The Fates Aren't Fair

A/N: Wow, my first one-shot. I was beginning to believe I lacked the ability to produce such a story, given that all my ideas seem to need multiple chapters to properly explore. This story just inexplicably popped into my head one day and I couldn't resist writing it down. It takes place on and around chapter four of The Book of Earth: The Swamp. It's not to be taken seriously. It is rated for subject matter and mild swearing.

Disclaimer: Avatar, its characters and properties do not belong to me, they belong to Nickelodeon. Only the story is mine.

It wasn't as if Zuko normally imbibed. He didn't really. Oh sure, he had the occasional cup of sake with his Uncle at dinnertime, but never to excess. After all, one had to think straight in order to bend straight. It was just that his life had been so horrible lately; what with all his hopes and dreams being destroyed and his sister trying to capture him and all. He had been forced to live off the land like some kind of pauper and worse yet, watch his noble Uncle beg for coins. It was intolerable.

So he over drank a little. It was excusable; everyone was doing it. Hell, his Uncle was passed out and snoring long before Zuko had even felt tipsy. The small Earth Kingdom village they had wandered into had been celebrating the return of spring, or some such nonsense; Zuko hadn't bothered to find out. What was of far greater interest to the weary travelers was that the food was plentiful, and most importantly, free. The villagers had been dancing around; there was singing and music. Everyone had seemed so carefree. He wanted that. He wanted to forget it all, if only just for a little while. Was that really so wrong?

So when the serving girl went by offering up free rice wine, he had held up his cup. Again and again and again. And for a while, he had forgotten about the war and the Avatar and his messed up family life. He had forgotten that he was a wanted man, surrounded by enemies. For a brief moment, he had been free. Was that so bad? Sure, he knew that escapism wasn't the most noble of activities, but did he really deserve to be taken to task so severely for it?

The hangover was bad enough. Zuko had never had one before, but it was living up to everything he had heard about. Between his throbbing head, the horrible taste in his mouth and the general sense of nausea; Zuko felt he was being punished sufficiently for his indiscretion. But who was he kidding? This was his life. The universe clearly had other ideas as to what constituted a suitable punishment.

As if the hangover wasn't bad enough, Zuko was woken up at the crack of dawn by singing. Singing! And not the pretty kind that the villagers had been engaged in; no, of course not. This was yodeling at its worst, accompanied by very loud, twangy instruments. Music so bad that it made his Uncle's ridiculous music nights sound good in comparison. After moaning and groaning, he managed to crack open one very reluctant eye. Apparently he had been taken prisoner during the night by some local yokels. And if that wasn't insult enough, for some Avatar-forsaken reason they were swamp dwellers and waterbenders. As if he hadn't had enough of that particular element in recent months.

Upon realizing he was awake, one of the swamp people had declared, loudly, that he, Prince Zuko, son of the Firelord and heir to the Fire Nation, had promised to marry one of his daughters. Now admittedly, most of the previous night was something of a blur to the hung-over Prince. But he was fairly certain that he would remember betrothing himself. He was almost definitely sure that he would never agree to marry someone named Elli-Mei or Buellah. (His choice, apparently.) And when the man brought forth said daughters, Zuko was one hundred percent positive that he would never, ever marry a woman with missing teeth, nor one that had more hair on her upper lip than he did.

This was some alcohol induced nightmare; it had to be. Zuko squeezed his eyes shut, hoping beyond hope to wake up elsewhere. His desperate delusion was shattered when a peasant shoved a deep fried giant insect under his nose. Now lately Zuko had found himself in dire straights when it came to food. Under conditions of duress, he probably would have admitted to eating some strange and undesirable things as of late, including other people's garbage. But despite the fact that his Uncle insisted that they were high in protein, he drew the line at eating bugs, giant-sized or otherwise. And the fact that this one was fried wasn't helping his nausea. At all.

Zuko's morning was definitely off to a rotten start. Cursing the villagers as fools, he tried to curl up into a ball, blocking out the incessant noise and the light and the world in general. But the Fates weren't done with him yet; oh no, they had just begun to mess with his day.

Now the Earth Kingdom was a large nation. Zuko knew this from personal experience because lately he had been forced to walk just about everywhere he went. Not only was the Earth Kingdom a very large country, the world in general was an extremely huge place. So technically, if one had a large flying mammal at one's disposal, one could be anywhere in the very large, spread out world. Anywhere. So why, why in the name of the fire spirits did the Avatar and his annoying friends have to be here!

The Water Tribe boy had laughed, laughed at the hung-over Prince. The girl had made a snide remark about being invited to his impending wedding. On any other day, Zuko would have incinerated them both. The Watertribers, the stupid, noisy swamp people, and the stupid stinky swamp while he was at it.

