Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Waves splashed gently against the ship’s hull. The sky was overcast with clouds and a breeze skimmed over the ocean's surface. If one looked to the west, they could see land moving further and further away. Workers rushed across the deck, speaking in hurried whispers. Every movement was kept as silent as possible, as if the crew was anxiously waiting for something.

At first glance, the crew moved seamlessly together, years of sea experience coming to light. However, the longer you watch the easier it is to see their struggles communicating. Hands carried out jobs that had been done hundreds of times before as if they were being done for the first time. This was the crew's first day together.

Hushed conversations carried themselves across the deck.

“The prince, yes.”

“The Firelord is the one who-”

“I can’t believe-”

“His own son!”

“-only 11. That’s younger than my kids, I-”

“His uncle is with him now.”

“Yeah, he hasn’t left the room-”

“They’re not sure he’s going to make it.”

The subject of all these conversations was residing in a room below deck. He was a young boy of the age 11. His body was dripping with sweat from a fever. A thick bandage stretched around his head and covered his left eye and ear. His black hair was shaved away from the wound in a haphazard way.

The lighting in the room was dim, coming from only a few candles in the corner. They flickered and cast shadows across the boy's face, which was twisted in pain.

There was one other occupant in the room. He sat at the boy's side, gray hair unkempt and framing his face. Silent tears rolled down his face as he gripped the boy’s hand tightly.

The man hadn’t moved for hours, and he vowed to himself not to leave the room until the boy woke up. He would sit there until the fever and infection stopped wracking through the boy’s body. The first face the boy would see when he woke would be his, smiling down at him.

The man squeezed the boy’s hand firmly and promised to never leave him alone again.

Chapter Text

Iroh woke as the sun shone through the porthole, blinking slowly to rid the crust from his eyes. He stayed where he was for a moment, letting his mind and body come alive before sitting up. He groaned as his back protested the movement.

‘Not as young as I used to be,’ he thought.

Once he had reached a proper state of wakefulness, Iroh rose from his seat. He ambled over to his tea set that was currently placed in here until further notice. He hummed a cheery tune to himself as he poured two cups of ginseng. He walked over to his chair and sat down. He set one cup on the bedside table and held the other in his hands, blowing softly to cool it off.

He sat in silence, feeling nothing but the gentle swaying of the ship. He could hear the soft footsteps and quiet murmurs coming from the crew on deck above him. Iroh sipped his tea as he shifted his gaze to the bed in front of him.

The door opened as he was adjusting the blankets covering the small figure. Iroh looked up and his face stretched into a wide smile.

“Doctor Osamu! How are you this fine morning?” Iroh said, placing his tea next to the other cup.

The doctor returned his greeting cheerfully as he set his supplies down on the desk. He carefully shifted the tea set out of the way to make room. Once he’d finished setting up, Osamu turned to face Iroh.

“I’m doing quite alright, Sir, thank you for asking.” He picked up some bandages and cleaning supplies, walking over to the bed. “And how’s our patient doing today?”

Iroh sighed, his eyes wandering over the unconscious body laying before them. “No change from yesterday that I can see. I think his fever has gone down a little, but not much. Unfortunately, my nephew still shows no signs of waking.”

Osamu hummed in acknowledgment as he unwrapped the bandages around Zuko’s head with well practiced movements.

Harsh as Ozai may be, he wasn’t an idiot. He knew that if he sent this ragtag crew out overseas without a medic, they’d be dead in a month, especially considering the parting gift he gave Zuko. The only decent thing he did towards the entire situation was grant them one of the palace's finest doctors to accompany them. It was a way to save face with the nation, so Ozai could say that he didn’t send an eleven year old boy out completely unprotected.

It might’ve all been for nothing though, if Zuko was taken from fever a week into their journey.

Iroh’s mouth tightened as he thought of his brother. He’d always know that Ozai could be power hungry and cruel, but this was a whole new level that Iroh had thought not even his brother would be capable of.

(though, with the circumstances under which Ozai became Fire Lord, Iroh really shouldn’t be surprised)

He sipped his tea, watching as Osamu looked over the wound on his nephew's face. The doctor hummed a quiet tune as he concentrated, not letting anything pull his eyes away from his work. Soon, Osamu was spreading burn cream onto Zuko’s eye and wrapping fresh bandages around his head.

(you can say what you want about the Fire Nation, but their proficiency in dealing with burns is nothing to scoff at)

Iroh adjusted the bedding covering Zuko while Osamu packed up his things. As he was about to walk out the door, Iroh spoke up.

“How are things up on deck? Is the crew getting on okay?” His gaze never strayed from his nephew.

There was a brief moment of silence behind him, before Osamu turned back to face Iroh.

“They’re all fine, sir. A bit confused and curious, but it’s not affecting their abilities to work the ship.”

“I’m not concerned about that.” And he wasn’t. Iroh knew that the crew would be more than alright in dealing with the workings of the steamer they were on. All of them were members of the Fire Nation Navy that Iroh selected himself. He trusted them to do their jobs without complaint. No, he was worried about their interactions with each other. After all, there was a reason the crew members he had chosen were all from lower ranking vessels.

“I mean, are they interacting with each other okay? I know most of them are very opinionated.” There was a reason for all of their demotions, after all.

Osamu hesitated for a second, then answered. “Tensions have been high. We are new to each other, and lots of them don’t know the situation or why we’re here. Not to mention…” he trailed off.

Iroh raised an eyebrow. “Not to mention what?”

Osamu shook his head. “It’s nothing, sir.”

“No, no. Permission to speak freely, doctor,” Iroh insisted.

The aging doctor looked as if he was about to protest further, but his words dissipated under the determined look in Iroh’s eyes. “It’s only that barely anyone has seen you, sir. You never come out for meals or to get some fresh air, and you haven’t spoken to anyone but me.” Osamu closed his mouth, looking as if he was about to be reprimanded. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, uncomfortable.

Iroh ignored Osamu’s worry and sifted through the thoughts swirling through his mind. He supposed the doctor had a point. Iroh had been holed up in this room for a little over a week. He supposed it couldn’t hurt to go out and interact with the rest of the crew. If nothing else, Iroh thought, he could use a bath.

Having made his decision, Iroh hauled himself out of his chair. He leaned down and smoothed Zuko’s hair away from his sweat-covered forehead. He hesitated for a brief second, unwilling to leave his nephew’s side, before resolutely walking towards the door.

Osamu stared at him, unsure of what was going through his brain. He startled when Iroh smiled at him, gesturing to the door in a way that could only mean “after you.” Not wanting to push his luck, Osamu hurried through the narrow opening. Iroh checked on Zuko once more, then followed the doctor down the hall.

Iroh would show himself to the crew, for morale if nothing else. He needed to make sure that everything was running smoothly and prepared for his nephew's command. The crew needed to know who would be in charge and the way the ship was going to be run. Not to mention the way they treated Zuko himself. Iroh was kind and forgiving, but he was also the Dragon of the West, and anyone who hurt his charge would be burned. The crew would grow to learn that very important fact.

Iroh’s stomach chose that moment to remind him that it had, in fact, been a while since he’d eaten, and if he were to go remedy that it would be very welcome, please and thank you. The Dragon of the West changed course, the pleasant look on his face not wavering.

First stop: the mess hall.

(those poor soldiers had no idea what was about to hit them) 

Chapter Text

Up on the deck of the Wani, things were still and silent. The only noises made were from the shifting of the couple guards on duty and the lapping of waves against the hull. 

Tamuki stifled a yawn as he stood guard in front of the door. He’d never understood why ships required guards, considering they were out in the middle of the ocean, but he decided it wasn’t worth the risk to ask or complain. 

He shivered, wishing his armor provided more protection from the cool sea breezes washing over the deck. Tamuki thought longingly of the mess hall, all warm and bright. Not to mention the food. Though he’d only been on the Wani for a little while, he knew the cook's food was nothing to turn up your nose at. Just a little longer, and he could head there for some dinner and climb into his warm bed. He sighed at the thought.

The minutes passed like they were trudging through deep mud carrying bags of sand. Tamuki’s eyes drooped, heavy with the weight of a slow day. He wrestled them open again and again, not wanting to get caught sleeping on duty.

(the fact that Tamuki’s guard mate was openly asleep and snoring was lost on Tamuki in his fight for wakefulness)

Just as his eyes slipped closed once again, a hand tapped his shoulder gently. Startled, Tamuki whirled around and almost hit someone with a flaming fist.

“Tamuki, calm down! It’s just me!”

Eyes adjusting, Tamuki was able to see Atsuini covering his face, the lantern he was holding rolling across the floor. Though he was satisfied that it wasn’t an intruder, Tamuki still wasn’t sure that he should let his guard down. Just the other day, Atsuini had punched him in the face just because Tamuki had accidently bumped into him. Luckily for Tamuki, it looked like Atsuini had no intention of starting a fight.

“What?” Tamuki croaked out.

Atsuini watched him warily, but uncovered his face when no further flames appeared. 

“Your shift is over,” he said, bending down to pick up his lantern. “You can go get something to eat and then get some rest.” Atsuini looked him up and down. “You need it.”

Too tired and grateful to be riled up, Tamuki simply allowed Atsuini to take over and hurried inside with stumbling feet.

(the other guard snorted, and kept sleeping away)

Tamuki was surprised to see so many people still in the mess hall when he arrived. Dinner had been hours ago, but he supposed that this was the best place to hang out and talk. He weaved through the tables and snatched a plate of food that had been left specifically for the night guards. Tamuki glanced around the mess hall, unsure of where to sit. He spotted Jee in the back and decided to head over his way. They weren’t friends per say, but they had hailed from the same previous assignment before General Iroh had had them moved to this one. 

Jee barely spared him a glance before going back to what was in his hands. Tamuki saw it was a letter–from his family, he assumed. Deciding it wasn’t his business or worth his time, Tamuki dug into his food enthusiastically. The conversations filling the room faded into a background murmuring that was soothing to his ears. 

For a few minutes, Tamuki focused on nothing but the meal on his plate. When the voices behind him faded away into silence, he looked up, curious as to what could make thirty sailors be quiet. And standing in the doorway was one of two people that no one(save one person) on the ship had seen all week. 

General Iroh was the one who’d brought them all together. It was true that they were on good terms with him, and that’s why Iroh had selected them, but it’s also true that the only reason Iroh was permitted to take the crew of his choice was because they were all a collection of the worst the navy had to offer. Not in morals and upbringing, but in being good soldiers. They knew this, and yet no one had explained why the only crew Iroh could have was a band of misfits. Their main guess came from Prince Zuko’s current condition. 

