Chapter Text
Zuko was feeding the turtle ducks when Azula found him.
It was something he had taken to doing at least once a week since mother disappeared. He prepared the seeds the day before, having learned that bread was not healthy to give them other than for treats and making sure that the groundskeeper never caught him taking it. He’d sit by the water’s edge and watch as they raced for the seeds floating on the top of the water where he'd thrown them. He knew the groundskeeper fed them too, but he liked to think the turtle ducks recognised him. One of the ducklings had started taking food directly from his hand. The others flocked to his side of the pond whenever he walked past. They were cute.
But Azula had found him this time. She grabbed a handful of seeds from his bag and threw it at him and the birds. It scattered in his hair and mouth and the turtle ducks baulked awkwardly and hurriedly swam off. They didn’t trust Azula, and for good reason. She often threw things at them because she thought it was hilarious. She cackled delightedly.
“Azula!” Zuko growled, lunging at her. She leapt out of his grasp, and he was left spitting out granules and shaking them out of his hair and clothes.
“What? They’re just birds,” she leered, unperturbed. “Besides, shouldn’t you be doing something more important?” She crossed her arms and stared down at him condescendingly.
Zuko stood hurriedly and grabbed the bag of birdseed, shoving it into his pocket where she couldn't get to it. “What do you mean? I’ve finished all my lessons and training for today.”
“Silly ZuZu,” she giggled. “You’re the crown prince aren’t you? Aren’t you supposed to be diligently learning how to rule this nation? There’s a war meeting tomorrow, didn’t you know? Not very princely of you to slack off to feed silly birds.” She stared at him expectantly.
“Don’t call me that,” He glared. “And besides, I am learning to do that. Can’t I take a break once in a while? And anyway, how did you know there’s a war meeting?”
“I don’t know brother, you don’t seem to be very invested in it. I know because I am invested, and I pay attention. If I were one of your subjects, I wouldn't feel very confident in our nation,” She shook her head and battered her eyelashes mockingly. “Oh yes, have you heard our great Fire Lord feeds the turtle ducks every day? What a little baby!”
Zuko glared at her and said nothing else. Azula just liked to get a reaction. If he didn’t say anything, she’d leave. But Azula saw that he was angry and supposedly saw that as her job being done because she giggled yet again and walked off. Zuko shouted frustratedly and kicked a rock into the pond. One of the turtle ducks that had migrated back over to his side of the pond flinched and dove under the water. Zuko felt a bit guilty but shook it off. Maybe Azula was right. Maybe a good Fire Lord wouldn’t feed the turtle ducks. Maybe a good Fire Lord would know there was a war meeting tomorrow. Maybe he should grow up.
“Let me in!” Zuko bit out, frustrated. The guard’s faceplate stared forward, unmoved. They hadn’t even told him no and given him a reason, just stood in front of the door as he approached, as though they had been expecting him. Feeling a little childish, Zuko stomped his foot and huffed. He was the crown prince. He should be able to go wherever he pleased.
He felt a gentle hand on his shoulder and turned to face the direction it reached from. “Prince Zuko, what’s wrong?” Soothed Iroh, who had been about to enter the meeting himself. Uncle Iroh was no longer a General but often sat in most war meetings as an advisor. Zuko privately thought it was half because he was a bit of a gossip and enjoyed watching the old geezers fight.
“I want to go into the war chamber, but the guard won’t let me pass,” he said petulantly, shooting a glare at the offending guard, who only seemed to chuckle.
“You’re not missing anything, trust me,” appeased Iroh, pulling him gently away from the door. “These meetings are dreadfully boring.”
“If I’m going to rule this nation one day, don’t you think I need to start learning as much as I can?” Zuko pleaded. Azula was right in some ways. He did need to start pulling his weight.
“Very well, but you must promise not to speak. These old folks are a bit sensitive, you know?” Iroh advised. Zuko wondered if he was also talking about himself. It seemed likely; whenever Zuko refused to play Pai Sho Uncle would go into the most terrible of moods. Regardless, Zuko nodded eagerly.
“Thank you, Uncle.” He bowed.
Leading him inside to the large war map, Iroh sat on the left closest to the throne. Zuko sat next to him, trying to look as though he were confident to be there. He sat with perfect posture on his knees, if not a little stiffly, and clenched his fists. Most of the other generals were already sitting, but a few stood talking to each other by the door. Sparing a glance at the elevated throne aflame beside them, Zuko saw that the Fire Lord wasn’t yet in his seat. However, there was suddenly the sound of a door opening, and the flames seemed to pulse. And then, Ozai walked in. The room went silent. Everyone moved to their seats.
Ozai seemed to watch Zuko before the meeting started but Zuko forced his face to stay neutral. He was meant to be there.
The Fire Lord’s gaze moved on and the meeting began.
“That was very stupid, nephew,” said Iroh, shaking his head and looking weary. “brave, but very stupid.”
“I couldn’t let them sacrifice our people that way! It's cruel and unnecessary. That general was weak and cowardly,” Zuko seethed, pacing back and forth in his quarters while Iroh sat on his bed. “He would be betraying not only our people but also undermining the bravery that those soldiers have for our nation. How can you not agree with me, Uncle? I know you think the same!”
“What I think and what I say are very different Prince Zuko. I told you these generals are sensitive,” Iroh sighed. “Usually, when I disagree, I am much more respectful. Part of diplomacy is knowing how to get your point across without stepping on any toes in the process. Or in your case, stomping on any feet.”
“I’m not afraid of some old general Uncle,” Zuko huffed. “I will beat him in Agni Kai and show that I will not back down. If I am to be Fire Lord one day, these people should listen to what I have to say.”
