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Chief Hakoda of the Southern Water Tribe is not having a good day, thank you very much for asking. 

Sokka had another rough night- two nightmares in a row- and Hakoda had barely slept in between calming him down and trying to keep Katara in her own bed. And then, far before the sun had broke the dawn, Bato had snuck in quiet and shook him awake so they could get a head start on the hunt.

Hakoda stares blearily out at the white snow, now stained red where Tulok had managed to take down a reindeer. He tilts his head back against the cool stone of the cave behind him and shuts his eyes, just for a moment-

“What crawled up your ass and died there this morning?” Bato asks casually, slinging his spear over his shoulder. 

“There are kids around, Bato.” Hakoda says mildly, mostly to be annoying.

Tulok makes an enraged sound from where he and Amaruq are loading up the reindeer carcass to the sled. “I’m not a kid, Chief, I’m sixteen!” He yells. 

“Right. Child.” Hakoda says, crossing his arms. “And kids shouldn’t swear.” 

“What, you and Bato were perfect pictures of innocence at my age?” 

Bato snorts loudly. “Tulok, when we were your age, Koda, Kya, and I once snuck into a council meeting and-” 

“-ATTENDED quietly and gave our input as members of the tribe.” Hakoda interrupts, clapping a hand over Bato’s mouth. 

Tulok laughs as Amaruq finishes the last tie on the sled. 

“All secure, we’re good to go!” Amaruq calls.

Hakoda nods at him and pushes himself off the wall as Tulok checks the wolves’ harnesses. Bato claps a hand on his shoulder, staring idly into the small cave behind them. And then Bato freezes, hand tightening around his spear.

“Bato?” Hakoda questions low, hand on the boomerang at his hip. 

“Koda-” Bato drops his spear and runs into the cave. 

“Stay here!” Hakoda orders over his shoulder to the boys as he runs in after him. 

Bato is crouched on the ground, his back to Hakoda. 

“Bato, what the fuck- ”

A child is lying still on the stone ground of the cave. Pale as death, lips blue, clothed only in a white tunic. His loose hair is darker than ink, save for an odd forelock of golden-light. A terrible burn covers half of the child’s face, and Hakoda stills, kneeling down by Bato. 

“Is he?” He asks.

Bato, who has two fingers underneath the child’s jaw, shakes his head. After a moment, he straightens up. “Amaruq! Bring me every blanket we’ve got on the sled!” 

“He’s alive?” 

“Unfortunately.” Bato says grimly. 

Hakoda swears, and he and Bato share a look for a moment. There is only one scenario which leads to a child this young being abandoned in a cave, and it is not easy to think about. 

“War child.” Bato says softly, turning the boy’s jaw to inspect the burn. It’s nasty and deep, but seems to have been at least somewhat taken care of. No infection spreads through the deep blisters, as it usually does. 

“Must be.” Hakoda says. “I wasn’t aware we’d had raids on the outer villages recently.” 

“Neither was I.” 

Amaruq arrives, and Hakoda and Bato waste no time bundling the boy in furs and blankets. Hakoda hoists him into his arms. He can’t be much older than Sokka- might even be younger. 

“We’ll need to send word to the other villages. Find out who did this.” Hakoda says as an answer to Tulok’s questioning stare. “You and Amaruq run back and get another sled- get word to the villages as fast as possible.” 

“If he survives that long.” Bato says. “We need to get him to your mother, now.” 

Kanna doesn’t even blink when Hakoda bursts into the hut and lays the bundle of blankets on Sokka’s bedroll in front of the fire. 

“What happened?” Kanna asks briskly, already pushing up her sleeves. 

“Dad?” Katara says curiously, putting down her doll. “Who’s that?”

“Katara, go find Sokka, then go to Yura’s hut, and stay there.” Hakoda says, getting in front of his daughter so she won’t see the opened burn, the blood that has seeped into the blankets. 

Katara looks for a second like she’s going to argue, but she takes one look at Hakoda’s face, nods once, and runs to get her parka. 

“War child.” His mother murmurs as she kneels down by the boy. 

“Think so.” Hakoda says. How he wasn’t informed about the boy’s existence, he’ll never know. “Found him in some caves up north. Abandoned. I sent runners to the villages.” 

Kanna gently examines the burn and clicks her tongue, muttering a scathing condemnation of the spiritsforsaken ashmakers.

Hakoda stays close as Kanna layers a balm over the burn and binds it with clean bandaging. Finally, she sits back on her heels. 

“Is he not sick?” Hakoda asks. 

His mother shakes her head. 

“How is that possible?” He asks, incredulous. “He was almost blue when we found him.” 

Kanna leans forward and runs her fingers through the golden hair at his forehead. “Spirit-touched.” 

Hakoda scoffs. The spirits have not deigned to intervene over generations of raids and murders and pillaging. Why would they start now?  “Mom, come on-” 

The child’s visible eye flies open, and burns a brighter molten gold than Hakoda has ever seen in a bonfire. He stumbles back, trips over one of Sokka’s toys, and lands hard on the ground. 

Kanna hasn’t even moved from her position by the boy’s side.

Hakoda scrambles back up and kneels next to her. The boy’s eye is already half-closed again, but he focuses on Hakoda for a moment. 

“Uncle?” He mumbles. 

“Can you tell me your name?” Hakoda asks softly.

The child makes a face. “You know my name, Uncle.” 

“I know.” Hakoda winces. “Humor your uncle for a moment.”  

“Zuko,” The boy says, with a tone that clearly conveys, obviously. 

Zuko.

Within a second, he’s out again. 

Hakoda stands. “Can you keep an eye on him?” He asks Kanna abruptly, and pulls his hood on to find Bato. 

“Zuko.” Bato says. He laughs humorlessly. “I don’t think that’s one of ours.” 

“And he’s not even cold.” 

“How-”

“Tui and La, I have no idea. I shit you not, Bato, he has gold eyes.” Hakoda says, and for a moment, all he can see are the deep-set copper irises of the man who put a sword through Kya’s stomach, and he looks away from Bato for a moment. 

Bato puts down his carving knife and stands. “We’ll know more when Amaruq and Tulok get back. Call a village meeting.” He says, putting a bracing hand on the back of Hakoda’s neck. “Try not to get all tied up about this before you even know what’s going to happen.”  

Zuko is really only aware of being warm, warm, warm- too warm- 

He opens one eye and finds someone staring directly at him. A boy with tan skin and bright blue eyes. 

“Oh, good.” The boy says, and sits back down. “I thought you’d never wake up. Who are you? What happened to your eye? Why are you here?” 

“Uh.” 

Everything is dizzy, everything is too warm, but Zuko manages to sit up. He reaches up and finds bandages wrapped around over half his face, a dull, deep ache taking up a majority of his cheekbone. 

“What happened to me?” He asks roughly.

The boy huffs. “I asked you first.” 

“Well, I don’t know!” 

“How can you not know?!” The boy crosses his arms. 

A familiar growing panic is clawing at his throat as Zuko looks around and takes in snow and furs and blue blue blue, wrong blue-

Wasn’t he supposed to be in red? 

“You’re Water Tribe.” He says abruptly. 

“Yeah? So are you?” The boy says. “Even though you haven't even told me your name, and Bato won’t let me go to the meeting tonight, even though I’m old enough, and I’m ‘supposed to be learning’ how to be-” 

The panic reaches its boiling point and something constricts painfully in Zuko’s chest. “Don’t go.” He says. “Don’t go to the meeting.” 

“Uh, okay.” The boy doesn’t even bother disguising the bemused look on his face. “Bato won’t let me go anyways. So.” He looks furtively around the empty room- hut? Is that what they were called?- before turning back to Zuko. “Are you a war child?” He whispers. 

“WHAT?” Zuko yells indignantly, sitting straight up and throwing off the wrong-blue blankets- oops, wrong move, that makes the room spin and his face burn. “I’M NOT A WAR CHILD!” 

“Okay, well, then, who are you?” 

“I’m-” 

Zuko tries. Searches. Comes up with nameless faces in the dark, shadows too blurry to make out- 

“I don’t know.” He says. “I- I don’t know.” 

“Hm.” The boy strokes his chin theatrically. “Maybe you hit your head on the ice?” 

“I did not.” 

“Then who are you?” The boy throws his hands in the air. 

“Zuko?” Zuko supplies. He knows that’s right. He knows that’s his name, just like he knows the fire rose with his yells and quieted with his breathing.

The boy doesn’t seem to notice however, and just crosses his arms over his chest. “That’s the dumbest name I’ve ever heard.” The boy says, still giving him that odd expression. “You outer village people are weird. I’m Sokka.” 

Sokka sticks out his hand, and Zuko stares at it for a moment, unmoving, until Sokka groans and grabs his hand, navigating it so they’re clasping each other’s forearms. 

“You really don’t remember anything, do you?” He asks, tilting his head.

“My head sort of hurts.” Zuko says honestly, because it does. 

“I’d be more surprised if it didn’t.” A deep voice says from the doorway. Zuko’s heart jumps into his throat, but Sokka just gets up and stretches leisurely as a tall man wearing a fur-lined parka in the same stupid blue enters the room. 

“Hi, Dad!” Sokka says cheerfully. 

“I thought I told you to stay at Yura’s.” The man says. Sokka grins. 

“You told Katara to stay at Yura’s.” 

“Yes, and I told Katara to tell you to stay at Yura’s-” 

“Well, she didn’t-“

“Sokka, for La’s sake, go before I throw you headfirst into a snowbank.” The man threatens, but Sokka doesn’t even look remotely scared as he gets up and pulls a similar parka over his head. 

“Bye, Zuko!” he yells as he leaves the hut. 

And then it’s just Zuko. And a tall man wearing blue who could easily overpower him- 

“Peace, child.” The man says, kneeling down a few feet away. “I’m not going to hurt you.” 

Zuko almost laughs. Do people here truly abide by promises? 

“I just need you to answer some questions for me.” The man says. Zuko nods jerkily, wonders if, since the fire rises with him, can he-

“Your name is Zuko?” The man asks. 

“Yes.” 

“I’m Chief Hakoda.” The man says. “My second, Bato, and I found you in a cave a few miles north of here. What do you remember?” 

Zuko tries again- a cave, does that help?- but still gets blurry figures that won’t turn around, won’t talk to him. 

“Nothing.” He says. “I-I can’t-” 

“It’s alright. I sent runners to the outer villages, but no one seems to be missing a child. We’re just not quite sure where you came from.” 

“I-” 

Flashes of red. Gold. The fire burns hot behind him. Hakoda watches the flame rise and fall with an unreadable expression on his face, and an ugly knot settles in Zuko’s stomach. Something is wrong wrong wrong, he’s in danger- 

Zuko may have no clue who he is, but he isn’t stupid. There’s a war on. 

“I don’t know.” He says. “I’m sorry. I can’t remember anything, I’m sorry.” 

Hakoda sighs, but he doesn’t move forward, and his hands stay in his lap. Zuko lets out a breath. “It’s alright. My mother will be back in shortly. Please remain in the hut with her.” 

And with that Hakoda leaves Zuko alone by the fire, surrounded by blue and white and not a hint of what’s going to happen to him. 

Hakoda looks out over the murmuring crowd with a nervousness he hasn’t felt since he was eighteen and Speaking for the first time. Someone claps a hand on his shoulder and Hakoda turns around to find Bato standing behind him. 

“It’ll be alright, Koda.” He says quietly. “Tell the story, and we will consider what to do with the child.” 

Hakoda intakes a sharp breath. “He’s a firebender.” 

Bato’s hand stills. “Are you sure?”

“I watched- Sokka snuck in and talked to him. The fire- it responded to him.” 

“He tried to hurt Sokka-?”

“No, no, no,” Hakoda interrupts hastily. “Not at all, he and Sokka were just talking. He can barely move. It just,” 

Hakoda thinks about the flames rising with Zuko’s yells, falling with his breaths. Black soot and Kya- red staining purple in her blue robes. 

Zuko is a child, as Sokka is. But children do not stay children, and a firebender in the village? 

Bato seems to sense his feelings. “Just Speak, Chief.” He says. “We will come to a decision together.” 

Hakoda nods, and Bato sits down in front of the crowd as Hakoda moves to the small platform in the front of the room. 

“Everyone,” Hakoda says, and the room quiets instantly. He catches Bato’s eye and takes a deep breath. “I come before you today not as your Chief, but as a member of our Tribe. I hope to Speak, and I hope for you to Listen, and when I am done, and I hope to come to a decision together.” 

“Speak, and we will Listen.” The room says in unison, and Hakoda begins. 

“I didn’t know any of the outer villages had war children.” Yura says, crossing her arms. 

“Everyone said they didn’t.” Amaruq pipes up from the back of the room. 

Iola snorts. “Of course they did. It’s a war child, and a firebender to boot. Who wants to admit they have a little ashmaker brat on their hands? They probably left him for dead.” 

Hakoda eyes the elder, but tightens his jaw and says nothing. Old burns splatter purple and mottled up both Iola’s arms, and he rarely contributes in village meetings. 

“The circumstances of the child’s birth are not his fault.” Bato says. He sounds calm, but what good is thirty-five years of living in each other’s pockets if you can’t identify when your best friend is five seconds away from inciting a riot? Hakoda raises an eyebrow, and Bato rolls his eyes in response. 

“Be that as it may, he is a firebender.” Hakoda says. 

“Tough luck for the kid.” Iola says. “Tragic that he was unlucky enough to be born. I say we put him back out on the ice and out of his misery.” 

A disconcerted rumbling goes through the room, and an uneasy feeling settles in Hakoda’s stomach. 

As much as seeing the flames rise with Zuko’s yells made Hakoda’s blood freeze in his veins, the child is just that: a child. Bony, shorter than Sokka, with one cheek that hasn’t yet lost its baby fat and the other disproportionately thinned out with missing flesh- most likely cut off when it died following the burn. 

There have been raids on his tribe for nearly a century. Hakoda knows how to treat burns. And the one that consumes the child’s face, swelling one eye totally shut and malforming his left ear, is devastating. 

It should have killed him. 

Just like being left in a cave close to winter with no proper clothing should have. 

Hakoda thinks of golden eyes and golden hair, of the moon and the sun, and of balance. He is not a spiritual man; it’s been hard to see any supposed benevolence on the behalf of Tui and La since they set Kya’s body afloat, and Hakoda stood next to one child whose voice was raw with screams and the other who was staring straight out with a set jaw, refusing to speak. 

“I have two issues to Speak on.” Kanna says from the back of the room, and the muttering immediately quiets. She stands up, looking Hakoda in the eye.

Hakoda nods slightly and sits down on his platform. 

“I believe the child is spirit-touched.” Kanna announces. “His injuries were severe; he should not have survived them, or being left in that cave. He has a Spirit guarding him. I don’t know about the rest of you, but incurring the wrath of whoever it is keeping this child alive does not seem wise.” 

No one, not even Iola, dares interrupt. 

“Secondly, as most of you know, I was raised in the Northern Tribe.” 

Hakoda hears Tulok, sitting in the back with Amaruq and the other young men, mutter a swear before he spits on the ground, and gives him a look. Tulok reddens and quiets down. 

“There were some raids in the early years, but they weren’t successful. During one such raid, right before the winter months, our warriors were able to capture some firebending soldiers and hold them for information and ransom. But as the sky darkened and the sun disappeared, they weakened. By the time the ransom letter was returned from the Fire Nation with no demands met, all of them had died. It seems they held a connection to the sun, almost as our waterbenders did with Tui.” 

Kanna lifts her head and looks directly at Hakoda.

“We are only six weeks away from losing the sun. If he is a child from the outer villages, he may have survived our winters before. But we can’t know if he will survive this one.

The child will likely die, regardless of what we choose here tonight. Our true decision is between giving him a warm, comfortable death or a quick, cold one. And of course, if he survives- it is obvious the Spirit wills it.” 

The meetinghouse is utterly silent. 

It’s not even a choice. 

“Well?” Yura prompts gently, after Hakoda has failed to answer for over a minute.

Hakoda looks up and meets the waiting eyes of his people. “I trust my mother’s instinct.” He says. “I will care for the child along with my own, and if he survives this winter-” if he doesn’t- “-then he will be considered a part of my family, so long as he contributes to the tribe as the rest of the children do.” 

Kanna nods approvingly, Iola looks outraged, and Bato looks as though he feels relieved. Hakoda, mainly, feels the chiefdom weighing down his shoulders like he never has before.

Zuko is alone in the hut long after dark. He considers at one point getting up and running away- if they’re going to kill him, he’s not going to make it easy for them- but he tries once, and the pain in his face is enough to make him want to throw up, so he sits back down again. Whatever. If someone comes to kill him, then he’ll get up. 

At least there’s a fire.

He stares into the flames as his face throbs. Zuko reaches up and feels the bandaging that obscures half of his vision, and is suddenly struck with an all-encompassing need to know what happened to him. 

What he looks like. 

He takes a furtive glance around the hut and finds a cooking pan stacked on the ground, along with utensils and supplies. It takes him a few minutes to crawl over in between his remaining eye going blurry and his arms shaking, but he has to know. 

Zuko takes a deep breath, and then reaches up to unravel the white bandages. The closer he gets to his skin, the more discolored the bandages become, and he has to close his eyes and will his hands not to shake when he reaches the last layer. The cold air stings painfully at the exposed skin, and Zuko counts to three, controls his breath, and forces his eyes open. 

Slightly distorted in the copper of the pot, Zuko sees himself. 

It’s a burn. He can only look at it for a few seconds before the pot falls out of his hands and hits the ground. It’s wide and massive and charred. 

A scream echoes through his head and Zuko has to move away from the fire. The heat seems more oppressive than warming, suddenly. 

“Dad said not to!”

“Dad’s still at the meeting, and Yura was gone, too, and besides, I already met him. He’s not like, dangerous, or anything-”

Zuko whips around at the voices outside, and grabs a knife from the pile of utensils without thinking. Never give up without a fight, right? “Who’s there?” He demands. It comes out scratchy and hoarse instead of intimidating, but he holds the knife out in front of him anyways. 

Sokka appears in the doorway, along with a girl a few inches shorter than him, with dark hair pulled away from her face. Zuko feels his heart slow a bit. He sags back into his pile of blankets. 

“Whoa, just me and Katara!” Sokka puts his hands up. “What’s up with the knife?” 

Zuko looks down. He is, in fact, still gripping the knife tight in his hands. He lets it fall onto the floor with a clatter. “I thought someone was trying to kill me.” He mumbles, turning to look at Sokka. 

“No one’s trying to ki-”

 Sokka cuts off, eyes wide, and Zuko realizes too late that he took his bandages off. 

“I’m sorry,” He mumbles, turning away. Tears are pricking at his eyes, and he gasps as it burns. 

“I thought you had a big cut or something.” Sokka says from behind him in a choked tone.

Zuko shakes his head, can’t even answer as the tears drip down his ravaged skin and his throat closes up. 

There’s a small hand on his shoulder, and Zuko jumps. It’s just the girl- Katara, Sokka called her? She’s kneeling next to him with a container and fresh bandages. 

“I can rewrap it for you.” She says softly. “Gran-gran and I have treated burns before.” 

Zuko nods, unable to find his voice, and Katara makes quick work of spreading a balm across his face, laying a piece of soft fabric over his eye and crossing it with clean bandaging. 

“There, done.” She says, leaning back.

Zuko hesitantly reaches up. Something like relief floods his stomach when he only finds fabric. “Thank you,” He gets out. “I’m sorry.” 

“For what?” Katara asks. 

“That you had to see it.” 

She stands, gathering up the used bandaging. “I’ve seen worse.” 

“I told you he wasn’t dangerous.” Sokka says, flopping down onto the bedroll next to Zuko. “He’s just a kid. How old are you, anyways?” 

“Uh-” 

Zuko searches. Nothing. “I don’t know.” He shrugs.

“What?” Sokka yelps. “How can you not know how old you are? You definitely hit your head on the ice.” 

“I did not hit my head on the ice-” 

“I think I remember specifically telling both of you to stay at Yura’s.” 

Zuko looks up sharply. Hakoda is standing in the doorway along with a taller man wearing an identical parka. 

“Dad!” Katara runs over and Hakoda picks her up. “I’m sorry,” she says mournfully. “Sokka said we should go make sure Zuko was okay, I know you and Bato said not to-” 

“Oh great, throw me under the sled, thanks, Katara.” Sokka mutters under his breath. 

“Don’t act innocent, young lady.” Hakoda says. “Now, can both of you please wait outside for a few minutes? Bato and I need to talk to Zuko.” 

Sokka huffs and starts getting up, and Zuko stares at the two men flanking the entrance. Where did he put that knife- 

“C-can they stay?” He asks hoarsely, surprising even himself. “Please, sir.” 

Hakoda looks over at the other man, who nods slightly. “That’s fine, Zuko.” He says. Sokka sits back down, and Hakoda sits cross-legged where he stands, keeping Katara in his lap while the other man sits beside him. 

“The first thing I need to know, Zuko, is what you want.” 

Zuko blinks. “What I want?” he echoes. How could he possibly know what he wants? But Hakoda nods anyways. 

“Yes. Would you like to stay here with us?” 

Zuko stills and feels Sokka do the same. He knows, in the same way he can tell that the sun set four hours ago and that there’s a large bonfire crackling outside, that he didn’t come from this place. But he’s been fed and taken care of, and does he have an alternative, really? 

“Yes.” he says quietly. Sokka badly hides a grin, starts chattering immediately about how there’s no one in the village his age and they can go hunting together and- 

Hakoda holds up a hand, and Sokka falls silent. 

“Alright.” He says, and his expression is almost unreadable. “We’re almost to the winter months, and we won’t see much sun until after. I believe that will be difficult for you. But after the winter ends, you’ll be considered part of my family.” 

Zuko refuses to think about the sun missing from the sky, and focuses on the warmth he can feel heating his back. 

“Thank you, sir,” He says, and his hands form an odd shape- one palm held straight and the other fisted at the base, as he bends slightly at the waist. 

Hakoda looks at him oddly, and Zuko immediately drops it. 

The Southern Water Tribe fits like a boot half-a-size too big, made suitable with a rag shoved in the toe. It’s odd- like he knows that he’s not used to wooden utensils, or sleeping on a bedroll on the ground, or the way there are community chores that everyone has to help with- but once he starts, he can’t imagine having lived any other way. 

Zuko can’t manage much, with only half of his vision, so the older woman, Yura, who lives across from them (she has an old burn on her wrist. Zuko looks away.) sits him down with a needle and thread and teaches him how to sew. It’s not easy with only one good eye- he stabs himself more than the fabric- but he has to stay useful. If he’s not useful, he’s just- 

Yura digs out a dark blue parka the third day that Kanna’s deemed him well enough to help with chores and drops it in his lap. 

“You’ll need it.” She says, avoiding his eyes. “It only gets colder. You can alter it to fit better” 

Zuko inspects the parka. It’s dusty, well-worn, but taken care of. The phases of the moon are carefully stitched down the front, intricate stars around the wrists. It's a wine-dark, almost black, like the sea where it meets the sky at twilight. 

It’s beautiful. 

Zuko hugs it to his chest and looks up to where Yura is busying herself preparing dinner. 

“Don’t you need it?” He asks. Yura shakes her head, a thin smile on her lips that doesn’t reach her eyes. 

“Not anymore.” She says, and her voice is rough with an emotion that, like everything else these days, feels hazily familiar to Zuko. Like if he could just reach through the veil and shatter it, everything would make sense again. He shakes his head slightly to clear out the dust and holds a hand up when it makes him dizzy. 

“Thank you.” He tells her, and he even remembers not to make the odd bow. 

Sokka talks. 

A lot. 

Hakoda still won’t let him do anything too physical, but one day, when the men are gone on a hunt, Sokka drags him out to the fields of endless white right outside the village and hands him a wooden weapon, curved to fit in his hand. 

“It’s a boomerang.” Sokka tells him solemnly. “The greatest weapon of the Water Tribe Warrior.” 

“Kinda just looks like a stick of wood.” Zuko says, mostly to annoy him. Sokka scowls. 

“Ice-head.” 

“Numbskull.” 

