AN: this is quite late, and unbetaed, and raw, please excuse the brain-rot until I edit again, but like - here! food! eat! this shit is gratuitous and WILD and proves that my relationship with alleys hasn't improved in the least c: have fun!
Sermione, this one's for you!
9|06|2022
For the first time since he'd joined the troupe Zuko was counting down the minutes for the rehearsal to end. So when yells started outside in the courtyard halfway through and effectively interrupted his awful scene work, he nearly swore out loud with relief.
As Hui, and then Song, hurriedly took off to investigate, he lagged behind to blow out a long breath and regain a semblance of calm after the soup of anxiety his nerves had become.
He'd been so worried that he would slip up and Song would recognize him somehow. After all, he'd been told time and again in supreme confidence by his overly amused friends that he had a rather distinctive voice. What with being the Fire Lord, not to mention their brief shared history… the very first line he'd spoken in front of her had had his stomach clenching up in anticipation.
But when no gasps of shock or yells of accusation had erupted from her, he'd slowly come to the conclusion that his own sense of importance was ludicrously over-inflated. She seemed agitated for reasons unknown and entirely unrelated to himself.
Still, even though this enabled the delivery of his lines to sharpen exponentially, and thus appease Hui's much abused whiskers at his lack of energy, the guilt only grew. In fact it was an evolving, magnificent cloud of guilt, coupled with an unhealthy amount of self-loathing ( why had he stolen their ostrich-horse?- and right after they'd treated Uncle and him to dinner, too? – and then he'd gone and forgotten about it?)
Impressive, Zuko. Really...
○ • • ○
Only when he saw the fire in the torches begin to rise and fall more steadily did he begin to venture out through the right wings.
He was barely halfway across the stage however, when Song reappeared.
Startled, he stopped in his tracks... but she just marched right past him without sparing him a single glance.
"Put him down here- the light's best," she said briskly, kneeling down a few feet away from Zuko's person.
Some of his befuddlement disappeared when a couple of familiar, trouble-prone individuals marched on to stage, carrying a boy between them. His face was screwed up in pain and he looked rather peaky. When they set him down, he nearly toppled into Song's lap, emitting a groan when the two young men hurriedly caught him.
The final part of the picture completed itself when Hui marched in himself, positively blustering with rage.
"You two! Taiko! Zomah! Explain yourselves!"
Taiko shot them a sheepish grin from where he was bent over with the boy's hand slung around his neck, and gently extricated himself. The boy leaned against his leg with another wince and Song immediately moved forward to look him over.
"I- uh, propelled Zomah to make it look like he was being flung backwards with the force of the spirit energy, and- well- Jieke here didn't move out of the way fast enough."
"You didn't even warn me," Jieke groaned- and then cried out when Song pressed his leg.
"I think it's broken," she announced blankly.
A shocked silence.
"Well, I sort of landed right on top of him," Zomah said helpfully, to fill it.
Their collective speechlessness was testament to how truly aghast they all were.
Taiko pushed his hair out of his eyes, looking mildly aggrieved. "Kid, didn't you hear me yell a warning?"
Jieke shot him a look borne of both pain and sheer frustrated disbelief.
"What kind of warning is 'Flameo!'? And how can you call it a warning when I didn't even get a second before he crashed into me?"
Taiko, the picture of innocence, opened his mouth to argue.
"Enough!" Hui interrupted, fuming so much that his moustache seemed to be on fire. "I don't care what you did or didn't do- Safety! First! How many times do I have to repeat myself for this to penetrate your thick skulls? Ever since you lumber-heads joined up, not one season- not one!- has gone by without someone getting hurt."
"Okay, Sir, now don't you think you're being a little unfair-"
"No! And that's it- you're working costumes for the rest of the month!"
Zomah looked chastised, and though Taiko appeared as though he were about to protest again, one challenging glare from Hui had him nodding and looking down at his feet.
"Good. Now get out of my sight. You're not leaving the boy's side until he's settled in his own bed! Long, take the rest of the night off," he barked in Zuko's direction. "It's time to see what madness I've allowed to happen outside."
And with that he marched through the right wing and out the side-door to the courtyard beyond.
○ • • ○
The bubble of tension left in his wake was broken by a loud sigh.
"All right," Song said with resigned tolerance. "Let's get you to the inn. Taiko, Zomah…? If you would get him on the cart?"
