Man, girl, you really really really want me to write Zuzu with a bum leg, don’t you?
“Well look at this, enemies and traitors all working together,” Azula sneered. Zuko gritted his teeth. “I’m done. I know when I’m beaten. You got me. A princess surrenders with honor.”
When the fire hit him in the leg, he stared at his sister in abject disbelief. He wasn’t dead. He wasn’t dead.
Then the pain hit and he almost blacked out. The smell of burned flesh made his stomach roil, and the way he had been dwelling in his memories lately, it shouldn’t have surprised him that the smell pitched him right back into them.
He heard screaming, and it took him a while to realize it was him.
His uncle’s arms were around him, and he could hear his breath in his ears, so close to a sob on every exhale.
He blinked hard against the firelight, and in front of the spots in his eyes and the tears filming across them, he could see the Water Tribe girl’s feet as she came closer. “Nononono, go away!”
“Nephew,” Uncle whispered urgently, hands bending away the fires still burning on his flesh and clothes. Zuko grabbed for his wrist and couldn’t make himself let go.
“Zuko, I can help!”
“No!” he shouted, thrashing. The movement sent a wave of agony up from the burn. Uncle hugged him tighter, one armed. Hesitantly, she moved closer, streaming the water out of her waterskin Sparks flew from his free hand, but he couldn’t aim, and he couldn’t gather them together into flame. “Leave!”
The feet stopped advancing. She backed up and stopped, backed up and stopped, and then turned, and left with the Avatar.
He panted. He thought he was going to black out.
He thought it would be a good thing if he did.
~*~
Sometimes he thought he was thirteen again. His uncle held water to his lips, and kept him warm. It was familiar.
But that wasn’t familiar.
Sometimes, he could feel his uncle scraping away putrid flesh and searing the wound, and he thought he must be dreaming, or lost in delirium again.
“Azula always lies.”
Uncle’s snore cut itself short as he was jerked out of his doze. “What was that?”
Zuko opened his eyes, glazed and fever-bright, and turned them on his uncle. “Azula always lies.”
“Almost always.” He held even more water to his nephew’s lips and swept Zuko’s hands out of the way when he tried to push it back.
~*~
The morning the fever broke, Zuko pushed himself up on his shoulder and leaned against the crumbling wall, tossing off the half-eaten blankets his uncle had found somewhere, but as soon as he tried to stand, his uncle was at his side, pushing him down again. “Rest, nephew. You have been very sick.”
“I’ve had enough resting!” he snapped back, bracing himself against the wall.
But as soon as he tried to get his leg beneath him, he found there wasn’t any leg there.
“Rest nephew, recover your strength.”
“Recover my strength?” he yelled, knocking bits of plaster loose from the wall. “What about my leg?”
Iroh shook his head.
~*~
“But I don’t feel any shame at all! I’m as proud as ever!”
“Prince Zuko, pride is not the object of shame, but its source. True humility is the only antidote to shame.”
Zuko looked away. “Well… my life has been nothing but humbling lately.”
Uncle glanced to the side and then back. “I have another idea. I will teach you a firebending move that even Azula doesn’t know,” he paused, eyes glittered wickedly, “because I made it up myself!”
~*~
Hours later, Zuko found himself practicing the movements and letting his energy flow.
Zuko hurt his leg on the run and it won’t heal 1/?
“Well look at this, enemies and traitors all working together,” Azula sneered. Zuko gritted his teeth. “I’m done. I know when I’m beaten. You got me. A princess surrenders with honor.”
When the fire hit him in the leg, he stared at his sister in abject disbelief. He wasn’t dead. He wasn’t dead.
Then the pain hit and he almost blacked out. The smell of burned flesh made his stomach roil, and the way he had been dwelling in his memories lately, it shouldn’t have surprised him that the smell pitched him right back into them.
He heard screaming, and it took him a while to realize it was him.
His uncle’s arms were around him, and he could hear his breath in his ears, so close to a sob on every exhale.
He blinked hard against the firelight, and in front of the spots in his eyes and the tears filming across them, he could see the Water Tribe girl’s feet as she came closer. “Nononono, go away!”
“Nephew,” Uncle whispered urgently, hands bending away the fires still burning on his flesh and clothes. Zuko grabbed for his wrist and couldn’t make himself let go.
“Zuko, I can help!”
“No!” he shouted, thrashing. The movement sent a wave of agony up from the burn. Uncle hugged him tighter, one armed. Hesitantly, she moved closer, streaming the water out of her waterskin Sparks flew from his free hand, but he couldn’t aim, and he couldn’t gather them together into flame. “Leave!”
The feet stopped advancing. She backed up and stopped, backed up and stopped, and then turned, and left with the Avatar.
He panted. He thought he was going to black out.
He thought it would be a good thing if he did.
~*~
Sometimes he thought he was thirteen again. His uncle held water to his lips, and kept him warm. It was familiar.
But that wasn’t familiar.
Sometimes, he could feel his uncle scraping away putrid flesh and searing the wound, and he thought he must be dreaming, or lost in delirium again.
“Azula always lies.”
Uncle’s snore cut itself short as he was jerked out of his doze. “What was that?”
Zuko opened his eyes, glazed and fever-bright, and turned them on his uncle. “Azula always lies.”
“Almost always.” He held even more water to his nephew’s lips and swept Zuko’s hands out of the way when he tried to push it back.
~*~
The morning the fever broke, Zuko pushed himself up on his shoulder and leaned against the crumbling wall, tossing off the half-eaten blankets his uncle had found somewhere, but as soon as he tried to stand, his uncle was at his side, pushing him down again. “Rest, nephew. You have been very sick.”
“I’ve had enough resting!” he snapped back, bracing himself against the wall.
But as soon as he tried to get his leg beneath him, he found there wasn’t any leg there.
“Rest nephew, recover your strength.”
“Recover my strength?” he yelled, knocking bits of plaster loose from the wall. “What about my leg?”
Iroh shook his head.
~*~
“But I don’t feel any shame at all! I’m as proud as ever!”
“Prince Zuko, pride is not the object of shame, but its source. True humility is the only antidote to shame.”
Zuko looked away. “Well… my life has been nothing but humbling lately.”
Uncle glanced to the side and then back. “I have another idea. I will teach you a firebending move that even Azula doesn’t know,” he paused, eyes glittered wickedly, “because I made it up myself!”
~*~
Hours later, Zuko found himself practicing the movements and letting his energy flow.
~*~