Chapter Text
Iroh kept his silence regarding the mighty dragons, Ran and Shaw.
He'd left his mighty homeland to travel the world. He learned techniques from other benders, created his own, and sought wisdom from the dragons. When he returned with his newfound insight, he claimed he'd slain the final dragon. This, with his ability to breathe fire, gave him the title of 'The Dragon of the West'. He accepted the title and promised to never speak a word about the dragons. He went into the military, as was expected of him, and served as a general over many honorable men and women.
Then the siege occurred, a siege that changed his life.
He came home six months later, having lost a son and having gained more insight than before. He had stepped back from the war and had meditated, pondering his life and his choices. He even visited the spirit world in search for his son. The wisdom he found there, instead, was far greater than he'd anticipated.
When he finally returned to the Fire Nation royal palace, Zuko ran up to meet him, and the first thing he did was cry into the general's shoulder. He sobbed through his retelling of Ursa's disappearance, of Azulon's death, of Ozai's ascension to the throne.
Azula stood to the side, darkness in her golden-amber eyes. She caught Iroh's gaze for a moment, then looked away.
Iroh murmured soft things to his nephew to try and calm him down, remembering painfully his own son, the son he'd recently lost. Tears, fresher than they should've been, stung his eyes, but he pushed them aside. He had to be strong for his nephew and niece. They needed him.
Eventually, Zuko eased from his arms, and then Iroh reached a hand out to Azula. She looked away again, saying in a dull voice, "I'm fine."
To see a child, only ten years old, telling him she was fine... Iroh wondered what kind of pain Ozai had put these kids through, seeing as both Ursa and Iroh had left. For a moment, his heart clenched with anger, then he took a breath and nodded. The children didn’t need to see his wrath. He looked at his niece, who stared at the grass at her side. Azula would come to him, he hoped. It just took time to heal.
He straightened, watching Zuko rub tears from his eyes. He put a hand on the boy's shoulder. "It's going to be alright. It is hard, but I promise things will get better." He looked at the gardens around them, remembering the bitter cold of the north. "It is like the changing of the seasons. Sometimes they are bitter and cold, and sometimes they are warm and pleasant."
"Sometimes they're hot, and they suck," Zuko commented.
Iroh couldn't help but laugh at that. He'd missed his nephew. "Yes. I suppose summer can be rather hot." He squeezed the boy's shoulder. "Come. I think I need to speak to your father."
The idea of greeting Ozai had no appeal to the general, but he knew it had to be done. He went with the children into the silent halls, wondering where the servants had gone. He'd expected bustling, a flurry of activity. Instead, it was... too quiet.
It had been six months since his last service in the military, but he still knew the shouts of orders, the blasts of firebending. The stillness of the air around him reminded him sharply of the spirit world. He couldn’t decide whether that was a good thing or not.
He left the two siblings in front of the throne room. They watched him, Zuko with wide eyes and Azula with calculating ones. It reminded him of the contrast between himself and his brother. He hoped neither of the children would fall down the path Ozai had taken.
He took another, steadying breath, and pushed aside the curtain dividing the throne room from the hallway.
Ozai sat behind a row of orange flame. Iroh had never liked the flames; they looked too foreboding. But who was he to say anything? If he'd come back and claimed his right to the throne, had fought in an Agni Kai for the throne and had won, he would probably have the flames, too. That was before he learned a better way to live. It had just taken the death of his son to figure it out.
"You're late, Brother," Ozai sneered. Iroh had not seen him since before the siege, and he didn't appreciate the superior tone in his voice.
"I did not realize you had a timeline for me," Iroh answered. Though he tried to keep himself mild-toned, a hint of impatience slipped in. "Shall I bow to you?"
"I would like that."
"It was rhetorical, Ozai."
"You are still a citizen of the Fire Nation, and therefore, you are under my authority." The flames rose by an inch. "Don't test my patience."
Iroh only narrowed his eyes. Considering the two children waiting outside, he bowed into the proper, respectful position. He fought the anger in his stomach. "It is an honor to be home, Fire Lord Ozai."
