Home.
The subject was complicated for him.
He was the Dragon of the West, and with that title came a plethora of implications.
He was General Iroh, former heir to the Dragon Throne, a successful campaigner for the Fire Nation until his essential forfeit at the siege of Ba Sing Se. The country had placed great hopes in him to hasten the end of the war, a war which had drained it of vitality, polluted its lands, and prevented many brave men and women from returning home.
Not that he'd seen it that way at first of course – he'd sought out glory and the fruition of his grandfather's vision for a world ruled and provided for by the Fire Nation.
Regardless, Iroh had shattered his people's dreams of soon being at peace following the other nations' conquest. Furthering his disgrace, he'd spent an extended period away from home in the aftermath of his failure, painting a picture of cowardice and shame when he had really undergone a journey of self-discovery.
Iroh understood that he would receive a mixed welcome upon returning to his country. Some would scoff at his abandoning the battlefield in the wake of a single loss, while others would sympathize despite their disappointment. That didn't particularly matter though. There was one thing, one person, whose future was of the utmost concern to Iroh.
His nephew, Prince Zuko. A boy whom he knew to yearn for a father's love and had suffered for years without receiving it. A boy who could never come into his own while being constantly compared to his prodigious sister.
Iroh knew Zuko had the potential to be a wonderful Prince, an excellent Fire Lord in the future, and most importantly, the herald of true peace in this world.
Convincing him of this, however, would be a battle like the old general had never faced.
Iroh's scruffy brows furrowed as he gazed at the horizon from the front of his ship. Charcoal-gray clouds rolled across the sky and a faint mildew smell permeated the air.
A storm was coming.
oooo
Zuko stood at the pier, anticipation coursing through him as the wind ruffled his clothes. His uncle was returning home today and he could scarcely wait to greet the man. How many years had it been?
The night was approaching, and the sun's descent in the sky painted the clouds in a mixture of dark oranges and blood reds. The sight would be ominous if Zuko's attention was not focused elsewhere. Soon enough, a moving speck became visible on the horizon, smoke billowing up from it as it approached the coast. It grew gradually larger and Zuko could make out a figure standing at the bow, robes billowing out from his body.
Uncle.
Uncle Iroh made his way off the bow and down into the reaches of the ship to prepare for landing. It seemed to take ages for the ship's front ramp to descend with a hiss of steam upon docking, which frustrated Zuko to no end. Finally, after staring into the darkness of the now-open ship, a party of guards descended the ramp and Zuko could make out his uncle clearly in the center.
He's changed.
Iroh had visibly aged from the last time Zuko had seen him. The old general's hair was thinner, grayer, his paunch larger, and his eyes more tired. Still, there remained a kind twinkling in them that reassured the prince that the man he'd known hadn't been destroyed by the trials of war.
The guards surrounding Iroh dispersed and Zuko finally locked eyes with his uncle. Iroh smiled as he began to walk toward the young boy.
"My Prince." he said as he embraced Zuko.
"I've been away far too long."
oooo
Iroh's formal reception at the royal palace had been…stilted.
The procession following Zuko and Iroh to its gates had been somewhat muted, and upon arriving there, the welcoming party had been brusque if not outright unpleasant.
Azula and Ozai had soon appeared, with the former offering a quick, customary hug while the latter had requested a meeting alone. Zuko hadn't been entirely surprised. It was only natural for two brothers who had spent years apart to want a private conversation.
The prince had retired to his room for some time when he heard a knock on his door.
"May I come in?" his uncle's voice sounded.
Zuko opened the door to see Iroh smiling at him.
"I thought we might talk after all this time."
He motioned to the meditation mat lying beside the window and the two sat down.
"How have you been, Prince Zuko?"
Zuko looked down at his hands, twiddling his thumbs and contemplating what to say. How had he been? He'd endured his mother's disappearance, an excruciating period filled with Azula's torturing and his father's coldness, and more recently, a tense conversation with the Fire Lord about his new abilities.
"Things have been hard, Uncle."
Iroh's face looked worn.
"I'm sorry that I've been away for so long."
The prince's face took on an alarmed expression.
"Why should you be sorry? Uncle, you had responsibilities! And then Lu–"
His face fell.
"I'm sorry."
Uncle held up a hand, shaking his head.
"Much of my absence following Lu Ten's death could have been avoided, Zuko. I had the resources to complete the journey I underwent from home. After leaving Ba Sing Se, I had responsibilities here that I ignored, you being foremost among them."
