Chapter Text
Zuko was burning. Burning and burning without relief. Sometimes the pain felt distant, beyond his reach behind the veil of the bitter sedatives the healers made him chew. Other times it made him want to rip his face off, cut off his ear, gouge out his eye only if it would make it all stop.
His father never came to see him, but Azula did, the day the healers tried to save as much of his face as they could. Her fingertips brushed against the back of his hand, and through the haze of pain and panic he had caught the edge of her cold smile.
It was easy to lose track of time. Delirious, he’d catch a glimpse of his mother’s robes from the corner of his good eye and beg her to turn around, voice slippery with bile. His grandfather, too, haunted him, and he’d been dead for moons, summers, solstices.
Then one day, he opened his eye and it was Lu Ten by his bedside holding his hand. He was dreaming again, of course. Lu Ten was dead, buried by Earth Kingdom soldiers so deep into the ground they could not find his body to burn the bones.
Zuko choked on a sob and, impossibly, Lu Ten’s ghost gripped his hand tighter.
“I’m here, baby cousin, I’m here.” Said the ghost of Lu Ten, and Zuko felt warm fingers brush gently across his scalp, carding through Zuko’s sweat-soaked hair.
“M’ sorry that you’re dead,” Zuko wept, pressing his head feverishly into the touch, “I miss you. I miss you so much.”
The touch stilled but did not dissolve. Zuko cracked open a blurry eye and Lu Ten was still there, looking older than when Zuko saw him last, but still familiar.
“I’m not dead,” Said the ghost of Lu Ten, and the fingers around Zuko’s hand tightened, “Who told you that?”
“Father said,” Zuko mumbled, sniffling into his bandages, “That’s why he has to be Fire Lord now, because Uncle’s so sad.”
“Son of a bitch, motherfucker,” Hissed the ghost of Lu Ten, which would have been funny if Zuko hadn’t flinched on instinct, aggravating the wrecked side of his face.
“Oh fu- shit…take mushrooms, Zuko, don’t move.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t tell,” Zuko said after the pain had subsided enough to talk, “But I don’t think ghosts can get in trouble for swearing.”
“We’ll see about that.” Was the last thing Zuko heard before he slipped under again.
After that, the ghost of Lu Ten proved to be the most persistent of his hallucinations, sat by his bedside as he drifted in and out of consciousness. He did not know why the spirit lingered, and why by him and not Uncle.
Maybe he was dying. Maybe he was already dead. But Zuko was almost certain dead people didn’t hurt; all over and this much.
Zuko woke in degrees to the sound of low voices murmuring over his head. His eyes were still closed, and on instinct he let his breaths go slow and deep, like when he was trying to trick Azula into thinking he was still asleep. One of the voices sounded like Lu Ten’s, but that was impossible, right? The other voice…not grandfather, or his father, or one of the healers; but then who…
“—received letters from the colonies.”
“Well it’s not gonna look great if we say we’re suing for peace, oh but by the way, we’re still gonna leave our troops there.”
“I understand how you feel, but change will not happen overnight.”
Oh.
Zuko opened his eyes.
Iroh did not seem to know how to touch him. Zuko badly wanted a hug but did not know how to ask.
The crown of the Fire Lord rested in his uncle’s gray hair. Zuko did not know how to ask about that either.
“Uncle?” Zuko whispered. The years had given Uncle’s face new lines, but his eyes were as kind as Zuko remembered.
“Hello,” Uncle breathed, as if anything louder would break Zuko into pieces, “How are you feeling?”
Zuko had heard the question in a hundred variations in the past few days, but this was the first time it was asked with such genuine care. Zuko swallowed around the lump in his throat, and shrugged a little.
“I’m not bad.” Zuko said truthfully. The whole left side of his face was numb. He could barely even feel the bandages wound around his head.
In the absence of pain, shame began to curdle in his belly. His father had never made it a secret Zuko was the disappointment of the family, but at least Uncle had been gone for the worst of it. His good eye blurred, and Uncle’s face crumbled.
“Hey, hey,” Zuko heard from his other side, and when Zuko turned his head, there was Lu Ten. Still there, and more solid than anything.
“I don’t understand,” Zuko said. Lu Ten sucked in a breath, looking more serious than Zuko had ever seen him.
“Here,” Lu Ten said, and held out his hand, palm up. Zuko looked at it blankly until Lu Ten huffed something like a laugh and wriggled his fingers.
The first touch of Lu Ten’s hand was like breaking the surface of water on a burning summer’s day. Lu Ten gently turned their hands around to hold Zuko’s properly.
“I never died in Ba Sing Se.” Lu Ten said quietly as Zuko’s heart pounded in his ears.
“They said they buried you.” Zuko said, so hoarse he wasn’t sure he even made a sound.
“They did,” Lu Ten said, almost amiably, “Then I dug out.”