The cousins leapt to action, handling the boy with an uncharacteristic gentleness probably inspired by their guilt. Jieke seemed to be in pain despite their efforts, but if his pursed lips were anything to go by he was trying his best not to make a fuss about it.
Stupid, brave kid.
Song got to her feet in appearance to join the solemn procession, but she hesitated and cast a glance back at Zuko.
He swallowed hard, suddenly intimate with how a rabbaroo in a snare must feel.
She contemplated him with a slight, puzzled frown. Then she inclined her head awkwardly and before Zuko could do more than twitch, she hurried off and left him in the middle of the stage to put out the torches alone.
Ten ostrich-horses.
Zuko absently kicked a loose pebble, sending it skittering across the silver-bathed street outside the theatre. By now his feet knew the secret way to the palace through the network of hidden alleys and narrow streets, after three days of traversing the path on his nightly visits to and from the theatre. He didn't even have to think about it anymore.
Ten would have to do, right? Or would she consider that insufficient when she found out who he was?
Twenty, then, he decided firmly. He'd have to speak to the Royal Menagerie Keeper to find the best trader-
He ground to a stop at the mouth of the first alley.
But what would she even do with all of them?
Would she even want to take care of that many ostrich-horses?
What if Zuko was going about this all wrong and she wanted something else as compensation after all this time?
It took him considerable effort not to groan out loud.
By now thoroughly out of his depth, he chewed his lip and resumed walking down the alley, turning the corner in a fit of frustrated befuddlement. There was nothing else for it. He'd have to bring Sokka in on his Song-problem after all.
The moon was a thin sliver that night, and even though he managed to see by its light he still glared at the stubbornly shadowed walls, resolving to have sconces fixed at the mouths of every lane and by-road within a mile's radius of the palace. For all his protestations to the contrary, he realised he missed having his friend's company on the walk back to the palace. The Kyoshi Warriors didn't count at all because Zuko barely even glimpsed them sometimes, let alone spoke to them lest it give away his cover. At least the early evenings weren't so bad when the city was still awake. Now it felt like Zuko was the only sentient being on the streets.
He snorted softly to himself.
There he went again, with his over-inflated ego. Of course he wasn't the only sentient being out here. Owls were very much sentient beings too. From what he'd heard from the others, Wan Shi Tong didn't take intelligence lightly in the least-
Owls.
Fuck.
Too late.
He only realised what the series of unusually frantic low hoots meant- their now-useless, agreed upon signal for danger- when something whizzed past his face and clinked to the stones somewhere in the shadows. So close to his ear that he felt the wind whistle.
Sokka was going to kill him all over again when he died here.
○ • • ○
He whipped around, instincts wild, ready to fight through an ambush of faceless assassins. What he saw instead made him stop short in abject confusion.
There, silhouetted against the moonlit lip of the alley, was the actor he'd bumped into outside the theatre on his first day.
Jaome.
Zuko only remembered his name from that one time at his second rehearsal, when Nyn had snapped at him and his friends to leave Zuko alone.
The guy was slowly advancing down the alley wearing a smile that didn't make him look like he was simply here for a chat. On either side of him were the three same young men Zuko had seen hanging around him several times before. Disappointingly, none of them looked like they were here for a rousing bit of discourse either.
"Our great dragon emperor… wandering the streets alone," Jaome said with exaggerated insouciance. "What on earth are you doing without your guards?"
For a moment, Zuko panicked, thinking he'd busted his identity after all.
And then he realised what the idiot meant.
"Thanks for your concern," he said dryly, holding his fist outwards behind his back to signal to the Kyoshi warriors: do not engage. "But I think you're taking your roles a little too seriously..."
They were getting far too close for comfort. If their intentions hadn't been clear before they were glaringly obvious now, as Jaome came to a stop a mere four feet away from him. Two of his lackeys continued until they were nearly on either side of Zuko.
Still, he held his fist out.
"Oh, come now, Long," Jaome said softly, eyes glittering in the darkness. "Don't be like that. We just want to get to know our leading man a little better, don't we?"
The guy on his right- Chen? Zuko wasn't sure – smirked.
"Maybe you should tell us how you convinced Hui to give you the role?" he leered. "Because Jaome here was ten times better."
Zuko closed his eyes briefly.
Great. So this whole thing was fuelled by jealousy and spite. He should have known that not everyone had taken to his acceptance of the role so amiably. For it to come to this- cornering him in an alley, following him out- he had seriously let his guard down inside the safety of the theatre.