Iroh placed a hand on Zuko's shoulders and the silence grew between them. The prince's eyes shone with tears as he studied the floor intently, a myriad of feelings flitting inside him.
Am I that important to Uncle?
His uncle had always treated him kindly, but his long absences had prevented him from truly building a relationship with the general. Zuko didn't actually know him that well, and from his experiences with Ozai, he hadn't gained an understanding of how a proper father figure should behave toward his progeny.
"Your father and I had a discussion about you." Iroh said.
Zuko's head shot up, jaw dropping slightly.
Taking his nephew's surprise as a sign to continue, Iroh began again.
"He told me about the sudden growth of your firebending, and more importantly, the reason behind it."
The boy turned away, unease growing in his stomach. Was uncle displeased?
Zuko felt a slide thump on his shoulder and spun back around to the old man, who was grinning.
"You're far cleverer than people give you credit for, Zuko!" he boomed. A shaky grin made its way onto Zuko's face.
"Tomorrow morning, I want you to show me what you can do. Your father has put me in charge of your training for the foreseeable future, and I intend to make the most of it!"
Truly excited now, Zuko nodded eagerly, a grin making its way onto his face.
oooo
The next morning, Zuko made his way to the atrium that led toward the exit into the training yard. Uncle Iroh had told him to head there as soon as possible after the sunrise, when nearly all firebenders would wake.
Iroh had stood before him expectantly, arms folded within his robes as seemed to be his custom. Right when Zuko came within reach, he smirked.
"Let's get right to work."
Immediately after entering the yard, Zuko felt the sweltering heat hit him like a wave.
It feels like this at this hour?!
He felt the need to strip off the tunic he'd worn to the meeting. Iroh refrained.
I have no idea how he's managing.
Turning to face his uncle, he placed his hands on his hips in anticipation.
"So, what are we starting with?" he queried jubilantly.
"Excited to begin, are we Prince Zuko?" Iroh chuckled. "I want to see how you meditate."
A tad disappointed, Zuko plopped to the floor. Closing his eyes, he focused on the feelings he was now accustomed to drawing on and began to breathe. He channeled the energy toward his hands and soon enough, a flame erupted in his palms. Developing a steady rhythm of inhales and exhales, the fire waxed and waned in time. Having done this countless times, Zuko added more fuel to his creation and felt tongues of heat licking at his face as the flame flared up higher than he'd ever allowed. Still, the rhythm continued. Zuko was maintaining control, and he was proud.
"Zuko."
A voice took the prince out of his reverie. Opening his golden eyes, he focused on the grayed figure before him. A pleased expression marked the man's face.
"You've just shown exemplary control. Now, I want to see what else you're capable of."
Zuko shot to his feet, feeling extra energized after his recent experience.
"I'm ready!"
oooo
Iroh had distanced himself from the prince, an obvious precaution to avoid the boy's bending.
Zuko stood across from him, bare-chested and breathing deeply in preparation for his "performance." Widening his stance and raising his arms, he began.
He sprang forward and unleashed a large flare into the air with both hands. Zuko shot tiny spurts of fire to his sides before falling back into a handspring, shooting up before bringing his foot crashing to the ground in a flaming arc. A small series of cracks spread out in the soil surrounding the scorched patch of his impact.
Spinning as he rose to his feet, Zuko brought his hands to the fore. Since discovering his new abilities, the prince had experimented with the fluid, wave-like method of manipulating fire that he'd found to feel oddly intuitive and comforting.
He began to swirl his arms around him and twist his flames in sharp arcs around his body. Continually stepping forward, he allowed them to fly up and down his form while occasionally snapping the fire out with accompanying sharp cracks. Taking a final turn, he flung the entirety of the burning whip into the packed dirt, creating a deep, black score in it.
Heaving, Zuko dropped his shoulders and looked expectantly at his uncle.
oooo
Iroh had met his fair share of talented firebenders. He was aware that his nephew wasn't one.
This was counterintuitive of course. Zuko was descended from a long line of exceptional benders and no one had expected him to be any different. Nonetheless, he'd displayed little inclination toward producing flames as a young child and had even been suspected of being a nonbender.
When Iroh heard from his brother that Zuko had bested Azula in a match, albeit by surprising her and nullifying her ability to bend, the old general had been shocked. What had happened to the impotent little boy he'd last seen? Ozai's explanation for the boy's growth had provided some insight, but this recent demonstration was still startling.
