Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Estenbaren maino den, taino hesti icelem eten pilem!” [Let me go, you filthy snow-eating peasants!] Zuko bared his teeth up at his captors. He waited for their reactions to the slurs, but none came. The two, blue-clad teenagers eyed each other with uneasy shrugs and blank stares. It was obvious they had no idea what he’d said. They should have been insulted at the very least.

He smirked. But any initial satisfaction he had over his discovery quickly faded as the rough fibers of the rope around his wrists cut into his skin. Rough, sappy bark dug into the back of his neck. The sticky residue seeped onto his clothes, embedding itself deep into the fibers of the material in a way that would take someone weeks to scrub out.

The girl in blue whispered to the boy at her side, “I know you said you were going to knock him out, but I didn’t think you’d hit him hard enough that he couldn’t think straight.” She crossed her arms, dark eyebrows knitting in a huff.

Her companion shrugged, “You said we should catch him. I caught him, didn’t I? If you wanted him to be able to talk to us, you should have been more specific,” The girl shushed him, but the boy carried on, “We don’t have to whisper, Katara. It’s not like he can understand us anyways.”

“Aino compen taino agni. Atno sen het mainor erren taino accen ti owen ficelem fi briem i hetti burren ti len eht commoni langem,” [I understand you perfectly. It’s not my fault you seem to have fish for brains and never bothered to learn the common dialect], Zuko snapped in reply. The dialect that the Water Tribe teenagers were using wasn’t hard to understand. But the syllable shapes would be awkward on his tongue. He had no interest in stumbling his way through insulting them in their own language. 

He’d been lucky enough to have Uncle with him every other time they were around. Uncle never had any hesitation about using the Water Tribe dialect. It was a chance to show off the skill. No matter how butchered it sounded. 

“What good is capturing him if we can’t even get any information out of him?” She asked.

Zuko rolled his eyes. Common existed for a reason. While he could understand them, he wouldn’t reward their lack of preparation by making things easy for them. He wouldn’t be giving them an invitation to interrogate him either, “Si, wat sen tainor angi plennem newi ehtat taino owen maino, Ficelembriems?” [ So, what is your grand plan now that you have me, Fishbrains?], he taunted.

“Well, he can’t try to capture Aang right now. That’s one good thing.” The boy’s eyes narrowed on Zuko, “Why do I feel like that wasn’t him complimenting us?”

“Probably because we tied him to a tree. Would you be complimenting us if it was you?”

Zuko had to fight to keep his lips from twitching, even a hint of humor could give himself away. He forced himself to focus on the bindings around his wrists. Something soft and oddly thick had been wound between his fingers and layered over his palms. He flexed his knuckles, but the cocoon of material surrounding his hands wouldn’t budge. Fish for brains or not, they’d been clever. To free himself from their bindings and the tree he’d have to cut himself loose. If he tried to bend, the cottony substance would catch alight and burn him before he could free himself. 

His eyes scanned the stone ruins where the Avatar and his companions had set up camp. A circle of rocks had been hastily erected just beyond the reach of Zuko’s boots-a makeshift fire circle to keep him from burning down their camp, or at least slow his progress if he decided to bend with his breath or feet. Much further from him, three bedrolls had been haphazardly arranged around a smaller fire circle. 

Zuko caught a glint from the corner of his eye. The handles of his swords stuck out from beneath an unused tarp. He could just make out the decorative trim of his mask beside them. They’d taken his things and thrown them in the dirt. Some thanks he’d gotten for risking everything to release the Avatar from the stronghold. 

The Avatar himself was fast asleep, snoring just as loudly as the sky bison beside him. Dragging Zuko’s limp frame away from the stronghold had worn him out. He’d barely been awake when Sokka’s boomerang collided with the back of Zuko’s skull and hadn’t roused since. Which was just as well, as far as Zuko was concerned. The Avatar was oddly fluent in the Fire Nation tongue-not just the sorts of words one would learn in a book either. He spoke like he’d learned it by talking with street urchins.

Whether he knew Common or not, once the Avatar woke up, Zuko had a feeling he wouldn’t be left alone. He flexed his fingers again, trying to shake the stuff off his hands. The bindings held firm. No matter how he twisted, he couldn’t break free. All his maneuvering got him was more sap in his hair, and glares from the Water Tribe teenagers.

“Knock it off, Zuko,” the one called Sokka ordered.

Zuko thrashed a few times more, making sure to end the struggle on his own terms rather than the ones set for him in a language that he wasn’t supposed to understand. Better a scraped neck and more sap stains than giving them what they wanted. He spat toward their feet. A foamy glob landed inches from Katara’s left boot.

Both glared, but neither moved any closer, “Ainam steeli expetem fi tainor plennem,” [I’m still waiting for your plan], he said.

“Do you think if we just ignore him that he’ll eventually stop all the yelly, flaily stuff?” Sokka asked.

Katara shrugged, “He has to know that we don’t understand him. Either that hit completely rattled his brain or he’s doing it on purpose.” Her tone got sharper.

Zuko’s eyebrow raised before he could help it. Maybe the girl didn’t have fish for brains. He had to watch himself.

Chapter Text

The Avatar was awake. Even before Zuko heard his chirpy voice, he could feel the too-wide eyes on him. Following him, as if there was anywhere he could be followed while he was stuck at the base of the tree. 

“Oh good, now that you’re awake can you stop Zuko from making those weird noises?” Sokka piped up.

“Soli oi bi odi noicem taino menen eh langem creten oni fi negotiem betwi eht natems,”[Only if by weird noises you mean a language made specifically for diplomacy among the nations], Zuko shot back. His gaze flicked over to the tattooed boy to see if there were any flashes of recognition. But the boy’s face stayed neutral. If he understood what Zuko said, he kept it to himself. Odd behavior when from what Zuko could tell, the Avatar had always been an open scroll. 

“You don’t know what he’s saying either?” Katara asked. 

Aang shrugged, “I’m supposed to be the master of all four elements. Not every language,” he mumbled. His companions seemed to find the explanation rational enough. They moved on to more idle chatter, too easily forgetting they had a prisoner in their midst. 

To Zuko, it was an obvious deflection. The Avatar hadn’t been able to look either of them in the eyes when he said he couldn’t understand Zuko. In fact, he hadn’t actually said that at all. He’d flitted around the question without providing a straight answer. 

Zuko decided to test his theory, “Avatarem,” [ Avatar, ], he said. There was no reaction from the tattooed boy, “Avatarem?” , he tried again, louder and more insistent than he’d been before. Still the Avatar didn’t even glance in his direction, “Wai wihet taino luken jat maino?” [Why won’t you look at me?], he asked. Either the boy truly didn’t understand him, or he was more determined than Zuko would have thought.

He let a long puff of air escape his dry lips, constructing the most ridiculous sentence imaginable. One surely to get a rise out of the Avatar if he actually understood, “Betti luken jout Avatarem, tainor lemem sen abi ti eten tainor fleni bisem,” [Better watch out Avatar, your lemur is about to eat your flying bison] , he announced. 

He watched Aang’s features crinkle in confusion. The boy’s eyes flicked over to where the bison and lemur were lounging peacefully on the flat stones. He turned his attention to Zuko. Though Aang’s expression remained fairly neutral, Zuko could make out a twinkle of amused humor creeping through his eyes. 

Proof enough for Zuko that Aang knew exactly what he was saying. It didn’t make any sense to him why the Avatar was keeping that to himself. He could have given it away. Yet, the boy kept denying it.

“Whatever he just said, it didn’t make any sense to me,” Aang paused, “Maybe hitting him in the head wasn’t such a great idea.” More carefully woven truths.

“Look, next time you want Prince Fireball captured, do it yourself if you think you could do it any better.” Sokka threw his hands up, before flopping back onto his bedroll. Momo let out what sounded like a chitter of agreement, “See, Momo gets it,” Sokka muttered.

Zuko rolled his eyes. He dug his nails into the thick bindings again, searching for any loose strands to pick at. Any kind of weakness to help him break free. He let his muscles go slack to test the bonds in the opposite direction, but it was no use. All his efforts got him were more scratches against his neck and sap in his hair. Whichever one of them had tied him up did their job too well. He was stuck against the sticky tree. 

He had the distinct impression it was probably the girl-Katara, returning the favor for having tied her to a tree not all that long ago. At least he’d had the common courtesy to pick one without sap or particularly rough bark.

She had not reciprocated. 

Katara glared at him from her place by the cooking fire. She stirred a dented pot of congealed-looking rice. Unevenly chopped vegetables floated in the mixture in an unappetizing kind of way. A way that made Zuko hope that the teenagers were the kind of people who starved their prisoners. He certainly wouldn’t be consuming it if it was offered. It looked like it would make a better projectile than anything else. Zuko entertained himself imagining splattering the food over them with a well-placed kick.

The amusement of the potential mess faded after a while, leaving him with nothing to do but observe the dull movements of the ragtag group around their camp. None of them appeared to be on guard. They didn’t seem concerned about the possibility of anyone finding them, even with a prince in their custody. 

He was banished and no one other than Uncle would put an effort into tracking him down. But they had no way of knowing that…Or at least they wouldn’t have if Zuko hadn’t all but told Katara himself that day with the pirates. She knew enough, but not the full extent of the situation. Regardless, they went about their business like it was normal for them to tie someone to a tree. 

Sokka was focused on sanding down a nick on the handle of his club. Katara had her cooking. Only the Avatar seemed to have no particular sense of industry. He flitted around the camp with enough movements to create a small draft in his wake. Chattering and whistling to whoever would listen, all while keeping an intentional distance from Zuko and the tree.

He was loud enough that Zuko half-considered cracking his head back into the trunk. Knocking himself out seemed more appealing than listening to the racket. Dealing with the dull headache that would come with knocking himself out accompanied by all the noise, however, made him change his mind.

Continuing to pick at the wrappings on his hands, Zuko let his eyes wander the camp again. Katara had her hands over a puddle of water. Gentle ripples disturbed the still surface. Her face was furrowed in lines of deep concentration. She let herself get absorbed enough that she didn’t notice at first when the steam trickling from the pot began to darken with wisps of smoke. The air in the covered ruins took on a bitter tinge.

“Tainor etem sen jon firem,” [ Your food is on fire ], he muttered. 

The Avatar heard him. Zuko watched the recognition cross Aang’s face. But the boy ignored the warning, likely thinking it was just another one of Zuko’s ploys to get his attention, “Hopen taino celebren eht flavem ehf ashem, Avatarem,” [ Hope you like the taste of ash, Avatar ], he said.

Zuko stopped his warning efforts. Even if there were flames, the fire had nowhere to spread and nothing to fuel it-the ground beneath them was stone. A few stubborn plants forced their way through narrow cracks, but they’d burn out quickly. The group had been clever enough to keep the fires far away from him. He wouldn’t be able to use them to his advantage.

All he could do was wait.

Chapter Text

The teens bickered around the cooled remains of their charred dinner, having discovered the smoke far too late to recover it. It was all a series of blaming each other for not paying attention. Boring and irritating at once. The results of the argument, however, were intriguing. Sokka stalked off toward the river with a fishing pole swinging over his shoulders. Katara yanked up the pot, heading in the same direction.

Zuko and Aang were left alone.

“Taino compen maino, gehet taino?” [ You understand me, don’t you? ], Zuko prompted when he was sure the others were out of earshot.

“Ge,” Aang responded in Common, “Nomadems neccen ti learen ali eht langems.” [ Yeah, Nomads need to learn all the languages. ] He stopped avoiding Zuko’s gaze, switching seamlessly into Fire Nation tongue, “Common is great, but we’d go plenty of places where you couldn’t rely on everyone knowing it.” The boy’s eyes narrowed, switching again to Water Tribe, “You understood what we were saying the whole time?”

“Yes.” He responded in Fire Nation tongue.

“So, why wouldn’t you just speak it?” 

Zuko glared at the tattooed boy, “Does it really surprise you that I wouldn’t want to make things easier for the people who captured me?” It was enough of the truth. He wasn’t about to admit to the Avatar that he didn’t speak it well enough to converse in it, “I Aino gehet desiren ti conversen ti pilem regardi,” [And I don’t want to talk to peasants anyway] . Also true, but not the fullest version of the truth. He and the Avatar could play the same game with the truth.

Aang fidgeted with one of the cuffs of his sleeves. His own wrists were still sore from the chains at the stronghold. He was quiet when he finally answered, “I guess that’s a good point. The first part, anyway. You’re talking to me. I’m a peasant too.”

Zuko’s nose wrinkled, “You’re the Avatar. It’s different.” 

Aang shrugged, dismissing the retort, “I don’t think it is.” It was quiet between them for a moment or two, “You helped me get away from Zhao. Why? I thought you wanted me to come to the Fire Nation?”

Zuko scoffed, “Zhao would have just used you for political gains.” He far preferred the Avatar being free again to being in Zhao’s custody. “I need to be the one to bring you to my Father.”

“But couldn’t you get in trouble for that?” 

It was a good question.

If the plan had gone how it was supposed to, no. He and Aang would be back on his ship already, sailing home. Nowhere in the plan had it accounted for him being hit with an arrow, rescued by the Avatar he was supposed to be rescuing, and dragged back to the Avatar’s camp. Nor had it accounted for being knocked out and tied up. Things had not gone to plan at all.

“Ge, Avatarem.” [ Yes, Avatarem ], he said, switching seamlessly between the languages back to Common. It couldn’t be long before one, or both of Aang’s companions came back. Zuko didn’t want either of them overhearing, “Ainam jin trubli regardi,” [ I was in trouble anyway ].

Aang bit his lip, “We-Waino cad assisten taino,” [We could help you], he managed as he fumbled between the languages. His thoughts were too open on his face. He was too hopeful that everything was going to turn out fine. 

“Wai?” Zuko couldn’t wrap his brain around why the Avatar would offer help. He knew what Zuko was planning. He knew only a fraction of what he’d done. Yet, he offered help. It made no sense. There was something else that didn’t make any sense to Zuko either, “I wai het taino conversen tainor companems taino compen maino?” [And why didn't you tell your friends you understand me?”].

A soft sigh escaped the Avatar’s lips. All his usual flighty and fidgety energy went still except for the pad of one of his fingers that delicately brushed along a patch of moss poking up between the cracked stones. He couldn’t look at Zuko, but a sad smile crept through his lips, “Because friends keep each other’s secrets and I really do believe we could be friends, Zuko.”

His eyes finally met Zuko’s again, and the prince wished they hadn’t. The grey eyes were practically dancing with naivety in a way that was almost painful for Zuko to look at. Because he’d seen that expression before. Hanging on the palace walls in the portrait galleries, posed next to his sister or tucked between his mother’s arms. A familiar expression, because it had been his own once. 

That naive hope was just another thing he’d lost.

“Cadhet taino owen jin trubli i tainor companems fi owen mainor hidem fi thaino?” [ Couldn’t you get in trouble with your friends for keeping my secret from them? ], Zuko said in a tone that was sharper than he needed to use, just to see that hope waver for a fraction of a second. 

Aang nodded, all but unphased, “They probably won’t like it, but they’ll understand that I had a good reason for it. They trust me. That’s what friends do. Maybe we can all learn to trust each other from this.”

Zuko rolled his eyes, about to snap a retort when crunches of loose stones shifting underfoot carried to his ears, “Agni, tainor companems ser returni.” [ Great, your friends are back ].

Chapter Text

Wafting scents of roasting fish and smoke settled in the air around the stone ruins. Though they’d set the cooking fire up as far away from him as they could, Zuko couldn’t escape the inviting smells. Unlike Katara’s congealing rice creation, this dinner made Zuko hope that they planned to include him. 

“Did Lord Fireball junior start making any sense while we were gone?” Sokka asked. He prodded at the coals with a stick to keep the flames lit, tongue poking out between his teeth in focus.

“It’s still the same as before.” 

Zuko was almost impressed at the Avatar’s ability to avoid lying, while still providing no useful information whatsoever. He’d have to keep that in mind for once they returned to the Fire Nation. The Avatar would surely be questioned. For someone who was such an open-scrolled chattering badgermole, he would be a challenge to crack.

Aang was perched on Appa’s saddle, glumly watching the fish being cooked, “I wish you could catch vegetables in the river,” he mumbled to no one in particular. 

“And I wish seal jerky grew on trees, pal,” Sokka answered. 

Zuko shook his head. The motion upset more sap down the back of his neck. Sticky globs settled onto his scrapes from the bark and stung the raw skin. He hissed between his teeth. “I aino wisten taino cadowen piken eh agnir trem,” [And I wish you could’ve picked a better tree] .

Aang’s glum face slid away as he tried his best not to laugh. His woes over dinner were temporarily forgotten. Zuko’s discomfort wasn’t funny, but it was just the way he’d said it. He shot Zuko an apologetic wince.

“What’s our plan with Zuko?” he asked, “We can’t keep him tied up forever.”

“Why not? That’s what he wants to do to you.” Katara fixed Zuko with a hard glare, “If he had his way you’d be locked in a cell for the rest of your life.” She stabbed at a piece of fish with her chopsticks, “I doubt he freed you just because he had a sudden change of heart and wanted to switch sides, Aang.” Not answering, Aang scooped a portion of the fish into one of their chipped bowl and headed over to the tree, “He definitely wouldn’t be feeding you dinner,” she snapped.

Aang pinched a piece of the fish up with a pair of chopsticks. He perched on one of the thick roots beside Zuko, offering the piece out toward Zuko’s lips. Zuko shook his head. Pride winning out over hunger, “Taino cadnet briemen ainowi estenbaren taino feten maino.” [ You can’t think I’ll let you feed me. ] He wrinkled his nose, “Owen tainor ficelem.” [ Keep your fish .]

He kicked the bowl out of Aang’s hand. The bowl clattered to the stones. Bits of the fish landed around it with wet splats. It wasn’t as satisfying of a mess as the rice would have been. But the collective looks of surprise and irritation crossing each of their faces was satisfying enough for him.

Katara recovered first, “I told you we should have tied his feet too.”

“I’m with Katara on this one. That was a waste of perfectly good meat. Do we have any more rope?” Sokka demanded, moving to his feet.

“Or we could just give him some space?” Aang said. He shuffled backward while avoiding the mess on the ground, “If Zuko doesn’t want to eat yet, he doesn’t have to.” The position Zuko was in was constricting enough without his feet being tied too. They may have taken him prisoner, but they weren’t going to be like Zhao. Whether he’d meant to or not, Zuko had freed him from that kind of prison. Aang wouldn’t let him be put in one in return. They all hesitantly agreed, retreating to the smoldering remains of the fire and well out of Zuko’s range. 

Zuko watched the lemur slink down from his perch on one of the bison’s horns, scooping up the remnants of fish off the rocks. All traces of the mess were cleared away in a matter of minutes. The others’ interest in the situation faded too. Chatting and laughter erupted by the fire before too long had passed.

They were discussing some bizarre adventure in Omashu, riding down mail chutes and knocking over buildings, “Boomie and I did that a thousand times. It never went that fast before. I guess they invented a better grease for the chutes in the past hundred years.”

 “All I know is the next time you want us to ride something crazy, I’m saying forget it,” Sokka announced, “We almost died.” He leaned back against his bedroll, “From now on, we’re sticking to walking or the sky bison express.”

“Come on, Sokka, Monk Gyatso always said a life without adventure isn’t a life at all.”

Zuko rolled his eyes, it sounded like the Avatar had an Uncle of his own at some point. Of course, Uncle’s version of that saying would be something about tea. He let his head sag against the tree, shifting until he found a spot away where the bark didn’t dig into his skin.

He wondered if Uncle was looking for him, or if his absence was taken as permission to hold a ship music night. 

The longer he sat with his thoughts, the more a knot of dread settled in his stomach. Because the longer he was missing, the more it was possible that his absence could be tied to the time period when the Avatar disappeared from the stronghold. The longer he sat being ignored by the teens, the larger a target could grow on his back.

He was a traitor and it wouldn’t be long before everyone knew it. “Taino owen ti estenbaren maino den, newi Avatarem.” [ You have to let me go, now Avatar. ] He fought his bonds again with a newfound sense of urgency. The wrappings surrounding his hands were just as strong as they’d been before. 

“Relax, Zuko.” Sokka’s eyes narrowed, “Wait, Avatarem? That has to be Avatar. He’s saying something about Aang!” He announced to the others. 

“Vari Agni, Ficelembriem.” [ Very good, Fishbrain .] Zuko scoffed at Sokka’s apparent discovery. He’d learned one word. At that rate, the peasant wouldn’t master Common if he was frozen in an iceberg for 100 years and studied it the whole time. Zuko rolled his eyes. He shifted as an uncomfortable pressure grew through his midsection, "Taino owen ti slicen maino den. Aino neccen ti pissen." [You have to cut me loose. I need to piss.] He announced. 

Aang grimaced. That was going to be complicated.

Chapter Text

Night fell. The noise in the stone ruins quieted to nothing but snores. Zuko gingerly shifted around against the base of the tree to find a comfortable spot to rest. Comfortable enough-somehow they’d made the ropes even tighter after the humiliating ordeal of his partial release to relieve himself over one of the ledges of the ruins with a knife blade pressed against his back. He could only slump down just enough to sleep. Any more movement strained the muscles in his arms. Resigning himself to the fact that he’d be sore for weeks, Zuko let his eyes drift closed.

He almost drifted off. But something nudged against one of his boots. Light footsteps shuffled against the stones like the lemur was scrounging for any scraps of fish he’d missed. Zuko let out a low growl. He wound up his muscles to aim a well-placed kick at the lemur, however, a different pair of wide eyes stared back at him when he peered through the dark.

Aang crouched by his feet, “I heard you before. But I can’t just let you go, Zuko.”

“Cadhet atno expetem unti mornem ti conversen maino ehtat?” [ Couldn’t it wait until morning to tell me that? ] he snapped. Waking Zuko up just to gloat seemed like an out-of-character type of torture for the Avatar to use. 

Aang shrugged. He gingerly crouched on a root, knees tucked up to his chest in a way that couldn’t be comfortable, “I guess it could’ve. But I couldn’t sleep. I don’t like keeping you tied up like this.” 

“Si, estenbaren maino den i waino togethi suceden,” [So, let me go and we both win] , Zuko groused between his teeth. He shifted against his bonds again, straining hard enough that a sharp blossom of pain erupted just above his hip. All his struggles finally awakened the spot where the arrow hit him. His breath caught in his throat, “Ainam jin angir trubli oi taino gehet.” [ I’m in bigger trouble if you don’t .] 

In more ways than one, but he had no interest in making himself seem more vulnerable than he already was by admitting he was injured. He didn’t think it was bleeding. His side didn’t seem damp beyond the stray bits of sap that had dripped down to his legs. But he couldn’t be sure.

The Avatar bit his lip, curling in on himself even tighter, “Well, I can’t do that. If I let you go then you’d just go back to trying to capture me again.”

“Ge.” 

Zuko watched the Avatar deflate ever so slightly at the admission. But it had to be said. There was no point in trying to deny or sugarcoat the situation. Their goals were in total opposition to each other. Zuko’s was to catch and the Avatar’s was to free. There wasn’t a path where they both succeeded, “Aino owen ti. Antohet closi, Avatarem…Aino owen ti burren taino. Si aino cad owen homem.” [I have to. It’s not personal, Avatar…I have to capture you. So, I can get home.]

Aang was quiet and still for longer than Zuko would have thought possible. He looked lost in his downcast thoughts until the lemur got brave enough to join them by the tree. It flattened itself against the stones, forcing its slight frame beneath one of Aang’s hands. Aang snorted. He slung the lemur up onto his shoulder and gently scratched beneath his chin, “And I have to master all four elements. Being captured doesn’t let me do that.”

“Si, wainam jat ehn impassem.” [ So, we’re at an impasse .]

“I guess we are.” The Avatar hopped back to his feet. Somehow managing to stand without dislodging the lemur. He took a couple of steps back toward where the others were sleeping. But glanced over his shoulder back at the prince, “Goodnight, Zuko. I’m sorry it has to be like this.” He returned to his friends, not expecting a response.

“Den prokien tainoram,” [ Fuck off ] Zuko swore under his breath at the Avatar’s retreating back. He didn’t want apologies. Aang saying he was sorry irritated him almost as much as being tied to the tree. The apology made things worse. Because even in the dark, Zuko could make out the wide reflections of Aang’s eyes. It was a genuine apology. The Avatar really meant it.

He huffed, sliding down as far as the ropes would let him until his side protested again. Zuko clenched his teeth together, swallowing down the hiss of pain that wanted to escape his lips. It could have been just his imagination playing tricks on him in the night, but the spot where the arrow had lodged itself was beginning to cling to his clothes. The material stuck to his skin in a damp, sticky way that was different from the sap. Tight bindings protected the wound from the sap, so it wasn’t that.

Zuko was almost certain he was bleeding.

Chapter Text

Zuko rose with the sun but had to force his eyes open. His muscles ached and his head pounded in his skull. He was almost grateful for the ropes that kept him upright against the tree. He sagged against them, letting the bonds support his weight. Not sure if he could do it without them. Staring down at his side, the spot the arrow had been was covered in an obvious dark stain that stood out against his black clothes. There would be no hiding it once the others were awake. 

His efforts of concealing the worst of his injuries were about to be for nothing. But they couldn’t be ignored any longer. The wound needed to be tended to. As much as he rejected most of Uncle’s smothering attempts to dote on him, Zuko found himself wishing he had the old man at his bedside again. He longed for one of Uncle’s cooling palms against his forehead-one of his only memories in the bedridden haze of his first days at sea.

Despite how he was feeling, a satisfied smirk crossed his face. His injury was more than the Avatar and his companions could treat on their own. Continuing to keep him hostage was all but sentencing him to a slow and painful death, and Zuko knew the Avatar wouldn’t allow that to happen. He would have no choice but to return Zuko to his ship. 

He glanced over to where the group was still asleep in their tangle of limbs and animal fur. A strained but wider smile broke across Zuko’s face. He knew exactly the way to thank the Avatar and his friends for their hospitality.  He sucked in as deep of a breath as he dared.

“Uppen ali!” [ Wake up everyone! ] He shouted. The protests of his ribs made worth it as a chorus of groans erupted from the bedrolls. Zuko felt their sleepy glares on him. One of them snapped for him to go back to sleep, “Taino wisten. Ainam uppeni, si newi tainam owen ti jonen maino.” [ You wish. I’m awake, so now you’ll all have to join me.]  

He whistled and hummed when he didn’t have the stamina to yell any longer. Zuko managed to keep up enough of a racket that despite the better efforts of the group, they were forced to abandon the idea of more sleep. Stone-faced, they straightened up camp and their appearances. 

Sokka made the brave trek over to Zuko’s tree. He made a series of rough pokes at the bindings, inspecting if they’d come loose at all during the night. The clumps of Appa’s fur they’d stuffed between the rope and his fingers were still tightly wound. He wasn’t going anywhere for the time being. 

Zuko snarled at Sokka when one of the boy's prodding fingers disturbed his injury further. He clenched his teeth together. Color drained from his face. Zuko swallowed down a sick feeling rising in his stomach. A stifled grunt slipped through his lips before he could force it down. Sokka sat back to examine the prince further, crouched on the balls of his feet. His head cocked to the side, “Uh Guys, Zuko doesn’t look so good, and I don’t just mean his scar and the stupid haircut.”

Aang perked up. He sprung over to the tree, “What’s wrong, Zuko?” he prompted in Water Tribe.

“Ohn Aino gehet brien. Ser impalen bi ehn arrem i tuken ehn hebriem infanem jout ehf ownem, Ehtatsen wat,” [Oh, I don’t know. Being hit by an arrow while breaking an idiot child out of a prison, that’s what.] Zuko groused between his teeth. He forced himself to sit up, pressing his head back into the tree to fix the Avatar with a glare, “Aino conversen taino ehtat Ainam jin angir trubli oi tainhet estenbaren maino den. Ainamhet? ” [I told you that I would be in bigger trouble if you didn’t let me go. Didn’t I?]

Aang bit his lip. He swallowed down a worried lump building in his throat. The dark material around Zuko’s side was saturated. It was all his fault too. Zuko wouldn’t have been injured if the prince hadn’t been helping him to break out of the stronghold in the first place. He hadn’t been awake enough to check if Zuko was hurt before they’d tied him up either.

“Katara, can you-” before Aang could finish his sentence Katara cut him off with a firm shake of her head. The motion thumped her braid against her shoulders, “But we have to help him,” he protested.

Katara looked away, “I’m sorry, Aang. But I can’t heal that. Even if I could heal him, I don’t know if I would.” There was no waver in her voice at all. Zuko couldn’t see her face from his angle, but he knew she meant it. His self-assured smirk fell ever so slightly. He hadn’t expected that kind of reaction from the companions. He’d thought they were both as soft as Aang, but it seemed he’d underestimated them again. 

“Then we have to get him back to his ship. We can’t leave him like this. It’s dangerous.”

Sokka swept one of his arms wide in a mocking invitation toward the direction where he assumed Zuko’s ship was, “Sure, go ahead. Deliver yourself straight to their ship with Zuko. I can’t see how that could possibly go wrong.” One of Sokka’s hands strayed toward his chin, stroking what Zuko decided was either a pathetically wispy or imaginary beard in thought. His eyes narrowed, “How do we know this isn’t just all a part of his plan to get you to go back to the ship willingly?”

Rolling his eyes, Zuko muttered up toward the branches of the tree, “Ehf corecti pilem, Aino intenti estenbaren mainam owen jin eht betwifirem ali ahs parti ehf eh agni plennem ti owen taino ali. ”[Of course peasant, I purposely let myself get caught in the crossfire as part of a grand plan to capture the Avatar once and for all.]

No one paid him any attention. Zuko shifted, face contorting as he struggled to find a comfortable position. The conversation carried on, if one could even call it a conversation, it sounded more like bickering to Zuko.  He tuned most of it out between the pounding of his head in his skull, nearly nodding off when a snatch of the conversation caught his attention.

“All we have to do is leave him here and tell his Uncle where to find him. Then, we fly off in the opposite direction. His uncle is probably going to choose to save Zuko over capturing the Avatar,” Sokka said.

Zuko blinked. It could have been the blood loss getting to him. But what the peasant said seemed almost actually clever. It was accurate too. Uncle would choose him. The old man’s only stakes in capturing the Avatar were because Zuko wanted to go home. 

Aang bit his lip, in obvious discomfort at the idea of leaving Zuko on his own in the ruins. But even he came to the conclusion that Sokka’s plan was the best course of action. 

The group hastily packed up their camp, heaving the saddle and gear onto the bison’s back. 

