Zuko woke up. The entire infirmary smelled like tea. Zuko almost smiled. Tea smelled like Uncle and Uncle… was Uncle.
His back hurt a lot. Zuko almost tried to fall back asleep. But he'd have to face Uncle sometime. Maybe it would go better when he was injured. Or maybe it would be better when he was healed, and Uncle wouldn't be constantly reminded that Zuko had done something stupid.
Zuko pushed his arms under himself and rose slowly, maneuvering himself into a sitting position. Uncle was facing away from him, humming softly as he prepared the tea.
Uncle turned and smiled at Zuko, some of the worry fading from his eyes before gently setting his teacup back on the table. He sat down on the chair beside Zuko's bed before, very gently, resting his hand on Zuko's shoulder. Zuko nearly flinched away, but he stopped himself. It was just Uncle and Uncle never set his hands on fire.
"You did a good thing nephew," Uncle said, "I'm very proud of you."
Zuko blinked. The last time he'd tried to save someone and gotten hurt he'd ended up banished. Now Uncle said he was… proud?
Well… he hadn't really disrespected anyone this time. And he wasn't supposed to fight this time. Not fighting hadn't started hurting any less. But the waking up was better this time. Zuko didn't suppress his smile this time.
Akimo felt like pulling out his hair. How had everyone on this ship traveled with Prince Zuko and General Iroh for two years without figuring out anything beyond the facts that the prince was ill tempered, had gotten a scar somewhere, had been banished when he was thirteen, had a sister, and had to find the Avatar before he could go home?
Everyone seemed to have a slightly different theory about the scar, ranging from training accidents to assassination attempts. The story of what cowardly thing the prince had done was also drastically different depending on the source. Some had him leaving his mother to assassins, though anyone who knew anything knew that Lady Ursa had never become Fire Lady Ursa. She'd been dead for years. Some stories had him pledging loyalty to Hakanda of the Southern Water Tribe in exchange for his life. Others… well they just got stranger the more he asked.
The sister was either a goddess or the face stealer, also depending on who you asked. The Avatar didn't seem to matter as much, except for the fact that no one had seen the most dangerous person in the world for nearly a hundred years and a thirteen-year-old had been tasked with bringing him home alive.
A thirteen-year-old on a ship that may have been mostly made of rust. With a crew made up of the cast offs no one else wanted. With the only advisor being an uncle, admittedly a very good uncle, who hadn't had to come. Who'd apparently been encouraged to stay away. Who'd come anyways.
Everyone knew that General Iroh loved his nephew, no one was sure why. All the prince seemed to do was yell at the poor man.
And yet… when he'd been sick, he'd walked all the way to the mess hall to tell everyone to be quiet so his uncle could get some sleep.
And he'd taken Akimo's punishment and saved his life.
Sometimes Akimo didn't understand the world he lived in.
The prince was back. He walked slower, stiffer, and didn't yell as much, but that would only last so long as his wounds did. He was always nicer when he was in pain.
But the crew knew his weakness now. They'd been spiking his drinks for the last hour or so. The general was sleeping, the prince was looking over maps.
The prince really did mellow down a lot when they got him drunk. The prince had been staring at the last map for a very long time. Akimo was pretty sure it was healthy.
The prince suddenly started his hand on fire. Akimo started backwards, nearly knocking his chair over. The fire wreathed the Prince's hand and he turned it slowly. He snuffed it out, then brought it back. Fire, out, fire, out. It was a little disturbing, especially since Akimo was the only one in the map room with the Prince, and he wasn't a fire bender.
"Sir?" Akimo asked.
The prince looked up, seeming surprised to see Akimo there. "Do you have any children Akimo?" the prince asked.
Akimo wasn't sure if he was more surprised that the prince knew his name or concerned that he'd used it. How much had the prince drank by now? "No sir," Akimo said, slowly, "Why do you ask?"
The prince just shrugged. "My mom always said to be nice to people. But I'm pretty sure she killed Fire Lord Azulon."