“Shut up. It’s not just wood. You throw it-” Sokka mimes a throw. “-and it’ll always come back to you.” 

Zuko examines the boomerang, painted blue and white, with a sharp edge carefully whittled into one side. It seems like a lot of work for not enough return. 

“Why don’t you just use swords?” he asks blankly. Sokka shrugs and moves Zuko’s hand so it’s positioned correctly. 

“We use spears and boomerangs, mostly. Swords use too much metal. Besides, these are better for hunting. And you and I, when spring comes? We’re going hunting.” 

Zuko knows about the hunting, at least. Everyone gathers and hunts for everyone else, and food can get scarce easily around here. Bringing in meat, that means you’re being useful. 

“Okay.” He says decisively. “Teach me.” 

Katara doesn’t talk to him much. She mostly keeps to Kanna’s side, learning about healing and attending lessons with the other kids. She’ll say a few words to him at dinner, but other than that, she keeps her eyes down and stays quiet. 

Zuko asks Sokka about it, one day after breakfast, when Sokka had asked Katara if she wanted to come build a fort, and Katara had immediately made an excuse and left. 

“Is Katara shy?” Sokka repeats, snorting. “She’s never been shy a day in her life.” 

“Then how come she never talks to me?” 

Sokka shrugs and goes back to packing hard snow together for the first wall of their fort. “We’ve never had a new person in the village. She just has to get used to you.” 

Zuko, frankly, thinks that the massive burn taking up half his face doesn’t make him any more approachable. Kanna made him take the bandages off a few days ago, though she still covers it in the thick balm and makes him wrap a scarf over it before he goes outside.

It’s not pretty.

Zuko forced himself to examine it, the day she took them off. It’s carved right into his skin, red and angry, with marks of deeper damage around his eye that still won’t open all the way. He can’t see very well out of it- only shapes and colors, really- but he doesn’t bother telling anyone, the same way he doesn’t when he realizes he can’t hear too well out of his left ear, either. 

The rest of his face confuses him just as much. His eyes a bright gold- wolf’s eyes, Sokka had said jealously. I want wolf’s eyes!- his skin almost as pale as the ever present snow on the ground, his hair a great deal darker, save for the very front portion of it, which is almost as gold as his eyes. He looks different from everyone else here. He hears whispers of war child, mostly from the old man Hakoda and Bato both told him to stay away from, and it twists his stomach every time. 

But it’s not like he can refute it. He understands why Katara stays away. 

Bato is calm and patient as he teaches Zuko how to weave a rope net. He doesn’t yell or raise his hand once, not even when he has to undo an entire line of knots Zuko’s messed up. 

“I-I’m sorry,” he stammers out as Bato takes out the last knot. Bato gives him an odd look. 

“It’s alright, child.” Bato says. “You’re not meant to have everything down perfectly on the first try.” 

Well, that doesn’t sound right. 

“But I messed up.” 

“So do it again.” Bato takes the rope and slowly demonstrates the knot. “See? Pay attention to your spacing.” 

“Okay.” 

Zuko takes the rope again. 

Sokka, apparently, isn’t the only one that yells. Katara’s just as loud when she’s not busy ignoring Zuko, and her voice is higher, so she can out-yell Sokka every time.

They yell, mostly at each other, but sometimes at him, and occasionally at their dad, and if that isn’t the most terrifying thing in the world, Zuko doesn’t know what is. 

They’re cleaning up after dinner one night, Zuko gathering the dirty dishes and bringing them to the bucket in the corner where they’re washed, when yet another fight breaks out. Zuko freezes in the corner as the yelling begins. 

“It’s your turn to do the dishes, Sokka.” Katara says, crossing her arms. 

“So what? I had to help gut the fish today, and besides, you can just use your stupid woo-woo magic and be done in like, three minutes.” 

“It’s not stupid woo-woo magic, it’s WATERBENDING!” Katara yells, stomping her foot. The walls shake slightly, and Hakoda groans, getting up from his Pai Sho game with Bato. 

“Stop it, you two.” He says sternly. 

“Dad, it’s not fair!” Katara says. “It’s Sokka’s turn. I did the dishes last night, and Zuko did them the night before!” 

“Sokka, just go do the dishes, this isn’t a big deal.” 

“I worked with you guys for hours while Katara was still in lessons. Why can’t she just do the dishes?” Sokka says furiously. 

“Because it’s your turn, and you know we share work equally. Go-” 

“NO!” Sokka yells. “I’m not going to! I hate you!” 

And with that ice-shattering declaration, he storms off towards the store room. Katara seems unfazed, and Hakoda’s about to sit back down when the plates clatter out of Zuko’s hands and hit the floor. 

“Zuko?” Hakoda asks, getting back up. “Are you alright?” 

Zuko can’t answer for a few moments. His scar is burning red-hot, and his throat is rapidly closing off.  He shakes his head as Hakoda moves towards him, and the man stops where he is. 

“Are you going to…” Zuko manages to force out. “...discipline him?” 

Hakoda frowns. “I’ll go in and talk to him in a minute. I just want to give him some time to cool down first. Why?” 

“No,” Zuko says. “he disrespected you. Are you going to discipline him?” 

Because if he is, Zuko needs to leave immediately, needs to get out get out get out- 

Hakoda’s face softens, and he relaxes, laying his palms flat against his thighs. 

“Zuko, I’m just going to talk to him. It was only an argument, no one was injured or in danger. I would never harm a child, certainly not on purpose.” 

“Oh.” Zuko chokes on the syllable. The scar flares; he touches a cool hand to it. “Oh.” 

“That’s not what discipline is. Please don’t ever worry about that, child.” 

Zuko nods, and Hakoda sighs, getting up, and then follows Sokka back into the store room. 

After a few minutes, with no loud noises or yelling coming from the backroom, Sokka emerges with red eyes, Hakoda’s hand firm on his shoulder. He apologizes quietly to Katara, then does the dishes without another word of argument. 

When Sokka changes into his sleep clothes, Zuko furtively checks over him, but finds no bruises, no burns, no red splotches dotting his skin, and he lets out a breath from the deepest parts of his lungs. 

Maybe people here really do keep their promises. 

One night, as the sun rises later and sets earlier, Zuko jerks awake from a nightmare he can’t quite remember, other than cold tile beneath him and raging fire above him, and finds Katara’s bedroll empty. Kanna, Hakoda, and Sokka are still asleep, and the fire is burnt down to embers. 

Zuko sits up, hugging his arms around himself. Katara’s gone, and the hut is suddenly feeling far too hot. 

He has a hunch. 

Zuko pulls his boots and parka on and heads outside. 

Spirits, he’s cold. His teeth start chattering the moment he’s outside, and Zuko pulls the scarf tighter over his scar. There’s a full moon; it hangs curiously large in the sky, and Zuko stares up at it for a moment before he shakes his head. 

There she is. 

Katara is standing in the clearing in front of the meetinghouse, something glinting fluid and clear, suspended between her hands. Zuko stops dead in his tracks.  

“You’re a waterbender.” He says incredulously. Katara jumps and the water drops into the snow. She groans in frustration, turning her back on Zuko again. 

“A bad one.” She says, and tries again to pull up the water.  

“I thought- I didn’t know there were any waterbenders here.” 

“I’m the last one.” Katara says tonelessly. She flicks her wrist upwards, and a bit of snow follows her movement. “The Fire Nation took the rest of them before I was born” 

Zuko swallows thickly as something clenches in his stomach. 

“I’m sorry,” he offers. 

“Yeah,” Katara says. The snow doesn’t bend to her will as well as she wants it to, and she stomps, making a layer of ice-cold water jump a foot off the ground. “Me too.” She finally turns and looks at him, her eyes raking over the scarf tucked around his face. “Why are you even awake?” 

“Nightmare.” He says. “Why are you?”

Katara shrugs, glances up at the moon. “Don’t know. Hard to sleep, sometimes, when the moon is full.” 

She sits down heavy in the snow, and Zuko follows suit after a moment. They sit in silence, and Zuko tilts his head up towards the thousands of stars littering the black, trying to remember the constellations Sokka and Tulok taught him. There’s Raava, there, and Yangchen’s arrow pointing west, there, and-

“I’m sorry if I’ve been mean to you.” Katara says abruptly, and Zuko tears his face away from the stars to find her eyes red. 

“Oh, uh-“ Spirits, he’s not good with emotions, is he? “It’s alright.” 

Katara shakes her head. “No, it’s not. You didn’t do anything.” She says, and takes a deep breath. “When I was little, there was a raid. It always snowed black, before the ships came, and when it started again, I ran to find my mom and found this man in our hut. Mom told me to leave. I got my dad, but by the time we got back-“ 

Katara pulls her head up. It’s a wonder the tears haven’t frozen to her cheek. She’s touching a small, round pendant attached to a ribbon at her neck. 

“She was gone.” Katara’s voice is hard and emotionless. “I s-saw her. It was-“ 

She cuts off, and Zuko only has to think what would Sokka do? for a second before he crawls over to her and wraps an arm around her shaking shoulders. 

“I’m sorry.” He mumbles.  “I’m really sorry.” 

Katara shakes her head and pulls back.“It’s not your fault.” She says emphatically. “It’s not. It’s just- you look like him.” 

The words settle like acid, burning all the way down. 

“Oh.” Zuko manages. “O-oh.” 

He looks like a murderer. He looks like a Fire Nation murderer. 

“It’s not your fault.” Katara repeats fiercely, and now there’s arms around his shoulders. Zuko feels himself tense up, but he relaxes after a moment. 

They stay there, snow sleeping through Zuko’s clothes, for a long while, but when Katara finally pulls apart from him, her face is softened, somehow. 

“Come on.” She says, standing up and dusting off the snow. “You’re still healing, you need sleep.” 

She offers out a mittened hand. 

Zuko takes it. 

The days grow short. Zuko doesn’t notice, at first. He’s gotten fairly adept at sewing (turns out it’s easier when you have one-and-a-half eyes to see instead of just one). Yura has started showing him how to embroider some of the simpler designs, and he works on decorating an amauti Yura has sewn for the family a few huts down expecting a baby. 

Now that the ice has cracked between he and Katara, she joins Sokka and him on their daily escapades, practicing her waterbending while offering taunts when Zuko still fails to hit the mark with the boomerang, and proving a worthy fighter when Sokka gets fed up with her insults and tackles her into a snowbank. 

In fact, between his chores, running around with Katara and Sokka, and dinners with Hakoda, Bato, and Kanna, Zuko doesn’t notice the days are shorter until he does. And then he notices it hard. 

He and Sokka are putting the finishing touches on their fort, packing snow into the crevices and putting up old, pilfered blankets on the walls when Katara sticks her head in. 

“Bato says dinner’s ready and to hurry up, ‘cause if you get home after Dad there won’t be any sea prunes left.” She says, and Zuko immediately makes a face. Sea prunes are quite possibly the most disgusting food he’s ever eaten. He thinks. 

“He can have the sea prunes.” He groans, but Sokka gasps and leaps up. 

“He wouldn’t!” Sokka shouts. He turns to Zuko, a devilish grin on his face. “Race you?” 

Nevermind the disgusting sea prunes, Zuko has found that he’s physically incapable of backing down from a challenge. He gets up, stretches leisurely as though he’s uninterested in such childish things, and saunters out of the fort. 

And then takes off towards the village. He can hear Sokka’s indignant shouts and Katara’s laughter behind him, but he just runs faster. His hood falls behind him, and he expects to feel the sun’s light warming his skin, fueling the hot core deep within his belly. 

And then Zuko realizes with a jolt that he feels nothing. Nothing at all. 

His muscles begin to ache, and a band is starting to tighten around his lungs. He slows down as black spots appear around his vision.

“Haha!” Sokka skids past him and barrels into the village. 

“Zuko? You okay?” Katara jogs up behind him and suddenly there’s a hand between his shoulders. 

“Yeah-“ he gasps out. “I just got really tired.” 

Katara frowns and inspects his face, like his covered scar will give her answers. 

“Okay,” she says, and keeps her arm tight under his shoulders. “Let’s get home.” 

By the time they stumble into the warm hut, the spots of black have expanded into a dark gray that obscure nearly his entire vision. 

“Zuko? Are you alright?” He hears Hakoda say.

Something clinks, and then he’s being deposited on his bedroll and someone is pulling off his damp parka. 

“‘M fine.” He mumbles, waving a hand dismissively even as his head threatens to pound into the ground. “Just really tired. Just need some sleep.” 

Someone pulls a heavy fur over him, and a hand is pressing down on his forehead for a second, before it sweeps through his hair and is gone just as quick. 

“Okay, then,” Hakoda says, and he sounds far away. “Rest.” 

The sun grows colder and Zuko grows lethargic. He begins to sleep far past sunrise, and is down for the count far before dinner is ready. Hakoda usually has to shake him gently awake and get him to drink some broth. Some nights, he’s barely able to get his eyes open. 

“What’s wrong with him?” Katara asks in a hushed tone one night, as a storm rages on outside. Bato looks up from across the fire, where he’s playing Pai Sho with Sokka and raises an eyebrow. Zuko is already dead to the world, curled up under a heavy pile of blankets. They dragged his bedroll to the edge of the fire days ago, but the extra heat hasn’t made a difference. 

Hakoda sighs, glances over at the tuft of golden-black hair poking out from under the blankets. The boy hasn’t once firebent, hasn’t even said a word about it. Hakoda suspects he may not even know. Perhaps he should have told him. Would it have even made a difference?

“Have you noticed that as the sun is going down, Zuko gets tired?” He asks his daughter. Katara nods. 

“Zuko’s people have a connection to the sun. When the sun is further away, they can become ill.” Bato says, picking up a piece and placing it on the board. Sokka doesn’t even notice, as he’s fixing Hakoda with an intense stare. 

“The sun’s going to be gone soon.” He says in a small voice.

“Yes.” Hakoda confirms, and wishes he didn’t have to. 

“But, then, could he-“ Sokka’s eyes widen and his mouth clamps shut. He looks back down, his knuckles suddenly white around the piece he’s holding. 

Katara bursts into tears. 

“Is he going to die?” She wails. 

Like he said. One child with a set jaw and voice hoarse with disuse, the other with a throat raw from screaming. 

“I don’t know.” Hakoda says honestly. “We’re going to do everything we can to keep him warm and safe, though.” 

Sokka places a white lotus tile on the middle of the board. “He has to survive.” He says so quietly Hakoda can barely hear him. “He has to.” 

The sun disappears. 

Zuko disappears, too. 

He wakes in five-minute increments, if that, and is confused and lethargic any time he manages to stay conscious for more than a few seconds. Hakoda shoves most of his responsibilities off onto Bato in favor of constantly adding more wood to the fire and waiting for Zuko to blink open his eyes so that he can force some nutrients into the boy. 

Sokka and Katara drag their bedrolls flush against Zuko’s, and Hakoda finds them most mornings underneath his blankets, close together. 

But by the time the solstice rolls around, Zuko is barely able to open his eyes. Kanna kneels by him, checking his pulse, and shakes her head. Hakoda rubs his eyes hard and thanks Tui he thought to send the kids to Yura’s before Kanna checked up on him. 

“He’s not going to make it.” He says, hoarse. 

“I don’t think so.” Kanna says, pulling Zuko’s blankets back up over his shoulders. “His chi is so weak, Hakoda.” 

“How long?” Bato asks quietly.

Kanna leans back on her heels. “A day or so.” 

Hakoda nods and doesn’t trust himself to open his mouth until his mother has left to help Sanna’s family with a feverish child. As the door shuts behind her, Hakoda falls directly against Bato’s chest. 

“I made a mistake.” He rasps out, staring at the dark hair that sticks out from under the blankets, the only part of the boy visible. “Bato, I fucked up.” 

Bato tightens his grip around him and rests his chin on top of his head. 

“No, you didn’t. You did what was compassionate. He was going to die either way, Koda.” 

“The kids are going to be-“ He chokes on his words. 

“The kids will understand why, when they’re older.” Bato says firmly.

Hakoda can barely breathe, just shuts his eyes so he doesn’t have to look at how shallowly the blankets rise and fall with Zuko’s breaths and turns into Bato’s chest. 

“I know,” Bato says softly. “It’ll be alright. It’ll be alright.” 

Zuko hasn’t moved in over a day. 

Dad hasn’t said anything is wrong besides his admission that the winter was making Zuko weaker, but Katara’s not stupid. Dad looked at his still form and shook his head when Katara asked if she should run and get Gran-gran. 

He’s given up. 

But she’s done losing people. She’s not losing anyone else. 

“Please, Zuko,” Katara whispers, slipping under his heavy blankets like she always does and finding his hand, holding it tight. Sokka is already on the other side of him. “Please, stay here. Stay with us. Please.” 

The green of the field is jarring, and Zuko has to blink several times before it registers fully in his eye. There’s a heat on all sides of him, pressing down golden and galvanizing. Zuko takes a deep breath in and listens to the flow of the river, feeling the hot core in his stomach spark. 

“I thought I said it wasn’t your time yet, child.” 

Zuko snaps his eyes open. It’s a woman, sitting on the bank- white robes, golden eyes that twist his stomach painfully, hair the same color- 

“Agni.” 

Zuko bows, even makes the odd movements he stopped doing ages ago. He doesn’t know how he knows her name, only that he does. 

“Rise and join me.” 

Zuko obediently sits at her feet and pushes away the odd feeling that he’s been here before. 

“What do you mean, ‘not my time’?” Zuko asks, peering into the clear water. His hair is loose around his face, and he’s still wearing the sleep tunic Sokka helped him change into weeks ago. Weird. 

The woman smiles at him, runs hot fingers over the odd golden piece of his hair. 

“You and I have met before.” She says.

Zuko cocks his head. “Why don’t I remember?” He demands. “Why don’t I remember anything?” 

“My doing, I’m afraid.” She says lightly. “You have a destiny beyond your past. I did what was best.” 

Zuko stands and backs away, feeling a white-hot anger surge up. “How could you just take my memories? Who am I, even? Is Zuko my real name? D-did you burn me-” 

The woman’s eyes flare a bright burning white, and Zuko stumbles backward, snapping his mouth shut. He falls into a kowtow, forehead on the ground. 

Respect the spirits. 

“I did not burn you.” She says, and her voice echoes. “I would never harm any child of mine.”

A warm hand under his chin, lifting it up. Her eyes have returned to their familiar amber, and she kneels before him. 

“Rise.” She says again and Zuko does, trying his best to hide that he’s shaking. 

“What’s happening to me?” He whispers. “Why am I here?” 

Her face softens. 

“You are very ill, child. But you must fight. I have told you and I will tell you again, your fate lies in helping restore balance to the world, and your time has not yet come.”

“What am I supposed to do?” 

She touches a finger to his chest, and something fiery explodes in his belly, warming him to his fingertips. 

“Remember your inner flame, light-child, and know that I am always with you.” 

Hakoda is staring into the fire and trying to figure out how he’s going to get his children out from the pile they’re sleeping in when it comes time to remove the child’s body, when Zuko blinks open his eyes.

They glint golden in the firelight, and Hakoda can barely breathe as he moves around the fire. 

“Hi,” He says softly, kneeling down next to Sokka and reaching over to pull the blanket back from where it’s tucked over Zuko’s nose. “How do you feel?” 

“Had a really weird dream.” Zuko says, voice muddled and hoarse from disuse. 

It’s the most he’s said in weeks. 

“Oh? What was it about?” 

“Agni.” Zuko says, scrunching up his nose as Hakoda moves his hair back out of his face. “Told me I had stuff to do.” 

“You do.” Hakoda says. “Sokka has so much planned in the spring for you two. You have to fight.” 

Zuko sighs, like this annoys him, and leans into Hakoda’s hand. “She said that, too.” 

Hakoda half-smiles. “She sounds like she knows what she’s talking about.” 

Zuko’s eyes flutter shut again, and he burrows in closer to Sokka. “‘M tired.” He mumbles.

Hakoda pulls up the blankets again. “So sleep, child.”

Within a minute, he’s fast asleep against Sokka’s shoulder. 

Zuko wakes the next morning some time after breakfast. He sits up, blankets still wrapped around his shoulders, and blinks owlishly. Hakoda’s hands still from repairing one of Sokka’s spring tunics, and he barely dares to allow himself to hope. 

“I’m really hungry.” He announces to the hut. Katara drops her dolls with a cry and flings herself at Zuko.

“Why are you hugging me?” he complains, as Sokka comes in from the storeroom, stops dead at the sight of Zuko, sitting up and coherent, and immediately does the same with a loud yell. “I just said I was hungry.” 

“We have plenty of breakfast, Zuko.” Hakoda says, rising to get a bowl for him. “As much as you’d like.”  

Katara pulls back first, studying him with an analytical eye, red-rimmed with unshed tears. “You should let me braid your hair. It’s a mess.” She tells him.

Zuko seems to consider this as he raises a shaky spoon to his mouth and swallows the porridge mechanically. “Okay.” He says.

Sokka squawks indignantly and moves back, staring at Zuko in horror. “You shouldn’t let her do that! It’s not manly!” 

Zuko looks at Sokka like he’s stupid, and Hakoda bites the inside of his mouth to keep from laughing when he realizes Katara has the exact same expression on her face, looking as murderous as a ten-year-old has any right to be. 

“It’s just a braid, Sokka, don’t be dumb.” Zuko tells him, and Katara squeals in delight as Zuko turns to let her brush and braid back his long hair. Sokka sighs in resignation and sits back down on the bedroll, filling Zuko in on everything he missed. 

Hakoda stays where he is on the other side of the fire, and lets the sound of the three children chattering wash away the anxiety settled deep in his stomach. He glances down at Kya’s pendant, bound to his wrist, and smiles slightly. 

She would have loved the boy. Hakoda is sure of it. 

The day the sun returns, it comes midday. 

It crests cold and white over the edge of the ocean for barely a few minutes. Zuko drags himself out of the hut, ignoring the heaviness that remains in his chest and weighs down his limbs. He sits on a bank of snow by the shore, drinking in the light pinks and oranges that faintly tint the black sky. He pulls his knees to his chest and closes his eyes, breathing deep. A faint warmth sparks in his stomach, and tears prick at his eyes before Zuko can stop them. 

Someone sits down next to him. Zuko opens his eyes and looks over. It’s Katara, staring at him, biting her lip as she does when she’s thinking. 

“What’s up?” He asks, resting his cheek on his knee. Katara tilts her head and reaches up to lightly touch the messy half-bun he threw his hair into. 

“I was just wondering,” She says. “How you would look with beads in your hair, like Dad.” 

Zuko grins and knows the warmth he feels flooding his chest is only partly due to the sun, already receding back into the sea. 

Half a world away, on an island in the middle of the sea, the Prince of the Fire Nation writes a letter. 

His younger brother, wrapped in the false trappings of a pretender king, cannot see past the end of his nose, and dismisses the Prince’s long-distance Pai Sho games. 

It’s only Pai Sho, after all. It isn’t dangerous. 

The Prince writes in careful imperial script, describing his moves to his friend, who lives in the woods at the edge of the Earth Kingdom. 

The jasmine piece must be moved off the board; it has been deposed by the knotweed in the home port. 

I do wonder, old friend, if perhaps it has come time to utilize our long-forgotten white lotus tile. 

“Wanna go penguin sledding with me?”

“Uh, sure!” Katara says brightly.

Zuko exchanges a look with Sokka over her head, and Sokka pulls his boomerang out of its sheath.

“Cool!” The boy jumps lightly to his feet. “Do you guys live around here?”

“Don’t answer that-” Sokka says roughly. “He’s probably a spy for the Fire Navy.”

Katara whirls around and fixes him with a dead stare. “Oh, sure, look at the evil look in his eye.” She says, gesturing back at the boy, who grins widely, still floating on one foot as though he’s weightless.

“They can look cute and still be deadly, Katara, I know you’ve seen polar bear pups-“

“You’re an airbender.” Zuko interrupts his brother, staring at the boy.

“Sure am!” He says, then gasps and scrambles back up the ice wall he just slid down, yelling, “Appa!”

Katara takes off around the wall, and Sokka groans as they follow her. A massive, hulking beast lies in the ice, and has just opened its grey eyes as they round the corner.

“I’m so glad you’re okay, buddy,” the boy croons, throwing his arms around the beast’s nose.

