Iroh was horrified. He'd never been more horrified in all of his long life. Not during the war or the battles he fought as a general. And not even when he saw men fall before him, slaughtered in the name of the Fire Nation. Iroh had lived through much, and he'd seen even more. He'd even done things in his past that he was ashamed of. And through it all, nothing had ever come close to this. For this time, it was personal.
That was his nephew down there. That was his nephew's young voice screaming out into the crowded arena around them. And the pain in his voice exceeded even that of the much older men Iroh had once killed in battle.
Iroh had looked away when it'd first happened, when he realized what was taking place. If he had known what his brother Ozai had been planning to do, Iroh never would have let him go through with it. But the two brothers never spoke to one another anymore, and they understood each other even less. Iroh had come to the arena assuming, like Zuko, that Zuko would be having an agni kai with the general from the war room. Iroh hadn't known that Ozai was going to face his own son in the battle arena in front of so many onlookers. And he certainly never would have dreamed that Ozai would go any farther than that.
Iroh could barely even believe what was happening, what he'd just witnessed. But the truth of it was in Zuko's voice. That was his nephew down there. That was his nephew screaming.
After Ozai's initial attack, Iroh opened his eyes. It had only lasted a few seconds. But those few seconds had been more than enough to completely destroy the young prince's life. And when Iroh looked down into the arena, he found Zuko hunched forward on his knees, both hands clutching desperately, painfully at his face. His hands hid some of the damage, but not all of it. Iroh saw the bloody burn as it wrapped its way up over his ear, and back across his head and into his dark hair which had been burned away. No more fire came from Ozai's fists, but Zuko was still screaming in agony.
Iroh instinctively rose to his feet. His aged heart was pounding from within his chest. His hands and feet had grown cold, his fingers were numb. He felt a little faint from the adrenaline that was pounding through his body. He'd never been so horrified. Never. This…this had been a purposeful, precise, cold, type of cruelty that he'd never seen.
Iroh was racing down the stadium steps even before he realized he was running. His body was so numb that he didn't even feel anything as he went. Keeping his eyes on the two figures below him, his two closest family members, Iroh was only brought more disbelief and grief as Ozai regarded his screaming son with an indifference that only a true monster could accommodate. And then, to Iroh's complete and utter shock, Ozai then turned, and simply walked away. As if nothing at all had just taken place in the battle arena, as if he'd just finished another day of training, the Fire Lord stepped down off of the stairs and casually started to head back inside of the palace. He completely and utterly ignored the agonized screams of his one and only son.
Iroh was almost to the arena now. He made it down the steps of the stadium seating. Then, jumping over the final barrier, he raced toward the raised platform. As he rushed forward, he saw several of the palace's medics also rushing the stage. They reached Zuko at almost the same time Iroh did.
"Prince Zuko!" Iroh screamed, and he barely recognized his own voice for the terror that was in it. And as he reached for his shrieking nephew…that was when he smelt it all. The scent of burnt flesh and hair invaded his nostrils. And it was so powerful and so strong and so putrid that he almost got sick. Even the sight of blood dripping down from between his beloved nephew's fingers wasn't as bad. Even his agonized screams weren't as bad. No…nothing was as bad as that smell.
"Zuko!" Iroh screamed again. He'd taken the young boy's shoulder's under his strong hands, meaning to help him rise up, but immediately the medical team stopped him.
"Please step back General Iroh!" One of them said as the rest surrounded the injured prince. "We're going to take him inside where we'll have room to work and so he'll be away from all of these people. We'll get a stretcher and…"
Iroh didn't answer, he simply shoved his way forward. There was no way in hell he was going to make Zuko wait for a stretcher. Not when he was clutching at his bleeding face and screaming in a way that Iroh knew would haunt his dreams for the rest of his days. Shoving the medical team aside, he reached out. Grabbing a hold of his thirteen year old nephew, he very easily scooped him up and into his arms.
Zuko didn't seem to be aware of what was happening. He kept both hands over his face as he continued to scream, unable to stop due to the agony of it. Even once up and in his uncle's arms, he didn't move them. His fingers looked like claws with white knuckles as he clutched at his burnt skin.
"Which way to the infirmary!?" Iroh cried. The medical team, wanting their patient in a place where they could work as fast as possible, didn't argue with Iroh's methods. They simply pointed to the nearest entrance into the palace, and then everyone involved began to run. Iroh and the medical personal all raced inside.
Thankfully, the infirmary was right across from the entrance way. It was placed there because it was so near the training grounds, just in case an accident occurred. But of course…this had been no accident.
One of the team members opened the door for Iroh. Another raced ahead and to the nearest table. They gestured for Iroh.
"Lay him down here, quickly!" Iroh did as told, laying his tortured nephew on top of the padded blankets. But then, as soon as he did, things moved quickly. It was the medical staff that shoved Iroh aside this time. And Iroh was forced back and away from the table as several people surrounded their burnt prince. Knowing there was nothing he could do, Iroh could only step back and watch, feeling helpless as the medics worked.
He watched as they struggled to grab at Zuko's wrists, trying to force him to pull his hands down and away from his wounds. But Zuko, deranged from the pain, fought them. One of the medics had to yell over his screaming that it was ok, that they were trying to help him. But still…Zuko couldn't control himself. Eventually, two of the strongest men on the team were forced to hold his hands down and against the table.
His face finally revealed, Iroh grimaced and then looked away. He'd only gotten a glimpse of it, but it was more than he could bear. For several seconds he didn't turn back, not until the same medic from earlier started yelling over Zuko's cries that it was ok, that they were there to help. Iroh had to look back to see what they were doing. He didn't want to keep looking away. This was his nephew. If he had to suffer in such a horrific way than the least he could do…was be a witness to it.
One of the medics came over with a bottle full of some sort of tonic. He shouted to Zuko that it was for the pain. But Zuko was in no state to be drinking anything. One of the medics had to hold his head still while another poured the liquid in. The young prince coughed and sputtered, choking on the liquid that was meant to help. Not able to get all the medicine in that they needed, the medics stopped.
"Let the bit we got in start working and we'll give him more later! For now we have to clean that burn!"
The team began to clean with water, scrubbing in what looked like a painful way to Iroh to get any dirt or dead skin out of the wound. It took them several minutes to work, and they proceeded with great difficulty considering Zuko wasn't lying still for them and in fact only screamed louder as they touched the injury. But finally, as the minutes ticked by, Zuko's screams slowly started to die down. But the noises he made now were just as gut wrenching for Iroh as his screams had been. For now…he was moaning and groaning, and he sounded as if he was in just as much pain as before…only now the effects of the drugs were starting to suppress him.
"Let's give him the rest," someone said. Iroh watched as they forced more pain medicine down Zuko's throat. Again the young teenager choked on it, being in too much pain to swallow. The medic trying to get the remedy into him pulled back.
"Let it work," he instructed the rest of the team. And then everyone simply stood around and waited for Zuko to be taken by the powerful drugs, the strongest members on the team still holding down the young prince's arms so he wouldn't hurt himself. Iroh could do nothing except watch as his nephew's energy gradually faded away and died, sending him into a deep, unsettling looking type of unconsciousness. His head lolled back, his one good eye fluttered closed. And then, his groans of misery dwindled, leaving them all in silence.
Once he was finally out, the team could really get to work. With a razor, they shaved the hair on his head away from the burn that stretched halfway back around his skull. Then they cleaned this new area as they had the rest of the burn. Taking specialized burn cream, they lathered it on. And then finally they wrapped a large bandage around the area, creating a thick, wide, eye patch.
Finally, finally it was over. The medical team moved the prince to a bed where he'd be able to rest. The team cleaned up the blood, the gauze, the bandages and anything else they'd used. Then most of them left the room in order to go about their other duties or to tend to other patients. One stayed behind however to speak with Iroh.
Iroh stepped forward, his face ashen, and ten more years on it than had been there this morning. The few strands of colored hair that he had left were now as gray as the rest of them. He'd never witnessed something so wretched in all of his life. And his heart was hurting.
"How is he?" Iroh asked, his voice sounding even older than he felt. "His eye…is he blind?"
The medic hesitated, clearly trying to think of the best way to word things. Carefully, he spoke.
