Disclaimer: If any here so choose to sue,
Then I in Justice shall Avenge-
For Avatar belongs not to me,
A cruel truth must I defend!
AN: Okay. So Defend and Avenge don't rhyme. I don't really care. Happy Holidays, everyone! I hope you're all ready to see Tsune tormenting Zuko some more. Finals are over, so I can finally work on my beloved fics again! And there was much rejoicing.
III
"It isn't my fault, dear," Tsune said dryly.
"You could have warned me!" Zuko snapped. The Spirit grinned.
"And miss that stunning reaction? I think not."
"But some precaution-" Iroh began in his nephew's defense. His tone was gentle, careful not to evoke the Spirit's wrath. Though personally, Zuko would have preferred whatever 'wrath' this creature could have posessed to its incessant mind games.
"You could have warned him, too," Tsune accused cheerfully. "From the sound of it, you know enough of my people to know about such things."
"Mostly myths and legends," the old man insisted, trying in vain to ward off his nephew's incriminating glare. "Too many of them have been exaggerated and-"
"You knew about this, uncle?" Zuko asked.
"Just stories," he admitted.
"Come now," Tsune laughed. "Mirrors? Do you honestly think that most humans are creative enough to think of such a thing on their own? Not without a lot of...encouragement, anyway."
Zuko glared at it venomously. The Spirit's little laugh was slowly driving him mad. His heart had nearly frozen in his chest at the village, and yet it insisted on mocking him!
Zuko had been the first to get new clothes at the tailor's shop. They had been cheap- old things that another man had ordered but never paid for, but they were about his size, and a few alterations made them fit well enough. Zuko remained silent as the tailor blustered on and on about bandits and whatever else, until finally the fool had turned him to face a small mirror on the wall, apparently satisfied with his work.
And there, Zuko cried out.
In the silvery glass, he saw no disguise, no symmetry of deception. Only his own reflection stared back at him in abject horror. Tsune had lied to him. It had betrayed him. Here he was, exposed, exhausted, and unarmed, labeled a traitor in the midst of a thousand soldiers.
"Is something wrong?" the tailor had asked, politely concerned, as though he didn't know.
"My brother," Tsune said mournfully. "He's been traumatized by the attack, the poor dear. It's none of your doing, kind sir," it bowed meekly to him. As though such a creature could ever be humble! "He'll be all right. He just needs time to rest." It grabbed his hand, capturing his wrist in an iron grip and pulling him down beside his uncle on a wooden bench.
"Good dear," it said, grinning mischievously at him. "Now see? Nothing's wrong. You're all there."
He put his hand to his face- it was the stranger's face still. Not his own. He was still safely concealed.
"It's the mirror," Tsune had explained later, as though it was obvious. "Silver and Spirits don't mix. Catch one of my illusions in silver, and there's silver in the back of every mirror, and you'll see them for what they really are. But only the reflection. The illusion still lasts in the real world. Just not in a mirror. Simple." It had occupied the remaining march by laughing at him.
"Besides," Tsune said, drawing his still angry mind back to the present. "You don't just go around advertising your weaknesses. Not if you want to live, anyway. That's important, dear."
"I know that!" he snapped. Of course he knew that. It was a basic principle of combat. But that wasn't the point. He closed his eyes, forcing himself to calm fora moment. "So are you rested enough?" he said.
"Hm?" The Spirit glanced lazily at him. His uncle looked confused for a moment, then weary as he realized what his nephew was talking about.
"The Avatar. We're fed and you're rested. You have a promise to keep, Tsune." The Spirit nodded thoughtfully.
"Fine by me," it said, grabbing Iroh's hand. "You'd better hold on to these while I'm gone, though." It dropped a bulging sack of coins into his palm. "I'll be back soon, dear," it said. And with a rush of wings and wind, it flew awayin the body of a sparrow.
"Wait!" Zuko shouted after it. "Wait! What about us! You're supposed to take us to him! Come back!"
Iroh sipped calmly at his tea, a pause from trying to comfort his nephew. Prince Zuko said nothing, only glaring at the piece of roast duck before he put it in his mouth. The gold that the Spirit had given them had provided many such meals in the past week- all of them as dismal as this one, all spent at local taverns. They hadn't left the village, in some vain hope that Tsune would come back and keep its promise. But each passing day left Zuko more impatient, and Iroh more worried. The old man had no real concern for the Spirit- he knew well enough that they could fend for themselves- but he knew just as well that they were rarely bound by promises, and his nephew's meager hope was quickly dissolving.
"You should try some of this," he offered. "Their jasmine tea is very good."
"I prefer the ginger, personally," an electrically familiar voice said. Iroh and Zuko both snapped to attention. Sitting in an extra chair at their table was a young man. But not just any man- he was the boy who traveled with the Avatar. Zuko jumped up from his chair.
