Hi. I am so sorry that it took like...two weeks to get this chapter up. I really don't have any excuse, I'm just lazy lately. Hopefully the next one won't take as long. And thank you so much for all of the replies to last chapter! I hardly expected one, let alone five! Enjoy! (hopefully)

Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender or any of it's characters.


Iroh strode back down the hallway in the direction from which he had come, intent on finding Ozai before he retired to bed. The passages were quiet now, as many of the palace's inhabitants had already gone to sleep. As he walked down the tapestry strewn corridors, all he could hear was the steady click of his shoes on the marble tile. The noise was both comforting and nerve-racking. He was glad that he might be able to discuss his problem with his brother in near privacy, but he couldn't help but feel utterly alone, as if he were the only one in the whole building at the moment.

After a few minutes, he reached the entrance to the dining hall. A pair of elaborately carved metal doors stood before him, depicting twin dragons forever caught in a lethal dance. Both serpentine creatures had large glittering rubies for eyes. But the strange beauty was lost on Iroh as he was far too occupied at the moment. Hesitating for only a moment, he pushed open the doors and slipped inside.

It was as he had expected. Lord Ozai, along with several other men, sat at the dinner table sipping red wine placidly in between their near ceaseless conversations. Some had graying hair and some looked to be in their early thirties, but all of them shared the same power hungry aura. Iroh vaguely wondered if, perhaps, that was one of Ozai's requirements when selecting the higher-ups.

Noticing his older brother, Ozai offered him a seat and Iroh took it, also accepting the glass of crimson liquid that a servant poured him with thanks. Not really aware of what was being said or particularly caring, Iroh let his mind wander as he waited for the rest of the group to leave. It wasn't that he was afraid of his brother, it was just that he was afraid of what the younger firebender might do to Zuko, if, somehow, Iroh managed to upset him. Long ago, Ozai had discovered that the easiest way to get through to his older brother was through his son, and he had taken to punishing the boy for everything his uncle did.

Iroh fervently hoped that it wouldn't come to that. To avoid unfavorable consequences, however, he would need to word his complaint tactfully and in an inoffensive manner, both difficult tasks in the Fire Lord's presence. He would need some time to plan it out, and, for once, he was glad the others were taking their time in leaving.


Zuko lay awake on his bed eyes fixed on the ceiling, as he pondered over the day's events. So much had happened, it seemed almost a decade since he had last lain in bed like this. Was his father really going to go through with the arranged marriage? Or would Iroh be able to stop him? He vehemently hoped he would. It wasn't that he wanted to go against his father. No. He loved his father with all his heart and would never enjoy disobeying him. Never.

It was more the fact that he didn't want to get married. Well, that wasn't completely true. He had planned on being wed in the future, of course, as he would need to obtain a Fire Lady once he became Fire Lord, if he were to produce any heirs. But not this soon. He wanted to enjoy the little bit of childhood he had left. The thoughtful days spent beside the pond, the enlightening hours spent reading in the library, the comfortable nights spent playing Pai Sho with his uncle while they talked about anything that came to mind. Zuko had always taken those things for granted, and now that they were about to be taken away from him, he realized how much he would miss them.

All he could do now, though, was wish for the best and have faith that Iroh would get through to Ozai, that he would somehow be able to stop the arranged marriage. He just had to trust in Iroh. He had never failed him before.

Gradually, he felt his consciousness growing foggier as the clutches of sleep ensnared him. The thoughts of the past and hopes for the future were replaced by a deep, dreamless sleep. And for the remainder of the night, the prince slept soundly, lost from the worries of the mortal world.


The moment Iroh had been awaiting had finally come. One by one, the assemblage was slowly diminishing as the members left the dining hall in favor of their beds. Ozai bid his adieu to each one of them politely, though Iroh could see the falseness behind his actions. His brother never did put emotion into anything, simply choosing to fake sadness or joy whenever it felt appropriate. There was always a reason behind it.