“Air bison.” Zuko says numbly. Sokka turns and looks at him suspiciously.

“How do you know that?” He asks. Zuko shrugs, and Sokka rolls his eyes. “Right, right, of course, mysterious forgotten past and all that shit. I forgot. Giant beams of light, boys in ice that definitely should be frozen, air bison- I think I have midnight sun madness. I’m going home.”

Katara catches his arm before he takes another step.

“The paranoid wacko here is my brother Sokka, and that one is my other brother, Zuko. You never told us your name?” She says to the boy, who hops off the bison’s head and lands on the ice lightly.

“I’m Aang! And this is Appa.” He pats the bison’s fur. Aang looks around at the water surrounding them on all sides. “I could give you guys a ride, if you like!”

“We’d love one!” Katara says, and turns to narrow her eyes at Sokka. “Unless you wanna wait for another ride.”

“Fine.” Sokka says, and waves his boomerang threateningly in the kid’s face. “But don’t try anything.”

Aang stares down the point of the boomerang and shrugs.

“Okay. Hop on!”

The flying bison refuses to fly, so they end up on the beast’s back as it wades through the cold arctic water. Sokka sulks in the back of the saddle, and Katara is up front, chattering away with the boy. Zuko sits next to his brother, good ear tilted towards the front of the saddle.

Something is off about the way Aang talks to Katara. It’s stilted and foreign and oddly formal, though it rolls off of Aang’s tongue as naturally as Bato could tie knots one-handed. He uses older words Zuko has never heard spoken aloud, that only seem vaguely familiar, like they wouldn’t be out of place in an outdated play.

“All the airbenders are dead.” He says quietly to Sokka.

“I know.” Sokka says, examining the edge of his boomerang.

“The Fire Nation killed all of them a hundred years ago. All of them.”

“I know.”

“So you’re not the least bit curious about how an airbender came to be in the South Pole, with an air bison?”

“Zuko!” Sokka throws down his boomerang. “All I know is he’s bad news, and we need to get back to the village and away from him.”

Zuko stares at his brother for a second, before he crawls up to the front of the saddle.

“The Avatar was an airbender,” Katara is telling Aang, whose shoulders immediately stiffen up. “Did you know him?”

“Uh, no!” Aang says unconvincingly. “Never met the guy!”

“What temple did you say you were from again?” Zuko asks.

“The Southern Air Temple! It’s really beautiful there- though I sort of left without telling Gyatso…” Aang’s shoulders slump back down. “He’s probably really worried.”

He turns to look at Zuko, eyes raking over his hair, his face, and only settle on his scar for a second before he looks away. Zuko’s stomach clenches, and he waits for the onslaught.

“Your hair’s cool!” Aang says, gesturing up at the gold piece. “I’ve never seen hair like that before!” 

“It’s been like that as long as I can remember,” Zuko shrugs, and it’s technically not a lie. 

“You look like my friend Kuzon,”  Aang says. “His eyes looked a lot like yours. But he was Fire Nation, not Water Tribe.”

“He’s adopted.” Katara says, a note of defensiveness rising in her tone. Zuko squeezes her wrist, silently willing her to stay calm.

“When did you leave the temple?” Zuko asks him quietly.

“I don’t know, a few days ago. Why? What’s today’s date?” Aang asks, stretching.

“Uh, it’s nearly spring.” Katara says, strangled.

“That’s not possible.” Aang says, and turns around. “No, I, uh, I left late summer. That’s not possible-”

“What year was it, when you left?”

“345, past the era of Yangchen?” Aang says, like this should be obvious.

Zuko’s mouth feels dry. That method of dating hasn’t been used in- 

Well, a century.

“Aang,” Katara says gently. “It’s been nearly a hundred years since then.”

“What?” Aang says disbelievingly. “No. That’s not possible.”

“I’m really sorry-” Katara moves to comfort him, but Aang jerks away.

“I’d like to be alone for a minute, if that’s okay.” He says roughly.

“Of course.” Katara says, and she and Zuko move back to Sokka, who’s curled up asleep by the edge of the saddle.

“How are we supposed to tell him?” Katara whispers to Zuko. “How do you tell someone all their people are dead? How is he even alive?”

Zuko shakes his head. “I have no idea. But, I think-” He looks up. Aang’s tattooed head is bowed down, his hands deep in the thick white fur of the bison. “Katara, I think he’s the Avatar.”

The maybe-Avatar falls asleep holding the reins, so when they reach the village, Zuko shakes Sokka awake, then gently lifts up Aang, deposits him on Hakoda’s long-unused bedroll, and throws a fur over his woefully-thin robes while Sokka and Katara go to track down Kanna.

When Zuko emerges back out from the hut, something small and speedy accosts him around the knees.

“Panuk!” Zuko scolds, hoisting him up and holding him in front of his face. “Dude, how many times have I told you not to do that?”

Panuk hums I don’t know, and tugs on Zuko’s beads like he used to when he was young. “Who was that boy you were carrying?”

“His name is Aang,” Zuko puts him back down and tugs down his ridden-up anorak. “And he’s sleeping, so you and Aake leave him alone, okay?”

Panuk huffs and seems about to argue, but Yura, washing seaweed outside her hut, says sternly,

“Panuk, listen to Zuko.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Panuk mumbles resignedly, and takes off down the way towards where Aake and one of the younger girls have started a snowball fight.

“Another child found out on the ice, huh?” Yura says, her tone slightly teasing. Zuko groans and walks over, picking up a wad of seaweed and dunking it in the water.

“Can’t be worse than me,” Zuko tells her. “Bato once told me he almost started a fight in the meetinghouse that night.”

Yura chuckles. “He did. If Hakoda wasn’t there to calm him down, I think the makeup of our tribe would look very different.”

They work in silence for a few minutes, and Zuko surreptitiously warms the water with steam, allowing the repetitive motion to clear the thoughts swirling in his head.

“He’s an airbender.” Zuko says quietly, so the kids won’t hear. “Katara and Sokka went to find Kanna, but-”

“If the Fire Nation find out,” Yura says, and trails off, staring out in the white snow. Zuko takes the seaweed from her still hands and lays it out on the cloth to dry. She eventually shakes her head and smiles vacantly at Zuko.

“It’ll be okay.” She says. The constant sun burns hot on his scar, and Zuko takes a deep breath to steady himself.

“I hope so.” He says.

Aang sleeps for nearly sixteen hours, prompting plenty of “maybe-he’s-also-a-firebender” jokes from Sokka, which stop only when Zuko blows steam directly in his face. When he wakes up, he immediately shows off his glider in front of nearly the entire tribe, endearing him to all the kids, and definitely off-putting him to Kanna, and then takes off with Katara to go penguin sledding. 

Zuko watches them leave, Katara giggling like he hasn’t heard in over a year. When they come back, long after dinner time, Katara’s hair is wind-swept and her eyes are bright, and Zuko can’t bring himself to remind her that she was supposed to help Sanna with lessons today.

She deserves a break, after all.

Kanna calls an emergency meeting of the elders, which, at this point, consists of her, Iola, Sanna, Yura, and a few others, and that leaves Zuko and Sokka to make dinner for the hut. Zuko hands Aang a bowl of soup, then sits back down to eat his own.

“Aang and I went on the warship today.” Katara says nonchalantly around a mouthful of reindeer.

Sokka’s eyes go comically wide as he spits out his soup into the fire. “You did what?” He demands.

“Katara, that thing could be booby-trapped!” Zuko adds.

“It was!” Aang chirps. “But we didn’t set any of them off.”

“You idiot!” Sokka yells. “What if I just march right on over the meetinghouse and tell Gran-gran-”

“Fine! I’ll tell her about that time you and Zuko found Dad and Bato’s Earth Kingdom liquor-”

Zuko pales. He and Sokka had been hungover for nearly two days after that particular incident. If Kanna finds out, they’re as good as dead.

“Okay, okay, shut up-” Zuko holds up a hand between them, but it’s not enough to stop Sokka, who’s on a definite roll.

“How could you be so reckless? And you!” Sokka pivots to Aang, who immediately shrinks back. “I don’t care if you’re the Avatar or whatever, you can’t just put my baby sister in danger-”

“I’m fourteen, I’m not a baby-”

“Who said I’m the Avatar?” Aang’s voice is an octave higher than normal. “I-I’m not the Avatar.”

“Aren’t you?” Zuko crosses his arms. He may feel bad for the kid, but Sokka has a point. That warship is dangerous, and Katara shouldn’t have been on there.

Aang stares down into his soup. “Yes.” He says quietly. “I am.”

Katara gasps. Zuko hadn’t actually been expecting him to admit it- he wasn’t even completely sure he was right.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Katara asks.

“I never wanted to be.” Aang says. “I- it’s sort of why I ran away.”

“But don’t you see?” Katara says excitedly. “The whole world thinks you’re gone! We could- you could help stop the Fire Nation!”

“But I still don’t get it! How could the Fire Nation turn bad, all of a sudden? Everything was fine when I left!”

“That was a hundred years ago,” Zuko says bluntly, to cover the guilt that’s churning in his stomach. “It’s not fine anymore. The world needed you.”

“But I don’t know how to be the Avatar!” Aang throws his hands in the air. “I’m supposed to restore balance to the world, but I don’t even know how to bend anything but air!”

“I’m a waterbender!” Katara says. “And Zuko’s a firebender- we could help!”

“Katara, neither of you know how to actually bend anything.” Sokka says, scowling.

“Don’t be mad you’re the only non-bender-”

“No, he has a point.” Zuko interrupts what’s sure to be a long and scathing monologue. “Katara you don’t really know how to bend, and I don’t even know how I know how to firebend, and I definitely don’t know enough to teach someone else.”

“Then we’ll find someone to teach us.” Katara says determinedly. “We could- we could go to the Northern Water Tribe!”

“Well, you’re sure as hell not going alone. If you go, Zuko and I are coming.” Sokka says. “And are we just supposed to leave the village undefended?”

“Why not? It’s what Dad did-”

“Katara!” Zuko yells, and Aang scrambles back as the fire jumps.

“Katara, stop” Sokka says firmly. “Come on, that’s not fair. He’s trying to end the war.”

There’s a long silence, in which Zuko stares into the fire, trying to calm his breathing, Sokka and Katara don’t meet each other’s shiny eyes, and Aang seems to be very uncomfortable.

“Let’s just get some sleep.” Sokka says eventually, when it’s clear no one is going to apologize to each other. “We’ll figure things out in the morning.”

Zuko steals out of the hut when everyone’s breathing evens out and sits outside, closing his eyes and letting the midnight sun wash over his skin. Something Aang said is sitting funny in his brain, and he can’t quite figure out why. Light footsteps come up on the right, and Zuko cracks open his eyes to find Kanna, returning from the meetinghouse.

“How did the meeting go?” he asks as Kanna sits next to him.

“An airbender in the village,” She says. “Oh, it went about as well as when my son found you.” 

Zuko stares out on the frozen ocean, the sun reflecting bright off the waves. “He’s the Avatar.” He says, after a while.

“I know.” Kanna says.

“You know?” Zuko says, whipping his head around to stare at her.

“Avatar spirits are different from mortal spirits, child. I can tell.” Kanna says. “Just like I could tell you’re spirit touched.”

Zuko feels very exposed, all of a sudden. Hakoda had told him years ago about his supposed spirit connection to the Sun, but Zuko still doesn’t know what to make of it. He doesn’t feel very spirit-touched. Why would a spirit wipe his memories and drop him at the South Pole?

Except- except, Aang had said-

“Restore balance to the world.” Zuko says quietly. His throat feels raw, and his scar pricks painfully. “That’s what Aang said he was meant to do. I-I think, I think I’m supposed to help him. I think it’s why I’m-” He touches the gold strands that fall far past his shoulders. “I think it’s why I was put here?”

Kanna makes a noncommittal sound.

“I can’t answer that for you, Zuko. I know what I know. But in my many years of living, I’ve learned that you should trust your instincts when it comes to the spirits. If you think you need to help the Avatar, then so be it.” 

Zuko stares into the never-ending sun, and hopes to Tui his intuition is right, for once.

They leave the South Pole a few days later, loading Appa up with sleeping bags, their summer clothes, and dried foods. Kanna hadn’t taken much convincing to allow all of them to go, as Katara had threatened to take off in the middle of the night if she didn’t let them. 

Kanna hugs them tightly and thumbs a moon blessing on each of their foreheads.

“Be safe and may the spirit of Tui and La go with you.” She says as Aang hops onto Appa’s head. “When you reach the Northern Tribe, ask for Yugoda. She is an old friend of mine, and will shelter you. But be aware,” she looks seriously at Sokka and Zuko. “They do things differently, up there. It’s why I left.”

“We’ll keep everyone safe,” Zuko says firmly. “I promise.” 

Kanna hugs them all again before they climb onto the bison and take off into the bright blue sky. 

Zuko turns and watches the village grow smaller and smaller- the place he had called home for the past four years, and the only home he ever knew- until the white of the huts and the walls is indistinguishable from the surrounding snow. 

Zuko turns his face back towards the sun.

Traveling with the Avatar is...interesting, to say the least. Aang is as flighty and fickle as Zuko can never remember being, and yet, weighed down with an impossible sadness that sometimes leaks out around the cracks of his perpetual grin.

After the horrifying stop that is the Southern Air Temple- and Zuko feels a coward, but he’s almost relieved he didn’t have to explain to Aang what happened to his people- no one fights it when Aang announces he wants to ride a giant Unagi by Kyoshi Island. 

That is, no one fights it till a group of warriors swoop in and capture them effortlessly, only removing their hoods after they’re tied to a pole. 

“‘Let’s go ride the giant Unagi, Sokka!’ he says,” Sokka whines to Aang, tied up next to him, who sticks out his tongue. “‘It’ll be fun, Sokka!’, he says.” 

“I didn’t expect to be captured by...” Aang frowns and stares at the people in front of them. The green and gold of their elaborate dress is oddly familiar to Zuko- even the dramatic war paint the girls in front of them are sporting seems as though he should be able to identify them by it. 

“Who are you guys?” Aang asks.

“I’ll be asking the questions, actually.” One of the girls steps forward, whipping a fan out of her belt in a fluid motion. “Kyoshi Island is neutral territory. State your business, or we’ll feed you to the Unagi.” 

Sokka huffs. “Look, take us to whoever actually captured us, we don’t have time for-”

“We captured you.” The girl says, and the razor-sharp edge of the fan gets close enough to Sokka’s dumb mouth that Zuko has to actively shove down the flames that appear on his palms. He’ll fight his way out of here if he has to, but, honestly, he’d rather not scar Katara more than necessary.

“Don’t say it.” Katara warns Sokka, who, predictably, doesn’t listen.

“No, you didn’t,” Sokka says dismissively. “you’re just a bunch of girls.”

“This bunch of girls are the Kyoshi Warriors, asshole.” The girl snarls, grabbing Sokka’s tunic and hoisting him up by it. “You better rethink your answer unless you were planning on going for a swim.”

“No!” Zuko says, and hopes smoke doesn’t wisp out from behind his teeth. “Please excuse my brother- he’s an idiot, but he doesn’t mean anything by it.” 

The girl looks over Zuko, her black eyebrows raised in surprise, but drops Sokka.

“Kyoshi warriors?” Aang asks. “I know Kyoshi!”

“Impossible, Kyoshi died over 400 years ago.” A man dressed in dark blue scoffs.

“Well, I didn’t know her, but I sort of am her.” Aang says, grinning. “She’s one of my past lives! I didn’t want to say anything, but, you see, I’m the Avatar!”

The girl actually laughs and whips out her other fan. ”No one’s seen the Avatar in a century. Unagi time! Girls-”

“Aang, now would be a good time for you to airbend!” Katara grits out.

“Oh, right!” Aang says, like he’s just remembered he could do that. He jumps up and out of the ropes, which immediately break, and runs up the pole they were bound to, before flipping back down effortlessly.

“An airbender.” The man says in a hushed tone. “The Avatar’s returned.”

“Sure have!” Aang chirps. “And if you think that was impressive, watch this!” He whips out his marbles and begins spinning them between his palms, a shit-eating grin on his face.

“Are we sure he’s the Avatar?” Sokka asks, rubbing his shoulders.

“You know of another airbender who somehow survived a hundred years on ice?” Zuko asks him dryly as he pulls Katara up from the ground and helps her fix her windswept braid.

“Not yet.” Sokka says. “But give it time. Our life has already been so godsdamn weird. It might as well happen.” 

Kyoshi Island is actually somewhat pleasant when no one’s trying to actively kill them. They’re given a guest house in the middle of the small town square, and Zuko marvels at the bath adjacent to the sleeping room. He hasn’t taken a full bath since- well, since he can’t remember when. After a full-hearty breakfast, Katara and Aang take off to the market to get supplies.

“Hey,” Zuko nudges Sokka, who’s still fully wrapped in every blanket on his pallet. “Let’s go.”

“Go where?” Sokka sticks his face out. “This stupid island doesn’t have anything on it. We should just leave.”

“Spirits, Sokka, are you seriously embarrassed-”

“I’m not embarrassed.” Sokka says loudly.

“What does it even matter if it was a girl who kicked your ass?” Zuko throws his hands up in the air. 

“I just said I’m not embarrassed,” Sokka scowls and ducks under his covers again. “I just don’t wanna get up. Go by yourself, jerkbender.” 

Zuko rolls his eyes, but gets up, giving his brother a light kick to the shoulder before he throws on his parka and heads out.

They’re far enough from the South now that the sun rises and sets at predictable times, which is throwing Zuko off. He keeps waking up in the middle of the night and expecting to see pale light coming through the window. When he only finds dark, it strikes him with an odd pang of homesickness. Though this- the sun warm on his face like it almost never was back home, bright and steady and high in the sky- this, he could get used to. He wanders up through the village, spotting Katara and Aang bickering by a fruit stand, and weathering the stares from the villagers, until he reaches a small dojo on the outside of the village. 

The girls are practicing inside, moving their fans through complex katas as fluidly as water, and Zuko can’t help but watch. The palms of his hands are itching for weapons, but all he has is his boomerang strapped to his back. Somehow, as he watches the girls swing their fans from both hands, balanced and natural, that seems inadequate. 

The girl who threatened Sokka catches his eye, and immediately drops her fans, and Zuko flushes and turns away. Maybe he should go back to the room to drag Sokka out of bed so they can check on Appa- 

“Take a five minute break, guys!” The girl says, and then calls out to him, “Hey, wait up!”

Zuko stops and turns around. “Uh, sorry,” he manages to stammer out. “I-I just- you guys are really skilled.”

The girl’s red lips quirk into an amused smile.

“Your brother doesn’t seem to think so.”

“He’s an idiot.” Zuko says quickly. “Seriously, Sokka’s not really like that, I promise.”

“Guess I’ll have to take your word for it. I’m Suki, by the way.” The girl says.

“Zuko.”

“I have to get back to my girls,” Suki waves back in the direction of the dojo, where two of the girls seem to be in a handstand contest involving placing their fans directly underneath their suspended face as motivation. Suki stares at them and sighs. “Suyin and Pema have death wishes, I swear. Anyways, tell your brother to stop by, if he wants to know how a bunch of girls kicked his ass.”

There’s a terrifying glint in Suki’s violet-blue eyes that makes Zuko think it’s probably best to leave Sokka to his fate, whatever it is. Zuko heads off towards the village as Suki steps back into the dojo and immediately starts yelling.

They end up spending a few days in Kyoshi to refuel and restock their supplies. In the afternoon of the third day, Zuko walks into their room and finds it empty, save for Katara, who’s hunched over her amauti with a needle and thread.

“Hey,” he greets her, putting down a bag of groceries. “Where are Sokka and Aang?”

“Sokka went to find that girl again. And Aang’s probably getting eaten by the Unagi.” Katara mutters. The needle slips and she hisses as she stabs her palm. Zuko rolls his eyes and crouches down, pulling the needle and thread out of her hands.

“Why are you two fighting?” He asks. Katara crosses her arms, and Zuko sits down next to her to finish stitching up the rip in her hem.

“We’re not fighting, and I don’t care, anyways.”

“Don’t care about what?” Zuko asks blankly.

“He gave me this whole “I’m a simple monk, I don’t care about praise or anything” routine. and then as soon as those girls showed him any attention, he totally jumped at it!” Katara flings her hands up in indignation. The water jug in the corner sloshes over the brim and soaks Sokka’s empty bedroll. 

“Sounds like maybe you do care.” Zuko says, and knots off the thread.

Katara flushes pink and stomps away from him, looking out the windows. “I do not.”

“Whatever.” Zuko puts her amauti on the bedroll. “He’s a bald twelve-year-old, how suave can he be?” 

Katara points out the window, and Zuko can distantly hear a roar of high-pitched squeals. He stands up to find the unmistakable orange figure of the Aang whipping up the road from the bay, followed by the small blue blurs with long hair and kerchiefs.

“Huh.” Zuko says. “Maybe a little bit.”

Katara stomps on his foot.

But as the throng gets closer, the squeals sound less excited and more...terrified? Aang seems to be waving his arms, and as he spots them in the window, he cups his hands over his mouth to shout something. 

“What’s he saying?” Zuko asks, tilting his good ear towards the window.

“Something’s wrong.” Katara gasps. She grabs his wrist and drags him towards the door. 

The girls have dispersed by the time they make it downstairs, and Aang is gasping for breath by the doorway, pointing at the bay. “Some- someone’s coming.” He pants. “Fire Nation.”

Zuko’s blood turns icy and Katara pales.

“Where’s Sokka?” He asks urgently. “We need to go-“

“I’m here!” Sokka yells behind them, and Zuko whips around to find two Kyoshi Warriors running down the road.

Zuko looks a little closer. One Kyoshi Warrior, and Sokka. 

“Nice makeup,” Katara says, eyebrow raised.

“Shut up, it’s war paint.”  Sokka growls and waves her off. “Can we focus on the Fire Navy ship? Suki and I saw it from the dojo.”

“It’s Zhao. It has to be.” Suki says grimly. 

“Who?” Aang asks.

“He’s an Admiral.” Suki says, eyes fixed on the horizon. “Kyoshi Island has been neutral for over a hundred years, but every few months that asshole lands here and demands we trade with him, or…”

“Or what?” Sokka asks, voice thin. Suki shakes her head and gestures at the village around them, built up on wood and paper and very flammable linen. 

Zuko swallows thickly, and thinks his decision to hide his firebending was probably the only smart one he’s made in years.

“I’m getting him out of here.” He says, whipping his boomerang out of its hold.

“Uh, hey, stupid-“ Sokka grabs his arm and pulls him around. “Were you planning on going alone?” 

Zuko stares at him for a second. “Yes?”

“Have I ever told you that you’re an idiot?”

“Yes, Katara, you have -“

“Guys,” Aang said nervously, eyes on the road. “Now is not the time.”

“Hold on, Aang, I’m going now, I just-“

“YOU! GIRL!” A booming voice erupts from the edge of the market, and a shock travels up Zuko’s spine. He knows that voice, he knows that-

“Colonel Zhao.” He breaths, staring at the imposing man in full Fire Nation uniform. A small regiment of soldiers stay in formation behind him. The man’s gold eyes flit over him, and he laughs.

“Admiral Zhao, little half-breed.” He focuses on Zuko’s scar a moment too long, and a lump appears in his throat. To his right, he watches Sokka grip his boomerang tighter. 

“Spirits, I feel bad for whatever fine Fire Nation specimen mated with a savage to produce such an ugly-“

“Hey!” Katara yells, eyes narrowed. Her hand is positioned over her water skin.

“What do you want, Zhao?” Suki says, stepping out in front of all of them with a decisive wave of her fans. “I told you, this port is neutral. Pick up your supplies and leave.”

“Ah-ah, little girl.” Zhao lets a small flame dance over his fingertips. Zuko feels his own chi lines grow hot in response. “I’m just very interested in why a half-breed is traveling with savages and-“ he glances at Aang, his lip curled. “Whatever that is. Especially a half-breed with a scar like that. Your father must have grown sick of you-“

Something white-hot and overpowering surges up in Zuko’s chest, and he’s striding forward, one hand reaching out before he realizes what he’s doing.