But this was not a normal day; this was quite possibly the worst day of his life. Well, if he didn't count the Agni-Kai or getting blown off his own ship or Azula trying to electrocute him; but still, this one ranked right up there. Anyways, he would have rained fiery death upon them all if his only ardent wish hadn't been to be left alone so he could go back to sleep. If he had put some effort into it, he maybe could have belched fire at them, but given the fact that he could smell the alcohol on his own breath, he judged that not to be the best of ideas.

So he settled for laying there while the twelve year old Avatar, who had probably never had a cup of sake in his entire life, looked at him with large, sympathetic eyes and negotiated him away from the Swamp tribe. Yeah, because Zuko wanted to owe his enemies… again.

Once again he found himself traveling on the back of the giant whatever's saddle, which wouldn't have been such a bad thing if it hadn't meant leaving the relatively shady swamp for the sunny skies. Normally Zuko liked the sun. The warm rays made him feel powerful and strong. Today, however, he was denied even that simple pleasure. The sun was unmercifully bright and his eyes burned and watered in protest. It wasn't fair. He was a Prince, damn it; how many indignities was he going to be forced to suffer?

Katara, the Water Tribe girl who had suddenly and inexplicably become a master bender, waved her hand in front of her nose and complained, loudly, that his breath was strong enough to melt an iceberg. She scooted away from him, frowning at him like he was something she had scraped off the bottom of her shoe.

And if he had been feeling better, Zuko would have retorted that people who spent all day flying around on a giant, furry yak or whatever he was, had no business complaining about the scents of others. But just then the combination of yak stink and the motion of flying made his stomach flip-flop and he ended up throwing up off the side of the animal's saddle.

"Eeewww!" Katara and Aang said in unison.

"Cool! Did you see it come out of his nose?" exclaimed Sokka, who as a teenaged male was more finely attuned to the entertainment value of bodily functions.

Appa, who hadn't been happy about carrying the Prince in the first place, was even less thrilled about Zuko's putrid puke covering his haunches. He roared about it, loudly, and the others came to the quick consensus that it was best to just drop Zuko off back where the swamp guy had found him.

Once they had landed and managed not only to off-load the Prince, but also to get him to stand on his own two feet; Zuko thought a show of force would be the best way to reclaim some of his lost dignity. Unfortunately he still couldn't bend, so instead of chasing off the far too kindly Avatar with a blast of fire, he settled for impotently shaking his fist at them and making vague threats against their future well-being. Which probably would have been far more effective if he hadn't accidentally stepped backwards into a large pile of platypus-bear droppings.

This time, they all laughed.

The Avatar, not wanting to be mobbed by fans, had deposited Zuko a little outside of the town. The Prince shambled back towards the village, every step feeling like torture. He was tempted, oh so tempted, to just lay down under a tree and go to sleep. But surely by now his Uncle would be desperately searching for him. Yes, of course he would be and he'd be sympathetic too. Zuko could use some sympathy. And some sleep. And a bath would be good too. In that order.

But the old man wasn't worried about him or desperately searching or even aware that he was missing. No, his loving Uncle was still sleeping underneath a tree. Zuko stared at the old General's prone body wearily for a moment. Well… at least now he could get some sleep. Laying down and stealing the blanket that some kind soul had placed over his Uncle, Zuko gratefully closed his eyes. Finally, finally the nightmare was over.

But no. Because the Fates weren't kind or even fair, his Uncle woke up all of a minute after Zuko had lain down. And the old man was bright and cheerful and loud. Zuko came to the slow realization that his Uncle hadn't passed out last night, he had simply fallen asleep. The Prince gave up. He mentally begged forgiveness from every ancestor and spirit that he could think of and fervently promised to never, ever drink that much sake again. And then he ordered his Uncle to go away.

Which the old man did, after a time. Unaware that Zuko had already been punished for his overindulging, Iroh made sure to be as loud and annoying as he could before departing. That would teach the boy! But at last he had pity on his suffering nephew, and left the Prince alone.

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"Prince Zuko, Prince Zuko, wake up!"

The Prince cracked his bloodshot eyes. "I told you that I didn't want to be disturbed unless it was absolutely necessary. Is this absolutely necessary?"

"Of course, Prince Zuko. Now look at what I found." Iroh beamed at him proudly and held out a flower bearing plant. "It's the rare Dragon's Beard Lily. When brewed and drank as a tea, it will cure your hangover in a minute." The old man's face became puzzled. "Or… it could be the toxic DisCialis plant, which went consumed causes permanent numbness in a, er, certain important male region."

Zuko stared in disbelief at his Uncle for a moment. Then he dragged the blanket back over his head.

Fin