The Bear and the Phoenix
. helium lost .

Author's Notes: Man, you have no clue how many times I tried to start this chapter but had it end up just dying. :( So I apologize for the delay and hope that it's not too cruddy D:

Also, the timeline for this fic will most likely be a bit screwed up. I realized the whole Iroh issue, and NO WORRIES GUYZ, I've gotten that thought out 8D But, like I said, it may require a bit of tweaking with the timeline, but I hope you guys don't mind. D:

Anyway! On with the show :D

II
Fairytale

Princess Ursa set her chopsticks down and dabbed at her lips, then got up and made a move to leave.

"Where do you think you're going?" said her mother from the other end of the table. She had one eyebrow raised, her lips in a thin smirk, and her chopsticks still held daintily in one hand. Ursa stopped and turned to look back at her mother quizzically.

"To my room," she said, then took another step, but she heard the sound of her mother tsk-ing and knew that she was wagging a finger at her.

"Do you think you can run away from your own sweet mother like that? Come here and tell me about the ball. I've been so busy lately that I didn't get a chance to ask you about it." Her mother grinned slyly. "I heard you danced a lot with Crown Prince Ozai."

Ursa flushed bright red as the memories of the ball—his hand around her waist, her hand clasped in his, as they twirled around the dance floor for what seemed like eternity—flooded her head again. "Oh, you already know," she said quickly. "He asked me to dance; I said yes—mainly to get away from Prince Ruoko, I should think—and we danced. A lot. That's all. Nothing special."

Her mother thoughtfully chewed on a slice of pork, then swallowed. "Rather possessive, isn't he?"

Ursa rolled her eyes. "All the other girls were already taken."

"Not like you weren't," her mother shot back, and Ursa clamped her mouth shut. Her mother took a bite of rice, then continued. "So, tell me—how is he? Does he have a nice voice? Does he have a strong touch? Weak guys aren't good in bed, you know."

Ursa wasn't sure if it were possible that her blush could deepen more. "Mother!"

"I'm simply asking you the most important questions, darling," her mother said before biting into a stalk of celery. "You have no idea how many marriages fall apart because one person or the other is inadequate in bed."

Distant ships off the coast of the South Pole could have probably used her face as a lighthouse by now. "That doesn't even make sense."

Her mother gave her the look. "Of course it makes sense. What if the husband's bad in bed? Then the wife will forever be unsatisfied. She'll have all her frustration pent up inside, and then she'll start picking on her husband over the most trivial, asinine things. How many peasant marriages have been annulled over the husband failing to promptly wash dirty dishes? the wife failing to take down drying laundry promptly the next morning? the husband cooking the wife beef and broccoli, as opposed to pork and broccoli? Think about it." She took a sip of wine. "It's not as far-fetched as it may seem."

Ursa rolled her eyes and made for the door again. "I'm going to feed the turtle-ducks."

"Suit yourself," her mother said, taking yet another sip of wine. "But keep in mind what I said. It's all true, you know."

Ursa responded by quickening her pace out the dining room. She made her way through the hallways and out into the courtyard, then seated herself by the lake, leaning against the rough bark of the tree behind her. Naturally, her hair was getting messed up, and little splinters were beginning to cling to her robes, but she didn't quite care. The turtle-ducks quacked as they paddled up to her, expecting her to toss a chunk of bread or some other food to them. Too late, she realized that she had left the dining room in such a rush that she had forgotten to bring anything. She cursed herself softly under her breath and got up again, steadying herself with a palm against the bark.

"Princess Ursa?"

She looked up to see one of the servants with a scroll clutched in his hands. She looked at him quizzically and nodded.

"Yes?"

"A letter was just delivered for you," he said, holding out the scroll. She took it, curious—no one ever wrote to her, of course; most of the letters were addressed to either one of her parents… and when the letter was addressed to her, it was usually some asinine invitation to some asinine party with (most likely asinine) guests that she usually didn't want to attend.

The scroll was bound around the middle with a deep red ribbon, and the ribbon was sealed together with a hardened blob of golden wax that bore the Fire Nation symbol on it. And this only served to further confuse her—the Fire Nation usually wanted little to do with her little province; it wasn't like there was anything interesting here, anyway. She nodded her head and thanked the servant, then worked her fingernail under the wax seal (ignoring the little flecks that got under it) and coaxed it off, letting it fall to the grassy ground.