"We don't know yet," he said truthfully. "There wasn't any time to worry about his vision. We wanted to focus on stopping the bleeding and preventing any infection. Infection is the biggest worry we have when it comes to burns. Luckily, Prince Zuko was treated immediately, and properly. We hope this means he'll be ok. But there is always still a chance of bacteria getting in. For the first several days we'll focus on that. Only after he starts healing and we remove the bandages will we know if he's lost his sight. The best thing we can do is ask him once he wakes back up and is comfortable enough for us to take the bandages off."
Iroh nodded, only because there really wasn't anything to say. What could he say to news like this? What was there to say after such a travesty? He didn't know. He glanced back over to the bed where his unconscious nephew lay, then gradually he looked back to the medic.
"We should send for a healer," he said softly. "If a waterbender works on him straight away…that wound won't have a chance to get infected. We could save his vision, and if we're lucky…maybe it won't scar…"
But the medic winced at Iroh's suggestion. He appeared fearful at the mere mention of it.
"Forgive me, General Iroh, but we're at war with the water tribe. We haven't had a waterbender in the Fire Nation for healing in over a hundred years. No waterbender would willingly come here to help us. Especially not the prince of the nation of their enemies. If they heard of this…they'd probably be happy."
"That may be true for some," Iroh agreed. "But not all. I've met many waterbenders during my travels and I've met many different kinds of people. Many people of the water tribe are kind and sympathetic. I think it's because of their nurturing nature. I believe we'd be able to find one that is willing to help for kindness's sake alone."
But the medic still didn't appear convinced. In fact, if at all possible, he seemed even more nervous than before.
"I…sir…forgive me, but…even if you were to find such a waterbender…Ozai would never allow it. They're our enemies. They're not allowed on Fire Nation soil. I dare say…Ozai would kill any waterbender who came here."
Iroh fell silent at that. He knew that the medic was right. A small voice inside of himself wanted to argue. It wanted to say that surely Ozai would make an exception just this once. After all…this was his son, the prince of the Fire Nation. Surely there were exceptions for a prince. But…no. Iroh knew there wouldn't be. Ozai had been growing darker and colder and more cruel toward Zuko for years. Iroh had never understood why, but he had witnessed it all the same. And if there had ever been a doubt in his mind that any love Ozai might have had for his son was now gone…it had been erased today.
No father could do this if they loved their son. And if Ozai no longer cared for Zuko, than certainly he wouldn't break his own laws in order to send for a healer.
Iroh's heart twisted from within his chest. He was in so much grief that he could barely breathe. For he already knew that the damage that was dealt to Zuko on this day went far far beyond the burning of his face. Iroh was of course worried for his nephew's physical well being: the infection and the blindness the medic spoke of were horrifying enough, but…he was much more concerned for the state of his nephew's heart.
He was afraid of what Zuko would be like when he woke back up. And he was afraid to see the realization in his good eye when he recognized just exactly what had been done to him. Iroh didn't want to see it. He didn't want to see his beloved nephew's face be robbed of its innocence upon waking. Ozai had destroyed much more than just skin and flesh. Zuko didn't yet know it, being unconscious, but…Iroh did. And he grieved the loss.
"He's only thirteen," he suddenly said to the medic. His voice choked, Iroh barely recognized his own tones. "He was so excited to go to the war meeting. He begged me…begged me to let him in so he could watch and listen. He said he wanted to learn how to be a good ruler one day. He just wanted…wanted to learn how to grow up…"
And before Iroh knew it, he was crying. His tears were hot and felt like fire as they rolled down his wrinkled cheeks.
"I never should have let him in to that meeting…" He let the guilt riddle him and he let the grief hurt. If only for a little while, he had to allow his wounded heart to weep. For Ozai had injured more than one person when he'd chosen to viciously attack his own son.
Iroh had gone to go see Ozai just after the attack and while Zuko was still unconscious. But he'd had no illusions going into it. After the attack on Zuko at the agni kai, Iroh understood that there was nothing left of his little brother inside the Fire Lord. The Ozai he remembered growing up with long ago was certainly dead. And the Ozai that was here now was less of a father to Zuko than a complete stranger off of the street. All the same, Iroh knew he'd never be able to live with himself if he didn't at least try. And so, he'd gone, requesting that a healer be sent for the burned Prince.
The words Ozai spoke to him after he'd made such a request were so horrific that Iroh tried to burn them from his memory. Ozai said such things about his freshly wounded son that Iroh didn't know if his old heart could take much more. He didn't bother trying to argue or reason with his brother. That would have only caused an argument and it would have only served to anger the Fire Lord. And Iroh knew better than to make Ozai angry at this delicate moment in their lives. For right now, what mattered most, was Zuko. And Iroh saw that as the young Prince's uncle, he was the only one left that had the ability to protect him while he recovered. As such, he wouldn't risk having himself throw in prison, or banished, or God only knew what else Ozai might have done. And so, with a quick bow and an apology, Iroh left Ozai's room.
Ozai would not help. And in fact…seemed almost glad or perhaps even proud of himself for what he'd done to his thirteen year old son. A man that twisted, that sick, Iroh knew could not be reasoned with. And he feared for Zuko more than he ever had before in the Prince's young life.
Iroh hurried back to the infirmary. The most he could do at the moment was to simply be with Zuko and let him know that he wasn't alone and that there was still somebody within their demented family that cared about him.
Iroh stayed loyally by the burned Prince's side as he slept. One of the medics had brought him a chair. And then later on, the same medic brought him a book to read. Iroh was thankful, for there was nothing else to do but wait and watch.
He read for a little while, but he couldn't stop himself from looking up from the pages every few minutes to check on his sleeping nephew. And after looking at him for a long time, Iroh realized that his hair was still up in its pony tail. Iroh requested a hairbrush from the same kind medic from before, and the healer was more than happy to do anything at all to help.
Once Iroh had the hairbrush in his hand, he very carefully loosened what was left of his nephew's dark strands. Gently, and always aware of where his burn was across the left side of his head, Iroh brushed the tangles from his long locks. Zuko's hair was lopsided now, half of it having been shaved for sanitation purposes. And seeing his proudly grown, princely hair butchered in such a way made him somehow even sadder than before.
The royal family of the Fire Nation all traditionally wore their hair long. They needed to in order to put it up into either a pony tail or a bun to support the crown. It was a status symbol, and to have it hacked off in such a way was nearly the equivalent of having someone steal the prince's robe. Iroh knew he'd be humiliated when he woke.
Iroh was contemplating the situation of his nephew's hair and the possibilities of what they could do with it, when finally, Zuko started to stir. Iroh pulled the hairbrush back, but even as he was, he saw Zuko's face tense and tighten. He hadn't even fully come around yet, and it was clear he was already in tremendous pain. Supporting this thought, was the low groan of misery that rose up from the young Prince's throat.
"Prince Zuko," Iroh said softly, if only to let him know that someone was with him. Zuko let out another groan, this one louder than before, and after it started to die away, a pitiful whimper took its place. Iroh saw his young nephew's body shudder.
"Uggh…" Zuko's good eye started to flutter open. But even before he was fully conscious, a hand instinctively went to his bandaged. "Ugghh!" Iroh watched his body stiffen and tense, and he knew then that Zuko was still in far too much pain to be allowed to wake up the rest of the way. His heart kicking into overdrive once more, Iroh turned to the open room around him and called out.
"Medic!" The medic had promised to never be far away, and Iroh had thought he'd seen him go into the next room to work on some documents. Surely he'd be out in a second more to help. But even as Iroh was turning back to face his nephew, his condition had worsened. Looking to him now, he saw tears flowing quickly down his uninjured cheek and to his pillow, and it was very clear by his twisted expression that it was from sheer agony, and that the prince still didn't yet comprehend emotionally what had happened.
The Fire Prince's groans grew louder, and although he wasn't screaming as he had been before, he might as well have been for the affect it had on Iroh's heart. No young boy should be in so much agony that they couldn't speak, couldn't move, couldn't think. And in looking at him, Iroh wasn't even sure Zuko knew he was there with him. He knew, at the very least, he had to let him know.