But…
It was only jealousy and spite and nothing more.
They didn't know who they were really dealing with and they couldn't be faulted for that.
That meant Zuko still had a chance to end it on his own terms.
Resolved, he cocked his head and took in their expectant faces.
"What makes you say that?" he asked blandly, keeping his fist firmly closed behind him.
"That Jaome was better than you?" Chen asked incredulously.
Ugh.
"No," Zuko sighed. "That I made Hui give it to me."
"Well, what else could have happened back there?" Jaome snapped. "You paid him off, end of story." He smiled nastily. "It's just that we're not sure in what way you did it…"
An icy pit blossomed in his stomach at the insinuation.
Okay, now they were just asking for it.
"You think I care what you think?" he asked with forced calm, keeping a tight lid on the simmering well of his anger. (Aang and Uncle would definitely be misty-eyed by now.) "This doesn't look good on you. Four against one? Really? Just because you can't accept the fact that Hui thought I was better than you?"
Jaome's smile turned ugly. The guys on either side of him flexed their muscles menacingly. Zuko just wanted to go to bed.
"That role was mine. You had no right!"
"It was an open audition, Jaome. Technically, I did."
Chen shuffled his feet and side-eyed his friend.
Jaome just sneered. "Hiding behind that makes you so fucking brave, doesn't it? I bet you're nothing but a rat- and an ugly one at that. Hui was a bleeding fool to take you in." He glanced at the men closest to Zuko and inclined his head. "We're doing the troupe a favour by getting rid of you."
Zuko took a step back but they stepped forward with him.
"Sore losers aren't the most attractive," he warned in a darkly significant voice. "Trust me, I would know."
Jaome laughed scathingly. "If you're so used to losing then this won't make much difference, will it?"
Why is he making this so damned difficult?
"You don't want to do this… Please."
Agni- how we've changed .
His every nerve was on edge and he was very much aware of the closing gap between him and the two advancing men. All the while, a small part of him marvelled at the words coming out of his mouth.
But he shouldn't have been surprised. He had long since grown out of that impulsive, reckless teenager made stupid by anger and into something far more. He knew with utmost certainty that backing down now was the right thing to do…
"Guys... Just- walk away and I'll pretend this never happened."
…for their sakes- not his.
Chen crossed his arms and glowered.
"Must be getting rather stuffy under that mask," he said savagely. "Why don't we help you with it?"
Zuko reluctantly shifted his feet and raised his hands, resigned.
The guy on the right was within touching distance now, with the other one hanging back to give him leverage.
Just as his attention shifted away from the others to his closest opponent, out of the corner of his eye he saw Jaome's arm flick out- so fast that it was almost a blur.
Knife-throwing.
That had been the skill Jaome had showcased at his audition. His aim had been deadly accurate, every knife singing merrily through the air and meeting its intended target as though it had been made for it.
This one had been aimed at Zuko's head.
He whirled away- a second too late- heart in his throat, and felt it brush through his hair, nicking his scalp.
Something gave as he landed in a crouch facing the back of the alley, breath leaving him in a shell-shocked whoosh.
What in Agni's name is the moron playing at?!
A moment later, his mask fell to the ground.
○ • • ○
The feeling of cool night air brushing against his exposed face was what did it.
Zuko had just begun to feel excited about something in the dismal, stress-filled cycle his monotonous life had become in the past two months. Spending time with the gang, though it happened, was a monthly thing at best with how they were spread out all across the world, each bearing responsibilities far greater than they should for their age. Of course, it had made a world of difference to have Sokka by his side. But the theatre, despite all his ulterior motives for joining, was something that was Zuko's alone.
Something he was just starting to enjoy far more than he probably deserved, and maybe in the future would even come to love.
It was one of the only things keeping him sane when the question of death hung around his neck like a permanent noose ready to tighten at a moment's notice.
It was also the only plan Sokka had left that had a chance of working.
Jaome thought this was only about exposing a rival when it was actually so much more.
The Fire Nation would be lost if Zuko died now. He needed this to work. His people did, too.
He'd be damned if he let these imbeciles ruin them all.
○ • • ○
Faintly, past the ringing in his ears, he heard a lone trill of warning and jolted with alarm.
Shit.
