He breathed in. Out. In. Out. In. And launched into a sequence of fire bending forms, fierce flames bursting from his fists, feet, and nostrils, flared, like the dragons of old.
"Beautiful form, Prince Zuko," Iroh said, joining his nephew on the main deck. He reached out to adjust the bottom of Zuko's black shirt. "The last was very graceful. Where did you pick that up?" Iroh asked, knowing it had to have been Anzala.
"I don't know," Zuko said, Iroh still tugging at his shirt. "It just happened." He raised his arms to adjust the band holding up his hair, pushing to tighten it. He let his slender fingers fall through his hair and dropped his arms to his side.
"No sign of the Avatar yet?" Iroh asked.
"Nothing. You know that, Uncle."
"I could've missed the commotion during my nap. Just making sure." Iroh grinned at him. Zuko turned his face, sucking at his teeth.
"It's all right to be upset, Prince Zuko."
"The Avatar will show his face sooner or later, and I will be there," Zuko said.
"I'm glad you haven't given up hope, but that's not what I'm talking about," Iroh said. "In life, people come and go. It's all right to be upset over Anzala's departure."
"I'm not upset," Zuko said, grinding his teeth at the mention of her name. "And it wasn't a departure. It was betrayal."
Iroh grabbed his beard, keeping quiet. He reached out to smooth out another wrinkle in Zuko's shirt, but Zuko pushed his hand away.
"A departure is when someone leaves," Zuko said. "Anzala didn't leave. She lied. She broke the oath she made to me like it didn't matter. Like I didn't matter." Every kind word. Every warm smile. It all meant nothing?
Zuko exhaled, flaring his nostrils again. Iroh patted his shoulder, squeezed tight to assure him all would be fine in time, and left him alone to finish his practice. Zuko stepped into another set of fire bending forms, messy and erratic, just like how he felt the moment he saw Anzala standing beside Zhao. He dragged both hands over his face with a grunt. Zuko walked to the side of the ship where he rested his elbows and leaned forward to gaze boredly at the rolling ocean waves. He couldn't help but wonder if everything Anzala had said was a lie. Was he really worthy of honor and respect? Of love? Or were those just empty words, too? He folded his arms on the edge and buried his face between them.
#
"Let me go! Get off of me." Anzala struggled against Zhao's guards. She saw they were closing in as she and Zuko ran from Roku's temple. To give the prince a chance, she fell back, diverted their attention, sacrificed herself. And now she was in chains on her father's ship, arms behind her back.
"You see, Anzala, I always win," Zhao said. His guards pushed her to her knees before him.
"How? You don't have the Avatar. You barely escaped the island," she said, shaking. She was afraid and angry and at a loss.
"But I did escape. And while I don't have the Avatar, I have you back where you belong. Not running around with the banished prince." Zhao crouched to her level and grabbed her by the chin. " My daughter."
"Sir," a guard said, approaching them. Zhao nodded at him.
"Behave for a few minutes, won't you, Anzala?" he said. He stood back up, taking Anzala by the arms and pulling her to her feet, too. She struggled to keep her balance with her arms bound and her head pounding. She steadied herself enough to see the smaller ship coming up beside them. Her heart sank.
"No prince, and no Avatar. Just five traitors," Zhao said, raising his voice. He gazed down at Zuko's ship. "But at least she changed her mind." He looked back at his daughter. She shook her head, silently pleading with him. He gave her a look that made her blood run cold. She could never forget the aggression he always showed her. Don't make me angry. Know your place. Do as I say.
Anzala drew in a deep breath and stepped up beside Zhao. She stood erect, her hands cupped behind her back just like him. She didn't want to look at Zuko. He was going to think she'd betrayed him. He was going to be furious and sad. Unless she beat Zhao to him. She opened her mouth, ready to tell Zuko and Iroh to keep moving, that she'd be all right, that she was still on Zuko's side. But Zhao set a hand on her shoulder before she could speak. He leaned close and whispered in her ear.
"Say anything I don't like, and I'll do more than burn you again."
Anzala felt the heat from Zhao's palm push through the fabric of her top, warming her skin, and when it became too much, she whispered, understood. She looked at Zuko again, defeated.
"You were foolish to think I'd ever turn my back on my father and my country for you," she said. Zuko looked at Anzala, searching her face for any trace of hope or chance that it was all a lie, silently pleading with her the way she had with Zhao moments ago. Anzala let her shoulders fall and used what strength she had left to push her last words to Zuko between her teeth.
"Goodbye, Prince Zuko."
The ships passed, and Anzala stood where she was, drowning in the roaring of the waves and the chatter of the crew behind her.
"Good girl," Zhao said, setting his hand on her shoulder again, this time, cool. She tore away from him, her eyes large like something had snapped in her head.
"You can't keep doing this," she said.
"What exactly is it that I'm doing?" Zhao asked.
"Coming after me. Ruining everything. Always," she said. "I did everything I was supposed to. I stayed quiet. I followed you everywhere. I know I sometimes talk back, but not enough for this!" She craned her neck so the collar of her shirt shifted and exposed the burn on her neck.
"I left to start over, not for politics or spite. What do you care what I do? You never wanted me. Why can't you just let me go?"
"Guard, escort Anzala to her quarters," Zhao said. Anzala dipped away from the guard. She wanted to run, but there was nowhere to go. Not with the chains around her wrists. Not on a ship. Not in the middle of the ocean. Unless she jumped, but in her heart she knew she lacked the courage. She lost her balance and dropped to her knees.
