Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

If you had to choose one thing that colored your life, you’d say it was red. Aside from the red-hot glow of embers and the glint of rubies embedded in the polished gold that colored your entire family, there was blood. Red overtook your life, bleeding into the innate pull you felt toward your family, the passion of victory on your father and brother’s faces, the mottled scar painted over your cousin’s eye.

The color of blood, falling in droplets and waves onto the dirt of a battlefield. The color draining from a stranger’s face only to splatter across the black-iron chestplate of his armor. The color of royalty, of passion, of rage and love and sickness and life.

It was no surprise to you alone when Azula’s fire started burning blue. She’d always been…different. Even as a child, while Zuko and Lu Ten would play along with you during their free time, she’d burn your toys when you offered to share with her.

It made sense, in a way that you couldn’t full understand, that her fire would look so different from the warmth and light of your closer family.

Your father was warm, a good strong man who’d never been disappointed in your lack of bending ability. Your brother was light, a shining star of a hero who made his country proud to be led by your family. Your favorite cousin was strength, perseverance and determination in the face of scorn.

And to a 10-year-old girl, they’d been a daunting task to live up to.

But you had to try, and try you did. You strove for success in every endeavor. In your schooling, your music lessons, even the games you played. You lived to make your family proud. So one could imagine how difficult it was, to have that family reduced by two. Two of its most important members in your opinion.

You only halfway understood what it meant for your father and brother to leave to fight in the war. You understood that it meant they'd be gone for quite some time. You understood that their leaving was a noble, honorable task. You understood that they would miss you very much, as they both told you often in the days leading up to their departure.

The night before they left, you followed your brother back to his room after dinner. He was not surprised when you asked him to read you a bedtime story- he's the only one who does the voices right. Your aunt is too gentle with it, her soft voice lulling you to sleep before you can hear the end, and your father too impassioned, focusing more on making you laugh than telling the story. Only Lu Ten could find that delicate balance between serious and silly. When the story ends and you cry to him that you don't want him to leave, you are not surprised when he tells you he cannot, will not stay.

"I have to fight. For the sake of the Fire Nation," he says. You think then, that someday he will be a great Firelord, but right now, he's being a terrible brother. You tell him as much, that it's not fair that him and dad get to go while you have to stay here, with uncle, and grandfather, and only Zuko to play with.

Lu Ten laughs. "I thought you liked playing with Zuko?"

"I do!" You huff, and then curl into his side. "But not as much as you." His hand is large enough to span most of your back as he pats it comfortingly.

"We'll be back before you know it." He assures you.

You’d fallen asleep in his room that night, waking up having been wrapped in one of his blankets and returned to your own bed in your sleep. The golden sunlight fluttered through the split between your curtains, tickled your face and coaxed you to wake.

You lept out of bed, eager to give your father and brother one last hug before they left you behind to do their duty to your people.

Ozai was the one who told you they’d already left under the cover of night, traveling only when the enemy wouldn’t see them moving.

Azula had laughed at you then, called you a baby for being upset about something so trivial. Despite her teasing, you took comfort in her lack of concern. Lu Ten always came back when he left, and this time would be no different.

Your aunt showed you how to coax the turtle-ducks out of the pond in the garden. She told you that you were a natural caretaker, and if you put your mind to it you could be a great help to your family and country.

Ursa was kind, and she’d been gentle in teaching you, so you believed her.

But belief and a medical textbook borrowed from the palace library could only get you so far. If you were to be the great help you were expected to be, it only made sense to you that you’d start early.

Even if “early” meant stowing away in a supply cart before the sun peeked over the smoking mountains in the distance.

You feel a tinge of guilt from your place between boxes of rice and arrows. You'd promised Zuko last night that in the morning you would play tag with him again- he'd lost yesterdays game, and he was a sore loser, always quick to challenge you to a rematch. Not that you minded, a rematch just meant you got to play again! Though, you won't be giving him that rematch any time soon.

You left him a note, sloppily painted on an untouched scroll you'd nabbed from your fathers study, which had rested, dormant, for weeks now.

"Going to the War. Home soon. Bye."

You didn't bother signing it, he'd know who it was from.

It was three more long weeks of travel, of acclimating to seasickness as you crossed the ocean out of your homeland and into the Earth Kingdom, and then acclimating to the rough terrain or the Earth Kingdom itself. You think you may be permanently bruised from how you'd squish yourself between shipping crates to remain out of sight.

The trip was dreadfully boring. Being a stowaway meant you had no one to play with and nothing to do but wait, reread your medicine book, and sneak around in the dead of night to grab scraps of food to sustain yourself. Had you been planning ahead, you would have packed some fire flakes to snack on during the trip- maybe brought along some for your brother and father too. Being surrounded by the rations that they were to be given made you think they probably missed good, traditional Fire Nation cuisine as much as you did.

You don't even realize you've arrived on the outskirts of Ba Sing Se until you're caught red handed, trying to pilfer from a crate of dried plums. You were so distracted by the thought of a good plum that you hadn't noticed the sound of the other carts being emptied.

A foot soldier you didn’t recognize had grabbed you by the arm and pulled you up, lifting you off the ground and hoisting you over his shoulder. Another solider, a sergeant if you remembered the emblem on his helmet correctly, directed the soldier to a tent a few yards away.

The tent was bigger than the others, and dyed a brilliant scarlet with the symbol of your people painted on the side, a stark contrast to the dingy beige canvas of the other shelters.

The look on your father’s face when he made eye contact with you was one you’d never seen before. You’d been unceremoniously dropped in front of your father, dressed in the intimidating and ornate armor you’d never seen off its mannequin. He was angry at first, but his face fell to one of horror and shock when he realized who you were under the weeks of sea salt and trail dust caked on your face.

“Who brought her here?!” Demanded General Iroh, in a voice that only somewhat resembled your father. “Who brought my daughter to this siege?”

“She’s a stowaway sir, caught her stealing rations from one of the carts, must have been there for weeks.”

The eyes of the General softened, and once again you saw your father’s face beneath his helmet.

“I wanted to help, father.” You pleaded. “I want to help you and my country, like the rest of our family. I’m royalty too, I should be helping our people to win.”

"Soldiers, you are dismissed." He says, not breaking eye contact with you.

"But sir-" Another foot soldier makes an ill advised attempt at arguing.

"Dismissed!" Your father says again, leaving no room for argument. The soldiers that had previously occupied your fathers tent file out one by one, leaving you alone with him for the first time in a long while. He kneels down, getting on your level. You wait for a long moment, preparing for ire, for a lecture, for him to be angry, to shout like he'd shouted at the soldiers, but he doesn't. Right now, he is not General Iroh of the great and powerful Fire Nation. Right now, he is just your dad, opening his arms to you for a much needed embrace.

You don't even realize you're crying until he reaches over to wipe your tears.

"There's no need for tears, my flower." He says, voice hushed. You sniffle and try to still the flow of them, but you can't help it. You've missed him so much.

"I want to help father," you insist again, breath unsteady with the force of your tears and your insistence. "I can help! I can- I can be a nurse, I've been studying!"

"You've come a long way, my flower." Your father says. You fear this may be the part where he sends you away, kisses you goodbye and turns you right back around, sending you home where your uncle and grandfather will no doubt be enraged by your little vanishing act. "I could not be more proud of you."

Your tears finally cease.

"How lucky am I to have two wonderful children, so dedicated to the Fire Nation." He muses to himself, wiping some of the muck from your damp cheek.

"Can I stay, father?" You ask tentatively, leaning into the hand still cupping your cheek.

"How could I ever turn you away, my dear?"

“Thank you! Oh thank you, I promise I’ll be of use. I’ve almost memorized my book, and some of the helpful herbs even grow around here!”

Your father smiled wide, jovially patting your shoulder and gesturing you to stand.

“You understand, I cannot have you fighting. These earthbenders are strong, and though we are stronger, it is still dangerous. I will allow you to stay and support the war, but you must remain in the medical tents on the far end. You are not to go anywhere without an escort, and you are to remain as close to the river as possible. Do you understand?”

You nodded, bowing your head and copying the salute you’d seen other soldiers give their superiors. With a relived sigh, your father led you back to where his soldiers stood huddled, awaiting orders.

“You three!” He roared, voice carrying over the distant sounds of fighting and the nearby clatter of cart wheels on flattened dirt. “Your new orders are to escort this girl to the medical tents, and tell our healers that she is to be made a nurse and given an assignment as soon as possible, under direct orders from me.”

The soldiers nodded, and as they left, General Iroh addressed his men.

“Great warriors of the fire nation, the sun has shined her glory upon us this day! My daughter has shown great courage, and great devotion to her people! She brings with her a caravan of supplies and new medicines, and with this great boon we shall win this battle yet!”

You couldn’t keep down the smile at his speech, even less when the entire camp seemed to shake with the cheers and war cries the General, your father, had coaxed from his men.

Your father escorts you to the medical tents, giving you a gentle smile and a reassuring pat on the head before handing you off to the lead medic.

"At the end of the day, I'll send Lu Ten for you to bring you back to our tent." Your father whispers, before he leaves, smiling at you conspiratorially. You hope Lu Ten will be happy to see you, you hope he'll be as proud as father is. "Be good!" Your father calls to you as he returns back in the direction he came, leaving you with a man who introduced himself as Sota. Sota- Doctor Sota, as he would insist you called him, was as his title implied, the head medic of your fathers batallion.

He seems entirely unamused by your presence, though you suspect there are probably very few things the amuse the man. He shows you around the medical tent, a sprawling area, full of injured and ill men, most of whom are unresponsive. Those who do acknowledge your presence seem confused- you don't blame them, you must be a peculiar sight, still dirty from your travels, trailing behind the doctor.

You shadow Doctor Sota for most of your day- at some points he seems to forget you're there, startling when you lean in to get a closer look at a patient or ask a question. He's a quiet, serious man, but not a bad teacher. He answers your questions without complaint, explains what every tool he uses does, and the condition of each patient you come across. As the sun sets outside, you get antsy, still waiting on Lu Ten to come fetch you. You're buzzing with excitement at the thought of seeing your beloved brother again.

Doctor Sota leads you away from the patients, and over to the supplies, still being replenished from the carts you'd stowed away in. He rumages through a great deal of bags and boxes before he finds what he's looking for- a nurses uniform, in the smallest size they had. You're pretty sure you'll still need to take it in, it's entirely too large when you hold it up to yourself.

Doctor Sota directs you to a corner of a tent with a privacy curtain, and tells you to hurry, to get changed and return to his side immediately.

You do as told, tying the drawstrings of the off-white pants as high and tight as possible, and knotting the bottom of the shirt to keep it from getting in the way. With your hair pulled away from your face, and a pair of gloves finishing the uniform, you ran back to Doctor Sota’s tent. Immediately on entering, a first aid kit was thrust into your arms, and Doctor Sota told you to bandage up a soldier who’d just been dragged in my his brother in arms.

The soldier was young, maybe a little younger than Lu Ten. An earthbender had thrown a sharp rock through his shoulder, and he was running a fever. The man who’d dragged him into the tent paced nervously, annoying Doctor Sota asking if he could help.

You called the soldier over, and told him to boil a pot of water from the river. He seemed confused at your presence, but did as told, returning quickly with a metal cup of water, scorched at the bottom from where he’d used firebending to boil it. The water calmed to a simmer, and you directed the soldier to hold his friend’s hand, warning him of the pain to come.

The man on the mat hissed when the hot water fell on the gash, but seemed to relax when the water falling off of his wound stopped bringing dirt with it. The bandages were easy, but watching the way the man turned and groaned in restless sleep was the hardest thing you’d ever done.

You watch over him for the rest of your evening, as Doctor Sota tends to other patients. You check his fever frequently, watching as it rises, then falls, then stagnates, only slightly warmer than he should be.

The only breaks you take from watching over this particular soldier are to follow orders from Doctor Sota, who only asks you to fetch supplies and change bandages on other patients, reporting back to him at signs of infection. You take it up on yourself to ask soldiers who are conscious enough to bend to warm more water for you, washing away the dirt and dried blood from wounds.

Though you treat many patients that evening, your focus is consistently drawn to the first young man who had entered your care. As the sun finally dips down underneath the horizon, Doctor Sota insists you rest, and also wash yourself because you're, in his words "absolutely filthy, just covered in grime, please get out of my tent and don't come back until you've slept and washed yourself, your highness."

So you wait outside the tent for Lu Ten, who you are becoming increasingly more impatient for now that you don't have wounded soldiers to distract you. You wash your face and arms in the nearby stream, grateful to have fresh water nearby again, and to not be caked in a layer of salt and dirt and blood.

Your work is filthy and difficult, but it is rewarding, because at the end of your day, when you've nearly fallen asleep standing up waiting for him, there he is. Lu Ten, calling your name, rushing towards you.
Despite your exhaustion, you bolt across the camp, racing towards your brother as fast as your tired little legs can carry you. He's laughing when you reach him, collapsing into his arms. He lifts you up, spins you around once, twice, three times, before tossing you up in the air, catching you and setting you back on your feet, dizzy and giggling.

"I came as soon as I heard you were here! What are you doing here? You-you little- I don't even know!" He laughs incredulously.

“I wanted to help! You and father do so much for our people, and I want to make you both proud of me too!”

Lu Ten ruffles your hair, and laughs again, quieter. He offers you his arm, and directs you to another red tent, this one right next to the river.

You almost felt like you’d been transported back home when the tent flap closed behind you. The light of the sunset filtered through the red canvas tent, bathing the space in a warm glow that reminded you of the brassieres of the place. The room was small, fitting only a small table, two bedrolls, and a cot that still had mud on the wheels from when it had been brought in.

A kettle sat steaming on the table, four clay cups placed neatly on the corners. The familiar smell of herbal tea was a welcome one, you hadn’t even realized you’d gotten used to the smell of smoke and mud drenching the outside.

Lu Ten sat at the right hand side of the table, and gestured for you to sit across from him. The head seat, you assumed, belonged to your father.

“I think we’d better wait for father to get back from giving orders before we pour ourselves a cup. He’d be devastated to miss the toast to your first day as a proper nurse!”

For all the awful things you’d seen that day, your father toasting to your success was a welcome reprieve. You held onto that, the knowledge that you were helping your people, and making your father proud. It was worth it, you thought, to see terrible things if it meant you could be there to stop them.

You and Lu Ten sit in comfortable silence for a few minutes, watching the wisps of steam curl up into the air and dissipate. Your eyes are drooping, exhausted from the long journey and the long day of grueling work, but you feel warm.

You think you're starting to understand now, why the soldiers go to war. You're glad you went with them.

"I'm so glad you're here," Lu Ten says softly, breaking the silence.

"Me too. I missed you," you confess, though you're sure he already knew.

"I missed you too, kid." He ruffles your hair, though it's not particularly effective with it still tied back from your long day in the medical tent.

"Don't tell me you started without me!" Your father enters jovially.

"Don't worry old man, we waited." Your brother teases. Your father claps him on the back, the metal of his armor clanking with the motion. Lu Ten had already discarded his, before he'd even come to get you. It's still strewn across the floor.

"Good! Do me the honors, my dear?" Your father pushes the tray towards you. Dutifully, you obey, pouring a cup first for your father, then for your brother, then for yourself. The smell of the tea and the warmth of the cup in your hands is so enticing you nearly gulp it down before your father can give the toast your brother mentioned. Luckily, Lu Ten is there to give your chair a kick, snapping you out of your tea-trance and only sloshing a little bit over the side of the cup.

Your father watches, amused, and you think he may be just as happy to see you and your brother reunited as you are.

"Are you two done?" He asks, failing to hide the joy in his tone.

"Yes sir."

"Yes father." You and Lu Ten chime in unison. Your father clears his throat and raises his cup.

“Here’s to my children, and here’s to the good fortune I must have, for lady fate to have given me two of the finest people our great nation has ever produced. May the battle be swift, and may the Fire Nation and her people reign eternal!”

“Here, here!” You and Lu Ten chant, and the three of you take a drink of the oh-so-familiar tea.

“And here’s to my sister.” Said Lu Ten, raising his cup again. “For showing these great warriors that their country has never forgotten them.”

You’d have reached over the table to hug him right then and there, if it hadn’t meant doing the unthinkable and knocking over the kettle in the process.

“To victory?” You offered, tentatively.

“To victory!” Your family agreed.

Chapter Text

Your days have never been so long. You've never slept so hard. You've never been so... popular? Much to your surprise, your mere presence has proven to be quite the morale boost. Soldiers you've aided often pass by the medical tent in hopes of thanking you specifically, even if you only bandaged their wounds. Some of them you've befriended, many of them acting just as brotherly to you as your own brother.

It's not that you were disliked at home- quite the opposite, ignoring your grandfather, uncle and one cousin, you have a very loving family. But it's different here. You're valued here, for reasons beyond your birthright as the Fire Princess. And under the tutelage of Doctor Sota, you thrived.

After several weeks of shadowing him in the mornings, and tending to the soldiers on your own until sunset, Doctor Sota invited you to borrow some of the books and scrolls he'd brought- all advanced knowledge of medicine and herbalism. You devoured every text you could, every spare minute was spent reading. Sometimes, you'd even bring the books back to the medical tents to read to the soldiers.

You're not as good a narrator as Lu Ten, and there's not really much story to tell when reading from textbooks, but the soldiers encourage you, those who had the wherewithal to read helped you sound out tricky words, those who didn't were simply soothed by the sound of a calm, youthful voice. It never ceases to astound you how many soldiers appreciate just having a conversation with you.

But you didn't come all this way just to have conversations!

Your studies have proven more and more helpful- Doctor Sota says you may very well outpace him in terms of medical knowledge, though you're pretty sure he's only kidding. He's not exactly a humorous man, so it can be difficult to tell when he's making one of his rare jokes.

Recently your studies have brought you to the plants native to the Earth Kingdom, plants you won't have to rely on a supply ship for access to.

A deep blue water lily had caught your attention, thriving in a stagnant pond that had once been part of the nearby river. The frog-fish had long since left, the sounds and smells of war too much for their animal minds to comprehend.

You’d seen a drawing of it in one of Doctor Sota’s scrolls, an old one one of the soldiers had pilfered from an Earth Kingdom medical tent they’d taken in the siege. It described a condition far too familiar for your liking, the result of impure earth contaminating the blood of the wounded. The dirt would spread its filth through the blood and muscle, burning the infected from the inside out before calling to the spirits of the air to take the breath from their chest.

The scroll cited the dark blue lily as treatment, claiming its petals could be brewed and cast upon the point of entry and drive the infection out.

You spent that night gathering as many flowers as you could carry, stripping the petals and leaving behind the living roots. By the time the sun rose, you’d filled a cauldron with a thick paste made of those petals, boiled into mush in the cleanest water you could find.

Even Doctor Sota seemed proud of you then. Several soldiers cried from joy when the paste, applied to their wounds, seemed to leech the fever out of their bodies. As the red bloodstains on the soldier’s bandages gave way for a sweet-smelling deep blue, you could almost see their spirits lift.

One soldier, a man of about 40, lept from his bed and ran towards you when you entered the tent with a new batch of flowers. He’d lifted you off the ground in a hug, and told you through tears that he’d now be able to go home when the fight was over.

You asked him what he would do when he got home. He told you that he’d bring the money he’d earned serving the army back to his wife, and they’d be able to afford to send their son to the city to be a scholar.

It's a special kind of joy, to know that your care extended far beyond what you had personally administered to the soldiers. But even that pales in comparison to the pride your father and brother show you. Even as the battles continue, becoming more brutal by the day, if the injuries of the wounded are anything to go by, your family still sings your praises back to you every day.

You've never seen your father cry, but you think you saw his eyes water when you recalled the story of the healed soldier, grateful for the ability to return home to his son someday.

Your work is tireless, but never thankless.

When you can find a moment between your work, your studies, and your brief tea times with your father and brother- which have become increasingly sparse, you write to Zuko. When your mind is not occupied, you find that you miss him terribly. You write to him telling him stories of the soldiers you meet, of the things you do during the day, of all the games you want to play when you return home, of funny things your father and Lu Ten said at tea that day, anything you can think of. Sometimes you feel like you may be writing these letters as more of a diary than as a means of communication. You hope you don't annoy him with their length, most of the messages requiring several scrolls tied together and stamped with numbers to indicate the order in which he had to read them.

You're still awake late into the night, waiting for your father and Lu Ten to return, writing to Zuko. You've been back from the medical tent for hours now, just writing. For the first time in ages you've nearly run out of things to say. The quiet of your mind gives way to anxiety as you wait for the return of your father and brother. You take to pacing back and forth through the tent, distracting yourself by brewing a pot of tea to have ready for their return.

The tea has gone cold by the time you hear it, delighted whooping and cheering of the soldiers outside. Their joy is raucous, and if you'd been trying to sleep, you would have been very upset. You leave your tent to see what all the commotion is and you're met with the sight of soldiers celebrating, your father and brother among them.

Lu Ten spots you first, calling out your name and opening his arms to you. You run to him, and though you haven't the faintest idea what you're celebrating, his joy is palpable and infectious.

"We've breached it! We breached the wall!" He shouts, spinning you around, just as he did when you'd arrived all those months ago.

The months of war seemed to melt from his face in an instant, the realization that your homeland could claim another victory and return to glory washing away the memory of the fight.

You looked forward to seeing the faces of your people, cheering for their heroes and warriors.

You could return home, and bring with you a newfound pride and honor. You had something now, achievement forged in the fires of battle, proof that you deserved your place in history as one of the leaders of the greatest empire in the world.

You’d take your place among your family, finally worthy to stand beside them in greatness.

Lu Ten’s proud smile shifted to a mischievous grin, and he shushed you as he pressed a small piece of folded fabric into your hand.

“Don’t open it until you get back to the tent. Father and I thought you deserved it.”

You gave your brother a hug, promising to keep it hidden until you were alone. He hugged you back, and told you he was sorry, but he was going back to the frontlines to keep fighting.

You waved him off under the condition that he get some food before going back. It wouldn’t do to have his moment in the sun ruined by his stomach rumbling.

“I’ll bring some dried meat and water to the others in the front. I’ll be back later, and when the Earth Kingdom surrenders, we can go home.”

You nodded, and scurried back to your tent to see what the little parcel contained.

The fabric, it turned out, was a soft handkerchief dyed the grassy green of the Earth Kingdom. But kept within the folds of the cloth was a small hair ornament, a silver comb with a fabric replica of the deep blue lily you’d been bringing to the soldiers. You wrapped it back in the handkerchief, and tucked it into your pillowcase for safekeeping.

You hoped for Lu Ten to return before sunrise, but there was no trace of him as the sun rose and set once more.

When your father returns late that night he assures you that Lu Ten is alright, he's a strong and capable soldier who can handle himself in battle. But for once your fathers reassurance is not comforting. You spend your night fitfully tossing and turning, falling in and out of sleep. Every time you wake, you turn to Lu Ten's bedroll, hoping for him to be there, snoring obnoxiously.

But come sunrise your tent is empty, your father having already awoken and returned to battle.

You prepare for your day as you usually do, putting on your uniform and gathering the flower salve you'd become well known for administering.

The camp feels almost desolate as you make your way towards the medical tent. You suppose most of the soldiers are busy breaking down the wall now that it's been breached. Those that aren't breaking down the wall are in the medical tent, waiting for you. Something about the eerie quiet of the camp gives you pause, makes you consider your options.

You know it is your duty to serve and heal the soldiers that are already here, that's the promise you've made to your father, and by extension your nation. But... You could be so much more useful on the field, where Lu Ten must be. If you could follow a battalion, aiding them as they fight instead of after the fact, you could all go home even quicker.

No one seems to notice as you slip in with a small group of field nurses, following the infantry out of the camp and into the desert surrounding Ba Sing Se. It's your first, and hopefully only time leaving camp, and as you trail behind the soldiers, drawing nearer to the sounds of battle, you have to admit, if only to yourself, that you are scared. But you sally forth, pot of blue petal mixture clutched to your chest.

