the avatar, and that one good firebender, lee

fire, part four

in the underground bunker, zuko expects azula to be by their father's side, but voices no surprise when he's proven to be wrong. ozai sits on his throne, drinking tea, and zuko, with the broadswords he took from his palace room, barges inside. his father, barely sparing a glance, greets with, "what are you doing here?"

the guards stand tall, eyes locked on the prince as he passes them by. the first step is tough, but, grappling his weapons by the hilts, he relents to the rage in his veins. his father, taken by his presence, glowers down at his son, the second interruption zuko has caused. but through it all, the prince bears it. "i'm here to tell the truth."

"during an eclipse?" ozai scrutinizes as zuko draws closer. he dismisses his guards nonetheless, and on their way out they linger at the sight of the boy with his two swords. "out with it."

but zuko doesn't; at least, not immediately. as ozai returns to his tea, spending his patience, zuko watches his father--the second time he's talked to him, much less seen his face since returning to the fire nation--with near-pity. pity for them, for the two of them, as father and son, and for azula, as family. his father, the fire lord, who burnt his son's face, tormented his daughter, cast his wife away; his father, who failed his own family, and, zuko believes, has already failed his own nation. and he sits, sipping his tea, oblivious to it all, bearing his own share of resentment for his own father. zuko pities it, the cycle of fathers and sons, of mothers and daughters, altogether turning pain into victory.

"out with it, zuko."

"you can't even call me son ," zuko remarks. ozai casts a dark look, warning the boy about his tongue. zuko's neck burns, as always, but with the pain he imagines his father feeling the same facing his own son.

"what is it you want to say?" ozai snaps impatiently, setting down his tea.

"azula lied. the avatar is alive," zuko begins and the fire lord stands upright at the news. before ozai can protest, the prince continues, "i didn't kill him. i protected him. and he's leading the invasion right now."

"what are you--get out of here, now!" ozai seethes, dismissing zuko with a wave of his arm. the prince doesn't budge. "get out, you ungrateful child! before i--"

"before you burn my face off?" zuko interrupts, biting down his yells. he squeezes the hilt of his sword tight. "i'm not done talking."

"you will be, or--"

zuko raises his sword. "or what?"

-------

"...and they get to go with the avatar, killing the fire lord and stuff!" feng complains, whining into his pillow.

"feng, please stop," jang mumbles from his own bed. in the bunk room, the crew and lieutenant of the oolong lizard spend another hour sulking in their beds—feng and jang, over hakoda kicking them out of the invasion; kook, daito, haku, and mara, over the still-missing zuko and iroh; and jee, over both terms with a bottle of his stashed beer.

just that morning they'd been told by hakoda that the teahouse wouldn't be following them into the invasion. we'd rather not risk anyone else getting hurt , hakoda had said, but they all knew—a crew of nonbenders, joining the bunch with little fighting experience altogether (yet an abundance of serving experience); the rejection was bound to happen.

"at least we got to help them at all," kook says from under her bedsheets. "i mean, we did give them a good start." they agree with a small hm .

"wait, what is that?" daito asks, sitting upright.

"again, with the big ears?" mara complains. "what do you hear n—"