Five people remained in the room; then four, then three, and finally two. Ozai stood as if to leave, as Iroh wasn't taking the initiative. He was halfway out of the room, before Iroh called him back. "May I have a word with you, Ozai?" Iroh requested calmly, remaining seated at the table, though his insides were swirling with apprehension.

Ozai, quirking an eyebrow, returned to his seat, eyeing his elder with skepticism. The brothers never really fought outright anymore, tending to avoid each other instead, keeping a minimum to their arguments and their differences buried where they needn't be found or addressed. But now those differences were resurfacing in the face of a new dilemma that couldn't be left untouched. "What is it, brother?" questioned the younger snidely, brushing a few strands of dark hair from his face. Iroh watched the actions, feeling slightly envious. Ozai, though he was already in his early-forties, looked as if he were not a day over twenty, while Iroh, nearing his fifties did not belie his age.

"It's about the arranged marriage," began Iroh, watching his little brother for a reaction. Ozai gave none, simply gazing back expectantly with those sharp, cunning eyes. "I was wondering if you would reconsider. Perhaps postpone it a few years."

Ozai didn't bide his time in replying. "Why?" he countered, as soon as his brother had finished, his facial sentiments never differing from apathy. His eyes, however, seemed to grow a darker gold as he continued, though it may have just been a trick of the light. "He will be of marrying age in a few weeks time. The sooner we get this over with the better. It's not as if he would ever find love…who could ever love such a weakling?"

Iroh tried valiantly to keep from frying his dear little brother there and then, knowing that it would not turn out well in the end for either of them. But the scornful tone used by Ozai struck a sensitive nerve somewhere inside him, and he couldn't help but flare with sudden rage. His mind worked quickly, trying desperately to come up with something civil to say. "Will a few years make that much of a difference? I'm asking you, as family, to do what's best for the boy. Please, just allow him a few more years."

Ozai frowned, elegantly curved eyebrows slanting downwards minutely. He knew where his brother was coming from, but he didn't want to listen to his advice, nor did he particularly care what happened to the brat. If an early marriage would cause grief for his eldest, then so be it. The whelp deserved to suffer. "What's best for him? What's best for him is to learn to do what he's told, and not question the orders of his superiors. The marriage will continue, end of discussion."

"But-" Iroh started, trying to get in a word edgeways before his brother left. But it was not to be.

"This conversation, is closed," Ozai spat, eyes flashing, as he got to his feet, long crimson robes billowing around him as he did so. He had barely taken a step in the direction of the door when Iroh spoke up again.

"Listen, Ozai-" Iroh stood as well, prepared to give his little brother a piece of his mind before he could get away. The junior whipped around, silky raven hair fanning about him with the movement, as he glared at his elder, perfect features displaying an expression of utmost loathing.

"The arranged marriage is still on period. I will hear no more on the subject." The Fire Lord was angry now, seething both inwardly and outwardly, and had it not been such a serious matter, Iroh would have been hard put not to laugh, as his brother rarely lost his composure. But this was serious.

Ozai made to take his leave, candlelight glittering off his attire's golden embroidery as he swiftly headed towards the door. Iroh, in a desperate last attempt, seized his little brother's wrist, holding it firmly to prevent the younger from leaving.

A look of shock passed over the junior's face, though within instants, it turned to rage. "Let go of me." His tone was acid, a burning, dangerous voice, hate and disgust fused with every syllable. But Iroh didn't release him. Instead he tightened his grip as his little brother tried to pull away, apparently feeling the ache as his bones strained under the pressure. Though Iroh may not have as much political power as Ozai, he was certainly stronger, and the Fire Lord, while be a powerful bender, did not have the brute strength to fight his older brother's grasp.

