh obediently offered his finger, smiling when Lu Ten grabbed it with a disproportionate ferocity for his small size.
"You shouldn't," Ursa half-scolded. "You've been putting off your promotion to captain for nearly a year. How are you ever going to become general by thirty-five at this rate?"
"I'll make up the time elsewhere."
"Iroh," she bumped her head against his. "I love you so, so much, and I've been so happy to have you all to myself during pregnancy and these first months. But you have responsibilities besides Lu Ten and I. We'll still be here at the end of summer."
"I know," he sighed, inhaling the smell of her and Lu Ten's baby freshness. "But I don't want to miss seeing him grow. And I worry about leaving you alone."
Lu Ten jammed Iroh's finger into his mouth, covering it with baby saliva. Fortunately, Iroh had been splattered with too many baby fluids over the past three months to be disgusted by them anymore.
"I wish you could be here for all of it, too. For every single moment. But that's just not our life." Ursa offered him a wan smile. "Besides, I'll be fine handling Lu Ten myself for a few months. The war's your responsibility, and the baby's mine while you're away."
"I'm certainly not fighting the war alone, though," he pointed out, preparing himself to raise this well-worn argument one more time. "Darling, will you please consider getting a nanny while I'm gone?"
"Iroh-"
"Just consider it. Please. Fire her as soon as I come back if you want. I just don't want you to be by yourself."
"I don't want a nanny." Ursa cuddled Lu Ten against herself protectively, the baby releasing Iroh's finger. "I can do this."
"I know you can. You're an amazing mother. I just don't want it to be harder for you than it has to be, that's all."
She frowned, not responding to him as she studied Lu Ten's face.
"Look, at least promise me you'll ask someone for help if you need it, even if you don't get a nanny. Okay?"
"Okay. I promise."
"Thank you." Having extracted that small reassurance from her, Iroh leaned back into the pillows and allowed himself to just soak in the last night with his wife and son, committing every little bit of them to memory. The adorable tuft of dark brown hair on Lu Ten's head. The twinkle of Ursa's sunshine eyes, even with the semi-permanent dark circles ringing them. The way Lu Ten fought to keep his own little eyes open, like he didn't want to be away from Ursa just yet. Iroh could relate.
"What are you staring at?" Ursa teased.
Iroh smiled, knowing what she was expecting. "You're incredible. You're incomparable. You're-"
"Going to bed, Iroh."
One last night. Hopefully, the memory of it would carry him through the next three months.
Lu Ten wouldn't stop crying.
She didn't know what had happened. He'd been such a cooperative little baby for the past three months. Sure, he'd cried, but he would also stop when she fed or soothed him. But, now- now-
"Lu Ten," she begged, about to start sobbing along with him after over an hour of this crying. "Please, please, my love…"
It wasn't doing any good. He wouldn't latch onto her breast to feed, whether because he wasn't hungry or because he was just that stubborn. Her arms were sore from carrying him and bouncing him endlessly, to no avail.
"What's wrong?" she pleaded, as if the little thing in her arms could understand. "Sweetheart, I'll do anything, just…what's wrong?"
He screamed and screamed and screamed, until Ursa couldn't take it anymore.
"Lu Ten!" she snapped, "that's quite enough!" Why wouldn't he shut up? She was ready to shake some sense into him-
Oh, no.
She all but dropped him into his crib, backing away with horror as her hands trembled. She'd been about to shake him. She'd been seconds away from shaking her baby because he wouldn't "shut up." Her innocent, delicate, crying-
What kind of mother was she?
Lu Ten still hadn't stopped crying. Maybe that was what had set him off; the fact that his mother couldn't take care of him. He must have known somehow. Babies could sense these things, she'd heard, even if they couldn't articulate them well. Sinking to her knees on the other side of the nursery, Ursa pressed her face into her hands and began to cry along with her son.
Ursa, cont.
This is the part of the story where I extoll a brief list of the quirks of motherhood that nobody warned me about. The chapped, bleeding nipples. The rage of hormones that did not abate once pregnancy had ended. The hair loss. The ridiculously heavy bleeding for days after birth. The crushing feeling of inadequacy any time I couldn't get Lu Ten to stop crying. The borderline delirium that descended upon me after about a week of chronic sleep deprivation. The urge to shake my baby in a moment of particularly exhausted frustration. Completely normal, I learned later. It was normal to feel all kinds of irrational urges that I never would have entertained in a million years if I'd been in my right mind. But I wasn't. That's what pregnancy and childbirth do: they take your right mind and drown it in a hormonal concoction of anxiety and loneliness and spirits know what else until you feel like you're the first person in the world to be this incompetent at being a mother.
I wasn't. But no one warned me about that wave of emotions, and no one told me to watch for the signs it was overwhelming me. My mother would have, if she'd been able to be with me instead of just sending a letter every few weeks. My mother would have told me it was okay to just put Lu Ten down and walk away whenever I felt overwhelmed by his crying. But she wasn't there, and Iroh was away too, leaving me all alone at the most critical point of motherhood. So, the wave dragged me down.
"Princess," a voice came at the nursery door. Ursa stirred in her nursing chair, recognizing the familiar timbre of Yuna trying to check on her. Yuna was always checking on her. Like she also thought Ursa couldn't do this.
