Chapter Text
The moment he stepped foot on the ship, Zuko realised that he needed to make a plan.
It’d been a while since he’d made one, since Father was the one calling the shots, and Zuko was nothing if not obedient. Obviously. The last plan he’d made on his own was on how to survive in the palace alone, and while it was simple (do what Father says) it was effective. (Even if it meant doing things he hated himself for doing, things that kept him up at night, things that made his skin crawl every time he was reminded of them.)
But now, he had to make a new plan, which had to be a little more complicated than the last one. He didn’t want Azula to be possibly tortured and definitely killed, but Father did.
A conflict of interest that Ozai may or may not be aware of.
Either way, Zuko had to deviate from Ozai’s goal without looking like he was doing so.
He started getting to it once he was escorted to his cabin and checked that he was fully alone. It was a risky plan, one that held up mainly on assumptions and hope, but hey, if everything when to shit, he could just make explosions. Granted, he had no incentive to explode anything, but when push comes to shove, you have to make a choice. And Azula was very much above Ozai in his list of people to side with. Though then again, he didn’t know if he had it in him to go against Ozai. Last time he’d done that, he’d been rendered partially blind and deaf.
Anyway, once he was done with said plan (it was never going to work, he didn’t think, he acted, he was an attack dog, not the owner-), he waited out the five days, itching to do something that wasn’t training with his great-aunts. Agni, these two annoyed him almost as much as Iroh did. Always so vague in their language. At least Ozai was pretty clear with his threats. Plus, they kept reporting back to his father when he wasn’t there to train him, which was great because he totally needed more family members to be suspicious of.
The five days were long, gruelling, and if he hadn’t sneaked in the two knives Mai had gifted him before leaving to Omashu and been able to throw them around in secret, he might have jumped off the deck.
Well, there was also, of course, the excitement of seeing Azula again. He hadn’t even been able to say goodbye when she’d left, too feverish to stay awake for long. Father had said that she’d shown him great disrespect and that he had conditionally banished her. Funny, everything he gave was conditional. Zuko hadn’t taken the news well (she left him, she abandoned him, how could she leave him all al-) but after a while he’d come to terms with the fact that Father was the greatest dick on the planet (coming to terms doesn’t mean doing anything about it when you’re scared of someone you love) and that Azula definitely hadn’t left of her own free will. (“Zuko, if she hadn’t wanted to leave you, then why did she go against me?”)
Definitely.
Three years had been three years too long.
The day they were supposed to arrive to where his sister and uncle had been located, he had to make a speech. Agni knew he hated speeches. They had to be stiff, formal, and if he couldn’t show an ounce of emotion or play around with it, then what was the point?
Still, like most things he hated doing, he did it anyway, perfectly.
“My sister and my uncle have disgraced the Fire Lord and have brought shame on their entire nation. You might have mixed feelings about attacking members of the Royal Family, something I can completely understand. But I assure you, if you hesitate, the law of desertion will be in full swing, and I will be sure to carry it out.” Some soldiers stared ahead, unblinking and not terrible in hiding their fear, while others where less good at it. “Dismissed.”
Another thing he hated doing were threats. It was better than acting on them, but there were better ways to get people to do what he wanted than threats. Plus, these soldiers hadn’t done anything to anger him. They had actually seemed to positively tolerate him, probably because he kept helping them up during sparring sessions and wasn’t being a dick to them like most high officers seemed to be (totally not Zhao, that bitch). But work was work, it had to be done eventually.
“My Prince,” Captain Ichigo announced after the other soldiers went back to their occupations. “I’m afraid the tides will not allow us to bring the ship into port before nightfall.”
He bit back a frown. There was always something. “Is there another way to get there earlier?”
He gulped at his clear displeasure. “W-well, there might be… uh…”
He made his shoulders looser and gave him an easy smile. “Then you can work around it, right?” Maybe not barrel into the tides like some certain idiot who tried to fight the moon and ocean, but still, there was usually another option.
He blinked, probably from the shock of his reaction. Not a lot of superiors respond well to problems. “I… Yes, I think we can, but we will be a few hours late from our original goal.”
“As long as it’s before nightfall, it’s acceptable. You are dismissed.”
He watched the man walk away, looking a little less tense than before their meeting. Good.
