So my friends and i came up with a sort of AU where people sprout flowers in their hair when they feel any sort of love. So anyways, ahklut crew teases Zuko about how many blue family flowers have been growing in his hair the longer he stays on the ship.
This puts his Season One hair into a whole new perspective.
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Uncleâs hair has dried flowers: his wifeâs panda lily, Lu Tenâs dragon ivy. Everyone knows that dead flowers arenât as fragile as they seem, but he has the crewmen carry an umbrella over him when it rains, anyway. Carefully, he combs around them every morning. Leaves from the vine, Zuko hears him crooning sometimes, even though Lu Ten wonât ever lose his leaves. He wonât grow any new ones, either.
(Tucked away under his greying strands, still too close to the scalp to be easily seen, a bud has been growing for years. Iroh does not pressure it to bloom, but he does look forward to the occasion.)
(And then a storm, and the Dragon of the West realizes there is no way to tell a dead bloom from a live one without prying its petals open, and this he cannot do. A dead bloom can never heal.)
The Akhlutâs crew find the Fire Princeâs shaved head profane. When heâs caught stealing razors, they crack down. Stubble grows around the black ponytail. Flowers donât.
(At thirteen, the Fire Lord set a hand on Zukoâs face, and burned Ursaâs sheltering rose bramble away. It would have grown back if she was alive.)
(âIt would have grown back if she still loved you,â Azula corrects him, and heâs never sure it if was a fever dream that placed her next to his sick bed, or if she really was there, her precise flames as good as any garden shears as she burned his fire lily from above her ear.)
âWhose is that?â Toklo asks, delighted and too loud, when he catches sight of the little sprig of blue flowers that are only visible when the Fire Prince lets his hair down to wash.
âNo one,â Zuko says, loudly. âMy little sister,â he says, more quietly.
Uncleâs white jade flower is too large, too showy, it sticks out as it curls above his head. He snips it off between his fingers each morning, but it never stops trying to come back.
The crewmen, their own heads in ruckus and unashamed bloom, watch his daily pruning with distaste. No one ever catches what the Fire Lordâs flower looks like; they can never catch him pruning it.
(They assume itâs there to be pruned.)
(Zuko would like to know what his fatherâs love looks like, too.)
His outrage at Tokloâs snowdrops peaking their way through his black fuzz is as hilarious as it is worrying.
(âDonât get attached, Toklo,â they warn.
âBut warm water,â says their younger crewmen, who has never seen a reason to be stingy with his love.)
The Fire Prince shouts and steams. The snowdrops shake quite merrily in his rage. He doesnât pluck them.
He doesnât pluck Kustaaâs grudging little cloudberry flowers, either.
âAre you loving me to spite me?â the Fire Prince accuses.
âYes,â says Kustaa, who parted his hair specifically to show off the new little bud trying so hard to hide.
They donât give the boy to the Earth Kingdom. They forget to scowl while they teach him how to do new things. They stop threatening him, mostly. That shouldnât be all it takes for those little buds to start spreading among the crew.
(The Waniâs crew had them, too. Back when the prince was a shouty little thirteen year old monster, theyâd taken it as a sign that things would soon get better. Things did not get better. Most of them forgot about those under-developed buds, except on the odd occasion when their combs would jar against them.)
Then they fight a Fire Navy ship, and find the prince curled up as far as he can get from the man heâs killed. Kustaa holds him as he shakes, a fire lily in full bloom on his head. It would look ridiculous, if it didnât look so much like blood.
Heâs not the prince for long after that.
His hair isnât so barren of flowers for long after that, either. Eventually, he even lets his real uncleâs bloom find its place among the rest. It doesnât look so overbearing, when itâs not so alone.
âI miss him,â The boy admits, as they sit on the main mast (as one does).
Somewhere far, but not too far, a tired old man passes his mirror, and catches the impossible flash of something new. A red fire lily, finally unfurled into bloom.
âZuko,â he says.
This neatly accelerates his plans for active treason.
"This neatly accelerates his plans for active treason". *nods approvingly* Also, the loving him to spite him and Toklo having no reason to be stingy with his love is just *chef's kiss*