While Sokka and Katara secured their bedrolls down with a set of thick straps, Aang shuffled over to Zuko and crouched beside him.

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure your uncle finds you.” Zuko scoffed at his sincere reassurances, “I mean it. I give you my word as the Avatar.”

“Aino gehet tainor converse. Atno menen hettem ti maino. Aino neccen taino ehn mainor botem si aino cad den homem.” [ I don’t need your word. It means nothing to me. I need you on my ship so I can go home. ] He muttered more to his boots than the boy in front of him.

“I know.” 

Zuko didn’t look up. He listened as the Avatar’s uncharacteristically heavy footsteps slipped away from the tree. Not bothering to watch when the bison took off. Left on his own to wait and hope the Avatar’s plan went how it was supposed to.

Chapter Text

Aang shifted on a cushioned chair. Each time he fidgeted against the padded seat, the chains on his wrists and ankles clanked against each other. He winced as the weight of the chains chaffed the already irritated skin from his time at the stronghold. Sighing, he stared at an ornate cup of tea on the table in front of him. A gentle waft of steam clouded the air above the cup. But Aang couldn’t bring himself to drink it.

Things had not gone how they were supposed to at all. He wasn’t supposed to get caught. 

Zuko’s uncle was supposed to be on his way to him at the ruins already, while they flew away on Appa. Zuko wasn’t supposed to be left bleeding and alone for that long. Instead, between cannon fire, he’d been forced to make a diversion to let Appa take his friends in the opposite direction.

Now, General Iroh settled across from him. Time stretched on. Zuko hadn’t seemed scared when they left him. But Aang was sure he’d have to be at least a little worried. Left with no choice but to rely on a forced, feeble trust that Aang would follow through with his word. The general let out a rumbling groan and stretched his stiff muscles, pulling Aang from the spiral of his worries.

“I’ve read that Nomads were familiar with most languages, but do you have a language preference?” he addressed Aang in a clumsy version of the Water Tribe dialect. It was as hard to listen to as Aang remembered. He had to stop himself from wincing as the general stumbled his way through the question, “I know we’ve spoken this way before.” Aang shook his head, “Very well, we’ll speak in my own tongue, then. My apologies for your hospitality of chains, but a man who learns a hard lesson twice did not learn it well enough the first time. You are a formidable young man.” He tipped his cup toward Aang in a sort of salute.

“That’s fair. Thanks, I guess,” Aang said, settling into the Fire Nation tongue. His face was more neutral than he felt. Last time he’d been on Zuko’s ship he’d broken free, given the guards and everyone else the slip, and made a mess of the deck. It wasn’t a surprise that security was tighter than it had been before. He’d proven himself problematic. 

General Iroh scratched his bearded chin. He hummed under his breath, examining the young boy across from him. The child fidgeting around in his chair couldn’t be older than thirteen. He expected tears and pleading from him. A reasonable response. There were grown men who didn’t handle confinement as well as the boy sitting across from him. It was odd, “Forgive me, Avatar, but you don’t seem particularly frightened given your circumstances?” he prompted.

The chains rattled again with Aang’s shrug, “I don’t think I have anything to be afraid of yet. You won’t leave without Zuko.” It had been obvious from every interaction he’d seen between Iroh and the fire prince that he wanted to keep Zuko safe. Zuko was his priority. Not Aang. Having the Avatar on the ship may fill the requirements of the mission. However, it wouldn’t be an immediate invitation to return to the Fire Nation as far as Iroh was concerned. Not without his nephew.

The general clicked his tongue, “Ah, so you know where my nephew is?” Aang bobbed his head in agreement, “And I suppose, young man, that this is the part where you tell me that you’ll help me find my nephew in exchange for your release?” Aang shook his head hard enough to rattle his chains, “No?” His wrinkles furrowed. General Iroh’s genial mood sharpened, his palms flattened against the table between them.

“I’m not trading him for my freedom,” Aang clarified quickly, not bothering to hide his disdain for the suggestion. Zuko was hurt and he had a role in that. Intentional injuries or not, it felt wrong to use the situation to his advantage, “I’ll still help you find Zuko, though.”

One of Iroh’s grey eyebrows lifted, “An unconventional strategy, Avatar Aang.” A strategy to make him question the young Avatar’s motives. Perhaps it was the boy’s misguided attempt to win his favor. To earn his trust maybe. Regardless, he was intrigued. Amused even, before the Avatar’s next words.

“Zuko needs help. He’s hurt,” he explained, “It’s kind of bad.” He stared down at the cooling tea. A stray leaf clouded the bottom of the cup, it unfurled and blossomed outward in a way that looked like the blood stain on Zuko’s side. Aang’s stomach churned. He tapped on the edge of the teacup to stir its contents, “I didn’t want to leave him alone. But…” he trailed off.

Iroh didn’t need the Avatar to finish his train of thought. He understood completely. The boy had taken a great, rather foolish risk to come to the ship on Zuko’s behalf. Leaving Zuko in a separate location, though less than ideal, was one of the few safeguards he had. The old man groaned, steadying himself against the table as he shifted his weight to his feet. He stretched and strode to the door, “Very well, Avatar Aang. Lead me to my nephew.”

Aang nodded. He shuffled after the old man, doing his best not to get tangled in the chains. Out on the deck, one of the guards hefted him onto the back of a Komodo Rhino. Another one of the guards fiddled with the chains until Aang was anchored to the saddle. Iroh settled onto the leather behind him.

Glancing to the general for permission, Aang gathered the reins in his hands and steered the beast off the ship. Iroh smacked his palm against the tough, scaled hyde on the rhino’s hindquarters. The rhino took off at a loping pace. Aang clenched his fists around the reins. He swallowed down the tight feeling growing in his throat, “This way,” he called over the rattle of the chains where they scraped against the scaled hyde. Aang steered the beast in the direction of the ruins and Zuko.

Chapter Text

Zuko let his scalp scrape against the bark, tipping his head back enough to judge the position of Agni’s rays. It had been an hour, maybe two since the flying beast had disappeared between the clouds. He flexed his fingers in the bindings again. But the Avatar hadn’t loosened them at all before they’d left. He couldn’t bend. His swords and mask perched tauntingly on one of the roots just beyond his reach.

It was just like the Avatar to leave him defenseless. Too trusting in the world to consider potential dangers. Zuko let out a huff of air, colored ever so slightly with smoke. He sagged against the ropes again, too spent to keep himself upright on his own any longer. His eyelids drifted down, but Zuko forced them back open. He wanted to sleep. But he knew he shouldn’t for more reasons than one.

Sleeping left him more vulnerable than he already was. If that was possible while injured and tied down. Besides, the more blood he lost, the greater the chances he would never wake up. He refused to let that happen. He’d fallen far enough as it was.

So, he waded through the hazy fog that took its uninvited residence in his head. Zuko set himself the task of counting aloud. He didn’t have a specific goal in mind of how high, but he further complicated the task by alternating between languages. Common, Fire Nation tongue, and even Water tribe until he ran out of numbers that he could remember in the awkward dialect. Each time he lost count or let the wrong language slip off his tongue, he started over. Once, twice, three times until his mouth dried out and forced him to fall quiet.

If he didn’t die of the blood loss, he was almost certain boredom could be his downfall. Zuko let his thoughts stray to places he rarely allowed them to go. To the stuffy banquets and ceremonies with Azula at his side. How had they managed to keep themselves still and quiet as decorum and their father demanded for hours on end?

It was games they played between the two of them to keep each other entertained. That’s what they’d done. Nothing anyone else would recognize as a game, of course. No evidence of game pieces or toys to be seen. They were something private, turns taken in subtle raises of their eyebrows, winks, and twitches of their noses. 

Whether he saw the event himself or not, Zuko would always know if a visiting dignitary from the colonies made a faux pas or when the mochi was about to be served. Some things didn’t need words to be communicated. But those weren’t the kinds of games to help him now. None of them could be played alone.

A pebble launched itself across the cracked stone floor, knocking into one of Zuko’s boots. He frowned and stared at the piece of rubble. Zuko glared at the rock. He dared it to disappear back into the depths of his hazed imagination. But the stone stayed put. Another one rolled across the ruin floor, landing just short of his foot. Eyes narrowing, Zuko forced himself upright again. He strained against the ropes to get a better vantage of the direction of where the rocks had come from. 

The prince couldn’t make out any movements beyond the ruins. Other than the occasional light scrapings of pebbles shifting against the stones, he couldn’t hear anyone moving around. No obvious clicks of boots against the flagstones. But someone or something was out there. 

He bit one of his dried lips, considering how to proceed. Zuko wasn’t in a position to make threats or intimidate anyone. Any bluff he could come up with would be called the moment they laid eyes on him. He was pale, bleeding, and the only thing keeping him from turning into a crumpled heap on the stones were the ropes anchoring him to the tree. 

A flash of white scuttled between the cracked columns near one of the ledges. The Avatar’s lemur? Had he been left behind in the hurry to make space between Zuko and them? No. The little beast was perched on the Avatar’s shoulder when they flew off. If the lemur was there, then the Avatar had returned.

“Aino brien tainam returni, Avatarem. Den jout. Ceasen hiden.” [ I know you’re back, Avatar. Come out. Stop hiding. ] His order rang out with all the force he could muster. It wasn’t much given the circumstances. Nothing happened. No toothy-grinned, tattooed twelve-year-old popped out from behind one of the ledges. Zuko strained his ears, stomach twisting behind the knots.

Something soft brushed against the stones behind the tree. Zuko stiffened. His teeth clenched together, “Den jout, womali tainoram!” [Come out, whoever you are!] The prince panted from his efforts. His pale skin flushing in agitation over being taunted from the shadows, “Den jout!” Zuko’s voice hitched, breaths ragged in his spent lungs. 

Utterly drained, Zuko’s eyes closed. He couldn’t force them to open again. An invisible weight dragged him down. His body slumped fully against the ropes. His mind slipped deeper into the haze. Part of him knew it was a bad sign that he felt no pain. Parts of him wanted to scream and claw at the ropes, clinging to reality with every ounce of his will. Every fiber of Zuko’s being knew that surrendering to the welcoming darkness of the haze was defeat. But he couldn’t resist its pull.

As he drifted off, although Zuko couldn’t be sure if it was a hallucination, his imagination, or an invention of some wistful kind of hope, something warm pressed against his uninjured side. Zuko let a soft gasp slip between his lips. He let the haze take him. No matter what it was, at least he wouldn’t be alone.

Chapter Text

Plum blossoms. Death smelled faintly of plum blossoms. It was bright beyond his eyelids. He cracked his eyes open, blinking bleariness away. Zuko expected to see Lu Ten hovering over him. He didn’t know whether to hope to see his mother or not-it felt selfish if he did.

What Zuko didn’t expect to see when his eyes came into focus was a rather fluffy, white cat. It peered down from a shelf above his head. The cat’s round form was tucked between a crowded arrangement of plants where leaves and blossoms spilled off in all directions. Brow furrowing, Zuko let one of his hands drift to the spongy surface beneath him. Ready to push himself upright.

“Settle down. Push yourself too soon and you’ll have wasted all my work. I wouldn’t recommend doing that. I might not be so inclined to do it again, young man,” a frail voice scolded from somewhere in the bright space. The language wasn’t a formal one. It seemed like some cobbled-together Earth Kingdom pidgin. The kind of thing that had served as Common before the dialect even existed. Simple enough to understand and speak if you were familiar with Earth Kingdom. Zuko obeyed the voice out of bewilderment more than anything else. He stayed quiet. He laid back against the soft surface underneath him, one he realized with a brush of his fingers was a patch of grass.

Zuko’s fingers traveled up to his leg, tracing up to the site of his wound. An odd, fibrous material wrapped tight against his side. Before he could prod at the bindings, the end of a cane knocked his hand away with a sharp smack. A hiss escaped Zuko’s teeth. He brushed his sore knuckles against the grass to soothe them, “You’ll leave those banana leaves alone, if you know what’s good for you,” the scolding came again. The cane scraped back across the floor and a breathy chuckle followed, “Though given your sorry state, maybe you don’t know what’s good for you.”

Light footsteps brought the scolding figure into Zuko’s view. Her long, white hair fell in a curtain around her shoulders and back. The rest was bundled into an odd knot at the top of her head, held into place by a sprouted twig, “When Miyuki told me there was a boy tied to a tree in the lower ruins, I thought she was crazy as I am.” Her laughter crackled, echoing through the bright dome. 

A greenhouse.

Through one of the misted windows, Zuko could just make out the outlines of the crumbling ruins in the distance. One of them had been the makeshift camp. He turned his attention back to the woman. She was frail, while he was almost a full-grown man. It wouldn’t have been possible for her to drag him away from the tree, let alone all the way from the ruins to the greenhouse.

“I assume you’re wondering how you ended up here, young man?” Zuko nodded, “It was Miyuki.” The woman craned her head toward the cat on the shelf, “I promise you, she’s stronger than she looks.” The cat, Miyuki, let out a yowl of agreement. Zuko’s bewildered gaze traveled between the two of them. She cackled again, “I’m just pulling your leg. My assistant brought you here.”

“Stop calling me that. We’ve been through this before. I’m an independent contractor. Not your assistant,” a voice piped up from somewhere in the plants.

The old woman rested a hand on her hip, nose wrinkling, “If you don’t like it, you can always go home.” She smacked her cane against stone tiles with the retort. But even from his spot on the grass, Zuko could tell it was an empty argument, neither meant a word of it. 

“Fat chance, Granny.” The dark-haired girl belonging to the voice poked her head out from behind the shelves. 

“That’s Toma to you, girl,” Toma rolled her eyes, glancing down at Zuko, “You too, young man. Don’t mind her. She’s an impudent little thing. But she makes herself useful every now and then.”

The girl stalked over to where a broom rested against one of the walls. Her pale, bare feet slapped against the tiles. Aggressive sweeping noises echoed through the loft. If one could call what the girl was doing sweeping. Zuko decided it was more like pushing the dirt from one tile to another, and back again. It looked like the opposite of useful as far as Zuko was concerned. There wasn’t a chance this tiny girl had carried him from the ruins, either. They were full of komodo rhino shit, all of them. Zuko dug his fingers into the grass. He tried again to push himself up. 

A swift strike of the cane forced him back to the grass, “I meant it, young man. Stay down.”

Toma sighed, “I swear young people today have no respect.” Zuko nudged the cane off his chest. He fixed the old woman with a glare but didn’t protest. He was alive but still weak, “No gratitude, either.” She huffed, “Come on Miyuki, us old timers need to scrounge up something to feed these brats we keep acquiring.”

The cat leaped down off the shelf, landing just short of Zuko’s head. She brushed against Zuko’s side. A familiar warmth nuzzled against his unbandaged hip. Breath caught in the prince’s throat. Obviously, everything the woman said wasn’t total nonsense. Miyuki had found him against the tree. She was the flash of white in the ruins. The cat stayed with him until he passed out. Somehow she’d led help to him.

What Zuko still didn’t understand was how the tiny girl and old woman had managed to take him from the ruins. 

“You could thank us, Barky,” the girl snapped, “We saved you from that tree, so it’s the least you could do.”

“Taino i wat companems?” [ You and what army?] Zuko raised his chin from his prone position on the grass. Flushing, when the girl let out a snort of laughter. She didn’t answer. Instead, the girl stomped one of her bare feet against the cracked stones of the greenhouse floor. The ground rumbled beneath Zuko. It shot upward a few feet off the ground. He stiffened. His nails dug into the soft dirt for purchase. 

Zuko caught the satisfied smirk on the girl’s face before she stomped her foot a second time. The floor rumbled again, carrying Zuko back to the floor. He winced at the sudden jarring of his side. Breath rattled through his lungs. He let out a low moan before he could swallow it down, “Steeli het certani haw aino owen taino, Tremski?” [Still not sure how I carried you, Barky?] She taunted back in perfect Common.

Chapter Text

Rhino was a slower way to travel than Appa. The chains made it even worse. Aang slumped glumly against the saddle. Every minute that stretched on made the knot growing in his stomach twist even more. His thoughts were an air scooter running circles around his mind in a dizzying loop of all the possibilities of what might have happened to the prince since flown off. 

They shouldn’t have left Zuko on his own. 

There were plenty of other ways they could have done it. Someone could have stayed back with him while the others delivered the message. With as long as it was taking to reach him, there would have been plenty of time to fly away before Iroh could get to Zuko. It seemed so obvious now. But he’d been selfish.

“So, tell me Avatar Aang, how exactly was it that my nephew became injured?” It could have been the general just making conversation. Some genial chatter to pass the time and ease some of Aang’s obvious discomforts. But Aang had the distinct impression it wasn’t quite as friendly as General Iroh might want him to think. He was fishing for information. 

Aang’s thoughts strayed to the mask. Zuko's choice of swords over fire bending. How he was so careful to never speak. Everything he’d done was a measure to keep who he was a secret, “Sorry, General Iroh,” Aang began, “but I’m not sure Zuko would want me to say what happened.” All those deceptions weren’t just in place so Aang would follow him willingly out of the stronghold. He didn’t want his people to know it was him, either. Maybe he wouldn’t want his uncle to know either. He’d told Zuko that he would keep his secret. And he would,  “It was kind of private.”

“Of course, young Avatar, now you’re so concerned for my nephew after leaving him alone in a vulnerable state.” The old man’s tone turned as sharp as Aang had ever heard it. Aang shifted as far forward on the saddle as the curved leather would allow, putting some space between them. But the slope of the rhino’s back and the combined weight of the chains slid him right against Iroh’s protruding gut again.

The chains rattled again, bashing into one of Aang’s ankles. He grimaced, “I’m worried about Zuko too,” he snapped, “But I also had to think about my friends and keeping everyone safe…After everything that’s happened, you have to understand why we couldn’t just bring him straight to you. It turned into such a mess.” 

 “The pig chicken who chases after too many worms finds himself lost in the woods,” Iroh said with a shrug. From his position behind the Avatar, the general couldn’t see the way Aang’s nose wrinkled at the overly cryptic adage. Monk Gyatso had liked sayings too, but his had always made sense. None of them called him a worm-eating, pig chicken, either. 

This saying hadn’t provided him with any new wisdom. It was the same thing he’d just said in different words. Exactly what he and Zuko had discussed by the base of the tree. They had opposite goals and that made things more complicated. Everything was complicated. Aang’s voice got quiet until the General had to strain his ears to make out his words above the crunching of the rhino’s claws, “I didn’t ask for any of this.”

General Iroh sighed a long breath that warmed the back of Aang’s neck enough to raise hairs. His words were gentler when he spoke again, “The turtleduck doesn’t ask to be a turtleduck, young Avatar Aang, but it learns to swim and fly all the same.” 

That wasn’t the worst analogy that Aang had ever heard. Being compared to a turtleduck was better than a pig chicken, anyways. Aang had a feeling that it wasn’t just him that the general was talking about, either. Zuko hadn’t chosen to fight against him. Neither of them had chosen to be part of the war.

Impasse or not, he and Zuko were more alike than they seemed.

Aang gripped the reins tighter. He steered the rhino down the narrow, rocky pathway. Branches slapped against his arms. Sap stuck to his skin in a way that felt like the universe Zuko getting some revenge on him for leaving him on the tree. Like the universe was trying to make things fair. Maybe that's why he was tied down to a rhino.

A rueful grin crept through Aang’s lips. They were almost at the ruins. Peering through the trees, he could make out the shape of the crumbling stone pillars. General Iroh slowed the rhino where the path got even narrower. Claws scraped and squealed against the broken stones beneath the beast’s feet. 

They rounded the last patch of thinning trees, where the path gave way to the stone floor. Iroh took control of the reins. He halted the rhino and dismounted to the stone ground of the ruins, leaving the Avatar secured to the saddle.  

Aang bit his lip. The lump that had only recently vacated his throat was back. Any remaining woes he had about traveling no longer seemed important. At the base of the tree was nothing but a pile of rope and scattered sky bison fur.

Zuko was gone.

General Iroh turned to face him, arms crossed and golden eyes boring into Aang. His voice was dangerously low in a question that Aang couldn’t answer, “Where is my nephew?”

Chapter Text

“Be gentle with him,” Toma snapped, popping her head back through the greenhouse door, “I meant it when I said I didn’t want to patch him up again.” The girl let her pale eyes roll upward. She blew a few loose strands of her hair out of her face, grumbling something in agreement. The old woman seemed satisfied enough to leave them on their own again.

Zuko stared at the tiny girl, “Tainor eh terraden.” [You’re an earthbender.]

“I tainor ehn hebriem wom owen tainoram oweni ti eh trem. Wat abi atno?” [And you’re an idiot who got yourself stuck to a tree. What about it?] The girl padded a few steps closer. One of her hands drifted along the shelf beside her. She stopped where the shelf ended and stomped again. Zuko winced, preparing himself for another jarring impact.  But the girl just snickered as a pile of dirt build itself into a perch beneath her, “Icelen. Tomaem conversen maino ti ceasen hesten i taino. Tainor assisteni fi newi.” [Chill. Toma told me to stop messing with you. You’re safe for now.]

Less than convinced, Zuko shifted on the grass as much as he dared until he had a better vantage point on the girl. One of his hands strayed to the makeshift bandage on his side. He prodded at the edge of the outer layers of the leaves, poking it away from his skin to examine the wound site while there was no danger of a cane smack to discourage his investigations. Zuko glanced toward the girl again, but she seemed more interested in picking at the layers of dirt under her toenails than she did in him and his furtive examinations.

“Wat sen ehtas locatem?” [What is this place?] He asked, more to cover the grating noise of her nails scraping against her callouses. The girl’s pale eyes twinkled in mischief. 

“Eh Grinhomem.” [A greenhouse]. Zuko scowled. He suppressed the urge to throw curses at the cheeky, little peasant, regardless of the chances of being injured further if the girl’s restraint wore off.  “Tomamsen eh herbalistem. Shaino assisten citizem locati,” [Toma’s a herbalist. She helps people here.] The girl’s eyes crinkled around the edges in silent laughter, “Equi hebriem celebreni taino.” [Even idiots like you.]

“Taino briemen Aino gen ehtas ti mainam?” [You think I did this to myself?]

“He. Steeli, taino neccen owen pissen den somali, Tremski.” [ No. Still, you must have pissed off somebody, Barky. ]  Zuko let out a huff through his nose. He thought of a retort, but fell quiet when the old woman traipsed back into the muggy greenhouse. A basket swung off her crooked elbow. Its contents were something green and leafy. Odd, given the entire contents of the greenhouse, were made up of such things. Why would the woman go out to collect even more?

Toma chuckled at the sudden silence in the greenhouse, “I hope you two are playing nicely.”

The girl crossed her arms, “You said I had to be gentle with him, Granny, not nice.”

Toma let her basket fall to an open space on one of the worktops. She used her cane to knock an empty bucket toward the girl. It rolled across the cracked stones, landing just short of the girl’s feet, “You can take that cheek of yours down to the well. Go fetch some water so I can start on the soup.”

“Ge, taino heboteni bratem. Den retren,” [Yes, you barefooted brat. Go fetch,] Zuko snapped. 

The girl stiffened. Her fists clenched at her sides, already pale skin white with barely contained rage. Loose pebbles rattled against the stone floor. Their noises were enough to remind Zuko of delicate the situation was. It wasn’t wise to taunt the earthbender when he couldn’t fight back. 

“Now, that didn’t sound too friendly.” Toma clicked her tongue, shooting Zuko with a warning glace. He avoided her withering stare, “Go on, girl. I’m sure our patient might like some privacy when I check his wounds.” She shooed the girl toward the door.

Zuko frowned. He slid a protective hand over the banana leaves. He’d had enough of being poked and prodded at for a lifetime, “Den prokien tainoram, Haggen.” [Fuck off, Hag.]

“Hey! Lay off Granny.” The bucket fell to the ground, rolling a few steps away from her bare toes. The girl stood in the doorway. Her hands rested on her hips, “And if you’re going to be throwing insults around, you should at least have the spine to say in a language she can understand. Stop hiding behind Common you stuck up little-” before she could finish, Toma cleared her throat in a warning way, “You can’t be okay with him talking like that?”

Toma shook her head, “The way I see it, I think our young patient was wounded far more in his pride than that gash on his side. Think of the vulnerability of his position, child.” A deep, hot flush of shame filled Zuko’s pale cheeks. He craned his neck to avoid Toma’s knowing gaze, but the reflection of the old woman’s eyes found him in the glass walls all around him, ‘If he feels the need to find what little power and control he can in the way he talks, I have no trouble nursing his pride right along with his wound.” 

Zuko tried to choke down the lump building in his throat. She was right and he hated it. What did he gain from that kind of behavior anyway? It wasn’t like the situation with the Avatar and his companions. The old woman hadn’t wronged him in any way. She was trying to help him when he was doing nothing to prove he’d earned those efforts.

He listened as the girl stormed away with the bucket in hand. Its handle squealed from an obvious lack of repair. The old woman knelt at Zuko’s side. One of her wrinkled hands gently nudged his from the banana leaf wrappings. He pliantly allowed her to perform her checks as she saw fit, “Oh, come now,” Toma rested one of her wrinkled hands on top of his. The pad of her thumb stroked gently across his knuckles, “Don’t tell me that little remark was enough to put out your fire, young man. You’ll need it to heal.”

He knew he should say something, but Zuko couldn’t find the words in any language.

Chapter Text

Zuko stayed quiet while Toma applied a thick salve around the wound. He clenched his teeth together as the mixture stung his raw skin. Toma stifled a chuckle, “Stubborn thing, aren’t you young man?” she asked, “You can make a fuss. There’s no one else around to hear it but Miyuki.”

Zuko let his shoulders rise and fall. Whether he had permission or not, he had no intention of crying and carrying on like a child. What would be the point? It wouldn’t help his pain. It most certainly wouldn’t make his situation any less humiliating. He’d fallen far enough.

Instead, Zuko let his eyes travel through the thick tangle of plants until he spotted the cat on one of the upper shelves, keeping its distance as it observed them through a half-lidded gaze. It felt like the cat’s way of punishing him for how he’d treated the herbalist that Miyuki was keeping her distance. Just another one of his deserved isolations.

Toma hummed something tuneless under her breath as she wrapped fresh leaves against his side. She rubbed her hands against her apron to shake off the remaining salve, “That should do until after dinner,” she said, though whether she was talking to herself or him, Zuko couldn’t be sure. She left his side, washing her hands in a basin of water and drying them with a quick brush against her apron again, “Some tea might put some color back into your cheeks. Do you like tea?”

Zuko shook his head. Why was it always tea? He scoffed through his nose. Some old people liked to offer wrapped candies, spare copper pieces, or even knitted socks. But it seemed every old person Zuko knew was only capable of offering him tea. 

 “Too bad for you. You’re getting it anyway.” The old woman bustled off with another stream of airy chuckles in her wake. Zuko crossed his arms against his chest, careful not to jar the wound in the process. He listened to her putter around the greenhouse. Clatters of crockery echoed against the glass walls. 

Miyuki yowled in displeasure at the noise, abandoning her place on the shelf in favor of burying herself against Zuko’s undamaged side. Agitated purs rumbled through the prince’s chest. Hesitantly Zuko let one of his hands drift through the cat’s thick fur. The cat seemed happy enough with the arrangement, her angry rumbles quieted to pleased ones.

Toma returned with a steaming cup in hand, “It seems Miyuki’s taken quite a liking to you.” 

Zuko ran his fingers absently down Miyuki’s side, his disdainful focus on the cup, “No need to look at me like that just yet, it’s still too hot to drink.” A harsh squeal carried through the greenhouse from somewhere beyond the door, “Right on time,” Toma remarked.

The girl was back. Her tasked bucket, now full, bobbed at her side balanced on a shifting pile of dirt. It looked more than a bit precarious. Like the bucket could spill any minute, but the girl didn’t seem concerned about it in the slightest. She let the bucket drop to the floor. Stray drops splashed Zuko’s cheek. He froze, wiping it away with disgust, “Luken atno, Hesti-toems.” [ Watch it, Filthy-feet. ]

“Better filthy feet than a dirty mouth,” she snapped back, “He apologized to you yet, Granny?” 

Toma rolled her eyes, “Of course, he’s made it quite clear how sorry he was. Now, do Granny a favor and gently prop him up so he can drink his tea.” Before Zuko could brace himself, the ground beneath him shifted. As instructed, Zuko’s lower back was gently tipped upward, supported by a heap of soft dirt and grass. He was still reclined but sat up enough to eat and drink without the risk of choking. The teacup was pressed into his hands, “Now, I expect that to be gone by the time your dinner is ready.”

Zuko’s nose wrinkled, but obediently took several long sips of the fruity blend. Nothing but dredges remained by the time Toma returned to his side with a steaming bowl of broth, chunks of green leaves floating beneath its surface. He took it, examining its contents with a dubious look. “Cabbage soup,” Toma explained, “lucky you the cabbage merchant made his rounds yesterday. Now, you eat as much of that as you can. Cabbage helps prevent infection.”

Zuko accepted the bowl, waiting for a spoon or at least chopsticks to follow. But the others simply slurped at the rims of their chipped bowls. Peasant behavior- it made sense given his present company. He grimaced and sipped at the meal. Zuko waited for a bitter taste to wash over his tongue, instead, he was met with a well-seasoned broth. It was gentle and warm in his empty stomach. He had no trouble draining the bowl. 

Toma retrieved it from him, “Good to see you’ve got a healthy appetite through this. Are you ready to rest?” she asked, tapping on the sloped dirt behind him. Zuko shook his head. His fingers dug into the dirt beneath him, “Settle down, young man. I’m not going to make you sleep.” 

Sleep was the best thing for him. No doubt about it. However, this young man had already demonstrated he didn’t often do what was good for him.

“But,” her tone turned warning and playful at once, “if you won’t sleep then I’ll put you to work.” He raised his chin, giving Toma a challenging expression. She chuckled, “You think I’m pulling your leg again?” he nodded. He couldn’t even sit up on his own, let alone walk. She couldn’t possibly expect him to work. A moment or two later a basket of long-stemmed, white flowers was dumped at his side, “Each and every one of those petals needs plucking. That should keep you good and busy.”

She cackled at Zuko’s slack-jawed expression and left him to his work.

Chapter Text

Zuko slid one of the flowers out of the basket. Out of sheer bewilderment more than anything else, he grabbed one of the petals in his fist. Toma’s cane rapped the back of his hand and the flower fell to his lap. He hissed, glaring at the herbalist and rubbing the abused knuckles, “Not like that. You’ll bruise the petals,” she scolded. The prince dropped the flower back into the basket. She was one to talk about being gentle. 

