Suddenly, a flash of neon green shot out from the undergrowth. It was a viper, its scales a vibrant, almost unnatural shade of green, its eyes like tiny, glittering emeralds. It moved with incredible speed, its fangs bared, striking directly at Zuko's hand. Zuko yelped, instinctively pulling his hand back, but in his surprise, he fumbled the apple.
It flew through the air, spinning end over end, and with a sickening thwack, the neon green viper, in its continued lunge, bit directly into the apple, its fangs sinking deep into the red flesh. The viper, seemingly startled by the unexpected resistance, recoiled, then slithered away into the undergrowth, leaving Zuko standing there, wide-eyed, the snake-bitten apple lying innocently on the ground.
Zuko stared at the apple, then at the spot where the viper had disappeared. He blinked. He blinked again. He couldn't believe it. It had actually happened. The snake had bitten the apple. And he hadn't even had to ask. A slow, triumphant grin spread across his face.
He picked up the apple, examining the two small puncture marks, a testament to his unexpected success. He had done it. He had completed the impossible task. He couldn't wait to see Alec's face.
He practically sprinted back to the cave, the snake-bitten apple held aloft like a trophy. "Alec! I did it! I got the snake to bite the apple!" he crowed, bursting into the cave, his face flushed with triumph. He held out the apple, a smug, self-satisfied grin plastered across his face. "See? Two perfect little holes. Just like you asked."
Alec, who had been calmly sipping his tea, slowly lowered his cup. His blindfolded face was, as usual, unreadable, but Zuko could almost feel the surprise radiating from him. Iroh, meanwhile, choked on his tea, a loud, sputtering cough that quickly turned into a fit of booming laughter. "Oh, Zuko," he gasped, wiping tears from his eyes, "you truly are full of surprises!"
Alec reached out a hand, his fingers brushing against the apple, tracing the small puncture marks. He remained silent for a long moment, and Zuko's smug grin began to falter. Had he done something wrong? Was it not good enough? Was the snake not venomous enough? He had no idea what a neon green viper was, but it certainly looked venomous.
Finally, Alec sighed, a long, drawn-out sound that seemed to carry the weight of ancient wisdom. "Well, I'll be…," he murmured, his voice barely a whisper. "Even the spirits conspire to grant you forgiveness, Prince Zuko. If even they wish for you to be forgiven, then who am I to stand in their way?" He paused, and then, to Zuko's utter shock, he slowly, deliberately, reached up and untied his blindfold.
It fell away, revealing his eyes. One, a vibrant, piercing azure, like the clearest sky. The other, a deep, fiery crimson, like the heart of a dying ember. They were mesmerizing, unsettling, and utterly beautiful. Zuko gasped, his breath catching in his throat. He had never seen Alec's eyes before, and the sight of them, so unexpected, so powerful, left him speechless.
"Zuko," Alec said, his voice soft, the first time he had used Zuko's name without the "Prince" prefix since their argument. His eyes, one azure, one crimson, met Zuko's, and in their depths, Zuko saw not just a profound trust, but a raw, undeniable truth.
It was a truth that spoke of shared burdens, of unspoken understanding, of a connection that transcended words. It was a truth that mirrored the burgeoning feelings in Zuko's own heart, feelings he had tried so desperately to suppress.
Zuko jolted back, a sudden, almost panicked reaction. He stumbled, nearly tripping over his own feet, his mind racing. He had seen Alec's eyes. He had heard his name, spoken with such tenderness. He had felt the weight of Alec's trust, the depth of his truth. It was too much, too fast. He couldn't handle it. Not now. Not here.
He needed time. He needed to process. He needed to act casual, to pretend that nothing extraordinary had just happened. He couldn't make the same mistake again, couldn't push Alec away with his own fear and confusion.
"Your… your eyes," Zuko stammered, trying to sound nonchalant, trying to deflect the intensity of the moment. "They're… they're different. What happened to your old eyes?" He knew it was a clumsy attempt, a transparent effort to avoid the real conversation, the one that was screaming to be had.
Alec's lips curved into a knowing smile, a subtle, almost imperceptible shift that spoke volumes. He saw right through Zuko's clumsy facade, saw the fear, the confusion, the burgeoning emotions that Zuko was trying so desperately to hide.
"You're not asking about my old eyes, Zuko," Alec said, his voice soft, yet firm, his gaze unwavering. "You're asking about something else entirely, aren't you?"
The question hung in the air, a silent challenge, a gentle invitation. Zuko stood frozen, caught between the desire to flee and the desperate need to understand. The chapter ended there, leaving Zuko on the precipice of a revelation, a confrontation with his own heart, and a journey into the uncharted territory of his feelings for Alec.
The serpent's gift had been given, and its bite, though not venomous, had opened Zuko's eyes to a truth he had long denied. And the wave, the wave of change, was just beginning to crest.
Zuko stood there, a statue carved from confusion and a burgeoning, terrifying hope. Alec's question hung in the air, a delicate thread pulling at the tightly wound ball of emotions in Zuko's chest. He wanted to deny it, to deflect, to retreat into the familiar comfort of anger and duty.
But Alec's eyes, one azure, one crimson, held him captive, seeing past his defenses, straight into the chaotic depths of his soul. They were not just eyes; they were windows into a truth Zuko had been desperately trying to ignore.