A/N: This chapter is shorter than the others because it's from Zuko's P.O.V.! Hope you enjoy reading it, cause I had fun writing it!
"You cannot rely purely on strength, Zuko. Use your stomach, not your lungs. Try it again," Uncle Iroh said from where he sat on his cushion, sipping from a cup of steaming tea. Zuko almost strode over and knocked it out of the old man's hands. They'd gone over this exercise twenty two times in the past hour, each time with the same result.
Zuko repeated the steps again. A burst of fire came roaring from his mouth, heating the air around him and slightly singing his loose training robes. The fire subsided, and he swept his hands back together in front of him, ending the exercise.
"Again, Zuko."
He looked over at his uncle in disbelief and rage. What more could Zuko possibly get from repeating the exercise again? He'd perfected his technique after the third repetition.
"Teach me the next exercise."
"I'll teach you the next exercise when you've mastered this one."
"We've gone over this exercise twenty-three times, Uncle. I've already mastered it." Zuko could barely contain his anger. His uncle was always underestimating him.
"No, you haven't. You're only relying on your strength. Fighting on physical power alone will not help you win a battle. You must learn to control your breathing, not just your muscles."
"If you won't teach me the next exercise then this training session is over."
Iroh closed his eyes and sipped from his cup of tea, giving his nephew a chance to calm down. "You'd like to learn the next exercise?"
"Yes."
"Then master this one first."
Zuko had it. He swept his hand out and yelled, letting his fury become flames, then stormed from the training room.
"That boy needs to master patience first," Iroh muttered and sipped his tea again.
Zuko strode down the training wing, so frustrated with his Uncle that he was exhaling steam. He was seeing red. If anyone were to get in his way now, he'd probably-
Voices. He could hear them coming from further down the wing. Two people, talking–no–arguing. Zuko started to turn down one of the smaller wings to take an alternate route so he could avoid being seen, but froze when he was able to make out some of their conversation.
"Why, thank you. Really, I appreciate the warm welcome and all-"
He recognized that voice, her biting tone, and automatically imagined the glare that she'd shoot at whoever was giving her a hard time. Surprising himself, he chuckled. Her voice relaxed him a bit, something he hadn't expected. It was silent for a while, and Zuko could almost see the speechless face of whoever had been verbally abused by Katara. He listened a little closer. There were some rustling sounds, but no voices–
"Get–off me–you–pervert!" The hair on the back of Zuko's neck stood up and he took a sharp breath in. Something was wrong.
"Now, now. Don't struggle. It'll only make this harder for you."
She was in trouble.
He didn't even give it a second thought, just acted on instinct, and had already covered half the distance between him and the voices without realizing until he could see them fifty feet in front of him. Katara's back was pressed up against the wall, Zen's body pushed up against her with an arm pressing against her windpipe. The vexation he'd felt toward his uncle less than a minute ago has quickly resurfaced, but this time, it was ten times as intense. He didn't know why, but the sight of Zen pressed up against Katara like that had made something in him switch.
With her free hand, she elbowed Zen in the face and pushed him away, wheezing as she tried to catch her breath. A small wave of relief flowed over Zuko, but just as easily as it had come it was gone. He was steps away when Zen brought his hand up to smack her, when Zen's mouth shaped the word he thought she was. He watched her wheeze, unable to block the attack; watched as she shrunk back toward the wall and closed her eyes, bracing herself for the hit.
And then he was there, standing between them, Katara to his back, one hand gripped around Zen's wrist so tightly that he thought he could snap it in half with a twist of his hand.
"I think you've taken this far enough, Zen," Zuko said, the waves of tension rolling off him almost palpable. He was struggling to keep his composure, desperate. He wanted more than anything to beat Zen senseless. It wasn't the first time he'd forced himself on a girl in the palace. Zuko hadn't believed the rumors of Zen circling the palace until now. There were claims that he'd flirted with countless maids, and when they hadn't responded to his attempts, he'd assaulted them.
Zen's eyes widened as his eyes registered the image of the Fire Lord standing before him, eyes blazing. "Your highness…"
It took every ounce of Zuko's self-control to do, but he did it. He was able to let go of Zen's wrist and hold himself back with a calm face.
"Leave. Now."
But his voice betrayed his cool expression. Everything he was feeling, every emotion, came right through his words. There was no way he could mask the rage he hopelessly attempted to hide behind his words. It was clear as day.
Zuko watched Zen's figure disappear down the wing, tried to let his anger leave with that asshole, but it wouldn't. It just wouldn't disappear. It felt like something was tugging inside of his stomach, like his throat was constricting. He'd never felt this before, this consuming feeling–
"Thank you," Katara said softly from behind him. She sounded so small that he was afraid if he turned around, she'd have shrunk down to the floor, but he turned to her anyway.
She was looking up at him, cheeks red from lack of oxygen, with blue eyes that seemed to peer right through him. She looked so delicate, so fragile. Something in his chest gave a small pull.
And then Zuko lost it.
His fist smashed against the wall next to her head and she let out a yelp of surprise. He squeezed his eyes shut and then opened them to look at her, trying to make sense of what he was feeling.
"I'm sorry. I just want to kill him. I want him dead, and I don't know why."
Then Zuko pushed off the wall, moved away from Katara before he lost it again, and all but ran down the palace wing, his mind racing in a hundred different directions.
A/N: This was a fun one to write! I just wanted you guys to get a look behind Zuko's character, even if it's only a small snippet! Well, let me know what you think, if you liked/hated it, or maybe if you want me to do another chapter like this! I might want to later in the story, but it all depends on where the plot goes.
And don't worry, the next chapter will be longer. This one was just shorter because it was from Zuko's P.O.V.!
Thanks for reading :)