She scanned the first few lines as she took steps toward the palace, then stopped in her tracks and reread those first few lines. And reread them again.

"Oh, what the…" she said under her breath, then pulled open the scroll more ferociously as she read the entire thing.

To the Highly Esteemed Princess Ursa:

As per request of the Crown Prince himself, you have been invited to join Crown Prince Ozai for an afternoon luncheon this Saturday. This luncheon will be private; please dress formally. There is no need to bring anything but yourself.

The Crown Prince requests that you do not cancel this luncheon. If there is any conflict with the date of the luncheon, please send a reply as soon as possible, and all possible efforts will be made to reschedule the date at your convenience.

Attentively Yours,
Lieutenant Huoko
Advisor of Foreign Affairs

Ursa scanned over the scroll one more time, then let it roll shut as she placed a finger on her chin. This Saturday… that would be…

"…Today is Saturday," she realized aloud, then scrambled into the house. Luckily, it was still early… She just narrowly missed colliding into her mother as she dashed through the hallways. Her mother grabbed her by the arm and pulled her back, both eyebrows raised in surprise.

"And where are you going in such a rush?"

Ursa shoved the scroll into her mother's free hand as a reply. Her mother's expression didn't change as she opened the scroll, but as her eyes scanned over the text, her expression visibly changed from one of mild surprise to one of shock to one of pure joy. Her eyes finished reading the last line, and she tossed the scroll up into the air and gave Ursa a bone-crushing hug.

"Oh, Ursa, this is such good news!" her mother squealed, a glimmer in her eyes as a new flush came to her cheeks. "My little baby! The Crown Prince is interested in my little baby!" She twirled Ursa (who had a mildly addled look on her face) around, grinning. "You two will have such cute babies together! I want to name them, okay?"

Ursa sputtered. "It's just a luncheon!" she said indignantly. "It's not like it's a marriage proposal or anything!"

"It's as good as one," her mother said, shrugging. "He's asking you on a date, you silly! And one date will lead to another, and then…"

Ursa groaned. "Oh, Mother." She rolled her eyes, then said, "Today's Saturday, isn't it?"

Her mother looked up, pausing to think, before realization dawned on her face. "Why… As a matter of fact, it is!" She hurriedly glanced around. "It's still early in the morning; we still have time! Let's see…" She picked up the scroll from its position on the ground, unfurled it again, and scanned it over once more. "Dress formally… Ohh, if only we'd known about this sooner!" She smacked the palm of her hand with the scroll. "We'll have to get your hair done, your makeup done, and your robes, and…" She frowned. "That'll take at least three hours… And then it'll take another hour or two to get to the Royal Palace… Ohh! If only we'd gotten this invitation yesterday!" She frowned. "And even our fastest hawks probably won't get there on time to change the date."

"We'll manage," Ursa said nonchalantly, then started as her mother grabbed her by the shoulders, a ferocious glint in her eyes.

"Damn right we'll manage," she said, and the ferocious glint melted away again as a look of pure elation took over her face again. "Think of your babies! Ohh, they'll be so gorgeous!"

Ursa gagged. "Mother! I'm not ready!"

"You better get ready soon, what with the rate this man is going at!" her mother said, wagging a finger at her. "Now, let's get you ready!" She raised her head, then bellowed in a voice that shook the walls, "Maids! Princess Ursa needs to get ready for a very important date! Make it snappy!"

And Ursa hid her blushing face in her hands as the maids popped out from every room and rushed to her side.

This whole thing was like a dream, really, Ursa thought as she sat in the rocking carriage, alone save for a small box on her lap holding a little historical trinket from her kingdom ("The invitations always say never to bring anything extra, but that's a big, fat lie."). And, somehow, it didn't quite feel right—on one end, there was Crown Prince Ozai—wielder of all the power in the land; head of the most rapidly advancing nation in all the lands; heir to the throne and to all the world. His nation was conquering all the others; not too long ago, even the magnificent Southern Water Tribe had fallen under the Fire Nation's power, reduced now to just piles of snow and ice.

And, on the other hand, there was her… Heir to the throne of some little province that no one really cared about, except for their porcelain, which was top-rate; daughter of a quirky and slightly crazy mother and a loving but eternally busy father; sister to a woman who had gotten married off to rule another small province that no one really cared about.

The lurching and rocking of the carriage began to steady themselves as they passed over the paved streets leading up to the palace, and Ursa hesitantly looked outside to see all the peasants milling about the streets. Even the peasants look richer than the ones back home, she realized, and she sat back again.

