Welcome to the Club
Zuko was very satisfied now that his wife's pregnancy had been confirmed. She was due next spring—the perfect time to be presenting the heir to the crown to his subjects.
But Iroh seemed pensive. He watched his nephew with that speculative eye that always made the Fire Lord a little anxious.
"What?" Zuko finally asked him, exasperated. "Why are you following me around and staring at me like I'm about to sprout a horn or something?"
The old general folded his hands into those wide, mysterious sleeves. "I'm just waiting for it to hit you."
"Hit me?" Zuko was confused.
His uncle sighed. "You'll know when it does." His eyes gleamed and his grin broadened. "And I wouldn't miss that moment for the world."
Crazy old man, Zuko thought. Maybe dementia was finally settling in.
The days progressed just like that, Iroh flowing in Zuko's wake like a pilot fish at a shark's underside. The young Fire Lord had no idea what the old man was waiting for…
And then it happened.
Zuko was reviewing a battle plan the peace delegates—now turned into war delegates—had devised for the oncoming attack on Fadmon. He didn't know what triggered it, but he was absently thinking about his lovely wife and how he'd been itching to touch her when…
"Calm down, Zuko." Iroh was there, laughter stamped all over his features. "Try to breathe."
Hyperventilating, the Firebender clutched at his temples. "She's going to have a baby! A baby! My baby!"
"Yes. Yes, she is." His uncle patted his back.
"I-I'm going to be a…a father!"
Iroh grinned. "Yes. Yes, you are."
"What the hell do I know about fatherhood?!" Zuko screamed, grabbing his uncle by the collar.
"Absolutely nothing," Iroh assured him. And from those magical sleeves, he produced a gourd of rice whiskey and handed it over.
Zuko snatched the vessel and took a long, bracing draught of the fiery liquid, seeking the comfort of oblivion.
Iroh patted his back. "Welcome to the club, my nephew."