"Visitors aren't allowed to —"

"Do I look like a visitor to you?"

"But — oh, I'm so sorry, Prince," the man at the counter quakes, his eyes wide in fear. He looks like most guards at prisons do — rather bored, like he's been sitting here for ages. And if Nen was correct and only the royal family is allowed to come down here then it's likely nobody has been here in years. He doubts Azula makes it a priority to go down to the Caldera City Prison and talk with the high security prisoners.

"I'm sure you are. I'm here to see . . . General Iroh?" he speaks with confidence even though he's unsure of the man's title and frankly whether or not he's alive. "Immediately."

If possible he looks even more fearful, his helmet slipping partly off his head as he sloppily gets out of his chair and bows. Kaz would comment on the lack of professionalism like Azula would except he really doesn't care as long as he gets what he needs. Besides, this guy just runs administration. The weight of his crown is heavy on his head.

"General Iroh, sir? Are you sure? He has not has visitors in —"

"Do I look unsure? I want to have a private conversation with General Iroh." Who seems, by the sound of it, to be alive. Thank Agni.

"Sir, the Fire Lord —"

"I've passed this visit by her, not that it matters. Now, are you going to take me or shall I get you fired?"

He almost squeaks before bowing again, righting his helmet and running out the large door on the other side of the room. Kaz sighs and plops himself into the creaky chair across from the table. He's sweating; they're underground and there's no air flowing through this stone prison. His robes are heavy and weigh him down, so he stays as still as possible, trying to reign in his fiery insides.

This lower floor of the prison is much less busy than the others — he'd only seen three guards on his way here, and besides the one manning the desk he thinks there may only be one other one. They all seem weary and bored and not at all like they're fighting, so he's a bit worried that the man is dead or something very close to it. There's no reason for them to be so off-kilter.

Then the guard returns with a solemn face and bows, this time properly, and gestures for him to step up and join him into the prisoner's corridor. So he does, fighting the urge to take off his layers and bare his sweat-soaked skin. The posture these harsh layers enforce isn't the easiest thing to spend days in either. He definitely doesn't get how Azula manages to do this; the Fire Nation has wet heat.

The corridor is dimly lit, just enough so that he can barely make out three or four rickety cells before he's guided through the corner to a last one. His eyebrows narrow as the guard bows once more and leaves.

There's a pudgy old man in the cell, his hair long and graying as his back is on a collection of blankets and cushions against the wall. He's hard to make out, so Kaz holds up a hand and lights up a lamp in the corner. He'd thought Iroh was asleep but he lurches when the flames unleash. "Azula?"

The word doesn't sound broken or raspy, like it's an unused voice. It's rather fine. "Not Azula."

"Ah," and his eyes are open and his face is fully illuminated. Yes, this is an old man, and he'd known that — he would have to be, to have gone to school with Lord Nen. He is definitely old enough to be a grandfather and there are lines carved across his face, some of them from smiling. He's wearing prison robes, blank but not tattered, like they've been replaced in the past few days, and he doesn't look malnourished at all. He almost starts — but he's unlearned most of those physical reactions lately. So Kaz just stares as he sees the man taking him in.

"My guards haven't told me that there's a new prince," he says after a second. "I was unaware of your birth. Why are you here?"

The question isn't searching, seems rather flat, so he responds. He hadn't created a plan for this situation because he doesn't want anything from this man. Does he? He wants to do right by the man who raised his father, maybe, but he doesn't know what that specifically would entail. Maybe he can hear stories about his father from this man. Maybe he can free him. He doesn't quite know Iroh but he's clouded over by respect. "I wanted to meet you."

"I see," he adjusts himself against his sheets, pushing a pillow to his side. The position looks incredibly uncomfortable. The entire situation does. "And your mother is okay with this?"

"My mother — what? Oh. Azula . . . isn't my mother."

Iroh crosses his arms, still well-spoken even if he hasn't left this room in something like two decades. "She isn't? Then why are you the Crown Prince?"

"I —" he doesn't know what to say. "I know you."

"Young man, you seem rather decent and I certainly wasn't expecting this. But I will have to admit that I've never seen you before in my life."

Again, his tone is a strange kind of consoling that settles over him, calms him. He's struggling to talk again, to put himself into words. "No, I know . . . my dad. He used to tell me about you?"

"Well, I'm sure whoever your father is taught you about the Dragon of the West and now you're a little disappointed. I have no regrets, Prince. But tell me, how are you wearing that crown if you are not Azula's child?"

Kaz sits down cross-legged on the floor between the prison bars and the man with the strange glint in his eyes, who doesn't quite look defeated yet. "My father's name is Zuko."

"Zuko?" he's questioned back after a second, and Iroh looks like he's fondly remembering something and also deeply confused. "Ah, your father was named after my nephew, was he not? I miss him dearly."

How does he phrase this? He slides off one of his upper layers and reaches out a hand to the other lamp in the corner, illuminating his face. It'd been dark before, only Iroh's part of the room lit. Then he hears a gasp and some kind of whisper.

