Painted lady - part 1
Toph suggested they go to Kuzon's town and find something to smash. She insisted smashing would help Aang feel better. Kuzon had lived in a tiny fishing village on the other side of the island. The little town had obviously been abandoned decades ago. Most of the buildings were ruins. Even though it was pointless, they smashed up what was left. Aang didn't feel better.
Sokka had paid an extravagant sum for some fresh vegetables on the next Island. He said that food always made him feel happy. Aang had eaten the meal. It tasted like the ashes from the cooking fire and stuck in his throat. He didn't feel happy.
Katara spoke softly and rubbed his shoulders. Maybe it would have worked if Aang was still the young kid she pulled to her chest in the Southern Air Temple. He was older now. It was less easy for her to fool him with pity and lies. She couldn't sugarcoat this. All of Katara's sweet words didn't lessen the bitterness of Kuzon's betrayal.
Aang thought of Kuzon and stared at the fire, his anger simmering. The fire seemed to leap higher every time he looked at it. Like it was taunting him. He looked away angrily. Stupid fire.
"No! It's getting smaller," Sokka whined as he held some meat on a stick over the flames. "Can you keep staring at the fire with vengeful rage Aang, I'm trying to get a good char here."
Katara elbowed him and hissed something about being sensitive.
"Sure, I'll help you burn things. What else are firebenders good for?"
Aang stared at the fire and felt the ugly, spiky feeling in his belly reaching out. The flames reached back, feeding off his anger. It wasn't as bad as he thought, firebending with anger. He could do this...
"Aang, you don't mean that—"
Spirits help him. If Katara started to talk about how firebenders were just people again, if she mentioned all the 'good' Fire Nation people they knew, if she said Zuko's name with that little tremble in her voice, he was going to burn all their meat skewers.
"Actually, I do!" Aang snapped. "Burning things is all they do!"
"I know you're upset about Kuzon, but maybe there's an explanation. Bumi seemed to think—"
Sokka elbowed her this time. He muttered something to his sister that sounded like, "Bumi was senile, I don't think that's helping."
Even Sokka was whispering about him, treating him delicately and carefully—like Aang's sadness was some unexploded blasting jelly that had to be handled gently.
"I don't want to talk about this!" Aang exploded and stormed off to the beach.
Aang's heart was broken into a million pieces. They sat like ice shards in his chest, sharp and cold and painful if he held them too long. He sat on the sand and tried meditating, but Monk Gyatso's teachings had never seemed further away.
Monk Gyatso said there was good inside everyone, but it wasn't true. Aang had met so many terrible people, like Zhao, like Long Feng. They only wanted to control and destroy. But at least they had been honest about being bad. Kuzon seemed good on the outside (so good. His truest friend), but inside Kuzon had obviously been an acid viper rat all along.
Perhaps everything Monk Gyatso taught him was wrong. Maybe there really wasn't good inside everyone and strangers weren't just friends he hadn't met.
Always reaching out his hand in friendship had only gotten his fingers burned.
All life was sacred, but clearly some life was more sacred than others. The last time Aang had seen Gyatso in this life, his old master's body was surrounded by Fire Nation skeletons.
His gentle, wise master had chosen to murder all those people. Aang even knew the move Gyatso would have used. It was forbidden. It was against all their teachings. But it turned out Gyatso wasn't above breaking the rules to defend his home.
Aang couldn't say for sure he was wrong.
He'd been so certain of everything Gyatso had ever taught him. Now he felt that certainty, that last link to his home and his old life, dissolve like the waves into sand.
-0-
Azula was a people person. She knew the little cogs inside them. She knew how to wind them up and set them off. She'd learned from practising on her brother. He'd been her favourite toy.
She knew what little misdeeds he'd let slide (Azula pushed me off the roof again), mostly out of fear that it would rebound back on him. (Well, don't be so stupid and pushable, boy.) She knew what would set him off yelling entertainingly, or calling for their mother, or running and hiding, or, amusingly, climbing up roofs to escape her again.
Well, she could climb too!
(This was exactly why he was so pushable.)
She wound him up with ease. It was ridiculous that she was now unable to do the simple task of unwinding him.
He'd changed.
She didn't like it.
He used to do anything to win their father's approval. He'd grovel on the ground for a scrap of affection from the man. Now he avoided, disdained and feared their father in equal measure. Sadly, this fear didn't help him develop anything close to a sense of self-preservation.
