Zuko's reaction to the pillar of light which had appeared in the distance had been… unexpected. The usual exclamations about the Avatar would not have been out of place. Even a simple barked order to the helmsman to head a course for the light would have been fine.

Collapsing onto the deck whilst holding his own head between his hands was not fine.

Iroh barely noticed as, across from him, Lieutenant Jee slid a tile into place on the pai sho board.

At first, he had only felt concerned about the situation. Now, he was feeling anxious. Something was wrong with his nephew, and he didn't know what. Oh, it was obvious that it had something to do with that beam of light from earlier, but he still couldn't figure out what could have happened to the prince. Other than it must have something to do with the spirits.

"General Iroh?"

Jostled from his thoughts, the aging firebender focused onto the table between them, before breaking out into chuckles.

"Well, that was very... assertive of you, Lieutenant," he offered diplomatically. The pattern in the game had been easy discern before. Now it was utterly transparent. The hourglass marking the time was still only half-full.

Though he couldn't see his own demise which he had wrought, Jee groaned, "I'm going to lose, aren't I?"

The helmsman, Wan, coughed from his standing position at the wheel, and the man turned around in his seat to give the man a stink eye.

"You think that this is funny?"

Shrug. Grin. Of course not, he signed.

"You dumb son of a-"

"Your ire is misdirected, soldier," Iroh chastised.

Abashed, "Sorry, sir."

"And don't worry about your game; every time we play, I see your skills increase greatly!" he said jovially, placing and sliding his Stone Tile into the Fourth Intersection to deal a fatal blow to his opponent's stratagem, "I'm sure that when we play again, I'll have a much more difficult time obtaining victory."

"Right, sir," Jee commented with a straight face as he watched the General decimate his formation beyond recovery. Closing his eyes as if it pained him, he took the still-running hourglass and set it on its side, "I resign."

Another cough sounded from behind him, and the soldier twitched.

"It was a good game," Iroh asserted, folding his hands into his sleeves. He caught sight of Wan's left hand flipping through signs, eyes still facing forward and his right hand still on the wheel.

Thank you, sir.

Since there was no way to acknowledge that without alerting the other occupant of the room, Iroh simply blinked and yawned.

"I think now, however, that these old bones need their rest," he said as he stood up, cracking his back as he did so, "I'm going to check in on the prince and turn in for the night. Sleep well."

"Yes, sir, you as well, sir."

As the old man slowly made his way down the ladder leading to the rest of the ship, his sharp ears could hear grumbles and the exchange of coin.

So that's why the Lieutenant was so cross, he thought mirthfully, before sighing contentedly as he touched down at the hallway leading to Zuko's captain's quarters, Well, that was an awfully big hourglass. Maybe he should have bet on not losing to me in a smaller amount of time.

Aang.

Hey, Zuko.

It's nice to hear you again. Say hi to Sokka and Katara for me. See you in Yu Dao.

Alright.

Gently tapping on the metal portal, he tentatively requested entry, "Prince Zuko?"

Iroh didn't hear any response. He didn't expect one, at this point.

Opening the door, he took in a sight which he would carry with him for the rest of his life.

What he had been expecting, upon opening the dormitory door, was an immobile vegetable on the bed. Vacant eyes staring. That was what he and Lieutenant Jee had had to deal with, bodily carrying him from the outside deck to his quarters, after all. All the while listening to nonsense mumbling about light and fire. Jee had said that the Prince had gone insane. The General swore him to silence about what had happened, and internally had begged the spirits that the lieutenant was wrong and that whatever it was could be fixed…

But instead of that, the old man could only goggle at what was, to his knowledge, the most impressive feat of firebending he had ever seen in his life.

Candles filled the room. Waves of heat billowed out into the hall, and Iroh was blasted by the various sweet-smelling scents of melted wax. He could see that the entire room had been rearranged, cleared to make room for as many candles as could fit. The mattress stood on its side, out of the way. The meditation table, where the customary four firebending training devices were supposed to sit, and the cushion that one normally sat on: They, too, were folded and put away. At a glance, he guessed that the candles were as evenly-spaced as possible throughout the room. And in the center of it all…

If his eyelids widened any further, he'd have to fear for his eyes popping out.

Zuko was sitting, cross-legged, in the midst of all this. Eyes open, alert, and immediately focused on Iroh. Not on the candles which moved in time with his breathing. In his right hand was his dagger which Iroh had gifted to him (Never give up without a fight). In his left… In his left was the phoenix plume which, evidently, the prince had decided to cut off for some reason.

For a few moments, all they did was stare at each other. Then the aged general slowly got down on his knees.

A flash of amusement went across his (maybe not) nephew's face, like he knew what he was about to do.

He suspected it when he had seen each of the flames move in perfect unison, but he had to see it for himself. When the side of his head was pressed against the cold metal floor of the entryway, he peered at the candles from the side.

When the flames lowered with Zuko's exhale, Iroh could not hold in a gasp.

The wax. All of the candlewax. It was all melted down to exactly the same level.

Hastily, the Dragon of the West vaulted back up into a ready fighting stance, glaring at the… being who masqueraded as the Prince in front of him with deep suspicion.