"Princess," she repeated, knocking at the door softly now, and adrenaline shot into Ursa's veins. What was she doing? She was going to wake Lu Ten, and then he would start crying again- like Yuna was trying to agitate the baby on purpose-
"What?" Ursa hissed under her breath, cracking the door open.
Yuna was unfazed by the venom in her voice and her bedraggled appearance. Constantly caring for a baby left Ursa with little time for trips to the spa, or even brushing her once-luscious hair. "Prince Iroh's ship has arrived in the harbor," the older woman answered calmly. "He'll be home within the hour. I imagine he'll want to see you once he's returned."
Iroh was coming home already? Ursa's stomach dropped. She'd had lofty dreams of what his homecoming would be like this time: how she would lose all the pregnancy weight, erase the stretch marks, do something about her sagging breasts and thinning hair ... and none of it had happened. If anything, she was worse off than before he'd gone since he hadn't been around to take the baby and let her have an hour to herself from time to time. She was still fat, and still ugly, and now she couldn't even take care of his son-
"Princess, is there anything I can help you with before he arrives?"
"No," Ursa answered quickly, digging within herself to find her princess persona. She certainly wasn't going to break now, even if she wasn't doing as well as she liked. "No, thank you for letting me know. It's so good to have him home again."
Lu Ten stayed asleep while she whirled around getting ready, thank the spirits. The haphazard array of rags covered in spit-up and leaked breastmilk went into the laundry basket. The mess of Lu Ten's toys strewn across the room went under his crib. Ursa rinsed out the stench in her mouth, gnawing on a mint leaf to help. Her thinning hair was a bird's nest of tangles that she couldn't quite brush out, so she gave up and pulled it into a bun that might pass as intentional. Her breastmilk had stained this nightgown - it had stained pretty much all of her clothes, really - so she tied a dressing robe around herself and hoped for the best. What else could she do? A little bit of perfume, a dab of color for her lips and cheeks…
A knock at the door again. "Darling?" Iroh's voice came, and Ursa wanted to sob from both the relief of having him home again and the shame of not being good enough for him. "Yuna said you're up. Can I come in?"
It wasn't as if she could say no. Taking a deep breath, she opened the door and smiled. "Welcome home, Captain."
Iroh grinned, shoulders sagging with his own relief at being home. Ursa quickly assessed him as he leaned in to embrace her - unshaved jaw, split lower lip, something tight in his left shoulder - before allowing herself to sink into his arms. He was a little scraped up, but nothing major. He was okay. And now he was home.
"I missed you," he murmured, "so very much."
"I missed you too."
He let her tug him into the privacy of the nursery, before immediately moving towards Lu Ten's crib. "How is he?" he asked. "Can I hold him?"
"No," Ursa grabbed his arm, all the relief of his return gone at the thought of the baby waking and crying again. "No, he's asleep…you can talk to him later. Just stay with me for a little while?"
"Come on, at least let me see him. I've missed my little dragon."
It wasn't right to deny him that, so she nodded hesitantly, watching with a sense of looming apprehension as he drew close to the crib and peered inside.
"Look at how big he's getting," he whispered with awe. "Spirits, we're lucky he's got your good looks, hm?"
Ursa didn't know what he was talking about. Everyone who looked at that baby knew it was Iroh's; there was hardly a mark of her family upon him. Hopefully, the mighty Avatar's power had at least reached him…
Lost in thought, she didn't notice Iroh reaching into the crib and caressing their son's face until Lu Ten stirred and began to whimper. That familiar fear spiked in her gut; she just couldn't deal with a shrieking baby right now. "Iroh, you're waking him-"
"It's okay, my love," Iroh shushed in the sort of tone that could have been directed at her or the baby or a wild animal. "It's okay, it's okay…"
Despite Ursa's quiet pleas to leave the baby alone, Iroh drew a wriggling and progressively louder Lu Ten out from his cozy bed and cradled him carefully in his arms.
"Iroh-"
"Look, he's fine." He angled the bundle of baby prince so Ursa could see. "Fussing a little, but settling back down. No crying."
The smile on Iroh's face showed how proud he was of successfully coaxing his son out of the crib without any tears, but all Ursa could see as she stared at Lu Ten's shockingly calm face was her own failure as a mother. The baby cried almost every time she touched him, like she was still a stranger even after she was here for him trying so hard everyday, but Iroh had been gone for three months and was allowed to just scoop him up without any screaming protests?
"Darling?"
Something was wrong with her. Something must have been wrong with her, she must have been a terrible mother, for Lu Ten to hate her touch - to hate her - that much.
"Ursa?" The smile was no longer in Iroh's voice, replaced by concern. "Are you okay?"
She was a terrible mother. Accepting that truth made a tear run down her cheek.
"Ursa-"
Before Iroh could come to the same realization, she turned and ran out of the nursery, ignoring his calls after her.
I'm a terrible mother.
My son hates me.
Iroh will hate me too, once he figures it out.
Her bedroom door shut and locked easily. Her bed was warm and welcoming with none of the judgmental eyes of the palace upon her. She threw herself down into the covers, wrapping herself up like she was a baby herself, before finally allowing the wails to escape her lungs.
I'm a terrible mother.
I'm terrible.
"Ursa!" Iroh had arrived at her door, knocking and jiggling at the handle with clear urgency. "Ursa, dearest, what happened? What's wrong?"
