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I am overjoyed by how much you all loved chapter nine! Thank you so much for your lovely, kind words. Now, as it's going to be a big day for a lot of us on Friday, and Thursday people will probably be busy preparing for Friday, I thought I'd give you all your Christmas present early and post TWO days in advance!
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The bite of cold does nothing to assuage Zuko's bitterness. If anything, it deepens it. Reminds him of shivering his ponytail off in endless frozen tundra. Reminds him of blue eyes the same colour as a mangy fur parka. A laugh bubbling out from under the white trim hood. Chilled fingers touching his cheek. Lips pressing to trembling, rain slicked skin.
It takes everything in his willpower not to burn a hole through his mask. Blue. Always fucking blue. Why out of all the masks in his mother's old theatre collection did he pick up the blue one? Because it's the opposite of red? Because no firebender in their right mind would ever be seen in blue? Because the misery of his memories of Azula forcing him to play the Dark Water Spirit in their enactments of Love Amongst the Dragons loves the company of his resentment?
It doesn't matter.
No matter how many times he sneaks from his ship to spy on Zhao's stay at the fire nation fortress, the Pohuai Stronghold, no matter how many times he avoids dreams of Pai Sho and the ocean, he can't stop thinking about the way Katara looked at him the last time he recklessly ran into Zhao instead of staying.
Well, this time it was her who ran.
Her who left him alone.
He grits his teeth against the brimstone and bile which seems to always line his throat as he scales another few feet of mountain cliffside. Sweat bathes him under the light, black fatigues. Tight to his skin so he can feel each itch and chafe every heave upwards brings. Any distraction is a good one. Too bad it never works.
When was the last time he slept? Each time he tries, lightning flashes behind his closed eyes, and a wide, terror filled gaze wakes him in a hot sweat.
He never found out what happened to her. He only knows she didn't end up in the water because he cut the chain. Because he let her go.
The healing scars throb in livid red circles around his arm.
Banishing the pathetic ache in his chest, he climbs higher. The way up is nothing new to him. Hand over hand on this poorly watched portion of cliff bracketing Pohuai. Everyone's too busy watching the legendary Yuyan archers go through their practice drills to really make the round trip.
Zuko was among them. Force bleary eyes to stay open. Track the untrackable arrows. Anything was better than sleep. Anything is better than vales of lucid unconsciousness where he can tangle his hands in umber hair like he so desperately wanted to before, pull those lips higher as memories of rain and wind beat at their clinging, soaked bodies.
Yes, anything is better that what could never be. Until Zhao's arrival at the fortress brought more pressing matters than his need to be distracted.
Destiny brings him back to himself. Banished Prince destined to bring the Avatar to justice. He is not the rejected fraud Zhao, his sister, and half the Fire nation think he is. The watertribe peasant means nothing to him.
Only his honour, only his crown, matter.
"Absolutely not! The Yuyan Archers stay here. Your request is denied, Commander Zhao."
"Colonel Shinu, please reconsider ... Their precision is legendary. The Yuyan can pin a fly to a tree from one hundred yards away without killing it." Zhao's annoyed voice refuses to beg. Zuko wishes he could see the man's face. "You're wasting their talents using them as mere security guards."
"I can do whatever I want with their talents, they're my archers, and what I say goes," Colonel Shinu shuts the Commander down.
"But my search for the Avatar is-"
"Is nothing but a vanity project! We're fighting a real war here, and I need every man I've got, commander."
My search, Zuko thinks, and perhaps it's the public animosity he faces everyday that's in his favour right now. It grates against his pride, but the less Fire Nation officials that take him seriously right now, the better.
Zhao is not so opportunistic. "But-"
"That's final! I don't want to hear another word about it!"
As always during the two-hour drills, Colonel Shinu presides over the courtyard from the high tower of his tri-level fortress. The archers are his pride and joy, and Zuko takes immense pleasure in the man putting Zhao in his place.
Until the messenger Hawk lands.
"News from the Fire Lord?" Zuko risks peeking over the watchtowers roof, ears perking up at the mention of his father. "Ah, it appears I've been promoted to Admiral. My request is now an order."
