There was a memory that struck him with a horrible, overwhelming force every time his nephew sent him a letter, that bore the royal seal.

"I was born when my father was already Firelord," he told his son. "I have never not been the Crown Prince." He'd lived a breath away from ruling since his first breath had been drawn. It was a strange and weighty thing to say to his son, who had two breaths between him and the throne, almost a confession.

"I know that, dad," Lu Ten snorted, sitting beside him in the tent.

Later, it would strike him that there they were going off to war together, and it hadn't crossed his mind that it might be Lu Ten who died. He'd thought he would die and leave his son the Crown Prince. "When your mother was alive, I envied her because she had a chance to see her son rule, and I knew I would have to be dead before you could be crowned."


Iroh had lived to see his son be crowned Firelord. He picked up the scroll, and pulled open the royal seal, and stood there until he knew the tears wouldn't fall.
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