The next several weeks passed quietly. Towards the end of spring, shortly before they received word that the great city of Ba Sing Se had been captured, Song left to go to Yì Suì's home city, where she shut down the brothel Yì Suì had come from.

Again after her return, the first part of the summer passed with no events, not in their little town. Bian taught Yì Suì how to read, and it seemed almost as if she were trying to make up for her failure to protect her own son by protecting this boy.

Two weeks after the eclipse, someone knocked on the door in the middle of the night, ending their quiet respite.  Song was the lightest sleeper, and thus she got up to answer it. 

At the door was a figure, far too heavily cloaked despite the season for her to even determine its sex.  The girl went instantly on her guard.  "Can I help you?"

"I need to speak with Madam Bian," the figure said, in a low whisper.

"Bian is sleeping," Song replied.  "Perhaps you could try again later?"

"Of course." The figure bowed, and disappeared into the night.

Song watched him go, then shut and locked the door. 

He was back the next night, and again Song was the one to answer the door.  She was even more wary than before — why come at night, and so heavily cloaked?  "Would you like me to take a message?"

"No. I apologize for bothering you." He bowed, and left, just as before.

When the third night brought another repeat of the same performance, Song was starting to become afraid.  Against her better judgement, she told Bian about the cloaked man.

The woman frowned, and waited up to meet him.  When the man appeared that night, he asked to speak with her privately. Eyes narrowed, she asked Song to leave the room.  "Of course," said Song, bowing.  She moved to the room she shared with Yì Suì and promptly had an internal argument with herself on whether or not she should listen in.

Given the tone of the voices drifting through the walls, muffled though they were, she could tell Bian and the stranger were arguing.  Song hesitated, then against her better judgement, pressed her ear to the door.

"…pressure him into anything!" Bian was saying.

"I'm not asking you to," the man — it sounded like Mushi! — replied. "All I'm asking is that you come back with me. Talk to him. He stopped listening to me, maybe you can—"

"I have faith in him. He'll make the right choice."

"He didn't before."

"Did you really expect him to? He wasn't thinking like the rational hero you need him to be! He was a scared child who just wanted to go home!"

Were they talking about Lee?  What was going on?  Song hesitated, then backed away from the door and sat beside the sleeping Yì Suì.

He wasn't asleep for long. "Wh-what's going on?" he whispered, upon waking and hearing the arguing.

"I'm not sure," she replied.  "We should be fine, though."

"Okay…"

Song sighed and wished she could hug and comfort him, but she dared not touch the skittish boy.

A few minutes later, the argument drew to some sort of close, and the door opened and shut, likely indicating that Mushi had left.

"You see?  It's all right."

He nodded, though he didn't look quite convinced.

"I'll go check on Bian to be sure."

"Okay."

Song got up and slipped into the front room.

Bian, looking a little shaken, was standing at a table, gripping it so tightly her knuckles turned white.

"Bian?"

The older woman looked up. She'd been crying.

Dismayed, Song moved to her side.  "Bian, what is it?"

She just shook her head. "He'll probably come try again to convince me tomorrow. I… he may talk me around. I don't know. He's…" She buried her head in her hands.

"What did he want?" the doctor asked.

"He wants me to go back home, and to try and talk my son into…doing something, which he is reluctant to do for a long list of very good reasons, but we need him to do it."

"…and what is that?"

She shook her head again. "It needs to be his choice. I'm not going to pressure him into anything, he's been through enough already."

"Pressure him into what?"

"Anything. Particularly not what my brother-in-law needs him to do, it's… very risky."

"Bian… what is going on? Why is Lee so important?" Song persisted.

Bian was silent for a long moment. "It's… complicated. And secret. You have to understand, if people learn I'm his mother…"

Song said nothing, just looked at her.

"…Bian's not my real name," the older woman finally said, after studying Song for a long moment.

"It's not?"

"No."

Song hesitated, then took a seat beside the older woman.  "You don't have to tell me."

She shook her head. "It's all right, it's just…I could be arrested. Just for being me."

The girl looked horror-struck.  "What— why?"

Bian smiled wryly. "I'm the Firelord's wife."

Brown eyes went wide at this revelation.  If Bian was Lady Ursa… then Mushi was… and Lee…

We were robbed by the crown prince of the Fire Nation.

"My brother-in-law needs him to turn traitor. For as long a list of reasons as why my son doesn't want to."

"But… why?  I don't understand… what's going on?"

Bian — Ursa — hesitated a long moment, then explained, briefly, about her son's bloodline. "Think of the closing moments to the war like a set of scales. Without my son, they're pretty much even, so whichever side he lands on will claim victory."

"I see," Song said quietly.

