Disclaimer: Incredibly enough, I don't own Avatar. But I do own Tsune. So HA! Take that, O wonderful Creators of Avatar!
AN: Happy New Year! Allow a brief explanation: Pandemonium's Apprentice isn't a chapter title. This story comes in sections, and only those are labeled. But for the sake of frequent updates, those sections are split up into nice, conveniently packaged segments, which are marked with these nifty Roman Numerals. Just to clarify things for you. Remember- review!
Shadow II:
Pandemonium's Apprentice
IV
Zuko looked between the Spirit and his uncle with resolute determination.
"We're going to kidnap the girl," he said. Iroh looked thoughtful. Tsune was not so impressed- in fact, it threw back its head and snorted.
"I thought you said you weren't suicidal!" it scoffed.
"I'm not," Zuko growled. His mind was still rather numb from the long night, and the last thing he wanted to hear was this obnoxious Spirit laughing at him.
"You sure sound like it!" It jeered for a few more seconds, then continued: "Of course you can't kidnap her. Do you have any idea what that would accomplish? Your Avatar is no coward- he thinks he's some kind of hero. And you know how heroes get- threaten his lovely lady, and he'll become angry."
"Then let him get angry," Zuko said. "He'll come right to us."
"You really don't want that," Tsune said darkly, a breath of twisted humor remaining in its voice.
"Of course I do!"
"Only because you have no idea what you're dealing with. Of course not! But let me give you some vague idea: I've made tyrants cry themselves to sleep at night. I've made practiced murderers wet themselves at the sound of my name. I have made entire Nations crumble." It paused, leveling its gaze with him. It looked wild, like a beast, barely restrained and straining to escape. "People have called me cruel, they have called me powerful, but they have never seen the Avatar angry." It leaned closer, until its face was an inch from his. Black markings were tracing their way along its skin in demonic patterns. "Tell me, dear. Who do you think chained me to that rock in the first place?"
Zuko didn't look away. He stood defiant, glaring into its eyes. "So you have a better idea?" he said, his own voice as dangerously low as the Spirit's. It grinned at him- there were fangs in that smile.
"Exactly."
"Then what is it?" The Spirit circled him slowly. Judging him. He shot another defiant stare at it, but said nothing more.
"You want the Avatar to be distracted. Too distracted to fight, but not angry. Simply...upset." Tsune spoke as though it savored those words. Zuko was reminded suddenly of how repulsive this creature was. "And what is more distracting than a broken heart?"
"You said not to threaten the girl," he said quietly. The Spirit chuckled, the sound broken slightly by the fangs. It now stood behind him, leaning over his shoulder to whisper in his ear.
"You aren't going to kill her, dear," it said. "You're going to kiss her."
"Are you insane?" he hissed. It chuckled again.
"Ah, but madmen are the best tacticians, dear. Think about it," it touched his cheek and tilted his head closer. Zuko felt the urge to get away, to escape. But no: this was his chance. If there was even the slightest hope of capturing the Avatar, then he would not spoil it for the sake of some minor discomfort. He had suffered more derision in the past. And so, he remained absolutely still, only his cold expression revealing the need to escape. The Spirit continued, a slight laugh in its voice. "That girl is obviously loyal to a fault. And you- if you capture her heart, she will let no harm befall you. And that foolish Avatar will not defy the woman of his dreams. So when you strike, he will not fight back."
"You don't know that," he said quietly, trying to push aside the temptation of its offer. It sounded so simple...Too simple! It won't work. There's no chance-
"Yes, I do," the Spirit sang into his ear. "Because it worked the last time I tried it. And the time before that, and the time before that... Seventeen times I have employed my little strategy, and seventeen times he has been subdued."
"If it's so effective," Zuko challenged. "Then how did he get the better of you? Or does imprisoning you for a thousand years not qualify as fighting back?" The Spirit shrugged.
