Iroh left Zuko's room with a satisfied kind of apprehension. He wasn't happy with the situation - how could he be, when a thirteen-year-old boy was about to be forced into a fight to the death for standing up for his soldiers? But Iroh knew, at least, that the boy was as prepared as he ever would be for the Agni Kai. Iroh gave a wry smile. And when I am the one to teach the boy, even if only for a day, I should think that he will be far beyond 'good enough.'
Iroh's thoughts turned to the boy's bending. He had known something was different about the boy ever since he had come home - seeing him with eyes that had seen the Spirit World. Iroh could see now what he could not see before, but had been passingly mentioned by his mother in their many letters. The energy that was inside of Zuko was a pure, swirling mass at the base of his neck, whereas most people had a thin mist all throughout their bodies. This was worrying to Iroh. He knew what it could mean. It would certainly explain some things. But it also raised many questions. Namely, how in crawling Koh's lair had it happened?
So, as he strode slowly down the halls of the Fire Nation Royal Palace, Iroh was thinking about the coming day and hoping that Zuko would be able to end it quickly and not drag out the General's humiliation for any longer than was necessary. He was half-praying to Agni, half-hoping to himself that if Zuko was what Iroh thought he would not give himself away to save his life, because it would only end in the opposite effect. With these heavy thoughts on his mind, it was no wonder Iroh paused his stately march once in a while to stare out the open walls and into the garden courtyards. It was fall, and the leaves on the trees were beginning to turn an auburn and rust color, like small pieces of dancing flame or burnt earth. Iroh noticed this, and gave a small, sad smile. It was too beautiful of a time to be disrupting the life of his nephew.
His smile turned darker. You will pay for that, brother.
Then, just as he started to turn his gaze away from the peaceful scene in front of him, Iroh caught a flicker of movement in the garden. He stopped, his mind churning through all the possibilities and possible dangers, and he slowly turned and looked again. There, behind the tall tree, Iroh saw his a flash of pink robes - his niece. He wanted to sigh with relief, but reminded himself that danger wasn't necessarily absent when she was present. He quietly took a few more steps down the hall to get a better view of her.
She held two tiny whips of flame in her hands and and expression of furious frustration. "Go!" she told them, snapping her hands. "Come on, you idiotic flame, I want you to move!" The flame only rippled slightly. She let it drop, staring where it had been a moment ago. Then, on impulse, she let flames roar out of her hand and light the grass under her feet ablaze. Her gold eyes flickered in the firelight. She waited until the ground beneath was scorched, then closed her fist and killed the flames.
"How did he do it?" she mumbled to herself. Iroh listened carefully, trying to hear what she was saying. "It has to be easy if he can... so why can't I do it?" She growled. "Alright, dragons, come one."
The girl took a stance again. Realization finally dawned on Iroh. She was trying to do Roku's pets, the form that Ursa had mentioned Zuko once performing. Iroh almost pitied the girl, because he understood. When he had received his sister's letter, he had been disbelieving. If Iroh could not perform the form, then his small and untalented nephew should not be able to either. But Iroh had come to terms with it, because he knew that the katas that Zuko could perform were no blessing if their secrets were discovered.
Iroh was about to walk on when the girl gave a shout of frustration, letting the fire fizzle out again.
"Aaggh!" She yelled. "I hope you kill him, Father. I hope you show him tomorrow!" Angry tears streaked down her face, and she turned to the turtleducks peacefully swimming on the pond and blasted flame at them until there were four small, fluffy reptilian bodies floating upside-down on the peaceful water. The mother came after her with a screech of rage, and the girl kicked her, sending her flying high into the air. She burned the animal before it could turn and fly back to her. Its body fell into the pond with a splash, joining those of its offspring on the surface. Azula smiled under her tears, feeling a little calmer.
What? Iroh snapped to a stop. His niece's violence was shocking, and more than a little disturbing, but what really caught him was the words. Does she mean that Ozai will be the one to fight him?
Iroh thought in silence for a moment, thinking about everything, his agile mind flipping through the possibilities.
