Another piece of my Heart and Soul for you!
As always, you guys are amazing! I can't put into words how much I love to hear from you guys! It really motivates me to keep going, keeps me motivated and keeps me writing this fic! And thank you for bearing with me with through the restructure. I know it wasn't strictly necessary, but I like to keep my continuity consistent XD
This chapter combines my Southern Air Temple chapter, so for anyone who's already read that you can skip the flashbacks. Or, if you liked it, you can read it all again XD
Especially to Jak Fortune and Chevalier Lecteur! And Respite88! How have I not given you guys the shout out you deserve yet?! You guys have made my week yet again, you're amazing! You, everyone who reads this, please let me know what you thought of this chapter! Knowing I've done a good job means the world to me!
Everyone who reads this, all my lovely Kudos giving superstars, please let me know what you thought of this chapter! Knowing I've done a good job means the world to me and keeps me pressing on into Book Two!
ENJOY!
Senlin bids Zuko's ship a hasty farewell, disappearing with the setting sun at their backs as they turn their ship. Zuko stares into the purple gloom, savouring the last of the sun's rays on the back of his neck.
She's safe, he thanks Agni, tipping his head forward in silent prayer.
His men have orders to sail hard and sail strong for the crescent isle, especially after Zhao's attack; they lose the Avatar's trail, they lose their position on Zuko's ship. As happy as they'd be to set back on dry land, being dismissed from the banished prince's ship will guarantee a shoddy station for the long-term assignments.
Zuko is under no illusion. No one wants to be on his ship.
Against his will, as are most of his thoughts, his mind drifts to Katara. Agni's warmth chooses then to dip below the horizon. Replaced by a chill, he shivers as melancholy fills him as it so often does. He has to grip the rails until his knuckles go white, fighting to dispel the rage that almost turns his ship around to finish Zhao once and for all.
When that missile struck the side of his ship and smoke burst from the engine, Zuko almost bolted then and there. How deep did the missile penetrate? Far enough to reach Katara's cell, four levels deep, drier than the desert and no water?
She'd have been incinerated in seconds.
Breathe, he reminds himself.
Once again, a fight has led him to abstain from seeing her. Saving face? Maybe, he can't tell. Not like he has to see her every day. She's his prisoner. So why does he feel like his skeleton is trying to jump out of his skin so it can run to her? Why is he still holding off? Still, after today?
He's only hurting himself, but he can't seem to help it. He has little left to his name, he can't afford to give up his pride as well.
And Katara won't be missing him the way he misses her, even if she's just a few levels below. Might as well be across the world. And it's not fair how many things he has to remind him of her; clouds growing heavy with rain on the horizon. The tsungi horns being warmed up for the evening's entertainment. Even his Kata exercises hold remnants of her awe, her wonder as he performed the Snapping Willow.
She's infected everything he does. Maybe this confrontation he speeds towards will be the last. He'll capture the Avatar, and finally be rid of the waterbender and this hold she's slowly tightening around him.
He's not looking forward to it. The last time he was face to face with Zhao was an experience he'd rather forget.
Ten Months Previously:
The Southern Air Temple
A feeling of regression washes over Zuko as his ruined ship pulls into the Earth Kingdom's south west military harbour, the closest he's been to home in years. Floating in the shadow of a mountain range, it extends through a long strip of flat land across the shoreline. Naval ships dock in the crevices at the water's edge. Tracks dug into the earth and lined with rails run between the crevices, transporting barrels and crates to various ports within the harbour. A much longer, wider rail connects the port to a military camp further inland.
Commandeered by Captain Zhao, the docks had been under Fire Nation control for the last six months. Exactly why Zuko had skirted around it on his journey to the South Pole. He relished crossing paths with Fire Nation patrols as much as he would a hornet-vulture sting to his good eye, and none loved to make it sting worse than Captain Zhao. The jumped-up soldier turned captain greased the pole behind him as he rose in the ranks, and loved talking down to the prince of the Fire Nation as much as Zuko loathed every second in the smug, scathing man's presence.
The massive Fire Nation warships close in Zuko's slighter, smaller vessel. He resists the urge to sneer at the gratuitous show of power. Zhao loved those. Zuko made a bet with himself that when he greeted them, Zhao would have at least two chords of merit dangling from his ornamented shoulder covers. Zuko preferred the much more utilitarian flat guards, better for moving unhindered between opponents. Not like Zhao would do his own fighting unless absolutely necessary, or if there was someone to impress.
His uncle follows dutifully at his heels, respecting Zuko's need to go in front. Zuko despised the notion, but here they both knew he needed to look as in control as possible. Especially here.
"I want the repairs made as quickly as possible," Zuko murmurs lowly as they descend the gang plank wedged between the mastodons. "I don't want to stay too long and risk losing his trail."
"You mean the Avatar?"
Zuko spins, cutting off Iroh's descent. "Don't mention his name on these docks! Once word gets out that he's alive, every firebender will be out looking for him, and I don't want anyone getting in the way."
His uncle blinks past him, lips tightening as heavy bootsteps approach and a voice drawls, "Getting in the way of what, Prince Zuko?"