Zuko blinked, his mouth slackening. He turned to look at Uncle, and the fondly exasperated look on his face was a warm and familiar thing. Zuko’s chest constricted, and it was ridiculous now to feel so intensely homesick and lonely and unloved, but it came crashing down all at once and Zuko—
“Breathe, nephew,” Iroh commanded gently, and Zuko took a shuddering breath. Lu Ten took Zuko’s other hand with shining eyes like he was going to cry, which was ridiculous because Lu Ten was a thousand feet tall and the bravest warrior ever and never cried.
Zuko looked between his uncle and his cousin and realized they were all breathing together. He watched his uncle’s chest rise and fall, and some of his light-headedness cleared away. The left side of his face was starting to hurt a little, but not as bad as before, and definitely not as bad as the day his father seared his lesson against his skin.
“Is he dead?” Zuko said at last, his voice trembling at the end.
His uncle and Lu Ten exchanged looks over his head, and Zuko wanted to yell that he was right here and not a stupid baby.
“You need to rest,” Lu Ten said at last, “Maybe later—”
“Please.” Zuko interrupted. He was tired, so tired.
“Ozai lives,” Uncle said finally, and Zuko clenched his teeth against the nauseating wave of emotion that swept through him. “I managed to subdue him, but he escaped before his trial. Officially, he is banished on pain of death.”
“Alright,” Zuko said, blinking hard, “And…and Azula? Is she here?”
“She is not,” Uncle said, a great sadness weighing down his voice, “He took her when he left.”
“Is she banished too?” Zuko said in a small voice. Am I? He wanted to ask, but courage deserted him, and the words would not come.
“I would take her back in a heartbeat,” Uncle said gently, “But things are…complicated right now.”
“She’s ten,” Zuko said hoarsely. His sister was horrible, and she lied and loved to hurt him, and he disliked her most of the time, but he also loved her. He’d always love her.
“We know, Zuko, we know,” Lu Ten said like his heart was breaking, “We’ll talk about it some more when you’re better. I promise.”
Better came slowly but surely. The first time Zuko was presented with a mirror, he blacked out, overloaded with emotion. He came to with glass sticking out of his knuckles, blood staining his palms, seeping into the lifelines.
Lu Ten was the one that pulled out the glass, soothing the cuts with ointment, and re-dressing the wound until it scabbed over. Lu Ten didn’t say things were okay, or that they were going to be fine. Instead, he spoke of his travels, the girls he’d met along the way, the stories he’d heard at different towns and sketchy taverns.
But it was Uncle who came and stayed with him at night, soothing his forehead with his large warm hand, and reading his maps and scrolls by Zuko’s bedside until Zuko fell asleep. It was still strange to jolt out of a nightmare and not be alone. To weep and reach out blindly, and be cradled tenderly back to sleep.
Zuko jolted awake from such a dream, the smell of burning flesh lingering like incense in the back of his throat. He coughed once, trying to dislodge it.
Uncle was already moving, and a cup of hot tea was pressed into Zuko’s hands once Zuko had managed to sit up. Zuko sipped at it for lack of anything to do. His teeth buzzed. He was so tired.
“You’re still here.” Zuko said, in a voice so small he wasn’t sure Uncle heard. Iroh brushed a large soothing palm over Zuko’s hairline, cupping the back of Zuko’s skull despite the cold sweat matting his hair.
“I am.” Uncle said quietly, shuffling his documents aside so he could sit closer. Zuko clutched the cup in his hands tighter. The grooves around the ceramic bit into his palms, grounding him to the present. His heart juddered in his chest. I am alive. I am alive.
“Why?” Zuko breathed, and hated himself for asking. But. He had to know.
“You are my family, and my beloved nephew,” Iroh said gently, “I could not leave you alone in your pain, any more than I could leave Lu Ten.”
Zuko sniffed, blinking hard at the bedclothes covering his legs. Uncle’s words made his heart hurt, but not in a bad way. Uncle’s hand dropped to rub soothing circles against his back as Zuko hiccupped, reaching up to dash away the tears gathering on his cheeks.
“So I can stay?” Zuko said. The hand stilled.
“Stay?” Uncle repeated.
“Here.” Zuko said. His tea was getting cold. If he was a better bender it would be warm, still.
A lot of things would be different if he was a better bender.
Zuko pressed the cup against his lips to wet it, let the bitter liquid flatten against his tongue.
“Prince Zuko, please look at me.” Uncle said. Zuko jerked to obey, the title ringing in his ear. He hadn’t known that it still applied. “Why you would think otherwise?”
Zuko stared. His uncle was not a cruel man, but to have to deliver grounds for his own removal in the middle of the night…a test? Zuko squared his shoulders, ignoring the twinge of pain in his ear as he clenched his teeth, thinking.
Okay, tests. He could do tests.
“My father is a traitor,” Zuko said first, because that was the easiest thing, the most obvious, “And you would take Azula back, but it’s complicated. And mom— my mother…”
Zuko, please, my love, listen to me. Everything I've done, I've done to protect you.