Both of Zuko's hands went to his face, and suddenly he started to clutch at his bandages. His moaning and groaning grew to a point where he hardly took breaths between them. And it was then that Iroh leaned over him. Getting out of his seat, he reached out. Touching his hands to his nephew's shoulders he spoke to him.
"I'm here Prince Zuko," he said. "You're not alone. It's going to be ok. The medic is coming with more medicine. It's going to be ok."
Iroh wasn't sure if Zuko heard him or not, but he prayed that he did. At the very least, he should know that there was still a family member with him who cared.
The medic came out then, hurrying over to the prince's bedside. Holding the same tonic as before, he bade Iroh to step back. The old general listened and allowed the medic to pour more of the potent liquid into his nephew. Both Iroh and the medic stayed at his side, and only a few moments more, and the young prince was falling back into unconsciousness. His hands which had been clutching once again at his face, fell slack at his side.
Iroh couldn't speak with his nephew for days. Every time he woke was like the first, with the pain so great that all he could do was moan and groan from the misery of it. The medics in the palace had to keep him almost constantly drugged. As such, Iroh spent a lot of his time sitting beside Zuko's unconscious form.
During this time, Iroh continued to regard the state of the Prince's hair. The medic had informed him that they would need to keep the left side of his head shaved until the burn healed completely. Zuko could not grow his hair back out straight away. As such, it became clear that something needed to be done cosmetically.
Iroh had plenty of time to think about it, but every time he did, he only ever came back to the same conclusion: the prince's hair needed to be shaved. At the very least, they had to make both sides symmetrical. But that meant losing the other half of his hair. It grieved Iroh greatly because he knew it would hurt Zuko when he finally became aware of himself. But all the same…it was better than leaving it like it was. And so, Iroh one day requested a razor from one of the medics. Brushing his hair back, Iroh carefully and lovingly put up his usual pony tail as he slept. At the very least…they had to be able to keep it so that he could wear his crown.
Once the pony tail was up, Iroh cautiously began to shave the other side of Zuko's head. Trying to make the haircut symmetrical, Iroh did his best to save as much of the hair as he could. But even so, they lost most of it. And in the end, Zuko was mostly bald with exception of his pony tail. Still…it was better than losing all of his hair, which had taken him many proud years to grow out.
When he was done, Iroh leaned over the young prince's bed. Sorrowfully, he placed a kiss on top of his head.
Zuko was eventually allowed to wake up. The medics eased up on his drugs, letting the young prince come back into consciousness. And as he did, Iroh watched yet again as his young face started to tense. His good eyebrow crinkled, ruining the smoothness a young face was supposed to have, but this time around, it wasn't nearly as bad as before. Zuko let out a soft, quiet groan, but it didn't intensify. And a few minutes later, the gold coloring of his good eye was revealed as he blinked it open.
Appearing completely exhausted, even though all he'd done was sleep for days, Zuko turned his head in order to gaze at his Uncle Iroh. He still seemed dazed as if being pulled out of a nightmare. And as he settled his sights on his Uncle, Iroh saw confusion cross over his burnt features.
"…u…Uncle Iroh?"
Zuko's voice sounded destroyed, even so, Iroh leaned forward from his seat beside his bed eagerly.
"Yes," he responded simply. "I'm here with you."
Zuko blinked wearily. He still seemed confused. He kept his eyes on Iroh for a second or two, but then turned his head the other way and started searching the spot at his other side. Iroh watched, his hart faltering as Zuko didn't see what he was looking for. The Prince looked around the infirmary a little while longer, then turned his gaze back to his uncle.
Zuko still looked bewildered, and it appeared like he was going to ask a question. But then, as discomfort crossed over his face, he lifted a hand to his bandages, just as he'd been doing every time he awoke before. The only difference was that this time, the pain was being controlled enough to allow the young teenager to be aware of his surroundings and circumstances. And as Iroh saw recognition start to enter his one good eye…he wished to God that Zuko was still unaware of himself. But the truth of the matter was that he was. And the horror of what had been done to him clearly began to settle into him.
Iroh saw his eye widen. He saw the understanding come over him. He watched as the color drained from his face. Pale and shaken, the very thing Iroh dreaded happened: and he felt like he was witnessing the young Prince's very youth be robbed from him. Whatever childhood Zuko had left, was now abruptly over. He had no choice in the matter, for Ozai had taken it by force. And what Zuko was left with was a cold adult world that he hadn't been prepared to be thrust into.
"My face…" came his hoarse, horrified whisper. His golden eye shivered from within his skull and his body trembled. And as his fingers traced the edges of his bandages, wrinkles that didn't belong on a thirteen year old started to carve their way through.
"My face!" Zuko suddenly screamed. And before Iroh knew it, he was panicking. In a flurry of terror, Zuko suddenly started to claw and rip at his bandages. Immediately Iroh stood up, lunging forward. Reaching out, he grabbed both of Zuko's hands. Pulling them down and away, he clutched his palms and finger's tightly.
"No, Prince Zuko!" He hollered sharply, if only to startle him into stopping. "You must get a handle on yourself. Listen to me. I know it's frightening. I know you're going through more right now than anyone could understand, but you must calm down. I am here with you. I will help you. I won't leave you alone. And together, we can figure all of this out."
Zuko stared at his uncle, his young face full of emotions and fears that even adults shouldn't have to have. Breathing heavily and quickly, he at least seemed calm enough to stop tearing at his injuries. Even so, Iroh continued to hold his hands, refusing to let him go.
"Where's father?" Zuko suddenly asked. And Iroh couldn't help but to be surprised at the question.
"Ozai?" he asked as if there were some other father Zuko could have been referencing. "He's probably in his throne room."
But this answer clearly wasn't what Zuko was looking for.
"When is he coming?" he asked. Iroh stared at his nephew. And as he did, he saw a slow, terrible, dark, type of desperation start to creep into his pale face. "Did he visit before, while I was unconscious? What did he say? Did he say anything to you, Uncle?"
It was then that Iroh started to understand. And even as the truth of Zuko's position started to overcome him, the Prince continued to ask frantic questions.
"Has he forgiven me for speaking out of turn at the meeting? He's not still angry, is he? Surely…surely there's something I can do, to make it up to him. Tell him to give me a second chance! I can do another Agni Kai if he wants! I've been training so hard! I'm a good fighter! I know I'm still not as good as Azula but I could…I…I can…I can catch up! There's still time, isn't there? It's not too late! I'll train harder! I can work harder!"
The young prince was becoming frantic. Iroh saw how beside himself he was with his pain, grief and fear. And despite the fact that it was his father that had hurt him so badly, it was still only his father that he asked about.
"Hasn't he come to see me, even once?" Zuko suddenly cried. But Iroh didn't need to answer. Zuko already knew the truth by looking at Iroh's crumbling face. Losing himself, and frightfully quickly, the young Prince let out a terrible cry. "Tell him I'm sorry! Uncle! Please! Tell him!"
He was sobbing now. He was crumbling to pieces. And Zuko's innocence, his youth, and his devoted heart to his abusive father threatened to crush the old war general. He could barely stand that desperate look in the prince's one, good, golden eye. And as Iroh sat there, watching Zuko nearly tear himself apart over his panic of what his father thought of him, the injustice of it all threatened to overwhelm him.
Iroh's son Lu Ten was gone and dead. And he wished every day that he could have his son back. Lu Ten had been precious to him. And after Iroh's wife died…his son had been all he'd had. He'd loved him dearly. And so, to sit here now, beside his brother's son, and watch as such a good, devoted son was simply tossed away and disregarded as if he were trash, made Iroh furious.
He'd known Zuko was being abused for years. But when Zuko had been a small child, Iroh had been away at war with his son Lu Ten. He'd never been home or around to witness it, or to even understand that it was happening. And at the very least, back then, Zuko had his mother.
But after Lu Ten died when Zuko was eight, and Iroh had come home to the palace, he started to see what was going on. But most all of the abuse had been verbal until now. And Iroh, destroyed from the loss of his son, had never had the fire or the passion to step in and stop it. But now…to see it come to this…to see it turn into something this extreme…was more than Iroh had ever imagined. And Iroh, in that moment, could not forgive his brother for wasting the most precious gift a man could receive. Zuko was a good son. Far more than what Ozai deserved.
