Chapter 1
Hiro is there when The Prisoner arrives. He's just been woken up and put on guard duty again, and nobody is due to be brought in so he settles himself in for a quiet night.
Out of nowhere, two burly guards bust in, waving important-looking documents bearing the Royal Seal, and dragging a haggard old man in chains.
"Sir, I don't see a transfer anywhere on the records," Hiro tries to explain, but the men make it clear that this prisoner was sent from the Fire Lord himself, and if he denies them he will be promptly replaced.
And just like that, the jail gains a new inhabitant.
Hiro has the old man sit down in one of the lobby chairs while he writes up and sorts the paperwork. For some reason, the man looks much sadder than most prisoners he'd seen on their first day. No struggles for freedom, no desperate "please don't do this", just silent sorrow.
"So, what're you in for? These documents don't say much." Hiro breaks the silence, and the man lifts his head slightly, but makes no move to respond. Hiro draws a ragged breath and sighs.
"What's your name, at least? These documents were hastily made," he mutters, and coughs into his sleeve. The man looks up to face him this time, staring into his eyes.
"I have gone by many names, but my name is Iroh." He simply replies, and Hiro jots that down before staring a little closer, something clicking in his mind. Ah, the famous Dragon of the West. Who knew he'd end up here?
"Alright Iroh, I'll take you to your cell. Follow me, and don't get too close to the outer cells. Some of the prisoners can be… grabby. You'll be in a singular cell, so you don't need to worry about any of them bothering you." He remarks, standing up and leading the way down the hall. The famous general is silent the entire way, but he studies Hiro's face as if committing it to memory.
Hiro doesn't have a particularly memorable face; his eyes are the classic Fire Nation amber, and his sleek black hair is kept in a crew cut so he didn't have to worry about it getting in his eyes. No foreign skin color, just pale. A strong jaw, but not overly sharp. He is… for lack of a better word, normal.
Finally, the pair makes it to the cell where Iroh will be kept. It's a pretty basic inner cell, in its own room and with bars covering the roof as well. Hiro ushers the older man into the cell, locking the cage door behind him. Hiro begins to leave, but hesitates, the gears in his mind turning.
"You know, my mother knew of you." He starts, and Iroh stares back at him with an unreadable emotion. Hiro bows deeply. "Even here, in a rank prison cell, a Lotus Grandmaster will still be treated with respect."
A small smile curls onto the old man's haggard face, and Hiro finds himself smiling too as he leaves the man behind.
...
Hiro sips his mug of tea, savoring the warm rush it sends through his body. Staring into the mug, he idly notes that swirls in the liquid almost seem to form shapes. Cool.
"Thank you for the tea, young man. It is much appreciated!" Iroh breaks the silence, grinning up at the armored guard from his position on the floor. Hiro shakes his head.
"It's no trouble, I'd hate to leave someone like you rotting in a cell like this. We've got to be careful, though; if any of the other guards find out about this, I might be joining you in here." Hiro grimly takes another swallow of his tea, and digs his hand into his pouch. From it he draws a small container of curry and rice, courtesy of one of the to-go stalls in the market.
"Here, I brought some food too. Let me know when you're done, and I'll take the container back so there's no trace of it." Iroh gratefully accepts the bowl, and digs in with gusto.
"Say, young man, what is your name? I never got a chance to ask, but I would like to know more about who has been helping me." Iroh asks, his mouth half full with food, and Hiro smiles.
"My name's Hiro, just Hiro. I've been a guard for a year or so, joined the guard as soon as I could, but I've only ever worked here. What else do you want to know?" He asks, and Iroh sets down the bowl with a sigh of contentment.
"I have a nephew about your age, he'll probably stop by soon. I think you would like him. Do you have any siblings?" Hiro chuckles, taking his helmet off and resting it in his lap.
"No, it's just me. Parents are gone too, but my mother was part of the Order. I was never inducted, she died when I was young, but she liked to talk about it." Hiro levels his gaze to the Grand Lotus before him. "About you." There is quiet for a moment, as both warriors enjoy their tea, before Hiro realizes something.
"Wait, you really think Prince Zuko and I would get along?"
Iroh's eyes twinkle. "Why not? You're both strong warriors, and he needs more people in his life. He has lost his way, but maybe you could help him find it." The offer hangs in the air, heavier than a bugbear, and Hiro drains the last of his tea in silence.
"I've never met the guy so I'm not quite sure what he's like," he says after a moment. "But from what I've heard, he's not the friendliest. I'm just a normal guard, what makes you think-"
The door swings open, and in an instant Hiro is at the door of the cage, his foot firmly planted against a bar.
"You abandoned your country, old man. Don't expect us to forget that." Hiro seethes with false anger, and a brief smile flickers across Iroh's face before he bows his head, continuing the act. The guard behind him gives a low chuckle, amused, and Hiro slams his hand against the bars one last time before turning and stomping off, smirking at the other guard as he goes. He stops in the doorway, and turns his head back to glance at Iroh.
"Your nephew, though? Now there's a man of honor." With a sneaky wink, Hiro turns again and continues down to his next post, only stopping to let out a hacking cough.
...
It all begins with a shadow.
Just the faint hint of a figure in the darkened streets, barely even noticeable. Most guards wouldn't even have seen it, but most guards don't have a keen-eyed armadillo-dog to help them keep watch.
"Chika?" He says as she growls, and sits up from his chair. She points like a dart into the darkness of the streets, growling at something. He squints out into the darkness and can barely make out a silken hood and cloak.