Go away, she begged mentally, pulling a pillow over her head to block out the noise of her husband. Soon enough, he would figure out that she was terrible, and then he wouldn't waste any more of his time worrying after her. Iroh was a smart man. She just had to wait for it to happen.
And once he realized…then he would stop loving her…
A fresh wave of sobs dragged her down.
"She's locked herself in her room?" Yuna cradled Lu Ten as she questioned Iroh, rocking the baby in his sleep like it was second nature. Iroh wished he could be the one experiencing that comfort right now. "Respectfully, what on earth did you do?" she continued.
"I don't know." He stared at the still-closed door to Ursa's room, slumped as he was against his own door across the hall. "I went to see her in the nursery, and I wanted to say hi to Lu Ten, and…I guess I took him out of the crib when she didn't want me to? But he went right back to sleep in my arms."
Yuna sighed. "Your wife has been running herself ragged trying to do everything for her baby while you've been gone. Looking for reason in such circumstances is a fool's errand. She likely just needs some time alone."
"Why wasn't anyone helping her? I know she was being stubborn about the nanny, but Surely she needed someone to at least give her a break from him while I wasn't here to do it."
"Everyone offered, my prince, but she didn't want it. We couldn't exactly force her."
Iroh opened his mouth to say that someone should have brought it to his father's attention, but quickly shut it. The Fire Lord interfering with Ursa's parenting decisions would only upset her further, even if she was being stubbornly proud about this no-nanny thing.
"What do you think I should do?" he asked instead.
"Give her the night to herself, and see how she's feeling in the morning. A good night's sleep is a rare prize to a new mother. I'm sure everything will be easier to carry once she's had it."
Yuna had a point; if Ursa had been insisting on taking care of a baby entirely by herself, she was probably incredibly sleep-deprived and not very rational. "Okay. Give me Lu Ten. I'll watch him tonight."
"Are you sure? You could use some sleep as well."
"Until Ursa's better, I can't risk upsetting her further. And she wants her baby to be cared for by family."
Yuna's lips pursed, but she passed Lu Ten to his arms as he stood. "Very well. I'm here if you need anything else."
"You always are, Yuna."
A small smile lifted her scarred face, before she bowed and backed away. Lu Ten gurgled in his arms, nuzzling into his chest.
"Oh, little dragon. I'm afraid I don't have any milk for you." That was another thing to take care of: feeding the baby, at least until Ursa was feeling better. "Let's go do some father-son bonding while your mommy gets some rest, hm? I hear you've been giving her a bit of trouble. Just so you know, that won't fly with me."
Wide amber eyes stared up at him, innocently ignorant of the words coming out of his mouth. Iroh's heart melted.
"I know you didn't mean anything by it. Mommy does too, she's just tired. We'll make it up to her tomorrow."
It was quiet in the morning when she opened her eyes. Iroh had stopped his noise at some point. Maybe he'd finally realized she wasn't worth it.
There was a nightmare swirling around in her head, although it dissipated as she sat up and took stock of herself. Her head hurt, her face was tacky with dried tears, her breasts were sore and leaking milk she hadn't given to Lu Ten…was he okay?
He's with Iroh, she reminded herself. He loves Iroh. And Iroh will take care of him. It's fine.
With that refrain in her mind, she stayed in her room all morning. She couldn't bring herself to step outside and face the family who would hate her soon, if they didn't already. Her stomach began clenching with hunger sometime in the afternoon, her breasts growing sorer. Her throat was parched. She had to leave eventually, she knew. Maybe she could try slipping through the tunnels at night…
"Darling?"
Iroh was back. Why was he back? Why was he still calling her darling, like she wasn't terrible?
"Darling, please say something," he knocked. "I know you must be so tired, but can you at least let me know you're okay in there? You haven't eaten all day. I don't want to have to force the door open to check on you."
Ursa didn't want him forcing the door open either. Slowly, she dragged herself out of bed, barely able to stand on her own two feet. It was like all the strength had gone out of her legs overnight. She slumped down onto her carpet and crawled forward, rapping at the door to give Iroh a sign of life. Her throat didn't feel like it could produce words for her right now.
"I'm glad you're okay," he replied at once. He sounded tired too; he must have stayed up with the baby. "I'm going to leave some soup and water out here for you, alright? Please take them after I go. Can you knock twice if you'll do that?"
At least he wasn't pressuring her to talk. Ursa knocked twice. Soup and water would help.
"Thank you. Lu Ten and I will be in the garden until dinner. Xiliu too. I hope you'll join us eventually."
Ursa hadn't even thought about Xiliu. She'd locked him away from his bed last night as well. Just one more loved one she was letting down.
"I love you, my phoenix. Really. Take all the time you need. I know you'll come out of there brighter than ever."
She wished she shared Iroh's quiet faith in her.
"Peekaboo, I see you!"
Lu Ten giggled in his crib, clapping his hands with delight at his father's face reappearing like he hadn't seen it a hundred times before.
"Uh-oh, where did Lu Ten go?" Iroh hid behind his hands again, pretending to look around the nursery blindly. "Where did he go? Where's Lu Ten? Oh my, there he is!"
The baby squealed when Iroh revealed himself yet again. The game never got old to either of them; Lu Ten seemingly found infinite joy in his father's face, and Iroh couldn't get over how much his son had grown during his three months away. All this laughing, babbling, squealing, and never mind the fact that he could roll over now! He couldn't believe he'd missed all this. It wasn't a big deal to let Ursa have a little break, really, not when there was so much lost time with his now six-month-old son to make up.
