I do not own Avatar: the Last Airbender.

Silver Lining

The corridors were dark. The lanterns that hung from their extravagant metal brackets offered a few dim spheres of light, the red flames flickering lazily and casting twisting shadows on the walls. The glow seemed to put particular emphasis on the Fire Nation symbols that stood proudly on red banners hanging from the ceiling, and they seemed a bit more aggressive than usual this night.

Bare feet padded against marble. Eight-year-old Zuko stared at the floor as he moved, hands folded in front of him. His night robes swished and brushed against his ankles. He didn't make eye contact with any of the guards that he passed, and only gave a curt nod to the bows that were given to him. He did not feel like making conversation with them. There was only one person he wanted to speak to that night.

Actually, he'd been wanting to speak with him all month. Ever since his mother had gone.

He flinched at the very thought, a cold feeling seeping through his gut and tears prickling his eyes. How could she? How could she leave me like this?

In one night, the only person who loved him was no longer there. It wasn't fair.

He reached his destination, and for a moment his anguished thoughts left him. The royal kitchens were pitch black, and so he created a small flame in the palm of his hand. It gave him enough light to do what he wanted to do.

Despite being the Crown Prince of the Fire Nation, he'd been to the 'servant's quarters' (as his father and new Fire Lord disgustingly called them) with his mother. While he didn't know how to do many, life-basic things, he could make a cup of tea and a bowl of rice.

So that's what he set out to do, the flame hovering in one hand while the other grabbed the items he needed. He worked quickly, tending to the tea and rice at the same time. He feared what would happen if he was caught doing commoner's work. The servants would no doubt report it to his father, and that was something Zuko did not want.

And I thought Grandfather Azulon was cruel, he thought to himself bitterly, idly watching the pot as it heated. If not for his mother, he would be dead. And all because his father had asked Azulon to remove Iroh's birthright.

Zuko didn't know what exactly occurred that fateful night. All he knew is that when he woke up, his grandfather was dead and his mother was gone, no doubt fleeing for fear of the punishment for treason. That, at least, was what his sister heavily implied. Though he knew Azula lied very often, this was an instant where she took great delight in delivering the truth. It was utterly twisted, how much glee she took from his devastation, and how little she cared about their mother.

Trembling, he held back his tears. He understood now, what his uncle was going through. He had lost his only son, and in his grief abandoned the siege of Ba Sing Se. Ozai considered his brother to be a disgrace to the royal name.

He's not, the boy thought fiercely, tipping some rice into a bowl and adding it to a golden, engraved tray that already held a cup of clumsily-made tea. His uncle had made the right choice. In his grief, he would not have been the leader needed to continue the siege. There had also been many losses, and if the soldiers lost hope, then the fight was already lost.

Tray balanced carefully in his hands, Zuko walked in the direction of his uncle's quarters. Ever since his return, Iroh had stayed secluded in his room, not venturing out for meals. He didn't even fight against Ozai's coronation, the theft of his birthright. He only watched the crowning with a hollow, blank expression, and vanished immediately after.

Reaching the general's quarters, Zuko debated on whether he should knock. It was three in the morning, and he didn't want to wake his uncle if he was asleep. But he had a feeling Iroh was, like himself, plagued by nightmares that prevented slumber from claiming them.

Deciding to peek inside, he nudged the door open. He was greeted by his uncle sitting up in his grand bed, staring mournfully at a portrait of Lu Ten, silent tears trailing down his wrinkled cheeks. Strands of grey hair had gotten loose from his topknot, and it looked as if he hadn't bothered to wash in days.

A lump grew in Zuko's throat and he ventured inside. It hurt to see Iroh so upset, so broken. The man who was always so strong, so happy, was a husk of who he used to be.

Maybe I can help.

"Uncle?" Zuko whispered hesitantly.

Slowly, Iroh raised his head and stared at his nephew. Taking this as a sign of invitation, Zuko shut the door behind him and approached the man's side. "I brought some rice and tea," the boy said, gently placing the tray on the bedside table. "It's been a while since you've eaten, so you must be hungry."

His uncle did not say anything in response. He only turned back to the portrait of Lu Ten, the tips of his fingers tracing the black lines. Zuko pulled awkwardly on the neck of his robes, trying desperately to think of something that might make his uncle feel a bit better.

"Um…I know how you're feeling," he said softly, eyes on the floor. "You're really sad and you feel like your life is over. I feel the same way. Father and Azula…"

Their names felt like acid on his tongue as he remembered their cool sneers and empty condolences when the news of Lu Ten's death reached them. He remembered the glee Azula held when she broke the news of Ursa's disappearance, or death. His sister had not elaborated, and his father wanted nothing to do with him.

"They don't understand."

Golden eyes moved back to meet his own. Zuko swallowed and pressed on. "I think you did the right thing, abandoning Ba Sing Se. You wouldn't have been able to do the best you could if you and the other soldiers stayed. You saved many more lives by retreating. I don't think you're a disgrace. Father doesn't understand. And…and I know we've lost people we love, but it's like you say, there's a silver lining…"

He faltered for a moment. While he did listen to many of his uncle's proverbs, he had difficulty remembering them and what they meant. "There's a silver lining sandwich in every cloud, or something," he finished, a bit lamely. He set a hand on Iroh's knee. "Mom and Lu Ten may be gone, but we can remember them, and try to make them proud. We can do that together, 'cause we still have each other—"

Strong arms suddenly reached out and grabbed him by the waist, lifting him up. Zuko found himself wrapped in a tight embrace by his uncle, and he returned it. The tears finally fell free, trailing down his cheeks. He cried for the loss of his mother and the loss of his cousin, people who were kind and caring, and helped him face his father and sister, who despised him openly.

After a long moment, Iroh finally pulled back so he could look his nephew in the eye. A watery smile graced his lips, a tender thumb brushed Zuko's tears away. "You are right, dear nephew. Lady Ursa and Lu Ten would not want us to be so sad."

"Nuh-uh," agreed Zuko, his own small fingers reaching out to clear away his uncle's tears.

"We will heal together. It may take a while, but I know I will be fine, with you by my side."

"Does that mean you'll eat now?" Zuko asked hopefully.

"It would be disrespectful to ignore such kindness," Iroh agreed. For the first time since the horrible news of his son's death was delivered, he no longer felt empty. He understood now, that he was not meant to give up. He would not leave his nephew alone to face Ozai's abuse and Azula's mind games. "But I will eat only if you sleep."

Zuko self-consciously rubbed the bags that hung under his eyes. "Can…can I stay here?"

"I would have it no other way," said Iroh softly. He leaned against the stack of plush pillows and tucked the young boy to his side. Zuko cuddled close, eyelids slowly falling as warmth cascaded over him, unconsciously fisting his uncle's robes. He could hear the soft clink of chopsticks against porcelain, and every so often a calloused hand would drift down and soothingly rub the top of his head.

For the first time since his mother left, he felt protected and safe.

I was wrong. There is still someone in this world who loves me.

Together, he and Uncle would show Ozai what they were capable of, that they were more than worthy of the royal name. Uncle would redeem himself, and Zuko would show that he was just as good as Azula, if not better.

No matter how long it takes, we'll show them. We'll show them together. We'll make Mom and Lu Ten proud. I promise, Uncle. Together, we will reach that silver lining.