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"Nephew, please." Iroh begged. "The bandages must be changed."
"No! Don't touch…" The teenager cried, curling against the wall, covering his face with his arms.
Iroh's heart ached as he took in the sight of the terrified child. He remembered the days on Ember Island, when Lu Ten had chased after his tiny cousin, giggling as he toddled along on chubby little legs. Zuko had been such a happy child back then. Such bright eyes, with a smile that could light up a room.
When he'd come back from his journey to the Spirit World, he had hardly recognised the young boy he'd been presented with.
Much taller than he had been before, of course. But laughter had turned into silence. Those bright eyes were dim, aimed at the floor. The child held himself as if he was constantly bracing himself for something horrible to happen. Even the barest of touches caused him to flinch away.
He'd tried to tell himself that Zuko just wasn't used to him. That he hadn't seen him in so long that he didn't know how to react around him. That he didn't feel comfortable. But the longer he spent in the palace, the more worried he became.
Ursa was nowhere to be found. And the people of the palace seemed to pretend that she had never existed.
And Azula? She had always been a… difficult child. A little too violent when playing, a little too harsh with her words. But children were children and some of them were crueler than others. He had been sure that she would grow out of it.
But now his niece was all sweet smiles beneath cold eyes. Words made to cut. She watched the world around her with observant eyes, taking in everything and everyone, looking for the slightest weakness to pounce upon. Whereas she and Zuko had used to play together, now she barely acknowledged her brother. Only deeming him worthy to interact with when she felt the need to put him down.
When he'd seen her, he knew. He knew that this was his brother's doing. No matter how troubled Azula had been as a young child, she'd been capable of love. Even as she'd shied away from hugs, claiming they were embarrassing, she'd clearly appreciated the offer. She'd smiled at her brother as she played with him on the beach. Squealed with laughter as he'd spun her around. Now, that was nowhere to be seen.
He wished he could say he was surprised. But he remembered the years of Ozai's cruel words. His jealousy of any power others possessed. His eagerness to step on others if it meant claiming even a fraction of that power for himself.
And he wished he could say that he'd jumped straight in. That he'd tried to protect his niece and nephew from their father. But he'd been so consumed with his own feelings, so consumed with his grief over Lu Ten, that he'd failed to see just how bad things were until it was too late.
He hadn't seen the harm in letting Zuko into the war room, to observe the meeting. Azulon had done the same for them. After all, a young Prince had to learn the ways of his people if he was to truly understand them. But then Zuko had spoken up, Ozai's eyes had filled with an awful rage, and Iroh knew he had made a terrible mistake.
Zuko's screams still rang in his ears even now. Shrill and hysterical, begging slipping between them, as his own father did the unthinkable. When the screaming had finally stopped, and Iroh had raced to his side, it was all he could do not to heave.
The young Prince's face was half consumed by a mess of burns, some of the skin even charred black. He'd screamed for a physician, his hands hovering over his nephew as he tried desperately to figure out how to help.
It had been touch and go for days after the Agni Kai. Days full of burn salves and bandages. Of burn salves and cries for the pain to stop. Of Iroh holding his nephew's hand and begging him to please, please, just hold on.
Even now, it was clear to see that the boy was in agony. He protected his face like a feral pygmy puma protected her kits. He curled in on himself to shut the rest of the world out. And if it had been any other time, perhaps Iroh would have let him. But the physician's last instructions before they had been rushed out of the Caldera with a run down ship and orders not to return without a myth, had been to treat the wound carefully. That even the slightest hint of infection could mean another fever, loss of an eye, even death.
He would not let that happen.
"I know you don't want anyone to touch it Prince Zuko, but there is no choice." Iroh said, sitting down on the edge of the bed.
"It's fine."
"If we leave it as it is, it will get worse."
He pretended not to hear the slightly sob the teenager let out, not wanting to embarrass him. It took a few minutes, but Zuko eventually uncurled from his protective position, sitting up in the bed. Rubbing the uninjured side of his face furiously, he glared down at the sheets.
"Just get it over with." He demanded.
"I will be as careful as I can." Iroh promised, slowly reaching up to begin unraveling the bandages.
Pulling the last of them away, he carefully removed the soft pad from over Zuko's eye. The teenager hissed at the pain, clenching the sheets tightly in his hands.
With the bandages now removed, he could clearly see the damage beneath. He knew deep down that this would scar. He would be left with this mark for the rest of his life, and all because his father couldn't stand his son showing any weakness .
The only weak one here was Ozai.
Cleaning the wound as quickly and as gently as he could, he covered it again with clean bandages and disposed of the old ones. Zuko curled back in on himself beneath the covers, exhausted by the procedure, and from healing in general. Iroh pulled the covers back up over his shoulders, tucking him in with gentle hands.
He didn't know what would happen over the next few years. All he did know, was that he would not allow his brother to hurt his nephew ever again.
"Goodnight, Prince Zuko."