Chapter Text
When Azulon said Zuko's punishment would come in the morning, he hadn't been lying.
The first thing Zuko got when he woke up was a knock at the door. And a servant told him Azulon had assigned him tasks to do throughout the palace. Along with calf lashings for his intolerant behavior yesterday. Both of which were to begin after a family breakfast.
So Zuko got dressed and headed to the dining hall. Sitting at the end of the table next to his mother. Azula and father were across. Azulon was at the head. It didn't take long for Azulon to briefly explain what happened last night.
"My foolish grandson will be working with the palace staff until the monsoon's over."
As well as Zuko's punishment.
"As well as seven calf lashings for disobedience," Azulon grumbled into his meal, like it was any other day of any other year. Zuko expected it, so he kept his head down and focused on his food. He heard his mother flinch and gently asked, "Father-in-law, if I may?" She waited, and proceeded once Azulon gave a gruff and exasperated nod. Ursa continued in a far more soothing tone. "Surely Zuko has learned his lesson. He's already injured. And it was a mistake common among kids. Seven lashes may be-"
"Seven lashes is what he will receive." Azulon grumbled, "He is royalty before he is a child. And royalty, my blood in particular, does not waste others' precious time on frivolous games." Azulon finished his meal and stood, "Now, I have far more important matters to attend to. Running a country in the middle of the retched storm for one."
Azulon left, talking to his advisors on the way. Ursa frowned, but nodded and returned to her food. Her hands slid over Zuko's as she whispered. "Sorry."
"It's fine, Mom..." Zuko mumbled, grateful and warm. It had been so long since his mother had worried over his well-being. He glanced at her and saw her concerned expression that she quickly hid behind a teasing smile, poking Zuko's nose tenderly.
Zuko smiled softly and glanced across the table.
Azula looked as though she wanted to vomit. She made the mocking motion of it and returned to her meal. Father just looked extremely disappointed.
Same old, same old. Nothing new there.
Except for the slight moment, Father's lips curled down in distaste. Ozai's gaze shifted to Azula, "So it was a fight... is that where you got those?"
Ozai's eyes narrowed on the cut on Azula's lips and the bruise on her cheek. Azula's eyes widened slightly, but she quickly recovered.
"I did not want to use fire and disturb the palace staff, but after I realized dear Zuzu wasn't sneaking in to cry about he storm, I used your teachings to promptly gain an advantage. Had the gaurds not stepped in I would have won handedly." Azula said, twisting her words, lies practiced in every syllable. Zuko frowned, biting back a retort. He couldn't really disprove her claim, so he didn't bother.
"Dear brother happened to..." Azula hesitated, but only briefly. "Sneak a shot or two in before I decided to use my fire. It won't happen again, Father."
"See to it that it does not." Ozai scowled and turned towards Zuko, no doubt noting the black eye, various scratches, and the bite mark on the back of his palm.
Zuko wouldn't be surprised if Ozai were comparing the injuries his two children sported, putting them on a scale of severity. Zuko expected to be at the heavier end, and figured that would give his father an excuse to add another punishment on his shoulders. Maybe more calf-lashings. Zuko wouldn't be surprised.
Instead, Ozai turned back to his food and scoffed. "If you need to resort to fire for such a thing, then you still have much to learn, daughter." Ozai scowled. "You'll spend today in the training hall. Li and Lo will be working on your basics. Is that clear?"
"But," Azula stopped herself at the barest hint of a frown crawling on Ozai's face. Azula straightened up and nodded. "Yes, father." She turned back to her breakfast, and Zuko watched her expression dim for a brief moment before it became utterly neutral. It was... weird. It gave Zuko an odd feeling. Zuko's mouth opened before he could stop himself, the words, 'it was my fault' on the tip of his tongue.
But before he could speak, Ozai grabbed Azula's plate and slid it away.
"Now," Ozai said, and it was like the air had been sucked out of Zuko's lungs. He watched, stunned to silence, as Azula's eyes widened slightly, before a determined gleam took her eyes, "Of course, Father." She said, as if it were as simple as that. Azula hopped off her chair and left the dining hall, steps even and without worry. She headed down the halls.
