A Young Princess's Guide To Usurping The Throne | Interlude Chapter 15 (Patreon)

Who among us can truly claim perfection? Who can assert they have never erred? No one, and it is only logical that forgiveness should be extended to all who deserve it. Iroh tapped his foot impatiently on the solid ground, aware that he was set to depart in just a few days, leading an army of men whose thirst for battle was insatiable. His son had already ventured ahead to prepare thoroughly for the impending siege in his absence; if they needed to flush out those hiding within Ba Sing Se, they would do so without hesitation.

As a general, such expectations weighed heavily on him, yet he found himself frowning as he awaited the arrival of his sister-in-law, Princess Ursa. This visit was long overdue, and Iroh felt a deep shame rising in his throat. He understood that her situation had not been easy; from his own observations, he knew she had been taken from a lover and forced to share a bed with his brother, who provided her with no comfort and left her to navigate her own despair.

It was no surprise that she was gripped by fear following the assassination attempt on his father and the violent actions of his niece, who had acted to protect her grandfather. Yet, that incident had occurred several moons ago.

While Iroh held a deep sympathy for the princess, he also felt a sense of disappointment. He was acutely aware of her lineage and had hoped that some semblance of nobility would have manifested in her character. Unfortunately, it seemed that the admirable traits had skipped a generation, surfacing instead in both Azula and Zuko.

Iroh had thoughtfully employed many servants and maids to spend time with his sister-in-law, hoping to ease her burdens and provide a semblance of normalcy, but such efforts could only achieve so much. He had even made time to converse with her on occasion, finding their discussions to be somewhat bland yet pleasantly engaging.

Suddenly, the door clicked open. The weary eyes of his nephew peered through, and upon seeing Iroh, his frown transformed into a radiant smile at the sight of his uncle. "Uncle!!" Zuko exclaimed joyfully.

Iroh chuckled warmly, embracing the boy. Zuko embodied everything that he and his brother Ozai were not; the boy had not been tainted by the ravages of war or the intricacies of politics. He possessed an innocence that Iroh wished could endure forever. "Ahh, my dear nephew, won't you invite me in?" he asked with a gentle smile.

Zuko nodded eagerly, and they both entered the room at a leisurely pace. "Mom, Uncle's here!" Zuko announced, moving quickly toward the bed to offer his mother a hand as she sat up. Her hair was wild and untamed, and dark circles rested beneath her eyes, a testament to her struggles

"Who?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, her eyes almost lifeless, staring ahead like a porcelain doll. Iroh stood before her, feeling a wave of perplexity wash over him. How should he engage with her? Should he call her his princess or his sister-in-law? Yet, even he struggled to comprehend the depths of human emotion. Some people acted purely on feelings, others were guided by faith, while many relied on cold, hard logic.

"It is I, Princess," he said gently. "Iroh, your old friend and brother-in-law. Have you forgotten this familiar face already?" He offered a warm smile, hoping to elicit some reaction from her. She seemed momentarily unresponsive, but then she nodded slowly, her voice barely audible. "Iroh..."

Zuko tightened his grip on his mother as she spoke, his heart heavy with concern. His mother increasingly sought his comfort, and while he loved her dearly, he felt the weight of his training pressing down on him. He would never trade his mother for anything in the world, yet he had to confront the reality that he couldn't remain by her side forever. His sister, Azula, had attempted to visit, but their mother had reacted with such fear that it had driven Azula away, leaving her frowning in disappointment. Zuko longed to connect with his sister, but a part of his heart felt tethered to his mother, keeping him grounded and away from Azula.

As he watched his mother, he felt a mix of love and frustration. He wanted to be there for her, to provide the support she needed, but he also recognized the importance of his own path.

Iroh glanced at his nephew, the pained expression on Zuko's face conveying more than words ever could. He understood that there was no remedy for this situation; perhaps, in time, Ursa's mind might find a way to heal, but for now, she was merely a shadow of her former self. There was little he could provide to help her. A healer might assist, but the mind was an incredibly delicate entity—it could either mend with time or remain fractured, descending further into despair.

She wasn't mad; she was acutely aware of her own sanity, even as her mind twisted in agony. The truth eluded those around her, shrouded in shadows and whispers. Her dreams were not mere figments of imagination; they were vivid, haunting glimpses into a future that felt both possible and terrifying.

In her dreams, she saw her son, cast away from the warmth of family, lost in an endless pursuit through desolate landscapes of ice, snow, mud, and jagged rocks. His uncle was always there, a silent guardian as they navigated one obstacle after another, their journey fraught with peril.

Then, the vision shifted. Her son, adorned in regal splendor, sat upon a throne, surrounded by men who bowed in reverence. The sight ignited a fierce warmth within her, a flame that threatened to consume her with hope. Was this the future that awaited him? If so, she would embrace it wholeheartedly. But the vision shattered like glass, replaced by a sky of ashen grey, a fire that swept mercilessly across the plains. Ozai stood atop a mountain of lifeless bodies, a cruel smirk etched upon his face. Her stomach churned at the sight, as flames cascaded from his palm, his laughter echoing through the air like a sinister melody.

He was a madman, a truth she had always known, yet these dreams—these visions—revealed the darkest essence of her so-called husband. A childlike laugh reverberated through the air, a haunting sound that sent shivers down her spine. She watched as Azula descended, a specter of chaos, while cries for mercy filled her ears, a cacophony of despair.

Desperation clawed at her throat as she screamed for her daughter to cease this madness, to resist the monstrous legacy of their father. But her pleas fell on deaf ears, drowned out by the insidious whispers that crept closer, taunting her with the chilling refrain, "You can stop this."

Ursa turned, her heart racing, but found herself alone in the suffocating silence. "Hello... Is anyone there? Please... please stop this madness." She longed to escape these dreams, to awaken from the nightmare that left her feeling hollow and lifeless.

"You can stop this," the voice echoed again, a haunting reminder of her powerlessness.

In a fit of anguish, Ursa clawed at her face, collapsing to the ground as the world around her morphed into an ocean of despair. Lifeless bodies floated upon the surface, a grotesque tableau of lost souls. "You can stop this."

But how could she possibly do it? If these were not mere nightmares but glimpses of a potential future, why was she chosen? Why burden her with this? She felt like a nobody, a discarded wife, a broken woman with shattered vows. She had no army, no influence; she was merely a body and a face.

"You can stop this." The voice drew nearer, its haunting tone weaving through her senses.

"How..." she desperately sought to understand. How could someone like her halt such madness, rise above the horrors she had witnessed, and march toward a battlefield of death?

"With Faith," and Princess Ursa screamed.

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A N: So here's the problem, I was writing some chapters away from home on an old Lenovo laptop. After like 5 hours of use I realized it wasn't connected to the Wifi and when trying to connect the screen froze so none of the tabs of chapters I had written saved...so i now gotta rewrite them all.