General Iroh looked more tired than Tamuki remembered ever seeing him as. He stood firm and tall, but it seemed as if there was a weight pressing down on his shoulders. The pleasant smile that usually adorned his face was still there, but it seemed more forced than normal. Everything about his clothes, from his shoes to his hair, was impeccably done in a way only a member of the royal family could achieve. 

The crew’s eyes followed his path across the mess hall to the kitchen. This was the first time they’d seen him since he went into the room holding his nephew. One guy dropped the apple he had been holding onto another crew member's head. 

Conversations slowly began again when Iroh did nothing but walk into the kitchen. Tamuki returned to his meal, ravenous pace slowed as he remembered the mysterious circumstances they were here under. 

“Guess he decided to come out and see what was happening.”

Tamuki looked up at the voice. Jee was obviously the one who’d spoken, there was no one else around. Yet he was still staring at his letter. Tamuki didn’t know if he was waiting for a response or not, but he thought he should say something just in case.

“Yeah.”

(woooooooooowwwwwww, so insightful and contributing)

Jee hummed, which could have meant: “I totally agree with whatever you just said,” or “Wtf, dude, I wasn’t speaking to you stfu,” or “I wasn’t paying attention to anything you just said, I just wanted to hum a pretty song but I only know one note.” Tamuki hoped it was more of the first option than anything else.

Iroh emerged from the kitchen carrying a plate of food. He started to head their way, which made Tamuki nervous. Not because he didn’t like the general, he just didn’t know if he’d done anything that warranted the Dragon of the West’s attention. Then he remembered who he was sitting across from and relaxed. Iroh was obviously coming to talk to Jee, who was acting captain of the Wani for the time being. Tamuki wiped the sweat on his hands off onto his pants, feeling foolish. 

Iroh slid onto the bench next to Jee. They exchanged quick greetings before continuing their own activities. Iroh started working his way through the food on his plate, and Jee traded his letter for blank paper and a writing brush. Tamuki couldn’t help but stare for a moment, before whipping his head down once he realized what he’d been doing.

Tamuki couldn’t speak for General Iroh or Jee’s thoughts on the matter, but the next few minutes were some of the most awkward ones in his entire life. He kept glancing at Iroh, curious and nervous at the same time. 

He quickly recognised the faces of people with something to say but couldn’t say in present company. Not wanting to intrude or delay their conversations any further, he scarfed down the rest of his dinner and left the table. He was tired and wanted to go to bed anyway.

He walked out of the mess hall and turned in the direction of the room he shared with five other crew members. Tamuki wondered what Iroh had wanted to speak to Jee about. 

(back in the mess hall, Jee handed Iroh his response to the general’s letter that he’d just been reading–the dates for music night had been chosen)

When Tamuki turned the corner, he heard strange noises coming from further down the ship. His footsteps slowed, and he wondered if an animal had accidently stowed away. The sound of something hitting the wall reached his ears. Tamuki fell into a fire bending position just in case as he crept further down the hallway. 

(Tamuki would look back on this moment and laugh later, but he didn’t feel like laughing now)

He wondered if he should grab back up before going to face whatever weird creature that laid up ahead. Tamuki actually paused to consider that thought and almost turned around. On one hand, if the thing turned out to be really dangerous, he would have someone with him to help. On the other hand, if it turned out it was just a helmet or something, Tamuki would be really embarrassed that he was freaking out over nothing. Not to mention the fact that sound carried really well in the lower levels of the Wani. If he did end up needing help, he would just scream.

Having made up his mind, Tamuki continued to make his way forward. Bending at the ready, he turned the corner. His eyes instantly found the source of the weird noises. For the second time that day, he was shocked into silence. Tamuki couldn’t believe it.

“Prince Zuko?”

Chapter Text

Iroh was extremely comfortable in the mess hall. Yes, he was aware that everyone was staring at him and he could hear half of the whispered conversations around him(which were all discussing his sudden appearance, of course), but years as the crown prince and then a general had taught him how to deal with people staring at him. So he wasn’t particularly bothered. He was enjoying his dinner(which was quite delicious, he’d have to send his compliments to the chef later) and he’d forgotten how nice it was to be around people.

He placed his silverware on his plate after finishing his meal, before pushing it away with a gentle shove. Jee, who was acting like it was perfectly normal that a prince was sitting next to him, had moved on to actually writing a letter to his family now that they had dealt with the more pressing issues onboard the ship. 

Jee set his writing tools down when he noticed Iroh watching him. He turned slightly towards the older man, body stiff with years of training in the navy. 

“Can I ask you something, sir?” This was a formality, as Iroh could tell Jee would just ask him anyway.

“Of course!” 

The acting captain hesitated slightly before speaking. “I don’t mean any disrespect, but I’m curious as to why you would write to me about music night of all things. I had assumed that you would have...other things on your mind.”

Iroh nodded. “Yes, I can see why that would be confusing to you.” He paused, pushing his plate a little further away so he’d have more room to put his arms. “And it’s true that there were more pressing concerns, you could say, that were indeed occupying my mind. But one should never ponder for too long, or it distracts from the act of doing.” 

That wasn’t quite a proverb but Iroh enjoyed the commonly made face in response to them that covered Jee’s face. 

“All I can say is that during my time as a general, I learned the importance of crew morale, especially during a long assignment.”

(Iroh pushed away the thoughts of Ba Sing Se the wall the war his son Lu Ten gone dead too painful to think about right now)

Perhaps he had stopped to collect his thoughts for a moment too long, as Jee was now looking at him with the barest hint of concern in his eyes, and he shifted just so on the bench that it made a sort of worried sound, if that was even possible.

The former crown prince plastered on his usual unassuming smile. He had other things to worry about. 

“Where was I,” he let out a slight cough into his sleeve. “Ah, yes. As I was saying, morale is important. I figured that tensions would be high and people would have questions, so I looked to remedy that.”

Jee still looked confused.

(or as confused as he can be, sometimes it’s better to look for what he’s not saying-when he’s not angry that man is a statue)

“And what led you to music night, sir?”

Iroh looked at his clasped hands, eyes crinkling in a bitter-sweet smile.

(C’mon, father! Having a music night would be fun!)

He sighed. “Oh, nothing much.”

(Plus, it’s been forever since I’ve gotten to play the tsungi horn, and I need to show Kuzon I’m not a liar when I say I’m the best one there ever was)

“It just happened to be my favorite of many ideas I tried.”

(And if we teamed up, we’d be unstoppable! As long as we’re together we’ll never lose! (that’s what he’d thought he was wrong foolish arrogant nieve ))

Iroh shook away those thoughts and locked them tightly in the back of his mind. He couldn’t afford such painful memories when he had to look after the whole crew. And make sure his nephew lives long enough to be cared for. He turned back to Jee, thankful that there was no bending that allowed you to read someone’s mind.

“From what the kind doctor Osamu told me, it’s probably a good thing I did. I hear tensions have been high?”

Jee scowled down at his scroll. “Yeah, mostly a mixture of close quarters with unfamiliar faces and a slightly confusing situation we haven’t gotten briefed on.” Jee looked at Iroh out of the corner of his eyes, but didn’t press the issue, which Iroh was grateful for. “There have been a few scuffles but they were all quickly remedied. Nothing more than a couple of punches thrown and they were all surprisingly not on fire.” 

Iroh appreciated that fact. He didn’t think a fire duel would be the best thing for this ship at the moment.

“I’m sure everything will settle down soon! After all, 2 of the 3 problems will be fixed in the near future.” Iroh trapped Jee in another smile. “And I hope you would indulge an old man in a game of Pai Sho once we have the time?” 

Jee looked at Iroh with suspicion in his gaze. He’d never heard an offer for a game of Pai Sho sound so threatening before.

&&&&&

When Zuko woke up, he didn’t know where he was. All he knew was that his face felt like it was burning off (which it was it had but he didn’t know that), it was unbearably hot in the room, and the ground was rolling in circles.

His first thought was that earthbenders were attacking, but the rolling felt too familiar, like the rocking of the boat that took his family to Ember Island all those years ago. Waterbenders? Did they turn the palace into a giant boat?

Zuko wanted to just go check, but his body felt frozen. When he struggled with the lids over his eyes, only one opened. The other felt like it was being held shut by soggy, burnt fire flakes.

(don’t ask him why he knew what that felt like - it was Zula’s fault but no one believed him no one ever believed him not even Mom and she’s- )

What he could see out of his one eye was blurry. He could make out a lot of red, so he had to still be in the Fire Nation. He should probably go help with the fact that the palace had been turned into a giant boat if his body would just listen to him. 

When he was finally able to muster enough strength to turn his head, the first thing the young (banished but it’s a secret not) prince saw was a tea set. A very familiar tea set. Uncle. Zuko’s worry evaporated out of him in an instant. If Uncle was here, nothing too bad could be happening. He was probably dealing with the waterbenders right now.

The second thing he saw were candles, and the candles had fire and it burned burned burned make it stop please I’m sorry sorry father - Zuko couldn’t make sense of the fear that flooded his body and he didn’t have enough energy to scream, but now he knew why it was so hot in this room, and he didn’t like it one bit, he needed to leave, get away from the flames hot burning burning, find uncle, anyone, anywhere but here.

Zuko less climbed and more flopped off of the bed. It didn’t make a difference to him, now he could see the door . 

Through some sort of miracle, or perhaps the sheer stubbornness Zuko had always possessed but now fueled by fear, the eleven year old clambered to his feet and stumbled out the unlocked door, leaving the flames behind.

Chapter Text

“Prince Zuko?”

Tamuki stared at the person in front of him, not quite believing his eyes. His body was frozen, still poised and ready to fight. 

It didn’t look like the young prince had heard him. His back was angled towards the guard, and his hands seemed to be pulling on a…tapestry? Tamuki’s ears picked up the sound of faint mumblings coming from the prince’s direction.

The longer he stared, the more uncomfortable he felt about the prince’s condition, because damn, he did not look good. He was swaying on his feet a significant amount, even for a boat. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, probably because of the fever, and Tamuki could see sweat pouring down his body. The hands wrapped up in the tapestry were trembling, and to top it all off was the horrifying swath of bandages covering his left eye. 

Tamuki couldn’t help but wonder how a prince could get in such a state when they were supposedly some of the most protected people in the land. He had heard the rumors, of course, but he couldn’t imagine a father ever doing anything like this to their own son. Until General Iroh or the Fire Lord came out and said that’s what happened, Tamuki was going to hold those rumors to a grain of salt.

Unsure of what to do, he shifted his weight slightly, wondering if it was safe to approach the kid.

