Thank you for reading! This is going to be a good-sized story, once finished. I have about a third of it written so far, and a good idea of where it is going from there. The story diverges from canon during the scene in Zuko Alone when Ozai requests and audience with Fire Lord Azulon. This takes place about 5 years before Aang is released from the iceberg, so while there will be many similarities to the timeline of the series, there will also be a lot of changes. This is mostly a Zuko fic, though of course all the main characters will play large roles. Enjoy, and please tell me what you think.

More Than Blood Can Stand

"I was born by myself but carry the spirit and blood of my father, mother and my ancestors. So I am really never alone. My identity is through that line."

-Ziggy Marley

Chapter 1: The Fire Lord's Punishment

"Father, you must have realized as I have, that with Lu Ten gone, Iroh's bloodline has ended. After his son's death, my brother abandoned the siege at Ba Sing Se, and who knows when he will return home. But I am here, Father, and my children are alive."

"Say what it is you want!" Fire Lord Azulon thundered. Prince Ozai bowed low to the ground. Prince Zuko, from his hiding spot behind the curtains, noticed his father did not hesitate before speaking.

"Father, revoke Iroh's birthright. I am your humble servant, here to serve you and our nation. Use me."

"You dare suggest I betray Iroh?" he thundered. "My first born? Directly after the demise of his only beloved son? I think Iroh has suffered enough! But you ... your punishment has scarcely begun!"

Zuko drew in a breath. The throne room fires rose with his grandfather's temper, and he briefly considered running. He and Azula would be in so much trouble if they were caught. But something in him told him to stay, that this was important to his future.

"Your punishment, Prince Ozai, should fit your crime. You must know the pain of losing a first-born son. By losing your own!"

Zuko's heart began beating triple-time. Surely his grandfather was not saying what he thought he was. His grandfather was the Fire Lord, and he was fearsome, but he had never been cruel to him before this. And his father - surely he would not stand for it.

"If that is what you will, Father," Ozai replied without so much as pausing. He bowed even lower. "I am your humble servant. The boy has never shown much promise, has only been a disappointment. If he must be sacrificed for the good of our nation, I will dispatch him myself."

"Dispatch? Kill Prince Zuko?!" Fire Lord Azulon hissed. "With Prince Lu Ten dead and Iroh without an heir? To leave me with only one grandchild to secure the monarchy? No, Prince Ozai! You have overstepped. Zuko will live, but not as your son. I will give him to Prince Iroh to raise as his own son, as his heir. And you, my foolish son, will take your brother's pace at the front lines - with your daughter by your side. After all, as you yourself said, she is a true prodigy."

Next to him, Zuko could feel the heat streaming off Azula. Father and Azula banished - or as good as. And Uncle Iroh his father. He could not believe it. He backed away from the curtain, away from Azula and Grandfather and Father, and ran. As he left, he dimly heard his grandfather say, "Summon the Fire Sages immediately. They must make preparations for when your brother arrives home."

Zuko tore through the hallways until he found his mother in her room. He crashed into her arms, fighting back the tears he knew would be shameful to allow to fall.

"Why Zuko! What is wrong?"

"Mother," he whispered. "Mother. You are my mother, no matter what anyone says."

"What... Whatever has come over you, my son?" She folded him closer in her arms. "Oh course I am your mother. Nothing can change that. I love you, I always have and always will.

Shameful tears could no longer be held in. To hear that he was a disappointment to Father had been a blow, though not surprising. But to hear Father so casually talk about killing him...

But his mother loved him. And nothing could change that.

Crown Prince Iroh clung to the railing of his ship, staring at the sea. Or rather, staring past it. The Gates of Azulon were in sight, and that meant home. He was coming home a failure. A failure to his nation, a failure to his father, a failure to the men he commanded. A failure to his son. All of his triumphs meaningless. The Dragon of the West come home to explain to the Fire Lord how it had all gone wrong. How the mighty fall.

He stood at the prow watching the approaching shoreline until the moment his ship docked. The messenger hawk yesterday had brought him orders to immediately appear before the throne. To face what punishment, he was not sure. But he did not expect it to be good.

"General," Captain Fukoma said, perhaps a bit hesitantly. "It is time to go."

Iroh turned around and found the entire crew waiting for him at attention. He sighed to himself and began forming what he hoped would be an inspiring speech, the kind expected from a General and Prince. If he was capable of that anymore.

"We have not returned as the victors we envisioned ourselves, and yet we have not lost our honor. We have fulfilled our duties to the Fire Lord. We do not have to win every battle to win a war. It has been my pleasure to serve with such honorable soldiers."

He gave them a little bow, which was deeply returned, and walked onto Fire Nation soil for the first time in years.