He was just blundering on, doing what he thought was best, heedless of the fact that with every act of civic competence, every charitable deed, every road smoothed and widow comforted, the people began to look to him with more genuine admiration than they'd ever extended her father.
She was aware father was making plans without her.
Father clearly knew it would have to look convincingly like an accident this time. Sudden heart failure wasn't going to fly with her brother young and healthy. She imagined that was why Ozai was taking his time. She still had time to rearrange the game pieces to her liking.
Father would never change.
So she had to change her brother. Again.
And she couldn't use fear, which had always been her favourite method. Father had overdone it when they'd been younger. Zuko had survived every horrifying thing that their father had thrown at him.
Ridiculously, Zuko now seemed to remember his banishment at thirteen, hideously injured with infection creeping around the corner and with the dregs of the navy just ripe for mutiny in the oldest and rustiest boat scavenged, with something akin to fondness. He'd even acquired one of the officers who had numerous counts of insubordination as some kind of pet/assistant.
(Azula assumed one-legged geriatrics were easier to catch than sloth cats.)
She just had to make Zuko less noticeable, less annoying, less stupid, which was no small feat considering what Mai had told her about his latest plans.
"He won't listen to me. He just gets angry and says I wouldn't understand because my dad never hurt me. He says it's important families have somewhere safe to go, so they can escape violence together," the other girl had said, with something embarrassingly like concern in her voice.
"You can't name the peasant family shelter after our mother, dumdum," Azula said without preamble or pleasantries as she strode into the Home Guardian Office.
"Why not?"
"Because you may as well just call it the Princess Ursa Centre for Women Running Away from Bad Husbands," she stated as she scanned the piles and found the offending documents. "Think about that for five seconds."
He gave her an annoyed look and tried to snatch the blueprints back in response.
She sighed loudly. She'd overestimated his intelligence. It would take much longer than five seconds for Zuko to discover any kind of political nuance, even with both hands and full daylight to assist his search. On the whole, it seemed more expedient to throw the whole project in the fire.
"Hey, that was important!" Zuko rushed to grab the blueprints out. He didn't even use his bending to dampen the fire down first. Dum dum. He withdrew his fingers with a hiss. "I could have just changed the name you know," he muttered angrily.
"Are you trying to be as thick as Black Sand Island Wasabi?" Azula asked, trying a different tactic.
He liked squabbling with her using the archaic dialogue from mother's plays. It was one of the few things that brought an amused smirk to his face. If fear didn't work, she would simply tease him into submission.
"Why don't you leave me alone and go get your hair washed again?" Zuko waved his hand dismissively.
Azula inhaled deeply through her nostrils, not rising to the bait. They were not having the importance of proper hair care argument again. What did her stupid brother know about keeping hair lusturous? He'd cut his hair with a knife, for goodness sake! "I'm not having a spa today," she said placidly.
"You should. You give off the rankest compound of villainous smell that ever offended a nostril," Zuko continued, a sly smirk on his face.
It was so petty. So juvenile.
"I smell?" He clearly couldn't think of anything better. She had won for all time. "That's the best you got?"
He shoved her. She didn't burn him instantly. That would be using a catapult to squash a sandfly. She shoved him back. Azula, unlike her father, knew the benefits of a proportionate response.
Their shoving became very juvenile jostling. It dislodged a scroll from her sleeve, which bounced on the floor at her brother's feet. Zuko grabbed it. She tried to snatch it off him, but he held it above her head and unrolled it. His eyes widened as he saw all the scrawled insults she'd been practicing.
"You've been cheating!" he exclaimed.
"Like I've never done that before. You really should have seen it coming," she said sweetly, and gave a swift leg sweep. He fell to the floor with a yelp and dropped the scroll in surprise. She caught it mid-air. Victory was hers! An actual, genuine laugh escaped her.
Winning was always more fun when she was beating Zuko. Forgetting herself, she reached a hand out to help him up. He looked at her hand mistrustfully before reaching back.
"The Firelord approaches," a servant announced at the door.
There was a flurry of activity. The attendants all stopped whatever they were doing and scurried to face the walls, so as not to offend the firelord with their unworthy faces. Zuko and Azula both snapped up. Standing at attention, spines rigid, eyes on the floor, the way father liked.
Father didn't acknowledge them. He took a long sweep around the room, eyeing everything disdainfully.
"I heard laughter," Father sneered. "Do tell me, what was so amusing?"
