summary: It began as a quest for honor but turned into a suicidal mission of revenge. Freshly scarred and alone Zuko learns there is more to the war than Fire Lord can ever understand – especially if you are siding with the losing idealists. A Zuko travels the world without Iroh story.
note: I got inspired by Artemis Rae's Yesterday's Hero. (seriously, that was one-shot was kickass!) And it made me wonder how Zuko's character would develop without Iroh.
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Let's just say "destiny is a funny thing" and it's also a bitch that likes to bite you in the ass after slapping you around for a long, very long time.
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burning charcoal
—spawn of nothingness
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Everything has an end, but not always a beginning.
It was not quite clear to him when exactly has that life-changing choice occurred – the kind that either sets one's destiny or sends into abyss – and did it happen at all? Logically, it should have. There had to be a turning point, a division of roads, a certain – special, it needs to be special, always special – point in his life when it all became inevitable.
Maybe it happened when he had accepted his banishment, and in the moment of anguish and helplessness gave into despair – a bottle of firewhisky, a brooding soul and a handful of hardened sailors. Nothing better to sabotage one's objectivity – because after a few nights spent like that Zuko learned three things: he's a fool, he can hold his liquor quite well, and his quest to find the Avatar is doomed to fail. Two out of three are not exactly new to him, on a deeper level, he was aware that of them most of his life – he is nothing compared to Azula and Avatar had been gone too long to be still among the living – so he might as well give up now and let himself sink into misery, and become the failure-spawn he is prophesied to be.
He has no destiny.
Accept that. It is the simplest thing to do.
(But he has stubbornness issues.)
He is down in the engine room, as he had been everyday for the past year now; the heat is overwhelming at first but with time, as a firebender, he learned to adapt and endure – fire is the element of survival, life and raw energy, the menace of its benders has nothing to do with the element itself.
The ship is small, but even for a vessel its size six men are not enough to sail properly – even the smallest of Fire Nation's ships are grand and require continuous care – he knows that, his father knows that too, every self-respecting sailor should know it, but Zuko is nevertheless grateful because this is as much more than he should receive. He's banished after all. Ideally Zuko should have left the palace with only the clothes on his back and, if Fire Lord was merciful enough, a weapon. Instead, he got a ship, five men – two of which were proper benders – his treasured swords and a pouch of money. Universe picked hell of the time to give him a moment of luck.
Throwing another shovel full of coal into the fire, Zuko breathed out a flicker of red flame. Just at fourteen he is far from the epitome of handsomeness – features broad and square, predicting to be more like his Uncle's in youth than Ozai', his noise had a prominent bridge now, a sign of that fight he got in the pub back in Chin, skin dark and dusty, his mouth is tight, lips thin, eyes narrow, and he wouldn't be all that bad, more attractive to females because of his roughness and raggedness rather than cutting regal beauty but his scar is a mangling mark, a blemish and a curse he won't be able to live down – his character could be hardly described as good and his morals are far from flawless, innate bravado and confidence are not enough to outweigh self-destructive tendencies, and paranoia is getting the best of his sanity.
He is not Prince Zuko anymore. He is not sure who he is. But he is alone and he is tired – for now, it is enough to know. Zuko throws another shovel full of coal, and then, another one; it is a ritual, a continuous job to keep him occupied – it is the best he can do at this moment.
It's all he can do now – live in a moment, try to exist, try to get by; he's a bloodhound in fruitless search for Avatar, in depravation of the past year and so he finally shed off illusion his birthright and title had created – Zuko, son of Ozai and Ursa, is not the man for glory or humility; he the unholy spawn of darkness and disaster.
There are two ways great men appear: either born great or become great. Zuko is neither. He is not even the exception – men who have greatness thrust upon them – he is a zero, he is nothing and shall be swollen by the sands of time without leaving his mark.
Iroh used to say that Zuko could be a great man, if only he let himself be. Never quite understanding what his Uncle meant half of the time Zuko would usually nod but stay silent. Silence. It's his sanctuary now.
Fire Lords are not made – you have to be born one. To be one is Zuko's destiny – according to him – but life is fickle and since the banishment the chances of ever rising up to expectations are getting slimmer by the passing day; Zuko knows that but he's in denial about the future. He is nothing compared to Azula, there are many ways of her becoming Ozai's successor instead of him, the heir in name only – the easiest way is death, it's also the easiest way for him to stop being miserable, but, he's too stubborn to roll over and wither away.
Zuko doesn't know exactly when his journey of disaster had began, perhaps it is his destiny but that answer seems too irrational to him to be true, after all, his mind is all he has left – sanity and power are obsolete but intelligence never falls short – and thinking about it, Zuko understands that it might have started well before his firewhisky-drinking period or the day he declined Iroh more than generous offer to accompany him into banishment. Maybe it was the day of Agni Kai, or when Azula presented her lighting and he failed to do so (he's failure compared to Azula), when he nearly drowned, when he first picked up Dao swords, when under the full moon he last smelled jasmine and the next day he wore mourning-white, when Azulon decided to teach Ozai a lesson in sympathy, when the assassins came for Azula (maybe he shouldn't have saved her, but she's his baby sister, oh Agni, Azula, 'Zula, she's so little, so small, 'Zula), when he got lost in the desert, when he…there were so many opportunities for him to die, and even more times when his fate and catastrophic outcome of which were sealed.
So many opportunities.
The ship groaned under the pressure of the colliding wave.
Zuko dropped the shovel and took off; sweat and dirt soiled his forehead and shoulders. Up the stairs, left, right, down the hall, up again, and he's on the deck. The sky is dark purple and mare's tails were long and moving – the storm is coming.
"All to deck! Lieutenant Jee – to superstructure, guide the ship!"
Today is another opportunity – he has to seize it.
note: oh god, I'm over my head with this one, ain't I?
(there is a lot of self-loathing. what the hell am I doing?)
I should be revising but I wrote and published…this. Anyway, I'm in a hurry so this is not proof read and if any of you will spot grammar mistakes, or typos, please let me know so I can fix them. :)
comments via reviews are welcome.