Iroh was not surprised to see that his audience with his father was not a private one. His defeat had been public, and his humiliation ought to be, too. But while he had been expecting the generals and Ozai, he had not been expecting the Fire Sages, Ozai's family, and strategic noble families. How bad was this going to be?

What he wouldn't give for a calming cup of tea right now.

Settling for a deep calming breath instead, he prostrated himself on the ground.

"Father, I have returned. I accept full responsibility for the loss of Ba Sing Se, our brave soldiers, and -" he had to say it, and would not lose face by betraying emotion "for the loss of Prince Lu Ten. I beg your mercy and forgiveness for this unpardonable offense."

"The loss of Prince Lu Ten," Fire Lord Azulon repeated. "Unpardonable, yes. Your only child, the future of the Fire Nation. Prince Iroh, your failure has broken the line of succession - as your brother has reminded me." Iroh glanced sideways at Ozai. From his position on the floor, he could not read Ozai's expression clearly, but his body language seemed agitated. Iroh held his tongue. He could not find words to defend himself, nor did he want to. If he lost the throne because of this, so be it. No punishment could be worse than losing a child.

"And yet," Azulon continued, "I am ever merciful. You have been a faithful and true son, and proven yourself a capable warrior and skilled leader. I will not abandon you for one failure, even one this grievous. You are my son and heir, and I will not betray you. No matter what your brother says. Come closer, my son."

Iroh stood up and made his way to the throne. So Ozai has been scheming, and unsuccessfully at that...

"Prince Iroh, you are now without an heir. But fortunately for you, your brother, Prince Ozai, has been generous enough to offer you his son." Iroh's eyes widened, but he otherwise showed no reaction.

He watched his nephew walk hesitatingly to stand before the Fire Lord. Two Fire Sages accompanied him, one on each side.

"Prince Iroh, your brother has freely offered you an heir. A son, by law. Your only son. Do you accept this gift?"

Iroh greatly doubted that anything from his brother was meant as a gift, and he also knew with equal certainty that he was not free to refuse. And neither, obviously, was Zuko. He glanced at his brother and his wife. Ozai looked furious, though he was trying hard not to show it. Ursa looked like she had lost the will to live. His heart caught. Oh my son. Is this my punishment? To not be allowed to mourn you, to pretend you never existed and to raise another in your place? But outwardly he only showed gratitude. He bowed in Ozai's direction.

"I am honored by this gift."

"Then the Sages will perform the rites."

He watched a shadow pass over Zuko's face. But the boy also looked up at him with a pleading hope. Iroh was moved by that look. He had heard rumors that his brother nearly cast Zuko out as a baby, that he favored Azula, that he regularly humiliated Zuko publically, treating him like he wasn't a legitimate child. A deep resolve gripped him. I will be a better father to you than Ozai ever could be, he promised. I will swallow my pain of losing Lu Ten and raise you to be the greatest prince in Fire Nation history.

Prince Zuko was not completely distraught. He liked Uncle Iroh; he always had. Uncle was fun, he was less serious than Father, and less severe. But he had never spent great amounts of time with him. He had never even been to his uncle's quarters before. So when he followed Uncle to his corridor, he was just a little bit curious.

There was not much of a difference from his own quarters. There was more light in Uncle's rooms, perhaps, than in the rest of the palace. The curtains were opened. There was more gold in the decorations, fewer reds. But there was otherwise little difference. Uncle stopped in front of a richly ornamented door that mirrored the location of his own room in his old quarters, and turned around. Uncle's mouth moved as if he were about to speak, but he immediately closed it again. He opened the door and led Zuko in. He shut the door, closed his eyes, and finally spoke.

"I suppose you know whose room this was?"

Zuko gulped. "Yes, Uncle." It would have been Lu Ten's.

"Prince Zuko, you heard the Fire Lord. You heard the Sages. You cannot call me Uncle anymore." A fraction of a smile. "But I will not ask that you call me Father, either. It is too soon - for both of us."

"Thank you, Un... uh, sir." Uncle - he may not be able to say that name out loud, but in his mind was another matter - sat down on the bed and beckoned for Zuko to follow.

"The Fire Lord has entrusted you to my care. I wanted to let you know that I want to be a good... guardian to you. I want you to be happy, and to be successful. You are in line to be Fire Lord now. Your success is the Fire Nation's success."

Zuko's eyes widened. It hadn't occurred to him yet that taking Lu Ten's place as Uncle's son would mean that he would one day take Lu Ten's place as Fire Lord.

"Please tell me, what training have you had?"

"You mean firebending? I trained with Master Kunyo until recently."

Uncle nodded. "Master Kunyo is an excellent firebender, though a bit… overzealous. I'm sure he was a good choice. But you say he is no longer your teacher?"

"He... was sent to the colonies. Father sent him. I mean-" he said quickly, and very quietly, "-Prince Ozai sent him."