“Zuko, no-” Sokka grabs his arm and yanks him back.

Zhao raises an eyebrow. “The little mutt has a dead prince’s name, no less! This just gets more interesting by the second.”

“Zhao, get your shit and go-” Suki snarls.

Zhao laughs. The flame on his hand grows bigger and bigger, and Suki’s mouth clamps shut. “I believe we’ll be taking what we need, on the house, today.” He says, and gestures at the soldiers behind him. They disperse through-out the market, turning over stalls and taking whole baskets of vegetables. Suki stares at them with a grimly resigned look on her face.

“You, though, I’m still very interested in!” Zhao takes a step forward, and Zuko has to take several breaths through his nose to stay calm when the man yanks on his wolf’s tail so that Zuko is forced to meet his eyes. 

“My, my, what a pretty face,” Zhao croons. “A pity about that scar, though.”

He reaches up, as though to pet his cheek. Zuko takes a deep breath in and exhales fire.

He hears Aang yelp in surprise behind him. Zhao roars in anger, hands over his eyes, and Zuko immediately sweeps the man’s feet out from under him, and shoves, hard.

Zhao falls back onto the cobblestone, and Zuko has approximately one second to whip around and meet Sokka’s crazed stare, Katara pulled close to him, before he hears Zhao scream,

“Burn it to the ground!”

“Ah, fuck.” Suki says. She pulls a small whistle out from under her robes, blows hard and fast, and then whisks out her fans and takes off towards the nearest soldier.

Zuko shakes himself as the smell of smoke begins to fill the marketplace, and he can hear shrieks of fear from inside one of the near houses.

“We have to help!” Aang shouts. He speeds towards the yells on a gust of wind, and Zuko runs towards a stall already ablaze.

Time doesn’t appear to move in its normal linear manner. Zuko jumps between long moments, using firebending moves he didn’t know he was capable of, and quick blurs of action, blood and sweat and smoke blending together until he doesn’t know where one stops and the other begins.

A high-pitched scream rips from the small schoolhouse. Zuko pulls his head up and runs towards it, ripping away the screen. One of the girls who’d been hanging around Aang is cowering in a corner, arms over her head. A soldier dressed in black is advancing towards her with a hand lit up in bright red, searing whites.

“You piece of shit-” Zuko snarls, wrenching the soldier away by his shoulder and throwing him on the ground. “Run!” He yells to the little girl, who scrambles up and out the door with a choked sob. 

He kneels on the soldier’s chest, barreling fists and elbows and any hard thing he can find into the soldier’s nameless helmet. Zuko catches a knuckle under the faceplate and knocks it off. 

The soldier underneath his grasp can’t be much older than Zuko or Sokka, his skin still pockmarked with acne. Zuko meets his dark eyes for one, timeless, confused second, before the soldier lets out a strangled yell and a ball of hot, branding flames comes up and-

directly at

Zuko’s face.

“You will learn respect, and suffering will be your teacher!”

“Uncle- Uncle, it hurts, make it stop-”

“I know, I know, I’m so sorry, child,”

Heat blisters his skin, cracks his eye, muffles his hearing, sears every nerve ending until there is nothing in Zuko’s consciousness but pain, pain, pain-

“ZUKO!”

The weight on his chest gets thrown off, and Zuko blinks hard to find Suki kicking away the body of the soldier. There’s a smear of blood on her white cheek and her teeth are bared. 

“Are you alright?” She asks, kneeling down. Zuko shakes his head, just reaches up, and feels himself relax slightly when he finds only the rough, healed edges of his scar instead of a pulsing chasm of burning coal. 

“I-” He croaks out. Another scream cuts him off from outside, and Zuko’s stomach clenches. 

“Katara!” He yells hoarse and bolts for the door. 

Half the marketplace is either ashes or burning steadily towards its final state. Zuko looks around wildly, finding Katara on the ground with Sokka running towards her. 

Aang is advancing towards a group of stray soldiers, Zhao at the forefront, and the wind is picking up around him.

“You HURT HER!” He yells.

Zuko throws up his hands over his face as a gale force sweeps through the street. Aang’s tattoos and eyes glow a blinding white, and he lifts straight off the ground as the winds seem to surround him with a ferocity that would terrify Zuko if he had room in his brain for anything other than sheer adrenaline. 

Aang lets out a roar that echos up the mountain, and the soldiers scramble down the street, tripping over themselves. Aang, still lifted directly off the ground, chases them down. The waves in the harbor seem to swell higher as Aang draws closer, and he eventually disappears over the horizon with his manmade storm surrounding him. 

“Katara?” Sokka asks, and his voice breaks. That’s enough to break Zuko from his reverie, and he slides on his knees in front of his sister.

“What happened?” He asks urgently.

Katara shakes her head, her lip bit tight between her teeth, and sticks out her wrist. A large bright red burn, already blistering, wraps around her dark skin.

“Oh,” Sokka says, staring at it. “Oh-”

“I’m okay!” Katara insists through the tears that cloud her eyes. “I’m okay, really!”

“She needs cool water,” Suki says, and takes off into a nearby building.

Zuko carefully pulls back her sleeve. Katara takes in a sharp breath as part of the cloth gets caught in the raw skin of her burn, and Sokka wraps a tight arm around her shoulders. Suki comes back out with a filled bucket and places it in front of Katara. Zuko finishes rolling up her sleeve, and reaches forward to tuck some stray hair behind her ears.

“This is gonna hurt,” He says quietly and tries not to think about the other, far more painful, burn care she is sure to need later. Katara nods once and turns into Sokka’s shoulder. Zuko carefully guides her wrist into the bucket.

As he submerges her arm, the water begins to glow a white-blue and surrounds her forearm. Katara gasps and yanks her arm back out. The skin is whole and healed, with not even a shadow of red to indicate that a burn was there. 

“What-” Katara says, staring at her arm.

“You’re a healer.” Zuko says, dumb-founded. “You can heal using waterbending.”

“How…”

Sokka roughly pulls her head to his chest and drops a kiss on her hair as she continues staring at her skin. “I have never been more grateful for your stupid woo-woo magic.” He says, voice thick, and Zuko huffs a wet laugh.

The creaking sounds of folding metal come from the harbor. A great wave swells out from the dock, and with it, a battered Fire Nation ship.

“We need to go.” Zuko says, and looks over at Suki.

“Go. My girls and I can handle any clean up.” She says. Suki pulls Sokka up by his robes and kisses him quick and firm, before she takes off down the street, yelling, “Be safe!” 

Sokka watches her go with a vacant stare in his eyes. “What just happened,”

Katara snorts, wipes her eyes, and pulls him off the ground. “I think- correct me if I’m wrong- you just had your first kiss.” 

Another loud squealing sound comes from the harbor, followed by a roar of thunder, and Katara pulls Zuko up, too. 

“We need to go, and now.”

They swoop low on Appa and pick up Aang’s nearly prone form where it’s crumpled on the docks, and head in the opposite direction of the metal ship, now several miles off the coast of the island. 

Katara wraps Aang, still mostly out of it, in blankets and climbs on Appa’s head to take the reins while Sokka finishes removing his Kyoshi makeup. Zuko watches him carefully wrap the headpiece in one of his undershirts and place it in his bag.

“So I guess you and Suki made up?” He asks.

Sokka nods. “Yeah. I was, uh, I was an ass.”

“A little bit.” Zuko agrees, and gets a punch to his shoulder for his efforts.

Sokka tilts his head at him. “Are you alright?” He asks and gestures up at his nose. “You’ve got, like, a bad sunburn.”

Zuko reaches up and gingerly feels the tender skin around his cheek. It really only hurts on his unscarred side; the rough skin around his left eye has never felt, well, anything, very well.

 “I got burned.” He says shortly. “it, uh-”

He stops. He still hasn’t made sense of everything that transpired in the past few hours- the disjointed fragments of pain and yelling that bounced around his skull as the flames licked his face. 

“You should get Katara to heal you.” Sokka says. “Weird what Zhao said, huh?”

Zuko blinks. “What did Zhao say?”

“You’ve got the name of a dead prince?” Sokka frowns and raps on Zuko’s forehead. “You okay there, buddy? Hit your head on the ice again?”

Zuko scowls and throws his brother’s hand off. “Shut up.” he says, and then, after a beat, “It is weird.”

But not as weird as Zuko thinks, perhaps, it should be.

Hundreds of miles away, somewhere in the Earth Kingdom

Hakoda resists the urge to give a great sigh of contentment as the bartender slides a beer in front of him. He downs half the bottle before Bato forces it back down the table.

“Okay, take it easy there, Koda.” Bato chuckles.

“Three months at sea, Bato.” Hakoda says into his beer. “I never thought I’d miss the land so much.” 

There’s a great roar from the corner, where Tulok and Amaruq are taking their first shots of sake. 

“I think the men agree with your decision to take leave, Chief.” Bato says solemnly. “I feel like we ought to plan you a feast in your great chiefly honor.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Hakoda says, and shoves a bottle at his best friend. “And drink.”

“Aye aye, Captain.”

“You folks Earth Kingdom Navy?” The bartender asks.

Hakoda stiffens. “Southern Water Tribe. We’re helping the Earth Kingdom out.” He says shortly.

The bartender nods and pulls out a rag to wipe down the glasses in front of him.

“That works, too. Been looking for a way to get this information to someone who could use it.”

Hakoda glances at Bato and puts his beer down. “What information?”

“There’s a Fire Nation colony a few klicks south of here. We get traders passing through here from there, so I hear this and that.” The bartender pauses and looks around before he leans forward. “Rumor has it there’s trouble brewing under the surface in that town. Ever since Prince Zuko was killed-”

“Sorry,” Hakoda interrupts. Bato grips his shoulder tight. “Prince who?”

“Prince Zuko?” The bartender says in a bemused tone. “Crown Prince of the Fire Nation? Most everyone knows at this point- he was killed by his father in ritual combat a few years back."

He holds a hand up in front of his left eye, grimacing. "Some say the Fire Lord burned the kid's face clean off."

Aang recovers quickly, and within a day, they’re back on Appa, jumping from place to place with- it seems to Zuko- no real plan or sense of urgency. 

 “Omashu?” Zuko blinks. “What the hell’s an Omashu?” 

“A prison barge? Seriously? Honestly, Katara, do you have any plans that don’t, like, end with you in danger and Zuko and I almost dying?”

“Nope.” 

"This isn't just because you have a crush on Ha-" 

"Nope."

“Oh good, a comet that gives firebenders crazy power! No way the Fire Lord will use that to do something horrible, right?” 

“Pirates, Katara?” 

“What? It’s not like I stole it- they took it from us, first, so really, I was just making repa-”

“Pirates, Katara?” 

“On Agni, Sokka, I didn’t see him take the stupid wheat out of his mouth once.” 

“Shut up.” 

“What was even up with his eyebrows?”

“Aang! Not you too!” 

“Hey!” Aang skids up to a message board. “There’s a festival the town over!”

Zuko peers at the board, hoisting his bag higher on his shoulder. “Oh, look-” He pulls down a poster of Aang. “And they’ve already started their artistic interpretations.”

“Cool! A poster of me!” Aang yanks it out of his hands.

“A wanted poster. I don’t think going to a Fire Nation festival is a good idea.” Katara says.

“Why not?” Aang juts out his lower lip and makes big eyes at Katara, and Zuko raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. “We could learn about Fire Nation culture!”

"What's there to know?" Sokka grumbles. "They're bloodthirsty ashmakers." 

Zuko stills. "Shit- not you, Zuko, fuck, I'm sorry, you know I don't mean you-"

"Uh-huh." Zuko says. "I think we should go to the festival."

Sokka groans as Aang whoops in excitement.

Being surrounded by reds and blacks and golds is oddly nice, like coming home after a long hunting trip. People are wearing elaborate masks and singing rowdy songs in an old language that exists perpetually on the tip of Zuko's tongue. Katara locates a mask vendor and immediately selects masks for all of them, shoving a blue-and-white one making a grotesque expression at Zuko.

"He looks grumpy, like you." She says, slipping on her own mask.

"I'm not grumpy."

"Food!" Sokka gasps, and speeds towards a vendor on the side of the street. Zuko winces.

"Sokka, wait-“

"What are fire flakes? Eh, doesn't matter-"

Sokka's masked face goes red around the edges and he pulls off his mask to spit out a mouthful of food. "What the fuck ?" Sokka says, making grabby hands at Katara's water skin. "Why is it so hot?"

"Fire Nation food is pretty spicy," Aang says. "My friend Kuzon used to bring chili flakes with him when we traveled to any of the Temples, 'cause our food was too bland for him."

"Poison," Sokka gasps out, hands around his throat.

"Baby." Zuko rolls his eyes and grabs the fire flakes out of his hands, taking a handful. "These aren't even hot. Maybe if you had good taste, you'd like them"

Aang tilts his head at Zuko. "Didn't you grow up in the Southern Water Tribe?"

Zuko opens his mouth, realizes he doesn't actually have an answer. He's saved by Katara tugging on Aang's sleeve.

"Look, there's a huge crowd over there! What do you think is going on at that stage?"

"Knowing the Fire Nation, probably an execution." Sokka says darkly. Zuko shoves a fistful of fire flakes in his brother's mouth and pulls Katara's water skin out of his hands.

"Did you have to reveal yourself in front of an entire crowd of Fire Nation citizens?" Sokka pulls off his mask as they trudge through the forest, the mysterious cloaked man leading them. 

"He was going to firebend at Katara!" Aang says defensively.

"It was just a demonstration, she wouldn't have gotten hurt." Zuko says, but takes one look at Katara, who's got one hand wrapped around her healed wrist, and clamps his mouth shut. "You okay?" He asks her.

"Fine." Katara says, wrenching her eyes up and smiling thinly. "Just, uh, shook me, is all."

"Yeah." He says softly. He looks up at the back of the man who got them out, taking off his mask. "Who are you, anyways?" 

The man glances around the forest and pulls off his hood. His eyes are unmistakably copper, and Zuko narrows his own.

"My name's Chey." He says.

"You're a Fire Nation soldier." Sokka says harshly.

"Was," Chey corrects quickly. "I deserted a few years back."

"You did...what?" Zuko asks, taken aback. He doesn't know much about the Fire Nation, but the idea of someone deserting the military seems impossible.

"Yeah," Chey says, and turns ahead. There's a small mark on the back of his neck, raised and red, but Chey adjusts his hood before Zuko can get a good look. "I'm not the only one. I serve Jeong Jeong."

"General Jeong Jeong?" Zuko asks blankly. That doesn't make any sense, either.

Chey shakes his head, and his eyes seem to focus on Zuko's scar. 

"He's not a general anymore. We have a small base camp a few miles from here. I'll take you to see him."

Chey takes them to a small encampment on the bank of a river and deposits them in a room while he talks to Jeong Jeong. 

"How'd you know Jeong Jeong was a General?" Aang asks curiously. Zuko pulls his knees to his chest and stares into the fire in the middle of the room.

"I don't know. I just did." He says.

"How can you not know how you know something?"

"I just don't, okay?" Zuko yells. The fire jumps up. Katara moves her bag out of the way, and Aang stares at him, so he takes several deep breaths and closes his eyes till he feels the fire return to its normal level.

"Zuko," Sokka says. "Maybe you should just tell-"

"Can we not talk about this now?" Zuko interrupts roughly. The screen to the hut slides open and Chey comes back in.

"Avatar, Jeong Jeong has decided you're not ready to learn firebending yet."

"What?" Aang flies to his feet. "Why not?"

"You haven't mastered water and earth."

"How could he have known that?"

"He saw the way you walked into camp. You, though," He turns to Zuko, who steadfastly stares into the fire and ignores him. "He wants to talk to you."

"Good for him." Zuko mumbles.

"Zuko, come on." Aang tugs on his sleeve. "This is stupid, he has to train me, since you said yourself that your firebending isn't good enough yet-"

"You're a firebender?" Chey asks Zuko. 

The fire roars with Zuko's quickened heart, and that answers Chey's question well enough.

"Oh man, Jeong Jeong is definitely gonna want to talk to you. Come on, the Avatar can come, too."

Chey leads them to a hut on the edge of the river and ushers them through the door. A man sits in the middle of the darkened room, surrounded by lit candles, eyes closed as though he's meditating. His shock-white hair is certainly long enough for a top knot, but it hangs loose around his jaw, half covering the long, gashing scars that cross his face.

"Master Jeong Jeong," Aang bows, fisting one hand over a straight-up palm, and Zuko stares at it for a second before he does the same. "You won't train us?"

"Only a fool seeks his own destruction." Jeong Jeong rumbles. Zuko has to hold back a snort. Old men and their proverbs.

"I need to learn firebending. I'm the Avatar," Aang presses on. "It's my destiny-"

"Destiny?" The man lifts his head up. "What could a child know of destiny?"

"I'm the Avatar. I have to learn all the elements."

"To master the elements, you must first master discipline itself. Tell me, airbender, are you interested in discipline?"

Aang blinks.

"I mean, I guess. Please, you have to teach me. Zuko isn't a master, and I may not have another chance-"

"Are you deaf?" Jeong Jeong yells. "Before learning firebending, you have to learn water and earth. Water is cool and soothing, earth is steady and strong. But fire-" He stares at Zuko, eyes fixed unashamedly on the left side of his face. Zuko sets his jaw and stares back, raising his eyebrow. "Fire is alive. It breathes and grows.  If not checked, it will burn out of control and destroy everything in its path."

Aang stares ahead and gulps, and Zuko knows, somehow, that he is thinking of Katara and a handprint burned into her wrist.

"I know, Master." Aang bows his head. "I understand that fire is hard to control. But I need to learn."

Jeong stares at him, and it seems to Zuko that Aang's eyes glow for a second before they settle back into their normal gray.

"Very well. Meet me at the riverbank tomorrow at sunrise."

"Sunrise-" Aang begins to groan, but Zuko kicks his leg and he shuts up. "Yes, Master, thank you. "

Aang bows and Zuko stands up to leave with him.

"Not you, young firebender." Jeong Jeong says, holding up a hand. "I'd like a word with you."

Aang's eyes widen and he makes a move to sit back down, but Zuko waves him off.

As the door shuts behind Aang, Jeong Jeong sits straight up and looks steadily at Zuko.

"When Chey told me a Fire Nation boy dressed in Water Tribe clothes was traveling with the Avatar, I found it odd, but I would be naive to think that this war did not result in young casualties. And then Chey told me the boy’s name was Zuko, and furthermore, that he was scarred on his left side."

"And?" Zuko says stiffly.

Jeong Jeong raises one large eyebrow.

"How long were you in the South Pole?"

"Four years." Zuko crosses his arms.

"You have odd hair, Zuko." Jeong Jeong says. "Gold is not commonly found in the Fire Nation. Or the Water Tribes."

"It's just my hair." Zuko says. He grips the edges of his tunic. "What do you want from me?"

"What do you know of the Fire Nation Royal Family?" He asks. 

"I don't know! There's the Fire Lord, I guess, and the prince died a few years ago-?"

"Four years ago." Jeong Jeong says. "Crown Prince Zuko of the Fire Nation died four years ago."

Zuko's heart speeds up. Red and gold is starting to cloud his vision- cold floor beneath him and fire above him, someone screaming in his ear-

"You don't know anything-" he says roughly, as the candles jump with the stuttered breath in his lungs. "I'm Water Tribe. "

"Zuko-"

"Don't talk to me."

Zuko bolts up and runs before the candles can flare again and the hut catches flame.

Aang, predictably, complains throughout his entire first practice with Jeong Jeong.

Zuko itches to join, even as Aang simply stands at the top of a mountain and breaths deep, but every time Jeong Jeong looks at him, the pit in his stomach grows larger, so he stays far away, sitting on a rock with Chey and Sokka as Aang focuses on a burning leaf and Katara practices katas on the shore.

Chey's shed his heavy cloak, and he tilts his head up towards the sun, eyes closed. Zuko can finally make out the mark on his neck.

"Kindling." he says, sounding out the characters branded into Chey's skin. Chey cracks his eyes open.

"Yes," Chey says, touching the mark lightly.

"What does that mean?" Sokka asks, adjusting his line.

"I was a firebender in the Fire Nation military, up until about four years ago." Chey says. "Conscripted right out of my hometown when I was fifteen."

"You're a firebender," Zuko says as he watches Chey take in the sunlight like water for a parched man, and something clicks in his head.

"I am. All the firebenders from my town were taken." He cranes his neck so Zuko can make out the brand completely. "This was just to make sure we knew exactly where our place in the hierarchy was."

"What was it?"

"Front lines." Chey smiles, but there's no warmth behind it. "Kindling."

A heavy silence settles over them.

"That- that's horrible." Sokka says finally. "That's awful."

Chey shrugs.

"It is what it is. We were disposable to the Fire Nation military. I made it out alive, that's all I could have asked for. I can’t say the same for most of my division.” 

"What happened four years ago?" Sokka asks.

Chey glances over at Zuko before fixing his gaze on the river.

"The Crown Prince was killed."

"Why would that have-"

"He was twelve." Chey's voice hardened. "His father, the Fire Lord, killed him. He tried to frame it as treason, but what treason can a twelve-year-old commit?"

Zuko's throat feels impossibly small. He digs his nails into his wrist and wills himself to calm.

"Anyways, the truth was leaked from inside the Palace- no one really knows by who- that in reality, the prince had attempted to stop a division from being slaughtered as a diversion and was killed in an Agni Kai, and, well-" Chey gestures around the small encampment. "The rest is history."

"41st." Zuko hears it exit his mouth, but doesn't remember thinking it.

Chey nods, his eyes dark.

"I was in the 41st Division. Zuko-"

"You all need to go, NOW!" Jeong Jeong bursts onto the beach.

"What?" Aang yells. "Why?"

"An old student of mine has come to pay his respects." Jeong Jeong says grimly.

Zuko whips his head up. Zhao's ship is heading down the river, the asshole himself standing at the bridge.

"We can help fight!" Zuko says, jumping to his feet.

"No!" Jeong Jeong shouts. "You need to go. Chey and I can hold him. Get OUT of here!"

Aang meets Zuko's eyes for a quick second and he nods. As they're running out to the clearing where Appa is resting, Jeong Jeong catches Zuko's shoulder and stops him dead. 

"Your uncle misses you very much." He says, and it hits Zuko like a punch to the gut.

"I-I-" He stutters out, and closes his eyes. "I don't have an uncle."

Jeong Jeong squeezes his shoulder once, doesn't bother refuting him again, and gives him a push towards Sokka, who grabs his arm and pulls him towards the forest, as Zhao jumps off the boat onto the beach.

As Appa takes off and flies over the forest, Zuko looks down, and sees a wall of fire burning the encampment to the ground.

It's long past dark. Sokka and Katara are asleep, and Aang is sitting on Appa's head, his own head bowed, guiding them north. Zuko sighs, throws off his sleeping bag, and crawls over to him.

"Are you alright?" Zuko asks. Aang looks up and gives him one of those smiles that barely reaches his eyes.

"Fine." he says cheerily.

"You sure, Aang?"

"Oh yeah, Zuko, I'm okay. What's up?"

Zuko glances back at his siblings, dead asleep only a few feet away from each other, Zuko's abandoned sleeping bag in the middle, and takes a deep breath.

"Remember how you asked me about being raised in the Southern Water Tribe?"

"Yeah?"

"Well, I sort of wasn't..."

Iroh stares at the metal doors of Zhao's office, the letter from Jeong Jeong still burned into his retinas. 

I don't know if you remember, the letter had said in Jeong Jeong's perpetually messy script, but in a past game, four years ago, you informed me that the jasmine piece on the board ought to be removed, as it had been deposed of. 

Old friend, I've seen your missing jasmine piece, moving towards the Northern Port along with the last wheel piece in the set, and two boat pieces. 

"Prince Iroh!" Zhao smiles as he opens the door. "How is your, ah, spiritual journey, coming?"

"Very well, thank you for asking." Iroh says. Zhao invites him in, and they sit at Zhao's desk, a pot of tea Iroh won't touch between them.

"What can I do for you?" Zhao asks. "I thought I'd heard you were retired from all military operations?"

