Throne of Ashes (Avatar: The Last Airbender Fanfic)

Stirring

"Zuko."

The soft voice—

Zuko stirred in his sleep, the nightmares rattling in his head of his father killing him under his grandfather's orders fading, his tossing and turning beginning to lesson.

"Zuko, dear. Wake up, please."

Zuko's eyes fluttered open, soft, black eyelashes brushing against his eyelids as he woke, then turned, the sleepiness giving way to confusion. "Mother?"

"Come now. I need you to rise from bed, Zuko dear, and come with me."

The young prince let out a sound indicating he remained halfway between sleep and wakefulness as his mother's gentle arms wrapped around him, coaxing him out of bed and to the door where a couple of soldiers waited. He reached his hands up to rub the sleep from his eyes and walked alongside her, her hand on his back coaxing him gently, yet he couldn't help but notice the lack of presence of his younger sister Azula.

After a bit—

"Where are we going?"

"To your grandfather's part of the palace," his mother said, her voice remaining soft and calm, yet—

Zuko's eyes blinked, the fog in his mind starting to clear, the nightmares resulting from what Azula said—

"Father's going to kill you."

The young prince froze, remembering how his sister returned, relating to him what grandfather said to their father in the throne room, that he was to be sacrificed so that Prince Ozai could learn the pain of losing one's first-born son. A sound escaped his throat, quaking as he froze.

"Zuko?"

He continued standing there, looking at the ground, confused why his mother, why Ursa, gentle as she'd always been, went along with that, and the fear grew.

"Zuko, we need..."

"No!" Zuko pulled away, the panic setting in, the desire to live setting in, his hands pushing himself away before he took off running down the hall, his words caught in his throat, not wanting to hear his mother say they needed to proceed to his death, his sacrifice.

Tears—

How was the wetness welling in his eyes, hot as his flames should be, and yet this felt like a harsh reminder that his flames paled in comparison to Azula's, that because of that—

A slight hiccup escaped as he tried wiping the offending heat away.

"No wonder they want to throw me away," the eleven-year-old continued through the halls. "But I keep trying. Honestly."

A sniffle came out, the sound of the soldiers that were with his mother calling out for him to come back, his mother as well, and then he took off again, using the voices to take him away from them, thinking the fate chosen for him cruel and unfair, as unfair as the luck of not being born with the same skill as Azula, let alone the curse of everyone saying he'd never bend until suddenly, he did.

But so too did Azula, and he paled to her bending filled with power and flames that burned so ever hot.

And then—

Zuko's eyes blinked, his tiny body straightening, feeling the characteristic nature of his father's flames flickering back and forth during the middle of the night as Ozai bent, but curiosity—

His feet drew him closer, his psyche drawn towards the fire as all firebenders were, but there in the back of his mind—

"Second flame," Zuko thought to himself. "It's like a dance, with that other flame dominating."

He moved forward, drawn by the bending rather than the bending urging him to flee, the air around him growing hotter and hotter, even hotter than any of the sparring matches he'd seen demonstrated for his sister, although in the back of his mind he remembered she found the sight boring.

Then, he saw the gold, the palace lit up by the dancing flames of—

Zuko's mouth dropped, confused to see the two men, his father and another going against it, but after closing and opening his eyes a few times Zuko realized the other person—

"Grandfather. Why are father and grandfather fighting?"

Zuko's eyes blinked.

"Grandfather wants me dead."

He knew that much from Azula.

"So father is..."

His mouth clamping together, realizing the idea of his father wanting to save him, the runt born first when he'd rather be rid of him made absolutely no sense.

"Both..."

Zuko's eyes widened, his mouth opening as a horrible thought crossed his mind.

"I ran away. Grandfather is angry," Zuko thought. "I made him angrier at father because it seems like father's not obeying." Zuko swallowed, then opened his mouth, wanting to call out, to say there he was, that he was sorry for running away.

For wanting—

"I'm not sorry," Zuko said. "I'm not sorry for wanting to live."

And then, they noticed him, his words having been loud enough, catching both men off guard, their heads turning to look at him.

He swallowed, realizing the folly of drawing the attention of the two men, expecting his grandfather's anger to rain down upon him, that he'd feel the flames that were obviously stronger than his father's, more deadly—

But instead—

Zuko covered his face with his arms as a fiery blast came from the direction of his father and then he felt pain as the flames bit painfully into his arm, a scream escaping from his mouth.

Everything in the next moments felt like a blur, the moments blending together, yet as he fought to remain concious—

Zuko, as he kept his eyes closed noted a scream of pain from his father at the same time someone or something drew the flames latched onto his arms away, yet the pain remained, his eyes filling with tears that he begged himself to not let fall, not wanting to look weaker than he already did, knowing full well what his father felt of weakness.

"Don't think you can get away from me, with a trick like that," he heard his grandfather speak as he heard his father groan.

And the tears came, his body trembling, a fever starting to build from the stress as he heard his grandfather step closer, ready to—

"Zuko?"

Zuko swallowed, confused at the unexpected softness in the man's voice.

"Come here, if you can."

Zuko nodded his head, stepping towards his grandfather, stumbling as he kept his arms covering his eyes despite the pain. "I don't want to see. I don't want to see them."

"Dear Zuko."

And then the floodgate opened, the eleven-year-old not expecting the man who wanted to kill him to call him dear. "Why? If he wants me dead, I'm not..."

He felt a hand on his forehead, gentle. "Why aren't you with your mother, where'd you be safe, dear child?"

Zuko lowered his arms, then teetered, confusion getting the better of him as tears continued to flow, the tears accompanied by silence as he didn't have the energy to yell despite the pain.

He never hit the ground, instead finding himself gently lifted into a strong pair of arms, cradled against the man's bare chest, his head resting there, falling into unconciousness as he heard his grandfather say, "Why can't Ozai understand how precious you are, Prince Zuko? More importantly," the man said, gently touching his chin to make sure Zuko heard the last part before falling completely into blackness, "Just as you are of Ozai's blood and flesh, child, you are of mine as well."