Kaz's shoes scoff the dust. "No, my dad's your . . . your nephew."

Another sound, like he's inhaling dust, before Iroh breathes again. "It feels impossible to believe but you look just as he did. Before I lost him. I lost him. He's . . ."

"Dad's not dead," he feels the need to interject even if he's proof of the fact. "My mom and dad. . . they ran away to Ba Sing Se after the war. And they had me and my sister."

A moment of silence encompasses them as Iroh traces his features once again, lingering over his eyes and his crown. "Zuko . . . is in Ba Sing Se."

I'm not sure but I know he's okay, because he's Dad. "Yeah. I . . . he used to tell me stuff about you."

But it seems the man can't take that shock right now. "Zuko is alive. And he has a son. You're Zuko's son."

"Uh, yeah?"

"Come here," he says after the moment, speaking through something like tears. Kaz can't tell in the dark, but he moves on the stone floor until his face is flush against the bars of the prison. It's strange, such a strange instance, but he also feels drawn to the old man. And he knows that the pull won't hurt him. It feels nice to roll with the current. Rough fingers splay across his face as he whispers. "What's your name?"

"Kazou. Kaz."

"Ah," he smiles through the moisture on his cheeks. "And you're Katara's son too, aren't you?"

"How do you know my —"

"There is only one person he could have run with, who he fought with. And you look a lot like your mother, too."

He hasn't ever heard that. It feels sort of warm. He'll always be his mother's son. "Why are you here? Haven't you tried to escape?"

"Why would I try to leave? I had nothing to live for anymore."

"So you were just going to stay here forever? You were going to give up?"

"It's not so bad. I'm forgotten and my guards keep me company. I didn't know anyone was alive. Kazou — Kaz, is it? — I'm an old man and my nephew was all that was important to me. I lost my son in the war and I lost Zuko as it ended."

"Oh."

"So, Kazou. You are the Crown Prince now? Is your father Fire Lord? My guards haven't told me anything." His tone is mild again, curious, but something looms beneath. Why does he feel guilty? He hasn't done much wrong and yet he feels so guilty. The hand drops off his face and reaches out to grasp him. The fingers are worn and strong and yet frail, and Kaz holds them lightly.

"No. Azula is the Fire Lord."

An understanding look crosses his eyes. "And you are here and your father is in Ba Sing Se. You left him."

"I — I had to come here. He shouldn't have left," he tries, unable to shake off the terror he is facing in the man's accepting eyes. His parents had looked terrified of him when he'd left and the people of the palace all fear him. He hates the calm.

"You have Azula's fire. Her focus," his eyebrows twist. "You are a powerful bender."

"She taught me."

"I see." He doesn't sound disappointed, isn't afraid. He's enlightened. Kaz isn't grounded. "Why are you here, Kazou? You are the Crown Prince of this glorious nation. What do you have to do with an old man who's been forgotten?"

"I'm not just a prince," he wants to say and then does. "That's not what — I don't know what I mean. But I'm going to get you out of here."

He has to. He has to get Iroh out of this cell, get this man back to the surface, give him back some of his life. Once again he's angry at his father because if he'd tried to stay alive, if he'd won any fight, then he would be Fire Lord and he would have grown up with Iroh. This man is strong in a prison cell, secretly strong, the kind he doesn't quite know. He takes in a deep breath and continues as Iroh starts scooting back his sheets to the back of the room. "No! Wait — Dad told me, about how you taught him about dragon and tea and firebending from the —"

Kaz can't cite advice he no longer follows and Iroh notices this before sitting back in the corner. "I'm very fine, Kazou. I am friends with the guards and Azula cares nothing for me here. I do not need your help to escape."

"W—what? Did you hear me? I want to get you out. You can find Dad again —"

"Kazou," he sighs. "I am old but still capable. And your job right now is to focus on your story. You have made a mistake, have you not?"

And now he's moving back and to the side until his back is slamming into the wall. "No. I'm — I'm fine —"

"There is great unrest in you. Handle yourself."

"What?"

With one last friendly smile Iroh lies his head back against his cushion, face to the ground. "I'll be sleeping, now. Shuji will let you out."

His eyes close. Kaz stares and sits in silence for another moment because letting out an angry yell, blowing flames into the earth wall. When nothing happens he steps up and starts kicking, letting dust fly everywhere. He turns around but sees Iroh looking peacefully asleep, flipped on his side.

He picks up his outer robes from where they're lying on the ground and snuffs out the lights, stalking back through the corridor. He's about to pass through the door back to the administration table when he yells back into the void. "I'll be back!"

Shuji pops up from where he's relaxing in his seat, standing to attention. Kaz sighs as he looks him over and then reaches down for the coin-purse he's started to carry. He tosses the entire thing to the guard, who catches it with two hands. "Get him a bed and better food. The rest is for your discretion."

"Prince —"

"If you tell anyone I came here I will kill you myself."