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Iroh stared at the young boy in front of him, his soon-to-be son. He had always gotten along very well with his nephew. He feared that was about to change.
“Are you all right, Zuko?” he asked. ‘Nephew’ he would soon not be able to use, and ‘son’ was...too fraught. His name would have to do.
Then he thought of the question he’d just asked, and suppressed a wince. Stupid. He was not cut out to be a father; surely he had demonstrated that already, and in abundance. Lu Ten, Lu Ten, what will I do without you...
Grief threatened to swamp him, but he pushed it back. Later he could light candles and weep. Now, the boy in front of him deserved his attention, as well as his protection.
“I’m fine,” he said. “But...I don’t understand...” He hesitated.
“Yes?” said Iroh encouragingly, doing his best to project the uncle-y warmth he had always manifested around his nephew.
“What’s going on?”
Had no one told him? No, it seemed not. Iroh would just have to do his best to explain, then.
“Your father—” he could not, now, say ‘my brother’ “—offered me insult. Grave insult.” Though nothing, perhaps, which was not true...but he thought of his father’s words. If he had lost faith in himself, he could, at least, keep it in the Fire Lord; if Azulon said he was fit for the job, then he was.
Zuko was already paling. “N—Zuko?”
“I—it’s nothing.”
Iroh considered pressing. But best not. The boy would be dealt enough of a blow very soon; there was no need to worsen its force by weakening its target.
“He suggested my grief for Lu Ten’s death made me unfit to be Fire Lord.” Zuko was blinking back tears, and Iroh remembered suddenly, guiltily, that he and Azulon were not the only ones to suffer from Lu Ten’s death. We can light a candle together... Later.
“My father loved Lu Ten, and has known loss in a way your father has not. He was displeased. So...” He took a breath. “The Fire Lord mandated that Ozai, too, should know the pain of losing a first-born son.”
Zuko’s face lost all colour, the gold of his irises small in his white and terrified eyes. “Don’t...” he said.
Iroh crouched down to his nephew’s level. “Nephew?” He made his voice gentle.
Zuko scrambled backwards. “Don’t kill me,” he choked.
Iroh blinked in confusion, and reviewed his last words. “No!” he said. “No, never! Zuko, you are my beloved nephew. I would never kill you, and your grandfather would certainly never command your death!” Of all things, that his new son would fear this– “I am not here to kill you!”
“Then... how...”
“I am not here to kill you,” repeated Iroh, and he flattened his palms against the sides of his robes. He did not wish to be the one to break the news to his nephew. “I am here to adopt you.”
Golden eyes blinked confusion at him.
“I will be your father, and you my second son. Ozai... will be your uncle, I suppose.”
“But I’m ten!”
“It is unusual,” agreed Iroh. “But we must trust in the Fire Lord.”
There was nothing Zuko could say to that, and for a time he fell silent.
“I am here,” Iroh added. “If you need me.”
Zuko stayed where he was.
Finally he spoke again. “Can—will I be able to see father again?”
Iroh let the slip go. For now, it was even true. Though it would have to be trained away, after the adoption ceremony and before he spoke to Azulon again.
“I do not think so,” he said gently. “We must not divide your loyalties. And Ozai’s loss would not be so complete, if he could see you when he wished.” He considered. “You will be able to see him in the court,” he added. “But not privately.”
Zuko swallowed. “M—mother?”
Iroh turned it over. “My wife is long since dead,” he said finally. “And Ursa has given no insult. I do not see why not.”
“And Azula?”
“I...do not think so.” He did not know his niece terribly well, but her loyalty to Ozai was obvious. “Perhaps later, when you are more settled in.”
He rose to his feet, and held out his hand. “Come, Zuko. I have had some rooms laid out for you, by my chambers.” Zuko took it, barely gripping. “You can tell me what you like and what you do not.”
He talked what he hoped was soothing nonsense, and let his mind wander. He would have to train, now, this boy to be Fire Lord one day, as well as protect and nurture him. But his father was not so old as that, nor was Iroh himself. If nothing else, he reflected, they had time.