Zuko shuddered. The healers had been neither quiet nor subtle about passing gossip over his head when they thought he was sleeping. But mom had always been gentle. He could not imagine the rumors were true. But. But.
“I understand why,” Zuko said, twisting his hands around the blanket. He had thought about this a long time, and the conclusion was always the same. “It’s the right thing for you to do, for being Fire Lord, if I was banished too.”
The Fire Nation was built on the principle of honour, and the only way to do it was to purge. Zuko had learned this from history lessons, his grandfather’s speeches, the back of his father’s hand. His family was a stain, and he was too.
Uncle’s face had gone blank. Slowly, so slowly, his uncle withdrew his hand from Zuko’s back. Zuko felt a strange sense of calm wash over him. This was it, then.
And so, it was to his deepest horror, that the Fire Lord rose, took a step back, and bowed so low his head was level with Zuko’s bed. Zuko jerked out of his bedclothes, scrambling across the vast mattress on his hands and knees. He didn’t know what he was about to do, only that he wanted, needed, his uncle to lift his head.
“I am sorry,” Iroh said, freezing Zuko in place on the bed, one hand outstretched towards his uncle, “I am so deeply sorry.”
“What? You don’t—” Zuko breathed out, heart stuck in his throat. His scar throbbed in time with his panicked breathing and still his uncle did not unbend.
“I do,” Iroh continued gently, “I see now that I have done you a great dishonor. Zuko, prince of the Fire Nation, and first of his name. This is your home, and there is nothing anyone, not your father or sister or mother, could ever do for me to drive you from it.”
Zuko opened his mouth, and what strangled out sounded caught between a howl and a sob. He stuffed his hands against his mouth, squeezed his eyes shut, and burst into tears.
Iroh’s voice washed over him, closer now, shushing nonsense in Zuko’s good ear. And then Iroh was hugging him, ink and steel and jasmine replacing the stench of burning flesh. Zuko fumbled blindly out to clutch his uncle back and wailed into Iroh’s collar. He wanted his mom so much it hurt.
“I should have told you,” Uncle said, his large hand cupping the back of Zuko’s skull, carded through his shaggy hair, “I had supposed you a child, and that you knew I loved you.”
It was too much. Zuko heard the words but could not understand them. Uncle did not press the subject, allowing Zuko to hiccup into the comforting darkness of his robes until Zuko drifted off into sleep without meaning to.
And then, eventually, there were good days too.
He was allowed out of bed now, even though walking around was tough with only one good eye and only a little more than one ear. He still got headaches whenever he moved his head too fast, but at least the nausea was fading as he got used to it.
Having time to recover was weird. He kept expecting to be told to get back to his studies or his training, aware that time was slipping away and he hadn’t mastered even half the forms Azula could do with ease.
But it was nice too, to wake up and remember he did not have to face his tutors and their sharp criticisms. To sit and spend long hours in the garden reading, instead of doing hotsquats until long past a dinner he wouldn’t get to eat.
It was nice too, unbearably so, that Lu Ten didn’t seem to let him be alone too long either.
Well, it was nice most of the time.
“What?” Zuko said grumpily after being interrupted for the third time by a drawn-out sigh. Lu Ten looked pleased at getting Zuko’s attention, looking up at Zuko from where he was lazily sprawled out along the porch, his face just under Zuko’s elbow.
“What’re you reading?” Lu Ten said.
“Love amongst the Dragons,” Zuko said, tamping down the instinctual guilt at Lu Ten’s raised eyebrow. The one in his head that said you’re wasting your time in his father’s cold voice, dripping with disappointment.
“Didn’t we see that play once?” Lu Ten mused, squinting like he was trying to remember, “Was it here at the palace?”
“No,” Zuko said, not bothering to hide his disgruntlement. At Lu Ten’s delighted look, Zuko sighed. “We saw it at Ember Island.”
“Right,” Lu Ten said, snapping his fingers, “Don’t they do it every year?”
“They butcher it every year,” Zuko muttered, annoyed. Lu Ten laughed, reaching out to pat Zuko on the knee.
“You poor thing,” Lu Ten said commiserating, but it was hard to taking him seriously when he was grinning like that, “So what, you’re prepping to go back and give them notes?”
“No,” Zuko mumbled, and had to swallow and blink hard for a second.
“Zuko?” Lu Ten said gently, “Everything alright there buddy?”
Zuko took a breath and considered not saying anything. But Lu Ten would understand, and it might hurt less to say it out loud.
“Just, reminds me of mom, is all.” Zuko said softly. And. He missed her. He missed her so much.
Lu Ten was quiet for a moment. Zuko didn’t dare look at him.
He didn’t know if he was allowed to miss her was a thing, since she was maybe technically a traitor even though no one could prove anything. But she was still his mom, and sometimes he wished she’d taken him with her, especially with things the way they were.
I ruined it, Zuko thought, feeling a little sick as the silence stretched on, I always ruin it.