That bastard! He thought finally, realizing what his brother had planned and feeling a surge of fatherly protectiveness. He found a loophole, and he's going to use it. Iroh took a deep breath, then span on his heels. He would not allow his nephew to fight a battle he would ultimately lose. Because even if Zuko won, it would only be by revealing his power, and that would be securing his death as surely as if he lost.
As he turned, however, he bumped into a suit of armor. He ignored it, glad that it had not topple over, and stepped around it. To his shock, however, the armor stepped with him. Looking up, Iroh realized that his barrier was not a badly-placed suit of armor, but an even more unwelcome soldier.
"General, sir." The soldier bowed shallowly. "I have orders from Fire Lord Ozai to escort you to dinner immediately."
Iroh tried his best not to glare. "And why did he not send a servant?"
The soldier did not incline his head or give any sign of deference. Instead he looked him in the eye, practically challenging Iroh's honor. "I do not know, General Iroh. All I know is that you are to come with me."
Iroh wrestled with his temper for a long, silent second. He knew perfectly well that his brother had sent a soldier to make sure that he didn't refuse and just walk away. Iroh was sorely tempted to do just that, and let the soldier suffer the consequences of trying to force him into anything, but the boy didn't deserve it - lack of respect or not. "Fine," he finally snapped. "Take me to dinner. But don't you dare think to follow me afterwards. You will regret it."
Iroh could imagine the soldier's hooded eyes widening. "Of course, General. I understand."
Iroh almost smiled, despite his rage with the young Imperial Guard and even more so with his brother. For the first time in the conversation, there was some respect in the title once more.
Zuko was not present at dinner. Iroh couldn't be surprised - he had trained the boy hard and it was late. Zuko had probably had his meal brought to him.
Iroh ate as much as he could stomach under the circumstances - an entire cornish-quail-hen, a bowl of onion-potato soup, and a plate of fruit - and then stood and bowed to his brother. "Fire Lord Ozai, I plead your indulgence. I am not feeling well and think some fresh air would do me some good. May I be excused from your lavish table?"
His brother stared for a moment dispassionately before nodding. In a falsely warm tone, he said, "I am sorry to hear you are feeling unwell, brother. We will miss your presence."
Iroh caught the nearly silent disagreeing grunts from the men around him and smiled slightly. Good, he thought. If they stay here, then I might have a chance. "Thank you, My Lord."
As he walked out of the doors of the huge dining hall, Iroh heard footsteps behind him, echoing his own. He didn't look back, knowing it would alert his follower, and instead kept walking down the hall. The white stone was gleaming in the pale moonlight, and Iroh could see his way perfectly. He stopped for several minutes to stare into nothingness, breathing deeply. Hopefully, his little shadow was only making sure that he was getting fresh air, and would leave as soon as he was under that impression.
Iroh was not so lucky.
With a sigh, Iroh kept walking, avoided the turn that would lead him to his nephew's chambers and continuing to his own. He slipped inside and closed the door behind him, putting his ear against the wood. The footsteps had stopped outside his door and appeared to be waiting - or guarding. Iroh smiled, latched the door, and went over to the wall carvings on the opposite side of the room. In one of the small rectangles, there was a pitch-black square. Iroh pressed his hand against the hole and puffed a tiny flame into its depths. The wall slid aside silently, revealing another hallway perpendicular to the main one. Iroh, grinning, strode out of his room and headed off to Zuko's, his tail remaining spectacularly clueless.
Iroh reached the room quickly and tried the handle. It was locked. Sighing, Iroh knocked.
"Prince Zuko," he whispered. "It is me."
He listened carefully for a response. The next second, he heard it. A long, shallow snore.
Iroh sighed again, and turned the corner of the hallway to the adjacent side of his nephew's room. He lifted a tapestry to discover, to his shock, that the door was unhidden. He didn't pause to think on it long, and instead pushed it open on well-oiled hinges. He tiptoed to Zuko's bedside and shook his small shoulder. "Prince Zuko," he whispered urgently.
The boy sat bolt upright and reached for the dagger resting on his nightstand, sweeping a wide arc with the blade. Iroh leapt out of the bleary-eyed prince's reach. "Zuko!" he snapped. "There is no need for that."
