Plotbunnies! They attack!
I'm stuck in a four-hour period doing nothing but trying to figure out what sites the school does not block. With two hours left, I feel myself going slowly crazy. Then the plotbunnies come and it's all better.
This is a one-shot thought up quite a while ago. Please enjoy!
Update: Edited for spelling and grammar.
Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar or the characters. They belong to Monsieurs DiMartino and Konietzko.
Revelations
Laughter from some sort of creature echoed in the night, branches creaking and trembling under the weight of the unidentified monsters. Darkness shrouded their movements, hiding the beasts as they raced across the canopy.
Zuko made the fire blaze almost to the branches, sending sparks flying into the air. The din silenced, the rustling of leaves the only sound left to hear.
Snorting, the teen settled back down on the rough hay, closing his eyes. It had been a horrible day with barely any food to eat and annoying townspeople. His uncle hadn't made it any better, sitting and laughing like there weren't any problems. He shouldn't have to live like this; he was the prince of the Fire Nation! People should've been begging him for money, not the other way around!
In fact, the old man was lying across from him. It was a wonder he hadn't lost any weight, considering that they had been on the run for days on end.
"Zuko," Iroh called out, "good night."
He grunted in disagreement but didn't say anything to him. Zuko could feel the waves of disappointment from him but ignored it. His uncle rustled about as he got ready to sleep, hoping to spark at least some words from the boy. His nephew remained quiet though, back to him.
Zuko waited a few minutes after his uncle's movements had silenced before sitting up. He glared at his uncle and dropped back down.
As he tried to get comfortable, he remembered all the infuriating things his uncle had done. Changing courses without consulting him, not teaching him anything but the so-called basics, music night. He angrily punched at the makeshift pillow, scratching at his head. The hair growing there was driving him crazy.
His thoughts began to shift, remembering how his uncle had protected him from his sadistic sister. The way he stepped in, saved him from a messy death. How he stayed with him, no matter what happened. He had cut his topknot with him, a silent promise to remain at his side no matter what. Through thick and thin they would remain together.
Zuko rolled over, staring at his uncle's form across the campfire. He had stayed by his side, even when it looked impossible. The old man had snuck him aboard Zhao's ship, kept him secret when he could've saved his own neck. Iroh had even said that he thought of him as a son.
He was his teacher.
He was also more of a father than his own, something Zuko had never given him credit for. He listened to him, withstood his anger and foul mood.
Stunned at his own revelation, the teen stared at the fire. Then, he turned back to the sleeping man, whispering, "Thank you."
Zuko rolled back over and closed his eyes, feeling slightly cheap at only telling him that when he was asleep. He promised himself to tell his uncle that one day, when the time was right of course.
Across the campfire, Iroh smiled to himself.