Zuko steels himself, crossing his arms as he turns. He instantly regrets such an insecure gesture, but holds, shifting back onto his heels as if the side burned, armoured man striding towards them was just another shopper at the market. "Captain Zhao."
Impossibly, Zhao's smugness grows. "It's Commander now." And he uses the new title as his right to completely ignore Zuko, offering Iroh the respectful nod. Sure enough, three dark red braided chords shift with the motion, settling against the armoured shoulder plate when he straightens. "General."
"Retired General," Iroh corrects, good naturedly gesturing to his own naked shoulder before bowing deeper than Zhao's new station deserves.
"The Fire Lord's brother and son are welcome guests anytime." Zhao takes a bit too much pleasure in the tacit acknowledgment of his superior position. "What brings you to my harbour?"
"Our ship is being repaired," Iroh fields, because Zuko doesn't trust himself to speak civilly.
Zhao indulges a few seconds longer than necessary as he surveys the ruined front of Zuko's barge. "That's quite a bit of damage."
"We crashed into an Earth Kingdom ship," Zuko forces out through gritted teeth.
Zhao's eyebrows reach his hairline. "Really? You must regale me with all the thrilling details." He leans in close. Zuko fights the urge to squirm as burner laced breath skims his scar. "Join me for a drink?"
"Sorry," Zuko growls, averting his eyes. "But we have to go."
An admonishing hand on his shoulder stops him. "Prince Zuko, show Commander Zhao your respect." Iroh offers Zhao a compensating bow. "We would be honoured to join you. Do you have any ginseng tea? It's my favourite."
Neither man comments on the burst of heat which erupts from Zuko's mouth at their backs. Doesn't matter. Zhao's smug look back over his shoulder is far worse.
The Winter Solstice, Part Two: Avatar Roku
"Prince Zuko?" His uncle's voice arrives just in time to distract him from the ache in his heart. "Dusk is almost gone. What are you still doing up here?"
Brooding, Katara would tease with a nudge into his side. Only now that it's not there does he wonder when he got so used to her casual touches. A product of growing up perpetually freezing, he suspects. An unconscious habit to seek warmth wherever it may be.
Even from him? Maybe, as a last resort.
"Watching the sunset."
His uncle hums as he comes to stand at his side. Both know he rarely uses his free time for peaceful activities. "You are facing the wrong way for that." Spreading out before them, the gloomy purple sky deepens to match the dark ocean. "Unless you are growing a new fondness for blue?"
"I hate blue. It washes me out." Makes him look downright ill.
"Will the lady Katara be joining us this evening?" his uncles asks after a few moments silence.
"I... don't think that's a good idea."
"Because of the way you scorned her attempt to tell you you'll make a good Fire Lord?"
His cheeks redden. "The only good Fire Lord to Katara is a dead one."
"She seemed to think differently after I told her of our escapades in the Earth Kingdom a few days ago."
"Your escapades. My rescue mission."
Iroh smiles. "Exactly what she thought as well, my prince. She told me to say she doesn't believe you smashed my chains with your heel. Neither does the lovely Lily. You might need to prove it to them." He's quiet a few moments. "She thinks you quite handsome."
"What?" Zuko splutters.
"When I told her of my invitation to join me, she blushed a pretty pink. Not-" he interrupts before Zuko can point out the obviously perverse image everyone but his uncle finds perverse. "-at the thought of being unclothed before me, I can assure you. Watertribe customs do not shy away from practical nudity. Body heat is a commodity in the poles. There are no people who love the sun's warmth like the Fire Nation than the Watertribes of the poles."
"I don't see what that has to do with me."
"She asked if you were invited as well."
Zuko's brain stops working for three heartbeats, his blood pumping decidedly elsewhere than his head.
Thankfully, his uncle fills the silence. "Is it wise to be charting through the Fire Nation, nephew? Of all the things you've done in your twenty years…"
"This is the most foolish," Zuko finishes the thought. For the first time, he feels it. Feels the mortality he speeds towards. Why now? What's changed that has him second guessing the decisions his destiny drives him towards? "I have no choice, uncle."
"Have you completely forgotten that the Fire Lord banished you? What if you're caught?" Uncle pleads. "What do you think will happen to Katara?"
"I'm chasing the Avatar. My father will understand why I'm returning home." He pointedly doesn't answer his uncle's last question.
Iroh waits, but when Zuko offers nothing, shakes his grey head. "You give him too much credit. My brother is not the understanding type."
"Only I'll have to face him." If all goes well, Katara won't have to find out. But it's not in his nature, nor his power, to go on without knowing. "Take her back to Kyoshi if I don't return in three days. She has friends there. Friends who know how to get into contact with the Avatar."
He doesn't want her stranded among enemies; If not on his ship, he wants her with her friends.
"I need to prepare the boat." He turns away. Smoke still billows from the engine stacks. He needs it and loathes it.
"I have taken care of that. Go say your sorry's before nightfall. You'll regret it even after you come back and no longer have a reason." His uncle is not suggesting.
