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Zuko wasn’t scared of many things.
As a child he had been fearful and anxious, but over the years he had learned to steel himself. He swallowed down any fear that rose, and eventually it stopped rising at all.
Now there were really only a few things that scared him.
One thing really…
One person.
But that person was far, far away from him, behind mountains and palace walls.
After the invasion, Zuko was relieved that the Avatar had fled far away from the fire lord, because that meant he could flee too.
He sat on the floor of the war balloon and poured water over his charred fingers, wincing at the raised red welts that traveled up his arm.
His father had tried to kill him.
Again.
He just hoped that this time wouldn’t scar.
His hands were shaky when he approached the Avatar and his friends, though if it was from fear or nerve damage, he couldn’t tell.
The marks had nearly faded completely by the time the Avatar accepted him into his group, but his hands still felt numb, and tended to shake.
He didn’t ask Katara to heal them. Both because of her hostile attitude toward him, and because he really didn’t want to have to explain it.
Every time he thought of the lightning flying towards him, his heart skipped a beat. He could smell his fingertips burning, bringing him back to three years ago.
But it wasn’t three years ago, this time he had stood and fought, he had gotten out.
He still didn’t tell Katara.
Slowly he felt the rest of the group accept him.
Toph would punch him on the arm and tease him. Aang would laugh during training, and sit next to him during meals.
Even Sokka would joke around with him. (And sometimes he would look at him and the sun would hit his blue eyes, and Zuko would feel his stomach clench. Agni, what was that about?)
So when Sokka tried to leave to rescue his father from the boiling rock, of course Zuko went with him.
He didn’t know why, he told himself it was to prove himself to the other boy, prove he could be trusted. A part of him knew it was because he wanted to spend time with him.
The freezer didn’t help the shaking in his hands. In a short span of time they had electricity shot through them, and then were nearly frozen. He was just glad he was able to move his cramping fingers at all.
He was so focused on their escape, that the reality of who they rescued didn’t sink in until they were all on the war ship back to the air temple.
Suddenly Zuko was surrounded by people who all had a good reason to hate him.
Suki, who’s village he had set on fire, (apparently she was also Sokka’s girlfriend, which was totally fine.)
Chit-sang, who had been thrown in a fire nation prison for revolting against the crown. The very crown Zuko was destined to inherit.
And… Hakoda.
Zuko didn’t comprehend how *large* Hakoda was until he was standing next to him. He was tall, and muscular, and Zuko didn’t understand how Sokka could be so relaxed around him.
Agni, his hands were just so big…
He had slipped away and hidden in one of the barracks for the whole trip, trying to calm his breathing.
What was wrong with him? Logically he knew he could probably take Hakoda in a fight, but… but his hands were so big, and he probably hated Zuko for attacking his village and children, and he was right too.
He probably wanted nothing more than to hold Zuko down and choke the life out of him.
A part of him thought that that seemed unreasonable.
But his father had hated him for no reason, had tried to kill him three different times, four of he counted the Agni-Kai.
His father had beaten and mutilated him, who’s to say Sokka’s father wouldn’t do the same.
What if Sokka’s father hurt Sokka?
The thought sent an icy chill through his stomach.
He wouldn’t. Would he? Sokka was smart and funny and a good warrior. He had even seen Hakoda hug him close and whisper that he was proud of him.
He would keep an eye out just in case.
They got back to the air temple and were greeted with tearful reunions.
Katara seemed genuinely glad and excited to see her father. There was no hesitation in the arms she threw around him.
Zuko moved to stand by Aang and Toph, body tense.
“Can’t believe you left me out of a prison break, sparky!” Toph grinned, punching his arm.
Zuko winced but managed a smile.
That night they all sat around the fire for dinner. Zuko had wanted to get out of it, but couldn’t think of a good excuse, so he settled for sitting as far away from Hakoda as possible.
He ended up between Toph and Haru.
Katara passed out bowls of stew. Zuko managed to grab hold of his but had to set it down quickly in his lap.
His fingers were trembling and twitching, they couldn’t support the weight of the bowl. He tried to subtly stretch them out, but could almost feel Toph’s attention on him.
The fire was surrounded by lively chatter. Sharing of stories and past adventures, complimenting the food, laughing at something Sokka said.
Zuko did his best to pay attention, but didn’t add anything. It wasn’t entirely unusual for him, he was often quiet, but he could tell a few people were noticing his uneasiness, mainly Toph and Aang.
Katara, on the other hand, noticed his loss of appetite.
“What’s the matter, Zuko? Do you not like the soup?” She asked, cutting off the other conversations as the attention turned to him. The eyebrow she raised in his direction was cold.
“Oh, no, it’s good,” he hurried to reassure her, “I’m just… not hungry.” The truth was, he couldn’t risk lifting the spoon to his face and spilling it all down himself with how badly his hands were shaking.