His real guards had had enough. The Kyoshi Warriors were about to jump down and reveal themselves- exposing the plan and giving it up all at once. There would be no going back to the theatre after this…
"No!" he cried out, still staring down at the inside of his mask with its ruined bit of string trailing into the dirty cobblestones. "Don't! I can handle this!"
He heard the footsteps behind him falter, but he strained his ears for something else. There was only silence from the roof above. Nothing more.
Good .
He was outnumbered and without his swords. With the mask unable to hold itself up, he was also left with only one working arm. But he had to protect his identity, no matter what.
Which left him with but one other choice.
"Who the fuck are you talking to, Long?" Jaome's bewildered voice demanded. "You finally cracked?"
The sound of it centred him. This was just another fight that needed to end before it began.
A bit late for that but he could try.
Zuko gripped his mask by the chin and lifted it up to his face.
"It's nothing to you, asshole."
And in one clean movement he kicked his leg out, spun on his own axis, and blasted a circle of fire in a wide arc behind him.
○ • • ○
The flames lit up the dark alley like how a bolt of lightning makes day of a night sky.
In its golden light, Zuko saw his opponents' faces flash with startled fear. The two guys who'd been closing on him cried out as they scrambled out of harm's way.
Not that they were ever in real danger, Zuko's flame passing harmlessly around them.
Standing now, he drew himself up to his full height and surveyed the men through the slits in his mask, calculating their movements. The two thugs didn't look like benders, judging by how they seemed the most disturbed by Zuko's display and hadn't attempted to block it. Chen and Jaome though…
"Back off while you still can," he called, low voice ringing in the silence. "Don't say I didn't give you a chance."
Jaome was quickest to recover.
He snarled and ran forward, sending a jet of orange fire at Zuko- who side-stepped neatly with a sigh.
Okay, then.
Chen joined in a second later, by coming at his exposed side, no doubt of the view that holding the mask would impede Zuko's defence.
Well, it was not the easiest to flip over on one hand and kick the flames away, and then follow through with a long blast from his fist once he'd landed behind them, but he managed.
The other two guys he didn't know the names of were behind him now, but when he glanced their way they seemed to be hesitantly backing off, inching out of the alley with wide eyes.
He smiled grimly.
Two down. Two to go.
And his breathing had barely even changed.
A second later he was cursing himself for his moment of self-congratulation, and dodging a kick from Jaome.
He and Chen both unleashed a coordinated onslaught, bending side-by-side like the team they were, alternatively kicking and punching with abandon, and generally blasting Zuko backwards without giving him time to recover.
But he wasn't a firebending master for nothing.
Now, with no threats behind him, he was free to focus solely on them.
And focus he did.
After letting them gain four or five feet worth of ground on him, he flipped his defence around and began to attack in earnest. He had to whirl around a lot more than he was used to, to be able to kick where he usually would have punched with his occupied hand.
Despite that, it was a simple matter to have them both groaning on their backs in a matter of minutes, if not seconds.
(He was rather too occupied to actually time the whole thing himself.)
He finished with his fist drawn back and his breath leaving him in light, slightly quickened exhalations, eyeing his opponents for attempts to get back up. Their friends had long since deserted them, so the alley echoed with only the sounds of their combined wheezing.
In the faint moonlight, rendered even dimmer now after the glare of fire, he watched Jaome shakily raise himself up on his elbows, trembling with exhaustion. Chen groaned a few feet away, and covered his sweat and soot streaked face with his elbow.
Zuko held his position for a few seconds more.
When it was clear that they were not going to attack him again, he let the tension leave him and straightened up.
Jaome looked up at him. The anger in his eyes had dulled to mix with shame and something else…
Zuko felt a stab of sympathy for the guy.
Here was the mirror image of what he must have looked like after getting his butt kicked countless times by Aang, unable to comprehend in his pride where he had gone wrong.
With a hand still holding his mask, he stepped back.
"Firebending comes from the breath. If you control that and master your emotions, you won't be so easy to beat again. You fight well together."
Jaome's face contorted with confusion, the anger leaving completely. On his other side, Chen squinted out from under his elbow, regarding Zuko's silhouette with something uncomfortably like reverence.
"Who… are you?" he rasped.
Zuko coughed, and then hurriedly forced himself to seize the moment.
"Does it matter?" he asked silkily, with just a hint of violence.
As one, they swallowed and shook their singed heads.
Zuko nodded, channelling all the snark he'd ever heard in his life into his next few words.