"Indeed..." Uncle stroked his beard. "And why would he do that?"

"Azula said he was a bad teacher. And... Prince Ozai... said that since she was so far ahead of me in learning forms, she obviously needed a better teacher."

Uncle raised his eyebrows. "And how many more forms has Princess Azula learned than you?"

Zuko's head hung down. Why, after disappointing one father, did he have to suffer the humiliation of disappointing two? "Fourteen."

"You are eleven? And your sister... that is to say, Princess Azula, is ten?"

"Yes, sir," Zuko whispered.

"You were a late bender, were you not, Prince Zuko? And Princess Azula was, I understand, a prodigy?"

"Yes, sir."

"I see. And what other training have you had? What other subjects have you been studying?"

"I have a tutor. He teaches me calligraphy and math and history."

"And what does your tutor think of your progress?"

"I do not do well in history, but Master Wei says that if I weren't a prince, he would recommend me to be a scholar." Zuko hung his head as he said this. Father had always told him it was shameful for a prince of the Fire Nation to be better at book learning than firebending.

Uncle paused for a long moment. "Perhaps you would not object if I took over all of your instruction from now on?"

Zuko winced. There was nothing he hated more than reciting his lessons or practicing firebending in front of Father. He liked Uncle, and he thought that Uncle liked him, too. He didn't want to ruin that through lessons... But what could he say?

"That would be fine, sir."

"Good. We will begin first thing tomorrow morning."

Uncle stood up, started for the door, then turned around. He came back to the bed and picked Zuko up off it. He enveloped him in a tight hug. Zuko was shocked, wasn't at all sure how to respond. He was unused to being hugged by anyone other than Mother.

"I am sorry for your loss, Prince Zuko. So very sorry." Uncle's voice cracked. "We are both broken, aren't we? We must put each other back together. I will do my best to help you. Can you help me?"

He nodded, though he was still not quite sure what Uncle meant. Uncle put him back on the bed and left the room, closing the door quietly behind him.

The next morning, bright and early, Uncle knocked on Zuko's door.

"Time for practice!"

He dressed quickly and ran out the door. Uncle led him to the private gardens in his quarters. This was different. Usually he and Azula practiced together in one of the rooms off the throne room, where there were often nobles and guards around watching. But there was no one but him and Uncle in the garden today.

"Show me what you can do."

Zuko wanted to be perfect, wanted to prove to Uncle that he was not a failure. But like usual, his best was not good enough. He kicked and punched... and fell. "I'm sorry, sir. I disappoint you."

But Uncle looked unconcerned. "Those forms are too advanced for you. Show me something more basic."

"But Azula already knows them-"

"I do not care what Azula knows. What matters is how to improve your bending. Show me your breathing."

He did, although he knew he was too old to be working on breathing.

"You need work on control, but this is a good starting point. Remember, power in firebending comes from the breath, so breathing is not only basic, it is fundamental. Proper breathing can save your life. Your breathing can always be improved, and the more you focus on it, the more powerful you become."

Uncle joined him on the ground, and for the next ten minutes they breathed together. Every now and then, Uncle corrected his form or gave him suggestions, but for the most part they merely sat in silence, focusing on the fire within.

"Very good, Zuko. Much better. Now recite for me the basic forms."

The lesson continued on, and by the time it was time to go to breakfast, Zuko realized he had gone an entire bending lesson without being insulted. It was a strange feeling.

They took breakfast in their own quarters. The rest of the morning was spent in lessons on history, geography, military strategy, math, calligraphy, weapons practice, and - of all things - pai sho. Uncle gave him free time after lunch, while he attended meetings and took care of other important business. Zuko knew where he wanted to go.

The central palace gardens were so beautiful. Zuko loved the flowers and the trees and the animals. The turtle ducks had always been his favorites. Uncle's private gardens were beautiful, too, but they were too small to have a pond for turtle ducks to live in. The central gardens were large, spacious, and a popular spot for the royal family and nobles to convene. And like Zuko had expected, there was his mother, sitting at the edge of the pond. Waiting for him.

He was careful not to look too eager. By law she was no longer his mother. He was expected to call her Princess Ursa. Calling his father Prince Ozai was strange enough, but he wasn't sure he would ever adjust to calling Mother anything else. He walked towards her as casually as he could manage, and sat down at what he hoped was a respectable distance.

"Prince Zuko. Did you have a pleasant morning?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Would you like to help me feed the turtle ducks?"

"Yes ma'am."

There was nothing more that could be said. Not here. He spent an hour with her, soaking in the sun and the warmth of her company, until she reluctantly stood up and said it was time they both were going. He watched her leave. It was painful, physically painful. To have a mother, yet not. He knew there was probably a worse fate he could have had, but if so he did not know what it could be.

He went back to his room and cried - quietly, into his pillows - until dinner.

AN: Please read and review