Now he had to prepare himself for his daily training with Lo and Li, because somebody wanted him to be faster at making lightning.
It hadn’t been easy for him to get it. For a while, he couldn’t get the hang of making a bolt, which was the standard in terms of learning how to lightning-bend. Father had been really hard on him for not getting it a few weeks after starting his training at eleven-years-old, and that blockage had stayed for another year. He could make electricity, but it was in small doses. Accidentally zapping Azula with his fingers had been his first step into understanding how it worked, and more importantly how to not do it again. Then it was slowly augmenting the dosage’s surface along with its intensity. After the Agni Kai, he had had to relearn how to bend fire again (“Stop showing such pathetic weakness.”) before trying to get back to the level he had been with lightning. Then one day, he was hit with a strange feeling clarity (“Do you know how easy it is to sink an old ship? That’s why they were put out of commission.”) and managed to create his first bolt of pure lightning.
That had been two years ago.
Since then, him and lightning had had a difficult relationship. On one hand, he admired the fact that it was the purest form of firebending, the way it invigorated the nerves in his arms, dulled after years of electricity pumping through them. He found the shapes it made quite beautiful, the unnaturally bright light mesmerizing. And yet, the things he had done with lightning were… nightmarish (so much screaming, chests seizing, corpses still twitching-). He had never done them with a bolt, he took too long to make one for Ozai’s liking. So that’s why he still had to train, even under the two old ladies.
He prepared himself, followed the form that had been drilled into him (patiently or forcefully, he couldn’t remember), separated positive from negative, and released it.
He blinked, the jagged afterimage staying for a few seconds. A strand of hair fell in front of his eyes, though he could only make it out when it appeared in front of his right eye.
“Almost perfect.”
“One hair out of place.”
One hair out of- How about he shoved their bloody hair into their fucking-
He internally calmed himself, knowing that he hadn’t outwardly displayed any of his thoughts.
Perfection was overrated, but he lived to please.
“Almost isn’t good enough,” he almost snapped (Agni was that easy to fake) as he pushed away the strand. It wasn’t like it mattered anyway, he always had strands getting out of his hairline (that wasn’t even perfect because of the man who demanded perfection from him). That’s how hairlines worked.
He straightened himself, and did it again.
*****
They were loud when they entered the room. Iroh was talking about shells, maybe, while Azula looked like they had personally offended her. Even from the side, a bit too far to fully see her, he could tell how much she’d grown.
He smiled. As much as this was funny to look at, there was a family reunion to address.
“Hello, Azula, Uncle.”
They both turned at the same time, Azula’s face going from guarded shock to surprise, Iroh’s from guarded shock to guarded suspicion. That was expected, but he didn’t care. His eyes were fully on her.
Agni, she’d grown. Not in the unrecognisable sense, she still had some baby fat on her cheeks, making her look almost identical to her eleven-year-old-self if it weren’t for her height. Her hair was in a phoenix-tail instead of a topknot (how the tables had turned). And yet he saw in her eyes that she’d gotten older, seen new things, had new experiences. All things that he hadn’t known about or been with her for. His promise to always be with her hadn’t been very easy to keep.
“What are you doing her?” she breathed, wide eyes darting sporadically to his scar. Right, she’d never seen it. It didn’t matter, he was used to the reaction it got by now.
His smile grew, fondness overcoming what little worries he had about her leaving him. She hadn’t left him. Not willingly. Of course. Stop thinking like that- “Normally, you’re supposed to greet me back before asking questions.”
She got a bit closer to him and smiled. “Hello.”
He’d missed her so much. “Hi.”
Then she hugged him. He hated being touched, but she was one of the few exceptions. The same had been applicable to her before, and he wondered if she’d managed to outgrow it unlike him. He hoped she did.
Even having grown, she was still smaller than him, but he very much didn’t mind leaning on her. She was warm in his arms, bringing a comfort he hadn’t felt in a long time. They squeezed each other tightly, and for a moment, it was as if the last three years hadn’t happened, as if they had never been separated.
But then he remembered why he hated being touched, remembered the chill it gave him, the same chill that came with the memories of what he’d done, two chills that always melted together to be united by one single factor. He ended the hug before that chill could contaminate that joy he felt. Azula didn’t make him feel that, it was just a by-product. (He didn’t deserve big hugs anymore anyway.)