(and that’s what he was—a kid. It’s one thing to know it, but seeing it with his own two eyes was different)

He glanced over his shoulder, wondering if he should go get the general. He didn’t want to accidentally set the prince off and cause him more harm.

A loud ripping noise brought his attention back to the situation in front of him. It seemed Prince Zuko had been pulling hard enough to tear the tapestry in half. He looked at the torn tapestry with a look of appeasement, then mumbled something about water benders? Ok, Tamuki could officially no longer handle this.

Deciding that it was probably better to secure the prince first, (and going off of the bruise forming on his head, Tamuki could guess what the crashing sound had been earlier), Tamuki took a step forward. 

Dazed as he was, this caught the prince’s attention, and he turned his head to look at the approaching guard.

“Hey, . . . Buddy.”

(Agni above, he’s so bad with kids. How are you supposed to address an out-of-it prince child?)

Prince Zuko stared at him, eye glassy and unfocused, hand still holding the torn tapestry. Tamuki noted that it happened to be one of the only ones of Fire Lord Ozai on the ship, and wondered if he would have to pay for a new one.

“Are you okay?”

Again, there was no response from the boy.

Tamuki glanced over his shoulder, chewing on his bottom lip. He was really out of his comfort zone. The idea of going to get General Iroh was sounding more and more appealing, but leaving the prince alone in this state didn’t feel right.

The boat rocked wildly, seeming to hit a rough patch of waves. The dim lantern that was lighting the hallway blew out, leaving them in darkness.

Tamuki could hear the uneven shuffling of feet heading towards him. It seemed the young prince wasn’t affected by the lack of light. 

Tamuki lifted his hand and lit his palm with flames, hoping the prince wasn’t about to walk into another wall.

Once his eyes had adjusted, Tamuki looked over the prince and found no new bruises. He did see that the prince was frozen midstep, seemingly in fear. He looked around but the only thing in the hall other than the prince was him and the torn tapestry.

He increased the size and brightness of the fire in his hand, hoping to see what was making the prince tremble. When he did so, Prince Zuko shrieked and fell back onto his rear, arms coming up to cover his face. His mumblings had transformed into a stream of, “please–no–I’m sorry–Father,” and damn, those rumors might have held more weight to them than he’d thought.

Not wanting to distress the young lord any further, he snuffed out the flames with quick efficiency. After a few moments he could hear the mumblings peter out.

A sighed wooshed out of his chest, filled with releaf, until he heard the quiet sobs coming from the prince.

‘Shit.’ There’s only one thing worse than dealing with a child, and that one thing is a crying child. Let it be known that Tamuki is not good with kids.

“Hey, kid, it’s okay. Don’t cry!”

(yeah, like telling him not to cry is going to do anything)

With his vision useless without any light, the guard carefully reached his hand out and felt around in the air. Feeling something that felt like hair and a head, he started patting it gently, hoping he wouldn’t make him cry any worse than he already was.

He kept patting the kid’s hair. He was still crying, but Tamuki thought that it was less than before. 

After a few moments of the awkward patting, Tamuki could hear footsteps coming towards them from down the hall.

‘Thank Agni, someone who can help me.’

He waited for the footsteps to reach them, not wanting to yell and upset the prince any further. 

He watched the feet turn the corner, he looked up, and...damn. It was Atsuini. The last person he’d wanted to walk around that corner.

(oh great Agni, why have you forsaken me?) (but on the other hand he was carrying a lantern, so at least they could see now)

Atsuini jolted to a stop, wide eyes taking in the picture in front of him. He followed Tamuki’s arm down to the head it was on and gasped.

“Is that…?”

Tamuki sighed. “Yup.”

Atsuini walked forward, looking just as surprised as Tamuki had been when he saw the prince.

“What’s he doing out of bed? Last I heard he was still unconscious.”

Tamuki shrugged, not having an answer.

Atsuini looked like he was going to ask for more than a shrug, but sighed and let it go. He came closer, light on his feet so as to not startle the boy. Like Tamuki had done, he looked over all of the injuries covering Prince Zuko.

Atsuini gestured to the forming bruise on the prince’s face. “Where did that come from? It looks fresh.”

Tamuki nodded in agreement.

“I think it is. I heard a crashing sound right before I found the prince. That was probably him walking into a wall.”

His...shipmate? rival? (they definitely weren’t friends anyway) nodded in agreement, before turning to give him an evil look.

“Actually, I bet you gave it to him.” Atsuini smirked at him. “You do have a habit of running into people.”

Tamuki sucked in a big breath and let it out slowly, resisting the urge to set the jerk on fire. 

“I bumped into you. Bumped. The deck was crowded and the waves were choppy. You’re the one who turned around and punched me for no reason.”

Atsuini glared at him and opened his mouth, looking like he wanted to keep arguing. Not wanting to get into that right now, Tamuki slapped his palm over his mouth, chuckling at the absolutely affronted expression covering Atsuini’s face.

“Look,” Tamuki sighed, “Can you just go and get Doctor Osamu or General Iroh? I don’t feel comfortable leaving the prince alone right now, and he probably shouldn’t be out of bed anyway.”

 Atsuini looked like he was going to protest for a minute, but one look at the still sobbing prince had him caving. He nodded, and started heading back to the mess hall, hoping the General would still be there.

Tamuki felt a big rush of relief seeing Atsuini going to get help.

‘Finally,’ he thought, ‘someone who actually knows how to deal with kids can come and fix this.’ 

Now all he had to do was wait.

Chapter Text

Zuko didn’t know what was going on. 

He was holding something in his hands, twisting and tearing it in unconscious motions. He didn’t know what it was, but he remembered that there had been something wrong bad evil hurt on the wall, and he’d made it stop, and now he held the remnants in his hands. He thought about dropping it, but the motion of squeezing it was comforting, almost like how Lu Ten used to wrap him up in blankets when he was crying after a particularly rough training session with father, and tell him jokes until he was laughing again. Zuko held on tighter.

His vision was cloudy and his head was pounding more than that time he’d run into a wall while trying to hide from Azula. He remembered something about waterbenders, but then all he could feel was a familiar burning heat close to his face and no no no he didn’t want it there get it off.

Zuko found himself on his knees, sobbing. A hand was ruffling his hair with slow, hesitant motions, and for some reason, Zuko had the impression that the last time he’d been on his knees like this had not ended as nicely. The feeling was gone as soon as it came though, leaving the young prince confused at the flash of fear coursing through him.

His head hurt, his knees hurt, he was crying, and he couldn’t remember anything.

Zuko started choking on his sobs, and wished Lu Ten was there.

&&&&&

Tamuki’s heart clenched when the prince started sobbing with renewed fervor. 

He didn’t know what was going on. It had looked like the young boy had been calming down, but then that calm disappeared.

Tamuki started making shushing noises and patted his head like a turtleduck. 

(shut up he was panicking, Tamuki is not. good. with kids.)

Zuko started leaning into his hand, but kept sobbing. At some point, he had picked back up the torn piece of tapestry—probably when Tamuki was talking to Atsuini. He was curling over it, hugging it to his chest like it was something precious and not something he’d just torn off of the wall in a fevered haze. 

Tamuki closed his eyes and prayed for Agni to send someone more qualified soon.

&&&&&

Iroh sat in the mess hall, decidedly not fidgeting with his hands. He was not in a rush to get back to his nephew’s side. He was not worried that Zuko (who had been burned on his face by his father while Iroh wasn’t there why wasn’t he there— ) would crumble up into dust and disappear the second he wasn’t at his nephew’s side. Doctor Osamu had said, suggested even, that the crew needed to see him, so here he was. He would sit in the mess hall for an appropriate amount of time, talk Pai Sho with Lieutenant Jee, reassure the crew with his presence, and then return to his nephew’s side.

(he would ignore the thought of what happened the last time he’d left the side of a child in his care)

Iroh continued to not fidget as his conversation with Lieutenant Jee died down, neither paying too much attention to it. He stared at his empty plate, pleasant smile fixed on his face. The crew needed to see him calm and confident. He needed to feel calm and confident. 

‘Zuko will wake up. Zuko will heal. Zuko will be fine. Zuko will not be another Lu Ten. I will not fail him too.’ 

Iroh ran these reminders through his head like a mantra, like they were the only things holding him together. In a way, they were. If he stopped believing them, stopped believing Zuko would be okay, then he might just crumble into pieces and not be able to put himself back together. Iroh couldn’t afford to do that right now. He needed to be strong. The crew needed him to be strong. Zuko needed him to be strong.

(he’s never felt more weak)

“General?”

Iroh shook those thoughts away, turning back to the lieutenant sitting beside him. 

“Yes, Lieutenant Jee?”

Despite having been the one to initiate the conversation, Jee now looked like he’d rather be anywhere else. He sat up as straight as he could, eyes moving back to his hands in front of him, carefully avoiding Iroh’s. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but then closed it, looking unsure of himself.

Iroh had never seen Jee act this way before. Despite his failings in the Fire Nation Navy, Lieutenant Jee was a careful man. He never spoke without thinking it through first (though more often than not you should look at what he’s not saying to determine his thoughts) and never took back something he’s said. For him to hesitate like this, it must be something either embarrassing for Jee or something Jee thinks might hurt Iroh.

With their current situation, there was really only one plausible option that it could be.

“Speak freely, lieutenant,” Iroh said. “I promise not to take offense to what you might have to say.”

The lieutenant hesitated, hands clenching on the table in front of him. He slowly released a breath, turning to face Iroh directly.

“About this whole trip,” Jee began, “Why you chose the crew you did, why we’re here in the first place, and…the prince.” He swallowed before soldiering on. “I’m sure you’re aware that there are…rumors.”

Iroh hummed and nodded.

“One of the more unfortunate things I’ve learned over the years is that there will always be rumors wherever you go. It is the mark of a wise man who decides not to take them at face value and seeks the truth for himself.”

Iroh swallowed, and avoided thinking about if Zuko had been here, he would’ve rolled his eyes and grumbled at Iroh’s “wise old man” advice, but still would’ve listened to everything he said. Iroh pressed on.

“That being said, Lieutenant Jee, I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to be more specific. There are many rumors, you see, and it would be careless of me to confirm or deny them without knowing for sure which I am speaking of. Would you care to clue an old man in?” Iroh sent a benign smile Jee’s way.

Despite asking for clarification, Iroh actually felt fairly confident as towards which rumors Lieutenant Jee was referring to. Based on his hesitancy to ask the question, the pauses when referring to Prince Zuko, and his generally uncomfortable demeanor, it was highly likely that the rumors of Firelord Ozai being the one to scar his own prepubescent son had reached even this small ragtag crew in the time before their departure. And now Jee was going to the only one on board (who wasn’t unconscious) that he knew could confirm whether or not they were true. 

