Chapter Text
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❝ I belong to the people I love, and they belong to me—they, and the love and loyalty I give them, form my identity far more than any word or group ever could. ❞
Veronica Roth
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THE SKY ABOVE THE TRIO WAS MARBLED PINK, with streaks of golden sunlight illuminating the delicate clouds. Despite the decrepit appearance of the Lower Ring, the air was fresh and cool, and the distant hustle and bustle of the markets grew louder as the sun climbed higher in the sky.
Now that they had returned to the apartment, Shia was able to breathe freely. She'd been on guard throughout the trip back to the Lower Ring, but to her relief, they hadn't encountered any troubles on the return journey from Lake Laogai.
Iroh clicked the front door shut behind them, eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled softly. "You did the right thing, letting the Avatar's bison go free."
Zuko had been the first to enter the apartment - practically dragging himself inside - so he was already in the main room by the time Shia and Iroh entered. With his shoulders hunched and his head down, he looked far more like a downtrodden commoner than he did a proud Prince of the Fire Nation. Dangling from his right arm was his sheath, skimming across the floorboards – the sound of it scraping against the floor was what alerted Shia to the fact that something was wrong.
Zuko never slouched.
The usual smile that lingered on Shia's lips thinned as she noticed that Zuko was trembling like a leaf in a storm.
“I…" Zuko spoke in a whisper, his voice low and rasping, "... I don't feel right.”
Within an instant, Zuko fell, knocking a vase over as his eyes rolled to the back of his head. Shia flinched when the ceramic shattered, but she ignored the sound and the shards as she dropped her guandao and darted forward to catch him, hooking her arms beneath his armpits to pull his unconscious body away from the mess.
"Zuko!" Iroh was beside them in an instant, worry permeating his features as Shia slowly dropped Zuko to the floor, cradling his head in her lap. His forehead was slick with sweat and flushed with heat. Shia pursed her lips.
“He’s burning up…”
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When Zuko regained consciousness, the world was hazy, like the shimmering, shifting heat above a desert horizon. His head felt as though it were stuffed with cotton, and his eyes stung, and his throat ached and his skin burned. He was laying atop a futon, with a quilt pulled over his body — though, to be completely honest, he was barely conscious. He registred the presence of Iroh and Shia to his left; the former sitting, and the latter kneeling beside a container.
“You have an intense fever,” Iroh told him softly. Even so, the sound seemed to reverberate inside Zuko's skull as though Iroh had screamed at him.
Zuko groaned and squeezed his eyes back shut. He could hear the distinctive sound of water dripping, and reopened his eyes eagerly at the thought that he had a chance to cool down. Glancing out of the corner of his eye, he realised that the dripping was caused by Shia wringing a damp cloth into the container beside her. She seemed to feel his gaze on her, and her eyes curved in a smile as she turned to face him.
"This should help to cool you down," Shia told him softly, leaning forward to run the cool fabric against his forehead. Zuko would have done it himself if his arms didn't feel like lead. It was as though his muscles had turned to hot, burning liquid — and still, he forced himself to get up.
Shia pulled away, brows furrowed, before she pressed down on his shoulder with her hand. It was clear she hadn't put much force behind it, but the motion was still enough to force Zuko back down.
"You shouldn't be getting up."
Zuko was barely able to speak, and what he did manage to get out was halting and hoarse.
"I'm... so thirsty..."
Iroh turned to a bucket at his side, fishing a ladle out of the cool water inside before sitting Zuko up gently.
“Here's some clean water to drink. Stay under the blankets, and sweat this out.”
Zuko didn’t let Iroh spoon feed him the water for long, and tossed the ladle aside as soon as it was empty. Before his companions could react, he'd snatched the entire bucket away and tipped it back, draining the contents greedily. Excess water spilt over the sides and dripped all over the futon and the floor, though Zuko paid it no heed. As soon as there was nothing left, Zuko tossed the bucket aside, dropping back down tiredly.
Shia exchanged a concerned glance with Iroh, who quickly composed himself and pulled the quilt over Zuko as the prince coughed.
“I’ll take first watch,” Iroh assured Shia, “you're young. You need your rest.”
Shia was reluctant, but her mentor's determined look quickly subdued any protests that she had.
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Shia's nightmares were making a reappearance.
She twisted and turned, tangling herself up in her bedsheets, and couldn’t help but groan into her pillow. She’d been trying to sleep for what felt like hours, but it seemed that every time she nodded off, she’d wake up moments later – scared of a dream she didn’t remember having.
It was infuriating.
Finally, sick and tired of her impossibly stubborn dreams, Shia clambered out of bed and out into the cool air of the central room. She could hear Iroh murmuring to Zuko in his room softly, but his voice was too hushed for Shia to hear through the walls.
Perhaps she’d make some herbal tea. She’d bought a few particularly fragrant herbs at the market previously – and thanks to Iroh’s teachings of the past few years, she knew how to brew them perfectly.
