uncle_iroh | Inbox for Sn: Pai Sho

He leaned his staff next to the doorway, taking the seat as indicated. And smiled at the Pai Sho game. He had a feeling it might feature in the course of their day, really.

And it was also a good, familiar piece of home.

"I was fine, Zuko. It all turned out fine, and we learned about a new plant. I'm sure we can find something for your friend." He might be scratching just a bit, thinking about it, though.

"And it does not have to be a burden. He can find something to do for the healer regularly, then it is a trade. There is no shame in people coming together to help each other out."

He brought the tea over and set Aang's down first before his own. He took a seat across from the table.

"Do you play Pai Sho?" he asked with a smile.

He bowed his head in thanks, taking up his cup but waiting for Iroh.

"Yes!" he replied, with some eagerness. "I'm not the best player the Air Nation ever produced, but I was pretty good a century ago. I take it that it's a favorite of yours?"

Zuko just shakes his head, swallowing a secret smirk when he notices that unconscious itching.

"Maybe... He'd more readily accept the ointment, I think. He's the type of person who'd feel guilty to ask servants for help even though it's their job, y'know what I mean?" he leans back in his seat as he speaks, getting comfortable. "Not that he's ever had servants, that I know of, I mean — well, except when he was little, maybe, I dunno. He told me his parents were rich. But he ran away from home when he was eight. He's been on his own since then. I don't think he's known much luxury or love in his life, Uncle. Now... I have a feeling he'd feel uncomfortable with something he'd have to rely on others for. He doesn't wanna impose on people, even his friends."

Ah, so the truth outs. This makes a lot more sense why Zuko and Gokudera are so close, and how the poor young man ended up on a pedestal in Zuko's life. Of course this is the kind of tortured, triumphant figure Zuko would find to admire. He doesn't feel hung up airing Gokudera's life story to Iroh, because Gokudera'd already shared so much of his life in the mafia with Iroh when they met... and it's Uncle. Who's he gonna tell? It's better that he have the background info privately, Zuko thinks. It's a better insight into Zuko's life in Iroh's absence, too, learning the kind of characters he'd been idolizing.

"Very much so, and it has been some time since I have played against anyone who favored Air Nation strategies. This will be a very interesting game."

And a trade was not asking for help, but fine. He wouldn't argue. Not just now, anyway. "Then we will go find herbs, and if you are so concerned, we can test the before you give them to your friend, alright, Zuko?"

"Yes. Thank you, Uncle," Zuko said with a more even tone, glancing back to the man as his leg was finished up. He pulls it away as soon as he sees the chance to once it was bandaged.

"Okay, so... Since you won't bite me—" he turns to the dragon sitting on the armrest still, watching the world out the window, which turns to Zuko quizzically, like what. "...Tsungi horn practice?"

"Very well. Let us see how you are coming along with that." He set aside the first aid supplies and sat down to listen.

Zuko repositions himself, sitting further to the edge of the couch, spreading his legs to balance himself as he mounts the massive horn around his shoulder and wraps his lips around the mouthpiece. He pauses before he begins, glancing at Zunyan. It better not bite him, too. Without Zuko II here to influence it, Zunyan's pretty tame and predictable. But Zuko can't be blamed for being wary. He takes a deep breath, catching Iroh's gaze briefly before he closes his eyes, and begins to play. It's a song he knows Iroh knows how to play well himself, but indeed, sounds a little off — not bad, just off. He's warming up with something familiar.

He nodded.

"And even longer since I got to play against someone with Fire Nation strategies, I'd bet."

He sniffed the tea and it was...perfection. His smile reflected that.

Zuko nods, closing his eyes to hide the fact that they're growing wet with tears he's barely willing not to fall. His voice is hoarse with emotion when he speaks, taking a second to swallow the lump in his throat and pretend to compose himself before he tries to say anything.

"...Tomorrow, Uncle. I'm tired. I want to stay here tonight." Like that wasn't already obvious with his duffle bag and general disposition. "...Maybe for a few nights, actually."