But Ursa had refused to come out of her room for four days now, and Iroh's worry was growing with each passing hour. True, she was at least taking the food and drink he left outside her door, and she was allowing her cat in and out, but…Iroh missed her. And Lu Ten missed her too. Despite Iroh's best efforts, his little dragon was starting to get agitated by the continued absence of his mother. The scent of her was fading from his nursery, the pureed vegetables and milk substitutes from the kitchen couldn't compare to her milk, and Iroh knew his lullabies weren't nearly as soothing as hers.
Yuna and Aisha whispered to him about things like this that happened sometimes; irrational sorrows, dark thoughts that consumed young mothers in the haze of post-birth chaos. Blast it all, Iroh shouldn't have left Ursa alone with the baby. He should've known she wouldn't hire that nanny. He should've just stayed here when she needed him. But there was no turning back time. The mission now was making sure Ursa knew she was loved, no matter what, so she could come out and rejoin her family again.
"I love you," he told her through her door, morning and night, bringing Lu Ten to do his baby babble whenever he was feeling talkative. "Lu Ten does too, so much. We're here for you. I promise."
Lu Ten cooed and pressed his little hands to the door, attempting to knock back when Ursa gave her double-knock of acknowledgement.
"Mommy will be out soon," Iroh assured him as they walked back to the nursery for the night. "She will. It'll be okay."
Lu Ten's amber eyes (Grampa's eyes) blinked at him sleepily. Maybe it was Iroh's imagination, but the baby looked a bit sad as Iroh tucked him in and sang him to sleep as best as he could. Lu Ten missed his mother's lullabies. He wasn't the only one.
Iroh didn't remember slumping down on the couch and joining his son in sleep. It must've happened, though, because he was suddenly jolting awake to the familiar sound of the crying baby. But there was a new sound too.
"I'm sorry!" Ursa cried, backing away from the crib so quickly she slammed into the wall behind her.
"Darling?" Iroh immediately sat up, torn between going to his son and his wife. "What happened?"
"I just wanted…see him…" The rest of whatever she was trying to say was unintelligible through her own sobbing.
Lu Ten's screaming refused to abate, so Iroh went to him first. "It's alright, my love," he said, speaking to both his son and his wife in one breath as he cradled Lu Ten. "It's okay. You got a little startled, but everything's alright now, isn't it?"
Ursa had curled into a little ball against the wall and was still shaking with silent sobs. How had this happened? How had them bringing a baby into the world turned into something that caused her so much grief?
"It's alright now," he repeated, managing to soothe Lu Ten a little. "Cry it out, and then we'll go back to sleep, okay?"
He was speaking to Ursa just as much as he was to Lu Ten, approaching her slowly like she was a wild bird that would fly away if startled. His phoenix. Surely, if he did this right, he could soothe her tears too.
"My love," he whispered, kneeling in front of her, "I'm so happy you came to see us. Really. Lu Ten is too, he's just a bit cranky is all."
Ursa croaked out a sound like a strangled songbird.
"I didn't quite catch that, darling."
"Hates me…" she managed to voice.
"No, he doesn't. You're his mother. He loves you so very much."
Lu Ten's crying had slowed now, settling in Iroh's arms, and Iroh held him out towards Ursa. But she just shrunk away, curling further into herself, like he'd extended a flaming ember instead of her infant son.
"Darling," he whispered, "come on, just look at him. He misses you."
"No."
"Darling…"
"No, no!"
Lu Ten started to whimper again, distressed by the sound of his mother yelling. Iroh pulled him back into the safety of his arms, shushing him softly.
"No…" Ursa whispered, resuming her own crying once more. Then, she was up and out of the nursery before Iroh could get to his feet, gone in a flutter of red robes as quickly as she'd come, back to the safety of her nest.
She was burning up, his phoenix. Burning up before his very eyes. But this time, he wasn't sure if she would come out of it brighter…and he had no idea how to help her.
She'd been a fool.
A fool, a fool, such a fool, to believe even for a moment that Lu Ten actually missed her, why would he miss her, when Iroh was there, Iroh who could look after his little dragon better than some useless nonbender commoner like Ursa ever could-
But she'd wanted to believe. So badly she'd wanted to believe, when she'd pressed her ear to her bedroom door and heard her baby cooing on the other side, that even a syllable of it was for her ears. Lu Ten was such a happy little baby with his father, maybe it wouldn't matter if Ursa snuck a peek while he slept, to soothe the ache in her own heart of missing her little one and let herself hope that maybe he missed her too-
She'd been such a fool. Of course Lu Ten had screamed for his father as soon as he'd felt her presence; her, the terrible mother that flinched when her own child cried and thought of shaking him into silence. The proof was there, wasn't it? Lu Ten had been doing just fine without her, with just Iroh to look after him. What need did he have of his useless, heartless mother? What need did Iroh have of such an incompetent wife?
After she'd emptied all the tears in her hollowed-out chest, Ursa stared emptily into a flickering lamp on her bedroom wall, trying to find the answer to those questions. Xiliu nestled next to her, his low purring helping to focus her swirling thoughts. There, in a particularly determined orange flame in the center of the lamp, she found the answer:
They didn't need her.