That could have been my throne.
But I don't regret my choices.
"Good." Ozai sounded smugly pleased. "It's good to see you know your place. I never thought you would come home from all the disgrace and shame."
The words stabbed Iroh in the chest, but he held himself firm against the onslaught. This is how he is. This is how he is raising Azula and Zuko. I will not let him succeed. Iroh raised his head. "I was unsure as to whether I would be allowed to return."
"Consider it a mercy." Ozai narrowed his eyes. "Now that we have reunited... Leave my sight."
Iroh's chest tightened with anger at the words, the command given him. For years and years, he'd never expected Ozai to take the throne. But that was his own fault.
The Dragon of the West stood. "As you wish."
He was about to turn, to leave, when Ozai stopped him. "One final question... What did it feel like to kill the final dragon?"
Iroh felt his blood chill.
He wondered how he should respond to that. It was a loaded question, after all. Something in Ozai's voice had a threat to it, like if Iroh wasn't careful about what he said, he would suffer dire consequences.
"What do you want me to say?" he finally said. "That I gained new powers? That I can become a dragon myself?"
"You know the rumors. When a dragon is killed, its slayer's firebending increases by a thousand-fold. So..." Ozai narrowed his eyes. "Did you experience this increase in power, or not?"
Iroh wondered what would be the best way to combat this. Ozai had seen his firebending after the so-called 'death' of the last dragon, and no significant increase had occurred, other than his ability to steady his breathing and connect to his inner fire. It certainly had never been a thousand-fold.
The general swallowed hard. "Those are only rumors. That does not happen, even though there is a-"
"Leave my sight."
Iroh never knew as to whether Ozai knew the truth or not.
When he left the room, a knot had formed in his stomach. Even as he walked alongside Zuko and Azula, who asked him questions about his meeting, he couldn't shake the feeling that Ozai had something in mind, something dangerous and worrisome.
He had a bad feeling that something was wrong.
Ozai knew the tales, the increasing of power for those brave enough to defeat a dragon.
From the reports of several soldiers, people he'd very nicely asked for an opinion from, Iroh's power had never strengthened. Most brushed it off, claiming he was still stronger with his ability to breathe fire and regulate his breathing.
Even still, Ozai knew the signs of a liar. His brother had never been particularly good at lying.
He toyed with the idea of a dragon still being alive, still spreading its revolting spawn over the world. He considered the idea of taking it out.
He smiled, but there was no good in the expression. The smile held cunning, manipulative power, power that the Fire Lord knew how to use. He'd used it the night of Ursa's betrayal, the night he'd planned to murder Zuko in his sleep. If Ursa could remove Azulon for him... the boy would live. That was the option he gave her, and she took it. She knew the consequences that would fall on her and the children if she did not comply.
He wondered if he should be the one to slay the final dragon. It would a nice addition to his recent increase in power. The Fire Lord, wiping the earth clean of the dragon race. That sounded good to him.
Yet if he died, somehow, during the encounter with the dragons... He couldn't risk leaving the throne to Iroh, or to the children. He'd just begun his reign. To lose it so soon would be humiliating.
He paused, then narrowed his eyes. He could send Zuko to defeat the dragon. It would be an easy way to get rid of the child who'd always been a disappointment. But then, if Zuko somehow won against the dragon, or if Iroh somehow convinced him to lie about the dragon or helped him kill it, then the child would be the youngest to be proclaimed with the honorary title of 'Dragon'. His fame could outshine Ozai's. No. That would not do.
Ozai examined the open flames, raising and lowering them as he considered his options.
If Iroh was smart for once and kept his mouth shut, then Ozai had a few years to watch the children grow up. Then he would send Zuko to fight the final dragon, keep Iroh away, and he would die. He would just have to stunt the child's growth, keep him from learning the more advanced techniques. Azula would never fight a dragon and would never be a threat to Ozai until she was much older. When it came to that point, he'd take her out. But until then, he'd let her learn as much as she wanted.