Your nerves have only just begun to subside when a rock, the size of your tent, lands dead center in the middle of your group of soldiers, the ensuing cloud of dust blinding you, making you drop your healing concoction.

The soldiers it didn’t hit scattered, tactfully avoiding other, smaller rocks and moving too fast and too sporadically to hit.

But you are not a soldier.

You are the princess of the Fire Nation, and you lay prostrate on the filthy battlefield, surrounded by the stench of death and the bodies of strangers and allies alike.

Your uniform now stained with viscera, you dare to look up from the horrible red earth beneath you, only to be met with the eyes of the enemy.

The brilliant green of the earthbender’s eyes was a stark contrast to the deep red and brown staining his uniform, the remains of men you’d saved splattered across his face like war paint.

You saw rage in his eyes, rage and terror and something so foreign you weren’t even sure it was human.

The soldier grabbed you by the waist and threw you over his shoulder. You kicked and punched and tried not to gag at the feeling of blood soaking into your clothes when you brushed his chestplate.

You hadn’t even realized he’d left the battlefield until he set you down.

He didn’t tell you why, but he took a canteen from his belt and thrust it into your hands. He pointed you back, away from the fight, towards the riverbank on the far side of your camp.

“It’s wrong, you know.” Said the soldier as he shooed you off. “That your country would send a child to fight their battles.”

With that, the soldier ran back where he’d come from, back to the dust and smoke and screaming.

The water from the canteen was sweet in comparison to the boiled river water you’d gotten accustomed to.

You’d finished the bottle by the time you got back to the tents.

You're exhausted, terrified, hungry, and more than anything you want your brother. You want him to wipe the blood off your cheek like its a speck of dirt, to pick you up and carry you to bed like he does when you fall asleep in his room. You want him to explain to you what had just happened, to make sense of it for you.

You want him to hold you and tell you you're okay, and to stand beside you when your father inevitably lectures you for your disobedience. There are few things that truly anger your father, but you have a feeling this will be one of them.

You grasp at the first soldier you come across, who looks harrowed at the sight of you.

"Where is he?" You ask, your throat gravelly, despite the traces of sweet water clinging to it. "Where is my brother?" The soldier balks, stammering over his words, shaking his head.

"I'm- I don't... I'm sorry, princess, I can't-" he chokes on his words. Normally you'd be patient, let him untangle his thoughts on his own time, but now you're too tired for patience. You just need your brother. If you can just find your brother everything will be fine.

You wander away from the soldier, finding another nearby, standing amongst a group, all of whom seem equally perturbed by the state of you.

"Lu Ten? Where is he? Where's my brother?" You ask. The soldiers share a look that you cannot decipher. One of them kneels, head bowed.

"I am so sorry, your highness." The soldier says, voice quivering. "Prince Lu Ten is dead."

If you’d fallen into the river at that moment, you doubt you’d have noticed. The sounds of war faded into nothingness, like you’d woken up from a dream underwater. You fell to the ground, exhausted. The soldier who’d been kneeling before you caught you before you could collapse entirely, but couldn’t seem to bring himself to stand up either.

The sergeant who’d brought you to your father those fateful months before helped you to your feet with a gentleness he seemed to find unfamiliar. You clung to his arm as he led you back to your tent, promising that your father would be there soon.

For the first time in your life, you didn’t believe he would.

You fell into your brother’s bedroll and cried until your body ran out of water. Your throat was sore and dry when you finally opened your eyes to see your father rushing into the tent.

He held you tight, almost crushing you with force as if he wasn’t even sure you were real.

“You’re going home with the supply carts tonight.”

Too exhausted to argue, you nodded weakly, numb to the world aside from the ache creeping through your body.

You left in the dead of night, and you stayed awake until the voices of the soldiers protesting your return faded into the cries of cricket-flies and owl-ravens.

You’d forgotten your book in Doctor Sota’s tent. He could keep it for all you cared.

You don't think you care about anything anymore. Everything hurts, and everything is numb. The world has gone dark without your brother in it.

Your journey back to the Fire Nation was far more comfortable than your journey out of it. Perhaps under different circumstances you could be grateful for that. Under different circumstances you'd be going home with your brother, both of you cheering and hollering to your victory, to your pride, to your country. Under different circumstances you wouldn't be near catatonic, only moving to eat and lay down to sleep every time the carts stop.

You don't speak a single word to anyone until you've left the Earth Kingdom. You board the ship back home, fully prepared to spend the rest of your life in silent mourning. Until you come across a familiar face.

It's the young man from your very first night, the one with the injured shoulder. He sees you, and strides towards you with purpose, dropping down to his knees when he reaches you.

"I'm so sorry, your highness." He says, head bent low. "I was- I was there with him, with Prince Lu Ten, when it happened."

Your stomach turns. You don't want to ask. You can't bear not to know.

"Did he suffer? Was it at least quick?" You ask, your voice crackling with every word, rusty from disuse.

"I am so, so sorry, your highness."

His apology tells you all that you need to know.

"I forgive you." You say, patting his head, Like Lu Ten does- did, for you.

The man looks around, and finding nobody watching, leans forward and hugs you.

It’s against the rules for common folk to touch the royal family without explicit permission.

You hug him back.

Chapter Text

The palace is exactly as you left it. Grand, and lovely, and fit for royalty. It's the only place you'd ever truly known up until last spring, when you'd run away to join the war effort. Home, just as it was, but it feels unfamiliar and cold.

You arrived a shell of yourself, still reeling from the loss of your brother and the absence of your father, still commanding troops as far as you knew.

You spent three days holed up in your room upon your arrival. You wouldn't leave to eat, nor to attend lessons, not even to bathe. Many handmaids and servants had been sent to coax you out of hiding, but none were successful.

It's early in the morning on your fourth day since arriving to an unchanged and unfamiliar home, when a new contester appears. Zuko.

He doesn't knock, something you know his mother chides him for often. Often you would tease him for the blunder and do the same. Today you simply don't have the heart for it. You doubt you ever will again.

Zuko enters your room quietly, shutting the door behind him. He stands, unsure of himself, before carefully making his way towards where you lie in bed, cocooned in blankets you'd stolen from your brothers room before it could be cleaned out. He moves slowly, like he's trying not to startle a wild animal, before eventually sitting at the very edge of your bed.

You curled in on yourself, clinging the blanket close to your chest. Zuko let’s you shrink away from his figure, no doubt he’d been told about your mental state.

For as numb as you were, you felt like you owed Zuko…something. An apology, a conversation, a return to some sense of normalcy. So through a dry throat you choked out a sentence, just barely loud enough for him to hear.

“Azula said grandfather is angry with me, for deserting.”

“Azula lies all the time. I bet she never even spoke to grandfather.”

The familiar annoyed tone of the boy you knew before you left felt like a healing salve on the wound left behind from the battle. How stupid, you thought for a moment, to feel so injured when you’d managed to make it out alive.

“Uncle sent you a letter. He said he’s still ok, and he’s still coming home.”

You choked on a dry sob, unable to force any more tears from your body. Zuko jumped at the noise, almost startled by the sight of you upset.

After a moment of quiet, discomfort radiating off of him in waves, he stood up. He walked the few paces to your bedside, and tugged on the sleeve of your shirt, coaxing you out of bed.

You were too exhausted to stand, but too exhausted to protest either. Like a rag doll you sat halfway up in bed, leaning to your side to support your head with Zuko’s torso.

“You’re going to get sick staying in here. Everyone’s worried.”

You shrug, not really caring about your own body’s safety, and far too tired to think about anything anyone else was feeling.

“…and you still owe me a rematch. You gave your word, remember? You promised we’d play tag again.”

"Yeah, I remember." You whisper. It's strange to acknowledge, your promise to him- the unspoken promise within it, honestly you'd nearly forgotten all about it. A game of tag had been the last thing on your mind these past months.

"You can't play tag if you're in bed, you know."

You nudge him with your shoulder, a weak huff of a laugh escaping you. It's the first time you've laughed- smiled even, in weeks. It's worth it, to look up at him, into his eyes, for the first time in ages, and see how proud he is of himself for pulling you ever so slightly out of your shell.

Honestly, you're entirely too exhausted to play right now. Even ignoring how much your mind wants you to rot in bed forever, your body is in no state for games. You've barely picked at the food your handmaids deliver to you on gleaming golden platters. You've had no physical appetite, and no desire to eat for the sake of pleasure, so your body is in desperate need of replenishment- whether you want it or not.

"Can we have breakfast first? I think if I run now I'll die."

"You won't die," Zuko scoffs. "But yeah, let's have breakfast."

Zuko let’s you cling to his arm for support on the way to the kitchens. You brace yourself for the uncomfortable conversation with the cooks once they see you, but Zuko stops at the door.

“Just stay here, I’ll be right back.”

You try not to worry that he won’t come back. You’re home, you remind yourself. Home safe in the beautiful palace your ancestors built all those centuries ago. Surrounded by your family and the familiar faces of the palace staff. Home.

Zuko was just going to the kitchen to get food. He wasn’t going to die in the kitchen getting food. He wasn’t lying about coming back. He was safe, he was safe, he was—

“I got us sandwiches and some fire flakes so we can eat in the garden. Mom said you like the turtle ducks, so you can feed them the crust if you want.”

Zuko almost drops the basket of food when you hug him.

Instead he freezes, tensing up like he’s preparing for a fight. You stay there with your salt-stained face buried in his shirt for a minute, longer than you thought you’d need to.

“We…um, we should go out to the garden now. So nobody sees you unless you want them to?”

For the first time in weeks, something sounded like a good idea.

The day is cool and cloudy, a light breeze dancing through the trees. It would be a perfect day to play, chilly enough to run around for hours without breaking a sweat. Weather like this is a rarity in the Fire Nation. Even in the colder seasons, a Fire Nation "cold" is just, well. Less warm. But today is nice. You could have spent your whole day chasing Zuko back and forth across the garden in weather like this.

Instead, you set up under a tree, the both of you rooting through the basket to grab at your sandwiches and handfuls of fire flakes.

The breeze rustles the leaves overhead, drowning out the sounds of chewing. Most of your lunch is eaten in silence as you take in the scenery. When you'd left home you couldn't have identified a single one of the plants in the garden, but now you know every one of them by heart.

In moments of homesickness, you'd often turned to the pages in your herbalism books about your native flora. Sometimes you thought if you looked at the diagrams of each familiar plant long enough you could almost smell them. That homesick feeling seems so distant now, like you'd felt it in a past life.

You only eat half of a sandwich and most of your fire flakes before you feel full. Perhaps your stomach has shrunk from your fasting. You eat the other half of your sandwich anyways, despite feeling as though you may burst. It's nice to not feel overwhelmingly empty for once, well worth the stomach ache it will likely bring you. You saved the crusts of your sandwiches, partially at Zuko's suggestion, but mostly just because you can't stand breadcrust. It's been a long time since you've had the chance to be picky about what you eat.

Zuko waits until you’re done eating to speak. Once he’s satisfied that you’ve eaten your meal, he points to a small cluster of what you thought were rocks. Upon closer inspection, you realize they were a sleeping mother turtle-duck and her hatchlings. With their feathers and faces tucked away, their shells blended in perfectly with the pond stones speckled in shade.

“You should go to them, they always run away from me.”

“That’s silly of them, why’d they run from you?”

“Azula likes to throw her leftovers at them when she’s done with a picnic. I thought that was just how you feed turtle-ducks, but I think I scared them for good.”

“They should run from Azula. She doesn’t even like turtle-ducks.”

Leaving Zuko to his reluctance, you slowly made your way to the turtle-ducks, softly shaking a length of crust in a way you hoped was enticing.

You caught the attention of one of the little ones. With a bit more crust shaking it swam over to you, little tail feathers wiggling back and forth as it paddled.

It gave a soft “mwack!” and eagerly took the piece of crust from your hand. Seemingly satisfied, it swam back to its mother and siblings, still asleep inside their shells.

It had been so long since you felt like something was better because of you.

When you turn back to Zuko he's smiling, watching the little turtle-duck happily indulge in your leftovers. You wave him over, intent on getting him to join you in feeding the little creatures. Zuko shakes his head no, waving you off. You pout back at him, shaking the remaining crust in the air, as if trying to entice him.

It doesn't work, but it does make him laugh, which is a satisfying enough result on its own.

When you look back at the turtle-ducks you find that two more have awoken and paddled over to you, their gazes locked onto your bread crust. You break it in half, turning back around once more to implore Zuko to join you, but again he rebuffs you. You hand a crust to each turtle-duck, who both merrily swim back to the comfort and safety of their mother, treasure in hand- well, bill.

"There you two are." A soft, familiar voice calls from the edge of the garden. Your aunt, relief written all over her face, crosses the grass towards you. By the time she reaches you Zuko is already on his feet to greet her. You remain sat by the waters edge. If Ursa notices your hesitance to acknowledge her she doesn't say anything of it. Instead, she guides Zuko over to the water so the both of them can join you. As soon as Zuko is within view of the turtle-ducks, they quack at him before quickly flapping away to the other side of the pond.

"I told you," Zuko sighs.

“I thought I’d find you two out here. Cook said you stole a bag of fire flakes from the cupboard when he wasn’t looking.”

Zuko’s posture immediately straightened, and he looked down at his shoes in shame.

“Oh, no need for that. I think a few impromptu snacks are well worth it for you to cheer up a friend.”

Zuko seemed even more embarrassed at that, somehow.

“I was doing my duty. It’s my job to help keep this family strong.”

Ursa smiled, and beckoned you both to sit with her in the shade of a tree. You sat politely beside your aunt, hands crossed on your lap the way you’d been taught. Zuko sat cross-legged on Ursa’s other side, still refusing to look at either of you.

“This family will be strong as long as you’re in it, my darlings.”

She guided Zuko to rest on her shoulder, and you to lay down on her lap. With Zuko’s grumbling about the lack of turtle-ducks, and the soft hand of Ursa combing your hair, you felt soothed for the first time since you’d left home.

It was a peaceful, beautiful day. You were sad, but you had your family.

“You’ve always had such pretty hair, you and my daughter both.” Ursa remarks, though you’re not sure if she meant to say it out loud.

“Thank you auntie. I’ll try to keep it like that.”

Your appearance isn't something you've thought about much in all honesty. You've heard from your father that you look just like your mother, though the statement was always followed by a wistful sigh and nothing more. You think she must have had lovely hair too.

You don't know much about your mother. You've never really felt the need to ask. Your father loved you enough for two parents. You suppose you could have asked Lu Ten, he was your age when your mother passed, you being only days old at the time. Now you'll never get that opportunity.

The thought sours your mood in seconds flat.

But the feeling of your aunts hand in your hair is soothing. Not enough to stop the hurt, but enough to ease it to a dull, lingering ache in the pit of your stomach. Though, that particular feeling could very well be the result of your overindulgence in fire flakes and sandwiches.

You don't even realize you've fallen asleep in her lap until Zuko is shaking you awake, imploring you to get up so you can play the game of tag you'd promised him so long ago.

"Oh Zuko, let her sleep. She deserves the rest." Ursa urges, still petting your hair.

"But she promised!" Zuko argues, poking your cheek.

Mind still clouded with sleep, you find it easier to accept the idea of playing games again. With your thoughts still fuzzy you haven't got the wherewithal to continue grieving. Instead you catch Zuko by the wrist as he goes in to poke you again, pulling him down into the grass to get the upper hand.

"You're it!" You call, scrambling up off Ursa's lap to try to outrun Zuko, who is already pulling himself up off the ground. You know he'll catch you before you can even make it to the pond, he's always been faster than you even without the added burden of your unending exhaustion.

Ursa let slip a gentle laugh, politely covering her mouth with one hand. Zuko furrowed his eyebrows but couldn’t stop the grin from overtaking his face as he chased after you.

It didn’t take him too long to catch you, his longer legs outpacing you after barely a single lap around the pond, though you suspect he was purposely running a little slower than normal.

You turned around on him the second he touched you, turning on your feet before he could even finish saying “you’re it!”

The game continued for a few more rounds, until the adrenaline ran out and you felt the hands of exhaustion cradle you once more.

“Zuko, my love, I’m going to take the sleepiest little princess in the world to her bath. Why don’t you run along and work on your studies?” Ursa’s voice rang like a bell over the gentle sound of the breeze.

You’d almost forgotten how it felt, being the young princess of the fire nation as opposed to a field nurse. You figured, as long as it was just your aunt and father treating you so delicately, you could learn to enjoy it.

“Yes, mother.” Said Zuko, allowing you to hug him a final time before you let Ursa lead you back indoors.

As the screen door slid closed behind you, you caught a glimpse of Azula rushing over to Zuko and excitedly pulling him into the opposite side of the palace.

The day had worn you down, lifting your spirits somewhat but instilling a much higher degree of physical fatigue. The warm, hot-spring pools of the palace bathrooms was a welcome reprieve on your tired muscles. The soap-soaked pumice stones you used to wash yourself were gentle, stripping away thin layers of grime from your skin and leaving you feeling ten pounds lighter.

After some thought, you rubbed a hair moisturizer into your scalp, attempting to protect whatever about your hair had pleased your beloved aunt.

The soft, clean pajamas one of the maids had left for you to wear seemed to multiply your tiredness tenfold.

As you fell into your bed, just before sleep overtook you, you glanced at your nightstand. The silver comb with the jet-blue fabric lily lay in the center, exactly where you’d put it upon returning home.

For the first time in a long time, you thought maybe, just maybe, you’d wake up ok.

Chapter Text

While you await your father's return from Ba Sing Se you find yourself following Zuko more often than not. Most days you trail behind him like a shadow. Since he snapped you out of your isolationist stint, you've found it increasingly difficult to be alone. More than once he's found you curled into yourself, breathing unsteady, eyes glazed over as you try to convince yourself that you're home now, that everyone who's still here is alright, that your father will be home any day now. You know it frightens him to see you in such a state, but he's always been brave, and he's brave enough to weather your occasional fits of inexplicable terror.

He would attempt to talk you down sometimes, but you'd found that more often than not you took more solace in touch- a physical reminder that he was still here. Although Zuko was easily flustered when giving and receiving hugs, he never hesitated to give you one when you needed it. And aside from his presence being a balm to your near constant worry, you found it easier and easier to have fun with him again.

Free afternoons and evenings were always spent playing together or feeding the turtle-ducks, you'd even successfully coaxed one into your hand with a trail of breadcrumbs. Mornings were spent studying side by side. And every morning Zuko would join you in going to check if there was any new mail from your father, though you both knew he likely wouldn't get a chance to write while on the road out of the Earth Kingdom, or on the sea back to the Fire Nation.

Unfortunately, time spent with Zuko also meant time spent with your other cousin Azula.

It's not that you don't love your younger cousin, of course you do! She's family after all. It's just that Azula is... Well, mean, to put it simply. She breaks your toys and lies to you and cheats in all your games.

But she's family, and being that she's family you don't have much of a choice when it comes to interacting with her.

But it surprises you this morning, when she's already waiting outside the mail room before you or Zuko arrive. You go at dawn, every single day, so she must have woken up before the sun just to get there before you.

“Uncle sent us a letter.” Said Azula, her disappointed tone not matching the smug grin plastered across her face.

Despite Azula’s nasty attitude, the thought of correspondence from your father was a welcome relief. You tried to take the letter from her hand, but she pulled it away and turned around, facing away from you.

“Don’t bother, I already read it. All he said is that he misses us.” Azula spat out the offending word like it physically repulsed her to say. “It’s pathetic. He’s a soldier, he should know better than to get attached to people. My father is going to make a much better Firelord than he ever would have.”

Her statement confused you. Uncle Ozai wasn’t the crown prince, and your grandfather was still on the throne! Azula scoffed at your confused expression.

“What, didn’t anyone bother to tell you? Father told the Firelord how pitiful uncle has been acting, how he’s clearly not fit to take the throne.”

Biting back a pang of shock, you stood helpless but to listen on.

“And grandfather was so mad! He called father cruel, and said that he should lose his firstborn son, just so he knew what it felt like.”

You couldn’t tell whether Azula’s high-pitched snicker was for the expression you wore, or for the implications for her brother.

Turning your back to your cousin, you ran deeper into the palace as quickly as your legs could carry you. Stars, gods, spirits, demons, you prayed to everything you could think of that you’d get to Zuko before Ozai did.

You couldn’t bear to lose him too.

When you turned a corner and crashed into him, relief and confusion washed over you in waves. You clung to Zuko’s shirt as hard as you could, terrified that if you let go he’d vanish before your eyes, stolen by the spirits of the grave the way your brother had been.

But to your surprise, he didn’t seem annoyed that you’d bumped into him, nor did he wear the aura of authority he donned when he comforted you.

Instead, he buried a shaking hand in your hair and wrapped the other as tight around you as he could. His head tucked behind your shoulder, hiding his face so you couldn’t see his expression. But even with his face obscured, you felt the unmistakable shivering in his chest and the telltale wetness on your sleeve.

“Zuko? What…happened?”

“It’s my mother.” He said, straining at every word. “She’s gone, and nobody can find her.”

“That’s not all!” Came Azula’s voice, ringing down the hall in a taunting, singsong tone. “Grandfather died last night, and his last act as Firelord was to declare my father the heir.”

Your stomach hurts. The kind of sinking ache that reaches the bottom of your stomach and nestles into your very soul. You don't know what to do- if there's anything you can do. Everything feels so unbearably wrong and you're... Angry. For once you're not sad, you are angry.

You want to yell, to scream and shout and throw a tantrum until everything returns to how it should be. But shouting won't fix anything, even if it might make you feel better for a moment.

"Stop it Azula, you're lying." You insist, clinging to Zuko, the only thing that still makes sense. He's hurting, he's hurting the same way that you hurt and you don't know how to help him and it's killing you.

Worse still is that deep down you know Azula is (for once) telling the truth. She's lied to you about a great many things- once she'd even managed to convince you that you were adopted, until you'd gone crying to your father who scolded Azula for such a heinous lie and reassured you that you were in fact, not adopted.

"I am not!" She says haughtily. "You can go ask my father, the new Firelord right now if you don't believe me."

Zuko seemed to share in your rage, standing up and towering over you as he stared down his sister. You felt a little sad at the loss of his embrace, but the sadness quickly melted into fear when you saw the smoke starting to pour out from Zuko’s clenched fists.

Before you had time to reach for him, Zuko had already lunged at his sister, aiming a fist and a fireball at her. Azula pivoted on her feet, nonchalantly evading the hit. With nothing to block his momentum, the force from Zuko’s punch carried him face-first into the palace floor.

Azula scoffed mockingly, almost laughing as she started to make her way down the hall. Turning a corner, she was out of sight.

You stumbled towards Zuko, who indignantly pulled himself off the tile floor and huffed, averting his watering eyes from your gaze.

You sat next to him, staring at the scorch mark his fireball had left on the floor. Leaning your head on his shoulder, the weight of the morning caught up with you. First your brother, then your beloved aunt, then your grandfather. Your family, and by extension your world, seemed to be shrinking exponentially.

You held tight to Zuko’s arm. His entire body was rigid, pulsing with rage and the pain of holding back tears.

“Zuko…?” You started.

He just grunted in response.

“Please don’t leave me alone.”

His body seemed to relax a bit at that, even if his mind clearly wasn’t.

“Ok.”

You pull him into a hug, hoping to be able to comfort him the way that he's comforted you , but he remains tense in your embrace. He feels warm, too warm. Though you know it's simply a result of his anger and his bending combining, you can't help that your first thought is fever, infection, clean the wound.

This time there is no wound for you to clean. Not a physical one anyways. And you don't even know where to start on cleaning this up.

Your own anger simmers, then fades entirely, replaced once again by that lonely, aching feeling you're becoming alarmingly accustomed to. It's not fair, you think, that one family should suffer so much loss so quickly. It would be easier to deal with if your father were home already. If you could crawl into his lap and cry and be held by someone who's grown enough to make sense of this whole mess. If you could ask him what to do, how to help.

You'd do anything to know where to go from here. If there's anywhere you can go from here, or if this is simply your new reality. Your life, continuing on without your brother, aunt, and grandfather.