Iroh had done all he could to counsel the distressed teen. He tried to comfort him, but Zuko was inconsolable. When Zuko learned that his father hadn't come by to see him and hadn't said a word about the Agni Kai to anyone, he became nearly panic-stricken. And Iroh saw the utter and complete anguish and terror on his face. The young prince appeared to be in even more pain than he had been when he'd been burned. And Iroh couldn't take it anymore.
"Go see him," Iroh demanded angrily of Ozai one evening. "It's been over five days. He asks about you constantly. You can't just ignore him. He's your son!"
The two brothers stood in the Fire Lord's throne room. Ozai, as always, sat on his throne, elevated above his subjects and behind a wall of flames. It was a formal setting, even though he was speaking to his brother, and Iroh knew it was meant as an insult. He hardly cared.
"Visit him for at least a few minutes, at the very least."
Ozai, his face almost completely dark and hidden in shadow from behind the wall of flames, answered in a way Iroh never could have been prepared for,
"Oh, is Zuko finally awake then?"
Iroh gaped. Zuko had been awake and asking for his father for three days. If Ozai didn't know that, than he cared so little that he hadn't even bothered to ask a servant to bring him news of his stricken son.
"How can you…"
"I'm glad Zuko's finally conscious. I have some matters I've wanted to discuss with him. Iroh, please bring him here before me."
Iroh stared at The Fire Lord in complete disbelief.
"He can't even stand!" Iroh cried. "He's severely injured! The medical staff has him on powerful narcotics for the pain!"
"Can't stand?" Ozai questioned. "Is there something wrong with his legs Iroh? Because I don't remember burning his legs. What I recall is burning his face. And surely he doesn't need that to come to the throne room."
Iroh felt cold despite the heat that was wafting off of the wall of flames before him. He felt his heart quake from within his chest. His veins were like ice. His throat closing off from Ozai's terrible words, Iroh still managed to speak.
"How can you be so cruel? Zuko's your son! Don't you have any remorse at all?"
Ozai let off a sudden, short, jagged laugh.
"You don't know Zuko very well, do you Iroh? He'll be more than happy to come to the throne room to see me after he's heard he's been summoned, regardless of what you may think of his condition."
Iroh could barely breathe. The fact that Ozai knew the hold he had over his son and was using it not only to his advantage, but using it as his entertainment as well, was perhaps the sickest thing of all out of everything that had happened so far. There was no need to make Zuko get out of his hospital bed and traipse all the way down to the throne room across a huge palace except if it was for Ozai's pleasure. Iroh suspected that Ozai was doing this…simply to see if he could and if Zuko would obey.
"You can't do this!" Iroh cried, both his voice and his face cracking from the grief he was starting to feel for his young nephew.
"I'm the Fire Lord, Iroh," Ozai said. "I can do whatever I please. Besides, you just came to me, telling me how much my son wants to see me. Aren't I fulfilling your request?"
Iroh shuddered in place. It was all so God awful that he was starting to feel physically ill.
"I'm not going to relay such a message to Zuko. I'm not going to make him get out of bed when he's bandaged and burnt and on pain medication!"
"You won't have to. I'll send a messenger to him," Ozai said. "Either way, I'm certain to see him shortly. If this is all you wanted of me Iroh, than your wish has been fulfilled. You may go."
Iroh trembled from his rage and grief and sorrow. And once again, as he thought of his son Lu Ten, he could barely believe the way Ozai was treating Zuko. Unable to stop himself, he shouted out,
"Zuko is wasted on you! And you don't deserve him!"
Neither brother had anything else to say to the other. As Iroh turned to leave, Ozai allowed him to go without retaliation, a satisfied smirk on his wicked lips.
When Iroh got back to the infirmary, he found Zuko already out of bed, two servants at either side of him. They were helping him to stand, and also helping him to dress. But as Iroh hurried over, worry all over his face, he caught the look on Zuko. The young Prince was clearly excited, even though Iroh knew he was still in a great deal of pain from his injuries. Zuko looked up when he saw Iroh enter, and the smile that grew over his face wounded Iroh more deeply than any sword could.
"Uncle, a messenger just came and told me father has sent me a summon. I'm to see him in the throne room immediately." Such words clearly filled the young prince with hope, even though at the same exact moment the same words filled Iroh with dread. Iroh didn't know what to say. He couldn't tell Zuko not to go, that would have been against Ozai's orders. And if they went against his orders, Iroh was terrified that Zuko would once again be the one to pay the price for it.
How do I keep him safe? He wondered. But really, he just didn't know. Listening to Ozai's summon seemed like a terrible idea. But then again, so did disobeying. Was there anything he could do for his nephew?
The servants helped Zuko into his robe. Tying its synch in the front, the prince was now fully dressed in his usual royal attire. Carefully, for the servants understood that this was the first time Zuko had been on his feet in days, they let go of him. Zuko swayed slightly, but stayed on his feet well enough. Standing up tall and as proud as he could muster, he faced his uncle.
"Am I presentable?" he asked, that naïve grin still on his face. Iroh's heart shuddered from within him.
You shouldn't need to present yourself to your father, he suddenly thought. A father should take you as is. But Iroh dared not crush what little hope Zuko had managed to obtain. He wouldn't. He couldn't. And so, he simply nodded.
Zuko, completely blind to the look on his uncle's face, stepped forward in order to head toward the door. Still heavily laden with drugs, he stumbled. Iroh immediately reached out, taking his arm to support him.
"Steady now," he said as kindly as he could, hiding both the fear and pity he was feeling. Zuko smiled softly his way.
"Thank you Uncle. Would you walk me down to the throne room? I think I can handle it myself once I'm there."
Iroh, his heart pounding within him, nodded. And so, together, the uncle and nephew pair made their way out and into the hall.
"Take your time," Iroh said when he saw Zuko trying to hurry. "Losing your footing would delay you more than a steady pace." Zuko tried to comply, slowing his steps for a moment. But it was only a short time later when he started speeding up once again. His impatience and his clear expectation of this meeting with his father going well, made Iroh wonder if an old man like himself could literally die of heartache. He felt like he could.
It took them several long moments, for the throne room wasn't anywhere near the infirmary, but eventually, they traveled across nearly half of the palace. Finally arriving at their destination, they found the two, thick, heavy, double doors to the throne room closed.
Zuko inhaled deeply. He held his breath for just a second, and then let it go. Subconsciously, he lifted a hand to his bandages, but quickly, Iroh called him out.
"Don't scratch," he said. Zuko lowered his hand once more. "I could come in with you," Iroh suddenly offered. And when he did, Zuko considered it. It was clear by the young teenager's expression that he was no longer so sure of himself. Whatever excitement he'd had in the infirmary was gone. The double doors loomed over him, and as he stared up at them, he slowly nodded. Reaching out, he pushed the throne room's doors open.
Together, nephew and uncle stepped inside, and the throne room, as always, was huge. Columns surrounded them on each side as they stepped forward, making the trek down through the darkness and toward the wall of raging fire. The fire was the only light in the room, and it basked them in a hot, orange glow. Reaching the front of the room, both stood before the darkened throne up on the stage. Both bowed. But as Zuko did so, the blood rushed to his head and his injury, causing it to sting and throb. Zuko winced, but managed to hide his pain before he righted himself.
"I received your summon, father," he said. Ozai nodded.
"Very good. Thank you for escorting him here Iroh, you may go." Iroh hesitated. He very much didn't want to leave Zuko alone with Ozai. Doing so seemed like a very dangerous thing to do. Worriedly, he looked to Zuko. But when he did, he found he was standing on Zuko's left side. As such…he couldn't see his face. Only a large, white, overbearing bandage met his gaze. And because he was on Zuko's left, Zuko didn't know Iroh was looking to him.
"Iroh, take your leave." Ozai said again, this time more firmly. Iroh hesitated again, wishing he could catch his nephew's eye to see what he was thinking or feeling. But being on his left made this impossible, and Zuko never turned his gaze away from where it was fixated on his father behind the wall of flame. Knowing he couldn't get Zuko to look away, Iroh nodded at his brother, bowed, and then turned to leave.
Both father and son waited until Iroh was out of the throne room and the doors were closed. Once they were, it was Zuko that started,
"Thank you for summoning me father. I realize that I…"
"Do not speak until you're spoken to. Has being raised in the royal palace all these years taught you nothing?"