“Dad said she brought sunshine to the palace,” Lu Ten said, startling Zuko out of his thoughts, “You know, she wrote to us a couple of times when we were at Ba Sing Se. I still have the one she sent for my birthday, the one you misspelled my name on.”
Zuko’s laugh was a little watery with relief, “I didn’t misspell it.” He protested, sniffing a little. “The ink smudged the strokes together, but mom said you’d like it.”
“I did,” Lu Ten said, smiling up at him, “It made me laugh. Dad called me Jī Ten for a week.”
“I don’t think I messed the strokes up that bad.” Zuko said, trying to scowl but smiling helplessly instead.
Lu Ten laughed, “That’s what I said! But he seemed pretty pleased with himself. Man, did we ever look forward to her letters. I kept meaning to write her back.”
Oh. Right.
Zuko’s smile faded. The last letter mom got from the frontlines was the one that said Lu Ten had died. That was the first time Zuko ever saw mom cry like that.
“Oh,” Lu Ten said stricken when Zuko told him, “I didn’t know. Spirits, Zuko, I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.” Zuko said, because Lu Ten was alive after all. Real and solid and here instead of in the ground somewhere else, far away from everyone who loved him.
“Hey,” Lu Ten said, propping himself up on his elbows, “What else did you and aunt Ursa like to do?”
And so here they were, Zuko fidgeting under Cook’s considering gaze as Lu Ten explained what they wanted.
“Pardon me for saying, my lord,” Cook said wryly, and it always surprised Zuko how easy the palace staff were with Lu Ten, “But I recall the last time you wanted to do the same. I believe you were banned from the kitchens.”
“I was but a boy then,” Lu Ten said, grinning widely, “Things change, Cook. I’m Crown Prince now; I’ve become a man of the world.”
“You can use one of the smaller kitchens,” Cook said at last, looking sick of Lu Ten’s wheedling, “Prince Zuko knows where it is.”
Zuko stared, surprised at being addressed. He and mom used to sneak into the kitchens to cook all the time, but he didn’t think anybody paid attention, much less Cook who ruled the kitchens with an iron fist.
“Thanks Cook. No need to prepare anything for us tonight,” Lu Ten told Cook brightly, unintimidated, “And don’t tell my dad either, we’re going to surprise him.”
“Right, sir,” Cook said, and would have looked utterly unaffected but for his tucked-in smile. To Zuko’s surprise, Cook turned his attention to Zuko.
“Your highness,” Cook said, like Zuko was a grown-up, “I assume you’re in charge then?”
“Hey!” Lu Ten said cheerfully. Cook ignored him.
Zuko nodded slowly, and Cook gifted him with a short bow.
“Good,” Cook said, “Take care of my kitchen. Don’t let him poison the Fire Lord.”
“Yes sir.” Zuko said solemnly.
The paste would go in first, and then the potatoes. Mushrooms, lemongrass, peanut sauce, and then some of that partially cooked meat, red and still tender, marinated in some dark sauces. The noodles would go in last, quicker to soften than the rest of everything. The smell of garlic and onion lingered on his hands. His mouth watered.
But before that, the water. Lu Ten started the fire, cut up half an onion badly, and then wandered off, presumably distracted by something shiny. Zuko climbed up onto the little step-stool by the pot and peered inside, breathing in the clean scent of steam.
The water crested slowly. It rumbled like a little storm.
That’s what I am, Zuko thought dully, watching it. A roiling boil.
Mom’s guiding hands had been soft around his. The only soft thing in the world as she wrapped his hands around pestle to grind herbs into mortar. Sunk it into granite and pushed fragrance out of stone.
It was a comfort to him that crushed things had purpose, still.
Lu Ten eventually wandered back. He telegraphed all his moves around Zuko now, never coming in from the left if he could help it. Zuko wondered if he should tell his cousin not to bother. A childhood spent with Azula had beaten the luxury of being startled out of him.
“Everything alright there, buddy?” Lu Ten asked casually, leaning into Zuko’s space to peer down at the clear water.
Zuko nodded. He tore his eyes away from the pot and glanced at his cousin. Even on the stool, he was only up to about Lu Ten’s chin. Lu Ten’s smile was tucked in, like he was quietly amused. Nothing about it said he was doing it at Zuko’s expense, but Zuko narrowed his eyes at him anyway.
“What’s so funny?” Zuko demanded.
“Nothing, nothing,” Lu Ten said, holding his hands in a loose shield, “Dad always said you could find the meaning of the universe in hot water. Guess he was on to something.”
Lu Ten did little of the cooking in the war and it showed. He seemed happy enough to be bossed around, handing Zuko ingredients and keeping a running commentary on the process, endlessly pleased every time he got a reluctant laugh.
“Should I make rice?” Lu Ten said as he watched Zuko slide garlic into the hot wok, the pot of soup bubbling quietly at Zuko’s elbow.
“Do you know how?” Zuko said skeptically.
“I can make rice.” Lu Ten said loudly like he was offended, but Zuko knew he wasn’t, really. Still, he tensed a little at the tone. Not quite a flinch, but still damning.