They didn't need her at all.
So, what was the point of her staying here? She'd fulfilled the whole reason she'd been brought here, after all. She'd given birth to Iroh's child. Everything else she'd done—falling in love with Iroh, setting up the Royal Theater Troupe, joining the White Lotus—didn't matter. Iroh could fall in love again. The Royal Theater Troupe could be replaced by whatever passion project Iroh's new love chose. The White Lotus was no good to Ursa anymore. The one truly irreplaceable thing the world had needed from her was to give birth to a child joining the Avatar's bloodline with the royal family, and now she'd done it, so why should she stay? Iroh's new love would be some noblewoman much better suited to raising a future Fire Lord anyway. There was no reason for her to be here, none at all.
That meant she could go. She could free Iroh from the burden of worrying about her, and Lu Ten from the curse of a terrible mother. It would be so easy to slip away through the tunnels, vanish into the night, give herself to the endless void of the ocean…shed her mortal coil, and leave behind all this pain and destiny that had been thrust upon her against her will.
In fact, she would do just that. She would leave it all behind. And then Iroh and Lu Ten would be free, and she would be no more, and that it would be its own kind of freedom. Her mouth hurt as it twisted into something like a smile, a cruel irony in that fact. All this time, the solution had been so simple. Only someone as useless as her would have missed it for so long. One more reason for her to go.
Azulon III, notated in 169 AG.
Over the years, Fire Nation high society has developed a better understanding of postpartum depression. There are varying local traditions across the islands of how to best care for new mothers and guard their health. Some eastern islands share the Earth Kingdom practice of "sitting the month," where a new mother spends the first thirty days of her baby's life simply resting and bonding with her baby away from any outsiders. On the mainland, the tradition was for women to stay in their parents' home for a month or two and bond with their babies there. Now, as a princess, Ursa certainly wasn't obligated to do anything but care for Lu Ten and bond with him for the first few months of his life. However, Fire Nation society had forgotten the reason for these traditions around allowing mothers to rest, and the dangers that existed for even princesses who were left vulnerable in new motherhood. Frankly, the thing society expected at that point was for women like Ursa to deal with the problems of new motherhood in private, an expectation that only increased with the status of the woman. You can imagine, then, the kind of pressure she felt as princess to not struggle with motherhood, and how that pressure drove her to such a drastic decision.
Thankfully, the country's expectations have since modernized a bit. Still, I urge readers who are sensitive to discussion of these topics of self-harm and suicidal thoughts to take care when reading the next portion of Ursa's tale.
Everything was ready.
She'd written the letter to Iroh and left it on her desk. It explained everything to him: how she was a monster who'd almost shaken their son, how she had never been cut out to be a Fire Lady and fate had only brought her to him to bear a prophesied child, how he needed to go find a woman who was good enough to raise that child now because it couldn't be Ursa. She'd made the poison that would help her fall asleep in the ocean after sneaking out through the tunnels to get all the ingredients over the past few days. She'd planned her route away from this place. Her final escape. It was time to go.
Except, curse her foolish heart, she wanted to see them one last time. Her perfect Lu Ten and her beloved Iroh. One last time, she would see them, and then it would be time to let them be free of her forever. One last selfish moment in her life.
It was quiet in the palace, lamps flickering on the walls. Quiet enough that she could hear Iroh's low voice floating from the nursery. Lu Ten must've been having trouble sleeping. Poor little prince; he must've been able to sense her presence down the hall, just the thought of his terrible mother agitating him so. He wouldn't have to put up with her again after tonight. No one would.
Iroh was singing a lullaby to the baby. Ursa hadn't ever heard him sing a lullaby before - he'd always insisted her voice was lovelier, that he wanted to enjoy her singing alongside Lu Ten - but clearly, he was very capable of it. The tune was a familiar one. Ursa paused outside the nursery, drinking in his voice, trying to figure out how she knew these notes.
Leaves from the vine
Falling so slow
Like fragile, tiny shells
Drifting in the foam
Little soldier boy
Come marching home
Brave soldier boy
Comes marching home
Tears flooded her eyes, trickling down her cheeks. She'd heard the song before. She'd heard it countless times, when Iroh had strummed it on his pipa to warm up. It had been the first song she'd ever heard him play, one that he'd learned from his mother, except he'd never included the lyrics before. And now he was singing it to their son, soothing him with it more than Ursa had ever been able to. Yes, they would be fine without her. More than fine.
Ursa sniffed, collecting herself, before pushing open the door to say goodbye.
Iroh was leaning against the crib, singing through the lullaby again. Lu Ten was calm, dozing off to his father's voice. Her sweet baby. How had someone so precious sprung from her womb?
"Brave soldier boy, comes marching home…" Iroh finished the song, bending down to kiss Lu Ten's little forehead. Then, he turned and saw her, smiling in that way that really made her think everything might be okay. "Oh, my love, it's so good to see you."
Ursa's heart clenched. Why was he still acting like that was true? Why hadn't he recognized how awful she was yet?
"Why are you crying, darling?" He noted the tears on her face as he came closer, gently cupping her cheek and wiping them away when she didn't protest. "Please, tell me what's wrong. I want to help."
He always wanted to help. Ursa wondered if he'd ever been taught that some people were beyond his help. "I've never heard the words to that song before," she whispered. "I didn't know it had them."