"Have fun washing dishes with the help, Zuzu." She waved dismissively on the way out, and Zuko could only watch her go. His eyes were wide and lingering. He... stopped. Completely. He turned back to her plate, sitting full at the breakfast table. It was a plate. Just a plate.
"Ursa," Ozai said, and Zuko barely heard it. There might as well have been an ocean between the words said and his brain processing them. "I'll be leaving."
Zuko could only stare at the plate of food. A dumb plate. It was only a plate. An expensive one, Fire Palace and all, but still, Zuko didn't know why...
"See to it that our son does not embarrass us any further."
He couldn't let it go.
"Otherwise," Ozai's words came to a halt as a cup shattered. Zuko heard steam start to hiss, and as it passed his eyes, he realized the steam was coming from his hand. His bloody hand. The cup he'd been holding had shattered in its grip. Tea was dripping down his fingers and starting to hiss and bubble.
"Have something to say, son?" Ozai raised a brow when Zuko didn't lessen his glare. But he swallowed his anger. His temper, which his uncle always said would get him in trouble. He reigned in his fire-bending and bitterly swallowed a retort. Zuko's teeth ground against each other and muttered. "No, father..."
Zuko could feel his mother's tension next to him; and knew he had to shut up and be quiet. He had to. So Zuko forced his gaze down to Azula's plate.
It was just a stupid plate.
"Not to you," Zuko said, and he could feel his father's eyes linger on his head. But where Zuko would have been filled with terror and dread in his first life, he had already forgotten his father's eyes and turned his gaze to the whole plate. So Azula didn't get to eat breakfast... So what. That was fine. Expected even. Training required some form of discipline. Even Azula wasn't exempt entirely from that.
Azula had to go to one impromptu training session hungry. That was nothing. Zuko had nearly starved in the Earth Kingdom. Missing breakfast was easy.
And yet...
He couldn't let it go.
"I see." Zuko's father spoke, and Zuko remembered Ozai was still there. Zuko looked up and saw his father appraising him, lips thin but eyes curious. But it passed soon, and Ozai turned to leave. "You will receive three extra lashes. I suggest you work on your control in the future to avoid such embarrassing displays of inadequacy."
And Ozai left, just like that. The second Ozai had turned down the hall to watch over Azula's training, no doubt. Zuko's mother started fussing over the cut on his hand, wiping down the blood with a napkin, as if it was the only thing she could do to stay calm. "Zuko, don't..." Zuko saw his mother's hand tremble, and how her face barely kept concern and fear away.
"Don't ever do that again." She scolded, her breath coming out in a desperate plea. "Don't... don't test your father, Zuko. He's not... a kind man."
"I know," Zuko said dimly, and besides the surprise on his mother's face, Zuko didn't note anything else. He looked down as she pulled him into a hug. Maybe for herself as much as for him, and Zuko leaned into it. Zuko closed his eyes and melted into the warm and caring embrace he'd missed so much, for years. He'd missed his mother's hugs.
"I'm sorry..." Zuko mumbled, because he hadn't meant to worry his mom. He shouldn't have upset her over something so simple. Ozai wasn't a kind man. A lifetime ago, Zuko never would have believed it. Now it was apparent. It was blatantly obvious.
"It's fine, my little turtle duck... just don't..."
Ozai wasn't kind.
"Don't do it again."
Zuko wondered how he'd missed that the first time.
The staff work was easy. Zuko actually enjoyed spending time with some of the maids and servants. They danced on eggshells around him, but it was nice to see what they were like. Most had been fired or 'let go' when Ozai came into power, a cleaning of house. Azula did the same thing at the comet.
Sometimes Zuko thought it was weird. Talking to people who might have died in his old life.
Sometimes he didn't care. He was a dead person too. He'd died. The only difference was that he remembered it. Aang, too, when he eventually woke up.
Until then, Zuko was content to wash dishes with the kitchen staff. He'd had enough practice in Ba Sing Se to last a lifetime. He cleaned as his mind wandered. Back to the stupid plate. Back to his father's little cruelties the first time. So far, they were minuscule in comparison to the grandfather. Still, they were there, and for the first time, Zuko had seen Azula targeted.
For training. That made sense. For training.
If Zuko had been punished for existing in his first life, he wondered how often Azula had been corrected during her training.
Or had she been so perfect it never came up, and this time Zuko had managed to mess it up for her.
