And he is not one of us

He has never been one of us

He is not part of us, not our kind

Someone once lied to us, now we're not so blind

For we knew he would do what he's done

And we know that he'll never be one of us

---The Lion King II "One of Us"

Good lyrics to think about when reading this story. All right, here comes a pretty depressing chapter. All good things must come to an end and that includes Iroh's happiness. Warning for death and drunkenness. Also, another warning for cruelty to cute people and annoying future admirals. In honor of DragonJadefire, a new character is mentioned. Thanks to Sarah for beta-reading it! All right, this chapter is depressing on so many levels and I am not too sure about the ending. Well, read and review, tell me what you think. I made up the myth, hope it's not too bad. I know the title is from Evenescence, I just liked it instead of "One of Us" which I plan to use later.

Everybody's Fool

Iroh had always prided himself on one thing. Once he made up his mind, it could not be changed. So why was he still holding Prince Zuko in his arms instead of weaning the child away from him? He kept reminding himself that he was a warrior, not some woman. Yet, he could not help enjoying this fragile little boy!

Zuko went hysterical around anyone else, screaming in terror and trying to hide the moment someone approached him. He had set two guard's uniforms on fire in his sheer panic. Yet safe in Iroh's arm, the little boy chattered happily about everything and anything that came into his mind. Iroh smiled at the questions the little boy lisped. How wonderful to see the world through such clear, untainted eyes! Things that Iroh had long taken for granted such as the sky and the sea threw Zuko into fits of smiles and giggles.

"Boidy," Zuko had cried in joy when he had seen the white seagulls flapping high above his head. He flapped his arms, trying to imitate its flight. Even hard-weathered sailors smiled at the little boy's antics. Each night, Iroh would feel Zuko's warm little body cuddled up against him and Iroh could pretend it was Ozai, needing comfort after a bad dream. Iroh had tried to delay the voyage home as long as possible but finally, he and the crew had to get home. The fantasy had to end.

"Play with Pwin Zuko!" Zuko ordered, as he toddled over, pointing a sweet hand to the prisoner sitting in a corner of the ship. Ichiro's hands were still manacled, but there was a peace in his bearing. Iroh knew he was looking forward to seeing his family again. Iroh was going back to a luxurious palace and yet, he envied Ichiro's exile with those he loved. Iroh was going to return to being alone. Ichiro was a lucky boy, in his own way.

The boy looked at the floor. "I'm sorry for the way they treated you, young master. My father just wanted to make sure you'd be grateful to us and see us as your new family," he muttered, obviously aware that his apologies were falling on young ears that could not possibly understand.

"Why tied up? Unka, help nice boy!" Zuko said, his face not comprehending what was going on. Iroh melted at the sight of those beautiful golden eyes of his nephew. He tried to remind himself that his own children also had golden eyes and were most likely just as adorable. Iroh did not care about those children at all. Yet, in his heart, he could not believe any child was as sweet and perfect as his little nephew was. "Unka! Need help! No tie him up!" Zuko repeated. Ichiro's face reddened and he turned away, staring out at the water.

Iroh sighed, as he picked up his nephew and placed him on his shoulders. It was a cloudy day, which mirrored Iroh's mood. Today was the day that they returned, the day Iroh would have to return Zuko to his real father. He could see the outline of the coast off in the distance. They would be back at the port soon! He wished he could delay a day more!

"Pwin Zuko big!" Zuko crowed, overjoyed at his new lofty perch. Iroh chuckled. He supposed that to a toddler, Iroh could be tall and all people were good. "Unka? Why sky blue?" Zuko enquired, completely forgetting about Ichiro with the ease that only children could.

"Well, there is an interesting story about that. Once the sky was red like the sun! Yet when the Sun God Agni saw the beautiful blue ocean Sedna, he asked her to marry him. However, Sedna refused to live in the red sky. Therefore, Agni painted the sky blue to give her a place to live. Overjoyed, Sedna agreed to marry Agni. Yet, every time they would approach each other, Agni would make Sedna turn to steam or Sedna would put out Agni's flames. Agni went as far down as he could and Sedna reached up as far as she could, and there forms the horizon, where the sea and the sky meet. Unfortunately, they could never reach far enough and that is why you can never touch the horizon," Iroh explained, recalling the stories he had read as a child. He would tell Ozai these stories on long journeys.