However, Iroh's recklessness had caused a momentary lapse in judgement, and he failed to anticipate what happened next. One minute the skin on his brother's wrist was rather cool for that of a firebender, but the next, it was searing hot, enough so, that Iroh gave a startled yelp and let go. Using Iroh's disadvantage against him, Ozai made his get away, storming out of the dining hall and down the corridor to his bedroom. Even if Iroh had followed him, the end of his brother's cloak would have disappeared around the corner before he even left the room. Ozai had won this round.

Sighing, Iroh gathered some ice from one of the left over glasses, and applied it to his burnt hand. Of all the outcomes he had expected, this had not been one of them. He had expected his little brother to remain calm and sincerely say "I'll consider it" before leaving. And perhaps a drop of his most concentrated sarcasm wouldn't have gone awry in those superficial parting words either. However, the outcome had resulted in a much less friendly resolution of the issue, though perhaps a far too decisive one as well. It was strange behavior on the Fire Lord's account, as he had never been one to make rash decisions, always deliberating thoroughly, before acting. But Ozai always had been unpredictable.


Zuko awoke the next morning to the sunlight streaming in through the windows of his bedroom, shrouding the whole of his room in liquid gold. Ever since childhood, he had never been prone to sleeping late, as the early hours were often the most peaceful and enjoyable time of the day. And everyday, despite the drawn curtains, the light would manage to creep its way into the room, as if the curtains were not there at all. Even if he had wanted to, how could he sleep with such light shining in his face?

Disentangling himself from his crimson sheets, he got to his feet, stretching languidly. He stood in the center of his room, blinking for a few moments, before washing his face in the basin and dressing in his daytime attire. Today he was feeling unusually lazy, and all he had mind to do at the moment was return to bed, though that was an odd desire to say the least. Not in his memory had he ever once wanted to go back to sleep after awakening, apart from those times in the middle of the night, when nightmares haunted his dreams.

Still, he pulled his covers into place—a habit he picked up from his mother, as she had never felt it right that the servants should have to do what you could easily do yourself—and slipped out into the hallway. He had had the intention of sneaking down to the kitchens to get a bite of breakfast, as it was still too early for the rest of the palace to be up for an organized meal. However, the person he saw on the way swept that idea completely from his mind.

Iroh stood just outside his door, an apprehensive look on his face. Immediately, Zuko grew wary. His uncle was rarely bothered by anything, a fact he knew well from personal experience, so the expression of unease was strange in and of itself. Add to that the fact that Iroh, since he retired, very seldom awoke before noon, let alone at daybreak, and you could only reach one possible conclusion. Something was the matter, and Zuko wasn't sure if he wanted to find out. If it was enough to perturb his uncle, then it was definitely something terrible. But, his inner curiosity got the better of him, and he asked the question, the words sounding oddly far off as he voiced them, as if he were standing far off somewhere, listening rather than speaking, "Uncle, what is it?"

Gazing at his nephew, Iroh hesitated. He knew he should just get it over with, just tell the boy what had happened and be done with it, but some part of him desperately wanted to keep last nights events to himself. The boy already had enough troubles, despite the problems this revelation would cause. However, as if not of his own accord, the words began to pour from his mouth. "Your father refuses to do anything about the arranged marriage. In three months time, you will be getting married, though to whom, I'm afraid I don't know."

Zuko's heart plummeted as he gaped open-mouthed at his elder. He could feel his pulse quickening, his mind going blank with that sinking feeling of hopelessness. All last night, no matter how much the doubt was there, he had managed to convince himself that Iroh would be able to handle this, that his uncle would be able to do something. And now he felt as if he were in a haze. If the previous words had seemed far away, these only felt farther. They fell upon his ears, unheard, though their meaning somehow managed to worm their way into the young prince's brain.

Yet, strangely enough, he didn't feel the usual wave of anger coming up to drown him in its depths. The rage at the extreme injustice of this all did not come. He simply stood there, at a loss for words, his stomach falling gradually to the floor. All hope of getting out of this thing was now lost. From this point on, there was no way to avoid it.