Zuko wasn't sure.
He stopped trying to think about it at some point between feeding the messenger hawks and folding laundry. He could believe in circles all he wanted; it didn't matter. It just made him angry, and it wasted time. Hell, it would probably get him into worse trouble if his temper kept acting up. Stupid...
Zuko was being so stupid. He thought he'd gotten better at being more zen-like. He thought Uncle had taught him how not to be used by his anger.
Yet now that he was back in his 8-year-old body, seeing things through clearer, more comprehensive eyes, it was like all that dumb meditation and tea time had flown out the window. Zuko closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He missed Uncle. Uncle would know what to do. Uncle would tell him what to do. What to focus on. Instead of a plate.
Or the smallest recesses of his mind that whispered how he was overreacting. Looking for something that wasn't there. Hoping for it to be there.
When in all truth, it just wasn't.
At the end of the day, Azula had been forced to skip breakfast and do a little extra training.
That barely constituted a punishment.
"What am I doing..." Zuko sighed to himself as he scrubbed a stupid plate. Like Azula's stupid plate. Zuko frowned. 'It's just a stupid plate.' That part of his mind sounded like Roku, and Zuko had to fight not to listen too hard. Especially when it pointed out how the punishments Zuko faced in his last life were far worse. Hell, his current punishment was worse.
Zuko would've killed to skip breakfast and train stupid Sozin style for a couple of hours. Instead, he was walking around with raw and itchy calves. The Fire lashings were still fresh and raw. One of the sages had done it, and they hadn't been merciful. Azulon didn't take kindly to that kind of stuff.
So Zuko's calves were red and stung with every movement. Zuko wished he could have worn shorts. If he didn't stand on one foot too long, it was easier to ignore. But shorts would have been a lot better. Now it felt as if Zuko stayed still for too long, his calves would stick to his pants, and rip off when he inevitably moved on to the next chore.
"You're quite good at this, little prince." One of the palace staff said as Zuko brewed tea and helped around the kitchen. Zuko shrugged. "Thanks."
It was nothing. Zuko had been a server for months back in Ba Sing Se. He knew his way around the kitchen. And the stables. Feeding Eel Hounds was a tad more dangerous than feeding an ostrich horse, but the steps were the same. Zuko did it easily.
Zuko finished most of his chores easily.
And by the end of the day, the palace staff seemed a lot less tense around him. Zuko wasn't sure why, so he asked, and the head maid, an old woman who had probably seen his grandfather in diapers, chuckled. "Well, besides you being oddly attuned to common labor." She murmured almost suspiciously, and Zuko didn't say anything one way or another.
"It's because you didn't complain or threaten the palace staff." The head maid, Zansi, snorted. "You should have seen Prince Ozai and Crown Prince Iroh. They both got this punishment at one point in time. The crown prince was... displeased. And Prince Ozai complained endlessly." Zansi shook her head and smiled. "You're far more mature in comparison."
That was a lie. Zuko really didn't want to take credit for such a comparison, especially to Uncle. Zuko would've complained in his first life if he'd gotten this punishment. Suppose he was actually eight years old. Instead, it took months as a fugitive and a lower ring 'peasant' to beat that out habit of his chest.
The fact that he was okay with it now was just a matter of dumb luck. He didn't deserve the praise Zansi gave. But he didn't want to dismiss her, either.
So he just ignored it.
"Oh... that makes sense." Zuko eventually shrugged, finishing his work. It was dusk by the time he was done, and he said goodbye to the rest of the servants and said he'd see them tomorrow. Something that seemed to surprise them more than his apparently natural talent for 'peasant' work. Azula would have a field day when she heard.
'Oh, I always knew you weren't suited for royalty. At least we've found your real talent, Zuzu. Maybe you could be my handmaid.' Or something like that.
"Maybe she'll take a day off..." Zuko sighed as he trudged along the quiet halls. The storm outside was battering against the backdrop. On the way, he heard someone whisper excitedly that the 'little prince is growing up just like Prince Lu Ten.' And that was a compliment Zuko cherished. It immediately made his day a little better. Made it feel like he was at least doing something, anything right—at least a little.