Toma chuckled, “Oh come now, young man, don’t sulk. Surely that didn’t hurt as much as your side.” She stooped down to collect Zuko’s abandoned flower. Perching at his side, she demonstrated pinching a petal at its base and easing it away from the rest of the blossom, “Just like that.” She held the flower out for him to take. Zuko rolled his eyes, “Something you’d like to say to me, young man?” Toma raised one of her eyebrows in a challenge.

Zuko shook his head. He took the white blossom back without a word. With a gentler hand, he plucked a petal away from the stem, “Much better,” Toma praised, “keep that up. I’ll come back and see how you’re getting on in a bit.” He didn’t acknowledge her comments, dropping the petal in the basket before pinching the next one.

He found a steady rhythm in the work-one only slightly disturbed by the dark-haired girl moving through the greenhouse to perch beside him. The prince flicked his gaze toward her, waiting for her to say something or try and provoke him again. But she just sat, staring blankly in his direction in an unnerving sort of way, “Ser taino den ti assisten, ori juti luken jat maino?” [Are you going to help, or just stare at me?] he asked.

“I’m not looking at you,” she said. A smirk crept through her lips. The girl leaned back against a new pile of dirt she constructed with her hands behind her head, making it clear she had no intentions of making herself useful. Zuko’s grip tightened on the stem he was holding. Crescent indents dappled the stalk.

“Falsen agni i den prokien tainoram.” [Lie better and fuck off.]

“I’m not lying, Barky. I’m not looking at anything.” The girl waved a hand in front of her eyes to illustrate her point. Zuko’s eyes widened, “You’re on your own with the flowers,” she shrugged, “Granny doesn’t let me touch them anymore after I mangled the last batch.” Zuko didn’t answer. He added another handful of petals to the basket, let the empty stem fall to the floor, and lifted the next flower, “Why are you doing that, anyway?”

“Tomam conversen maino ti.” Zuko plucked another petal.

The girl snickered behind one of her filthy hands, “I don’t think Granny actually expected you to do it, though.” 

Zuko bit his lip, staring down at the half-plucked flower cradled in his hands. Dirt layered itself in the creases of his palms. His task at hand, the earthy bed beneath him, and his confinement against the tree had left traces on his skin. Cartwheels near the turtleduck pond. That was the last time he could remember his hands looking that filthy. 

He remembered scrubbing his hands almost raw and still finding dirt under his nails. Hiding all the evidence of what would be considered peasant behavior. “Gehet taino agni stuffen ti get?” [Don’t you have better things to do?] Zuko snapped. He glanced down at the basket, where only a few of the flowers remained in the growing collection of loose petals. He’d barely noticed himself falling into the trap of doing dirty, peasant work.

“Eh,” the girl leaned back further against her throne of dirt. Her fingers laced behind her head again and her feet brushed against Zuko’s legs, “there’s not that much to do up here if you haven’t noticed.” He wrinkled his nose, wishing he had Toma’s cane to whack them away, “Anyways, Granny gets visitors all the time. But it’s never been another kid before.”

Zuko considered pointing out he wasn’t a kid but thought better of it. Instead, he leaned down to snatch up the next stem, bending enough that his side protested the movement with a sharp pang. He grunted. Air hitched in his lungs, slipping out in ragged breaths. The flower slid between his fingers to the stone floor. One of Zuko’s hands pressed against the banana leaves as if he could protect it from the damage that had already been done.

“Barky?” the girl asked, something like concern slipped into her voice. She shifted, feet tucking beneath her to lean closer when no answer came except his labored breathing, “I’ll go get Granny,” the girl said. One of her palms pressed against the floor. She moved to push herself to her feet.

“Gehet,” he muttered between his teeth. Zuko had more than enough poking and prodding from both of them. He didn’t want any more tea or broth shoved down his throat, either. The prince forced himself to steady his breathing, “Owen maino eht blosem.” [Give me the flower.] He craned his neck toward the fallen blossom.

The girl’s pale eyes rolled upward, “Nope. I’m nobody’s assistant and I’m definitely not helping you hurt yourself just because you’re too stubborn to know when you should take a break.” She flicked one of her wrists. A loose stone tile beneath the basket titled, sliding the remaining flowers well out of Zuko’s reach. Petals scattered across the floor.

Zuko let out a low growl. But the girl seemed less than intimidated by him. He couldn’t blame her. Blind or not, he was a pathetic sight. He’d been defeated by something so unassuming as a basket of petals. If he couldn’t even accomplish that, how was he supposed to believe he could capture the Avatar?

Chapter Text

Toma shuffled back into the greenhouse sometime later. Her light eyes narrowed on the scattered remains of the flowers across the floor. Miyuki picked her way through the petals, nuzzling into one of Zuko’s hands. The cat yowled in displeasure when the hand didn’t reciprocate her ministrations with the appropriate petting. 

Zuko stared out through a clear patch in one of the muggy greenhouse windows, not acknowledging any of them. His eyes were somewhere distant. The depths of his thoughts took him far from the little greenhouse on the mountain.

“I suppose I should have expected something like this, leaving the two of you on your own,” Toma said, more to herself than either of them. She brushed her hands off on her apron, collected the broom from its resting place against one of the walls, and took up delicately brushing the petals into a pile, “Lucky for both of you, none of them look too bruised,” she scolded. 

With all the petals returned to the basket, Toma fetched the kettle to make another round of tea. Zuko ignored the clatter. He made no effort to take the steaming cup when it was held out toward him. The prince kept up his passive stare through the window. Toma let out a soft harrumph, “Oh, is that how it’s going to be, young man? Think I’m just going to let you sit there and wither away?”

He didn’t respond.

She abandoned the tea to cool and bitter itself on the edge of one of the shelves. Toma rested her hands on her knees, lowering herself to the stones beside Zuko and Miyuki. One of her wrinkled hands settled firmly on his shoulder, “Stewing like that is no way to heal, young man.”

Zuko stiffened from the touch. He knocked her hand off his arm, “I haw lengi willen ehtat owen,” [And how long will that take], he snapped.

“Since he’s still being all uppity and refusing to talk in a way that you can understand, he asked how long it’s going to take to heal,” the girl translated. She scowled in Zuko’s general direction.

“Ah,” Toma cleared her throat, “Well, I was just about to examine him again. Why don’t you take a walk, girl?” The dark-haired girl started to protest, “Go on. You can go play with those badgermoles of yours. Maybe they’ll take you back and get you out of my hair.” The girl let out a soft huff, grinning at the empty remark, “Be back before the first wood frog croaks,” Toma called with more fondness as the girl’s footsteps receded from the door and down whatever trail led away from the greenhouse.

Toma shooed Miyuki away from his side, something about keeping cat hair out of the wound. The herbalist fixed Zuko with a cool expression, “I’m going to look at your wound, if you’d be so kind as not to slap me again” He nodded, lying stiff as Toma peeled back the banana leaves. He clenched his teeth when one of her cold hands slid along the gash. Zuko covered his eyes with the backs of his hands, “It’s more tender than it was before,” Toma observed. He nodded, “I’m going to put more of the salve on it, but you have to lie still and let it do its work. Understand me?” Zuko nodded.

He stayed dutifully still for another layer of the stinging substance, applied with Toma’s steady hand, “Now, you asked about how long it would take to heal?” she asked. Zuko dipped his head, hands still over his eyes, “That’s a complicated question with an even more complicated answer.” Another swipe of her finger rubbed the salve deeper into his skin, “Healing isn’t simple. That’s something I have to imagine you understand more than most do.”

Zuko let his hands slide up just far enough to meet Toma’s rueful gaze. The wrinkled hand that wasn’t covered in ointment reached toward his face. Her fingers stopped just short of actually touching him. She traced the outline of his scar in the air. Zuko dropped his hands over his eyes again, making a barrier between her hand and his face, “When did you completely heal from that, young man?” she asked, expecting no answer.

They both knew the answer already.

He hadn’t. 

He never would. 

He’d healed to a certain point, adapted, and moved on the only way he could while carrying the permanent memory on his face. Zuko would likely get another scar from this. He would probably carry other reminders too. A side that always twinged a little when he raised the arm too high, or a strange ache whenever it rained. Something would linger. Something always lingered.

“It’s a different kind of wound, but just like before, you’ll have to work at healing,” Toma said. She sat back brushing a leftover glob of the salve back into the bowl for later. She wrapped the clean banana leaves back into place, “And your work right now, young man, may be your greatest challenge.” She gave Zuko a conspiratorial wink, catching when he stared at her from beneath his hands again, “You need to let yourself rest.” Cleaning her hands on her apron, she retrieved the cup he’d refused before, “...and drink your tea.”

Zuko let his hands drop back to his chest. He stared with distaste at the cup in Toma’s hands.

“I assure you, young man, it’s not going to get any warmer or less bitter the longer you scowl at it,” she said. Toma chuckled when Zuko snatched the cup and downed its contents as quickly as he could without choking himself. The empty cup clattered against the floor when he finished.

Toma settled herself down beside him again. Both she and Miyuki kept him company. The basket of remaining flowers was tucked against her side, far out of Zuko’s reach, while she finished the petals. Her eyes twinkled at Zuko’s sullen focus on the basket, “Don’t you worry, there will be plenty more dull tasks much like this one to do after you’ve gotten some rest.” 

Her chuckle returned, “Besides, the little something I put in your tea to help you sleep should be taking effect any minute.” Zuko bristled. He raised an eyebrow in a silent challenge, daring her to be lying to him, “Believe me or don’t, young man, you’ll find out in a few minutes.” She draped a thin blanket over him, ignoring the boy’s half-lidded glares. 

Miyuki nuzzled against one of Zuko’s shoulders. He scratched her ear with heavy-feeling fingers. Her rumbles of pleasure sent warmth and vibrations through his chest. Zuko tucked his head against the cat despite his better judgment, sinking into the thick fur. 

He closed his eyes to protect them from itching-not because they were heavy. He sagged a little further into the grassy mound behind him because it put less pressure on his side-not because he couldn’t keep himself upright any longer. He let himself drift off because it was necessary for his healing process-not because he didn’t have a choice.

Chapter Text

“Where is Prince Zuko?” Iroh demanded, repeating himself when no answer came.

Aang clutched the front of the saddle. He craned his neck around the abandoned campsite as if willing it hard enough would make Zuko appear back at the base of the tree or hunkered in some other corner of the ruins. As if they’d just missed him somehow. Eyes wide with worries that he couldn’t begin to hide, the Avatar turned back to General Iroh.

“I-I don’t know. He was right there,” he pointed to the base of the tree. The ropes and fur piles scattered out in a sad-looking reminder of Zuko’s predicament. General Iroh crossed to the tree. He nudged a pile of fur aside with the toe of his boot, revealing a dark stain on the ground. Iroh turned on his heel. 

He closed the distance between him and the rhino. Voice dangerously low when he spoke, “Am I to understand that my injured nephew was tied to this tree, left alone?” Aang nodded. His stomach was in a tight knot, “And in your oh-so-wise opinion, was there a chance he had enough strength to break free and set out on his own?” 

“No,” Aang whispered to the ground. 

“And what are the possibilities that your Water Tribe companions returned here after you were separated, and moved him somewhere else?” Iroh asked in a clipped tone. He watched the boy bite his lip, his narrow shoulders rose and fell. The general’s eyes narrowed, “My patience is wearing thin, Avatar Aang,” he warned.

“I don’t know!” A gust of wind tore through the ruins. Bits of rubble clattered against the cracked ground. The rhino swayed back and forth beneath Aang, pacing in its unease at the sudden shift in the conditions. Groans echoed through the tree, its few stubborn leaves dropped and scattered around them, “We didn’t have a plan for this!” Aang’s chains rattled, knocked around by the uncontrolled torrent of air around him. His eyes shined with tears that threatened to spill over onto his cheeks.

Iroh squinted through the thickening smog of dust in the air. His expression was unreadable as he stepped forward, placing a steadying palm against the komodo rhino’s neck. He calmed the beast and resigned to wait for Aang to collect himself. There would be no reasoning with the boy in his current state. Even if there was, Iroh found he was lacking the energy, or the generosity in his spirit to cajole the young Avatar through his turmoil.

The winds died down. Iroh watched Aang slump against the sloped front end of the saddle. Chains knocked around his ankles and arms when his muscles went slack, hard enough to leave him with bruises on his shins.

Iroh returned to the tree. He knelt to examine the rope’s ends, the fibers were jagged from the rough cuts of a crude tool. Whatever had broken Zuko free wasn’t a blade. The general let the ropes fall to the ground. He scraped up a piece of other fibers, inspecting it with a frown, “Your bison’s fur,” he prompted, “Was it here before you left Prince Zuko?”

Aang nodded. He picked at the saddle’s stitching to avoid General Iroh’s cold, accusatory stare. He didn’t want to explain. Aang tried to convince himself that it wasn’t any different than what Iroh had done to him. Like the chains he wore, the fur had been just a safety measure. Some security in their volatile situations. 

But it wasn’t the same. 

Bruises from the chains would fade. Zuko’s burns wouldn’t. Despite his obvious displeasure, the general hadn’t left Aang on his own, either. There were enough rhinos that Iroh could have ridden a beast of his own, tethering Aang’s behind him. He hadn’t done that. Iroh had steadied Aang and more than once shifted the chains to stop them from bashing into his legs and bruising him any further.

“It was on his hands.” Aang mumbled, “He couldn’t walk but that wouldn’t stop him from being able to burn someone.” He swallowed down the bitter taste rising in his throat and forced himself to look at Iroh, “I don’t know where Zuko is, or what happened to him after we left. But I promise I’ll do whatever I can to help you find him.” Aang kept his voice and expression steady-with far more confidence than he had any right to possess while sitting chained to a rhino. 

Iroh stared back at him. The sharper furrows of his face begrudgingly softened a fraction in the face of the Avatar’s display. General Iroh had always believed that the Avatar and search gave his nephew hope. It seemed, to Iroh’s bemusement, Prince Zuko could inspire the same sort of hope in the very boy he chased.

Chapter Text

Something brushed across Zuko’s face. His nose wrinkled as he roused from a deep, groggy kind of sleep. He sneezed. A sharp pressure radiated through his side. The prince groaned. He pressed his hands against the banana leaves and forced his eyes open.

Miyuki tucked her tail behind her, letting out an apologetic mew for her role in his sneeze and subsequent pain. He released the banana leaves with one hand to scratch between her ears, “Not your fault,” he whispered in his best approximation of the Earth Kingdom language.

“Oh is that how it is, young man, you’ll speak for the cat but not me?” Toma chortled on the receiving end of Zuko’s sharp glare. 

“Shaino gehet pozen maino.” [ She didn’t drug me. ]

Toma’s gaze turned to the curved roof of the greenhouse for a moment before she answered, “I’m afraid my assistant is on an errand at the moment, so if you have something to say to me it will have to wait.” The herbalist paused and gave him a sly grin. She didn’t need to remind him of his other alternative. Zuko clamped his mouth shut and stared at the ground, “Suit yourself, young man.” 

She shooed Miyuki from her perch over Zuko’s shoulder. Fixing Zuko with a warning look, she laid a hand on top of his and eased his protective grip off the banana leaves. He submitted to the examination without a sound. Teeth clenched together to stop the gasp that threatened to slip out when her cold hand nudged the wound, “It’ll be more salve for you. But I’ll need to make a fresh batch.” She tucked the old banana leaves back over his side, coaxing Miyuki back to him with the crook of one of her hands.

Zuko watched with obvious suspicion as Toma scooped a handful of the white petals out of the basket and dropped them into a mortar on the counter. She shuffled through the greenhouse, gathering a collection of leaves from the overhanging plants in her apron. These too were dumped into the waiting mortar and mashed down to a pulpy, green mixture. Zuko’s nose wrinkled in disgust, “Settle down, it’s not finished yet.” The contents of the mortar with a few dashes of oil and a splash of hot water were transferred to a pot, “Let it simmer and cool, and it will look just like the first blend I used,” she explained.

Toma poured the rest of the hot water into a set of cups. Zuko bristled, “He. Owen tainor pozeni lefem, Haggen.” [No. Keep your poison tea, Hag.] Zuko snapped. The old woman didn’t seem to pay him any attention. She set the kettle down.

“Excuse us, Miyuki,” she said, shooing the cat away from her patient again. The cat slinked off to one of the lower shelves. Zuko watched her curl up between a bulging sack and a pile of what appeared to be cracked plant pots waiting for repairs. Repairs that Zuko imagined would never happen if the layers of dust between them were anything to go by. 

Zuko’s musings, however, were interrupted by an abrupt mist of cold water spraying his face. 

Toma rested one hand on her hip. The other held a squat, glass bottle with a metal spout on one end and a pumping handle on the other. Zuko’s outraged expression was met with a satisfied smirk, “Such a nifty little contraption, wouldn’t you say?” She dangled the handle off one of her fingers, letting it sway playfully back and forth, “Perfect for stubborn plants and patients . Now, keep in mind I may not understand your words, young man, but I’ve been around plenty long enough to know when someone’s being disrespectful. Understood?” 

Zuko gave her a sullen nod, “Good.” She set the bottle on the edge of one of the counters- perfectly in Zuko’s eyeshot in a way that couldn’t have been a coincidence. A menacing reminder to behave himself. He swiped the rest of the water away from his face with the back of his hand. But bristled again when Toma carried one of the steaming cups toward him. He shook his head.

“Come now, there’s nothing extra in it. It’s only tea.” She chuckled, “Just like the last cup I gave you.” Zuko glowered at her, “Oh glare all you like, young man. All that mattered was that you thought it was drugged and let yourself rest.” She pressed the cup into his hands, “Drink up.” He drained the cup, holding it out toward Toma. She took it back without a word. 

Zuko watched her dip one of her fingers in the cooling salve to check its temperature. Satisfied, she scooped up the bowl and carried it to his side. He stiffened against the grass patch behind him, but put up no fight against Toma peeling back the old wrappings, “Bristling up like boar-q-pine is only going to make it worse,” she scolded him gently. 

He forced himself to take centering breaths through his nose. It made no difference. His muscles were just as rigid as they’d been before. Toma clicked her tongue against her teeth. She left Zuko and the bowl, clattering through a collection of oil vials on one of her shelves, “Ah, here we are,” Toma murmured more to herself than her patient. She knelt beside him again. One of her wrinkled palms outstretched, “One of your hands if you wouldn’t mind?” Toma posed it like a choice, though Zuko knew it wasn’t. With some reluctance and his eyes fixed on the spray bottle, he put a hand in hers. 

The herbalist turned his palm toward the floor. She tipped the vial over his knuckles, a splash of oil dripping between them. Under Zuko’s dubious supervision, Toma spread the oil across the back of his hand with the pad of her thumb, “Hold it close to your nose,” she directed. Zuko scowled, ignoring the instruction, “Go on. I’m not drugging you. It won’t even take your pain away.” He cocked his head to one side, “It’s a pleasant diversion for your senses, nothing else. Just an old herbalist trick.”

Obeying with some reluctance, he lifted his hand toward his face. A waft of something floral drifted into his nose. Zuko’s eyes widened, “Ah, like that, don’t you?” He nodded, tension easing out of his muscles with the gentle wash of the scent around him. The prince rested his wrists across his face. His oiled hand balanced against the bridge of his nose. 

Toma didn’t give him any warning, or time to tense again.  She dipped her fingers in the salve. Applying the stinging mixture to Zuko’s wound in a thick layer, she observed his clenching jaw and his battle to keep the rest of his muscles from coiling. He took in staggered breaths of the scented oil, “That’s it. Nearly there,” she reassured him. Toma tucked a fresh set of leaves around his side, “You did well, young man.” 

One of her hands rested on Zuko’s knee, squeezing it gently. He looked at Toma’s wrinkled hand, then out the fogged greenhouse windows again. His view of the ruins in the distance was more misted than before. With the same tenderness she’d handled his wound, Toma nursed his pride and pretended not to notice the reason why.

Chapter Text

The dark-haired girl perched on the edge of one of the counters, the basket beside her was spilling over with bunches of dark berries. Zuko watched as she plucked the berries off their vines. For every few that made their way into the basket, she’d sneak one into her mouth. Not that her snacking would be a secret. The juices left a purple stain on her lips. 

“Cad taino den conversen Tomam oi aino cad assisten taino?” [ Could you go ask Toma if I can help you? ] Zuko asked. The girl dropped the bunch in her hands back into the basket. Her nose wrinkled in obvious confusion, “I eht frutem.” [ With the berries ], Zuko clarified. She still didn’t respond. He thought through his translation, trying to think if there was something he had said wrong. But he was certain all the words had been right. Maybe the girl’s Common wasn’t as good as he thought and they’d just gotten lucky to this point, “Taino compen?” [ You understand? ], he asked.

“I understand you fine, Barky. I just don’t get it.” She said like that was supposed to clear up the confusion somehow. The girl didn’t slide off her perch or make any movements toward the greenhouse door. She returned to her work, ignoring the request.

Zuko rolled his eyes, having a task couldn’t possibly be worth bickering with the filthy-footed girl. He considered trying to sleep, but couldn’t get comfortable enough to nod off. His side pulsed with every shallow breath he took. Zuko resigned himself to idle thoughts for entertainment. 

Uncle must have noticed he was missing by now. Perhaps word had reached their ship about the Avatar’s assisted escape from the Stronghold too. He wondered if the Avatar had kept his promise to steer Uncle in the right direction. Not that it mattered. No one would find him tucked away in the greenhouse. 

His musings were interrupted when Toma shuffled back through the greenhouse door. The old woman’s gaze swept over him, lips pursed. She clicked her tongue against her teeth and pressed a cup of water into his hands, “You’re flushed,” she stated, “Take small sips and drink it slowly. When I said I wanted some color back in your cheeks, that isn’t what I had in mind, young man,” she scolded as if Zuko could somehow control his pallor. 

“Conversen hainor graten taino.” [ Tell her thank you. ] He paused, “Pleseni.” [ Please .]

The tiny girl huffed, tossing the berries in her hands back into the basket, “Or you could just say it yourself,” she snapped, “It’s not like you don’t know how!” Her expression narrowed. She hopped off the counter, berries abandoned in favor of closing the distance between her and Zuko, “Wait a second, you’re being polite. Why? What happened?” Her attention shifted to the herbalist, “What did you do to him?” Toma simply cackled, crossing to the counter to inspect her progress on the basket of berries instead of answering.

“Wat occuren si tainor granem si prokieni joutbriemi.”[ What happened is your grandmother is fucking insane. ] Zuko whispered, “Briemen shainosen eh aquaden, ori alikindi.” [Thinks she’s a waterbender or something.]

The girl’s pale eyes widened. They gleamed with uncontained humor. Peals of laughter echoed through the greenhouse. She clutched her stomach, “She got you with her spray bottle, didn’t she?” she asked, not needing his confirmation. Her amusement, however, was short-lived. Toma snatched up the bottle and shot an icy spray in her direction, “Granny!” The girl howled in dismay, “What was that for?” she demanded, scowling and dripping. 

Toma chuckled. She tossed the girl a rag to dry herself off. Unprepared for it, the rough material smacked against her cheek. The girl glowered in Toma’s direction, “Oh, settle down. It was more deserved, and you know it. More of those berries ended up in your stomach than the basket.” 

She shuffled over to a bubbling pot. A gentle clatter of the spoon against the pot carried through the greenhouse, “Besides, you can take that as some encouragement to stop harassing our patient. He’s flushed enough without you working him up.” Zuko smirked at the scolding. His change in expression caught Toma’s attention from the corner of her eye, “Or perhaps you should continue. That’s the closest thing to a smile I’ve seen from him yet.” Zuko’s face fell and the herbalist chuckled.

She scooped a thick porridge into a bowl, carrying it Zuko and passing it over before he could refuse, “Eat it while it’s still warm,” she said and wandered away to tend to her plants. Zuko stared down at the contents of the bowl. It smelled and looked far better than whatever the Water Tribe girl had burned, but a bitter taste built in the back of his mouth all the same. 

Zuko’s stomach churned. He leaned down as far as he dared to set the bowl on the floor beside him. It didn’t seem the herbalist noticed the abandoned meal. Zuko followed her progress through the greenhouse, spraying plants instead of them for a change. He ignored the rising rebellion building in his throat. Swallowing down the need to retch, Zuko tried not to imagine the stabbing sensation through his side that would follow if he lost the battle.

Toma caught a glimpse of him between a set of hanging vines, “You’re looking greener than the plants,” she remarked. She returned to his side, taking the bowl quickly away, “Steady breaths,” she ordered, “In and out your nose.” Her voice receded back to the shelves. A clatter of vials echoed through the glass panes. She was back again, pushing something toward his face.

A strong scent, sweet and cool at once, rushed in with his breath. Zuko took the vial. His insides quieted their protests, settled enough by the smell, “What’s wrong with him?” He found the dark-haired girl perched on the edge of one of the counters again, “I thought you said the banana leaves would stop him from getting an infection.” She crossed her arms, nearly toppling herself off the worktop with her accusatory pout.

Toma sighed, “There are no guarantees in healing, girl. It’s plants, not magic.” The herbalist absently brushed the back of her cool hand against Zuko’s unscarred temple. He shot her a wary look, but leaned into the soothing touch, “I said the banana leaves and keeping the wound clean would help. But there’s no telling what got into it while he sat against that tree for spirits know how long before Miyuki found him.” 

“What do we do now?” the girl asked, pale eyes wide.

The hand on his forehead slipped away for a moment. Zuko shivered in its absence despite the flush through his face. Clatters carried to his ears. A trickle of something poured into a bowl. Toma was back at his side with a damp rag. She draped it across his forehead, the weight making his eyes drift closed, “We keep him as cool and comfortable as we can,” Toma said calmly. “Give him all the tea he can stomach to drink.”

 She let a humorless chuckle escape at the sight of Zuko’s wrinkled nose. Toma let her hand settle on top of one of his. The pad of her thumb brushed his knuckles in a series of gentle strokes, “And, we keep him company so he doesn’t fight alone.”

Chapter Text

A warm weight of a hand lingered on Zuko’s shoulder for a moment. Words were murmured, but he couldn’t make out any of it. His eyes fluttered from beneath the cooling rag draped across his forehead. Zuko couldn’t see anything through the bleariness. The hand slid away. Something cloyingly floral filled his nose. 

Tea. 

Nose wrinkling, Zuko groaned. He strained back from the smell until a sharp pain stretched through his side. He gasped, coiling in on himself. Zuko shifted as far onto his unbandaged side as far as he dared to escape the scent and the presence at his bedside, “I don’t want tea, Uncle. You always say a man needs his rest. Let me sleep,” Zuko muttered, slipping into the Fire Nation's tongue. 

The cup returned stubbornly to his face, unswayed by his commands, “I said no tea,” he snapped through his teeth and smacked his hand toward the cup until it was removed. His chest heaved from the exertion, uncomfortable heat crawling through him. Zuko shifted against the grass as if he could pull away from it somehow. But the source of the warmth radiated from beneath his skin. The sensation burned through him from the inside out.

An unwitting, humiliating whine slipped through his lips before Zuko could strangle it back down-with it a new flush of heat flooded his cheeks. The rag was removed. Replaced with a cooling palm against his forehead to settle him, accompanied by another round of indistinct murmurs. Zuko took staggered breaths through clenched teeth. His world reeled beyond his eyelids at a helplessly dizzying pace.

The bitter taste of a new wave of nausea crept up his throat. Zuko clenched his jaw. He willed the sickness to settle itself and spare him. He forced his eyes open if only to make the world still again. His eyes focused on the presence beside him. Reality struck at the sight of the herbalist instead of his Uncle. 

Zuko retched. He clamped a hand over his mouth. Each contraction of his ribs sent a shock tearing through his side and brought more tears to his eyes. Toma pushed an empty plant pot into his hands, “Now, let it all out. There’s nothing else for it,” she said as if he had a choice but to comply. He crumpled over the bowl, heaving out what little contents of his stomach remained.

One of Toma’s hands gently patted his back. A tuneless hum on her lips to soothe him until there was nothing left to come up. Zuko pushed the pot away. He slung his arms over his knees, cradling his head between them. The folded position put even more pressure on his wounded side, but he couldn’t bring himself to move from his huddle. 

“Come now,” Toma’s whisper carried through his staggered breaths, “I know I’m not much to look at, but it’s never made anyone sick before.”

Zuko let out a wet-sounding, humorless laugh against his arms. A fresh shock of pain erupted through his side with the movement. Fresh, hot tears spilled down his cheeks. He was powerless to stop them. Zuko stared down at the blurry, wrinkled edges of the banana leaves so he wouldn’t have to look at Toma. 

“No shame, you stubborn thing,” she scolded him, “Don’t bear this all on your own.”

He complied with some reluctance, dragging his eyes back up to hers and watching her clean his tears through a watery gaze. Toma’s knuckles drifted down to his cheek. Her fingers brushed away the evidence of his silent sobs. Toma hummed again in thought, “What can I do for you?” she asked, her tender voice rasping in his ear. The gentle question shattered any remaining shreds of his composure and pride.

Crumpling back against the grass behind him, Zuko gasped as another sharp ache jarred his muscles, “End this,” he begged, in broken Earth Kingdom.

Toma’s face and tone grew stern, “Now, I’ll assume for both our sakes you meant that from a medicinal standpoint, young man.” No answer came, “I’d prefer you go back to one of your other chatters that I don’t understand than listen to you talk like that.” She sighed, leaving his side for the first time in hours. 

Her clatters through the greenhouse made his ears ring, his head pounding from the fever as it was. Zuko pressed his hands over his ears to dampen her racket. He released the hold when the herbalist reclaimed her place beside him. A cup of something dark and thick was pushed into his hands. She rolled her eyes at Zuko’s dubious expression, “Go on. It should dull your mind and senses enough to let you rest.”

He swallowed down the sludge with a series of shudders. Bitter lumps caught in his throat. Zuko forced himself to choke them down. Clenching through his body’s desire to gag the medicine back up, he shivered again through his silent sobs. Miyuki padded across the greenhouse floor. She rested her head against Zuko’s shoulder, soaking sweat and tears into her white fur. The cat was warm against his face, unbearably so. But Zuko couldn’t pull away.

A heaviness set through his limbs and traveled to his core, rooting him in place. Zuko’s eyes sagged closed. The muddle of Toma’s mixture took hold of his mind. Thoughts became tangled wisps and he drifted between them.

He was three. 

The hot white sand of Ember Island burned the bottoms of his bare feet as he ran down the shoreline.

He was nine.

Sweating and panting on the ground, his training swords gripped in his blistered palms. 

He was five. 

Someone forced a flame into his quivering hands, he couldn’t keep hold of it and embers rained between his fingers.

He was thirteen. 

