LIL' ZUKO FTW. Set pre-show.

Zuko felt like he'd been keeping vigil forever. It had really been scarcely more than an hour, but when you're five, sitting in one spot for an hour is forever. The guards wouldn't let him up on the wooden watchtowers, so he'd plopped down at the base of one and annoyed the lookouts with frequents shouts of "can you see them yet?"

When one finally leaned over the rail and gave him an exasperated "Yes!", Zuko rocketed off to the interior gate to meet the Prince's procession. Most of it had peeled off to attend their own business on their progress through the palace grounds, and only Iroh, Lu Ten, and their personal guard were left, their clothes still heavy with the scent of salt spray and coal smoke.

"Uncle Iroh's back Uncle Iroh's back Uncle Iroh's buuuaaaaaaaa—hey!" Zuko yelped, for Lu Ten had intercepted the giggling boy and tossed him over his shoulder like a farmer might a sack of rice. Zuko wiggled a little in protest of the indignity, but only a little, because he did not actually want Lu Ten to lose his grip and drop him on his head. Lu Ten was a sturdy sixteen, and strong, but wriggling boys are still slippery handfuls.

"Sorry, Pip," he said, "but your uncle was wounded in the fighting. Gotta be careful with him for a little while."

"Not Pip. Zuko," he corrected empathetically, while repositioning himself in his cousin's arms so the edges of Lu Ten's shoulderplates were no longer digging into his ribs. "What's wounded?"

"It means hurt, nephew," Iroh said. "Hurt in battle."

"Oh," said Zuko, nibbling thoughtfully on one chubby finger and considering the sling and bandages that immobilized Iroh's left arm. "Next time, I should come with and protect you. I started learning my first Firebending forms while you were gone and I can't make fire yet but…I practice hard."

Iroh laughed heartily. "That's very brave, Zuko, but protecting the Heir is their job," he said, indicating over his shoulder the two columns of guards in fearsome trihorned helms.

The one at the head, the captain, removed his and bowed low. "We'll do better next time, young lord, don't you fear. Your lady mother would miss you terribly if you had to come down to the South Pole and keep an eye on us."

Zuko looked skeptical. "You promise?" he asked, with as much gravity as his treble voice could muster.

"I promise," he said solemnly. The rest of the Dragon Guard within earshot were too well-disciplined to laugh, but their helmets hid no few smiles.

"Now that that's settled, I think I need food, then a bath. Or maybe the other way around," said Lu-Ten, setting Zuko down and starting off in the direction of his rooms in the royal family's private residence.

"Food in the bath, my son!" yelled Iroh brightly to his back. "Never pass up the opportunity for two good things at once in favor of only one!" Lu Ten turned to wave goodbye, pacing backwards and grinning at his father's shameless hedonism.

Once Lu Ten had rounded the corner, Iroh turned to his captain. "The campaign was cold and longer than I would have liked. See to it that they get something to chase the chill away, before we set out to sea again," he said, nodding at the men behind them.

The man saluted, his eyes brightening noticeably. "I'll see to it that the quartermaster looks into our supplies of Four Peak Reserve. And thank you, sir." The knot of men dispersed to their barracks, murmuring appreciatively at their commander's generosity, leaving Iroh and Zuko alone in the hallway.

Zuko crossed his arms over his chest and fixed his uncle with an accusatory stare. "You're going away again."

"As soon as my shoulder heals, yes, I'm afraid so. Come. Walk with me to the kitchens. I'll see if the cook can sneak us some coconut puffs before he sends them down to the banquet hall."

Zuko stuck were he was, an ominous storm building in his pinched lips and narrowed eyes. Tantrums rarely worked on Iroh, but he couldn't help himself, and this was important. "Why? You went away for a long time before! Why can't you and Lu Ten stay with me? It's boring here, and I don't want you to be…wounded anymore."

"You have your sister to play with, don't you?" Iroh said, skirting the question.

"I like playing with Lu Ten better. Azula bites," Zuko said, his fists still tensed at his sides and his face unappeased.

"Ah," Iroh said knowingly, and lowered himself to one knee. "I wish we could stay, Zuko, but our country is at war, and Lu Ten and I must fight. Fire Lord Azulon has commanded me to bring the other nations to bow before our banner, and I will gladly obey him. To do otherwise would be dishonorable to our great house."

The word 'dishonorable' meant little to his young mind, only that it was a nasty word to call someone, in the same class as calling his sister a 'sticky rat-baby'. "But you're a grownup. You have grey in your hair," Zuko said, his eyes passing briefly over Iroh's temples.

"That doesn't change anything. You don't know how much I want this war to be over, and Lu Ten and I safe at home with you. Especially Lu Ten. But I will be leaving again, because that is the Fire Lord's will."

Zuko didn't like this, but he understood it. He strove every day to do as his father asked, and knew painfully well what it meant to fall short of those expectations. The life of the highborn was bound by duty and obligation—and like all men, from the most wretched of peasants to most powerful of princes, a son must obey his father. Kicking and screaming wouldn't change anything. He sighed and scuffed at the floor with his shoe. "How soon will you both come back for real?"

"Soon, Zuko" said Iroh, who disliked lying to small children and hoped he was not in the process of doing it. "Soon."