Akimo choked on the nonexistent liquid he wasn't drinking. "What?" he asked. I really shouldn't have asked that, he thought a moment later, really, really shouldn't have asked that. This is not something I want to know- well, it's not something that it's safe for me to know anyways.
The prince didn't hear his inward struggle. He turned bleary eyes on Akimo, how much has he drank now? "Well… Lu Ten died and Father went in to ask Grandfather Azulon to make him heir since he had more heirs than Uncle. Then Azula came in and said Dad was gonna kill me 'cause grandfather had said he needed to know the pain of losing an heir. Then I fell asleep and Mom came in saying everything she'd done she'd done for me and to never forget who I am. The next day Grandfather was dead, Dad was Fire Lord, and Mom was gone."
Akimo carefully slid the prince's teacup away from him. This was more than he'd figured out about the prince in all the days since he'd started gathering information. It was also the kind of thing that would get him killed if other people figured out that he knew.
"You know you can't tell anyone about this right?" Akimo said, carefully.
The Prince nodded. "Uncle might leave if he knew," he said, "and if I tell other people they might tell him."
Of course that's what he's worried about, Akimo thought, careful not to let the exasperation show up on his face.
"No- well, that's really not what you should be worried about." The Prince's gaze had started wandering away from Akimo but with what seemed a supreme effort of will he forced himself to look back.
"You should be worried about the Fire Lord killing everyone you tell." And then killing you to for good measure.
The boy looked ready to protest, then he hesitated. He ran a hand around the edge of his scar, slowly. "Yes," the boy finally said, "He would do that."
Akimo nodded, relieved.
The boy was still tracing the scar though. "My father has almost killed me twice," The Prince said. He wasn't talking to Akimo anymore. "I sometimes wonder why it is that I am so desperate to get home. I love him and I know he loves me, but every time I fail I make it so he has to punish me. And I fail- I fail a lot."
Akimo did not curse. Though the boy's vocabulary was already corrupted, the general frowned on cursing around him.
Akimo thought he knew how Zuko had gotten that scar- and it wasn't assassins.
"Come on," Akimo said, standing and holding a hand out to Zuko, "I think it's late and you can look over those maps tomorrow. For now- you should get some sleep."
Zuko nodded tiredly and let Akimo pull him to his feet and lead him to his bed. Akimo closed the door behind the prince, then went back to the map room and finished off the prince's tea. Then he ordered another cup.
Zuko woke up at dawn and everything hurt. His back hurt- but that was normal. The problem was his head. It was pounding and the light was stabbing at his eyes. His mouth tasted all wrong.
Zuko got up despite all the pounding and stumbled his way over to his Uncle's room. Uncle was already awake when he got there, which was good.
"Are you quite alright nephew?" Uncle asked.
Zuko would have shook his head no, but that sounded like it would hurt. "My head really hurts. And the light is stabbing me. And my mouth tastes funny."
Uncle blinked at him for a moment. "Whatever were you doing last night?"
Zuko blinked back. He would have yelled that he had just been looking over stupid maps, but that seemed like it would hurt to.
"I was just looking over the maps. And they kept bringing me more tea."
"Hmm." Uncle said. "Well, I have some tea that should help with the headache, though it won't taste very good. You just stay in my room for the morning, it's quieter in there than almost any other part of the ship."
Zuko almost nodded, but that seemed like a bad idea. Instead he just said "Okay."
Iroh walked into the mess hall smiling, with his hands in his sleeves. He walked into the kitchens, still smiling. He walked to the cupboard the crew hid the liquor in, still smiling. He took it all and brought it to the deck where he proceeded to smash every bottle. He never stopped smiling, but the smile became progressively more relaxed after all the bottles were gone.
Iroh then informed the thoroughly incensed crew that his nephew had found their stash and imbibed heavily while injured, which could affect his recovery. This was obviously unacceptable behavior for the boy, so he'd removed the temptation. The crew looked away from the smashed bottles littering their deck to the General, one of the few people in this world who could shoot lightning. Like Zhao before them, they remained silent.