You hope, you pray, to every spirit you can remember the name of, that your family does not continue to shrink. You don't think you can handle another loss.

Zuko sniffles hard, wiping away tears before they can fall. You almost wish he would just cry, weep on you as you've wept on him so many times.

You stand up, taking his hand and pulling him up with the last bit of strength you have.

“Can we go to my room? I don’t want to cry in the hallway.”

Zuko nods, and you try to stand like your father does whenever you’re upset as you lead your favorite cousin back through the halls and past your bedroom door.

Your bed seems the most inviting thing in the world, and you gladly crawl under the blankets. Zuko seems restless, and unsure of what he’s supposed to do.

You can’t help the whimper that escapes you when he turns to leave.

“Don’t go, please don’t go, don’t make me be alone…!”

Zuko freezes at that, before slowly walking over to your bed and softly, tentatively, lays down on top of the covers next to you.

“…father says if you’re sad, the first thing you should do is cry until it stops hurting.” You offer, quoting something your father had told you (and later, your brother parroted to you) when you’d had bad dreams in the past.

“I’m not sad.” Said Zuko, too quickly to be genuine. “I’m angry. You should be too.”

You shrug, feeling far too tired to be angry anymore. You’re not sure if it’s because of what you’ve seen, or because of how much you don’t want to be like your uncle, but you can’t force yourself to be angry. All that’s left is sorrow, and a deep, aching numbness that seems to have taken root in your very soul.

“Zuko?”

“Yeah?”

“When you’re not angry anymore, will you read to me?”

Zuko paused, confusion painting his face.

“Why? You know how to read just fine.”

“I know. But I think I’ll like the stories better when they’re from you.”

"I... don't know when I'll stop being angry." He whispers, like he's making a confession, telling a secret meant only for you to hear.

"I can wait. I can wait a long time," you assure him. "Just don't go away, okay?"

"I won't. I'm not going anywhere. I promise."

This relaxes you, if only a little. One of many things you appreciate about Zuko is that he always keeps his promises, even when he doesn't want to. If Zuko is promising he won't leave, then at the very least you know you'll have him, always.

"Good." You say, pulling the blankets tighter around yourself.

Zuko remains at the edge of the bed, clenching and unclenching his fists, twisting your sheets in his palms, no doubt leaving the occasional scorch mark as he continues to work himself up.

"It's okay to be angry." You tell Zuko, once again recalling something your father had told you. "You have to feel your feelings, just don't let them consume you."

"You sound just like uncle when you talk like that," Zuko says, and though he's facing away from you, you swear you could hear a hint of a smile in his voice.

“I think that’s a good thing.” You say, comforted by the thought that you could help Zuko the way your father helped you.

“It is.” Said Zuko. “But I like talking to you more. Don’t…don’t tell him I said that.”

“I won’t.” You smile, remembering how happy the soldiers in Doctor Sota’s tent seemed when you smiled at them.

Zuko didn’t smile, but he’d stopped white-knuckling your sheets and laid down to face you. His eyes no longer glistened with unshed tears, and his jaw no longer shifted with the tension of grinding teeth.

“Can we stay here for today?” You ask, gently. “I promise I’m not gonna hide like I did…last time. But I don’t want to watch anything else happen today.”

“Yeah. Maybe we can sleep in.”

You nod, already feeling sleep take hold of you once more as the sun peeked over the horizon. You slipped your hand out from under the covers, sliding it across the bed to hold Zuko’s hand.

He looked sad, and just as tired as you.

But even as he slipped into a dreamless sleep, he held your hand tight.

Chapter Text

With your father finally home from the war, you find it easier to manage. The loss, the fear, and your newfound and near constant fear of further loss is eased by his presence. You think he's had a similar effect on Zuko as well. Despite your grandfathers death and the mysterious disappearance of your aunt, Zuko has nearly returned to his usual spirited self.

Though the long afternoons spent playing games are growing fewer and further between. Zuko has taken on an entirely new set of lessons in a great variety of things, from advanced firebending (though he often complains that Azula outpaces him) to more specialized lessons, made entirely to train the crown prince on one day inheriting the title of Firelord from his father.

Zuko takes his newfound role as the crown prince very seriously, and you can understand why. It's a solemn role to be placed in, especially considering the circumstances surrounding it. You had little time to grieve the death of your grandfather before becoming accustomed to your uncle in the role of Firelord. Although, you were never especially close to your grandfather in the first place. He abhorred your lack of bending ability, and though your father had taken great measures to spare you from the brunt of that loathing, you were subject to it nonetheless. You're certain your uncle feels the same way.

You're lucky, immeasurably so, to have the father that you have. In spite of his spectacular firebending skill, and the incredible talent for it that your brother had possessed, he never once made you feel lesser for your lacking.

In spite of your inability to perform it yourself, you're still fascinated by firebending as a whole. Most days, like today, your father allows you to sit in on his training sessions with Zuko. Occasionally you'll even watch Azula's practice sessions, but she tends to let the flames get a little too close to her audience for your comfort.

Your father, ever the overachiever when it came to his family, chose to multitask in those rare, wonderful moments. In between his instructions to Zuko, he taught you to play pai sho. Though Zuko liked to complain about the added obstacle of avoiding the wooden playing board, your father said he always seemed more comfortable when you joined in on his training.

You’d tried to follow along with the firebending moves, regardless of wether you could use actual fire. Your father had laughed at that. He’d shaken the air with a deep, jovial belly laugh, telling you that if you wanted to learn those moves, you’d be much better off learning from a dancer. Traditional dances, as he explained, were almost all based off of firebending techniques.

“Or perhaps,” he explained, “it is the other way around. Who’s to say wether the dancing became the firebending, or if the firebending became the dancing.”

“Uncle, the firebending was first.” Interjected Zuko.

“Why do you say that, Prince Zuko?”

“Firebending is practical.” Zuko explained. “You need fire to cook, to keep warm, to see at night. It doesn’t make sense for people to start dancing if they’re still cold and hungry.”

Your father paused at that, and took a moment to think.

“That’s true, I suppose. Though you’ve missed a crucial detail, nephew. You don’t need to bend fire in order to use it.”

Zuko huffed a breath through his teeth, directing another hit towards the petrified wood of his training dummy.

“You have much better control of your aim, Prince Zuko!” Your father complimented, accenting his remark with applause. You joined him, gladly clapping for your best friend’s improvement.

Your father turned his attention back to you, satisfied with the pace of Zuko’s progress.

“Now, my flower, since you’re just starting, let’s go over the board.” Said your father, with the same enthusiasm and pride you’d seen from him when Zuko had started training under him.

“Before you start your game, you must first choose an opponent. With no stakes, you can play against anyone. But don’t bet anything you wouldn’t be ready to lose against anyone you do not trust.”

You nod, mentally noting Iroh’s first rule in your mind.

“Then, you face your opponent, both of you sitting at one of the gates.”

“Gates, father?”

“Ah, these red triangles on the edges, here.” Your father pointed to the board. “There are four gates, one for each of the primary directions. The one close to you is your home gate, and the one closest to me is your foreign gate.”

“My home gate.” You repeat, pointing at the aforementioned triangle.

“Good!” Your father praised, and turned his head to face your cousin.

“Remember your breathing, nephew! The energy of your fire comes from the energy of your breath. If you don’t feed your fire, it will burn itself out.”

“I know how to breathe, uncle. I’ve been doing it my whole life.”

You laugh at that, stifling the noise politely as you’d been taught.

"There's no need for that my flower," your father says. "You're in good company, you may laugh as loudly as you like."

You smile at him. He's a wonderful teacher, but occasionally a terrible influence. You think you'd like to laugh out loud more often, to be bold and brash in your joy, but you also think if you start you won't be able to stop. It's a delicate balance, one you don't think you'll be able to master any time soon.

You take the quiet moment as an opportunity to more closely observe Zuko's movements. It is a lot like dancing, you find. Elegant, strong, and graceful. Except when Zuko loses his footing, tripping over himself and extinguishing the flames before they can reach their target.

"Are you okay?" You call out to him.

"I'm fine!" He responds, picking himself up and resuming exactly where he'd left off. That's something about him you find admirable and infuriating in equal measures. He's tenacious and determined, a strength to be proud of. But he's also stubborn as a hound-mule, and twice as hard headed.

It makes arguing with him difficult. Even when he knows you're right he refuses to admit it, digging his heels in until you give up altogether, opting to just give him the silent treatment instead of carrying out a pointless fight. Very rarely have you had to resort to this option, and you're glad for it, because Zuko hates to be ignored and you hate to ignore him.

It's almost harder to ignore him than it is to argue with him, you find yourself constantly drawn to him, wanting to share your thoughts, to hear his, to just be in his presence. It's distracting at times. Like now, when you realize your father is trying to draw your attention back to the game of Pai Sho in front of you.

“Before you start to make moves, you need to understand the objective.” Iroh said, addressing both you and your cousin. “In battle, you need to know what you intend to do with your opponent. You need to move differently if you want to capture than if you want to kill or to escape. Victory wears many faces, and she sometimes disguises herself as defeat.”

Zuko shot a particularly large fireball at the dummy. The heat wave cascades back, sending a pleasant surge of warm air past you. The dummy remained unbothered.

“In pai sho, however, the objective is always the same. Your goal is to move your pieces into place to create harmonies.”

“Harmonies?” You question.

“The tiles, just like the elements of the world, want to be in balance with one another. It’s your job to show them where they need to be.”

You’re not sure you understand fully, but you nod anyway.

“Your flower tiles are separated into two groups of three. Jasmine, White Jade, and White Lily make up your white flowers, and your red flowers are Rose, Chrysanthemum, and Rhododendron.”

“Ro-dough-den-drawn.” You repeat, trying to break the word into syllables.

“Good! Jasmine and Rose tiles can move 3 spaces at a time, in any single direction. White Jade and Rhododendron are much the same, but they can move up to 5.”

You trace your fingers over the wooden tiles, feeling the grooves and hills of the carved flowers.

“Jasmine is my favorite tile, I think.” Said your father, musing to himself.

“Does it represent something important, father?”

“Oh very much so!” He said, smiling. “It represents how much I love a cup of hot jasmine tea.”

You laugh, fully unrestrained this time. You can practically feel Zuko rolling his eyes on the other side of the courtyard. He's never understood you and your fathers shared love of tea, and you've never understood how one couldn't love tea. As much as you may adore your cousin, that will always remain a mystery to you.

"Jasmine is fine," you say, tracing the grooves of a tile with your fingernail. "But mint is better."

Your father groans. This is an argument you've had with him no less than a thousand times. The debate over tea flavors is an unending and unwinnable one, but you enjoy it nonetheless, if only because it usually ends with your father brewing a pot of jasmine tea for you to share to "prove which tea is superior." Your mind remains unchanged every time, as does his.

"Don't start arguing about tea again!" Zuko pleads. He is nowhere near as amused by this particular line of conversation as you and your father always are.

"It wouldn't be an argument if father would admit I'm right!" You call back to him, making your father laugh. You suppose that's the real goal of this longstanding argument, to see who can amuse each other more in their efforts to convince each other.

Zuko groans, launching another wave of flames at the dummy. It's an added bonus to see him so worked up about an argument he insists he has no stake in.

“Your fire will be stronger if you breathe in through your nose, and out through your mouth.”

Zuko stands still a moment, focusing on his breathing. He looks beautiful, you think, lost in concentration and drive.

Iroh turns back to you, pointing at the tiles laid out on the table. “Lily and Chrysanthemum are tricky. They take sharp turns, two horizontal spaces and two vertical spaces. They’re sneaky pieces, and they love to turn corners before you can catch them.”

You picked up a chrysanthemum tile, it’s delicately sharp petals reminding you of the blades of swords, or the tips of arrows.

“You’re using the wrong names, uncle!” Yelled Zuko in between hits. “You’re making it confusing!”

Your father shook his head, furrowing his brow as if Zuko had, once again, insulted tea.

“No, Prince Zuko. Just because something has two names does not mean either one must be wrong. Just as I call it a Rose tile, you may call it a Red 3. But neither of us is wrong, we simply see the pieces differently.”

“Father, will you tell me both names?” You implore. If you want to invite Zuko to play someday, you think you’d better learn how he sees his tiles.

“Of course my flower. Rose and Jasmine are Red 3 and White 3. The tile is named for its color, and the steps it can take.”

“So the Lily and Chrysanthemum are White 4 and Red 4?”

“Exactly. Jade and Rhododendron are White 5 and Red 5, your furthest reaching tiles. When you want to put them into play, you plant them at your gate.”

You pick up a Rose tile, and place it in the triangle closest to you. Your “home gate”, as Iroh had called it.

Your father smiled, and stood up. He patted your shoulder gently, and walked over to Zuko.

“Widen your stance, nephew. Fire pushes back against its wielder, and if you’re not standing properly, it may throw you as well as your target.”

Zuko does as instructed, spreading his feet further away from one another before once again launching another attack at his unyielding wooden enemy. Strands of hair have come loose from his neatly combed ponytail, framing his face in a way that's especially lovely. It's strange, but you've never noticed how pretty he can be, especially in the glow of his own flames. Not that you'd ever tell him that, it would be just as embarrassing for you to say as it would be for him to hear, so you keep that thought locked away, just for you.

You wonder if he thinks these sorts of things about you too- you doubt it, but it's nice to imagine. You fear sometimes that he takes up much more space in your mind than you do in his, and it would be unbelievably embarrassing to have this fear confirmed, so you keep that to yourself as well.

Your father demonstrates the move that Zuko has been working on, executing it flawlessly, though this does not surprise you. Your father is a master firebender and you'd expect nothing less than perfection from him in that regard. Zuko attempts it again, and again you admire him. Your father makes small adjustments to Zuko's form, instructing him on how to improve in ways that your untrained eye would never have considered.

Though Zuko grows increasingly frustrated with the critique, he dutifully obeys every suggestion your father makes. Zuko knows just as well as you do how skilled your father is. There's no man on Earth who could teach him better, not even the Firelord himself.

Once again Zuko unleashes a ball of flame onto the training dummy, and finally, it's knocked down by the force of his flames. Zuko however is also knocked back by the force of his own blast, falling backwards, barely managing to catch himself from hitting his head on the ground. You rise from the table immediately, knocking your knees against it and jostling the tiles from their places.

"Are you okay?" You implore, rushing to Zuko's side as your father helps him up.

When Zuko turns to face you he's beaming with pride.

"I did it! Did you see?" His excitement is enough to ease your worry, though you're fairly certain he'll have a bruised tailbone from that fall come morning.

"Yeah, I saw." Your shoulders sag from the relief. This boy is going to get himself hurt with that determination some day, you just know it. "You were amazing Zuko!"

His face flushes and his smile shifts to a softer, more bashful expression.

You throw your arms around Zuko’s neck. He doesn’t hug you back, but he lets you hold and praise him, now easily keeping his balance despite the extra weight leaning on him.

Your father pulls the dummy back onto its “feet”, dusting off the ash in the scorch mark left on its stomach.

You’re grateful for the petrified trees littered around the Fire Nation’s land. If you’d used regular wood, you’re sure Zuko would have burned through a whole forest by now.

“Uncle, do you think I’m ready now?” Asked Zuko, almost tripping over his words in excitement.

“I have thought so for quite some time, but the Firelord may disagree. My brother is not a lenient man.”

Before you can question what it is that Zuko is so excited about, a gong rings through the halls of the palace. Zuko stands up straight immediately, and you reluctantly let him out of your embrace.

“Father’s war meeting is starting. If I can get close, maybe I can hear what they’re talking about.” Muttered Zuko, lost in his new plan.

“Listen if you must, but don’t go inside. The generals are very traditional men, and they won’t take well to a child getting involved.”

“I’m thirteen years old now uncle, I won’t be a child much longer.”

The thought struck you as sad, even if you knew it had to happen. Sure, you’d join him as a teenager soon, and for your family that meant being almost an adult. But even almost adults were too old for childish games like tag and hide-and-seek. It was melancholic, to see your cousin and your best friend growing up beside you.

“You’d better not stop playing with me after your birthday.” You tell him.

“I won’t. We’ll just play different games, more challenging and interesting ones.” Zuko assured you.

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

Chapter Text

The rest of your afternoon is shaping up to be dreadfully boring with neither your father nor Zuko there with you. You understand the importance of war meetings, but after everything you've seen and done, you can't imagine why Zuko is so eager to attend one. If it were up to you, you'd hear no mention of the war again for as long as you live. Unfortunately for you, that sort of thing is not within your control. So you sit in the hall outside the war room, picking at a loose thread on the hem of your dress while you wait for Zuko and your father to emerge.

Hopefully, Zuko will return to you bored senseless by long discussions of battle tactics and formations, so bored that he will never again seek out these meetings and leave more time for you to spend with him.

You can hear talking from within the room itself, but the walls and the distance make it too difficult to make out anything that's being said. Words don't come through clearly, but you make a game of trying to correctly guess who's speaking based on tone and volume. You don't hear your father speak once, though that doesn't surprise you. You have a feeling he is as disinterested in the war as you are now, and likely for the very same reason.

A few times you hear your uncle speak, but mostly it's the men of the armies themselves, generals, captains, admirals, very few of whom you actually know the names of.

You perk up when you hear what you think is Zuko's voice.

It scared you though, that his familiar voice seems to be yelling. Did one of the generals start a fight? Panic flooded your system, worry for what a leader of war would do if he thought Zuko had done something wrong.

Zuko stormed out of the room, the red curtains billowing behind him like a plume of smoke. He seemed, if nothing else, unharmed.

“Zuko, what’s wrong, what happened?” You pleaded.

“That general is a coward and a monster. I told him he was wrong and father said I should fight to regain my honor. I’m not scared of that withered old man, I’ll prove I’m stronger and take his place in that room.”

“What did he say? What do you mean you’re going to fight?”

“He was going to kill a whole fleet of our men, just because he’s too much of a coward to fight the enemy head-on. The Firelord demanded I fight an Agni Kai, and I’m going to show them both I was right to stop him.”

The idea that one of your own, a general, as your father had been until very recently, would so willingly offer up a fleets worth of soldiers for the slaughter, makes you sick. You understand exactly why Zuko felt the need to call him on it, but still...

"You can't fight an Agni Kai, you're- you're-"

"I'm what?" Zuko demands to know, and you do your very best to phrase it gracefully, but what comes out is not at all graceful.

"A kid! You're still just a kid, Zuko, you shouldn't be fighting Agni Kai's!"

"Like you shouldn't have been a war nurse?"

It's a low blow and you both know it. If the shock on his own face is anything to go by, you're fairly certain Zuko regrets the words as soon as they leave his mouth.

But he's right. You both are, really. He should not be made to fight an Agni Kai, just as you should not have been allowed anywhere near a battle field.

"I'm sor-"

"Don't be." You cut him off, somehow the prospect of hearing his apology more painful than the offending statement itself. Zuko clenches and unclenches his fists, a nervous habit you've only recently taken note of.

"It doesn't matter anyways. The Firelord demanded that I fight, so I have to fight. End of story."

“Fine. Set fire to an old man and send him back to me to fix. At least father will be proud of one of us.”

Zuko huffed, almost growling. He turned away from you, too quickly to see the tears welling up in your eyes.

You were angry with him, so, so angry. But he was still your family. He was still your best friend. He was still one of the most important people left in your life.

You still didn’t want him to get hurt.

But he left you behind in that hallway, eyes burning with a very different passion than you’d seen on him before. You’d never tell him, but it scared you in that moment how much he looked like his father. The last you saw of Zuko before he was out of sight was his fists starting to glow red with a fire you worried would consume him.

You left the empty hall crying, muscle memory carrying you back to your room despite the blurry film of tears painted over your vision.

You stayed motionless in bed until the sun had fallen and begun to rise once again.

You were awoken unceremoniously by a maid, who informed you that your father had send orders to get dressed meet him at the palace guard’s training arena. You hurried your way through your clothes, and rushed even quicker to your meeting place.

Your cousin was already sitting in her seat when your father escorted you to your place. From far away you could see Zuko’s hunched form, ceremony cloth draped over his bare shoulders as he waited for the match to start. His opponent, though clearly older, didn’t seem as frail as Zuko had made the old general sound.

It worried you, that he might have lied to keep you comfortable. You wanted to leap from your seat, to run across the stone floor and hug Zuko as tightly as you could, to apologize for saying such mean things to him, to beg him not to fight, to at least be there to help if he got hurt.

But you knew better. Ceremony and tradition mattered to the nobility of your country, and you’d only hurt yourself and Zuko more if you ran to him.

So you remain in your seat, fists clenched, clutching at your dress and rumpling the fabric, not unlike Zuko's had been when you'd spoken earlier. Your leg bounces in place, a nervous habit of your own. Azula pinches your arm and you yelp, drawing the attention of the people nearby. You raise your hands in apology, and most of them simply scoff and return to ignoring you.

"Stop doing that, it's annoying." Azula chides. You don't have the energy to fight with her about this, so you plant your feet against the ground and do your very best to remain still as you watch. Zuko rises, always graceful, even now, cloth falling from his shoulders as he turns to face his opponent and-oh.

Oh no.

Oh no, no, no, no, no, no.

His opponent is no general, and you realize now that Zuko had not lied to you- he had been the one who was misled. It's not the insulted general he'd be dueling with, but his insulted father.

Your heart pounds like you're the one about to fight, and you want to scream. To shout at Zuko to run, just run, please. But your voice catches in your throat, only mustering up a pitiful whimper that Azula snickers at.

Zuko seems to share in your fear, dropping to his knees immediately and bowing so deeply you thought he might sink into the ground. You can’t make out all the words from where you’re sitting, but you can tell Zuko is apologizing, begging for mercy, repenting for whatever he’d done to slight your uncle.

But Zuko was the son of a monster, you realized. Turning to the rest of your family, you saw pain and sorrow on your fathers face, and a smug look of satisfaction on Azula’s that sickened you.

Ozai’s voice carried like a war drum as he addressed a child, a good person who’d done nothing but try to save his people. You felt numb, sick, and terrified all at once. Your best friend, your only friend shook his head ‘No’ and refused to attack the man who’d raised him.

Ozai spoke to him a single sentence, too low and quiet to make out. But what he screamed after burned itself into your memory, and you could tell even then that you’d never be able to forget.

“And suffering will be your teacher.”

You didn’t even realize you’d started running until you heard the clattering of chairs, knocked down by you in desperation, add a hellish percussion to the cacophony of screaming and cheering that echoed from the arena you’d left behind.

The screaming slowed, the raging inferno calmed to a simmer. You found yourself shivering on the floor, weakly pushing yourself up on your arms just enough that you kept your hair clean when you vomited on the floor in front of you.

You tasted blood, and ash. The tears flowed freely again as you clamber to your feet and run, though you’re not sure what from.

You keep running, you run as far and as fast as you can, only stopping when the sick feeling in your stomach becomes overwhelming again and you curl up in a corner, hiding from sight like a wounded animal. You cry, and cry, and cry, incapable of soothing yourself.

It's not fair. It's just not fair.

You hate your uncle, you hate him and you hate every spectator who could stand to bear witness to the Agni Kai, watching and cheering like it was some kind of sporting event. You hate Azula who smiled as she watched.

The hate makes you sick, and the sickness makes you more hateful. And at the end of it all, you hate yourself for not staying to see it through, for running away and crying like the child you'd purported Zuko to be. You can't begin to imagine how afraid he must have been- must still be. You want to go to him, to know what happened, to tend his wounds and comfort him and tell him you are so, so sorry. But you're rooted in place, shaking and crying into your hands.

You're not sure how your father managed to find you, be it information from a passing palace staff member, or some innate fatherly sense. But when he does find you, he sits with you on the cold marble floor, and gathers you into his arms, where you cling to him and sob with renewed vigor.

"It's not fair!" You wail, burying your face into his shoulder. "It's not fair, it's not!" Your father rubs your back, in a way that would usually relax you. Now though it only confuses you.

