Iroh watches his brother exit the courtyard and isn't sure if he should feel more relieved or worried as the younger man vanishes from view. On one hand, the spirits themselves had intervened and spared his young, foolhardy nephew from what would have doubtlessly been a grievous injury. On the other hand, the spirits had intervened and they had not been subtle.
To his shame, he had averted his eyes when Zuko refused to fight and Ozai approached the boy regardless, and so he had not seen the Fire Lord fall to his knees. He had only dared to again look upon the Agni Kai platform after the crowd's gasps had been followed by Prince Zuko's distressed call for his father, rather than his cry of pain. Iroh already knows he will never forget the sight of his indomitable younger brother driven to his knees with his head tipped up to the sky and light pouring from his open mouth and eyes. It had been unsettling, to say the least, and will doubtlessly be the source of many whispers for years to come.
Even after the spirits had released the man from their thrall, his eyes had not returned to normal. Although they are no longer casting out beams of light, the Fire Lord's eyes now glow from an internal source that is wholly separate from a firebender's inner flame. One glance at Ozai's face will be enough to confirm to even the staunchest of skeptics that his brother has been spirit-touched.
But to what end?
Iroh does his best to banish the frown from his face as he collects his niece and nephew. He can only hope that he will receive the answers to some of his many questions later in the day.
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"I'm not to be disturbed except for emergencies," the Fire Lord tells the guards, "When General Iroh arrives, allow him entry."
"Yes, Fire Lord," both guards respond dutifully.
Zuko tips his head in a shallow nod before crossing the threshold into the Fire Lord's suite. As soon as the doors are closed behind him, he leans back against the solid barrier between him and the rest of the nation with an exhausted sigh and closes his eyes.
He has Iroh arranging the war meeting and collecting the Fire Sages for their counsel. He stopped by the kitchens to request refreshments to keep the generals from getting any crankier over empty bellies than they would already be from the ceasefire he was about to order. The clerks are currently working to assemble new maps and statistics with updated troop numbers and locations, borders, supply lines, and any other relevant information regarding the war front for the entire Earth Kingdom and the scattered islands that claim independence. The maps that would have been used only yesterday for that disastrous meeting his father had used to banish him could be reused today, but they focussed on only a small portion of the large continent.
(Only six years after the fact, he finally has a real chance to save the 41st Division from being slaughtered. It would almost be funny if the whole situation wasn't so stressful.)
Zuko focusses on his breathing and the now empty tea mug in his hands that he'd taken from the kitchens. He can do this. One step at a time.
He already knows that it's going to be a nightmare convincing all the various Earth kings and Water Tribe chieftains to trust him without an Avatar to vouch for him, but he'll figure it out. Somehow.
Zuko groans and opens his eyes only for his gaze to catch on the full-length mirror visible through the open doorway to his bedroom. He nearly drops the mug before managing to set it down on the small table beside the suite's main doors.
He'd already realized he was trapped in his father's body, but somehow he still hadn't been prepared to see the reality of the situation for himself. Zuko swallows and forces himself to approach the mirror, to look at what is now his own face and form. It doesn't matter how painful it is. His life has never been easy. He knows how to push past pain.
Zuko frowns at the mirror. Maybe he's spent too much time with Aang, but the odd inner glow of his eyes barely registers compared to the rest of his reflection. He's always taken after his mother in looks, but he can see shadows on his own features in Ozai's face. It's a lot easier to find the similarities with the disdain removed from his father's expression. -- No. His expression on his face. He needs to accept that. -- Zuko holds a hand over his left eye. Ah, there he is. Despite the sharper cheekbones and jawline, he can definitely see pieces of himself in the reflected image. He just wishes that was comforting.
He allows his hand to fall away from his face before he can do anything stupid. This body is his now, and he will make it his, but trying to reclaim old scars isn't the way to do so. Zuko sweeps a critical gaze over his reflection and comes to a decision. There isn't a need to make any drastic changes, but the goatee has to go. And probably several inches of hair, too.
There is a movement in the mirror behind him.
Zuko whirls around in a ready stance. Flames flare to life in his hands only to twist out of his control and stream toward a growing sphere of fire hovering in the center of his bedroom. Zuko grunts and ceases to bend. This is clearly spirit work and not one he can fight with firebending. His fingers itch for his dao swords but he makes himself wait to discover what spirit has sought him out and what they want from him.