One should never make the mistake of thinking that father had any kind of sense of humour. Any sensible person could tell he didn't actually want the joke explained.
"Your Majesty, this paper has...you see Azula and I have been using old lines from—"
"I was just amused by some of Zuko's nonsense, Father," Azula cut him off to save him from himself. "It would only bore you." She gave a fed up eyeroll to show how boring Zuko was in general. He was beneath Father's notice, really.
Ozai walked over to her brother and tried looming over him.
Azula hadn't seen them standing together since Zuko had been a child. If Zuko saw their father, it was in the throne room. Father was elevated above them all, and Zuko assumed the position of supplicant, on his knees.
Zuko was all long limbs and awkwardness at the moment. He was in the middle of a growth spurt. He wasn't a little thirteen-year-old boy anymore. He was almost eye to eye with their father or at least he could be if his eyes hadn't been resolutely fixed on a spot of carpet to her left.
Father seemed to realise they were nearly the same height. This clearly displeased him. He stood on his tippy toes to loom more effectively.
"You're bringing nonsense into the palace? Do I have to teach you respect again?" Father hissed impatiently.
Out of the corner of her eye, Azula saw Zuko's pet pirate wip around from the walls, fists clenched with an outraged look on his face. (Reliably living up to his reputation for insubordination.)
The attendant next to him shoved him back in place with alarm, because a fireball their way wouldn't differentiate between the grovellingly loyal and the insubordinate. All this went unnoticed by her looming father and shrinking brother. Zuko was hunching his shoulders and trying to make himself smaller.
"No, Your Majesty."
Then Father stepped away from Zuko and loomed over her. She'd gotten too close to her brother and now some of his unfavourite-stink had rubbed off on her. She stepped away from him.
"See that it doesn't happen again," Father said slowly to her. A softer warning, but a warning none the less.
"It won't, Father," she promised. She glanced at the crumpled scroll in her hand then threw it in the fire along with Zuko's plans to create a safe haven for families.
Father nodded in acknowledgement, then departed with a billow of his cape. Father loved to flourish it dramatically when he exited anywhere.
Azula witnessed a collective exhale of relief wash through the room. It sounded like a wave crashing on a distant beach. Zuko moved away from her and looked at the fire to see if there was anything still worth salvaging.
"Why do you always have to burn everything?" he asked her quietly.
"We're firebenders, Zuko," she reminded him. "It's what we do."
-0-
"Look, I'm just saying that girl—what was her name?"
"On-Ji," Toph supplied.
"She cheered him up, right? How about we just go back and see if she'd like to join us for a little while. It could be—"
"Are you suggesting we kidnap another Fire Nation kid to cheer Aang up?" Toph asked for clarification, a grin spreading all over her face.
"It wouldn't be kidnapping. We'd ask her first. It's not kidnapping if you ask!" Sokka spluttered.
Toph fell over backwards, peels of laughter coming out of her mouth. Sokka started ranting at her, defending his kidnapping record.
"Nobody is kidnapping anybody else," Katara said firmly over their squabbles. "But, guys, we have a real problem here. What are we going to do about Aang? He's really feeling terrible..."
"His feelings aren't the biggest problem," Toph said bluntly. "I think I need to tell you guys something. Aang can't go into the Avatar state anymore." She confessed it quickly, throwing Aang off the bison with all the grace of a badgermole rampage.
Sokka gave a dismissive wave with his meat stick. "Oh, we know. Aang wasn't too subtle, you know."
"We kind of figured it out ages ago," Katara said with a little shrug.
"You guys knew I was lying the whole time? And you didn't tell me!" Aang said, landing in a gracefully indignant stance. Twinkletoes had obviously been eavesdropping, but he was so light on his feet. Toph had no idea he was nearby.
"You really don't have a leg to stand on, getting angry about that, buddy," Sokka pointed out.
"Why did you lie to us?" Katara asked.
Aang crossed over to his own little corner and sat, knees up under his chin, arms wrapped tight around his legs. "I didn't want to let you down again."
"Oh, Aang, you didn't let us down," Katara said, kneeling next to him to put a consoling arm around his shoulders. "You tried your hardest."