How could two brothers possibly treat their children so differently? How could your own father love you so much, while Zuko's father was willing to... You don't even know. You weren't there long enough to find out.

“I know, my flower, I know. It’s not fair at all.”

You wail, sobbing in your father’s arms. He pats your back, a feeble attempt at comfort when you can feel him shaking too. You push yourself off of the ground, stumbling on your feet a few steps back the way you’d come.

“I need to go to him, I need to help, he’s hurt and I need to be there, I need to heal him!”

Your father rose, slowly, and lifted you gently by the arm. His steady grip kept you stable, and though your knees clattered and threatened to give out, your father kept you standing.

“My daughter, I know this is hard, but there’s more we have to do. The Firelord is banishing Zuko, he’s tasked him with capturing the Avatar. Only then will he be allowed to return with his honor.”

Your blood ran cold, a violent shiver finally breaking you. Clattering to the ground, you felt the painfully familiar numbness creep up your spine once more.

“Zuko can’t leave.”

“He must. He’ll be killed if he stays.”

“Then I have to go with him!”

“No, flower. You stay here. I will watch over Zuko. But our people need you now more than ever, they need someone good to stay and help them, even if the Firelord won’t.”

“You can’t leave too, father please, I can’t be alone again!”

“You won’t be. We’re not leaving forever, I swear it. Prince Zuko and I will come home.”

“He promised he’d never leave me.”

“And I’ll make sure he keeps that promise.”

Tears streak down your face, you can't stop them and you don't think you really want to.

You want to believe your father, you really, truly do. But this feels like another death, another disappearance, another loss that you will have to learn to live with. All you can think is that it's not fair. Nothing seems fair anymore.

You cry on the floor for what must have been hours before succumbing to exhaustion. When you wake again in the late afternoon, tucked snugly into your own bed, you fear you've lived this story before. If they've already left and you didn't get the chance to say goodbye, you will never ever forgive yourself.

You scramble out of bed, tripping on the blankets still tangled around your legs, and run as fast as your feet can take you, back to your fathers quarters to make sure he's still there. And he is, you can see his shadow moving across the room as he undoubtedly prepares his things to leave. You sag with the relief of knowing he's still here, you still have time to say goodbye.

And then you remember Zuko. Poor Zuko, who's been suffering alone all day. You turn to run to the infirmary, where you assume he must be, only to run headfirst into someone. Someone tall, and imposing and...

Oh no.

Your uncle.

He looks down at you, scornful and disgusted.

“I would have thought a soldier should have a stronger stomach than this. At least my daughter will make a suitable Firelord someday. Be grateful to her, relieving you of the disgrace you’d have become if my idiot brother had been allowed on the throne.”

Ozai pushed past, knocking you into the wall as he did. Azula trailed after him, the same sickening air of satisfaction radiating off of her.

Zuko was not in the infirmary.

But on the only unmade bed sat a letter with your name on it, penned in Zuko’s rushed handwriting. You took the letter and held it to your chest, keeping it close the entire way back to your room.

You promised, silently, to read it once you managed to stop crying.

Chapter Text

Your life has lost all of its color without your father and beloved cousin in it. Your days are long and dull, your only respite the sweet embrace of sleep, and dreams full of those who have left you. You throw yourself into your studies, hoping to occupy your mind with history, poetry, anything to break up the monotony. And anything that will give you an excuse to avoid Azula.

She's only grown more insufferable without Zuko around, taking the brunt of her cruelty. You can recognize it for what it is now, cruelty. Not just the silly games of an untamed child who doesn't know better. Azula is cruel.

You know this because your handmaids- the ones that used to be Azula's, she had insisted on having yours when her father ascended the throne, are fearful of you, expecting you to mistreat them as Azula has.

You do everything in your power to convince them otherwise. You save fruit tarts from dinner to share with them when they wake you in the morning, you ask, beg really, for them to play just a single round of Pai Sho with you. You make sure to keep your temper even and your smile wide and genuine when they beat you at it.

Slowly but surely, they open up to you, blooming like flowers. You take care to memorize their names, the things they dislike, the stories they tell of their families, and in return you only ask that they treat you as a friend.

Your handmaids aren't the only ones to receive this treatment of course, how else can one get enough fruit tarts snuck to their room to feed their friends but by befriending the cooks themselves?

Unfortunately, all the friends in the world couldn’t make you forget how much you missed your father and Zuko. As the second eve of his banishment came, the loneliness went from draining to overwhelming. It certainly didn’t help that for all the effort you put into befriending the many people working at the palace, they were still servants.

They were still paid to like you. They still feared drawing the Firelord’s wrath towards themselves if they didn’t keep you happy.

They still were not allowed to be your equals.

So you sought out the one person who might be close to your equal. Azula, despite her temper and her cruel nature, was the closest thing to a real friend you still had. She was, after all she’d done, still your little cousin. Barely a year younger than you, and if she was anything like her brother, she must miss him terribly. You thought, if nothing else, that she could sympathize with you over losing an older brother.

So you found her in the courtyard one morning, practicing her bending. To your surprise and joy, she seemed receptive to your presence.

She listened when you confessed how lonely you’d been.

“It’s only natural.” She told you, a sharp-manicured hand on your shoulder. “My brother was a fine playmate, and everyone knows how close you two were.”

It brought you comfort, if only for a second, to think that perhaps you could salvage what’s left of your family. You could overlook a few outbursts, if it meant finally getting to have a real friend in the palace.

You almost missed her smile when you told her, half-joking, that you’d tried to make friends with your handmaids.

"You're really that desperate, huh?" She says, and you mistake her teasing for something akin to affection.

"Not desperate," you insist, lying to yourself more than to Azula, who sees right through you. "Just... lonely. Don't you ever get lonely, Azula?"

"No." She answers simply, and you can't help but be jealous. How lucky she must be, you think, to not bear the same burdens you do.

"Oh, yeah. You've got friends outside of here, right? Those girls that come by sometimes."

"Ty Lee and Mai," Azula informs you, and now you feel lucky to be privy to any scrap of information about Azula's feelings, the people she cares for, a soft spot you can use to connect with her.

"Yeah, them!" You say. "They seem... Nice. I'd like to have friends like that some day." You confess.

“Well, if you keep at it, you’re bound to find at least one person who wants to talk to you.”

“I guess. It’s just hard finding people who want to be my friend, not just…a princess’s friend.”

“What’s the difference?” Scoffed Azula. “Whatever the reason, if you’ve got them under your control, they’re yours.”

You’re not sure you agree with that, but you smile at Azula anyway. She pats your shoulder, a little too hard, and walks off. You’re not sure how she does it, take all the loss so gracefully. As much as you hate to admit it, you can see what your grandfather respected about her. She’s untouchable, standing too tall to knock down.

The talk comforts you, if only a little, and for once you find yourself looking forward to sitting across from her at dinner. Meals with what’s left of your family are tense now, with no soothing stories from your aunt, no jokes or riddles from your father, and no Lu Ten or Zuko to play with after dinner. Just the scornful eyes of your uncle staring down at you, and the occasional snide remark from Azula.

But today it seems, would be no different.

“Father, what does it mean to be royalty?” Asked Azula, after taking a careful first bite of her food.

Ozai’s gaze shifted to her, full of suspicion and pride.

“It means we are the rightful leaders of this nation. It means we stand tall above all others, as beacons of power, and as the final word in what is right and what is to be punished.”

Azula pretended to ponder that for a moment, before finishing another bite and continuing.

“Would it not be shameful for member of royalty to mingle with those beneath us?” Asked Azula, trailing off as if she was inviting her father to be angry.

“Everyone is beneath us. We are superior to each and every one of our citizens. You’ll do well not to forget that.” Said Ozai.

“Then would it be right, or punishable, for a princess to make friends with her servants?” Azula pondered aloud.

“What are you talking about?” Demanded the Firelord.

“Oh nothing.” Said Azula, moving food around her plate as if she were bored of the conversation she’d started. “Just that I caught my cousin being friendly with my old staff.”

You could have heard a pin drop. Not that one would dare to, you're certain even inanimate objects fear the wrath of your uncle as much as you do.

Your blood runs cold. This is what you get. This is what you get for ever trusting Azula with anything. You can't even be mad at her for the gross betrayal of your trust because you should have known better- you did know better. And you confided in her anyways.

You understand now, why everyone thinks you're so weak.

"You what?" Your uncle seethes, the flames in the sconces on the wall behind him shooting upwards, growing with his rage.

"I don't, I never intended- please, uncle- Firelord, I mean!" Your familiar tone is perhaps your biggest slip up of all your stammering, it certainly doesn't help you plead your case.

You look to Azula, hoping against your better judgement that she'll say something, anything to undo what she's just done, to take the Firelord's attention off of you so you can breathe again. The very air surrounding you feels almost too hot to inhale. But Azula says nothing, only smiles at you innocently, as if she doesn't even care.

She doesn't, you realize. She doesn't care at all. She's just enjoying having dinner and entertainment at the same time.

“Firelord Ozai, sir, I was just talking to them! I swear, I just talk to them, that’s all!”

“You’ve dirtied yourself.” Your uncle said, the sconces on the walls dimming back to their natural state. “You’ve lowered yourself to the status of a peasant. Is that how little you think of this family? Is that how little you respect your ancestors?”

“I…I’m sorry, uncle. It won’t happen again.”

“I’ll make sure it doesn’t. Your staff will be dismissed and replaced, and the new staff will be under direct orders not to engage with your childish demands.”

“Yes, your majesty.”

“And you’ll go to bed hungry tonight. If you want to act like some some impoverished commoner, then you’ll eat like one too.”

You stood from your seat, bowing to the monster at the head of the table and barely keeping your composure long enough to close the door behind you.

One of your maids, a young woman named Mehri, greeted you at the door to your bedroom.

“Is something the matter, your highness?” She asked, with a motherly tenderness you’d not expect from someone her age.

You kept silent until you were sure the door to your room was closed. Once the latch clicked, the dam broke and the tears fell. You hugged Mehri, who rubbed your back soothingly.

“Has something happened, your highness?”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry-“ you sobbed into her arms, feeling lost and guilty and unable to explain just what it was you were apologizing to her for.

“There, there, princess. I’m sure whatever it is will turn out alright.”

You can only cry harder, trying desperately to stifle yourself and failing every time.

You liked Mehri. She's nice, and patient, and she regularly beat you at Pai Sho, but she's never a bad sport about it. You feel terrible knowing that she'll be punished for her kindness.

"I'm sorry! It's all my fault, Mehri, I'm so sorry!" You wail. This lovely woman, who has worked at the palace for only a few months, should not have to suffer for your mistakes. It occurs to you as you weep into her that this, this moment of familiarity is itself exactly what the Firelord is punishing. Though you don't want to, you peel yourself away from Mehri, scrubbing at your eyes and trying to slow your breathing down enough to think and speak rationally.

"Your highness, whatever it is that's troubling you, I'm sure it will all be fine." She makes another attempt at soothing you, and you could nearly cry again. She's too kind for this place. You loathe to think what your uncle would find to be a fitting discipline for her kindness. You're lucky to have only been denied a single meal.

"Please go away, Mehri." You say, putting all of your focus on steadying your breathing and slowing your tears.

"But, princess, I don't understand -"

"Just leave! Go, please, Mehri, just leave me alone!" You beg, and you hope, futilely that she'll understand your insistence at her leaving is your last ditch attempt at sparing her the wrath of your uncle. Mehri bows to you, and retreats.

"As you wish, princess." She says, her voice shaking. Your guilt consumes you, eats you alive from the inside out. You watch Mehri leave, see her slip quietly out of your bedroom, letting the door fall closed behind her.

Except the door doesn't close. A familiar hand, with five perfectly manicured nails catches it, pushing it back open again.

Azula.

If you were born with the same abilities as your brother, you fear you’d have set the whole palace on fire with the rage you directed at her.

“Oh don’t be so upset.” Azula scoffed. “I did you a favor.”

You kept silent, turning your back to her and facing the moon in your window.

“What, don’t tell me you actually care that a few servants got fired?”

“No.” You say, desperate to save face for Mehri’s sake, for the sake of everyone you’d inadvertently hurt. “They’re just staff. We’re better than that.”

Just tell her what she wants to hear. Just say whatever it takes to make her leave. Just get her out of your room before you show emotion in front of her again.

“Good. I just wanted to make sure you weren’t going to cling onto some silly little convenience friends. You and I shouldn’t be stooping to the level of the help.”

You taste blood, biting the inside of your mouth to keep from sobbing or screaming at Azula.

“Oh well, at least you learned now instead of later the consequences of weakness.”

Your face feels hot. You're sure you must be flushed, sweating from the force exerted to try to contain yourself.

"Thank you." You say through gritted teeth.

"You're welcome." Azula chimes. If she can tell that you're full of it, she makes no mention of it. You'll say anything if it gets her to leave you alone. But she doesn't, determined to poke and prod for any more soft spots she can expose.

She throws herself on your bed, making herself comfortable in your space. Your bed is unmade, a natural consequence of you kicking Mehri out of your room before she could prepare it for you to sleep in. You preferred her in particular to make your bed, she knew exactly where you liked everything, including how you slept with the silver hair comb your brother had gifted you, wrapped in its protective green cloth, hidden away under your pillow.

It's not hidden by your pillow now, though, and you realize it at the same time as Azula spots it. When she reaches for the carefully wrapped bundle, your heart stops.

"Azula, don't," you plead.

"Why? What are you hiding?"

There it is. Your soft underbelly, the weakness she's looking for. Azula has barely started to unwrap it when you lose control of yourself.

You grab her by the arm, yanking her off your bed and throwing her to the ground. The sheer force of it surprises even you, and it must have caught Azula off guard as well, because had she been prepared she could have easily overpowered you.

You grab the hairpin, still covered up in its cloth, holding it close to your chest.

"Get out, Azula!" You cry, hot tears resurfacing to streak down your face.

“Fine, crybaby. Royalty need our beauty sleep anyway. We can’t be good leaders if we’re…sloppy.”

Azula practically skipped out of your room, letting the door slam closed behind her. You got up and locked the door the second she left, a feeble attempt at regaining some sense of control. It was a small relief, but one you cling to nonetheless, that she hadn’t gotten her hands on the comb.

You place the bundle on your lap, slowly unfolding it and delicately tracing your fingers over the flower decoration on top. Even after years, the midnight blue of the silk flower remained as deep and beautiful as it had always been.

With a quick glance out the window, you retrieved another of your hidden comforts. A paper scroll, carefully folded and tucked between your mattress and bed frame. Even after two years, even after your memorized the thing, Zuko’s goodbye letter was equal parts comforting and saddening.

You wondered, as you read it through for the hundredth time, if he ever missed you like you missed him. You hoped he’d be happy to come home, and as you put your treasures back where they belonged, you wondered what you might say to him when you welcomed him home.

That’s all you had to do, you thought to yourself.

Just wait until he comes back home.

Chapter Text

To my family,

I was wrong. I see that now. I’ve brought shame to all of you, I lost sight of my role and my duty, and by extension I have betrayed our country and her people. As the Firelord decreed, I am leaving this great nation and our home to search for the Avatar. When I capture him and bring him back in chains, I will regain my honor and take back my place on the throne.

To my father, I’m sorry for disrespecting you. I want only what is best for the Fire Nation, and I see now that what is best is for me to leave.

To my cousin, I’m sorry for leaving, and I’m sorry for what I said. I was angry, and I wasn’t thinking. I promise you that when I do return home, I will be someone worthy of your pride.

- crown prince Zuko

Chapter Text

The Tale of Zuko and Azula

When Azula had tracked him down, Zuko feared for the worst. But despite the worry he felt at her presence, and the doubt Iroh had sown within him, Zuko was overjoyed at the thought that he might be allowed back home.

“I’ve come with a message from home. Father’s changed his mind. Family is suddenly very important to him. He’s heard rumors of plans to overthrow him, treacherous plots. Family are the only ones you can really trust.”

For the first time in his life, Zuko felt that he agreed entirely with something Azula said.

“Father regrets your banishment. He wants you home.”

Zuko wasn’t sure if the relief he felt was justified. Even if his father had rescinded his banishment decree, how could he go home empty handed? He’d spend three years hunting the Avatar, three years of his life spent in turmoil and shame. How could he possibly return without completing his mission?

How could he face his father with another failure?

“Father…regrets? Zuko asked, still reeling at the thought of return. “He wants me back?”

“I can see you need time to take this in. I’ll come to call on you tomorrow. Good evening.”

Zuko was terrified, though he’d never admit it, that the mantra he’d clung to had found an exception to its rule.

“For once, please.” Zuko begged to whatever may be listening. “For once let her be telling the truth.”

But the next morning, Zuko found that nothing had listened to him.

“Raise the anchors! We’re taking the prisoners home.” Shouted the Captain of the ship, before realizing his mistake.

It took barely a second for Zuko to launch an attack, and barely less for Azula to dodge it.

“You lied to me!”

“Like I’ve never done that before.”

Zuko’s mind raced, rage and disappointment for himself, rage and despair for his family. The screams of the ship’s crew and he and Iroh fought their way through were an afterthought to Azula’s word.

“You know, father blames you for the loss at the North Pole. And he considers you a miserable failure for not finding the Avatar! Why would he want you back home, except to lock you up where you can no longer embarrass him?”

Zuko launched a particularly passionate fireball at Azula, who dodged it effortlessly before charging back at her brother.

“Even that little bleeding-heart cousin of ours is disappointed in you! She ran away from your Agni Kai, too ashamed of you to even watch you take your punishment.”

Zuko repeated his mantra in his mind, desperately clinging to what he knew was true.

“Azula always lies.”

But mantras and hope couldn’t stop the pit in Zuko’s stomach from falling at her sadistic monologue.

“Still, Zuzu, you shouldn’t blame yourself for what happened. After all, she chose to go and do…something drastic, by herself. Even if you pushed her to it, even if you shamed your family and made her very best friend into just a stain on our family’s legacy. Even if you left her with nobody. Not even I could be that cruel, taking away her pride, her best friend, and her father all at once!”

Zuko felt his fire falter as he pushed Azula off the ship’s edge. Rage and passion fueled his power, but all he felt then was grief and shame. He ran with his uncle, ran as far and fast as he could, away from the one person who’d tell him what he feared wether it was true or not.

“Azula always lies.” Zuko begged. “Azula always lies.”

The Tale of Zuko and Jet

It was a chilly night when Zuko met Jet. The uncomfortable Earth Kingdom clothes he wore as camouflage scratched at his skin, a far cry from the soft silk and smooth iron of his Fire Nation royal garb. The gritty, syrupy texture of the spoiled stew that had been doled out to the refugees stung his throat and cemented itself to his teeth. The taste was unbearable, a mix of over-salted radish and rancid milk broth.

With Iroh refusing to share in his misery, and no one else to confide in, Zuko spoke to thin air.

“I’m sick of eating rotten food, sleeping in the dirt. I’m tired of living like this!”

“Aren’t we all?” Came a voice from the crowd. A boy about Zuko’s age sauntered over, carrying a stalk of dried wheat between his teeth. “My name’s Jet, and these are my freedom fighters, Smellerbee and Longshot.”

The boy, Jet, motioned towards two others standing behind him. Both nodded to Zuko, though only one greeted him.

“Hello.”

“Here’s the deal. I hear the captain’s eating like a king while us refugees have to feed off his scraps. Doesn’t seem fair, does it?”

Zuko thought for a moment while Iroh questioned the boy. Jet was right, Zuko thought, but not for the reasons he thought. The injustice was the captain treating royalty like dogs, and having the nerve to hoard what he’d been given for those in his care. The captain was a terrible leader, a tyrant whose people suffered underneath him.

At least back home, the people of the Fire Nation were well-fed and happy. In the Fire Nation, the wounded and sick weren’t cast out, abandoned. In the Fire Nation, leaders joined the fight.

Their children joined the fight.

A victory for the Fire Nation, thought Zuko, was a victory for her people. But here, on a government vessel for the greatest stronghold of the Earth Kingdom, the people were left hungry and miserable.

A victory for the Fire Nation, decided Zuko, would be a victory for whoever they conquered. When he was Firelord, he’d make sure nobody under his rule would be forced to scavenge for rotten scraps like vermin.

“So.” Said Jet, drawing Zuko’s attention once more. “You want to help us liberate some food?”

Zuko threw the bowl of inedible slop into the water. Let the bottom feeders of the lake have a feast.

“I’m in.”

Jet had been right, of course, the captain of the ship had mountains of food in his cabin. Racks of roast duck hung from the ceiling, steaming bowls of white rice and stir fry sat untouched on tables, and baskets of fresh vegetables were tucked under every counter. Zuko and the Freedom Fighters gathered what they could in a hurry, stuffing weeks of full meals into satchels and bags before making their escape.

After passing out meals to any refugees who would take them, Jet and Zuko sat down with Iroh, finally taking their share of what they’d given out.

“From what I heard, people eat like this every night in Ba Sing Se. I can’t wait to set my eyes on that giant wall.” Said Jet, wistfully.

“It is a magnificent sight.” Iroh told him.

“So you’ve been there before?”

“Once. When I was a…different man.”

“I’ve done some things I’m not proud of, but that’s why I’m going to Ba Sing Se: for a new beginning. A second chance.”

“That’s very noble of you. I believe people can change their lives if they want to. I believe in second chances.”

Jet nodded solemnly, and took a bite from a drumstick he’d taken when dividing the meat for the passengers.

“What about you, enigma?” Said Jet, addressing Zuko.

“My name isn’t enigma, it…it’s Lee.” Zuko scolded himself, so used to those around him knowing who he was.

“Well, Lee, where’s home?” Asked Jet.

“Far away from here.”

“Why’d you leave?”

“…”

“Got it, got it. Don’t want to bring up old memories, trust me I know. Let me guess, you’re missing someone?”

“Yeah.” Zuko confessed, surprising himself at his willingness to admit it. But Jet seemed familiar, if nothing else. Someone else who’d had their life uprooted, who was angry at the injustice forced on him.

“Family?”

“…a girl. I had to leave her behind. I didn’t even get to say goodbye in person.”

“A girl, huh? Well, don’t worry too much about her. From what I’ve seen, you’ve got plenty to impress her. Wherever she is, I’m sure she’s missing you too. Probably cursing the Fire Nation for separating you.”

Jet leaned back triumphantly, and Zuko stared at the half-finished meal in front of him.

“Yeah.” Said Zuko. “Maybe.”

The Tale of Zuko and Jin

That girl had been following him, Zuko was sure of it. For five days straight she’d come to the teahouse, sat in a far corner, and just…watched him. After narrowly dodging Jet’s attempt to reveal Zuko and his uncle as firebenders, Zuko felt he couldn’t be too careful.

“Uncle, we have a problem. One of the customers is onto us. Don’t look now, but there’s a girl sitting over there at the corner table. She knows we’re Fire Nation.”

Despite the warning, Iroh looked directly at the girl, drawing uncomfortable attention to himself and Zuko. But unlike with Azula and Jet, Iroh seemed comfortable looking directly at this girl.

“You’re right, Zuko. I’ve seen that girl in here quite a lot. Seems to me she’s got quite the little crush on you.”

“What?” Zuko said, bewildered.

Zuko could barely hold back the surprised jump that threatened his composure. It wasn’t possible, he thought. Girls didn’t get “crushes” on boys like him. Nobody liked a failure, an outcast, someone so scorned that even their own parents abandoned them.

But…she didn’t know that about him. To this girl, this stranger, he was just…Lee. Lee the quiet busboy who worked at his uncle’s tea shop. Lee the humble, crown prince of a hot clay teapot.

Maybe for a normal girl that was enough. Maybe for a normal girl, he was enough.

So when the girl introduced herself as Jin, and asked if he wanted to go on what he could only assume was a date, he accepted. Even if it didn’t feel right. Even if he knew he was lying, to her and to himself. Zuko let himself try. He tried to make conversation, but he couldn’t tell her anything without revealing his…background.

So he lied to Jin. He told her whatever he could think of, no matter how stupid he sounded. Even when he made a fool of himself failing to juggle, he knew it was better than the alternative.