As Shinu begrudgingly bows, Zuko's already heavy heart sinks.
Pacing before the portside display windows, every word out of Lieutenant Jee's mouth spikes Zuko's irritation higher. He's been pulling away from them. No longer watching music night from the upper deck. Pulling away from his uncle, his firebending lessons. Cutting them all from his heart before they can cut themselves free of him. His crew can feel it. Uncle can feel it. Lily and the rest of the handmaidens serving them tea can feel it.
After he stormed back from the fortress and woke them before dawn, they've all been on edge. But Zuko will not lose the Avatar to Zhao.
"We haven't been able to pick up the Avatar's trail since the storm," Jee is saying.
Zuko doesn't look up from the map. "I'm aware, Lieutenant. How about you tell me something I don't know."
Whatever respect he earned from the Lieutenant was erased long before Zuko tightened his grip on the crew. Jee may see him as more of a leader after his actions with the helmsman, but like any searing flame he resents being pushed. "If we continue heading northeast, we might pick up a lead based on what you learned from the girl."
Bringing up Katara is the only jab back at Zuko Jee can make without starting an all-out brawl. "The Avatar still needs a waterbending teacher." Katara let that information slip almost too easily. "And the peasant now knows of the extinction protocols. They'll be more desperate than ever to reach the North pole and-"
The map, his uncle's Pai Sho board and all the startled faces are bathed in darkness. Zuko spins to glare out the window, already knowing who would dare impose upon his ship. "What do they want?"
The envoy is an unimpressive soldier of Zhao's intimate retinue. Zuko recognises the voice more than the face, more often than not covered by the genderless, expressionless white plate. It was covered when Zuko slashed a flaming fist across his vision as he escaped Roku's temple. Not all the soot was scrubbed away, the white plate tinged with grey.
His message is as predictable as he is bland. "The hunt for the Avatar has been given prime importance. All information regarding the Avatar must be reported directly to Admiral Zhao."
Zuko grits his teeth, despising the man and the title.
His uncle is not so burdened by the news. "Zhao has been promoted? Well, good for him!" He effortlessly wins his Pai Sho game and starts another.
"I've got nothing to report to Admiral Zhao." Nothing official anyway. He's working off a hunch supported by his impression of Katara's will. Zhao has no need of chasing flights of fancy, and Zuko will need as big of a head start north as he can get. "Now get off my ship and let us pass."
"Admiral Zhao is not allowing ships in or out of this area," drones his grey envoy.
Red colours the corners of Zuko's vision. "Off my ship!"
He doesn't stop seeing red long into the evening. It bleeds from his hands as he fires bolt after bolt into the sky. A swollen, burning coal takes place of the setting sun, sullen and angry as Zuko himself. Desperate to set and sleep and move on from this endless day. If only Zuko could be so lucky.
Rage has found its home in his heart. Every pause to catch his breath stabs the inadequacy deeper. He hasn't felt this lost, this helpless, since his father cupped his cheek and burned his disappointment into Zuko's face. When he closes his eyes, he sees it. Red. Everything is always red.
Until it was blue for a few, breathless months. His anger cooled. His hopeless soul no less untethered the further from home he sails, but finally feeling like his feet were settled and safe on the ground.
The emptiness welcomes him back with spiteful, open arms. Fire bursts from his mouth before he can think to wrestle it away, wrestle thoughts of her away.
"Is everything okay?" his uncle asks, because of course it's not, but Uncle believes any problem can be solved with a dialogue and a cup of tea. "It's been almost an hour and you haven't given the men an order."
Zuko pants, envisioning burning the ship until it sinks to the bottom of the bay. "I don't care what they do."
Uncle's voice is despicably optimistic. "Don't lose hope. You can still find the Avatar before Zhao." His pause should have warned Zuko to what was coming next. "I know you miss Katara, nephew."
"Who?" Zuko sneers before his uncle can simper on.
His uncle frowns. "I won't call her your captive when she is one no longer, or the cruel things you insisted upon while she was in our care. She wasn't a peasant, a watertribe brute or a coldie. She was your friend."
