To Restore Balance
When Zuko woke up, he was back in his room, on his ship. He sat up, world tilting, swirling, and had to brace himself against the wall.
"Prince Zuko."
It was his uncle's voice, steady and grounding. Zuko turned towards it, blinking slowly. It took a few moments for the image to resolve. Iroh was sitting on the floor by a low table, pai sho tiles laid out next to a clay pot.
"Have some tea," Uncle said, voice soft, pouring a cup.
Zuko clutched his stomach, fighting a wave of nausea.
"It's ginger," said Uncle Iroh, bringing the cup over. "It'll help."
Zuko considered, then took it, forcing his hands not to tremble. The drink was hot and spicy and sharp, but sweetened with honey, and it did soothe him as it burned down his throat.
"What happened?" Zuko managed.
"You blacked out."
"BEFORE THAT!"
The candle flames flared with his rage, but Iroh didn't so much as blink. He considered his nephew for several long moments, before finally saying, "You bended earth."
"Impossible!" Zuko snarled. "I'm a fire-bender, don't be ridiculous—"
But already the memories were sliding into place, with sickening clarity. The gorge. The Earth Kingdom refugees. Zuko had just wanted to scare them a little. Intimidate them. Get some information. Then the ground had shook; screams had gone up. An earthquake. Stones becoming dislodged, tumbling down the cliff— they were going to crush the refugees— he had to—
He'd flailed out on instinct. Rushed forward. Kicked.
And the stones had moved.
Zuko clutched his head again.
"You bended earth," Iroh repeated. "Prince Zuko. You are the Avatar."
Iroh began to explain; about cycles, and spirits, and rebirth. About 'war between his mind and body'. Zuko scarcely paid attention to any of the things the old man said. The words seemed distant. He felt hot, cold, at the same time. The Avatar? How was it possible? The Avatar was an airbender, an old man— unless he'd died, maybe a whole century ago. And the waterbender after him, and the earthbender too— if somehow, the spirit had been reborn, and the vessel it had chosen had been him—
As a child, he'd sometimes had strange dreams. Heard whispering voices, visions of things which hadn't seemed real. Towering mountains cloaked in clouds, sheer plains of ice, might walls which towered over him... An overactive imagination, Zuko had always thought, and fought to quash it. Anything that could be perceived as weakness, as sentimentality, as childishness, could not be shown.
But it hadn't been imagination, had it? It had been memories. Memories of past lives. And suddenly, suddenly, it all made sense.
"As the Avatar, your duty is to maintain balance—"
Zuko stood, interrupting his uncle's lecture. "But don't you see?" he cried. "This is perfect! We can go home immediately! We have found the Avatar, uncle, and it is me! The rightful heir to the Fire Nation throne! Father will be overjoyed—"
"Shh. Prince Zuko, please, be quiet." Iroh's voice was urgent, as he pulled his nephew back. "Please, consider. Returning now would be... folly."
"How?" Zuko demanded. Couldn't his uncle see?— They had to go home now!
"You have earthbent once. Could you do it again? How about water, or air?" Iroh's eyes flashed, fierce. "If you return now, what proof will you have of your claim? What will stop my brother from accusing you of lying, of throwing you back into exile?"
Zuko sagged as the reality of his uncle's words hit him. "So... what do I do?"
Iroh stroked his beard. "First," he said, "we find you an earthbending teacher."
oOo
Author's Note: Based on the prompt of 'What if Zuko was the Avatar'. Maybe I'll continue this, maybe I won't. Either way, hope you enjoyed it!