Jin pushed on despite his attitude, insisting on showing him some fountain in town. It felt familiar, though Zuko couldn’t place exactly what it reminded him of. But comfort came anyway, the familiar feeling of being dragged along by the sleeve by an excited girl with something mundane she was happy about.

Even the pain was familiar, when Jin’s shoulders dropped and her voice shook at the unlit lanterns surrounding the fountain before her.

“I can’t believe it…they aren’t lit.”

Zuko couldn’t fix the ache in his heart, the clawing demon barely held by the cage of his ribs. It just felt so, so familiar.

Like home.

“Close your eyes, and don’t peek.”

Jin did as told, with confusion. After he was absolutely sure nobody could see him, Zuko quickly sent tiny sparks of fire to each of the lanterns, bathing the stone walkway in the gentle glow of flames.

“Ok. You can look now.”

Jin’s eyes flew open, and a quiet gasp escaped her.

“Oh wow…what happened? How did they light, what did you do?”

Zuko said nothing, and smiled. But when she went in to kiss him, he stopped her. He brushed it off, trying to save face for the both of them. He knew it was mean, but for some reason, he just couldn’t do it.

He didn’t like to see a girl like her so sad.

But he also couldn’t bring himself to kiss her.

Chapter Text

The Tale of Iroh and Toph

Of all the things Iroh expected when Zuko went off on his own, getting the wind knocked out of him by a very young earthbender was not one of them. Not that he expected much of anything, hiking through the forests surrounding the Earth Kingdom.

But life leads a man to wonderful places and wonderful people if he lets it, and Iroh is quite good at letting himself be guided by fate. So he sat with the girl who’d hit him, and offered to share a pot of tea, which she accepted.

“You seem a little young to be traveling alone.” Iroh told her. The girl grabbed the cup of tea out of his hand, seeming annoyed but not particularly angry.

“You seem a little too old.”

Iroh laughed at that, and found joy in the subtle smile that crossed the girl’s face.

“Perhaps I am.”

The girl paused, taking the time to sip her tea slowly. Iroh thought she must have come from high society. Despite her hunched posture and blunt manner, she was delicate with a stranger’s tea set, and savored her tea in a slow way that said she’d never had to worry about running out. From what he could tell, she carried a warrior’s grace with her when she used her earthbending, a strength that came from years of self-discipline and the free time to focus on improving. Her parents should be proud, to have such a strong and capable daughter.

“I know what you’re thinking.” The girl said. “You’re thinking I don’t look like I can handle being by myself.”

“I wasn’t thinking that.” Iroh told her, truthfully.

“You wouldn’t even let me pour my own cup of tea!”

“I poured your tea because I wanted to, and for no other reason.”

“People see me and think I’m weak. They want to take care of me, but I can take care of myself, by myself.”

“You sound like my nephew, and my daughter. Both of them are always thinking they need to do things on their own, without anyone’s help. But there’s nothing wrong with letting the people who love you help you. Especially when it hurts to try and fix things on your own.”

Iroh took a sip of his tea, enjoying the flavor and the warmth. The girl seemed to ponder his sentiments, undoubtedly trying to fit his advice into her own situation.

“Not that I love you.” Joked Iroh, hoping to make the girl smile again. “I just met you!”

The girl laughed, and Iroh was happy.

“So where are they, your nephew and daughter?”

“My daughter is at home. I’m actually tracking my nephew right now.”

“Is he lost?” Asked the girl.

“Yes, a little bit. His life has recently changed, and he’s going through some difficult times. He had to leave his best friend, my daughter, behind when he took his pilgrimage. He’s trying to figure out who he is, and he went away.”

“So now you’re following him?”

“I know he doesn’t want me around him right now, but if he needs me, I’ll be there.”

“Your nephew is very lucky, even if he doesn’t know it. Your daughter too.”

The girl stood up, a look of quiet certainty and determination on her face.

“Thank you.”

“My pleasure. Sharing tea with a fascinating stranger is one of life’s true delights.”

“No. I mean thank you for what you said. It helped me.” Said the girl, with a joy in her voice that hadn’t been there when she sat down. “Oh, and about your nephew, maybe you should tell him that you need him too.”

Iroh nodded, happy to find such wisdom in someone so young.

“And, when you see your daughter again, tell her I hope she gets her best friend back soon.”

Iroh raised his cup of tea to the sky, grinning.

“I hope so too.”

The Tale of Iroh and Zuko

Prince Zuko had a war within him, and Iroh knew this. From the moment he was born, he’d been forced to choose between two sides of himself, and never knew how to make the distinction between them. This time, he’d done something kind, and was punishing himself for it. Freeing the Avatar’s bison had won a battle for good, but Zuko’s kindness had never been rewarded. Wether he knew it or not, the evil inside him raged against him, furious that it had lost out to good even once.

Zuko shifted in restless sleep, the drops of sweat boiling into puffs of steam coming off his skin. Iroh laid a rag soaked in water on Zuko’s forehead, cooling the fever and, he hoped, soothing his restless sleep.

It took hours before Zuko woke up.

“What’s happening?”

He sounded delirious, still confused and shaking with the fever coursing through him. Iroh hoped the truth would soothe him, bring him comfort if nothing else.

“Your critical decision. What you did beneath the lake, it was in such conflict with your image of yourself that you are now at war with your own mind and body.” Iroh explained.

“What’s that mean?” Zuko asked. He still sounded so confused, so tired, so unaware of his surroundings. Seeming almost drunk, he slurred words and slumped forwards, eyes barely able to focus on the cup Iroh was handing him.

“You’re going through a metamorphosis, my nephew. It might not be a pleasant experience, but when you come out of it…you will be the beautiful prince you were always meant to be.”

Iroh smiled, because he knew it was true. He could wait a little longer to tell the prince how proud he was.

“Where am I? I was in the palace…”

Feeling the cloth on Zuko’s forehead start to warm, Iroh put it back in the bucket of water and replaced it with a clean one.

“You’re at home, Prince Zuko.”

“Where is she? I saw her, where’d she go…?”

“There’s nobody here but us.”

“I saw her…where is she? Where’s my wife?”

“Your wife?” Iroh asked, surprised. “You mean Jin? The girl from the shop?”

“No.” Zuko denied in a frustrated tone, as if he was asking something so obvious it shouldn’t need to be said. “No, not her, I mean…no, no, not her…”

Iroh watched his nephew close his eyes, still mumbling the occasional quiet “no” or “where?”

He spent most of the next three days like that. The majority of his time asleep was spent still writing in sweat and fever, only waking to desperately drink down the pot of clean Iroh kept next to him. When Zuko kicked his blanket off in his sleep, Iroh would replace it. When Zuko huffed or cried or called out from his dreams, Iroh would sit beside him and try to listen. Every morning, Iroh made enough food for both of them, just in case Zuko woke up hungry.

Iroh could account for the rage, the sorrow, the pain, the fear, the confusion. He knew his beloved nephew had been through plenty for his lifetime.

Whoever the wife Zuko had dreamt about may have been, it didn’t matter to Iroh. As long as he had someone to call out to.

The Tale of Iroh and Haco

When the Earth Kingdom fell, Zuko went home. Azula had demanded her uncle be chained and caged in the bowels of the ship, guarded constantly. There was not a moment in time when Iroh was not being guarded by at least one soldier. He recognized some, members of his siege who’d long since renounced him as their leader. Despite that, one of the guards whose voice he didn’t recognize was the first to speak to him.

“General Iroh?”

“I’m not a general anymore, I’m a prisoner. Don’t let Azula hear you talking like that, she’ll burn you to a crisp.”

The guard shuddered at that, clearly well-versed in the cruelty Azula was capable of.

“I’m sorry for this, sir. When I volunteered to escort you back to the mainland, I thought I would be marching behind you.”

“Volunteered? Now why would you do that?”

“To be completely honest sir, it was for very selfish reasons. I wanted to ask you something.”

“That’s not so selfish. Knowledge is meant to be shared, after all.”

“I agree wholeheartedly, sir. However I understand if it’s too difficult a topic to speak about.”

“I’m a disgraced prisoner of war being led to my brother in chains, there is not much left to be afraid of.”

Iroh chuckled at his own words, hoping to soothe the guard’s clear unease at their positions.

“I suppose so, sir. Forgive me for asking but…I wanted to know whatever happened to your daughter?”

“My daughter?” Asked Iroh, surprised. Of all the things that had run through his mind…war strategy, stories of the outside, the glory of conquest, he’d never expected to be asked about something so simple.

“Yes sir. My name is Haco, I was a member of your army during the siege of the Ba Sing Se.”

“Ah, Corporal Haco! The years have aged us, no doubt. I hardly recognize you without your beard.”

“It’s Sergeant Haco now. All thanks to your daughter actually, I’d never have survived that battle without her help. That’s why I’m worried, you see. There’s nasty rumors about, that she didn’t actually go into seclusion, that she was killed. The maids try to dispel these rumors, but she’s not left the palace in years and…well, people are getting worried.”

“To tell you the truth Sergeant, I’ve not seen her in many years either. I’ve been traveling with Prince Zuko since his banishment. But I know my daughter, and it will take more than isolation to make her give up breathing.”

Haco sighed, a subtle melancholy washing over him.

“In my hometown, you’re both something of a legend. The man who breached the impenetrable city, and the girl who sent the wounded home alive. I hoped for her to meet my son someday.”

“Perhaps she will. Fate has a funny way of bringing people together when they need to be. I’m sure he’s very grateful to her for sending his father home safe.”

“Sir, if I may ask a favor of you?”

Iroh nodded.

“Tell her I hope she can forgive me for sending her father to her like this. I hoped it would be under better circumstances.”

“Yes.” Said Iroh, wistfully aware of what would happen when he got home. “I hope she can forgive me too.”

Chapter Text

Firelord Zuko sat on his knees in the throne room. The wall of flame seperating him from the rest of the room burned warm, spilling a comforting orange glow over the shiny, polished surface of the floors beneath. The sconces on the walls flickered playfully, illuminating the corners and crevices that the wall of fire could not reach.

There was not a single inch of that room that Zuko didn’t know by heart. Aside, perhaps, from the two dragons curled and twisted around him, synchronized in an ethereal dance of flight.

A figure sat behind him, though he couldn’t make out their face. But Zuko recognized the intricate golden embroidery and ash-black silk of the figure’s sleeves. There was no mistaking the brilliant glitter of metal, solid gold pulled thin and weakened into threads. There was no mistaking the subtle shimmer to the black gown and robe, the result of soaking the silk in finely-crushed sand from the black beaches of the Fire Nation islands.

The figure was cloaked in a wedding dress.

A gentle hand placed itself on Zuko’s shoulder, the elegant sleeve of the figure’s clothes falling back to their elbow. The blue dragon circling above dipped its head to whisper in his ear, in a voice that sounded eerily similar to his sister.

“It’s getting late. Are you planning to retire soon, my lord?”

“I’m not tired.”

“Relax, Firelord Zuko. Just let go. Give in to it. Shut your eyes for a while.”

The hand on his shoulder suddenly gave way for a crashing wave of exhaustion. Maybe just a few moments would be enough…just enough to feel better…

“No, Firelord Zuko!” Came the booming voice of the red dragon, baring its teeth and staring up at its blue counterpart. “Do not listen to the blue dragon! You should get out of here now, before it’s too late!”

The walls and floors of the throne room seemed to melt under the boiling rage of the dragons. The heat left only the raised platform and wall of fire keeping Zuko floating above the rest. The dragons still flew, circling like vultures. It reminded Zuko of an ouroboros, but with two heads and two tails, destined to encircle and swallow each other whole.

“Sleep now, Firelord Zuko.” Whispered the blue dragon. The red dragon crumbled to dust in the air above them, followed by the guards stationed in front. The hand on Zuko’s shoulder felt light, and soon the cloaked figure fell to ash at his side.

For a moment, the blue dragon was nowhere to be seen, and Firelord Zuko was alone.

In a flash, the remains of the throne room and everyone in it was gone, and Zuko fell into the pit of nothing below. The blue dragon reappeared, far too quickly, and opened its jaws.

“Sleep, just like mother!”

Prince Zuko woke up screaming.

Chapter Text

Three years. It's been three long, lonely years since you've seen your father and cousin. Three years of finding anything you could to occupy yourself, to pass the time while you waited.

And now you're done waiting.

Well, not done done.

You pace by yourself in the entrance of the palace, back and forth, and back and forth, and back and forth again across the polished stone floor. You should be excited. You should be elated. But if you're being honest? You're nauseous.

Three years is a long time to be away from someone. Your father and cousin could be nearly unrecognizable by now, changed by their travels.

You could be unrecognizable, changed by your grief and your isolation.

Plus, there was the matter of your father returning home as a prisoner. This you are actually not supposed to know. But years of boredom have made you an especially capable eavesdropper. Hiding in curtains and around corners like a child can occasionally yield some good results!

Not that your father being jailed is a good result. But he's coming home, he's alive, and safe, and even if you can only see him from the outside of a cell, you can finally see him again.

Which leaves you with the matter of Zuko’s return.

It came to you as no shock that he managed to take down the Avatar. Frankly, you're surprised it took him this long. His tenacity is admirable, even now.

You've missed him desperately, and every day since Azula left to find them you've been thinking about what you'll do when they return home. You've run through countless possibilities, written and scrapped entire speeches in your head, considered every outcome of every word you could say and every movement you could make.

You've had a lot of time to think about it.

So why is it that now, as you hear the fanfare that means your cousins are rapidly approaching, that your mind has gone blank? Your palms are wet with sweat so you wipe them off on your dress, living visible streaks in the fabric. Gross.

You halt your pacing to stand tall, in the center of the room, straightening your back, planting your hands firmly at your sides so you won't be tempted to wring the delicate fabric of your dress. You wore your best one, just for the occasion.

Your heart is pounding when the doors open, sunlight flooding in, obstructed only by the figures of Azula, Mai, Ty Lee and-

There he is.

He's aged beautifully, the baby fat that once graced his cheeks long gone, his hair shaggy in a way that makes you long to touch it, and he's taller now- taller than you. And the scar, taking up nearly the entire left side of his face, only serves to make him more entrancing to look at.

Every impassioned greeting you'd dreamed of late in the night vanishes from your head when you see him. With your intended words of love stuck deep down in your throat, struggling to escape, you fall back on formality. You bow, the blue lily pin in your hair thumping against the back of your head with the movement.

"Welcome home, Zuko."

“It’s…good to be home.” Said Zuko, though he seemed surprised to see you. You wondered if he’d thought you’d forgotten about him.

The thought pushed you, and before you knew it you’d taken those two short, wonderful steps forward and thrown your arms over Zuko’s shoulders. You’re sure Azula will mock you for it later, but in the moment you can’t bring yourself to care.

Zuko tenses, but you’re undeterred. Desperately, hopelessly, you cling to him. Forcing back tears, you bury your face in his chest and smile for real, for the first time since he’d left.

Carefully, like he’s expecting you to shatter, Zuko hugs you back. It’s awkward, and a little too tight, and he can’t seem to decide where his hands are supposed to go. Eventually he settles into holding you with his hands on his own arms, letting you drape your body weight over him like a tapestry.

“I missed you.” You whisper while Azula is too busy to listen in. “Thank you for coming home safe.”

"I didn't think you'd be..." He trails off, his grip on you tightening, and relaxing. Even his voice has gotten lovelier, soft and raspy in all the best ways. You could listen to him talk for days, though you know he would never do such a thing.

"You're not mad?" He asks, pulling back from you.

"Mad? Why would I be mad?" You reply, still holding tight to his biceps. Spirits, even under his clothes you can feel how strong he's gotten. He's going to be the death of you, you swear.

"When I left I was-" He stops mid sentence, shaking his head and starting over. "I never got to-" He stops again, huffing, frustrated that he can't seem to put together the words.

It's a relief honestly, to know that he's at just as much of a loss as you are.

"Hey," you say, bringing a hand up to cup his cheek, thumb brushing the edge of the marred skin around his eye. It's rough, but warm, so very warm. "You don't have to explain. Just... I'm not angry at you, okay? I just missed you."

He smiles, soft and warm, and it's like watching the sun rise.

"I will be angry if you leave again though." You say, and though you do your best to keep your tone light, you and Zuko both know you are entirely serious. Now that you have him you don't think you'll ever be able to bear letting him go again.

Zuko smiled, softly. To the untrained eye he may have just seemed…well, less angry. But to you, the slight upturn at the corner of his lips was more than enough. Zuko was happy to be home, and you were happy to have him back.

“Don’t worry, I don’t plan on leaving the palace anytime soon. I’m back where I belong.”

Reluctantly, you let go of him. He’s not used to being touched, you remind yourself. He’s been on the hunt or on the run for three years, and he probably doesn’t want to be pushed.

But letting go hurts, so you settle for taking his arm. The muscle relaxes under your touch, but stiffens again when Azula turns her head to look at the pair of you.

“Don’t look now Mai, someone’s competing for your boyfriend’s attention.”

You’re sure your heart stopped beating for a second. The air drained from your lungs, and despite your joy at Zuko’s return, it suddenly felt bittersweet. You have no right to be upset, you know that. You have no reason to think Zuko wouldn’t find a partner. The ancient customs of royalty only marrying royalty had been absolved, but even without them, you’d held out hope that he might love you too.

You had no reason to think he’d choose you, and all of a sudden, you felt selfish for hoping.

"Sorry! I didn't," you clear your throat, separating yourself from Zuko entirely. "Sorry..." You say lamely.

"Whatever." Mai says, and though she doesn't physically roll her eyes, you feel that in her soul she is doing so.

Mai has always scared the crap out you to be honest, though of course not as much as Azula, or your uncle. You never know how to behave around her, equal parts embarrassed of yourself in her presence and desperate for the attention of your peers, her disinterest stung for a long time. Then you saw her training with Azula, throwing knives with deadly precision, and thought perhaps it's better that she doesn't care much for you.

You can't even imagine the series of events that led up to her and Zuko's relationship. When you were children he loathed being made to play with Azula and her friends.

But if you put your jealousy aside, stuff it deep down within yourself, you can kind of understand it. Mai is beautiful, skilled, and comes from a highly regarded military family. In other words, she's a catch- if you disregard her cold personality. And Zuko is, well. Zuko.

Who wouldn't fall in love with him?

You release Zuko’s arm, melancholically returning him to the attention of his girlfriend. Azula smirked, clearly taking notice of your sorrow and just as clearly reveling in it.

Azula walked ahead of the group. Mai took your place on Zuko’s arm, following behind her. Ty Lee stayed behind just long enough for you to catch up, and made her way into your personal space without a second thought.

“I’ve got an idea! It’ll help you feel better. I can tell you’re sad, your aura looks like it’s got a layer of dust on it!”

You blink in confusion, but you walk next to your scary cousin’s bubbly friend. Taking your silence as an invitation, Ty Lee continues.

“I know what’s wrong, Zuko’s your best friend and now he’s busy, is that it?”

You force a small smile and nod, gladly taking the get-out-of-awkward-conversation-free card she’d offered.

“Is it that obvious?” You ask.

“I could see how sad you are from space. But don’t worry! How about this, while my best friends Mai and Azula are busy, and your best friend Zuko is busy, we can be friends!”

Huh. After all that time daydreaming and trying to make friends, fate just seemed to hand you one. Ty Lee was sweet, you’d known that for a long time, but it surprised you how friendly she was with you. For all intents and purposes, you were a stranger to her, barely having spoken a dozen words over the several years Azula had been her friend.

“I’d like that.” You told her.

Ty Lee smiled wider, if that was even possible. The palace doors closed behind you, and she threw an arm over your shoulder.

“Want me to teach you how to cartwheel?”

You laugh, for probably the first time in months.

"I don't think my body is exactly in cartwheeling condition," you admit. You've never been especially athletic like Zuko and Azula.

"Sure it is!" Ty Lee says. "It's easy, see?" She pulls away from you to cartwheel, not just once, but in a circle, around you, as you're still walking. You have to admit, she's very impressive.

"I think if I try to do that I'll break something," you tell her, dizzy just from watching. She stops mid cartwheel, standing on her hands.

"Okay," she sighs, and you feel like an absolute monster for disappointing such a sweet girl.

"But, maybe you can teach me something a little less... Upside-down?" You suggest, and she brightens.

"Oh! I could teach you how to do the splits! You can do that in every direction!"

Your thighs ache at the mere idea, but you give her a tight smile and nod anyways.

Ty Lee beams at that, clasping her hands together in front of her chest and squealing like she’d just seen a puppy pick up it’s first stick.

“It’s a lot of fun once you learn, I promise!”

Ty Lee is kind, and she’d be gentle in teaching you, so you believed her.

Chapter Text

The footpath from the palace to the Capitol City Prison is a long walk. Long enough that you must walk it in the middle of the night to reach the prison by sunrise and remain unseen. It's been a long time since you've left the palace itself, but longer still since you've seen your father. The destination is well worth the long journey.

You managed to escape the palace unseen in the dead of night, though you doubt anyone would have stopped you if they'd spotted you. The last few years have left you a ghost in your own home, doing your best to tread unseen and unheard.

It's easier that way, you think. Easier to hide than to be confronted with the reality that no one would search for you, let alone acknowledge your presence- or lack thereof. But things have changed now. Your father is here, he's been here, for nearly a week now, and you have yet to visit him.

The guilt makes your stomach churn. What a terrible daughter you are, to have waited six entire days to see your father, who has no doubt been patiently awaiting your arrival since the very second he set foot on Fire Nation soil.

The prison guards make no effort to stop you when you declare your intent to see your father. Some of these men you know, a few of them from the war. You know well enough that your name carries a great deal of importance to them, and by extension to a number of the soldiers and guards that they know. Though you can never quite be sure what it is that keeps these people obedient to you- respect for your esteemed deeds in war, or fear of retribution if they act out against you. The kind of retribution that your uncle and younger cousin would both encourage and delight in.

Your father's cell is kept within a separate room, down a long hallway, far away from other prisoners. Your stomach churns, harder and harder, the closer you get to seeing him. You hate to admit it but you're scared. Not of your father, of course, never of him. But you're scared that you yourself will be... underwhelming at best. Shameful at worst.

You haven't exactly done a lot of self improvement in the time he's been gone. Most of your days up until recently have been spent reading, sleeping, and avoiding the rest of your family- for good reason, in your opinion. You can't seem to exist in the same room as Ozai or Azula without incurring their ire in one form or another.

The guard standing beside the door to Iroh’s cell bowed when she saw you, and readily let you in. You thanked her, and she smiled sadly as she closed the door behind you.

Your father sat on his knees, back turned. His hair was longer than you remembered. It was longer tied in a topknot, now left in stringy, greasy clumps hanging parallel to his spine. Gone were the deep red robes and elegant black-iron armor you recalled, replaced with a stained linen prison uniform.

It broke your heart. It hurt to see your father, who’d never shown you anything but kindness, caged in a stone room with nothing but a straw mat and a drain.

You kneeled in front of the bars, and reached your hand through, gently laying your hand on Iroh’s shoulder.

“Father? It’s me, I came to see you.”

You couldn’t see his face at first, but he stiffened his posture in surprise and turned around to look at you. You expected disappointment, sorrow, maybe an interrogation on why you didn’t come sooner. But instead, your father took your hand in both of his and smiled as his eyes watered.

“Oh, my flower, I missed you so much. I wish I had a kettle, we should be celebrating. Are you well?”

You smiled, forced as it felt, at your father. He deserved that, you thought. He deserved to find comfort in knowing you were happy to have him back, even if it was under such painful circumstance.

“I’m very well, and I’m glad to see you again. I missed you too.”

"Oh dear," your father, able to read you better than anyone, even now, even after years apart, knows just as well as you do that you're still holding on by a thread. "How are you feeling, really? You don't need to lie to preserve my feelings."

