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Characters: Zuko, Kohaku (OC)
Summary: An AU that plays on the idea of Zuko being born with an identical twin, and how it would twist and change the events of the series. Spans through from before the series, to after the series.
In This Chapter: Zhao is a pest, Iroh makes a scene, and Zuko yearns to set everyone on fire.
Prologue
Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four, Chapter Five
Chapter Six, Chapter Seven, Chapter Eight, Chapter Nine, Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven, Chapter Twelve, Chapter Thirteen, Chapter Fourteen, Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Sixteen
Zuko probably knew that it was impossible to sneak into a sea-port for repairs, but he had to try. The ship was in no condition to get back to see, no matter how many times Zuko commanded it. Even he had to eventually admit that fixing the ship had to be priority one over searching for the Avatar - or, rather, catching up to the Avatar. As long as he and his men stayed at the port for only as long as necessary, he would probably only lose a day or two. And since he was one of the only people in the world who knew that the Avatar had returned, he felt that he had good chances of catching up unscathed and without competition.
That was, of course, before he had docked the ship.
The ship was neatly sandwiched between two of the larger, newer ships - two red flags for Zuko, who eyed them with trepidation as he and Iroh walked down the ramp. His eyes then raked the yard below, eying the many tents and temporary lodgings that littered the area. Crowded. Too crowded.
"Uncle," he whispered, "promise me you won't say a word about what we know."
Iroh looked at him mildly. "You mean, about the Avatar."
Zuko winced. "Don't say it so loud!" he pleaded. "If anyone else catches wind of the fact that the... person... is alive, we'll never be able to capture him with ease. Every single firebender will get in my way!"
"Get in the way of what, Prince Zuko?"
That voice, so eloquent and yet so oily, sent a wave of fear through Zuko. He hated that voice, hated everything it stood for and everything it meant. He struggled to keep his composure, but a small snake of fear coiled through his guts. Zhao had been one of the rising stars in his father's militia, known for his cold calculation and abrupt manner. He was decisive, abrupt, and utterly unstoppable. And every time Zuko heard his voice, he could hear his brother - or, more accurately, what he knew his brother was going to be. Seeing him now, this far from home, in a vulnerable situation, only made that fear worse.
But somehow, he managed to swallow it down as best he could. Maybe it was the two and a half years at sea, or maybe Iroh's constant proverb-dropping, but he managed to keep his temper in check and say, rather simply, "Nothing, Captain Zhao."
The man in question walked forward, the smirk on his face proof that he seemed to think otherwise. Zuko hated that smirk, hated the fact that Zhao was even here, but he hated most of all the fear that seemed to root him to the spot.
"Ah, it's Commander, now," Zhao replied, stopping before them, his arms held behind his back and his stance tall and proud. "I'm surprised you didn't hear the news, holed up as you were on that little ship, Prince Zuko. And," he paused to incline his head to Iroh, "General Iroh, it's a pleasure to see you here."
"Retired general," Iroh corrected jovially. "And congratulations on the promotion!"
"Thank you very much," Zhao said easily, "though I'm sure that's not the reason why you're here. The Firelord's brother and second son are always welcome here, but I do wonder why you're here in the first place."
"Our ship is... being repaired," Iroh said slowly, his eyes on his nephew; Zuko stood stiff, his face pale, his jaw tight from clenched teeth.
Zhao's eyes moved to the side, then widened as he saw the extent of the repairs that would need to be done. "That's... quite a bit of damage. It's not like a ship of your size or placement to be involved in such heavy-duty combat. Care to share the story?"
"Yes!" Iroh replied, a little too loudly. "We would, for it's quite a story..."
"We were attacked," Zuko blurted out, a cold sweat breaking over his body, "by an Earth Kingdom party. They saw the size of our ship and thought us easy targets."
The commander's eyes sparked, and instantly Zuko knew that he was caught as a liar. He waited for it, waited for the words that would call him out on it, but Zhao seemed to shrug it off. "Sounds like a thrilling story. Perhaps you can spare a few hours, join me for tea and explain it to me?"