Ten Months Previously:
The Southern Air Temple
Zhao lets them ride in his personal carriage into the harbour proper.
Numerous military tents line their departure from the docks, resembling temples in design and exhibiting the red and gold colours of the Fire Nation. Multiple flags, lamp posts, and watch towers, traditionally red in appearance, sway in the evening breeze. Among one of the harbour's most notable facilities is an area, hastily erected and blocked off from the remainder of the establishment by a rectangular stone wall with four large torches at the corners. Two arched gates bearing flags lead into a flat, spacious dirt field. Zuko has to look away from the burning place as they pass by, glowering at the floor, scar throbbing.
He busies his mind with where he thinks the Avatar will head next, and before he realises what's happening, he's being ushered inside the biggest tent in the pavilion. The interior's elaborately decorated; a rug, large table, chairs, and at the far back wall a weapon display rests against the cloth wall, as well as a map of the world Zhao and his officials use to plan the south west military strikes.
Zhao goes immediately to the map, standing impeccably straight before it. Zuko waits at the tents entrance to see if he'll be invited to join him or take a seat. His uncle makes no such courtesies, moving straight to curiously inspect the weapons rack. After it seems Zhao has forgotten he's there, Zuko takes one of the chairs.
Idly, Zhao surveys his map, fingers gripping and loosening around his wrist behind his back in typical Firebender fashion. Kinetic heat, rage and passion running through the blood. Zuko feels the same nervous impulse but keeps himself in check.
It seemed so long ago when Zhao would take him out on his patrols of the city. Part of Zuko's earliest training was following the man around, soaking up every detail of Caldera City, how to deescalate market brawls, how to properly greet the nobility, how they should learn to greet their future Lord. He favoured Zuko then, bringing him close, teaching him things his father never bothered. Zuko was a favourite, adoring pupil, second only to Azula. Now, Zhao is a stranger, and Zuko an embarrassment.
He takes the tea offered by one of Zhao's serving men as the Commander in questions voice fills the tent. "Three coal refineries. Two roadhouses on main trade routes. Fire Nation outposts. All destroyed since the Fire Nation pressed its advantage into the inner continent. Seven attacks, in my region alone."
"The Earth Kingdom grows bold," Zuko mutters. Staying quiet only deepens Zhao's pitiful opinion of him. Despite his exile, he must at least be aware of his nation's activities. Learning how authentic Zhao's information is will also give Zuko an idea of how long he has to manoeuvre.
"If it is indeed the Earth Kingdom who perpetrate the acts." Zhao muses.
"You've lost control of more than one nation?" He needs to move Zhao back to the Earth Kingdom instead of away.
"No. But there are spider-ants and rat-bugs in the world. The attacks are subtle for those brutish Earth thugs, precise, uncharacteristically non-violent. Discontinuous from the pattern of barrack attacks and route ambushes. The Earth Kingdom natives are not economical disruptors, so I struggle believing these acts of subtler war originate with them."
The water tribes. Those soft hearted, non-violent saboteurs will be the ruin of Zuko's destiny. Against his will the peasant girl swims to mind, unyielding blue eyes glaring into his as if she were sitting right in front of him. She'd be orchestrating these rebellions. She was smart enough. He was not so prideful to deny it and won't be so stupid to underestimate a girl who can trick him into believing she was the Avatar, if only briefly.
"Who do you suggest." He can't leave without knowing.
"Perhaps it is no longer only the Earth Kingdom who still oppose us. With the Air Nomads destroyed but the Water Tribe merely under subjugation, I hardly think we have as tight a grip on the lesser tribes than we believe. Perhaps they've expanded without our knowledge."
Zuko rarely likes himself. He's about to drop to a whole new level of self-loathing, but he needs to keep Zhao focused where he needs him. "Water tribes."
It takes a moment for Zhao to react, but his turn away from the map is punctuated with his surprise. "Tribes?"
"The Southern Watertribe still exists, Zhao. Seems your patrols do not go as far south as they report."
A muscle twitches in the commander's neck. "Or those peasants have adopted the air nomads' ways. I can almost commend their desire not to become extinct. Well, they haven't troubled us thus far, unless… Do they have any Waterbenders?"
"No." Zuko isn't sure why he lies, only that he doesn't have to think about his answer.
But Zhao, unfortunately, now knows how right he is. The terror attacks plaguing Fire Nation colonies make little sense for Earth Kingdom rebels. The watertribe are a people of justice, not revenge. Earth Kingdom attacks are petty and gruesome – reducing barracks, markets, bazaars and Fire Nation frequented restaurants, tea shops and rest stops to rubble. Zuko can't blame them, they alone have opposed the Fire Nation the longest. But the Watertribes would never condone such violence. It draws too many eyes for too little result, daring the Fire Nation to act, to crush insurrection.
Is the waterbender leading them? She was certainly defiant enough. But in those moments when she had a firebender alone, surrounded by her element, she could have crushed him, and chose instead to throw herself onto the coals for a child.
Zhao turns back to his map, stroking his chin. "Perhaps a watertribe warrior has decided to enter the fray. He'd have to be a savage one."