Hakoda hummed and Zuko’s attention snapped to him, body tensing.
“That can’t be true, I was in that prison, they don’t exactly feed you well there.” There was something unreadable in his eyes that made Zuko’s heart skip a beat. He felt Toph turn to him curiously, no doubt sensing it.
Before anyone could interrogate him further, Chit-Sang cut in.
“I’m sorry, I just have to ask… you’re not *the* Zuko, right? Like Crown Prince heir to the fire nation throne Zuko, right?”
Zuko forced himself to stay perfectly still, body on edge. If Chit-Sang attacked, he would be ready.
“I am Prince Zuko,” he said, voice steady, heart pounding.
Chit-Sang looked at him for a moment, eyes wide, body straightened. He let out a breath.
Zuko blinked in confusion when the man moved to bow, pressing his forehead to the ground.
“Then you have my deepest thanks, your highness.”
Zuko stared at him.
The rest of the people around the fire stared at Zuko.
“Don’t bow,” Zuko rasped, frowning, “I’m not the Prince anymore, I left that behind.”
“I’m not bowing because you are the Prince,” Chit-Sang sat up, hands on his knees, “I’m bowing out of gratitude for what you did for the forty-first.”
Zuko felt like someone had dumped ice water down his spine.
“What?” He choked out.
Chit-Sang shook his head and sighed, “My little brother was a part of the forty-first. After what they did to them… I joined a rebellion. We all heard the rumors of what you did that day.” He looked Zuko in the eye, “So thank you… for trying.”
Zuko could only stare at him, forgotten stew growing cold in his lap.
Everyone waited expectantly for him to say something.
“Zuko?” Aang finally prompted, “What’s he talking about?”
Zuko opened his mouth, but nothing came out.
He felt his heart pounding in his ears.
So Zuko did what he did best.
He ran.
He stood suddenly, setting his bowl to the side, and walked quickly away, doing his best not to break out into a sprint.
He waited until he was out of sight then let out a shuddering breath.
He found a small dark alcove and tucked himself into it.
He looked down at his shaking hands, trying to uncurl his aching fingers.
A small childlike part of him wished for his uncle.
The fire was quiet after Zuko left.
“What’s up with him?” Haru asked confused.
Aang shook his head, “I don’t know, but he’s been weird since you guys got back, did something happen we don’t know about?”
“I don’t think so,” Sokka shrugged, concerned.
“What were you talking about with the forty-first?” Suki questioned, turning to Chit-Sang.
The man frowned, “I don’t know the whole story… just that the fire lord wanted to send the forty-first division to their deaths, and Prince Zuko tried to stop him. It gets muddled after that.”
Hakoda looked at where the fire Prince had disappeared into the shadows, brow furrowed, thinking.
“You scared him,” Toph spoke up, uncharacteristically quiet.
Everyone looked at her as she stood.
“I’m gonna go look for him.”
She found him quickly, aided by her earth bending.
Zuko heard her footsteps approaching long before he saw her, and relaxed when he recognized them.
He focused on curling and uncurling his fingers.
“Hey,” she said, standing over him.
“Hey.”
“What’s up with your hands?”
He winced, stilling the movement.
“Nothing… they’re just a little locked up right now.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know,” he snapped, frustrated, “it just happens sometimes.”
She snorted, smiling. “There’s the Sparky I was looking for, you’ve been acting like a spooked kitten moth all day.”
Zuko huffed out a laugh, shaking his head.
She sat down next to him, close, but keeping her distance.
“So what’s got your fire nation robes in a twist?”
Zuko sighed and leaned back against the cold stone wall. He considered lying, but knew Toph would be able to tell and would just press harder.
“… Have you ever met Hakoda before?”
He asked, voice quiet.
Toph nodded, “We traveled with him on a boat for a while. He was nice. Why?”
Zuko rubbed his cramping hands against his knees.
“He was nice?”
“Yeah, we were kind of focused on making sure Aang didn’t die, so I didn’t get to know him super well, but he was… well nice. Now answer my question. What, was he not nice to you, or something?”
“No… no, he hasn’t really talked to me at all…” he thought of the man interjecting at the fire, wondering why Zuko wasn’t hungry, and shivered.
“I don’t know… I’m being stupid, I know I am.”
“What are you being stupid about, stupid?”
Zuko hesitated.
“I don’t like Hakoda…”
“Even though he’s nice?”
“Yeah… he’s- he’s really big, Toph,” His voice dropped to a whisper.
Toph paused, eyebrows drawing up.
“You’re scared of him.” She said, and it wasn’t a question.
Zuko swallowed, “I know it’s stupid.”
She turned her head towards him, “You don’t have to be… he’s a good guy.”
Zuko felt his hands and scar ache.
Hakoda was a good guy and Ozai was the Fire Lord.