"Ah, well, it's not as if a grown man has much reason to sing himself lullabies. But now I've got someone to sing to. Thanks to you."
His hand on her cheek was so warm. Ursa wanted to press herself further into that warmth, into his chest with the strong heartbeat and his stomach full of dragonfire, and steal some of it for herself. That would be a dangerous thing to do right now. She jerked away from his touch, away from his searching eyes.
"I'm sorry." She stared resolutely past him at Lu Ten's crib, apologizing to both of them for what she'd done and what she was doing and what she was about to do.
"No, no, don't be sorry. It's been hard for you. I understand." He lowered his hand and sighed. "I'm just glad you're here now."
Ursa said nothing. Lu Ten was fast asleep, not at all agitated by her presence. Could she risk getting a little closer? Where was the line where he would wake up and start screaming at the sight of her again?
"Will you…stay here tonight?" Iroh asked tentatively. "Please, with Lu Ten and I? We've really missed you."
Spirits, she wanted so badly to stay. For one last night, she wanted to lie down in Iroh's arms and soak up his warm love for her. But she couldn't because if she did, she didn't think she would ever get back up. And she had to. She had to leave them behind, her loving husband and her precious son, for their own sakes. One day, they would understand.
"Not tonight," she half-lied. "I don't think…I'm ready yet."
"Okay, that's okay. I'll be here whenever you're ready."
"I know."
"I was thinking," he continued, carefully stepping into her line of vision, "if you're feeling a little better, maybe we could go to Ember Island soon. You and Lu Ten and I. Since we weren't able to go for our anniversary or the Autumn Festival like usual. I know you love it there, and I bet he would like the beach just as much as you."
Her beloved husband, endlessly trying to please her. Ursa's resolve quivered momentarily, before she steeled herself again. "That sounds nice, Iroh. I'll think about it."
"Good." His grin showed his pride in himself for having the idea, and his relief that she liked it. "I bet it would help us all feel better. We could even invite your parents there to meet the baby."
Her parents…her resolve wavered again. "I'd like that," she said honestly. She would like that, if she deserved it. Hopefully, Iroh would deliver the message she'd written for her parents as well. It would break their hearts, but they would understand eventually too.
"Good, good. Are you going to bed now?"
"Yes." Lie.
"Do you want me to come with you back to your room? I can make you some tea, or hold you for a bit."
"No, I'm fine." Lie.
"Alright. I love you, darling."
"I love you too." Truth. That, at least, was true. That was why she was doing this. Stepping forward, she kissed Iroh for the last time, then turned away. She wouldn't risk disturbing Lu Ten. She didn't want to hear his cries when she died; she had enough of those moments to haunt her.
Xiliu was agitated, having clawed up pretty much every piece of furniture in her room. Cats could sense these things, and her lucky feline guide had always been unusually attuned to her thoughts. You can't go, he seemed to say with each desperate meow he directed at her. You can't, he protested, throwing himself in her way when she moved towards the tunnel entrance.
"I'm sorry, XiXi. Don't worry. I know you don't get along with Iroh, but he'll still look after you."
In response, he flung himself down and writhed piteously. Poor little creature. What did he know of the future? He would forget her eventually, just like Lu Ten would one day never even remember who his birth mother had been. It was for the best.
"Goodbye, Xiliu. I love you too."
Ursa finally allowed herself to cry when she shut Xiliu out of the dressing room and opened the tunnel. Yes, she was doing what was best. That didn't mean it wasn't breaking her heart, though. What she really wanted was to stay. Iroh would become the mighty General and Fire Lord he was always meant to be, regardless of her presence. Lu Ten would grow into a wonderful heir in his own right, full of his father's fire and prophesied greatness. She didn't need to be here for any of it, but she still wanted to see it and love them for as long as she could.
But that wasn't something she could do. That was a privilege reserved for some woman better than her, someone who could raise Lu Ten properly and stand at Iroh's side with pride, rather than holding them both back. Hopefully, Iroh would understand all that when he read the letter and give himself permission to find that better woman. Ursa had never been good enough for him, really; she was just good enough for the prophecy.
The tunnel was quiet, of course. She took a different route this time, walking towards the north of Harbor City instead of the south where she'd normally gone for White Lotus meetings. What would they all think of her disappearance: Jinpa, Qin, Jeong Jeong? With her out of the way, they would at least be free to mold Lu Ten as they desired. Perhaps they would even be happy she was gone. Well, Iroh and his new wife would make sure Lu Ten stayed safe through it all.
The north of Harbor City was best for her plan. She reached into her pocket and touched the vial of the poison, making sure it was still there. In the north, the city was cut off by a strait dividing it from a nearby island. There was a strong current there, one that would carry her body far out to sea once she'd taken the poison and slipped into the water. Drowning was painful, but the poison would make her so sleepy she would hardly even notice it. That was how her mother had described the effects of moonthorn, anyway. Had Mom ever expected Ursa would use it for this? It would be a great irony if it turned out she had made it wrong, Ursa smiled to herself, but it wouldn't matter once she was in the water anyway. No one was able to swim their way out of the northern strait.
On and on she plodded, feeling oddly settled at the thought of death. This was how it was always meant to end for her, wasn't it? From the moment Azulon had set his sights on fulfilling the prophecy, Ursa's fate had been sealed. No happy ending, just a royal husband and a prophesied baby that were far too good for her, and no escape but death. It was inevitable.
