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Ficlet: Marks
From a prompt for fic-promptly: "Zuko + Gaang: The moment he realised he actually liked these people."
Characters: Zuko, Aang, mini!Azula (kinda)
Rating: G/PG
Warnings: Reference to violence, genocide
The Avatar didn't seem so special, not like this.
Azula would've killed him, he knew--and he was an easy target, with his eyes closed and his tattoos glowing softly in the moonlight. But Father had said to capture the Avatar, and Zuko was not his sister, no matter how much he wished he were.
He was not as heavy as he'd expected. Perhaps he'd gotten stronger in his banishment, on the rough seas, without the amenities of the palace he'd never gotten used to anyway. Or perhaps the Air Nomads were a lighter people, with bones less dense so that their element could carry them. Not that there was a "them"--not anymore.
When the tutor had told them what had happened to the Air Nomads--what had been done to them, not just by his own people, but by his own family--his stomach yawned into a bottomless pit. While his four-year-old sister drew pictures of bald men on fire, he sketched empty temples in his head: temples where no one prayed, temples full of dead that no one could burn incense for. (Or...whatever it was Air Nomads did to honor them).
And he had wept.
And his father had known.
But a small part of him, even then, had been glad--no, relieved--that at least all the Air Nomads were gone. Because with all that loss, if one were left...
A small ache in his shoulder.
No. The Avatar was the hope of his people. No, of...of the world. Even without his people, he had friends--a family--who protected him from harm. Who would risk their lives to keep him safe. He was like his sister.
So why, when he saw the glowing tattoos out of the corner of his right eye, did he think of the mark over his other one?
Characters: Zuko, Aang, mini!Azula (kinda)
Rating: G/PG
Warnings: Reference to violence, genocide
The Avatar didn't seem so special, not like this.
Azula would've killed him, he knew--and he was an easy target, with his eyes closed and his tattoos glowing softly in the moonlight. But Father had said to capture the Avatar, and Zuko was not his sister, no matter how much he wished he were.
He was not as heavy as he'd expected. Perhaps he'd gotten stronger in his banishment, on the rough seas, without the amenities of the palace he'd never gotten used to anyway. Or perhaps the Air Nomads were a lighter people, with bones less dense so that their element could carry them. Not that there was a "them"--not anymore.
When the tutor had told them what had happened to the Air Nomads--what had been done to them, not just by his own people, but by his own family--his stomach yawned into a bottomless pit. While his four-year-old sister drew pictures of bald men on fire, he sketched empty temples in his head: temples where no one prayed, temples full of dead that no one could burn incense for. (Or...whatever it was Air Nomads did to honor them).
And he had wept.
And his father had known.
But a small part of him, even then, had been glad--no, relieved--that at least all the Air Nomads were gone. Because with all that loss, if one were left...
A small ache in his shoulder.
No. The Avatar was the hope of his people. No, of...of the world. Even without his people, he had friends--a family--who protected him from harm. Who would risk their lives to keep him safe. He was like his sister.
So why, when he saw the glowing tattoos out of the corner of his right eye, did he think of the mark over his other one?
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Also: oh, mini!Azula... And also mini!Zuko, though I have to say you give your Zuko a lot more credit at that age than I do, I think. But, hmm, he was I suppose a sweet kid - and I like the idea of him being solicitous enough even to wonder just how it was that the Airbenders used to honour their dead.
And just generally I love the (essentially canon!) idea of Zuko tearing himself up inside and thinking deep thoughts while heading off into a blizzard. Oh Zuko.
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