"I was," Iroh bows his head. "However, I heard rumors that you're attempting a siege of the North?"

"I am. I've been planning it for years, and now that the Fire Lord, may Agni's light bless him eternally, has seen it fit to give me an armada, well, what better time than the present?"

"As he should have," Iroh agrees amiably, though the words taste of oversteeped black tea in his mouth. "I am here to offer my services. I am sure you are aware of my military pursuits as a young man. Allow me to accompany you to give you advice on your most honorable mission to the North."

"Prince Iroh," Zhao smiles, though it looks closer to a baring of teeth. "Nothing would bring me greater happiness than your company."

“You know,” Zuko says, staring out at the vast expanse of ice surrounding them as Appa skims northern waters for the third day straight. “I’m starting to think the Northern Water Tribe is a myth.”

“Oh, they’re real, alright” Sokka says, scrunching up his nose. “Real enough to abandon their sister tribe and be so terrible that Gran-gran went to the literal opposite side of the world to get away from them.”

“Remind me why we’re going there, if they’re so awful?” Aang asks from Appa’s head. He’s been quiet since they left the Northern Air Temple- this is the first he’s said all morning. Zuko can’t really fault him for it. It had been...uncomfortable to see how much of the Temple had been destroyed by the Mechanist. Zuko can’t even imagine how Aang feels.

“Because we have to learn waterbending,” Katara says patiently. “And since they’re the only waterbenders left- “

“-They wouldn’t be if they hadn’t turned their back on us while our waterbenders were captured and killed-”

“Sokka, what choice do we have?” Katara snaps. “Aang needs to learn waterbending, and so do I, unless you want to end up in a block of ice again.”

Sokka glances at the ice shelf they’re passing and pales. “Fine,” He relents. “But can’t Appa go any faster?”

Aang turns around and gives Sokka the best murderous stare his big gray eyes can manage, which isn’t very murderous at all.

“He’s been carrying us for three days straight, Sokka. How about you fly us to the North Pole on your back?”

“Okay, hop on-“

Out of nowhere, a massive wave crests over the ice shelf. Katara flings her arms out to divert it over Appa. Ice forms around Appa’s feet, anchoring them to the water, and Aang gasps and jumps off his head, letting out a gust of concentrated wind to crack it.

“What the fu-“ Zuko pulls his boomerang off his back.

“Wait!” Katara shouts. “Look!”

Wooden ships, flat and lightweight, careen around the ice shelf, looking so much as if they’d just pulled away from the docks in the South Pole, Zuko almost expects Hakoda to be standing on deck.

Almost.

The wood of these boats is sleek and well-polished, not weathered and full of splinters he and Sokka had to spend afternoons picking out of their palms, and the flag waving from the top mast is light-blue and silky, not the dark, rugged cloth of their tribe.

“The Northern Water Tribe! I knew  we’d find them!” Katara looks so excited as she hugs Sokka that Zuko can’t bring himself to voice his thoughts. Sokka rests his chin on Katara’s head, and gives Zuko a heavy look, a sad smile, that tells him he knows exactly what he’s thinking.

The ships, once they can be persuaded to stop attempting to kill them on sight, lead them to a great white wall which lifts effortlessly as they approach, and on through the gates as the wall closes behind them.

The icy city behind the walls is as magnificent and ostentatious as their village was depleted and dilapidated, and Zuko understands Sokka’s anger even more thoroughly. As Appa floats slowly down a canal through the middle of the city, Katara moves up to his head to chatter excitedly at Aang about finally learning waterbending from a master.

Sokka, who was sitting against the side of the saddle, arms crossed and scowling, suddenly sits straight up with a gasp.

“What?” Zuko asks.

Sokka just points, mouth agape.

Passing them in a small boat is a girl.

Well, not just a girl.

Her robes are a deep, vibrant blue, almost purple, and intricately embroidered in silver. Her hair, though she can’t be older than Sokka or Zuko, is shock-white, flowing past her shoulders, and pinned half-up with a pearly crescent moon. She looks up and meets Zuko’s eyes for a half-second, and her eyes flash a pale, nearly opaque, blue. Zuko stumbles back into the saddle. Sokka continues staring at her until her boat floats past the bridge.

“She’s beautiful.” Sokka sighs, slumping back down next to him.

“She’s royalty.” Zuko says shortly.

“What? How could you know that? Don’t tell me this is one of your weird, broody, mysterious, forgotten past things, and you- “

Zuko rolls his eyes and gestures up at his own hair, which Katara had braided back for him this morning. “She’s wearing the emblem of a crown princess, dumbass.” He says. “Don’t think you’ve got much of a chance.”

Sokka puffs his chest out. “I’m the son of the Chief, I have plenty of a chance.”

“A chance to get rejected, maybe.” Zuko snorts.

Sokka shoves him over.

They call the building they direct them to, “the Meeting Hall”, and it’s so absurdly named that Sokka can’t hold back his laughter, while Zuko bites his lip hard enough to draw blood to refrain from doing the same. Katara sends them both an icy glare and bows politely to the aide who meets them out front for all of them.

It’s not a meeting hall. It’s, to put it plainly, a palace. The aide, who introduces himself as Tulok, leads them through high-vaulted hallways decorated with ornate tapestries, and deposits them outside a pair of massive double doors.

“Chief Arnook and the High Council will see you shortly.” He drags his eyes over Sokka, who’s faded anorak has a terribly-repaired rip in the shoulder, and Zuko, eyes lingering on his scar for just a moment too long. “All of you, I suppose.”

He inclines his head towards Aang and disappears down the hallway.

“I like our Tulok better,” Sokka mutters to Zuko.

“Me too.” Zuko says.

Within a few minutes, another aide appears and leads them into the council room.

The meeting house at home is small; it’s simply a hut that can hold most of the village, with a raised platform for whoever is Speaking that day.

This room is, well, not that. It’s as large and imposing as its Chief, who is sitting on a dais in the middle of the room, surrounded by the men Zuko assumes make up the High Council.

“The Avatar,” Arnook says, tilting his head up. “I didn’t think we’d ever see one of those, again.”

“Uh, yes, I am the Avatar.” Aang clears his throat and tries to stand taller.

“And what brings you to our shores, Avatar? After a century of silence, what became so important that you emerged now?”

Aang looks back at them with panicked eyes. Sokka makes a go-on gestures, and Aang turns around, gulping.

“W-well, I’ve only mastered airbending, and waterbending is next, I guess, and well, you see-“

“What Aang is trying to say is that he and I both need to learn waterbending, and we came to your city in hopes of finding a master.” Katara says, stepping forward. “I’m the last Southern waterbender. Aang needs to master all of the elements before summer’s end.”

Silence falls heavy on the room. Katara glances around with a confused look. “Sorry, did you not hear me?” She asks politely. “I said, Aang and I are seeking waterbending masters- “

“Little girl, our customs dictate that women do not speak in Council chambers unless given explicit permission.” An old man to Arnook’s left booms.

The air drops ten degrees, and Katara looks like she may kill someone, or maybe everyone, stepping forward with her eyes narrowed and her mouth open. Zuko personally, would be glad to sit down with some seal jerky and watch it happen, but Sokka grabs Katara’s arm and yanks her back.

“Not now,” He hisses at her. Katara’s face is hardened, and her eyes are shiny with angry, embarrassed tears. She nods once and jerks her arm out of Sokka’s grasp, turning away.

“Katara’s right, though,” Aang says, looking between her and Arnook with a bemused expression. “We do need to learn waterbending so that I can stop the Fire Lord before the end of the summer.”

Arnook appraises Aang and nods. “Very well. Our city would, of course, be glad to be of assistance to the Avatar.” He looks over their group, and his eyes land, predictably, on Zuko, who very nearly rolls his eyes. Perhaps Katara would like a companion on her murder rampage.

“And who is this?” Arnook raises an eyebrow. “Forgive me, I know our tribes diverged decades ago, but a Fire Nation child-“

“I’m Southern Water Tribe.” Zuko cuts him off curtly. He tilts his head up and dares Arnook to contradict him, blue beads swinging in front of his scar.

“And he’s with me.” Aang adds firmly. “If I stay here, then Zuko stays, too.”

“As you wish, Avatar.” Arnook says. “I will have someone show you to your guest quarters. Tonight, there is a feast in honor of my daughter, Yue, as she is coming of age. I will introduce you to your master then.”

“Thank you, Chief Arnook.” Aang bows politely, and the second he turns to leave, Katara bolts out of the room.

She’s already pacing up and down the halls when Zuko emerges with Aang and Sokka a moment later.

“How could he say that?” She fumes. “A girl can’t talk in the council room? That’s complete dogshit!”

Sokka gives Zuko a surprised look. Katara had long since given up on getting Zuko and Sokka to stop swearing, but she almost never swore herself.

“It makes no sense.” Zuko agrees.

“It’s their tradition!” Sokka says, but holds up his hands in surrender as Katara whirls around, and amends, “It’s a stupid tradition.”

“Can you imagine someone telling Kanna she couldn’t talk?” Zuko asks, slinging an arm around Katara’s shoulders. Katara lets out a watery laugh and wipes at her eyes.

“She’d destroy them,” She says.

“And I’d watch her do it.” Zuko says.

In a turn of events that doesn’t surprise Zuko one bit, the pretty girl from the boat is, in fact, Chief Arnook’s daughter. They’re seated at a table with her, and Sokka has his whole body angled at her, chin in his hands, while she chats politely with Aang, until he gets pulled away by Arnook.

Katara has her eyes locked on the waterbending display in the front of the room, her dinner forgotten in front of her.

“You excited?” Zuko asks as he eyes the bottle of wine the next table over and wonders if anyone would notice if he swiped it.

She doesn’t tear her eyes away to declare, “Yes, finally! Sometimes, I feel like I’m the only bender in the world who didn’t get to train-“

Katara cuts off and glances at him.

“Sorry.” She says quietly.

“Don’t be.” Zuko shrugs. “I can’t exactly waltz into the Fire Nation and demand that someone teach me how to firebend. I sort of lost my chance after Jeong Jeong.”

“Yeah. Guess so. Hey, what was his deal with you, anyways? I meant to ask.”

“Uh,” Zuko says, as his heart begins to hammer in his chest and the sconces on the wall flicker dangerously. “He just thought it was weird I was travelling with the Avatar, since, you know-“ He gestures vaguely at his face.

“Oh. Did you explain the whole ‘found you in a cave’ business?” Katara asks.

“Nah, I just told him I was Water Tribe.”

“As you should.” Katara grins. She jerks her chin over at Sokka, who’s still making goo-goo eyes at Yue. “This is deeply entertaining.”

“So, Princess, huh?” Sokka is saying to her.

A small smile appears on Yue’s face. “Well, yes, my father is the Chief,” she says. “So, I’m the Princess.”

“My dad’s the Chief back home,” Sokka says, shrugging nonchalantly. “I guess that makes me a prince.”

Katara snorts with laughter, and Sokka whirls around to glare at her.

“Can I help you?” He asks.

“If you’re a prince, then I’m an earthbender.” She says.
Zuko tries and fails to stifle a laugh at the immediate flush that rises in Sokka’s cheeks.

“Shut up,” Sokka threatens, pointing his dinner knife at them. “I’m trying to make conversation.”

“Right, of course,” Zuko bows deeply to him. “My sincerest apologies, Prince Sokka.”

“I hate you both.” Sokka turns back to Yue. “Please excuse my siblings. They’re terminally stupid.”

“No, I think it’s funny!” Yue giggles. “I’m an only child, and I always wanted siblings.”

“You can have mine,” Sokka says darkly, as Katara tries to bend the juice out of Sokka’s cup but loses control and soaks the rabbit meat on his plate. 

He turns back around when a servant stops to speak to Yue, and mutters between clenched teeth, “I’ll kill you both.”

Katara pulls a stream of water from a nearby jug and Zuko allows the smallest flame to escape from behind his teeth, raising his eyebrow. Sokka scowls, makes a gesture Kanna would have slapped him for, and turns his back completely to them.

“So,” He says to Yue. “Wanna do an activity with me?”

“Great news!” Aang says, flopping down on Zuko’s bed.

Katara glances up from the mirror, where she’s brushing out her hair. “What’s up?”

“I met our waterbending master! His name is Master Pakku, and we start training tomorrow morning!”

“Finally!” Katara cheers.

“And Yue and I have a date tomorrow,” Sokka sighs. “I think that’s of equal importance to note.”

“Don’t you mean an activity?” Zuko asks.

“I’ll murder you,” Sokka says lightly.

“Try it.”

“Whatever. I have a date with a princess. Not even a jerkbender like you could bring me down.”

Zuko kicks Aang off his bed. The Avatar only pouts for a few minutes before he acquiesces and goes to his own bed, and Zuko waves out all the candles in the room.

“Bedtime!” He says in response to Katara’s indignant yell. “You and Aang have to be up early tomorrow.”

“I’m not a baby, Zuko-“

“A baby would complain less,” comes Sokka’s muffled voice, and then a distinctive thump, like Katara’s thrown a pillow. “And babies wouldn’t beat up their poor older brother, who only wants the best for-“

“I’ll go to sleep if you shut up.”

“Deal.”

The room quiets quickly. Zuko turns on his side and stares out the window at the waxing moon, hanging bright in the dark sky, before he closes his own eyes and wills himself to fall asleep.

He has a nightmare.

That, in and of itself, is not unusual. When he first was found, he would startle awake several times a night, the last vestiges of a dream ebbing from his tearing eyes before he was fully conscious. They diminished as he grew older, and by the time Aang arrive, Zuko rarely had any.

They returned after Kyoshi Island, and then with even more intensity since Jeong Jeong, but it was the same routine as when he was younger- wake up shaking, remember nothing, fall back asleep.

This one’s different.

Zuko bolts up in bed, one hand clamped uselessly to stop the hoarse screaming that’s tearing up his throat.

“Zuko!” Aang is up and running over. “What’s wrong, are you hurt?”

Zuko doesn’t trust himself to answer without screaming. The thin sheen of sweat covering him is mixing with the tears dripping from his right eye and dripping salty into his mouth, the blankets tangled tight around his legs. He rips them off without thinking.

He remembers.

“Zuko?” Sokka props himself up in bed, then throws off his covers and hurries over. “Dude, say something or I’m gonna get a healer.” Sokka sits down next to him and reaches a hand out.

Later, Zuko will be able to recognize that Sokka only meant to put a hand on his shoulder to comfort him, reassure him.

Later, Zuko will wonder what in Tui’s name made him think that his brother would ever hurt him.

(Later, Zuko will think, perhaps he already knows what.)

But later is not now, and Zuko can only see someone reaching towards his face, and his heart is hammering in throat, and his scar burns, and he- he can’t-

“Don’t touch me!” He shouts, and that’s what finally wakes Katara up. He shrinks back towards the wall and throws his arms over his face, digs his nails into his skin and shuts his eyes, tight.

It doesn’t make the pain and panic pervading every molecule of his body stop. It doesn’t stop it at all.

“Zuko, it’s just me,” Sokka says, hurt written all over his tone.

“You’re okay, Zuko.” Katara says softly. “It’s okay. You’re safe.”

His heart eventually stops tapping out a frantic beat of run run run against his veins, and calms enough that Zuko can open his eyes again. He finds his siblings and Aang in front of him, concern written all over their faces.

“I’m fine. Sorry for waking you.” He croaks out. “Go back to sleep.”

“No, you’re not.” Sokka crosses his arms. “You’ve been acting weird since, like, Kyoshi Island. What’s going on with you?”

“Nothing.” 

“Zuko, come on, it can’t be anything that bad. Just tell us!” Katara says.

“There’s nothing to tell.” He turns on his side and faces the wall.

“Zuko-“

“Go to sleep.”

It takes a few minutes, but he hears Sokka sigh, and the weight shifts off his bed. The room quiets once more.

Zuko feels around the edges of his scar- where it ends past his deformed ear, where it droops down his left eyelid- and thinks of a hand pressed to his cheek. Gently, at first. Like he cared. And then tight, burning, flames that licked hotter and rose higher the more he screamed, the desperate, clawing terror that bubbled up in his chest like bile, wondering why, why was no one helping, why wasn’t anyone stopping him, why wasn’t Uncle stopping him-

Zuko clamps a hand over his mouth to stifle the sobs that rise without permission, and he pulls his blankets tighter around his shaking shoulders.

Yue’s beautiful.

Sokka had understood that much when he saw her for the first time, sitting sedately on her boat. But to watch her bright blue eyes shine as he urges Appa higher and higher above the city, the way her skin seems to catch the sun and radiate it’s warmth back out, a thousand times more rich and vibrant, her laughs of delight as she reaches out to touch the clouds-

Sokka thinks she’s almost ethereal.

“This is incredible!” She says breathlessly, turning towards him.

“Yeah, it’s something.” Sokka says, patting Appa’s fur appreciatively. “It can get pretty boring, though.”

“No.” Yue shakes her head. “How could it? You travel the world, see incredible things, do whatever you want...”

She trails off, and Sokka stares at her hair whipping in the wind, at the intricate braids weaved throughout it, the silver cuffs dotting them, the deep blue ribbons that tie them off.

“You’re really beautiful.” He says without thinking.

Yue flushes and looks away.

“N-not that that’s the only reason I wanted to spend time with you!” He hastily amends. “You seem like a really cool person!”

A small smile appears on her lips. “Thank you,” She says. “You and your siblings seem, ah, cool, too.”

“Oh, absolutely not. They’re the worst. I’m the only cool one.” Sokka grins.

Yue rests her chin on her hands and tilts her head up to look at him. “Your brother,” She says quietly. “He’s not full Water Tribe, is he?”

“Only by blood.” Sokka says shortly. “In every other way, he’s my brother, and he’s Water Tribe.”

Yue’s eyes widen. “Oh! I didn’t mean to imply- I’m sorry, I only meant, well-“ She looks down. “I’ve heard that those with Fire Nation blood don’t do very well in Arctic winters.”

Sokka relaxes a little. “His first winter, he didn’t do well,” he admits. “He almost died, actually. But then it was like something flipped in him, and then he survived. That’s how he was accepted into the tribe. My grandmother said he had a spirit guard.”

“A spirit guard?”

“Yeah, like a spirit was keeping him safe? I used to ask her and my dad about it, but they wouldn’t ever tell me more, and Zuko just clams up every time I ask. Especially lately.”

The nightmare last night had been the worst Zuko had had in years. It had stung more than Sokka cared to admit when Zuko shrunk away from him, eyes wide with fear, like he was scared Sokka would hurt him.

“I’m glad he’s connected to a spirit that keeps him safe, and that your tribe accepted him. It can’t be easy for him to have grown up Fire Nation in a Water Tribe village.” Yue’s small hand finds his and squeezes tight. “He’s very lucky to have you, too. You’re a good older brother, Sokka.”

“And you’re a good Princess.” Sokka says. “I think. I haven’t, like, seen you do Princess-y things, but you seem like a good princess. I bet all the people love you.”

Yue laughs, and Sokka thinks he could listen to that sound for the rest of his life and never tire of it.

“I can’t believe your dad let you go with me.” He says as she tilts her head up towards the sun.

Her cheeks flush. “He, uh, didn’t?” 

“Excuse me.” Sokka says, and wonders if he just kidnapped the Northern Water Tribe Princess, oh shit, oh fuck-

Sokka’s got a whole speech planned about how he can’t be held responsible for the kidnapping of a princess, he has to be alive to help Aang defeat the Fire Lord, thank you very much, but takes one glance at how miserable Yue looks, knees pulled tight to her chest, and stops.

He wraps Appa’s reins around the hilt and sits down next to her. “It must be hard to be a princess.” 

“It is.” She says, eyes averted. “There’s- there’s a lot, that’s expected of me, as the daughter of the Chief. But I’m sure it was the same for you, at home.”

Sokka snorts. The Chiefdom isn’t passed down at home. Hasn’t been for generations. Though it often does go from parent to child, it wasn’t ever a guaranteed thing, and the new Chief was always voted in by the village at large.

“All it meant was that my cousin Tulok would sometimes throw me headfirst into a snowbank and say it was character development for when I became Chief.” He tells her.

“You didn’t have responsibilities?” Yue asks.

Sokka shrugs. “Bato- my dad’s second- would sometimes make me come sit in on village meetings, before all our warriors left. But our village is really small. It- it’s not like here.”

He can’t stop the note of bitterness from entering his tone, and Yue stills beside him.

“For what it’s worth,” She says. “I never agreed with our forefathers’ decision to cut off contact with the South.”

“Neither did I. But hey, when you become Chief, you can change that!” 

“When I-” Yue blinks. “Girls can become Chief in your tribe?”

“Uh, yes?” Sokka says. “They can’t, here?”

“No!” Yue splutters. “It’s not- it’s not our place-”

Sokka can’t help himself. He bursts out laughing, and laughs even more when Yue looks at him, all big, blue, confused eyes, round like the moon.

“I’m sorry!” He wheezes out, wiping a tear from his eye. “Oh, I’m not laughing at you- my sister, Katara- I think she would have blown a blood vessel if she heard that.”

Yue half-smiles wryly, and leans closer to him, bumping shoulders.

“I heard about her speaking in the council chambers. Master Pakku told my father he had never been so disgraced.”

Wait.

“Master who?” Sokka says.

“Master Pakku?” Yue says. “He’s the best waterbender in the North. I’m fairly certain he’s the one teaching the Avatar.”

“The Avatar and Katara, you mean,” Sokka corrects.

“No,” Yue frowns. “Master Pakku teaches combat waterbending. Katara will be learning healing under Yugoda.”

“Oh, no.” Sokka groans.

“What’s wrong?”

“Katara may commit a little murder today.”

Zuko returns from the market to find Katara mid-rant and Aang sprawled out on his bed.

“-ridiculous! What’s supposed to happen when the Fire Nation attacks? The girls are supposed to hide inside while all their big, strong men fight and die and leave them alone?” Katara throws her hands up in the air.

“Uh-oh.” Zuko says, putting his bag down.

“Uh-oh.” Aang affirms.

“Aren’t you two supposed to be at practice?” Zuko asks.

“Pakku won’t teach me! Because I’m a girl!” Katara yells at him.

“Well, I can’t say I’m surprised.” Zuko sighs.

“What- “

“Katara, it’s dumb as hell, but they wouldn’t even let you talk, so I doubt they let women fight.”

Katara clamps her mouth shut and flops face first on her bed. “I hate it here.” She says, muffled into her pillow.

Zuko thinks about the endless stares he was subjected to at the market, the whispers under people’s breath, the one vendor who flat out refused to serve him.“Me too.” He sighs.

He reaches into his bag and pulls out a bag of moon peaches, throwing one across the room to Aang, and nudging Katara’s shoulder with another.

She drags her head out from under her pillow and bites into it miserably. “I’m gonna fight him,” she decides around a mouthful of peach.

“Cool.” Zuko agrees.

“Fight who?” Sokka appears in the doorway, a dopey look on his face. “Doesn’t matter. Yue is-“

“Pakku. He won’t teach me.”

“What? No, no- don’t fight him, please, for the love of La, don’t fight him- why don’t you just have Aang teach you, instead?”

“Hey! That’s a good idea!” Aang says. “I get to practice, and you get to learn, still!”

Katara brightens and jumps up, pulling Aang off his bed.“Let’s go right now! I think it’s dark enough that no one will see us!”

Zuko hands Sokka a peach and watches them leave. “I still kinda want to see Katara fight him.” 

“Whatever.” Sokka says. “Dude, seriously, listen, Yue-“

“We got caught. Pakku says he won’t teach me till Katara and I apologize.”

“I’m not apologizing to him!”

“Katara, who else is Aang gonna learn from?”

“...Fine. I’ll apologize to him.”

“No way will I apologize to a sour old man like you!”

“I think she might be going for the kill.” Sokka says, eyes fixed on the razor-sharp discs Katara is aiming directly at Pakku’s stupid beard.

“Good for her.” Zuko says, as Pakku turns her attack around, and Katara’s necklace gets sliced off.

Katara bounds up to them after, loose hair wild about her face, eyes bright, necklace in her hands.

“He’s gonna teach me! I start tomorrow!”  She says excitedly.

“I saw!” Aang says, grinning. “Now practices will be fun!”

