Bathing had been awkward. Necessary, after this morning's firebending practice, and inevitable in the long run regardless of his chosen activities, but awkward all the same. Ozai has never wanted to know what his father looked like naked, except that the body in question is his now and some things are impractical -- impossible -- to avoid, like the basic demands of self care and hygiene.
"Bodies aren't meant to be recycled," the Fire Lord mutters under his breath as he navigates the palace hallways to Iroh's suite in the guest wing.
Ever since the older man chose not to pursue his birthright, Iroh has existed in an odd royal-and-yet-not limbo in the Fire Nation's laws and culture. His royal titles have all been revoked, but not his military achievements. He has lost his place in the succession as if dishonored, and yet he has not been officially erased from the family records. The palace remains his home, but his rooms neighbor the visiting nobles, generals, and ministers, rather than the rest of the royal family. The blood of Kuzon the Uniter flows through his veins, and, ironically enough, that fact threatens to become a rallying cry that could split the country in two should rumors begin to spread that Iroh does not support the current Fire Lord's reign.
It's a delicate balance and not one that Ozai thinks can be sustained. He wishes he had a better idea of how to repair the rift between Iroh and the rest of the family, but he's learned that certain problems can only be solved one step at a time.
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The sharp double rap on the door draws Iroh's attention from his tea. A moment later, the door opens a bare inch and a guard's voice announces, "Fire Lord Ozai is here to see you, General." And then the door is quietly relatched.
Iroh sets his teacup down on its saucer and stares at his suite's entrance in something approaching disbelief. Ozai has sought him out again?
The man grunts as he pushes himself to his feet, missing the spryness of his youth.
True to the guard's words, Ozai stands on the other side of the door when Iroh opens it. "Brother," he greets with a bow.
"May I come in?" the Fire Lord requests politely.
Iroh fights not to appear completely dumbstruck. They both know that the Fire Lord need not ask for anything, let alone entrance into one of the rooms in his own palace. Furthermore, this marks the fourth time in the last twenty-four hours that his younger brother has arranged for them to speak privately. Never before has Ozai shown such an interest in his company. And yet... Agni himself had gone out of his way this morning to remind him that Ozai's oath -- which potentially risks his position as Fire Lord -- has not been revoked, but rather stands as a testament to Ozai's regard and Agni's tolerance of 'the foolishness of mortal man and particularly that of Kuzon's brood,' as the Sun Spirit had put it.
He steps aside and gestures for the younger man to join him in his suite's anteroom.
"Thank you," Ozai says, sweeping past him and taking a seat in the chair opposite the couch Iroh had occupied only a few seconds before.
The retired general shuts the door behind his brother. He retrieves another cup and saucer from his cupboard of personal tea supplies and proceeds to pour the other man a cup of tea from the pot. "What is it that brings you to my rooms, Brother?" he asks as he places the fresh teacup and saucer in front of the Fire Lord.
Having been asked bluntly, Ozai doesn't waste any further time. "Prince Zuko's firebending lessons have clearly been rushed. There are flaws in his foundational understanding of the art and his discipline is sloppy. I don't know if his previous instructors felt pressured by the pace of Princess Azula's progress or if they were simply neglectful. Either way, the results are the same. I don't have the time to devote to the task myself. Would you be willing to take on Zuko's firebending training?"
Iroh frowns into his tea. "If the problems begin in his mastery of the basics as you say, then this is not a new problem."
"No." Ozai's gaze is fixed on him with a single-mindedness that another man might find to be disquieting, but Azulon's stare had often been just as focussed and intent. Iroh has long since learned how to break free of the silent demands behind such eyes.
He sips his tea to buy time. Is it worth prodding further at this apparent change in his brother? There have been so many that Iroh barely recognizes the man across from him. He and Ozai have never been close -- for many reasons -- but he had thought he had some idea of who his younger brother is. He would like to take the very convenient excuse the spirits have provided him for why the man he is sharing tea with is a stranger, but his expectations of his brother were proven wrong in the degrees before the spirits' intervention. He'd never thought Ozai cruel enough to engage in an Agni Kai against his own son until he was witnessing the event unfold before his very eyes, nor had he ever imagined that his brother would disregard the boy's surrender, twice. And that does not begin to touch upon the matter of what he had said to Prince Zuko!