Zuko flinched, but all the same, answered with a quiet, "yes sir."
There was only a second of silence as Ozai exhaled in such a way that suggested Zuko was both an annoyance and a burden on him. But then the Fire Lord spoke, and his words were of the exact sort that Iroh had previously feared.
"Look at you. You're a disgrace to the royal family. If a man off the street were to gaze at you now, I don't think he'd even recognize you as The Prince of the Fire Nation."
Zuko dared not move. He dared not speak in defense of himself either. As much as the words dug and burrowed into him as sharply as nails…they were not new words. He'd been told he was a disgrace for nearly all of his life. He'd never been able to please The Fire Lord, no matter what he did or how he tried.
"I hope you realize what your actions in the war room have cost me. You nearly made me lose face in the eyes of my war generals. And if the generals of this war don't have faith in me, faith in the royal family, than their loyalty would come into question. If they're not loyal to me, than how can I use them in this war?" He shook his head. "I cannot. And if I cannot use my generals, than I do not have anyone to lead The Fire Nation's armies. And without armies, we would lose this war. And if we lost the war, than our entire nation would fall."
Ozai gazed down at his son coldly.
"Your outburst in the war room was an act of treason."
But of course at that, Zuko could not remain quiet. Stepping forward, a look of anxiety coming over him, he cried out,
"No father! I'm no traitor! I'm more devoted than anyone else in The Fire Nation! You know that! You know me! I'm the Prince of this nation! I'm your loyal son!"
"Don't not presume to tell me what I do and do not know!" Ozai hollered, and as always his voice was loud and booming, like thunder. The flames in front of his throne grew, rising up in both height and heat. "And how dare you lecture me! After all that you've done, have you still not learned your lesson?"
The heat from the flames washed over Zuko. Bathed in nothing but the angry orange light, he felt his heart start to pick up pace from within his chest. He was starting to realize…that this meeting with his father was somehow going terribly wrong, just as it had in the war room.
What do I do? He wondered, fear starting to overtake him. How do I appease him? Licking his lips and swallowing a lump that was forming in his throat, Zuko didn't know what else to do but kneel.
"Father…I'm sorry for my outburst in the war room. I will learn to hold my tongue. I only ask that you would give me a second chance. Let me prove myself to you."
"You have had thirteen years to prove yourself to me Zuko," Ozai said suddenly and harshly. "But you've come out of the womb this way. I'm not sure there's any true way to correct you. In fact, I'm certain there isn't. All you've ever done is bring me grief and trouble. And now, it has come so far as to bring dishonor to the royal family! You've dishonored me in the war room, you've dishonored our family and you've dishonored the Fire Nation."
Zuko started to tremble in his place. Already kneeling, he then proceeded to bow, even though it caused his burns to start to throb almost unbearably.
"Father…I can restore our honor. I can…"
"You can't do anything Zuko!" Ozai growled. "When you, yourself have no honor, how do you expect to bring it to someone else? You cannot. While you were recovering in the infirmary, I've had a lot of time to think about what was to be done with you, and what would be best for both The Fire Nation and our family. And the best thing I could think of would be if you had never been born a Prince at all. How much better off would the royal family be if you were not in it?"
Again, the words weren't new. Ozai had told him plenty of times before that he wished he'd never been born. But all the same, they were just as sharp as they had been when he was a toddler. And those types of words always brought the most damage.
Zuko's heart was pounding now, almost violently against his ribcage. His face was throbbing, for he dared not raise his head. But worst of all was the heat he felt threatening to build up behind his eyes. But even though it was becoming overwhelming, he dared not cry. Not in front of Ozai, for it was a sign of weakness. And also for fear of what it would do to his injuries. He didn't even know if it was safe to cry. Would the salt from his tears cause him pain? Would it cause an infection in his open wounds? Would it damage his eye anymore than it already was?
"Zuko, I've reached a decision," Ozai was saying. "I can no longer cover for your mistakes. In fact, I can no longer bear to have you as my son. I've reached a point where it makes me sick to even look at you!"
Those words were new. And Zuko felt a sudden stab of panic hit him. Lifting his head, he looked at his father, flames leaping across his face.
"Father?"
"From this day forward, you are no longer my son. I am stripping you of your title as Prince of The Fire Nation. You are hereby banished, and if you ever return I will have you killed on sight. Do you understand me?"
It was like being hit with something hard, large, and heavy. Zuko felt his throat close off entirely. He forgot how to breathe. Heat and pressure built up phenomenally fast within his skull and within seconds his vision was flashing with white spots as his head began to pound. The burn on the left side of his face throbbed. Covered in a sudden sweat, he stared at his father with horror.
"No father!" he cried, his voice rising in pitch. In desperation he went to stand up, but he did it far too quickly. The combination of his injuries, the drugs he was on, and now the panic attack he was enduring were enough to send any full grown man into the ground, not to mention a thirteen year old boy. He stumbled, and then fell straight back down to his knees.
"Please father no!" he cried again, and this time, there was no holding back his tears. They came springing up, and on the injured side of his face, it did indeed burn and sting as badly as he thought it might. Unable to bear the pain, he lifted a hand, clutching at his bandages. "Please! You can't do this! I can restore my honor! I can bring honor back to our family! Please! You have to give me another chance! Don't give up on me! I'll do anything! Just tell me what to do! I'll do it! Just don't say I'm not your son!"
Ozai recoiled as if Zuko were something disgusting to him. And he clearly had no qualms about breaking his only son into little bitty pieces.
"How repulsive," he said coldly. "What an uncouth display. You don't deserve the title of Prince."
"Please father!" Zuko begged again. "Don't kick me out! This is my home! I'll do anything to prove my loyalty! Just name it! I'm The Prince of The Fire Nation! I'm your son!"
"Begging is unbecoming, even for you Zuko."
"Anything! Please! Tell me what to do!"
Ozai's face was getting ugly. It was clear he was starting to get angry. And if Iroh were in the room, he recognize such a face to mean great danger was coming. Either Ozai was getting ready to call for the guards to have Zuko forcibly removed from the throne room, or…he was getting ready to holler for an executioner.
But then, something odd happened. A spark of some sort entered the Fire Lord's eyes. Zuko didn't see the look on his father's face for his only good eye was filled with tears of the cruelty he was enduring, but Iroh would have recognized this face too. It was the face Ozai wore when he was planning on doing something unspeakable cruel. Even more so than his usual deeds.
"Ok Zuko," he said. "I think there's one way you can prove yourself to me." And his voice was almost sickeningly sweet. Zuko had never heard such tones from his father, but it felt akin to swallowing honey laced with venum. Blinking his tear stained eyes; his injured one still burning from the moisture, Zuko lifted his face. And when Ozai had his attention, his wicked grin grew to twice its size.
"If you really want to prove your loyalty to the Fire Nation, if you would really like me to restore your honor to you, than why don't you go find and capture the Avatar for me?"
It had been meant to be cruel. The suggestion had been formulated to break what was left of the shattered Prince before him. It had been meant as an explanation to demonstrate how impossible it was for Zuko to ever come home, or ever be anything in his father's eyes. It was meant to be taken as such. After all…the Avatar hadn't been seen in over 100 years. The world was convinced that the Avatar no longer existed. They wondered if such a ledged was true to begin with, or if it had all been a fanciful story. It was almost like telling the young Prince to go out and bring The Fire Lord back a unicorn.
But that was not how Zuko took it. So panicked, so desperate, so broken was he, that when Ozai offered him this small shred of hope, even if it hadn't been meant to be anything but more brutality, the young Prince reached out and clung to it like a life raft. Drowning in a sea of despair and anguish, it was the only thing he could see for mile upon endless mile of darkness. And so, carefully, but purposefully, he sat himself up on his knees. Keeping his back straight and his chin held high, he faced the tyrant before him. His tears stopping, he nodded.
"Ok," he said. Ozai gaped, his yellow eyes widening with shock.
"What?"
"Ok," Zuko repeated. "I'll find the Avatar. And when I do, I'll bring him home to you. And when you see him, you will know my loyalty and you'll restore my honor and my birthright to be Prince of The Fire Nation."