"Wonder what campaign he's on..." Zuko mused. This was around the time Lu Ten began receiving promotions. Around this time, people started speaking of Lu in awe and excitement. The savior of Jasmine Isles. The bright future of the Fire Nation. The kind Crown Prince. Ordinary people and soldiers alike adored Lu Ten—his bravery, heart, honor, and loyalty.
Zuko was the same. He'd admired Lu Ten since he was a little boy. It's why Zuko was so excited when Lu Ten took him to Piandao to learn swordsmanship.
It's why Zuko refused to pick any other weapons besides the dual Dao blades. Despite being so bad the first couple of times, he'd nearly cut his thumbs off. Zuko had been so stubborn that Piandao eventually gave in and let him learn the Dao blades.
And Zuko learned them eagerly. Endlessly. He was happy to. They were the weapons Lu Ten used. And Lu Ten was... he was...
The perfect crown prince.
When Zuko had been the crown prince in his first life, and had been foolish enough to believe that meant something to his father. Lu Ten was the memory Zuko tried to emulate. Lu Ten would have been strong and unwavering. Lu Ten would have been a hardworking and honorable person. Lu Ten would have stood up in that war room and fought for the 41st. For his people who believed in their nation.
But Lu Ten also probably wouldn't have gotten half his face burned off and banished, so maybe it was best Zuko wasn't the crown prince this time.
"Soon..." Zuko sighed, shuffling to his door. Soon, Lu Ten and Uncle would return from the war, and Zuko would be able to ask Uncle for advice. Non-Avatar Roku advice. Uncle would know what to do. And the more Zuko mulled and dreaded over Azula, the more he wanted to tell Uncle everything. Everything.
Because Uncle would know what to do. He'd have some dumb proverb that made no sense and a tea joke at hand. The best part was that Zuko wouldn't have to try hard to make Uncle believe it was real. Uncle was the most spiritual person Zuko had ever met. Spirits...
He talked about them all the time... all the time... so much...
Okay, Zuko wasn't actually looking forward to re-hearing all of Uncle's spirit lessons and proverbs. But he'd deal with it if it meant Uncle would help.
Because Zuko needed help. Badly. He didn't know what to do. Uncle would know what to do. Better than Zuko could ever hope to. Zuko needed help.
And sleep.
Zuko's calves were killing him.
"Soon." Zuko yawned and made it to his bedroom door. Azula's was closed; she must be asleep already or resting at least. Zuko opened his door, but before he could step inside, he heard his mother call out from the halls. "Zuko, there you are."
Zuko turned and saw his mother approach with bandages and burn cream. She sighed softly, "Sit down, little turtle duck. Let me see your wounds."
"I... thanks, Mom." Zuko smiled quietly, walking into his room and sitting on his bed so his mom could treat his calves. She crouched down and used the burn medicine to wrap the wounds. Zuko hissed as the cold medicinal cream touched his raw skin, but relaxed after it started to feel soothing. His mother chuckled. "How was your time with the palace staff?" She asked. "Were they helpful?"
"They were," Zuko smiled. "Zansi had me do sheets and kitchen stuff. And Roko and Soa showed me around the servants' quarters and other things."
"That's wonderful, dear, I'm glad you had fun." Ursa smiled quietly, taking out a different ointment and applying it to the scratches and scabs still on his skin. Ursa asked. "Did you say thank you?"
"Of course," Zuko said, confused as Ursa placed a bit of soothing ointment on his black eye and bruised nose. Zuko winced, "Why wouldn't I?"
"No reason, my little turtle duck." His mother smiled and lightly tugged Zuko's head down, planting a light kiss on his forehead despite his protests.
"Mooom!" He whined in a manner so childish that he wanted to laugh. He missed this. Being a little brat. Rubbing off his mother's goodnight kisses, as if they would be seen by Azula the next day. He hadn't done any of that in years. He forgot what it felt like...
He forgot what a lot of things felt like.
It was almost comical how quickly his light smile died. His expression fell as he felt his mother's worried and concerned eyes fall on his face.
"Are you okay, Zuko?" She asked, worry plain on her face despite Zuko's best efforts to play it off. "I'm fine, Mom." He said, shaking his head as he tried to think of an excuse. Spouting off the first stupid thing that popped into his head to explain his reaction. He saw the novel on his bedside desk and ran with it. The current one his mother and him would read together by the turtle duck pond. The last book of a three-part series. It was a good story, about a toad and a wanderer.