"Who are you, spirit? And what have you done to my nephew!"

Everything stopped for a few moments, the candlelights holding themselves eerily still. Then the apparition shifted, letting the cut ponytail fall into its lap and lifting its left hand in a mollifying gesture.

"Peace, Uncle," it replied, "I am still here."

"No, he is not," Iroh contested quietly, dangerously, "Your wear his body like an ill-fit pair of britches, fiend. No human can do what you're doing right now!"

"If I was a spirit, then you know what would come of this if you were to challenge me. It would end badly," it intoned, letting its pacifying pose fall. Then something… appeared in its eyes which gave him pause, "As it is… Please… Listen to me."

The Dragon of the West narrowed his eyes, but nodded, lowering his arms, yet keeping himself at the ready to attack at the slightest deception. The being returned the motion with a grateful look on Zuko's face, before closing its eyes and breathing, causing the candles to flare higher momentarily before settling back down as it slowly, meditatively breathed out. Then, in a clear, yet lowly pitched voice that wouldn't carry out into the hall:

"I am Prince Zuko of the Fire Nation. Brother to Princess Azula. Nephew to Prince Iroh. Son of Fire Lord Ozai, who was grandson of Fire Lord Sozin, now passed. And I am son of Ursa, who was granddaughter of Avatar Roku, now passed. You, Uncle, are Grandmaster of the White Lotus before you are Prince. My destiny… Is not to capture the Avatar. And I have seen visions… so many visions… of the future, that I am old, now. Visions which are so much stronger than dreams, that they're memories. I've mastered firebending a thousand times in a thousand lifetimes…" and he opened his eyes, lifting an eyebrow, "And you should come inside before you catch a cold," his nephew said, gesturing at the doorway.

He heard loud and clear. Shut the door before someone hears me passing out secrets like so much fire flakes, please.

Hurriedly, Iroh stepped inside, turned, shut the door with a clang, locked it in place, turned, and gaped.

"... Zuko?" he whispered, "Is that really you?"

"Yes," he said stoically, before offering a somewhat bashful smile, "I apologize for frightening you earlier this afternoon, by the way. I was not myself."

Feeling as though his head was going to wobble off of his shoulders, Iroh brought his hands up to his temples to steady himself and try to refrain from shouting.

"Zuko," he said carefully, "If that is who you are… What happened to you?"

So that's what happens when you die in the middle of deep meditation. Thanks, Sifu Hotman!

Aang, you made me look crazy!

You're welcome!

Yeah, thanks. Thanks a lot. Really appreciate it.

The prince's smile disappeared, becoming a frown twinged with a definite, familiar note of irritation that put the general more at ease than a hundred impassioned speeches ever could.

"That was… the vision, coming to me," he grated out, annoyance clear in his voice for some reason that Iroh couldn't fathom, "Please," with a final huff of breath, every candle in the room was simultaneously extinguished… except for the one that was directly in front of Zuko, "Clear a space. Pull up a cushion. Sit. I have much to tell you."

Shaken by yet another casual display of awesome firebending control, Iroh found he was still not entirely sure that this was really his nephew. But his current demeanor was so reminiscent of the prince… He would operate, for now, based on the assumption that this really was his family and not some benevolent ghost who had taken over his body.

Careful not to spill any melted wax from any of the candle holders, the man did as he had been asked and cleared a space, grabbing the meditation cushion when he finished. As he settled down on the floor in front of him, the old general observed the way the candlelight threw Zuko's face into sharp relief.

"The first thing that you need to know is that the Avatar is definitely alive, and he is very close by," he revealed bluntly, and Iroh lurched back in surprise, "The light that you saw earlier was him emerging from an iceberg after being frozen for a hundred years. We need to leave the South Pole, tomorrow, for two reasons. As you well know, the Fire Lord has spies planted on this ship; it would be a good idea," stressing the words lightly, "for them to not find out about Aang."

"Aang?"

"The Air nomad."

"The Avatar," the Dragon of the West breathed out, awed. Continuing, and searching his nephew's countenance for confirmation, "You…?"

"Yes, Uncle," the prince placated, eyes glittering with warmth, "I'm on his side. I'm not going to try to capture him in some misbegotten attempt to get Ozai to restore my honor."

Zuko slid slightly as he moved into a more comfortable position. Then came the words, "You've been more of a father to me than he ever was, anyway."

Before the older man could gather his wits at the bombardment of information and the storm of emotion brought by those words, his nephew soldiered on, "The second reason that we need to get out of here soon is that Commander Zhao is currently stationed at Whale Minor, but he won't be for much longer; he's about to be transferred to the Crescent Island Naval Defense Point. I have… business, with him," he finished grimly.

Iroh fastened onto the discrepancy that he detected in that pronouncement, "Commander Zhao? Isn't Zhao just a captain?"

The corner of Zuko's mouth twitched upwards, "He was. Supposedly his performance as a mere captain marked him for bigger, better things. You will find that he has been promoted for… loyalty, unofficially."

He sings Ozai's tune the loudest.