"Why sky not blue now?" Zuko enquired. "Agni sad?" His voice looked so concerned with that thought, as if it was his personal responsibility to cheer up Agni.

Iroh laughed heartily. He had not laughed in years and yet, Zuko's innocence made him feel light-hearted again. "No, Agni is very happy. On days that rain, the clouds lift Sedna up to Agni. The rain is the water that falls from Sedna's cloak as she rises up to meet her husband. At the end of the visit, Agni makes a beautiful rainbow so Sedna can walk back again," Iroh explained. Although fire coursed through his veins, he appreciated the beautiful rain as what feed the soil of his country. It was a shame the elements had to war when symbiosis was so much more pleasant.

They would be at shore within a few moments. Iroh could see the sailors begin their preparation to dock. He wanted to yell an order to stop, that he wanted to steal this child and take him home. That was the problem with dreams; eventually one had to wake up.

Young Corporal Zhao was waiting on the port, his face grinning madly. He waved at the sailors, alerting them of his wish to board. Iroh's teeth gritted at the sight of that boy. Zhao was a reminder of what was lacking in the Fire Nation. Iroh had once held high hopes that the insolence could be trained out of that audacious little brat.

When Zhao had been twelve, he had been apprenticed to the great Admiral Jong-Jong, a worthy Firebender who Iroh deeply respected. Jong-Jong had tried to instill discipline, moderation and humility into his pupil. He did not care that Zhao was a direct descendant of Fire-Lord Souzhen, or that his indulgent father was the Chamberlain. He was determined to extract the good inside and make a man out of Zhao. Iroh had often seen the two together, Jong-Jong haranguing his pupil into grueling activities designed to teach the boy how to become a true master of Fire bending and Zhao protesting of boredom.

The two were so different. All Zhao wanted to do was incinerate the enemy and gain power. Jong-Jong had tried to teach his protégé to harness that relentless ambition and pride into something an honorable man could be proud of. Jong-Jong had loved Zhao like a son, seeing such potential in him despite the flaws. Yet Zhao cared only for himself.

An intelligent man like Jong-Jong should have known some people were rotten to the core. There had been some small changes, but after three years, Zhao had given up the training and broken his master's heart. Jong-Jong had never recovered from the loss of his protégé and it was said his sanity was slowly slipping away. The last person Iroh wanted to see was that impertinent boy.

Before Iroh could counter-command and prevent more annoyances added to his day, the uniform clad boy was tossed a rope. Swinging aboard with a graceful leap, the brat boarded the ship. Walking about as if he owned the ship, he made his way over to the front porch. "Greetings General Iroh. So glad to see the prince safe and sound. Hello, Ichiro. Hope you had a nice trip?" he grinned savagely.

Ichiro gulped. "What do you want, Zhao?" he hissed, hatred filling his face. The meek scholar finally looked martial now. The two families had been rivals for years and the sons hated each other. It was almost a tradition, although one that had tried to be broken.

"What kind of welcome is that? And after I personally came here to make sure you saw your welcome home banner. Look at the Northern Gate, if you dare," Zhao sneered, pointing gracefully with one hand.

Iroh and Ichiro both looked up, gasping at the gory sight. Six heads had been mounted on pikes, bloody staining the wood. Even despite the decay, it was possible to make out the faces of Baron Nihonbashi, his wife Reiko and their four children! He went from severed head to head, remembering each person. Nihonbashi was overly ambitious but he was not a bad person. Iroh had spent many fine days at their estate, speaking to his cousin.

Reiko had been a gracious hostess who had never interfered in her husband's affairs. A traditional Fire Nation Lady who spent her time helping orphan girls marry, Reiko had been beloved by the people of her husband's province. She had been punished for something she most likely knew nothing about.

The heads of Reiko and Nihonbashi's beloved children were nailed next to them. Pretty Keiko who had just been betrothed to Zhao himself in an effort to end the blood feud. She had only been twelve when she died, a spirited girl full of promise. What agonies had she been subjected to before her death, in front of her grinning fiancé?

