AN: More of Zuko sweating in awkward social situations... and a not-confrontation :D
"Where in the Spirit's damned world did Lersah go off to now?"
Mr Hui glared around the stage as though hoping someone would volunteer the information. Zuko shuffled his feet and shot a glance into the right wing. Other than the few stage hands who were wrestling with a particularly large, dilapidated wooden platform in an attempt to take it backstage for repairs, there was no sign of anyone else there.
"Where are all these people?" the manager-turned-director demanded from the stage hands.
On realising the target of his irritation, the boys put the platform down hurriedly and snapped to attention.
"Sorry, Sir," the oldest of them said, removing his cap to wipe the sweat off his brow before replacing it again- why he was wearing it indoors, Zuko didn't know. "Taiko and Zomah had an idea for the battle sequence and wanted all the soldiers to come try it out outside… and I guess everyone else went to watch."
The director's bushy eyebrows rose.
"Whatever for? I was under the impression that Jeilan was still a theatre group, not a bleeding circus."
"Uhm, Sir, you said you wanted fresh concepts from us-"
"Yes, yes, I know what I said!" he burst out, making Zuko flinch. "Oh, for the love of Agni, just- find our Dragon Empress for us please, and get back to what you were doing. Spirits know we've got to get her scenes moving. And can't you get one of those benders to help with this! Bunch of lazy punks, don't know why I tolerate them myself."
"'course, Sir. Right away." The stage hand was taking this all far too calmly for this level of uproar to be anything but a regular occurrence where his boss was concerned.
Zuko, who couldn't say the same, was just thankful he had a mask on. Yet again.
Mr Hui turned back to the three actors on stage. He took in their expectant countenances and sighed.
"Get back up here, then, you two- let's run that scene again, it was far too stiff. Long," he said to Zuko, considering him for a moment, " go take a break somewhere until she turns up… and maybe take your mask off."
Zuko contained his sigh with difficulty. It was fast becoming a running joke with the troupe, especially among the senior members, to randomly ask Zuko to reveal his face in the hopes of catching him off guard.
Demaih and Nyn smirked while they got to their feet. Well, Nyn did. Demaih just seemed to be sneering, if you could even call the slight twitch of lips that. His sallow face had yet to show a facet of true emotion offstage in the three days Zuko had worked with him.
Zuko rubbed his neck and retreated to the wings. Let them have their fun, he thought grimly. It wasn't like they would be remotely happy if they actually succeeded in their unwittingly deadly little game.
○ • • ○
He found the left wing empty, as he'd hoped, and began to shake out his sore muscles in the dimness while the scene taking shape on stage echoed around him. He agreed with Mr Hui's call; there really was no point in doing any more of his own scenes as nearly all of them required the presence of his elusive co-actress, Lersah. After all, it was logically rather impossible to practice a romantic scene without one entire half of the relationship.
He was, of course, secretly thankful about this. He'd been living through rehearsals in a state of near-constant dread at the very thought of what was to come, because romance was… not his forte, to say the least.
Case in point: Mai.
He blew out a weary breath and slid down the wall to stretch his legs out towards the stage. Even though it was exactly what Hui had expected him to do, he discreetly slipped a hand under his mask and wiped his face thoroughly. It was an absolute pain, having to wear it throughout the entire practice when everyone else simply wore it for scenes on stage and removed it soon after. They all knew this, and therefore teased him about how he was suffering for art.
What they didn't know was that it was closer to agony to have to wake up at ungodly hours of the morning to prepare for meetings with the fussiest of ministers and envoys from the colonies, after rehearsals that had ended only well past midnight. That morning, he'd only pulled through because Sokka had been sitting beside him at the long table, regularly kicking him underneath it every time his eyes had noticeably drifted shut.
He'd sent for an extra strong brew of chi-enhancing tea straight afterwards, but while that had set him up for the rest of the day, the knowledge that he was failing at his true duties had been grating on his nerves the entire time he'd been at the theatre.
Thank Agni it was his day off tomorrow.
But he hadn't complained and wasn't about to start now. These were but small prices to pay for something he was starting to, despite all his protests to the contrary, actually enjoy.
He'd surprised himself when he'd come to that realisation, but after a bit more self-reflection, it couldn't have been denied. As scandalous as it was, anti-social, I-suck-at-making-friends Fire Lord Zuko was actually enjoying company.
