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Speechless	By : Premerseahshiko Category: Avatar - The Last Airbender > AU/AR - Alternate Universe/Alternate Reality > Slash - Male/Male Views: 3810 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar and do not make any profit from this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Speechless
- 2-Chapter 2
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- 2
Iroh watched from the crowd as his brother advanced upon his kneeling nephew, the sun at his back highlighting the crown in the black topknot. The cruelty that shadowed the youthful planes of the Fire Lord sent a chill up his spine as the crowd of nobles and generals around him pushed and murmured their approval, equally sadistic expressions present on a number of faces. Bile rose in his throat and a feeling of absolute dread drenched him.

Iroh turned his gaze back to his nephew. Zuko still had not raised his head, his demeanor slightly trembling but demonstrating complete trust that the man whose blood ran through his veins would not harm him as he spoke a respectful apology. Iroh knew better. He opened his mouth to cry out a warning to the boy he held dear but it was too late.

His brother’s hands glowed, for a fraction of a second illuminating his odium for his son. Iroh watched as Zuko chose that split second to raise his head. He watched his nephew’s beautiful, prized golden eyes widen in shock and fear.

Iroh turned his head and closed his eyes as a tortured, choked scream and the familiar sickening smell of burnt human flesh filled the arena. He knew it was over when the nobles began filing out but he remained in place.

It was several minutes after a majority of the nobles had cleared before Iroh could bring himself to open his eyes again and face the reality of what his younger brother had done to his own son. Zuko laid in a crumpled form on the smooth white marble tiles, his back towards him and his father still gazing down at him. Iroh sprang up onto the platform and advanced towards him with a prayer to any spirit that would listen that his nephew was still alive.

He was.

Iroh stroked the undamaged side of his unconscious nephew’s face as he wrapped the boy in his cloak before bending to scoop the young man into his arms. As a General in many battles, he was quite familiar with burns in friendly-fire circumstances and when treating civilians caught in the crossfire. He knew instantly if his nephew was not given treatment immediately he would die of a combination of fever and shock.

“Iroh,” his brother called, startling him slightly. Iroh did not turn back to face him. “Zuko has been disowned and banished from the Fire Nation. If you aide him now, you will be banished as well.”

“Then, this is goodbye Ozai.” Those were the last words he would ever say to his brother before carrying his nephew to the nearest medical aide.

The healers were able to prevent the young Prince from perishing from his injuries. However, the burns had done severe nerve damage.

Zuko was partially blind in his left eye….but that was not the worst of his injuries.

When Zuko had been burned, his long hair had caught fire and burned him from his ear to his neck, damaging the tissue of his vocal cords. While he could grunt or make other undefined noises, Zuko was never able to form words again.
----

One year later…

Zuko gave a small grunt to get Uncle’s attention as he stood behind him with a tray of his uncle’s afternoon tea. Normally Uncle Iroh and Zuko would share some tea down in the Captain’s quarters but Uncle Iroh was currently busy discussing something heatedly with his first officer on the deck of the slightly large fishing boat that had become their livelihood and must have lost track of the time. He initially did not respond to his nephew’s attempt to gain his attention. Zuko grunted again, this time slightly louder.

The first mate looked up with a glare at the intruder. He was a young man of twenty-seven whose harsh life of crabbing on the roughest seas in a small boat for a living led to him looking twice his age before he was asked by General Iroh if he wanted to work for him. Xo therefore was naturally grateful for the opportunity and before the past week, Xo would obediently obey all of Iroh’s decisions. “We will discuss this later, General Iroh.” Then he stalked off over to the other side of the ship.

Iroh’s back was towards Zuko for the space of several minutes, his posture rigid, before he turned around and smiled his usual warm smile at his nephew. “Oh, yes. Tea! I did not realize it was so late already. This is absolutely lovely, Prince Zuko. I guess we can have our afternoon ritual here for once. A change in routine keeps the mind active!”

As they sat on the deck, two mats under them for comfort with the tray in-between, Zuko observed his uncle’s failed attempts to disillusion him into thinking everything was fine. His uncle was putting far too much sugar in his tea, which Uncle Iroh seemed to realize as his face twisted into disgust for the briefest moment before disappearing. He was also recounting odd fables about tea he had come across when he was travelling the world as a young man. “Did you know that the Air Nomads before they died out believed the Avatar would reincarnate in the line of someone whose tea leaves when left over after drinking formed the sign of the yin and yang?” It was a habit that after years of knowing him and one year of living with him enabled Zuko to easily detect as an evasive maneuver.

Zuko stared his uncle down to let him know he was not fooled by his behavior.

Finally, Iroh sighed and gave into his nephew’s unspoken question. The old man took a gentle sip of his tea before proceeding. “I did not want to give your hopes up, but at last port I was told that the Northern Water Tribe may have healers who possess special abilities to heal scar tissue, even ones that are many years old.”

