Chapter Text
Zuko had an air about him.
It wasn’t explicitly noticed by most people, but if you stood and stared for a second, out of the corner of your eye you’d get a sense there was something off. There was something not quite right and yet the world seemed perfectly normal. It was- it was something. When Zuko was young, it manifested in slightly different ways. Just barely noticeable.
His mother being able to hide him fully under a tucked sleeve. Falling out of a kata again again again but skin remaining barely touched. Limbs just slightly longer and thinner than they had a right to be at that age.
‘It’s the royal blood ,’ some whispered in the streets. ‘ He was a sickly child, it’s rather par the course ,’ others tittered behind closed doors.
Once Azula was born there was a clear difference. She was more powerful, more eye catching, more, more, more . Whereas Zuko was quick emotions, rash actions, flitting through halls, laying quietly with his mother, Azula was bright. She burned with quick wit and prodigious skills. They were at odds, the siblings. Zuko was the embers of a fire. Gentle power that flared and never quite went out. Azula was the wildfire. She burned fast and hard and was seen by everyone.
Zuko grew jealous ‘ why can’t I do the moves it’s wrong wrong wrongwrong ’ and threw himself into anger with a vigour of a child who wanted desperately- and fell.
Mother was gone ‘ Azula lies but mother is gone ’
And when Uncle Iroh came back, war torn and grief clinging like a child to his robes (a child that was no longer alive) and saw his nephew (tired and desperate but never quite extinguished) he connected with him. Slowly but surely, gaining trust. Gaining love (no matter how his nephew hid it).
Said ‘What if you can’t use your bending?’ and waited. Waited and drank his tea, patiently letting his second son nephew come to him instead. ‘I think I have a teacher for you. One that uses steel.’
After burning and stressing and continual taunts from Azula about failure failure failure Zuko agreed. He said it defeated, but he agreed. He was now a student of the sword.
After that. Well. The something crept into his every movement. He walked with a fluid grace that made it seem like he was floating. There was the feeling that if you didn’t focus on his legs and strides you’d become convinced he wasn’t walking at all, but gliding by some unseen force. It only made his offness worse.
Life went on. The palace bustled, Iroh grieved, Ozai raged. Azula and Zuko twisted and burned and grew in strength and set a pattern. That was, until the Day came.
Screams.
Fire filling his sight whispers from the stands pleading pleading pleading no father please don’t I can’t helpitit’smyway -
And then.
Silence.
Zuko woke up. Nothing was familiar, and he swayed, swayed, swayed .
Stumbling, ‘ when was the last time his grace betrayed him ’ and found the door. Navigating poorly, depth perception shot, he found the stairs. Grasping at the railing, he made his way up, not knowing where he was ‘ what happened with Father where am I why is my eye- ’ and pushed over the light cover.
He stood, shaky, with the slight embers of his soul singing with the pain and-
Blue.
Blue eclipsed his vision entirely.
He shattered.