Oh right, their uncle was here as well, almost as scrutinizing as Lo and Li but for a completely different reason. He bowed respectfully, because he did respect him, even if he didn’t like him.
He had liked him at some point, but just like Mother, Uncle had been quick to spend less time with him once Father had decided to train him, instead choosing his sister. He wasn’t bitter about it. It was fine.
“It’s good to see you again, Nephew. To what do we owe the honour?”
Right, straight to business for once.
He straightened himself, mostly out of habit. “I’ve been sent to bring a message. With the Avatar still running around and the defeat at the North Pole, Father heard rumours about people wanting to overthrow him. More than the usual amount-” which was understandable. “He wants you two back home, where he can keep count on all of us.”
Technically, this wasn’t a full on lie, but it was a very big lie of omission. Either way, he felt awful for lying to his sister, but work was work.
Azula looked shocked before scoffing. “Since when does Father want me near him?”
Yeah, the man was never subtle in his views on his daughter, as if raw bending power was the only useful thing in the world.
He sighed, stopping himself from ranting with her. They used to rant a lot together. “It’s not out of love or sentimentality. He wants to keep tabs on anyone who would be powerful enough and mad enough at him to try to take him down. You two fit the bill perfectly. So he want you home.”
Technically, Zuko also fit that bill. But the general thought of going against Ozai made his scar itch and made him want to puke or kneel for forgiveness to a man who wasn’t here and couldn’t even read his bloody thoughts.
“He doesn’t want to give us a chance to stage a coup,” said Uncle, looking more and more sombre by the second.
“Keep your enemies closer,” she nodded.
He stopped himself from laughing, letting out a strangled version of a one-note laugh, but he did manage to fully stop his mirth. “Hopefully not to that level of animosity.” He looked at her again, and decided that if he was going to lie to her, he had to look honest. (He hated this, he hated all of this!) “Look, I know that it’s not for the right reasons, but this is your chance to come back, to finally come home.” The ‘to me’ was left unsaid, because it was selfish and why would she ever want to go back to h- “I’ve missed you.”
That seemed to get to her the most, probably because this was the first thing he had told her that was true and that he completely believed in. And she’d missed him too, right?
“I… When would we be leaving?”
“Tomorrow morning. So, are you coming back with me?” He tried not sounding too desperate, but this whole exchange was starting to get long. For fuck’s sake, he just wanted her back.
And there was also the anticipation of knowing what he was bringing her to. Sure, he had a plan, but it was risky.
“I think I still need the night to take it in. Mind if I mull it over until then?”
“Not at all.” He may not be the most patient person to have ever lived, but he could still wait for one more night. Alone with his guilt, already clawing at his insides. The guilt that made him realise that maybe he should tell her of his plan now, so that they were on the same page. She’d always been better at coming up with plans and seeing potential flaws in them, so together, they were sure to get her back home. “Can we talk in private?”
He knew she was going to say yes, he could see it written all over her, but Uncle beat her to the punch, telling them that they had all the time they needed to talk tomorrow. He thought that she would object to that, Azula had never agreed to something she didn’t want, and yet, she seemed to respect Iroh’s words, even if she clearly showed her disagreement, like when Zuko respected hers enough to not object even though he didn’t agree.
Three years on your own. Three years together. Attachment was bound to happen.
Right, maybe she wouldn’t like this plan much. But still, the fucking nerve.
“You’re right, we can talk tomorrow.” Annoyance was something he’d learnt to hide very well, and he hoped that he looked as agreeable as he sounded. “See you then.”
He patted Azula’s shoulder before leaving, and she patted his hand in return. He didn’t want to leave, he didn’t want to be separated from her again, but guilt was coming back, and he needed to prepare for tomorrow.
He left and spent the rest of the night trying to find a way to explain his plan without angering her.
*****
He didn’t sleep much that night. Then again, he didn’t sleep much on most nights. The fact that he usually had insomnia, added with the whole ‘rising with the sun’ thing being literal for him had made him used to feeling groggy in the morning.
But he didn’t have time for grogginess today, he had work to do.