Zuko’s heart stopped and he delicately laid his hand over the damaged tissue on the left side of his face. Hope dangled temptingly, its promise of returning to normal suddenly just out of reach. The scars were a mark of his dishonor and if they vanished, would he feel whole again? Would he be able to speak again?

“Prince Zuko,” Uncle Iroh reminded. “We are so far South where there is very little contact, this news is most likely false- a legend told many times to keep hope alive in times of war.”

Zuko narrowed his eyes at his uncle and indicated where Xo stood barking orders to indicate he wanted to know why this upset the first mate so much.

“As you know, our commissions are usually to catch yellow turtlefish, which are only found near the Southern Water Tribe’s boarders. To get to the Northern Water Tribe would take weeks and some of our crew do not wish to remain parted from their families for so long. However, after we finish this commission, I plan on pursuing this rumor if there is the chance to return your voice to you.” Iroh promised, leaning across the tray to grasp Zuko’s hand just as the sound of a new catch of fish flopped on deck. “You are my life now, Nephew. I would do anything to give you back your smile.”

Zuko allowed his Uncle to lean forward and gently caress the unblemished side of his face. When his Uncle had withdrawn his hand, Zuko allowed himself to gaze at the floor. Uncle Iroh was really too good of a person. He’d given up his very comfortable retired life in his country for his worthless, ugly nephew and had chosen to live a harsh life on the sea to support said worthless nephew.

Zuko knew Uncle would have been better off he hadn’t survived his burns and Zuko often wished he hadn’t.

Not wanting his Uncle to worry, Zuko gave his Uncle a small smile and allowed his Uncle to ruffle his ragged hair before collecting the empty tea tray as his Uncle returned to work.

----

Zuko had been sleeping quietly on his thin floor mat when the ship suddenly lurched to one side and caused him to fall over.

He blinked as he tried to clear his mind of the daze that came from being unnaturally awoken from a long session of sleeping. It took several minutes before he realized what he was hearing outside of the door. The crew were screaming and shouting amid the sound of a violent wind. It all indicated one thing: they were in the middle of a storm. A clash of thunder sent a shiver down his spine as the boat lurched again.

Zuko sat up, tugging his ragged clothes on as he heard his uncle call his name in the distance.

The first step onto the deck was like instant acupuncture, but Zuko pressed on to where his uncle stood, several robes in his hand that he was struggling to tie down as the crew were frantically tying things down. “Nephew, I need your help securing the ropes!” Just as he came within arm reach of his uncle, the ship suddenly lurched to the left side, making him loose his footing and sending his crashing into the railing so hard he saw white for a brief second.

His vision cleared and he saw his uncle’s terrified face and chubby, warm arm extended to him three meters away. “Nephew!”

Zuko had just gotten to his feet when a sudden wave overtook the deck, making the deck so slick he fell backwards and over the railing.

The last thing he heard before the blue-black sea swallowed him was his uncle’s hysterical screams.

----

…..

“Katara, don’t touch it!”

Zuko opened his eyes to find a canvas of soft blue above him. It took him several seconds to place it. ‘Sky? I must be lying on my back.’

Suddenly, something sharp poked him in the side and he let out a gasp of pain. ‘What the hell was that?’

“It’s alive! Get behind me, Katara!” an adolescent male voice commanded.

Zuko tried to turn his head to the left to see the owner of the voice, but found his neck was too stiff to cooperate. He groaned in pain again.

“He’s hurt, Sokka! We have to help him!” said a young, female voice.

“He’s Fire Nation, Katara! Just look at his clothes. If one dies, it’s one less to worry about.” the male’s voice was laced with venom. There was another jab in his side and Zuko realized it was a wooden stick.

So he wasn’t in Fire Nation territory then.

“But he’s just a kid, Sokka! Look at him- he needs help!” the female voice… Katara?... exclaimed. “I’m going to get GramGram.”

He heard the sound of rapid crunching as the girl left despite the boy’s… Sokka?... call.

Zuko lay there for what seemed like an eternity, attempting to move any of his muscles but they all hurt too much. Then a shadow was cast over his face.

An old, dark-skinned and white-haired woman’s face smiled somewhat hesitantly down on him and despite how different she looked, Zuko could instantly tell her personality was much like his uncle’s. Zuko’s good eye suddenly went wide. Uncle… was Uncle okay?

A gnawed and weathered hand caressed his forehead. “He feels warm… a little too warm even for a fire-bender. Sokka, go to Mrs. Turtle and get her walrus-skin stretcher. Also, tell her I’ll need her help carrying him back home.”

“But GramGram…!”

“No ‘but’s, young man. Do as I say now!”

“Yes Ma’am,” Sokka groaned.

“You’re lucky to be alive, young man,” GramGram said as she gently soothed his hair away from his head.

TBC
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Speechless