The old soldier understood that concept quite well. It was the reason that murderous animal, Bujing, had been promoted to general. It was the reason that the forty-first division was dead and buried in an unnamed Earth Kingdom mass grave. It was the reason he had to watch Zuko's vehement reaction to the vile plans discussed within the war room, realizing too late that he should've just said no…

"The truth is a bit deeper than what you're probably thinking…"

Returning to reality, Iroh leaned forward to listen intently. Zuko was frowning, and his gold eyes were gazing intently into the flame of the sole candle between them.

"Zhao is not competent enough to have the confidence of Ozai; the Fire Lord, rightly, thinks he's an imbecile. The esteemed commander is blackmailing, on the one hand, and bribing, on the other hand. Through an impressively twisted series of events, which I will not recount for now, he found an underground spirit library in the Earth Kingdom containing both of these instruments.

"The bribe is that Zhao has found a way to permanently destroy the Water Tribes, involving the Moon and Ocean Spirits. However, this by itself would not have been enough to convince Ozai of the truth within the documents. And, even if he did believe that the scrolls were true, and that Zhao's plan would work on top of that, he would have assigned the plan to someone he felt was more fitting for the job. In Zhao's mind this was probably even worse than not selling the plan at all, because he's twice as egotistical as the Fire Lord.

"This is where the blackmail comes in."

Zuko's gaze moved up to look his uncle in the eyes, and the general was transfixed.

"Zhao has irrefutable proof that Ozai usurped the throne."

If this evening continues in the vein that it has for much longer, Iroh remarked to himself in a distant corner of his mind, I will need to see the ship physician about heart palpitations.

Reeling at the news of his brother's apparent treachery, all of the breath went out of him in a great big whoosh as he slumped in his seated position. His nephew continued:

"Through this, the commander is extorting the Fire Lord into giving him the resources he wants… But also has convinced him about the veracity of the Moon and Ocean scrolls. So, even though the Fire Lord very much hates Zhao's guts, he will give him absolutely everything he wants and more to ensure that his scheme succeeds. The only thing which prevented them from moving in on the Northern Water Tribe immediately is that it would have been suspicious, to say the least, for someone to go from being a private in the Army to being an Admiral of the Navy."

Zuko went quiet, and closed his eyes, breathing in deeply, the light of the candle glowing brightly for a brief moment before settling back down.

"He will fail, if he attempts this plan. That is a foregone conclusion. In fact, if he comes close to the point of succeeding, he will regret it for the rest of his very short mortal life… and for his much longer afterlife."

At that, Iroh sat back up and commanded his lungs to function properly, attempting to get himself back in order. He stared at the prince for a long moment.

"... If his failure is certain, then why? Why are we going to meet him?"

Zuko looked at him like he was stupid, raising an eyebrow. Then the general shook his head, berating himself within his mind and answering his own question aloud with the obvious conclusion.

"Of course… If nothing is done, I suppose many people will die."

"So will he."

Now Iroh looked at his nephew in disbelief.

"Him? What do you mean? You can't possibly care about him; you hated him!"

Zuko sighed, and it sounded like exasperation.

"You must understand, Uncle, the time I've spent in my visions… I am tired. So tired. And old. I just don't have it in me to hate anymore. It's pointless. And aside from that… The Avatar is very particular about the sanctity of life," he informed wryly, and, beyond the reflection of the flickering light of the candle, Iroh could see the spark of admiration within his burnished eyes.

That wasn't the distant recollection of a vision. Iroh knew that personally from his own experience with the spirits.

It was truly as Zuko had said earlier. They were memories… from the future.

And, by now, the old man was beyond convinced that Zuko was himself. No spirit he had ever heard of was on this good terms with a human. Any human.

Screwing his eyes shut, he let his face rest in his hands.

"Do you… Do you have a plan, Zuko? You must have something in mind."

A conspiratory smile.

"I am going to give Zhao… pause, about trifling with spirits. And about other things. Don't worry. There's a long laundry list of things to do. Zhao is just the most immediate."

After that, they both were silent for a long time.

Iroh listened to the prince's inhales and exhales while he turned over all that he'd been told. It was an incredible fortune, like his deepest wishes had been granted. For him, personally, and for the entire world. Zuko… was like everything he ever hoped for him to become… the beautiful prince he was always meant to be. Though, it had come at a price, he could see, in the manifest age of his nephew's soul. And yet never, in his wildest dreams, did he expect anything like this to just… fall into the world's lap. In fact… Dare I ask…?

"My nephew… the war? Everything? Will the Avatar defeat the Fire Lord? Will I live to see peace?" he asked in a small voice, holding his breath.

A beat passed, then the prince gave a small smile:

"Firstly… I thought I told you that you are my father, to me. Secondly, if things go according to plan, and there is no reason why they wouldn't… Yes."

And he threw his arms forward, knocking over the candle as he embraced his newfound son.

Unseen by Iroh, Zuko's smile had become tinged with sorrow. The sorrow of eons.

I have that routine memorized.

… I'm sorry.

Don't be.

You'll never tell him the truth again? I mean… ever?

No. I can't burden him with that knowledge anymore. It kills him, Aang. He knows what a curse it is for me. For us.

… Yeah.