He stood on the deck, stopping himself from frantically pacing around. What if Azula decided not to come? What if Uncle had managed to dissuade her from coming? What if she simply didn’t want to-
Those thoughts were assuaged by the sight of his sister and uncle walking down the steps to the docks. Seeing her closer, he noticed that she probably also hadn’t slept well. Hopefully, it was from excitement and not worry.
He smiled at her, hiding his own worries.
She looked up at him and smiled back.
Right, he still had to be somewhat professional.
“Sister, Uncle. I’m glad you decided to come.”
They started walking up the ramp, and while it was almost imperceptible, he could tell that she was tense. He would have to calm her down on the ship. He hoped he was still good at that.
Captain Ichigo walked up to him. “Are we ready to depart, Your Highness?”
“Yes, Captain,” he nodded. “Set our course for home.”
He looked back at Azula, knowing that in both of their eyes, they were each other’s home.
At least, they used to be.
“You heard the prince! Raise the anchors! We’re taking the prisoners home!”
He felt his face becoming impassive again, another habit that he had drilled into himself. When something was upsetting, you didn’t show it.
Agni, there was always something.
The captain sputtered. Right, he would have to deal with that later too.
He walked back up to the deck as he signalled for the soldiers up deck to guard the entrance. He knew she would follow him. Hopefully he’d be able to get her to still join him.
He had doubts about that hope.
He watched as she appeared on the deck, looking angry and betrayed. (I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!)
“You lied to me!” she cried out.
“I didn’t have a choice.”
She tried to attack him with fire daggers, but he dodged every strike. She had gotten better at fighting since the last time he’d seen her, but Zuko had managed to get over his mediocre depth perception a while ago, so any advantage she could have gained on him was long gone.
He stopped one of her swings right next to his scar, and part of him was proud that he didn’t flinch. Father had made sure that he never flinched again during combat, even if the dread filling his stomach still persisted.
(He noticed the burns sprinkled on her wrist and hand, and realised that Father had given her more than a slap and a banishing. He was an even worse brother than he thought for not knowing that.)
Azula’s eyes looked so confused as she deepened her frown. “Why?”
“Father sent me. He thinks you’re a traitor.”
“And you just followed his orders?”
What in Koh’s Lair was he supposed to do? Not follow his orders?
What a dream.
“He was going to send someone else if I refused. And I have a plan. I can get you a way back.”
She didn’t look convinced. “Get me back by throwing me in prison!”
She tried to hit him, but he stopped her by twisting her around and kicking her knee. As much as he didn’t like getting violent with her, he was starting to have enough of her attempts.
“I can reason with Father.” Reason, bargain, threaten, it really depended on his first answer. “All you need to do is stop fighting and do as I say.”
But Azula rarely did what she was told.
She failed to get a hit on him, and he pushed her to the ground.
“Don’t be difficult,” he pleaded, but it didn’t come out right.
Her glare made it clear that she wouldn’t back down. That she didn’t understand. That she couldn’t understand. He just needed to get her somewhere quiet, where they could talk.
Work was work.
He conjured lightning, making sure that it would only be enough to knock her out and not hurt her. Her eyes glazed as the strings of electricity danced between his fingers.
“I’m sor-”
Fire.
He wasn’t fast enough to react. The attack pushed him back. The afterimage of the fire filled his whole vision, but he knew that someone shoved him overboard. He managed to recognize Iroh’s face before the waves swallowed him whole.
That fucking-
He quickly emerged back on the docks, but Azula and Iroh were already gone.
What little regret he had of planning to throw that man under the cart was gone.
---
Ichigo was panicking. There was no point in denying it, it was clear to anyone who saw him that he was barely holding himself together.
But then again, how could he? He had been summoned to the bridge by the prince, a place where, by this hour, only the wheel officer and her second were. And he had known about this summoning since midday, waiting anxiously for the evening while the prince took care of his own matters.
If he had been summoned to somewhere private, he would have expected a quick death, but with any witnesses around, there would surely be some amount of pain.
Because he wasn’t kidding himself, Ichigo was about to die. He had ruined the prince’s plans, unintentionally going against the Royal Family, and was thus going to be killed.