Tea. A trap. Zuko knew it, and from the looks of it, Zhao knew he knew it, too. But if he said anything about it, it would prove that he had something to hide, and the last thing he wanted was to play into Zhao's hands as a victim waiting to be punished. "No," he said through his gritted teeth. "We have other things to do while docked. Maybe next time."
"Prince Zuko," Iroh broke in firmly, and Zuko turned to him, feeling betrayed. The look on Iroh's face, however, stopped these feeling at once, for his uncle wore an expression of careful - but cautious - concern. "It has been a long journey, and you and I could both use a refresher." Unspoken were the words, We must show that we have nothing to hide. Iroh turned to Zhao and smiled. "We would be happy to join you for tea."
"Excellent," Zhao nodded, then turned, expecting them to follow. Iroh moved to join him at his side, already wondering what kind of tea would be served, leaving Zuko to hesitate. He had options: he could dart back into the ship, or he could see if sharp words would hurry the repairs along. He could find an excuse to be anywhere but near Zhao, or he could beg that he was sick. But instinct told him that the commander would see right through these ploys, and Zuko realised that his uncle was right.
With growing dread, he followed the two older men.
If he had to listen to any more of this, he was going to scream. He knew it. He could feel it bubbling up from his stomach, to his chest, and to his throat, the stream of incessant curse-words he would use in the scream of his choice. He couldn't help it; Zhao's constant prattling about his boring missions on behalf of Ozai made him want to either shriek curse words that he had heard his crew use or just stand up and walk out. Iroh had made a good point about not seeking trouble and being as hospitable as possible, but to this extent?
Instead, stupidly, in the middle of Zhao's recent sentence, he blurted out, "If the war hasn't been won yet, it never will be. Both you and my father are fools for thinking that anything you could try would change that."
"Prince Zuko," Iroh hissed, his eyes flaring in alarm, and Zuko knew why but didn't care. He was sick of caring. All of this wasted time, pretending to swallow Zhao's poorly made tea as well as poorly made plans were taking a toll on his judgment, and at this point he would insult Zhao's mother if it meant being able to leave.
Zhao, however, took it well enough. He turned from the map he was gazing at so fondly and met Zuko's gaze with an eerie serenity. "I see that two years at sea has done little to temper your tongue."
Zuko sniffed and looked away, determined not to let that faint tinge of fear show in his eyes. The last time he had seen Zhao was at the beginning of his search for the Avatar, and Zhao had been less... friendly... then, and more keen on rubbing salt over fresh wounds. His taunting had been so bad that Zuko had locked himself in his room for days, trying to calm down, but every time he made to go back to the deck, a wave of panic assaulted him and he was rooted in his room.
He had gotten over that fear, now. Mostly. But he still didn't want to let it show that Zhao still bothered him.
Zhao, however, seemed to know all the same. His lips curved upwards into a smile, one that Zuko hated. "Speaking of two years at sea, I take it that your futile quest for the Avatar has yet to bear fruit, am I right?"
Something clattered to the ground, and with some shock, Zuko jerked towards the sound to find his uncle standing in the middle of several weapons that he had knocked over, his face pale and his eyes wide. Their eyes met, and both could see the shared sense of wariness in the other. "My apologies, commander," Iroh said, offering a bashful smile. "Getting clumsy in my old age..."
Zuko flicked his eyes away, hoping it was too quick for Zhao to catch, but the commander's eyes were already on his, and he jolted in his seat, just a little. With a dry swallow, he said, very calmly, "Not even a bud, unfortunately." He was amazed; his voice stayed even and calm, just like he had hoped.
Zhao smirked, leaning closer to Zuko, so close that the younger man had to wince a little. "Did you really expect any other outcome, Prince Zuko? Did you really expect that you, the young and weakling whelp of your entire family, would be able to succeed in something your forefathers, in all of their strength, never could?"
The commander pulled away, and Zuko settled a bit back in his chair in some relief, though his hands shook. "The Avatar was killed with the rest of them," Zhao went on, his voice hard. "Probably bones by now, dust, even. It's why we've been taking such care in capturing any waterbender or earthbender - there's always a chance that the Avatar could be reborn in one of them."
Zuko looked away. He had heard about that, and wondered about it. If it were true, and the entire Nation was set on the fact that the airbending Avatar was dead, then what would they do once they found out that they were wrong? What would happen to those innocents captured for no real reason or basis?
