Zuko winced. "You don't have to call me Prince Zuko. Just… Zuko."
Alec finally stopped, turning to face him. Even with the blindfold, Zuko felt the intensity of his gaze. "Why? Does it bother you, Prince Zuko? Does it make you feel… distant?" There was a subtle edge to his voice now, a hint of the hurt that Zuko had inflicted. "Did you care about my feelings when you told me to get lost? When you said you never wanted to see me again? Did you care then, Prince Zuko?"
The words hit Zuko like a physical blow, each one a sharp, painful reminder of his own cruelty. He flinched, his gaze dropping to the ground. "I… I was angry. I was upset. Iroh… I thought… I didn't mean it, Alec. I was just… I was scared." He fumbled for an explanation, for an excuse, but the words felt hollow, inadequate.
Alec took a step closer, his voice dropping to a low, almost dangerous whisper. "Scared? Or guilty, Prince Zuko? Is that why you're apologizing now? Because I saved you? Because I came back, even after you cast me aside? Is your guilt so overwhelming that you feel compelled to offer me empty words of regret?"
Zuko's head snapped up, his eyes blazing. "It's not guilt! I… I was wrong. I know I was wrong. I was a fool. I was… I was a jerk. I'm sorry, Alec. Truly. I'm sorry." He was stumbling over his words, his usual composure shattered. He had never apologized to anyone with such raw sincerity, such desperate vulnerability. It felt alien, uncomfortable, yet strangely liberating.
Alec remained silent for a long moment, his blindfolded face unreadable. The tension in the air was palpable, thick with unspoken emotions. Zuko braced himself for another cutting remark, another reminder of his failings. But when Alec finally spoke, his voice was softer, though still tinged with a lingering bitterness.
"You are right, Prince Zuko. You were a jerk. A very big jerk." A faint, almost imperceptible smirk touched Alec's lips, and Zuko felt a flicker of hope. "And yes, your guilt is quite evident. But… I am willing to consider your apology. On one condition."
Zuko's eyes widened. "Anything. Name it."
"If something like this ever happens again," Alec said, his voice firm, his tone serious, "if you ever feel the urge to lash out, to push me away, to say cruel things… you will listen. You will talk. You will not shut me out. You will not let your anger blind you to reason. Do you understand, Prince Zuko?"
"I understand," Zuko said, his voice barely a whisper. "I promise. I will. I swear it." The promise felt heavy, a solemn vow that transcended their current predicament. It was a promise not just to Alec, but to himself, a commitment to a different path, a path of understanding and open communication.
"Good," Alec said, a hint of satisfaction in his voice. "And one more thing. A task, if you will. A test of your newfound… willingness to cooperate." He paused, and Zuko braced himself, wondering what impossible feat Alec would demand. "You will find a snake. A venomous one, if possible. And you will let it bite an apple. A red apple. And then you will bring that apple to me."
Zuko stared at him, utterly bewildered. "A… a snake? Bite an apple? What in the Fire Lord's name are you talking about?"
Alec merely shrugged, a faint smile playing on his lips. "A task, Prince Zuko. A promise. Do you accept?"
Zuko, still confused but sensing the underlying seriousness beneath Alec's strange request, nodded slowly. "I… I accept. But why?"
"Some things," Alec said, turning and resuming his walk, "are best understood through experience. Now, come. We have a long night ahead of us, and I am still quite hungry. Perhaps we can find some more… *unclaimed* berries." A hint of genuine amusement finally crept into his voice, and Zuko, despite his lingering confusion, felt a strange lightness in his chest. The chasm between them had not entirely closed, but a bridge, however fragile, had been built. And for now, that was enough.
As they continued their journey through the moonlit wilderness, the initial awkwardness between Zuko and Alec slowly began to dissipate, replaced by a fragile, almost hesitant camaraderie. The air, once thick with unspoken tension, now carried the faint scent of pine and damp earth, a more natural backdrop to their forced companionship. Zuko, despite his exhaustion, found himself observing Alec with a renewed sense of curiosity. Alec, usually so composed and enigmatic, had shown a flicker of genuine emotion over a mere fruit, a vulnerability that was both surprising and, in a strange way, disarming.
Alec, for his part, maintained a steady, unhurried pace, his blindfolded face still unreadable, yet his movements were less rigid, more fluid. He seemed to be listening to the subtle whispers of the night, the rustle of leaves, the distant calls of nocturnal creatures, navigating the uneven terrain with an almost supernatural ease. Zuko, despite his own keen senses, found himself relying on Alec's lead, a silent acknowledgment of the otherworlder's unique abilities.
They walked for what felt like hours, the conversation sporadic, punctuated by long stretches of comfortable silence. Zuko, still reeling from the events of the past few days – Iroh's capture, his own outburst, Alec's unexpected return – found his mind replaying the conversation they had just had. Alec's words, sharp and direct, had cut through Zuko's defenses, forcing him to confront his own flaws, his own tendency to lash out when hurt or frustrated. It was a painful realization, but also a necessary one. He had always prided himself on his honor, on his unwavering loyalty, yet his actions towards Alec had been anything but honorable.
He stole a glance at Alec, who was now carefully examining a cluster of glowing mushrooms growing at the base of a tree. "These are 'Glow-caps'," Alec murmured, his voice soft, almost contemplative. "They're not edible, but they can be used as a temporary light source as lighting fire may attract attention of our enemies. And they're quite beautiful, aren't they?" He reached out a hand, his fingers brushing lightly against the luminous caps, a gesture of gentle appreciation that surprised Zuko. It was a side of Alec he hadn't seen before, a quiet reverence for the natural world that seemed at odds with his usual pragmatic demeanor.
"Beautiful," Zuko echoed, genuinely surprised by the delicate glow of the mushrooms. He had always seen nature as something to be conquered, to be bent to his will, not something to be admired for its inherent beauty. It was a small moment, a fleeting glimpse into Alec's world, but it left a lasting impression on Zuko.
They continued their walk, the silence now less about tension and more about shared contemplation. Zuko found himself wanting to understand Alec more, to peel back the layers of mystery that surrounded him. He wanted to know about his world, about the things he found beautiful, about the experiences that had shaped him. It was a strange, unfamiliar feeling, this desire for connection, for understanding, especially with someone he had so recently scorned.