He's overwhelmingly thankful his uncle is here for this. That hand on his shoulder carries the weight of the world to him right now in exactly the way he needs. Gokudera had helped him prior to meeting Azula earlier that night, but after having actually confronted Azula now, the only person in the world who could comfort him, he felt, was standing here in front of him, making plans of his own.

Iroh smiled gently, settling in on the floor to sit and listen.

"Not bad," he said when the boy finished. "That was an interesting transition you added in the middle there."

"Then this should be an interesting game. Though I suspect that how I play will not be exactly what you would expect, given where I was born." He sipped his tea.

He nodded, then kissed his nephew lightly on the cheek. He would have gone for the top of the head, but hight differences are a thing.

"Tomorrow then. But Zuko, know this. No matter what happens, whatever you learn or chose to do... you are not in this alone."

"...Yeah. But Azula is," he mumbles, throwing his gaze aside. The show of affection is finally enough to calm him, though, and at long last he takes a seat on the couch, collapsing more than sitting, looking forlorn. He's not too tired to talk... just to tired to talk to the Avatar.

He smiles, nodding.

"I think that's kind of the best way," he replied, sipping his tea.

"How are you settling in?"

"She has made her own choices. There is only so much that we can shield her from that, and less that we should. It is fine line to walk, Prince Zuko. Protect someone too little and they could be badly hurt or die, they could break, they could change as a response to that pain in ways that they can never recover from. Protect someone too much and they never learn or grow, they never change at all. Everyone who tries to protect anyone ever will make mistakes sometimes, Zuko." He certainly had. "But that too is something we learn from."

"Quite well. Any world with good tea and good company is a welcome one to me," he said with a warm smile. "Do you wish to play first?"

Zuko's quiet for a long moment, trying to process those words with all the new information and new perspectives he'd been given today, from Aang, from Gokudera, from Azula, from Iroh... all the people he turns to for new information and new perspectives. Just. Not usually all at once. He's overwhelmed.

"...No one protected Azula from Father," he says decisively, after his ruminative pause, not meeting Iroh's eye. "Mother left to protect me. But for Azula, she just left." He pauses once more, then turns his gaze to Iroh at last, something painful in it, the same vague and painful something tugging at the tone of his voice.

"...I know the whole story now. Do you want to know what really happened?"

"Do not think that no one has tried. But Azula would no more be protected then you would be persuaded away from what you thought you had to do," he said gently.

"But yes, we can sit together with tea while you tell me."

Zuko nods, taking a moment to collect his thoughts before reaching for one of the teacups Iroh had sat down on the table. He sips it quietly with lowered lashes at first, not sure where to start. It was all so much. But he figures the best place to start… is the beginning. Even though he knows Iroh already likely knows much of the situation, or had guessed as much, it’s all news to Zuko, and worth reconstructing out loud now that he’s had time to process. He sighs before beginning, gaze fixed on the floor between his feet as he speaks.

“…The day we received the letter announcing Cousin Lu-Ten’s death, Father arranged an audience for all of us together with Grandfather Azulon. After Grandfather dismissed us to speak to Father privately, Azula and I hid behind the curtain in the throne room to eavesdrop…” He pauses, worrying his lip. He was only eleven; Azula was only nine. But he hates to bring up Lu-Ten or Ozai’s betrayal this way. Yet at the same time… it’s crucial context.

“Father begged Grandfather to revoke your birthright because you no longer had a bloodline as the firstborn without your family. But Grandfather was furious, Uncle, it was scary… I ran away, so I didn’t hear this myself, but, um— Azula stayed. And told me what she heard later. Grandfather punished Father for daring to suggest such betrayal when you were in such pain — by the same price you paid. The life of his firstborn son. I thought Azula was just messing with me back then and lying like she always did, but now I know it was true… And, um—“

He glances up at Iroh but then quickly away again, feeling highly uncomfortable relaying the poor old man’s role in the context of all this as it all becomes more concrete as he hears himself recap everything aloud. It’s truly awful. His face is gradually awash with more and more emotion, especially after his short pause to really realize the story he’s telling here, in regards to Iroh himself. A painstricken look. Uncomfortable. But empathetic still.