The control Zuko had exhibited over the large flame he'd held in his palms while meditating was impressive in its own right, but the precision he'd illustrated later was even more so. The prince's steps hadn't caught as he'd sent streams of rich, golden fire shooting through the air and he displayed great physical strength by breaking the ground beneath him with his kick. Zuko's most shocking trick, however, had been the way he'd manipulated his flames toward the end of the sequence. He had swirled it around him like water intuitively, in a way few but himself had ever attempted to.
Iroh had only thought to wield his fire like that after taking inspiration from the Water Tribes' forms, but it seemed Zuko was more inventive than him.
At the start of his journey home, the general had been prepared to work with Zuko relentlessly to bring his basics up to par, an endeavor which may have taken years given the boy's level at the time. Now, Iroh would need to accelerate his training.
The situation provided unique opportunities.
Iroh was setting out to restabilize the peace of the world. That world would need a strong Fire Lord, a Fire Lord who understood and appreciated what the other nations had to offer. If Zuko had already set himself on the path to gaining this characteristic by unwittingly adopting their bending styles, Iroh would take advantage.
It was time to start teaching the prince about the other nations.
oooo
Zuko shifted from a ready stance into a more relaxed pose, still looking at his uncle, waiting for some kind of acknowledgment. The old man had a thoughtful expression on his face like he'd just seen something that had opened the doors to a thousand possibilities. The prince quirked his brow.
"Uncle…?"
Iroh seemed to snap out of his thoughts and smiled.
"It seems that we have much to discuss, Zuko."
He beckoned the prince toward him before turning around swiftly and heading back into the palace interior. Iroh led him into the atrium, through a series of corridors, and up a few flights of stairs to another mahogany-colored door, similar to the one Ozai had led him to days earlier. Opening the door, Iroh waved Zuko inside.
Compared to the study Ozai had shown him, Zuko felt that this room was positively homely. It must have been located near the exterior of one of the palace spires, because the right wall was made up of intricately-carved woodwork that exposed the room to the open air, allowing bright sunlight in. Nevertheless, it was simple, containing only a meditation mat and candles, a canopy bed, and a large dresser along with a door that presumably led to a washroom.
These must be Uncle's quarters.
Iroh rummaged through one of the dresser's drawers and produced a series of scrolls before jauntily making his way back to the entrance. Zuko hastily followed after him and realized that they were heading right back to the training yard.
It didn't take long to reach there. The sun had begun to beat down at this point and sweat soon beaded on Zuko's forehead. Once more, Iroh motioned for the boy to sit. The general walked a distance to the nearest tree and scoured the ground for a bit before finding a sizable twig and heading back over. Standing over the prince, he smiled.
"What made you think to bend your flames that way, Zuko?"
The boy's expression turned quizzical. He hadn't thought his final display was anything special, but Iroh seemed to have taken special note of it.
Well…
"After I…learned…from the dragons and changed my bending, I sometimes got this feeling about moving my fire differently." He paused for a moment. "It's almost intuitive now to swirl my flames around sometimes instead of always blasting them about."
Iroh scratched his beard, a thoughtful scrunch in his eyebrows.
"While I'm uncertain about the why, Prince Zuko, this has allowed me to impart some special knowledge to you."
Excitement began to shine in the boy's eyes. Could he progress even faster in his training now?
Taking this as a sign to continue, Iroh dipped the twig toward the floor and began writing. As he scribbled in the dirt, he started to speak.
"Fire is the element of power. The people of the Fire Nation have desire and will and the energy and drive to achieve what they want."
The Fire Nation's crest materialized in one of the square boxes Iroh had drawn in the dirt.
"Earth is the element of substance. The people of the Earth Kingdom are diverse and strong. They are persistent and enduring. Air is the element of freedom. The Air Nomads detached themselves from worldly concerns and found peace and freedom. Water is the element of change. The people of the Water Tribes are capable of adapting to many things. They have a sense of community and love that holds them together through anything."
At the end of his monologue, the general had drawn the symbols commonly used to represent each nation, each within its own small square within a larger box. Staring at it disconcertedly, Zuko turned his head up to his uncle.
"Uncle, why are you telling me these things?"
Iroh smiled a little.
"It is important to draw wisdom from many different places. If you take it from only one place, it becomes rigid and stale. In your case, however, this lesson serves another purpose. You've shown a unique ability in firebending, one I haven't encountered before. Nonetheless, it should be capitalized upon, and that is why I shared what I did with you."