"I didn't, though. The monks are—were right about lies. Lies poison everything. Kuzon lied to me, but I'm not going to lie to you guys anymore." Aang took a moment to inhale deeply and then the words were rushing out of him. "I left before I finished with the guru. I was unlocking the seventh chakra. If I had stayed, I would have mastered the Avatar State. I would be able to use it properly, control it and not accidentally hurt anyone, but...I had a vision of you in danger." He turned to Katara and bit his lip. "The guru said if I left, it would lock my chakra and I wouldn't be able to go into the Avatar State at all...but I left anyway."
Katara gasped and withdrew her arm. She sat back a little.
"I couldn't sit there meditating while you were in trouble," Aang pleaded.
"So, you'll never be able to control the Avatar State…because of me?" Katara said slowly, sounding horrified. Toph could feel her heart pounding, but she couldn't tell if Katara was more angry or afraid. Sokka was looking between his sister and Aang, as if he was waiting for her to react first.
She stood abruptly, hands on hips, in full mother mode. "No! That's not right!"
"I'm sorry." Aang's voice was small, and he was trying to make himself smaller too.
Toph wondered if she should intervene. Katara yelling at Aang now wouldn't make anything better. It would only make Aang feel worse. Irrationally, Toph couldn't help but think she's the motherly one. Katara was meant to take care of them. She wasn't allowed to get angry at them when they were sad.
"I'm not angry at you, Aang!" Katara snapped. "I'm just angry near you."
Aang seemed unnerved by her anger, in general, but he uncurled himself a little at that.
"I'm angry because Guru Pathik was wrong! He told you something that was wrong, Aang. You are going to be able to control the Avatar State one day, I know it!"
Toph didn't know what Katara was basing that on, but blind and kinda yelly optimism was her strong suit.
"How can you be so sure?" Aang asked slowly. A faint shadow of his old curiosity lingered in his voice.
Katara sat next to him. "In Ba Sing Se, you stopped fighting and made this rock tent. I didn't know what you were doing in there, but then the rocks around you started glowing. When you came out, your tattoos and eyes were shining so bright, it was like the sun. And you rose above us and you seemed calm and you were you. And that was after you left the guru," she concluded smugly, resting her hands in her lap, satisfied that she had made a point.
"I went into the Avatar state all by myself?" Aang's eyes widened, like he was realising something. "You know, there was this moment right before the lightning—"
He stopped abruptly, looking away from them. Aang hated to talk about the lightning. But he gulped and forced himself to continue. Toph felt an odd moment of pride. It wasn't earthbending, but it was still facing things head on. She'd taught him how to do that.
"It felt like the whole universe was inside me, but it wasn't scary," Aang said softly. "I felt like I was in control."
Sokka met Aang's gaze. "So, how did you do it?"
"I was trying to unlock my seventh chakra. The guru said doing that was the answer to controlling the Avatar State."
"Can you do it again?" Sokka asked quickly.
"I've been trying...but it's hard on my own."
"Good thing you aren't alone then," Katara said, opening up her arms. Aang fell into them. Her hand was rubbing his back over his scar, soothing.
And before she met these idiots, Toph had never been involved in smushy emotional group hugs, but now it seemed like a crime not to join in this hug. She smushed herself in between them. Katara was all about the soothing, but Aang needed Toph to ground him and keep him honest. That left Sokka on the outside, trying to fit them all safe inside his arms.
-0-
Zuko was thoughtful and respectful to his elders, even if they were servants. Zuko listened to Jee's advice too now. Diligently, like Jee was the only person he trusted. Wasn't that just a sorry state of affairs for everyone involved?
Many afternoons, Jee brought the prince home. Jee didn't have the heart to send Zuko back to the degenerate, nugget-shaped shit he had the misfortune to call his father. Then Zuko would sit at Jee's kitchen table and be sweet to his family and eat everything Nanami put in front of him, and say things like, "Jee has been such a great help to me. He's really good at being a bastard!"
His tone implied this was a huge compliment.
It was weird!
It was very inconvenient.
Mostly because Jee loved to complain. He had complained about Zuko at length to his long-suffering daughter.
Now it looked like Jee was a big fat liar.
His daughter Nanami was fond of the prince. She thought he was a lovely, well-mannered young man. (Those were her actual words! A living, sane, normal person had used the word 'polite' to describe Prince Zuko!)
If he hadn't been a prince, Jee felt sure Nanami would have filed adoption papers for Zuko. In fact, being a prince was becoming less of an obstacle for Nanami the more Zuko made off-hand comments about enjoying her food so much because he didn't think she actively wanted to murder him, so he was pretty confident it wasn't poisoned.