He knelt against the arena floor, muscles frozen in place while a searing fire devoured his face.

The flame against his cheekbone and radiating warmth of the cat blended together until Zuko didn’t know where or when he was anymore. But he begged for the pain to stop. Zuko pleaded for help. From his father. From his uncle. From the herbalist. From whoever would listen. The low murmurs returned. Zuko didn’t understand a word of it. 

The cool palm brushed across his forehead, wiping sweat from his brow. Another round of murmurs made the warm weight retreat from his shoulder. He let out a staggered sigh, but relief lasted only seconds. Another wave of heat coursed through him. He tore at the thin blanket draped over his legs, battling against the heaviness of Toma’s medicine.

The soothing murmurs grew to raised voices. Something shifted beneath him. His limbs were suddenly fixed in place, unable to move. He sagged helplessly against the sloped patch, strands of grass tangled in his hair. Utterly drained, trails of his thoughts went unfinished as the deep hold of sleep dragged him away.

Chapter Text

Zuko stirred from the deep hold of his sleep. He shifted, muscles going rigid as they met a firm resistance pinning him in place. Thick bands wrapped around his wrists and ankles. A cold dread pooled in his stomach. He hadn’t opened his eyes yet. He didn’t know if he could. Zuko knew what he’d find. 

Zhao had found him somehow, labeled him as the traitor he was, seized him, and had to be dragging him back to his father in chains. He shook, steeling himself until he could finally force his eyes open. 

Glass walls hidden between tangles of plants filtered back into focus. Zuko’s racing heart slowed. He was still in the herbalist’s greenhouse. Not locked away on a ship or some Earth Kingdom prison. His breathing hitched again, however, with the realization that the thick bands on his wrists and ankles were all too real. He tried to thrash against them until the skin around his wrists and ankles was raw. 

He was trapped. Zuko's eyes tore through the greenhouse, but there were no signs of Toma or the girl. He bit his lip to stifle the sobs building in his chest. Miyuki emerged from between a set of pots. She curled against one of  Zuko’s shoulders with a series of mews. A rough tongue brushed against his scar, catching all the salty tears gathered between the deep furrows in his skin. He shivered, glad for her company all the same.

A shuffle of footsteps stirred his focus from the cat to the doorway. Toma caught his haunted expression from across the room. She abandoned the basket of berries she carried on one arm, “Ah, you’re awake.” The herbalist settled at his side. He shook one of his wrists against its bond in a silent demand. A huff of unsteady breath escaped his lips, the sound just short of a whine. Toma shushed him, “I’m afraid my assistant went down to the well, but once she’s back we’ll get these off of you.” Zuko gave her a stony glare. “Oh don’t you look at me like that, young man, you were thrashing in your sleep. You’d be feeling far worse off if we hadn’t tied you down.” 

She fetched a fresh damp rag, draping it across Zuko’s forehead. He let out a soft sigh and listened to her scolding lecture, “You gave us quite the scare yesterday.” She peeled back the wilted banana leaves without giving him a warning. Zuko stiffened beneath her touch, but the wound wasn’t quite so red and tender as it had been the day before, “No more salve just yet. We’ll see how you get on without it.” 

Toma tucked a fresh set of leaves around the wound site. She wiped her hands against her apron and tucked the long twig in her hair deeper into her top knot, “She should be back any minute,” the herbalist reassured him, “And don’t you worry, once you’re loose I’ll have plenty of tea for you.” 

Zuko rolled his eyes at her breathy chuckle. Relieved to see a mop of dark hair bobbing from the corner of his eye.  He heard the bucket drop to one of the counters with a clatter and series of splashes. Seconds later the thick bands of his wrists and ankles fell away, turning back into loose piles of dirt.

“Graten taino,” he mumbled to the girl, massaging his sore wrists. 

“Whatever, Barky. You can thank us by not scaring us like that again,” she snapped. The girl crossed her arms, blowing a strand of hair out of her face. She grabbed Toma’s basket and started on the next round of plucking berries off their bunches. Her temper seemed to simmer down as a dark purple stain of berry juice grew around her lips.

“Get taino briemen Aino neccen ti conversen watali hesti ti owen aquaden repi? [Do you think I have to say something insulting to get sprayed again?] Zuko asked, still feeling some flush through his face. He watched the dark-haired girl crack a lopsided smile.

“It’s a good sign that he’s making jokes, isn’t it?” she asked and translated his question.

Toma collected the spray bottle off the counter, tipping it up and away from Zuko. A gentler, soothing mist sprinkled over his face. An involuntary hum of pleasure escaped Zuko’s lips. The old woman chuckled, “I take it as a good sign. Just ask, you stubborn thing,” she scolded him gently and let another stream of the cool mist settle around him, “Time for more tea.”

Moments later the clatters of her tea-making echoed through the greenhouse. Zuko closed his eyes, cracking them open again as he heard a soft shuffle of feet. The dark-haired girl knelt by his side in Toma’s abandoned place. She was quiet. Her bottom lip was white from where her teeth dug into it, despite the berry juice. 

“Wat?” he muttered, eyes narrowed. Any intimidation his expression would have held was ruined by the chattering of his teeth and shivers that ran through his shoulders. Not to mention his leering had no audience in the blind girl.

“Nothing, Barky. I’m just keeping you company like Granny said.” They sat in an uncomfortable quiet. The girl fidgeted and picked at the dirt between her toes. Zuko’s nose wrinkled, stomach almost rebelling again from her disgusting pastime. He closed his eyes so he wouldn’t have to watch it happen. The scratching noise of her fingers against her calluses grated his ears until he managed to nod off against the sloped glass patch. 

Toma, returning with the tea, rested a hand on his shoulder to nudge him awake, “You can rest more after your tea, young man,” She said firmly. Her patient let out a soft groan. But obediently took the cup, “Drink it all, or the next spray won’t be so nice.” Though the teasing warning wasn’t needed. He dutifully drank his tea in small sips until the cup was drained. 

Setting the cup aside, Zuko coaxed Miyuki into his arms. His fingers sunk into the deep white fur beneath her chin. The cat’s pleased rumbles vibrated through his chest, “Just be gentle with yourself, young man.” Toma scolded him gently, “It’s good to see you’re in better spirits, but you’re still healing.”

Chapter Text

Three days. 

Tea. Broth. Sleep.

Tea. Broth. Sleep.

Tea. Broth. Sleep.

Three days were all it took for Zuko to get restless. The pain had faded to a constant dull ache. He could sit up straighter without relying on the sloped grass bed to keep himself upright. Toma praised the color growing in his cheeks each time she changed the banana leaves, chuckling at his blushes.

She traced the healing wound with cool fingers, examining how the delicate skin had closed and left the beginnings of an angry line behind. The herbalist let out a soft hum. She sat back, “Well, it’s scarring, but somehow I imagine that’s the least of your concerns.” Zuko gave an absent nod. He eyed a basket of flowers sitting on the edge of the counter, ones that were clearly waiting for someone to pluck them. Toma followed his gaze. Her lips pursed in appraisal, “I assume you’re wanting me to put that where you can reach it?”

Zuko nodded.

“Well, I suppose it won’t hurt to give you something to do for a while.” She retrieved the basket and set it down beside him, “Don’t wear yourself out,” Toma warned, “the petals aren’t going anywhere anytime soon and neither are you, young man.”

He rolled his eyes, “Aino cad owen blosems.” [ I can handle flowers .] Zuko lifted one of the stems, delicately pinching off its petals one by one. He tipped the plucked petals into one end of the basket. The discarded stem landed on the floor, rolling out of his reach. Zuko scowled. He leaned over, wincing when he twisted more than he should have. 

Toma knocked his hand away lightly with her cane, “Leave it. Nothing good will come of contorting yourself like that.” She nudged the stem further out of his reach with the tip of one of her shoes, earning her another eye roll from Zuko, “Keep those looks up and the next spray you get won’t be so gentle,” she tutted and left him to his work.

Pinch. Pluck. Drop.

Pinch. Pluck. Drop.

Pinch. Pluck. Drop.

“Granny’s letting you work again?” Zuko’s flow was interrupted by a question piped at his side. He dropped another stem, scowling as it rolled away from him. The girl flopped down beside him. She swung her feet over his legs, “Wish you were better enough to go down to the well for me.”

Zuko shoved her feet off. His breath hitched with the exertion, “Oi Ainam Ainhet steeli locatem.”[ If I was I wouldn’t still be here .]

“Right because you’d be back to pissing people off enough that they want to tie you to a tree, Barky.”

“Alikindi celebren ehtat,” [ Something like that ,] He muttered, picking up the next flower. The girl shifted beside him. She grinned, swinging her feet to return them to their resting spot against his legs. Zuko caught the movement out of the corner of his eye. He raised his arm and knocked them away. A grunt slipped out his nose, “Gehet tainor granem conversen ti genti i maino?” [ Didn’t your grandmother say to be gentle with me? ]

The dark-haired girl snorted, “Well, she did. But I always hated being treated like I was weak. So, I sort of guessed you would too.” Zuko couldn’t argue with that. He didn’t shove her away when she shifted to sit against the grass slope with him. She kept him company while he plucked his way through a large portion of the petals. He yawned, gently nudging the basket away from him to finish later.

Toma chuckled at his heavy-lidded gaze, “Starting to learn your limits I see. Good for you, young man.” She tucked the basket onto the counter between some plant pots, “Don’t fall asleep. You can rest after you eat something.”

Zuko groaned, “He angir bejucem.”  [ No more broth .]

A cool hand brushed against his cheek, “I have jook if you think your stomach is settled enough to handle it.” She laughed at his eager nod, “You sit yourself up and I’ll get you a bowl.” She shuffled off, returned with two steaming bowls, and handed one to Zuko. The other she handed to the dark-haired girl. “Now, we’ll see how you get on with that. If you manage to finish it and take a nice long rest, we might just get you on your feet later.”

“Really?” Zuko asked, slipping into the Earth Kingdom language. He sat up straight, far faster than he should have, and had to hide his wince. It didn’t escape the herbalist's attention.

“Yes, really, if you don’t reinjure yourself in the meantime.” Zuko cradled the bowl, taking slow sips of the thick porridge. He waited for a wave of nausea, but none came. The mixture seemed to settle fine in his stomach. Even with the aggravating slurping sounds of the girl beside him, he managed to scrape his bowl clean. Toma praised his progress when she collected the bowl, “I’m sure Miyuiki will be glad to keep you company while you rest.”

Zuko found himself bundled under the thin blanket. The cat tucked against his uninjured side, sending gentle rumbles through his ribcage. He scratched beneath Miyuki’s chin. Soft purs filled his ears until Zuko drifted off to sleep.

A deep, mercifully uneventful sleep.

He woke to a sharp crack. Miyuki let out a yowl of displeasure, her white fur bristling beneath Zuko’s hand. He blinked away the weight of sleep from his eyes to focus on the shattered remains of a plant pot. Shards of pottery and dirt were scattered around the dark-haired girl’s feet, “Sorry Barky.”

“Juti luken tainor toems,” [Just watch your feet ,] he groused.

“I don’t need to. Even if I wanted to, I can’t actually watch them.” She clenched her fingers into tight fists. The bits of cracked pottery rattled against the floor, collecting themselves into a neat pile beneath one of the shelves, “There, good as new.”

Her self-satisfied smirk lasted until a sharp spray of water shot into the back of her head. She yelped.

“How many times do I have to tell you that sliding messes underneath something else isn’t the same thing as cleaning?” Toma snapped. She shoved the broom into the girl’s hands, “Go on, girl.” Grimacing, the girl swept the pile out from under the shelf and coaxed it into a new pile with some discarded pots, “That’s better.” She turned her attention to Zuko, “Now, how are you, young man?” 

He shrugged, “I’m afraid you’ll have to do a little better than that to convince me you’re well enough to get back on your feet.”

“I’m not going to beg,” he said. Zuko raised his chin in a sullen challenge. He crossed his arms, ignoring how the dull pain in his side sharpened with the change in position. 

Toma snorted fondly. She clicked her tongue against her teeth. One of her wrinkled hands brushed an escaped strand of Zuko’s hair back from his face, “And that’s all I need to hear, you stubborn thing.”

Chapter Text

Aang huddled with his back against the wall, knees pulled up to his chest. One of his hands traced the manacles around his ankles, as it had for the hundredth time before that day. No matter how many times his fingers traveled along the cool metal, no defect or weakness had presented itself.

Even if there was one, he wasn’t sure he’d deserve it. Zuko was still missing and it was all his fault.

The cabin door opened, making him wince from the light that spilled into the dim room. Aang stared at the floor. He avoided General Iroh’s watchful gaze. Heavy footsteps approached. A shadow fell over the toes of his shoes. 

“I’m told you haven’t been eating.” Aang didn’t respond, “Your concern for my nephew is admirable, Avatar Aang. But starving yourself won’t help either of you.” Aang’s shoulders rose and fell, but he still wouldn’t look at the general. He listened to Iroh sigh. The old man crossed back to the doorway with heavy footsteps, clearing his throat, “Perhaps some fresh air and a change of scenery will stimulate your appetite.”

Aang sat up. He looked toward the doorway with hesitation, as if he expected it to slam in his face and leave him alone in the dim cabin again-where he’d been since moments after they’d dismounted the rhinos days before. But Iroh’s face seemed genuine. The Avatar scrambled awkwardly through the bonds to his feet. He followed Iroh in silence out the doorway and into the passage beyond. They were silent, walking past the posted guards. Only the rattle of Aang’s chains against the metal floors echoed through the passage. 

Iroh paused at the base of the hatchway, his body blocking the way through. He examined Aang with a dark, warning gaze, “You should know the waters around our vessel are low, and the surrounding rocks are rather sharp. Jumping off the side would not be advisable.” Aang crossed his arms, chains knocking together. When it was clear the general was waiting for an answer, he gave a sullen nod. Satisfied, Iroh let him pass.

Out on deck, a warm breeze wrapped around him. His caplet flapped around his shoulders. Aang breathed easier as he stared out at the waves from the anchored ship. They weren’t sailing anywhere. He’d been right. Iroh wasn’t leaving without Zuko. He leaned against one of the sides, breathing in the salty air and basking his relief.

He didn’t notice at first when Iroh joined him until the general cleared his throat. Aang shook his head, “It’s nice you let me come up here and all, but if what you wanted was answers then you should probably just lock me up again. I still have no idea where Zuko is, or where my friends are.”

Iroh stroked his beard, “My reasons for allowing you on deck extend beyond simply getting answers.” He sighed, “Perhaps I was too hasty to lay blame. The responsibility for whatever has happened to my nephew was not yours alone.” The boy didn’t answer, but Iroh was all too familiar with the sullen expression he wore. He’d seen it on his nephew many, many times before. 

General Iroh hummed, “I hope you’ll understand that I cannot allow you to leave until I know my nephew is safe.” He ignored the Avatar’s glower, “I can, however, make certain your stay here will be more pleasant than it has been up to this point.” Aang made a noise from somewhere deep in his throat. A noise that sounded more jaded than a twelve-year-old should have been capable of producing, “Your lack of trust is understandable. I would have doubts of my own under the circumstances.” 

He guided the Avatar away from the side of the ship, leading him to a small table with two seats. Iroh lowered himself into one of the ornate chairs. His folded hands settled on his gut. He tilted his head toward the empty chair across from him in an invitation.

Aang didn’t sit. He bit his lip, rocking on his heels until the burden of the chains nearly toppled him backward, “You clearly have questions, young Avatar. Why don’t you get them off your mind?” Iroh prompted. The general’s pleasantries sounded somewhat strained. As if it was taking too much of his energy to be genial. 

He asked anyway, “I just don’t get how keeping me here does Zuko any good? I could be out there looking for him.” Aang let one of his arms swing out toward the side of the ship as far as the cuffs on his wrist would allow. The chain snapped back sharply against his side, making him wince.

“Unfortunately for you, your value as a hostage is worth more than as a member of my nephew’s search party,” Iroh stated, “You are free to argue that point. However, it’s unlikely to change your situation.” Aang dropped down into the seat across from him with a huff. He cradled his chin against his arms and ignored the proceedings as a servant set a tray down between them.

The tray was laden with a tea set and a collection of small pastries and tea sandwiches. Ones Aang was sure were designed to tempt him into eating. He listened to Iroh dismiss the servant. Clatters of plates and cups being arranged filled the air between them, “Tea?” The general asked. 

Aang shook his head, “Is that your answer for everything?” 

“No, not everything. But, I find that if you are going to be stewing in your own thoughts, tea makes an excellent accompaniment.” General Iroh poured him a cup despite his refusal. Aang scowled into the steeping brew. He absently massaged his wrists beneath the metal cuffs, “Our ship’s medic can provide you an ointment for that.” Aang shook his head, “It’s in your best interest to not refuse medical attention, Avatar Aang.”

“Right, no offense General, but it’s hard to believe you care about my best interests.”

Iroh shrugged, “No offense taken. It’s no secret my nephew is my priority, however, that doesn’t mean I hold any ill intentions for you.”

“Can I just go back to my cell now?” 

“If you wish. I’ll escort you back shortly.” General Iroh beckoned over one of the uniformed soldiers. They spoke in hushed tones that didn’t carry to Aang across the table. The soldier strode down the deck, disappearing out of view and returning several minutes later with something bundled in his arms. He approached Aang with the bundle.

Aang scrambled to his feet. He stumbled over the chains until he caught himself on the edge of the table. The untouched tea in front of him sloshed dangerously close to the rim and his chair hit the floor. The soldier dropped the bundle on the table, bending over and setting Aang’s chair upright again. 

In front of Aang was a different set of cuffs. Worn leather, with straps between them in place of chains. General Iroh cleared his throat, “I thought you might find these more comfortable if you would sit another moment.”

 Aang dropped back into the chair. He watched without a word as the leather was cinched around his wrists and ankles. The metal shackles were removed, landing with a series of thuds on the deck until the soldier gathered them up and carried them away. Aang’s fingers traced the soft leather. He swung his legs gently to test the weight of the new bonds. They were lighter, less restricting somehow than the others. 

“Are you ready to return to your cabin , Avatar Aang?” Iroh asked. The old man shifted his weight to the front of his chair, moving to stand.

“Actually, I could stay up here a little longer,” he said, reaching for his cup of tea.

Chapter Text

“Now, I don’t want to see your hand come off this counter,” Toma instructed, “Standing is not automatic permission to take off pacing around and trampling my vines. Do we have an understanding?” Zuko nodded. He flexed his fingers against the worktop, keeping himself as stiffly upright as possible to avoid putting extra pressure on his side. 

The pain wasn’t as dulled anymore while he was standing. He clenched his teeth together to stop himself from grimacing, “Had enough?” Toma asked. Zuko shook his head in response. He couldn’t answer in words even if he wanted to, “Are you sure, young man? You don’t look like you’re enjoying yourself and every bit of your color is gone.” Zuko didn’t answer, “Sit down,” she ordered and pointed at the chair beside him. 

“It’s only been a few minutes,” he muttered through his teeth. He kicked the chair to push it away, swallowing down a gasp from the effort.

“And perhaps later on it will be longer if you don’t insist on exhausting yourself now, you stubborn thing.” Toma shoved the chair back toward him. Its legs scraping against the stones, “Sit.” Zuko growled but dropped into the chair. He propped his head on the edge of the counter, panting with as deep of breaths as he dared. A cup of water rattled onto the table next to him, “Drink up.”

“Den prokien tainoram.” [ Fuck off .]

Toma snorted, “I see we’re back to the stage of your pride needing to be nursed more than the rest of you.” One of her hands settled on his shoulder with a gentle squeeze before Zuko knocked it away. He grunted and shifted to find a more comfortable position, loose strands of hair fell limply into his face until he scraped them back. 

He sipped the water so he wouldn’t have to say anything. More hair fell into his face. “Would you like me to fix it for you?” Toma asked. Zuko peered at her through the strands of hair, a dubious frown on his lips, “Come now, it won’t take long and it would do your pride some good.”

She filled a basin with a splash of water and a dash of scented oil, setting it on the counter behind him, “Turn the chair.” He obeyed without a word, stiffening as she guided his head back over the basin. Her fingers teased through his damp hair. Toma worked the oil into his scalp. She chuckled as he settled with her massage, “Like that, hmm?” 

Zuko nodded. He felt Toma’s fingers tug through his hair again, guiding the damp strands into a smooth tail at the crown of his head. She tied it back for him, “Much better, don’t you think?” he gave a noncommittal shrug as he sat up, fingers trailing through his damp ends, “At least until you’re well enough to have a proper bath.” She turned her attention to her assistant, “How about you girl?”

The dark-haired girl smirked, “No thanks Granny, I think my pride’s doing just fine.”

“Well, our noses aren’t. Down to the river with you.”

Zuko’s eyes wandered down the counter as they bickered to where the basket of petals perched just out of reach. He waited until Toma turned her back, watching the girl scamper out of the greenhouse, to him to pull himself against the edge of the counter again. She clicked her tongue against her teeth, turning the spray bottle’s sharp spray from her plants to her patient.

“Don’t do that without warning someone first,” she scolded, “Think your side hurts now? What do you expect it would feel like if you fall on my stone floor?” Zuko brushed the spray from his face, jaw set. His unbandaged side pressed against the counter to keep himself steady. He tugged the basket over, working his way through the last of the stems until his muscles quivered from the efforts of keeping himself upright. 

He sagged back into the chair. Everything ached, but he felt better somehow, “Finished.” Zuko cocked his head toward the basket and its petals. 

The herbalist gave its contents an exasperated approval and put the basket well out of his reach.“Good for you, I hope that was worth the long rest you’re going to be taking.” Toma rolled her eyes, overseeing him lowering himself back to the sloped patch. She dropped the blanket over him, “Stay put, or your next tea will actually have something in it.”

“You wouldn’t,” he mumbled into the worn hem of the blanket. Though he was fairly certain the herbalist would.

“I wouldn’t recommend you try me and find out young man,” she retorted, “Now sleep.” 

It wasn’t an order that was hard for him to obey, for once. He dozed through most of the afternoon, waking only long enough for a suspicious-looking cup of tea, another bowl of warm jook, and a few scratches beneath the cat’s chin. 

Toma shook his shoulder just before sundown, “It’s time to change your leaves.” She knelt beside him, “I assumed you would prefer to be awake for it.” Zuko nodded. He let himself stay lax while Toma peeled back the leaves and prodded the healing scar, “Well, it’s no more red or swollen, even with your exertions. You won’t need more salve, and I would say by tomorrow we can do away with the leaves.” 

The old woman layered a fresh set of banana leaves over his side. She washed her hands, drying them on her apron. One of her brows raised in appraisal, “You’re rather quiet, even for you. Nothing to say?” Zuko shrugged, “Come now, there must be something.” One of her hands rested on top of his, coaxing his eyes up from the curled edges of the banana leaf wrapping.

“It’s been a week,” he said after a long pause.

Toma made a low noise in her throat. “Surely you didn’t expect healing to happen quickly?” 

“Not that,” he glanced through the fogged glass of the greenhouse windows in the general direction of the lower ruins, “I’ve been gone too long.” 

Zuko’s thoughts didn’t stray to how long it would take for his side to stop pulsing with the wrong movements if it ever did. Or when he could stand without leaning on the side of a counter, or pace the floor, or move through his bending forms again. But to Uncle, whose thoughts likely hadn’t strayed from him since the old man had realized he was gone. 

“Ah, so there’s someone out there missing you? I wondered as much.” She patted Zuko’s hand, not bothering to wait for his response, “You’ll get back on your feet soon enough. Don’t you worry. I know it’s hard for you young people to manage, but have a little patience.”

Chapter Text

Zuko’s patience wore thin by the time he could sweep the entire greenhouse floor without getting short of breath. As far as he was concerned, if he could do that there was no reason for him to stay. The herbalist and her assistant had other ideas.

He set the broom against one of the walls. He made a furtive sweep of the greenhouse to make sure no one was watching him. Zuko edged toward the doorway until something rumbled under his feet. The shake coursed through his ribcage, shocking his side. He reeled back from the thick slab of stone that shot up from the ground that cut him off from his exit.

The girl cleared her throat. She crossed her arms, lips curled in a self-satisfied smirk, “Where do you think you’re going, Barky?” 

“Taino cadnet owen maino locati,” [ You can’t keep me here ], he growled. One of his fists beat the rock slab.

“Pretty sure we can. As long as Granny thinks you need to stay, anyway.”

He’d submitted to every examination, choked down most of the cups of tea he’d been given, and done the better part of the work around the greenhouse over the past day. Somehow none of it seemed to matter. It wasn’t enough to convince the herbalist he could be released from her custody. He stalked away from the rock slab and leaned against one of the counters, massaging his temples.

Toma cleared her throat beside him. 

“Den fari.” [Go away.]

“Now that I don’t need translated,” she said gently, “I understand your eagerness to be on your way. But surely you can understand my reluctance, given the state Miyuki found you in, to simply let you go without a sense of your plan.” Zuko bristled, but Toma continued,  “I’ve asked very little of you. Not even your name.”

“I wouldn’t tell you that anyway,” he muttered, switching into her language and making the herbalist chuckle. She nodded in a rueful agreement with the statement. Toma held his gaze until he answered, “I won’t be alone. I’m going back to my uncle.”

Her lips wrinkled in consideration, “And this uncle of yours, he’ll look after you?” she prompted.

Zuko rolled his eyes, giving the herbalist an earnest nod, “If he doesn’t drown me in tea.” 

Toma cackled, rich peels echoing off the greenhouse walls. Disturbed by the noise, Miyuki let out a low hiss. She slinked onto the counter, nudging one of Zuko’s hands until he brushed his fingers between her ears. He absently stroked the cat and waited for the laughter to peter off.

One of her wrinkled fingers brushed a tear from the corner of her eye, “You know it’s going to be different outside, don’t you? You aren’t being challenged here. No matter how much you may feel otherwise.” Zuko shrugged, “Since I assume you won’t believe me until you get to experience it for yourself, shall we test our theories?”

A trip down to the river. Well-tested terrain, but steep and uneven enough to present him with a challenge. The distance would test his stamina without leaving him stranded somewhere if he got worn out, “Besides, you could use a good soak if you make it that far.”

Zuko’s eyes flicked to the spray bottle on the counter and thought better of continuing to challenge the herbalist. He stayed quiet as she passed him his shirt. A line of fresh stitches ran along the hem where the arrow had torn it. Zuko’s fingers traveled over the neat lines of threads.

Every trace of blood and sap was gone from the dark material, scrubbed away as if nothing had ever happened. He slid into the shirt, grimacing as the movement stretched through his side, “You’re not inspiring confidence, young man.”

“Then things are back to normal.” He did up the closures on his shirt, tucking the material gently over the beginnings of his latest scar, “Where are my swords?” he asked. The mask and swords had been notably absent since he could stand. Tucked out of sight somewhere as further encouragement to stay put. Zuko had nearly resolved to leave without them. 

Blades could be replaced. That was little more than a nuisance and a slight dent in Uncle’s pursestrings. Little more than he spent on frivolous things like pai sho sets. Besides, no one could link him to the breakout at the stronghold if the mask disappeared in a greenhouse in the middle of nowhere. 

But having his swords back would be more convenient. The herbalist shook her head, “You’re going for a bath, not a battle.” Zuko frowned, ready to protest. But Toma waved them off before he could start, “Call them further motivation to return after this little excursion.”

“I think I’m enough motivation for him, Granny.” The girl cracked her knuckles, “I’ll make sure he comes back.” Her pale eyes glimmered in a vaguely menacing way, “Let’s go, Barky.” She pressed her hands against his back, steering him toward the door. 

They left the greenhouse under Toma’s watchful gaze. Neither said a word. Zuko focused all his attention on navigating the uneven rocks beneath his feet. The trail narrowed, crowded with tangles of weeds and roots. He rested against one of the trees on the side of the path at one point. A sheen of sweat gathered on the back of his neck. He sucked in shallow breaths through his teeth.

“Should we turn back?” the girl asked, void of all her normal goading. 

“No.” He pushed off the tree and strode further down the narrow path. It couldn’t be that much further to the river. If he strained his ears, he could make out the distant splashes of coursing water against a shore. The girl scoffed, plowing in front of him with deep trails of dirt in her wake to clear some larger pieces of rubble away. Zuko scowled as a stream of pebbles landed in his path, “Watch it.”

She shrugged, “My job is to sure you don’t get lost on the way to the river. I’m not supposed to be making things easier for you, Barky.” The path widened in front of them, the ground becoming rockier as the trail gave way to the river’s uneven shoreline, “You can drop your stuff on one of the rocks, just don’t pick one that’s close to the water.”

Zuko slid off his boots and socks. He picked his way over the pebbles to a flat boulder, gently easing off his newly mended shirt and dropping it in a heap. Zuko’s hand lingered on the waist of his pants. His attention shifted back to his forced companion. The girl cradled a collection of pebbles in her palm, chucking them toward the water one by one.

“Can you turn around or something?” Zuko asked.

“Just relax and strip, Barky. There’s nothing for me to see,” she said and waved a hand in front of her blank eyes to illustrate her point. Zuko shook his head.

“I was more concerned with being pelted by rocks from the world’s most annoying earthbender.”

The girl’s eyes widened, lips rounding, “Oh, right. Good point.” Turning upstream, she gathered another round of projectiles. A series of splashes interrupted the flow of the river, layered with the girl’s proclamations of victory over the current, “That’s what you get for messing with the Blind Bandit!”

Zuko dropped his pants on top of a rock with the rest of his things, wading into the shallow water. Cold lapped over his toes. He shivered. His breath caught his throat as he slid deeper into the currents, up to his waist, “Blind Bandit? What kind of name is that?” he called.

“If I ever joined an underground fighting ring that’s what I’d make people call me,” she called back.

“Who’s going to let a little girl enter a fighting ring?” he muttered, splashing cold water into his face and running his fingers through his hair. Zuko channeled his bending into the water around him until it was warm enough to be almost pleasant. It wasn’t the boiler-heated shower on his ship, or nearly as nice as Toma’s scalp massage. But it was something. 

“Who’s going to stop me?” she retorted. 

The gurgle of a larger rock being sucked into the water followed before Zuko could think of how to argue her point. He wasn’t sure it was worth the effort. Dipping below the surface of the heated water, Zuko pressed one of his palms against the wound site as he bent too far over. Shadows fell over him, darkening the water. Zuko scowled. He surfaced, ready to snap at the dark-haired girl. But instead of pale eyes, Zuko found himself staring into the wing of a boomerang.