Jee stared at Iroh for a moment, not saying a word. He searched the general’s face for something, most likely confirmation that Iroh actually wanted him to say the words out loud rather than let it be an unspoken, but acknowledged, fact. Unspoken truths were quite commonly used within the Fire Nation when speaking on subjects that could get you thrown in jail for treason if you’re not careful enough. It was practically second nature for all citizens of the Fire Nation at this point, to not speak those ugly truths out loud, so Iroh didn’t blame the lieutenant for his hesitancy. He was sure that after a while, the crew would come to find that they didn’t need to tip toe in their words around him.

Realizing that yes, Iroh did in fact want Jee to say the rumors outloud, Jee took a deep breath.

“Yes, well. The rumors I am referring to in this case are the ones that say the Firelord Ozai was the cause of the burn on Prince Zuko’s face. And that he did so after Prince Zuko had honorably and rightfully surrendered during an Agni Kai.” 

Jee’s mouth snapped shut the second he was finished, tension in his body rising. He looked like he expected someone to smite him on the spot for daring to even mildly speak against the Fire Lord.

Even having been expecting it, Iroh still had to take a moment after hearing those words. They brought him back to when he’d discovered what had happened while he’d been gone. All of the pain and confusion of how something this horrible could have happened, and to an eleven year old no less.

(all of the anger too, how dare Ozai how dare his idiotic brother not treasure the gift that was his children when Iroh had lost his lost Lu Ten , how dare he hurt who Iroh had always thought of as his own even when Lu Ten was alive, didn’t he know Iroh was a dragon and that dragons always protected their own Iroh should have killed him— )

Iroh took a deep breath and centered himself again. 

He was aware that not just Jee, but the other crew members in the mess hall who were poorly pretending not to listen, were awaiting his answer.

“The people who said those rumors,” Iroh finally stated, “would be correct.” 

He didn’t elaborate, allowing his words to speak for themselves.

Shock, distress, anger, and more were evident in the crew. Quiet mumblings erupted, sounding like the distress of people who had known something to be true but did not want to believe it due to the horrible implications. Iroh took a brief second to worry about his nephew’s reaction to the crew knowing what happened, but he shook it off. The Agni Kai was public after all. It would be no surprise if the information of what happened had spread. Iroh would simply make sure that none of the crew members pressed Zuko about it before he was ready to talk about it, if he ever was.

Great Agni, Iroh wanted to go see his nephew. 

Iroh could see Jee working himself up to another question, and decided that he’d shown himself to the crew long enough, and that it would be perfectly acceptable to return to his nephew’s side right now. 

He was about to excuse himself from the table (and this conversation) when a voice sounded from the entrance of the room, seemingly trying not to yell yet sounding distressed.

“General Iroh!”

Iroh turned and saw Private Atsuini in the entryway. There didn’t seem to be anything physically wrong with him, but the tightness around his eyes and his grip on the door seemed to speak to something larger happening. 

“Yes, Private Atsuini? What may I help you with?” Iroh smiled pleasantly, deciding that staying calm would help smooth over whatever tension or problem may have arised.

“Prince Zuko is awake!”

‘What?’

Iroh shot to his feet, all thoughts of staying calm leaving his mind the second he heard those words.

‘What does he mean, ‘Prince Zuko is awake’? Didn’t I promise to be by his side when he woke up? Didn’t I promise that my face would be the first he sees? How is it that the first time he awakens is the first time I left his side?’ Iroh despaired.

“My nephew has awoken? Truly?” Iroh confirmed with the young man.

Atsuini nodded, grip tightening on the door.

“Yes, General Iroh. Prince Zuko is awake and currently crying in the hallway a bit away. I don’t think he knows where he is, and he’s rather distressed. We were hoping you could help to calm him down.”

‘Crying? Hallway?’

“He left his bed?”

For some reason, this was the fact that stood out to him the most. 

“Yes, General,” Atsuini shifted on his feet, “though we’re not sure when or how.”

“Who is ‘we’?” Iroh asked, moving towards the door, something he should have done the second he heard Zuko was awake.

“Me and Tamuki. Tamuki is the one who found him, and he asked me to go find you. He should still be with Prince Zuko now.” Atsuini led him away from the mess hall and towards, hopefully, his nephew.

Iroh sensed that there might be some tension between Atsuini and Tamuki, which, at any other time, would have been the only thing he focused on until it was solved, but not right now. Right now, he needed to get to his nephew.

&&&&&

Tamuki never thought he’d say this, but he hoped Atsuini returned soon. Preferably, returned soon with General Iroh. He was growing more and more concerned that the young prince might just die of dehydration at this point if he kept crying. 

Tamuki had tried talking to him, but it didn’t seem like the prince heard him. When he tried to take the tapestry away from him, because he was getting genuinely concerned about how tightly he was holding it, the boy’s sobs had increased with a new fervor, so Tamuki had let him keep it. The only thing he was doing that seemed to even mildly work was his hand on the prince’s head. 

On any other day, Tamuki would never even think about touching a member of the royal family.

But.

The prince was eleven.

Eleven, burned, banished, scared, and crying .

Just because Tamuki wasn’t good with kids, that doesn’t mean he’s just going to leave Prince Zuko here alone. He just had to hope that his presence was somewhat helping, despite feeling massively out of his depth.

(he hoped that the role of babysitter wouldn’t become one of their jobs on this trip, for his sake and prince zuko’s—it wouldn’t end well for either of them) 

Just then, he heard rushed footsteps coming up behind him, and turned his head to see General Iroh and Atsuini rounding the corner at a pace slightly less than a run.

General Iroh’s eyes widened as they took in the scene, focus narrowing in on the boy crouching behind Tamuki. His eyes filled with water, but no tears fell.

He walked forward at a much slower pace than before, likely trying not to startle the prince anymore than he already was. Atsuini stayed behind, likely realizing that this was a private moment. Tamuki decided to follow his lead, and, now that there was someone more qualified in the…hallway, took his hand off Prince Zuko’s head and retreated to Atsuini’s side.

(Agni he hoped he would never have to do that again. He would if absolutely necessary because he had a soft spot for kids but under no circumstances should a child be left solely in his care, ever)

General Iroh slowly knelt in front of Prince Zuko, who was still clutching the torn tapestry like it was a lifeline. Iroh reached out a hand, but refrained from actually touching.

“Zuko?”

Tamuki had never heard the general speak that softly before.

“Zuko? Can you hear me?” Iroh asked again.

The prince's cries softened a bit, likely recognizing a familiar voice. He sniffed, uncurling slightly.

“...Lu Ten?”

Tamuki winced. The prince’s voice was scratchy and weak, a rough combination that served to further highlight how horrible this situation was.

General Iroh winced too, though for a different reason.

“No, my boy,” Iroh said, voice thick with regret. “Lu Ten isn’t here, I’m sorry.” It looked like he would soon lose his fight to hold back his tears.

“Lu Ten isn’t here?” The prince clutched the tapestry even tighter at that, his visible eye unfocused and watery. He was looking in the direction of his uncle, but Tamuki doubted he was seeing much of anything. “Where is he?”

General Iroh hesitated, before simply saying, “He’s…far away.” The general lost his fight with his tears, the first sliding down his face.

Prince Zuko had calmed down slightly, but still seemed out of it.

“Oh,” he said. “I miss him. I wish he were here.”

General Iroh looked like an earthbender had hit him in the chest, but spoke, voice thick with grief.

“I miss him too, nephew.”

(tamuki suddenly got the feeling that maybe he and atsuini should have left and should not be watching this(it would probably be more awkward if they left now though))

The vision of the prince’s good eye seemed to be more focused as he blinked at General Iroh.

“Nephew? May I touch you?” General Iroh’s hand was still outstretched, not wanting to touch the boy until he was ready.

Prince Zuko blinked at him. “Uncle?”

“Yes, Prince Zuko, it’s me.” General Iroh’s voice was soft and comforting, despite the tears.

Prince Zuko blinked rapidly. “Did you get the waterbenders?”

Tamuki applauded General Iroh’s unflinching response to that inconceivable question. You could tell when a man had experience with kids.

(and when they did not)

“Yes I did, nephew. All of the waterbenders are taken care of.” The general took a shaky breath before saying, “It’s just you and me, now.”

“There was no one in the room when I woke up,” Prince Zuko continued. “But I saw your tea set, so I knew you had to be here somewhere so it was ok even if my face hurt and we were being attacked, but then there was fire and I got scared so I ran because it was by my face, and uncle my face is burning . Why is my face burning?” His speech sped up as if he was trying to get it out before something stopped him.

General Iroh’s face crumbled.

“It’s alright now, nephew, your face is merely healing, it’s not on fire.”

“It burns, there was fire, fire on my face, and now my face is burning, uncle my face is burning and I couldn’t find you!” Prince Zuko’s breaths, which had calmed down some, now came harsher as the boy grew more distressed. 

Tears flowed down General Iroh’s cheeks and landed on the floor between him and his nephew, who had also begun to cry again.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there, Zuko. I’m sorry you couldn’t find me. I promise that you’ll always be able to find me from now on.” The general’s other arm reached out too. “Nephew, may I hug you?”

The prince didn’t answer with words, but the way he fell into his uncle’s arms was answer enough.

Iroh hugged him close, fiercely but carefully, murmuring apologies for not being there into the prince’s hair.

(tamuki had the feeling that his apologies referred to more than just when the prince woke up on the ship)

And in his uncle’s arms, warm and comforting like they’ve always been, Zuko slipped back into unconsciousness, knowing that he was finally safe.

Chapter Text

Iroh stared down at the hand in his own.

Doctor Osamu was in the room, carefully checking that Zuko’s impromptu field trip didn’t leave any lasting damage to his recovering body. He was muttering something to himself as he changed Zuko’s bandage again , something he usually only had to do once a day. Iroh ignored his griping for the moment, focusing instead on Zuko’s hand in his, the one he’d grabbed onto the second Iroh sat back down at his side (where he should’ve been the whole time, how could he leave him alone when he’s still hurt—) .

Iroh stared down at the hand in his own. 

It was small. It was warm. It held small scars and the palms were calloused from years of firebending and sword practice. Iroh knew that these hands were strong and had a grip that could rival his own.

It was so small. 

Iroh once again wondered within the depths of his own mind how his foolish younger brother could possibly look at the treasure that Zuko is, look at his own son , who hasn’t even reached his first growth spurt yet, who’s kind and a hard worker and so small and hurt him anyway.