Until then...
He smiled to himself.
Iroh kept silent and mentioned nothing about dragons during the next couple of years. He refused to have anything to do with them. He never spoke a word about the masters, laying low and watching what he said.
He had to be careful. If Ozai learned about the masters and the Sun Warriors...
At the same time, Iroh found merit in the teachings he'd learned from the hidden society. He wished he could privately teach those lessons to his niece and nephew, but they were busy with other tutors. Their schedules were packed to the brim, and they couldn't find the time for his teachings. Eventually, they became more and more tired, collapsing into their beds at the end of the day.
Azula pushed herself hard in her training. Even though she was only eleven, she pushed herself with her father's encouragement. Her flames began to turn blue on the edges, and she exploited that trait. Iroh had never seen so much fierce determination in a firebender, and he knew that it could either be a virtue or a vice, depending on how she used it.
Zuko, on the other hand, experienced little growth. The tutors continued to chide him in the most basic of firebending forms, no matter how well he did them. Most of his lessons ended with him in angry tears, and they chided him for that. Iroh couldn't understand the harsh criticism, especially when Zuko made no mistakes during his katas. He frowned disapprovingly as Azula sneered at her brother during a lesson, and she wisely turned her head.
Ozai was hurting the children. Not physically, not all the time. But he was turning them against each other. Where they once played together and teased each other, now they snapped in open hostility. The Fire Lord couldn't care less about the change in their dynamic. In fact, he encouraged it.
Iroh knew it had to stop.
The only problem was how to make it stop.
If he tried to take Azula and Zuko from Ozai, the Fire Lord would just send legions of Fire Nation soldiers after them. Running from the nation with two children, both of whom seemed to hate each other and possibly dislike him, did not seem advantageous. Not to mention it would cause difficulties in most of the planning. If even one thing went wrong, it could spell their doom.
If he said anything to Zuko or Azula, Ozai could very easily find out. It was no secret that the Fire Lord had eyes all over the palace. One hint of rebellion could prove disastrous for either child. And if one of them tried to rebel, Iroh knew there would be horrendous consequences. He couldn't risk it. And talking to Ozai was simply, and easily, out of the question. Approaching the Fire Lord would just end in more eyes watching the older firebender.
Iroh had to sit by and let the situation get worse and worse. There was nothing he could do to help the children, but he feared if he said or did nothing, they would go down terrible paths.
By the time Zuko was thirteen and Azula was eleven, they hated each other. Azula found Zuko to be lesser than the dirt she stepped on and scoffed when he tried anything with firebending, and she also jeered at him for his difficulties in his other learning areas. Zuko, of course, found his sister to be infuriating. He would curl his lip when she created sparks that Iroh knew would eventually become powerful lightning. Zuko’s hands clenched when she showed off her terrific recall of history and played various instruments with ease. Iroh had to watch from the side as the once-inseparable firebenders pushed away from each other.
Perhaps the worst day of his life came when Zuko entered his first war meeting. Iroh had told him to be careful, to watch what he said in front of the generals. More than anything, he was trying to warn the child about the Fire Lord, about his own father. The idea sickened him, but at the same time, he'd had to deal with the same caution regarding his own father, Azulon.
When Iroh had spoken his concern, Zuko frowned. Then he nodded. "Alright. I promise I'll be careful."
Iroh nodded, but he couldn't shake the feeling that Zuko would break that promise. He had a strong temper, and if someone crossed him or aggravated him, he could blow up at them. He'd blown up at his tutors several times to the point where they concluded his sole drive for firebending was anger. Iroh couldn't blame him; constant criticism for everything would drive him to anger, too. At the same time, he knew from the dragons that true fire came from something deeper than emotions. He just wished he had the chance to tell Zuko that.
He sat next to his nephew, hoping the young man would remain silent. The point wasn't for him to speak. It was for him to learn and listen. It was how Iroh had learned the stratagem he'd used during his military career.
Iroh's stomach twisted strangely as one of the generals spoke up. "I am recommending the forty-third division to attack the Earth Kingdom squadron."