“That guy? With Gran-gran?” Sokka says incredulously.

“I can’t see it.” Zuko shakes his head.

“I mean, she did run away.” Sokka reasons. “If it was from Pakku, I can see why she went to the other side of the world.”

After Sokka spends several hours gushing about how cool and pretty and smart Yue is (several hours. Zuko is close to sewing his brother’s mouth shut), Katara demands to meet her, and Aang decides to extend a formal invitation for the Princess of the Northern Water Tribe to meet the Avatar for dinner.

For diplomatic reasons only, of course. Not because Katara is suspicious about how Sokka managed to have not one, but now four dates with a literal Princess without scaring her off, and Aang is incapable of telling Katara ‘no’. Not at all.

“What was it like, growing up in the South?” She asks. “I’ve never left the city, except for short trips to some of the smaller towns.”

Katara shrugs. “It was normal, I guess. We hunted, we cooked, we had lessons.” She leans forward, narrowing her eyes. “Oh! Has Sokka told you about the time he slept-walked into a village meeting without his pants on?”

Aang meets Zuko’s eyes over the table and they both look away, holding in laughs. The Sokka in question was twelve years old and coming off a bad fever, and Zuko and Katara had both been off playing when they were supposed to be keeping an eye on him.

“He did what?” Aang demands, giggling.

Yue laughs and leans over to Sokka, bumping her shoulder with his. “Yes, he did. I thought it was very cute.”

“There was nothing cute about it!” Katara says. “Remember, Zuko? Dad was furious with us.”

“Yeah.” Zuko grins. “He only yelled at you, though.”

Katara rolls her eyes. “Honestly, I’m pretty sure by the time he left, you were his favorite kid. And I had a ten-year head start!”  

“Oh, were you not born in the village, Zuko?” Yue asks.

“Uh-“ Zuko looks down. He’s honestly not sure how to answer that, and the question itself is enough to make his heart pitch up in tempo.

“Zuko had an accident when he was little,” Sokka cuts in. “He lost his memory, so we’re not sure, but he was raised with Katara and me.”

Zuko flashes him a grateful smile and is even more grateful when Yue seems to accept that without question and moves on to Aang.

“What about you, Aang? I’m sure it hasn’t been easy- the world must be so different than you remember."

Aang gives her one of those small, sad smiles that always seem too heavy for his twelve-year-old face.

“It is,” He says, and glances at Katara. “But some things are the same.”

“I’m ashamed to say I don’t know much about Air Nomad culture. What was it like to grow up in the temple?” Yue asks, smiling gently.

“It was so great! I was raised in the Southern Air Temple, and we had these great Air Ball tournaments, and Gyatso and I used to fly to the top of the mountain, just to watch the sunrise…”

 Yue gets up and returns with a pot of tea, pouring cups for the table. Aang wraps his hands around his cup and pulls it close, eyes lit up as he describes the last great festival he was able to celebrate with his people.

Sokka makes Aang and Katara go to bed soon after dinner ends, citing early morning practice as his excuse. Zuko is fairly certain he has an ulterior motive and is vindicated with Sokka produces the two bottles of wine they swiped a few nights ago, grinning wildly.

“Where did you get those?” Yue asks, eyes wide. Sokka shrugs nonchalantly.

“Oh, you know. A guy has his ways.”

“He stole it from the kitchens.” Zuko says. “I was there.”

Yue laughs and accepts the cup from Sokka as they sit down in front of the fire.

“Thanks for asking Aang about that stuff.” Sokka says suddenly. “I think it’s been really hard for him, lately. It really helps when he talks about it.”

“Of course,” Yue shakes her head. “I can’t imagine what that’s like. Waking up in a foreign place, totally removed from everything you ever knew.

“Yeah.” Sokka says, and Zuko sees him glance at him from the corner of his eye.  

“What about you?” Zuko asks Yue abruptly.

“What about me?”

“What’s it like growing up royalty?”

“Oh.” Yue says, and takes a sip of the wine. She wrinkles her nose. “Oh my- Sokka, this is terrible.”

“Hey, I took it from your kitchens, Princess. Blame it on your own poor taste.”

Yue elbows Sokka in a decidedly un-princess-y way, and Zuko shakes his head, uncomprehending. Aren’t royals supposed to be, you know, full of themselves? Cold? Concerned with their own power and status, and not much else? He takes a long draught of the wine. Tui, it really is terrible.

“To answer your question, Zuko, it was, ah, a lot.” Yue says.  “I’m my father’s only daughter. So, I had a lot of privileges, but also a great deal of responsibility on my shoulders.”

“You’re amazing, though.” Sokka says, and gross, he’s making the goo-goo eyes again.

“I’m just me, Sokka.”  Yue says. “I do my best, but you know, I’m not perfect.”

“You have to be.” Zuko says without thinking. He realizes both Yue and Sokka are staring at him and starts. “I-I just meant- you know, everyone’s eyes are on you and your father- you can’t make mistakes. You can’t be weak. You know?”

“I see what you’re saying.” Yue says thoughtfully. “Yes, I’ve felt that, certainly. It can be hard to feel like you’re allowed to mess up when everyone expects you to be the standard that others are held to.”

“Hm.” Sokka says and looks slowly between the two. “I think there’s some mochi left over from dinner. I’m gonna go get it.”

He vaults over the back of the couch and Yue watches him go with a small smile on her face. She looks over at Zuko with those pale blue eyes with a quiet intensity that seems to bore right through his chest.

“Your hair is unique; I’ve never seen anything quite like it.” Yue says.

 Zuko shrugs. “It’s been like this for as long as I can remember.”

“Mine too.” She gives a half-smile, almost wry. “Forgive me if this is forward, but Sokka told me you have a spirit guard?”

“So I’ve been told.”

“Me, too.” Yue says, and that surprises him enough that he actually looks up to meet her eyes, almost luminous from the moonlight shining from the window, the white hair that frames her face.

“Tui.” Zuko says.

Yue nods. “I- I haven’t told Sokka, yet. Please don’t tell him.”

“As long as you don’t tell him I’m fairly certain mine is Agni.”

“I thought as much,” Yue says, and Zuko snorts.

“What, did the hair give it away?”

“No, actually.” She says, tilting her head. “You have this- this warmth, Zuko. I don’t really know how to describe it. You’re just very bright.”

Zuko looks away, suddenly unable to handle the enormity of her gaze.

“I don’t feel very warm. I don’t even know why Agni chose me.” He mumbles to the carpet.

“It’s not always clear, right away, why the spirits do what they do.” Yue says quietly. “I think we just have to hope that their purpose for us becomes clear with time.”

“Yeah,” Zuko says, as Sokka comes back in the room, arms laden with far more sweets than just mochi. “I hope so.”

A few weeks into Katara and Aang’s training, Sokka drags Zuko to the market.

“We’re not spending much,” Zuko warns his brother, who’s eying a deep blue sleeveless tunic with wide eyes. Sokka shakes his head and pulls Zuko along into the next shop.

“Doesn’t matter. We’re only here for one thing.”

“We are?” Zuko says blankly. Sokka is a notorious impulse buyer; Katara’s taken to wearing the coin purse on her person anytime they go shopping. Zuko has never known Sokka to go the market unsupervised and come back with only the things he claimed he went for.

Sokka nods and stops abruptly in front of a display of ribbons.

“A necklace for Yue.” He pulls a small silver pendant shaped like a crescent moon out of his pocket. “I found this last week. I just need a ribbon to place it on. Ah! That one!”

The ribbon Sokka is pointing at is a beautiful pale blue, almost exactly the shade of Yue’s eyes, and embroidered carefully with white-silver thread.

“A wonderful choice, young man! I’m sure whatever lucky lady you’re proposing to will be ecstatic.” The shopkeeper says cheerfully as he pulls out the ribbon to cut it for him

“Proposing.” Sokka repeats.

“Well, yes? You’re getting a ribbon for an engagement necklace.”

“Oh, no, no- “ Sokka flushes. “It’s just a regular necklace! No engagement!”

“Sure, whatever you say,” The shopkeeper shrugs and hands Sokka the wrapped ribbon. As he’s counting out the money Sokka hands him, he looks up and meets Zuko’s eye, and his expression changes completely.

“Out of my shop.” The man says, angry.  

“What?” Sokka asks.

“Him. Out, now.” The shopkeeper says, pointing at Zuko. “I don’t particularly want my shop in ashes today. Out.”

“Hey, asshole-“

“Sokka, let’s just go-“ Zuko mumbles, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him out of the shop.

“He can’t talk to you like that!” Sokka says furiously.

“He can, actually.” Zuko says and continues frog-marching his brother down the busy market street.

“It’s not right-“

“Sokka.”

Zuko stops in the middle of the street and whirls around. He points at his unmistakably golden eye.  “I look like I’m fucking Fire Nation. I get it, okay? It’s not like this is the first time this has happened.”

Sokka stares at him.

“This has happened to you before? Here?”

Zuko says nothing, and that’s enough of a response.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Sokka demands.

“Would it have changed anything?” Zuko asks. “Aang and Katara need to learn. We can’t exactly pick up and leave.”

“Well, no, but, Zuko-“

“Sokka, I look like the enemy.”

“But you didn’t do any of that stuff.”

“How would you even know?” Zuko asks roughly.  “There’s eleven years to account for before I got to the village.”

He turns around, fully intending to lose his brother in the crowd, but Sokka grabs his shoulder and spins him.

“What did you remember?” He asks quietly, his hand tight on his shoulder.

“N-nothing, I just-“

“Zuko. The nightmare last month. What did you remember?”

“Nothing, Sokka.” Zuko rips his arm away.

“I don’t know what it is you’re not telling me, but-“

“It’s NOTHING!” Zuko shouts, and flames definitely lick the sides of his mouth.

The street has stilled around them, and Zuko can’t handle Sokka’s angry, hurt stare, the silence that’s fallen over the market like a thick fog, the static in his head, so Zuko turns on his heel, and he runs.

Zuko’s outburst at the market does little to dampen Sokka’s worry, but when Sokka walks into their rooms a few hours later and finds him there, quiet and broody, but completely safe, he shrugs it off. He has other things to worry about.

Like his date with Yue.

If Sokka thought she was pretty in the day, she’s resplendent at night. In the pale glow of the near-full moon, she shines.

“I got you something,” Sokka says, leaning against the bridge.

“You didn’t have to get me anything!” Yue grins.

“I wanted to!” He pulls the necklace out of his pocket and unwraps it, handing to her. “I just- I wanted you to have something from me.”

Yue stares at the necklace in his hands. And then she bursts into tears.

“Oh, oh no!” Sokka scrambles closer to her. “Oh, is it ugly? The shopkeeper said the ribbon was pretty- though he did turn out to be sort of an asshole- doesn’t matter, I can take it back-”

Yue shakes her head and clutches the necklace to her chest. “It’s beautiful.” She says emphatically. “I love it.”

“Then what’s wrong?”

Yue bites her lip and looks down. “I- I’ve been putting this off for so long. I just. I really, really like you, Sokka.”

“Hey, I like you too,” He says softly, taking her hand in his and squeezing.

Yue shuts her eyes and takes a deep breath, like she’s preparing herself for the pain of getting a broken bone set, a bandage ripped off, and pulls down the high-necked fur of her amauti. An ornate, clunky pendant sits at the base of her throat, a little too ostentatious and a little too big.

Sokka stares at it, something curdling in his stomach.

“You- you’re engaged.” He says, finally. Yue turns away, hugging herself.

“Since my birthday.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It’s arranged.” She says hollowly, her head bowed. “It’s been planned since I was fourteen. And I- I like you, Sokka.”

“Yue- Yue, that’s not right-“

“It’s my duty. To my people.”

“What about your duty to yourself?” Sokka insists. “Do you love him?”

Silence.

“Do you even like him?”

More silence.

“Oh, damn it all to Koh, have you even met the-“

“Yes, I’ve met him.” Yue says, and it’s closest Sokka has come to hearing her snap. “Arranged marriages are expected of my family, Sokka. I can’t expect you to understand that, but please respect it. This is how I serve my people, and my personal feelings- no matter how strong they may be- will always come second.”

Sokka grips the railing of the bridge and stares down into the icy water below. What was it that stupid fortune teller had told him? That his future would be full of pain and suffering, most of it caused by himself?

Guess she got one thing right.

“You’re right, I’m sorry.” Sokka says quietly. “I hope we can remain friends.”

Yue lifts his chin, and when Sokka meets her eyes, they’re bright with unshed tears.

“I wouldn’t want it any other way.” She says. She places the necklace back in his hands and curls his fingers around it. “You should keep this for someone who really deserves it.”

“But you really deserve it.”

Yue smiles so painfully gentle at him, and Sokka doesn’t know whether he wants to burst into tears or grab her face and kiss her until the world and its obligations dissolve around them like the gray snow falling soft and slow, melting as it reaches Yue’s eyelashes.

Wait.

Gray snow.

Sokka snaps his head up, his heart starting to race a warning in his chest.

“What’s wrong?” Yue asks, and then looks up. “Oh, that’s so odd. Gray snow? I’ve never seen that before.”

“It’s not just gray snow. It’s soot. From coal.” Sokka says, grabbing her hand and starting back towards the door that leads back to the Meeting Hall. “The Fire Nation is coming. We have to tell your dad.”

The preparations move terrifyingly quickly once Sokka gets the word out about the impending attack, which is confirmed with scouts, and within a day, Zuko is sitting in the Meeting Hall, arms crossed tight over his chest, as Sokka stands to take his place with the other young men. They’d decided the night before it was safer for everyone if Zuko didn’t volunteer, but that doesn’t make him feel any less cowardly.

There’s a grimly determined look on Katara’s face as she sits between him and Aang, doing and undoing her arm wraps as Sokka gets his Mark of Commitment.

“It’ll be okay.” Zuko murmurs to her.

“I’m ready to fight.” Katara says and sets her jaw.

Zuko looks up and catches Yue’s eye, from where she sits at her father’s right hand. She looks at him steadily, her eyes shiny but resolute, and somehow, Zuko thinks, she’s ready for battle too.

The day the Fire Nation attacks, Zuko doesn’t see Sokka. He wakes up in the pale light of an unrisen sun, and carefully paints a crescent moon on Katara’s forehead as she finishes tying her braid off. She does the same for him, and then throws her arms around his shoulders.

“It’s all gonna be okay.” She says, firm, and Zuko can’t tell who she’s trying to convince.

Aang takes off on his glider as the ships draw near, determined to do the most damage he possibly can before they can attack, and he doesn’t return until sunset, until Katara has exhausted herself by going in between the healing hut to help Yugoda and the outer wall, while Zuko has spent most of the day putting out fires.

He lands on the wall, his clothes singed and torn, blood dried on his cheek.

“Aang!” Katara hurries forward.

“There’s too many of them.” He mumbles, exhausted.  Katara wraps an arm around his shoulders. “Way too many for me to take out. I tried, I promise, I really tried-“

“No, you did what you could. You did good.” Zuko says. He takes Aang’s other arm before he collapses fully. He looks up and finds dark circles under his sister’s eyes. “You both did.”

Katara gives him a weary smile and drops her head forward against Aang’s. Zuko glances up at the rising moon becoming visible, and the dark line of ships halted a few miles offshore.

“Let’s go get some rest. They’d be stupid to attack us now.”

Zuko gently lays Aang down on his bed, pulls away the scorched outer layer of his robes, and covers him with furs.

“Thank you,” Yue says quietly to a servant at the door and returns to the room with a tray laden with food and tea. Her father had kept her in the Meeting Hall to keep her safe, and she had met them at the door. “They passed along a message from my father. He confirmed that the attack seems to have stopped for the night, so you all should be safe to rest.”

“Thanks, Yue.” Zuko says. He turns to his younger sister, who’s eyes are half-lidded as she sits next to Aang, her shoulders slumped.  

“Katara,” Zuko starts.

“‘M not tired.” She says, stubborn, and Zuko has a sudden vision of her, four years younger, fat on her cheeks and a crooked little smile.

“Doesn’t matter.” He says. He gently pushes her down towards the pillow. “You may not have another opportunity to sleep. I’ll wake you up to eat in a while, okay?”

“J-just-“ A yawn cuts her off. “Just a minute, okay?”

“Yeah, just a minute.” Zuko confirms softly.

Her eyes finally close. Zuko pulls the blanket up to her shoulders, eyes the smudged moon on her forehead, and smooths back the errant hairs on her forehead.

When he leaves the bedroom, shutting the door behind him, he finds Yue sitting in front of the fireplace, knees drawn to her chest. She looks over at him with red eyes.

“You’re a good brother.” She says.

“I haven’t really been, lately. I’m sure Sokka’s been complaining.” He says and sits down next to her.

Yue shakes her head, wipes at her eyes with the back of her hand.

“No. I think he’s just worried about you.” She says, and smiles a watery, joyless smile. “I definitely didn’t help.”

Zuko sighs. “I heard about that. I’m really sorry, Yue.”

“Me too.” Yue says, and it sounds like she’s biting back a sob.

The door swings open. Sokka drags himself in, hair half-out of its wolf’s tail. He collapses on the rug in front of them.

“Your dad kicked me off the mission.” He says into the rug, by way of explanation. He turns his head towards Yue. “Oh, and I met your fiancé. Charming guy.”

Yue raises her eyebrows and prods gently at a split in Sokka’s eyebrow, bleeding sluggishly.

“That was a parting gift from Hahn.” Sokka sighs.

“Please tell me he looks worse.” Zuko says.

 “‘Course he does.” Sokka says dismissively. “Why do you think I got kicked off the mission?” He sits up and pulls the plate of food towards him. “Your dad gave me a new one, though. I’m supposed to protect you until the invasion’s over.”

Yue flushes a light pink. “Oh-“ she says. “Th-that’s good!”

“I’m gonna keep you safe.” Sokka says, and his voice hardens. “I promise.”

Aang and Katara end up only sleeping a few hours past sunset. When they rise, Aang sits himself in front of the fire, blanket still wrapped around his shoulders, and eats a vegetable stew while mindlessly staring into the flames.

“We need help.” He says. “There’s too many of them.”

“Well, yes?” Zuko says blankly, glancing out the window to where he can just make out the dark shapes of the ships. “But there’s no one to get help from-“

“No, no, I mean- I’m the Avatar.” Aang amends.

“Got that much, bud.” Sokka says.

“No!” Aang scowls. “I’m the Avatar! I could ask the spirits for help! Tui and La patronize the Water Tribes, right? Maybe they could help us!”

“Oh! That’s...not a bad idea.” Zuko says.

“But how are you going to contact them?” Katara asks as she finishes her braid and ties it off. “You’ve had a really hard time getting into the spirit world in the past.”

“I think I can help with that, actually.” Yue says. “Let me show you something.”

Yue leads them to a sanctuary, hidden deep in the heart of the capital buildings. The heat hits Zuko like a wall, and he has to blink a few times to process what he’s seeing in front of him. The place is lush and green, a small forest of bamboo in the back, a pond in the middle of the grass.

“How is it so warm?” Katara asks in a hushed, reverential tone.

“This is the center of spirituality in the North.” Yue says. “It’s a closely guarded secret. Only a few people know of its existence.”

She leads them along a stone path to the pond, where two koi, one a deep, almost black, blue, and one white, swim endlessly in a circle.

“It’s perfect.” Aang says. “If there’s anywhere I can get into touch with the spirits, it’s here.”

He sits himself in front of the pond and bows his head. They watch, silent, as his tattoos glow, and Aang straightens up as if shocked, and slumps down into his shoulders.

For a few hours, the waiting is almost unbearable. Aang doesn’t move from his position by the pond. Katara practices pulling water out of the thick, humid air. Sokka patrols the perimeter of the sanctuary, boomerang in hand. Yue eventually sheds her amauti and joins Sokka. When she returns, her eyes are red.

“Is everything alright?” Katara asks.

“He’s- he’s still hurt.” She says. “I can’t really blame him.”

“Sokka said you don’t even like the guy you’re marrying. Why are you doing it, then?” Katara asks curiously.

“I have to think about the future of my people. Hahn is from a good, strong family. He will help keep our city safe in the future. Whether or not he will be a good husband to me is irrelevant.”

“And what about what you want?” Zuko asks. From the other side of the sanctuary, Zuko sees something flash blue and silver in Sokka’s hand before he shoves it back down in his pocket.

“My people come first.” Yue says firmly. “To be a Princess is a privilege and an honor. If I don’t use my station to serve my people, then I’m not worthy of it.”

“Even a people who don’t see you as equal.” Zuko says flatly. “Who ignored your sister tribe as they were destroyed by the Fire Nation. They don’t deserve your loyalty.”

Yue shakes her head. “It’s not about the wrongs my tribe has committed, or the problems caused by our past chiefs. It’s really not even about deserve. I love my people, and I’ll do what I can to protect them, whenever I can.”

Zuko stares at her. Something is stirring deep in his chest, hot and uncomfortable, and he has his mouth open to respond- though he doesn’t know how- when the sounds of a muffled fight come in from outside the sanctuary door.

“Guys?” Sokka calls as he jogs back over. Katara scrambles to her feet and steps in front of Yue. Zuko glances over. Aang is still motionless. He allows the flames that have been straining along his chi line to burst out on his palms as smoke drifts in from under the door and the yelling becomes more acute.

“Get ready.” Zuko mutters.

The door splinters, and then cracks and is kicked in. Black smoke billows in, and Fire Nation soldiers march in, followed by two men in elaborate uniforms.

The taller of the two smirks.

“Zhao.” Zuko snarls.

“Ah, the little half-breed!” Zhao says. “I thought someone would have killed you by now. No matter. I’m glad to take care of it myself.” He steps forward, but the shorter, older man next to him stops him.

He looks at Zuko with deep golden eyes, face slack.

“Zuko?” He croaks out. “Is it really you?”

Zuko lowers his hands, staring at the man.

“Uncle?”

It has to be Zuko.

By Agni’s great light, it must be.

His father’s high cheekbones, his mother’s light eyes, his grandfather’s black hair- though with an odd golden streak in the middle, his own burn.

It covers half the boy’s face, only slightly hidden by the traditional Water Tribe beads hanging in front of it. One of his eyes is permanently narrowed by scar tissue and lightened to an opaque white.

He’s older.

Iroh isn’t sure why he expected that his nephew would still be twelve, other than that he is still half-convinced that time stood still the moment Zuko took his last breath, and only just now started moving forward again.

But he’s older, dressed in Water Tribe garb, and he looks fiercely determined as he throws out his arm to keep the Water Tribe girl behind him, and absolutely nothing like the sickly child in the hospital bed, too small for his burn-covered body, deliriously begging for someone to take away his pain.

And he’s alive, alive, alive.

Iroh wants to fall to his knees and scream thanksgiving at any spirit that will listen. He wants to rush forward and gather the child in his arms and never let go. He wants to take him away from this place, to somewhere this war can never touch him again, to somewhere fire can never turn his skin to coal again.

Iroh does none of that. He makes a motion for the soldiers behind him to remain still and he takes a small step forward. “Zuko, do you remember me?” He asks quietly. Zuko’s eyes widen.

“N-no!” He says, clearly uncertain. “No, I don’t know you.”

“You just called me Uncle.” Iroh says softly.

“I DON’T KNOW YOU!” Zuko shouts.

“Zuko.” Iroh says, and takes another step forward, hands held out in surrender in front of him. “Zuko, do you know who you are?”

“I’m Zuko of the Southern- of the Southern Water Tribe.” He says, his voice wavering.

“No.” Iroh shakes his head. “I am so grateful you were kept safe by them, but you are not-“

“You don’t know me.”

“You are Crown Prince Zuko of the Fire Nation-” Iroh says firmly.

“No,” The Water Tribe boy behind Zuko says.

“Leave me alone!”

“-and you are my nephew!”

Zuko roars and punches forward, letting out a burst of hot flames that stop just short of Iroh’s face.

“Okay,” Zhao sighs. “I’ve had enough of this little show. Let’s do what we came here for.”

All hell breaks loose.

The soldiers run forward, hands lit. Zuko steps in front of Katara and throws up his hands as a blast of fire heads towards her, diverting it around him and back at the soldier who threw it.