"On second thought, Guard, escort her to the brig. Let's snuff out that fire of hers."
#
"It's me, Prince Zuko," Iroh said, stepping into his nephew's quarters. Zuko sat with his back to the door in what looked like a pathetic attempt at meditation, his shoulders bunched, back bent.
"Why is everyone looking at me like I'm crazy?" Zuko asked.
"What, the crew? They always look at you like that," Iroh said. Zuko flinched at the clanging. He turned to see Iroh holding a pot of tea and two little cups.
"I thought some ginseng would help your mood," Iroh said. "And it's my favorite."
"My mood? What does that mean?" Zuko faced him fully, his brow twisted like he couldn't believe what his uncle had implied.
"You've been a little on edge. Anyone can see."
"So?" Zuko turned his face when Iroh joined him and started to pour the tea. The prince pushed his cup away.
"It's good for you."
"I don't want it. Or you here. I want to be alone. How can I focus on capturing the Avatar when all you and Anzala ever do is barge in here with tea?" It took Zuko a long moment before noticing his uncle's silence. And then he realized.
"This—my mood, or whatever—has nothing to do with her," he said.
"Prince Zuko," Iroh said, "lying to yourself won't fix things. It's better to admit what you're feeling and move forward from there."
"What am I supposed to feel, Uncle? Angry? Fine. I'm angry."
"Why, Prince Zuko?"
"Because she was supposed to be here."
"And?"
"And she's not." Zuko hated how Iroh always managed to peel back the layers and see, even though Zuko was usually so easy to read. He wore his heart on his sleeve and was often burned for it.
He reached for the cup of tea, sipping slowly. When he'd had enough, he set aside the cup and grabbed the fabric at his stomach.
"It hurts."
#
Anzala tugged on her chains. When she'd been thrown in there, alone, she thrashed and hollered like a wounded animal. By now, she'd grown tired and weak, her eyes red and stinging from shed tears, her jaw sore from clenching her teeth as she pulled against her bonds and cursed herself for being so pathetic.
She gasped, relieved when the door moaned open.
"Let me out," she told Zhao. He didn't say anything, marching to stand before her.
"Take me back above deck. I'll keep my mouth shut," she said. Zhao only held his arms behind his back. It infuriated Anzala. She pushed herself to stand up.
"Let me out now! Unchain me or I'll—"
"You'll what?" Zhao said, holding her gaze. "You know what will happen. What I promised you. What I promised your mother."
Anzala stepped back, pressed against the cold metal wall. When she caught her breath, she looked at her father not with anger, but sadness.
"So it was you," she said.
"Did you really need me to confirm it, Anzala?" he said. "You knew."
"You're right, I never doubted it. I just didn't want to believe that her own husband was the one to take her life when all she did was try to love you."
"All she did was lie and deceive me. Your mother was a demon. I sent her back from whence she came." Zhao put a finger to Anzala's stomach, poking playfully. "You, however, have a bit more luck. If you suddenly disappeared after voluntarily coming back, people would get suspicious. So I'll let you live. For now." Zhao moved back, sliding open the door.
"You best do as I say and remember where you stand, where your loyalties lie, Anzala," he said. "No one is coming to save you. Not your mother, and certainly not Prince Zuko. I made sure of that." The door groaned shut behind him, and Anzala was alone again.
#
"This is ridiculous!" Zuko, on the floor after a failed fire bending form, slammed his fists down hard. His frustration and fury had boiled over. He no longer cared who watched him from the glass of the navigation room or the shadows of the ship.
"Why is this happening?" He held a hand to his face, anxiously grabbing and bunching the loose fabric of his training pants with the other.
"Prince Zuko," Iroh said, "lying to yourself won't fix things. It's better to admit what you're feeling and move forward from there."
"Why is he always right?" Zuko squinted, trying to see if Iroh sat behind the glass drinking tea like always or talking someone into losing a game of Pai Sho against him. He huffed and disappeared deep into the ship.
After washing off and robing, Zuko made his way to Anzala's room. Iroh was right. To move on, he'd have to confront the issue. He walked around the room. Anzala hadn't decorated much. In fact, she did the opposite. She'd taken down the single Fire Nation banner hanging on the wall, rolled it up, and propped it in the corner.
Zuko rubbed the banner's fabric between his fingers and eyed the rest of the room, thoughts buzzing in his head. Why would Zhao's daughter, the very girl who deceived Zuko, take down the banner?
"You were foolish to think I'd ever turn my back on my father and my country for you,"
Zuko shook his head, unable to forget her voice or the harsh words she uttered in that moment. He removed the pin from his robe and held it close to admire its smooth lines and the way it glimmered in the dim light. He curled his fingers around it tight.
"I'm giving it to you. I held onto it all these years for that reason and the slight chance that it might bring me some good luck. But that family doesn't exist anymore. That story is over. And I think, after all this time, I finally did get my good luck."
Zuko dropped the brooch on Anzala's bed and left. He made his way up to the navigation room, bare feet tap, tap, tapping against the cold floor. He walked in on Iroh and Jee hunched over the Pai Sho board. Neither bothered to look up at the prince.
"Uncle, I need something," Zuko said.
"Can it wait until after this game?" Iroh asked. "The lieutenant has proved to be a great match and has a chance of winning if he's careful."
Zuko planted a hand in the center of the board game, pieces jumping up and out of place at the force. He faced Iroh.
"No. It can't."