If not depressing at times.
"Just thinking of the novel we're reading. It doesn't seem like it'll have a good ending." Zuko sighed, a depressed chuckle escaping his lips. He already knew the ending, vaguely. He was pretty sure the wanderer died, but that didn't really matter. For now, he used it as an excuse for his sour mood. "Azula will probably enjoy it more if it end bad." Zuko let out a tiny laugh. "I doubt she liked Kaze."
Zuko wasn’t too surprised when his mother didn’t laugh along. Sokka was the joke guy, and Toph had always said Zuko’s jokes were 'in desperate need of saving.’ Point proven.
But Zuko was surprised when she looked at him not just with the concern and worry he expected, but with a hint of confusion.
"I... suppose she wouldn't?" His mother asked... like she didn't know the answer. She tilted her head and fidgeted with her robes. Like she was uncertain.
"I'm... actually not sure what you mean, Zuko. Is Azula the reason you're so upset? Did she bother you during your chores today? Is that what you're trying to tell me?" Ursa asked worriedly. Zuko blinked in surprise, his eyes wide as he shook his head. "What, no," he denied.
A lie. Sort of. Azula was partly why he was upset, having been sent back to kill her after all, but that wasn't what he'd been trying to say.
He'd just been trying to switch the topic, and Soldier's Tune was the first thing that came to mind. It was the book on the counter. And they weren't finished with it. But it was also one of the books that he'd seen in Azula's room, so he thought...
Well, he just thought his mother would know. That Azula read it. Or was reading it. Or was planning to read it. Or that she had the book in her room. Or just... Zuko honestly thought his mother had been the one to give Azula the book for a second, but he guessed he was wrong.
"I just feel bad, I guess..." Zuko almost said she had a copy of the book in her room, but stopped himself. Kind of hard to explain that one. "I think she burned her copy last night." Zuko shrugged, hoping his half-fib didn't come across as too suspicious.
To be fair, Zuko was reasonably sure that Azula had burned her copy last night, or gotten pretty close to it. Zuko saw books on fire in the midst of their fight.
Zuko didn't know which ones, but he still felt bad about it.
And thankfully, the deflection worked. Sort of.
His mother still looked at him with a raised brow, and disbelief was hinted at her features.
But surprise also flickered across her face. One that distracted her as she sighed. "I... I didn't know that." She admitted and stood up. "Tomorrow I'll try to see if there are any copies in the library for her. Thank you for telling me, Zuko." Ursa smiled softly. "Now, do you need anything else? Or has palace work tired you out enough for one day?"
"Huh? I don't know, maybe a little." Zuko shrugged, and shook his head. "No, I don't need anything else. Thanks for patching me up, Mom. Good night."
"...Goodnight, Zuko." His mom said, walking towards the door. Zuko watched her open the door and turn to leave down the halls, and something tugged at his mouth. "Mom?" He asked, but he didn't know why.
Ursa turned back halfway through the door, "Yes, Zuko? Is something wrong?"
"Uh..." Zuko stalled, trying to think of something. He eventually turned to the book on the side of his bed. There was a second book next to the one they were reading. Cross Bones. The previous novel they'd read. He kept forgetting to take it back to the royal library. He picked it up and held it out quietly.
"Can you give this to Azula?" He asked, watching his mother's face more closely. Her eyes. Her mouth. Her underlying expressions and thoughts.
"She might want something to read tonight." He shrugged, watching as his mother wavered. Briefly. Only a second. Before a tender smile crossed her lips. "Okay, Zuko. I'm glad you're trying to get along with your sister." She walked closer and grabbed the novel, placing a gentle hand on top of his head.
"It's sweet of you, Zuko," his mother said, smiling. "I know how much of a handful she can be."
Zuko chuckled softly. "Understatement of the year," he sighed, but still. His mom was smiling again. That hesitance hadn't stayed in her face. It was gone.
"Thanks, Mom." Zuko sighed, a relieved breath escaping his lips, as his mother smiled and kissed him on the head one last time before walking out. Zuko shook his head as he rubbed his forehead idly, closing his eyes as he prepared to go to sleep, before he heard a doorknob twisting unsuccessfully next door. He blinked, sitting up quietly.
