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When Zuko is thirteen he gets a scar, a ship, an unachievable goal, and Iroh. He doesn’t know any of that just yet, currently in a feverish coma. Iroh sits by his bedside because if the boy is going to die, he’s going to be there and make sure he isn’t alone (what was he doing the moment Lu Ten died? He doesn’t know the answer and it haunts him. Had there been anyone with his beautiful boy at all, to hold his hand and shush his cries and smooth back his hair?).
When Zuko wakes, he’s a stranger. If they had known each other once, they don’t now. Iroh has been away too long. Zuko has been alone too long. The boy who cradled turtle ducks by a pond is seemingly gone, vanished underneath layers of scar tissue (maybe he disappeared when Ursa left, and Iroh just hadn’t noticed, like he took too long to notice so many other things).
When informed of the condition of his banishment, Zuko doesn’t react initially, and Iroh wills him to see through this foolish quest like Iroh had immediately. But Zuko is a child and he clings to what he knows, he clings to his father and the idea of having a father’s love, and demands to go to the Air Temples immediately.
That’s the first time Lieutenant Jee visits Iroh in his quarters.
*
Iroh’s drinking two cups of tea, as Zuko had left his untouched, storming out of Iroh’s chambers after a gentle attempt at conversation (and Iroh watched him go and didn’t rebuke him, because he knows that sometimes anger is the only emotion that is safe. Anger means you don’t have to grieve or think about what you’ve lost).
Jee stands at perfect attention, but does a poor job at concealing his displeasure (rather like a certain prince, but Iroh doesn’t mention that in the honest effort of trying to maintain peace).
“Permission to speak freely, General?”
“Granted,” Iroh nods.
“With all due respect,” of which, Jee means, precisely none, “Are you going to indulge his whims? Sail around the world looking for a ghost?”
“I’ve always wanted to see the world,” Iroh says amiably.
Jee’s armor creaks as his hands turn to fists.
“You know this quest is pointless! A fool’s errand! Why go through with this sham at all?”
“It’s what Price Zuko needs,” Iroh dips his head, “And I appreciate your exemplary performance and that of the crew. I understand it is an atypical mission.”
Jee looks incredibly offended, “And are we going to float on this rust bucket for years on this atypical mission? Just tell the boy the truth!”
Iroh inhales the steam from his tea, letting the moisture and fragrance calm him.
“Do you know how a small stream wears down the side of a mountain? Slowly and with time. Even the tiniest river can form a large canyon if patient enough.”
“And you have a lot of patience,” Jee concludes flatly.
“It has been hard-earned, but yes. Would you not say that patience is a virtue?”
“I would say patience is not a defining characteristic of most firebenders.”
Iroh looks at the red swirls in his tea and thinks of Ozai.
“But then,” Jee says, “you laid siege to Ba Sing Se for six hundred days. I suppose you’re the expert on wearing down stone.”
Jee bows, hands making the sign of the flame; he’s conceding, for now, but Iroh can see the storm swelling on the horizon. Soon, he’s sure, the rest of the crew will begin to make waves.
~*~
When Zuko is thirteen, he screams that the safety of the crew is not important. Iroh has to put out metaphorical fires in order to prevent a mutiny. He’s worried that the boy who had spoken out against needless slaughter had been slaughtered in return. But then his nephew saves a crewman’s life and Iroh knows the brave boy from the war room is still in there, somewhere.
It’s not his story to tell, but if Zuko will not speak for himself, then shouldn’t Iroh? So he tells the crew of the Agni Kai, so they can see Zuko the way he does. Even a gentle deer-dog will bite if beaten enough.
*
Jee comes to him that evening, stands silently in the doorway.
“You may say what you came here to say,” Iroh says, unable to hide his weariness.
He doesn’t even have the solace of tea, too tired to go through the motions. Reliving Zuko’s story is like picking a scab and watching it bleed.
“Do you need anything?” Jee asks.
Iroh stares at him for a beat too long, unexpectedly moved by the question. He hadn’t expected it.
“Do you play pai sho?”
Jee’s face says ‘I would rather do anything else’, but he sits across from Iroh just the same.
“I thought you were the boy’s guard, at first. Someone to make sure he doesn’t break the terms of his banishment,” Jee says.
Iroh doles out the tiles between the two of them.
“But you’re protecting him.”
Iroh makes the opening move. Jee clearly isn’t an experienced player, and Iroh makes harmonies around his pieces almost effortlessly.
“He is just a boy,” Iroh says by way of explanation.
Jee considers his fifty four tiles.
“They all are,” he says.
Iroh’s heart gives a painful lurch. He knows. He lingers a little too long on placing down a jasmine tile, and somehow Jee sees right through him. Perhaps Jee is a father or uncle too and so understands (then again, Ozai is a father and was an uncle, and understands nothing of love).
“You should tell him why you’re really here,” Jee says quietly, “He doesn’t know.”
Iroh fingers the tiles in his hands.