It still wasn't just any company, though. Much like the Gaang and everyone else he'd considered his friends during the war, each of these people were of a special calibre that Zuko had yet to put his finger on.
First (and, perhaps, most surprising of all) was Mr Hui himself.
He'd made Zuko nervous initially, and still did when he became loud without any warning or apparent provocation, but his shifting moods had a sort of weirdly endearing side to them now. Perhaps this was just a perception gained from how everyone else seemed to find his erraticness completely normal, and didn't bat an eyelid when the booming voice barked impatiently at least thrice every practice; it was just a thing that happened. So Zuko was learning to look beyond it. He'd found himself, over the last two days, catching glimpses of a man who cared more than he let on about the wellbeing of his troupe, who wanted them to shine despite his own obvious grabs for glory, who was choosing to look past Zuko's faults and was patiently guiding him towards unlocking hidden potential Zuko hadn't even been aware of himself.
Then came Nyn. She'd been the most welcoming member of the troupe from the very start, and Zuko had taken to her immediately upon sitting next to her for the first script reading. She, like Mr Hui, had chosen to completely disregard the challenge to interaction that Zuko's mask posed, and had taken Zuko under her wing as though he was a lost turtleduck and not a full grown man capable of taking care of himself, much less a firebending master (or the blasted Fire Lord himself). But she had an odd way of going about it.
She made fun of him every chance she got.
It was a form of affection that Zuko was unfortunately only too familiar with. It hadn't helped that her dry wit had escalated on his second day, when in addition to his masked identity, the name he'd chosen for himself had only served to give her more fodder for her ill-disguised jokes at Zuko's expense. Of course, at the time, he'd seen nothing wrong with calling himself by a name that meant 'dragon'; everyone's name meant something after all, so why not this one? Turns out it was quite a stupid move to make in the midst of people who technically made a living off of dramatics and bad puns.
Though Zuko had ground his teeth about it at first (unable to vent his frustrations to Sokka because then he would have made fun of Zuko) by the end of the second practice, as they'd waved goodbye to each other (very loudly on her part), he'd found that he preferred her good-natured ribbing to any other form of coddling. It had helped more than he wanted to admit that she was an original member of the troupe, respected and admired by the newer ones, and seeing her by Zuko's side had kept most of them at arm's length unless she chose to let them near.
He also found that it helped to be on friendly terms with at least one of the actresses he was supposed to embrace.
Nyn played the Emperor's mother, and though they hadn't come to the scene where he was supposed to 'depart for battle' yet, he was sort of grateful that he'd be in familiar hands when they eventually did. Lersah on the other hand, the actress playing his 'one true love', had yet to spend more than half a rehearsal at the theatre- she was that flighty. Thus far, he'd only seen her properly the evening before and their first interaction had served to be a major source of Zuko's sleeplessness that night. He hadn't been able to brush-off how she'd eyed him coolly for a few seconds from where she'd been lounging with her gaggle of friends, and then broken into a wide, dazzling smile that had made him choke- because how in Agni's name was he supposed to hug that?
His dignity had only survived the encounter because a laughing Nyn had magically appeared beside his frozen form to steer him by the elbow towards a platter of snacks someone had procured from the night market. (Of course, it had been another one of her not-so-sneaky attempts to catch him without his mask, but Zuko hadn't quite minded at the time.)
Next, it was Taiko and Zomah, two young cousins barely a few years older than Zuko, who seemed to take everything that wasn't explicitly related to theatre with a grain of salt; everything including personal safety. In charge of choreographing stunts, they'd been especially enthusiastic about the flips they'd witnessed Zuko execute at his audition, and were in the habit of badgering him for a demonstration until he was driven to exasperated cooperation.
Then, there was Ynori, Chyya and the rest of the team in charge of costumes, who'd come up to Zuko purely to interrogate him about the superior quality of his tailor's threads and the workmanship of his mask, their enthusiasm alarming him, because he couldn't really say that he had no clue about what they asked because the Royal Dressmaker took care of everything in Zuko's wardrobe, now could he?
Considering that he was still in his fourth day, this was quite the impressive list of interactions for someone who'd sworn himself incapable of making friends, never mind that very little had been done on his part.
The other, more obvious reason he enjoyed his rehearsals so much was the theatre part of the whole escapade itself. Zuko's inner drama enthusiast was positively ablaze and thriving after having lain dormant for so many years of shameless neglect. Really, he should have done this sooner.