“… I can’t help it.”
Toph crossed her arms, “Ok… well, if you’re scared just find me, I’ll protect you.”
Zuko snorted, looking down at the small girl next to him.
“Hey! Do you have a lack of confidence in my fighting skills? I could take on the entire fire nation navy with my eyes closed,” she joked.
Zuko couldn’t help but laugh.
That night Zuko slept leaned against his door.
He knew it was irrational, but there was a night many years ago where he had lain awake in bed, waiting for his father to kill him in his sleep, and he just felt safer knowing he would wake up before anyone got in.
It didn’t make for a particularly restful nights sleep though, and by the morning he was tired and aching.
He forced himself to shake it off.
He was glad when he went out to the courtyard and saw that only Katara and Aang were awake, preparing the fire for breakfast.
Katara and Aang he could handle.
“Hello, Prince Zuko.”
Zuko spun around, heart leaping into his chest.
Hakoda stood behind him, smiling apologetically.
“Sorry,” he chuckled, “didn’t mean to startle you. We haven’t officially met,” he stuck out his hand.
Zuko stared at him wide eyed, forcing himself to breathe properly. He eyed the hand- the same size as his father’s- and hurried to find an excuse not to take it.
He gave a tight forced bow.
“Chief Hakoda,” he said, willing his voice to remain steady.
Hakoda’s eyebrow quirked up, but he retracted his hand.
Oh Agni, was he mad? Zuko did just slight him, would he be angry?
Zuko stared at the ground.
“I wanted to thank you for everything you’ve done. Without you, we would have never escaped. I appreciate your help.”
Zuko tried to find the hidden meaning behind the words. The sarcasm woven in between syllables, the anger that would show itself at the end, but Hakoda sounded sincere.
“I-it was nothing, there’s no need to thank me.” He settled on.
He felt Hakoda shift but didn’t look up, staring somewhere past his elbow.
“You broke me out of prison, you saved mine and my family’s lives, plus a couple more.”
Zuko could feel his eyes on him.
“You did a good job, son.”
Zuko’s gaze finally snapped up to meet his. The man was smiling warmly, even if there was a hint of concern there.
Zuko scrambled to find something to say that would make him leave.
“Thank you, Chief Hakoda.”
“Please Zuko, just Hakoda,” he nodded at the boy, and then finally, to Zuko’s great relief, he left him and went towards Katara and Aang.
Zuko let out a shaking breath. His whole body felt tight and on edge.
He wasn’t sure why Hakoda scared him so deeply, but he needed to figure out some way to deal with it. If things kept going the way they were, he was going to have a heart attack.
“Aang, you’re thinking too much.”
“I can’t help it!” Aang whined, flopping back onto the tile, out of breath.
Zuko wiped some gathering sweat off his forehead.
They were standing in a smaller courtyard, away from prying eyes. It was surrounded by stone walls and open air, the perfect place for practicing fire bending.
“It’s less about getting every stance perfect,” Zuko explained, moving into the first stance of the more advanced kata, “and more about carrying the flow of energy.”
“You pull from the stomach, letting it flow up your chest, and you follow that flow,” he performed the kata, moves controlled and sharp. “It’s not like water bending though, it’s not fluid. You need to be in control the whole time.”
He ended the move with a sharp jab upwards, sending a wave of fire towards the sky.
The sound of clapping startled him, and he turned quickly at the noise.
Suki, Sokka and… Hakoda entered the courtyard, Sokka grinning.
“Didn’t I tell you guys? He’s impressive.”
Zuko blamed the heat flooding his face on the warm afternoon.
He gave a quick bow in their direction, Aang jumped up and waved excitedly.
“Sokka, Suki, Mr. Hakoda!”
“Just Hakoda, Aang,” the man chuckled, sending a shiver down Zuko’s spine.
Aang hung off Zuko’s arm.
“Zuko taught me this awesome move with a spin! Wanna see?”
“I don’t-“
“We’d love to!” Suki cut him off, “Sokka’s been going on and on about you guys fire bending, I’d love to see it in person.”
Hakoda nodded.
Zuko rubbed his hands on his thighs, he could feel them beginning to twitch and cursed mentally. They always seemed to act up when he needed them most.
Still… he could hardly refuse.
“Ok… yeah.”
“Yes! Ok stand back guys, this one’s pretty wild,” Aang moved quickly into position.
The group stepped off to the side.
Zuko moved so Hakoda wasn’t in his blind spot. He knew it was stupid, but he wouldn’t be able to focus without knowing exactly where the man was and what he was doing.
He slipped easily into the stance, legs grounded, arms in front of him. It took him a moment to uncurl his fingers properly, but he managed without anyone noticing.
The move itself was simple but impressive, one that Zuko had mastered by age ten, (Azula had it by seven,) and the movements were familiar to him.