Chapter Text

The boomerang stopped inches from Zuko’s nose, clenched in the grip of the Water Tribe boy. Zuko pedaled backward through the riverbed, sharp stones dug into the unprotected bottoms of his feet. He couldn’t bring himself to care. Not when his focus was on getting out of the river and as far from the water as possible. If he was around, the half-baked waterbender couldn’t be far behind. He wouldn’t give her more ammunition than she needed to turn her powers on him. 

He launched himself onto the shoreline, ignoring the pang through his side. The draping material of his underwear clung to his legs and left him feeling more exposed than he’d been under any of the herbalist's examinations. Zuko clenched his fists to dry himself, a soft cloud of steam surrounded him for a fraction of a second as his body heated. He broke through the steam and swiveled around to get a better vantage on the area surrounding the river.

Sokka took advantage of Zuko’s pause. The boomerang hurdled in his direction, forcing Zuko to throw himself sideways against one of the flat boulders to avoid its path. Stones jabbed at the delicate skin formed where the arrow had been. The prince smothered a howl with the back of his hand. He dug his nails into the pebbles beneath him to push himself to his feet, dodging the returning path of the boomerang. 

“Let me guess, Barky, these are the people you pissed off enough to tie you to a tree?” The dark-haired girl was at his side. Zuko hauled her up against him as the boomerang made another arc in her direction. Her weight knocked the air from his chest. Through the fogged edges of his vision, Zuko caught sight of the flapping blue material of the Water Tribe girl’s skirt.

“Ge,” he muttered breathlessly, though she didn’t need his confirmation. She wriggled free from his hold, bristling like a wet cat, “He’s got a boomerang. Stay away from the water. The girl is a waterbender,” Zuko instructed in low tones. He crouched beneath the shelter of the boulders long enough to slide back into his pants and jam on his boots. 

Peering around the rock face, he could see the Water Tribe peasants on the opposite bank of the river. Their expressions combined with the wide gesticulations of their arms indicated an obvious dispute. The water on their side of the shore frothed and splashed with the girl’s rising agitation. Zuko took advantage of their distraction to search between the surrounding trees for telltale flitting movements. No rustles coursed through the trees. The Avatar was nowhere to be seen. 

His search was interrupted as the girl cracked her knuckles. Her pale eyes took on a dangerous gleam. Before she could lob anything in their direction, Zuko grabbed her shoulders and tugged her back. She frowned. But he shushed her to silence her protests, “They aren’t attacking anymore. Don’t start anything with them if we don’t have to.” He clenched through another pang in his side. The trip had already been far more exertion than the herbalist had in mind for him. 

Though he’d never admit it, Zuko was beginning to understand her side of the argument about staying in the safety of the greenhouse a while longer, “Don’t engage. Unless you happen to know the Water Tribe dialect, they don’t understand us.” He pulled his shirt around his shoulders, leaving it open.

“Don’t engage?! They’re the ones who chucked a boomerang at us, Barky,” she snapped.

“Well, they aren’t now. I’m not even sure it’s us they’re interested in.” Something was wrong. On closer examination, Katara’s cheeks were stained with tear tracks. Her narrowed eyes were red. When they weren’t focused furiously on her brother, she scanned the surrounding area with as much intensity as Zuko had. Aang was missing, “Let’s just go.”

He tugged the girl toward the path, determined to put as much distance between them and the peasants while they were still distracted. If they were lucky, they would lose them on the unfamiliar trail before the two had even realized they’d left the shore. 

But Zuko was never lucky. 

“They’re following us.” 

“I know,” Zuko said through his teeth. The benefits of his plunge into the river had already worn off. New layers of grime and sweat coated his hands and the back of his neck. Fresh scrapes lined his abdomen, irritating the wound site with every step. Zuko’s footing on the trail grew more unstable as the path sloped upward, and his breathing turned labored. The girl took one of his hands in hers. She stopped. Her smaller fingers squeezed his knuckles. “We have to keep going,” he said.

“We will,” she reassured, “just not like this.” She stamped her foot. The ground rumbled beneath them until a chunk of earth broke free, propelling them up the path without having to take a single step, “Hang on tight.” Zuko gripped her shoulders to keep himself balanced on the shifting stone, “We’ll lose them.”

Zuko doubted it. Despite the growing distance between them and the peasants, her escape route left deep grooves in the trail behind them. Her method practically plotted a course that would lead them straight to the herbalist’s greenhouse. It was the Avatar they were looking for, but he was sure Sokka and Katara would follow them regardless to exhaust every lead. 

She let them drop back to the ground just short of the greenhouse. They bolted across the lawn, slamming the door shut behind them. Zuko slumped down against the doorway. He gripped his side, listening to Miyuki’s yowls of displeasure at their disturbance.

Toma rested her hands on her hips, “By the looks of things I was wrong when I said you weren’t going into a battle. Now, sit so I can access the damage.” She ignored all arguments, corralling Zuko back to the sloped grass. Toma ignored his glowers, “Come now, this was hardly holding up your end of our bargain and you know it.” She tugged his shirt off his shoulders. Her tongue clicked against her teeth in disapproval at the sight of his scratches, “Well, you’ve earned yourself some more salve and banana leaves. But they’re going to have to be cleaned first. Sent you for a bath and you came back filthier than you started.” 

Zuko didn’t argue. He conserved his energy for the inevitable invasion of the greenhouse. Besides, the fewer arguments he made with the herbalist, the less likely it was for the Water Tribe peasants to burst in on him in such a vulnerable position. He pressed his lips together into a thin line when Toma prodded one of his fresh scratches. His eyes watered as she scrubbed the cuts clean with a damp rag. He blinked them away, staying still for Toma’s work.

“I see someone’s on their best behavior. Trying to avoid my spray bottle?” she chuckled. He didn’t answer, “We’ll see about that, stubborn thing. Do you want something for the pain?” Zuko shook his head. He didn’t want anything that could dull his mind, no matter how uncomfortable the cleaning process was, “When I’m finished, I expect to hear all about this grand adventure the two of you had.”

Her assistant piped up, “You won’t have to wait until you’re done, Granny. They’re here.”

The herbalist paused in her work in time to watch the door burst open. Two blue-clad young people stood at the entry to the greenhouse. Toma eased herself to her feet, brushing off her hands on her apron. She shuffled to the doorway, “Now that was quite an entrance. Is there something, in particular, you’re looking for?” The two looked at each other, shrugging in obvious confusion. 

And though they didn’t understand a word of what had just been said, Sokka and Katara pointed straight at Zuko.

Chapter Text

“How is it that Zuko managed to find people who could actually understand gibberish?” Sokka whispered to his sister. He knocked a hanging vine out of his face and surveyed the odd scene in front of them. The prince sat, shirtless and flushed, against a mossy bed. He sullenly avoided their gazes. His perfect picture of rebellious energy was ruined by his obvious obedience to the old woman tending to him. They had interrupted something. 

Sokka hadn’t noticed down at the river, but an angry puckered line sat low on one side of Zuko’s stomach. Framed by fresher-looking scrapes scattered across his chest and arms. Ones Sokka had to imagine he was at least partially responsible for. In his defense, he hadn’t known it was Zuko in the river until he had surfaced, and most certainly hadn’t realized that Prince Dragon Breath wasn’t wearing pants. Their interaction might have been different otherwise. Maybe.

Zuko pushed himself further upright against the grass. His teeth clenched together. “They only speak Water Tribe dialect,” he said, “They don’t know what any of us are saying.”

Toma hushed him, pressing one of his shoulders gently back toward the grass, “The heartfelt reunion will have to wait until after your wrappings.” He bit his lip as she scrubbed at the next scrape on his chest. He furiously blinked away the moisture building in the corners of his eyes. Zuko made silent curses against the glass panes of the walls around him. Their reflections betrayed him, leaving him nowhere to hide his face.

“Barky knows them, but they’re not exactly friends.” The dark-haired girl announced. She crossed her arms, doing her best impression of a leer in the direction of the doorway where the peasants stood. Effective only in making the peasants slightly more uncomfortable at best.

Toma let a humorless laugh slip out her nose. She dipped the rag back into the water and twisted out the excess, “Language barrier or not, I’ve been around enough turns of the sun to know those are no friends of yours,” she said in a gentle tone, “They can wait until we’re good and through.”

Zuko mouthed a silent thanks, not trusting himself enough to speak as the rag raked over another scrape. An unruly tear escaped into the furrows of his scar. It dripped down his cheek. He stiffened and brushed it away with a rough swipe of his wrist. Zuko glared at the floor. Heat bloomed through the back of his neck, creeping through his cheeks. 

The Avatar’s companions tying him to a tree had been infuriating, but them seeing him in this condition was nothing short of humiliating. 

The herbalist clicked her tongue, speaking to her assistant, “See them out would you?” Her wrinkled lips pursed, “With as minimal damage as you can manage,” she added as an afterthought. Her attention remained fixed on Zuko, as the girl stomped toward the invaders. Each step sent a stone tile up from its place on the floor and angled toward the door, forcing the pair backward in retreat out of the greenhouse. 

Zuko didn’t look up, even as the door slammed in their faces. Clatters echoed through the greenhouse as the tiles organized themselves into a tidy barrier, “They’re looking for their friend,” he mumbled, “They think I know where he is.” Though he didn’t know why he felt the need to explain the peasants’ behavior. 

Toma dipped her rag in the water again, “And do you?” she asked, a cool indifference dripping off her tone. Zuko shook his head, “Then the way I see it, their business with you is far from urgent. This is a place of healing. As my patient, I consider you my priority and it’s obvious their presence here made you uncomfortable.” Her damp hand patted his cheek, moisture evaporating in an instant from the residual heat of his flush. 

He breathed easier through the rest of the cleaning of his wounds. Some of his tension lessened in the absence of the peasants. Toma set the rag aside, “That’s the worst of it over,” she said. The healer bustled off through the greenhouse, returning with a faded clay pot cradled in her hands. Toma’s lips curled into a rueful grin at the sight of his dubious expression, “I’m fresh out of slippery elm bark for your salve, so we’ll have to make do with this for now,” she explained.

“What is it?” he asked, though he wasn’t certain he wanted an answer. She cracked the seal of the pot open. A dark amber liquid clouded the bottom of the pot. A light, fruity smell wafted into the air surrounding them. The smell was familiar, but Zuko couldn’t place it. Instead of answering, the herbalist used a ridged stirring rod to drip a dollop of the stuff onto one of Zuko’s fingers. It was thick and tacky against his skin, “Honey?” he asked.

She nodded, “Lucky for you the Scorpion bee colony near the river just outgrew their old hive last month.” Zuko sucked the honey off the pad of his finger. The ghost of a memory involving an elaborate heist of the palace kitchens crept into his mind, “Enjoy that drop because it’s the only one you’ll be tasting,” she announced. Toma slathered honey over the wound at his side. She lined the rest of his scrapes with tiny amounts of honey, “This won’t even sting.”

“Then why didn’t you use it in the first place?” Zuko asked, unable to hide the reproach in his voice. 

Toma rolled her eyes, “Come now, don’t look so wounded. Honey isn’t easy to come by, and you weren’t endearing yourself to me by refusing to speak to me in a language I could understand.” He winced, not from her gentle application of the banana leaves over his side, “But we seem to have come to a much better understanding, wouldn’t you agree?” Zuko nodded. 

He let the herbalist drape his shirt gently around him. It hung open off his shoulders, but he was glad for the covering all the same. Toma dropped the blankets over his legs, leaving it for him to adjust as he pleased, “There, that’s you all settled. Which brings us back to your acquaintances. Unless they were so kind as to vacate the mountain.”

“No, they’re still right outside.” The girl leaned against her wall of tiles, “I can go get rid of them if that’s what Barky wants.” She said, with too much eagerness for the task. Her eyes gleamed in the afternoon sun that spilled through the greenhouse. 

Zuko shook his head, “I should hear them out.” He said with far more resolve than he felt.

Chapter Text

“And how exactly do you propose to do that when you don’t know what they’re saying?” Toma asked. One of her thin eyebrows rose in what Zuko couldn’t be sure was an accusation or merely her exasperation at the situation, as the spirits continued to deliver more and more unsupervised children to her door. 

Zuko let out a long breath, “I said they don’t understand us.” His voice dropped a little lower as if Sokka and Katara would be able to hear him through the makeshift wall of tiles, “I know what they’re saying.” Quieter still, “I just don’t know it well enough to use it,” he admitted. He smoothed the blanket over his legs. 

Toma chuckled, “I see. I suppose I’ll make some tea for you and our guests then, young man.” She shuffled over to one of her work counters. The rattles of tea making were muffled beneath the clatters of the floor tiles shifting back into their respective places. With the entry to the greenhouse cleared, it wasn’t long before Sokka and Katara broached the doorway again. They found themselves ushered to a cleared place at one of the counters. Steaming tea cups landed between them. 

Staring down at the cup in front of him, Sokka wrinkled his nose and pushed the drink to one side, “Look, Earth Kingdom Gran Gran, we didn’t come for tea. We just want Zuko to tell us where Aang is, and then we’ll leave you to whatever all this is.” He waved his hand around the greenhouse, “You can even keep Zuko.”

The prince kept his face blank. Reactions weren’t productive, just a waste of his remaining energies. He craned his neck toward the herbalist, clearing his throat, “Am I allowed to join them at the counter or do I have to keep sitting here like an invalid?” Zuko asked. It was the closest he would come to begging under the circumstances. But he couldn’t take having this parley of sorts from that position. He sat up straighter under Toma’s appraising gaze. A moment passed, and she nodded slowly.

“Join them if you must,” she said. Pressing his hands against the grass behind him, Zuko eased himself to his feet. He took a step toward the counter. His progress was halted by a harsh whack of Toma’s cane against the stone tiles. Zuko’s brow furrowed, “Know I’ll be watching and intervening as I see fit, you stubborn thing.” 

He jerked his head in agreement. From what he knew of the herbalist, he doubted it was a bluff. Her cane scraped the tiles in a sharp screech. One Zuko was almost certain was intentional. But the cane shifted aside to allow him to pass. He stiffly took an open seat at the counter. His fingers protectively cupped the banana leaves over his side as he lowered himself down. Taking shallow breaths, he ignored the slight pangs through his side. His attention shifted to Sokka and Katara across the table. He held their gazes. Zuko waited. The blue-clad pair shifted on their seats. Neither broke the silence that hung in the air around them. 

“Conversen,” [ Talk ] Zuko ordered. “Den jon. Conversen tainor posems i den ehtis locatem.” [ Go on. Ask your questions and leave this place. ]

The girl broke first, “Where is Aang?”

“Gehet brien. Conversen eh agnier conversem.” [ Don’t know. Ask a better question. ] He shook his head. For the first time since he’d been tied to the tree, he had the upper hand. He silently relished in his control. The victory, however, was soured by the resurgence of the girl’s watery-looking eyes. Her fist clenched on the table. Trickles of steam wafting off the cups of tea between them thickened, clouding the air.

“This is useless, Katara. He’s not going to help us. He’s just wasting our time. Every minute we sit here is another minute we could be out there looking for Aang.” Sokka pushed his chair back from the counter. The sudden, rough motion toppled one of the plant pots. A sharp crack radiated through the greenhouse’s glass panes. Soil scattered the worn worktop, embedding itself in the grooves.

Before anyone else could respond, a sharp spray of water blasted Sokka’s jaw. He yelped. Toma cleared her throat, another round of softer sprays misting the air in a lasting reminder to watch themselves. Sokka dropped back into the chair. He glared at her receding back. He swiped the drips of water off his chin, “Yep. She is definitely Earth Kingdom Gran Gran.”

Chin resting in his hand, Zuko’s fingers masked the way his lips curled into a satisfied smirk. He’d been on the receiving end of the spray enough times over the last days. One of his fingers trailed through the layer of dirt on the countertop. Zuko waited for them to say something useful. Something that would serve as useful when he could return to tracking the boy down himself. As they’d learned before, despite the way things seemed, the Avatar couldn’t simply vanish into thin air.

There would be traces whether they realized it or not. 

Traces . Zuko frowned. He scanned what little of the lawn and garden beds he could see through the fogged panes. Something other than the Avatar was missing. He pressed his lips together, dragging his fingers through the dirt with more purpose. An arrow taking shape on the table in front of him.

Katara noticed the crude drawing first. She wiped away her tears, “Yes, Aang, what about him?” she asked. 

Zuko rolled his eyes. He shook his head, pausing long enough in his sketching to hold up his palm in an obvious gesture to wait. The prince shot an apologetic look at the herbalist and tipped more dirt out of the ruined pot onto the tabletop. Damp under his hands, the deeper layers of soil clung to the pads of his fingers in clumps. Zuko huffed but managed to shape the stubborn dirt into something that resembled the form he wanted.

The pair shot him matching puzzled expressions. Sokka stood up. He circled the table to get a closer inspection of the prince’s work. 

 Zuko shot him with a wary leer. He leaned back from the table and peasant as far as the muscles through his side would allow him without sending sharp pains coursing through his side. Sokka shrugged off Zuko’s apprehension, “I just want to see the drawing.” The other boy leaned forward so far a smudge of dirt from the counter clung to his nose, “I give up,” he announced, pushing back from the worktop, “What does a sabertooth moose lion have to do with Aang?” he asked, “Are you saying one ate him?”

Groaning, Zuko smacked his forehead. Leftover dirt on his fingers smeared across his face, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. As it seemed with everything involving the Avatar, this was going to be more complicated than he thought. He shook his head, “Bisem?” He pointed at the drawing, “Bisem. Avatarem’s Bisem.” The words came out as clipped and clear as he could manage, “Avatarem’s Bisem,” he repeated, though the fishbrains still seemed just as lost as they’d been before. 

He made a quick sweep of the greenhouse to make sure Toma was distracted before he lowered himself enough to flap his hands in an undignified impression of flight. Glad her dark-haired assistant couldn't see it either even with her perch on one of the nearby counters. He had a feeling neither would let him live it down. Zuko prayed to Agni that would be enough to get his point across. Even if he wanted to speak to them, he wasn’t even sure if there was a word for the flying sky bison in their language.

Sokka’s fist slammed into the tabletop, “I got it! Bison! It’s Appa! Zuko’s asking where Appa is.”

Zuko’s relieved, emphatic nod was all the communication they needed. 

Chapter Text

The location of the bison turned out to be far less useful than Zuko had hoped. It was back by the river, lounging with the lemur. Not with the missing Avatar. Short of his accidental beacon of light, the bison was the easiest target when it came to finding Aang. One scrawny kid could slip through the cracks with far greater ease than a supposedly extinct massive, white beast. 

That made things more complicated. Zuko sighed. He brushed his palm against the tabletop. The motion cleared his drawing away. All the dirt was collected into a neat pile. His fingers hovered over the pile, in case it served any further use in their sorry excuse for a conversation. Not that anything else came to mind.

Toma cleared her throat, interrupting his train of thought before it began. She rested a hand on her hip, “I’m not seeing much progress on your tea, young man.” Zuko rolled his eyes but took a pointed sip of the cup in front of him. He set the cup down a little harder than he needed to and ducked Toma’s well-aimed spritz he’d earned for the display. Folding himself against the table sent a shock through his side, he grunted through his teeth. The herbalist clicked her tongue in disapproval, “Watch yourself,” she warned gently.

Massaging the dull aches from his side, he nodded and returned his attention to the pair across the table. Zuko found them staring at him in a sort of disbelief, “Wat?” he asked. Neither addressed him, the pair exchanged glances. They whispered to each other as if Zuko wouldn’t be able to hear them from his place across the table. 

“Is it just me, or is Zuko taking orders from Earth Kingdom Gran Gran?” Sokka asked. 

Katara shrugged. Without understanding what was being said, they could only guess, “He’s probably been here since we left, Sokka.” Her fingers drummed the worktop, “I don’t think Zuko has any idea where Aang is either.”

Sokka huffed, “That’s just great. The one time it would have been useful for him to be tracking Aang, and he’s sitting around drinking tea.”

“Taino conversen ehtat celebren atno sen maino decidem, Ficelembriems” Zuko scoffed. [ You say that like it was my choice, Fishbrains. ] Neither gave any reaction, not that he expected one. But the dark-haired girl snickered from her perch against the counter, forcing Zuko to suppress a grin of his own.  He stifled a yawn with the back of his hand, avoiding looking in Toma’s direction as if that would somehow prevent her from noticing his growing fatigue.

It didn’t do him any good. 

The herbalist cleared her throat. She rested a hand on one of Zuko’s shoulders, giving it a gentle squeeze, “I believe, young man, if there’s anything else they have to say it can wait until you’ve had some rest.” It was said to be a delicate suggestion, but Zuko knew it wouldn’t be long before her tone would change. He wasn’t in the mood for receiving another spray, or any more injuries that might come from avoiding one, “Like it or not, you’re still some ways from being back to full strength.”

“Don’t you think I know that?” he groused, “I doubt they’re just going to leave willingly. They don’t have any new information yet.” And neither did he.

Toma scoffed, “Let them try me,” she said. She pumped the spray bottle twice, misting one of the plants on the edge of the counter for emphasis. Residual droplets hit Katara’s cheek. She huffed and wiped it away. The girl shot a dirty look in Zuko’s direction as if he’d somehow been at fault for the rogue water. She waved her hands toward the door to shoo them out.

But Zuko shook his head, “Not until they say something useful.” The herbalist scoffed, making it clear just how unlikely she thought that was, “I’ll take whatever tea or drugs you want to give me after.” He bit his lip, “No complaints.”

Toma’s lips pursed. One of her wrinkled hands absently stroked Miyuki as the cat settled on the edge of the counter. “I’ll hold you to that, young man. You understand?”  She held Zuko in a calculating gaze. Until he gave a sullen nod in reply, “Good. It’s been long enough since you had some decent rest.” Though they hadn’t reached the full culmination of their bargain yet, Zuko didn’t argue with her. He turned his attention back to the pair across the table.

“Alikindi agnir?” [ Something else? ] Despite their blank-faced stares, Zuko was sure they had to know something more about what had happened whether they knew it or not. He needed them to tell the story from the beginning. Their aside comments had only given him a fragmented sense of what happened at best. He pressed his lips together, tugging a handful of the dirt back to the center of the table. One of his fingers dragged a thick, vertical line between the grooves. The tree. Zuko drew a figure at the base, pointing to his chest.

Sokka peered over at the new drawing, “Nice self-portrait, Zuko,” he said, “You know, if the whole shouty and chasey villain thing doesn’t work out for you, then you have a promising career ahead of you as an artist.”

Zuko ignored him. He lamented having already cleared off the picture of the bison as he sketched a lazier version of it, “Bisem,” he labeled, in case it wasn’t clear.

“You on the tree and Appa flying,” Katara said, thinking aloud, “Is this supposed to be when we were leaving you?” He nodded. Zuko brought one of his hands forward in a sweeping motion. His eyebrow raised in an expectant gesture. The girl’s eyes went round, “You want us to tell you what happened next?”

“Ge,” he nodded, relieved they were finally getting somewhere. Zuko interlaced his fingers on the tabletop. Not wiping the picture away on the off chance he needed it again. 

Sokka sat back. He fiddled with one of the chipped edges of his boomerang, “There’s not much to tell. We flew to your ship. Aang flew down on his glider to talk, but then they were shooting at us. So, we split up in different directions. Aang was supposed to meet us, but he never did.”

Zuko rubbed his temples. More dirt smudged his face. Not bothering to suppress his irritated groan, “Si, wat taino conversen maino sen ehtat eht Avatarem den fair jat mainor botem, i taino ficelembriems gehet ledden i ehtat?”  [ So, what  you’re telling me is that the Avatar went missing at my ship, and you fishbrains didn’t lead with that? ] 

It was just his luck for Uncle to capture the Avatar without him. 

Chapter Text

Aang counted the drips of candle wax beside yet another untouched plate of food on the otherwise barren table in the corner of his cell. The flame burned low, threatening to drown itself in the pool of wax. A knock sounded on the door. A strange courtesy as far as Aang was concerned since it wasn’t as if he could open the door for them. It swung open enough for the general to poke his head around the corner. Aang frowned. He stared at the candle again, with more resolve to avoid looking at General Iroh. 

Raising his eyebrows, Iroh cleared his throat, “I was told you requested to see me, Avatar Aang. But judging by your reaction, I’m assuming I was misinformed.”

“I asked to go outside for some fresh air.”

“Ah,” the general cleared his throat, “that would explain it. The men have orders that you are allowed on deck under my supervision. Your request was one and the same. Shall we?” Hands clasped in the folds of his robe, the general crooked his elbow down the passageway beyond the door. Aang didn’t move, “Conversation won’t be required. Bees and flowers do not speak, but they keep each other company all the same.”

The bed creaked beneath him as Aang eased himself to his feet. He couldn’t be sure if he was supposed to be the flower or the bee. Neither of the options seemed particularly appealing. It was the flower if the continued stinging feeling of his situation was anything to go by. Between the leather restraints instead of chains and the amenities added to the guarded cabin, Iroh had been true to his word that the arrangement would be more comfortable than it had been.

None of it changed that it was still a prison.

None of it changed that Zuko was still missing. 

None of it changed his feeling of responsibility for it, either. 

Out on deck, General Iroh didn’t force conversation. He kept a generous distance. Aang was allowed against the side railings of the ship without interference. With his back to all of them, he could ignore the wary gazes of the crew. His fingers gripped the cool bar. He shot a look back at Iroh, before scrambling up to perch on the edge of the rail.

Barely a moment had passed before a shuffle of footsteps crossed the deck behind him. Heavy breaths carried to his ears from far too close a distance. Aang sighed, “I’m not going to jump off. I know. Low water and sharp rocks,” he said in a clipped tone. The escape wasn’t worth the risk. Even once he got away from the ship, he’d still be alone. 

“Regardless of your intentions, I must request you come down from there.” 

Aang navigated between the leather straps, sliding himself off the railing and back onto the metal deck. He crossed his arms, “Do I have to go back to my cell?” he asked, reproach layered thickly through his voice.

Iroh shook his head, “Not quite yet. Perhaps you would indulge an old man in a game of pai sho.” He directed Aang toward the covered table where they’d had their tea a few days before. The tea set was gone, replaced with stacks of carved tiles and a glossy smooth board. 

Aang lowered himself into the cushioned seat across from Iroh. He walked his fingers in the narrow grooves of the grid laid out on the board between them, “Why?” he asked. Zuko was still out there somewhere. Playing games wasn’t going to help him. The general couldn’t only be interested in a board game. But despite his suspicions, Aang couldn’t imagine his motivations.

“Something to occupy our minds while we wait for news. Given my experience, restless youths are prone to trouble.” He lifted one of the tiles between his fingers, “Besides, pai sho is not so simple as just a game, Avatar Aang. Perhaps you’ll learn something from it.”

Aang hummed instead of a reply. He picked up one of the tiles and traced the carved illustration of a ship’s wheel, turning it between his fingers. All he’d learned so far was that Zuko didn’t want to be his friend and that helping people could be more trouble than he’d bargained for. He doubted a board game was going to teach him anything worthwhile. But it couldn’t be worse than sitting in the locked cabin alone.

He nodded slowly.

“Good, red or white?” Aang shrugged. He knew it mattered-there were strategies depending on which side you chose. Strategies, however, didn’t matter if you didn’t care about winning, “Have you played before?” Iroh asked.

Aang shrugged again, “Over a hundred years ago with the monks.”

Iroh slid the rest of the white stacks of tiles across the table toward him, “You lay the first piece.”

Aang wordlessly dropped a jasmine tile in the bounds of his home gate. He knocked one of his knuckles against the side of the table to signal the end of his turn. The general didn’t move, as if the gesture meant nothing to him. It took Aang more than a moment to realize it likely didn’t. Table tapping began with monks who took vows of silence. There would be little reason, if any, for the Fire Nation to use it. 

Aang cleared his throat, “Your turn.”

General Iroh nudged a rose tile into Aang’s gate for his opening move. He folded his wrinkled hands on the table, “You may proceed,” he said. Aang dropped a white jade into the center gate. He knocked the edge of the table again, raising an expectant eyebrow to the general for his next move. Iroh shook his head. A deep sigh on his lips, “Avatar Aang, it seems you are not playing with strategy unless your plan is to end the game as quickly as possible in my favor.” Aang shrugged, “My nephew prefers this same strategy,” he said, “Perhaps a wager would entice your participation.”

Aang bit his lip, “The monks always said gambling is a game where no one really wins.”

“Perhaps, but would you like to hear the terms before deciding.” Aang stayed quiet. The general took it as permission to continue, “If I win, you’ll cease your hunger strikes. If you win, I’ll allow you a request within reason.” Aang sat up straighter against the cushioned seat, “Not your release, before you ask.” 

“Right, because that wouldn’t be reasonable,” Aang muttered to the table. But the wager was just tempting enough for him to approach the game with newfound energy. His knotweed canceled out one of the general’s harmonies, avoiding the tight line of tiles forming around him. He flipped the harmonies to his control, catching Iroh in his own trap and ending the game before too long had passed.

The general nodded, “Your monks taught you well.” Aang fixed him with a hard glare to end the topic, until Iroh raised a hand in gentle concession, “No disrespect intended, but we shall speak of other things if you prefer. Your request for one.”

“I want to go look for Zuko,” Aang said with no hesitation.

Iroh shook his head. He rested his elbows on the board between the tiles. His thumbs supported his whiskered chin, “That wasn’t the arrangement. You can’t use this request for your release.”

“I’m not.” Aang remained firm. “I’m not asking for you to let me go. I’m asking to join the search, it’s different.” 

The general pursed his lips, “I struggle to see what motivates you to want to assist my nephew. What happened between the two of you?”

Aang shook his head, “I already said I can’t tell you that. Zuko wanted it to be a secret. If you really want to know, you’re just going to have to wait until after we find him and ask him yourself.” He raised his chin, daring General Iroh to refuse him again.

Chapter Text

Zuko stared at the cloudy tea in front of him with distaste. The Water Tribe peasants had barely left the greenhouse before it had been plunked in front of him. Not that they were going anywhere. From the snatches of their receding conversation, he had the idea they were either planning to set up camp right in the outer gardens beyond the makeshift greenhouse or back at the river near the bison. 

No matter the discoveries he’d made, all of them were still in the same place. He sighed through the gentle steam. 

“Come now, young man. We had an agreement.” Toma rested her hands on her hips, “You gave your word.” She brushed her hands on her apron and held him in her gaze, “No complaints or arguments. Drink up.”

He nodded, choking down a sip of the bitter tea. Zuko hid his grimace behind the rim of the cup, so she couldn’t accuse him of complaining, “What’s in this?” he asked. Whatever it was, it wasn’t pleasant. A numbness settled over his tongue, weighing it down. Any misapprehensions that Zuko had for the tea being another trick were gone with those sensations.