Little Miki had been nine; she was always smiling when Iroh would come over for dinner. In death, her smile had been extinguished. She would never beg for a story again.

Takuya had only been seven! He had been the cheerful little brother every older sibling needed. He had been as brave and feisty as Ichiro had been grave and quiet. Yet, the two had been inoperable. He had seen how close the two brothers had been. Iroh knew the pain of losing a brother and his heart went out to Ichiro.

Iroh could not even look at the last head. The youngest daughter Shika had been three years old when she had been killed! Her tiny head mocked the gods themselves. She had been a baby, what spirit had possessed Ozai to kill a helpless toddler? Iroh burned with fury. He had given Nihonbashi his personal protection!

Zuko cried out in terror at the sight. "UNKA!" he screamed. Within a second, Iroh had swept him off his shoulders and pressed his nephew's face into his robe. He could feel Zuko beginning to cry. As he rubbed the child's back soothingly, he could hear Zhao still talking.

"And you're next. So sorry you missed seeing your sisters and mother raped, but I will be happy to fill you in on all the details. Your father and brother screamed a lot through their torture. I wonder what will happen to you?" Zhao simpered, clearly relishing his rival's pain.

Ichiro turned as white as a sheet. His limbs were shaking as he stared at the bloody sight. "Ichiro, I…" Iroh began. What could he say? He had done the right thing but at such a heavy price. Zuko was safe but what of Ichiro, who was completely innocent? Why had Ozai broken Iroh's commands? What kind of question was that? Iroh had been a fool to think his word enough to protect the family.

"You lied to us! You lied! You told us we would be protected! Their blood is on your head, you monster. This is why my father wanted to end this bloody, insane regime! You are all freaks of nature, feeding on your own family's flesh like animals! May Agni's curse be upon you all! May the spirits of my poor, innocent sisters and brothers haunt you and your brother forever! May you know the pain that I have!" Ichiro sobbed, his voice cracking with pain. His knees gave out from under him as he cried, pounding the floor in frustration. "Mother, Father, I am so sorry! I failed you"

"I'll teach you to blasphemy in front of General Iroh, you little traitor!" Zhao snapped. He ignited fireballs on his outstretched hand. "I'll send you to your parents. The Fire-Lord will reward me for killing a conspirator!"

Iroh scowled as he stepped in front of Ichiro. He would not let Ichiro die like that by Zhao's hands. "All this gloating and violence! Such behavior in front of your young master and your commanding officer...disgraceful."

Zhao paled. "Sir...I...!" he stuttered. Clearly, he had not thought Iroh would defend the young prisoner. Well, Zhao would need to learn a lesson in respect. If Jong-Jong could not do it, then Iroh would.

Iroh's scowl deepened, heedless of the toddler nestled in his arms. "And speaking back? Insolence! Adding to your shame?" he said, in a perfect imitation of his father. He raised his hand as if to strike the boy.

Zhao fell to his knees and bowed his head. "Forgive me…," he whispered, looking terrified. He winced, waiting for the blow. Iroh denied himself the satisfaction.

"Make yourself useful. You can go help the sailors fix the rigging on the gangplank, Corporal," Iroh commanded, before turning to a sobbing Ichiro. There was nothing he could say to remedy the situation but another problem was at hand. "Ichiro, you must escape. The Fire Lord will kill you. I will untie your chains, and you must jump overboard with the money I give you. You will be able yourself in the forest for a few days before I can come and help you," he whispered, still pressing Zuko's face to his robe.

"Let me be. I do not want to live anymore. I have nothing I need from you. I want to be with my family again," Ichiro wept pitifully. There was a resolve in his voice that worried Iroh.

"You are still young, Ichiro. This is the grief talking. Please let me help you," he pleaded, not wanting to be responsible for this death as well. Surely, Ichiro would want to live at any costs. "Don't you want to have a woman, to bear children?"

"What do I have to look forward to? A life as a criminal on the run, hunted down like an animal? Let me die with dignity. I am not afraid," the boy whispered through his tears.