You liked to think at the very least, this time away from those you loved has allowed you to become better at controlling your emotions. You liked to think you weren't the same crybaby kid you were when he left. But your resolve to remain poised crumbles at the slightest hint of comforting words. Your lip trembles as you try to keep your smile firm. Blinking back tears is second nature to you these days, but no amount of fluttering eyelids can stop this.

You reach your other hand through the bars, pressing yourself fully against them to hold your father's warm, steady hands in your own. This is the closest you can get to hugging him, and if it means returning to the palace with the indents of rusty metal staining your skin and your fine silk clothes, then so be it. It's more than worth it.

"I missed you," you say, because at the end of it all, there's nothing more you can say. No amount of tears will change what has happened, no amount of restrained emotion will change what is to come. But you missed him, and you need him to know. You need to hear it echoed back to you, to be reminded that someone still cares, even if the rest of the world has continued turning without you.

“I know my dear. I did too, every night I wondered if you were ok without us. I hoped so much to see you safe.”

“I wish you were home.” You confessed. “It’s not fair that you’re being kept here! It’s not fair that after three years alone I can’t even hug my own father!”

You couldn’t help the tears. You’d been holding back so much for so long. Your sorrows, your loss, your fear, your pain, your rage. It all boiled over all at once, and you felt a gentle hand wipe the hot water away from your cheek.

“I know. If I were as strong as I used to be, I’d break down this wall and hug you until you ran out of tears. But you need to remember, I am home.”

“You’re in prison, father. Your home is in the palace with me and Zuko.”

“My home is the Fire Nation, and wherever I get to see my wonderful daughter and nephew.”

You nod, too tired to argue and too sad to fight.

“Well, I am here with Fire Nation soil under my feet, where my daughter and nephew can find me whenever they need to.”

"I think I always need you." you confess. You've been so lonely and so unwilling to acknowledge it for such a long time. It's not fair the way this all played out. You've spent three years begging the universe to reunite you with the people you love, and the universe listened. It listened just so it could laugh in your face, returning your father and Zuko to you, but keeping them just out of reach, just far enough to keep you from being truly happy again. It's not fair, and you feel betrayed by the world. But you don't know how to articulate this properly, so what comes out is-

"And it’s a really long walk from here to the palace."

Your father's laugh is a balm on your aching heart. You hadn't meant for that to be a joke but you can understand how silly it sounds. You must seem like a petulant child still, complaining about long walks and missing your dad.

"Well, then you ought to head home now so you don't miss breakfast. You're still a growing girl!" Your father tells you, and though you want to stay, want to protest and throw a childish fit, and insist either you stay here with him, or he comes home with you- it's probably for the best that you listen to him. If you leave now you can make it home in time to pick through the leftovers of the grand breakfast Azula will no doubt insist that her friends attend.

Meal times have been a peculiar affair as of late. Long gone are tense, silent dinners with your cousin and uncle, now you have to endure loud, awkward meals, with both of your cousins, as well as Azula's entourage.

You don't mind Ty Lee, in fact these days you find that her company is a welcome surprise. She's nice, she's bubbly, you don't understand a single word out of her mouth when she gets to talking about auras and such, but you don't mind. She's content to talk, and you're content to listen.

It's Mai who really intimidates you, in a way that not even Azula can do. You already found yourself unsure of how to behave in her presence before all this. Any attempts to appease her were met with indifference at best. It's only become more difficult to navigate now that she and Zuko are... You don't like to think about it. In fact, you avoid it as much as possible, which unfortunately has meant avoiding Zuko himself a great deal. Very rarely can you get him alone these days, often accompanied by Mai. Seeing them together makes your stomach hurt, for reasons you're not quite ready to discuss, even with yourself.

You ponder your thoughts on the long walk home, grateful to your past self for having the foresight to wear a cloak with a hood that covers your face. If you came home with visible tear tracks, Azula would probably murder you on the spot.

But the tears remind you of your sorrow. It hurts to think about Zuko. You know he’s home, if nothing else your best friend has come back. But at the same time, he wasn’t.

Sure, Zuko was home. But you didn’t have him back. He didn’t play new games with you like he’d promised. He didn’t sit with you during meals. He didn’t even look at you most of the time.

All his smiles were spent on Mai, who never smiled back. It pained you to watch Zuko try to please her, in part because she’d shut down his offers of flowers, or jewelry, or food. You could get those yourself, of course, but…they weren’t what you wanted. You didn’t care about wether or not you had a fresh lava orchid on your nightstand. You could buy your own jewelry. You could order servants to bring you any food you wanted. Zuko didn’t offer Mai anything you wanted.

But Mai already had something you did want, even if it hurt to admit. She had Zuko’s attention.

She knew what it was like to be loved by Zuko, this Zuko, not just the bright-eyed child you’d known before the scars. You loved him then, but you love him even more now. It was easy, too easy, to fall in love with this resentful madman clinging to a crown.

You didn’t hate Mai. You could never hate her for seeing exactly what you saw.

But this, just sitting across from her at the table, half-delirious from the long walk and lack of sleep, it hurt. It hurt to see Zuko offer her things from his plate. It hurt to see him smile when she accepted, and it hurt to see him frown when she didn’t.

You wondered then, if perhaps you really had died. Maybe you’d spent so long in your room that you’d become a ghost, and forgotten that you were no longer welcome in the living world.

You could have truly convinced yourself you did not exist had it not been for Ty Lee, always more observant than anyone gives her credit for.

When you had arrived in the dining hall she called your name, loud enough to make you flinch. She waved you over, all wide welcoming smiles and open arms. She is positively radiant, you can understand why people would pay good money to see her perform. And she's saved you the seat next to hers. The one directly across from Zuko.

Azula sits at the head of the table, because of course she does. You would expect no less from her and her boundless ambition. Even at breakfast she has to be the most important person in the room.

The meal is nearly finished by the time you take your seat, leaving you to choose from the remaining dishes. There are worse things to eat than the leftovers of a royal breakfast, of course. You don't even know what kind of disgusting slop they've been passing off as food and giving to your father.

The thought of your visit earlier in the day leaves you melancholy, apparently visibly so, because Ty Lee does not hesitate to ask you about it, scooting her chair close to yours to inquire about what had your aura looking so dismal and blue. Most of the time you like her, you really do, but spirits, the girl cannot read a room to save her life.

"Nothing." you assure her, keeping your tone even and measured. Azula, queen of the liars, is adept at knowing when you are lying. And you're not particularly good at it. You can feel her stare burning into you, and you don't have to look at her to know exactly what she's doing- pretending that she's not searching for any signs of an exploitable weakness.

You've played this game with her many times before, and very rarely do you win. She will watch you, out of the corner of her eye, eating her breakfast, or her dinner, or whatever meal has forced you into her presence, and she will stay quiet for a while, waiting for you to incriminate yourself- to slip up and reveal something she can use to torment you. When you succeed in your silence, she will begin to ask prodding questions, questions she knows will make you uncomfortable, that you will need to answer, either in defense of yourself, or your father, or even Zuko. She will make comments precisely worded to make you angry, imploring you to lash out at her, to give her an excuse to lash out in return.

You've played this game with her many times before, but never have you played it with this many additional pieces.

Ty Lee pouts, leaning her head onto your shoulder and whining like a lost mink-wolf puppy. You try to ignore her, but the whining and pleading eyes compel you to satiate her curiosity. You sigh, as you’ve seen Mai do, and turn to Ty Lee, still pouting at you.

“I’ll tell you later, ok?” You hope she’ll take the hint, but just in case…you put a finger to your lips and shush, winking in a way you hope comes off as friendly teasing. “It’s a secret!”

Ty Lee seems satisfied, even excited at the prospect of getting to be “in” on whatever secret you’re going to have to make up. Mai rolls her eyes, but can’t hide the slight smile at Ty Lee’s antics, though she covers it with an extra jelly roll.

Your cousins didn’t seem to share in the playful sentiment. Azula’s expression turned downward, if only slightly, clearly annoyed with any secret that she was not privy to. Zuko, to the untrained eye, may have looked indifferent, but you knew better. Even after years apart he couldn’t hide from you, not really.

“Aren’t secrets a bit childish?” Called Azula from her dining room throne.

“Aww, c’mon Azula! It’s fun to share secrets! It’s like a game that only we can play!”

Ty Lee’s energy was infectious, and you felt lighter. Not necessarily less sad, but more open to the fleeting joys available.

“What about you, Mai?” Asked Ty Lee, despite the annoyed look Mai shot at her.

“Do I have to?” Mai asked.

“Yes!” Said Ty Lee and Azula, almost in sync.

Mai took another bite of her jelly roll and thought it over.

“My secret is that I don’t like my little brother.” She said plainly.

“That’s not a secret at all.” Interjected Zuko.

You laugh- it can hardly be considered a laugh, really, just a quick huff of amusement. The glare Mai sends you is sharp enough to silence you before you even get the chance to inhale again. This reaction seems to please Azula, who you're sure takes great pride in her subordinates ability to shut you up.

You intend to hide behind a jelly roll of your own, but when you look to the serving tray that had housed them you find none left. You do your best not to be bitter about it, not to think Jeez, you already took Zuko, you can't even save me a jelly roll? But your disappointment shows on your face- you don't even need to see yourself to know it. You push your plate away from you, opting to just pout for now and get up extra early in the morning to steal the whole tray of them before breakfast is served tomorrow. It's the best revenge you can think of, and the only one that will give you the opportunity to hide in your room and eat your feelings.

"What about you?" You turn to Ty Lee, hoping for her to take your mind off of your own pathetic jealousy over jelly rolls of all things. "Do you have a secret to share?"

It startles you when your plate is pushed back towards you, precariously placed on the edge of it is a jelly roll. The edge that's closest to where Zuko is sitting, avoiding meeting your eyes. When you examine his plate, you notice an empty space where a roll could reasonably have been.

You look at Zuko, who refuses to look anywhere but his own empty plate. With a quick glance at Mai to make sure she’s distracted, you smile at Zuko. It’s comforting, if melancholic, that his scowl softens when you take a bite.

It’s sweet, and wether he knew it or not, Zuko had saved you your favorite flavor.

Ty Lee jolts, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“My secret…” she said dramatically “is that I had to stick the hems of my clothes to my skin with glue when I was in the circus so they wouldn’t fall off when I went upside down!”

Azula laughed, and though it sounded cruel to you, Ty Lee beamed. It was a special kind of bond, you guessed, to be able to make Azula laugh on purpose. Mai snickered, just for a second, at her friend. You smiled through your last bite of jelly roll.

With your eyes on Azula, you almost didn’t notice that Zuko, finally, was smiling at you.

Chapter Text

It's the first time you've been on a boat since you were eleven years old, and it is decidedly unpleasant for entirely different reasons. You don't remember ever getting seasick as a child, but this trip is particularly nauseating. Luckily you have yet to actually get sick, though there's still a solid chance. You can see Ember Island in the distance, it shouldn't be more than twenty minutes before you come ashore, but that's still plenty of time for your body to turn against you.

Zuko and Mai sit together in one corner of the ship deck, Ty Lee and Azula stand at the other. You keep yourself firmly rooted in one spot, leaned up against the wall, trying to focus on anything but the rhythmic motion of the waves upsetting your stomach, and the adorable pout on Zuko's face upsetting your heart.

He's unhappy to have been sent away to the island, a direct command from his father. You don't blame him, you'd also be pretty pissed off if your father had basically told you to go away and let the grown ups discuss war in private. It's not like you're children anymore. You yourself have not been a child for a very long time now.

Which makes it strange to return here, to this place you spent so much time as a child. It's been so long since you've seen the island. Last time you were here, your brother was with you. You distinctly remember that he always got seasick on the way there, and more often than not slept through the whole trip back.

You wonder if your father ever got seasick. Maybe it ran in the family? Or maybe you and your brother got it from your mom.

You’re pulled out of your thoughts when the ship groans and rocks to one side, upsetting your already very frail sense of balance. Your stomach heaves, and you bolt towards the door to the deck, fearing the worst.

Ty Lee chases after you, practically flying with how light on her feet she is. Before you can reach the door or register what’s happening, she’s in front of you. Quickly she jabbed you thrice, twice in the spine and once on the side of your thigh. The nausea dissipates instantly, but so does movement in the leg she poked.

Zuko catches you before you collapse entirely, not prepared to balance on one foot. You look up at him, and he looks at Ty Lee with a grumpy expression.

“What’d you do that for?!” He demanded.

“She was gonna get sick! I blocked the chi path to her stomach so she won’t feel bad anymore.” Ty Lee explained with an innocent expression.

“I meant why’d you cut off the control over her leg.”

Ty Lee shrugged. “Instinct? I’m used to doing stuff like that in combat. It’s nice to use it to help a friend sometimes though!”

Zuko glared at her, grunted with effort, and lifted you off the ground entirely. He only took a few steps before dropping you in the spot next to where he was sitting, on his other side than Mai.

Your temporarily immobilized leg was a good excuse to sit with Zuko, you guessed, even if you had to share his attention with Mai. Ty Lee had already resumed her conversation with Azula by the time you got comfortable leaning on Zuko’s shoulder.

You tried to ignore how him holding you affected you, and hoped you weren’t showing it too much.

Though your stomach feels significantly better, the numbness in your leg is sort of frightening. You can't even imagine how terrifying it must be to actually fight Ty Lee. You are extremely glad that she's your friend. You'd thank her, but she's already engrossed in her conversation with your other cousin, and you think it best to not interrupt that.

Zuko is warm next to you, a comforting contrast to the cool ocean breeze coming at you from all sides. You're so very tempted to lean into him, to leech that warmth for yourself. But you are a master of restraint, so instead you force yourself to be content with just sitting next to him, letting your shoulders brush with the swaying of the ship.

It's hard to collect yourself with him so close to you. You used to be close like this all the time. You used to sit shoulder to shoulder, wrapping an arm around him, letting your knees knock together. You used to lean into him without a second thought. But he's not yours to lean on anymore, and this makes you ache in a way that no amount of chi blocking could alleviate.

By the time the ship docks your leg is semi functional, but still uncomfortably tingly. Zuko dutifully helps you to your feet, and catches you when you stumble. He helps you up and off the ship, guiding you to the dock where you are immensely grateful to be on solid ground again.

"Sorry about your leg," Ty Lee whispers, sidling up next to you, taking the arm that Zuko was not holding. You both appreciate and curse the apology, as Zuko retreats from you when Ty Lee joins. He falls back into place with Mai, and any momentary illusions of closeness are dashed.

"Don't worry about it. Thank you for not letting me vomit, that would have been really embarrassing." You reply, hoping to put her at ease. The soft sand is hard to maintain your balance on with only one fully functional leg, but with Ty Lee's help you sally forth, heading up the hill to the beach house you'd be staying in.

It disappointed you a little, to find out you'd be staying at the home of Azula's fire bending mentors as opposed to your family home. But perhaps it would be for the best. It wouldn't be much of a vacation if you spent the whole trip reminiscing about what used to be.

The oceanic theme isn’t particularly inviting, but the blankets in your room are soft and the pillows are plush and comfortable. You can hear Azula talking in the main room, and decide to sleep off your numb leg.

When you wake up from a short nap, Ty Lee is telling to you to hurry up and get changed. From what you can gather from her fast-paced instructions, the five of you are going to hang out on beach. Azula’s orders, she says.

You’re not sure why Azula wants to mingle with random people at the beach, but you’re sure she’s got a reason. Regardless, you do as asked and trail behind Ty Lee while Azula leads the group.

The beach is just as stunning as you remember, ashy black basalt and pumice sand polished smooth and soft beneath your feet. Azula kicks over a sand castle as she looks for a spot to set up, causing the two kids making it to run away screaming.

As bad as it is, you can’t help but smile at the self-satisfied look on her face. She’s so unrepentantly herself, for better or for worse…and it was pretty funny watching her use her almighty power to scare a couple kids.

When Azula finds a spot she deems worthy, Ty Lee grabs your hand and pulls you closer to the water with her. A boy you don’t recognize approaches you, grinning with a childish glee you’re not sure how to feel about.

“Hey, do you ladies need some help unpacking?”

“Sure, thanks!” Says Ty Lee, before you can think. She throws her bag at the boy, who starts frantically searching until he locates her beach towel. With a dramatic flourish, he unrolls it and stands aside. His posture reminded you of a newly hired maid, unsure and eager for approval.

Ty Lee sits down on the towel, and you gladly lay on your back beside her. The sun feels fantastically warm, and even without any bending, you’re sure the sun gives you some kind of spiritual strength.

Ty Lee directs the boy to stand in front of the sun to give her shade. You giggle at how quickly he complies, and he smiles wide at you.

You bury your feet in the sand, perfectly content to lie down and bask like a sunning lizard-parrot. But you can't help letting your attention drift to Zuko, sitting under an umbrella with Mai. You try not to pay any mind to how lovely he looks, how visibly strong he's grown since you last got the chance to see him like this. You watch in silence as he offers Mai a seashell.

"Here," he says. "This is for you "

"Why would I want that?" Mai replies, ungrateful and unamused by what you thought was an absolutely delightful gesture.

"I saw it, and I thought it was pretty. Don't girls like stuff like this?" Zuko asks. I do. You think. I like stuff like that. Mai scoffs.

"Maybe stupid girls."

"Forget it." Zuko chucks the shell away from them.

Your attention follows that shell as another boy quickly scoops it up and dashes over to offer it to Ty Lee.

"Wow! Thanks. This is so pretty!" Ty Lee says, accepting the offering. You'd think the boy had just received a blessing from the spirits themselves with the expression he gives her.

"Not as pretty as you are," the boy says, keen on keeping her attention as long as possible.

The other boy, the one acting as Ty Lee's human umbrella, speaks up in protest.

"That shell's not so great." He grumbles. Ty Lee shoos him back into place to continue shading her. You have to admire her ability to command a room, you think these boys would probably walk straight into the ocean and not come back out if she told them to with a wink and a smile.

You close your eyes, your arm coming up to block the sun from reaching through the thin barrier of your eyelids. You'd be
content to fall asleep like this, in fact you think you just might. But holding your arm over your eyes isn't the most comfortable position to fall asleep in. So you put your arms back behind your head and glare up at the sky, as if the sun spirit itself were insulting you with it's presence.

The sudden shade is a welcome surprise, one of the boys who had been clamoring for Ty Lee's attention has moved into place to give you some much needed shielding from the sun.

"Oh! Thank you," you tell him. When you look over at Ty Lee she gives you a conspiratorial wink.

You glance at where Zuko was sitting, only to find him gone. Well…if he won’t see, what’s the harm in a little fun flirting? You nod to Ty Lee, who gleefully throws an arm over your shoulder and giggles in a smooth, practiced manner.

“Aren’t the boys here so cute?” She squeals, egging you on. You decide to throw yourself into this little game of hers, if for no other reason than a fun distraction.

“So cute!” You agree. “And sweet too!”

The boys in front of you soak up the praise, the more confident of the pair basking in it, while the other fails to hide his blush. You notice Zuko, returning to his spot beside Mai. He’d brought two ice cream cones, and offered one to her.

“I thought, since it’s so hot…here.”

Zuko offered Mai one of the cones. The ice cream scoop fell into her lap the second he sat down.

“Thanks.” Said Mai, in the same deadpan tone she used on seemingly everything Zuko did. “This is really…refreshing.”

You’re drawn from your thoughts by three new boys, two of which hold large fans. Without prompting, they start fanning you and Ty Lee. The third stands awkwardly nearby, seeming confused by your presence.

From a short walk away, Azula yells over the ambient noise of the beach.

“You two, get over here, now!”

Ty Lee springs into a handstand, and you walk behind her to join Azula’s impromptu kuai ball huddle.

“See that girl with the silly pigtails? When she runs towards the ball, there’s the slightest hesitation of her left foot. I’m willing to bet a childhood injury has weakened her.”

Wow, Azula picked all that up just from watching? You knew your cousins were smart, but this was a whole other level.

“Keep serving the ball to her left, and we’ll destroy her and the rest of her team. Dismissed!”

Even with her close friends and immediate family, she’s still militaristic. You and the others nod, and you can’t help but feel pumped up for the game. It’s nice, you think, to be doing some normal teenager things for once.

It’s what you’ve been missing, you think, all of you. Just taking a beach vacation with your friends and playing some games on the beach.

But the tranquil energy of the beach was decidedly not going to stop you from indulging your competitive side. With Azula leading, and Zuko on your side, you were determined to kick some absolute ass.

As it turns out, you expend more energy competing with your own teammates for a chance with the ball than you do competing with the opposing team. It's not surprising, but it is a little disappointing. Spending years rotting in ones bedroom does not lend itself to being a particularly bold or skilled kuai ball player.

But that certainly doesn't stop you from trying, and you find that you do best setting up shots from the rest of your team, supporting them. At one point Azula even uses you to jump off of, dealing a pretty devastating point against the opposite team. You'd seen her use this move with Zuko earlier in the game, though Zuko seemed much readier for it than you were. The force of her using you as a launching pad makes you stumble, but you manage to catch yourself, still needing to be careful of your own leg, weak from Ty Lee's accidental numbing jab earlier.

Your team wins, by a landslide. It's actually kind of embarrassing how badly the other team lost- embarrassing for them, obviously. You feel pretty good about it. You don't think they scored a single point the entire game.

You're sweaty from the exertion, the only person on your own team to have actually broken a sweat at all, which is embarrassing for you. But still, you're satisfied with how the game played out, and proud that you didn't fall and make a fool of yourself when Azula used you as a glorified footstool.

You don't even feel too intimidated when Azula gives a far too intense victory speech.

“Yes! We defeated you for all time! You will never rise from the ashes of your shame and humiliation!”

You stand with your friends, basking in the victory. Azula turns back to you, in a very cheerful mood. She’d be such a good friend, you find yourself thinking, if she was like this more often. Or maybe, if you were on her side more often.

“Well.” Said Azula, addressing your group. “That was fun!”

Two boys made their way into your conversation, ignoring your cousins to address Ty Lee directly.

“I’m having a party tonight.” Said one of the boys. “You should come by.”

“Sure! I love parties.”

“Your friends can come too.” Said the other boy, nodding towards you and Mai. A disgusted look crossed Mai’s face, and an angry one soured Azula’s victorious smile.

“What about me and my brother? Aren’t you going to invite us?” Asked Azula, but she cut herself off before she could continue her line of questioning. Something seemed to dawn on her, and suddenly all her annoyance was washed away and replaced with a curious, scheming expression. “You don’t know who we are, do you?”

That surprised you. Sure, you hadn’t been out of the palace in a long time, but Zuko’s…difficult to mistake face had been plastered on posters and newspapers for several years. Maybe Mai kept a low profile, and Ty Lee was out of her circus uniform, but it stuck you as odd that Azula wouldn’t be holding her power over the boys’ heads.

“Don’t you know who we are? We’re Chan and Ruon-Jian.”

You…still have no idea who they are. Aside from two boys named Chan and Ruon-Jian, apparently.

“But fine, you’re invited.” Said the first boy, Chan. “Just so you know though, some of the most important teenagers in the Fire Nation are gonna be at this party. So…try and act normal.”

Well, he's not wrong about having some very important pepole in attendance. He's just incredibly incorrect about who exactly those people are. And the idea of getting the five of you to "act normal" is... well, it would be an insane thing to request if these boys knew who you were. If you told them right now, they'd probably spend the rest of your vacation begging forgiveness- more from Azula than from you, of course. Though these boys do seem a little bit presumptuous, it might do them some good to do a bit of groveling. This brings you back around to another question.

Why isn't Azula correcting them? It's out of character for her to say the least. She gives them the kind of smile that has all your hairs standing on end- that I am going to eat you alive and spit out your bones kind of smile.

"We'll do our best." She says, and you can't help the chill that ripples down your spine. Man, she really scares the crap out of you sometimes, even when she's not being actively malicious.

With that Chan and Ruon-Jian share an unamused look, and head off, no doubt aiming to find more people to invite to their party. You're honestly astounded that Azula hasn't burned them to a crisp already. Maybe she's waiting to do it at their party, where it will be twice as humiliating?