"Who's there? Identify yourself?" He shouts, but the figure simply walks away. Hiro reaches for his crossbow, leaned on the balcony next to him, but even if they're sneaking around whoever was out there surely doesn't warrant a bolt in the back.
Still, the image of the figure in the dark stays with him. He has a jail to protect, and it would be irresponsible to ignore a possible threat. A few days pass, and Hiro puts it out of his mind in favor of finding ways to help Iroh. They haven't been able to meet since they were last interrupted because of the more frequent guard cycles, but he manages to sneak in better food during the feeding rounds.
It's after one such round late at night that Hiro hears the faint pitter-patter of feet against the tiled floor behind him. He doesn't have Chika this time, so sliding his spear into a ready position, he turns to face the same cloaked figure as he had seen days ago.
"It's you again! Stop where you are!" He shouts, but the figure continues its slow march towards him. He bristles and prepares to strike, but the figure's head raises and Hiro catches a glimpse of amber eyes and a terrible red scar. "Prince Zuko." He asks, more of a statement than a question.
In a flash he's up against the wall, with a pale hand clenching the collar of his vest. "I'm going in for a visit, and you're going to stand guard here. No one is going to know about this." The Prince hisses, but Hiro's rough hand is already wrapped around the Prince's pale one and forcing it down.
"Relax, Your Highness. Be my guest." Hiro tries to give a genuine smile, but it fails to calm down the angry Fire Prince. He gestures toward the door, and with a scoff the Prince slams the door behind him. A smaller smile rolls across his face, but soon is replaced by a growing sense of horror.
Marching toward Hiro is another guard; one of the newer recruits, fresh out of training and into a trial period at the prison. This makes him no less dangerous, though. The newer guards tended to be rule sticklers, not wanting to get in trouble early on in their career. Knowing this, Hiro tries for a more forward approach.
"Halt! I was not aware of any replacement being sent for this shift." Hiro lies, knowing fully well that his shift ended five minutes ago. The new guard stops to take out a worn sheet of paper, and walks over to Hiro to show him.
"Well, my shift list clearly states that your shift ends about now, and that I am to replace you." The guard pockets the piece of paper, and Hiro gives a sheepish laugh.
"That's odd, I guess I just didn't read mine properly. I-" He stops to hack into his sleeve, and the new guard eyes him with no small amount of disgust.
"What's wrong?" He says as the cough continues for a good twenty seconds. "Are you diseased?"
"Sorry, I think this prisoner is sick." Hiro gestures to Iroh's cell once the cough subsides. "As a matter of fact, I think it's spreading. A lot of the prisoners have been coughing, and we might have to look into fatalities." The guard's face turns green.
"A-are you sure? I don't want to get sick…"
"Hey, how about this? I'll take your shift, and you can take one of mine some other time when this is all cleared up." Hiro offers, and a look of relief spreads across the guard's face.
"S-Sure! I am in your debt." The guard bows, and takes off as fast as his feet can take him. Hiro releases a breath he doesn't know he's been holding, just in time for the cell door to swing open violently. The Prince storms out, barely paying attention to Hiro.
"Hey! Prince Zuko!" He calls, and the Prince turns with anger on his face. "You should pay more attention to what your uncle says." The Prince huffs, and his brow creases in irritation.
"What, just because we're family? That old man-"
"Family doesn't mean anything," Hiro interrupts. "But that 'old man' really cares for you, and you shouldn't just let that go to waste." The Prince stares at him with confusion in his eyes for a moment, then continues on his way out with a snort.
Hiro watches him leave with narrowed eyes.
Once the coast is clear, Hiro opens the door to Iroh's cell and slips in. A stool lies burned and broken against the wall, and he makes a mental note to replace it before it gets noticed by another guard.
Iroh sits against the wall, tears streaming down his face, and Hiro takes a seat on the floor across from him.
"I heard what you said." Iroh breaks the silence with a voice heavy with sorrow, and Hiro turns his gaze to the floor. "Thank you for trying to reach out to him, I am only sorry that he is so stubborn."
"It's alright, I'm sure that he'll be back. He's very lucky to have someone like you, I hope that he will be able to see that someday." Hiro coughs into his sleeve again, the sound ringing in the silence. Iroh shifts on the floor, turning his still-teary gaze up to meet Hiro's.
"You know, you should get that cough checked out. You should take more notice of your health," Iroh chastises, and Hiro laughs. Even after his nephew yelled at him, he still has the capacity to worry about a near stranger?
"It's chronic. I went to a doctor once, but he said it won't go away." Hiro gives an easy smile. "I've gotten used to it, it doesn't really bother me anymore." He rises to his feet, shaking off the pins and needles that seem to poke his legs. "Well, I should probably get back to my patrol. I wouldn't want any break-ins. Or break-outs, for that matter." Iroh nods, and bows his head.
"Thank you for your compassion, I hope that I will find a way to repay you someday." Hiro shakes off the thanks, and opens the door to leave. "Oh, and Hiro?"
"Hm?"
"My nephew is rather fond of animals. Maybe you could use that to reach out to him?"
Hiro smiles, thinking of how Chika might react if she finally found out who had been lurking around. "Yeah, that could be interesting," he replies, and then strides out the door.
He has a lot to think about.
Welcome to the beginning of the story! I know it's short, but I wanted to get the first chapter out so I'll feel obligated to write more frequently. Let me know what you think of the story, and I'll cherish every comment, good or bad.