Another thought he'd be taking to his grave.
So by his fourth evening, it was safe to say that his experience was gradually becoming equal parts enjoyable as it was challenging.
He sighed again, adjusting his head more comfortably against the wall and trained his gaze on Demaih, a chief one of those said challenges. This was the scene in which the Emperor's mother vainly entreats the Dark Water Spirit to spare her son's life, so he was currently attempting to push Nyn away from him while she begged at his feet. But he was trying to shove her without really shoving her, looking distinctly uncomfortable even as he did when Zuko knew for a fact that he was supposed to look the opposite.
Naturally, Mr Hui was losing it.
"No, no, no- imperiously, for Agni's sake! Imperiously! You're supposed to be a God, Demaih! Nyn knows how to fall, so stop being such a bleeding gentleman!"
Nyn seemed to agree. "Yeah, sweetie. This is on me-" she flopped onto her side and writhed in apparent anguish. "You just need to justify these glorious expressions, all right?"
Previously, during their third take of this scene, Demaih had taken off his mask in what could only have been a fit of frustrated exhaustion. So the expression of acute disgust he shot at Nyn's exaggerated grovelling now was seen in all its glory.
The sight was so hilariously foreign- more so, if you considered that the guy had probably forgotten his lack of a mask- that it shocked a snort of laughter out of Zuko.
Too late, he realised that he was not inaudible as well as invisible.
Mr Hui shot him a preoccupied frown and went back to glaring at his notes. Nyn sat up to look at him with a mischievous grin.
Demaih however, froze.
Slowly, he turned himself fully towards Zuko, who was still half-hidden in the shadows of the wing curtains.
"What's so funny, Long?" he asked, voice deathly quiet. "You think you can do better?
Well, monkey feathers.
He had never been openly hostile to Zuko before this, because he'd only ever observed Zuko in his weird, tense silences off-stage.
So to have these be his first direct words was chilling.
Zuko's mind was racing. He didn't particularly like the guy, but he hadn't meant to laugh at him either, and Zuko couldn't really fault him for getting upset about it because he'd already been frustrated by his unproductive scene work. But now it looked like all that frustration was spooling out and solidifying into a halo of unadulterated anger.
Zuko swallowed. He could relate.
Was this what he'd looked like every time he'd blown a fuse; at his crew, at Uncle, at his friends…?
Lifting his chin, and deciding it was best to remain seated as long as he could, lest he lost his grip on himself too, he spoke out as calmly as he could in the deeper voice he used at the theatre:
"I didn't mean to laugh at you-"
Nyn burst out laughing.
They all turned to look at her, incredulous.
She doubled over, still on her knees, shaking in a silent fit, and then straightened to fruitlessly wipe at her eyes.
Hui raised his eyebrows in bemusement.
"Care to explain yourself, Nyn?" Demaih asked through gritted teeth.
"You- you think- he can do better than you?" she gasped for breath. "Dem, you're crazier than I thought. Long is the least convincing imperial I've ever met."
Zuko stared at her as she broke off into chuckles.
Now, he wasn't sure what she was implying, but it sure sounded like-
"He's probably never given an order in his life, the way he does some of his lines!" She shook her head and turned to their director, whose lips were twitching in turn. "Honestly Hui, I don't know what you thought you were going to do with these two, but it looks like a lot of work to me- oh, Spirits."
Zuko couldn't feel his face.
The list of things Sokka was most definitely never, ever, going to hear about was growing rapidly, seemingly with a life of its own.
Demaih just turned on his heel.
"I need five," he muttered over his shoulder, impassive once more, and stalked off into the opposite wing.
He nearly bumped into the three young women who'd suddenly appeared there, and they squeaked in surprise as they encountered his brooding figure.
"About time," Hui said gruffly. "Well, don't just stand there, come here!"
It was Ynori, the costume director, her face grim as she ventured into the flickering light, closely followed by her team members who were obviously purely there for moral support.
"Hui," she said with the bracing air of someone breaking dreadful news, "she's not here yet. Now , before you blow up, I've sent Ase to go look for her, at her house, or wherever he thinks she might be. He promised he'd look everywhere before returning."
Zuko thought her warning wise, for Hui really did look about ready to explode. They all watched the storm swell, and though it was considerably smaller than the one that had just been circumvented, they still winced as it broke.