(sometimes Iroh doubted that Ozai was human at all)

After that horrible scene in the hallway, Zuko had fallen back into unconsciousness. Iroh had taken him into his arms and carried him back to his room, sending the two soldiers hovering in the background back to whatever they had been doing before. It had been a while since he’d seen Zuko, a while since he’d picked him up and carried him around, but Iroh felt like Zuko should’ve grown more while he was gone.

‘Who’s been taking care of him while I’ve been gone?’ he despaired. ‘It certainly hasn’t been Ozai. Did he have anyone on his side at all?’

Iroh thought of Zuko—beloved cousin dead, mother probably dead, grandfather dead, and his father in the highest place of power in their county—Zuko, alone in the palace where Iroh had left him, where Iroh had forgotten about him in his own grief, and wanted to cry. 

“Well,” Osamu started, breaking Iroh from his grief, “the fact that he woke up at all is a good sign for his overall health. His burn was healing nicely before, and now that he’s woken up, his physical health should start improving.”

Iroh watched as the doctor placed his things away, hands steady from years of practice. (he wondered how steady Ozai’s hands had been when he’d burned his son’s face ) 

“Please send for me the next time he awakens, sir. I’d like to check how he’s responding as soon as possible.” 

“Of course, doctor.” 

Iroh watched Osamu leave, the door closing lightly behind him. The candles in the room swayed to the rhythm of the waves beating against the ship. He could hear faint sounds coming from the crew above and down the hall, but nothing he could make out. Other than Zuko lying on the bed, Iroh was alone.

He looked back down at his nephew. The part of his face not covered in bandages was slightly flushed, however it was much better than before, when he had been racked with fever and they weren’t sure if he would survive the first week at sea. Iroh pulled the blankets up to his chest, smoothing them out and tucking them around his small frame. Zuko’s face held a slight grimace, but it eased slightly as Iroh took his hand in his again. 

“Zuko. My nephew,” Iroh whispered. “I’m sorry.”

Sitting there, with the candles as his only witness, Iroh finally let himself cry.

&&&&&

Tamuki walked in silence back to the mess hall with Atsuini at his side. He remembered vaguely that he had been heading back to his room, but all of his exhaustion had left him after that encounter in the hallway. There were too many thoughts swirling in his head for him to sleep, so when General Iroh had dismissed them, he had simply followed Atsuini to where he was going. 

Tamuki had expected Atsuini to make a fuss about that, however when he’d glanced at his fellow shipmate out of the corner of his eyes, it had seemed that Atsuini had just as many thoughts about the situation as him, and couldn’t be bothered to pick a fight at the moment. 

Tamuki personally felt that this had been one of the longest days of his life, and it wasn’t over yet. He prayed to Agni that no more life changing events would occur tonight. ‘At least wait until tomorrow after I’ve had some sleep.’ 

Walking back into the mess hall, it felt simultaneously the same as before yet different. Tamuki looked around at the same soldiers who had been here earlier, and noticed a new tension among them. Their faces were pale, like they’d seen into the depths of the spirit world and returned. Clearly, something had happened since he’d left, and he wasn’t sure that it was simply the news of the young prince waking up.

(internally, Tamuki protested. Didn’t he just ask for any new drama to be saved for tomorrow?) 

Tamuki scanned his eyes around the room, and spotted Lieutenant Jee still sitting at the same table from before, alone now that the general had left. Tamuki started over to him, assuming that he would know what had happened to make the crew so tense. 

Tamuki was surprised to see Atsuini follow him, but didn’t protest. He assumed that Atsuini had also seen the state of the crew and had had the same thought as him. 

“Lieutenant Jee.” Tamuki’s hands formed the flame and he gave a slight bow before sitting down across from the older man, similar to how they were earlier. Atsuini echoed him, before bowing just slightly lower than Tamuki had, giving him a slight glare out of the corner of his eyes, before sitting down next to him, the space between them slightly too big for what was normal between crewmates. Tamuki felt his pulse rise at the silent fight Atsuini was picking but decided to ignore it for now.

‘I doubt Lieutenant Jee gives a shit about how deep the crew members bow to him anyway, so I don’t know what he was trying to prove,’ Tamuki thought, giving Atsuini a slight glare of his own back.

Ignoring what just happened, Tamuki turned his attention back to Jee. 

“Lieutenant Jee, excuse me for asking but did something happen after I left? The crew seems…tense.” Tamuki watched Jee’s face, and sure enough, his lips tightened a bit. If Tamuki hadn’t worked with Jee before coming on this assignment he probably wouldn’t have noticed it at all. Despite having a temper, Jee was great at keeping a poker face when he wanted to.

Atsuini scoffed, crossing his arms. 

“I wasn’t expecting the news of the little prince being awake to throw them off so much. How are they meant to live with him if this is how they react to him taking a walk?” 

Jee finally spoke up.

“It wasn’t just that the prince was awake, I’m afraid. It…was mainly what General Iroh said before he woke up that has them concerned.”

Tamuki and Atsuini exchanged a glance.

“What did the general say?” Tamuki asked.

He noticed Atsuini leaning forward a bit, seemingly drawn into whatever Jee had to say. Probably due to the way he kept dancing around the subject and the tension around his eyes. 

“Well,” Jee finally sighed, “the general clearly didn’t mean for it to be a secret if he said it in here. I bet the whole ship will know by morning so I might as well tell you two.” He leveled a deep stare at them, and they straightened up, feeling almost like they were being inspected for something. “I want it to be clear that what I’m about to say is serious. It’s not a joke, and we will need to talk later about how we’re going to deal with it. As disbelieving as you might be, I need you to know that this is the truth. Do you understand?”

Tamuki and Atsuini murmured their agreements, tensions rising at the warning Jee gave them. Tamuki flashed back to the passing thoughts about the young prince’s scar that he’d had earlier, but pushed them away. Surely, that couldn’t be the case. Surely, the rumors were wrong—

“The rumors about Prince Zuko got his scar,” Jee started, “The ones about the Firelord and what he did. They’re true.”

Neither he nor Atsuini reacted for a moment. They both stared at the lieutenant, the candlelight flickering across his face, the shadows cast making him look more serious than he usually did. 

Although the mess hall was well lit and warm, Tamuki felt like his own inner flame had gone out, a stark coldness filling his body. 

“You mean…,” Atsuini started. “You’re saying…”

“Yes,” Lieutenant Jee stated. “Firelord Ozai—Prince Zuko’s father—gave him that scar.”

Hearing it stated clearly outloud was somehow worse than Jee allowing them to draw the conclusion from his earlier words. 

Tamuki’s breath caught, an instinctual reaction to hearing someone speak against the Firelord for fear of what would happen. (though isn’t this just further proof that they should be afraid? If the Firelord could do that to his kid his son what would he do to them—)

Tamuki wanted to protest, a knee jerk reaction to hearing something so horrible, but the firmness in Jee’s face and the memory of his warning before held his tongue. As he took in this new information, he started to understand why the rest of the crew looked like they’d just stared the great Agni themselves in the face.

Atsuini laughed, but there was no humor in it. “‘We’ll have to talk about what to do about this’ indeed.”

And for the first time since they’d gotten on this spirits forsaken ship, Tamuki found himself agreeing with Atsuini.

Chapter Text

There was a long moment of silence, and then the tension broke, like a dam giving way. The room erupted in a mix of low conversations, exclamations of disbelief, and muffled curses. Some soldiers couldn’t even look each other in the eye, their faces twisted with horror or confusion. The weight of the truth was overwhelming, and in that moment, the entire crew seemed to crumble under its burden.

One of the younger soldiers—barely out of his teens—stood up suddenly, his hands shaking. “How could he... how could he do that to his own son? To the prince?” His voice cracked as he spoke, and his wide eyes darted around the room, seeking answers he knew no one could give him. Just as quickly as he stood, he sat back down, face going pale. It was one thing to dance around treasonous thoughts, it was another thing to say them blatantly out loud, no matter how likely it was that those surrounding you felt the same way. The Fire Nation wouldn’t be what it was now if it wasn’t skilled at getting their own soldiers to hold their tongues against injustices.

Tamuki wasn’t sure what to feel—anger, pity, confusion—but something about the memory of that small boy gripping a torn tapestry like his life depended on it caused the need to do something to rise up within him. They couldn’t just ignore this. The prince, despite being a part of the royal family, (and who hadn’t had the opportunity to prove that he wasn’t just as scary and horrible as his relatives when in his right mind), was still an 11 year old child who deserved, and needed, people who cared about him. He’d already seen for himself that the prince was more than just a member of the royal family. He was also a scared, crying kid. And it was now clear that his uncle might be the only one on his side. While he couldn’t muster up the courage to say something right now, Tamuki agreed with the soldier who had exclaimed earlier.

‘How could Fire Lord Ozai do that to his own son?’

Tamuki glanced at Atsuini to his side, who had fallen silent after his last statement. His brow was furrowed, even more than it usually was (which was very, as he was always upset when he saw tamuki) and his eyes were stormy, filled with thoughts that he couldn’t bring himself, or didn’t know how to, say.

This might sound rude, but Tamuki was glad that Atsuini was as upset by this news as he was. They might not get along, but Tamuki would’ve actually started fighting Atsuini every chance he got if the jerk was the type to revel in the suffering of children. And by their father no less.

Atsuini’s anger was palpable, and Tamuki could feel the tension radiating from him. Even though they had their differences—Atsuini’s sharp tongue, his tendency to pick fights for sport, his constant mocking of Tamuki—there was something oddly comforting in knowing that Atsuini wasn’t indifferent to the injustice they’d just learned about. Tamuki had never been sure where exactly Atsuini’s morals lay. But now, he knew.

The room had quieted slightly, the low hum of conversation now replaced by the occasional muttered comment. Tamuki’s eyes flicked over the group again, taking in the soldiers’ varying reactions. There were some who wore their emotions plainly—shocked, disgusted, pained—while others tried to bury their turmoil beneath stony expressions. It didn’t matter how they looked on the outside, though. What mattered was the collective weight of what they now knew.

A long silence passed as the room collectively tried to digest what they had just learned. Then, one by one, the soldiers began to move, some shifting uneasily in their seats, others standing to leave, no one quite knowing how to navigate this new tension between them. The air felt thick with questions—questions that didn’t have answers. How long had this been going on? Was the prince’s scar the only thing Ozai had done to him? 

And perhaps, more importantly, how many of the soldiers here agreed with what the Fire Lord had done?