Toma raised a white eyebrow, “Are you sure you want to know?” She chuckled softly at the shake of his head, “Alright, take the rest of it with you and settle yourself down before you fall asleep on my counter and wake up with even more aches.” Obeying with a soft grunt, Zuko pushed himself up off his chair. His steps were slow and heavy, the pull of whatever had been in the tea dragging him down, “Settle yourself on your good side so I can check you over before you sleep,” Toma ordered.

Under her supervision, he lowered himself back to the grass patch. He handed over his shirt without a word. The herbalist folded it and set it on the edge of the counter, “Now, part of the other reason I didn’t use honey before is that the banana leaves won’t come off as nicely,” she warned, keeping things matter of fact and honest for him, “It won’t be pleasant. Would you prefer I wait until you’re already asleep before I peel them back?”

“No.” It wasn’t out of a lack of trust, but he wanted to know what was happening all the same, “I can handle it.”

Toma nodded. Her palm cupped one of his cheeks, “Very well, stubborn thing. Drain your cup as quick as you can and I’ll get started.” Zuko obeyed. He gagged down the bitter tea. The empty cup joined his shirt, “That tea should help, but don’t tense.”

“Telling someone to relax never works. Everyone knows that. What kind of healer are you?” he mumbled, the drugs taking their hold over his mind and loosening his tongue. Zuko half-expected a cold spray for his cheek, but Toma snorted.

“Girl, come hold his hand, would you?” she said, “Something tells me he won’t be able to help himself.”

The dark-haired girl padded over. She knelt beside him and gripped his hands in hers, “You can squeeze as hard as you need to, Barky,” she said. For once, she wasn’t mocking him. 

No response came from Zuko. His eyes were slipping closed through no accord as his own. In the space between awake and asleep, he could almost pretend there was a different set of smaller fingers in his hand. 

He’d fallen off his mount on his first komodo rhino lesson, running from the arena with stinging ribs and an even more wounded pride. Azula had found him in the tall grass of the turtleduck pond, dragging him to the palace physician and holding his hand in hers until the examination was over.

Someone wiped his brow with a cool, damp rag. Zuko shivered. His nose wrinkled, forcing his eyes open again to see Toma hovering over him and breaking the illusion of his memory, “What’s that for?” he asked, “I don’t have a fever anymore.”

Toma clicked her tongue. She took another swipe at his temples, shifting down to his cheek, “Oh, just the dirt you’ve got all over your face, young man.” Toma chortled at his scowl, “I have scrolls and ink, you know? Your dirt drawings, though quite creative, weren't needed.”

“It wasn’t worth wasting the paper,” he whispered, even as a flush filled his cheeks at the realization, “You didn’t say anything.”

“And you didn’t ask.” She shushed him and tugged the leaves free from his side before he could prepare himself to tense up. Zuko gasped. He gripped the girl’s fingers hard. She returned the hold with the same force, taking his mind off his side and Toma’s prodding examination, “You’re doing well. A tad more honey and we’ll get you wrapped up again.” She felt his wound muscles beneath her fingers, “You’ve had quite the go of things, but the worst is over.” The herbalist didn’t say it directly, knowing it would only lead to more stubbornness on his part, but she hoped he would take it as the permission to rest that it was regardless.

Zuko forced his eyes to stay open for the new layer of honey and the application of the leaves over his tender side. His eyes drifted closed and back open again. The prince welcomed the blanket when it was thrown over his legs and tucked up around him. Again his eyes closed, no longer forcing them back open. 

His fingers, though heavy and uncooperative, were still wrapped around the smaller hand, “Sorry if it hurt, Zula,” he whispered.

Toma’s eyes widened in gentle curiosity. 

Her assistant shrugged. She hummed, her fingers squeezing his back, “I can handle it,” she whispered. She didn’t dare break the moment of peace by shattering his illusion. If it helped, she’d be whoever he needed her to be for the moment. The girl didn’t loosen her grip until he was deeply in the hold of sleep. She slipped her fingers away, rubbing away the ache from the joints after holding one position a little too long. Easing herself back, the girl retreated from his side to one of the far counters. She held Miyuki in her lap when the cat approached. The girl smoothed down his fur in quiet contemplation.

Toma fetched her young patient’s cup off the counter, adding it to a basin of soapy water with nothing more than a light splash. She kept her voice light and gentle, “I know you don’t see a future in healing for yourself and most of your enjoyment of this place comes from the freedom to get as covered in dirt as you like. But what you just did there, girl, that was true healing at work.”

Chapter Text

Zuko woke up to raised voices and clatters against the greenhouse walls. He forced his eyes open through the residual grogginess of the medicinal tea. Straightening himself up too quickly, Zuko held his side with gritted teeth as he pulled himself back to his feet. 

“What’s happening?” he asked. Zuko leaned against the counter while he waited for his balance to catch up with the rest of him. 

Toma rolled her eyes, “Good morning to you too, young man. That’s just your guests becoming impatient to see you. I was holding them off from interrupting your sleep as long as I could, but they seem to have gotten what they wanted.” 

Zuko rubbed his temples. He grabbed his shirt off the counter, sliding it over his shoulders. 

“Not so fast. I still have to examine you,” Toma scolded, “You’ll see them on our time, not theirs.” 

She nodded in approval when he dropped the shirt back on the counter in a heap and lowered himself back to the grass bed. 

“Can I do the leaves myself?” he asked. One of his hands curled defensively back over the leaves at his side before she could touch them. He’d had enough healing sessions where he was only a passive participant.

Toma scoffed, “And when did you become an accomplished herbalist?” she asked, a hand on her hip and her lips hovering in an expression that was somewhere between bemusement and exasperation, “Well, I suppose you did hold up to your end of our bargain yesterday, didn’t you?” Zuko nodded, “Fine, I’ll tell you what to do and only step in if I think you need it.”

Under her direction, he deftly peeled the leaves back with a wince and set the old ones aside. She bent closer to examine the wounds, “You’ll need more honey, but if you can keep yourself out of trouble that should be the end of it.” Toma presented him with a basin to clean his hands before she allowed him to dip his finger into the pot of honey, “That’s it,” she raised his gentle application, “Perhaps you’re an accomplished herbalist after all."

His face hardened, “I don’t help people.” 

“Is that so? What about all those petals you plucked and the number of times you swept my floor, what do you call those?” Zuko sniffed. He didn’t answer, putting all his attention into delicately wrapping the fresh leaves over his side, “Or those children outside? They’re no friends of yours, yet you’re dedicating a great deal of energy to try and locate their friend.”

“That’s complicated.”

He wasn’t actually helping them. He was doing himself a service, leeching the fishbrains for any information that might lead him to the Avatar once he was well enough to leave. He hadn’t told them anything and didn’t intend to. They hadn’t even had an actual conversation. 

“Why do I get the feeling that everything with you is always complicated?” Toma asked him kindly. She traced the banana leaves with a gentle hand, declaring them sound, “Not bad for your first time. Good enough to put me out of a job one day. If you ever decide to help people instead of whatever else you’ve been doing, that is,” she added.

Toma insisted on a cup of tea, with no tamperings, and a bowl of porridge before she’d agree to allow the blue-clad pair back inside the greenhouse.

Zuko grimaced. He took slow spoonfuls of the thick porridge, glad for the company when the girl dropped into a chair beside him with a steaming bowl of her own, “Are you sure you’re ready to deal with them again?” she asked, “I can get rid of them.”

He shook his head, then remembered his audience, “I can handle it.”

“I’m sure you can, Barky. But the point is you don’t have to.”

“It’s my fault they’re here.” It was his responsibility. He’d take care of it.

The girl shook her head, “Not true, Barks. But I’ll go let them in if you’re ready.” 

Their porridge bowls were empty and scraped clean before the floor tiles across the doorway rattled back into their places again, and let the pair into the greenhouse again. The group returned to the table. This time the dark-haired girl perched beside Zuko, determined to be part of the conversation whether she was wanted there or not.

Sokka crossed his arms, “So, we walked you through what happened and gave you the night to sleep on it. Do you know where Aang is, oh wise prince of fire?” Zuko nodded. He moved to scrape a pile of dirt back toward him, but Sokka shook his head, ”So, take us to him.” No more dirt piles or cryptic messages. They wanted actions and answers only. 

“Oi taino owen het luken, Aino cadhet juti den,” [If you haven’t noticed, I’m not in a position to just leave], he said, gesturing to his side. His banana leaf bandages stood out against his pale chest. Both of them took him in, as if for the first time.

“You can’t leave because you’re still hurt?” Katara asked. One of her hands trailed to the edge of her hair loop on one side. She worried the strand between her fingers. It wasn’t the exact translation of what he’d said, but the message was close enough for Zuko to nod in agreement, “You wouldn’t even have to walk anywhere. We have Appa,” she said.

Zuko’s nose wrinkled. The entire situation seemed less than appealing, “We could bring you back here or wherever you want to go once we have Aang back,” she reassured too brightly. 

Sokka coughed. “Anywhere but the Fire Nation. We’re not going anywhere near there,” he announced. 

Zuko snorted, gritting his teeth through a pang in his side. That would be too convenient if they’d take themselves to the Fire Nation with him. But if he was right and Aang was on his ship already, getting them to deliver him back to the ship was as simple as it could get. All of them could be delivered to his father in chains as far as Zuko was concerned. 

But the decision wasn’t up to him completely. Something the Water Tribe peasants seemed to understand. Three expectant pairs of eyes traveled to the herbalist.

Chapter Text

Toma rested a hand on her hip, surveying the three with raised eyebrows, “This all seems rather conspiratorial, young man. Dare I ask what all this is about?” 

Zuko sighed. He folded his hands on the counter, “They want me to come with them.” He paused, biting his lip. The herbalist still fixed him with a long stare. “To find their friend,” he explained. Though it didn’t seem to put her at ease in the slightest.

“Is that so?” she asked, sounding somewhere between exasperated and bored, “And what do you think about this grand plan of theirs?”

Zuko shrugged. It wasn’t as if he had a better one, “They’re not going to leave you in peace if I don’t.”

Toma scoffed, “Quite noble of you, but don’t think for a moment I consider that a real answer.” She left him at the table to stew for a moment. Gentle clatters of tea making broke the silence that settled over the group in the greenhouse. A fresh cup dropped on the table in front of him a few minutes later, “Drink, then explain.” He rolled his eyes, taking a moment to examine the liquid inside, “It’s not drugged if that’s what you’re thinking.” Toma chuckled to herself.

Zuko took slow sips from the cup. True to her word, all he could taste were hints of fruit. No bitter tastes lingered on his tongue. He finished the tea before speaking again, “They agreed to take me to my Uncle after I help them find their friend.”

“And who is going to help you, you stubborn thing? You and I both know those are no friends of yours. I may be old and more than a bit batty, but even I have the sense to know that sending you off with the ones who left you tied to a tree in the first place is a recipe for undoing all my hard work.”

Flushing, Zuko looked away, “It wasn’t unprovoked,” he said. 

He couldn’t see her thin lips twitching in barely suppressed humor, but he could hear it in her voice, “That much was obvious. However, that doesn’t change my reluctance to let you go tearing off with them when there’s no one to look out for you.” 

“I’ll do it, Toma.” The dark-haired girl piped up from her place at the counter. She shoved back from her spot at the counter, brushing past the blue-clad pair to stand at Zuko’s side, “I can make sure Barky doesn’t overdo it or get himself tied to any more trees.” Her pale eyes were wide and earnest, “We can look out for each other.”

Toma’s attention settled on her young assistant, “So, now all my young charges are trying to abandon me, hmm?” The tone wasn’t sharp enough to actually be scolding, “And I don’t suppose you’ll be returning once you’ve gotten our young man settled back with his Uncle, will you?” she asked, voice gentler still. One of her wrinkled hands settled on the girl’s shoulder. 

The girl pursed her lips. She blew out a long breath of air, dislodging bits of dark hair from around her eyes. After a long pause, she shook her head, “No, probably not.” Her pale eyes seemed to search for what to say next, clouded with something resembling uncertainty for the first time that Zuko could recall.

“Very well, I’ll release you from your independent contract then.” The girl snickered, “I have some conditions for both of you,” Toma finished, taking some of the levity out of the moment. 

“Why do I feel like we’re in trouble before we’ve even left?” the girl asked.

“Because knowing the two of you, you will be and I’m allowing this despite my better judgment.” The herbalist snapped, “Now, try to keep each other out of trouble.” They nodded, both of them suppressing half-grins, “And at whatever stage you two part ways, I’d like a letter from the two of you to let me know where you’ve landed. Understood?” They nodded again.

Miyuki yowled from the edge of the counter. Zuko scratched beneath the cat’s chin to settle her. The yowls dissipated into gentle rumbles.

The girl gave the herbalist an almost shy expression, she inched forward. Sighing, Toma pulled the girl into an embrace. Her chin rested on the girl’s coarse hair. The girl stiffened for a fraction of a second, she shivered, and relaxed into the herbalist’s hold, “Thanks for everything, Toma,” she whispered.

“Oh, that’s Granny to you,” Toma murmured back. Releasing the girl from her hold after a moment or two more and turned her attention to Zuko, “And you, young man.” She chuckled at the fresh flush of color through her patient’s face. She gave him a fond look, one of her palms resting against his cheek, “Now, I won’t hug you because your side couldn’t take it and I’m certain your pride wouldn’t either.”

Zuko slid off his chair to stand at his full height. He dipped his head in a gesture of respect, “Thank you,” he faltered for the word that was strange on his tongue in the already foreign dialect, “Granny.” His head dipped again, “I can’t pay you now, but once I’m with my Uncle again I’ll arrange-” 

She cut him off with a raised hand and a shake of her head, “There will be none of that, thank you very much,” Toma said, “Trust me, young man, the best payment you can offer is to never see you here again.” Zuko’s expression faltered as if she’d just slapped him. He found his composure enough to give her a stiff nod, staring at a crack in the tiles between his feet. The herbalist chuckled gently and took one of his hands in hers, “Come now, don’t look so wounded, I wasn’t finished.” She waited for Zuko to meet her gaze again before she continued, “To never see you here again unless it’s on a social call. Understand?”

Zuko’s eyes widened. He nodded slowly, “I’ll try not to let all your hard work go to waste,” he mumbled. Toma kept her promise and didn’t embrace him. Instead, she squeezed his hand a little more firmly in hers before she let him go.

Sokka cleared his throat, bringing the attention back to the nearly forgotten Water Tribe peasants in the midst of the farewells. Zuko rolled his eyes toward them. He crossed his arms and waited for Sokka to speak. 

“So, are we doing this?” he asked. 

Zuko nodded, “Estenbaren’s den.” [Let’s go.]

Chapter Text

While the sight of the bison had come to be a source of hope for Zuko, he’d never been so close to the beast before. Standing in its massive shadow was nothing short of daunting. Zuko swallowed. He shifted from foot to foot in the turned dirt on the outer edges of the overgrown beds surrounding the greenhouse.

Sokka tossed his pack up to the saddle and Katara’s behind it. He put a hand out for the neat bundle clutched in Zuko’s arms. The prince reeled back, clenching the supplies Toma had packed for them tighter against his chest. He fixed the Water Tribe boy with a hard stare. Sokka shrugged, “Suit yourself, but you’re going to have a hard time climbing up holding that.” 

Zuko frowned. He scanned the bison for easy holds. No matter how he climbed it was going to strain his side. Infuriatingly, the peasant was right. He huffed and shoved the wrapped bundle at Sokka. It joined the rest of the gear on the saddle.

“Right, well Zuko this is Appa. Appa this is Zuko and,” he trailed off, eyes narrowing toward the girl at Zuko’s side, “Does your little friend there have a name?”

Turning his attention to the dark-haired girl, Zuko nudged her shoulder, “He’s asking your name.” He didn’t bother translating the little friend comment. It wouldn’t be a great start to the journey if the girl pelted the peasants with rocks before they’d even taken off. 

Her nose wrinkled, “What do they even need that for? I’m not here for them. I can’t even talk to them.”

He rubbed his temples. They hadn’t even mounted the beast and his head was already pounding. Ridiculous as it sounded, he reluctantly explained, “They want to introduce you to the bison.”  She snorted. “I’m serious,” he said. 

“I can tell, Barky. It doesn’t stop it from being the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard though. Fine, if the bison needs to know, I’m Toph.”

“Tophem,” he said, gesturing toward the girl with an open hand. Zuko couldn’t be sure how it would translate. But she’d had a point, the lines of communication between them would be strained at best. If they even existed at all. Whatever message received, seemed to satisfy the peasants. 

A low rumble echoed through the sky bison’s chest, shaking the ground as it lowered itself flat against the grass. The girl’s eyes gleamed. Her bare toes dug into dirt, almost giggling with pleasure at the strange vibrations beneath her feet. Striding forward, Toph pressed her hand against the bison’s ribs. Her fingers sunk into the fur, “Whoa, he’s huge.” 

Zuko hummed in agreement. From the new vantage point, it was easy to see the number of convenient handholds littering the curved edges of the saddle. It wouldn’t be hard to pull himself up. But, it would hurt. He turned to help Toph up, but found the Water Tribe girl already taking Toph by the hand to guide her up to the saddle.

“Hey, hands off!” she snapped, though the others didn’t understand. Her message was clear enough and Katara backed off, “Barky and I don’t need your help.” She stomped her foot. A collection of packed dirt shot up from the ground. Under Toph’s guidance, it arranged itself into a set of steps, “Come on.” She tugged Zuko up after her. The pair settled themselves on the back end of the sky bison’s saddle, as far away from the Water Tribe peasants as the curved area would allow. 

The moment Toph’s feet left her steps, her face fell. One hand gripped the saddle holds, knuckles white. Toph’s other hand found Zuko’s arm, clenching with all her might before they’d even taken off. She was paler than a spirit, “You’re lucky I like you Barky. I think I’d rather face Toma’s spray bottle again than this,” she managed a strained whisper and tucked herself closer to his unbandaged side.

Zuko let out a humorless laugh. He wrapped an arm around Toph’s shoulder to steady her. 

“We’re going to take off now,” Katara warned. She gripped the reins, “YipYip!” A different rumble coursed through the bison beneath them. Toph clutched Zuko’s arm tighter, leaving a trail of white crescents littering his arms. Zuko couldn’t complain. The shifts of movement beneath him sent pangs through his side. Breath-stealing pangs far worse than the earthbender was inflicting on him. Zuko gritted his teeth together. He forced himself to keep his eyes open as the bison took a bounding leap toward the nearest patch of trees, easing itself off the ground and skyward. 

Zuko couldn’t make himself look down to watch the greenhouse disappear behind them. He kept his eyes toward the horizon. Barely noticing when Sokka abandoned Katara at the reins and slid toward them.

“You get used to it after a while,” he said in a way that could almost be social. Zuko couldn’t help but feel like it was mocking him all the same. He rolled his eyes, “Anyway, once you’re good, tell us where to go. Katara is bringing us toward the lower ruins now.” Bristling, Zuko shook his head. He had no interest in returning to that pile of rubble where they’d almost killed him. Sokka frowned, “Relax, no one is getting tied to a tree. We’re just retracing steps until you give us a better idea.”

Zuko let out a low growl. He shook his head. Anywhere else, short of the stronghold itself, would be better. That much should have been obvious. It was a waste of time. The Avatar wasn’t going to be lounging around in the ruins waiting for them to come and find him. 

“Fine. Hearing you loud and clear, Buddy. Katara turn us around,” Sokka called over his shoulder in exasperation, “Zuko doesn’t want to go to the ruins.”

“Since when did this become about what Zuko wants?” Katara snapped back but gave a sharp twist to the reins. Zuko’s stomach lurched as Appa twisted around. His view of the blurred ground beneath them came too well into his view for a moment. He gripped the green-faced earthbender a little tighter against the sharp transition, “So, where are we going then?” Katara called back over her shoulder.

Chapter Text

Aang slid off the rhino before the General could tell him not to. He stumbled over the straps around his ankles, springing forward to catch himself before he toppled onto the cracked tiles of the ruins. General Iroh cleared his throat. The sharp sound in the almost silent ruins made Aang stiffen. He twisted around to catch the old man’s hard expression, “How is returning here supposed to lead us to my nephew, Avatar Aang?” Iroh prompted, “We’ve been here before. There were no signs of him.”

Aang shrugged. He shuffled between the straps to make it to the base of the tree, “I don’t know. When Zuko was searching for me did he ever look in the same place twice?”

“Hardly equivalent circumstances, Avatar Aang. You can’t compare yourself to my nephew.”

An half-grin broached Aang’s lips, “Why not? You’ve been trying to tell me we’re more alike than I’d believe this whole time.” Not expecting a response, Aang stood at the base of the tree. He scanned the surrounding hills and mountains as if that would give him the answers he was looking for. His eyes widened. “Wait, I know where we are,” Aang said.

“Yes. This is where you and your friends tied up and abandoned my injured nephew.”

Aang rolled his eyes, “It wasn’t my idea, I was passed out when they tied him up. But that’s not what I’m talking about.” He pointed to a spot up higher in the mountains, “There’s an herbalist who lives up there. My friends got sick, and she told me how to help them. Maybe she saw something or had a visitor that did?” He decided to omit the fact that the herbalist was a little less than strictly sane at any given moment.

General Iroh pursed his lips, “In absence of a better plan, I suppose we will pay her a visit.”

Aang struggled between the straps up onto the rhino’s back. He fidgeted with the worn leather while Iroh settled himself into place behind him, “You said your friends were ill?” Aang nodded.

“Yeah, that’s why we were camped in the ruins.”

“And where did my nephew fit into all of this?”

Aang bit his lip. The genial question had shifted to something more probing, “We crossed paths. If you want to know more than that you’ll just have to ask Zuko when we find him.” He owed Zuko a chance at keeping his secrets at the very least. Without waiting for Iroh’s confirmation, Aang slung himself back onto the rhino saddle, “There’s a road between the hills that way.” He pointed.

Iroh directed the rhino toward the road. They traveled between the hills at a slow pace, both quiet in their own observations of the landscape for any signs of what had happened to Zuko. Neither search was fruitful, until they stopped just short of the clearing beyond the herbalist’s greenhouse. 

Sighing, Iroh glanced from the straps on Aang’s wrists and ankles to the greenhouse door. “I have no desire to alarm this herbalist of yours, or confuse her from what’s most important in this situation. Do you give your word that you won’t attempt to pull one of your famous disappearing stunts if I remove your bonds?” He asked. 

Aang nodded, lips in a thin, sullen line.

“A verbal agreement, Avatar Aang.”

“I’ve told you before I’m not going anywhere until we find Zuko. Where would I go anyway? You chased off my friends and I have no idea how to find them,” Aang answered, but it wasn’t enough to satisfy General Iroh’s requirement of a verbal agreement if his lack of reaction was anything to go off of. “I give you my word as the Avatar that I’m not going to try to run away if you take off the straps,” Aang ground out. 

Nodding, Iroh released the buckles on each of the cuffs. He collected the straps and tucked them away in one of the saddle bags while Aang massaged the red marks from his wrists, “I would prefer it if you allowed me to handle the talking for the both of us,” the General said.

Aang shook his head, “The herbalist only speaks one of the Earth Kingdom languages, besides, I’ve already met her. If anyone should be doing all the talking, it should be me.” He raised his chin, daring General Iroh to refuse him.

The old man massaged one of his temples. “Very well, Avatar Aang, I will wait out here for you,” he said, gesturing Aang ahead of him with a sweep of his arm. 

Striding ahead, Aang rapped his knuckles in a hollow knock against the greenhouse door before he slid it open and stepped inside. Warm, muggy air wafted around him in the doorway. He peered between fronds and potted plants. Aang spotted the white cat who was sunning itself on one of the upper shelves. Its thick tail flicked back and forth lazily. But its narrow eyes followed his progress into the greenhouse.

“Hello?” Aang called out. He heard a shuffling of footsteps. Aang watched as the twig nestled in the herbalist’s hair bobbed between the shelves and counters. She rounded the corner and clicked her tongue. One of her wrinkles hands rested on her hip.

“And here I thought the spirits were through with sending me children for a while,” Toma muttered. “What can I do for you this time, young man?” She said, this time addressing Aang. “Are your friends not feeling any better?”

Aang shook his head quickly, “Oh, it’s not that. The frozen frogs helped a lot actually.” He rocked on his heels, “I’m actually here about something else. I’m looking for someone.”

“Is it a severely injured young man, a little blind girl, or a cat who may or may not be wanted in the Fire Nation for war crimes?”

Aang’s brows furrowed. “The first one?” he said after a long pause. His eyes shifted to the white cat and back again. “How did you know? Have you seen him? Where is he? Is he here?” Aang asked in rapid succession. His voice raised in excitement as he scanned the greenhouse with a newfound vigor.

“Ah. Well now, you’re a bit too late for that, I’m afraid.” Toma shook her head, “He was here, but he’s long gone. That stubborn thing was too eager to get back on his feet to let me nurse his health any longer.”

“But he was here?” Aang asked again, still hopeful that something useful would come out of this excursion to the greenhouse. 

Toma nodded. Her lips wrinkled, head tilting to the side enough to make the twig in her hair bob up and down again. “He was, but he left on a flying bison.”

Aang’s lips fell open. For once, lost for words. Of anything the herbalist could have said, he hadn’t expected that. Zuko was with Appa, and that meant he was with Sokka and Katara too. That all of them were together. Probably looking for him, while he’d been looking for them. 

Zuko was okay. Finding him would mean finding his friends. That everything would return to normal. 

“And I imagine if you’re aware how injured he was, then there’s something you should have,” the herbalist said. Her tone clipped. 

Before Aang could ask what it was, a spray of cold water shocked his face.

Chapter Text

“Mainor botem,” Zuko said, though he could tell by the way the Water Tribe girl’s brows wrinkled she had no idea what he said. The male cocked his head to the side. Zuko growled and continued, “Owen maino ti mainor botem. Ehtatsen watlocatem waino owen tainor agni Avatarem.” [Take me to my ship. That’s where we find your precious Avatar.]

“Hate to say it but I’m missing your dirt drawings about now, Zuko,” Sokka said. 

Rolling his eyes, Zuko’s head tipped far enough back that a tight shock of pain coursed through his side. He ground his teeth together to stop a gasp from slipping out. One of his hands slid protectively over the wound. 

Toph frowned, “How are you planning to get them to understand you?”

Zuko frowned. The simple and obvious answer would be to slog his way through trying to use the Water Tribe dialect they used. But that was reserved for a last resort only as far as he was concerned. The unsteady truce with the peasants hadn’t earned them enough trust or niceties for that yet. “I’ll manage,” he muttered, still more breathless than he’d prefer. 

The male peasant had proven himself capable of deciphering a few single words, even with fish for brains, so Zuko turned his attention to Sokka. “Botem,” he said again and lifted his hands as much as he dared without jostling his wound, cupping his hands and rocking them up and down to emulate a boat on the waves. 

“Botem,” Sokka parroted and copied Zuko’s gesture. His eyes narrowed, “Boots?” Zuko frowned and shook his head, “Okay, not boots. Oh! I got it. A boat! It’s a boat, isn’t it?” Zuko nodded, “Great. What boat?”

Padding his hand against his chest, Zuko tried again slowly, “Mainor Botem.”

“You boat. Your boat. You want us to go to your boat.” His tone had deflated from the victorious announcement of his last translation. It wasn’t a question. It didn’t seem Sokka needed his confirmation, but Zuko nodded his head anyway to agree. “You can’t seriously think we’ll just go there, do you?” Zuko nodded again.

“Oi taino desiren eht Avatarem? Ge.” [ If you want the Avatar? Yes .]  Remembering his audience, he gave an exaggerated nod and repeated, “Ge.”

He was aware it wasn’t a simple request. The entire situation that separated them from the Avatar in the first place had been created trying to avoid the very thing he was asking them to do. It was reasonable that they didn’t want to go to his ship. They were using enough of their brains, fish or not, to know it could be a trap where the scene to lure the Avatar right where he wanted him.

Under different circumstances, that’s exactly what he would have done. And yet he was on the sky bison with little thought given to what would happen after they found the Avatar and the score had been settled.

Sighing, Sokka called to Katara, “He wants to go to his boat.”

“Well, that’s not happening. Does he think we’re stupid or something?” she snapped.

“Ge,” Zuko muttered. 

“Hey! I heard that and I know what that means now.” Sokka shot him a reproachful look. 

Zuko shrugged, unbothered. It had never been a secret that he was insulting them whether they could understand him or not. Somewhat resigned to the fact that Zuko had no remorse for the exchange, Sokka’s shoulders slumped. He stared down at the saddle’s stitching and spoke again, in a voice so low it was almost lost to the wind, “Look, Zuko, insult us all you want if it makes you feel better about this whole thing. It doesn’t really matter. It isn’t important. What is important is getting Aang back. So, we need to decide what we’re doing. We’re wasting time when Aang needs us.”

Zuko’s insides clenched in a way that didn’t have anything to do with the unpredictable flight pattern of the bison. Exposed. It was like being back in that Agni forsaken greenhouse, and being told he needed his pride nursed as much as his wounds. He hid behind Common and used it as a weapon. Though he hated to admit it, Sokka was right. It wasn’t going to help anyone. 

“Agni.” [ Fine .] He agreed, dipping his head in as close to an apology as he’d be willing to give. His teeth clenched together. “Ainam steeli expetem jon tainor conversen. Ser waino den ti mainor botem isoli het? ” [I’m still waiting on your answer. Are we going to my boat or not? ] If they couldn’t agree, the whole truce and plans would be at a pointless impasse. Based on Sokka’s blank expression, he could tell his question was too long and complicated for the Water Tribe male to have understood any of it. 

Massaging his temples, he racked his brains for how dumb it down enough to make Sokka understand. He let out a huff of air that stung through his side. His fingers clenched on the saddle. Zuko steadied his breath and tried again. He held out his left hand, cupping and rocking his right on top of it to make a smaller version of his gesture for the boat, “Botem,” he offered slowly, “isoli,” he moved his hands to the other side and made an exaggerated shrug of his shoulders, “wat?” 

Sokka bit his lip, obviously processing the words and gestures as he tried to piece them together. He mouthed the words he didn’t know, mimicking Zuko’s gestures.

“This conversation is getting old. I’m only understanding half of it, but it doesn’t seem like it’s going anywhere to me, Barky,” Toph piped up from his side.

“It is going somewhere. I just don’t know where yet,” Zuko answered through gritted teeth as a patch of rough air rattled his side. The end of his words turned into a strangled grunt that escaped into the wind. He scowled, hoping it had been subtle enough to evade detection. 