Zuko reached up and scratched his head.
"Uncle, I'm still confused…"
The grayed man patted his nephew on the head and turned to the collection of scrolls he'd brought. Picking up a grayish-looking one with blue trim, his gaze returned to Zuko.
"I'm going to teach you some waterbending!"
Zuko's jaw dropped and he fell back on his palms.
"But Uncle! I'm not a waterbender!"
Iroh's laugh boomed.
"Of course you aren't, Zuko, but you've just shown you can bend your fire similarly to how they bend water. Why not adapt some of their techniques?"
Apprehension still colored the boy's face.
"Father says there's no use learning from the other nations, that they're inferior and need our intervention to advance and flourish."
Iroh remained silent for a time, contemplating how to answer Zuko's question politically. He couldn't voice his true feelings on the war to the boy, still so attached to his father and the man's ideals, so he'd need to paint a different picture.
"Zuko, if you understand how your enemy fights, how they think, you can better match them in combat. You won't have to learn their strengths and weaknesses because you'll already be familiar with them, and you'll have an element of surprise by using their own techniques against them."
Some of the fear faded from Zuko's face.
"Alright."
Motioning for Zuko to stand, Iroh unfurled the scroll and moved a distance away.
"Then," he said, "let's begin."
oooo
Zuko dragged himself through the halls toward his bedroom, chafing in his sweat-soaked tunic and trousers.
He'd imagined that Iroh would still be his normal, kindly self even when training, but that was not the case. The man was a taskmaster and had drilled Zuko relentlessly, offering praise but also criticism when necessary to adjust technique.
The session began with Iroh showing him a portion of the scroll detailing basic waterbending sequences, the pictures depicting a man whipping water out in long, wide sweeps. Zuko had been enthusiastic about starting, maybe even overconfident, feeling his improvised forms would make the transition into "real" waterbending easy.
They hadn't.
The prince had previously only swirled his flames around in short, albeit precise, arcs. Iroh had told him that he needed to extend his reach, forcing them further out while retaining enough control to maintain their shape and steer their direction. Zuko wasn't used to this – he was still mostly used to just firing flames in jets, and the amount of control required to manipulate his fire at a distance was immense. He'd had to extend his awareness, the flow of his chi, out meters in front of him while being mindful of his shifting stances and breath.
Iroh had worked him until the sun began to set, an orange haze settling on the training yard. Zuko's initial attempts had been pitiful, his fire "whips" dissipating into flickers, but some progress was made toward the end of the session. He'd wielded wobbly spindles of fire at a range, but exhaustion soon set in, forcing a halt.
"You've done well, Zuko." Iroh had said at the end, a hand on his shoulder, and the prince glowed.
Despite his physical discomfort at the moment, Zuko was still satisfied as he approached the door to his room. Entering, he quickly changed his attire and sat on his bed, eager to shut his eyes and rest.
It seemed, however, that rest wouldn't be his for some time yet.
A scuffling and knock on the door frame shocked Zuko out of his lull, and his eyes shifted to the entrance. In the dull red light illuminating the doorway, a diminutive figure could be made out leaning on the frame, arms crossed, a pensive expression on her face.
Inwardly, Zuko groaned.
"What is it, Azula?"
Azula remained quiet but stepped softly into the room, arms still crossed. For once, a relaxed aura of superiority didn't surround her. She seemed muted, but regardless, Zuko was on alert.
Azula's eyes narrowed.
"So, you've finally found a way to worm yourself into Father's favor."
Zuko balked in confusion.
"What are you talking about, Azula?"
Azula's brows crinkled in anger. "That stunt you pulled when we sparred in the garden, Zuzu!"
The prince's own temper reared its head now.
"I found a way? You agreed to a friendly match! I had no idea you'd attack me like that, and I definitely didn't know Father would be there."
His sister looked mildly abashed, even a little demure at that moment.
"Still, you made a fool out of me….and Father…he saw."
The prince's eyes softened, and so did his tone.
"Azula…"
"I don't need your pity!" she snarled, a furious glint now in her eyes as she pulled back, almost as though the kindness in his voice had burned her. "Father knows I'm the best and I intend to keep it that way!"
"You think I'd try to pity you after everything?" Zuko exclaimed angrily. "You've made my life miserable lately – I have no reason to!"
He huffed and his eyes shifted toward the floor.
"It's just…I understand okay. I know what it's like to feel…frightened, confused about what Father thinks and how he feels about me, you, everything."