"Just what does she expect us to do? Three days without any proper work with my lead! Does she not understand what's at stake-?!"
"Hui, maybe it's time you considered having stand-ins again?" Nyn interrupted pragmatically.
Ynori shot her a grateful look. Behind her, Chyya nodded enthusiastically, and next to her-
Zuko stood up.
Hui began to gruffly agree, but Zuko didn't really hear the rest of it.
His eyes were trained on the figure beside Chyya, as though tethered to it with a rope. He couldn't have looked away even if he'd tried.
It was as though his worlds had come full circle, colliding in every inconceivable manner, rendering him momentarily adrift in the turmoil that resulted. Everything, everything he'd tried to bury from that guilt-trip of a night when he'd been at his most desperate and thus at his worst, rose to the surface and washed over him, wave after horrendous wave.
And suddenly, he was a lost and angry traitor-prince once more.
'It's okay. They've hurt me too.'
Because that was… her.
The slight, unassuming young woman half-hidden from his view.
Song.
For one ridiculous moment, Zuko wanted to laugh. Because for some time now, he'd been of the egotistic opinion that he really was a better Fire Lord than his father. But he'd actually forgotten.
What he'd done to this woman had already been unforgivable; yet, forgetting about her until now was somehow a thousand times worse.
No.
No, no, no.
This can't be right.
His mind shifted gears in a desperate attempt to protect himself from the avalanche of guilt crashing over him. How was this even possible? How could she be here? Why would she be here?
There was no way this was real. The lighting was bad; the torches were flickering too much; he was obviously seeing things.
Or he desperately hoped he was.
He sucked in a strangled breath to calm his thundering heart and stepped forward. As much as he wished he could unsee her, he had to be sure. He had to know.
The stage had always intimidated her. She didn't know what had first sparked this irrational fear, but now as she took in the wide, yawning chasm of darkness that on closer observation proved to be a sea of empty seats, she thought she had an inkling. With a slight shudder, she forced her gaze away and back to the problem at hand.
They were only here to smooth things over until Lersah decided to show her face. Poor Ynori. Spirits knew they had enough work to do without having to cover for unprofessional prima donnas.
Or maybe, this was professional behaviour where prima donnas were concerned.
Whatever. Song didn't know, and she really couldn't have cared less.
She wished the woman would show some gratitude for what she had though. It was hard not to feel embittered when life kept taking things from you but gave endlessly to others right in front of your nose, and she wasn't even alone in feeling that way. Lersah's lack of regard was starting to make a lot of hackles rise lately.
"Hui, maybe it's time you considered stand-ins again?" Nyn interrupted Mr Hui before he could get into his stride.
Wise.
And a good suggestion, too. She'd always liked Nyn.
She tried to back her suggestion up by looking earnestly at their employer.
"Hm," he said gruffly, stroking those voluminous whiskers of his. "I suppose it is about time. All right, Ynori-"
"Ah, ah, ah," Ynori cut in, in the dauntless way that only the original troupe members could pull off without getting an earful. "Sorry, sir, but I've got a hog-monkey's arse load of costumes to sort through, and then once that's done, we'll probably need to go material hunting. So, it's got to be someone else- just not me."
Mr Hui hummed in disgruntlement. "No one else is responsible enough."
"That's not true. Chyya has been-"
"Yes, yes, I know your team is golden. That's my problem, don't you see? Those meat heads out there don't care enough about what needs to be done, only doing what they choose to. Who's going to be dedicated enough to sit here and deliver lines that are not theirs, hm?"
"Uh…" said Nyn, exchanging a look with Ynori. "What about Taih…? Or Lize?"
"Ha!" Mr Hui snorted darkly. "I'd like to see them sit still through just two takes of the same scene."
"Well, everyone else needs to practise their own scenes," Nyn said with a shrug. "Might as well give those two a shot. I mean, we don't know how long Lersah's going to be gone for, right?"
Song watched him contemplate this unhappily.
Ynori bit her lip.
"What about Song?"
Um, what?
Mr Hui swivelled around to appraise her. Song looked away hurriedly and fixed a pointed stare at Ynori, wondering whether she was actually being serious.
"Nori, don't you need me for… the costumes?"
Song had only joined Jeilan for the promise of work off-stage, expressly behind-the-scenes. And the travel involved of course, to help her get away from her past. Never stage work. That was something she could never see herself doing.