Aang breathed, centering himself, then punched out, sending a burst of flames that Zuko easily blocked.
They went back and forth for a little bit, blocking, parrying, lunging, until the penultimate of the move.
Aang jumped up into the air, aided a little by his air bending, and swung his leg in an arc, creating a slice of fire that burned towards Zuko.
A few things happened at once.
Firstly, Zuko heard a gasp of delight from Suki, and his mind snapped back to the group, realizing he had lost track of Hakoda.
This made him hesitate a moment too long, usually he would dissipate the flames easily, before they got too close.
But this time they reached his outstretched hands.
It didn’t burn, it took a lot more than that to burn a fire bender, but the second the intense heat hit his fingers, searing pain tore through them.
Before he could stop it, a strangled cry left his mouth.
He stumbled backwards, pulling his hands to his stomach and doubling over them. They twitched and jerked, waves of white hot pain jolting through them.
“Zuko!” Aang cried.
He heard footsteps rushing towards him. He focused on staying upright and trying to still his trembling hands.
“I’m so sorry! Did I burn you?!” Aang’s voice sounded close to crying.
“No, no, I’m ok,” he said through gritted teeth, eyes clenched shut.
“You don’t look ok, man. Let me see your hands.” Sokka insisted, reaching forward, Zuko stumbled back.
“I’m fine,” he focused on breathing, the pain slowly abating. He tried to move his hands but found that his fingers had locked curled inwards.
“Zuko, if you’re burned, you need to let Katara heal it,” Hakoda’s voice was soft but authoritative. Zuko took another step back.
“He didn’t burn me, I’m not burned, it’s fine.” He managed to open his eyes and straighten up a little, refusing to look anyone at anyone, “It’s just- my hands do this sometimes, it’s fine.”
“Zuko, let me take a look,” Hakoda reached forward to place a hand on his wrist.
A hand
Big
So much bigger than his own
Reaching down to hold his face
“Don’t touch me!” He cried, panic gripping his chest.
He kicked out blindly, sweeping out a sharp wave of flames, not hot enough to burn, but hot enough to get whoever was reaching for him the hell away.
He heard a couple of surprised cries.
“Tui and la! Zuko what the Hell!” Sokka’s voice broke through.
Zuko blinked, chest heaving.
Hakoda was lying on the ground, propped up on his elbows, Suki at his side. His shirt was singed.
Aang and Sokka were staring at him in shock, and in Sokka’s case, anger.
Zuko ran.
He ran so fast his legs burned, each time his foot hit the ground it sent a jolt through his hands.
He ignored it.
Agni, he was so stupid, what was he thinking, what had he done.
He ran until he was in a part of the temple he didn’t recognize, he ducked through corridors and doorways.
He was looking for something, but he wasn’t sure what.
He found it in the form of a small room tucked at the end of a passage. It was completely empty, and had no window. It was small and dark enough to provide some comfort and he scrambled to crouch in the corner.
He cradled his hands to his chest, gasping in great gulps of air.
He tried desperately to move them, but they stayed stubbornly frozen. He felt tears of frustration and panic well up.
He couldn’t breath. His hands wouldn’t move and he couldn’t breath and he had burned Hakoda and he thought he might actually die.
At least pass out with the way he was breathing. It was fast and frantic and he couldn’t slow it down.
He crossed his legs and leaned over so that his head was almost brushing the ground, his body rocking softly.
His hands hurt and his scar hurt and he just wanted to go to sleep.
He felt a tear drip down his face from his good eye, and his breath hitched.
”You’re pathetic,” a familiar voice growled in the back of his mind, and Zuko couldn’t help but agree.
The Prince of the fire nation, huddled in a corner crying. He felt like he was eleven years old again, wondering where his mother had gone.
He held back the tears and focused on trying to breathe.
After a few minutes, he managed to slow it down somewhat, and he slowly sat up and leaned back, shuddering.
He wished he was kneeling by the turtleduck pond.
He blamed his pounding heart and wandering mind on not hearing the footsteps until they were right outside the door.
The second he registered them, he slammed back into the wall, breath stopping in his chest. He pressed back, bringing his knees up, eyes wide.
They locked onto Hakoda as he stepped into the room.
“Zuko?”
Oh Agni, no- no, no, no.
He let out a horrible choked sound and curled in on himself. He tucked his face into his knees and brought his arms up over his head, fingers still locked uselessly.
His whole body trembled and every breath seemed to stop halfway down his throat.
“I’m sorry!” He managed to choke out. Hakoda wasn’t a bender, what would he do? Break his bones? Beat him? He didn’t want to find out.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he whispered, unsure at what he was apologizing for.
Hakoda seemed frozen in place, he didn’t say anything.
“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t- I’m sorry.” He tried to shrink in even more on himself, his chest heaving and shuddering.
“-Zuko, you need to breath.”