“Well, are you not afraid of this old general? I have beaten you many times at Pai Sho.” Iroh joked, but with a serious look, he turned to look at Zuko. ”I beg of you, Zuko, do not underestimate your opponent. It will only lead to hurt. I do not wish to see you get hurt.”
“I will not get hurt, Uncle, do not underestimate me. You’re just like Azula! I can do this!” Zuko shouted angrily. He spared one last glance at Iroh sitting wearily on his bed and stormed out.
Iroh shook his head, now alone. “Foolish teenage boys. So hot-headed and so sure they are right.” He whispered to himself. “If only you could see him, Ursa. You would be proud.”
The crowd was buzzing with a loud murmuring. The stage was separated from the stands by a shallow pit with a ten-foot gap, and yet Zuko could still feel the heat radiating off the people watching him. They were excited, but not cheering. An Agni Kai was serious, a battle of honour. A certain level of respect was a requirement. And yet, Zuko could see they were still excited. It had been a long time since an Agni Kai had taken place in the royal palace.
He couldn’t see Uncle or Azula from where he was kneeling, but he was glad. As much as he told his Uncle he wasn’t afraid, he could now feel his heart beating rapidly in his chest. It felt like it would burst. But he wouldn’t back down.
The fire sage announced the start of the match and Zuko stood decisively. The robe fell from his shoulders as he turned and settled into stance. He took a deep breath and looked forward. The crowd went silent.
And his heart exploded - it was not the old general. It was Fire Lord Ozai.
Zuko’s breath shuddered. His arms fell to his side. Of course. He was stupid. By speaking out of turn in the Fire Lord’s war room, he had disrespected the Fire Lord himself. His father’s face was expressionless. It held no mercy or compassion. As soon as his robe fell to the floor, he strode forward without hesitation.
Zuko fell to the floor as suddenly as he had stood. “Please, father,” He begged, hands clenched on his knees in submission. Father had to understand. “I only had the Fire Nation’s best interests at heart. I’m sorry I spoke out of turn.”
Ozai’s steps didn’t falter. “You will fight for your honour,” he said, tone level.
“I meant you no disrespect,” Zuko grovelled, sinking into a low bow. “I am your loyal son.”
“Rise and fight, Prince Zuko,” Ozai shouted, anger now seeping into his voice.
“I won’t fight you,” Zuko said, voice trembling. He had to show his loyalty and devotion. Father had to understand he was only acting on behalf of his people. Surely he would see!
“You will learn respect,” Ozai spoke, his tone cold. Zuko couldn't see his face, his head was now firmly pressed to the ground, but he knew the exact expression on Ozai’s face - seething anger. “And suffering will be your teacher.”
Zuko’s eyes burned with tears. He felt scalding streams drip down his face. His throat felt hot. He could feel everyone staring at his grovelling form. He looked up at his father. Ozai’s eyes were cold. A hand reached for his face, almost tender, and suddenly a bright light blazed, brighter than he could have ever thought possible.
It didn’t hurt at first. It actually felt cold. He could feel the firm pressure of his father’s hand on his face. Then it burned - a searing pain that ran throughout his body, lighting his very nerves on fire. He may have screamed, he couldn’t tell. All he could feel was pain. Then, after what felt like an age, nothing.
Zuko woke up in fits and starts. He felt like he was underwater. The world shifted behind his eyes like the most intense form of vertigo he had ever experienced. He had tried opening his eyes several times but they felt like they had been glued shut. A pressure bound itself around his head and eyes that only seemed to intensify the piercing pain in his left eye. One of his ears felt like it had been stuffed with cotton soaked with kerosene and set on fire. He groaned, desperately hoping for relief. This was unbearable.
“Is…awake?” a low voice sounded. it seemed to be both close and so far away. “...foolish child…set off soon…”
A cold hand settled itself on his cheek and he flinched. The movement only made his pain that much worse.
“We can’t,” a much closer voice whispered. “ He still…fever…he will die.”
“Then so be it.”
As soon as they had started, the voices died down. Zuko was glad. The voices had sent a sharp pain through his head. He wished he could just sleep and his pain would go away. He shivered, a cold flash spreading throughout his body. But he also felt like he was burning. He whined desperately, trying to shift his body to a more comfortable position.
A cool rag was suddenly placed over his forehead. Zuko sighed in relief. A hand moved to his shoulder, trying to soothe him.
“Prince Zuko, I am Healer Li of the royal palace. You must try and listen closely.” a low voice said. Zuko tried to concentrate. The sound only seemed to be coming in clear from one side so he shifted his head slightly to compensate. “The Fire Lord has decided to banish you from the Fire Nation with the task of finding the avatar the price for your return home.”
What? Zuko’s mind swam. He was banished? The avatar…but the avatar was gone? He hadn’t been seen in one hundred years.
“Your uncle tried to accompany you, but the Fire Lord has decreed that he is too useful to the nation as a General and has reinstated his position. He has not been allowed to see you.” The voice sounded hurried and urgent. “They are not allowing me to come on the journey and tend to your injury either.”
His injury. Zuko was injured. Yes, his father had burned his face. He remembered his punishment, his failure.
“I will leave instructions on how to care for your burn in your robes. I only pray that you live through the infection long enough to read them,” There was a rustle of fabric. Zuko felt a scroll slip into his clothes. “I wish you luck, Prince Zuko. Have strength, and do not surrender. May Agni guide you.”
There was a creak of a chair, footsteps and the finality of a door being softly closed. Zuko was alone. His mind couldn’t hold any of the details, but now he managed to grasp a few things. He was banished, he was injured, and he was close to death. But Zuko was sure of at least one thing: He would survive. He had to.
He was going to capture the Avatar and regain his honour. This was his last thought before he slipped into unconsciousness. A promise to himself and his nation.