Ozai stared. For a moment, he wondered if Zuko was being sincere. Perhaps he was returning his mockery with a mockery of his own. But no. Ozai saw the true meaning in his one good eye and in his young, tortured face. Zuko was taking this seriously. And it was at that moment that Ozai understood just how badly he'd broken his young son. Zuko simply could not accept that there was no hope, that he was now homeless and that his father hated him so much as to burn him, scar him, and then banish him. And so, in a desperate attempt to protect himself, he was fabricating his own sense of hope, regardless of how false it may have been.
A sudden, sharp, wicked grin crossed over The Fire Lord's face. With Zuko having taken him so seriously, there was suddenly a wide possibility of things he could do. And quite beside himself with delight, The Fire Lord immediately started dreaming of how far he could take this little charade. How long would it go before Zuko realized that he'd never meant it to begin with? He didn't know, but Ozai was very intrigued to find out.
"Good!" Ozai said, true amusement on his face, which Zuko mistook for acceptance. "You should head off straight away. Go pack your things. Until you bring the Avatar to me, you're not to return to The Fire Nation."
"I understand," Zuko said. "I'll need a ship and a crew. I know I have no right to ask anything of you, but if you really want me to capture the Avatar, I'll need a way of traveling. And if the Avatar is as powerful as they say, then I'll need more than just myself to overpower him."
At that Ozai blinked in surprise once more. But his grin remained. He was willing to go as far as he needed to keep Zuko's illusions alive. It was far too amusing not to do.
"Done," he said. "You may have the smallest war ship we have and enough men to run it. No more."
Zuko nodded, accepting the swiftness of the shackles of fait that his father was snapping closed around him. The comfort of the cold iron was far better than the nothingness that would otherwise be his alternative.
"Now go!" Ozai ordered. "I'll have your ship and crew prepared for you. Go down to the docks in an hour's time. And then, don't come back."
Zuko nodded. The reassurance of the lie he was given had calmed him considerably. As such, he was able to rise to his feet. Offering one last Fire Nation bow to The Fire Lord, he then turned and strode back toward the doors of the throne room. At the very least, he had a path to follow. He hardly cared where his new path would take him, as long as there was one.
Zuko was different when he came out of the throne room. Iroh hadn't been able to hear anything that was said through the heavy double doors, but he didn't need to. One look at his nephew told him enough. Ozai, whatever he had said, had been devastating enough to decimate what small portion of Zuko that was left after his burning. Now, the young Prince stood, his one good eye clouded and his expression slack. He appeared numb, like an empty shell and Iroh was afraid he was in shock. Cautiously, Iroh stepped toward him.
"What happened?" he had to ask. But Zuko didn't even lift his head to look at his uncle. And so, Iroh closed the gap between them. Lifting a hand, he rested it gently on his nephew's shoulder. "Prince Zuko, are you ok?"
"It's not Prince Zuko anymore," he said quietly, his gaze fixated on the nothingness before him. "It's just Zuko now…"
But of course, Iroh couldn't understand this meaning without some explanation.
"Prince…"
"I told you there's no Prince!" Zuko suddenly snapped. And his anger had come so suddenly and with no warning that Iroh had to snatch his hand back and away as Zuko whirled on him, bristling with a fury that seemed to come from nowhere. "The Fire Nation no longer has a Prince. I've been banished! I'm never to return home again unless I can reclaim my honor by capturing the Avatar."
"What?!" Iroh gaped at his nephew. And for just a moment, he wondered if somehow he hadn't just misheard Zuko's entire explanation. It was so crazy and far-fetched that it shouldn't have been real. But Zuko didn't give his uncle any time to recover, instead he turned and started to march down the hallway.
"I have to go. Father only gave me an hour to get ready and get my things. After that…I'm sure he'll have me killed if I'm still here."
It was Iroh who was then in shock. He could barely wrap his head around the news. After all, how could anyone banish their own son? And Zuko was only thirteen. How did Ozai expect him to survive on his own? Especially as the Prince of the Fire Nation. All of the other lands in all the world hated the Fire Nation. Anywhere Zuko went would be enemy territory. And if anyone found out he was the Prince…they'd surely try to kill him.
Suddenly, a thousand horrible thoughts bombarded Iroh. How would Zuko live? What would he eat? Would he starve? How would he keep warm in winter or cool in summer? He could die just by being exposed to the elements. He'd freeze to death, or die of heat stroke. Wind and rain could make him sick. And suddenly it wasn't hard to imagine Zuko huddled all alone under some rock somewhere, being ravished by hunger and some terrible illness.
And as if all of that wasn't enough, Iroh was also very aware of Zuko's current condition. He'd just had half his face burnt off a few days prior. He was still in incredible pain, even though he was on medicine. If he was banished…he'd no longer have that medicine. He'd be in agony. Not only that, but Iroh couldn't forget what the medic had told him about infection and blindness. Without the special cream and the daily bandage changes the medic had been performing…Zuko's wounds wouldn't heal properly. What if he did get infected? He would die a slow, agonizing death due to blood poisoning. And what if he didn't die? He would be blind because there were no resources for that eye of his.
Iroh knew what Ozai had truly sentenced Zuko too: he hadn't sentenced his son to be banished, he'd sentenced him to a long, torturous, lonely death. It was an even crueler way of getting rid of his son than had he simply said 'off with his head.' And Iroh, for once, was not going to have it.
Seeing Zuko walking away, Iroh quickly hurried to catch up with him. He knew he couldn't lose sight of him. His heart pounding in his chest, the old general was still in quite a bit of denial. After all…how could Zuko be banished just like that? Once moment he's here and the next he's not?
"Prince Zuko, please wait."
"I told you! Don't call me Prince anymore! I'm not the Prince of anything!"
Iroh heard and saw the anger in Zuko, but more so…he saw the deep anguish he was covering with it. It was in the stiff way he walked, the ridged way he held himself, and the creases that were in the injured half of his face. Iroh had always been able to tell when the children were in trouble, or when they were hurt. Even with Azula. And now…he saw that Zuko had suddenly plummeted down as far as a human being could go. He was sinking, and fast. Whatever Ozai had said…
Ozai could destroy him, Iroh suddenly thought. He's going mad with the news. Iroh, desperate to do something, anything at all for his disappearing nephew, tried yet again to think of some sort of suggestion.
"I'll go talk to him for you," he said hastily. "Perhaps he was just being rash. You know how terrible his temper is. Maybe I can…"
"There's nothing you can do Uncle," Zuko said. "He's hated me since the day I was born. He says I'm a disgrace, that he wishes he never had a son. He said I sicken him, that he can't stand to look at me. He's sending me far away, so I can't embarrass him anymore, so I can no longer dishonor the royal family."
Iroh's heart twisted and turned. And the pain was so great that even though he was aged, hot tears immediately sprung to his eyes.
"No," he groaned. "No, Zuko! None of those things are true. Not a single one of them. You're a good Prince! You're not a disgrace, you're not an embarrassment! I've watched you grow up! You work hard, you're determined! And you have more honor in your pinky finger than your good for nothing father has in his entire being!"
"Don't talk about father that way!" Zuko suddenly snapped. And his one good eye was wild. His blood pounding through his body from his anxiety and his panic, his wound continued to throb. Lifting a hand, he clutched at his bandage all over again as a grimace overtook his face.
"I…have to go. I have to go pack my things. I have to do as father says. I need to be down by the docks within the hour…"
"The docks?" Iroh asked.
"Yes. The only way I can come home, the only way I can restore my honor is if I capture the Avatar. Father's being gracious enough to lend me a small ship and crew."
It was ludicrous. It was insanity. Iroh no longer had any idea what it was his brother was playing at, but it sounded to him as if he'd sent his son on a wild goose chase. Why? To punish him? Was this all really because Zuko had said one sentence out of turn during a war meeting? If it was…than it was the biggest overreaction the world would ever know. But something told Iroh that this wasn't the case. Instead…he was inclined to agree with what Zuko had said only a moment ago, even though Iroh had strongly objected: Ozai hated Zuko.