But Lu Ten was kind, kinder than Zuko deserved. His cousin turned like he hadn’t noticed, reaching to grab the other ingredients from the table. Zuko took a deep breath and made himself relax in increments.
Most days, Zuko’s body remembered that it was safe to do things like roll his eyes at his cousin, prod at a sore spot, raise his eyebrow and smirk at him. It had taken some time to train his body out of the what if he hits me to so what if he does?
“So, rice?” Lu Ten said easily, as if nothing had ever happened.
“We don’t need rice, we’re having noodles.” Zuko said. The garlic crackled pleasantly. A second longer and it would burn.
Zuko tossed the onions in, and then the meat, carefully. It was difficult, still, to judge distances. He spared a thought for the ingredients he’d inadvertently wasted, when he had thrown them in and missed the wok. Lu Ten had assured him it would get swept up and fed to the strays and that made Zuko feel a little better about it.
“You’re really good at this,” Lu Ten said, as Zuko sampled the broth.
“You can’t have any more meat,” Zuko said right away. He’d seen his cousin angling for another bite, and if he didn’t control Lu Ten, they’d be having a vegetarian dinner.
Lu Ten laughed, “I know, I know,” He said, eyes twinkling with mirth, “I’m serious, Zuko. When did you get so grown up?”
Zuko shrugged, stung, even though Lu Ten meant it as a compliment. What’s the point of being grown up if he wasn’t grown up enough where it counted? Not enough to protect his mom, or Azula, or himself. Enough to run his mouth against his father, but not enough to avoid getting burned.
Lu Ten was watching him closely, and Zuko, determined for once to be brave, took a deep breath and said, “When’s the point of being grown up when you stop being so scared all the time?”
The soup simmered between them. The bowl of hand-pulled noodles sat patiently by its side, ready to be cooked. Lu Ten’s face looked like it was choosing between warring expressions and had gotten stuck in the process.
“I—” Lu Ten started, then cast his eyes to the ceiling, “Ah, spirits, I’m gonna mess this up.”
“What?” Zuko said, a little lost.
Lu Ten pressed his lips together, and nodded like he’d made a decision.
“I don’t know if you ever do,” Lu Ten said, then grimaced, “Okay, wait, no. I mean. Fear is. The thing about fear as a concept. Spirits, dad is so much better at this than me.”
Zuko didn’t really know how to react, so he turned his attention back to the meal and started carefully dropping the noodles into the pot.
They watched it in silence for a while. Zuko snuck a peek at his cousin’s face and if Azula was there, she’d say maybe Lu Ten had to take a poop but couldn’t. She was funny like that sometimes, accidentally, and when it made him laugh, she’d be nice to him for ages.
“I was scared a lot, during the war.” Lu Ten said, hushed. Zuko nodded slowly, so that his cousin knew he was listening, but didn’t turn his head. It felt right, somehow, not to look.
“What they don’t tell you, is that most times it’s just long stretches of nothing,” Lu Ten continued distantly, “But then there’s just…noise. All the time. And in the history scrolls they tell you about glory and honour and duty but then you’re there and everything happens so fast, and sometimes you’re too busy to be afraid but only sometimes.”
Zuko reached out blindly and found Lu Ten’s hand. Lu Ten made a choked sound, kinda like a laugh but not really, and grasped back.
“I’m sorry,” Lu Ten said, and cleared his throat a little, “That didn’t answer your question at all. I think I made it worse. Did I make it worse?”
Zuko thought about it. It was weird to think of his cousin being scared like he was scared, because Lu Ten was pretty old. But if Lu Ten could be scared and old and still awesome and brave when it counted, then Zuko had ten whole years to catch up. That was plenty of time.
“I think you made it better.” Zuko said, because it was kinda true, and maybe that was what Lu Ten needed to hear.
Lu Ten chuckled a little, like he knew what Zuko was doing. He squeezed Zuko’s hand once, comfortingly, before letting go.
His father looked pleasantly surprised at their visit, and then intrigued at the steaming bowls the servants were helping bring into the office. It was quick work to strip the small meeting table and get it laid out.
“We thought it’d be nice to have a quiet dinner today,” Lu Ten explained as his father left his documents to join them at the table, “Just us.”
His baby cousin looked adorably anxious, eyes wide as Iroh hummed appreciatively at the smell. They waited for his father to sit before they did, a servant approaching gracefully at his elbow to pour the tea.
They watched as his father took his first bite. Iroh’s eyes lit up in surprise.
“What a familiar flavour,” His father said quietly, casting a soft look over at Zuko, “I have not had Hira’a’s famous peanut noodles in years.”
“Dad, there’s something you should know,” Lu Ten said. Zuko looked a little flustered, eyes skittering to Lu Ten, the food, father.
“You made this?” Iroh repeated, a little skeptically, “You’re not allowed in the kitchens.”
