The town was smaller than Zuko expected, with only around a hundred people living within its borders. Zuko travelled three days under the hot sun to arrive here, the next major town after Song's. Located near a port, he liked his chances of getting on a boat back to the Fire Nation. Originally, he walked up to a shipyard, and demanded passage. His back still hurt from the rough shove he got, and his ears still rang from the harsh laugher.
("What does a filthy, little runt like you want with the Fire Nation?" The soldier slapped his arm in front of Zuko, firmly keeping him in place. He sneered. "Are you on some sort of revenge mission? Think you're a little hero?"
"No!" Zuko protested, but it fell on deaf ears. These soldiers were nothing like Surin, or Kendri. "I would neve-"
"You're going to impress all the girls when you defeat the big, bad Fire Nation?"
"What? No!" If the soldier would let him explain. Zuko was Fire Nation. Zuko was very Fire Nation, probably the most Fire Nation you could get. He didn't look like the Earth Kingdom peasants! He was blessed by Agni himself.
"You think this doesn't happen every day, kid? You ain't special. But I'm feeling merciful, so I'll let you go with a warning: come back, and I'll break every bone in your body.")
If he could afford a ticket. Currently, for the first time in his life, he was broke, and there was only one way he could earn any money.
He stared at the animal he intended to sell, some weird, heavy feeling settling in his stomach. He headed towards a singular trader's stand, one he assumed (and hoped) would take the creature from him for a fair price.
"I would like to trade," Zuko said, eyes locking with the man. "Here's my ostrich-horse, I'm willing to sell her."
"Why would I want an ostrich-horse? I have no use for her."
"Uh," Zuko paused, scrambling to find a decent response. He searched, and searched, and came up with nothing. "To eat?"
"Heh, fair enough. You know what, sure. How much do you want?"
Zuko stalled, brain going faster than his body could keep up with. "Um…"
"Hmm, she does seem a little on the older side...I'll give you twenty."
"She's worth at least fifty," Zuko complained, shaking the reins for proof. "She's in good health."
"Doesn't matter. You can take the twenty, or leave." The merchant paused. "There are plenty of hungry kids such as yourself who would be grateful for ten, let alone twenty."
"She's worth fifty, not twenty," Zuko argued. Sweat dripped off his brow, and he fought the urge to wipe it away. Agni's rays were upon his skin, beating down on him.
"Move along." The merchant snarled, a large wad of spit landing directly on Zuko's face. "I have actual, paying customers to attend to."
The man shoved Zuko along, not bothering to look even when Zuko stumbled onto the ground. The reins weighed heavily in his palms. He needed to get money. Truly, he didn't understand how Earth Kingdom citizens lived like this. He didn't have any of his nice clothes, his robes torn to shreds long ago. Currently, he looked and smelled worse than the lowest of beggars.
"Next." The woman lined up behind Zuko shoved him aside, and started to converse with the trader.
Zuko's stomach grumbled, and ached, alerting him to the severe lack of food he's had for the last few days. A problem he needed to deal with soon.
Before he truly registered his own movements, Zuko opened his mouth, successfully interrupting the deal. "Please…just give me the money...I'll take the twenty…."
He'd never been quite as disgusted with himself than he was at that moment. Begging, and crying. His weakness on display to all the people around him. He was disgracing himself, and yet, when he looked around, no one seemed to care. No one met his eyes, everyone far too engrossed in their own lives to pay him any mind. It was strange, to say the least. For all his life, he'd been told he was above everyone, and while he never really believed it, everyone else seemed to. The servants would always cower when he spoke, and always thanked him for the tiniest shred of respect.
"Figures you'd come around, they always do. Here," The man slid the pouch towards Zuko's eager, waiting hands. "Now leave. You've caused more drama than you're worth."
Zuko grabbed the velvet bag, his gaze focused on the businessman. He handed over the reins to Song's ostrich-horse, and left the stand. While trading his primary source of transportation hadn't been the wisest decision, it was necessary. Zuko's stomach felt like it could collapse at any moment. He handed over the reins, watching idly as the only companion he's had for the past few days leaves his life forever.