He heard Hakoda move closer and kneel in front of him.
He tried to push himself back further, but had nowhere to go.
“I’m ok, you didn’t burn me,” Hakoda’s voice was low and worried.
It was a lie to get his guard down. He hadn’t hurt Hakoda but he had yelled at him and pushed him away. He had been disrespectful.
“I-I meant no disrespect,” he heard himself whisper, the words tasting like ash on his tongue.
Hakoda didn’t speak but reached forward.
Zuko tightened, readying himself, trembling.
Gentle hands- big, so big- grabbed his own where they lay over his head.
Zuko let out a frightened sob.
“Shhh, you’re ok, breathe, Zuko.”
Zuko shook his head as Hakoda pulled his hands forward to rest on his knees.
“Please-“ he forced out through tears.
“I’m not going to hurt you.” Hakoda’s voice was steady and sure. Zuko ignored it, he had heard those words before.
“I’m sorry, please,” he sobbed into his knees. He hated how small and scared he was. Usually he would cover his fear with anger. He would push back and snarl like a cornered sabertooth moose lion.
But six days ago his father tried to kill him and Hakoda’s hands were so big, and four days ago a pair of dragons drained all the anger out of him.
He cried harder into his knees, body rocking involuntarily.
Hakoda’s thumbs pressed into his palms and he flinched.
But they never became crushing and painful, instead they began to move in deep slow circles.
Zuko made a noise of fear and confusion.
Hakoda began to massage his hands, gentle, but steady and strong. He watched Zuko carefully as he did.
Zuko refused to look up, keeping his face hidden, trembling and waiting, anxious to see what Hakoda would do.
The man moved slowly but firmly, massaging his palms before moving up to his fingers. He rubbed over each joint, carefully uncurling them. Zuko winced at the small twinges of discomfort, but was relieved when he could actually feel what the man was doing.
The movements were so steady and repetitive that Zuko felt his breathing begin to slow somewhat. His sobbing abated into less urgent crying and he peeked up over his knees to watch Hakoda work.
The large hands straightened out each finger, rubbing the whole time.
Hakoda frowned when he saw the barely there white marks that ran from his fingertips down to his wrists. Zuko flinched back, and he immediately smoothed out his expression.
When each hand was stretched out, Hakoda moved his hands under them, holding them, letting his thumb rub Zuko’s wrist gently.
“Can you try and move them?” He asked, keeping his voice low and soft.
Zuko closed his eyes and tried, relief flooding through him when he was able to curl and uncurl them, he couldn’t pull them all the way into a fist, but it was miles better than before.
“There we go, good job,” Zuko could hear the smile in Hakoda’s voice.
The man returned Zuko’s hands to his knees, and the second he was no longer touching him, Zuko jerked them to his stomach, curling over them.
He wasn’t outright sobbing anymore, but his chest was still hitching and his body trembling.
“I-I’m sorry,” he tried again, hiding his face again in his knees.
Hakoda hummed, “You keep saying that, though I’m not sure what for.”
Zuko knew this tactic. His father often liked to get him to say what he did wrong before swooping in with fiery hands.
He couldn’t stop the whine that clawed it’s way out of his throat.
“I’m s-sorry, for being disrespectful.” He managed.
Hakoda paused, “I’m not angry, Zuko.”
Zuko’s head snapped up at that, finally looking at the man in front of him.
Even when his father would say things like that, the anger was always there, bubbling visibly under the surface.
But Hakoda’s face wasn’t angry, concerned maybe… but not angry.
It was confusing.
He watched carefully.
“I’m not angry,” Hakoda continued, “You weren’t disrespectful, you were scared, and I can’t blame you for that.”
You will learn respect, and suffering will be your teacher.
Zuko stared at Hakoda, eyes wide in shock, searching his face for any trace of a lie.
“You’re not mad?” He whispered, disbelief clear in his voice.
“I’m not mad.” Hakoda was looking at him with his eyebrows drawn, “I swear.”
He moved to put his hand on his knee, Zuko flinched but didn’t pull away, “I’m not going to hurt you, Zuko.”
His tone was so soft and comforting and strong that Zuko finally believed him.
A sob ripped through him, followed by more.
He crossed his legs and leaned forward protectively over his hands, bringing his forehead to rest against Hakoda’s shoulder.
He didn’t know why, a part of him yelled that he was crazy.
But Hakoda was here, and he reminded him of his father, but he wasn’t angry, and he wasn’t going to hurt him.
He felt one of Hakoda’s hands come up to cup the back of his neck, thumb rubbing gently into his scalp.
He sobbed into the Water Tribe chiefs shoulder.
“I-I didn’t-“ he cried.
“Shh, you’re ok, it’s alright.”
“He-He tried to-“ he cut himself off, teeth clenched, chest heaving.