"Where are you going?"
That wasn't inevitable. Ursa glanced over her shoulder, caught off guard by the presence of the voice. "Ozai?"
There he was, not a figment of her imagination like she'd half-hoped. He was standing in his regular red robes, with that regular half-scowl on his face, examining her like she was a strange thing the cat had dragged inside as always. And the cat itself was there too: Xiliu popped out from behind Ozai's legs and ran to Ursa, purring and rubbing up against her. Had he brought Ozai here?
"You're not actually thinking this dragonshit plan of yours will work, will it?" Ozai unfolded his arms, holding up a scroll. Her scroll, her letter to Iroh. "It's utter garbage. Iroh won't believe a word of it. He'll never get over you, and he certainly won't find someone to replace you. And that baby will absolutely spend the rest of his life wondering about you. You're not being nearly as helpful as you think."
How on earth had he- "What would you know?" she snapped, shaken to her core by how much Ozai apparently knew of her plans and fighting to regain some control. "Some help you've been since Lu Ten was born. What makes you think you have any idea what my baby needs from me?"
Ozai shrugged, unfazed by her outburst. "I suppose I wouldn't know. I didn't have a mother."
The world went further askew. Ursa stumbled and leaned against a wall, suddenly deflated and dizzy from how horribly her whole plan was going thanks to Ozai of all people.
"But that's how I know he'd wonder," he continued, studying her. He looked at her the same way Iroh did, like she was a wild bird under examination, but Iroh watched her like he didn't want to startle her into flight. Ozai's gaze was more like he was considering whether or not to cage her. "So, what is it you want us to tell your son when he inevitably asks about where you went? I'm sure Iroh will be more willing to share than my father ever was."
"I wrote it down," Ursa managed to answer. "I'm a terrible mother, Ozai. I am. He won't even care to ask about me because he already knows I'm terrible and hates me for it. He's better off."
"That's an interesting proposition, that a child is better off with no mother than a terrible one that he hates. Especially since your definition of terrible and mine seem very different. I think I would've taken any mother at all over none, though. Because I assume, in this scenario, that mother still loves her child and wants to do what's best for him."
"I am doing what's best for him now." She lifted her chin defiantly, fighting off the dizziness. "Unless you're here to stop me." Her hand was still on the vial of poison in her pocket. Could she get it to her lips and swallow before Ozai realized what she was doing?
"I'm here because I think someone owes that baby an explanation, and Iroh's great at many things, but being honest about dead mothers is not one of them. You know what I'll tell Lu Ten when he asks me? I'll tell him his mother got sick after he was born, so very sick that everyone around her could see it but her, and she let that sickness drag her down and kill her instead of just taking some blasted medicine."
"I'm not-"
"I don't know what exactly is wrong with you, but these are not the ramblings of a healthy and sane person." He waved the scroll in his hand. "Abandon your family and vanish into the ocean if you really want, but it's obvious you don't. You don't want to leave, and we don't want you to leave, so don't you owe it to everyone involved to at least let us try to help you get better before going and doing something ridiculous and permanent like this?"
Xiliu was still next to her, pawing at her feet as if in agreement with Ozai. Ursa shook her head, closing her eyes as the dizziness rose up once more. "You can't help me," she whispered.
"What can't I help you with, darling?"
That wasn't Ozai's petulant teenage voice anymore. Her eyes snapped open to see him; Iroh from the future in those Earth Kingdom farmer clothes with his full beard, his graying hair, his lined but still kind face.
"Well?" he asked softly, and it occurred to Ursa that the palace tunnels really were rather similar to these strange spirit ones. "What's wrong this time?"
He looked very tired now, this Iroh. She'd half-forgotten about him because it had been so long—a good three years—since his last appearance, on that night when she'd been so torn up about her decision to join the White Lotus that her subconscious had burned with guilt until this Iroh had arrived and calmed her. Back then, he'd been rather lighthearted, smiling through the exhaustion of whatever mysterious mission had put him on this unearthly plane. His smile wasn't as bright anymore.
"Not again," he sighed when she didn't respond. "Don't tell me you're one of the ones that can't hear me. You're looking right at me."
What did he mean by that? "I can hear you," she whispered.
"Then talk to me, love. What can't I help you with?"
The existence of this future Iroh proved she wasn't meant to die tonight, didn't it? She hadn't considered that at all when planning, but it was obvious now. This Iroh was apparently still married to her, and she had to be alive in the future for that to be the case. She had to make it through this somehow, this sickness as Ozai had called it. Could Iroh help her?
"Am I…" her voice faltered, "Am I a good mother?"
His eyebrows raised. "What sort of question is that? You're an amazing mother, dearest. You make me look like a proper fool."
He was exaggerating, of course, but that still buoyed her spirits. "So Lu Ten, he doesn't hate me?"
"Lu Ten?" Iroh looked stricken for a moment, and then his face shifted into understanding. "I see. This is after we had him, isn't it? When you thought he hated you, and you locked yourself away in your room."
Ursa nodded, tears welling up in her eyes.
"He never hated you, darling. Never ever. You're just overwhelmed right now because your mind and body are having such a hard time adjusting to all the changes of motherhood, but it's only temporary. You'll make it through this, with some help from those of us who love you. I promise."