"Do not be a martyr, Ichiro," Iroh warned. "Your family would want you to live and be well." Hollow words to a child who had lost everything in the world.

"I don't know what my family would have wanted, considering your family killed them!" Ichiro spat back.

"Fada!" Those words chilled Iroh even more. Zuko was looking over Iroh's shoulder, his face alight with joy. Standing on the dock was the face Iroh hated above all others. Ichiro shuddered a bit but seemed resigned to his fate. The gangplank was lowered and Ozai marched up, accompanied with soldiers. Grief has hallowed his cheeks and dark circles were under his eyes. Iroh was chilled at how much he looked like Father. The anger Iroh remembered from their last meeting had evolved into a slow rage that seemed to darken the very day itself. Everyone looked terrified besides Zuko.

"Fada! Fada!" Zuko said, holding out his chubby arms to his father, his golden eyes shining with happiness. Iroh's heart was broken. One sight of Ozai and Zuko had completely forgotten him. He suddenly understood what it was like to be second best in everyone's eyes. Was this how Ozai felt all those years of their youth?

Ozai ignored Zuko, ending Iroh's sympathy for him. "I want the bastard dead," he said, glaring down murderously at Ichiro, who had been hustled to his feet. From the corner of his eye, he could see Zhao grinning happily.

Iroh stepped forward. "I gave Ichiro my word that he would be safe. You executed his family after I made a deal with them, sparing their lives," he said, trying to defend the boy as best he could. Even if the boy wanted to die, he could at least defend Ichiro. He knew it was useless but he had to try!

"Your word is irreverent. They killed my Hanae. They must die. The boy too," Ozai said, his tone dismissive as Ichiro was taken into custody. The boy was limp, docile, a willing sacrifice ready to die. Iroh was nauseous from the blood of his own family, forever being spilled. How much longer would they do this to each other? Ichiro had no need to curse them with what was reality.

"Fada, Unka, no fight! Play with Pwin Zuko!" Zuko said, looking concerned. "Fada!" The boy held out his arms again, trying to get himself noticed. Ozai had not even looked at his own son.

"Killing this boy won't bring her back!" Iroh retorted angrily. "How much blood must you shed before you let her soul rest in peace? Isn't there something more important here?" he demanded.

"Nothing is more important then avenging my love. Watch your tongue before you lose it, General. I have no qualms about teaching you some respect," Ozai hissed, not catching the hint. Iroh had been a fool to think anything had changed. Had Ozai always been this twisted, even in his innocent youth? "Your words sound like treason to me."

Treason? Without warning, Iroh shoved Zuko into Ozai's startled arms. "Take your son. I manage to save him for you, in case you noticed. You can thank me later, unless saving your heir also counts as treason," he snapped. The child felt like poison in his hands. This was the child of a demon and he wanted no part of him. Zuko would grow up to be just as bloodthirsty as his sire. If he wanted to keep his sanity, he had to get out now before he got too close to his nephew and made the same mistakes again, the same mistake Jong-Jong had made.

"UNKA! COME BACK!" Zuko shouted. Iroh could picture his frightened little face, his sweet chubby arms holding out for him. Every drop of his being yearned to turn around and embrace him. He kept walking. As he moved down the gangplank, he shoved Zhao overboard. The brat's terrified yelps barely lifted his mood. It was drowned out by a more chilling sound.

"UNKA!" Prince Zuko was crying, he could hear it. Iroh forced himself to keep walking, not wanting to be involved with his family anymore. He did not want to see the rest of these events play out. "UNKA!"

"Quiet, Prince Zuko!" he heard Ozai order, the coldness in his voice chilling the very air. Iroh could his arms burning for Zuko's weight. How dare that monster yell at his innocent child? Yet he said nothing as his nephew was cowed into silence. He said nothing as Ichiro's screams filled the air. He said nothing until he reached his tent. He ordered his aides to stay away before drinking himself into a stupor. As he knocked back glass after glass of sake, he did something he had not done in years. He cried.