Nanami found these socially awkward utterings especially endearing. She made huge qualities of noodle soup, bangbang chicken, and spiced dumplings and fed the Prince like she was trying to fatten him up for the midwinter feast.
She thought her father had been exaggerating about all of Zuko's bad qualities. "Honestly Dad, he's a sweet boy. You're becoming such an unreasonable grump in your old age. He's too nice now indeed!" Nanami lowered her voice and did an impression of what she considered one of Jee's more ridiculous complaints. She tutted him audibly, and strode away to make more soup.
Oi! Jee's complaints had been legitimate!
And the niceness was damn unsettling!
Jee wasn't complaining. It made his working days much easier, after all. But working for thirteen-year-old Zuko had been a nightmare.
But strangely, working for sixteen-year-old Zuko was one of the most rewarding things he'd ever done. Helping people, solving problems, telling Zuko where he could stick it when he was being unreasonable—it was the best job Jee'd ever had. Not that he'd ever say that to the prince.
Zuko might smile or be nice about it.
Jee couldn't be having any more of that nonsense.
Having a job that mattered helped Jee cut back on the drink. He'd been meaning to cut back for a long time. He knew where that road led. Now he only had two drams of imperial gold in the evenings after their hospital days. Helped him sleep.
It was the kids that got to him. Jee didn't like seeing children suffer. Pale faced and wide eyed, they'd followed Prince Zuko around like little shadows the first day, staring at his unbandaged burn scar and probably wondering if theirs would heal up the same. Then one of them was brave enough to ask him to play with them.
Now, Zuko always stopped by the playroom first. Jee mostly left him to it and got on with what needed doing. When he returned to collect the prince, he'd find vast castles out of the blocks, and battles against the big bad stuffed animals. "Nothing can hurt you if you act like you're really tough," the prince would say, and then the kids would make fake muscles at him.
It reminded Jee powerfully of an angry boy wearing armour far too large for his body, trying to look older and bigger and meaner than he really was.
There was something so Agni-damned fitting and tragic about the whole scene. It made Jee want to smash the heavy glass bottom of the imperial gold bottle over Firelord Ozai's face.
Jee wanted to teach that ball-sack-eyed hedgehog fucker some bloody respect.
Then Jee figured out how to get food to the Outer Islands. Firelord Ozai, useless cockwobble that he was, had wanted the Outer Islands to sort it out for themselves. (By that, he meant starve.) On top of this, he had sent all their firebenders to fight under General Buijing.
The Firelord always got that crusty hemorrhoid to do his dirty work for him.
The islands were ripe for a revolt, but Jee had learned from General Iroh that a bowl full of hot noodles could have a calming effect on anyone.
Jee had the idea of using the decommissioned but still sea-worthy ships to deliver the food. This idea involved using navy ships, and Zuko would have to make the request to his father in person.
In no time at all, a very formally dressed servant was waiting at the door to escort the prince. Prince Zuko hesitated, looking between the paper in his hand and the middle distance. His hand shook slightly before he clenched his fists and followed the servant. Jee followed too, even though Zuko hadn't asked.
Jee wasn't allowed in. He waited outside, anxiety coiling in his belly. He didn't like Prince Zuko speaking to his father alone. At all.
"Well, it's not my fault that the peasants don't have luxuries," Jee heard the Firelord grumble.
"Permission to speak, Your Majesty?" Zuko said, sounding very formal.
He always asked for permission to speak, but it wasn't always granted. Still, at least fucktrumpet wouldn't be able to get him for 'talking out of turn' now. The Firelord must have nodded or something, because Zuko continued.
"They are also missing basic food items."
"Well, they can't blame me. They should have thought of that before they became peasants!"
Jee felt the heat from the ring of fire around the throne blaze momentarily through the heavy curtains. A rogue fireball exploded inside. Accidental bending during a temper tantrum? A Firelord was meant to be the very best bender under the sun. He should have had better control.
Unless he was doing it deliberately?
Another fireblast. Then a sharp inhale from the prince. Jee clenched his fists at his side furiously.
"What was that ridiculous noise?" the Firelord snapped angrily.
"Your Majesty, I was... breathing?"
"Well, don't!" the Firelord commanded. "Don't breathe unless I give you explicit permission."
There was an unnerving silence. Was Prince Zuko just...holding his breath? In front of his useless wankstain of a father? Was the wankstain just watching? Waiting?
This family was beyond fucked up.