The last week seemed to crash into him, all the pain and rage. He was angry at his father for trying to kill him, he was hurt that he had done it so readily.
He was tired.
Hakoda’s other hand moved to rest on his arm, “It’s alright, you’re ok.”
They stayed like that until Zuko’s sobbing petered out into quiet sniffling and shaking.
He was drained and exhausted, the adrenaline trickling out of him. He couldn’t bring himself to be embarrassed, but knew he would be later.
He pulled back, keeping his head down. Hakoda kept his hands on the back of his neck and arm.
“Zuko?” He asked, seeing that he had calmed down, voice soft, “Can I ask you a question.”
Zuko wiped at the wetness on his face with the back of his wrist and nodded.
“What happened to your hands?”
Zuko shuddered, squeezing his eyes closed before looking down at his hands in his lap.
He moved them as best he could, taking comfort when they obeyed.
He took a deep breath.
“My dad tried to kill me,” He whispered.
He felt Hakoda freeze, but ignored it.
“It wasn’t the first time,” he finished.
“Oh…” Hakoda’s voice sounded heartbroken.
Zuko shook his head, “He shot- he shot lightning at me, and I stopped it, but I think- I think-“ he didn’t know what he thought.
Hakoda took a steadying breath.
“I’m sorry,” Zuko said again, hands trembling, “I know you’re a good man, I know- but your hands are the same size as his, and you’re not him, but sometimes I forget that and I-“
“Zuko, you don’t need to apologize,” Hakoda interrupted, voice thick, “I’m sorry for scaring you.”
“It’s my fault, I was stupid, it’s all stupid.”
“You’re not stupid.”
“It’s stupid! He’s gone, and I’m here, and I shouldn’t be scared anymore. But he’s done this before,” he looked Hakoda in the eye, trying to make him understand, “He hurt me and I left, and I thought it was over, but I was stupid and went back. Now it’s happening all over again. And what if I- what if he gets me back?” He was crying again, voice breaking.
“Tui and La,” Hakoda breathed. He moved so he was sitting next to Zuko and slung an arm around his shoulder, pulling him in.
Zuko was too tired to resist, finding himself tucked against the Chief’s chest.
“Every time I think it’s over, he drags me back in,” he cried, “He burned off half my face, and I thought he was done with me, but he wasn’t. He got me back… I went back.”
Hakoda rubbed his back, cursing under his breath.
“I just- I just want it to be over.”
Hakoda held him as he fell apart all over again.
He rocked them.
“I’m sorry he hurt you,” he forced through gritted teeth, “It was wrong.”
Zuko choked, “I know… it was cruel and it was wrong. That’s what I told him.” He shivered, “But… but he still…”
You will obey me, or this defiant breath will be your last!
“I didn’t- I never meant to be disrespectful,” he shook his head, crying around the aching in his throat.
Hakoda’s hand ran through his hair, “Zuko… it wasn’t your fault. Men like Ozai, they- they thrive off people fearing them. It has nothing to do with you. You’re just a kid, you did nothing wrong.”
Zuko pushed himself deeper into Hakoda’s chest.
“…I never meant to be disrespectful,” he whispered. He felt the exhaustion creeping back, his eyes felt raw and heavy.
“I know… I know,” Hakoda whispered back as Zuko went limp against him.
Zuko felt every last ounce of energy leave his body, and he let his eyes fall closed.
Before he could stop himself, he was asleep.
Hakoda hadn’t expected to end up holding the fire Prince.
In fact when his son had told him that Prince Zuko was at the prison, he had imagined he would end up fighting the boy.
But then he saw the way his hands shook and how he always kept his good eye on Hakoda at all times.
If Hakoda didn’t know better, he would’ve thought the Prince was frightened of him.
And then he had flinched away from his touch and lashed out and Hakoda knew he was frightened of him.
He hadn’t expected it, he just thought Zuko was closed off and awkward because they were strangers, but his eyes in that moment had been wide and fearful, and Hakoda knew he had misjudged him.
So when Zuko ran, Hakoda followed.
What he found had been heartbreaking.
The Prince of the Fire Nation, huddled in a corner, panicking, terrified.
Hakoda couldn’t help but see his own son and wanted nothing more than to sweep him up in his arms.
But this wasn’t his son, this was a cornered fire bender who saw him as the enemy. So he had approached cautiously.
Then Zuko had apologized, over and over, as if he couldn’t stop. And his hands had trembled above him, and his voice had cracked.
And his hands seemed locked and tense, Hakoda had noticed earlier that he seemed to be having trouble moving them.
So he had grabbed them, as gently as he could, though Zuko still acted like a skittish Ostrich-horse.
The choking sobbing noises he made shot through Hakoda like arrows.
He did his best to reassure him as he massaged them out, trying to clear up the stiffness.
He was relieved when it seemed to help.
When the Prince finally seemed to understand that Hakoda wasn’t here to hurt him, he melted against him.