"For obvious reasons, my son is reluctant. He just won the right to go home, after three years in exile. And he's not even seventeen yet. He's unwilling to risk losing it. But I think he'll come around on his own, and soon, in time. Iroh… is less certain."

"So… what will you do?"

"I don't know," she replied, softly.

Song drew her knees to her chest and absently rubbed her leg.

Ursa said nothing for a long moment. "I think I'm going to try and go to bed. If he comes back, wake me up."

"I will," the girl promised.

 

The old man didn't return that night. It was probable he was planning on doing so the next, but, before he could, someone else knocked on the door.

Bian was already awake, and stopped Song before she could answer the door. "Don't, yet. I need to go out the back, someone overheard us last night. You're a convincing liar, you should be able to persuade them you know nothing."

Who had overheard?  And how?  Song nodded. "Right.  Is there anything I should tell them?"

She shook her head. "Just convince them you don't know who I really am."

"Okay.  Hurry."  Song's hands were moving over her dress, wrinkling and rumpling it.

The knocking grew more insistent, and Bian slipped out the back door.  "I'm coming, I'm coming!" called Song, injecting tiredness into her voice as she made her way to the front of the store.  She pulled hair from her braid and messed with the back of it, then opened the door. the very picture of a sleepy teenager.  "Store's closed," she said with a yawn.  "Come back tomorrow."

It was the police, including the same man who took her statement when she first arrived. "We need to see Madam Bian."

Song yawned again, looking confused.  "At this time of night?"

"Go get her. Now."

"All right, fine…"  Song wandered towards Bian's room, running into a table with her hip on the way.  "Ow… Bian?  Bian, the police are here…"

The room was, as Song well knew, but had to pretend not to, empty.

Now she added puzzlement to her voice.  "Bian?  Bian, are you here?"  She entered the room and started to look around.  "Bian?"  After a moment, she went back to the door.  "She's not here…"

"…Someone must've warned her," the youngest officer said.

"Dammit. Stand aside," the apparent leader said, curtly, to Song.  "We need to search the house."

"I don't understand," said Song, coming out of the room.  "What's going on?"

"We're here to place her under arrest," the head officer told her.

The girl let her jaw drop and her eyes go wide.  "What? Why?"

The policeman didn't answer her. He and his men swarmed into the little house, searching for any clue where she might have gone.

I hope I gave Ursa enough time, she thought as she backed into the door to the small room she shared with Yì Suì.  She wasn't kidding when she said they'd arrest her for who she was… it isn't fair.  She's helped all these people for years!

One of the policemen found her there. "Stand aside, we need to search in there, too."

Now Song balked.  "Not unless you get a girl in," she said fiercely, glaring up at his eyes.

"We don't have any. Move."

"Get one," Song insisted, staying where she was.  Oh, spirits, had they forgotten about  Yì Suì…

"…No, I don't think I will. Stand aside." Clearly, he thought she was hiding something.

"No!"

"I will ask you one more time. To move."

Song shook her head.  The man glared at her, then simply picked her up and set her out of the way, before kicking the door in.  "No!" cried Song, trying to pull him away before he terrified Yì Suì.

It was a bit late for that. The child had been woken up by all the shouting, and had screamed, terrified, when the door was broken down, then fainted.

"Yì Suì…"  Song pushed past the policeman and knelt by the boy.

He didn't respond.

The policeman had the grace to stand there, awkwardly embarrassed, for a moment before continuing on into the room to begin his search.  Song glared at him the entire time, holding Yì Suì in her arms and keeping her body between him and the man.  She rather thought the angry tears were a nice touch, though the anger was certainly real enough.  Jerk.

Not finding anything, he left the room to report back to his superior officer, who came to the doorway. "We need to speak with you both. Separately."

"Hell, no!" snapped Song.  "Haven't you terrorised him enough!?"

"You were living with a dangerous fugitive," he replied simply.

"He's ten, and in my care.  I will not consent unless you get a woman to talk to him."

"We have no women in our police force."

"Then borrow one," Song hissed.

"She wouldn't know the questions to ask. If you will step out into the shop, we can go ahead and begin questioning you, at least."

"I am not leaving him!"

"We have to question you alone, Miss Song. Step into the front room."

Song's eyes blazed as she considered her options.  "All of you first."

"Fine." The men left the room, leaving one posted just outside the door.

Song rose to her feet and smoothed down her dress, then stalked outside the room and slammed the door shut behind her.

The police led her out into the front room. "How much of Madam Bian's personal life were you aware of?"

"Not much," Song said quietly.  "She didn't like to speak of it."

"Does she have any allies you know of who might hide her?"

"No.  As far as I know, she never left town."

"What about her family? Did she ever mention them?"

"Once," admitted Song.  "She told me she was forced to leave her son behind when she came here, but nothing more."

"What did she say about her son?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing at all? Not even his name?" asked the one questioning her as another made notes.