"She was a prisoner. I was stupid to treat her as anything but. She gave us information; she served her purpose. Not that it matters. With Zhao's resources it's only a matter of time before he captures the Avatar." Zuko looks out across the water before he realises it's a mistake. His heart wrenches, stomach swooping low. "My honour, my throne, my country. I'm about to lose them all."
He's already lost so much.
But when the watchmen's horn sounds in the mountains, a fire lights in Zuko's soul. He will not be snuffed out like a pathetic candle, not before he gives it his all. He'll die before he lets Zhao steal his life from him uncontested.
Those horns mean the Avatar is nearby.
Savour your victory while you can, Zhao, Zuko thinks as he prepares to don his mask.
Zhao's confidence is as pathetic as his need to lord any victory he gains over any he can hold it over. When Zuko was a boy he looked up to the young soldier, gasped in awe when he'd bask his victories over the other cadets. The perfect firebender. Courageous, confident, unmatched in skill. Everyone knew he was the Sunbloods final pupil before his desertion.
Dusk Bringer, they would whisper when Zhao strode by. The setting sun on a dying dynasty of firebending.
It's hard for Zuko not to feel disgusted with the memory, with himself, as he ducks through the shadows, into the layers of Pohuai.
Zhao's voice carries down from the tall, ornate balcony festooned with gold and red spades, down to where his soldiers stand erect. He's flanked by attendants who are flanked by burning pots, all of which stand back from him. Zhao would never stand to share this victory; not with Colonel Shinu and Yuyan archers who actually did the work.
"We are the sons and daughters of fire, the superior element! Until today only one thing stood in our path to victory, the Avatar. I am here to tell you that he is now my prisoner! Soon is the year Sozin's Comet returns to grant us its power! Soon is the year the Fire Nation breaks through the walls of Ba Sing Se and burns the city to the ground!"
As the crowd below cheers, pure ecstasy fills Zuko at the notion he'll be the one to take this victory from the dreadful man. Others will enjoy it, if never know of his involvement. It's the first time he's been remotely close to happy in days as he scales the inner wall, dropping into the sewers on the other side. Not even the stink can dampen his determination.
The guards are pitifully easy to overwhelm. Splitting them up was a plan Zuko didn't expect to work so successfully. He thought at least two would come to investigate his helmet ruse. He thought more would come raining down on them from the Avatar's screaming. He gleaned from how Katara spoke of him that he was a coddled fop, but as he has to gesture for him to follow him does he truly see he's just a boy.
"Who are you? What's going on? Are you here to rescue me?"
More questions than Zuko has patience for.
"I'll take that as a "yes"," the boy says in answer to his impatient gesture.
Zuko almost slips on a frog on his way out. When did they appear? From where?
"My frogs! Come back! And stop thawing out!" The kid can't be serious. Zuko has to all but drag him on their way. "Wait! My friends need to suck on those frogs!"
He almost gives the game away. Friends. So, both of them. Does that mean Katara's okay? But why does she need to suck on a frozen frog?
Can't think about that. Have the avatar. Need to get him out. Get him back to his vessel. The manacles wait for him there. Zuko would have liked to bring them, but quiet is his ally. As long as the Avatar believes so of him, he has a chance to win back his destiny.
He leads the boy back through the sewers, to the rope hanging down. It will lead them to the outer wall. From there, it's a dash through the gates and they're home free. Well, Zuko will be. All he has to do is get the Avatar over the-
"There! On the wall!"
Alarm bells wail.
Zuko wakes to a presence.
Leafy canopy welcomes him back to the world instead of a hail of arrows. Groaning, he blinks a few times, takes stock of his surroundings. He's in the woods outside Pohuai Stronghold. He must be far enough away that no scouts found him.
Bird song of the coming dawn permeates the thick foliage, awakening the world in a calm, peaceful melody to everything else, a cacophony of sharp, insistent notes to Zuko's aching head.