Hakoda let him, brows furrowed. He wasn’t sure what was causing Zuko to act like this, but he knew it wasn’t good.
So he asked, and Zuko told, and Hakoda felt his heart break just a little bit more.
It poured out of Zuko like a river, the fear evident in every word.
“… I never meant to be disrespectful,” he finally muttered, voice rasping.
He went limp against Hakoda’s chest. The chief wasn’t surprised when he fell asleep, it was obvious how drained he was.
He just sat there and held him, mind reeling, anger bubbling.
He had hated the fire nation before, seeing the destruction they had wrought on the world. But Ozai had always been a faceless figurehead, nothing more than a name to assign blame to.
But now? Now Ozai was a man who had mutilated and disfigured a child, his own son.
Looking down at the Prince he saw for the first time how his scar was shaped like a hand, how it wrapped over his eye and ear in finger shaped claws.
He saw the thin white lines running down his hands, and wondered if they would ever work properly again.
He felt Zuko shake against him, trembling even in his sleep. He tightened his grip on him.
They couldn’t stay here sitting on the cold tile floor, the boy was exhausted and needed a good nights rest.
Carefully, as gently as he could, he moved to pick him up, sliding his arm under his legs.
It was far too easy, Zuko had always seemed small, but he was shocked at how little he weighed.
Zuko stirred, “What’re you doin’?” He mumbled into Hakoda’s shirt.
Hakoda hoisted him up, settling him in his arms, chuckling, “I’m carrying you back to your room, you need some sleep.”
“M’sorry,” he slurred tiredly as Hakoda walked.
The man frowned, “What’re you apologizing for this time?”
“Crying so much, ‘s’ embarrassing,” he was half asleep as he talked, head resting on Hakoda’s shoulder.
“Don’t be embarrassed,” Hakoda hummed, “You’ve been through a lot, you’re allowed to cry.”
“You’re really not mad?” His voice was hoarse and thick with sleep, but with a light hopeful edge.
Hakoda knew he wasn’t just talking about the crying.
He nodded, “I’m really not mad, now go back to sleep.”
Zuko hummed, breaths evening out. “M’kay… thank you.”
“You’re welcome, Zuko.”
Zuko was awkward and withdrawn the next couple days. He avoided everyone when he could, especially Sokka, Suki, and Hakoda.
He apologized to them all profusely, and insisted that he was fine and uninjured when they asked.
Eventually they all moved on from the incident, well… everyone except Hakoda.
Zuko couldn’t believe he had actually told the man about his father, it made him feel pathetic and small. He threw himself into training Aang as a way to let off steam.
Agni… he was humiliated.
He couldn’t stand the way Hakoda looked at him, with concern and understanding.
He avoided the man like the plague.
But one night, two days after crying like a child in front of the chief, he was awoken from his sleep by a sharp pain.
He hissed and sat up in bed, folding over. His hands twitched and jerked and cramped, wracked with spasms.
He did his best to breathe through it, gritting his teeth.
Finally, after several long minutes, the pain began to lessen, but to his dismay and annoyance, his fingers once again locked up, curled into his palms.
He tried to open them, growling in frustration when they stayed stubbornly in place.
He looked around the empty room, unsure of what he was looking for. He knew that most likely if he waited, they would eventually relax, but they ached in this position, and not being able to move his hands left him feeling vulnerable and powerless.
Another twinge of pain raced through his fingers, and he steeled himself.
He left behind his bedroll, and began to walk. He wanted a distraction.
It was late at night and he knew everyone would be asleep, but the fire was probably still smoldering, and it was better then sitting in his cold room.
However when he went to the courtyard he saw a shadow sitting by the fire.
At first he thought it was Haru, but then the man looked up.
Hakoda saw him and smiled invitingly, Zuko stopped in his tracks, just outside the light of the fire.
“Hello Zuko, you’re up late,” the man said, using a small knife to whittle away at a piece of wood.
Zuko stood frozen, unsure at what to do.
A part of him screamed to run back to his room, bury himself in his bedroll, and never come out. Another part of him said that Hakoda had helped before, and he could probably help now.
“Is everything all right?” Hakoda asked, frowning, picking up on his hesitation.
Zuko opened his mouth, then shut it again. “Uh…”
He felt his hand twitch painfully.
Screw his pride…
He moved quickly, not giving himself a chance to back out of it.
He sat down silently and swiftly next to Hakoda who looked at him curiously.
He took a breath, looking down at his shaking hands.
“I um- Can…” his voice trailed off and he ended up just holding an unsteady fist in Hakoda’s direction, “It’s happening again… I don’t know what to do.”
“Ah, I see,” Hakoda hummed, setting aside his whittling. He moved slowly but purposely, Zuko got the sense he was trying not to startle him.
He gently took Zuko’s wrist in his hands, pulling it into his lap.