The former general knew that most of those soldiers were greenies. They weren't skilled in the way of warfare. They would die easily.
As the general swept a marker over the map, another general said, "Those are fresh recruits. How do you expect them to fight against the earthbenders?"
"I don't." The cold calculation in the response made Iroh shudder. He had once supported such a kind of strategy. It was something he still felt ashamed of to this day. "They will be as bait so we can go in using the other fleets."
Zuko's hand clenched, but Iroh reached over and squeezed his hand. The young man's brows came down. His hard voice echoed over the crackling of Ozai's flames. "You don't expect them to survive?"
"No." The general paused, then eyed Zuko with a raised brow. "Do you take issue with that, Prince Zuko? It is the way of the war. Sacrifices should be made. They must be made."
Zuko narrowed his eyes further. Iroh tightened his grip on the young man's arm. Please watch your step- The prince pulled his arm free. "They are soldiers who love our country. If we are going to use them like that, they must be regarded as heroes."
"Of course." The general sat down with a smile that chilled Iroh to the bone. "We're not barbarians, Your Highness. Not like those Water Tribe people."
The prince frowned but did not speak again for the rest of the meeting. Iroh pulled him out as soon as he could, taking advantage of Zuko's free time. "You did well in there, Zuko. I'm proud of you."
"Thanks." The prince didn't look convinced. "Uncle, they're using them for fodder. That's just... that's wrong! How could they-"
Iroh took Zuko by the shoulder and pulled him out of the hall as the generals began to file out. They paused in front of Zuko's bedroom. "When you are Fire Lord, Zuko, you can change that. Hopefully, this war will be over by then. But for now-"
"When Zuzu is Fire Lord?" Azula came into view, arms crossed. Even for an eleven-year-old, she looked intimidating and cunning. Iroh disliked the similiarities between Azula and her father. Since her birth, Ozai had had far too much influence on her. "He can't even perform a fire wheel properly!"
Iroh frowned as the prince bristled. "Azula, that is no way to-"
"He has to be able to firebend to lead the nation properly." Azula raised a brow. "Face it, Zuzu. You're not ready to be Fire Lord. And if you're not careful, you never will be."
Something in her eyes flickered, and for the briefest of moments, Iroh saw a warning in her eyes.
She was trying to warn her brother. If he couldn't improve, then he would never be respected or accepted by Ozai.
Iroh knew it was a losing game, but Zuko did not. The prince clenched his fists. "That's easy for you to say! Everything comes easy for you! You were born lucky! Spirits, Azula, I was lucky to be born." He whirled to go into his room. "Why do I even bother with you anymore?"
Azula watched him disappear into his room, and Iroh saw a flicker of hurt on her face. It disappeared in the blink of an eye, and she turned on her heel and stalked out of sight.
He watched her go, and he let out a long, deep sigh. Where did I go wrong? What did I do?
And how do I make it better?
Zuko tried to block out the thoughts in his mind and found it to be futile.
You have to firebend.
If you can't firebend, you won't be Fire Lord.
You were never born with the spark, not like your sister was.
You were never meant to be Fire Lord. It was a losing game. It was a false hope.
No divine right to rule. It was given to Azula.
You were lucky to be born.
You'll never be ready to be the Fire Lord.
You'll never be ready.
He remembered the criticisms of his tutors. Everything he did was wrong. Every move, every idea, everything was wrong. The only one who didn't criticize him was his swordsmaster, Piandao. And Zuko couldn't lead a nation of firebenders with dual blades. If he couldn't firebend... he simply couldn't lead the nation.
Maybe his tutors thought he was a failure, just like Azula did. Maybe even his uncle thought the same. His father probably did.
A sharp rap on the door sent a jolt through his senses, and he sat up, nerves tight. His pulse rushed as his breath caught, and he wondered if he was in danger. Pressing a hand to his chest, he forced himself to calm down and call out in a collected voice, "What is it?"
A servant answered him. "The Fire Lord has requested an audience with you at once."