“Okay, when I said we made this, I mean Zuko made this and I supervised,” Lu Ten said. When his dad’s look didn’t change Lu Ten amended, “And when I said I supervised, I mainly just got out of his way.”
His father laughed warmly, gesturing for a servant to refill his tea, “Well, I must say, this is the best meal I’ve enjoyed in a long time.”
Zuko looked a little bowled over by the compliment. Lu Ten nudged Zuko under the table, and Zuko stuttered out a thank-you.
“…and he said, Leaf me alone, I’m bushed.” Lu Ten said, grinning at his own joke.
Zuko just blinked at him, head tilted like he was waiting for more.
“It’s funnier when dad says it.” Lu Ten sighed at last, patting Zuko’s knee. Zuko just gave him a look like probably not. It really shouldn’t have been so adorable, what with the other half of his face set in its perpetual scowl. Nor should have been the sarcastic ‘Yeah, probably because he remembers how it’s actually supposed to go’ that followed.
Lu Ten pretended to scowl, “You don’t appreciate me. Now I’m too depressed to tell you a bedtime story.”
“Alright,” Zuko said easily.
A pause.
“Okay, fine, since you’re practically begging for one.”
“Oh my gods.”
“It’s because you’re a whipped ass bitch,” Terashi said into her fifth cup of the night, “And a sucker for a cute face.”
“Well, good thing you don’t have one,” Lu Ten said, then, “Ow! I’m your Crown Prince, you know.”
“Whipped ass bitch,” Terashi repeated, ignoring Lu Ten’s puppy eyes as he dramatically shielded his arm from further abuse. Shooting a pleading look at Karin to defend him did nothing, all she did was smile down at her cup and shake her head.
He pouted and rubbed his arm some more. If they had found a way to weaponize Terashi’s elbows, they would have taken Ba Sing Se in no time.
“Which I held, you know, for six hundred days.”
“I know, sir, I was there.”
Lu Ten pretended to scowl at her, but his lips twitched a little at the knowing look she shot him over her cup.
“What are we talking about?” Rou said, returning with another pitcher of drinks, followed closely by Tien Ho who came bearing snacks.
“Our venerable Crown Prince got kicked out of Prince Zuko’s room for being too annoying.” Terashi snorted.
“So business as usual.” Rou said.
“Treason.” Lu Ten said, pointing at both of them as he made room on the bench so Tien Ho could slide in next to him.
“Just speaking our truth,” Terashi said innocently.
“You called me a whipped ass bitch.”
“And what about it?”
“All of you are a menace.” Karin sighed, extending her cup for a refill which Rou cheerfully obliged.
“I literally just got here,” Tien Ho pointed out, ducking the peanut Rou threw at him with practiced ease, “Hey, asshole, don’t waste food.”
Lu Ten took a moment to bask in the company of his friends. He could admit, before the siege he’d been pretty lonely, holed up in the palace without the company of siblings or kids his own age. His dad had doted on him, but Iroh had been away more often than not, off to one adventure or another.
He shook himself out of his weird melancholy and drifted back to the conversation. Something about nobleman Hui Jin’s many mistresses.
“So the mistresses are related,” Rou repeated, trying to keep Terashi’s story straight, “To each other?”
“Hui Jin’s stone cold,” Terashi said, shrugging with one shoulder, “I don’t know if he’s stupid or economical, but somehow he’s kept them from finding out about each other.” She drained her cup and scowled when she caught Lu Ten’s expression.
“Don’t get any ideas.” She pointed at him, “Your father will never let me hear the end of it.”
“You wouldn’t have to tell him.” Lu Ten said.
“Someone’s got to keep an eye on his dumbass son.” But Terashi smiled to take away the sting, and let Lu Ten knock shoulders with her gently.
The night unspooled like that, slow and syrup-warm. They spoke and laughed about inconsequential things, jostling each other like children. Karin was the first to leave, and when Tien Ho offered to walk her home Rou was not far behind.
Lu Ten thought about returning too, but Terashi offered to pick up the last round, and he found himself wanting to linger a little longer. They drank in comfortable silence, and Lu Ten let his mind drift to the palace, wondering if his father had remembered to eat. If his sleeping baby cousin was having good dreams. He felt melancholy settle in his heart again.
“It’s hard to drink over your thinking.” Terashi said pointedly. Lu Ten ducked his head, a little abashed at being caught out.
“Well sorry,” Lu Ten said, “Some of us aren’t good at it like you.”
Terashi rolled her eyes, “You wanna talk about it?”
“You want to hear about it?” Lu Ten asked, surprised.
“I offered, didn’t I?” Terashi huffed, “C’mon, lay it on me. One-time limited offer.”
Lu Ten sighed, looking at the grain of the table beneath his fingertips instead of directly at his friend. He thought of how easy it would be to push heat into the wood, the way it would splinter under his palms.