"I did," Ynori said apologetically. "But Hui needs someone level-headed too. And I can't spare Chyya because well, she'd be more helpful with me than up here, you know?"
Song got it. Her lack of experience made her dispensable to Ynori. Right.
"Sure," she forced out, with a smile she hoped didn't look strained. "I'll stay."
"Fine, then let's get on with it!" Mr Hui clapped his hands and rubbed them together, making her jump. The others were so used to him that they didn't even blink. "Nyn! Get her a script."
But Nyn was already by her elbow, holding out the bundle of scrolls with a sympathetic smile.
"Thanks, Nyn," she murmured, taking the script and opening it out with trepidation. Love Amongst the Dragons had always struck her as rather ridiculous, the lines especially cheesy and over-done. But maybe she was being unfair; maybe that was only so because it was so popular with the masses-
"Ah, Long, was just about to call you out," Mr Hui said. just behind her.
She turned around.
The mysterious Dragon Emperor was standing barely five feet away.
Song lowered her scroll and looked at him with interest. He'd been a topic of wide debate among the cast and crew over the last three days, with arguments ranging from the reason why he hid his face to whether he even deserved the role in the first place (that last one had bounced around quite a bit between Jaome and his cronies). Of course she'd been there for his audition, and had seen for herself the justice he'd done to his part. Ever since then, however, his confidence seemed to have waned. Song remembered how he'd stammered his way through his first introductions in front of them all; remembered how, standing at the back, she'd felt a degree of empathy for this unknown person who was trying to hide from the world while still yearning to be part of it.
He'd almost felt like a kindred spirit, in that moment.
But since then, she'd hardly spent time with the actors, what with the trunk loads of lace and silk they'd had to make inventories of. So much for that, though. Ynori didn't even seem to need her. And here she'd thought she'd been doing a decent job of fitting in.
It felt odd to be staring at someone, unable to gauge their reactions, knowing full well they could see you anyway. Like a one-way communication; like conversing through a wall. Her own expressions began to feel like they were in a spotlight; she was doubly aware of them, once for herself, and again for what he must be seeing.
The feeling grew the longer he stood there, saying nothing.
Wow.
Now she knew why people were complaining. This was… awkward.
Was he even breathing?
She looked back down at her scroll for something to do.
"Song's going to be reading Lersah's lines for us-"
Song heard a soft, muffled sort of gasp escape the masked statue in front of her.
She squinted at him again, only to find that he seemed to have stiffened up even more than before, back straight as a tent-pole, hands fisted by his sides.
Mr Hui went on, seemingly oblivious. "-until that woman decides to show up, at least. Let's go from that first scene. I want you to enter upstage centre."
What was going on? He wasn't moving. Was something actually wrong with him?
Maybe his mask was suffocating him, and he couldn't speak?
Oh, Spirits, how horrible!
She opened her mouth to ask, but Mr Hui beat her to it.
"What are you still doing here, Long?" he thundered. "Is something the matter?"
The man jumped as though someone invisible had knocked into him. After a moment, he shook his head; a quick, jerky movement. Then he promptly turned and stalked off to the back of the stage. His silence was quite disconcerting.
That was when she noticed how the light around them flickered.
Grew brighter.
Dimmed.
Flared up again.
Song glanced apprehensively at the torches in their sconces.
So he was a firebender too, then.
She was sure it was the masked man, because Mr Hui was famously a non-bender, lamenting to the public over the years about all the plays he could have done better if he'd been able to use actual fire, and there was no one else in there with them who could be responsible for the oddly behaving flames.
She gripped her scroll tight for the sake of holding on to something.
It's okay. This is why you're here. To get used to it. They're not the enemy.
Not any more.
And not here.
She allowed herself to close her eyes and take in a deep, calming breath, before blowing it out again as slowly as she could. She was proud that it shook only once.
All she had to do was sit next to Mr Hui and read out a bunch of words. She didn't have to go near him; that was Lersah's job. This, she could do.
Wiping her palms on her skirt she sank down to the floor, and opened out the scroll again. In the distance, directly in her line of sight, the masked figure had taken his position. Mr Hui glanced up from his notes, took in their waiting figures, and gave them the cue to start.
The torches continued to flicker as they worked. Song pretended not to care.
AN: Reviews are so welcome, I'd love to hear what you think! Chapter 3 should be up next week :)