The soldiers on the ship were low-ranking, many in trouble with their old superiors. Some had been chosen because General Iroh knew them personally from the Siege of Ba Sing Se, others had been chosen through word-of-mouth, as someone who was one screw-up away from a dishonorable discharge back to their families. The general had likely let those crew members join because they would be more likely to be sympathetic to those who didn’t fit the typical Fire Nation mold.

Regardless, just because General Iroh had selected them, doesn’t mean that there couldn’t be hardcore patriots among the crew. All it would take would be one crew member to send a messenger hawk to the capital, listing any treasonous words they’d heard, for the Fire Lord to respond by wiping them out. Until they were sure where everyone’s loyalty lied, it would be better to not say too much. They were still getting to know each other, after all.

Despite the wariness, Tamuki felt some hope in the fact that the majority of the crew member’s he’d seen appeared to be taking the news poorly. Maybe there was some hope for the Fire Nation after all.

Tamuki felt a tap on his shoulder, and he turned to see Atsuini standing up, face set in a scowl.

“I’m going to bed,” Atsuini muttered, his voice heavy. “I’ve had enough of this for tonight.”

Tamuki nodded, watching his crewmate leave, surprised that Atsuini had bothered to let him know he was leaving. It’s not like they were friends, exactly. The door swung shut behind him with a soft click, leaving Tamuki alone with his thoughts. He was surprised to find that Lieutenant Jee had also left at some point, not having seen him leave.

He groaned, laying his head down on the table with a heavy sigh. He let it rest there for a few moments, feeling the grooves of the cool wood press into his skin. After a moment, Tamuki opened his eyes, staring into the rough brown table as if it could answer his questions. This night had been one of the longest of his life, and something told him he was about to have a lot more of those in the future.

Tamuki wouldn’t say he’s a particularly good person. He also wouldn’t say he’s particularly bad. He’s never gone out of his way to help those in need, or tried to cure hunger in street kids. He’s also never killed someone when it’s not necessary, or tripped old ladies on the street. He does what he needs to survive, and to get whatever money he can to send back to his mom. He’s never really bought into the whole “Greatest Civilization in the World” propaganda that the Fire Nation shoves down their throats. Especially now that he’s been in the army, he knows that they’ve got some issues. Still, what could Tamuki do? It’s not like he was some great master firebender, or the Avatar, who could actually do something about all this. He wasn’t in a position to be worrying about others.

So why was his heart racing so much?

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the door creaking open. Tamuki’s head snapped up, and he saw Atsuini’s silhouette in the doorway. The other man paused, looking back at the room of soldiers before his eyes met Tamuki’s. There was something sharp in Atsuini’s gaze, something that made Tamuki hesitate.

Atsuini’s lips twisted into a tight, humorless smile. “You coming?” he asked, his tone gruff but oddly… expectant.

Tamuki glanced around the mess hall. Most of the other soldiers had already left, some in pairs, others alone, each absorbed in their own thoughts. The room felt emptier than before, even though it was still technically full of people. He knew they were all dealing with the same thing in their own way—maybe avoiding the reality of it, maybe embracing it.

Atsuini shifted, clearly waiting for an answer. Tamuki’s pulse quickened. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something important was happening. He wasn’t sure what had made this man come back for him, someone who he had before punched for no reason and been fighting with ever since, but something also felt…right, about leaving together.

Tamuki stood up slowly, nodding. “Yeah, I’m coming.”

Without another word, Atsuini turned and walked out of the mess hall, his heavy boots echoing in the silence. Tamuki followed a few paces behind, his steps lighter, though his mind was still heavy with thoughts of the prince, of Fire Lord Ozai, of everything that had been revealed tonight.

The corridor was quiet, the only sound the muffled creaking of the ship’s timbers as it cut through the waves. Tamuki felt the cold air against his skin as they moved through the darkened ship, and he couldn’t help but feel that the entire world outside had become as uncertain as the halls around him.

Atsuini didn’t speak at first, his face set in a deep frown as he walked ahead. Tamuki glanced at him, noticing how tightly his fists were clenched at his sides. He had seen this before—Atsuini’s anger simmering just beneath the surface. Usually, it was directed at him, but now it seemed to be focused elsewhere. On the truth they had just learned. On the prince’s suffering. On Fire Lord Ozai’s cruelty.

Eventually, the two of them arrived at a quieter part of the ship near the crew quarters. Atsuini finally spoke, his voice rough. “I didn’t think I’d hear something like that tonight.”

Tamuki hesitated for a moment, unsure how to respond. “I didn’t either.” He paused, his words feeling too small for the gravity of the situation. “I mean, I knew something was wrong with the situation, and there were rumors… but that? That’s... that’s unforgivable.”

That’s why everyone had hoped and hoped that the rumors weren’t true. No had been acknowledging them because if they were true, the festering wound that was the Fire Nation, being held together by forced patriotism and fear, would come bursting open.

And now it has.

Atsuini’s laugh was bitter. “You think I don’t know that?” He turned to face Tamuki, his dark eyes flashing with anger. “It’s not just that it happened, it’s that apparently, nobody did anything about it! Not even the so-called Dragon of the West. It’s messed up. He acts all remorseful and angry now, but where was he when it happened? Everyone knows that the General is more powerful than his little brother!”

Tamuki could see the tension in Atsuini’s posture. The way he was grinding his teeth, barely able to keep his emotions in check. Typically, Tamuki would be looking around, worried about someone speaking ill of the royal family in public, especially the royal who had brought them onto this ship. Tonight, however, he felt a strange urge to share in that anger.

“I don’t even know what we’re supposed to do,” Tamuki admitted quietly. “We’re not supposed to just... pretend it didn’t happen, right? But what can we even do? I mean,” he scoffed, “We’re literally at the bottom of every totem pole there is in terms of power.”

Atsuini didn’t answer immediately. He leaned back against the wall of the corridor, staring out into the darkness beyond the ship’s window. His fingers drummed absentmindedly against the edge of the wood, the rhythm quick and nervous.

“I don’t know,” he muttered finally. “All I know is that this ship stinks of betrayal.”

Tamuki frowned, the knot in his stomach tightening. “What do you mean?”

Atsuini shook his head. “What do you think? The general has to be loyal to Ozai. He might care about the kid, but the fact that this happened at all shows that he’ll never do anything to cross his brother. Not directly. What if his whole purpose in revealing the truth is to determine who’s really loyal to the throne? Why else would he be airing the royal family's dirty laundry to a bunch of nobodies like us? It doesn’t make sense.”

The walls of the corridor seemed to shrink, pulsing in the faint light of the lanterns lighting their way. Further down the hall, faint sounds could be heard from crew members getting ready for bed. Tamuki and Atsuini stood in silence, both staring at opposite walls.

“You might be right,” Tamuki murmured. “I don’t know if we can really trust the general or what his motivations are. I don’t know why we’re out on this ship or why an eleven year old boy was such a threat that the only solution was attempted murder.”

Everything had seemed so simple a few weeks ago, when he was facing being discharged from the military. Now, he was grasping the threads of what could tighten into his noose, for better or worse. He didn’t know how he felt about that.

(he wasn’t entirely sure why he felt he needed to do anything at all)

The silence stretched between them, each of them grappling with the enormity of the truth that had been thrust into their laps. Atsuini let out a frustrated sigh, then turned away, pacing a few steps before coming to a stop.

“Do you think he’ll be okay?” Atsuini asked quietly, almost as if the question hadn’t fully formed until the words left his mouth.

Tamuki blinked. “He? You mean Prince Zuko?”

Tamuki was honestly surprised that Atsuini had asked. He didn’t seem the type to like little kids, royal or not. One could be horrified by a tragedy that took place but not care too much about helping the victim after all.

Atsuini nodded, his expression softening just a little, though his eyes were still filled with that storm of emotion. “I don’t know. I can’t stop thinking about that kid—he’s just a kid, Tamuki. And he’s been through... all of that.”

Tamuki swallowed, his thoughts drifting to the prince’s scarred face, the image of him as a broken child clinging to the remnants of a tapestry like his life depended on it. He couldn’t shake the image from his mind, nor the desire to help that had risen within him the first time he’d seen Zuko’s vulnerability.

“He’ll get through this,” Tamuki said, his voice steady but filled with more uncertainty than he was willing to admit. “Maybe not alone... but we can help. I’m not sure how, but I’m sure we can think of something.”

Atsuini gave a small grunt, as if to acknowledge Tamuki’s words, though the look on his face suggested he wasn’t sure either. But for once, neither of them felt the need to push the issue further. They stood in the hall for a moment longer before continuing back to their cabins.

Tamuki looked at Atsuini’s back, his shoulders still stiff with anger, and thought that it looked more reliable than it had that same morning. He still wasn’t sure what to do about the prince or the general or the Fire Lord, but maybe there was one other person on the ship that Tamuki knew he could count on.

Chapter Text

“Please follow my finger with your eyes.”

Doctor Osamu’s voice was soft but authoritative, a calm contrast to the tense atmosphere of the small, dimly lit room. His pale finger moved slowly back and forth in front of Zuko’s face, a rhythmic motion meant to test the prince’s focus, his coordination, and—most importantly—his reaction to the healing process. The doctor’s brow was furrowed, watching Zuko with a clinical detachment, though there was a hint of empathy hidden in his measured gaze.

Zuko sat straight on his bed, his posture stiff, though his muscles were still sore from the prolonged treatment and the excruciating hours spent under the doctor’s care. The heavy scar on his left eye—a jagged, angry mark—had been cleaned and bandaged for days. The bandages were now discarded, leaving the raw wound exposed.

The room smelled faintly of antiseptic and herbs, an aroma that had long since become familiar to Zuko. His skin felt tight, like it wasn’t his own anymore. Every inch of his body, especially the face, throbbed with a dull ache that had become a permanent fixture in his daily existence. He couldn’t remember what it was like to feel anything other than pain, physical or otherwise.

His uncle Iroh sat behind the doctor in a heavy wooden chair, watching closely but remaining silent. The older man’s sharp eyes scanned Zuko’s face, reading each subtle shift, every hint of discomfort. Uncle had been by his side constantly ever since his fever broke, his concern palpable. The general’s usually composed demeanor was tinged with worry, though he did his best to keep it masked behind a veil of calm. Zuko could feel his uncle’s eyes on him, but he couldn’t bring himself to look back at him. Not now.

The doctor’s finger continued its movement, left to right, slowly guiding Zuko’s gaze.

"Good, Prince Zuko. Now, follow it up and down." Doctor Osamu’s voice was steady, but there was a slight tension that lingered in his words. He was trying to keep Zuko’s focus—trying to keep his eyes from drifting too far into the dark, swirling thoughts that always seemed to threaten to overtake him.

