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Iroh gets a letter from Zuko a few months after Ozai’s defeat - it hasn't been very long since his last letter, and that sends a spike of worry through Iroh's spine. The new Fire Lord has been keeping tabs on his sister, and over the past few months and letters, he’s mentioned that her anger has begun to dissipate. However, it very quickly turns into something else.
Nothingness.
His once passionate, clever sister now stares out into nothing.
‘Uncle, I think I’ve made a mistake’.
Iroh realizes he can’t remain in Ba Sing Se for now. He gives temporary ownership to one of his apprentices and he takes off for his birthplace.
Zuko is overwhelmed, but thriving. He can handle the legal works; it’s Azula’s condition that is putting the most stress on him. He and Iroh agree it would be best that they go to see her together - Iroh’s sudden appearance could have the potential to trigger something in Azula that could cause damage to others or herself.
Iroh returns to the prison he was held in for an unknown amount of time. He could only recall the amount the days he’d been in there from the time he’d realized the eclipse was imminent to the day he escaped.
He sees Ming, in good health, and he bows and thanks her for the kindness she showed to him.
Upon being escorted to Azula’s room, there is a curtain hung just beyond the bars of the cell, ensuring some type of privacy for the princess. Zuko steps in, pulling the curtain aside, where Iroh looks upon his shattered niece.
Oh, he knew this look very well.
The despair, the emptiness. He knew it all too well.
“Azula,” Zuko says. “May we enter?”
Azula doesn’t speak.
“Azula?” Zuko repeats. Still nothing.
Iroh stands up straight. “Princess Azula,” he says with the command of a general, but the restraint of the man who owned the Jasmine Dragon.
Azula’s eyes look up.
Iroh’s own eyes are guarded, but soft. “May I enter your room?”
Azula stares at him, and for the first time in weeks, there’s a glimmer.
But it’s not at all pleasant.
“No.”
They return to the palace. Zuko apologizes for taking Iroh all the way up there, but Iroh shakes his head as they sit for tea.
“No, I needed to see her.”
“… What now?” Zuko asks. Iroh sighs, looking upon an old portrait on the wall. He was surprised it was still hanging. It was of the entire family at one time - Azulon, flanked by Iroh and Ozai, with their wives and children. Only three of these people had left the mortal realm and yet… Iroh still felt like he was looking at a communion of ghosts.
“We can try again; but not tomorrow. We mustn’t overload her in her state. I will remain and assist you with your duties; help with your workload.”
Zuko smiles. “That means a lot to me. Thank you.”
It’s several days later, and another ‘no’ from Azula that has Zuko worried.
Iroh, upon being told ‘no’, only tipped his shoe over the threshold of the cell to get one clue as he peered in quickly - the cell was smeared with smoke residue
He looked on the sole of his shoe to find ash caked on it.
“We could only have firebenders work with her for the first month. She just… she would attack everyone. Even alone she would firebend in her cell, screaming at people that weren’t there. We had to… we had to restrain her because she was just in a cycle of destruction, but that didn’t last long either. She just… kept going. She would either hurt others or herself and it was constant. She’s only just now healing from the worst of her bruises; but it’s only because she just… won’t do anything. I worried about her before but now I’m… I don’t know.”
Iroh hummed. He remembered the state of his cell back when he was imprisoned. It was fairly standard; cold, dirty, and dark.
Perhaps there was a new approach he could take.
He returned without Zuko several days later. Azula barely registered the sounds of the guards offering to help Iroh carry something, but he insisted he do this alone. The door was unlocked, and the curtain pulled back.
Iroh stood at the threshold of Azula’s cell with a broom, a mop, and a bucket that carried several other items.
“Princess Azula?” He says upon catching his breath.
Azula looks up at him, still with that spark in her eyes like flint striking a fire.
Iroh doesn’t flinch. “May I clean your chambers?”
Azula hesitates. She curls inward, but he finally gets a response.
“The spiders stay.”
Iroh nods. “The spiders stay.”
He quietly asks a lingering guard to fill the bucket with water - should anything go south, they know Iroh can manage to fend the girl off. He begins by handing a piece of cloth to Azula.
“Use this to protect your nose and mouth; this could get dusty. I don’t want you getting sick.”
He sets it next to her. She doesn’t respond immediately.