At first, it had seemed like a good idea—the Crown Prince! Inviting her! To a private luncheon! But… now that she thought about it, was she so sure? She bit her lip. What if things were awkward, or if she slipped up and said something wrong, or if…? She shook her head as her mother's reassuring words filled her again with confidence. As long as she was herself, she should be fine… She frowned.

She hoped so, at least.

The carriage came to a stop, and the door beside her opened. She took a deep breath, then stepped out of the carriage, taking care not to trip on her robes. She hesitantly straightened her hair and hoped that her makeup looked decent. Carefully holding the small package in her hands, she strode up to the tall gates that surrounded the palace, which parted as soon as the guards saw her. Never before had she felt so alone and tiny as now, walking up the path to the magnificent doorway of the Royal Palace, passing the walls washed in a deep, earthy red, lined with glittering gold paint.

Servants bowed as she passed them, and one of them walked up to her and took her by the arm.

"Princess Ursa?" he said softly, and her glance was quickly averted from gazing awestruck at the palace to looking at the face of this servant. Good God, she thought, even the servants here are gorgeous. Remembering his addressing her, she nodded quickly and took a gulp, cursing herself for being altogether unladylike and, moreso, un-princess-like, if there was such a word.

"Y-Yes," she stammered, and he gave her a soft smile.

"Right this way," he said, holding out a palm with what seemed like a bit too much flourish for her tastes. He gestured to the hallway, and she nodded again. "The Crown Prince is waiting for you."

Oh God, she thought as she was led down the hallway. Moments later, after passing by hallway upon hallway of gorgeous portraits of the ancestors of the Royal Family, she finally emerged—rather surprised—into the open air of the dining room. It wasn't so much a room as it was a raised gazebo. She hadn't been paying attention as she was riding up to the palace, but if she had to hazard a guess, she would say that this gazebo was sitting on an edge of land jutting out from the hill of the main palace (she hoped so, at least; she would probably die of fear if this gazebo were being supported just by some wooden stilts). The archways gave a rich, open view to the city beneath, and she could clearly see all the rooftops; a small flock of birds passed by the arches, and she followed their path, awestruck.

"Take a seat, Princess Ursa."

The smooth, low voice of the Crown Prince jolted her back to her senses. Her eyes widened, and she strode over; the servant followed her and pulled out the chair for her, and she (attempted to) seat herself graciously (but, naturally, caught her robes on the edge of the table, cursed as she quickly parted it from the table with a graceful wave of her hand, then sat down with a gentle, 'how-do-you-do' smile on her face).

"Good afternoon," the Crown Prince said, folding his hands over and resting his chin on them, looking at her with an unfathomable gaze. She immediately felt the blood rushing to her cheeks, then did her best to conceal her blush.

"G-Good afternoon, Prince—Crown Prince Ozai," she stammered in response, and a faint smile touched the corner of his lips. "Thank you for the invitation—I am honored that you have chosen me to dine with you this, er, afternoon."

"My pleasure," he replied. "I hope you don't mind the cuisine I've picked for today—by far my favorite type of Fire Nation food. It's quite spicy."

Princess Ursa's mouth dried (great, just great, he just had to pick the type of food that I absolutely detest…) as Crown Prince Ozai looked at her, eyebrows raised, as if to say, "You have no choice."

"Oh dear God," she murmured.

"What was that?"

"Nothing, nothing. I absolutely love spicy food," she said with a false, cheery grin on her face as beads of cold sweat dripped down the back of her neck. Her grandfather—the only bender in her family—loved spicy food, and he had tried to force the rest of her family to try it, but they had all run out of the room in search of water, their mouths burning numb. Maybe it was just a bender thing, tolerating this kind of tortuously spicy food…

Princess Ursa sat stiffly as the servants began to lade the detested spicy foods onto her plates. If it weren't for the little peppers dotting the surface of the sauce, the fish would've looked appetizing… And if not for the bell peppers adorning the side of the plate with the glazed chicken lying on top of it… Too late she realized that she was crushing the box that she was holding, and before she could deal any further damage, her arms shot out and held the box out to the Crown Prince (narrowly avoiding dragging the sleeves of her robes in the sauce covering the platter of tofu).

"This is for you," she said in a quick rush of breath. The Crown Prince raised an eyebrow and took the dented box from Princess Ursa's hands. "Um, open it. Please."