Sokka rested his hand on the back of his neck, absently scratching in thought, “Look Zuko, I think I get what you’re asking. At least the idea of it, anyway. But it’s not that easy. We can’t just go to your boat. We’re going to have to think about it and make a plan. So, I think we should land somewhere. We can make camp, we’ll all get some rest, and we’ll figure out what to do next. Okay?”

“Agni, owen ali eht prokieni expetem taino desiren.” [ Fine, waste all the fucking time you want .] Zuko rubbed his temples. Knowing Sokka wasn’t going to have understood a word of that, he jerked his head in a nod, “Ge.”

With Zuko's reluctant blessing given, the reins snapped and the bison headed toward the ground.

Chapter Text

Sokka directed them down to a sheltered cliffbase. He glanced over his shoulder to catch Zuko’s gaze, “There aren’t any trees,” Sokka offered, the corner of his lip curling in something closer to a smile than Zuko would have expected. It was obvious that it was supposed to be the Water Tribe male’s version of a peace offering. An empty one. The absence of trees wouldn’t actually stop them from tying him up again if they really wanted to.

But Zuko knew they wouldn’t. And even if they did attempt it, he liked his chances better this time with Toph as his ally. Zuko nodded, though it seemed that’s where they were going with or without his permission. 

Toph perked up from her spot beside Zuko. “We’re changing directions. What’s happening?” Her fingers clenched on his arm to steady herself as the bison angle’s dipped further from their original direction.

“We’re landing and making camp so the peasants can decide if they trust me enough to go to my boat,” he answered and tried not to wince.

“Should they?” She asked, features narrowing in shrewd lines. 

He shrugged, “It doesn’t matter. They don’t have any other choice if they want to find the Avatar.” 

Whether she had something else to say on the topic or not, Toph didn’t have a chance as the bison’s six feet hit the ground. Zuko’s side protested the impact. He sucked steadying breaths in through his teeth and waited for the shock of the landing to subside. 

The peasants wasted no time settling into their new makeshift camp. Bedrolls, cooking supplies, fishing gear, and other odds and ends were unloaded from the bison’s saddle and stacked off to one side. Sokka leaned against the bison’s thick fur, scratching absently between its ribs in a way that made the whole beast rumble beneath them. “Need any help getting down this time?” He asked. 

Zuko warily examined the edge of the saddle, gauging their distance from the ground. His side hadn’t handled the bison’s landing well. A hard drop wouldn’t do anything to improve his situation. He grimaced, attention turning back to Toph, “He’s asking if we want help getting down,” he translated.

“We sort of have to, Barky. Whether we want help or not, I can’t see the ground this time to bend us down.”

Rolling his eyes in resignation, Zuko shifted his gaze back to Sokka, “Ge.”

“Tell your friend to go to Appa’s tail so she can slide down. It can be kind of fast, but I’ll be there to catch her at the bottom,” Sokka explained, already walking around the beast’s back legs and positioning himself near the tail.

Zuko relayed the message. He watched her lips wrinkle in distaste. With her reluctant acceptance, Zuko guided Toph’s fingers to the handholds on the sides of the saddle so she could follow it around the edge. The girl’s eyes flashed, “Wait. The ground around us is just stone, right? No trees or anything?”

Zuko’s gaze flicked across the flat landscape. “Just rock.” 

“Good, then you can tell him I don’t need his help.” 

Before Zuko could begin to think through how he’d communicate that to the Water Tribe male, Toph had already clambered over the saddle’s edge and launched herself toward the ground. She landed on all fours, crunching the stone beneath her like it was a thin, fresh layer of snow. Bits of pebble and rubble cascaded away from her fists in ways that forced the peasants to dive for cover. 

Zuko watched her push herself back up to her feet and brush herself off. A victorious smirk framed her pale cheeks. “Next time you should warn people before you do something like that,” he muttered. 

“Why? Think I can’t handle myself?” She crossed her arms, “Hate to break it to you, but you’re the one who’s still stuck up there right now. Not me.” The smug sheen in her pale eyes was irrationally irritating. 

Zuko wasn’t certain which was worse, the expression or the fact that she was right. With the way his side was still panging from the impact, it made him sure he wouldn’t tolerate a drop from that height. He’d need her help to get down and that would only make her smugness worse.

Sokka cleared his throat, breaking up the conversation that was obviously bickering no matter what language they were speaking. He rounded back to Appa’s tail. “I’ll still help you down, if you want, Zuko.” Zuko couldn't have kept the look of disdain off his face if he’d tried. Catching the expression, Sokka abandoned his post by the tail. He scrambled up on one of Appa’s legs, leaning against the saddle to meet Zuko’s gaze straight on, “I know these whole trust and truce things we’ve got going here are new and all, but we want the same thing right now.” 

Zuko was quiet. He didn’t answer, but he didn’t argue either and that was all the permission Sokka needed to continue, “Look, you’re probably going to be as surprised as I am about this, but I don’t want you hurt anymore than you already are.”

 A snort escaped from Zuko’s nose before he could hold it back. Not in disbelief. He believed what Sokka was saying. It was more of his general reaction to the complete ridiculousness of their situation. 

But Sokka seemed to understand what the noise had meant in context of their situation, and shared Zuko’s humor if the twitching of his lips were anything to go by. He hopped down from Appa’s leg to stand by the tail again. Sokka directed Zuko to sit on the edge of the saddle. Zuko’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Come on, Zuko. It’ll be fine. I’ll be right here to help. It’ll be-” he paused, face creasing as he seemed to be searching for a word, “agini?” Sokka shrugged, “Ge?”

There it was. Uncertain. Horribly butchered in pronunciation. But an attempt all the same. 

Though it was obvious he wasn’t sure he’d be right, Sokka had tried to speak Common for Zuko’s benefit. To put him at ease and strengthen the twig of an olive branch extended between them. 

Zuko could have asked for Toph’s help to get down, but the self-satisfied smirk on her face was irritating enough without feeding her ego any further. And besides, he’d have to reward Sokka’s effort somehow. With a soft, resigned sigh, Zuko slid over the curved saddle’s edge. His fingers sunk into the coarse tail fur, clenching between the tufts to stop himself from moving any further before he intended to. 

Sokka, to his word, stayed right next to the beast’s tail. Mostly quiet, but giving encouraging expressions that Zuko did his best to ignore as he worked his way slowly down the tail. It wasn’t until he’d made it most of the way down that Sokka spoke again, this time holding out his hand. “I’m thinking if you shift over to the side and take my hand, you should just be able to stand up from here. You can keep going down if you want, but this way you don’t have to hit the ground at all.” 

That wasn’t a difficult decision to make. Wordlessly, Zuko clasped Sokka’s hand in his to steady himself. With only a slight pull through the muscles in his side, Zuko’s feet were back on solid ground. 

“Are you agini?” Sokka asked.

“Ge, ainam agni,” Zuko answered with a nod, putting extra emphasis on the right pronunciation of the word. He let go of Sokka’s hand. “Thank you,” he muttered in a broken version of the Water Tribe dialect, before he could change his mind.

Chapter Text

Sokka’s eyes narrowed as Zuko’s words registered in his ears. “So, you could have been talking to us this whole time if you wanted to?” Sokka asked, his expression unreadable.

Zuko shrugged, shaking his head, “A little. Not well. Het vari agni,” Offering his response in both languages. He cringed at the sound of his own voice clumsily wading through the syllables of the foreign words. Though the bison ride had drained most of the color from his face, he felt the heat of a flush creeping back in.

Sokka’s expression softened in the face of Zuko’s vulnerability. “Look Zuko, I get it. We’re not friends and we’re barely allies, but at least for now we’re on the same team. I’ll keep trying to learn Common, and you can keep trying our dialect. No one’s going to make fun of you for trying. And if we get stuck, we’ll figure it out together. Ge?”

“Fine. Ge.”

“ Agni , now you should go rest and enjoy being on the ground while you can.”

Zuko didn’t argue. His side still panged in lingering phantom rattles from the flight. He scanned their makeshift camp before deciding on a boulder to rest against. Gritting his teeth, Zuko slid down to the ground. One of his hands rested protectively over the wound. He sucked shallow breaths through his nose to settle himself, eyelids drifting closed.

But the approach of light footsteps forced his eyes open again, “It’s just me, Barky. We should probably check your wound, and change the dressing. Granny would kill us both if it gets infected again.”

Sighing, Zuko scanned the campsite again to make sure the peasants were engaged in other tasks before he opened his shirt and peeled the leaves back from his side. Sticky residue from whatever mixture Toma had slathered over the wound last clung to the skin and the leaves, making Zuko wince.

“How is it?” Toph asked.

It was redder, and more raised than the last time Zuko had seen it. Steeling himself, Zuko brought one of his fingers to the perimeter of the wound. More tender too if his gentle tracing of the site was anything to go by. Either their hours of travel had irritated the wound or it was getting infected again.

“Needs cleaning and more leaves,” he said.

“It’s not good, is it?” she asked.

“Do I look like a healer to you?” Zuko groused.

“You don’t look like anything to me,” she answered, waving her hand in front of her face. 

Sokka, summoned by the sounds of their bickering, crossed the clearing to join them. He crouched down beside Zuko, letting out a low whistle as he took in the state of Zuko’s wound for the first time. “That’s not angi at all, buddy.”

“Buddy?” Zuko raised his eyebrow at him. 

“What? It sounded nicer in my head than Prince Fireball.” Sokka shrugged, “But that’s not important right now. Katara needs to take a look at this.” Zuko bristled, his hand cupping the wound in a protective shield. He tried to refuse but Sokka pressed on, “You’re not going to be able to help us find Aang if you get sick again.” He called her over before Zuko had a chance to argue his point, “This is bad, right?”

Katara knelt down beside Zuko, watching him stiffen, “Do you mind if I take a look? I’ve been helping the healers in my village since I was little,” She asked a little stiffly herself. Zuko assumed it was that she was reluctant to be so close to him after all he’d done, let alone offer to help him. Katara waited until Zuko nodded in permission, before doing her own gentle examination of the wound. “It’s starting to look infected again, but I can try to heal it.” Her hand hovered over the waterskin at her side, looking expectantly for his permission to attempt it. 

Zuko swallowed, nodded slowly, and watched as she drew out the water from the skin in a thin trickle to layer over the wound. He gasped as her hand settled firmly on the site. He swore under his breath, but the initial shock wore off as the water warmed beneath her hand and started flickering an unsteady sort of glow.

A stinging heat, one that fluctuated somewhere between comfortable and unbearable, passed through his wound. Zuko tensed. He clamped his eyes closed to try to block it out. Toph dropped down beside him, her fingers lacing in his without waiting for his permission. “Squeeze as hard as you need to, Barky.” He obeyed, knuckles white with his grip on her hand.

Their grips didn’t release until Katara eased her own hand away, coaxing her bending water back into the skin at her side. The Water Tribe female examined Zuko’s wound again. Her fingers gently prodded at the pink margins on his skin. Nodding to herself, she sat back on her heels, “We should still wrap it again to be safe, but I think the infection is gone now.” 

Zuko shifted against the boulder, taking an inventory of his pain. Though some stiffness and soreness lingered around the wound, none of his movements took his breath away. Nothing was sharp or stinging anymore. Katara had taken care of it.

Katara stayed quiet for a while, going through their things for a clean bandage and helping Zuko ease his shirt off enough for her to wrap it securely around his wound. She avoided his gaze. “I’m sorry, Zuko.” She mumbled. His eyes narrowed, but Katara kept going, “I could have tried this before. Before we ever left you tied to the tree. I wasn’t sure if I could do it, but I could have at least tried and it might not have ever gotten this bad for you. Even though I don’t deserve it, thank you for trusting me enough to let me help you now.”

No matter the language, Zuko found himself lost for words for a moment.

He shook his head when he'd finally gathered his thoughts enough to say anything in reply. “Thank you,” he muttered. “We can be,” he paused for the right word, “even for tying trees. Ge?”

Katara snorted-Though whether it was at his attempt at humor or butchering of the language, Zuko couldn’t be sure. “Ge. No more trees."

"So, after all that, you're just talking with them now?" Toph asked, waiting until both of the peasants were engaged in other tasks around the campsite to talk again. Zuko shrugged his shoulder against hers. He relished in how the motion didn't send a shock of pain through his side, and tried to ignore the smug expression curling through the earthbender's face.

"Den prokien tainoram," he muttered without any bite behind the remark, resting his head against hers.

Chapter Text

“I see that went well,” General Iroh said, offering Aang a handkerchief to wipe the dripping reminders of the icy spray off his face.

“It did, actually,” Aang said. He handed the damp handkerchief back over. “The point of coming here was to see if we could learn what happened to Zuko after we left him at the tree.” He crossed his arms and shot a wary look at the saddlebags where the straps had been stowed. “I know what happened to him now. Zuko was here.”

Initial relief was quickly replaced by deepening creases on the General’s forehead. “Was? But isn’t here now?” He prompted Aang to continue, already corralling him back toward the komodo rhino.“Which leaves us back where we started."

“No.” Aang shook his head. “It doesn’t, because she said he left on a flying bison. That means Zuko is with my friends,” he insisted. “He’s not alone.”

“Forgive me if that doesn’t inspire my confidence, Avatar Aang. The last time my nephew was left in the presence of your companions he vanished, while in need of medical treatment, I might add.” 

Aang rolled his eyes. He wasn’t going to waste time arguing that point. They’d gone through it before. Yes, it had been a mistake to leave Zuko on his own. He regretted it. If he could go back, he wouldn’t have done it. And not just because the plan had led to him being captured again. Aang wanted to make things right. But he let his silence speak those volumes for him. Arguing wasn't going to help him and it definitely wasn't going to help Zuko.

General Iroh sighed, “Do you have any idea what they might be doing?”

“They’re trying to find me.” It was the General’s turn to send him a withering expression. “I’m not kidding, General Iroh. It’s the only thing my friends and Zuko could possibly have in common. Zuko’s been trying to find me for years, and Sokka and Katara wouldn’t leave me behind. So, they have to be trying to find me together!” 

Back at the beast's side, Aang hesitated. He waited for the straps to be brought out again, but Iroh shook his head. “I don’t think those will be necessary for the time being. If my nephew and your companions are truly seeking you out as you’ve said, there would be no purpose in you trying to leave. We merely have to place ourselves somewhere until they come to you.”

Aang mounted the rhino and waited for Iroh to pull himself up behind him, “So, where are we going then?”

“Back to the ship. The crew should be updated to know that we’re searching for more than just my nephew at this stage. Besides, if Prince Zuko is truly retracing your movements, it should only be a matter of time before he returns there.” He cracked the reins, turning them down the path away from the greenhouse at a gentle trot. “Messenger Hawks may travel to any number of remote locations, but they always return home to roost.”

A quiet settled between them, one only interrupted by the claws of the komodo rhino scraping the ground. While the general steered, Aang kept his eyes skyward. He scanned the cloud for Appa. Each shadow and waiver made his hopes rise, only to be dashed again seconds later by a shift in the wind. A frustrating dance of his emotions. He sagged against the front curve of the saddle saddle with a huff.

“Patience, Avatar Aang,” Iroh said behind him, “From observing Prince Zuko hold this same watch more times than I can count, I promise you there will always be more clouds than there are sky bison.” Aang nodded, “Though I imagine, much like my nephew, that will never stop you from hoping.”

“Going home really means everything to him, doesn’t it?” Aang asked, his voice small and almost lost in the turning of stones beneath the rhino's feet.

“Everything,” The general said without hesitation.

They were silent the rest of the way. Back on the ship, Aang slid off the rhino and onto the deck. He shot wary glances at the crew members who all seemed too aware he’d returned unrestrained. A few drifted closer, clearly waiting for orders to seize him. But General Iroh held up a hand to wave them off. 

“What now?” Aang asked. He absently patted the komodo rhino’s side to thank it for the ride. 

“If you mean in the short term, it will be dinner in a few hours. You may return to your cabin to rest until then, or remain on deck under my supervision, if you prefer.” 

It wasn’t a difficult decision. He fell into step beside Iroh, following him without a word as the general relayed their new information and plans to the crew. Aang sank into a chair across from General Iroh when he sat. He ignored the cup of tea someone poured for him. His eyes had already returned to the clouds. 

A soft clicking of tiles carried to Aang’s ears as Iroh arranged pai sho tiles on the board beside them, “Would you care for a match, Avatar Aang?” The general asked. Aang shook his head, not pulling his eyes away from the clouds. Iroh hummed, “Our men are keeping watch with scopes. It’s rather unlikely that you will spot them with your eyes alone before they do.”

“You’ve said that to Zuko a lot, haven’t you?” The general nodded, “Did it ever matter to him?”

“Not even once,” Iroh said, a sad smile breaking the line of his lips. He returned to arranging the tiles. “But perhaps you’ll humor me by getting your head out of the clouds for a short time?”

Shrugging, Aang took one last scan of the skies for bison shapes and turned his attention to the board. He obediently played through a few harmonies. Aang placed pieces together in what seemed like odd combinations, not bothering with any of the traditional formations. Iroh raised one of his brows. “Perhaps, we should find a game that would be less strategically taxing. Your mind doesn’t seem to be present, young Avatar.”

“I’m paying attention. I know I'm losing.” Aang bit his lip, “I’m just trying to imagine how it works.” The general gestured for him to continue, “You know, Zuko and my friends together. Fire,” he tapped one of the tiles, “and water.” He tapped another. “Is it harmony? Or is it all blowing up?” He waved his hand toward Iroh’s approaching trap on the board, “And what happens when it’s over?”

General Iroh let out a long breath, he rested his hands on his stomach as it rose and fell with his breathing, “All excellent questions. However, those are ones I’m afraid only time will answer, Avatar Aang.”

Chapter Text

Zuko watched Sokka kneel over the meager collection of dried grass and leaves, sticks, and what little dried wood he’d managed to scavenge from their sheltered cliffbase. The Water Tribe male arranged a tight circle of stones around it, though Zuko couldn’t imagine the fire would find much to fuel itself on if it did escape. Sokka arranged the wood and kindling, stacking the wood on top of itself and layering the kindling deep in the center of the little structure he’d created.

When Sokka seemed satisfied with his preparations, Zuko watched him take out a flint and strike it against another stone. He struck it repeatedly until a few sparks finally rained down over the pile. None of them seemed to catch if Sokka’s irritated mutterings were anything to go by. He returned to striking the flint with a more furious pace.

Raising an eyebrow, Zuko cleared his throat to catch Sokka’s attention. But the Water Tribe male didn’t hear him over the mutterings and clanks of his strikes. Zuko shifted away from Toph enough to ease himself to his feet. “Sokka?” He said to announce his presence. “Aino cad assisten,” [ I could help ], he offered, slowly. Zuko pointed at himself and the fire preparations.

Sokka bit his lip, making slow connections between the gestures and what Zuko had said, “So, aino is you-well, I, but you know what I mean?” Zuko nodded, “Assisten is fire?” Scowling, Zuko shook his head, “Okay, assisten not fire. Aino am with you there, buddy,” Sokka continued, littering in the common words he knew at the expense of the grammar he didn’t.

Zuko pointed to himself and then at the wood pile again, “I help?” he muttered, looking anywhere but at Sokka as the broken phrase left his mouth and his cheeks burned.

Mercifully, though his eyes were wide, Sokka just nodded. He backed away from the little fire circle to give Zuko room “Ge, sure buddy, that would be agni.”

It took less time to get the fire started than it had to communicate the message that he would do it. Zuko crouched down, easing a small flame off his cupped hand and into the kindling. He watched it for a moment to make sure the wood around it was catching, before he pushed himself back to his feet again with only a slight wince as an ache spread through his side. Gentle wisps of smoke escaped between the wood.

“How do I say thank you?”

“Graten taino.”

“Graten taino, then, taino make agni- fire?” 

“Firem,” Zuko answered.

“Graten taino, taino make agni firem.” [ Thank you, you ( make) good fire ]. Zuko swallowed down a grimace as another ache passed through his side, but Sokka noticed, “Go rest. We’ll wake you up when dinner is ready.”

Zuko didn’t argue. He headed back for his spot by Toph, easing himself down against the boulder again. The girl’s eyes gleamed. “Just in case you didn’t know, Barks, he’s way better at Common than you are at the Water Tribe dialect.”

“And just in case you didn’t know, I’m rolling my eyes at you,” he quipped back.

Toph cackled against his shoulder, “But seriously, all this switching between languages is making my head hurt.” She settled a little, “Why don’t you just have him do all the translating since he’s so much better at it than you?”

“Because I have to make an effort too if they’re going to trust me enough to go to my boat.”

“Fine with me, as long as you know it makes you sound like a two year old.” Zuko was certain it did. But pride wasn’t going to keep him from finding the Avatar. The sooner the Water Tribe siblings truly saw him as an ally, the sooner he’d be home. “Do you think I have time to climb the cliff before dinner?” Toph asked, changing the subject and pulling his attention back to the moment. Zuko didn’t have a chance to think of an answer before she had already clambered back to her feet and started heading for the base. 

Katara directed the water she was toying with back into the skin at her side. She followed the other girl’s progress with concern as she left the ground behind, scaling the uneven surfaces. “That doesn’t look safe, is she going to be okay?” Katara asked, her gaze flicking to Zuko for confirmation.

He picked up a pebble by one of his feet, miming throwing it and pointing toward Toph. His performance made Katara’s nose wrinkle, “I know she’s an earthbender, Zuko. But just because she’s an earthbender doesn’t mean she’s going to be safe on steep rocks. Waterbenders can still drown in water.” She paused, her voice lowering a margin into something almost gentle while keeping steady eye contact with him, “Firebenders can still get burned.”

Zuko bristled. The lines of his scar deepened, contorting as he clenched his jaw. “Gehet. Gehet conversen abi stuffem taino gehet compen.” [Don’t. Don’t talk about things you don’t understand .] He didn’t bother to translate, allowing his expression and tone to carry the message that the peasant had crossed the line. To tell her their truce would only extend so far, and this wasn’t the topic to test his boundaries on. That there were lines he wouldn’t allow to be crossed.

Prodding the fire with a stick to keep it churning, Sokka looked up at Zuko, “You didn’t like what she just said.”

“Briem.” [ Genius .] Zuko pointed at his head, making his eyes too wide for effect.

“Stop that,” Sokka raised his voice. “If you have a problem, or you don’t like something then you have to tell us, Zuko. No more scowling, insults, or muttering under your breath using words we can’t understand. That was fine when we had you tied to the tree, but it’s different now. We’re on the same team. Aren't we?”

Zuko nodded slowly, the lecture temporarily transporting him back to the greenhouse for a few seconds. Though this lecture wouldn’t be followed by an icy spray from a spray bottle, it would have the same conclusion. He let out a soft, resigned sigh, “Ge.” He paused, taking time to translate and string his thoughts together, “Fishbrains again when things normal,” he said. A smirk lined his lips, even if the retort’s edge was somewhat dulled by his abysmal grammatical execution. 

Sokka’s tension seemed to have faded. He stirred the fire again before the rest of Zuko’s words sank in. “Wait,” he dropped the stick, “you’ve been calling us fishbrains this whole time?” 

Shrugging, Zuko rested his chin on his knees and ignored how the position made his ribs ache in his chest, “Ficelembriems. And worse.”

Chapter Text

No one said much of anything for a while after that. Toph returned, coated in dirt, but otherwise unscathed from her adventure. She shook herself off-a cloud of dust thickening the air around them, and sat next to Zuko again. Her pale eyes narrowed and her head cocked to one side, “Why is everyone so quiet? Did something happen while I was gone?”

Zuko rubbed his temples. He explained the less than desirable results of their language lesson, watching Toph’s eyes grow rounder as he spoke. “What happened to trying to get them on your side?” She asked, her pale eyes dancing in unrepressed humor. 

“I am. I can’t just lie and expect them to trust me.” Zuko had done a lot to them. He’d chased them, threatened them, and worse. It was some kind of miracle that they were tolerating his presence at all. Especially now that he was less hindered by his wound. He’d be more intimidating again. The more he healed and the more of his strength he regained, the more likely it was that their thoughts would stray toward the idea of him betraying them.

“Well, it’s true you didn’t have to lie, but you didn’t have to tell them that either.” The earthbender made a good point. “Sometimes it’s better not to tell people the whole story. Granny and I got along without her knowing too much about me, and it was better that way.” She looked almost wistful for a moment. But the expression shifted quickly. “And the water guy is right that you should probably cool it on the insults for now.”

“Not that you would know because you were off scaling rocks like a canyon crawler, but I already agreed to stop,” he mumbled against his knee. Toph smirked, tucking her head against his uninjured side. 

“You can admit you were impressed whenever you want, Barky.”

Zuko snorted and shook his head, “That’s not going to happen.” The earthbender girl could feed her pride well enough on her own without any help from him. He slumped back against the boulder, taking shallow breaths through his nose to ease some of the remaining ache from his ribs. He scanned the campsite through a half-lidded gaze. Sokka was alternating between tending to their campfire and pitching a tent for shelter. Katara was chopping up pieces of dried meat, along with a small collection of vegetables. The lemur napped between the bison’s horns. Everything was still and calm in the area surrounding the cliffbase. 

With the relative peace confirmed, Zuko let himself drift off. It didn’t feel long at all before the weight of a hand dropped down on one of his shoulders. Zuko stiffened, eyes snapping open and throwing himself to the side before he was fully awake enough to remember his surroundings and their situation. His hands scraped against stones, jarring his ribs when he hit the ground. A hiss of pain escaped his lips.

Toph was already back on her feet. Her fists curled. The ground rumbled beneath her wide stance.

“Whoa, Zuko, it’s just me,” Sokka put his palms up in a peace offering, “Call her off. Please.” 

Zuko gritted his teeth. He pushed himself back up, ignoring the pangs through his ribs with the sudden impact of his drop and worsened still by Toph rattling the earth around them.

“You can stop. It’s just one of the idiot peasants,” Zuko groused in the Earth Kingdom language. He brushed off his stinging palms, heating them just enough to loosen the bits of dirt and rubble clinging to his hands. His breathing slowed to a steady rate before he pulled his gaze off the ground to meet Sokka’s gaze.

“Taino agni, Zuko?” [ You okay? ] Sokka asked. Zuko shrugged, ignoring the new flush of heat through his face and neck. “I-I well,” Sokka grimaced and trailed off before he tried to address the prince again, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. Either of you,” Sokka tipped his head in Toph’s direction, where her fighting stance had settled into a sullen glare aimed in his approximate direction. “Dinner’s ready.” He gave a sheepish nod over toward the fire.

Dinner was quiet. A thick sort of silence, thicker than the sludge of a stew Katara had ladled out for them, settled over the group. Bowls scraped and clattered. Tea, lukewarm and bitter, was swallowed in audible gulps. The dying fire crackled. Uncertain gazes were cast between the growing shadows of dusk. Sokka collected their dishes when everyone was finished, approaching much slower than he retreated.  

“So much for trust,” Zuko muttered.

“That’s not all on you though, Barky.” 

“Doesn’t matter whose fault it is,” he said, his gaze distant in the direction of his ship. Laying blame wasn’t going to restore order, or find the Avatar, or bring him home again. “Doesn’t fix anything.”

The girl’s nose crinkled in thought, “Not yet. But you’ve been trailing them for a while now, right?” Zuko agreed, “Then it’s probably going to take more than a day to start getting along.”

Night fell, and the fire burned out. Toph made an overhang for the boulder, coaxing stones to either side of them as a makeshift shelter for the two of them. Zuko watched Sokka and Katara disappear into their tent. Sokka hesitated beside the tent flap. He glanced over his shoulder, catching the glint of Zuko’s eyes reflecting in the moonlight.

“Goodnight, Zuko,” he said, barely loud enough for his voice to travel across their camp.

“Agni noccem,” Zuko answered back, matching his tone.

Chapter Text

Something warm brushed against Zuko’s face, easing him out of his sleep. “It’s still dark, Miyuki,” Zuko mumbled into the thick fur. He absently scratched his fingers along the cat's warm side. Gentle, trilling purrs escaped out into the air around them. “Go back to sleep,” he whispered. A comfortable hum slipped from his lips as Miyuki’s weight settled around his shoulders. The cat’s tail curled against his neck. Her warm weight was almost enough to drag him back to sleep, when an oversized ear flicked his nose.

Zuko frowned. Miyuki's ears weren’t that large. His eyes snapped open to find the overly round eyes of the Avatar’s lemur staring back at him. “You’re not Miyuki,” he stated, disappointment coloring his tone. “Go back to the bison. Den Bisem,” he threw out the command in Common for good measure, in case the lemur understood him any better. 

It didn’t seem to make a difference, no matter what language he used. The lemur didn’t budge. He tried to ease it off his neck, but it didn’t seem interested in being dislodged. A lazy hiss came from the lemur’s mouth. “I’m taking you back to the bison myself then” Zuko groused. He shifted away from Toph and pushed himself to his feet against the rocks.

He took an inventory of his pain, tensing his muscles and breathing deeply as he dared. Zuko was satisfied to find less stiffness than he’d had before. Whatever Katara had done to him worked. His pain wasn’t gone but he was stronger. He strode over to bison, skirting the tent with a wide distance. The bison’s wide eyes followed Zuko’s approach, a hot and wet wave of air wafting from its massive nose. Zuko lips curled as a glob of bison landed on one of his cheeks. He swiped the splatter away with the back of his wrist, then doubled his effort to dislodge the smaller beast. “There, now get off,” he said to the lemur. 

Yowling softly, the lemur bounded off Zuko’s shoulders and settled to perch between the bison’s horns again. Its wide eyes stared him down in what he had to imagine was reproach, “Don’t look at me like that. You’re going to be more comfortable there anyway.” The bison let out a low rumble from somewhere deep in its throat, dragging Zuko’s gaze down to meet its brown eyes, “You can go back to sleep. I was just bringing you the lemur,” he muttered, feeling more than a little foolish for explaining himself to a beast that had otherwise been assumed extinct for most of the last century. 

The bison rumbled, craning its head forward far enough to butt up against Zuko’s chest. Zuko froze, preemptively wincing at the thought of the impact against his tender ribs but the bison gave him a gentle nuzzle. With a hesitant step forward, Zuko put his hand on the bison’s head. His fingers sank deep into the tufts of fur. The beast rumbled, dipping his head low enough that  Zuko had to lean against him, “Don’t tell me, you think we could be friends too?” Zuko asked, keeping his voice low and chuckling to himself as the bison rumbled in reply. 