Zuko looked at him and seemed to shake himself awake. Recognition dawned in his eyes.
"Uncle? What are you doing h-"
"You're being set up," Iroh cut over him. He didn't want to waste time. "We need to get you out of here, now."
"I don't know what you're talking about." Zuko said, surprisingly coolly. "And no, I don't think I'll leave."
Iroh was taken aback. He was speechless for a long second, until he stepped back up to his nephew's side. "It does not matter if you know what I am talking about, Prince Zuko, because I do. Now come with me, please."
Zuko shook his head. "This scene is familiar..." he muttered to himself, his voice still hoarse with sleepiness. Iroh had no clue what he meant. Then the boy looked up at him again. "Go away, Uncle. I need sleep for tomorrow."
Iroh's temper flared. "Zuko, you don't understand. Your father is-"
"What about my father?" Zuko asked sharply.
Iroh looked into Zuko's gold eyes, curious and angry, and found that he didn't have the heart to tell him. "Your father wants you to get out of the castle before the Agni Kai tomorrow," Iroh improvised quickly.
"No, he doesn't." Zuko said with a sad certainty. "He's probably hoping that I die in it. It would solve all his problems," he added bitterly.
Iroh ignored the thought that Zuko was most likely right and grabbed his arm. "Don't talk like that about your father," he said. "It is disrespectful. Your father loves you, and wants to see you safe. Now come." He pulled the boy as he said the last two words.
Zuko finally complied, letting himself be dragged out of bed. Iroh let go of his arm and propelled him towards the chest at the end of his bed. "Get out travelling clothes," he commanded him. "And shoes. Bring your knife as wel-"
There came a knock at the door. Iroh and Zuko froze and stared at each other. Then they both made a step towards the door.
"Go back to bed, Prince Zuko," Iroh hissed.
Zuko shook his head. "Nobody knows you're here. Hide over there and I'll answer whoever it is."
Iroh hesitated, opening his mouth to argue, but he knew that Zuko was right. If anyone found out that the person sent to follow him was guarding an empty room, there would be consequences for Iroh. He nodded, and stood in the shadowed corner that Zuko had pointed to. "Zuko," he said, "don't let them in. Speak with them if you must, but keep it short."
Zuko nodded, his face solemn. He took a deep breath, seeming to steel his nerves, then walked to the door and unlocked it. He twisted the handle gently, and pulled it open. Iroh watched as the expression on his face changed, and he knew who it was before he heard the all-too-familiar silky voice.
"Hello, Prince Zuko," Ozai purred.
"Father," Zuko choked out. He bowed low. "What do you need, my Lord?"
"Who were you talking to?" he asked smoothly.
"Talking?" Zuko said, with barely a pause. "Must have been sleep-talk."
"Really?" Ozai said, the skepticism obvious in his voice. "Won't you let me in, Zuko?"
Zuko stared at where Iroh supposed was Ozai's face as steadily as the young boy could. He bowed again. "I'm sorry, Father. I was sleeping. I'm afraid that I am very tired, and I was resting for the match tomorrow."
"I see," the Fire Lord said, sounding slightly annoyed. "Well, Prince Zuko... I will see you tomorrow, then. I hope you are well rested." Iroh could practically see the sneer on his brother's face.
"Thank you, Father." Zuko bowed once more as Iroh heard Ozai's footsteps retreat down the hall, and then the boy closed the door. He took a deep breath, and then walked to his bed and sat on the edge, shaking a little. Iroh went up to him.
"That was very brave of you, Prince Zuko," he said, laying a hand on his shoulder.
"I thought you always said it was dishonest to lie to your father," the boy said.
"I suppose this was an exception," Iroh told him gently.
"You only say that because you lied to me."
Iroh started. "What?"
"You said that my Father wanted me to get out. Why would he come and tell me that he would see me tomorrow, rested up for the Agni Kai, if he didn't want me to be there?" Zuko stared at his hands for a distraction.