Don't get involved with the fate of innocents again, some cold part of him reminded him.
"Unless," Zhao suddenly said, sounding interested. Zuko looked up and was startled to see that Zhao wore yet another grin on his face, his eyes narrowed and fixed on Zuko yet again. "Unless you've actually found something? Some kind of evidence that the Avatar is still alive?"
Zuko's eyes flicked back to Iroh, who looked haunted. "No," Zuko said, his voice sounding too loud. "Nothing at all."
"Prince Zuko," Zhao leaned close to him again, and it took everything within him not to lean away and meet that cold gaze. "You know better than I do that the Avatar could be the turning point in this war, but not in our favour. If he's found alive, and you knew all along, any chance you ever had of returning home would vanish. If you have even a shred of loyalty to your nation-"
"There's nothing," Zuko snapped, gritting his teeth and glaring. "It's just like you said, okay? There's no chance anyone as weak as me could find him, right?" Zhao said nothing, his smile fading. His eyes searched Zuko's, lit with some kind of light that Zuko didn't like. He jerked away and to his feet, looking over to Iroh. "I think we've had enough tea. Don't you?"
"Yes," Iroh said softly. "We should probably get going."
Zuko moved to the exit, determined to flee, when two of Zhao's guards suddenly crossed their spears and cut him off. He started to turn and demand they let him pass when a third soldier's voice froze him to the spot. "Commander Zhao, we interrogated the crew of Prince Zuko's ship like you commanded. They confirm that not only is the Avatar alive and that he was in the Prince's custody, but that the Prince allowed him to escape."
It was strange. It felt almost as if every single organ in his body suddenly plummeted to his feet in that single moment, and his blood seemed to practically hum with the sudden panic that flooded his body. His eyes met Iroh's, whose eyes were closed, a hand to his forehead, before looking down at the floor, determined not to meet Zhao's gaze.
From behind him, Zhao said, in a silky voice that gave Zuko chills, sounding every bit like a satisfied cat-bird just given a fresh saucer of milk and seed, "Now, Prince Zuko... could you once again remind me how your ship was damaged?"
Summary: An AU that plays on the idea of Zuko being born with an identical twin, and how it would twist and change the events of the series. Spans through from before the series, to after the series.
In This Chapter: Zhao is a pest, Iroh makes a scene, and Zuko yearns to set everyone on fire.
Prologue
Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four, Chapter Five
Chapter Six, Chapter Seven, Chapter Eight, Chapter Nine, Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven, Chapter Twelve, Chapter Thirteen, Chapter Fourteen, Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Sixteen
Zuko probably knew that it was impossible to sneak into a sea-port for repairs, but he had to try. The ship was in no condition to get back to see, no matter how many times Zuko commanded it. Even he had to eventually admit that fixing the ship had to be priority one over searching for the Avatar - or, rather, catching up to the Avatar. As long as he and his men stayed at the port for only as long as necessary, he would probably only lose a day or two. And since he was one of the only people in the world who knew that the Avatar had returned, he felt that he had good chances of catching up unscathed and without competition.
That was, of course, before he had docked the ship.
The ship was neatly sandwiched between two of the larger, newer ships - two red flags for Zuko, who eyed them with trepidation as he and Iroh walked down the ramp. His eyes then raked the yard below, eying the many tents and temporary lodgings that littered the area. Crowded. Too crowded.
"Uncle," he whispered, "promise me you won't say a word about what we know."
Iroh looked at him mildly. "You mean, about the Avatar."
Zuko winced. "Don't say it so loud!" he pleaded. "If anyone else catches wind of the fact that the... person... is alive, we'll never be able to capture him with ease. Every single firebender will get in my way!"
"Get in the way of what, Prince Zuko?"
That voice, so eloquent and yet so oily, sent a wave of fear through Zuko. He hated that voice, hated everything it stood for and everything it meant. He struggled to keep his composure, but a small snake of fear coiled through his guts. Zhao had been one of the rising stars in his father's militia, known for his cold calculation and abrupt manner. He was decisive, abrupt, and utterly unstoppable. And every time Zuko heard his voice, he could hear his brother - or, more accurately, what he knew his brother was going to be. Seeing him now, this far from home, in a vulnerable situation, only made that fear worse.
