Summary: Rather than banishment, Zuko is sent to join the forces with the very soldiers he spoke out to protect, too many things don't go as planned, and he finds himself stationed in the Earth Kingdom where he comes across a boy named, Jet.
AN: There isn't too much Jet x Zuko interaction in this one, it's really just a prologue to set up for the rest of the story. I'm not sure if i'll more on this, but I wanted feedback/suggestions. those would be perfect so i could either expand on what I was going for, or rewrite and rethink this.
Chapter One
"You can't sacrifice an entire division like that! Those soldiers love and defend our nation! How can you betray them?"
His quick retort came with a just as swift reprimand. The Fire Lord's demands for silence were met with a flurry of suggestions. Aggravated alternatives, and simplistic measures, until one had finally caught his attention.
"How old are you now, Prince Zuko?"
"Thirteen, s-sir."
Looking to his collection of generals, a small, almost unnoticeable smirk graced his features. "—you've been coming along well, with your training, no?" A tap of his fingers on the throne and careful, precise fingers ran the length of his beard, "how many forms?"
"Not—as many as—"
"How many, Prince Zuko!"
"Just the basics."
"Fair enough."
"Huh?"
Rising from his seat, the false king made the glorified walk through the throne room. Slow, careful steps, as fingers disappeared within the sleeves of his robes. "You want to speak on behalf of my soldiers.." Coming to a halt, he watched, the shift in his son's posture, the small trembling of the lips. The pleasure that came with that fear, was almost as prominent as the scarlet that painted the tapestries.
"I don't think, I understand, sir."
"—but of course. You see, my boy, hardened men, come from hardened ventures."
Zuko's eyes shifted downward, the nerves connecting and running the length of his spine. He had done something wrong, he knew that tone. The amusement it held, in his failure, in his pathetic demeanor—his disgrace.
"So, you'll become hardened like them."
Had they listened closely through the silence they could hear the clamor of the arm that draped his shoulders, all through his shaking.
"You're my son, a prince nonetheless." Ozai stated, golden irises staying fixed on the timid but identical hue of his own. "—you'll join the division, and show them just how a member of the royal family survives."
Days passed and his heart beat with unsteady palpitations in his chest. Mindlessly, gold flecked eyes kept running over the same curves in his armor, and mornings, and evenings were spent training to the point of exhaustion.
"You'll collapse if you keep drilling your training like that."
Sharp breaths, tired and ragged heaved through tired lungs, and he turned his head up meeting Mai's soft amber gaze, "—no choice." He breathed, coughing a bit before pushing himself up to meet her at eye level. He could sense it, the sorrow in her gaze, and the smallest tinge of anger that accompanied it. "What are you doing here anyway?"
"Azula."
"Figures."
"I have no excuse to see you."
"I wasn't expecting any different."
They stay silent a moment, not a word exchanged, just a hard glare at the other before Zuko looks away.
"Three more weeks."
"Yeah." His breath hitched as he felt a weight crash into his chest. Slender arms wrap around his middle and she buries her face into his tunic dampened by sweat.
"—you'll be okay, right?"
Shakily, he squeezes, tightening his grip around her waist and burying his face in her neck, "I will."
"What now?"
"I'll write. "
"I'd like that." Zuko notes her smile and takes it as a reassurance.
...
It's been a year, every month there's two letters and in between he's stuck being ridiculed by his superiors. The battle at which he was assigned became a narrow victory. The new recruits too fresh off the dock to be considered worthy of anything that mass in volume.
Dear Mai,
I'm still not allowed to give you locations, but I can tell you-it's somewhere very boring. I'm sure you can relate.
They pulled us back from the resistance at the wall, they said we weren't ready for their guard, so I guess that's good-or maybe it's me? Who would have thought protecting the prince of the Fire Nation would actually save my ass, huh?
I'm sorry if my sister's giving you a hard time, it's probably because you spend some time reading over letters, or at least, I do. I miss home, and no one will tell me what my father says about sending me back.
I guess he's just mulling things over until I 'learn my lesson' but I can, and I will, whatever it is.
I'll talk to you again soon.
Best regards,
Prince Zuko.
Another year passes and gradually the letters slow. Twice a month turned into maybe one every few months if he was lucky.
The soldiers begin to push him out of the way. Old enough at fifteen to actually enlist, he lacks enough training to be particularly useful, and the others aren't at all keen in offering to teach.
"Dumped his kid on us to keep him outta the way."
"I knew he was a disgrace for one reason, but this is something else."
"Most of the royal family were already proficient in bending before turning thirteen. He's just a pathetic."
Zuko snarls as he overhears and returns to quarters. Through this year alone he's been transferred twice, rotated and traded between commanders and generals who are all too quick to pass him on to the next. Unlacing and unhinging his armor he throws himself limply on one of the cots.
"Useless, Tch. They're wrong."
A few moons pass, and he's gotten himself into a heated altercation with his current superior, commander Zhao.
"Prince or not you won't speak to me that way, boy."
"I don't have to take orders from you, you know." A sharp grunt and a hiss, and Zuko stumbles back, before being pulled up to meet the commander's gaze. His hands hook under the bottom rim of the armor and and yank upward, leaving his feet dangling off the floor.
"You know-" A small smirk and Zhao jerks him violently as he watches the Zuko claw at his hand. "I also have orders to whip you into shape the moment you step out of line."
Zuko's hand grips the older's wrist and tries to pull down. "-so what? You're going to send me off? Like everyone else does?"
Zhao scoffs, and shoves him to the floor, "you want to train, do you?" His face holds a sort of pleasure to it, a similar expression as his father's would occasionally frame. Zuko pushes himself up onto his elbows, gold irises glaring upward. Zhao's smirk deepens and he readies his stance. "That's right, get up."