“What does the knotweed piece do in a game of pai sho, lieutenant?”
“Disrupts harmonies,” Jee says slowly, like he knows he’s falling into a trap and is resigned to it.
“Exactly.”
Knotweed chokes and strangles because it holds on too tightly. And Iroh wants to hold on so tightly. But he’s learning his nephew, learning what will help him flourish, and what will just suffocate him.
Iroh sets down one last tile, making his tenth harmony, and Jee doesn’t look surprised that he's lost. He thanks Iroh for the game, but before he leaves, he pauses at the door and says:
“I’m sorry for your loss.”
And Iroh is alone, then, and no one is there to see him spare a few tears for all the children he failed.
~*~
When Zuko is thirteen, he threatens a civilian for the first time. He shoves an old woman to the ground and he doesn’t have his fire back yet, but he commands men who have plenty of flame. As he demands information, threatening to destroy livelihoods and lives, Iroh doesn’t know who he sees in Zuko’s snarl. Himself at Ba Sing Se? His brother at the Agni Kai? He tries to calm Zuko with a gentle hand on his arm, but even that makes Zuko flinch. Zuko runs too hot, an uncontrollable wildfire of rage, and Iroh wishes his spiritual journey had covered how to be an uncle to a flame so destructive it threatens to burn itself out.
*
He expects it at this point. A day after they leave the village behind, thankfully not smoldering (but how long until Zuko gets his fire back and starts to use it against innocents? It’s something Iroh can’t even bear to think about), Jee finds Iroh in his quarters.
“Permission to speak freely, sir.”
“Permission granted. Please, sit, I was just making a delightful pot of jasmine tea.”
Lieutenant Jee remains standing, arms tight by his sides, jaw clenched.
“You’re letting that child run wild.”
After yesterday’s disastrous encounter, that’s hard for Iroh to refute. More than that, it’s true. He just doesn’t know what else to do.
“Have you ever caught a baby mongoose-lizard before?” Iroh asks.
“No sir,” Jee says, the ‘sir’ grudging.
“They’re fast and clever, their claws dangerous already. One would be tempted to catch them with a firm grip, but if you apply too much pressure, their fragile bodies will simply collapse.”
Jee, similar to Zuko, has no patience for metaphors. But unlike his nephew, he understands them.
“General Iroh, with all due respect, you’re so full of guilt you can’t--” he stops, and then his severe frown suddenly disappears, “Mongoose-lizards, if they are not properly guided, will end up throwing their rider and will learn to bite at anyone in reach.”
Iroh bows his head, silently acknowledging the point. Jee leaves without another word.
~*~
When Zuko is thirteen, he decides to get his firebending back by provoking fights with his guards. He shouts more than usual and Iroh wonders if Zuko is even aware of other people’s emotions, aware of the miserable and disgruntled looks from his crew. They were placated when Iroh shared the story of the Agni Kai, but goodwill is not an endless well to draw from.
“Fight me!” Zuko shoves at one of the guards, “I demand you spar with me.”
He kicks out, forcing the guard to step back rapidly. The guard looks to Iroh for help, hands out like he’s about to tackle the prince to the floor unless Iroh does something fast.
“Prince Zuko,” Iroh steps up by his side (his good side, where he still retains his vision and hearing), “I asked them not to fight you.”
“What?” Zuko turns on him, “Why? I need to practice! I have to get back my bending—“
He falls silent, grimacing. His lack of fire is an open secret, but not explicitly spoken of. He bows his head in shame.
“Don’t you want me to get my bending back?” he asks, sounding at once both furious and broken, “Or do you think I can’t handle it?”
“You are a capable young warrior,” Iroh says, because he knows Ozai never told him, “but dodging flaming fists won’t help you get back your fire.”
Zuko snorts, “That’s how I learned to bend the first time.”
Because of course, the burn across his eye is far from the first injury he's received at his father's hands. Iroh’s heart breaks and breaks and breaks. Since Lu Ten died, since the Agni Kai, he wonders if his heart will ever stop hurting.
“Come below deck,” Iroh risks a hand on his shoulder, “we’ll breathe with a candle together.”
Zuko’s mouth twists, “Like a child.”
But he goes where Iroh gently directs him, though he stalks down the stairs as if he has a point to prove. As they go below, Jee watches them, eyebrow cocked, and Iroh knows he’ll be seeing the man tonight.
*
As predicted, Lieutenant Jee is at his door as soon as Zuko has locked himself in his room for the rest of the night. He takes a seat, distinctly uncomfortable and stiff. Iroh just pours the man some tea.
“If you boil badgerfrogs slowly enough, they won’t fight. They’ll allow themselves to be cooked,” Jee says, with no prompting or explanation.
Iroh slowly stops pouring, looking up to assess Jee quietly.
“That’s true.”
“You can try to convince the badgerfrogs to leave the pot, but they won’t, because they don’t even notice something is wrong. That being boiled is wrong.”
