It takes a while to get used to the new role of princess- Ursa is a lady, of course, and descended of strong nobility, but she has also been long in the field, and it isn't always as simple as little soldier girl comes marching home.

It isn't as though she's a ragtag barbarian- upkeep is challenging in a camp but officers manage, because one should be able to pass inspection if one conducts it, and she does with flying colors. It's the littler touches, sometimes, that trip her up, even though she's studying her subject and laying plans with her advisors and ladies-in-waiting, intent on sweeping the court as its newest trendsetter.

Ozai has to tease her into luxuriating, and sometimes bribe her with pretties that no soldier could lay hands on outside of looting a conquered palace. A shared desert that could double as a piece of art, glazed and sculpted and dissolving sweetly tart on the tongue; a robe that has a fortune in delicate hand-work and silk let fall to the ground and kicked aside like common cloth. Scent and sight and allowing other, more practiced women to do things for her, to gild her nails into proper dragoness's talons and make her hair into art, not inconvenience.

Sometimes, she's a little more receptive to the idea than she lets on.