Every sconce in the room continues to feed their flames into the burning sphere, fire changing from bright yellows to pure white. Finally the sphere releases the smaller fires. It spins and elongates itself before reshaping itself into a familiar form.
"Agni?"
"So I am," the spirit responds, "You have been busy, Fire Lord."
Unlike the Moon Spirit and Ocean Spirit, Agni doesn't look much like a human. Agni is fire and he doesn't hide that fact. The white flames that make up his form may hold to the shape of a man, but that is the only concession he makes in his appearance.
"I... Am I going to go blind?" Zuko asks. His eyes don't feel like they're burning, and Agni had been careful not to let Zuko harm himself during their first meeting, but he remembers the warning he'd received in the spirit world about looking directly at Agni and even on a cloudy day it could be dangerous to look at the sun.
"Peace, child mine," Agni's voice holds laughter, but at least it sounds like amusement and not condescension, "This form is a greatly reduced representation of all that I am. It is safe for you to look."
"Oh. Good." Zuko flushes in embarrassment. He has no clue what he's supposed to do. Agni is the sun in the sky, the source of all firebending, and the patron deity of the Fire Nation. He is also the same spirit that had thrown him headlong into his father's life, held him up when his legs gave out on him, and attempted to calm him after he'd unceremoniously lost his lunch all over an arena dedicated in his honor.
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Agni chuckles softly and rounds the bed to stand in front of him. "There are yet a few hours before you must attend the meeting you have called, and preparations are underway." The spirit tips his head toward Zuko and advises, "You should rest while you can, Fire Lord."
"I will. I had the clerks clear my schedule for tomorrow."
"And for today?" Agni questions. "We plucked you up from your bed before sleep had found you and dropped you into noonday. You need rest."
Zuko shifts his weight on his feet. He does. He can feel it dragging at him. A tired Fire Lord is a Fire Lord that makes mistakes that affect thousands at the least. He'd been planning to meditate, but something tells him Agni will push for full sleep instead. "I'll take a nap," he says reluctantly, "I just need to do something first."
"One thing?" Agni presses.
"Yes." Zuko straightens his shoulders. "I need to cut some of this hair off. There's too much of it." Tradition means he has to keep enough for a topknot, but leaving more than that gives opponents an unnecessary handhold attached directly to his head. The same for goes for the stupidly long goatee his father had favored for reasons Zuko can't fathom.
Agni shakes his head but there is a smile in his tone as he says, "Very well. Let us be done with the task quickly so that you may sleep."
"Us?" Zuko asks.
"Indeed," Agni answers, placing a hand on the young Fire Lord's back and herding him into the attached bathing room, "The servants will likely have to clean it up later, but I doubt I can do much worse than you would on your own without any assistance."
"Probably," Zuko admits wryly.
Agni is going to help him cut his hair. How did his life get this weird?
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Agni doesn't wait for the guard to knock on the Fire Lord's suite doors. In fact he makes sure to open the door before the poor mortal's fist can make contact. His child needs all the rest he can convince the young human to take.
"General Iroh of Second Fire," he greets formally, careful to keep his voice bland, "You may --"
The retired general's face displays open shock. One of the guards yelps and the other attempts to run him through with his spear.
Agni flares the flames of this secondary manifestation hotter and molten steel falls at his feet. The spirit huffs quietly and bends to collect the puddled metal. He is perhaps a bit too fond of mortal man, he muses. An attempt to kill him and he can only find it cute, like a fledgeling of first fire practicing use of their claws and fangs with their clutchmates. The spirit carefully bends the heat from the melted steel until it resolidifies and then further still until the irregular ingots are unlikely to burn through gloves.
"Your hand," he says and gestures toward the guard that had tried to stab him, "No need to let it go to waste. I'm sure a decent smith can forge something worthwhile from it." The guard hesitantly offers a hand as requested and Agni drops the ingots into the waiting palm. The spirit ignores the man's soft hiss. Making something cold is not among his abilities. He has no doubts that the metal feels quite hot even to a child of second fire, but his leather glove is neither smoking nor melting. The guard will be fine.
"As I was saying, you may come in, General."
Iroh does not move beyond his breath and his eyes. The man's gaze is wary and scrutinizing. "And whom among the spirits would I be addressing?" the man asks, tone carefully mild.