You're sick of the humiliation aren't you? Get up!
The younger rises, widening his stance to match his superiors. Teeth bared, and his breath his nervous, ill-practiced, and he's being so careless he can hardly maintain his heat.
Those damned sideburns will be the first to go.
Without planning any initial defense, he lunges, flames springing up and dancing on his knuckles before they're supposed to meet the older man's temple. Instead, he's met with a low kick, swinging just behind his knee, and sending him toppling backward and on the ground.
"They send me the prestigious prince of the Fire Nation-a weak, pathetic excuse for royalty. You'd think they'd teach you a thing or two before send you into our ranks."
Zuko snarls and lunges again, and is met with the same kick to the other leg. They continue like this, the occasional jet of flames from inexperienced hands, and before long he's collapsed on the floor and out of breath.
"-they told me, I could deal with you accordingly, and you did, challenge me after all."
Darkened brows furrowed up at the commander, and his fingers clawed into the soil. "You dare insult the crown prince of the Fir-" Unable to finish a pain shoots up his jaw and he's found himself collapsed on his back. Vision obscures, and he's starting to see the scene fade to black, the most he can make out is few words, and his eyes widen slightly and the last thing he sees is flames.
...
There's a lamp just right, and he can note the Fire Nation insignia on the wall to the left. Turning on his side to face the symbol, he jumps at the sharp stinging pain that engulfs the left side of his face. Shooting his hands up he's met with bandages and lets out a small hiss of discomfort.
Hearing shuffle across the room, he turned quickly, wincing as he shifted his gaze. An eye roll followed, un-amused that they had in fact stationed a care giver in the room or rather, what they would they say was one.
"Where am I?"
"Medical bunk. Last corridor of the ship."
Zuko nods, and pushes himself up form the bed, "So I'm being transferred again? Where this time?"
"-patrols near a small village in the Earth Kingdom."
"Tch." Of course, they'd station him way out of the way. Somewhere he wouldn't cause any problems, and there would no excuse to mess anything or major importance up. Glaring at his hands, he brought one up to graze the bandages once more. "-and this?"
"It'll be healed in a few weeks."
"How bad?"
The appointed caretaker stays silent and looks at his hands.
"Answer me!"
"There'll be some scarring."
"How much?"
"-well, we'll have to see."
It takes a month, and he spends the last two weeks learning about his patrols. The same routes walked at the same hours, every day. Nothing to get wrong, and shouldn't be any flaws. Not to mention, there certainly wasn't anything of interest, just a small village a little bit north and thick red-orange forest to the east. The rest was the military setup to the south, and a small lake to the east.
During the quiet hours of the night, he begins training again, luckily one of the younger people in the group agrees to help him along. It's a little harder to train, the small changes in his vision make him rely more on other senses, mostly hearing which he's quick to learn comes to an advantage in most cases. Small snaps of twigs, and the sounds of gravel against the soles of boots. Finally, he can determine their position even with a slightly blurred peripheral.
Slipping under his partners arm, he manages to hook his leg behind the other man's knee, sending his falling backward, before catching his arm and pulling him back up to his feet.
"-gotten light on your feet, huh?"
"How many forms is that?" Zuko's eyes narrow at the ground trying to keep count.
"You might've cleared the next dozen by how fast you've been trying to blow through."
Answering with a quick nod, Zuko runs his hands through is hair, pushing the brown locks upward before securing them into a topknot. "My turn for patrols tonight?"
"Sounds about right."
Without another word, he goes to find his armor, laying it over his shoulders and positioning his helmet comfortably over his head. Part of him stalls, as he looks at piece of parchment on one of the few tables, debating writing a letter. Thinking about all his recent failures, he figures there isn't much to talk about.
The night's quiet, and there's a small breeze. The whistle of the wind through the small gaps in his helmet drowns out what ever thoughts he wishes to push away. For what seems like hours there's only silence, and although he welcomes the seclusion the thought is almost unsettling.
Usually oblivious to scenery, he scans the trees, going off a small hunch, almost minuscule-but choosing not to ignore it he walks. After a while there isn't much, a few steel traps that he assumed the other soldiers must've set up, and a few nicks in the wood so they wouldn't lose their way. Hearing what sounds like bird calls he looks up, letting out a small huff, and then running his hand across the trunks grooves. A twig snaps, and he turns, and suddenly there's a pair of hooks at his neck.
"Evening, soldier."
He's tall, small smirk, mismatched armor, and a twig balanced between his lips. After a quick analysis Zuko takes in the situation. Hook swords cross his throat, and leave no room to maneuver, his attacker's foot is settled just slightly behind of his own, so if he tries to run, he's tripped on contact. It's a frustrating position so he lets out a hiss. "What do you want, huh?"
"You and your damned army out of this territory."
"I don't make the orders."
"Military pet, huh? How's it feel to be a piece of trash."
"I'm sure you would know."
With that, he pushes, sending his back into the trunk of the tree. "You know what you're fighting for huh? You got a reason to everything?"
He stays silent, knowing he doesn't quite have any answers.
"I see, you're just a rookie who's blind to the cause."
"-mine or yours?"
The boy ignores, pressing his elbow into the hard armor of his chest, "give me one reason I shouldn't kill you right now.
"-because i'm not even sure."
"Not good enough."
In a panic, Zuko moves his leg, managing to swing around and get him to stumble back, all he while managing to bring his arm up and pushing, so the boy's wrists move apart and withdraw the swords just enough for him to get them from around his neck.
As a last resort, he pulls off the helmet, tossing it aside, and hearing it clang across the dirt, "This-" His finger juts out pointing at his scar, "is why i'm not sure."
Jet gets ready to lung but pauses halfway through a movement, eyeing the charred skinned and the blatant confusion in his eyes. "They did that to you? And you're still on their side?"