"If it is a man," Iroh intones without looking away from his inspection of the spears.
Zuko's gut wrenches. How could his uncle be so stupid? He's going to expand Zhao's worldview too far, drive him further south. The Avatar's location is unknown, but Zhao needs to stay as far from discovering him as possible.
"Interesting." Zhao swivels again, this time to Iroh. "What makes you think a woman could lead the Watertribes?"
"Why do we assume it is a man? Could be a woman. Could be a group of individuals for all we know, which would go a long way toward explaining the discordant nature of these new attacks." His uncle turns to him. "Prince Zuko, what do you think?"
"Don't befuddle the Prince with complex theoreticals," Zhao crows defensively. "Make it a yes or no." He claps a pitying, dismissive hand on Zuko's shoulder. "Behind his stoic demeanour, he's an honest, uncomplicated, boy. You should know that, General Iroh."
Zuko sits there and takes it.
Zhao turns away. "In any manner, Iroh, you're forgetting the Watertribes are highly patriarchal. Their identity as a people centres around the duty of the husband, father, warrior, while the daughters, sisters, and mothers maintain the home and traditions of the people. The most blood one of their soft-hearted girls could stomach is if they prick their fingers with one of their primitive bone needles while stitching."
The waterbender looked more than ready to go for Zuko's throat on the ship deck.
"Hunting, skinning, gutting catches. Physically strenuous, gruelling tasks performed by men. Tasks they don't let their women perform, even if they are capable."
More than capable.
"So, you see, it can't be a woman leading these attacks because no roughneck coldie would follow a man or woman who has never brought down a Sabretooth Ice Moose Lion."
Iroh smiles cleverly. "So, these attacks truly can't be Watertribe?"
Zuko sips his tea, else Zhao see his jaw drop in awe of his uncle. Reminding Zhao of the Northern Watertribe's limitations is true genius. And now, as Zhao chuckles, turning back to the map, his prejudice will cement even deeper and he'll return to the task at hand.
"Maybe it's an Earth Kingdom rebel who has finally learned something from years of fighting such a superior force."
"Or one of the haiku prodigies of Ba Sing Se taking their poetry to new extremes," Iroh adds, teeth gritted around the forced malice.
Zhao's too much of an idiot to realise the subtle compliment. "No, a miner who, dare I say, has finally forsaken his terror of metal and developed the skills to use a shovel?" Zhao barks a laugh. "I'd give away one of my concubines just to see-"
"If you two are done discussing Zhao's future as a courtly comic, I'd like to return to my ship," Zuko cuts Zhao off, putting his tea down.
Zhao and Iroh share a grin before Zhao approaches Zuko's chair. "Your recommendation, Prince Zuko?"
"It is your job to govern this region, Zhao, not mine."
Iroh frowns disapprovingly. Yes, in the future it will be Zuko's royal duty. A future that will not exist if Zuko doesn't get back on the Avatar's trail.
"Of course." Zhao clears his throat. "Unlike their propaganda and route sabotages, the brutality is quite simple to counter. Earth Kingdom or not, the issue is a simple reply. Our spies and more elite kill teams, the Yuyan archers for example, are prepared for tactical strikes on several supposed terrorist cells. My forces will strike now. There is no point in bothering Fire Lord Ozai with this. As all powerful as our Sovereign is, he has not been in the south for a long time. I have."
"A fool pulls the leaves. A brute chops the trunk. A sage digs the roots." Iroh strokes his beard reflectively. "Something Sunblood once said to my father. It's engraving still graces the hall of the Ever-Burning Flame in the palace, despite his desertion."
Iroh lets a moment of silence fill the tent.
"Striking the Earth Kingdom, no matter how tight the information is, will do nothing except fill the ears and eyes of the locals with petty violence. Political plays tire everyone but the hands of poets who write them. One hundred years we've been fighting, Zhao, and Ba Sing Se still remains unbent. Our strategy must change."
A true Fire Nation soldier, Zhao physically recoils at the idea of a non-violent approach. But as Iroh placidly stares him down, he considers. "With every act of mindless violence, the Fire Lord grows wearier of my campaign here."
"You command these armies," Iroh expertly feeds Zhao's ego. "Not the North, or back West where our power is strongest. Here is far, our grip weaker, yet you still hold. What does he expect?"
"Results." Zhao turns back to the map. "I will poison the Earth Kingdom's roots. I want suicide earthquakers, not Fire Nation burners. Find the ugliest, nastiest, Earth Kingdom benders, hold their families hostage, and threaten to kill their sons and daughters if the benders do not do as we command. Focus on earthquakes and rockslides in popular areas, high youth density as well as capital cities of trade.
"No women benders. I want the social divide in the Earth Kingdom that benefits us with the Watertribe. Women against violence, even violence against innocent Fire Nation colonies. Urban areas too. Not just Earth Benders. I want green Fire Nation troops sent to quell the violence getting caught in the crossfire. Then we'll see if the other nations still fight us."
Zuko's scar throbs. How little life costs here. Just words in the air.