"Nope. She never named him," Song answered honestly.

"What about his father? Did she ever mention him?"

"No.  I was under the impression she left him, though."  Song pretended to consider.  "Maybe abuse."

"Did she ever tell you her true name?" the policeman asked, watching her eyes carefully.

Song didn't even blink.  "No."

"Did she ever give you any indication she was anything other than what she pretended to be?"

"No, and I wasn't exactly looking for it," Song snapped.

"No need to get testy," he snapped back. "You have no idea what you were living with."

"Bian took me and Yì Suì in and sheltered us after we were attacked on the road," replied the girl hotly.  "She's given me work, helped Yì Suì recover from his traumas, fed us, clothed us, and helped us!  You, on the other hand, have barged in here, behaved quite rudely, terrified Yì Suì and most likely undone all the work of the past few months, and all with no explanation!"  She tossed her braid over her shoulder.  "I have every need to get testy."

"She is the Firelord's wife," he shot back. "As a member of the royal family, she's partly responsible for the war, to say nothing of how valuable a hostage she is."

Song stared at him, pretending to be shocked.  After just enough time passed, she managed to get out, "Everyone knows that Lady Ursa is dead."

"Then how do you explain this?" He showed her the family portrait she'd seen her first day there.

The girl fell silent at that.

"You were living with that bitch. Face it."

Song shot to her feet.  "Don't you dare call her a bitch!"

"I'll call her whatever the hell I want, Miss Song," he snapped back.

"After everything she's done in this town?  And for it?"

"She was probably a spy."

"Oh, yes, because it makes perfect sense for the Firelord to send his wife into a little rinkydink town in the Earth Kingdom to spy," Song snarled.  "Ozai's a sociopath, not an incompetent fool."

"Then she was sent to foment rebellion."

"You're reaching," Song told him coldly.

"Am I?" he asked. "Am I really?"

"Yes.  You are," the girl hissed.  "For the exact same reason as previously stated: Ozai is a sociopath, not a fool."

"This isn't foolish. Sending someone into small towns across the Earth Kingdom to persuade people to revolt? Sounds like a damn good plan to me. And who better than his wife? Women of the Fire Court are vipers, like the proverb says."

"Have you seen any hint of rebellion in this town?"

"Just because I haven't seen it doesn't mean it's not there."

Song crossed her arms over her chest and glared up at him.  "If she had been here to formant rebellion, why would she have taken in Yì Suì and I?"

"To improve her cover." He had an answer for everything. Not very good ones, but answers nonetheless.

"Or maybe she genuinely wanted to help us."

He snorted with derisive disbelief.

"Not everyone in the Fire Nation is a war-mongering jingoist," Song insisted.

"Sure they are. Especially the nobles."

"You're wrong," said Song, her voice quiet now.  "I've met two who aren't."

"Sure," he said, derisive again. "You've met nobles of the Fire Court who don't approve of the war."

"They were refugees," the girl answered.

"Right."

Her eyes narrowed.  "I treated one of them for poisoning and spoke with the other."

"Of course you did."

Song's temper flared, and she quickly got it under control before she slapped the man.  That would be a bad idea in a very large number of ways.  "This conversation is over.  Leave."

As if on cue, the man left to guard Yì Suì's door rejoined them in the main room. "Kid didn't know anything. Got that much out of him, he wasn't very coherent."

Song's eyes widened in rage.  "You son of a bitch!"

"I'm going to have to ask you to address my officers with more respect than that, Miss Song," the police chief said, sharply.

She whirled on him.  "He directly violated my rights as Yì Suì's guardian and spoke to him without my permission.  This despite a deep-set trauma brought on by him being raped repeatedly by men that all of you knew about because I told you about it!"

"I'm sorry that was necessary, Miss Song, but we needed to make sure your stories coincided without you coaching him."

She slapped him.

He arrested her.

The girl was smart enough not to resist that arrest — she shouldn't have slapped him, but her anger had overtaken her common sense — and managed to make arrangements with a female neighbour to have Yì Suì cared for while she was in prison.

 

After three days and several more rounds of questioning, she was released, but told to leave the town, that she was no longer welcome there.

Her snarled reply indicated that she wouldn't be able to leave fast enough.

 

Unfortunately, as her neighbour told her, Yì Suì had curled up in a quivering ball under his blankets and refused to come out, even for food.  This did slow the departure somewhat, as Song tried to convince him to come out so they could leave.

He finally crawled out when she told him they were leaving, though he kept one blanket — the first she'd given him — wrapped tightly around him so no one could see.  Song smiled gently at him and finished packing the last of Bian's herbs.  "Let's go.  If we leave now we can be two miles out before the sun sets."

He nodded a little, not talking, and followed her out.