Zuko clutched the pouch with his fist, keeping it close to his side. He had pockets, but they were filled with the medicine he needed for his face. He'd applied it while on the road, taking shortstops to slather it on the best he could. He didn't know what he looked like, barely bandaged and injured, but he found he fit in with the general populace. Everyone he passed in the town had the same dead look in their eyes. Some were covered with burns, ranging in intensity. Zuko had never known fire to be so destructive.
("Princes do not beg.")
Zuko winced at the memory, the leathery skin tightening on his face. He resisted the urge to touch the wound, and scratch at it. His mother always said picking at scabs wouldn't let them heal properly. He needed to look his best for when he returned to his country. For his family, who must be searching diligently.
It was difficult, walking through an Earth Kingdom town, with his head hung low, and his eyes avoiding everyone else's. He walked without the grace of a Prince, and the misery of a peasant. Maybe, leaving Song and her mother was a bad idea, but it couldn't be helped.
Zuko saw what happened to Song's leg. She was around his age, and had a similar wound. Even if she was Earth Kingdom, it made him feel...weird seeing her like that. She and her mother had been nothing but kind to him, and he stole their ostrich-horse, and then sold it. Maybe, if he were a better person, he'd feel guilty, but he was a Prince on a mission. He needed to get home, no matter how he did it. Surely, they'd understand.
Or maybe they wouldn't. After all, he wasn't Prince Zuko of the Fire Nation. To them, he was Li, a small, scared boy hurt by the Fire Nation.
It didn't matter what anyone claimed or said. His Father wanted him back. This burn wasn't from him, it simply couldn't be. The logic wasn't there, and neither was the evidence. His father loved him, why would he burn him? Obviously, Zuko hallucinated the entire ordeal and some spiteful servant just put a torch to his face. That made much more sense.
Maybe one day, he'd laugh about all of this.
He smacked his lips, the dry, cracked feeling foreign to him. His throat was dry, but that wasn't a big deal. He hadn't had any water for around two days, what did he expect?
He paused, trying to remember whether or not he'd seen a cantina or bar some way back. He could always test his luck with the local water, but he'd rather not. He walked through the market, eyeing every stand he passed for a waterskin or something similar to it.
He walked by a store with on display in the front. Wasting no time, Zuko breezed in. He browsed through the isles, until he found a suitable waterskin. A brown one, with nothing exciting or intriguing about it.
The store owner noticed him, and motioned for him to come over once he picked it up. "That'll be five yuans."
Zuk slid him the money. "Here."
The man took the money, whilst Zuko stood there, awkwardly. His eyes caught onto something sharp, with a silver glint.
"Sir," Zuko cleared his throat, his gaze never leaving what he assumed to be a weapon. He pointed a shaking finger towards it. "How much are those worth?"
"You mean these?" The man reached for the weapon, gripping the handles. Dual swords, just like the ones Zuko used to use.
Zuko's breath hitched in his throat. He'd never wanted something so badly, nor desperately. He still had fifteen yuan left, perhaps he could bargain for them. (He ignored the voice that asked about the ticket cost.)
"These are worth seventy yuan."
"Seventy?" Zuko echoed. He didn't have seventy yuan. "Is there any way…you could lower it?"
"Nope." The man popped the 'p'. "These are worth seventy. see this? This shine? It's custom made, kid. I'm sorry, but I'm not budging on this. These swords are in very good condition. If you ain't willing to pay, someone else will."
"I see." He didn't. He had to fight his instincts not to just reach over and grab the weapons. The handles called to him, he could almost wrap his hands around-
"Have a good day. Come back some other time." The clerk offered, not unkindly. Zuko recoiled, his hands dropping to his side. "Maybe when you have seventy yuan."
Zuko smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. He bid the man goodbye, but his focus never left the swords. He sighed, and stepped outside, headed back out towards the docks. Perhaps it was for the best, that he couldn't buy it.
He still needed a ticket for passage to the colonies.
"Did you hear the news?" A woman whispered to her friend, quietly, but loud enough for Zuko to overhear.
"What news?" The friend responded, almost automatically.