Iroh stares into Jee’s dark eyes, waiting for the punchline. In Ba Sing Se, the ground often undulated under him due to powerful earthbenders changing the shape of the very world; he was often thrown completely off balance. He feels like that now, like his entire world is about to be upended again.
“You have to tip over the entire pot,” Jee says.
Then he stands, bows awkwardly, and leaves without taking a sip of his tea. Iroh watches the steam curling from the untouched cup and wonders how gently he could tip over the pot.
~*~
When Zuko is thirteen, they investigate the Western Air Temple. It’s a stunning piece of architecture, defying the very laws of the world to hang upside-down. Iroh comments on the magnificent view. Predictably, his nephew is blind to it.
“The only view I’m interested in seeing is the Avatar in chains.”
“You know, the Avatar hasn’t been seen in a hundred years, the chances of finding him here are very slim.”
“First we’ll check all of the air temples, then we’ll scour the world, searching the most remote locations until we find him.”
They’re far away enough from the ship that they won’t be a spectacle. There’s plenty of room for Zuko to shout and scream fire. It’s time for Iroh to tip the pot.
“We won’t.”
“What?” Zuko’s question is a demand edged in fragile betrayal.
When Lu Ten had died, Iroh had to do the bravest thing he had ever done. He had walked away from the war. From the Fire Nation. From his anger. From almost everything he used to be. Now, he needs to take a step forward.
“I saw you get that scar,” he doesn’t dare actually cup the boy’s cheek though he dearly wants to, “and you thought I’d let you go back to the man who gave it to you?”
Zuko sputters in rage, like how an injured mongoose-lizard hisses and swipes to protect itself.
“My father – he loves me – he wants me back! I’m Crown Prince, you can’t just—“
Iroh couches life in metaphors; it’s the easiest way to say what one means without tipping the pot. Metaphors are suggestions, nudges in the right direction. But perhaps it is the time to speak plainly.
“You are Crown Prince. That is true. And one day, you will make a fine Fire Lord. But you will not ascend to the throne by searching for the Avatar. Prince Zuko, your father banished you to find something that cannot be found."
It’s just a futile quest to keep the boy out of sight and out of mind.
“He knows I can do it!”
“He should not have asked it of you. He should not have hurt you. You didn’t deserve it.”
“But you were in the meeting! You saw what I did!”
“I did. And I am so proud that you stood up for what you believed in, that you spoke up for your people.”
Zuko actually shuts his mouth, shoulders slumping, vulnerable in the face of praise he never received and thought he didn’t deserve.
“There is no shame in giving much-needed advice, I am just sorry that no one in that meeting was ready to listen to you. That no one defended you.” Not even me, Iroh thinks bitterly.
“I didn’t do the right thing,” Zuko says flatly, without any spirit or spark of fire at all, "and I didn't fight. Father is right, I've lost my honor."
“You did do the right thing. And even if you had not, your father should have never hurt you over a simple suggestion. What he did to you…Zuko, my nephew…it was cruel and it was wrong. Only one person lost their honor in the Agni Kai that day, and it wasn't you."
“He had to teach me a lesson,” Zuko says, voice cracking.
Gently, like reaching for a lope-eared rabbit hiding in its den from a predator, he clasps his nephew by the shoulders.
“Do you think I ever raised a hand to Lu Ten?”
Zuko squeezes his eyes shut, like if he blocks the sight of Iroh, he can block out his words. Slowly, he pulls Zuko towards him and into an embrace. Zuko’s stiff but trembling, his entire body fighting the truth.
“As long as I’m here,” Iroh promises, “no one will hurt you.”
Zuko gasps, shaking his head back and forth, stumbling over words of denial, mumbling futile protests that he’s ever been hurt or needs protection. He rips out of Iroh’s embrace, runs to the edge of the ledge, and shoots a stream of fire into the air.
~*~
When Zuko is thirteen, they set sail without a heading. Zuko’s sitting on the bow of the ship, looking down at the moon’s reflection in the water. Iroh stands at the exit of the galley, watching him. He has two cups of jasmine tea prepared, he’s just waiting for the right moment to approach.
Jee’s creaky armor alerts him to the man’s presence. Iroh smiles at the other man, who is critically surveying the deck, including the lone figure of the young prince.
“Any more wise metaphors for me, lieutenant?”
Jee scowls at him, “Teenagers need friends their own age and hobbies, not quests to find the Avatar and a ship full of boring old men and time to stew in their anger.”
Ozai isn’t expecting his son to ever return. They have a ship and a wide world to explore. Iroh recalls his words to Jee so many months ago; they were true, he does want to see the world. More importantly, he wants Zuko to see it too. And in his chambers is a white lotus tile. Perhaps he should introduce his nephew to pai sho.
Iroh’s lips quirk into a small grin, “My thoughts exactly. I appreciate you speaking so plainly, lieutenant. You would make a very good royal advisor.”
“With all due respect sir, shut up and drink your tea.”