“I don’t need your protection.” Katara growls. She wrenches off his arm and lifts a great wave of water up to freeze the soldiers advancing in their paths.

Zuko only has a second to feel the sting of the ice in Katara’s tone before he spots Zhao heading around the chaos of the battle towards Aang.

“Zhao!” He screams and begins to sprint, but before he can get close, Zhao has kicked Aang over and knelt by the pond. He scoops the white Koi out of the pond and holds it over his head, and, like someone's doused it in blood, the moon turns a deep, violent red.

Behind him, Yue falls.

Sickly understanding cracks in Zuko’s head. Sokka lets out a hoarse yell and scrambles forward to catch her.

“Years ago,” Zhao says, grinning wildly. “I stumbled upon the great lost library of Wan Shi Tong. In it, I found ancient scrolls that told of knowledge that was beyond the comprehension of any human alive. I found that many of the great spirits had chosen to take mortal forms, and that among these were the moon and the ocean."

He turns, with a terrifying glint in his eyes. “I told you, Iroh. I told you that I’d make history! Everyone will know the name of Zhao, the moon slayer!”

"Zhao!" Iroh says, two hands out. "You don't know what you're doing. The Fire Nation needs the moon, too. To meddle with the spirits like this will only bring destruction!”

"Ah, Iroh." Zhao tuts, squeezing the koi tighter. Yue gasps in pain. "Destruction is the goal. Without the moon, there can be no waterbending. Without waterbending- well, there is no Water Tribe, is there?”  

"Whatever you do to that spirit, I will unleash tenfold on you." Iroh says, low and raging, and somehow, Zuko doesn't think he's bluffing.

Zhao's eyes widen in fear, and for a moment, it seems he's going to comply. Then, with a great yell, he whips fire onto the fish. The koi goes still in his hands. Without warning, the moon disappears from view, and the sky goes black.

“Oh,” Yue gasps, and drops, slack, in Sokka’s arms.

Iroh rushes forward towards Zhao, fire alight on both his fists, and the two begin to fight with the quick, harsh movements of masters without reservation.

Aang’s tattoos return to their bright blue, and he suddenly scrambles up.

“Guys! The moon spirit’s in trouble!” Aang glances up at the sky, his face falling. “Oh.”

Zhao makes a break for the sanctuary door, followed by the rest of the soldiers, and Iroh doesn’t follow them, Zuko notices, as he hurries to where Sokka is holding Yue, by the edge of the pond.

“There really is no hope now.” Yue says weakly. Sokka tightens his arms around her, buries his face in her hair.

Aang’s face hardens. He kneels down at the edge of the pond.

“Maybe there still is.” He says. He shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath, and when he opens them again, they glow a blinding white. He steps into the pond. The water swirls around his legs, lifting him up and surrounding his body, until he’s fully encased.

The spirit of La steps out of the pond and bellows, leaving a watery trail as it stomps out of the sanctuary. Katara watches him go, fear written all over her face.

Iroh kneels at the edge of the pond and gently places the koi back in the pond. It floats, unmoving, the great black burn a mar on its white scales.

“It’s not working.” Katara says, as she desperately tries to waterbend, and can’t move a drop. “I-I can’t feel anything”

“What are we supposed to do?” Sokka asks hollowly.

Iroh looks up at Yue with a grim expression, and something constricts in Zuko’s chest. He can’t- he can’t ask that of her.

“No-“ Zuko starts, but Iroh interrupts him.

“You’ve been touched by the moon spirit.” He says.

Yue bows her head.

Zuko knows the end.

“Yes.” She says quietly.

“Wh-what?” Sokka says.

“I was stillborn.” Yue says, staring at the koi. “My parents begged Tui for mercy, and on the night of the full moon, my father placed me in the pond. My hair turned white, I opened my eyes, and I began to cry. That's why my mother named me Yue." She turns to Sokka, placing a soft hand on his cheek. "For the moon.”

She takes a deep breath and steps forward. “The moon gave me life. Perhaps I can give it back.”

“What? No!” Sokka grabs her wrist. “No, I told your dad I’d keep you safe. I won’t let you-“

“Sokka,” Yue’s voice is firm, sad. “I have to. Without the moon, my people will die.”

“Yue.” He says, and his voice cracks.

Yue turns and holds her forehead to his.“Do you still have that necklace?” She asks. Sokka nods and pulls it out of his pocket. When he clasps it around her neck, his hands shake. Yue bites back a sob, one hand over the crescent pendant.

“It’s the greatest gift I’ve ever been given.” She says. Sokka shuts his eyes tight, then places his hands on both sides of her head and kisses her forehead.

Yue pulls away while his eyes are still closed. She lays both of her hands on the koi.

The burn heals under her grasp, and the koi glows, wriggling in Iroh’s hands. Yue’s eyes roll to the back of her head, and she drops to the ground.

“NO!” Sokka screams. He falls to his knees and catches her prone body, holds it tight to his chest. He presses his fingers to wrist. “She- she’s gone.”

Iroh places the koi back into the pond, where it resumes its never-ending circle. Yue’s body disappears from Sokka’s arms, and the entire pond begins to glow.  A white cloud forms above, and then takes the shape of-

Yue. Floating above the ground, her skin turned to white-glow, her robes bright and flowing.

She drifts forward to Zuko. He stares, uncomprehending, as she reaches forward and touches his burn with an opaque finger.

"Light-child." She says, and her voice echoes, as though it isn't really hers. "Do not fear your fate, Prince Zuko. You are blessed by the sun, and the moon will cast its light upon you as well."

Zuko bows his head, can't do anything but shut his eyes and try not to scream.

He hears Yue say, "I'll always be with you, Sokka."

His brother gasps, lets out a sob, and Zuko wrenches his eyes open.

A full, white moon hangs high in the sky. Sokka crumples to his knees, staring up at it, and Katara falls next to him, wrapping her arms around him. Zuko moves forward, but Iroh catches his arm.

“Oh, Zuko.” He says softly. “I’ve missed you so dearly, my nephew.”

“I’m not-“

Zuko can’t even finish his lie, in the glow of Yue’s light.

“If you truly don’t remember me, then this must be a lot to take in. You must have questions. But if the Princess was right, and you are blessed by Agni herself, then perhaps that is why you are here.”

Zuko searches the old man's face for anything that would make it permissible for him to wrench his arm out his grasp and join his siblings, beg their forgiveness for his blood, but he finds nothing but sincerity and sorrow.

"You didn't stop him." Zuko says hoarsely, instead. "He was going to kill me. You didn't stop him."

Iroh's face twists into something painful.

"Prince Zuko- that is one of my greatest regrets, please believe me. I would give anything to change the outcome of that-"

“No. Y-you watched me burn.” Zuko pulls away from him. “I don’t want anything to do with you.”  

Iroh stares at him.

“I have spent four years trying to stop what happened to you from happening to your younger sister. To the rest of the world. Please. I beg of you. Now that I've found you- I can't let you out of my sight. Please come with me."

Zuko fights down hysterical laughter that bubbles up in his chest. “Fuck you.” He says, and he turns on his heel.

“Very well.” Iroh says. His voice shakes. “I will see you soon, my nephew.”

Zuko doesn’t respond, can’t even stop the way his hands are trembling uncontrollably. The footsteps behind him fade out, and he’s left, staring at the backs of his siblings.

He sits down at Sokka’s side and places a careful hand on his shaking shoulder.

Sokka tears away from him as though his touch burns, and Zuko can’t stop the sob that escapes his throat as he pulls his hand back and stares down at his palms, blood dried into brown constellations against his palm.

A world away, the Princess of the Fire Nation kneels before her father, eyes fixed on the ground.

"Rise." The Fire Lord says. Azula lifts her head, not daring to meet his gaze. The flames surrounding the throne cast his face into deep shadow. 

"What was it you needed me for, Father?" She asks.

Ozai leans forward. "I'm sure you've heard reports of the failed invasion in the North."

"Yes, Father."

"I have just received word that your Uncle, coward that he is, has finally turned traitor."

"Father-"

"Silence!"

Azula shuts her mouth tight.

"Additionally, there is news that an... impostor, is claiming to be your brother."

Azula stays silent. She had heard rumors that a scarred boy traveling with the Avatar who claimed to be named Zuko was found in the North.

But Azula had stayed in her seat in the Agni Kai chambers as everyone rushed out around her, and watched her brother writhe in agony, screaming, until he was sedated.  

Azula had stood at the funeral and watched her brother burn.

The impostor isn't her brother.

(He can't be.)

"You are to find your uncle and bring him to justice, and find the impostor, and dispose of him."

"Yes, Father." She inclines her head again. "I won't let you down."

The short walk to the palace is mostly silent in the early morning fog.

Katara glances over at Zuko. “You okay? You wanna stop and get a cup of tea with Iroh before we go?” 

Zuko shakes his head. “Nah.” He says, and then looks down at his feet. “How do you think Sokka’s doing?” 

“He’s with Dad, and he gets to see Bato and Tulok. I think he’s okay.” Katara says, rolling her eyes. 

“You don’t-” Zuko curls his fingers in, digs his nails into his palm. “You don’t think I should have gone with him?” 

“What, and leave little old me defenseless in Ba Sing Se?” Katara bats her eyelashes and juts her lip out, and Zuko, against his will, has to laugh.

Katara bumps her shoulder against his “Seriously, Zuko, it’s fine. Dad will get why we couldn’t come. We’ll see him soon enough.” 

“But-” Zuko stops suddenly, just short of the steps to the palace. “What if he- what if he doesn’t want-” 

He can’t finish. Katara seems to understand him anyways. She pulls him into a quick, tight hug. 

“Zuko. I don’t really know how to get it through your stupidly-thick skull that you’re part of our family. You don’t need to worry about Dad.” 

“But-” 

“You don’t.” Katara says firmly. “Besides, if he’s stupid, which he won’t be, there’s like a zero percent chance Bato will let him get away with it.” 

Zuko smiles weakly at his sister and they start up the steps to the palace, Katara linking arms with him. 

“Honestly,” Katara sighs. “I thought you’d gotten at least a little smarter than when we were kids.” 

“Okay, well, now that’s a stretch.” Zuko retorts. “You know I’ve gotten dumber.” 

The war room is empty, save for the Dai Li posted at every door, and Zuko frowns, glancing out the window, where the sun has almost risen completely. 

“We’re not late.” He says. “Not sure why no one’s here,” 

Katara shrugs. “I’m sure they’ll be here soon. Don’t worry.” 

The Dai Li stationed by the door makes an imperceptible movement, and Zuko stills, the hairs on the back of his neck raising.

Katara, busying herself laying out the maps, doesn’t seem to notice. 

“Katara.” He says quietly. 

“Hmm?” She doesn’t even glance up. 

The agent moves again, and Zuko barely has a moment to throw up a blast of fire and duck as a glove of stone flies over his head. He grabs Katara’s wrist and pulls her down as the man starts towards them. Great slabs rise out of the ground and cover all the entrances and windows.

“What are you doing?” Zuko demands. Katara is poised to strike, ice daggers formed above her head. 

The man doesn’t answer, simply flicks his wrist and allows the slab covering the entrance to fall back into the floor. 

A girl dressed in Earth greens, bright golds, walks in, and raises one black eyebrow at them. 

“My, my,” she says in a voice a little too grandiose for her short stature, the baby fat still clinging to her cheeks. “you’re really taking this impersonation thing to heart, aren’t you?” 

“Azula?” Zuko lowers his hands.

The girl’s golden eyes narrow, her jaw sets. “And you did your research! Impressive.” She turns to Katara, and bares her teeth in a sharp imitation of a smile. “You must be one of the little water peasants traveling with the Avatar!” 

Katara moves forward, growling,“And you must be a raging bi-” 

Zuko grabs her arm and digs his nails into it, pulling her back, as Azula allows a blue flame to appear on her finger. 

“She has a mouth on her! Well, wish I could stay and chat,” Azula says, flicking her hair behind her shoulders. “But unfortunately, I have prior obligations. Don’t worry, I’ll come visit you all in a while. Hm, I could use an estimate though- Tell me, how long do you think it’ll take the Avatar to come save you?” 

Katara’s eyes widen. “You little-” 

Azula laughs, and nods at the Dai Li agents surrounding them on all sides. “Throw them in the catacombs.” 

Zuko lands hard on his shoulder onto the stone of the catacomb floor. 

“Zuko!” Katara pulls him up as the hole above them shuts and plunges the cell into a gray half-light, lit only by the crystals surrounding them. 

“I’m okay, I’m okay.” He mumbles, pulling off her hand. “Are you?” 

There’s a thin cut across Katara’s nose dripping red, but she nods. “Fine. You- you knew her?” 

Zuko sits up and leans against the wall, covers his eyes with his hands. “She’s my sister.” he says dully.

Besides him, Katara stills. “She’s your sister? She was that Azula?” 

“Yeah.” 

Iroh had told him stories of her- firebending prodigy, top of her class, began attending war meetings at twelve at her father’s right hand. 

“No offense, Zuko, but she kinda sucks.” Katara grumbles and falls next to him. 

“Yeah.” He repeats. 

Iroh had also told him stories of quiet afternoons playing Pai Sho, two girls from her Academy whom she protected with the fierceness of a dragon guarding its eggs, old stories of trips to Ember Island, playing in the waves. 

Wait. Iroh. 

“How did she get in the city?” He asks roughly, sitting up.

Katara blinks. “What? I don’t know.” 

“Katara. How could she have gotten into Ba Sing Se without help? Iroh- I told you, he’s been doing some shady stuff-” 

“No, Zuko, he’s not-” 

“How do we know?” Zuko stands suddenly. “We can’t trust him. I knew we couldn’t trust him. Now Azula’s in the city, and we have no way of stopping Aang from coming back when he realizes you’re in danger- and she’s gonna-” 

His breath is catching in his throat, he’s dizzy in a way he hasn’t been in years- they’re in danger, his family’s in danger- 

Two small hands plant themselves on his shoulders and force him back down to the ground. 

“Breathe.” Katara says firmly. “In and out, Zuko.” 

He shoves the heels of his hands into his eyes and tries, matching Katara’s gentle instruction. “I c-can’t, I can’t-” 

“You can.” Katara says. “In and out.” 

He digs his nails into his scalp, bites down on his lip, and the small jolts of pain cut through the overwhelming static. 

Zuko takes a deep breath, and forces his eyes open to find his sister kneeling in front of him, one hand on her water skin. 

“You better now?” She asks kindly.

Zuko nods, doesn’t trust himself to speak, and Katara sits back on her legs. 

“What were you gonna do with the water?” He says, after his heart stops pounding in his ears. 

Katara shrugs. “I was gonna try dumping it on you. Thought maybe it’d shock you.” 

Zuko lets out a laugh, though it’s not funny at all, and Katara punches his shoulder lightly. 

“Let’s not panic yet.” She says. “We don’t know that it’s Iroh that got her in. And hey- two master benders? We can take some earthbenders. Easy-peasy.” 

They spend hours in the catacombs, until Zuko can feel that the sun has set completely, and Yue has risen. Katara practices pulling water out of the air and fills up her half-empty water skin. 

Zuko is slumped over, focusing on creating a precise line of fire with two fingers, when the wall to their right drops down. He jumps up as Katara gasps and throws her water above her head. 

“Katara! Zuko!” Aang emerges from the dark, looking dirty, but not any worse for the wear. “You’re okay?” 

“Aang?” Katara drops the water as Aang throws his arms around her. “What- how are you-” 

“Iroh helped me find you.” Aang says as he hugs Zuko, too.

Iroh steps into the light, and Zuko straightens up, pulls away from Aang. 

“I’m so glad you all are alright.” Iroh says in relief, stepping forward. 

“Stay where you are.” Zuko orders, and Iroh stops in his place, eyes widening. 

“What?” Aang turns. “Zuko, he’s-” 

“How did Azula get in the city?” Zuko asks, and tries to ignore how his voice shakes. 

Iroh places his hands on his thighs, palms out. “Nephew, I know how this looks, but I swear to you I didn’t aid your sister.”

“Why should I believe you?” Zuko demands. “Who knows what she’s even doing right now?” 

Iroh sighs and shuts his eyes. “Probably attempting to depose the Earth King.” He admits. 

“See!” Zuko whirls around to Katara and Aang, who don’t look nearly as prepared to fight Iroh as he would have hoped. “He helped Azula get in!”

“Actually, Zuko,” Aang says hesitantly. “I don’t think so.”

“How would he have known-” 

“Your sister came to see me last night.” Iroh interrupts. “Right after you and Katara left. I wanted to get a message to you, but she posted Dai Li agents outside- if I had tried to tell you, she would have found you immediately. I was trying to buy you time.” 

“And now?” Zuko says furiously. “There’s no way she doesn’t know Aang’s here- and where are Sokka and Toph?” 

“They’re trying to get Kuei out.” Aang says placatingly. 

“Zuko, I’m sorry.” Iroh says softly. “I know you are still struggling to trust me. But right now, We need to work together to get out of here.” 

Zuko stares at him for a second, then slowly lowers his hands. He really doesn’t have a choice, does he?

“Fine. What’s the plan?” He asks shortly.

“We’re meeting Toph and Sokka in the catacombs, and then meeting up with your dad’s fleet.” Aang says. There’s a rumble of Earth to the side of him, and he immediately stomps, creating a tunnel in front of Zuko. “We should go. Like, now.” 

“This is it?” Zuko stares around at the large cavern Aang’s led them into, lit up with green crystals not unlike the ones Bumi had encased them in, months ago. 

“Yeah,” Aang says, sitting down. “We just have to wait.” 

“Okay.” Zuko can’t shake the prickling feeling of unease on the back of his neck, but he sits down anyways. “Okay.” 

“Hey, how was your training with Guru Pathik?” Katara asks, idly pulling water from a decrepit fountain a few feet away.

Aang goes slightly pink and rubs his head. “Oh, uh, good.”

“Did you master the Avatar State?” 

“More or less?” Aang says unconvincingly, and Zuko raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t push it. 

Iroh hums and sits cross-legged a few feet away, back straight, eyes closed. 

“I don’t trust this.” He announces.

“Neither do I,” Zuko scoffs. “But what else are we supposed to do?”

“I’m not sure, nephew.” Iroh is annoyingly disaffected by Zuko’s obvious attitude. “I think we just need to be wary.” 

“How could Azula possibly know where we are?” Aang rolls his eyes. “I know you guys keep saying she’s a prodigy, but like, come on-” 

The wall across the room from them crumbles down to the ground, and Azula emerges from a tunnel, Dai Li agents lined up behind her, their numbers stretching into the darkness. 

“You just had to say it, huh, Aang?” Katara mutters, as Zuko jumps to his feet, hands out in front of him. 

“Look at this! It’s like you’re all gift-wrapped and ready to send!” Azula crows, stretching out her arms as though she’s preparing for a friendly spar. “Too kind of you to make this easy.” 

“Trust me, Azula, no one’s going to make this easy for you.” Zuko says. 

“A pity,” she sighs, looking at her hands. “I just got my nails done.” She doesn’t bother turning around towards the Dai Li backing her, simply nods her head. “Go fetch.” 

Crystal encases Iroh up to his shoulders, and Zuko lets out a cry, running towards him as Aang and Katara charge toward the Dai Li. 

“Go!” Iroh tells him. “I’ll be fine, Zuko, don’t worry about me!”

“Uncle-”

“GO!” 

Zuko goes. 

Vaguely, distantly, as he whips his leg around his head and lets out a wave of flames into an agent’s unguarded face, Zuko thinks how useful Iroh’s lessons had been. 

Katara and Aang are holding their own, Aang switching somewhat equally between air, water, and earth, and Katara freezing agents to the spot, so Zuko can focus on his sister, who’s sitting back with a practiced casual expression, not even lifting a finger. 

“AZULA!” he roars, and Azula raises one eyebrow at him. “Leave us alone!” 

“I’m a little busy,” she says cheerfully, “take it up with my secretary, please-” She throws up both arms to disperse the wall of flames Zuko sends at her. Azula sits up and narrows her eyes. 

“You really aren’t going to go down without a fight, are you, you little fraud?” 

“Bite me.” Zuko says hoarsely. 

Azula snarls. 

She stands, and with a grace Zuko could only aspire to, performs a series of complex katas that surround him with blue flames. 

It’s not a balanced fight, not even close. Azula’s fire is blisteringly hot, and singes whatever it gets within a few inches of, and it’s clear within seconds that her technical ability far surpasses his own. Though, Zuko thinks with a faraway, vague feeling of vindication, as he takes her flames, whips them around his head and back at her surprised face, she’s clearly only ever studied firebending forms.

Katara lets out a surprised yell behind him, and Zuko whips around to find her on the ground, Aang unconscious in her arms, Dai Li agents closing in. She has one arm up, prepared to raise a wave from the ground water, and Zuko’s about to move towards them when a hot hand flips him onto the ground. Azula stands above him, eyes glinting an icy gold in the dim light, teeth bared. 

“If you thought you could get away with impersonating a member of the Royal Family, you are sorely mistaken,” She hisses, grabbing his collar. 

“Impersonating-?” Zuko says, and suddenly, understanding blooms in his head. “Azula, I’m not impersonating anyone-”

“Shut up!” She yells. “The scar, even. How far were you willing to go to drag my brother out of his final rest?” 

“Azula.” Zuko says, and he does the only thing that might shock her enough to listen: he drops his hands, and he stops fighting. “Azula, I’m Zuko. I’m your brother.” 

She drops him, her eyes wide, and backs away. 

Zuko gets up and moves forward slowly, hands out in front of him. “Azula,” He says, and Azula shakes her head, her jaw clenched tight.

“No.” She says. 

“Azula, when I was nine and you were seven, we went to Ember Island for the weekend with Mom and Dad, Uncle Iroh and Lu Ten.” 

“Shut up!” 

“-and Dad was making us practice our katas, and I kept messing up- he yelled at us-” 

“No, no-” 

“And you took me down to the beach, and you ran through the the exercise with me until I could do it perfectly, and you hugged me, and you said, you said-”

“Stop it!” 

“You said, ‘I wish he didn’t yell at us.” and I said-” Zuko stops and takes a deep, shuddering breath, unable to see anything but the panic behind his sister’s eyes, the fear on her face. “- I said, “it doesn’t matter how much he yells at you. You’ll always have me to make you look good’.” 

Azula shakes her head again, her fingers pointed straight out. “No, no. It’s not- it’s not possible,” She says, and her voice cracks. 

“I don’t understand it either, Azula, but please, you have to-” 

“No!” She screams. “No- I watched him hurt you- I saw you in the infirmary- I saw you die. You can’t be here, because I watched you burn.” 

“Azula.” Zuko says, and can’t stop the sob that erupts out of his chest. “Azula, please.” 

“YOU’RE NOT MY BROTHER!” 

Many things happen in quick succession. 

Azula screams, cracked and bloody, and moves her hands in a deliberate circular motion. 

The space around her crackles with energy. 

She points two fingers up as white lightning appears out of thin air, and aims it directly at Aang, who’s still slumped over in Katara’s arms. 

And Zuko- he doesn’t think, he can’t think, he won’t let Aang get hurt- he dives as Azula shoots. 

By the time he hits the ground, a cacophony of screams has erupted across his chest, traveling up his neck and along his chi path as he moves his arms- and then- it stops. 

The grass under his head is soft. It tickles at the skin on the back of his neck.

A river babbles gently, a warmth presses down on him at all sides, and Zuko doesn’t need to open his eyes to know exactly where he is. He scrambles up- unsteady as something crackles on his chest- and finds no one waiting at the bank of the river for him. 

Zuko reaches up and presses two fingers under his jaw. Nothing-nothing-nothing beats out a taunting rhythm.

“Where are you?” He asks roughly, wheeling around. 

There’s nothing around him but fields of endless green, a river that stretches beyond where he can see.  

“You- you keep fucking with me, and now, now, you don’t show up? What? Are you done with me, you coward? You got your use out of me, and now you get to leave?” 

He moves to the bank of the river, deadened hand closing around the golden hair at the crest of his forehead, and Zuko laughs, though it sounds more like a sob.

“Fuck you.” 