"You plan to alienate Earthbenders from the other elements, then alienate the rebels from the Earth Kingdom." Iroh sounds equally impressed and appalled.
Zhao revels in it. "By years end, the Earth Kingdom capital will be under our rule." He turns his back to the map, smug satisfaction deepening the lines under the beard. "The Fire Lord will finally claim victory in this war."
"If my father thinks the rest of the world will follow him willingly, then he is a fool." Zuko can't hold back any longer. Maybe when he's his uncle's age he'll be better at containing his disgust.
Zhao's boots stop beside his chair. "Seven years at sea have done little to temper your tongue. You're squirming like a red panda-pup."
Zuko has no choice but to speak, being addressed so openly, so he does it confidently. "This will make matters worse. The Earth Kingdom Rebels are a nuisance, but hardly our chief plight. If you do this, you will be pouring fuel on the flames, and sacrificing our men in the process."
"Ah, yes. Our duty to our men." Zhao's hand falls on the back of Zuko's chair, brushing his ruined ear.
"You'll be as guilty as the rebels themselves. A terrorist against our Nation," Zuko says through gritted teeth.
"There is no guilt." Zhao leans down, words sneering across Zuko's burned cheek. "Not when you're the judge."
Zuko turns minutely, just enough to make Zhao think he's about to stand and back off. "The Fire Nation's imperative, the reason we started this war, is because we are the best guide for mankind. My Great-great-grandfather wanted to share our wealth, order, and stability. These rebels are anarchists. Their cause is chaos. We should use that as our weapon. Not soldiers in the night. Earthquakers amongst children."
"We should aspire to a higher purpose?" Zhao sighs. "Idealism. An admirable trait of the young, Prince Zuko, if a blind one."
"Do not talk down to me, Commander," Zuko growls, gripping the arms of his chair. "Your plan should be less brutal."
"Brutality." Zhao lets the word hang in the air. "It is neither evil nor good. It is the adjective to the Fire Nation, an action. Our way of life. You've been away too long if you've forgotten that, Prince Zuko. What you must parse is the nature of that life. Is it evil or good to stop terrorists who attack innocents?"
"Good," Zuko growls after a moment's hesitation.
"Then what do our methods matter so long as we harm fewer innocents then they will harm if we continue to allow them to exist?" Zhao steeples his long fingers together. "And, as commander, I get to decide how long they will exist for. Now, enough of this lesson. How is your hunt for the Avatar going?"
The weapons display Iroh ponders crashes to the ground. Metal shrieks its protest as it clatters to the stone floor. Zhao turns, giving Zuko enough space to breathe, prepare, and silently thank his profusely apologising uncle. "We haven't found him yet."
"Did you really expect to?" Zhao says as he scrutinizes Iroh's fixing of the weapon stand. "The Avatar died a hundred years ago, unless you found Air nomads too?" He draws in the laugh, but stops, and Zuko knows his tight shoulders didn't go unnoticed. "Unless you have found some evidence the Avatar is alive?"
"No." The denial comes out too quickly. "Nothing."
"Prince Zuko, the Avatar is the only one who can stop the Fire Nation from winning this war." This time he comes around the chair, facing Zuko. "If you have an ounce of loyalty left, you'll tell me what you have found."
"I did that already. After seven years, the only discovery I've made, under your watch in your jurisdiction, was a whole tribe the Southern Raiders claimed to have eradicated." His turn to relish the flicker of annoyance in Zhao. "It's like you said. The Avatar probably died a long time ago. Come on, Uncle, we're going."
Spears bar his way. Zhao's guards cross the exit, breaking only to allow a guard from outside to enter. He strides past as if the Prince of his Nation were a green recruit, going to Zhao's side and bowing deferentially. "Commander Zhao, we interrogated the crew as you instructed. They confirmed Prince Zuko had the Avatar in custody but let him escape."
Zhao's smile coats his words as his breath coats Zuko's burned ear again. "Now remind me how, exactly, was your ship damaged?"
The Winter Solstice, Part Two
Katara whips around as he opens the door. He freezes halfway in, unsure suddenly if she'll want to see him. Blue eyes narrow, and once again he feels he's done something wrong. "What has been going on up there?"
Deciding she won't throw him out, at least not immediately, Zuko comes fully in. "We suffered an attack."
"We were attacked?" She misses him freezing at her use of we, too consumed with the battle she missed. "How?" Then, brighter. "Was it Aang?"
His elation extinguishes quicker than if she'd thrown water over him. "We came across a Fire Nation blockade. Nothing serious happened."
"Nothing serious?" Her arms flap to encompass the box surrounding her. "I could feel the heat through the metal!"
"You weren't hurt?"
She blinks, caught off guard by the out-of-character question. "No, and that's not the point. Why was a Fire Nation blockade shooting at you?"
"They don't like me." He adds a shrug when it seems his answer doesn't suffice, guessing by her twitching eyebrow. "I'm banished, as in, not allowed to come back."