But somehow, he managed to swallow it down as best he could. Maybe it was the two and a half years at sea, or maybe Iroh's constant proverb-dropping, but he managed to keep his temper in check and say, rather simply, "Nothing, Captain Zhao."
The man in question walked forward, the smirk on his face proof that he seemed to think otherwise. Zuko hated that smirk, hated the fact that Zhao was even here, but he hated most of all the fear that seemed to root him to the spot.
"Ah, it's Commander, now," Zhao replied, stopping before them, his arms held behind his back and his stance tall and proud. "I'm surprised you didn't hear the news, holed up as you were on that little ship, Prince Zuko. And," he paused to incline his head to Iroh, "General Iroh, it's a pleasure to see you here."
"Retired general," Iroh corrected jovially. "And congratulations on the promotion!"
"Thank you very much," Zhao said easily, "though I'm sure that's not the reason why you're here. The Firelord's brother and second son are always welcome here, but I do wonder why you're here in the first place."
"Our ship is... being repaired," Iroh said slowly, his eyes on his nephew; Zuko stood stiff, his face pale, his jaw tight from clenched teeth.
Zhao's eyes moved to the side, then widened as he saw the extent of the repairs that would need to be done. "That's... quite a bit of damage. It's not like a ship of your size or placement to be involved in such heavy-duty combat. Care to share the story?"
"Yes!" Iroh replied, a little too loudly. "We would, for it's quite a story..."
"We were attacked," Zuko blurted out, a cold sweat breaking over his body, "by an Earth Kingdom party. They saw the size of our ship and thought us easy targets."
The commander's eyes sparked, and instantly Zuko knew that he was caught as a liar. He waited for it, waited for the words that would call him out on it, but Zhao seemed to shrug it off. "Sounds like a thrilling story. Perhaps you can spare a few hours, join me for tea and explain it to me?"
Tea. A trap. Zuko knew it, and from the looks of it, Zhao knew he knew it, too. But if he said anything about it, it would prove that he had something to hide, and the last thing he wanted was to play into Zhao's hands as a victim waiting to be punished. "No," he said through his gritted teeth. "We have other things to do while docked. Maybe next time."
"Prince Zuko," Iroh broke in firmly, and Zuko turned to him, feeling betrayed. The look on Iroh's face, however, stopped these feeling at once, for his uncle wore an expression of careful - but cautious - concern. "It has been a long journey, and you and I could both use a refresher." Unspoken were the words, We must show that we have nothing to hide. Iroh turned to Zhao and smiled. "We would be happy to join you for tea."
"Excellent," Zhao nodded, then turned, expecting them to follow. Iroh moved to join him at his side, already wondering what kind of tea would be served, leaving Zuko to hesitate. He had options: he could dart back into the ship, or he could see if sharp words would hurry the repairs along. He could find an excuse to be anywhere but near Zhao, or he could beg that he was sick. But instinct told him that the commander would see right through these ploys, and Zuko realised that his uncle was right.
With growing dread, he followed the two older men.
If he had to listen to any more of this, he was going to scream. He knew it. He could feel it bubbling up from his stomach, to his chest, and to his throat, the stream of incessant curse-words he would use in the scream of his choice. He couldn't help it; Zhao's constant prattling about his boring missions on behalf of Ozai made him want to either shriek curse words that he had heard his crew use or just stand up and walk out. Iroh had made a good point about not seeking trouble and being as hospitable as possible, but to this extent?
Instead, stupidly, in the middle of Zhao's recent sentence, he blurted out, "If the war hasn't been won yet, it never will be. Both you and my father are fools for thinking that anything you could try would change that."
"Prince Zuko," Iroh hissed, his eyes flaring in alarm, and Zuko knew why but didn't care. He was sick of caring. All of this wasted time, pretending to swallow Zhao's poorly made tea as well as poorly made plans were taking a toll on his judgment, and at this point he would insult Zhao's mother if it meant being able to leave.
Zhao, however, took it well enough. He turned from the map he was gazing at so fondly and met Zuko's gaze with an eerie serenity. "I see that two years at sea has done little to temper your tongue."