Fighting with the Avatar. Flowing through the onslaught of guards as if shredding paper with his duelling swords. Was fighting ever so easy? Shame there are no airbenders left for him to work with. He's never known the speed and dexterity a breath of fresh air can give. The boy wasn't bad. Makes him feel a little less inadequate for how long it's taken him to capture him. Where is he? There's still one step left.
An arrow. His mask. Hitting the dirt.
Wait. Nothing's shrouded in the light film of the mask interior, eyes unobstructed for the first time in hours. Zuko's hand lifts to his face. No mask. His stomach drops. Where? But when he looks, he finds no blue dragon sneering at him.
Instead, a lost, forlorn looking boy perches on the roots above his head. Chin resting on arms folded over his raised knees, sadness and insecurity flood from him. Despite being deeply hooded with a fatigue Zuko shares even with his hours of unconsciousness, he can see the slit of his grey eyes stare ahead, unfocused.
"Your Admiral is..." He can't seem to say it, but Zuko knows. Zhao hoards his victories, even over fourteen-year-old-boys. He's especially fond of making them sting long after the game is over. "I didn't answer his question about how it feels to be the last airbender. The last Air nomad of any kind. Your people are thorough."
He doesn't give Zuko an answer now. A verbal one, anyway. "You know what the worst part of being born over a hundred years ago is? I miss all the friends I used to hang out with. Before the war started, I used to always visit my friend Kuzon. The two of us, we'd get in and out of so much trouble together. He was one of the best friends I ever had, and he was from the Fire Nation, just like you."
Zuko's spared a glance, searching this time. And hesitant, as if the boy knows what he wants to say but fears it at the same time. Zuko heard him cursing out Zhao, throwing down challenges to one of the most dangerous men in the Fire Nation. On his back, dazed, on his own, still gathering his strength; what possible threat could Zuko bring him now?
"And... and Katara and you became friends, right?" His heart wrenches against his will. It must show, the boys words growing bolder. "She misses you. She hasn't said so, but I can tell with how much she's been running herself ragged. I don't think she realises it herself."
Don't ask, Zuko all but growls. Not to the boy but to himself. Don't you fucking dare ask what he meant about those frogs. Ask him if she's okay.
She's nothing to you. Proved it herself.
But the boy seems to be a mind reader. "I was getting those frogs for her, and Sokka. They caught colds in that storm, but don't worry. She'll be okay. I can tell her you asked, if you'd like? That's what friends do for each other, after all. Do... do you think If we knew each other a hundred years ago, do you think we could have been friends, too?"
Zuko doesn't hear him over the relief thundering in his ears. Disgust follows. Disgust at the relief he feels knowing a girl who tossed him away is safe. Disgust at himself for wanting more than anything to ask the Avatar to take him to her.
Crushing, disgusting loneliness.
It comes bursting up in a jet of flame. The Avatar cries out as he dodges, disappearing into the trees without a look back.
His cutter vessel loads back onto the ship. Zuko made sure to change back into his armour he kept stored on board. Uncle wouldn't approve of vigilantism of any sort, even against Zhao, and Zuko's too tired for a lecture. Just his luck his Uncle, risen with the sun as always, basks in the early morning light. Tsungi horn curled in his lap, he beams as Zuko climbs up the ramp.
"Where have you been, Prince Zuko? You missed music night. Lieutenant Jee sang a stirring love song."
Missed. Avoided. Would have rather been locked up in Zhao's custody than have to listen to anything remotely related to love. Splitting hairs.
Either way, Zuko storms past without sparing his uncle a glance. "I am going to bed. No disturbances."
The mournful notes of the Tsungi horn follow him all the way down to his quarters. Inside is musty and stale. He hasn't lit the incense burners in weeks. It's actually impossible, given the moment he stormed in and saw the empty burners, he smashed them to pieces. The cuts to his hands are healing. The lacerations to his soul not so much.
Below the smashed dragon's tooth of his shrine, Katara's betrothal necklace lies. Ribbons curled up neatly, the blue glass pendant twinkles like a fallen star. Or a beautiful blue eye.
He can't bare to look at it as he disrobes. Nor can he be bothered to put it away as he lies down and shuts his eyes.
For the first time in days no storms trouble his sleep.
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