Iroh cursed Ozai silently. "Alright, Prince Zuko, but when I mentioned your father earlier I was trying to tell yo-"
"I don't want any more lies," they boy told him bitterly. "In fact, I was telling Father the truth - which is more than you did for me. I was sleeping, and I will need that sleep for tomorrow. Now if you would leave me to it, Uncle," Zuko laid down and pulled the covers over his body, "I would greatly appreciate it." His stiff, formal language made it seem like he was addressing Ozai - a tone Iroh had never expected to be directed at him.
He couldn't think of anything to say. Finally, he sighed. "I just wanted to warn you..."
Zuko glared at him. Iroh raised an eyebrow, his temper finally getting the better of him. "I suppose one such as you needs no warnings," he said. "Goodnight then, Prince Zuko."
Despite his hot words, Iroh left Zuko's room with a heavy heart. Nothing was simple anymore.
Fanfare played as Zuko strode out onto the field. His heart was racing, and as he heard the cheers of the people gathered in the stand he didn't do anything more than turn and nod his head. Besides, he told himself, they were only here to watch a good fight. Whether he won or lost meant nothing to them.
Except for one. Zuko searched the crowd, fighting a growing sense of panic. Where was he? Then he caught his Uncle's face, his eyes wide with fear, and his skin a strange grayish color. Zuko held his eyes for a long second, pouring all of his regret for his hot words the last night into that look. If he died, after all, he wouldn't want them to be his last. Iroh seemed to understand. He nodded and gave him a half smile that Zuko guessed was supposed to be comforting.
Sitting next to his Uncle was his sister. Almost hesitantly, Zuko met her eyes as well. He had expected the same sort of fear for him that he had seen in Iroh's eyes, but Azula's seemed to be strangely light, the gold shimmering and dancing. She raised a thin eyebrow at him, and curled one side of her lip. Zuko could practically hear her high, singsong voice taunting him, I know something you don't!
Discomforted, he looked for one more face. Where was his father?
After seconds of searching, he took a deep breath. It didn't matter. Zuko was going to win, no matter what, and his father would hear about it one way or another. He took another deep breath to calm himself and knelt down on the dusty compacted earth of the arena, facing the direction he had entered.
Fanfare played as the General stepped onto the field. He heard stifled gasps from the stands, and Zuko knew that they were probably shocked at who the Crown Prince would be going up against. Perhaps they were surprised that the match would not be as good a one as they hoped. Zuko smiled secretly.
Focus. A voice from deep within him welled up. You must flow between your movements, as fluidly as a dragon flying through crystalline skies.
The image of a dragon was encouraging to the boy. It was certainly better than his tutor's words reverberating through his head whenever he used the special style, saying that he looked like a waterbender. A dragon was strong, and brave, and most importantly, never lost.
A gong sounded. Zuko took one last breath as he stood and turned in one fluid movement, letting the decorative stole across his shoulders flutter to the ground at the movement. At first, all he saw was the blur as his opponent did the same. Then he recognized the face staring across at him with a dark smile, and his legs gave out.
"No, Prince Zuko!" Iroh cried. "You're only chance is to fight him!"
But to his horror, Iroh's young nephew pushed his strong young arms against the ground to brace himself, his head bowed. "Please, Father, I only had the Fire Nation's best interest at heart! I'm sorry I spoke out of turn!" He wouldn't look at the towering figure's eyes.
"Look at the weakling," the man next to him muttered, and Iroh turned to see the new Captain Zhao staring at the scene before him with relish. Iroh was at a loss for words at the man's grin. He turned back to Zuko numbly.
"Come now, nephew, stand and fight!" he muttered under his breath.
"You will fight for your honor," Ozai growled, advancing on his son, oddly echoing Iroh.
"For Agni's sake, boy, do what he says!" Came the distressed voice of a woman behind him. Iroh didn't turn to see who it was – he couldn't look away, even as Zuko lowered himself further.
"I meant you no disrespect. I am your loyal son!"
"Rise and fight, Prince Zuko," the Fire Lord ordered, without a scrap of mercy in his voice.
There was a moment of silence when Iroh's hope swelled, thinking that just maybe, Zuko might do as his father demanded. Then, he heard his nephew croak, "I won't fight you."