After longer than the time it would take to drown a man, the Firelord magnanimously said, "I'll allow you to breathe."
There was a sighing noise from Zuko as if he really had been holding his breath all that time and not sneaking in a cheeky bit through his nose.
"Don't be so dramatic, idiot boy." The Firelord sounded bored now. "Continue making your request at a glacial pace. You know how conversations with wet-cabbage witted imbeciles thrill me."
"I know there has been talk of rebellion, but if we were to provide more food relief, they would be exceedingly grateful to Your Majesty. Your wisdom and leadership would be exalted. They would show the crown even greater loyalty. They might even commission more statues to honour your generosity."
"Mmmmhhh. More statues of me on the Outer Islands? " The Firelord mulled this over with relish. "Proceed..."
"There is a fleet of decommissioned crocodile class cruisers in the harbour that are awaiting deconstruction. I am sure they could ferry the needed resources to the Outer Islands."
"Crocodile class cruisers aren't even fit for bilge-rats. They're hardly seaworthy." The Firelord had laughed. "What on earth makes you think those boats could even make it without sinking?"
Jee felt oddly incensed on Prince Zuko's behalf. Didn't that steel-hearted hedgehogfucker even remember?
"A crocodile class cruiser took me all over the world during my banishment, Your Majesty. They can make it to the Outer Islands and back in a week," Zuko said after a long moment, his voice eerily flat.
"Oh."
Jee didn't think there was anywhere near enough embarrassment or shame in that 'oh'. It sounded more like an "Oh, I never knew that" type of oh, rather than a "Oh, I only just realised I am shitty, disgusting, mangled hellbeast of a father who goes out of his way to make his children miserable and doesn't need to build anymore Agni-damned statues of myself" type of oh.
There was a long and painfully awkward silence before fucktrumpet spoke again. "Very well. Take them, but have them back quick so they can be stripped for scrap, boy."
It was odd. The Fire Nation had lost a large portion of their fleet at the North Pole. The Earth Kingdom folk had become braver in their rebellion. Without the extra naval support guarding some newer settlements, they had lost several coal mines, rigs, and nearby colonies. Those raw materials had been crucial for the war effort.
Suddenly, the Firelord had begun scrapping the remaining ships in the harbour. Most people had assumed that the materials were being used to rebuild their navy, but Jee hadn't seen a single new ship in the dry dock. Back when he'd been on the welding line, he couldn't help but notice that the hull shape was all wrong.
He'd asked Prince Zuko what was going on, but the prince was excluded from all war meetings and didn't know either. Zuko agreed that it was weird, but at least he knew that the metal wasn't going towards building statues of his father with flames coming out his whatsit.
Nowadays, Jee occasionally got to see a dry, wicked sense of humour. It turned out that Zuko could make him laugh, and if he were a little older, Jee would've liked to buy him a drink.
Not now though. Jee had put his foot down about that.
Some odd parental urge had kicked in for Jee. Sure, Zuko wasn't his kid, but he was still a kid. There didn't seem to be any other adults around who were stepping up to do any sort of parental duty since the general had vanished, so Jee had taken it upon himself.
Jee had insisted that Zuko was Too Young to be slamming back Salty Captain's Island Spiced Rum. Jee had insisted that Zuko should do normal teenage boy things, not spend his days hanging out with bitter old men and beggars and burned children.
"What do normal teenage boys do? Zuko had asked, in all honest curiosity.
Zuko had a hard time fitting in with the other kids his age in the capital, and damn it Jee had never met anyone in direr need of some actual friends. (Jee didn't count the two girly spies who were always around. Zuko explained about gremlin, control-freak sisters, which he thought tainted all their 'hanging out' with the ulterior motive stick.)
The urge to comfort the kid was so strong that Jee had taken a step towards him, his hand hovering over Zuko's shoulder.
"Are you trying to hug me?"
"No, Your Highness. I was just—"
What was he just? There was no excuse for this. Just because Jee gave the kid some occasional fathering didn't mean that cuddles had become part of his job description.
"—you have something on your shoulder."
Nice save.
"I can get it myself!" Zuko had taken a huge step back and brushed his own shoulder melodramatically. "Look, I will stop drinking if you stop being weird and trying to hug me!"
"It wasn't a hug, Your Highness, it was a shoulder prod at best!" That was Jee's story and he was sticking to it.
"It was still weird!"