"Come now," it said nonchalantly. "Do you think I'm that dull? I don't use the same strategy every time, dear. The last tactic I used happened to be...ineffective. That's why I'm going with my surest method. This method." It grinned again at him. "I have no patience reserved for failure. And I take it, neither do you."
"Is there any other way?" Zuko asked.
"Plenty," Tsune said. "But none of them are sure. And they may very well get you killed if they don't work. This method has never failed...But if you're so set against it..."
Zuko set his jaw, but at the same time he resigned himself. He wouldn't like it, but... "I'll do it," he said.
"Excellent," Tsune said, stepping back. It now eyed him from head to foot, appraising him like a jeweler, then shrugged. "We'll save appearances for last, shall we? Now...let's see what you can do. Lie to me." Zuko just stared at it for a moment.
"What?" Zuko just stared at it for a moment.
"Lie to me. Tell me something that isn't true..." This did nothing to change the young man's puzzled expression. "Where did you get that scar?" it prompted. He raised an eyebrow.
"...A fire..." he said. Tsune blinked at him.
"I'm glad it wasn't a goose. What about the fire?" it pressed.
"...It...was a cooking fire...and it got out of control...because a vat of...grease...fell into it...and I tried to get it out...and..."
"That's enough," Tsune said, looking amused. "We'll work on that later. Let's move on then, shall we?" It changed appearances once more, this time becoming the Water Tribe girl. Katara. "It's your move," it said with the girl's voice. "React."
For an instant, Zuko just stood, still confused. But he obeyed, drawing on the first instincts that came to his mind- he backed into a fighting stance. Instantly, Katara-Tsune slapped his hands down and grabbed him by the shoulders, righting him.
"That's wrong," it said. "If you approach any girl like that, she's going to think you're insane, and then she's going to hurt you- if her brother doesn't get there first. Now try again."
"Perhaps you could try greeting her, Prince Zuko," Iroh suggested quietly. His voice was calm, as was his expression...but his eyes betrayed disapproval. Zuko blinked at his uncle, still unsure about the purpose of the exercise, but once more, he obeyed.
"Hello," he said simply. Katara-Tsune shot him a wry grin.
"Well," it said to Iroh. "Congratulations. Your nephew has all the charisma of a dead hogmonkey, but that's what I'm here for." Now its attention returned to Zuko. "Try expanding your vocabulary, dear. I know some girls claim to like the strong, silent types...but she really isn't one of them. Try again."
"Who are you, and what are you doing-"
"Have you ever even spoken to a woman?" Tsune asked.
"Of course I have!" the Exiled Prince snapped. He was too frustrated to deal with even a Spirit's pestering.
"Which ones?" it jeered.
"My sister, and my mother, and that bounty hunter- Jun, and those servants-"
"To the Spirit World and back...that explains enough. No wonder you can't get a civil word out of your mouth. Now do it again, and remember- this is a woman. Not a soldier."
"Why should that make any difference?" he demanded.
"Are you sure you're a Prince?" it asked suspiciously.
"Of course I am! What does that-"
"What exactly are they teaching Princes these days? You don't know how to lie, you don't know how to flirt, you don't even know how to talk to women. How do they expect you to run your own country?"
"What does lying have to do with ruling the Fire Nation?" Zuko barked.
"Everything! Haven't you ever heard of tact? Or negotiations? The entire concept of politics is based on the idea that you can lie well enough to get entire nations to bow and scrape just to please you. You must convince stronger nations that you are powerful enough to annihilate them, charm rebellious groups to love you enough to die on your behalf, make rival leaders like you enough to avoid wars that you cannot win. Now do it again, and do it right."
The exercise continued- over and over again, in a seemingly endless pattern. Zuko struggled with the task- the Spirit continued to make demands, most of them too obscure to be practical, and only his uncle offered any real guidance. So far he had learned several dozen ways not to address a girl (he now cursed his tutors in the palace who had neglected to teach him such skills), but nothing that satisfied Tsune. After several hours and even more heated arguments, the Spirit finally subsided.