He makes no attempt to hide the accusation in his next question. "Why choose now to care about a child you have neglected this long?"
Ozai's jaw clenches but he continues to hold his intense stare. After a few long seconds of silence, the Fire Lord answers, "Guess. I'd think the reason for the timing should be easy enough to figure out."
Iroh scowls and sets his teacup on its saucer with a harsh clank before he can shatter it. "So, it only takes the spirits for you to see value in your son."
Ozai's mouth opens only to snap closed without saying a word as his eyes widen and he looks away. The Fire Lord's hands fist in his lap. The man's lips twist and his brow furrows as he wrestles with unvoiced thoughts. It is only after the first droplets have pattered against the back of Iroh's wrist, and he has brushed his hand over his cheek to confirm, that he realizes what has caused the Fire Lord's sudden hesitation.
How foolish of him to be crying over his boy again. His tears had not saved his son at Ba Sing Se's wall and they will do nothing for him now, going on two years after his death. And it is all the more foolish of him to mourn the loss of his son in front of the man that had used Lu Ten's death as a stepping stone to further his ambitions.
"Lu Ten was a brave and honorable man," Ozai says around a grimace, "I --"
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"Do not!" Iroh snaps, "I will not have your false sympathies over my son's death!"
Ozai pauses before giving him a shallow acquiescing nod. "As you wish." The Fire Lord meets his eyes again before continuing, "And Zuko? Are you willing to train him?"
"That depends," Iroh says, wiping his face clean of tears. He is not ashamed to grieve over the loss of his child, but Ozai has proven that he is not above wielding Lu Ten's death as a tool to achieve his aims and Iroh will not allow himself to be the means through which Ozai further degrades the memory of his lost prince.
"On?"
"'You will learn respect, and suffering.' Are these still words you intend to see realized, or is this another thing that has changed?" he challenges, "I have no desire to be a punishment inflicted upon my nephew. If he truly needs to be retrained, I am willing to help, but if this is instead some attempt to humiliate Prince Zuko, then I want no part in it!"
The Fire Lord appears staggered and perhaps Iroh should not be surprised. He cannot recall if he has ever spoken to his brother so bluntly in the past. Ozai seems to regain his senses after a brief moment and releases a hissing torrent of steam through his teeth. "That was said?" he demands, "Those exact words?"
Iroh frowns. "Yes. Do you not remember? It was just before the spirits intervened." He considers the thought some more. "Given the rather dramatic display that it was, it is possible that very few of those who witnessed the Agni Kai and its surrounding events will recall your statement to Prince Zuko."
"But the boy will," Ozai says, pinching the bridge of his nose as if fighting off a headache. "That might actually be worse than..." the words trail off in a frustrated growl. "Agni damn it!" the Fire Lord seethes before his head tips ever so slightly further forward than it had been and the man utters a quiet grunt.
"...Ozai?"
His brother sighs, leans back in the chair he is occupying, and meets his gaze. "I've been reminded that I have Agni's attention," the Fire Lord explains, "and that he hears when his name is said."
Iroh absorbs that statement, thinking back to the moment he had thoughtlessly thanked Agni in the training courtyard, and cannot help feeling stunned and simultaneously skeptical of the implied claim. "Agni spoke to you just now?" he checks.
Ozai hums and says, "I told you that he's been an almost constant presence. He doesn't always bother to build a body of fire. I think it might be easier for him to reach me, rather than crossing into our world directly." His brow furrows as he continues, "I'm beginning to suspect I've been tied to the spirit world somehow, or maybe specifically to Agni. It would help to explain this." The man gestures carelessly toward his face, eyes bright as twin flames.
"Perhaps. The glow does not appear to have diminished, in any case, and I do not have a better theory to offer you." There are a few mentions in the records about some of the ancient Fire Lords' eyes, comparing them to those of a predator or, at times, specifically those of a dragon. He'd thought it was merely poetic phrasing to describe the fierce or cunning dispositions of his ancestors, but perhaps the old texts had meant to convey something else entirely. "It could be a normal condition of becoming Agni's Herald," he says, "We have lost much of our knowledge regarding the heraldship."
"I become more aware of that with every hour that passes." The Fire Lord scrubs a hand over his face before meeting his eyes again. "It's not a punishment," he says, bringing their conversation back to its previous topic, "Zuko needs better instruction than he has received. I would consider it a personal favor if you would be willing to teach him."