Had she...
Had she not known that Azula locks her door at night?
"Azula, dear," he heard his mother ask softly, and Zuko was on his feet before he could think. Sneaking towards his door as he watched his mother through the slight opening. He saw her hold her fist at the door, hesitantly at first, before knocking gently.
"Azula." She said, "I have something your brother wanted to give you. Can you open the door?" His mother asked, and Zuko observed. The door eventually clicked open, and Azula poked her head out, scowling. The cut on her lip was scabbed and cracked. "What's the occasion, mother?"
"Lovely to see you too, dear." Ursa sighed, as if she were tired yet resigned to the coming conversation. "Zuko told me your book collection might have been burnt."
"When he broke into my room and tried to steal my hairpin. Yeah, I remember." Azula muttered, her eyes narrow. "What does the loser want now?"
"Azula, that isn't a nice way to talk about your brother." Ursa frowned, but continued nonetheless. She held out a novel. "And he wanted to give you this. In case you wanted something to read tonight." Ursa said, and Azula's initial reaction was shrouded, but looked close to surprise.
"He... gave me a book?" Azula frowned, "My sheets were worth more than most houses, and he's offering a used book as a peace treaty. Secondhand, even."
"Please don't think of everything based on their value to you, daughter. He's trying to make nice." Ursa sighed, holding out the book still. "Tomorrow, I'll see about getting you replacements for the other books. Can you give me a list of what you burnt?"
"I didn't burn them! He started it." Azula snapped, but otherwise watched the book in Ursa's hands like it was a trick. Azula scanned Ursa's face one more time, suspiciously almost, before she reached out and grabbed the book. Azula scanned the title and scoffed. "I finished reading this one two months ago. Is Zuzu still on it? What a baby."
"Young lady. That isn't how you..." Ursa sighed and pinched her nose. Closing her eyes, Ursa took a deep breath. "Never mind. The list?"
"I'll have it by tomorrow, mother." Azula rolled her eyes, tucking the book under her arm. Azula stopped at the doorway, lingering for half a second. Azula waited a second, then another. And a second after, she seemed to get mad, but bit it down behind a scowl and a razor-sharp tongue.
"Well, this was fun, mother," Azula said without a hint of sincerity. "But I was training this morning, and father wants me well rested for tomorrow. So someone can stop embarrassing our family."
Azula crossed her arms and rolled her eyes, "Tell Zuzu if he wanted to give me such a shoddy offering, he should have done it himself." Azula scoffed. "Instead of making you come all the way out here to do it."
"That isn't what he was,," Ursa started to say, before pinching her nose and shaking her head. "Never mind. I can't with you, young lady. I'll be by to pick up the list in the morning. Try not to get into any more trouble." Ursa turned and left down the halls. Her footsteps faded as Azula glared at her retreating back.
Zuko watched through the crack of his door, silently. He didn't remember how Azula and his mother used to interact with each other. Mostly, he just recalled Azula's passing barbs and Ursa's quiet, patient, and tired attempts to reprimand her. To stop her cruelty or high sense of superiority. It never worked.
Usually, Azula would just fight and start petty little arguments that never went anywhere. But Ursa had tried nonetheless, tried to teach Azula to be kind.
It never worked.
That's how Zuko remembered it.
He didn't remember seeing Azula grind her teeth after one of their talks, or fights, or whatever he'd just watched. He didn't remember seeing her fingers dig into the book under her arm before she huffed and stalked back into her room. He didn't remember her uttering something under her breath as she slammed the door shut behind her. Loud.
Why...
It was storming thunder outside, and yet somehow that door slammed louder than all of it.
Why did that feel different.
Zuko eventually closed his door, sitting back against it as the storm rattled his window, rain slamming against the glass. He looked at the desk as lightning flashed outside, highlighting the medical supplies his mother had left behind. Zuko stared at them, long and hard. Something was different. Zuko couldn't recall feeling this way from his first life. About Azula. About his mother. About the two of them.
What else...
Zuko really needed his uncle back. If not his temper, then his impulsiveness was going to get him killed. Zuko needed help, and he needed it badly.
What else did I miss.
Because when Zuko rushed over to the medical basket and snuck back into the halls, he already knew he was just going to make everything worse.