"Where is-" he began, nearly shouting.
"Calm yourself, dear," the other boy said. His ice blue eyes, locked on Zuko's, became dark brown for an instant before returning to their original color. A smirk adorned his face. "People are watching." Zuko glanced over his shoulder. True enough, many of the diners had stopped their conversation to stare at him. Gritting his teeth, he sat down, trying to ignore the fury that was rising in his veins.
"Where is he?" he repeated, his voice lowered to a more normal tone.
"I didn't bring him, if that's what you mean," Tsune said teasingly.
"Then what have you been doing for the last seven days?" Zuko demanded. The Spirit grinned.
"Research," it said, as though it was the obvious answer.
"Research?"
"Do I hear an echo? They really need to insulate these restaurants better."
"Enough of your games," Zuko growled. "What did you find out?" The Spirit leaned back in its chair.
"He is a male, in his early teens, if that, andan Airbending Master of the Air Nomads: he is marked and equipped as such," it listed carelessly. "He has black eyes and stands about to your chin, enjoys the company of animals and Water Tribe children."
"I knew that already," Zuko hissed. Tsune shrugged.
"I would hope so. But therein lies the problem, doesn't it? What, exactly, do you know about our little friend?"
"I know enough- I've been hunting him for two years-"
"Which is wonderful on its own, dear. But that tells you even less than it tells me. I want to know how much contact you've had with him. How many times you've seen him face to face."
"Nine," he said without hesitation.
"A fascinating number," the Spirit drawled. "But it must not be a mere number, dear. Nine events. And I want you to describe them to me: every sound, every color, every word. Leave no detail unpublished." It grinned, staring at him as though reading his thoughts. "And don't pretend that you don't have time. After two years, a few hours won't be more than a trifle. And the centuries have not left me impatient. Now begin. And remember: leave nothing out."
The tale was a long one- it stretched months, from the moment he first saw the flare that announced the Avatar's return, to the fight against the Water Tribe girl in the frigid North. Iroh added his own accounts, making them more complete. Tsune only prompted them- asking redundant questions about colors and minor objects- it seemed fascinated by the Avatar's two companions, and especially the necklace the girl wore. Zuko made little sense of it, but he answered its questions nonetheless. The telling had lasted several hours, and had taken them from the tavern to the more cozy room of a nearby inn.
"Well?" Zuko asked when it was finally finished. The Spirit glanced at him unfathomably.
"Well what?" it asked.
"You've heard our report," he said. "Now give me yours." The Spirit shrugged.
"No need," it said. "You've already got your answer. In fact, you've had it for a while now. I'm just surprised you haven't acted on it yet."
"What?" he demanded. The Spirit smiled patiently and patted him on the head, as though he were a silly child.
"I said, 'you've had it-'"
"I know what you said!" Zuko snapped. "What in Agnii's name are you talking about?" Iroh too looked surprised, but he said nothing. The Spirit's smile widened, and it leaned back, lying down on the wooden floor.
"The girl," it said nonchalantly.
"What about her?" Zuko's eyes narrowed as he spoke.
"First of all, her name is Katara. That's going to be important."
"Why?"
"Because she's the answer you've been looking for all this time. You've only been proving what I already suspected...and I think it would have been obvious. But then," it yawned, seemingly ignorant of the young man's tension. "Humans are strange creatures. So silly sometimes."
"How is she the answer? It doesn't make any sense." The anger was gone from Zuko's voice by now. He had what he wanted. Now all he needed was why. The Spirit smiled at him.
"It makes plenty of sense," it said. "All the sense in the world. Because she is his weakness." Its eyes closed in predatory satisfaction. "Because the Avatar is in love with Katara."
It was hard for Zuko to sleep that night. The Spirit had found no difficulty- as soon as those words had left its mouth, it turned into a little gray fox and fell asleep at his feet. Iroh had nodded off shortly after, while listening to him create and reject his own plans again and again. Zuko had barely noticed. And yet, close to midnight, he found himself cruelly devoid of ideas.
Yes, the Avatar had a crush. It was definitely a weakness- part of the reason Zuko had avoided romance since his exile- yet it left him with few options.
Close to dawn, he finally managed to toss his way into a fitful sleep.
When Zuko woke, the first thing that came into focus was a a foreign face. It was cocked slightly to the side, rested on two hands- the only things that separated it from the wooden floor. The face belonged to a man, draped haphazardly on the floor beside him, studying him intently. Zuko gave a slight cry of surprise and pushed himself back and away from the stranger before jumping up and into a fighting stance.
"I told you he'd wake up," the stranger said listlessly, glancing up at Iroh. The old man nodded, looking at once alarmed and amused.
"Tsune?" Zuko demanded. The stranger nodded and sat up as though nothing odd had happened. "Don't do that again."
"Sounds fair enough," Tsune shrugged. "So, dear. What's the plan?"