He begins sweeping, the floor immediately changing shade. He nudges the broom into the corners in the ceiling to evict old cobwebs, but he did inspect other webs for signs of life before digging away at the stretchy, sticky architecture.
Azula’s eyes occasionally peer over, but she remains curled up on her bed, back to the wall as her uncle is eventually on his knees scrubbing her room. The day goes by, he is sweating, and yet, all he asks of the guards when they check in on him is two cups of tea. One for him and one for Azula. Even when she doesn’t touch her cup, he still asks for a refill for both of them.
But they don’t talk, and he doesn’t force conversation. Azula only hears the occasional hum, and him finding a hidden spider.
“Watch out!” He chuckles, “I almost turned you into part of my brush!” he says, allowing the spider to clamor onto his hands as he relocates them to a dry part of the room.
It’s well near dusk, Iroh looks to Azula in concern that she hasn’t touched the meal she’s been brought.
But instead of pushing her emotionally any further, he decides to only ask “May I return tomorrow and finish? I would like to bring you some bedsheets from the palace.”
“… My round pillow,” she says.
“I’m sorry?” Iroh asks.
“I want my round pillow. From my bed.”
“Round pillow from your bed. I will bring it tomorrow.”
While going over paperwork with Zuko a maid returned to the office with several pillows that could have fit the description Azula mentioned. Iroh shrugged.
“I’ll just take them all.”
It was an awkward trek, but no matter. He entered Azula’s room with his arms full of pillows and bedsheets. She looked up to see him trying to smile positively.
“That one,” she said, “The dark red one.”
Iroh shrugged. “I mean… you can have them all with you,” he said. He walked over and gently flooded one side of Azula’s bed with pillows before nodding and returning to gather the packed bedsheets, which he began to unravel from being folded when he heard a choking sound, and he turned towards Azula-
Only to find her in tears as she held her favored pillow. Iroh hesitated. “Azula? What’s wrong?”
She shook her head, clamping her eyes shut as she cried silently.
“It… It smells like home.”
Oh.
“It smells like the palace; it smells like me! It smells like home and I hate it!”
She throws the pillow, now trembling violently as she cries.
Of course. The last time she was home… Everything happened.
Iroh swiftly moves to take all of the pillows out of her sight. He looks back to see her mired in intrusive memories. Ones she begs to stop.
Immediately he remembers being curled up on his bed after returning from the Siege of Ba Sing Se, begging for the images of his son’s corpse to leave his mind - all after stumbling upon one of Lu Ten’s old toys tucked away in a closet.
How he wanted to disappear, to meld into the walls, to not be seen, to not feel or see a thing.
It was a tender game when all you wanted was to feel human again, but you also just wanted to leave… but there was nowhere to go.
Iroh looked at her, his niece that he’d never quite shared a bond with. One he’d scuffled with and dismissed.
He was just about to turn away, unsure of what he needed to do when-
‘I looked away’
His eyes flashed open. He stopped.
Guilt that was old began seeping into new.
He looked back at Azula.
‘I looked away’
He’d sworn he would never do so again.
How was this any different?
He slowly approached Azula, and he sat on the floor next to the bed. He didn’t say anything. He couldn’t think of what else to do. All he could do, for now, was just be with her.
She wasn’t Zuko, in the same way that Zuko wasn’t Lu Ten. Helping Zuko had been difficult. Helping Azula… not only were they not on good terms, but… they were so much alike. The prodigy, the exalted child.
Fallen from grace after the lies they’d been fed prove to be their greatest downfall.
Iroh swallowed, hearing sobs that echoed his.
He couldn’t think of much else to do; except to slink his hand out towards her on the bed, palm up.
She didn’t notice at first until she wiped her eyes and looked upon the worn mattress. She saw him offer his hand, worn and calloused from years of fighting and age. He didn’t move. He didn’t look at her expectantly.
His gaze was surprisingly empty, but not hollow. He muted his expressions to maintain some sense of neutrality so she didn’t feel obligated to answer.
His arm became tired after some time, but he waited it out. He’d been in more uncomfortable positions, like his now-screaming lumbar muscles that were upset that he was just sitting on a stone floor without some kind of cushion.
It takes time; but he has all the time in the world.
He did for Zuko.
He can do it once more.
He keeps his hand out.
He’ll never look away again.
He keeps his hand out…