A relieved sob burst out of her. Lu Ten really didn't hate her. She might be able to stay with her family after all. "Oh, thank you. Thank you so much."
She lurched forward to embrace him, out of habit more than anything else, forgetting that he was simply a vision. Instead of the familiar warmth of his body, she suddenly found herself in her bed.
Blinking, she sat up, trying to figure out how much of that had been in her head. Maybe Ozai hadn't actually caught her in the tunnels…but she was wearing the same clothes, with the vial of poison still in her pocket when she checked for it, and the scroll on her desk had clearly been opened by someone before being put back in its place. So that had happened, then. Somewhere between Ozai confronting her and her waking up, she'd somehow come back to her room.
The sun was just starting to rise, the orange-pink light barely filtering past her curtains. Mentally, she calculated her route to the northern strait. If she wanted to run, there was still time. She could make it quite a ways away from the palace before Iroh came to check on her in an hour or so. Perhaps she could even go a different way in case Ozai was watching for her. If she wanted, she could still leave this all behind.
Xiliu meowed, crawling into her lap and kneading her thighs a bit painfully. The sting of it brought her back to earth. She didn't want to run, not really. Ozai had been right about that. And if the future had shown her anything, it was that she was meant to make it through this. She just had to let someone help her.
Ursa was so, so tired of being a burden on Iroh. But she owed it to her son, if nothing else, to make sure she became the wonderful mother she apparently was in the future. For now, that meant letting Iroh help her like he so desperately wanted.
They were fast asleep in the nursery, father and son. Parenthood had finally broken Iroh's habit of rising with the sun; chronic sleep deprivation would do that to a person. Ursa paused a few feet away from Lu Ten's crib, debating going nearer, then decided against it. She would hold her son again after she'd gotten better.
"Iroh," she whispered, standing next to the couch instead, and he woke immediately.
"Darling?" he whispered, rubbing his eyes as he sat up like he wasn't sure she was real. "What brings you here so early?"
Waking up next to Iroh had always been such a lovely, soft thing. His hair was always a bit rumpled when he woke up, giving her a perfect reason to wind her fingers through it. He was always just warm enough, adjusting his body temperature and pulling her against him for a few moments of cuddling before going about his day and leaving her in the cozy, toasty cocoon he'd made for her. And when they had free mornings…well, they hadn't done any of that since before her third trimester, but there was something so sweet and ethereal about that hazy, sleepy lovemaking with the sheets tangled around them. Afterwards, he would always grin and tell her she was much better in real life than in any of his dreams.
It had been so long, so long, since Ursa had felt worthy of his love.
"Darling, please," Iroh stood and drew her into his arms when she began to cry. "Please, please, talk to me. Please let me help you get better. What's wrong?"
Let me help you. "Take me to Ember Island," she sobbed. "I want the beach. I want my mom. I want-"
She couldn't figure out how to put into words everything else she wanted, but Iroh seemed to understand. He always did. "I'll take you today," he murmured into her hair, kissing her forehead. "It's going to be okay, my love. Thank you for telling me."
Ursa, cont.
It was actually quite a while before I got the whole story out of Ozai. He didn't want to speak to me about it, and I certainly wasn't in a hurry to rehash what I'd almost done. Years later, when Ozai was anxiously awaiting the birth of his own son and panicking over his own potential failures as a parent, he finally explained how it was he'd come to stop me from making such a fatal mistake. He had heard me screaming at Qin in the library, the day I quit the White Lotus, but he'd only heard pieces of it. He'd come away with the impression that I was very upset and unhappy about being pressured into pregnancy; which, to be fair, was not too far from the truth. He considered talking to me about it after Lu Ten was bored but decided I seemed content enough with my new son and didn't need to discuss it anymore.
Unfortunately for him, his initial suspicions were confirmed when I had my meltdown six months after giving birth and locked myself in my room. He hadn't wanted to risk his big brother's ire by presuming to know more than him about his wife's mental state, so he'd planned to wait for me to come back out and then convince me to talk to Iroh myself.
When I didn't come out for a full week, he resolved to suck it up and tell me what he'd heard, but I wasn't answering when he knocked even though he could hear Xiliu crying on the other side of the door. So, he made the rational teenage decision to massively invade my personal space and pick the lock. Lucky for him there weren't guards in our wing of the palace those days, with a new mother needing her privacy and all.
He found the letter. He found Xiliu desperately trying to get into my dressing room and feared the worst, and he was only marginally relieved when Xiliu showed him I'd gone into the tunnel instead. And then he found me, talked to me, and carried me back to my room when I fainted from the strain of it all.
To be honest, Ozai probably handled things about as well as could be expected of an eighteen-year-old boy. He didn't raise a hue and cry when he found me missing, nor did he take the issue to Iroh himself; he just tracked me down, said enough to get me rethinking my decision, and took me back home so I could seek help as I sought fit. Put simply, he somehow stumbled upon the best course of action to save my life without upheaving it entirely. Who knows what the reaction from Iroh and Azulon would've been if they'd realized they had a suicidal princess on their hands? No, keeping his mouth shut about it afterwards was the best thing Ozai could have done.
Ozai saved my life. And I repaid that debt, eventually. I try to tell myself that, that things were square between us in the end. I never quite believe it, though.
A/N: See y'all on the other side of law school finals.
~Bobbi