Whatever her intentions are in this scenario, they don't really concern you. You have successfully made your way through this situation both unscathed and invited to a party! That's a win-win for you.

Fortunately for you, Zuko asks what you’ve been wondering on the walk home.

“Why didn’t you tell those guys who we were?”

“I guess I was intrigued. I’m so used to people worshipping us.”

“They should!” Chimed in Ty Lee, and you nodded in agreement. Wether for respect, fear, or adoration, everyone in your family had at least something worth celebrating, at least as far as you’re concerned.

“Yes, I know, and I love it.” Said Azula. “But, for once, I just want to see how people would treat us if they didn’t know who we were.”

Sure, Azula was only going to the party as a scouting mission. Sure, you’d have to watch Zuko and Mai do couple things. Sure, you didn’t know anyone and had no idea how to act at a normal person’s party.

But one way or another…you were looking forward to dusk.

Chapter Text

You arrive to the party just as the sun begins its descent beneath the horizon. You feel a little underdressed in your beach clothes to be completely honest, but Ty Lee had assured you that it was perfect party attire. She had also assured you that you'd have plenty of cute boys there to compliment you if you started to feel insecure, but that didn't quite sound as comforting as you think she intended it to be.

Maybe you shouldn't have indulged her earlier by playing along with her aimless flirting, because now she seems very determined to find someone to set you up with. You can't help wondering if you reek of desperation or if this particular idea has been motivated by a reading of your aura. Ty Lee seems to take that sort of thing very seriously, and she talks about them often- peoples auras. You don't really get it if you're being completely honest, but she is pretty good at reading people, so maybe there is something to all that aura stuff after all.

Not that it will help you now, standing alone in a room full of people.

When you'd arrived at the party at dusk (at Azula's insistence, she stressed the importance of punctuality) your little group had been the only guests to arrive so far. But now, only half an hour in, this house seems full to bursting with kids your age.

And you haven't got the first clue how to interact with any of them.

Ty Lee had left you alone to talk to Azula, and then been cornered and followed by a small hoard of enamored boys, who she promptly paralyzed. Zuko and Mai were arguing, though you couldn’t tell what about.

You leaned against the wall and tried to seem nonchalant, casually sipping a cup of juice one of the other partygoers had offered you. Before you could fully get your head straight, you were approached by a boy about your age, maybe a little older.

The boy smiled at you with a familiarity you couldn’t place, a welcome reprieve from the stares of Ty Lee’s entourage. He stuck his hand out to you, and you shook it politely.

“Hey, so…weird question.” He asked.

You gave him a quizzical expression, and he continued.

“You wouldn’t happen to be…the princess, would you?”

You shushed him immediately, not ready to face the consequences of spoiling Azula’s intel hunt.

“Yes, but keep it quiet, I don’t want it getting out.” You paused, and while you felt bad for lying, you’d feel worse if Azula got mad. “I’m…just trying to have a quiet vacation, ok?”

The boy nodded, and leaned against the wall next to you.

“Well, I’m Hagan. You don’t know me, uh…obviously.” Hagan laughed nervously, and kept staring up at the ceiling or down at the floor. “My dad knew you, he was a solider. I mean, he still is a soldier, but he got promoted.”

You smile at Hagan, trying to mimic the comforting look your father gave people when they were intimidated by him. Hagan took a deep breath through his nose, a motion you recognized from watching Zuko’s firebending training.

“My dad was a soldier at Ba Sing Se. I know it’s kind of awkward, but I wanted to thank you for saving him.”

The smile you’d faked became genuine, and you recognized why he’d seemed so familiar.

“You’re Corporal Haco’s son!”

Hagan rubbed the back of his neck and smiled self-consciously. “It’s Sergeant Haco now, actually. My dad got promoted and he won’t let anyone forget about it!”

You nod, inviting Hagan to keep talking.

“When he finally got sent home, he wouldn’t shut up about you for days. He said you stowed away in a cart of potatoes and just showed up at the medical tents one day in a stolen nurse’s uniform!”

“It was a cart full of medical supplies and straw mats, actually. And I didn’t steal the uniform, they just didn’t have any small sizes so I had to make do.”

“Yeah, soldiers love to embellish stories. I swear I’ve heard people talk about General Iroh literally breathing fire more times than I can count.”

“Oh, no, he can actually do that.”

"Wait seriously? That's so cool!" Hagan's eyes light up. "Wait, can you breathe fire too?"

"Oh no, I can't uh... I can't bend at all, actually," the shameful admission should bring the conversation to a grinding halt. You can very clearly see the scene of what should happen playing out before you. Hagan will attempt to politely change the subject, flounder and fail at it, thank you again for saving his father's life, and make a hasty retreat back to the safety of his more capable peers. But this does not happen.

"Yeah, me neither." He sighs. "My parents are both really great fire benders but, I dunno. I guess it just skipped a generation with me."

"Sometimes it does that," you laugh. "If it's any consolation, your dad is really proud of you regardless. I mean, he talked about you all the time. Like all the time."

"Yeah?" Hagan seems a little more relaxed now, and you feel a sense of pride in your ability to soothe his worries. It's been a long time since you've felt like you could make anything better. It's a welcome feeling.

"Yeah," you confirm.

You don't realize you're leaning into him until your shoulder brushes his. You think maybe, in another life, this could have been something nice. That this brief moment of connection could easily have bloomed into something more. That your fathers would both laugh together and say something about fate and destiny that would make your roll your eyes and smile.

You think in another life you could have let this be something.

“I remember after the second day I was there, he ran up to me and hugged me so hard he picked me off the ground. He was so happy to be able to go home, and to send his son to the city.”

“He did.” Said Hagan, nostalgically. “Dad got me a textbook and a uniform and everything. That’s why I’m here, actually. I’m in Chan’s math class, he always borrows my abacus and he said he owed me a good time.”

“Well…what do you think? Is a semester of abacus debt paid off with a long weekend?”

“Oh, absolutely.” Hagan nodded, a serious expression crossing his face before being replaced with the goofy, awkward smile from before. “The food alone is worth it, I hear they use fresh lava salt right from the volcano for seasoning here.”

“Is lava salt tastier than regular salt?”

“I have no idea. But it sure feels fancy!”

You laugh, and Hagan laughs with you. But your moment of quiet with your new friend is swiftly interrupted. Zuko, who’d apparently left Mai scowling on a bench across the room, grabbed Hagan’s shoulder and pulled him back.

The look on his face is unfamiliar, and almost frightening.

"What are you doing?" He asks, and it takes you a second to realize he's talking to you and not Hagan.

"What do you mean what am I doing? I'm just- I'm having a conversation, Zuko, what does it look like I'm doing?"

"I can go, if you need me to," Hagan offers.

"No, you can stay." You assure him, doing your very best to give him your sweetest most reassuring smile. What is Zuko's problem?

"Actually, I think he should go." Zuko says, his grip still firm on Hagan's shoulder.

"It's really no trouble, I don't mind-" Hagan is looking for an exit from this situation and you don't blame him. But you also don't want him to leave. It's not fair, you think. For Zuko to ignore you for weeks in favor of another girl and then get mad when you dare to have a conversation with someone who isn't him.

It's been a long time since you were angry like this, and longer still since you were angry at Zuko.

You think you should probably let Hagan escape with his dignity and without any scorch marks.

"Sorry, Hagan. I'll find you later, I promise." You tell him, and he smiles, sidestepping away from Zuko, who finally releases the poor boys shoulder. As soon as he's out of earshot you turn back to Zuko.

"What the fuck, Zuko?" The vitriol surprises both of you. You've never sworn at him- you don't think you've ever sworn at anyone. Well, except for once when you were very small and very gullible and your brother taught you some fun new words that got you grounded for two days, and him grounded for a whole month.

“I…he…I don’t like how he was looking at you.”

“It’s none of your business how other boys look at me.”

Zuko looks confused, opening and closing his mouth like he’s trying to mouth words, but none come out.

“Look, Zuko, just…go back to Mai. If you’re gonna be jealous, it should be over her.”

Zuko groans in frustration, as if he’s the reasonable one. You let him walk off, watching him head to a table of food and pile up a plate. He practically stomps his way back to Mai, only to collide with someone else.

“Hey, watch it! That food was for my cranky girlfriend!”

It…shouldn’t hurt as much as it does to hear Zuko call Mai his girlfriend. It shouldn’t hurt that he’s just as jealous of her as he is of you. It shouldn’t hurt to watch him fight with her over that.

But it does hurt. It hurts so much that you can’t even spare a proper goodbye to Hagan, just a forced smile, a wave, and a promise to yourself to write him a letter as soon as you get home.

The night air is a welcome chill against the burning feeling heating up your body. Wether it’s rage or jealousy or self-hatred you can’t tell. But you hide out of sight when Zuko storms out of the house and walks off determinedly.

To your surprise, it’s Mai who finds you lurking around the front door.

“Hey.”

“…hey.”

“We’re heading back to the beach. This party sucks.”

“Oh.”

“That means you’re invited too, idiot.”

“Oh!”

You follow Mai down the stairs, and Ty Lee trails behind you.

“So…where’d Azula go?”

“She went off with some boy.” Explained Mai, already seeming bored of the conversation. “He freaked out like a wimp. She said she’s going to get Zuko.”

You hum in acknowledgement, unsure of what else to say. Mai's not exactly a sparkling conversationalist but to be fair, you aren't either. You're tempted to make an attempt at small talk, but that idea is short lived. Fortunately for you, Ty Lee continues to pick up your slack.

"So... I saw someone talking to a super cute boy back there!" She practically sings.

"Azula? I dunno, Chan's not bad looking but I wouldn't call him 'super cute.'" You reply, hoping to steer the conversation away from this particular direction by being deliberately obtuse.

"No, silly! You! Who was that guy you were hanging out with? You guys were so cute together!"

"Hagan's just a friend. More like a friend of a friend honestly. Don't- don't make a big thing about it," you flush. Spirits help you if she brings up Hagan in front of Zuko.

That's a can of worm-crickets you do NOT want to open right now.

The beach itself is quiet, only the lapping of waves along the shoreline to fill in the empty space where conversation should be. If you listened hard enough you probably could have heard faint sounds of the party happening, growing fainter and fainter as the three of you trail down the beach. Much to your appreciation, Ty Lee does not pester you about Hagan again. You get the sense that your own sour mood has put her off of conversation as well, at least for the moment.

The three of you find a cluster of large rocks on the beach, not far from your families summer home, just up the hill. All of you take your separate seats on adjacent rock formations, waiting for Azula and Zuko to arrive. You're not sure how you're going to face him when they do.

“I wonder where Zuko went.” You ponder aloud.

“Why do you care?” Asked Mai. “He was being a jerk and he made a fool of himself in public.”

“Plus, he scared off that cute boy you were talking to!” Added Ty Lee.

You shrug, not really sure how to respond. Even having mostly come to terms with your feelings for, and jealousy over, Zuko…it was still weird to talk about. Embarrassing, probably. It wasn’t exactly unheard of for royals to marry other royals, but it was certainly an old-fashioned tradition.

Mai looked at you with a flat expression and a quirked eyebrow. Ty Lee looked at you like she was trying to trying to figure out a puzzle.

“Are you mad at him?” Asked Ty Lee, tilting her head towards you in a way that reminded you of a confused moose-lion cub you’d seen at a zoo as a child.

“No, I don’t think so. I think he just doesn’t know what he’s doing when it comes to girls, whether they’re family or not.”

To your surprise, Mai laughed at that. Just a single, quiet snort of suppressed laughter, but that was a lot for her. Ty Lee seemed to brighten at that, adding her own giggle to the conversation.

A soft white-blue glow caught your eye a little ways down the beach, descending the stairs carved into the cliffside.

Mai’s expression turned sour again, but she looked over at the approaching light anyway. Now closer, you could see the glow was radiating from a perfectly spherical fireball, cradled in Azula’s hand like a torch.

“Oh, look.” She said, in her signature sarcastic monotone. “You found him.”

Chapter Text

When Zuko and Azula joined your trio on the beach, Mai didn’t look at either of them. In fact, she actively turned away from Zuko. Azula watched them intently, though you could have sworn she was more relaxed than she’d been before. Zuko refused to look at you, though you couldn’t blame him.

You stifled a sad expression as he snapped at Mai, but allowed yourself a smile when he set off for kindling to start a fire. It was a chilly night, and the sea breeze didn’t help.

It surprised you when Zuko came back with broken furniture and old family pictures though. Paintings of Ursa were few and far between, and if you had any extra family pictures from when your brother was alive…well, you’d have a different reaction than burning them.

“What are you doing?” Ty Lee asked, practically voicing your thoughts.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Huffed Zuko.

“But…it’s a painting of your family.”

“You think I care?” Zuko’s voice slowly got louder, and angrier. Something about the conversation was upsetting him, though you weren’t sure what specifically that was.

“I think you do.” Said Ty Lee, quieter than before.

“You don’t know me, so why don’t you mind your own business?”

As smart as Zuko was, he could really be stupid sometimes. A stranger could see how upset he was from space.

“I know you.” Said Ty Lee. You hoped you could still say the same.

“No, you don’t.” Said Zuko, pacing behind the fire. “You’re stuck in your little Ty Lee world, where everything’s great all the time!”

“Zuko-“ you started, before Mai cut you off.

“Leave her alone.”

"'I'm so pretty. Look at me. I can walk on my hands. Whoo!'" He mocks, doing a full on handstand just to drive home the point. When did he get so...mean? It's one thing to make fun of someone, it's another thing to do gymnastics just to make it more hurtful. Zuko falls, graceful still, as he lands in the sand. "Circus freak."

Azula laughs, which does not surprise you in the slightest, but it does upset you. Ty Lee is her friend- one of her best friends, in fact. You'd think someone would want to stand up for their friends when they're being talked down to like that, but not Azula.

Ty Lee, to her credit, is more than capable of standing up for herself.

"Yes, I'm a circus freak. Go ahead and laugh all you want. You want to know why I joined the circus?"

"Here we go," Azula says, rolling her eyes.

"Do you have any idea what my home life was like? Growing up with six sisters who look exactly like me?" Ty Lee stands up from her spot on the rocks. " It was like I didn't even have my own name. I joined the circus because I was scared of spending the rest of my life as part of a matched set. At least I'm different now. 'Circus freak' is a compliment."

"Guess that explains why you need ten boyfriends, too." Mai adds.

Ty Lee stared her down, and it struck you suddenly that you’d never seen Ty Lee get angry before. You go to put a hand on her shoulder, maybe comfort her, but she stands up and looks her friend in the eye. It occurs to you then, that your friends are scary. Maybe you are too, if they’re willing to be there with you.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Attention issues. You couldn’t get enough attention when you were a kid, so you’re trying to make up for it now.”

“Well what’s your excuse, Mai?!” Ty Lee was crying, and you stood up only to guide her back to where she was sitting. She curled in on herself, hugging her knees while you patted her shoulder awkwardly. “You were an only child for fifteen years! But even with all that attention, your aura is this dingy, pasty, gray-“

“I don’t believe in auras.” Said Mai, cutting her off.

Zuko sat up to look at her.

“You don’t believe in anything!”

“Oh, well, I’m sorry I can’t be as high-strung and crazy as the rest of you.”

“I’m sorry too! I wish you would be high-strung and crazy for once instead of keeping all your feelings bottled up inside!”

Huh. You knew Zuko had matured since he’d left but…he grew up so much without you. What had you missed that had made him so…aware of pain?

“She just called your aura dingy! Are you gonna take that?!”

“Zuko.” You said, only realizing you hadn’t spoken to him since his outburst after you’d opened your mouth. “You don’t believe in auras either.”

Zuko kicked a pile of sand, sending a crab flying towards the ocean. Mai leaned back, sighing as if she was bored.

“What do you want from me?” Mai asked, exasperated. “You want a teary confession about how hard my childhood was? Well it wasn’t. I was a rich only child who got anything I wanted…as long as I behaved.”

The camp was quiet for a moment, only the crackle of flame and the chirp of cricket-hoppers filling the air.

“…and sat still, and didn’t speak unless spoken to. My mother said I had to keep out of trouble. We had my dad’s political career to think about.”

“Well that’s it then!” Barked Azula, gesturing to Mai with a wave of her hand. “You have a controlling mother who had certain expectations, and if you strayed from them you were shut down. That’s why you’re afraid to care about anything, and why you can’t express yourself.”

If you were closer to her, and a little less scared of her, you probably would have elbowed your cousin for being so nonchalant.

“You want me to express myself? Leave me alone!”

Mai’s voice was hoarse and cracked with disuse, like she hadn’t even been allowed to cry as a baby. Her yelling almost sounded painful, like she was coughing up a handful of sand. Sure, you couldn’t retaliate against Azula, but maybe…

“I can relate.” You offered, finally looking at Mai. “I know what it’s like being scared to care about anything.”

Mai was silent, but her eyes focused on you, her expression void of the anger she’d directed at Azula. A humorless laugh escaped you, and you let yourself continue.

“Everyone I love either leaves me or dies. I mean, my mom and my brother are dead, and I’m on vacation while my dad sits in some prison cell. Sometimes I think it’s a curse, like if I care about someone I have to lose them.”

“Having family sucks.” Said Zuko, tactfully avoiding making eye contact with his sister.

Mai sat up, and looked at Zuko. Then to you, then to Ty Lee.

“…yeah. It does.” She said. “When Tom-Tom disappeared, my mother wouldn’t stop crying. I didn’t really get to think about it at the time, I was too busy. But I guess I was scared for him then.”

“I thought you didn’t like your little brother?” Asked Azula, with a tinge of annoyance tainting her tone.

“Just because I don’t like him doesn’t mean I don’t care. He’s my brother, I don’t want him to die.”

“I wish I cared about my sisters.” Ty Lee chimed in. “I wish we looked different sometimes. Maybe then we could have been friends.”

Your heart aches for Ty Lee. You can't even imagine not having had a good relationship with your brother. Yes, you had loved him, and you had lost him, and that hurt more than you thought one person could ever experience, but you still got the chance to love him. To both be two separate beings and care about each other. You stand up from your own rock to go hug Ty Lee.

It's the first time you've hugged anyone outside your family since... Since you lost your brother. And it's a good hug. Ty Lee falls into it, like she's been waiting for it for a long time, and she clings to you like you'll crumble into dust in her hold. You think you've severely underestimated her in a lot of ways, including underestimating how much of her bubbly, happy go lucky personality is a mask to hide her own pain.

You're not used to masking your pain, if you're being honest. You've had the incredible privilege of being free to breakdown, to cry, to hide away from the world when you don't want any witnesses to your suffering. It's never made the pain any easier to deal with, but it has certainly spared you from having to deal with more.

When Ty Lee reluctantly pulls away, she gives you a watery smile, and you give her one back, doing your very best to be as good of a friend to her as she's been to you. She sits down again, not on her own rock, but on the one that Mai is occupying. Mai doesn't seem particularly perturbed by the intrusion of her personal space, though Mai hardly ever seems perturbed by much of anything, which is an issue in and of itself.

You take a seat on the rock that Ty Lee has abandoned, wrapping your arms around yourself to shield from the cool ocean breeze. Maybe in the daytime this beachy outfit was appropriate for the weather, but now you're chilly, even with the bonfire in front of you.

Always receptive to you, and always silently devoted, Zuko sits down next to you. He's close enough that your knees are touching. Close enough for you to leech the heat that radiates from him. Even if you're still... less than pleased with his behavior, you won't pass up the offering of warmth.

Only Azula sits alone, in the middle of her own rock, a makeshift throne that you're sure she thinks should be grateful she chose it to be her seat- as if it wasn't just the only one you, Mai, and Ty Lee hadn't already been sitting on when she arrived.

“My life hasn’t been that easy either. I lost…everything when I was banished. I’m still trying to pick up where I left off.” Laments Zuko, and for once you don’t feel bad about leaning into him, especially when this time he leans back.

“That doesn’t excuse the way you’ve been acting.” Says Mai. Her eyes flick to Zuko, then to you, then back to Zuko, then at her own feet. Ty Lee puts a hand on her knee and leans her head on Mai’s shoulder.

“Calm down you guys, this much negative energy is bad for your skin.” Ty Lee addresses the group, but keeps her eyes fixed on Mai. Until, that is, Zuko huffs and grabs her attention.

“Bad skin? Normal teenagers worry about bad skin. I don’t have that luxury.” He turned to Ty Lee, pointing directly at the scar over his eye. “My father decided to teach me a permanent lesson on my face!”

Zuko stands before you can move to hug him like you want to. He paces back and forth, circling the fire in what you’ve recognized as a new nervous habit.

“Sorry Zuko, I-“

“For so long I thought that if my dad accepted me, I'd be happy.” Zuko interrupts, though Ty Lee doesn’t seem to mind. “I'm back home now, my dad talks to me. He even thinks I'm a hero. Everything should be perfect, right? I should be happy now, but I'm not. I'm angrier than ever and I don't know why!”

“There’s a simple question you need to answer then.” Remarked Azula, unfazed as ever. “Who are you angry at?”

“No one, I’m just angry.”

“Yeah, who are you angry at, Zuko?” Asked Mai.

“Everyone. I don’t know.”

“Is it dad?” Asked Azula.

“Your uncle?” Asked Ty Lee.

“Hagan?” You offer.

“Me?” Asks Azula.

“No.” Says Zuko. “No, n-no, no!”

“Zuko? Are you ok?” You ask.

“Who are you angry at?” Asks Mai.

“Answer the question, Zuko.” Demands Azula.

“Talk to us!” Pleads Ty Lee.

“Please?” You beg, and he finally breaks. The campfire roars, exploding into a massive pillar that separates you from Zuko, just for a second.

“I’m angry at myself!”

“Why?” Asks Azula, in a gentle tone you didn’t know she was capable of.

“Because I'm confused. Because I'm not sure I know the difference between right and wrong anymore.”

“You’re pathetic.”

There’s Azula. The fire dies back down to its previous size, and Zuko slumps in front of it with his hands balled into fists. You stand up, on shaking legs, and force yourself to move until you collapse next to him. He lets you hug him, and you’re suddenly bathed in bitter nostalgia. You’re tormented by memories of the two of you as children, holding each other through lonely nights when you had nobody else to run to.

You catch a glimpse of Mai over Zuko’s shoulder. A soft, sad smile crossed her face, and Ty Lee sat next to her, holding her arm like a stuffed animal.

Your moment of bittersweet tranquillity is broken by Azula’s sarcastic applause.

“Well, those were wonderful performances everybody!”

“I guess you wouldn't understand, would you, Azula? Because you're just so perfect.”

Zuko stares down his sister, wearing the hardened, grumpy expression you’re starting to love. Carefully hiding his actions from Azula, Zuko puts a hand on your back, returning your hug in his own sneaky way.

“Well, yes, I guess you're right.” Said Azula. “I don't have sob stories like all of you. I could sit here and complain how our mom liked Zuko more than me, but I don't really care. My own mother thought I was a monster. She was right, of course, but it still hurt.”

The confession, along with Azula’s attempt at bonding, made you smile. Maybe in a world without the war, or the Firelord, or the line of succession, she could have been a friend to you. A real friend.

“Well, monster or not, she definitely thought you were beautiful.” You told Azula. “Half the time she was trying to compliment me, she was comparing me to you.”

Azula smiled, and for a second you almost thought it was genuine.

"What Lo and Li said came true. The beach did help us learn about ourselves." Ty Lee says, scooping a smaller rock up out of the sand to run her fingers across it's surface. "I feel all smoothed. I'll always remember this."

You're not sure what exactly Lo and Li had said that she was referring to- something from when you were either seasick or sleeping most likely. But that doesn't really matter, because you understand what she means regardless. You feel... better. Like a freshly molted lobster-gull. Like you've shed a piece of yourself that you've outgrown.

You feel comfortable in a way that you haven't felt since- actually, you don't think you've ever felt quite like this. With at least one actual friend, a tacit alliance with your most frightening cousin, and Zuko's warm hand at home on the small of your back, you just feel... Nice.

You bask in it, this unfamiliar and fleeting feeling.