It took a week to repair the crocodile cruisers and get them to the Outer islands and back. Suddenly, there were jobs for his old mates. They were good sailors, all of them, and it gave them back a bit of pride to have some honest work. Jee surveyed the harbour, bustling with action again. All the boats looked like the Wani to him.
The pink one was flirting with some of the welders at the other end of the dock. Prince Zuko walked away from her to stand at the edge of the pier. He watched their ships sail out of the harbour, a wistful expression on his face, like he wanted to be onboard with the palace behind him and the whole ocean ahead.
"You alright, Your Highness?" Jee asked. He wasn't good at this concern thing.
"I'm fine," Zuko said quickly. He turned and ran his fingers over the hull of the last ancient cruiser moored there. The new welding gleamed against the old rust. "You've patched them up good. But are you really sure they can all make it?"
"The Wani was a good ship. She took us where we needed to go, didn't she? These boats are the same. They'll get there."
Jee never thought he'd reminisce with Zuko about their time on the Wani, like it was the good old days, yet here they were.
Jee thought that if the esteemed General Iroh were here, he'd probably spout a proverb or a joke at this point. The old man always said something to cheer the prince up when he got like this.
The Firelord had banned all mention of the general since his escape and had blasted him for being a traitor, but Jee could never bring himself to think ill of the man. He'd always liked General Iroh. Jee tried to remember one of the general's favourite proverbs...
"Besides, we can't keep her here to look pretty. A ship in the harbour may be safe, but that isn't what ships were built for," Jee said, trying to sound wise.
"A proverb?" Zuko tilted his head and raised his eyebrow.
"Felt appropriate, Your Highness."
"Jee, can I ask you something?" Zuko said, giving Jee a great deal of side-eye.
Jee nodded.
"Do sunflowers grow in the dirt?"
"What?"
"Okay. That's not one. Um, lilies smell nice?"
"Your Highness, are you feeling…well?" Jee said, and smoothed out his shirt in a way that showed that he really wanted to ask if the prince was feeling sane.
"Let me try again. Err, moonflowers come out at night?"
"Prince Zuko, have you hit your head recently?" Jee asked seriously, because shirt rumpling was too subtle to be picked up by someone suffering a head injury. Zuko had always been unlucky in the head injury department.
"No, I just…can you give me a clue at least? Tell me what to say?" Zuko huffed.
"Well, I would prefer it if you stopped babbling nonsense about flowers to be perfectly honest."
"Just—urgh!" Zuko stomped and then muttered about old windbags and stupid Pai Sho codes before he lowered his voice and hissed, "Aren't you uncle's flower friend? Can't you help me get in contact with him?"
Well, Jee hadn't known that about the general.
Each to their own. It made sense. The general never remarried after his wife passed and he was a member of several 'noblemen only' clubs. Maybe he did have a lover stashed away who knew his whereabouts, but Jee was not that lover.
"Listen, I greatly respect your uncle, but I never smelled his daffodil, if you know what I mean."
Zuko's completely blank look informed Jee that no, the prince did not know what he meant.
"I didn't fondle his twig and blossom berries. I never plucked his petals. I never..." Jee resorted to a crude hand gesture to illustrate what he meant.
Zuko's jaw dropped. He went red. He blinked at Jee in scandalised horror. "No, not like that, you pervert! Why do you always talk about flowers sexually? You have a problem, Jee!"
"No, I just—" Jee realised explaining himself was the least helpful thing to do in this situation. "You are the one who keeps bringing up flowers, not me!" He pointed out, like a mature adult.
Zuko looked around quickly to make sure no one was in ear shot. "Just...Uncle had these friends…and they'd play Pai Sho...and talk nonsense flower proverbs, and I was hoping one of them might help me find him," he whispered.
"Like Piandao?" Jee whispered back.
"Piandao?"
"Master Piandao was always sending him hawks with Pai Sho strategies and proverbs. Your Uncle said they played the game over a distance…and Piandao definitely pitches his tent on that side of the meadow—"
"Thank you, Jee," Zuko cut him off abruptly. "He still lives in Red Mountain Prefecture, right?"
"I believe so."
"Can you think of a bastard reason why I would need to go to the Red Mountain Prefecture?"
Jee's stomach twisted in apprehension. Zuko couldn't afford to make a mistake with Fucktrumpet on the throne. There were rules. Zuko knew some of them, but definitely not all of them, and that's why his sister had him followed by her girly minions because they never failed to remind him.