Zuko sniffed and looked away, determined not to let that faint tinge of fear show in his eyes. The last time he had seen Zhao was at the beginning of his search for the Avatar, and Zhao had been less... friendly... then, and more keen on rubbing salt over fresh wounds. His taunting had been so bad that Zuko had locked himself in his room for days, trying to calm down, but every time he made to go back to the deck, a wave of panic assaulted him and he was rooted in his room.
He had gotten over that fear, now. Mostly. But he still didn't want to let it show that Zhao still bothered him.
Zhao, however, seemed to know all the same. His lips curved upwards into a smile, one that Zuko hated. "Speaking of two years at sea, I take it that your futile quest for the Avatar has yet to bear fruit, am I right?"
Something clattered to the ground, and with some shock, Zuko jerked towards the sound to find his uncle standing in the middle of several weapons that he had knocked over, his face pale and his eyes wide. Their eyes met, and both could see the shared sense of wariness in the other. "My apologies, commander," Iroh said, offering a bashful smile. "Getting clumsy in my old age..."
Zuko flicked his eyes away, hoping it was too quick for Zhao to catch, but the commander's eyes were already on his, and he jolted in his seat, just a little. With a dry swallow, he said, very calmly, "Not even a bud, unfortunately." He was amazed; his voice stayed even and calm, just like he had hoped.
Zhao smirked, leaning closer to Zuko, so close that the younger man had to wince a little. "Did you really expect any other outcome, Prince Zuko? Did you really expect that you, the young and weakling whelp of your entire family, would be able to succeed in something your forefathers, in all of their strength, never could?"
The commander pulled away, and Zuko settled a bit back in his chair in some relief, though his hands shook. "The Avatar was killed with the rest of them," Zhao went on, his voice hard. "Probably bones by now, dust, even. It's why we've been taking such care in capturing any waterbender or earthbender - there's always a chance that the Avatar could be reborn in one of them."
Zuko looked away. He had heard about that, and wondered about it. If it were true, and the entire Nation was set on the fact that the airbending Avatar was dead, then what would they do once they found out that they were wrong? What would happen to those innocents captured for no real reason or basis?
Don't get involved with the fate of innocents again, some cold part of him reminded him.
"Unless," Zhao suddenly said, sounding interested. Zuko looked up and was startled to see that Zhao wore yet another grin on his face, his eyes narrowed and fixed on Zuko yet again. "Unless you've actually found something? Some kind of evidence that the Avatar is still alive?"
Zuko's eyes flicked back to Iroh, who looked haunted. "No," Zuko said, his voice sounding too loud. "Nothing at all."
"Prince Zuko," Zhao leaned close to him again, and it took everything within him not to lean away and meet that cold gaze. "You know better than I do that the Avatar could be the turning point in this war, but not in our favour. If he's found alive, and you knew all along, any chance you ever had of returning home would vanish. If you have even a shred of loyalty to your nation-"
"There's nothing," Zuko snapped, gritting his teeth and glaring. "It's just like you said, okay? There's no chance anyone as weak as me could find him, right?" Zhao said nothing, his smile fading. His eyes searched Zuko's, lit with some kind of light that Zuko didn't like. He jerked away and to his feet, looking over to Iroh. "I think we've had enough tea. Don't you?"
"Yes," Iroh said softly. "We should probably get going."
Zuko moved to the exit, determined to flee, when two of Zhao's guards suddenly crossed their spears and cut him off. He started to turn and demand they let him pass when a third soldier's voice froze him to the spot. "Commander Zhao, we interrogated the crew of Prince Zuko's ship like you commanded. They confirm that not only is the Avatar alive and that he was in the Prince's custody, but that the Prince allowed him to escape."
It was strange. It felt almost as if every single organ in his body suddenly plummeted to his feet in that single moment, and his blood seemed to practically hum with the sudden panic that flooded his body. His eyes met Iroh's, whose eyes were closed, a hand to his forehead, before looking down at the floor, determined not to meet Zhao's gaze.
From behind him, Zhao said, in a silky voice that gave Zuko chills, sounding every bit like a satisfied cat-bird just given a fresh saucer of milk and seed, "Now, Prince Zuko... could you once again remind me how your ship was damaged?"