Iroh watched in horror as the expression on Ozai's face changed from contempt to grim happiness. "Then you will learn respect, and suffering will be your teacher."
He took a step back, lighting his fists with flame. Zuko looked up at the movement. Iroh looked away, wishing with every fiber of his being to jump up and save the boy. But Iroh knew well what the consequences for that action would be. The people would only interpret it as a fight for the crown, and Iroh would not have that. Much as he wanted to protect Zuko, if what he said about acting for the Fire Nation was true, he would understand.
Iroh tried to convince himself of this as he listened to the inhuman scream.
Zuko felt the sudden heat as his father lit flames on his fists. Zuko looked up, hoping that he was hallucinating the sense, to see that Ozai had stepped back and was in his stance, one fist pointed straight at his face. The flames were already moving towards him. Zuko knew he had no chance of moving out of their way.
Then, an odd force within him took over, tugging him to the side. Zuko threw himself out of the way, but he still wasn't quick enough. He felt as the fire connected with the side of his face, feeling as though he had been struck with lightning. He saw bright flashes of lights dance before his eyes and felt unbearable pain as the flames stuck to his eyebrows and smoldered.
He heard someone screaming, vaguely recognizing the voice as his own.
Then it was over.
Iroh made himself stay in his seat until the shrieking ended. But the moment it died away, he ignored the sobs and shocked silence of the others in the crowd and vaulted himself over the bar separating the arena from the stands. He made to pick up his nephew, but involuntarily took a step back at the sight of the crumpled body lying at his brother's feet.
Oh, Agni, oh, sweet Tui and La….His nephew was dead. He knew it. No one could survive that kind of a burn. Crawling Koh, it covered half the boy's face!
But no, he was alive; Iroh felt it, like a tiny heartbeat. The small, pulsing energy that was Zuko's spirit. But there was something wrong, he could tell. The mass of chi at the base of his neck seemed weaker, its rhythm feeble.
Iroh redoubled his step, reaching Zuko's tiny form in a few steps. He paused, giving his brother a hard look. Ozai took a step back, a flicker of fear in his eyes. Iroh glared at him for another second, voicing the warning in his eyes.
If he does not survive, neither will you.
Then he ignored Ozai, squatting to gently lift Zuko into his arms. He didn't look at anyone as he strode out of the arena, hurrying to the palace infirmary. He meant the threat, and not just towards the Fire Lord. It applied to anyone who tried to stop him from saving his nephew.
The infirmary had been prepared for one or the other of the fighters - though, so had the funeral burners. When the nurses saw who it was been carried in Iroh's arms, they tutted quietly, ushering him to a bed.
"Lay him here," one told him, her usually soft eyes turning hard with determination. "Gently now, there you are..." After Iroh had delicately lowered Zuko onto the cot, he found himself pushed into a chair by the girl's small hands. "Stay here," she ordered, and hurried away. Iroh couldn't think of doing anything else; a sensation of numbness was sinking into his limbs and his mind.
He shook himself awake. The nurses were capable of taking care of Zuko's physical needs, if they could be taken care of. He had matters of the spirit to look after. Iroh looked to make sure that the nurses were out of the room before leaning over the small body laid out on the bed. He pressed the fingertips of one hand on the boy's forehead, the other on his chest. Then, Iroh closed his eyes, taking a deep breath.
Open.
The doors to Zuko's spirit swung open, admitting Iroh into the most vulnerable place in any human. Iroh was startled to see a man in the blank blackness, dressed in the old Imperial style, with the fire crown pressed into his graying topknot. Iroh recognized the face instantly.
"Avatar Roku."
"General Iroh."
They regarded each other for a long second. Iroh noticed that Roku seemed to be fading, growing more and more transparent by the second. "Going somewhere, are you?"
Roku smoothly avoided the question. "It's been a long time, Iroh. I must say, you don't seem terribly surprised."
"Ursa was always a good guesser," he responded wryly. "But that's not the point. My nephew needs your strength."
