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“Don’t you have memories of this place from, er, before?” Sokka asked, waving a hand without getting up from the couch where he was lounging. Katara reached up and elbowed him from her own spot on the floor beneath, but looked over at Aang as well.
“Well, I mean.” Aang fidgeted.
“I don’t mind.” Zuko said, climbing to his feet and smiling at Aang.
Aang grinned at him, bouncing a little on his way over to Zuko’s side. He glanced back at the others. “I . . . do, a bit, but Avatar Roku’s memories are kind of,” he brought a hand up and waggled it, “they’re not mine, after all. And they’re faint. I don’t have them all anyway, and . . . the palace has changed, I think.”
“It has.” Zuko confirmed, bringing a hand up to rest on Aang’s back. “I don’t know exactly how much - my grandfather, and great-grandfather . . . didn’t like people talking much about things changing, or what had. Even so simply as in the palace.”
Aang frowned, looking up at Zuko. “You don’t have to. . .”
Zuko huffed, amused. “No, it doesn’t bother me.” he promised. “Whenever you want, it’s fine.”
“Now?” Aang asked hopefully, and Zuko blinked, but shrugged.
“Whenever you want.” Zuko repeated, then looked at the others.
“Are you coming too?” Aang asked expectantly.
“I’ll pass.” Sokka said, yawning. “Seen enough Fire Nation red for now.” he added, settling deeper into the crimson cushions of the couch he was occupying. Zuko eyed him dubiously but said nothing. Sokka winced a little as he shifted his legs on the pillow he’d propped his broken one up with; probably that was more the reason he wasn’t interested in walking the palace at the moment.
“I’ll stay here with Sokka.” Katara said with a smile. “Thank you though.”
Zuko nodded and nudged Aang out the door ahead of him before he could try and coax either of them into coming. They were both tired, and Sokka was probably hurting, though Aang himself seemed to have recovered rather quickly. Zuko was sore as well, but he’d wandered the palace more than once in the past few days, and today he’d spent mostly sitting in discussion which had been very stressful but not physically taxing.
Although walking Aang through the palace was rather more draining than giving most people a tour would have been, Zuko had expected that.
“There are so many pretty gardens here.” Aang said, running his hand over the top of the railing as he looked out towards the pond. “Still, I mean. I knew there used to be, but I wondered. . .” He looked up at Zuko and trailed off, clearing his throat awkwardly.
“My mother loved them.” Zuko said, leaning against the railing. Aang came to a stop as well, bumping into Zuko companionably. “I was a little surprised how much of her hand is still visible in some of them now.” he continued, with a faint, bittersweet smile.
“I’m sorry.” Aang said quietly, looking up at him. He looked sympathetic but only distantly. Zuko supposed he . . . wouldn’t really sympathise quite the way that, say, Sokka and Katara did. He didn’t really understand the same way, having grown up with no parents, raised by the monks. Even if his own eventual loss had been . . . more complete.
“It’s nice to be able to see what she designed and planted here, actually.” Zuko admitted quietly. “I miss her, but it’s . . . nice. Part of her is still here, even if she’s. . .” Long gone, he thought, with more bitter than sweet.
Zuko sighed and pushed away from the railing, Aang following after him a moment later.
“Azula and her friends used to play in this garden.” Zuko said absently as they headed towards an archway that would take them briefly inside and then out into another garden, that one unchanged since long before his mother.
“What about you and your friends?” Aang asked, grinning.
Zuko blinked. “Oh, I didn’t have friends.” He waved a hand absently. “Sometimes when Mai and Ty Lee were here to play with Azula I would be dragged out with them, but they were always Azula’s friends, of course.” He supposed that had . . . changed somewhat, now. He never would have expected it to.
Zuko turned to look at Aang when he didn’t say anything, frowning. Aang wasn’t . . . there where he’d expected.
Zuko turned further and- “Aang?” he called, heading back down the walkway to where Aang was still standing at the stretch that overlooked the garden.
“Zuko.” Aang looked up at him, eyes huge and wobbly.
“Aang, what-” Zuko jumped as Aang all but pounced on him, hugging him hard around the waist. He was also squeezing Zuko’s arms against his sides, because Zuko hadn’t been ready for it.
“That’s terrible!” Aang said against his chest, then leaned back a little. “Why- Why would you- Why wouldn’t you- Zuko. . .”
“Oh. Erm.” Zuko twisted one arm up awkwardly to pat Aang soothingly. Aang let go just enough to slip his arms under Zuko’s this time and squeeze him even tighter around the waist. “It’s not. . . I wasn’t a very outgoing child. I spent most of my time with my mother.” He cleared his throat against the thickness he felt in it. “At least, until she . . . disappeared.”
“But that’s. . .” Aang didn’t seem to have words. “I don’t believe- You couldn’t. . .”
“Ah, well.” Zuko paused. “Azula was sent to school. For noble ladies. It’s where she met her friends, I had tutors here; at least, when my mother wasn’t teaching me herself. Or Uncle, sometimes, if he was home.” Zuko’s mouth twisted as he remembered those days. So many things had been different. Another world. “And of course no one just comes to the palace. I didn’t really . . . meet any other children.”
“Oh. . .” Aang patted him weakly. “You must have been lonely.”
Zuko shrugged. It wasn’t as though he had much to compare it to - nor had he really known any different than his life had ever been.
“What about- After your mother. . .” Aang trailed off, frowning.
“Tutors, still. Uncle, a little more often. Azula and her friends.” Zuko winced. “Trying to meet Father’s expectations. Things didn’t change that much, except . . . of course, Mother was gone. And no one ever even spoke about her; it was like she just disappeared. More like she’d never existed in the first place.” he corrected, mouth twisting with the memory of that bitter, confused heartache.
Aang hugged him a little tighter.
“Anyway, I had a lot of studying to do, to make up for- To become strong enough to be a good Prince. And a good Fire Lord someday.” Zuko said, nodding firmly and setting his jaw, remembering that awful, confusing time.
“Zuko.” Aang reached up, brushing his shoulder.
“Mm?” Zuko looked down at him again.
“You will be a good Fire Lord, Zuko.” Aang said with a small smile. “And,” his smile faltered, “you wouldn’t have had to try and make up for anything.”
“It’s all right.” Zuko said uncomfortably. “It was a long time ago, Aang, really.” He shook his head. He patted Aang’s back again. “Come on,” he said encouragingly, “you haven’t seen half the palace yet, not even all the gardens.”
Aang frowned a little, hugging Zuko determinedly harder, and Zuko snorted, returning the hug as best he could and then trying to nudge Aang away again.
“Are you sure you want to keep showing me around?” Aang asked as he stepped back, tipping his head to one side. “I can look around myself. Or someone, um, else can show me, or. . .”
“It’s all right. I really don’t mind.” Zuko said, clasping his shoulder. “If you still want to see.”
Aang nodded, his eyes wide, and didn’t say anything, but let Zuko steer him into movement again, through towards the next garden.