Zuko’s head ached as he tried to follow the motion, his vision blurry and unfocused. The wound on his face was still tender, each movement of his eyes sending a jolt of discomfort through his head. He couldn’t focus as well as he should have, his gaze wavering, jerking slightly to the side as he tried to follow the finger. His scar throbbed in time with his heartbeat, as if reminding him of everything that had happened. The pain was a constant companion, but it didn’t compare to the emotional ache that lingered deeper, a gnawing emptiness inside that had only grown the longer he was awake.

He gritted his teeth, trying to keep his vision locked on the doctor’s finger. His pride, his stubbornness, drove him to push through the fog in his mind and keep his gaze steady.

“Up and down, please,” Doctor Osamu repeated, his tone still calm, though there was a slight shift in his voice that told Zuko the doctor had noticed his difficulty. “Try to focus, Your Highness.”

Zuko’s breath hitched. Your Highness. The way the doctor said it stung, a painful reminder of everything that had been stripped from him—the title, the honor, his life as a member of the royal family. His thoughts drifted to his father, the man who had done this to him, and a surge of bitterness rose in his chest. 

The anger coiled inside him, but it was quickly swallowed by the suffocating weight of helplessness. (and, though he would never admit it, fear) He didn’t have the strength to fight anymore. Not physically, and certainly not emotionally.

A small sigh escaped his lips as he forced his eyes to track the doctor’s movements again, ignoring the pain and the growing sense of weakness that made every task feel monumental. But then, something shifted in the room—an undercurrent of emotion that Zuko couldn’t quite place.

His uncle’s voice cut through the silence, low and measured, though there was a sharpness to it that Zuko hadn’t expected.

“Doctor Osamu, is there any chance his sight will fully return?” Iroh asked, his voice carrying the quiet weight of concern.

Zuko’s heart stuttered. The words hung in the air like a thick fog, their meaning sinking into him slowly. Sight. Would his sight recover? The scar, the burning sensation in his eye—it felt as though part of him was missing. How could he face the world if he couldn’t even see it properly?

It was like he was looking at the world through a piece of parchment, everything blurry and unfocused. This past week, he’s been knocking things over—cups of water, tea, blankets—always seeming closer or farther than they actually are. For someone who has worked on and prides himself on his reflexes, it’s been extremely frustrating, if not humiliating.

Shame welled up inside his stomach. How pitiful, he could imagine his father saying. Not only was Zuko a failure as a firebender and prince, now he was a failure as a human. 

Doctor Osamu paused, his expression turning thoughtful, though his eyes never left Zuko’s face. “It’s difficult to say, General. The injury was… severe. The healing process will take time. It’s possible that his vision may improve over time, but there’s a risk that some of the damage may be permanent. We will know more in a few days.”

Zuko's chest tightened at the thought of permanent damage. His hands, which had been resting limply at his sides, clenched into fists, the nails biting into his palms.

The quiet between them was suffocating. It wasn’t the kind of silence that felt comforting or thoughtful. It was an awkward silence, an unsaid acknowledgment of the uncertainty that surrounded him, his future, and his place in the world.

“I’m sorry, Prince Zuko,” the doctor added quietly, as though trying to ease the tension. “But we are doing everything we can.”

Zuko couldn’t look at him. Instead, he stared at the ground, his thoughts racing. ‘Everything they could?’  

“I’m fine,” Zuko muttered, his voice raw. “You don’t need to say sorry. I’m fine.”

But he didn’t feel fine. He hadn’t felt fine since he woke up on this ship. Since his world had become unmoored, as unstable as the boat they sat on. Since he had been on his knees in front of his nation and had looked up to find—

Zuko bit his lip hard enough to bleed.

Doctor Osamu let out a surprised noise, quickly tapping Zuko on the side of his jaw to get him to release. Once he had, the doctor dabbed his lip, searching his face for—something. Zuko stared over his shoulder, unable to make eye contact. The doctor and his uncle exchanged glances, but neither pushed. It was clear that Zuko didn’t want to talk about it.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Doctor Osamu gave a small nod. “We’ll continue the treatment as is, Your Highness. I’ll be back tomorrow for your next check up.” The doctor started rewrapping his bandages as he talked. “I implore you not to be too discouraged about your vision just yet. You still have a lot of healing to do, and it’s too early to say one way or the other. For now, I suggest rest. Healing requires more than just medicine.”

Zuko didn’t respond. Instead, he leaned back against the headboard of the bed, staring at the ceiling.

Iroh’s presence behind him was like a shadow, always there, always watching. It was both a comfort and a cage. The silence grew heavier.

“Rest now, Prince Zuko,” Iroh’s voice was soft, yet it carried the weight of the world. “We can talk more later. For now, it’s important you rest.”

Zuko didn’t respond. He continued to stare at the ceiling, feeling the rocking of the boat beneath him. He heard his uncle sigh, before standing up. There were some shuffling sounds, followed by the click of the door opening and closing. Only once he was sure his uncle was gone did his head turn.

Zuko's eyes roamed the room slowly, his gaze unfocused as he tried to gather his thoughts. The silence pressed down on him like a heavy blanket, suffocating and oppressive. Without his uncle’s presence, the stillness felt unnerving. The air seemed thicker now, filled with the weight of unanswered questions, with the frustrations and fears he couldn’t voice.

Zuko couldn’t put into words why he’d been ignoring his uncle. He recalled vaguely waking up for the first time—his body heavy with the weight of fatigue, his mind sluggish and tangled in the remnants of fevered dreams. He had searched frantically for his uncle, his heart pounding in panic. It felt like he was drifting in a sea of silence, adrift and vulnerable.

Then, Iroh had been there. A comforting, steady hand on his shoulder, pulling him into a lap—gentle, like a child being soothed by a parent. The embrace was tight, so tight it nearly suffocated him, but it was the kind of tightness that reminded him of something long lost. It reminded him of his mother. He had never realized how much he craved that kind of warmth until it was there, filling him up, making him feel whole again.

Zuko didn’t know if Uncle loved him though. 

He didn’t know if he could trust the care his uncle was showing him. Before, when things were easier, when Zuko was younger, he had only ever seen his uncle at the castle, watching him from afar as he spent time with Lu Ten. There had never really been an opportunity for them to hang out one-on-one. There had never been a moment where it was clear what Iroh’s feelings toward him really were, beyond simple duty, beyond the bond of family. Then, he’d been away at war for two years. This was the first time they’d really seen each other since. Besides, Uncle had already had a son, and the best one at that. Lu Ten was his beloved son who had fought and died for his country, for his father’s vision. Zuko would never be able to live up to that. He wasn’t like Lu Ten, no matter how much he used to follow him around and imitate him. He wasn’t strong, he wasn’t noble, he wasn’t a son that a father wanted. Zuko had learned to carry that weight, that shame, in every step he took. He knew it so deeply, so intimately, that it was a part of him. How could he believe, even for a moment, that Iroh— Uncle Iroh , the man who had known the love of a son, the pain of losing one—could possibly love him? In what world would his uncle ever love Zuko when he knew what it was to love Lu Ten? There’s no way Zuko could ever live up to him in Uncle’s eyes. Only two people had ever loved Zuko, and now both of them were gone. He knew he was a disappointment.

(and now he had the scar to prove it)

He didn’t even know why uncle was here. On this boat, leaving Fire Nation waters. He should be going home to mourn instead. It’s what Lu Ten deserved. 

His fingers flexed on the bedspread, the sensation of the fabric beneath his fingertips grounding him, pulling him out of the dark swirl of his thoughts. He felt a surge of bitterness rise in his chest. 

He had no title. No honor. His own body—his greatest asset as a fighter and prince—was betraying him. His vision was compromised, a constant reminder of the pain and shame his father had inflicted upon him. Could he ever live like this? Could he still be the man he once dreamed of becoming, the man his father expected him to be? Or was that just another illusion, another lie he had told himself to keep going?

More importantly, did he still want to live up to who his father wanted him to be? Was it even possible for Zuko to ever make him proud if he did? Instinctively, he wanted to protest his thoughts. Years of looking up to his father, of being taught that he was always right, weighed over him. The pressure that somehow, even out here, his father would be able to punish him for any mistakes he made pressed down on him. His breathing picked up, face going pale.

How could Zuko ever think of disobeying his father again? He should just keep his head down and try to do whatever task was required of him. For some reason, that thought made his chest tighten even more.

(i want lu ten)

The pain in his face seemed to pulse in rhythm with his racing thoughts. He ran his hand over the scar on his left eye, his fingertips brushing the wrapping around the raised tissue. It burned, a constant throb, but it was the emotional weight of it that was far worse. 

Zuko gritted his teeth, his fist tightening on the blanket beneath him. He could still hear his father’s voice, cruel and cold, echoing in his mind. 

“You will learn respect, and suffering will be your teacher.”

Fear and anger flared inside him like a flame, hot and burning, but this time, it wasn’t the fire he could control. This was the kind of fire that tore at his insides, the kind that made him feel powerless, out of control, the way a firebender should never be. He wanted to scream. He wanted to destroy something. (he wanted to hide) But instead, he clenched his jaw and sat there, in silence.

His vision blurred again, a side effect of the constant strain, and he squeezed his eyes shut in frustration, fighting the dizziness that crept up. His head swam with it, the burn from his eye worsening, but he didn’t care. The pain was secondary to the emptiness inside him.

The quiet stretched on, dragging the minutes into what felt like hours. The only sounds were the creaks of the ship, the soft lapping of the water against the hull. He couldn’t get comfortable, couldn’t quiet the storm inside him. His hands were shaking now, his fingers clenching and unclenching against the bedspread. He couldn’t stop. Not now.

There was no one left to help him. No one who could fix this.

Zuko shut his eyes, breathing slowly, willing himself to calm down. His chest rose and fell with the effort. He had been alone before. He could do this. He had lived through the loss of his mother. He had lived through the following years, a time where it seemed no one left in the palace was on his side. He knew what it was to be abandoned. He had dealt with it once and he could deal with it again.

But in that moment, with the silence of his cabin pressing in around him, he couldn’t help but feel a pang of dread. It was as though his entire future was uncertain, a distant path shrouded in smoke. He didn’t know where to go from here. He didn’t know how to move forward.

He didn’t know if he wanted to.

“Your highness?”

Zuko slowly opened his eyes at the soft rap on the door. He had been wondering if those guys were going to come see him again.

The door slowly creaked open, and two figures entered. Zuko watched them, not bothering to move. Despite everything else feeling out of place in his life, these two had somehow settled into the rhythm of his recovery, appearing at the same time every day when Uncle Iroh was not around.

