Chapter Text
There was a time, once, when Azula would have never hurt him. She lied, she knifed sharp words. She seethed, and they pushed each other. But she never hurt him—not with fire. Never with fire. Then when she had to, when they grew older and the fire had to hurt, she would warn him. There was always a sign. There was always warning, a brief moment to prepare himself. This was their understanding. Azula was stronger, her fire had to be stronger too. This meant, sometimes, Zuko had to burn. That was okay. There was always a warning.
So when that first blow on the ship hit him, when it had made contact and it had burned, Zuko cried out more from shock than pain. No, not pain. The pain came later. The shock was now. Her eyes flickered. Her fists relaxing for half a moment as their gazes locked. Hers widened fractionally. Then they tightened, a wall slamming into place behind her gaze he’d not realized was there before. And for the third time in his life, the world tilted. She fired more blasts. He retaliated, confused and furious and now pain.
What had happened while he was gone? What had father done to her? What had he missed?
“Azula!” he yelled.
Her lips quirked, pulled up and sharp and to the side like—
His father flashed in his mind.
He narrowed his eyes.
“Come on, Zuzu,” she scorned between fire blasts. “You don’t really think father would ever have any use for someone who’s as much a failure as you?”
She drove him back with a whirl of fire at his feet. He stumbled then saw the blue light crackle around her. His eyes widened.
Lightning? She could bend lightning now?
Some far away part of him thought briefly about how frustrated he was to have not been there, that he hadn’t been able to congratulate her for learning it. Another part sneered. Of course she could bend lightning. Of course she could bend it earlier than even Azulon had. Her hands swung in glowing arcs. He half-stepped back, a brief, horrified thought of ‘She’s going to do it’. And he couldn’t move. He should move. He couldn’t though. He stared, rooted to the spot as he waited to take the blow. It never came.
Later, when he and uncle fled into the Earth Kingdom, and the burns on his shoulder ached, he thought he’d seen something in her eyes in the crackling light before Iroh appeared. The same look she’d given him whenever father was coming and he needed to run. The look that told him there was danger here. The look that used to warn him to vanish before she stopped being allowed near him. He tried to not think of that look, and what it meant. He tried to not think about it right up to the moment she sent lightning crashing through uncle.
“Just hang on, uncle,” Zuko murmured, leading the ostrich-horse down the dusty track into town.
Iroh hummed a reply, an attempted upbeat sound. Zuko heard the note of pain in it. He glanced back at his uncle as he rode the beast, slumped forward and sweat dotting his brow. He smiled when he saw Zuko’s gaze. His eyes looked glazed. Zuko gritted his teeth and looked forward again, making their way past the entrance of the town.
He’d done what he could after Azula struck uncle in the middle of the fight back at that Agni forsaken town. It wasn’t enough though. He feared he might be trying to gain a fever. He needed uncle to be well. They needed a healer.
His eyes roved the buildings they passed. It looked much like any other Earth Kingdom town. He pulled his straw hat down as they passed a group of armed soldiers. Earth Kingdom militia if he had to guess. He kept walking.
He spotted what he was looking for at the end. A healer’s house, relief flooded him at the sight. He tied the ostrich-horse out front before helping his uncle to dismount. Uncle groaned, wincing.
“We should get food, nephew,” Iroh said, but he didn’t fight Zuko as he turned him towards the healer’s house.
“We’ll be fine,” Zuko said.
They didn’t have enough money for food and a healer. He knew what he needed more right now. He guided his uncle up to the house, knocking.
He checked his uncle’s face as the door opened. He glanced up. The lean frame of a man stood before him. He couldn’t see his face past the rim of Zuko’s own straw hat, bent as he was to support uncle.
“Please,” he started in Earth Tongue, because he had manners and he knew when to use them. “My uncle needs a healer.”
“Of course,” came the reply, voice slightly accented in a way he couldn’t place.
The figure waved them in, helping Zuko lead uncle to a nearby cot. Uncle sank to the cot with an appreciative groan.
“Thank you, young man,” Iroh said, smiling at the other as Zuko fussed.
“You’re welcome,” the man replied, footsteps thumping softly across the stone floor away from them. “I’ll fetch Healer Ying.”
Zuko glanced over his shoulder, watching the lean figure step through a door and disappear. He cast his eyes briefly around the room. A nondescript room, empty of anyone else. There was another empty cot and a table near a large chest of drawers. It was probably filled with the healer’s supplies. He turned back to find Iroh smiling at him.
“What?” he asked, frowning.
Iroh’s smile grew, “You don’t need to worry so. I will be fine. You need food and rest. You’ve been pushing yourself.”