"So why have you sailed into Fire Nation waters?" Her dusky cheeks pale. "You're not… I'm not being handed over to your dad or-"
"No!" He gawks, horrified with her or himself, he can't tell, with how quickly she can fear him. "No, no. I'd never let… I'm going off ship for a few days. I'll be back, but until then, Uncle will play Pai Sho with you."
She blinks, processing his words. "Play Pai Sho? What're you-? Never mind. Where are you going?"
"Off ship."
"Where off ship are you going?" she clarifies through gritted teeth.
"Why do you care?"
"Classified, got it." Grumbling, she shakes her head. "You get to go off chasing my friends, be part of the real world instead of stuck in a metal box, and I get to keep rotting in the box."
He knew she hated it here, yet his heart still twists as if she'd said it right to his scarred face. "I'm sorry about that, and about… before."
She chokes on air, swivelling from her descent onto the bed and almost falling over. "You're what? Since when are you-" She cuts herself off, eyes narrowing. "You're in your armour. And you're leaving as we enter Fire Nation waters. And right before you do that, you come here and say you're sorry. What's going on, Zuko? Where are you going?"
Of course, she'd never accept his apology. Why should she? He's done nothing but keep her captive from her friends, interrogate her, lock her up, keep her from her element. Coming here before he took the ship out was a mistake.
Before the melancholy can overwhelm him, she stops his heart with two words.
"Don't go." She shakes her head when he stares at her, and his breath catches when he realises emotion wells in her eyes. "It's Zhao, isn't it? You don't get this desperate unless he's involved. Desperate Zuko is a stupid Zuko and going off alone is definitely stupid. What are you thinking? Is capturing Aang worth your life?"
He's stunned silent, staring down at her. She hasn't said his name this many times in her whole capture. Each time she does his heart slams against his ribs.
"You can't fight him and his men on your own, Zuko. You're not invincible. I know you think your divine destiny makes you think you are, but you're not. You'll find that out if you go on this suicide mission. You'll leave, you'll find out you're not as strong as you think you are, and I'll be alone."
He can't breathe. Armoured plates clamp his chest as Katara's words fill and expand his heart to bursting. Pushing and pulling. Staying or going. His own father sent him away, and here she is begging him not to go. He's being torn apart on the spot as she stares up at him, pleading him to say something.
"Uncle likes the white lotus manoeuvre," he croaks before fleeing from the cell.
Ten Months Previously:
The Southern Air Temple
Zuko's hands shake like they did when his mother took him into the jungles surrounding Ember Island. Now, as then, serpents surround him.
He could hear them, the Komodo vipers. Could rarely see them. Black as pupils, they slither in shadows until they strike. But there's a fear that comes when they near. A fear separate from the endless jungle. Separate from the throbbing, nauseating heat that builds in the balls as he trekked through the fathomless dark, friction radiating from his oppressive robes, clutching his mother's hand. It's fearing the coming of death. Like a shadow passing over his soul.
It filled him then, it filled him when he knelt before his father seven years ago, and it fills him now as Zhao's soldiers stand around him, a mass of serpentine red and gold. Whispering. Hissing. Deadly.
Sand washed bloody by the sunset crunches under his knees. He kneels as the Fire Sage speaks. He tells of honour and tradition. How martial duels mark the greatness of their race. Unlike the cowardly air nomads, their words of peace lost to their frivolous element, the Fire Nation settle flesh to flesh. Bone to bone. Flame to flame. Vendettas die in the burning place.
No doubt Zhao has already spoken to his advisors. They will say Zuko is outmatched, Zhao the better bender. It never would have gone this far if Zhao hadn't been assured a beneficial outcome.
And, as with their ancestors, it is now and again, to burning.
The Fire Sage asks for any contentions. Neither Zuko nor Zhao say a thing. Iroh wants to but respects why Zuko needs to do this.
Actions, not words. The adjective to their nation.
Zhao kneels at the other end of the arena. He is bare-chested and barefoot, traditional cape draped over his shoulders. Zuko knows because he wears the same.
"Remember your firebending basics, Prince Zuko." His uncle looks across the burning place to Zhao's bent back. "They are your greatest weapons here."
Zuko lifts his head, catching his uncle's eye. "I refuse to let him win."
The cape drops from his shoulders as he stands, turning into the burning place and his opponent. Zhao is already standing, watching them.
From the corner of Zuko's eye Uncle takes a slip of parchment from his sleeve, words scribbled and incomprehensible from the distance, and tosses it into the burning brazier. But unlike most of his uncle's prayers, Zuko knows this won't be a remembrance of thanks. For the first time in a long time, he knows his uncle will be asking instead of giving.
The gong rings.
Fire licks behind Zuko as he throws his arms down, pulls them up and directs the blast at Zhao in twin whips of burning. He moves out of the way, sliding back to avoid another from Zuko. The watching soldiers bellow, but as the fire roars, the shouts fade away and all eyes widen as man-killing heat screams across the sand. Zhao harnesses the immoveable brutality of their element. Feet planted, he crosses his arms in front of him and takes Zuko's blast head on. With a savage chopping of his arms he destroys the flames. Through the dissipating heat, he smirks.