They moved to their usual spots, one sitting by the bed near the small window, the other leaning against the wall behind him.

“Hello, Prince Zuko,” the shorter one started, “How are you feeling today?”

‘He says the same thing every time,’ Zuko thought to himself, though he didn’t say anything out loud.

Before he could even look away, the taller one stepped on the shorter one’s foot with a sharp crunch.

“Watch it,” the taller one muttered, shifting his weight uncomfortably. He adjusted his stance, as if pretending that was the most important thing happening in the room.

The shorter one hissed and shoved his foot back, muttering something Zuko didn’t quite catch under his breath, but it was clear by the glare he sent his companion that they were less than pleased to be in each other’s company. Again.

Zuko watched the silent exchange between them with a mixture of curiosity and mild amusement. He had no idea what their deal was—had never seen them before waking up on this ship—and yet, every day, like clockwork, they came to see him. It didn’t make sense. These two, who looked like they could barely stand each other, had formed some strange, unspoken bond by showing up to his room at the same time every day. It was like they were pretending they didn’t hate each other, but they clearly couldn’t stand being in the same room. For some reason, they still showed up every single day.

It was kind of funny. 

Zuko wondered about them. They clearly had some sort of goal, since they kept showing up, but Zuko couldn’t figure out what it was. It couldn’t be that they were trying to build connections with the royal family. Zuko had a pretty large example on his face of why that wouldn’t work.

(it probably wouldn’t have worked before either with how disappointed his father was with him—)

They just showed up and talked at him for a bit. Zuko would almost say they were trying to cheer him up, but he didn’t think that was right. 

Zuko realized that they were still silently fighting with their feet while he had been zoning out.

Zuko let out a small breath and, without thinking, muttered, “You guys are weird.”

The taller one blinked, clearly not expecting Zuko to say anything. The shorter one blinked too, then started laughing.

“A whole week of silence and that’s the first thing you say to us?” He chuckled. “I mean, you’re not exactly wrong.” 

He laughed some more, before his…friend? partner? crewmate? elbowed him in the side. He cut himself off, looking like he was going to retaliate, and then seemed to remember who he was talking to. 

“Forgive me, Your Highness,” he bowed slightly in his seat.

Zuko stared at him in silence for a moment, before saying, “It’s fine.”

It had been a while since anyone had talked to him that openly.

He kind of liked it.

Now that he had broken his self-imposed silence, he found himself with more things he wanted to say. Zuko looked at the two of them, wondering where to start, and realized something very important.

“What are your names?”

They stared at him, mouths agape. The taller one pulled himself together quicker, folding his arms and looking away. The shorter one slowly put his head in his hands.

“I can’t believe we forgot to introduce ourselves to you,” he groaned, before straightening up. He made the flame with his hands, and gave another bow, more formal this time.

“I’m Private Tamuki, a member of the guard unit on the ship.”

The other one adjusted his posture, bowing as well. “Private Atsuini, Your Highness. I’m also a member of the guard, but I occasionally help out with the animals as well.”

“The animals?” “Really? ” Two voices spoke at the same time.

Tamuki had turned to look at Atsuini in disbelief. Atsuini scowled at him, forgetting who he had just been talking to.

“Yes, really. Why is that so shocking to you?”

Tamuki still looked surprised. “In what universe is anyone trusting you with animals? And how have you not gotten mauled to death yet?” 

Atsuini looked two seconds away from blowing up. If he’d been a firebender, he’d probably be spitting sparks right now.

“And why would I get mauled to death by an animal?”

“Probably because of your winning personality, of course.”

“You little—”

The conversation devolved from there. Zuko watched with fascination as they argued, seemingly forgetting that he was there. He had never seen such, how should he say this, gentle arguing before. Their tones were heated, and yet there was no firebending or fists flying. It was so different from how his parents had fought, or how Azula treated him when she was mad. 

He’d never seen Uncle and Lu Ten fight before. He wondered how they would act. 

This way of fighting was almost amusing. It almost seemed like the two were having fun, and couldn’t remember why they had started in the first place. It kind of reminded him of himself and Lu Ten. The way he and Lu Ten used to bicker—teasing each other, ribbing each other with that lighthearted ease. He could almost hear the sound of Lu Ten’s voice, the way it would rise in mock indignation when Zuko would tease him for something. They’d clash like this—small disagreements that were always resolved with laughter, never any real hard feelings. There had never been a question that it was all in good fun. Zuko could still picture the look on Lu Ten’s face when they’d joke about silly things, the two of them so comfortable with each other that it was like the world outside of their bond didn’t exist.

A pang of pain suddenly gripped his chest, sharp and sudden, as memories of Lu Ten came crashing in on him. He could feel the sting of loss, the emptiness that always followed after thinking about him. The quiet absence where his cousin used to be. He pushed the feelings down though, choosing to enjoy the happy memories that the moment was bringing. He wasn’t in the mood to be all depressed anymore, for some reason. 

“Are you two friends?”

The older two froze at his voice, their eyes snapping in his direction like they had forgotten he was even there. There was an awkward pause before they quickly returned to their original sitting positions—Tamuki sitting straight up in his chair, Atsuini folding his arms across his chest, both of them purposefully avoiding eye contact with one another.

“No way,” Tamuki said flatly, his tone almost too sharp.

“Absolutely not,” Atsuini added, his voice just as quick and dismissive.

Zuko hummed at the responses he received, not sure if he believed them. If people could argue that much without resorting to violence, then they surely enjoyed each other’s company, at least in his experience. He decided to let them be for now, and move on.

“Why do you guys keep coming to see me?”

Zuko’s voice was quiet, but it carried the weight of a question he had been holding onto for days. He had been wondering about it ever since the first time they came through the door—every day that they showed up, sitting in their usual spots like clockwork, talking to him. He was sure they probably had better things to do, things that didn’t involve a moody, injured prince who barely acknowledged them.

The two guards exchanged uncomfortable glances, looking at each other as though they had been expecting this question. Zuko could see the hesitation in their eyes, the slight shift in their postures as if they were suddenly unsure of how to answer. The silence that followed stretched out, thick and heavy, neither of them seeming to want to break it. Finally, Atsuini sighed, a sound that was half exasperation and half resignation, as though the answer had been sitting at the back of his mind for a while.

“To be honest, we were worried about you, and we wanted to make sure you were ok.”

Tamuki nodded, jumping in before Zuko could say anything. “Plus,” he added, his tone more casual but still sincere, “we figured you were only getting visits from your uncle and the doctor. We thought having more people to talk to might help, you know?”

Zuko was quiet for a moment, letting their words settle in his chest. He studied their faces, trying to figure out if there was anything they were hiding, any hint of insincerity, but he didn’t see anything. He wasn’t great at reading people—not like Azula, who seemed to see right through anyone. But he had spent enough time in the company of people who were very clear about their dislike for him to know the signs. The clenched jaw, the narrowed eyes, the deliberate silence.

None of that was here. He was getting the feeling that what they said wasn’t the whole story, but he didn’t think it was a lie at least.

A small spark of warmth lit up in his chest at the idea that someone was worried about him. It was such a simple thing, but it was something he hadn’t felt in a long time. He nodded, not quite sure what to do with the feelings swirling around him. 

“I know we don’t know you that well, and you don’t know us,” Tamuki continued, “but we wanted you to know that there are people you can come to on this ship. People who, you know, aren’t just your uncle.” 

For a brief moment, Tamuki’s eyebrows pinched together, as though he was about to say something else—something that didn’t quite come out right. But then, just as quickly, his expression smoothed out again, and he seemed to find his footing. He cleared his throat and continued, his voice firm but with a trace of something softer under the surface. “After all,” he said, “we’re here to protect you, not anyone else. You. Not the Royal Family, not the heir to the throne. Just... you . Okay?”

Zuko shifted beneath his blankets, squirming just a little as he tried to bury his face in the warmth of the sheets. Only his eyes poked out now, but it was enough to keep his vision trained on Tamuki. He could feel the heat creeping up to his cheeks. His hands fumbled nervously in the blankets, not used to having someone say something like that to him. He wasn’t sure why, but the simplicity of it hit him harder than he expected. He had heard plenty of words like those from his father’s advisors or from the palace guards over the years. They’d been assigned to protect the Fire Nation and its future ruler, not him. He had always been just an afterthought in the grand scheme of things—something to be kept safe for the sake of the throne, not for the sake of himself . This was new, but…nice.

“Ok,” he mumbled.

Tamuki smiled at him, looking more comfortable than he had all week. Atsuini didn’t say anything, but his shoulders seemed less tense than before. Tamuki looked out the porthole, and stood up, nudging Atsuini with his foot.

“We should probably be going,” he said, standing up slowly, stretching out his back. “Sorry to bother you so much, Your Highness. See you tomorrow?”

His words were sincere, but there was a slight hesitation in his tone, like he wasn’t sure whether he was overstepping. He gave a proper bow now that he was standing up.

Atsuini, ever the sharp one, gave him a dry look. “Don’t apologize for bothering him right before you say you’re going to come back to bother him more,” he rebuked, rising to his feet as well, straightening his uniform before giving Zuko his own bow—a little more reserved, but still respectful. He met Zuko’s gaze directly, looking stern but oddly sincere. “We’ll be back again, Your Highness.” 

Zuko didn’t say anything, not because he didn’t want to, but because the words hadn’t quite formed in his mind yet. It felt like a habit, like they were going to leave and this would be the end of it, just like before. But as they turned toward the door, a thought tugged at him, something small but real, something that made him sit up a little straighter under the covers.

"See you tomorrow," he said, his voice quieter than he intended, but it felt more like a question than a statement. His words hung in the air for a moment, and he immediately regretted it, turning his head to face the wall, unable to look at them directly. He didn’t know why he felt embarrassed by his own words, but it was easier to speak into the silence of the room than to meet their eyes.

A moment passed. The soft shuffle of their feet paused as they both turned back around, surprised. Zuko could feel the weight of their gaze on him, but he didn’t turn to meet it. Instead, he cleared his throat, trying to push past the awkwardness.

“And... thanks,” he added, the words feeling clumsy but sincere. “For coming to see me.”

A moment of silence filled the room. Then, he heard Tamuki’s voice, warm but steady.

“Of course, Your Highness, it’s our pleasure.”

Zuko thought he heard them bowing again, before the distinctive sound of the door opening and closing. He closed his eyes, feeling more up to getting some sleep the way his uncle and doctor had advised him earlier. He felt his lips twitch up into a faint smile, despite everything.

Zuko had never had friends before, but he thought it might feel something like this.