Politely excusing himself, he made his way towards the garden, all thoughts of breakfast gone from his mind. He needed to think, and the kitchens would be no good for that.


The pond was quiet and secluded as usual, a great relief to the prince. He didn't want to talk to anybody right now.

His uncle had failed him. The few hours before he fell asleep last night, he had held belief in his uncle, past that of any he had ever felt before. Iroh had always succeeded, he had always triumphed. He had always come out on top, in Zuko's mind, at least. But this time, the time when he most needed his uncle's help, it hadn't come. Destiny was playing a sick, cruel joke on him, and he hated it. He didn't blame his uncle, though. No. He blamed whatever twisted fates had sentenced this upon him when his life already held enough confusion and grief.

It just seemed so unfair that he should have to marry at such a young age. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad. Perhaps the girl would be nice and polite and friendly. Mayhap they would become good friends and it would be more like a friendship than anything else.

But that wouldn't matter. Of course he would prefer the previously mentioned type of girl to some stuck-up snob, but it wouldn't change much. It would still take away some of the only freedom he would have left in the times to come. And that, more than anything else was why he despised the idea.

The quacking of the turtle-ducks soon reached his ears, and he sighed, smiling slightly as the ducks began to tug at his sleeve, asking for food. "I'm sorry," the prince whispered, stroking one of the creatures softly, the mother. "I don't have anything for you right now. Maybe later." Giving him a disgusted look, the turtle-duck mother led her ducklings back to their spot behind the reeds. The firebender sadly watched them go.

Zuko hardly noticed when an arm snaked itself around his shoulders, its owner plopping down beside him. He vaguely registered the fact that it was his uncle, and remained silent, gaze fixed on the spot where the ducks had disappeared. It was only when his uncle spoke, did he pay attention, "I know this is hard for you, but if it makes you feel any better, you're not alone. I went through the same thing, as did your mother and father. Azula will mostly likely endure the same fate as well."

Zuko, hearing the last bit, couldn't help but brighten, if only minutely. Azula deserved any ill fortune that came her way. The little brat had always been father's favorite, had always had her every wish granted. If she had asked for Zuko to be dead, he surely would have been by now. He was only alive, because she hadn't. She enjoyed torturing him far too much to want him dead.

It was only after these thoughts ran their length that his brain began to mull over the previous sentences. So Iroh had been married? Zuko had assumed as much, since he did, afterall, have a son. Or had a son, he added as an afterthought, a twinge going through his heart. He had always liked his older cousin. Lu Ten had been like a brother to him, and his admiration for the boy had run deep. It had hurt him profoundly when he heard news of his cousin's death, but not nearly as much as his mother's disappearance had. So his mother and father were joined in an arranged marriage? Although it didn't really surprise him all that much, he still found the revelation rather interesting. Before now, he had never considered that possibility, but there it was, laid out before him.

Iroh remained silent while his nephew pondered this new information, gazing around at the blooming flowers absently. Several water lilies floated on the pond, both pink and purple in color, contrasting sharply with the turquoise mirror beneath them. Roses, tulips, daises, and all other manner of flowers surrounded the pond and framed the perimeter of the garden. Blues, whites, yellows, pinks, reds, and a good deal of green, accompanied by all the other colors of the rainbow, were visible.

After a bit, Zuko did something he wouldn't have normally done. He hugged his uncle, wrapping his thin arms tightly around as much of his elder's considerable girth as he could manage. "Thank you so much," he whispered, as Iroh embraced the boy, easily encasing him. Comfortingly, he ran a hand along the boy's back, soothing him, as he could hear the unshed tears in the prince's voice. But Zuko didn't cry, simply remaining in the embrace for a few moments longer, before pulling away, dry-eyed.

"You're welcome," the older firebender returned, smiling, as he got to his feet, holding out his hand to his young charge. Zuko gladly took it, and Iroh grinned. "Now let's see about some breakfast."


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