The weight of her eyes on him was patient. He said:
Peace time was continuously sweet; he felt fat on it. Wasn’t this what he wanted? And yet the days stretched bland, unending, glue-sticky before him. The nightmares continued. His bed, too, seemed too large. Impossibly soft after years of cots and pallets. The war had been hard, but there had been purpose there, even if so much of it was a lie. He had not been allowed to die, but he barely remembered how to live.
Terashi listened quietly. She good at it. Underneath the table, their knees knocked, and it was nothing at all to press into the touch for comfort. She let him, even though she was no soft thing. This, too, she was good at and maybe only for him.
“I’m being ungrateful,” Lu Ten sighed, thumbing absently at the condensation gathered on the rim of his cup, “I think I just need to snap out of this funk.”
“Maybe.” Terashi hummed, leaning on her elbows across the table, “Or maybe you’re a soldier who just got home. Doesn’t matter if you’re a prince or a commoner, war fucks you up when it’s done with you.”
Lu Ten smiled despite himself. “Speaking from experience?”
Terashi leaned back, shrugged a little depreciatingly, “I wouldn’t know. I don’t think the war’s ever gonna be done with me.”
It was true. Lu Ten had his duties in the palace. Karin had her archery students. Tien Ho was a tailor, and Rou was a nobleman’s son. Terashi, Lu Ten knew, still worked for his father. There was a reason she knew things like Hui Jin’s mistresses being related so that knowledge like that could help the Fire Lord one day.
“I’m sorry,” Lu Ten said, and wished he could fold her hand under his own, “Is there something…I mean, would you want to do anything else?”
“Not really,” Terashi said, some of her spark returning into her eyes, “It’s what I’m good at. It’s what I believe in.”
Jealousy sparked in his breast, and then shame. He wanted to be needed again, to be looked to for instruction. But too many people had fought and died to feed that same yearning in his grandfather and his father before him. And so, his diplomatic career as Crown Prince would be long and quiet and illustrious.
And dull. For the rest of his life. And then, spirits, he would have to be Fire Lord one day. Lu Ten let his forehead thunk softly onto the table.
He heard Terashi mutter something like drama queen before he heard her rise and come around to his side.
“Let’s get you home, alright?” Terashi said, prodding him on the shoulder.
“Bossy.” Lu Ten sniffed, but let himself be manhandled into standing. Terashi pickpocketed him remorselessly, paid their bill with his coin, and shoved him into the cool night air.
Halfway to the palace, Terashi slipped an arm around his waist and leaned into him like a girl on a date. Lu Ten did not falter, he’d felt it too. He slung a companionable arm around Terashi’s shoulders and leaned into her heavily, stumbling like he was drunker than he was.
“How many?” He said under his breath.
Terashi squeezed his waist five times. Not great odds but not terrible either. He was more concerned about his guard detail who should have taken care of the threat by now. Unless.
“We should split up.” Lu Ten said, tucking his chin into his chest to speak into her hairline.
“The fuck we should split up,” Terashi muttered, “They’re trying to get you alone. Maybe they’ll leave once we get into the palace.”
His dad was in the palace. Zuko too. He banked his rage until it sat cold and solid in his gut, ready for him to use.
“I want answers.” Lu Ten said lowly.
“I can do that.” Terashi murmured, “You trust me?”
“Always.” Lu Ten said.
“Alright,” Terashi breathed, and then she swung around at the mouth of an alleyway, eyes shining, and Lu Ten almost gave it away when she honest to spirits, giggled out loud before cool fingers latched onto his collar and pulled him down.
Of the kisses Lu Ten had enjoyed in his life, this one definitely ranked on the top of his list. His mouth parted in shock, and she slipped her tongue in, quick and a little dirty before she pulled back.
“C’mon, c’mon,” Terashi chanted, pulling him into the alley, deeper and deeper into the shadows, turning him around to paw teasingly at his clothes. The alley led to a dead-end. Whoever was following them would be a fool not to take the opportunity.
Dad was the one who taught him how to fish on one of those halcyon trips to Ember Island. Lu Ten had been so young then, but he’d always remember that gilded dock; and too, the line, the hook, the wiggling bait. Lu Ten watched with wide eyes as his father pierced the worm. The more it squirmed, dad explained, the more attractive to the predator.
We’re squirming, Lu Ten thought, letting himself be kissed and bullied and pushed, What are you waiting for? Have a bite.
Footsteps.
One, two, three. The moon was hidden behind a cloud, but Lu Ten was used to the darkness of an unlit campground with only stars to keep company. He could see the figures creep in closer to them from his peripheral.
“Get down,” Terashi said sharply, and Lu Ten’s body moved to obey. He dropped silently into a plank, and watched as Terashi’s knives sunk true. He didn’t wait to see the result, pushing himself into a crouched run out into the open air.
He was too late, the other two on their tail were gone. There was a shout from the alley, and he cursed before turning back.
He called a flame into his palm, and saw two of their three attackers on the ground, unmoving, bleeding from the throat. The third was flattened against the wall, Terashi’s blades pinning him to the brick by the fabric of his clothes.