Iroh had no idea why, or even how a father could be so wicked, but it seemed to be the only logical conclusion. And that revelation perhaps was the thing that was currently driving the young Prince out of his mind. On some level…Zuko realized the truth. But even so, even though he admitted to Ozai hating him only a second ago, Iroh saw him fighting it tooth and nail. Zuko still defended his father when Iroh spoke ill of him, and he said things like "father is being gracious."
The entire situation was so messed up that Iroh hardly even knew which end the tail was at and which end was the head. All he knew for certain…was that Zuko had been plummeted into a life or death situation. Things weren't quite as bad now that it was revealed he'd have a ship and a crew, but the truth of the matter was that he was still only a thirteen year old boy. And now, suddenly he was to man a ship and go hunt down the mythical Avatar all on his own? And what kind of men would Ozai put on Zuko's ship with him? Were they good men? Or were they all crooked, like Ozai was? If Ozai truly hated Zuko, as seemed to be the case…wouldn't he pick the worst men he could to put on the ship with his banished son?
Suddenly, the idea of Zuko being injured and with no medicine, all alone in the middle of the ocean on a ship full of strange men whose intentions were unclear, was even more terrifying than Uncle's first set of thoughts about his banishment. Zuko could still fall prey to infection, or blindness. But now…he was also subject to whatever type of mentality the rest of his crew would have.
And that was all without all the normal dangers of being on a ship for months on end. Sea sickness, cabin fever, isolation, lack of supplies, starvation, and sea storms were all very real threats. And with the destroyed state of mind Zuko was currently in…Iroh was certain he wouldn't be able to manage it all on his own.
He was hurt. In many more ways than one. And if he didn't take care of himself properly, blindness and infection were the least of Iroh's worries. There was a very real possibility that Zuko's despair could kill him. And after that last thought, Iroh instinctively, and without any hesitation, made a huge, life altering decision.
"Zuko," Iroh said to his nephew as they neared the Prince's room. "I have some things I need to take care of right away, but I'll meet you at the dock before the hour is up. Whatever you do, do not leave without me."
Zuko gazed at his uncle, but before he could ask him any question's Iroh turned and ran back down the hallway in the direction they'd come. With only an hour to prepare, Iroh had to scramble to get ready. He wasn't even thinking about the consequences of his actions, or how furious Ozai might be when he found out what he was doing. Instead, all of his thoughts were of Zuko.
Iroh raced down the palace hallways. He would not be telling his brother that he was going, and he wasn't going to ask for permission either. This was just something that had to be done, and Ozai no longer mattered. The only thing that mattered now…was Zuko.
And so he ran. He ran all the way down to the infirmary. And once there, he burst into the doctor's office.
"Please you have to help us!" he cried. The doctor was immediately out of his chair and on his feet, his eyes wide.
"Why? What's the matter? Has the Prince come back yet?"
"No! And he won't be. Ozai banished him from The Fire Nation."
"What?" But Iroh wasn't about to give the doctor any time to be in shock.
"Please, I only have an hour! We'll be stuck out on a ship in the middle of the ocean with no supplies. I need you to give me whatever it is I'll need to take care of his face and his eye. I need to know what medicine he needs and how much and how to change his bandages. I need to know…everything you know! There's not much time, but please teach me as fast as you can!"
The doctor appeared truly horrified. But after hearing Iroh's explanation, he knew time was of the essence. Immediately, and hastily, he grabbed a quill and pen.
"I'll write it all down for you so you can't forget or mix anything up," he said. "God…he shouldn't even be out of bed. He needs bed rest, and plenty of it. Keep him off his feet." The medic said, a waver coming through his voice.
"You'll have to change his bandages every day in order to keep them clean. I've been doing it every morning. When you're removing the layers you have to be very very careful. The last layer on top of the burn can sometimes stick and if you pull to hard, you can rip the new skin that's trying to form right off.
Once the bandage is off, you'll have to flush and clean the burn. I have some saline solution I can give you. It's sterile. Don't ever use normal water, there's too much bacteria in it and it would do more harm than good. If there's any dead tissue, you should remove it."
Iroh was trying not to become overwhelmed, but the doctor was talking fast as he scribbled on his paper, and the things he was describing were frightening to him. It sounded like…if he messed up…he could really hurt Zuko.
I'm all he has now, he reminded himself. I have to do this. And the doctor's writing it down. I'll just follow the steps on the paper.
"How do I know if the tissue is dead?" Iroh asked worriedly.
"It'll be obvious," the doctor replied. "If the skin is dead…it'll be black and dry, like charcoal. It'll be very easy to peel off. Don't be alarmed if you see new spots of dead tissue every day. The body will try to repair what it can, but if it can't…it'll cut off the blood supply and let the area die. You may see new spots form for a few weeks."
The doctor somehow was able to talk and write at the same time.
"After the burn is clean it's incredibly important that you put the ointment I'm about to give you on it. Be liberal with it. Coat the entire area in a thick layer. We never want a burn to dry out, the skin will start to shrink and crack if it does. If that happens it may never heal and it'll also be excruciatingly painful for the Prince. Also the ointment will keep bacteria from getting in. After all of that, you bandage him back up. I'll show you how in just a moment."
Iroh was scared. He'd been scared plenty of times before in his life. He'd been scared during battle in war. He'd been scared when his father mysteriously died one night and Ozai became Fire Lord immediately after. And he'd been scared when his wife was dying. But this time, it became incredibly obvious that if he messed up…Zuko would be the one to pay. The responsibility of it made for a very different kind of fear.
"I have the Prince on four medications right now," The doctor was saying. "One is an antibiotic, another is for swelling, the third is for pain and the fourth is a sleep aid. I'm going to give you all of them. And I'll give you plenty of ointment and bandages too. I'm not supposed to…and I'm sure Ozai will eventually find out, but…now that I know about this, there's no way I can send my patient off in good conscience without his medications."
Iroh was extremely grateful. And he recognized that the good doctor was risking his life. He hoped to God nothing bad happened to him after they left, but Iroh had seen his brother kill people for less.
The doctor finished writing. Having filled up most of his scroll of parchment, he then rolled it up. Standing, he stepped up to Iroh, holding it out to him.
"Thank you Doctor," Iroh said, his voice thick as he reached out to take the instructions. "And…what about the blindness you warned me about? How do I prevent that?"
The doctor wished he had more time for bedside manners. But as it was…he knew they didn't. He cut right to the chase.
"He may already be blind," he said. "There's no way to know until he's able to open that eye. But as of right now…it's seared shut. I don't know if he'll even be able to open it again at all. It depends on how it heals. But if he is able to open it…I'll give you two more medications. One is an eye drop that'll keep it lubricated in case he can no longer produce tears, the other is an ointment to make sure it doesn't get infected. As soon as that eye opens, you need to put both things into it about three times a day."
Iroh nodded.
"Is…is all of that on this parchment?"
"Yes. I wrote it all down. Now, let me gather your supplies. I know you're in a rush and I still need to teach you how to bandage. Come on, I'll get you a bag."
Zuko stood on the dock feeling everything, yet nothing all at once. He felt incredibly, overwhelmingly angry at the injustice of all he'd recently went through. The fire of it burned and churned within him as furiously as the pain in his face, and it threatened to consume him whole.
He was also feeling an anguish so intense that he was sure he might pass out from the pain. His burn on his eye hurt badly enough, but whatever it was that was happening inside of him was far far worse. He felt raw, empty, and hopeless in a way that was nearly unfathomable. And it was so overwhelming he actually considered death for a moment, if it would only make the pain stop.
He was also terrified. The fear of wandering the seas for God only knew how long, was petrifying. He'd never left the Fire Nation before. And now, suddenly, he was expected to traverse the entire world on a ship he didn't know how to run, maps he didn't know how to navigate, with a crew of men he didn't know, in search of a man who most believed didn't exist. And he was supposed to do all of this with no guidance, while injured.
But despite all of these wild, huge, overwhelming emotions…Zuko also felt nothing at the same time. He felt numb, dead, cold. All of his wild emotions raged, but somehow they swirled all around him as if he were watching them and they weren't really his. His core was untouched, and unmoved. He felt very much like a candle that had been blown out. Nothing was inside. And he had been too traumatized to realize that what he was experiencing was shock. He forgot how to think, how to move, or how to even breathe. He knew his body was doing these things without his say so, or he'd be dead, but he didn't feel it. He wasn't sure if he was able to feel anything.