It had been some weeks since Ozai had left the camp. Iroh had spent most of them in a complete drunken haze. He marveled at the fact that it had not inhibited his ability to command troops. In fact, the last two weeks had been the bloodiest two weeks in two years. Iroh's navy had mercilessly attacked and slaughtered an entire battalion, killing everyone on board. "No mercy before the flame" had been their battle cry. Iroh had a hole in his soul that he hoped blood would fill.

It had not worked. Iroh missed Zuko. He missed his nephew's plump little body nestled next to him, his large golden eyes staring up at him adoringly. He missed his high, curious voice. Iroh missed feeling like more then just a murderer, of being something to be loved. He missed caring about someone else.

He could not go back. He knew that. Time would heal this wound as it had all others. He would just drink his pain away until he had forgotten the way he had felt. Of course, drinking away one's pain did make him irritable. He knew his staff had been tiptoeing around him for the last few days and for good reason as well. Iroh had thrown a decanter at his slave's head when he had been told that a visitor had come from the capital to see him.

Happily, the guest had not turned out to be as much a bother as he thought. It was Mitsu, Hanae's personal handmaiden and cousin. A pretty girl in her late-twenties, Mitsu was of the Tao clan, a family considered one of the most trusted friends of the royal family. Iroh had to admit, he had always been a bit fond of little Miss Mitsu. Perhaps tumbling her would make him feel better. They had often joked about marrying in the carefree days of their youth.

"General, I need to speak to you," she said, bowing deeply and fixing him with her dark black eyes. She did not look romantic; her eyes were red as if she had not slept in days.

"What can I do for you, lovely lady?" Iroh asked, putting down his sake. He tried to clear his head, but found himself only growing nauseous. "I am afraid I can't propose marriage to you at the moment."

"Prince…I mean, General Iroh, I'm married with three kids. You were at the wedding. Agni's beard, how drunk are you?" she asked ruefully.

"Drunk enough, I suppose. Do not let that bother you. How may I help you?" Iroh said, before splashing some cold water on his face. That helped a little.

"It's Prince Zuko," Mitsu began, wringing her hands in frustration. At the sound of his nephew's name, Iroh scowled. "Yes, I know he's Ozai's son but…"

"That should give you enough reason to understand why I don't want to speak about him," Iroh retorted shortly.

"Please listen to me, General Iroh. Prince Zuko has taken the loss of his mother very badly. He is not eating; he is not sleeping. He is not even talking. All he does is cry or remain eerily quiet. He cheers up when his father is around but we dare not bother the Fire-Lord with such matters. The situation is desperate. The only words he says are Mama, Father and Uncle. I can't bring him the first two but I can get you."

"I have no interest in the child of my brother. He can fix his own problems without my interference. My job is to kill people, not raise them. After all, the last child I raised turned out so well. Perhaps Ozai might take responsibility for his own spawn"

"Hanae told me she had your word you'd do this. Her ghost will hold you to this promise and you know Hanae. She will not rest till her son is safe," Mitsu said, before turning to him pleadingly. " Please, I beg you to return and help Zuko. If I cannot appeal to the love I know you must have for him, then do it for us all. He is our future and…I fear what would happen if Lord Ozai and Prince Zuko died," she said mysteriously, her tone worried.

Iroh's heart broke anew at the suffering of his poor little nephew, but something in his sake soaked brain made him question further. He understood that the Tao clan drew much of it's prestige by being the cousins of the future Fire-Lord but it was not as if a rival was in place. "What do you mean, if they died? If Zuko died, I would be Fire-Lord. Ozai has no other children. Your clan has nothing to fear," he assured them.

Mitsu lowered her eyes. "It's Chamberlain Kyo's clan that I fear. He and his son Zhao are dangerous. Prince Zuko is not the only heir. Do you remember that accident that claimed Kyo's daughter Shun's life?" Mitsu asked, her voice quieting to a whisper as she leaned forward.

"What does that have to do with anything?" Iroh enquired. Shun had been a lady-in-waiting to Hanae but one of little consequence.

"Shun was killed in no accident. The prophesy stated that if Hanae was cursed. If she had a child, she would die. Lord Ozai was seduced by Shun to try for a child to replace the heir Hanae had given him. If they killed Zuko, perhaps the curse would never come to pass."