Without another word, Crown Prince Ozai carefully undid the box, and out slid a small, porcelain dragon. The Crown Prince examined it, turning it from all angles and observing its smooth surface, the blue patterns adorning it, before saying, "Thank you."

"As you may know," Princess Ursa said in a rush, "my province is very well-known for its porcelain… And that particular specimen has been in our museums for hundreds of years. We felt, however, that it may have more of a place in the vast collections of the Royal Family." She paused, then said quickly, "I know it's not very big or grand or—"

"I love it," Crown Prince Ozai said simply, cutting her off with her mouth half-open. She decided not to pursue the matter any further.

"Now, shall we eat?" he said, placing his hands back into his lap. "Try some of the fish. It's delicious."

"You first," Princess Ursa said nervously. Crown Prince Ozai's eyebrows immediately shot up.

"You dare defy the orders of a prince?"

Princess Ursa waved her hands before her. "No, no, I meant nothing like that! It's just that—"

"I assure you, it's not poisoned," Crown Prince Ozai said, more amused than angered, as Princess Ursa was relieved to notice. "Just try it."

Princess Ursa frowned, gulped, and eyed the glass of water beside her plate. It was far, far too small… She picked up her chopsticks, then hesitantly picked up a tiny piece of fish.

"That's far too small," the Crown Prince commented, and Princess Ursa winced. It was as if this man knew exactly what she was thinking. She frowned again, then took a slightly larger chunk of fish (but only slightly larger). The Crown Prince watched her, amused, and crossed his arms.

"Go on. Try it."

She bit her lip, then put the piece in her mouth and let it touch her tongue.

Immediately, she regretted the action. The fish was spicier than even the fireflakes that her father loved eating (the only spicy thing he could tolerate), and it left her entire mouth burning and numb at the same time. She had never known that such a thing could happen, but, apparently, it could. She gulped down mouthful after mouthful of water, draining the entire cup in seconds and leaving the servant stunned and the Crown Prince struggling to keep back a laugh.

"Tell Iroh that he owes me," Crown Prince Ozai said, motioning to the servant. "I told him that people from the Rong province can't even eat mildly spicy things."

Princess Ursa sputtered in indignation. "You mean to say that you invited me just for a bet?"

"I'll have you know," the Crown Prince said with an edge of deadliness to his voice, "that this invitation wasn't just for a bet."

"Oh? Then why did you invite me in the first place, then?"

He raised his eyebrows again. "Learn your place and don't question me."

She opened her mouth to retort, but seeing the grin spreading across his face heartily disturbed her and made her clamp her mouth shut.

"Well, if you really must know, it's because you're quite a lovely lady." He paused, then looked her up and down, taking in the droplets of water that had spilled over onto her robes and the chopsticks still poised in the air. "Despite the fact that you don't act like one sometimes."

She frowned, paused, then said, "I don't know whether to take that as an insult or a compliment."

"Then take it as both."

She opened her mouth to retort again, but found nothing to say. Grumbling under her breath, she stabbed her chopsticks into what little rice there was that was untouched by spicy sauce of some sort and took small bites of it, savoring its plainness. She looked up and caught the Crown Prince's bemused gaze.

"Oh, shut up," she said before she could restrain herself. She clapped a hand over her mouth, fully expecting the Crown Prince to kick her out of the room (most likely through one of the open arches), but his only response was a deep, long laugh that lasted for what seemed like eternity.

Author's Notes: The thing about marriages being broken up over one partner being bad in bed? My mother really did tell me that. Trufax. XDD (Yes, for your information, Ursa's mother's character is based on my own. Because my mom is actually nuts and crazy like that, I tell ya.)

And that spicy food… Oh, gosh. The Sichuan (often spelled Szechuan or Szechwan in Western terms) cuisine really is like that. It's so spicy that it'll give you tears in your eyes and leave your mouth both burning and numb. (Chinese people even have different categories for spicy. There's spicy that leaves you numb, spicy that's just burning hot, spicy that… you get the point.) So, yeah, since I don't like spicy food, Ursa's reactions are based heavily on my own. XDD

I'm having a lot of fun with this fic. Don't know if it's a good or a bad thing, but my personality is really showing through Ursa, heh.

Anyway, sorry again for the long delay with getting this done x.x; Hopefully the next update will be sooner… but that's not likely, judging by all my AP and IB exams coming up. Curse you, school!

(Reviews are greatly appreciated. 8D)

4/8/2007