“…Mother overheard us talking about it. And, uh— took Azula away to find out more, I guess. Um— But …Azula wasn’t lying about Grandfather telling Father to kill me. And, um—“

He stops short, eyes darting the other way again. He can’t continue; he’s hitching here. But he knows he needs to reveal this to Iroh. But how can he? He’s talking about Iroh’s father… Azulon may not have been as loving as Ursa, but he was certainly not as hateful as Ozai. What’s more, will this change Iroh’s feelings toward Ursa, whom the man had always known to be doting of his nephew, a shared interest in the prince’s well-being and protection from Ozai — will this change Iroh’s feelings toward Zuko, he worries? He looks as frazzled as he feels.

This.... This was painful to hear. And as Much as Iroh could usually push his own pain aside to put on the face that Zuko needed to see...

This was perhaps the hardest it has ever been. And he did not succeed. At least, not fully. He sat and listened, head bowed, hands closed together pressed between his knees. Parts of this he had known, but in truth... not much. Between how destroyed he had been when he arrived home and the questionable verisimilitude of the sources he hadn't focused much on it at the time.

He wished he could be surprised that his brother had tried something like that at that time, in that way. But the truth was, given how things played out, he could not. Of course at the time, he hadn't cared. He hadn't wanted to be Fire Lord. He had just come face to face with the reality of their so-called attempts to unite and civilize the world. Instead of observing and learning from the wall at Ba Sing Se, he had been sending innocent youths to die against it.

He had been questioning everything. But even now, even after everything that happened... Some part of him had wanted to believe there was some part of the brother he had loved left in the man his brother had become.

But in some ways he had come to expect by this point, here and now, the cruelty of his brother's single focused fixation with power.

But to hear what his father had ordered. That... That was new to him. And freshly painful because it was new. How could his father have thought that he would be what he would have wanted?

No... it had never been about what Iroh would have wanted. It wasn't about making Iroh feel justice had been done. It had been about power. About having a son who dared to question his judgment. His choice. It had never been about Lu-Ten or Iroh.

Iroh had long since lost any belief that his father had been a just or good man. But this...

Zuko was like a second son to Iroh now, and even before Iroh had always loved the boy. But even if he had not. Even if all love was removed from the equation - and clearly for Iroh's father and brother it had been - for a man to order his own grandson killed... to punish the boy's father for the father speaking out of turn....

For a leader to do it especially. But then he had long since understood that neither his brother nor his father ever truly understood what it took to be a real leader.

His shoulders shook as he listened, as it all washed over him. At the disgusted moment when he realized that what his brother had done to Zuko for talking out of turn was - in comparison - kind. It disgusted him.

The casual reminder within all of this that Azula would have lied about something like this just for the sake of amusement.

If not for Zuko... Iroh would think there was no good in the family at all. He knew it was not within him, himself. But Zuko was proof that there was at least something in their line worth loving and caring for. He was the hope for their family.

More than being a Fire Lord to a broken Fire Nation shattered by generations of unjust war... being the good in such a family was the heaviest weight to bear. And all Iroh could do was to do his best to help give Zuko strength.

He realized that Zuko had stopped speaking. Was waiting. Probably for him to reply. But for once no words came. He had none to offer. No wisdom, no comfort. Nothing. He knew that clearly Zuko had not died. That his own father had. That Zuko's mother was gone, but now knew she was not dead. He knew he had been pushed aside from the throne. But he didn't know what connected all of that, what happened next.

He wasn't sure that he wanted to know. But he knew that Zuko needed to tell him. Needed him to be strong enough to hear it.

But he wasn't sure he was. His nephew was all he had left, all the purpose left to his life. Being strong for Zuko. And he didn't know if he was equal to the task.

He knew tears were falling from his eyes. He knew Zuko needed him to be strong so her could listen and give Zuko the support he needed, the comfort, the strength to go forward. He had told himself once, that he would do whatever Zuko needed him to do, to be whatever Zuko needed him to be. Many times since he had feared that he had failed. But Zuko had always come through on the other end, had always survived. But now... Now he knew he was failing. He could even see how to not fail. All he had to do was nod, tell Zuko he was listening and then listen. He just had to come up with the right thing to say.