"Good. It would be inconvenient to have to do this again. I'll leave you to it, then. I suggest you don't try to follow…"
A smile ghosted his lips as he pulled up his hood and walked past their slack-jawed faces.
The inability to see his expressions always made them forget about guarding their own. He'd been disquieted when this had happened at rehearsals, but now it was just gratifying. It meant they were certainly not going to try anything again any time soon. He just hoped that when and if they eventually needed a reminder, he'd have long since left the theatre for good.
Barely three alleys later, he was ambushed again.
This time, he cleared at least an entire foot when he jumped, yelping in shock.
Suki straightened up from the ground next to him and shot him a broad grin.
"Did you… have to come down like that?" he muttered weakly, massaging his chest and glancing up at the roof she'd dropped from. Its height was no joke. "That can't be good for your knees."
She shrugged as her eyes scoped the ends of the deserted lane they were standing in.
"Any closer to the palace would be foolish. So yeah, I had to."
She looked back at him then, and handed back his mask.
He blinked and took it.
"Oh- sorry. Thanks."
He stared at her, the makeup of her uniform making it hard to discern what she was thinking.
Good battle strategy, that.
"... er, why did you come down? Not that I'm not glad to see you," he rushed to convince. "It's always good to see a familiar face. Just that-"
She stepped closer with a smile that made him hurriedly back-up a couple of steps.
"If you ever do anything like that again, I will tell Sokka what you call yourself at the theatre."
No. Please.
Why would she do that?
He laughed weakly. "I won't. I mean, it won't happen again. I.. sorted it out. It's all good now… right?"
Suki's eyes narrowed dangerously.
"You know that's not what I meant. You're not to take security matters into your own hands again, okay? You can't just risk your life like that and then order us to sit still!"
He felt his hackles rise. He couldn't understand why she was so mad at him. He'd handled it, hadn't he?
"Well, if you watched then you'd know nothing happened. They weren't the assassins. They didn't need to know about you at all." He glared at her, thoroughly put-out now that his jubilation had a big, fat puncture in it. "Shouldn't you be happy that the plan is still intact?"
"I am," she said quietly, staring at him intently. "I just need you to remember that you don't have to do everything alone. What if something had happened to you on our watch- do you think we could have lived with that?"
Understanding dawned on him and with it, he felt warmth bloom in his chest.
"I did remember that," he said, tone much gentler. "I really did. It's just that I knew that I could handle it this time, and I had to try. Believe me, if I hadn't known that you had my back, I wouldn't have risked it."
She regarded him for a moment longer and then nodded.
"Okay," she smiled. "Then we're good. You did good. Really good. Proud of you."
He scratched his neck and nodded. "Okay."
She chuckled and began to back away towards the edge of the lane.
"Head on straight to the end then, no detours," she said in a carrying whisper, waving a finger in half-serious reprimand. "We've had enough funny business for tonight."
Her eyes were twinkling though.
Zuko huffed a tired chuckle.
"Yeah, I don't think I can manage another round either."
(That was not entirely true. Though he was certainly in no mood for an altercation, his body only felt pleasantly tired, as though raring to go...)
Suki paused when she was in the shadows, with one foot already on the windowsill that would boost her climb to the rooftops once more.
Zuko watched her, waiting for her to disappear completely, but she seemed to look around at him instead.
"By the way, Long?"
He cringed.
Urgh, Spirits…
"What is it?"
"I'll keep your secret if you keep ours."
"Uh. What… secret?" he asked with great trepidation.
"We all thought that was pretty hot. Not in the literal sense, though… Just in case you're wondering."
If anyone had asked Zuko right then, he'd have proclaimed that Earthbending was without a doubt the best elemental bending art in the world.
Zuko felt his face again that night only when he was safely ensconced in his fortress of pillows.
AN: Funny story, the muse was quite strong today and I actually WROTE ON MY PHONE for the first time. Scandalous, I know. But that's not my point. The thing is, I was in the waiting room at my dentist's and I was reading what I'd just written and I... began to laugh out loud? at Zuko? the poor boy trying his best made me cackle? not once, but three times? is this even normal, for writer's to laugh about their own characters? (it's either that, or I've actually cracked...)
Anyway, I had a blast. I hope you did, too.
Epilogue coming soon! Thanks so much for being here, I'd very much love to hear from you if you enjoyed this- even an emoji would make my day, I'm but a simple person
xxx