"Very well. I will give Prince Zuko my own evaluation. Tomorrow. If his training is indeed as flawed as you say, I will do what I can to correct it."
"Thank you."
Iroh hums a noncommittal response. He's not sure he trusts a 'thank you' from Ozai to be anything more than another manipulation. "I believe the prince is typically instructed in firebending during the hours before lunch?"
"Yes."
"Then, if you find it agreeable, I will let you know my final answer on the matter over tomorrow's lunch."
"Lunch?" the Fire Lord questions, seemingly surprised. A tentative smile tries to form on the younger man's face before he crushes it, hiding his mouth behind a fist and clearing his throat. "Lunch. Yes. That's agreeable," he says awkwardly.
The retired general is uncertain what to make of his brother's behavior, so he decides not to address it. Not in this moment, at any rate. "Was there anything else you wished to discuss?" Iroh asks and finishes off his current cup of tea. He should have at least another half-cup left in the pot, he thinks.
"No. No, it was just the one thing." Ozai stands and says, "I shouldn't intrude on your hospitality further. I'll see you tomorrow. For lunch." He frowns. "And probably a war meeting after that. I need to speak with the clerks next to rearrange the rest of this week's schedule."
Iroh nods to acknowledge the words but gestures to the untouched cup and saucer left abandoned on the table. "You have not even tried the tea," he remarks, "I prepare it myself, you know. I like to think I have acquired some skill in the art of brewing."
The Fire Lord rolls his eyes, scoops up the neglected cup, and swallows its contents all at once. He sets the cup back down on its saucer and says in a wholly perfunctory manner, "It's very good."
Iroh can't help feeling insulted by the display. "You did not even taste it!" he chides, "Brother, tea is meant to be savored. Not thrown back like cheap alcohol!"
"Iroh," the other man huffs impatiently, "I have a country to run. I'm not going to waste time on savoring what amounts to hot leaf juice."
He reels back, thoroughly disgruntled to learn of this previously unknown flaw in his brother's character. "'Hot leaf juice,' you say?" Iroh strokes his beard and runs a critical eye over the Fire Lord's unimpressed stance and stubborn scowl. (The thought that the Fire Lord currently resembles a sulking teenager flits through his mind before being swiftly dismissed.) "It would seem that Prince Zuko is not the only one who has received faulty training. A Fire Lord without a proper appreciation for tea..." Iroh bemoans the fate of the nation and decides, "I will bring a pot of ginseng with me for tomorrow's lunch. Regardless of my decision on Prince Zuko's firebending, we should begin your training immediately."
Ozai does not react the way Iroh would have expected him to, had Iroh taken the time to think about how he would have expected Ozai to react. Instead, his brother stares at him for a moment before bursting into laughter, one hand clutching the nearby chair's backrest for support and the other arm tucked around his abdomen.
Iroh can only stare in bewilderment.
"I'm sorry," the Fire Lord apologizes between lingering chortles as his mirth winds down, waving one hand in some vague gesture while the other continues to cling to the chair, "I just -- It's good, after everything that's happened, to know that some things remain unchanged. I needed that more than I realized. Thank you. Brother."
And then Ozai bows. It's shallow, representing gratitude between equals if he is reading it correctly, but it is still undeniably a bow from the Fire Lord. It is almost as inappropriate a behavior as sitting at his feet in the training courtyard had been. If Ozai isn't mindful of such acts and their potential audiences, he could start rumors every bit as destabilizing as anything Iroh could try to stir up on his own. (Iroh tries not to think about Ozai's oath of honor to him, and the argument with Agni that the Fire Lord had immediately gotten into following it. There had been at least six direct witnesses to the event and news has doubtlessly already begun to spread, especially as Ozai himself ordered the sages to give an honest report to the temple. Time alone will reveal what results the oath shall bear.)
"I'll leave you to savor the rest of your tea," Ozai says, but the words carry no mocking tone and a smile remains from his previous laughter, "Until tomorrow."
"Until tomorrow," Iroh repeats, too preoccupied with his increasingly tumultuous thoughts to offer a different farewell.
The Fire Lord nods and sees himself out.
Iroh collapses back into the waiting cushioned support of the couch and stares unseeingly ahead. He needs to renew his research into spirits, he decides, particularly in regards to what it may mean when spirits refer to a mortal as 'reforged.'