Settling down to the ground, the bison curled around Zuko in a way that gave him no choice but to ease himself down and sink into the fur. “What do you think the Avatar would think if he saw this?” Zuko whispered, more to himself than to the white beast beside him. The bison snorted. “Something like that,” he agreed. Zuko watched the bison’s eyelids droop and settle closed. Rumbling snores sent gentle waves of vibrations through Zuko’s ribs. He nodded off himself a short while after that, sleeping until after sunrise.

A shadow fell across Zuko’s face, rousing him from his sleep. He cracked an eye open to see Sokka hovering beyond the bison’s leg. The Water Tribe male’s lips twitched in a weak attempt to swallow his humor. Zuko sat up and untangled himself from the bison.

“Morning, Zuko,” Sokka didn’t bother to hide his grin. “We let you rest as long as we could, but we’ve got to get camp broken down and get going. It’s still a long way to taino botem.” 

Zuko’s brow furrowed, shaking off the fog of sleep as the Water Tribe male’s words replayed in his head and their meaning sunk in. Taino botem. You boat. That was what Sokka had said. But it was obvious what he’d meant by that. Your ship.

“My ship?” He asked blankly, as though it still didn’t register with him what Sokka was trying to communicate with him. 

“Ge, that was what you wanted, wasn’t it?” Sokka’s expression turned incredulous. “Did you change your mind about where we should go?"

Zuko shook his head. Going to his boat was exactly what he’d wanted, that much they both seemed to understand. But what he was still missing was why his reluctant Water Tribe companions were suddenly so willing to do it. Neither of them had wanted to go anywhere near him or his ship the night before, but something had clearly shifted.

He couldn’t imagine that it was just a night of rest that had changed their opinions. 

“Yes, mainor botem, why…now?” Zuko asked in a halted question.

The expression Sokka gave him looked almost soft. He scratched the back of his shaved hairline, “Well, it’s going to sound a little ridiculous.”

Zuko raised his eyebrow, fanning one of his hands out toward the remnants of their campsite and the surrounding area to remind Sokka their entire situation was ridiculous. Sokka let out a soft laugh, “Right, agni point. My Gran Gran always says that if you’re not sure about someone you can watch the way animals treat them and how they treat animals. That they have better instincts for that kind of thing than we do.” The Water Tribe male absently scratched under the bison’s chin as he spoke, “Appa and Momo obviously trust you. They don’t like just anybody, and they’ve seen you attack us before. So, if they trust you then I can trust their instincts.”

“And Katara?” Zuko asked, after he’d had a moment to soak it in.

Sokka shrugged. He circled to the bison’s side to start checking the saddle straps as they talked. “She can be a harder sell than me, but no one can argue with Gran Gran.” 

That much Zuko could understand. He had the distinct impression that Toma and this Gran Gran would get along well given the chance. “Gran Gran sounds briemi-wise,” he offered, watching Sokka’s expression turn to one of longing.

“Ge,” Sokka said, with a nod. “Briemi like taino uncle?” [ Wise like you uncle ?].

“Tain or ,” Zuko corrected, nodding back anyway, “Yes.” He was sure the longing he’d seen on Sokka’s face was reflected back in his own expression. “Vari briemi.”

“Let’s get you back to him then." Sokka took a step forward, like some part of him wanted to sling his arm around Zuko's shoulders in a friendly gesture but he stopped himself before he did it. Instead, he simply tacked on, "To tainor botem.” 

Chapter Text

Zuko brushed bits of fur off his shirt. A fruitless process when the Avatar’s lemur kept trying to make itself a perch on his shoulders and neck again. He huffed, but gave up trying to dislodge the little beast altogether. It seemed it was going to get its way no matter what he did. Its claws were sharp enough that Zuko decided the scrapes he’d get weren’t worth it. 

“So, we’re going to your ship?” Toph asked, her nose wrinkling at the thought of another drawn out trip on the flying beast, “I thought they didn’t want to go there because they thought it was a trap? What happened?” she asked. One of her hands hiked over her shoulder in the approximate direction of where Sokka and Katara were loading the remaining items of the campsite into the bags that lined the bison’s saddle and securing everything for flight. 

A non-committal hum left Zuko’s lips, “Must have changed their minds, I guess.” He had no desire to give the little earthbender any details she didn’t need. But her features narrowed in suspicion. 

“You’re not telling the truth, Barks. You know why, so tell me.” She put her hands on her hips. Pebbles scattered around her feet as she rattled the ground just enough to irritate Zuko into giving her the answers. Her pale eyes gleamed, a cackling peal of laughter echoed through the clearing as she doubled over, “So, they trust you because they caught you cuddling with some animals?” She wiped tears out of her eyes and caught her breath.

"Den prokien tainoram," [ Fuck off ].  Zuko said, flushing through his neck.

“Watenali, tainoser steeli ehn beastem enbraceni.” [ Whatever, you’re still an animal cuddler. ]. She grinned and strode away from him before he could get another word in.

“Tell her not to go too far, Zuko,” Katara called over. “We’ll be leaving soon.”

Zuko shrugged, ignoring the yowl from the lemur when the motion through his shoulders disturbed its perch ever so slightly. He rolled his eyes and took the lemur back over to the bison. The prince managed to coax the lemur onto the saddle, massaging his shoulders as he was freed from its weight. 

“Everything okay?” Sokka asked. Zuko raised his eyebrow, but nodded slowly. “You two just seemed like you were fighting,” the Water Tribe male explained.

He shook his head. “Not fighting. Just talking.”

Sokka’s gaze narrowed, “Okay, if you say so, Zuko.” It was obvious the Water Tribe male didn’t believe him, but he’d already seen that there were lines Zuko didn’t appreciate being crossed. If Zuko said it wasn’t a fight, it would be left at that. “Well, we’re ready to go, if you want to go get her.” Zuko didn’t move. Sokka gave him a knowing look, “Or, I can go get her if you want?”

Zuko swept his hand in Toph’s direction in an obvious invitation. Not that he thought Sokka’s attempt to help would be all that productive. Sokka’s limited vocabulary and reliance on gestures to supplement his shortcomings wouldn’t lend itself to getting his message through to Toph in the slightest. 

“Tophem, den bisem time,” [ Toph, go bison time,] Sokka announced with far more confidence than he should’ve had in the situation. The earthbender snorted, cocking her head to the side like she didn’t understand. But the gleam in her eyes was enough for Zuko to know that she did. It wasn’t the worst translation, either. “Assisten den bisem,” [ Help go bison ], he tried again. 

She snickered, no longer bothering to pretend she didn’t know what Sokka had said, “Assisten eht bisem gen wat?” [ Help the bison do what ?], Toph asked, crossing her arms. A self-satisfied smirk curling through her lips. 

Sokka scratched the back of his neck, glancing back at Zuko, “She’s messing with me, isn’t she?” 

“Ge,” Zuko agreed. Seamlessly changing his dialect to the Earth Kingdom language, he called over, “Teasing them isn’t going to get us to my boat any faster. Get over here.”

“Maybe not, Barks, but it keeps us on the ground a little longer,” Toph shot back. She crossed to the bison, stomping her foot to coax a rough set of stone steps to construct itself between her and the bison’s saddle. 

Zuko followed behind her, settling himself against the curved rim of the saddle and bracing himself for the take off. It wouldn’t be nearly as painful thanks to Katara’s healing, but he doubted it was going to be that comfortable either. Toph tucked herself against his side as the reins snapped and the bison took off with a rib-rattling rumble that reverberated through Zuko’s chest.

The pangs through his side settled by the time the bison had risen between the clouds. He let out a soft, steadying breath through his nose. Zuko glanced at Toph, taking in her pale and greenish cheeks. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders. It was all the permissions she needed to press herself even closer against him. 

“Feeling agni, Zuko?” Sokka asked. Zuko nodded. “What about your friend?” Sokka raised his eyebrow. 

Zuko shrugged, thinking of the right wording. “Air…ill?” he asked, in a faltering question.

“She’s air sick?” Sokka clarified. Zuko nodded, grateful he wouldn’t have to stumble through any other words or gestures to get the message across. The Water Tribe male’s lips pursed in thought. His eyes went round as if something struck him. “I might be able to help with that.” He grinned. “We don’t have a lot of air travel in the South Pole, but we have plenty of sea travel.”

He rummaged around in one of the packs as he explained and fished out a packet of some misshapen strips. “Not a lot of us get sea sick, but all the elders swear that if you chew on a piece of this the worst of it will be over. Here.” He held it out toward Toph. “It will assisten,” he offered, “At least, I think it should help, anyway.”

“Wat?” Zuko asked, eyeing the strip suspiciously.

“It’s jerky. You know, like dried meat?” Sokka explained. “The salt assisten with the air sick.”

Zuko took the strip for Toph, passing it to her with a simple explanation. “Sokka brought you something to eat. He says it might help.” The girl wrinkled her nose, but accepted the offering. She hesitantly nibbled on a corner of the strip before more enthusiastically tearing into the jerky.

“It helps a little,” she mumbled around a half-chewed mouthful, “Tell him thanks,” she said.

“Tell him yourself, he knows those words," Zuko prompted.

“Graten taino,” she said between bites, turning her head in his general direction.

“You’re welcome?” Sokka asked, catching Zuko’s eye for the translation.

“Taino sen invitani,” he said, slowly to give Sokka a chance to take it in.

“Taino sen invitani,” Sokka repeated. He smiled gently, and although the earthbender couldn’t see the expression, she mirrored it back.

Chapter Text

Though the jerky had done its job to steady her stomach, Toph still seemed perfectly content to curl against Zuko’s side for the next several hours of flight. The Avatar’s lemur seemed to have similar prospects, perching itself across Zuko’s lap. Its ears occasionally flicked in one direction or another, until one of Zuko’s hands would drift through its fur to settle the small beast.

Sokka’s eyes wandered to the oddly tender scene, then flicked away. His gaze followed the same pattern several times over before he spoke up. “We’re going to have to land soon to give Appa a break and a chance to graze.” Zuko nodded, unsure if the remark required any actual input from him or not. “We’d have an easier time finding some shade and food for Appa around trees. That agni with taino?” he asked.

“S’fine,” Zuko agreed. He cupped one of his hands, a tiny flame hovering on his palm for a fraction of a second before the rushes of wind extinguished it. A small reminder the circumstances were different and he wouldn’t be so easy to tie down if they had any ideas in that regard. 

Sokka watched the wisp of smoke disappear behind them into the clouds. “Okay, you’re stronger now. I get the idea,” he said almost too quietly to be heard over the rushes of air around them as Katara steered the bison toward the ground and a narrow, patchy looking strip of forest with an even narrower river running through it.

Loose stones shifted under Zuko’s feet when he slid to the ground. He leaned over, breathing through a soft ache in his side, to scoop up a round, smooth stone. The prince flicked his wrist and watched as the stone skipped over the surface of the water, evading the gentle currents for a distance before sinking below the surface.

“You call that earthbending?” Toph asked, grinning.

Zuko rolled his eyes, recognizing her playful baiting for what it was and answering simply, “I didn’t call it anything.” He slid off his boots, rolled up his pant legs, and waded into the slight current. Cold water nipped at his ankles. Splashes sounded behind him. Zuko glanced over his shoulder, but it wasn’t Toph who followed him into the water. Sokka sloshed over, teeth chattering.

“I lived in the South Pole, surrounded by ice and snow, and I’m still freezing. How is this comfortable for you?”

Grinning, Zuko coaxed enough warmth from his breath of fire to make the water surrounding them gently steam like a hot spring. “Fire breath,” he explained in the only terms he could use to make sense of it.

“Oh, that’s cool.”

“No, hot,” Zuko answered bluntly.

“Oh no, Zuko, I didn’t mean cool like it’s cold. I meant cool like it’s agni,” Sokka paused in his messy explanation just long enough to take in Zuko’s subtle smirk, “-and now you’re messing with me too. That’s just great.”

“Agni.” Zuko’s grin deepened as he nodded.

“Aang might’ve believed the stuff with the animals, but the fact that you’re cracking jokes now-in our language-would completely blow his mind.” Zuko shrugged, but his stomach churned with more ferocity than the tugs of the current against his legs. “He’s going to be sad he missed this,” Sokka said, filling the silence that Zuko left between them.

The statements were nonsensical, and Zuko hoped they both knew it. None of this would be happening at all if the Avatar was there. They’d have no need for each other. Their tenuous, temporary alliance would dissolve faster than it had formed, with no purpose to bind them. Sokka was deluding himself if he thought any differently of their arrangement.

And besides freedom, Zuko couldn’t imagine the Avatar would be left wanting for entertainment and company with Uncle as his jailor. It wasn’t hard to picutre he’d be returning to a pleasure cruise rather than a decommissioned and later recommissioned warship. 

Rather than try to come up with the words or translations to answer him, Zuko let his attention drift to the series of clatters building in intensity back on the bank of the river. Unlike her usual displays of brute force, Toph was meticulously coaxing piles of stones into some sort of miniature fortress. Her features pinched in concentration as one of her knee-high towers started to wobble. It managed to stay upright, and satisfied with her progress, Toph turned her focus on Katara. 

Toph confidently strode over to where the waterbender was splashing around on the shoreline, in deep concentration of her own, as she was attempting some sort of whipping motion with a thin trail of water around her shoulders. She caught Katara by the arm and tugged her toward the structure. Bewildered, Katara let the line of water splatter on the rocks around her feet and let herself be dragged across the riverbank over toward Toph’s constructions.

“Assisten,” Toph waved her hand toward her fort.

“That’s help isn’t it?” Katara asked, catching Zuko’s eye to confirm her translation. He nodded, “Help with what?” she asked more to herself than the earthbender. Ghosting her fingertip over one of the beads of her hair loops in thought, Katara’s lips pursed. She knelt down to examine the structure. Her eyes caught a series of empty channels that encircled the little fort and ran between the towers. “Waterbend?” she asked Zuko.

“Aquaden,” he answered.

“Assisten aquaden?” Katara asked, watching the other girl’s pale eyes light up and the emphatic nod that accompanied it. With even more concentration than before, Katara guided a stream of water over the rocks and funneled it into the channels surrounding the fort. Completing Toph’s project with the moat she’d wanted and bringing an infectiously victorious gleam to the earthebender’s face. 

It made Zuko think of long, hot days on the beaches of Ember Island. Times where he and Azula raced the tides to build cities on the sand before the waves could consume them-badgering their mother for her handkerchief until she finally gave in so they could make a flag that fluttered in the breeze over their city. 

He padded back onto the shore and crossed to the base of one of the trees, stooping down to pick up a fallen twig with its leaf still attached. Zuko carried it over to the fortress. He wedged the twig on top of one of the stone towers, a ghost of a smile on his face as he rejoined Sokka in the water.

Sokka stared at him for a long moment before he spoke, “You know, I’ve never really understood it before-how Aang has always been so convinced you guys could be friends. But I think I’m starting to see it now.”

Chapter Text

Aang leaned against the ship’s side, he tapped his fingers against the railing and spun up tiny tendrils of air that twirled along the metal. He sighed and the tendrils swelled large enough to make the stationed guards flinch from their respectful distance.

“Avatar Aang,” General Iroh called from his lounger, “while I don’t mind the breeze you are generating, I’m afraid some of the crew do not share the same appreciation. Come away from the side please.” It was phrased as a gentle request, but Aang recognized it for the order that it was. 

The current terms of his confinement were mostly loose and agreeable. As long as he stayed in Iroh’s sight and followed the few, rather reasonable requests that were given he wouldn’t be in either variation of cuffs or locked below. That didn’t mean Aang’s patience wasn’t wearing thin with the current arrangements.

“And do what? Play another game of Pai Sho? Drink more tea? That’s all we’ve done for days,” Aang snapped, crossing his arms as he obediently returned to the seat next to Iroh. He sunk down on one of the thick cushions and picked at the golden threads woven through their decorative trim.

“I could source some reading material for you if you like, my nephew always keeps a small but diverse collection of playscrolls in his personal library.”

Aang wrinkled his nose, “Wait, he does? Really?” 

The general nodded, “His favorite is Love Amongst the Dragons.” The Avatar was hiding a snicker behind his hands, “Is it that surprising to you that my nephew has pastimes outside of tracking your every moment?”

“Sort of, actually. What else does Zuko like to do?” Aang sank deeper into his cushion, his restlessness settled for a moment. All his attention was fixed on the general. 

The general hummed, his hands folding over his protruding stomach, “Prince Zuko is quite accomplished for his years. Beyond being rather well-read and knowledgeable of the history and customs of all the nations, he also knows several languages. He’s well-versed in blade-wielding and bending, and under the right amount of duress plays a delightful solo on the tsungi horn.”

“That I wish I could see.” Aang grinned trying to play through the image in his head of Zuko with the horn, cheeks swollen and red from the performance, but he only drew a blank for that visual.

Iroh shook his head with a rueful sort of smile. “Believe me, Avatar Aang, you have a better chance of seeing a dragon than one of Prince Zuko’s performances.” It grew quiet between them, Aang’s restlessness returning almost as quickly as it had faded. “Do I take it you aren’t one for reading?”

Aang shrugged, “The temples had libraries of books and scrolls, but nomads prefer oral storytelling. It’s less to carry, and you get to bring more of it with you.” His light eyes darkened a little, “As long as you can remember, anyways.”

Iroh clicked his tongue gently, “I believe my nephew has literature sourced from the air temples, if you’d like to see them.”

“Sourced is just a nicer word for stolen, isn’t it?” Aang asked, stomach twisting at the thought of exactly how the sourcing of that literature had happened. The fate of the monks who’d written it and lovingly maintained it. 

“Would you prefer them left to decay over the last hundred years?” The question came in a cool tone.

“No, of course I wouldn’t.” Aang tugged his knees up to his chest. He let out a soft, long breath of air. “I guess I’d like to take a look,” he said.

“Very well, Avatar Aang, I’ll show you to my nephew’s cabin.” The general eased himself to his feet, groaning as he rolled the muscles through his shoulders. “This way.” He waved off the guards and led Aang below deck. They made their way down the passageways to a quieter, seemingly abandoned section of the ship. General Iroh stopped in front of one of the doors, beckoning Aang to follow him inside.

Pausing on the threshold, Aang’s eyes widened as he took in the mostly barren room. He’d been there once before, his first time meeting Zuko, but the chase hadn’t left much time for examining his surroundings. It wasn’t at all what he expected from a prince. Monks weren’t ones for worldly belongings, but even his room in the air temple had more personal touches than Zuko’s cabin. 

A simple, faded tapestry lined one of the metal walls. The Fire Nation flame. A chair with a sleep robe thrown over the back of it, awaiting Zuko’s return like everyone else on the ship. A set of empty, hanging brackets on the wall as if something decorative was supposed to be there, but was missing from the room. On the desk, Aang saw a few scraps of parchment with furious scrawls and ink stains around them. One of the few signs that the room was ever an inhabited space.

“I know I’ve said it before,” Aang began in a voice barely above a whisper, “but nothing else really matters to him at all, does it?”

The general hummed out a noncommittal sort of noise from the back of his throat, “Yes and no. My nephew has had a great deal taken from him in his young life, so he prefers the nonmaterial-what no one can take away from him.” He beckoned Aang the rest of the way into the room. 

Aang pressed his back into the cold metal of the door once it closed behind him. Unable to shake his unease and unwilling to disturb any of Zuko’s few belongings. “I know he was banished, but what else did he lose?”

General Iroh raised one of his bushy eyebrows, “That particular question takes us into quite personal territory, Avatar Aang. Truly that would be my nephew’s story to tell.” The boy’s gaze dropped to the floor between them. Quiet and fidgety again. Sighing, Iroh asked, “You truly wish to know?”

“I want to understand,” Aang said with a nod, bringing his eyes back up to meet Iroh’s.

The general sighed gently, gesturing to the chair before lowering himself onto the edge of Zuko’s bed. He waited until Aang was perched in the chair, and mostly free of his movements before he began, “For one, my nephew’s chances for anything resembling a normal childhood were lost before his birth, being born into the royal family.” Aang nodded. A role he was born into-something he was destined for was something he could understand better than most people could. “After we lost my son Lu Ten, his cousin, Prince Zuko lost any semblance of control over his future. He was made crown prince, and made to carry every weight that title bears.” 

Another experience Aang could relate to, being born as the Avatar had altered the course of his life. The pressures and scrutinies placed on him simply for who he was supposed to be and other people’s ideas for what it meant.

Iroh’s face sobered, “He wasn’t all that much older than you the day he lost-”

“Wait,” Aang cut the general off, “I think I’ve heard enough. You're right that it's Zuko's story. Maybe he'll tell me the rest of it himself one day.”

“Perhaps, one day he will."

Chapter Text

Aang sat on one of the loungers, holding one of the scrolls that Iroh had given him with reverence. The pads of his fingers traced along the simple, unadorned handles. He had to stop himself from holding his breath when he finally unfurled it. Parts of him had expected it to be so worn and faded with time that nothing could be made out, but he could read almost every word. 

The contents of the first scroll was a list of names, including his own, along with the dates and ages they’d arrived at the Southern Air Temple. Aang blinked away a stinging feeling in his eyes as he glanced over the familiar names. He sniffed, willing back a wave of tears building behind his eyes.

“Can I look at these in my room, please?” he asked, voice brittle.

The general stroked his beard. “Grief is the sort of companion who often is best entertained in the company of another, Avatar Aang,” he answered slowly. Obviously distressed by the answer, the boy bit his lip. “I will take you somewhere more private,” Iroh conceded. 

Eyes down and fixed on the scrolls cradled in his arms, Aang avoided any of the crew members' gazes. He followed Iroh to a small room and dropped into one of the cushioned chairs. He’d been in the room before, when he’d been chained to the chair and when he felt much braver about the situation than he did at that moment.

He unfurled the scroll again, curling himself around it to read. His fingers brushed across his name. It wasn’t anything he hadn’t already known about himself. He’d gotten to read the scroll once before, when he was around eight or nine and he’d pestered Gyatso enough about his origins to make the monk hand it to him just to stop the questions. 

A tear trailed down his cheek, threatening to leave a blotchy stain on the scroll until Aang swiped away the drop with the back of his wrist. He rolled the first scroll back up, and set his attention on the next. A collection of recipes. Egg custard tart. One Aang had already committed to memory. Tsampa. He could practically smell whiffs of the nutty flavor as if it was still wafting to him from the temple kitchens. Dumplings. The kind he blew on for a second or two, but never really waited long enough to put in his mouth and burned his tongue. His eyes watered more, words blurring in his vision.

There was a third scroll, but Aang couldn’t make himself unroll it. He glanced over at Iroh, but the general was conspicuously engaged in reading of his own to give Aang as much space as he could in the intimate room. Aang shifted the scrolls back to the table. He sniffled and blinked back the rest of his tears, as the clatters of the scrolls against the table roused Iroh’s attention. 

The general’s gaze flicked upward, one of his bushy eyebrows raised in an invitation to speak. The rate at which he abandoned his reading confirmed to Aang that Iroh had only been pretending to read for his benefit. “Those texts seemed to have struck a chord with you,” Iroh said, after Aang left the silence to grow between them for too long. Aang shrugged, biting his lip against the replies that wouldn’t fully form. “I imagine despite the passing of time, to you it feels like quite a recent loss.”

Aang’s nose wrinkled, “Kind of. It doesn’t feel like it’s been 100 years if that’s what you mean, but the world is really different now. So much has changed.” He pressed his chin into the tops of his knees. “Nations didn’t feel so divided back then.”

“How so?”

“Well, the nations all had their culture, but everyone wanted to share them-celebrate them. Not just study them for weaknesses and how to take them apart,” Aang gaze flicked back to the little collection of scrolls on the table between them. 

“Not entirely for weaknesses, I for one found the custard tart rather enjoyable. Even Prince Zuko asked for a second slice.”

“You tried it?” Aang’s eyes widened, his body uncoiling from the cushion, “Zuko too?” The general nodded, “Why?”

“Curiosity and long months at sea. Not to mention preparations for peaceful hospitality should you have decided to come with us willingly.”

“So, I was just supposed to give up and come have tea parties with custard tarts until Zuko handed me over to the Firelord?” Aang rolled his eyes, drumming his fingers against the chair padding again. The general let his shoulders rise and fall, wordlessly putting out one of his hands in a gesture of peace. He said nothing, apparently leaving Aang the silence in the room to grieve and brood as he saw fit. “Can I just go back to my room now?” he asked.

“If you would prefer, however, you would miss the music night if you chose that particular course of action.” 

“A music night?” Aang asked, “What for? Aren’t those usually to celebrate something? If you haven’t noticed, General Iroh, there’s nothing to celebrate right now.” Zuko was still gone, and their useless holding pattern wasn’t seeming to bring him back. 

“The men are growing restless and so are you, Avatar Aang. If nothing else you can consider it a chance to share and celebrate our culture with us.” Aang’s nose wrinkled, “What else better do you have to do with your time than grace us with your presence?”

Aang let out a humorless snort, “It sounds really appealing when you put it that way,” he glibbed. The general let his shoulders rise and fall, “Fine. I’ll come to the music night.”

True to his word, Aang even lended a hand to arrange chairs on an open portion of the deck that had been designated for the performances. As the sun started to set, he sank into a seat beside Iroh. The music swelled and so did the spirits around them. Despite his initial misgivings for the event, Aang found he was beginning to enjoy himself. He listened to the music and the stories behind it that Iroh told in hushed tones between the songs.

For a moment, he could lose his grief and worries in the songs. But the music abruptly petered off on sour notes, replaced with shouts and the grinding scrabbles of claws against metal as a large beast bounded onto the deck.

Chapter Text

Sokka sat on the shoreline, glowering as a particularly plump fish splashed its fins above the surface of the water. “I swear it’s taunting me,” he grumbled and clenched his hand tighter around his fishing pole. Zuko did his best to suppress a snort as the fish surfaced again, teasing Sokka with reflections of its shining scales and dodging circles around the hook. “You could assisten you know,” Sokka snapped.

Crouching down and breathing through the pull in his side, Zuko dipped his hand into the water. A gentle trail of steam spread from his fingers, heating it again so fog bloomed up above the surface. Zuko forced a deep breath through his nose. He ignored the pang in his ribs and watched as the water began to bubble and roil beneath the surface. “Net,” he said simply.

Sokka barely had time for the command to register and scramble for the net before the fish, attempting to escape the suddenly hostile environment of the river, launched itself out of the water again and tangled itself in the net. Beaming Sokka glanced over his shoulder at Zuko, “Have I mentioned I love having you on our team?” 

Zuko shrugged, pushed himself back up from the ground, and shook his hand to dry it off. He assumed that comment was Sokka’s stomach talking more than anything else, but even if it wasn’t he wouldn’t know how to respond.

He was saved the effort of continuing the conversation by the interruption of snapping branches and a deep roar through the trees. “That was not an agni sound,” Sokka announced.

“Ge,” Zuko confirmed, already scanning through the trees for the source of the noises. “There.” He pointed to where he could just make out the form of a rather large and dark, upright creature crashing through the branches. He had seen one before in a book, but the beast wasn’t native to the Fire Nation, and Zuko couldn’t begin to think of its name in any language.

“A platypus bear,” Sokka announced, “and it’s chasing someone. On closer examination, Zuko could make out the figure that seemed to be bobbing and weaving between the trunks of the trees and swipes of claws. “Neccen assisten!” [ Need help ].

Nodding at the broken phrase, Zuko held up a hand to gauge the spaces between the trees. There wasn’t enough distance between them for Sokka to scare the beast off with the boomerang, and the movements of the person being chased were far too erratic to ensure their safety. Toph and Katara had wandered too far along the river to hear the commotion, so they were on their own. And as much as it pained him to admit it, he was still in no state to go up against a beast that size.

It struck him that they did, however, have a bigger beast on their side.

“Bisem,” Zuko said to Sokka, though he could tell through the Water Tribe male’s dubious expression that he had forgotten the translation in the heat of the moment. 

“Going to need a little more than that, Buddy.”

Zuko gritted his teeth, “Yip. Yip.”

Sokka’s eyes went round, “Zuko, you are a genius and I love you.” He bolted toward the spot in the shade where Appa was lounging. The bison grumbled but obediently dipped his head to let Sokka scramble onto his back. “Yip yip,” Sokka said, rocketing them upward for a few seconds before angling down in the direction of the platypus bear.

A single roar was enough to send the beast scampering off between the trees. Grinning, Sokka slid off of Appa’s back and let the sky bison return to his lounging. “Are you okay?” he asked the man, who seemed oddly serene for someone who had nearly been platypus bear lunch. 

“Of course, there was no need to worry. I had my fortune told and Aunt Wu predicted I would have a safe journey.”

“Thainor futuriconversem sen excreti,” [Their future-talker is shit], Zuko muttered, having made it over to their side.

Though he didn’t understand the words, Sokka nodded in agreement of his sentiments, “It wouldn’t have been a safe journey if we didn’t rescue you.”

“And yet it you did and it was.” The man shrugged and bid them an airy farewell.

Sokka spat at the ground. “A town fortune teller? Great, just don’t let Karata hear about that,” he said, “She’ll drag us to that town or we’ll never hear the end of it.”

“Too late,” Katara announced brightly with her and Toph’s reappearance through the trees. “We’re going, Sokka. This Aunt Wu might be able to help us get Aang back.”

Zuko rolled his eyes. They had been over this far too many times already.  “Avatarem sen atno mainor botem. We don’t neccessen a futuriconversem ti conversen ehtat.” [ Avatar is at my boat. We don’t need a fortune teller to tell us that ].

It seemed Katara wouldn’t be so easily swayed that their time would be wasted in a visit to this teller of fortunes, and Toph wasn’t willing to give up her newfound alliance with her to speak against her. Zuko and Sokka begrudgingly trudged into town after them, collectively rolling their eyes as the attendant announced, “Aunt Wu is expecting you.”

“Did you hear that?” Katara called over her shoulder, already halfway through the door, “She’s expecting us.”

“Katara, he probably tells everyone who walks through the door that. It’s his job to set the mood for suckers,” Sokka groused and rested his hands behind his head, “But sure, the mystical old lady is probably so excited to meet you.” He elbowed Zuko on his uninjured side, silently chortling in a way that Zuko couldn’t help but join in.

“And why wouldn’t she be?” Katara snapped, her hands resting on her hips and her glare alternating between both of them. “You’re probably both just scared she’ll have nothing but bad things to say about you.”

Before the squabble could continue, an ornate door swung open. A grey haired woman stood in the doorway, the golden ornate pins in her hair catching the light and reflecting back across the room, “She’s right you know? Your life will be full of struggle and anguish, most of which is self-inflicted. I can see it all over your face.”

Sokka bristled. His hands curling into fists at his sides, “That’s it! Wise teller of fortunes or not, you don’t just get to go around insulting our friend’s scar!”