"That's enough," it said, shifting to the form of another woman. It was a minor change, and still rather freakish, but it was a welcome relief from staring at the Water Tribe peasant for so long. "You're not going to get anywhere today. Now get some sleep, dear. We'll pick up again in the morning."
"Fine," Zuko said irritably, marching to his futon. Tsune grinned at him.
"Sleep tight, dear." He shot it a freezing glare and turned away. It shrugged and thrust open the room's only window. "I'm hungry," it announced, before becoming an owl and rushing away.
"It's about time it left," Zuko muttered. Iroh came closer to his nephew.
"Prince Zuko," he began softly. "You do not need to do this." Zuko glanced up at the old man. Iroh continued: "We can find a better way. You need not go through with the Spirits plans."
"It said this would work," Zuko said quietly. "Nothing else has." He raised his eyes to meet his elder's.
"Uncle, we've tried everything else. This is stupid. I know it is. But I'm not going to give up on it. Not yet."
"Prince Zuko-"
"Uncle. This is my chance. If it means I can catch the Avatar- if it means I can go home- then it's worth it."
Iroh could only offer him a gentle smile.
"Of course, Prince Zuko."
An owl landed on the windowsill of their room several hours later, after Zuko had fallen asleep. Yet the room's other occupant was not so tranquil. The old man watched silently as the owl in the window raised a dead mouse to its beak. He did not speak until it began to eat.
"Spirit," he said quietly. It offered no acknowledgment. "Tsune." This time the owl paused, blinking at him before it returned to its meal. He continued: "Of all the people in this world, Prince Zuko is least deserving of your malice."
The owl continued to eat as though it had not heard him.
"His life has been hard enough without your torment." His face hardened. "If you wish to help him, then help him. But I will not allow you to bring him more pain. Do you understand me, Tsune?"
"Calling me by my first name now, are we?" a cloaked man mused from his perch in the window. The owl had disappeared, but a few gray feathers were plaited into the man's hair. Iroh showed no reaction to the transformation. "My, my, aren't you getting bold, Iroh?" the Spirit chuckled darkly. "And here I thought you were afraid of Spirits."
"Knowledge is not fear," Iroh said calmly. "Nor is caution."
"Is that a fact?" Tsune laughed. "Sounds the same to me." It jumped down from the windowsill, the cloak billowing behind it.
"Yes, it is." Iroh did not flinch as Tsune brought its face inches from his own, as it raised its hand, resting its palm on his collarbone.
"You know," it mused. "I could kill you now, and he would be none the wiser." From the corner of his eye, Iroh saw long, gruesome claws replacing a man's fingernails, touching the tender skin of his throat. "I could just conjure another illusion or two, and he'd never know. And then he'd be all alone-"
"Do what you will to me, but I will not let you harm Prince Zuko!" Iroh growled. The Spirit threw back its head and laughed.
"You know, Iroh, you're a lot of fun. You've got spunk." It stepped back, still laughing. "I don't think I will kill you. No. Not yet, anyway."
In the swish of a cloak and a flutter of wings, it was gone.
Iroh stood alone and still for a few moments, staring out the window after the Spirit. Finally he tore his eyes away from that spot, turning his attention to his nephew. Zuko was still asleep, unmoved and unaware of what had transpired a few feet away- blissfully unaware of how close his uncle had come to death. Iroh stiffly walked toward his bed.
And then his legs gave out beneath him, and he fell to the floor with a muffled crash. Zuko stirred at the sound-
"Shh, Prince Zuko...It's all right," Iroh murmured, his voice deceptively steady. He was shaking violently, his heartbeat drummed a deafening beat in his ears, a cold sweat drenched his skin. "Don't worry. I won't let anything happen to you. I will protect you, Prince Zuko. I will always take care of you."
Slowly, slowly, his pulse settled, as did his trembling muscles. He had strength enough only to drag himself to his own bed before he collapsed into the blanket.
In that last moment before all awareness left him, Iroh watched over Zuko.