Zuko stiffened at the closeness, watching Hakoda carefully, not meeting his eyes.
Hakoda used his thumbs to work deep circles into the tightened muscles, moving out slowly from the center.
Zuko was relieved when he felt them give way slightly, and relaxed the smallest amount.
Hakoda didn’t speak or look at Zuko, focusing on his movements.
He moved on to uncurling the fingers, but when he began to straighten one a flash of pain tore through it.
Zuko gasped and jerked his hand involuntarily, sucking in a breath.
“Sorry, sorry,” Hakoda soothed, giving him a second, “You alright?”
Zuko paused, letting the pain subside, then nodded, glancing between the man and his hand.
Hakoda resumed his work.
Zuko let the silence drag on for a few moments before breaking it.
“Sorry for earlier,” he said, staring into the fire.
Hakoda chuckled, “You know, I’ve never met someone who apologizes as much as you,” his voice was teasing.
Zuko huffed, “I can’t help it.”
“Right, and what are you apologizing for this time?”
“For breaking down on you earlier. It was stupid and pathetic…” he shook his head.
Hakoda frowned, “It’s not stupid or pathetic to ask for help.”
Zuko chanced a glance up at the man, he was still looking down at Zuko’s hand.
“My father always said self reliance was a sign of strength, needing help was weakness.”
Hakoda snorted, “No offense, Zuko, but I think you need to forget everything your father ever told you. He’s an asshole.”
Zuko couldn’t help but let out a startled laugh.
“You can’t talk about him like that, he’s the Fire Lord,” he said, trying and failing to suppress a grin.
Hakoda looked at him now, smiling wide, eyebrows raised.
“And I’m not a fire nation citizen, I can talk about him however I want.”
He finished with Zuko’s right hand.
“Feel better?” He asked.
It did, Zuko wiggled his fingers experimentally, happy to see that he had regained some mobility, however jerky and stilted it was.
He nodded, still smiling, “Yes, thank you.”
“Let me see the other one,” Hakoda gestured, and Zuko held out his left hand for him to take.
Zuko watched as the large hands he had been so scared of handled him gently and with care.
“Do-Do you think they’ll heal?” He asked, voicing the thought that had been plaguing him.
Hakoda paused, “I’m not sure… I think so, but I’d feel better if you let Katara take a look at them.”
“It’s nerve damage, not a wound. I’m not sure there’s anything she can do.”
“Still, it couldn’t hurt to let her try.”
Zuko shrugged.
They sat for a moment in comfortable silence.
“My mom used to do this all the time,” Zuko spoke up, voice quiet, leaning his chin on his knees.
“Give you hand massages?” Hakoda raised an eyebrow.
“No, no…” Zuko chuckled, “Just… this. Help me afterwards…” he trailed off.
“Afterwards?”
Zuko swallowed, “After my dad.” He didn’t need to expand on the words, Hakoda understood.
“Oh.”
“I wasn’t allowed to see the royal healers, but her parents had been herbalists, so she always had these salves and things,” he smiled at the memory.
“She was good to you?” Hakoda hummed.
Usually Zuko would deflect, he was surprised at himself for bringing up Ursa in the first place. But the fire was warm and Hakoda was reminding him more of his Uncle than his father, and everything felt calm.
“Yes,” he whispered, “She left when I was young… she was trying to protect me.”
“I’m sorry, that must’ve been hard.”
Zuko sighed, “It was… We always used to sit together by the turtleduck pond in the palace. It’s one of the few things I miss from back home.”
“A turtleduck pond huh? There’s not many of those in the South Pole.”
“No, I guess not.”
Hakoda tapped his palm, “Alright, give her a go.”
Zuko flexed his hand, feeling a slight ache, but it moved.
He let out sigh of relief.
“There we go, that’s better,” Hakoda smiled.
He moved Zuko’s hand towards him, expecting him to take it back, but for whatever reason, Zuko left it lying against the man’s palms.
He stared into the fire, not meeting the chief’s curious gaze. Something was stirring in his chest, something tight and aching.
“Zuko?” Hakoda asked, squeezing his hand gently.
Zuko took a breath, turning to him.
“T-thank you,” he whispered, eyes shiny, voice thick, “Thank you for helping me.”
Hakoda just looked at him for a moment.
Then slowly, as to give Zuko time to move away, he brought up an arm around his shoulder.
Zuko stiffened for a moment, hesitated, then scooted closer, pressing up against his side.
He let himself be pulled into Hakoda, arm steady and warm around him.
He rubbed Zuko’s back, and tucked his head under his chin.
“All you ever have to do is ask.”
Zuko felt his breath hitch, and he closed his eyes.
“Ok,” he whispered into Hakoda’s tunic, leaning closer in.
That night he slept well for the first time in months, and woke up in the morning with steady hands.