where the past can't reach us // zuko x reader

Chapter Ten - Group Therapy

When dinner was over the next day, the sun had already sunk below the horizon, and the last traces of orange were fading from the sky. I hadn’t gone out on deck that evening, even though Iroh had invited me to have dinner outside. The weather was nice, he said, and the sky was lovely in that time, but I couldn’t bear to look at it. I was feeling better overall, but the sunsets still brought back memories I’d rather forget.

Instead, I’d spent dinner sitting in my room, picking at my fish with my fork, thinking about the conversation to come. Zuko knew my story, and I knew his, so the easier part was done. That meant that, today, we would actually have to pick apart our feelings, which was much harder. I only barely felt up to the task, and I was sure Zuko felt even less prepared – how could he discuss his emotional struggles, after all, if he denied having them in the first place? But I had made up my mind to help him, and I would dig him out of his denial to the best of my ability, no matter how hard he tried to stop me.

When I finally entered his room later that night, I found him and Iroh in the middle of an argument.

“Why did I let you talk me into this?” Zuko was shouting, flinging his hands up to the ceiling. Iroh sat across from him and quietly drank his tea, saying nothing. He saw me enter before Zuko did, and I whispered a quick hello as I looked around the room. The chairs were arranged in a triangle, with mine – the empty one – being closest to the door. A table stood in the middle, with three cups of tea. Iroh’s was already nearly empty, but Zuko’s stood completely untouched. I picked up my own cup and sat down.

The first few minutes, I expected someone to say something, but all I heard was the occasional shifting of arms and legs, gulps of tea, and the thud of the cups as they touched the table. Even these sounds grabbed my attention, making me jump every time. If only someone could speak, say something, anything that would break the silence... I sipped my tea as slowly as I could, gazing down into my cup to avoid making eye contact with Zuko, whose eyes I could feel burning holes into my head. I think, had it not been for Iroh's presence, the holes would have been more than just a metaphor.

“So... um... the tea was nice!” I finally said, unable to take the silence any longer.

“Indeed,” agreed Iroh.

“Anyway... um... uhh... how's this all going to work?”

“It can work whatever way you want it to...”

“I guess... yeah... um... yeah.”

For another few seconds, we drifted back into silence, somehow even more awkward than before as Zuko continued to stare at us, eyes only getting angrier. Then, suddenly – he couldn’t hold it in any longer.

“I knew this would be a massive waste of my time!” he shouted, slamming his hand down onto the table. “I need to capture the Avatar! I have no time to spare for your stupid tea drinking sessions!”

“You know, Prince Zuko, a few moments of peace and quiet, along with a cup of calming jasmine tea, are very good for your mental wellbeing.”

“Your uncle's right, you know...” I said, “But if you don’t like the silence, then... we're here to talk things out.”

“I already told you last time, I have nothing to say!”

“Then you can listen,” said Iroh, calm as ever. “I can go first.” Upon seeing that neither of us protested, he began. “When I was still serving as a General in the Fire Nation Army... I lost my son. I had just broken through the wall of Ba Sing Se, I was so happy at this great victory... I thought it was my destiny to break through the walls, and we were almost done with the second one when...” He stopped, and in the dim candlelight, I could see his eyes beginning to water. “I got the news from my friend, and I couldn’t believe it. I had to see for myself. I saw him, lying there... so peaceful amidst all the destruction. Lu Ten, my only son... I promised him I would see him soon after the war was over. I promised I’d be there for him his whole life... Who knew my promise would be kept in such a way...” I could hear his voice begin to break now, and my own eyes teared up as he continued. “His favourite song when he was a child was Little Soldier Boy. I sang it for him that day, right in the middle of the battlefield... And all I could think about was how my soldier boy... Lu Ten, my brave little soldier boy... would never come marching home.”