Silent Night

Spirals

"—vigilantes think they can change things, but the Dai Li will have their heads soon enough," one sneered. Zuko's hand trembled slightly, tea sloshing onto the saucer.

Zuko's hand froze mid-pour, tea dribbling unnoticed onto the table. The Dai Li. The words echoed in his head, each repetition louder, more ominous. He could almost feel the cold gaze of their stone masks, see the swift, silent motion of their earthbending, closing in around him and Suki. The danger was no longer a distant threat; it felt immediate, suffocating.

As he moved to clear another table, he caught another fragment, "—reckless vigilantes stirring trouble. They'll get what's coming to them soon enough."

Reckless. The judgment in the voice sent a sharp pang through Zuko. Was that how the world saw us? Not as protectors but as mere agitators, foolishly poking the underbelly of a beast like Ba Sing Se? With each word, his internal defense walls, built so painstakingly over years of struggle and exile, seemed to crumble a little.

He returned to the counter, setting down the tray with a clatter that was a bit too loud. His thoughts were spiraling, each one a darker, more desperate iteration of the last. They're too close. We're too exposed. It's my fault. That girl is in danger because of me—

The girl.

Moving with seamless grace under the moonlight, her fans a silent and deadly extension of her will. The memory surfaced unbidden, vivid, and bright against the dark of his fears. Her control, her calm under pressure—it was mesmerizing. Beautiful. And they had been close; so close last night that he could count the specks of dust in her hair, see the subtle shift of muscle under her skin. His heart raced, not just with fear now, but with something lighter, though no less intense. The thought of her, so capable and strong and right there. Right there.

What if I took my mask off?

I want to take my mask off.

A cup crashed to the floor, shattering, pulling him from his reverie. The sudden noise snapped Zuko back to the harsh reality of the tea shop. His cheeks flushed with a surge of adrenaline and embarrassment, his heart still pounding at the bottom of his stomach. How could he even think about her like this right now? 

The room seemed to close in around him, the walls echoing back his fears. Every laugh sounded like mockery, every hushed conversation a plotting whisper. Zuko felt trapped, caught in a web of his own making.

Iroh's voice cut through the tumult of his thoughts. "Prince Zuko, is everything alright?" There was a knowing concern in his uncle's eyes that made Zuko feel even more exposed.

Zuko's response was terse, his voice tight with barely suppressed panic. "I have to go." He couldn't stand the oppressive warmth of the tea shop a moment longer, the benign clatter of dishes a stark contrast to the storm raging in his mind. Grabbing his Blue Spirit mask, he fled into the cool night air. It was a relief to be outside, away from the prying eyes and ears, away from the suffocating concern of his uncle.

-

He walked without truly seeing, his feet carrying him on a path they had traced many times before. Thoughts of being exposed as the banished prince, as the traitor to his country, of the dangers he could be putting both Iroh and Suki in merged with memories of Suki's feathery fingers, her hair brushing up against her cheeks as she performed graceful silent jumps for Zuko, and her soft smile. What am I doing? Why am I still doing this? Who am I protecting?