Soon after Prince Zuko left to his own quarters, Iroh began to grow restless, though he drank his favorite blend of calming valerian root tea with hardly a disturbance, if one could call the sea breeze a disturbance by any means. As Iroh inhaled the warm scent, which normally would calm and prepare him for a good night's rest, it did little to calm his turbulent thoughts.
The prince was well known for his short temper and intolerance to any who would so much as question him or his orders, that much was true. Many of the crewmembers, however, while they were loyal to General Iroh and sympathetic to his cause, were clearly beginning to grow irritated by the boy, most seeing him as no more than a bossy brat rather than a prince deserving of their respect. Indeed, if Iroh were not on the ship to mediate between the men and his nephew, Prince Zuko might very well have been thrown overboard by now.
Although Iroh had no question that the prince was in no immediate danger from the men, he could not help but worry that the boy's actions could one day bring about retaliation, especially considering how long this hunt for the Avatar was threatening to drag out. At first, Iroh had agreed to assist Prince Zuko in locating and capturing the Avatar merely to humor him; it was clear that the prince wanted, above anything, his own father's approval. But Iroh knew that the Fire Lord had sent his son on a fool's errand, to keep him occupied and give him just enough hope that he would kill himself from exhaustion trying to fulfill the demand. It was cruel, beyond cruel.
After another long, slow sip of hot tea and still no end to the worries that plagued his mind, Iroh set his cup down and stood up slowly.
He needed to speak with Prince Zuko.
However, he knew it might not do much good. But he had already urged his crewmembers numerous times to please be patient with his nephew. What more could he do?
He made his way slowly across the deck, considering carefully what he would say to the prince. He was sure anything he would say would immediately anger him, but he hoped that Zuko would at least consider it before he slept. Perhaps there was a way Iroh could make him understand that the men on his ship were just that—men, and had families as such, and felt emotions as such, and had personal needs as such: a surprisingly difficult task given the current mental state of his nephew.
As he approached the steps which led below the deck, he looked upward, noting how the smoke the ship produced trailed across the fresh night sky in dark, puffed trails, like an immense tail dragging through the clouds behind them.
With a slow, deep breath, Iroh made his way down to the quarterdeck to his nephew's room, with gradual, deliberate steps. He knocked once on the metal door, then twice, then a third time, and said, "Prince Zuko? I would like to speak with you."
From beyond the door, he heard a muffled, "Come in, Uncle." Iroh did so, carefully opening the door and setting foot inside the room with the same heavy steps he'd taken down the corridor.
Prince Zuko, already changed into comfortable robes, sat at his desk, back toward the door, with his legs crossed and his elbows resting on his knees. A single lit candle sat on the desk, its small flame growing and shrinking with each of the boy's inhalations and exhalations. His hair rested loosely on one of his shoulders, rising and falling with them and each deep breath.
A few more seconds passed before Prince Zuko spoke once again: "What did you need to speak to me about, Uncle?"
Iroh was unsure of how to begin. "It is about the crew—"
Prince Zuko's even breathing suddenly stopped and he turned around. "What about my crew?" he questioned, anger already beginning to bubble up in his throat. "Are they planning a mutiny?" His eyes widened at the thought. "I want anyone involved in a conspiracy to be thrown in the prison cells!" The candle light behind him burned brightly and fiercely, far bigger than would ever be natural.
"No, no, Prince Zuko. They are doing nothing of the sort," assured Iroh, struggling to calm the boy down enough to have a conversation.
Zuko stood now. "Then why are you bothering me with this? Don't you have more important things to do than waste my time?" he barked.
"Prince Zuko, this is an important matter."
The prince glared at him and the candlelight, though it decreased in size, was still threateningly bright.
"Well?" asked the boy impatiently. "What is it?"
Iroh sighed deeply. "This crew is made up of men, Prince Zuko. Men, just like you."
"I know that," Zuko scoffed. "I'm not dimwitted as you make me out to be, Uncle!"
"I don't mean that you are dimwitted, just that you fail to see the needs of those besides yourself. I understand that this journey means much to you, but you must remember the men who work for you deserve some respect."
"You clearly don't understand, Uncle! None of you do." The candlelight was steadily growing now. "I am a prince, and my cause is more noble than any of theirs! I may be searching for my own honor, but capturing the Avatar means ensuring the Fire Nation's power. Can't any of you see that?!"
Seeing that his words had been meaningless after all, Iroh let out a deep sigh, and waited as their shadows danced and flickered across the walls in erratic patterns as the candle's light burned strong and powerful.
"Your cause is worthy, Prince Zuko, and I will not argue with you tonight. However, I would just like you to consider what I have said."
With that, Iroh turned and left, shutting the door behind him gently, and made his way to his own quarters.
After several long moments passed, Prince Zuko sat down once more, though he was far too frustrated to concentrate anymore.