The duellists are the only sound in this Nation away from their home. The crackling, whip-like snap of the fire. The thrum of the heat. The shifting sand and billowing of cloth.
Despite his arrogance, Zhao is perfect in his form. His feet shuffle, never crossing; his hips swivel as he lunges, feet planting and restoring his root before Zuko can close and chop. His breath comes measured and paced. His flames swell over the dry ground in twin arcs, pushing away Zuko's next attack. He does it again in the face of Zuko's flaming kick, settles his feet, hands burning and ready.
"Basics, Zuko!" his uncle cries at the side lines. "Pull his roots!"
Zhao ferociously pushes his advantage. Zuko recognises the engagement but is too slow, thrown back by the force of the attack. It's all he can do to divert the flames around him. He feels Zhao's step through the sand, cementing his root. He locks his wrists and fires before Zuko can find his own. He falls in favour of letting the fire consume him, but when he looks up, Zhao is plummeting from a rapid close. He lands at Zuko's feet, erects himself and thrusts his fist forward to deliver the final blow.
"Do you hear that?" Zhao's barely out of breath. "That is the sound of failing again. No one to weep. No one to care."
"His root, Zuko!"
Zhao's flames flicker fast. Trained. Honed by masters of the Nation. It's easy to see why he has devastated his opponents, risen in the ranks. Because his enemies follow the example of power Zhao lives by. They learn his new techniques and fight like him, but slower.
Zuko doesn't fight like them. He learned that lesson seven years ago. Now Zhao will learn his. And remember his basics.
Zuko roars like some burning carnivore of the humid jungles and rolls. His feet swipe Zhao's out from underneath him. Sand sprays as he slams his feet back under him. Fire surges under Zhao's steps, driving him back further.
Zuko presses, directing his attacks at Zhao's feet now, peeling him apart until his balance is a shred of the once precise footwork. He doesn't move in the strict sets of four blasts of fire, but two, then six, then five. Purposefully becoming stagnant, then breaking pattern. Never giving Zhao a chance to assess his moves.
Zuko was taught to dance by his mother, and to fight by the Dragon of the West.
He rages and spins, feet fluid and never breaking contact with the ground, beating as a great hurricane slapping and smashing and hammering Zhao back. And when Zhao attacks he bows to the side until such a time he can snap back and break him, as his uncle trained him to do.
Move in a circle. Never retreat backward. No attack opens when a man allows himself to be pushed backward.
Zhao barely pushes Zuko's kick out of the way, staggering back. Zuko lets him, whips around and kicks again with a roar of force and momentum. Zhao slams to his back, riveting the sand.
Zuko closes, stretching his arm out over Zhao's sneering face.
"Do it!" Heat and smoke bloom like an opening fire lily, and fires into the sand beside Zhao's head. He stares at the crater. "That's it? Your father raised a coward!"
Zuko pants, the quelling of his rage a harder battle than the one Zhao gave. "Next time you get in my way, I promise, I won't hold back."
The Winter Solstice, Part Two
Zuko tongues at his bleeding lip as he glares up at Zhao. The Commander's eyes track the lip, the bruise Zuko feels swelling on his cheek, the blood trickling down the side of his head, and sneers gleefully. Luckily, Zuko's armour protected him from any serious injury when the Avatar tossed him down the stairs, though he left a dented vambrace behind in his haste to keep the Avatar from reaching the inner temple.
He failed, and now has to suffer Zhao's gloating, chained to a pillar as soldiers and Fire Sages wait for the door to open. Across the temple, the Avatar's companion glares at him, but he's easy enough to ignore.
Fire Sage Shyu kneels, suffering Zhao's full attention. "Why did you help the Avatar?"
"Because it was once the sages' duty. It is still our duty," Shyu answers without hesitation, straight backed on his knees.
Zhao's lip curls. "What a moving and heartfelt performance. I'm certain the Fire Lord will understand when you explain why the Fire Sages betrayed him."
The five standing sage's pale. "But Commander, only Shyu aided the Avatar."
"Silence!" Zhao snaps. He takes a few breaths to calm himself. "Save your stories for the Fire Lord. As far as I'm concerned, you are all guilty!"
You always get desperate when Zhao's involved. Now is not the time to be distracted by Katara, but he can't help it. You care about the prosperity of the Fire Nation. All of the Fire Nation.
"Leave them be, Zhao!" Zuko roars in a desperate attempt to be what she foolishly believes him to be. He earns a sharp strike to his scarred cheek. Stars and blinding pain burst across his skull.
Her brother's fury is unsympathetic and so like hers, only missing a certain... something. Something that is inherently, solely, Katara. Maybe Sokka hasn't spent enough time with him to truly know how to hate him beyond blind prejudice yet.
"Where's my sister?" the Watertribe youth demands for the tenth time.
Yes, you idiot, how about I tell you where my ship is in front of Zhao so he can finish stealing the Avatar and take her from me too. Zuko shakes his head, returning his attention to the inner chamber.
"Answer me!"