Some rules were obscure, like hidden landmines just waiting to be tripped over. Some rules were so obvious the gloomy one would say things like, "I have neither the time nor the crayons to explain to you why you shouldn't act on that."
This was a crayon rule.
"In all honesty, Your highness, no."
Keeping the kid alive was Jee's biggest priority. It was pretty much the most important bit of any fathering endeavour.
Zuko turned away abruptly, clearly disappointed.
"You're not allowed to leave Caldera Prefecture without express permission from the Firelord," Jee said gently.
Jee didn't need to point out the suffocating level of control Ozai liked to exert over his children. He kept them close, demanded obedience, wouldn't even let them breathe without his say so.
"Just...don't give him a reason," Jee added softly.
-0-
Past Avatars were at his back, the turning of the earth was in front of him, and the power of all the elements was in his hands. Aang breathed deeply and visualised Katara flowing down the river.
"I can't believe you don't care about the state of this filthy river!" Katara scolded as she floated away.
"Yeah, it's gross, but according to the schedule I made with Dad, we really need to try to get to the mountain region by next week," Sokka was saying. Suddenly, he was also in Aang's vision, floating next to his sister, waggling a paper at her.
"Your schedule is stupid." Katara splashed Sokka with sludge.
There was some yelling, which really didn't help to create a meditative atmosphere. Aang shook his head and opened his eyes. He'd been trying to open the seventh chakra all afternoon. However, Sokka and Katara squabbling about the woes of the nearby village, coupled with Toph's stream of groaning and holding her belly, had made finding inner peace difficult.
Sokka had eaten some of the two-headed fish and then double-dared Toph to try it. This was a mistake. Katara had been able to stop her vomiting, but hadn't been able to do much about the steady waves of nausea. She said she was sure it would pass, and Toph would feel better soon, but even Aang could tell she was just guessing.
He closed his eyes and started to try again…
No luck.
Maybe Aang actually had to do it, so that he had something real to base his meditations on?
Aang got up and walked over to Katara. He cleared his throat to get her attention. She looked up at him with wide, bemused eyes.
"Katara, I'm letting you go," Aang announced solemnly.
"Okaay…" Katara glanced at her brother, who shrugged in response. "Err, that's nice."
"You've been let go," Aang informed her.
"Now it just sounds like you're firing her," Toph stopped groaning long enough to say. "Sorry, Katara, the position of crappy healer and all-around busybody has been out-sourced."
"At least you're not vomiting anymore," Katara said primly. "And you can't get mad at me. I told you not to eat the two-headed fish."
Toph groaned in response.
"How's the meditating going?" Katara asked.
"It's hard to do it here. There's a lot more sludge than I'm used to," Aang said honestly.
"See, that settles it," Sokka said. "This place sucks. We're leaving."
"I agree this place is awful, but the fact that it is so terrible is exactly why we should stay," Katara said, appealing to Aang and Toph.
"Okay, weird opening to convince us to stay, but I'm listening," Aang said, crossing over to sit next to Sokka. He needed a break.
"We can help make it better before we leave. We can help these people."
"Why bother?"
Katara gaped at him. Toph stopped groaning and held her hand to the earth like she was feeling for confirmation that he really meant it. Even Sokka was staring at him, open mouthed.
"What? Look at the state of this river. Look at what they've done to it?" Aang gestured at the putrid sludge. "The Fire Nation doesn't care about nature. These people don't deserve our help."
"I think they do." Katara stood taller, not backing down. "I don't care that they are Fire Nation. They are suffering and they need our help. We can make their lives better. Isn't that what being the Avatar is about? Putting more good in the world"
"No. The Avatar is about restoring balance," Aang said firmly, turning away from her. "That means there is good and bad in the world. Maybe these people brought the bad upon themselves. They chose to pollute their river and now they have to live with it."
If Aang had to live with his choices, so did they.
-o-
Shout out to Yzma from the Emperor's New Groove. I just feel like "they should have thought of that before they became peasants" is very on-brand for Ozai. Yzma and Ozai both have similar priorities when it comes to ruling 1) the aesthetics, 2) tantrums, and 3) super weird punishments. However, Yzma is probably slightly more competent as a ruler because she can turn people into llamas, something Ozai has shown no talent for (but what an AU that would be!).
As always, a gigantic thank you to Boogum, who is the best beta a girl could ask for.
And a huge thanks to you readers who have been so patient in waiting for this chapter. Thanks for sticking with this.