All that time he spent in a Fire Nation cell pretending to be crazy, pretending to be a fat old slob who was washed up and weak and pathetic, he thought... had had thought after that he could convince anyone of anything. He was wrong.

He couldn't find the words to comfort his boy. To help him. He couldn't find the strength to be what Zuko needed. He couldn't manage to do anything but sit beside the boy, too locked in his own pain to be of any help.

So. He was to be, in the end, as selfish and self centered as his brother then. And like everyone else in their family, he too was to fail Zuko.

He had failed Lu-Ten.

He had clearly failed Azula.

What had made him think that he could be strong enough to not fail Zuko?

If Zuko only knew that there was any part of Iroh sitting there thinking he'd failed Zuko somehow in all this, he'd be jumping up from his seat to hug the man and vehemently deny such a thing. But all he can see is Iroh's quiet tears, and only barely, because he's looking for them when he's brave enough to look up. The sight draws out his silence even further. His eyes linger on his uncle for a moment, conflict knotting his brow. Should he continue? How important is it really, that Iroh know this? Is this just Zuko selfishly torturing an old man who'd already known so much loss and betrayal, rubbing his nose in it, just because Zuko's feeling some vaguer sense of loss and betrayal and wants comfort? Is he just doing this on principle? No... The principle is that Zuko would have wanted to know the truth about Ursa, even if it hurt, even though it does hurt, he'd rather know this now, and he was upset that Azula didn't prioritize his need to know. So by that token, Iroh should know the full truth, too. The whole picture is always preferable, right? But then again... Zuko's not yet seventeen, what does he know about 'the whole picture.'

He worries his bottom lip, eyes casting aside again as if searching for his next words strewn about the room. Iroh's a smart man. Zuko needn't put it bluntly. He'll spell it out, but even so, he's not sure he can bring himself to put it bluntly... He can't even bring himself to make eye contact just to dance around it. He feels a guilt in all this, even though he knows he shouldn't. He feels a guilt for existing — he was told as a child that he was lucky to ever be born, told off-the-cuff in a discussion about being bad at schoolwork that his father had wanted to kill him even as a baby. Iroh probably hadn't heard that story, either... Why would he have? That was just a casual moment between father and son, a typical day in the home with Ozai. Zuko can feel a lump growing in his throat as he deliberates, but swallows it when he gathers the nerve to continue.

"...On the Day of Black Sun, I spoke with Father. During the eclipse. And he— ...he said something that Azula confirmed tonight... that, um—" He stops short again and takes a deep breath, closing his eyes. "...Father told me that Mom proposed 'vicious, treasonous things' that day, for which she was banished. He didn't know if she was alive or not when I asked, but he told me that she begged him to spare my life and swore to protect me... 'at any cost.'" He remembers his father's words clearly, and finally glances back to Iroh, fixing his gaze on him at long last, face wrought with emotion anew at the sight of him again. His voice trembles a bit, feeling the need to add on... something. Empathy. Guilt. Condolences. Any number of feelings for this sordid mess of a family of theirs.

"...I-I'm sorry, Uncle."

His eyes closed as Zuko spoke again. Knowing the people involved, he could almost picture the scene. And if it wasn't exactly how it played out, it was how it would last in his memory for the time being. And he could guess what the treason was, what the cost had been... because he knew what he had come home to. He had come home without his son, to the ruins of what remained of his family.

And then Zuko apologized. Iroh opened his eyes and looked at his nephew, through his tears. "In all of this, Zuko, you are the one who owes no apologies," he said gravely. "It is we who have failed you."

Edited (Subject line) 2021-06-20 06:53 (UTC)

Inbox for Sn: Pai Sho - Avalon

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Sorry I lack a good icon for this.

it's cuuuute it's good~

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Re: it's cuuuute it's good~

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I had to reup the paid for this thread...

hooooooooooo, heavy breathing reading that tag, pure artfulness holy shit this thread

Short but....