Zuko glowered at his uncle’s admonishment.
“I’m fine, you’re the one that’s injured,” he argued.
Iroh hummed, wincing as he shifted. He reached for his left shoulder as the door behind them creaked.
“Ah, gentlemen,” a new, calm voice greeted, speaking in the common Trade Tongue. “I am Healer Ying, what can I do for you?”
“My uncle is injured,” Zuko replied similarly, rising to his feet.
He stepped aside so the light robed man could examine his uncle.
“Hmm, yes,” Iroh chuckled, wincing as Ying pulled his tunic open enough to prod at the injured shoulder. “I’m afraid we got caught in a most unfortunate situation, and I was rather clumsy.”
Zuko fought to not roll his eyes. It was always ridiculous whenever his uncle made himself look like some doddering old man. Like the Dragon of the West could be doddering, whether now or when he was 100. Likely, he’d still be espousing nonsense about tea and pai sho until he died, but he’d still be smarter than most people in a room.
Iroh met his gaze. Despite his obvious fatigue and discomfort at Ying’s examination, he beamed at Zuko. He knew Zuko hated this.
Zuko bit down a sigh.
“Who even wrapped these?” Ying was asking, “A blind fox-bear? They’re terrible!”
Zuko bristled.
He’d show him blind fox-bear! Stupid crow-weasel. He clenched his hands.
“Ah,” Iroh interjected. “My nephew wrapped them, but I’m afraid I ruined them on our ride here. We had to travel for a while.”
Ying tutted, “Well they’re a mess, and so is your shoulder. What even happened to this? Did you fall into a brazier?”
“Camp fire,” Iroh bemoaned, nodding as he looked as forlorn and pathetic as he possibly could.
“Well that was incredibly foolish,” Ying replied, puttering away from them towards the drawers on the far wall.
Zuko muttered under his breath. He’d like to watch this Ying try and dodge lightning while Azula threw it at him. The thought almost made him smile.
“This will take time and effort to heal,” Ying continued, checking first one drawer and then another. “My help is not free, however, as much as I may like to do so otherwise.”
Zuko cleared his throat, “We have money, we can pay.”
Ying pulled something from one of the drawers before he made his way over. He held out an empty hand. Zuko rolled his eyes. He ignored Iroh’s chiding look as he pulled the money pouch from his tunic. He withdrew the coins and held them out. The healer’s pale green eyes gleamed.
Zuko pulled them back before they could land in the man’s palm.
“Heal my uncle first, and then you get paid.”
The man’s eyes snapped up to glare into Zuko’s face. Their eyes locked. The man paled, stumbling back. His eyes darted from Zuko to Iroh and back.
“Gold,” Ying breathed.
Zuko frowned, “I don’t have gold.”
Did this backwater healer really intend to try and rob Zuko of something as expensive as gold for help? He wasn’t a Fire Sage, for Agni’s sake!
“Gold eyes,” Ying hissed, glaring at them as he backed up to his work table, herbs crushed to his chest. “Get out!”
“What!” Zuko started, stepping forward. “What do you mean ‘get out’? I’m paying you to heal my uncle, you overblown fox-gull! Now heal him!”
“I don’t heal monsters!” Ying snapped back, grabbing up an old spear next to his work bench. “Get you and your gold eyes out of here before I call the militia. Or I swear by Oma and Shu, I’ll show you what an old healer can really do.”
Zuko snarled, hand gripping the hilts of his dao. How dare he? Insult and threaten them? When he had come to pay good money to get uncle help? And he was refusing to help uncle now! How dare he?
Anger burned deep in his gut. Iroh’s voice called for him. It was far away though. It was far away because uncle needed help. Uncle needed help, and this man needed to be shown his place. Fool. Danger. Family. Help. Zuko took a step forward.
A hand fell on the shaft of Ying’s spear. Zuko’s eyes darted from the healer to the person between them now. A tall man, Zuko vaguely realized it was the man from earlier. More enemies?
Zuko bristled.
The man stared back at him, dark green eyes wide before turning calm. He bowed his head.
“We mean no harm, my lord,” the stranger said. “Please leave, it’s not safe for you here.”
Zuko’s hand tightened on his still sheathed dao. His gaze darted from Ying’s pale, pinched glare to the man still bowing his head at him, neck bared to one side. He took a slow, deep breath.
“Nephew,” Iroh’s voice came to him then.
Swallowing, Zuko moved back to help his uncle up while keeping the two men in his sights. Cursing everything from Koh to the spirit world, he helped his uncle back on the ostrich-horse and out of town. There would be no help here.