"And as much as I desire to stay and give it, I cannot," Roku told him, sounding genuinely sorry. "Iroh, you don't understand. What you witnessed was not merely a flesh-and-blood wounding. And what you see here, is fast becoming nothing more than a memory. The Prince's father used alma tulekahju - Soulfire."
"Impossible," Iroh scoffed. "Only those that have been to the spirit world know that technique."
Roku inclined his head. There was a pause.
"What?" Iroh spluttered. "He hasn't..." Then he realized. Roku had managed to get him off topic again. He would think on this new information later. "But... but you can't be saying that Zuko's soul is actually-"
"Torn apart," Roku finished, nodding mournfully. He was practically invisible, like a whisp of mist or steam in the darkness. "Pieces are missing, but he may live. Unfortunately, one such piece was his spiritual center, where the Avatars make their home. I must leave now, Iroh, and I'm afraid that as long as the boy's soul is missing, I can neither come back, nor should I. No mõistatus has ever nor will ever make a suitable Avatar. I'm sorry, Iroh. I hope the boy lives, for both of your sakes." He smiled sadly. "Wish me luck."
"What?" Iroh asked hopelessly.
"Kyoshi," Roku muttered. With that, his small light flickered out, leaving the disgraced General Iroh standing alone in his nephew's spirit, very confused.
He awoke to the sensation of weight on his left side, yet an odd sort of emptiness. There were bandages pressed against his eye, but deep inside, it was like a hole had been torn through him. He felt very alone, and in so much pain that he didn't want to move.
"Are you awake, Zuko?" a quiet, strained voice asked him. Zuko tried to open his eyes, instead finding that they wouldn't move. "Don't worry yourself over that," Uncle's voice said, sounding despondent. "They will open eventually. I'm just glad you're alive."
"I feel like... like a herd of komodo-rhinos ran over me."
"I'm sure you do," Iroh said, sounding unusually unsympathetic.
"... Where am I?"
"The infirmary," Iroh replied heavily.
"How long?" Zuko whispered.
"A few days."
"And... I can leave soon?" Zuko wasn't sure if he wanted to leave. He couldn't imagine being blind, walking around the palace. He didn't think he wanted to be awake when every second was such excruciating pain. But he had to ask - it seemed like a manly thing to do.
"Unfortunately, yes. We will be leaving soon." Something in his tone put Zuko on edge.
"We, Uncle?" Zuko suddenly stiffened. "You didn't fight him, did you?" You can't be hurt...
"No, Prince Zuko," Iroh sighed. Zuko let out the breath he had been holding in relief. "I say 'we' because... well, I have bad news for you, nephew."
Zuko grimaced. "More?"
"I'm sorry to have to tell you this now, but I have no choice." Even despite his apparent resolve, Iroh faltered over the words for a moment. "You have been banished."
Zuko had thought that he couldn't feel anything more painful than what he was currently experiencing - his whole head ached, and his neck was having shooting pains originating from it's base for some odd reason - but this was different. It was like someone had punched him hard in the gut, or slipped a knife between his ribs.
It was several long seconds before he could manage to talk. "Why?" He asked, but he already knew. If he couldn't kill his useless son honorably, Ozai would have to send him as far away as possible.
"He says that your refusal to fight was dishonorable, and as such, you are unworthy to be known as his heir." Iroh sounded coldly furious. "He has sent you on a mission to capture the Avatar."
"What?" Zuko gasped. He was thirteen - how did his father expect him to capture a master bender that had eluded the entire Fire Nation for a century?
"Don't worry too much about that, Prince Zuko," Iroh said, his voice changing into something slightly like smugness. "You will find him, I am certain of it. After all, your honor is very important to you." Zuko felt a light touch on his arm. "And, you'll have me with you."
"Thank you, Uncle," Zuko whispered, his hand reaching up to probe at the bandage around his eye. "How long until...?"
"A few days for the right one," Iroh answered briskly. "The left will take longer. You will have to ask the nurse for the exact time. Now I'm sorry, Prince Zuko, but I have things that I need to attend to." Zuko heard the scraping of a chair on tile as Iroh stood. "We will leave in two days, my nephew. I will come and visit you again."