"A spirit of flame and heat, of fire and burning," Agni responds for no other reason than to be difficult. He has not yet gotten over his disappointment in the once-crown-prince and he is unlikely to reach that point during the man's lifetime. Iroh had had such promise and he threw it away in a grief that he had allowed to subsume all else. Still, he can hear his young Fire Lord stirring deeper within the chambers. Iroh of Second Fire will have his answer soon enough.
"There are many spirits of fire," the general says evenly, "some more friendly toward humans than others. I would be honored to be entrusted with your name, spirit."
"Would you?" Agni says, "You once had the chance for such an honor but chose to eschew the responsibilities that came with becoming my herald to this world."
Iroh frowns, his eyes speak of uncertainty. How the man fails to recognize him at this point is beyond Agni. There are few other spirits capable of burning hot enough to produce white flames and fewer still that care to retain heralds among humans. The guards can be forgiven their ignorance. Sozin and Azulon were thorough in their efforts to bury most knowledge of the spirits among those of second fire. But Iroh has sought out enough information to know better. Perhaps that is the problem. Iroh may know enough to be wary of tricksters and impersonators.
"I'm afraid I --"
"Agni?" his young Fire Lord calls for him, voice roughened by sleep.
Both guards drop to the floor in full kowtows. Iroh's face flushes and contorts in anger. Ah, he does suspect a trickster, then. Well, that is easily remedied. "So I am." And although many spirits may twist their words or speak in riddles, lies are a fully mortal contrivance.
Iroh of Second Fire immediately pales as he gapes and his eyes widen. Finally, some proper fear from the prince that forsook his duties. The man falls into a deep bow and Agni feels his temper flare. "Lower, Once-Prince," he commands, "You rejected your birthright and duties. You have lost the protections of your bloodline. The blessings of Kuzon, Uniter of the Sacred Fire Lands, First of the Fire Lords, is no longer upon you. And never will be again."
Iroh shakes as he sinks to his knees. "I beg your forgiveness for my trespass, Great Agni, King of Flames."
Agni tamps down on his temper. He does not hate Iroh. He does not wish him to come to harm. He is simply frustrated with the man. "Rise, all of you. Return to the duties the Fire Lord has assigned you."
"What did I miss?" the man behind him asks warily.
Agni considers his newly reforged Fire Lord, of Zuko's soul and Ozai's body, not so dissimilar to the state Tui had been in only a few short years ago. He is yet fragile and still in the process of setting. Iroh has not done enough to earn his full contempt, but the man schemes and meddles and Agni will not have him strike unknowingly at an ally only to destroy a young man that loves him and will not fight fang for fang, claw for claw. Fire Lord Zuko should be allowed more time to mourn his life and identity, but his protection is more important.
Agni approaches the Fire Lord and all three of the humans still by the doorway tense as the fire spirit rests a palm on his favored's forehead and wraps his other hand around the back of the man's neck. The Fire Lord does not flinch but he remains wary.
"Agni?"
"You are Fire Lord Ozai," the spirit declares and wills himself to ignore the betrayed look in the young man's eyes, "Born of Kuzon the Uniter's line, reforged by the Council of Greater World Spirits, and holder of Agni's favor. By my blessing, you will rule over my Fire Lands until your death or abdication. Woe be to any who would conspire against you. They will know the full measure of my ire."
The Fire Lord glances over at the small gathering of witnesses, specifically at his uncle-brother, before his eyes return to Agni. "I understand," he rasps.
Agni is not done. "You are Ozai," he declares, dropping his hand from the mortal's head to his chest, "Son of Agni and Nephew of Tui, cherished child of the sky. Nowhere under our gaze can you wander alone. Nowhere under our gaze can your enemies hide."
"Oh," his child breathes.
Good, sometimes it takes a while for those he favors to realize that ceremonial words take on deeper meaning with his favor. Better to say it more plainly when matters are already balanced precariously.
Agni releases the young man. "Now, I believe you have matters to attend to," he says, sweeping a measuring glance over his child. Still shaken, but growing more sure of himself. And Iroh (who for better or worse, stands as the greatest threat to Ozai) has been warned. The older mortal is not usually a fool. He will wait and watch before taking any further actions. It is enough.
"Thank you, Agni," Ozai says and offers a deep bow.
The spirit indulges himself when the young mortal's unbound hair falls forward, tucking the locks behind his ear before withdrawing. "Be honorable, Fire Lord."
Agni allows the manifestation to unravel, flame without fuel dissipating harmlessly in the air.