"The youngest Fire Prince was killed," She smirked. Zuko paused, his heart twisted painfully in his chest. "It only took a few days for the family to confirm it. They were quick to name the Princess the sole heir. Suspicious. They probably killed the brat themselves, the primitive creatures they are."
"Hmm, doesn't matter who killed him," Her friend joked. "One less ashmaker makes the world a better place, I always say."
"Ha, true, true." The first one stopped. "They're blaming us, however. Claiming Earth Kingdom assassins got to him in his sleep, and crushed him alive. Apparently, there wasn't much of a body to burn at the funeral, if there was a body at all."
"Do you believe it?"
The woman took a moment to answer. "I hope we did it. Those monsters deserve it, for what they've done to us."
"First the Dragon's brat, now the spare? This is too funny. When will they learn not to mess with us?"
"When they're all dead."
Zuko couldn't breathe.
His family thought he was dead?
They weren't looking for him?
They gave up on him, so easily? Tears sprung to the corner of his eyes. They had a funeral and everything.
He wasn't dead, though. Earth Kingdom assassins didn't kill him; he was fine. Absolutely fine. This didn't make any sense. There wasn't a body left behind, Zuko would know. Zuko wasn't dead. The dull throb of his face proved as much.
He shook as sobs broke through his body.
He couldn't help it, no one wanted him back. Not his mother, not his sister, not his uncle, or grandfather. Not Father… They moved on so easily, as if he was barely a pebble in their path; no one worth mentioning. Barely an anecdote in a history textbook. For years to come, everyone would speak of the Mighty Azula, and no one would spare a thought to the Weak Zuko.
He cried, and cried, for what seemed like hours. People didn't care, they just passed him by. What did he expect? No one cared. Not even his own family. He giggled a bit, the salty tears entering his mouth.
Father probably did burn his face off. Father...tried to kill him.
With Zuko gone, Azula could be his perfect little heir. Azula, who was so much smarter and more powerful. A prodigy. Someone worthy of his love. Azula probably laughed when she heard of his fate. She always took joy from his pain.
Uncle wouldn't care, he didn't care about anything after Lu Ten died. He just left them, him, to suffer alone. A selfish old man.
At least...at least Mother could now have a proper child, and not some defective, worthless, dishonourable one.
Lu Ten might've been the only one who loved him, and he was dead. He didn't matter anymore.
Father lied...he lied.
Zuko wiped his snot off his face. He kicked a rogue pebble in his path.
"Excuse me, small sir?"
Zuko sneered, and turned his snot stained face towards the assailant. "What?"
"Would someone as fine as you care for a theater mask? Support local artists," The woman hastily added. "Here. This one is from a famous play from another country. It's exotic."
She handed a poorly done copy of the iconic mask from 'Love Amongst the Dragons.' The edges were rough. The paint chipped off, and the colours were uneven. A sloppy copy of the iconic mask.
"This is from the Fire Nation." He frowned.
The merchant pinched her brow. "Look, the Fire Nation may be evil, but their art is pretty decent. Do you want it or not?"
Zuko wanted to say no, but he hesitated. He could say yes, he didn't need to go home anymore. He wanted to, but to his citizens, he was nothing. Dead. They'd kill him on sight, and never believe him. The Prince they remember was handsome, and not unmarred. Not a deformed, ugly mask.
"Sure. How much?"
"Ten yuan."
He grabbed the poor imitation, and handed over the change. "Thanks."
He slung it over his shoulder. He had no money left, he couldn't buy any new clothes, or a ticket.
What was the point, really? He couldn't go back home. They'd kill him on sight, just for claiming to be the Prince. He's a disgrace, better off dead.
After sunset, he came back into the town. Over his face, the mask laid. He ran across the streets, light on his feet. He snuck into the store owner's shop, and took the swords. Holding them in his hands, he didn't have any guilt. These felt right, like they were made for him. He carefully placed them into a sheath, then slung them over his shoulder. Quietly, he walked out of the store.
He was a theif now. A criminal.
What did it matter? His honour was gone. Besides, he'd already stolen before, and there was no going back anyway.