Zuko and Alec ran. They didn't stop, didn't look back, didn't even speak. The sounds of the battle, the Earthbenders' shouts, and Iroh's final, powerful roar slowly faded behind them. All that mattered was putting distance between themselves and the place where Iroh had sacrificed himself.
The forest was a blur of green and brown, the ground uneven beneath their feet. Zuko, fueled by a raw, desperate energy, pushed himself harder than he ever had before. Alec, his grip firm on Zuko's arm, matched his pace, his senses guiding them through the dense undergrowth, away from any pursuing forces.
They ran until their lungs burned, until their legs ached, until the last faint echo of the battle was gone. Finally, Alec pulled Zuko to a stop in a small, hidden clearing. It was a quiet place, surrounded by tall, ancient trees, their branches forming a thick canopy that blocked out most of the sky.
A small stream gurgled nearby, its gentle sound the only noise in the oppressive silence. They collapsed onto the damp earth, their chests heaving, sweat pouring down their faces.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The silence was heavy, filled with unspoken grief, anger, and the crushing weight of what had just happened. Zuko buried his face in his hands, his body trembling.
The image of Iroh, standing defiant against the Earthbenders, his face filled with love and resolve, burned in his mind. His uncle, his only constant, his guide, his family… gone. Captured. And he had left him. He had run.
Alec watched him, his own internal processors working overtime. He could sense Zuko's overwhelming grief, the raw pain that radiated from him. He also felt a deep sadness, a pang of loss for Iroh. The old general had been a source of quiet wisdom, a comforting presence in this strange, new world.
But more than that, Alec felt the heavy burden of his own secret, the knowledge that he could have done more, that he had held back. He had to maintain his cover, yes, but at what cost? The answer was now clear: Iroh's freedom.
The silence stretched, growing tighter, more suffocating. Then, Zuko slowly lifted his head. His eyes, usually burning with a fierce determination, were now red-rimmed and filled with a cold, hard fury. And that fury was directed squarely at Alec.
"This is your fault," Zuko said, his voice low, trembling with suppressed rage. Each word was a sharp, painful accusation. "This is all your fault!"
Alec flinched, not from fear, but from the unexpected venom in Zuko's voice. He had anticipated anger, blame, but not this raw, cutting accusation. "Prince Zuko, that's not fair," Alec began, trying to keep his voice calm, reasonable. "Iroh made a choice. He created an escape for us. He sacrificed himself so we could get away."
"He sacrificed himself because of you!" Zuko roared, pushing himself to his feet. His firebending flared around his fists, small, uncontrolled bursts of flame reflecting his inner turmoil. "You and your secrets! You and your 'mission'! If you weren't so busy hiding whatever it is you're hiding, maybe he wouldn't have had to! Maybe we could have fought them off! Maybe he wouldn't be captured right now!"
Zuko lunged forward, grabbing Alec by the front of his tunic, his face inches from Alec's blindfolded one. His scar seemed to burn with his anger. "You lied to me, Alec! You pretended to be blind! You let me believe you were helpless, and all this time, you had powers you weren't using! Powers that could have saved him! Saved my uncle!"
Tears mixed with the sweat on his face, a testament to his profound pain. "He trusted you! I trusted you!"
Alec stood firm, not flinching from Zuko's grip, even as the younger prince's anger radiated off him like heat. He understood Zuko's pain, his need to lash out.
But the accusations, the unfairness of it, stung. He had done his best, within the strict limits of his mission. He had saved Zuko countless times, subtly guided him, protected him. And now, all that was forgotten, replaced by bitter blame.
"You think I wanted this, Prince Zuko?" Alec's voice was low, a dangerous edge creeping into it. His own frustration, usually kept tightly under control, began to boil. He was still in an 17-year-old body, a body that felt every ache, every exhaustion, every raw emotion.
The weight of his mission, the constant deception, the impossible choices – it was all crashing down on him. "You think I enjoyed watching him get captured? You think I wanted to leave him behind? I had a mission, a directive! I couldn't risk revealing everything! Not then! Not there!"
"Your mission?!" Zuko scoffed, pushing Alec away. "What good is your mission if it costs you the people who care about you? What good is it if it costs you your family? My uncle is gone, Alec! Gone! And it's because you're too much of a coward to be honest!"
The word "coward" hit Alec like a physical blow. It was a raw, unfair accusation, striking at the very core of his being. He had faced countless dangers, made impossible decisions, all while maintaining a complex, dangerous deception. He had risked everything for this world, for this mission, for them. And now, he was being called a coward by the very person he was trying to protect.
His carefully constructed calm shattered. The human emotions, amplified by his youthful body, surged through him. Frustration, anger, hurt – they all mixed into a bitter cocktail. "Coward?!" Alec's voice rose, losing its usual measured tone.
"You think I'm the coward? You're the one who can't see past his own anger! You're the one who blames everyone else for his problems! You're just a spoiled, angry prince who can't handle the truth!"
The words, once spoken, hung in the air, sharp and cruel. Alec saw Zuko flinch, his face paling, the anger momentarily replaced by a look of profound hurt. The raw, unfiltered truth of Alec's outburst, though fueled by his own frustration, had struck a deep, painful chord. Zuko's shoulders slumped, his firebending dying down, leaving him looking small and vulnerable.
Alec felt an immediate, crushing wave of regret. The words had tumbled out, uncontrolled, fueled by a momentary lapse in his usual discipline. He hadn't meant to hurt Zuko, not like that. He had seen the pain in Zuko's eyes, the deep-seated insecurities that lay beneath the anger.
He had just added to them. He wanted to take the words back, to apologize, to explain. But it was too late. The damage was done. The chasm between them, which had slowly been closing, had just been ripped wide open.
Zuko stared at him, his eyes devoid of their usual fire, replaced by a cold, empty gaze. "Get out," he said, his voice barely a whisper, yet it cut through the air like a knife. "Get out, Alec. I don't want to see you again. Ever."
Alec's heart, or what passed for it, sank. He knew this was coming. He had pushed too far. He had broken the fragile trust they had built. He had lost his composure, and in doing so, he had lost Zuko. He looked at the prince, seeing the deep, unyielding hurt in his eyes. There was no going back from this. Not now.
He nodded slowly, a silent acknowledgment of Zuko's command. He couldn't explain, couldn't apologize, not without making things worse. The words were out there, hanging between them, a permanent scar on their relationship.
He turned, his blindfold still in place, and began to walk away, deeper into the silent forest. He didn't look back, even though every fiber of his being screamed at him to do so. He could feel Zuko's gaze on his back, a burning weight that followed him until the trees swallowed him whole.
Zuko stood alone in the clearing, the silence pressing in on him. The echoes of Alec's harsh words, his own accusations, and Iroh's final roar filled his mind. He had pushed Alec away, had driven him out. And now, he was truly alone.
The weight of his uncle's capture, combined with the bitter taste of his argument with Alec, was almost unbearable. He sank back to the ground, burying his face in his hands once more, the tears he had held back finally falling, hot and heavy, for his uncle, for Alec, and for the broken pieces of his own heart.
The search for the Avatar, his honor, now felt heavier than ever, a burden he had to carry alone. The path ahead was dark, and for the first time, Zuko felt truly lost.