Azula rises from her rock.

"You know what would make this trip really memorable?" She says, with a smile that seems less like a smile and more like an animal baring its teeth as a display of dominance.

“Ruining that stupid party, and making that kid who insulted with us pee his pants!”

As childish as it sounded, the four of you cheered for your leader. With all the crying out of the way, all that was left was to set some fires and break some chairs. What are friends for, if not causing chaos together?

As your party walked, determined, back towards Chan’s house, you felt Mai’s hand on your shoulder. The other three walked ahead, but you stayed with her.

“Just so you know, I think I broke up with Zuko.” She tells you.

“Oh. I’m…I’m sorry?” You say, not entirely how to read her lack of tone.

“But you have to promise me something. Two things actually.” Mai pulls a knife from her sleeve, and points it at you without any true malice behind it. You nod, partially because she’s scary, and partially because she’s your friend. At least, you think.

“Keep him safe, ok? He can be pretty stupid when he gets focused.”

Mai holds the knife closer, and narrows her eyes at you.

“And if you tell anyone about this, I will throw you into a volcano myself.”

Equal parts terrified and relieved, you gladly agree to her terms.

“Good.” She says, returning to her monotone. The knife disappears back into her sleeve, and she offers you a devious smile as she walks ahead of you. “Now, let’s go break some of that jerkwad’s stuff.”

Your feet had never felt lighter as the two of you chased after your friends.

Chapter Text

As invigorating as your weekend on Ember Island had been, you were deeply glad to be home again. You didn't realize you could get so homesick so quickly, but it made sense when you thought about it. You've spent most of your life in the palace, and the times you've spent away from it in recent memory have been...tumultuous to say the least.

You find it less draining to think about these days. Especially after your recent vacation. You hadn't realized how deeply hurt you still were by all of the loss and abandonment- even though none of it was done to you in malice, it still left you devastated. But your devastation feels less overwhelming when you've acknowledged it. Most things are less overwhelming if you can acknowledge them, you think.

Which makes your increasingly complicated feelings about your cousin very overwhelming. You haven't had a chance to speak to him one on one since you returned from the island, and though it's only been a few days you find yourself becoming very impatient to get him alone and just talk to him. There's a lot you want to tell him, and even more you want him to tell you, but you can't seem to put together the words for any of it. You suppose it will all figure itself out when you actually get the chance to speak to him, but you seem to be just barely missing him nearly constantly.

Though, you have noticed less of his time has been taken up by Mai recently. When she had spoken to you on the beach you were hesitant to take the news of their supposed separation at face value. After all, she herself didn't seem particularly certain on the status of their relationship, so you definitely weren't any more clued in than she was. And you certainly weren't going to ask about it. She might be your friend now (at least you're pretty sure she's your friend- you're honestly not 100% sure on that) but she still scares you.

As you often do when you're troubled, you find yourself in the palace gardens, sat at the edge of the water of the turtle-duck pond. You spent a great deal of your time here when Zuko was away. Sometimes you'd spend hours just sitting and watching them. It made you feel closer to him on your good days. And feeding them made you feel like you were still worth something on your bad ones.

You've acquired a great deal of trust with this flock. Many days and nights have been spent at the waters edge, carefully tearing even portions of bread crusts for them, coaxing the babies into your hands and not gasping with shock when the mothers waddle into your lap to keep a closer eye on their young. You haven't been here to visit them much in recent weeks, too occupied with the return of Zuko and your father to spend much time with your fluffy little friends.

They seem quite perturbed by your absence, because when you sit at the waters edge and extend a crust of bread, only half of the usual group comes to eat from your hand. It saddens you a little, to see them ignore you, but you get it. You'd be upset too if you were them.

But you are determined to win over your shelled and feathered friends once more, so tonight you intend to stay by the waters edge until you've regained their love! You'll stay here all night if you have to.

It's here, sitting with your feet dipped into the pond, cooing at turtle-ducks, that Zuko finds you.

Even if the mother still holds a grudge against Zuko, the ducklings are too young to know what Zuko could have done to annoy their mom. To the turtle-ducklings, Zuko is just a side effect of you bringing them food.

Zuko approaches you slowly, the same way one might approach a scared wild animal.

Similarly, you refrain from looking directly at him, much like a prey animal- avoiding eye contact so as to not instigate or seem hostile.

It's so unnatural to interact like this- dancing around the edges of actually speaking to one another. How strange it is, to feel hesitant with him, to be cautious and unsure with someone you used to know the way your know the lines on your palms. Once upon a time you could recite him from memory like a favorite poem. These days you feel as though you're meeting him for the first time.

You don't know him the way you used to.

But you want to.

"Hi," you say, only daring to make eye contact with his distorted reflection in the water, the lines of him wobbling every time a turtle-duckling flaps it's little wings or kicks it's tiny webbed feet.

"Hello!" He says, a little too loud, startled that you were the one to break the silence. The volume of his greeting spooks the mother turtle-duck, who quacks with distress. Zuko cringes at this, and you're briefly reminded of the sight of him as a child, embarrassed when you'd see him being scolded by his mother. The turtle-duck is easily pacified with a bread crust, tossed into the water just ahead of her.

"What are you doing up so late?" You ask him, absently tearing a thin strip of bread crust into two, then four pieces, preparing to divvy them up for the ducklings.

"I could ask you the same thing."

"I'm feeding the turtle-ducks, duh." You say, daring to tease him, unsure if that's a good decision considering the uneven footing you two seem to stand on these days. He huffs, and you smile, because even though he has changed a great deal in the time you've been separated, you can still read him like a book. You can still read him well enough to know the difference between an annoyed huff and an amused one, and luckily for you, your gamble payed off with an amused huff.

"Yeah, I can see that. But why in the middle of the night?"

"Why not?" It's a poor deflection and you know it, but Zuko is kind enough to let it slide. Sort of.

"Do you do this often?" He asks.

"What, feed them?"

"In the middle of the night," he clarifies.

You wave a bit of crust at an approaching duckling, who paddles a little faster when you lean over the water to reach it. Using the temptation of a good stale crust, you lure the little creature in close enough to touch. But you refrain, instead you simply give him his crust and let him swim away.

"Yeah," you admit. "It's more peaceful at night. They're more relaxed."

Zuko, still standing a few feet away from you, takes a hesitant step forward. You wonder if he's afraid of frightening you, or the ducklings.

But you don't fear him, and neither do the ducklings. So you pat the soft grass next to you, and finally dare to look up at him- into his lovely gold eyes, and invite him to join you. He sits cross legged next to you, and you bask in the warmth that radiates from him. You know it's a product of him being a fire bender, they all run warmer than any non-benders, but there's something especially soothing about the warmth Zuko exudes. Something about it just seems to draw you in, to call you home, like crawling into a soft bed after a hard day.

You hold your hand out to him, palm up and waiting. He tilts his head in confusion and oh spirits above he is so cute when he does that.

"Your hand." You clarify, and Zuko complies, opening his hand, palm up, mirroring yours. You place a crust of bread in his hand.

"Feed the babies with me." You say.

"The turtle-ducks hate me," Zuko says, holding the bread back out to you.

"They do not! You're so dramatic," you tease.

"They do. Remember how they always used to run from me?"

"Just try, just feed one duckling for me." You implore. Zuko sighs, and you know you've won.

He imitates your actions, leaning over the waters edge to wiggle the crust at the nearest duckling. The tiny thing quickly paddles over to inspect the tasty treat it has been offered, and snatches it with a soft, delighted quack.

You had thought this experience might make him smile, give you a glimpse of the boy you used to know like you knew your favorite bedtime story. But Zuko seems unusually melancholy as he watches the turtle-duck paddle away.

"What's wrong?"

"They forgot me." He says.

"They didn't forget you, Zuko."

"They did! They used to be terrified of me, remember? They wouldn't come within two feet of me!"

"Zuko, they didn't forget you. They don't know you." You explain.

"What?"

"How long do you think these guys stay ducklings for? This is an entirely different flock than the ones you used to pelt bread rolls at!" You laugh, but quickly quiet again at Zuko's still somber expression. "They didn't forget you Zuko, they just haven't met you yet. They're still brand new."

With one of your remaining two crust bits, you draw in one of your very favorite turtle-ducks, an especially affectionate water fowl you've dubbed Surya. Without hesitation she paddles all the way up to you, and let's you scoop her out of the water to hold in your hands.

"This flock is only about a month old. They've still got most of their down feathers." You stroke the top of Surya's soft little head. Slowly, you turn to Zuko, extending your arms out to him.

"Here, hold her."

"I don't think I should-" Zuko attempts to protest, but before he can even finish, you're delicately placing the duckling in his open palm. Surya flaps her wings but makes no move to dismount from her cozy new seat. In fact, her little eyes flutter, and close, and before you know it, she's fast asleep in Zuko's hand.

"Surya likes you," you whisper. "She's never fallen asleep on me like that before."

Carefully, Zuko imitates your earlier action, stroking the soft feathers at the top of her head.

"Surya?" Zuko asks, eyes fixed on the sleeping duckling in his palm.

"Mhm. That's her name. I named all of them actually. There's Surya- obviously, and over there on the grass is Kir. Those three," you point to the middle of the pond. "Are Jojo, Mirri, and Nuri."

Zuko spares the other ducklings only the briefest of glances before he returns his attention to Surya. You're not surprised to see him so taken with her, she has that effect on you too.

"Oh, and that tiny one over there on the rocks is Lee. He's a little shy." That seems to catch Zuko's attention, he startles, jostling Surya in his once steady hold. She quacks loudly, once, as if to warn him to cut that out, before she quickly relaxes in his hold once again.

You don't even see the mother coming until she's descending on you, flapping her wings not a foot from your face, hissing at the both of you.

"Okay, okay, time to put the baby back!" You say, guiding Zuko's hand quickly back to the water. Surya swims away, and her mother relaxes, landing back in the water behind her baby, still watching the two of you.

"That's Ila. She's probably the only one still here who met you before you left." You explain.

"She definitely still hates me," Zuko says.

"Nah, I think she's just protective of her babies." You say. You have only one bit of crust left. "Here, try feeding her."

"That is a terrible idea."

"Just try, okay? I won't bother you about it again- I'll concede that this one specific turtle-duck might hate you. But just... try, please?" You look up at him, and he sighs, long and dramatic, in the way that makes you sure you've won.

"Fine," he takes the crust and tentatively leans over the edge of the water. Ila paddles forward ever so slightly but remains out of reach.

"Get closer," you suggest.

"If I get any closer I'll fall in!" Zuko says, but he still stretches further, intent on closing the gap between himself and Ila, and making you happy.

Ila swims forward, remaining just of of his reach. She cranes her neck forward, bill opened and-

"Ow!" Zuko shouts, and the whole flock is startled. Ila hisses and swims away, scooping up the dropped bread crust as she retreats.

"What happened?!"

"It bit me!"

You feel bad for laughing but you can't help it. You probably shouldn't have made Zuko try to feed that particular duck- Ila is well known for holding grudges. Last time you'd forgotten to feed them for a few days she'd sneak up and nip at your hands every time you tried to pick up one of the ducklings. But despite being bitten- and more or less proven right about this specific turtle-duck hating him, Zuko seems pleased. He smiles up at you, a warm, gentle sort of smile, that makes your heart stop, and then start up again at double time.

"I told you she hates me." He said softly.

“She doesn’t hate you, Zuko. If she hated you, she wouldn’t have let you touch any of her babies in the first place.”

Zuko only hums in response. His gaze returns to the pond, and you follow it, watching the turtle-ducks with him.

And it's nice. It's just...nice.

Being with him again like this, you missed it. You craved it desperately, for years and years, and now that you finally have him here you just feel. Nice. Relieved, maybe. Like your life has returned to some semblance of normalcy.

"I missed this," you whisper, keeping your gaze trained on Ila. You fear if you look at Zuko now you'll start to cry, and you really don't want to cry in front of him. You're not a child anymore, you've grown up enough to control yourself, and you feel the need to prove that to him.

"Me too." Zuko echoes. You don't have to be looking at him to tell that his demeanor has shifted after he speaks. You can feel him tense up beside you, you hear the sharp inhale and the smooth, controlled exhale, you hear him clench his fists in the grass.

"What?" You turn to him.

"In four days," he starts, carefully measuring each syllables, doing his best to keep his tone even. It strikes you then that he is trying just as hard to contain himself as you are, all the time. "The Avatar is going to attack."

"What?" You shout, scaring the turtle-ducks. Ila quacks at you and flaps her wings, but you have more pressing concerns than the emotions of a water fowl.

"I thought- but you said," you trip over your words, panic rising in you like bile. "The Avatar is dead."

The Avatar is supposed to be dead. That was the condition, the one thing, the singular task that Zuko had to complete to come home to you. If the Avatar is still alive, will Zuko have to leave again? Have to set off without you, without even your father, to continue his hunt, for who knows how long?

"I never said that. Azula told father I killed the Avatar." Zuko clarifies.

"Why the fuck would she do that?" This marks the second time you have ever sworn at Zuko. Though, this was less swearing at him and more swearing to him. Spending your childhood with sailors and soldiers hadn’t exactly helped your colorful vocabulary.

"I don't know." Zuko answers. "But when the Avatar is here, I'm going to tell my father the truth."

"What, so you can get caught in the cross fire just to die with a clear conscience?" You're struggling to breathe. Your whole body feels icy cold. If you'd fallen into the pond just now, you don't think you would have noticed.

"The Avatar won't even see my father. He'll be hiding, like a coward." Zuko seethes, and at this your heart can finally start to slow ever so slightly. At the very least, Zuko won't have to battle both his father and the Avatar at the same time. But that does leave you with the matter of Ozai.

"He's gonna be so mad." you say. It feels childish, but you can't think of any other way to describe it. When you envision this confrontation, all you can see is your uncle's face, contorted with rage. All you can hear is cheering, screaming, fanfare. All you can smell is smoke.

You make a decision right then, that you will not run.

You will not run from this like you ran from the Agni Kai. You'll stay with Zuko, follow him into the flames and back out again, even if it kills you.

"I know." Zuko says. "I need you to promise me you'll stay out of it," he continues, as if he could hear your thoughts. "I need-" he stops for a moment to find the words, his fists clenched in the grass, have torn up most of the blades in his clutches. He takes a breathe, releases it, and turns to look you in the eyes.

"I need you to promise me you'll stay hidden, and stay safe. Please." He asks. He begs.

"I'll be safe," you tell him. "I promise."

He must not notice your tactful omission of the "stay hidden" clause, because if he had then he would have insisted. Made you promise, swear on your life that you'd stay out of it, lock yourself in your room- hide in a closet if you had to.

A lie by omission, is a lie only in technicality. But you've spent a lot of time with liars- one of the very best, in fact. And though you do prefer to be honest...

Azula is not the only one who lies.

Chapter Text

It's been three full days of nearly mind numbing anxiety. You have never been this nervous in your life. Not when Zuko left, not when you stowed away on that supply ship, not when you went marching onto a battlefield you weren't supposed to be on. Never in your life have you experienced this level of pure, unadulterated dread.

Having the time to think about it certainly doesn't help either. You've run through at least a thousand hypotheticals by now, trying to figure out how you can make absolutely certain Zuko comes out of this unscathed, and at your side. You considered asking your father for advice, you went all the way down to the prison for the sake of begging him to help you come up with something, anything that can fix...well, everything.

That's the worst part you think. This attack- this supposed attempt at a full on invasion of the fire nation capitol, is so much more complicated than just you, and Zuko, and the Firelord, and even the Avatar.

Everything hinges on the result of this day, and you haven't got the first clue how to prepare for it.

You hadn't even had the strength to ask your father for help. You readily admit that you are weak. You are tender and soft and deeply ashamed of your lack of strength. It's your weakness that keeps you talking about mundane things, like the weather on Ember Island, and the food you've been eating, and the letters you'd begun exchanging with Sergeant Haco. You tell your father you love him, and he says it in return. You hope that that's enough. You hope the love can make up for everything you lack.

You wake with the sun. To be honest, you didn't really sleep. How could you possibly sleep not knowing what was going to happen when you woke up?

You roll out of bed, exhausted and terrified, but determined.

Today, unlike every day before it for the last two years, you forgo your blue silk lily hairpin. If it were to become damaged in the ensuing chaos of the day you would never forgive yourself.

You hide during the evacuation. It’s easy to slip out undetected, away from the crowd of people leaving your home city. The palace is eerily silent without the sounds of fires burning and people walking, but you ignore the dread and return to your room.

You don the most unassuming clothes you have, with a thick hooded cloak to cover your face. Refusing to make the same mistake you made last time you ran away, you fill a bag and carry it with you. First aid kit, food, and a letter opener; the closest thing you have to a weapon.

Then you hide. You slink undetected into the entrance hall, keeping to the cover of shadows. You stay, afraid to breathe, for hours. But finally, your patience pays off.

Zuko walks past you, unaware of your presence skulking behind a pillar. He’s lost in thought, a determined scowl on his face and a pair of swords in a sheath on his back.

You follow him.

You follow Zuko into a basement you didn’t know existed, through dirt-wall tunnels underground, under the ever-loudening sounds of war and death rumbling through the earth above.

You hide outside the doors Zuko walks through, and you hide from the guards his father sends away.

You can’t fight. If you fight, everyone loses. But you refuse to leave Zuko alone again.

You stand, and you wait, and you wait, and you wait. And every second feels like an hour. With the guards dismissed, you feel safe enough to press your ear against the door, hovering beside it so you don't lean in and open it, ruining everything.

You owe it to Zuko not to ruin this for him. He deserves to have his moment, to confront his wretched father. You know better than most what a wicked man the Firelord is, but Zuko knows better than anyone. He wears that knowledge on his skin.

You strain yourself to hear any part of the conversation, but the doors are thick, and the sounds of fighting far above you are still loud enough to drown out most everything. A part of you is almost curious- fascinated, in a morbid sort of way. You wonder how this battle would compare to the one you survived.

You wonder if any girls will go home without their brothers today.

You hear the unsheathing of Zuko’s swords, and the muffled voice of your uncle growing louder and angrier. You beg the sun, moon, and every star above that Zuko knows what he’s doing. The eclipse would block firebending, you knew that, but…you were scared.

Zuko had his swords. Zuko had his training. Zuko had a plan. But Firelord Ozai was still a grown man. A cruel, unyielding, and powerful man. If Zuko waited too long, or your uncle decided to attack him, you couldn’t be sure who’d survive.

The thunderous boom of the Firelord’s voice remained indecipherable. Zuko’s voice remained steady, and you could have sworn you heard the metallic noise of a sword, and the rapturous sound of Zuko’s familiar footprints leaving Ozai’s voice behind.

But it stopped.

Zuko stopped, and turned around, and the footsteps got quieter. You could barely make out one word, a single thought that told you everything about how Ozai had lured your cousin back into his clutches.

“Mother?”

You gasp, and then cover your mouth with your hand.

It's a thought you've come back to on many sleepless nights of your own, nights wishing someone were still there to comfort you with a warm embrace and some kind words. What happened to Ursa?

You had long suspected he knew more about it than he would ever tell. It would make sense that that Ozai had something- if not everything to do with it. The timing of your grandfather's death, the fact that it should have left your own father next in the line of succession, and then you. Weak, pitiful, unbending, you. It makes perfect sense that Ozai would have felt the need to take drastic measures to prevent that from happening.

And it makes perfect sense that that coward wouldn't have the guts to take those measures for himself.

Your revelation is interrupted by the sound of lightning, and you can't help the terrified, strangled cry that escapes you, muffled only by your hand over your mouth.

The eclipse was over, and Zuko was in danger. Coward that he was, your uncle was a terrifying opponent. You’d seen what he was willing to do to his own son, and if he’d been willing to…to murder his own father…you couldn’t begin to imagine what he’d do now that Zuko wasn’t trying to please him.

But the scream you expected to follow the lightning never came. Instead, you heard an explosion, a groan of pain too deep to be Zuko, and barely avoided getting hit when the doors flew open.

Zuko ran, and you followed. He didn’t look back, and neither did you, too scared to look back. You follow Zuko as he runs, adrenaline carrying you to the prison your father was kept in. Most of the guards had left, called to the battle you’d avoided looking at. You peek behind a corner, watching Zuko interrogate the warden.

But your father’s cell was empty. The bars were bent, the door lock shattered, and the warden was cowering in fear on the floor.

“Where is my uncle?” Asked Zuko, with a ferocity you’d not seen on him before.

“He's gone.” Said the warden, his voice shaking with every word. “He busted himself out. I've never seen anything like it, he was like a one-man army!”

You can’t help it. You smile, and you berate yourself for ever doubting your father. Of course he had a plan, he always has a plan.

Following Zuko back out of the prison, you find yourself briefly distracted by the sights and sounds of war.

The balloons, those they definitely didn't have when you were outside Ba Sing Se, but nearly everything else feels the same. You try to look out to the edge of the city, to the water where the invading forces had first arrived and you see them...

You see them retreating. The relief is overwhelming.

The battle is ending, your father- wherever he is now, he's out of prison. Everything will be alright. Perhaps most importantly, Zuko is safe. Zuko is-

Oh.

Oh no.

You turn, from side to side, forwards and backwards to try and see where he went, to no avail.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit!

You let yourself get distracted and now he's gone.

It's almost funny. You take your eyes off that boy for one second and he vanishes from you again, like it's nothing.

You have to find him. It's the only thing you can think, as you pick a direction and start walking, start jogging, start running.

You just have to find him.

You catch a flash of fabric turning a corner, and bolt after it. The figure wears Zuko’s clothes, so you chase it through city streets, up the sides of the crater your home was built in, and back down the other side. You chase Zuko to the beach, where you watch him jump into one of the balloon ships, and start his ascent without hesitation.

But you keep following. You run faster, and jump into the air as he takes off. By some random chance of good luck, Zuko hadn’t thought to pull up the chain tethering the ship to the ground. You grasp at it, just barely catching it before the ship, and Zuko, were too high to catch.

You hoist yourself into the airship, breathing heavily as the adrenaline finally starts wearing off. Zuko stares at you in shock, one hand already cloaked in fire. You drop your bag and stand up, and the fire dissipates.

You can’t help it. The relief overwhelms you, and you fall into Zuko with your arms around his neck. He stumbles backward, before steadying himself and carefully holding you steady.

You’re crying, and you don’t care. Zuko’s alive, you’re together, you’re free from the burden of keeping your uncle placated, and finally, finally, you’re both going to be ok. Zuko pulls back, and stares at you with confusion in those brilliant golden eyes. You love him, you’ve never loved him more, and you’re furious

You don’t even realize you’ve slapped him until he pushes you to the floor.

“Ok…I deserved that.”

You’re on your feet in a second, and before Zuko can question you or berate himself further, you kiss him.

Zuko flinches, clearly expecting another hit, but just when you think he’s going to stop you…he kisses back.

Zuko’s arms wrap around you, a fist balled tight in both your clothes and your hair. He clung to you like a man starved, like he was clinging to the visage of a ghost who’d vanish if he didn’t hold on tight enough.

It hurt when you broke the kiss, only finally releasing Zuko from your hold when you were sure you’d die if you didn’t.

“Don’t ever leave me alone again.”

Zuko nods, still dazed and confused. He blinks once, then twice, then he squeezes his eyes shut and only opens them after rubbing them like he’d just woken up from a dream.

“I broke up with Mai.” He offers, hiding a hint of a stutter.

You...kind of forgot about Mai, to be honest. There's a whole war going on, and you were chasing Zuko like your life depended on it and well, his relationship status wasn't at the forefront of your mind when you kissed him.

Not that it's of any significance now.

As far as you're concerned, he's yours. He is yours, just as much as you are his.

You think you've always been his.

"Good," you say, "good," you repeat to yourself, breathless. "That means she probably won't stab me if I do this."

You pull him in and kiss him again. This time you savor it. You commit the feeling of him to memory, carve out a special place in your heart for this moment to reside in.

You kiss him, as you float up and away from the Fire Nation, and you feel like you've finally come home.