Azula seemed to deflate a little but the resentment on her face lingered.
"I'm not going to let you win, Zuko."
Zuko scoffed bitterly, running a hand through his hair.
"That wasn't the plan, Azula. I'm just tired of being treated like garbage around here."
The princess' expression remained stony as she began to turn away and leave the room. As she stepped through the doorway though, Zuko's voice halted her.
"You know there was a time before all of this when we were friends. Maybe something more, brother and sister, for real."
Azula didn't turn back to see her brother's face, but the fact she'd stopped told him that he'd shaken her some. Her small fist clenched a little before she swept fully out of the room, leaving a ripple through the air behind her.
Sighing, Zuko's gaze wandered back to the bed.
Sleep was definitely not coming to him tonight.
oooo
Azula had made her way to her own quarters hastily, breathing heavily.
What's wrong with me?
She wasn't at all used to feeling so unsettled around Zuko. He was weak and predictable –he shouldn't have been able to confound her and leave her questioning her decisions.
Why had he said that about them being friends?
Head in her hands, Azula reminisced about their childhood, images of them running circles around the garden and clashing with wooden sabers floating through her mind. It wasn't like she couldn't acknowledge that their relationship had been different once – she was only nine, and those times weren't so far in the past.
Still, she didn't care, right? It wasn't like those memories, those feelings, meant anything in the face of the fact that she'd ended up becoming stronger and deserved to exercise her superiority.
Right?
An unwelcome picture of her mother's smiling reaction to her and Zuko playing flashed before her eyes and Azula started with a gasp. She stood before her bed, staring at the wall blankly, and noted with muted surprise that a tear was running down her cheek.
Her expression hardened and she wiped the tear away. Zuko was not going to make her weak like this.
It was true that her brother had grown, but that didn't mean that she couldn't as well. Her instructors had begun the process of teaching her a new technique, one that would push her to a level beyond Zuko.
Beginning wasn't enough though. She would need to accelerate her timetable.
oooo
Zuko was distracted at training the next day.
Iroh had watched as the boy attempted wielding his whips the same as yesterday without nearly as much success, frustration overtaking him as they flared uncontrollably, flickered out, or moved in random directions.
The prince's face was a strange dichotomy. His mouth and brows curled in distaste at his performance, but his eyes remained glazed and distant. It was clear that the session would be useless without some intervention.
"Zuko, something is bothering you."
Zuko stopped and looked at his uncle with resignation.
Of course the old man had noticed. There was no use trying to get around that now.
"I spoke to Azula last night."
Iroh hadn't been expecting that at all.
"And? What did she say?"
His eyes looked suddenly downcast.
"She was upset about what happened at the match, the one Father saw. She thought I was trying to belittle her and said she wouldn't let me win."
Zuko didn't quite feel the need to reveal his final words to Azula and her reaction to them.
Regardless, a seed of concern had been planted in Iroh's heart. Over years of infrequent correspondence with his brother and their recent conversation, the general had developed a decent impression of his niece's progress in firebending. He knew she was on the verge of a breakthrough, and if the ferocity with which she'd attacked Zuko was any sign, the boy was in real danger if she had gained additional resolve to win.
"We'll stop with this technique for now, Zuko. There's something else I'd like to teach you."
Relieved at the respite, Zuko watched him intently.
"The technique I'm about to show you, I developed after studying the waterbenders. It's a way to redirect energy by allowing it to flow across the chi pathways in your body, in one way and out the other."
Iroh moved into a wide stance and began a motion, drawing his fingertips across the wrist of one outstretched arm, following down his shoulder and toward his abdomen, and then back up the other way.
"You must be careful when attempting this technique. Allowing any outside energy to pass through your heart could have disastrous consequences, and you must remember that you are not in control of what you have allowed in. You are only giving it direction."
Under the general's direction, Zuko began to follow along with the motion, breathing deeply and allowing himself to feel the flow of his chi along the path Iroh described. It wasn't tiring in a traditional sense, and he fell into a half-conscious rhythm while performing the motion. Eventually, his uncle called a stop and Zuko dropped his stance.
Peering at the old man, the prince tilted his head.
"Uncle, why did you decide to teach me this? What's it really for?"
Iroh looked at him sadly.
"If Azula has resolved to defeat you, I fear for what she may try to throw your way, Zuko. I want you to be able to protect yourself."
Feeling a tendril of fear curl in his gut, Zuko said nothing.