As Zuko listened to the retreating footsteps, he sank into his pillow, feeling lost and very alone - and he had the oddest feeling that it wasn't because his Uncle had left him and his father forsaken him.
Zuko's right eye was open as they walked down the street towards the port - and Iroh made sure that he stayed on this side, where his nephew could see him. His left was still heavily bandaged, but the young Prince held his head high as he walked, not afraid to meet anyone's eyes as he strode towards his ship. Well, ex-Prince, Iroh reminded himself.
Zuko insisted on inspecting his ship, then he asked Iroh to call the crew on board. As they were assembling, Zuko leaned over without taking his eyes off them, and asked quietly, "Do they know about the terms of this trip?"
Iroh almost sighed. Zuko had been brave, and had accepted his banishment with Princely dignity. But he also had an air of Princely detachment, his tone constantly chilly. Iroh stopped himself in time. Zuko was entitled to any coping mechanism he wished, after what he had been through. "No, they have not been told. All they know is what we are searching for."
Zuko nodded. "Good." He took a step forward and addressed the crew. "I am the commander of this ship," he told them, his eyes scrolling down the line as he looked at each of them in turn. "And as such, I expect no problems out of any of you. If you think I don't know some of your records, you're wrong. If you think you can get away with any unruly actions, you're dead wrong. Do I make myself clear?"
Iroh had to hand it to the boy - first few minutes on the ship, and already preventing problems. Even if he did it with the typical teenage lack of tact.
"Good," Zuko said briskly. "I'm glad we have that understood. We depart in ten minutes. Dismissed." With that, he stalked away to the edge of the ship, gripping the railing so hard that his knuckles turned white. Iroh walked over to join him.
"Prince Zuko," he said, laying a hand on his shoulder. "You dealt with that very maturely."
"Do you think I seemed intimidating for someone with a bandage over half their face?" he asked bitterly.
Iroh tried to laugh. "You were very formidable, my nephew. Tell me, is there something you would like to see, before we go? Somewhere in the capital?" He didn't voice the unspoken words, You won't ever see them again.
Zuko half turned towards him. "See?" He laughed darkly. "Not, I don't want to see anything."
As Zuko turned to lock himself into his cabin, he hesitated. He raised one hand to someone on the dock, and then left, stalking below deck. Iroh looked out to see who it was he had waved to. He was surprised to see Azula standing on the end of the dock, hands clasped behind her back, a small smile on her face.
When Iroh met her eyes, the smile widened. She looked smugly victorious. He hesitantly raised a hand to her, as Zuko had done. She just nodded and turned around, striding to the end of the dock where the palaquin was waiting for her.
Iroh, disconcerted, went to join Zuko in his room. He wanted to be with him when they left the Fire Nation's shores for the last time.
A/N: Some explanations:
alma = soul, in Galicain
tulekahju = fire, in Estonian
mõistatus = puzzle, in Estonian (which I chose because they are like puzzles with peices missing)
Okay. So the basic idea is that Ozai used an ancient technique known as Soulfire, which is fire that is not as physically scarring as some fire (think about it, Zuko should have died) but scars the soul of its target. It looks like normal fire, though, so witnesses can't tell the difference. So it literally rips pieces off of the soul and attaches them to objects, people, and sometimes spirits nearby. The piece of Zuko's soul that was home to the Avatars was torn off, but Roku managed to make it attach to him.
Iroh has been to the spirit world, and therefore he can see spirits (remember, he saw Roku and Aang's spirits on the day of the first eclipse). He can see the concentration of chi in people, and he could see that Zuko's was definately not normal. He also thinks that the OWL aided Ursa in her escape, but he has no proof, and whatever he doesn't know for sure bothers him, so he's very uncomfortable with her disappearance.
And I have heard that Azula apparently aided Zuko in getting his ship and crew, but I haven't seen any proof of this. In II, Ozai wanted to make Zuko's journey as miserable as possible, so he hired delinquents for his crew members. Iroh found out, though, and decided to hire his own "captain," Lieutenant Jee, who is hinted to have served under Iroh when the General wasn't retired.
So. There you are. Please, please, please review!