It felt almost wrong for the fifty-two-year-old man to think of a teenager as something other than a teenager, but Prince Zuko was not to be treated as such. The moment he’d been in his presence, his stomach had dropped. It had been one thing to read on his assignment that his ship would be boarded by the prince, but seeing it happen was something else entirely. While the prince had been pleasant in their exchanges, smiling and sometimes even looking like a normal slightly awkward and stressed teenager, the moments where he showed even an ounce of anger were enough to make Ichigo question all of the life choices that brought him here.
The fact that he’d witnessed some of his training had heightened that fear. A fear that had been present the moment he’d seen the reports of who had taken care of a captured crew who had committed mutiny. A whole crew, slain by a fifteen-year-old’s hand. It was the talk of a lot of people who knew about it. Of course, the general population didn’t have access to the reports, but military officers of a high enough grad could, so the knowledge of who the Fire Lord’s favourite executioner was was common knowledge in the military.
And now Ichigo was walking towards him, fighting every part of him that screamed that death by the ocean would probably be more merciful.
He opened the bridge’s door, nodded to officer Yuki and officer Hirochi, and waited. They were both tense, either because they knew why he was here, or because they could see how much more tense he was.
He didn’t have to wait long before a knock came from the door. Despite his position, the prince always knocked, which at the time had been a nice surprise. Now, it only aggravated his dread.
“Officers,-” the prince nodded at both officers, who bowed before nervously going back to their tasks- “Captain.”
Ichigo bowed as deeply as he could without actually kneeling down. Begging for forgiveness right at the start would probably only deepen the shit he was already in.
“Your Highness, you summoned me.”
His face showed no emotion as he nodded. “Yes. I wanted to talk about your little mistake earlier today.”
“I ask for your forgiveness, My Prince, I hadn’t meant to say what I did. It was a slip up-”
“A slip up that caused us the mission, Captain.” Ichigo looked down, pleading to the spirits that this life would be spared while simultaneously asking for a merciful death. “Because of your slip up, we now have two dangerous fugitives running around in the Earth Kingdom, having absolutely no idea of where they are.” He smiled nastily, his anger accentuated by his scar. “Tell me, Captain, what do you think I should do about your slip. up?”
His whole body shook as he caught a glimpse of the prince’s searing eyes. “I…” He broke, kowtowed as low as he possibly could, pressing his forehead to the cold metal floor. “Forgive me, My Prince, I hadn’t meant for this to happen! I have no excuse for my actions, I swear it will never happen again!”
He stayed there, trembling for what felt like an eternity as the air around him heated up. A few steps clanged on the metal floor, a shift was barely audible, and the prince kneeled in front of him.
“Captain,” he said, his voice sounding dangerously calm again. “I can tell you’re genuine about your regrets, even if they are probably directed towards your own safety.” He grabbed Ichigo’s chin and forced him to look up into those cold yet still searing eyes, forced him to look at the marred skin that would soon be his entire body. “You won’t make that mistake again,” he smiled sweetly as his fingers discharged small currents into his skin, making him twitch. “That, I am certain.”
Ichigo’s breath picked up even more as his eyes welled up, bracing himself for the fatal shock.
It never came.
Prince Zuko let go of him and stood up, letting him rive on the floor to process what had just happened.
“Sadly, I won’t be able to see it,” he added almost jovially. “You can’t bring a boat on land, now can you? I haven’t given my official directives yet, but we’ll be sailing south, closest to Omashu as possible. When do you think we will arrive?”
Trying to get a grip from the complete whiplash of this conversation, Ichigo tried to quickly calculate an estimate, hoping that he wouldn’t anger him further. “I would say at least five days, Your Highness.”
He nodded. “That seems good. I expect to leave tomorrow as soon as possible, if any problems arise, please inform me immediately.” He started walking away, before turning back to look down at him again. “And rest assured that you slip up will not appear in my report. Goodnight, Captain, Officers.”
And with that, he left.
Ichigo got up, feeling his joints ache from the position he was in and his heart try to break away from his chest, and caught the map table to catch his breath.
He was alive. He was unharmed. He wouldn’t even be reported for his mistake.
He looked at the officers, as if to ask them if what had happened had really happened. They both looked surprised and anxious, but nothing else. It really had just happened.
He stared at the door, lost in thought. Even though this whole ordeal had been terrifying, this had somehow been his lightest punishment in his thirty-three years serving in the military.