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After giving Iroh a cup of tea, Shia had forced him to rest. He’d been forcing himself to stay asleep in a sitting position just so that he could stay near Zuko – however sweet the action was, it wasn’t good for his health.
Now she was babysitting Zuko.
Shia poured herself a cup of tea and sipped it thoughtfully, wondering what had triggered Zuko's fever. Iroh had told her that it was the prince’s internal conflict; apparently, freeing Appa was so against Zuko’s perception of himself that it triggered what Iroh called a “metamorphosis”.
Shia thought it was just like Zuko to mentally pick a fight with himself. Still, she was happy for him: once this was over, he'd be a different person. Maybe. Perhaps he'd finally let go of his obsession with his honour.
At the same time, Shia had reached an obstacle. Iroh's words back at the Lake had inspired her to reorient herself.
What did she want?
As lovely as life in the Earth Kingdom was, Shia knew that it wasn't what she wanted for herself. She wanted to learn about herself; she wanted to learn about her origins, her father, and her place in the world.
Was her place beside Iroh and Zuko, or…. was it beside the Avatar? Neither? Both?
Shia was no longer a soldier of the Fire Nation. She was no longer under her family’s control. She could not simply follow Iroh around forever.
He had lived his life – now, it was time for her to live hers.
Whatever her decision was, Shia hoped that her relationship with Iroh and Zuko remained. After so long beside them, she didn't know what a life without them would look like.
In the end, the only thing that held her back was her fear.
Shia was pulled from her thoughts by a soft groan, as Zuko twisted on the futon, breathing growing ragged. She set her teacup down just as he sat up abruptly, swaying as he looked around the room with wild eyes. His gaze eventually came to fall upon her, sitting quietly atop a cushion with a half-empty teacup at her side and her brows knitted together with concern.
“Zuko,” Shia greeted awkwardly. They stared at each other strangely, before she cracked a smile. “Are you feeling any better?”
Zuko sighed and fell back onto his futon, tilting his head to meet her eyes. “A bit.”
Shia leant forward and touched his forehead with the back of her hand, frowning when she noticed the flush dusting his features.
“You still have a bit of a fever,” Shia told him, glancing at the teapot by her side. “Would you like some tea?”
Zuko nodded mutely and sat up, watching as Shia busied herself with pouring another cup of tea before passing it to him. He cupped it in his hands and sighed as he took a sip, grateful for the warmth and the familiar smell of jasmine. His uncle’s favourite. He peered over the brim of the teacup at Shia, who was gazing somberly into the depths of her own drink.
“Why are you still awake?”
Shia looked up at him, and he could tell she was a bit surprised by the question. “You’re unwell, and Iroh would’ve stayed up all night otherwise.”
Zuko nodded quietly, stifling the little spark of joy he’d felt when he’d awoken to her at his side. She’d only been there because she wanted his uncle to rest. Not because she was worried about him or anything like that.
Shia blinked at him, noticing the way his expression had changed ever so slightly.
“Is something wrong?”
Zuko looked away.
“It’s nothing,” he murmured, raising his cup to his lips only to realise it was empty.
“You should rest,” Shia said, taking the cup from him and setting it on the tray beside her. “We’ll be moving to the new apartment tomorrow.”
Zuko parted his lips to reply, but closed them as he noticed her pick the tray up and get to her feet.
“You’re leaving?”
He tried not to sound disappointed.
“I’m just returning the tray to the kitchen,” Shia smiled back at him over her shoulder. He watched her disappear out the door tensely, and a brief moment passed before she slipped back into the room with the door sliding shut quietly behind her.
Zuko laid back under the blanket and watched as Shia retook her position at his side, legs folded beneath her body and a scroll in her lap.
He glanced at it curiously.
“Just some stuff on herbology,” Shia smiled sheepishly when she noticed his gaze. Zuko raised a brow at her, waiting for her to elaborate. “I like reading about new things— but, you should go to sleep.”
Zuko couldn’t help the pout that crept onto his features.
“I’m not a child.”
“Are you sure? You act like one sometimes,” Shia teased light-heartedly, before raising her hands in mock defence when he glowered at her. “I’m joking; but really, you need to sleep, Zuko.”
“Why do you care?” Zuko asked abruptly.
Shia’s brows pulled together, and he could tell she was frowning behind the veil.
“Because you’re my… friend?”
Zuko took a moment to process her words, before a steady heat crept up his neck and filled his face. He pulled the blanket over his head and buried his face in his pillow, words muffled.
“... I’m going to sleep now.”
Shia blinked at him, taken aback by his odd behaviour, before nodding awkwardly even though he couldn’t see her.
“Okay. Goodnight, Zuko.”
“... goodnight.”
It took Zuko a while to calm his heartbeat down enough to fall asleep, but Shia was much the same; face burning as she struggled to focus on the scroll in her hands.
The two of them came to the same conclusion that night, though it was subconscious.
Whatever existed between them… it was a dangerous feeling, and neither of them wanted to risk pursuing it when the cost of failure would be the fragile friendship they’d built.