zuko's scar

another long day at ember island. and, following it, another night treading by its toes, softly creeping to the other end. the avatar, his friends, and their new addition—the dedicated prince, the ever-so-present firebender—sleep sound in the backyard of the royal family's abandoned beach house, all camped around a campfire. sokka sleeps first. katara and toph second. and, after a silent race between the avatar and his firebending master, aang finds himself meandering gazes between the midnight sky and zuko's backside, wondering if the light breaths rising up the boy's chest are that of deep sleep.

he finds out sooner than later. aang, still wondering, busies himself with minding the small insects flying to and fro when zuko, from his blanket, groans. aang, having nearly lulled himself to sleep, darts wildly at the sound. "zuko?" another groan. the firebender shifts in his blanket, raising an arm over his head. aang, with a hesitant breath, pulls the sheets off himself. "zuko? are you okay?"

toph awakes first, spotting aang stepping over sokka's sleeping backside to reach zuko. she, crawling carelessly over katara—it's a failed attempt, as she (accidentally, or perhaps not) jerks the water bender awake with her knee—follows in the avatar's approach, now accompanied by katara, who breaks away to nudge sokka and suki awake.

now with all five of them awake, they creep closer to the still-slumbering firebender, whose grunts have quieted down to small clenches of his jaw in his sleep. sokka, rubbing his eyes, says, hushed, "what, are we here to watch him sleep?"

before aang can explain, said firebender shifts once more, a shaky hand making its way to his own face. zuko's breaths turn desperate, now a racing attempt to breathe, and as his other arm, shakily, darts for his left eye, they all instinctively back away. but aang, regaining his place, asks tentatively once more, "zuko, are you okay?"

"it's a nightmare," katara informs. the prince utters a small hiss through his clenched teeth, drawing closer into himself. "should we wake him up?"

zuko stands tall, back facing his opponent and hardened eyes wandering through the awaiting crowd. he finds azula near the front, bearing no smirk nor frown; only an expectant gaze that warrants some worry. but he seeks from himself some of iroh's advice. just breathe. don't worry about her.

and he turns. but lining his next step, just as he takes it, crackles a tall pit of fire, encasing him before he can back away. he cries out, the red licks scratching and reddening, and he peeks through the haze desperately for a face—warm and fleeting, soft-eyed, his mother; ready to burst through and lay arms to ash to reach him once more. but she's vacant, and so is iroh, and so is azula; a lost crowd and all he finds is—"stand up. you disappoint me, zuko."

and he cranes his head higher, above the dying flames to meet his father, a frown deepening his face. but zuko lowers himself further, sinking flat on his knees. "i can't fight you."

his father sees it. the tears spill just beside the man's feet. zuko can't know what to expect.

"then you will learn."

ozai steps back, preparing his stance. but, just as he backs another, zuko reaches out, amidst all the gasps and crackles and dismay. his hands snatch his father's, the one palm a large warm mass weighing down the prince's fingertips. the fire lord's free hand flickers a bright orange ruthlessly; ozai resists, just once, and pulls away but zuko, eagerly meeting his eyes, draws the hand in.

"you need to learn," ozai insists. his hand stays limp in zuko's, growing hotter to the touch. but the boy holds on. "you need to—"

in a hurried breath—with a sob, a blink, a tear—zuko pulls his father's hand closer, closer, and settles it firm against his left cheek. the placement is just right, the temperature biding, and zuko bites down another cry as his father's hand, large and warm and offering, melts a heavy embrace on his skin. the boy sinks, slowly to the floor, and his father does the same, keeping his hand planted and shut.