Iroh seethed at the treachery of that infernal clan. He had long suspected they had their hand in the assassination plot but it appears that they had a lot more sinister plans in mind.

"So Lord Ozai followed that advice while Hanae was in confinement preparing for childbirth. Shun withdrew from court after fourth months and she returned a year later, looking strangely plumper. Hanae had always been suspicious and she put her mind to finding out just why Shun had looked so happy at the parties celebrating Zuko's birth and why she looked so defeated when she returned. With a bit of spying done by the servants, she found out that Shun had been intimate with the Fire-Lord and the wretched plan of hers," Mitsu continued.

"Hanae must have been enraged. I suppose…," Iroh sighed. He had a feeling he knew what happened. Hanae had a temper that was explosive and a twisted streak in her that was frightening. It was amazing how a willowy noblewoman could turn into a raging harpy when her loved ones were threatened.

"Yes. Her anger was terrifying and nothing I could do could comfort her. She wanted blood and vengeance. She had Shun summoned to her royal chambers immediately. Shun arrived, full of trepidation but her ladyship was the soul of hospitality and good cheer. The two women smiled at each other and exchanged pleasantries. She even invited Shun to the balcony. The two women spoke for a while before her ladyship suddenly grabbed Shun. She pushed her off the balcony…" Mitsu's voice trailed off. Iroh debated if he should wince at the death of a noblewoman or rejoice that he would have done the same thing. "Ozai smoothed the entire events over, but Hanae was not appeased. She wanted more blood."

"Shun already had a child with Ozai, didn't she? What happened to the child?" Iroh questioned.

"Had it been a boy, then Ozai might have gotten rid of his son and prevented the prophesy. However, it was a daughter, so it proved Ozai was powerless to change fate. Hanae tried to track down the baby as well but after the death of her mother, the baby was sent to live with relatives outside the capital," Mitsu explained. Iroh shuddered at the thought of someone hurting his innocent nephew. Yet, he would not get close to him and suffer!

"That would not stop Hanae," Iroh reminded, trying to keep his mind on the story. Hanae was relentless once she had a goal; he pitied anyone who got in her way. He doubted even death would stop her from defending her baby boy.

"She confronted Ozai as well. He begged her forgiveness and swore he only wanted to protect her. Ozai asked her to spare the baby's life, that the girl was harmless and insignificant. He swore to never again even think of hurting his son, so why continue with the bloodshed?" Mitsu answered.

"Kyo of course knows that his granddaughter may be a female, less preferred to a Prince but she is still a legitimate heiress to the throne, Kyo's clan will do anything to put her on the throne." Iroh was sick at the thought of that clan taking over.
"Prince Zuko is in danger. As his clan, so are we. We need you to return to protect and care for him," Mitsu explained. "General, it is better to know the pain that comes with joy then to never live at all."

Iroh closed his eyes and remembered his favorite memory. It was Hanae, himself and Ozai when they had been children, running through the palace gardens together. He remembered the laughter they had. He remembered them as the only people he ever truly loved. Zuko was the only remnant of that life, a life he wanted to forget. "Zuko is Ozai's son," he answered.

Mitsu studied him. "Forgive me for doing this but Hanae was my best friend. She told me how Fire-Lord Sajja abused you and Ozai. Fire-Lord Sajja grew up without a mother and with a father who barely cared about him. Please, don't allow Prince Zuko to turn into another Sajja," she pleaded.

"How dare you?" Iroh snapped. He did not want to talk about his father. He would not be shamed into obeying. "You could be imprisoned at a word from me!"

"For Hanae's sake, I'd risk it. I gave my word and I will not lose face." Mitsu pressed.

Iroh glared at her for a long moment. "How did you ever get married? I'll have to ask your husband personally," he muttered.

"You mean, you will…" Mitsu's eyes shone.

"Yes, go prepare the transport. I suppose I better start leaving instructions for my second-in-command," Iroh said as his hand went for the sake. For better or worse, he was going home, but only for a short visit. He would check on the prince and then he would return. He would not get too involved. Then why was he going?

"What am I doing?" Iroh wondered. He had no idea.