But Zhao is watching. Not the watertribe boy. Zhao's prejudice runs so deep, Sokka is less than a person to him. More a sack of meat holding his bones and brain together. Not worth the breath it would take to tell him to shut up.
Zhao watches Zuko, hateful eyes sharp. Zuko stares back at him, gives nothing but his utmost loathing for the Fire Nation Commander, until the man returns his attention to the chamber doors. "A cowardly Sage and a banished Prince. Two traitors in one day, the Fire Lord will be pleased."
"Gloat all you want, Zhao, you're too late. The Avatar's inside and the doors are sealed."
Zhao laughs down at him. "No matter. Sooner or later he has to come out. We'll be ready for him." He turns to the Fire Sages not on their knees. "When those doors open, unleash all your firepower!"
Soldiers and Sages surround the chamber door in a semicircle. Through the gaps in the bodies a glow radiates through the door and floor. Smoke streams through the cracks into the antechamber, blanketing their legs in a hazy cloak as the door groans ponderously open.
Light bursts from the chamber. Zhao gives the order, and Zuko's blinded by an onslaught of heat and colour. He presses his scarred cheek into the stone pillar, heart jacking into the next stratosphere as a wall of fire erupts.
And reveals Avatar Roku.
Ten Months Previously:
The Southern Air Temple
Uncle beams with pride and makes the battle easier. His steps land surer as he makes to leave the burning place. But the pride slips, and Zuko's heart wrenches.
Uncle's steps slam into the sand. Heat lances across Zuko's face. He embarrassed him, was too brutish and now-
Iroh's fist slams into the foot Zhao's about to kick into the unburned side of Zuko's face, quenching the flames in an instant. Zhao's tossed away before Zuko finishes turning, but when he tries to lunge, his uncle holds him back.
"No, Prince Zuko. Don't taint this victory." Only Zuko is close enough to see the way his uncle's hands shake with rage as they disappear into his sleeves. "So, this is how the great Commander Zhao acts in defeat. Disgraceful. Even in exile, my nephew is more honourable than you." Zuko looks at his uncle. "Thanks again for the tea. It was delicious."
His uncle leads them from the arena. Zuko can't speak until they're out of the camp, away from the oppressive heat. When he sees their patched ship and the water, he finds his heartrate slowing at the calming waves. "Did you really mean what you said, Uncle?"
Iroh glances at him from the corner of his eye. "Of course. I told you, Ginseng tea is my favourite."
Zuko steps off Fire Nation won ground, and smiles.
The Winter Solstice, Part Two
Zhao's horror matches Zuko's own. Two Avatar's? His father will be beside himself when he learns of this development. Except, where is the Airbender?
Roku kneels into what Zuko knows is a firebending forward strike. Molten fire melts through the floor, a screaming trail of lava bubbling up until it erupts. Soaring towers of lava explode throughout the temple, tearing the stone apart as if it were paper.
Zhao and his firebenders flee, nothing Zuko wouldn't expect of a man who would strike another behind his back in the Burning Place.
Recognising those glowing eyes as the Avatar state, he's been on the receiving end of it enough times to know, Zuko doesn't think twice when his chains evaporate around him. Searing pain lances across his naked arm, molten iron hissing when it meets soft flesh. Sprinting from the antechamber, every pump of his arms burning, open wound stinging and sensitive to the air. Zuko barely sees where he's going, only that outside is the goal as the temple collapses around him.
He see's the Fire Sages wailing ahead of him, their world falling apart, threatening to crush them. He sees soldiers in the entourage. And Zhao, that ugly, traitorous bastard. He runs harder. Legs numb with exhaustion. Lungs aching. Arm burning. Half of Zhao's platoon wait at end of the hall, stationed guards left to guard the retreat as Zhao disappears down the steps. A faceless mask turns as Zuko nears. Behind the white skull visage his eyes flash wide, then disappear in the burst of Zuko's blazing strike. He lets out a scream as Zuko passes. More turn – hand maidens, men, warriors, guards, ship hands and stewards Zuko recognises from his days as son and heir to the Fire Lord.
Their realization of his presence comes in waves. The enemy is supposed to be locked in the chamber, not amongst them, so they flinch in seeing him. And when they gather their wits, he's already past their armoured hands. He dodges a guard's outstretched grip, lashes back, hits metal with his bare fist. Fingers come back numb and shaking.
Shouts. Fumbling for swords. Fire snaps past his head. Zhao turns, stunned at the blasts scorching the wall by his head, eyes widening further when they register the banished prince charging towards him.
"Fire! Fire on the Fire Lord's son!"
Six concentrated rockets scream towards him. Zuko's good eye bugs wide and, without thinking, he skids right and down a corridor he's lucky was there. His ear singes. Tears sting but his face is numb. He runs through darkened hallways but all he can see is the fire screaming towards his face. All he hears is his ragged breathing and the rumbling of the temple.
Until a hole opens up in the wall. The sea rolls peacefully beyond, a giant, beautiful blue eye tired of his excuses when she beats him at Two Lies and a Truth. Crushed diamonds glitter behind his blinks. All his strength bleeds into this last mad dash.
I won't die here. I won't leave you alone.
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