Desolate, he stared up at the ship in the harbor. It was there, as his father had said, and the crew of total strangers was already on board. The gangplank was at his feet, and he knew he had to board soon. He was the last one left.
Seemingly unable to abandon all hope that his family might care for him, even if just a shred, he once again turned around to face the palace. He'd been doing so for the past half hour. And now…he had only a moment or two before his time was up. As it had been every single time he turned around to look, no one was there waiting for him. His younger sister Azula had not come to see him off. And…neither had his father. And the fact that they wouldn't even come to see him one last time before he vanished from their lives, was just another blow on top of the already too many he'd had. The tiny sliver of hope he'd called up, died, leaving him as cold and as dead as before.
Life, quite suddenly, seemed very silly and meaningless. And suddenly he wondered what the point was at all. Wouldn't it be better not to go through anymore? Wouldn't it be better to stop it all here, before he was made to suffer another moment, another second? With the pain throbbing in his face, Zuko suddenly wished that it would all just end. Maybe…he could find a way so he wouldn't have to board that ship, so he wouldn't be forced to go on a single day more. Maybe…there was a way to make it stop.
"Prince Zuko!" Came the sudden cry. Blinking his only good eye, Zuko was snapped out of his daze. Lifting his head and looking out toward the palace, he saw his Uncle Iroh running toward him. The older man was huffing and puffing, clearly out of shape with his big belly bouncing up and down before him. He also was carrying two huge bags, with several smaller bags piled on top of them, and there were plenty of things jammed into every crevice that Iroh could find. Zuko's golden eye widened with surprise.
"Uncle Iroh?" he questioned. The old general stopped running when he reached his nephew at the foot of the gangplank. Huffing and puffing, he reached out both hands, leaning forward to rest his palms on his knees.
"I…*wheeze*…came…*wheeze*…as fast…*wheeze*…as I could!" But Zuko was still speechless. He stared at his Uncle, and moreover, he stared at his bags.
"What's all of this?" he asked, clearly unable to believe what his eyes were clearly telling him.
"These are my bags!" Iroh claimed. Catching his breath, he stood back up straight to properly face his nephew. And when he did, he offered him a wide, sweeping grin. "I'm coming with you!"
Zuko gaped.
"What?" he asked, clearly in disbelief. "Y…you can't come with me, I've been banished!"
"No nephew of mine is going to traverse the entire ocean by himself!" Iroh said firmly, but with the same warmth and care he'd always shown him before. But despite the kindness of the statement, Zuko still stared.
"Uncle, you can't come!" he said again. "Father would be furious!"
"No he won't, he's the one who asked me to come along." Iroh wasn't even sure where the lie had come from, or why he'd said it at first. But then, as he watched Zuko's face, he knew why he'd so instinctively lied to him. Slowly, like the dawn of a new day, a tiny ray of hope entered the destroyed Prince's eye.
"He did?" he asked. And Iroh's heart almost broke at the mere quality of those two words. "Father…asked you to come with me and watch over me?"
Iroh never let anything that could betray the truth come to his face. Instead, he flashed a bright, warming smile his nephew's way. Reaching out, he clapped him on his shoulder.
"Of course! It'd be crazy to travel the world in hunt of the Avatar all by yourself!" Zuko didn't say anything, but he didn't need to. Iroh took in the sight of the hope on his face as surely as the desert took in water. And it was in that moment that Iroh knew how important it was for Zuko to believe that his father still loved him. Even if it wasn't true, for the time being, the young Prince couldn't find out the truth, even though on some level he already had. If he admitted that his father no longer loved him…it would destroy him. And Iroh already knew how fragile his state of mind was. Zuko couldn't be expected to go through anymore, take any more pain.
Iroh felt it would be very important for Zuko to accept the wretched truth of it later on in his life. If he didn't…he might end up going crawling back to his abusive father. And Iroh, of course, didn't want that for him. Zuko…would need to learn how to grow into his own man and come to the conclusion of such matters on his own. But all of that was for a later date. For now…he was thirteen. He was gravely hurt. He was homeless. And he needed support. And today, that support meant lying to him.
Iroh had no way of knowing it at the time, but it would turn out that he would never reveal the truth of such a secret to his nephew. Instead, it was something he would take to his very grave in order to protect him. For years later, even after Zuko grew into a fine young man and an exceptional leader, Iroh knew the truth would still hurt him. And Iroh could never, would never knowingly cause his beloved nephew pain.
"Uncle," came Zuko's young voice. "What in blazes did you pack? It looks like you have the entire palace in there."
Iroh smiled proudly.
"I packed everything you forgot."
But at that, Zuko only wrinkled his nose in confusion.
"Huh?"
"I packed lots of fruits and vegetables! We don't want to get scurvy on the high seas. I also packed a few musical instruments, including your Tsungi horn! We don't want to get cabin fever. I thought a music night might help solve that. I also brought lots of tea! I have all kinds, some may even help with sea sickness!"
It may have seemed to some, including Zuko, that Iroh was just being silly or ridiculous, but all of the things Iroh mentioned were very real dangers of traversing the ocean. But as a young thirteen year old boy, who had much heavier things on his mind, his Uncle's lightheartedness seemed both trivial and even a little insulting. He groaned, a look of annoyance coming over him.
"Uncle, we have far more pressing matters to worry about than being bored!" he chastised. "Like capturing the Avatar. We should make that our priority over everything else. Now come on, our time is up and I don't want to waste a single moment. I want to come back home as fast as I can."
Zuko turned then and hurried up the gangplank. Iroh stood and watched him, a small smile on his face despite his nephew's harsh words. Iroh knew him well enough to understand that even though he'd just been so sharp, the motivation he was suddenly displaying was far better than what Iroh saw on him when he first started to run out to the docks. Although he'd been far away, Iroh recognized the look of despair. His nephew…had been about to give up on everything from life to himself just before Iroh had called out to him. And so now, Iroh thought he understood how to save his nephew from such dangerous thoughts and from such dark moods.
He needs hope, above all else, Iroh thought to himself. If that means chasing an imaginary Avatar, than that is what I'll help him do. And if that means pretending that Ozai cares for him, then I'll do that too. I'll do it for as long as it's needed. Then…as gently as possible…I'll help him move on from all of this.
"Uncle! Hurry up!" Zuko demanded from half way up the gangplank. And as Iroh looked up at him, a realization suddenly hit, and as it did, a wave of relief washed over him.
Zuko was safe from his father.
For the first time in his life, he would be out of the abusive tyrant's reach. Zuko obviously didn't realize it yet, but Iroh understood then that his nephew was free if he wanted to be. And Ozai couldn't have any power over the young prince unless the prince chose it. Zuko could go anywhere he wanted, do anything he pleased and become any kind of person he chose.
Iroh understood from the very beginning that they didn't have to go capture the Avatar. It was only Zuko's desperation that would force them to do such a thing. Iroh knew it was too early to suggest that they do anything other than what Ozai ordered. Zuko wasn't ready to be cut off from his family, his home. He wasn't ready to admit that his family had abandoned him. But once he was healed enough, and strong enough…
Iroh saw such potential in him in that moment as he stood up on the gangplank hollering down at him, that he almost shined. And suddenly Iroh couldn't wait for the day when Zuko was able to crawl out from underneath the darkness his father had piled on top of him, and realized his own potential and recognized who he really was.
It had only been a second, and perhaps the brightness from the sun that gleamed in behind the prince had something to do with it, but in that moment, Iroh got a glimpse from the future, and saw what kind of man Zuko could grow up to be. And the future Fire Lord held himself with such grace, and such honor, and held so much peace and kindness in him that Iroh marveled. It was a far cry from what Zuko was now, but all the same, Iroh saw it in his suffering nephew.
Iroh had always been convinced, and he knew now more than ever: Zuko was good. And no matter what horrors Ozai had tried to crush him underneath, Iroh knew he had the potential to rise up from underneath it all. All he needed as a little help. All he needed was for someone to believe in him and for someone to show him that he was important and that he was loved.
Iroh suddenly had to smirk at his brother's foolishness. For it became clear that Zuko's banishment, as horrific as Zuko felt it was at the moment, was the best thing that could have ever happened to him.