Terashi had him by the jaw, fingers jammed into his mouth. She jabbed once, ruthlessly, and the man gagged against her knuckles until she withdrew her hand, a capsule caught between the crook of her fingers.
“Too bad.” She said coldly. The man’s eyes shone with defiance as Lu Ten approached. He recognized him as a member of his personal guard, which at the very least, confirmed some of his initial suspicions.
“Who sent you?” Lu Ten growled, letting his flame peak threateningly in his hand.
The man bared his teeth and snarled, “You should have died in Ba Sing Se.”
Terashi’s answering punch knocked the man’s head against the brick with a sharp crack.
“Try again.” Terashi hissed.
The man lolled his head to the side, tongue working in his mouth until he turned to spit out a tooth, “You won’t get anything out of me,” He said finally, grinning around the blood dripping out of his mouth, “Some of us have honour left in this nation.”
Lu Ten caught Terashi’s fist before she could strike the man again.
“Enough,” Lu Ten said quietly, “We’re better than this.”
A strange look flashed across Terashi’s eyes, but then she nodded once and it was gone.
His father was not at his office or in his chambers. Lu Ten made his way across the palace, and thanked the spirits dad had taken to camp in Zuko’s room more often than not. So much so that there was a couch made up for him in the corner of the room that everyone pretended wasn’t actually another cot.
Terashi trailed after him silently. She hadn’t suggested she leave after they dropped the man off in the dungeons, and Lu Ten didn’t push it.
There were guards posted outside Zuko’s room when Lu Ten arrived. Lu Ten tamped down the urge to dismiss them, a spark of fear coursing through him. If his own guards had turned against him, then who could be trusted in the palace?
“I’ll stay here,” Terashi said, as if she’d read his mind. He gave her a grateful nod and gestured for the guards to let him inside.
His father looked up as Lu Ten slipped into the room, eyebrows lifting in surprise. Lu Ten visited Zuko plenty in the day, but avoided going into his room at night, too afraid of accidentally falling asleep by Zuko’s bedside and scaring both of them awake with a screaming nightmare.
Iroh rose, looking at Lu Ten and then to the door questioningly. Lu Ten shook his head. After the events of the evening he was loath to leave Zuko alone in the room.
They withdrew to a nook in the room, close enough to keep an eye on Zuko without waking him up. His father listened quietly as Lu Ten outlined the events of the night, and didn’t seem surprised when Lu Ten revealed the attack had come from within his guard.
Lu Ten didn’t know why that bothered him. He set it aside for the moment as his father mulled over his response.
“I will stay here tonight.” Iroh said quietly, his eyes flicking to Zuko’s small form and then back to Lu Ten in a silent question.
Lu Ten had thought he would be too wired from the events of the night. Instead he felt drained. If he stayed, he would sleep. If he slept, his nightmares would return, and that wouldn’t be fun for anyone.
“Terashi is outside,” Lu Ten said at the silent question, “We can trade sleep shifts in my room.”
“Oh?” His father said, a beat too late. Lu Ten narrowed his eyes. His father was a terrible liar.
“Did you send her to babysit me?” Lu Ten hissed, “Dad, what the fuck?”
“Language.” Iroh said sternly, but didn’t deny it. Lu Ten scowled in reply.
“Did you know something like this would happen?” Lu Ten said lowly.
“I suspected,” His father said evenly.
Lu Ten released a slow breath. Wrong-footed, betrayed. Zuko stirred a little, derailing his next sentence.
“ ‘u Ten?” Zuko mumbled from the bed, “What’s going on?”
“This isn’t over,” Lu Ten said under his breath at his father before moving to Zuko’s bedside. And alright, he really was a whipped ass bitch, because one look at his tiny cousin sitting up and struggling to blink awake was enough to sluice the fear and tension of the night off his shoulders.
Lu Ten took his father’s seat and laid a gentle hand over Zuko’s brow, carding his fingers soothingly through his baby cousin’s shaggy fringe.
“Just here to see dad for a bit,” Lu Ten murmured, “Go back to sleep okay?”
Zuko looked at him blearily before nodding, sinking back down into his pillows at Lu Ten’s gentle urging. Lu Ten stamped a kiss into Zuko’s hair and waited for his cousin’s breaths to even out before he rose again.
“We’ll talk in the morning,” His father said, holding up a hand to stall any further discussion.
“Fine.” Lu Ten said shortly.
Terashi didn’t flinch when he came out glaring, following him silently to his chambers. He wasn’t sure why he was so angry. Because it made sense, didn’t it? Why she was always with him these days. That extra layer of protection he’d mistaken as companionship. Terashi was still in his father’s pocket, and had been long before she had been his friend.
When they came to his room, he turned to her finally, but when he reached for the anger to confront her, he just felt tired instead.
“I’m going to bed,” Lu Ten muttered, “I don’t care if you stay or leave, but I don’t want to see you in the morning.”
“Understood, sir.” Terashi said quietly.
Lu Ten closed the door.