His heart is skipping in his chest, his breath stuttering in his throat, as he pulls-pulls-pulls, ignoring the sharp pain, until a chunk of yellow strands come off in his hand. Zuko stares at it for a moment before he throws it into the river, and watches it sink to the bottom of the clear blue water. 

“Fuck you.” He cries, and he sinks to his knees.

“What a shame.” A soft voice says behind him. “You always had such beautiful hair.” 

Zuko turns slowly, unable to trust what he is hearing.

His mother stands a few steps away in simple red robes, dark hair loose around her face- her round, kind face- her eyebrows furrowed in concern, her arms wide open. 

“Mom,” He says, and his voice cracks in two. 

“Oh, my baby,” she murmurs as he falls into her embrace. ”oh, my little prince.” 

“Mom, I, I-” He can’t breathe right, he can’t speak, he can’t, he can’t he can’t-

“I know.” She says, and presses her cheek to the top of his head, sinking to her knees as he sags to the ground. “It’s alright. It’s alright.” 

“No- no, I can’t-” Zuko digs his nails into the soft cloth of her robes, wants to stay there forever, can’t stand one more second pressed to her shoulder, wrenches away. “I- I- Azula, she-” 

She shakes her head, and Zuko can see how her eyes shine with tears, even in the absence of the sun. 

“I know, baby.” She says. She holds his face with both hands and tilts his chin up, and Zuko’s whole body shakes. “Oh, my sweet boy. She isn’t the only one who hurt you.” 

Zuko sobs.

“Why-” he gasps out, tears clouding his eyes until he can barely see anything. “Why did you leave- why did leave me?” 

“Oh, honey.” There are gentle fingers on his cheeks, wiping away the constant stream of tears. “Baby, I didn’t want to. It was for the best. I was trying to protect you and your sister.” She stills, and fingers ghost over the rough edges of his scarred eye. “My little prince. I am so sorry I was not successful.” 

“I c-can’t- Mom, I- I’m so tired-” 

“I know, baby. You’re exhausted. You’re carrying the world on your shoulders. You can rest, sweet boy. I will not leave you.” 

Zuko can barely keep his eyes open as his mother guides him down to the ground, runs her hand over his forehead. 

“Promise?” He mumbles, and doesn’t hear the answer as she sweeps his eyes shut, and the world fades around him. 

He wakes alone. 

Zuko stares up into the blue sky above him, dry eyes burning, head pounding, and wonders how long he could lay here before the grass grows over him, leaving nothing but picked-clean bones and useless intent behind. 

“No, I have not abandoned you.” 

Zuko can’t even stand. He turns his head to the side. The woman is dressed in bright whites, though her chest is stained bright red and it drips down the folds of her robes. 

“I’m done.” He manages to say, and shuts his eyes. “I’m done.” 

When his eyes open again, he sits at the bank of the river.

“Mortals never cease to surprise me.” Agni says, her hands gentle and warm as she pulls Zuko’s ragged hair back into a simple braid down his back. “To think that you can decide what direction your single drop of water flows in the river of fate.” 

Zuko is silent until he sags down on his knees on the sand. A gentle hand pushes him forward until he is staring into the reflection of the water below him. 

His own face peers back up at him- his hair pulled into a top-knot, a golden, five-pronged crown secured around it, a black collar high about his neck. On his left is Aang, his jaw more defined, his eyes deeper in his face, and on his right, his siblings. Toph behind them, Suki next to her, Hakoda, Bato, Yura, Panuk, Iroh-

Millions of faces, souls, stretch out in front of him in every permutation possible, every age, every nation, every era. 

“You were meant to help restore balance to this world, light-child.” Agni says. Zuko turns and stares at her bright face, now shifting between every race, every person, eyes gold one second, brown the next, blue the second after, the longer he stares. 

“I’m so tired.” He mumbles. “I’m just- I don’t even know if they’re okay. If Aang’s still alive. My brother. My sisters. I can’t do it anymore, I can’t-” 

Agni nods once. “Your spirit is exhausted, child, I know.” She says softly. “You did your part when you helped find the Avatar and set him on the right path towards his destiny. If you want to be done, then you may be done. It is your decision.” 

“I’m just tired.” Zuko says hoarsely, and covers his eyes again. “I’m just really, really tired.” 

Zuko is deadly still, deathly pale, under Katara’s grasp as they fly out of Ba Sing Se and towards the coast. His head lolls back as she pulls out the last drop of the Spirit Water from the North and bends it onto his chest. 

“Toph?” She asks shakily.

Toph, her fingers wrapped tight around Zuko’s wrist, two fingers digging into his pulse-point, shakes her head. “Nothing.” She whispers. 

“You- you have to try, Katara-” Aang says fiercely. 

“I am, Aang, I- this is the last of it, I don’t-” Katara’s voice breaks. “I don’t know what to do, I don’t know-” 

“But -” Aang stares at Zuko, at the massive, sprawling red wound over his chest. “It’s not fair. It’s not fair-” 

“There isn’t a law that says the Spirits have to be fair.” Sokka says coldly from Appa’s head. The reins are clutched white-knuckled between his hands, his shoulders hunched over. “They can do whatever they want, and we can’t do-” Sokka stops suddenly. He’s silent for a moment, and then he straightens up and turns around. “Do what you can, Katara. We’ll be at Dad’s ship in a few hours.” 

Katara nods again, tears on her face but a stoney determination in her eyes, and Aang sits frozen at Zuko’s head as the water on his chest begins to glow a blinding white. 

“Please,” She begs quietly, trying to force the water deeper into his chest, still unmoving. “Please, Zuko. Stay here. Stay with us. Please.” 

“The kids are here.” Bato says, as he pulls open Hakoda’s door, not even bothering to knock. 

Hakoda jumps up from his desk, suddenly full of a nervous energy as he follows Bato up the stairwell. Bato stops him before they step out onto the deck. 

“It’s gonna be okay, Koda.” he says, and knocks his forehead against his. 

“Who said it wasn’t?” Hakoda scoffs, and Bato, blessedly, doesn’t call him out on how his hands are shaking as he turns the doorknob, and only squeezes his arm. 

The rain, only a light drizzle an hour before, has turned into a torrential downpour, and Hakoda can barely see the bison as it lands on the deck. He moves closer, one hand over his eyes to shield them from the rain as the massive beast folds down onto its knees. 

Sokka is sitting on the bison’s head, but he doesn’t respond to Hakoda’s wave of greeting, instead climbing back into the saddle. A young girl dressed in greens climbs down, one arm clutching the Avatar, but neither acknowledges them, and Bato steps forward. 

“Hakoda,” he murmurs, rough nails digging into his forearm. “Hakoda, something’s wrong-” 

The words have barely left Bato’s mouth before Hakoda is hurrying forward. Katara is slowly climbing down the Bison’s side, and when she gets down to the deck, she seems barely able to stand, and the Avatar rushes to her side.

Hakoda crouches down and lifts his daughter’s chin up, barely even able to acknowledge that it’s been nearly two years since he’s seen her, only able to see how swollen and bloodshot her eyes are, the bruising and dried blood on her face.

“Katara,” He asks urgently. “What’s wrong?” 

Katara lets out a sob and shakes her head, turning into the Avatar’s shoulder, and Hakoda realizes, with a jolt of nausea, that Sokka is still in the saddle.

And that Zuko hasn’t come down. 

He leaps onto the bison’s back and into the saddle, where Sokka is bent over someone lying prone, struggling to pick them up. 

“Sokka-” he asks, strangled. Sokka doesn’t even respond, as though he can’t- or won’t- hear him. 

Hakoda needs to move forward. See who’s under that blanket, so still, chest unmoving. 

Hakoda wants nothing less than to confirm what he already knows. 

Sokka’s shoulders are shaking. Hakoda forces himself forward, one hand coming across Sokka’s back. 

Ink-black hair, plastered to pale skin by the rain, peeks out from under the blankets. 

His son’s face is shock-white, and his eyes are half-open but unseeing, as Sokka attempts, again, to pick him up. 

“Zuko.” Hakoda says, shaking the boy’s shoulder. He’s as still as he was, all those years ago, laying on his back in a cave of ice and snow. Hakoda shakes harder. “Zuko. Zuko-” 

“Dad-” Sokka pulls his hand back. “Stop. He’s-” 

Sokka takes a deep, shuddering breath, and when he finally meets Hakoda’s eyes, there’s a terrifying emptiness behind the ice-blue. 

“He’s gone.” 

Two months ago, during an ill-advised raid on a Fire Nation ship off the coast of Whale Tail Island, Amaruq caught a spear to the throat. 

Tulok, falling to his knees to catch Amaruq as he dropped, let out a blood-curdling cry so inhuman, so familiar in its pain, it made Hakoda’s throat close. 

They had retreated, their numbers smaller, their men burned and beaten and bloody. 

Tulok sat by Amaruq’s wrapped body for the full twenty-four hours of vigil before they returned him to the sea. His armour was still strapped on, blood drying rusted on his face, his hands. No one could move Tulok from where he sat, get him to eat, sleep, his wounds taken care of. 

Hakoda knew, desperately wished he didn’t, what Tulok was doing. 

After all, he’s done it before. 

And he’s doing it again. 

Sokka’s hands are shaking so uncontrollably as he tries to pick up Zuko again that his shoulders fall from Sokka’s grasp. Sokka leans over Zuko’s chest, his forehead barely touching the sprawling wound that covers Zuko’s pale skin, and he doesn’t make a noise. 

Not when Hakoda gently pulls him back.

Not when Bato climbs up and wraps his arms around Sokka’s trembling shoulders, turning his face away. 

Not when Hakoda leans down and gathers the boy’s body in his arms, and climbs back down the bison, careful to not look at the children staring at him, his daughter sobbing into the Avatar’s shoulder, the faces of his men, as he passes. 

Zuko is still warm against Hakoda’s chest when he places him down on his bed. Hakoda carefully closes his son’s half-open eyes, sweeps back his singed hair, and re-arranges his tunic to cover the massive red trauma on his chest. 

If Hakoda hadn’t checked his pulse himself for any sign of life, ghosted his hand over his mouth for any breath escaping his lungs, and found none, Zuko could almost look asleep, like this. Like any moment, he’ll wake up. Say something stupidly obnoxious to Hakoda. Go to bother his siblings.

He doesn’t. 

He stays still on the bed, and he doesn’t move. 

“I’m sorry, Dad.” Katara’s voice breaks behind him. 

Hakoda turns. The kids have followed him in. Katara’s arms are wrapped tight around her stomach. Sokka is staring at Zuko with a blank expression on his face.

“I-I’m sorry. I- he got shot with lightning, and I-I tried, I really tried, I couldn’t- I couldn’t-” Katara’s breath is coming quick and stuttered and Hakoda has dealt with this too many times to not know what happens next. 

“Oh, baby.” Hakoda moves- can’t think about what his daughter just said, can’t allow himself to feel, and wraps her up tight in his arms. “It’s not your fault. It’s not.” 

“It- it is.” She says, cracked, into his chest. “Dad, I was the only one who could have healed him, and I couldn’t-” 

“Katara, no.” Sokka says, suddenly, and Hakoda looks up. “You did everything you could. It’s not your fault Zuko’s-” 

Sokka cuts off. Looks down. A deep whine comes from the back of his son’s throat, like he’s suppressing a sob. Hakoda shuts his eyes for a second, begs Tui for the strength to continue for just one more second, and pulls Sokka close to him. 

His children hang onto him like they’re afraid he’ll disappear the moment he lets go. He clings to them with the same desperation. 

They stay where they are, in the quarters of a captured Fire Nation ship, hundreds of miles from home, and yet, the cycle of shock and fear and anger and the terrifying sadness of grief is all too familiar a beast. 

The kids cry themselves out within an hour. Hakoda carefully carries them out of the room where Zuko’s body lays and tucks them into bed in the same room that the Avatar and the little girl- Aang and Toph, he’s told are their names- are sleeping, and shuts the door quietly. 

Bato is waiting outside, his arms crossed, his head bowed.

Hakoda looks away. Something is fighting to claw its way out of his throat, and the minute Bato looks at him, Hakoda will let it. 

He’s started down the hall, unsure of where he’s going, just that he has to go, when Bato catches his arm.

“Koda.” 

Is all he says. 

It’s rough around the edges, somehow still soft in the middle. 

Hakoda- 

He breaks. 

Bato is swift, steady, a rock, as he wraps both arms around him and holds him tight. 

Hakoda, he wants to explode. He wants to disappear. He wants to burn down the entire world for the arrogance, the sheer injustice, of giving him a son, and taking him away. 

Instead, Hakoda sinks to his knees, head pressed to Bato’s chest.

Bato pulls him as close as possible, tangles his hand in his wolf’s tail. 

“I-” Hakoda gasps out. “Bato. I fucked up- I, I-” 

“Koda.” Bato says softly. “You couldn’t have known. You couldn’t have known.” 

“Zuko.” He manages to say, and it hurts like someone’s slipped a knife between his ribs. “Zuko, Zuko- oh, spirits-” 

“I know.” Bato says. “I know, I know, I know. “

Someone screams, a cracked, guttural, bloody thing, and it takes Hakoda a minute to connect the sound to the grating rawness of his throat, his open mouth. 

At some point, the screams fade into darkness.

When Hakoda wakes, he’s in Bato’s room, a fur thrown over him. Bato is sitting in a chair next to him, eyes glazed over with a faraway look. He smiles vacantly at Hakoda, reaches over as he sits up. 

“How do you feel?” He asks. Hakoda meets his blank eyes, the ache in his head, his throat, his heart. 

“We need to bind him.” Hakoda says. “We need to-” 

“Yeah.” Bato confirms. He holds up his hands. A heap of gray fabric sits Bato’s lap, along with Hakoda’s bone-knife. 

“Did the kids-” Hakoda looks down. “Did they- tell you?” 

Bato carefully slits another long piece of fabric. “They were in Ba Sing Se.” Bato says, eyes averted, steady hands shaking. “The Crown Princess showed up. I guess- the Avatar said she tried to kill him. Zuko dove in front, took the hit.” 

“He took the hit.” Hakoda repeats, curls his hands up. Bato smiles, though there’s no joy behind it. 

“‘Course he did. Would you expect anything else?” Bato asks. 

“No.” Hakoda says. “No. Of course I wouldn’t.” 

Bato puts down the knife and leans forward, grasping the back of Hakoda’s neck and pulling their foreheads close. 

“He was trying to protect them.” Bato says quietly. “That’s the only thing we can ask of anyone. The kindest, noblest way to go, Koda.” 

“I know.” Hakoda gasps, grasps his wrist. “I just- I should have-” 

“Uh.” The half-open door creaks, and Hakoda jumps back. 

Zuko is standing in the doorway, tunic untied, face whiter than snow, one hand on his head, as though it aches, and the other over the unbound wound on his chest. Hakoda glances at Bato, needs to confirm he’s not hallucinating, but no, Bato’s eyes are wide and confused too. 

“Where?” Zuko asks, voice raspier than Hakoda has ever heard it, but full of life. “Where am I?” 

And then he falls. 

Sokka lies awake in the small bunk Dad deposited him in. Katara is only a few feet away, curled into the wall, but Sokka is keeping an eye on her chest, as it rises and falls with her breaths. 

He just needs to make sure she’s- 

Sokka covers his face with the pillow to muffle the cries he can hear outside the door, the sobs threatening to escape his mouth. 

He’d woken up when Dad picked him up to carry him. Knew he should have told Dad he was awake, gotten down, walked himself. 

But the part of him that had a vision of Zuko writhing on the ground with pain burned onto his retinas, wanted to not be responsible anymore. To not have the weight of the fate of the world rest on his shoulders, the iron collar of grief around his neck. To be young again and have his father carry him to bed after he falls asleep at a bonfire. 

So he let Dad tuck him into bed. And then Dad stood, left the room, closed the door, and Dad promptly fell apart. 

Sokka can hear Dad’s cries, interspersed with Bato’s low, soothing tone, and, all of a sudden, he is young again, but his mother’s blood is stained into the snow, and Sokka can barely breathe for how heavy his chest feels. 

The screaming stops, as suddenly as it started, and Sokka turns in towards the wall, his stomach twisting itself into knots. He prays to anyone who will listen to just, please, please, please, knock him unconscious. Please. 

Someone hears his prayers, because Sokka suddenly finds himself jerked back into consciousness as quickly as he left it. He lays in the darkness for a second, wondering what woke him, before he hears it again- shouts of surprises, someone talking loudly. Sokka is up and out of bed, running towards the door, before he even fully registers what’s happening. 

“What- what’s going on?” Aang sits up as Sokka wrenches the door open. 

Down the hall, Dad is on the floor, cradling someone in his arms, and when he looks up at Sokka, his eyes are wide and crazed in a way Sokka has only ever seen once. 

“Get your sister!” Dad orders. “Sokka, now!” 

“Dad-” 

The body in Dad’s arms has jet-black hair, a streak of gold in the front. 

The body’s chest is rising and falling. 

The body is- it’s alive. 

Sokka spins on his heel and grabs Katara as Aang is shaking her awake. 

“What, Sokka, what-” Katara is saying, in a cracked, fearful voice, as Sokka pulls her by the arm and marches her outside. 

She stares at Zuko, whose eyes are fluttering open and closed, Dad running a gentle hand over his cheek, for just a second before she takes off down the hall, Sokka at her heels. 

“How-” Katara asks, breathless, pulling water from her water skin and immediately pressing it to Zuko’s chest. 

Dad’s face is swollen, eyes red. He shakes his head. “I-I don’t know. He showed up at my door. Katara, I need you to-”

“Okay, okay-” Katara’s clearly still in shock. The water under her hands glows.

Sokka stands, turns away, pulls at his hair by the root as his heart skips in his chest. He won’t watch. He can’t. 

Toph and Aang are standing a few feet away. Aang hurries close and grabs Sokka’s arm. Toph’s jaw drops open. 

“Zuko- Zuko’s heart.” She says. 

Katara gasps and Sokka turns around. Zuko’s eyes are half-open, and he’s staring up at them with bloodshot golden eyes. Sokka falls to his knees in front of him the same time Dad drops his forehead into Zuko’s hair, eyes shut tight, lips whispering a prayer. 

“Oh,” Zuko says, raspy and weak. “I don’t feel good.” 

Katara laughs, wet and not a little hysterical, and Toph, behind Aang, sniffles. 

“It’s beating.” Toph says. “His heart is beating again.” 

Hakoda doesn’t understand any of it. 

But, as Bato is quick to tell him, he doesn’t understand much of anything, anymore. 

So when Zuko’s heart stays strong and steady, even as his eyes flutter back shut as Katara heals him, and then continues to stay steady throughout the night and into the dawn, Hakoda decides he doesn’t need to understand what force brought his son back to him, or why. 

He just needs to be grateful for it. 

Zuko stays unconscious as the days bleed into nights into days into weeks. Hakoda shoves off most of his responsibilities onto Bato in favor of sitting next to Zuko, checking his pulse more often than he probably needs to, and piling on blankets. 

He wakes for minutes at a time every so often, which is barely enough time for Hakoda to force nutrients down his throat and periodically change him into fresh sleep clothes. Katara changes his bandages and works on healing him. The other kids eschew offers of games and training from the crew in favor of crowding into Hakoda’s little room, day after day, as though their mere presence will cause Zuko to wake. More often than not, Hakoda will come back to the room after night duties to find his kids, if not all of the kids, asleep in various positions around the room. 

Tonight is no exception. 

It’s Bato’s turn to sit with Zuko.  Hakoda had protested, but Bato had raised one eyebrow, and that was enough to shut Hakoda’s mouth tight. Still, he can’t stop himself from stumbling back to his room to check on them just one last time before heading back to Bato’s room for the night. 

He quietly opens the door, and Bato immediately jumps up, one finger pressed to his lips. 

Zuko, as always, is huddled under the blankets, only the very top of his forehead and his hair visible. But to his right, Sokka is pressed against his shoulder, and Katara is slumped into his other side, one arm draped over both of her brothers. 

Bato’s lip is quirked up. He settles one arm around Hakoda’s waist, and Hakoda stands still for a second, and allows himself to take in the unparalleled luxury of all of the people he loves in one room- with each other, and alive, alive, alive. 

Zuko sits straight up around mid-day, a few weeks after the lightning strike. Hakoda, sitting at the desk and writing letters while the kids play an elaborate card game on the ground, stills. 

His blanket is caught around his shoulders, his hair an absolute wreck, and he blinks a few times, before he announces, 

“I’m really hungry.” 

Katara launches herself at him with a cry, and the rest of the kids follow suit, crowding onto his bed. 

“Ow,” Zuko manages to complain, making bleary eye contact with Hakoda over Sokka’s shoulder. “I just said I was hungry. Why are you hugging me?” 

“Oh!” Katara pulls back, whacking at everyone else until they let him go. “Oh, how do you feel?” 

Zuko looks down at his chest, nose wrinkling when he finds white bandaging wrapped around his midsection. 

“Like I got hit with lightning.” He says, and the startled laugh that exits Hakoda’s mouth is almost foreign to him.

“-and then Azula shot lightning, and I went into the Avatar state, and we escaped Ba Sing Se on Appa, and we landed on your dad’s ship and now we’re here!” Aang says, making a big gesture with his hands. 

Zuko, halfway through a bowl of broth, makes a face, one hand on his chest. 

“You okay, Zuko?” Hakoda asks, sitting on the opposite side of the room, and tries to keep his concerned tone to a minimum. Zuko nods. 

“Yeah, fine.” He says, and turns back to Aang. “What happened to Iroh?” 

Aang’s face falls. 

“Azula captured him.” He says quietly. “We tried to get him out, but we just didn’t have time. I’m- I’m sorry, Zuko.” 

“What? Why are you sorry?” Zuko asks, and Aang just looks confused. 

“Because?” Aang says. “You took that lightning for me, and I couldn’t even get Iroh out-” 

“So?” Zuko interrupts, crossing his arms. “What, would it have been better if you took it?” 

“Well, yeah-“ 

“No.” Zuko says, resolute, sharp. “No, Aang. Stop. You did everything you could. Thinking like that’s only gonna mess you up, and you’re gonna be stuck in the past, wondering about all the things you did wrong. I’ll never regret taking that shot for you, so don’t regret what happened after.” 

Aang stares at him for a second, before he launches himself at Zuko and wraps his arms around his neck. Zuko makes wide, confused eye contact with Hakoda, and Hakoda does absolutely nothing to help, shrugging. 

“You should give yourself more credit, Zuko.” Aang mumbles into his shoulder, holding tighter until Zuko hugs him back. “I told you that being born a prince of the Fire Nation doesn’t change who you are, inside. I told you.” 

The confused eye contact quickly averts to the bed, and Zuko’s shoulders hunch up. 

Hakoda knew they’d need to have this conversation. 

He just didn’t think it would be so soon. 

“Aang,” Hakoda calls, and the Avatar reluctantly disengages from him. “I need to speak with Zuko. Could you go see if Nanook needs help with dinner, please?” 

Aang looks at Zuko, who nods slightly, and then gets up. 

“Sure thing. I’ll bring you some as soon as it’s ready, Zuko.” He promises, and then leaves the room. 

Zuko immediately draws into himself as the door shuts, knees to his chest, arms wrapped tight, head ducked. 

“Zuko.” Hakoda says gently, pulling his chair to the edge of the bed. “Please look at me.” 

“You know.” Zuko says into his knees. 

“I do.” Hakoda says, careful to keep his voice soft. “Please, look at me.” 

Zuko drags his head up, and Hakoda sees that his eyes are already rimmed red. 

“I’m sorry.” He mumbles, voice rough. 

“You’re sorry?” Hakoda repeats. 

“I-I’m sorry. I’m sure you wouldn’t have- have kept me if you knew, and now everyone’s dropped everything to take care of me, and I’m still the fucking son of the Fire Lord-” 

“Zuko.” Hakoda interrupts, and slowly reaches out to put one hand on his shaking shoulder. “Tui, I-I don’t even know where to start. It’s not your fault, you know that, right?” 

Zuko shakes his head. 

“Doesn’t matter. Fault doesn’t matter.” 

“It does.” Hakoda insists, and takes a deep breath. “Zuko, just- answer me this.” 

Zuko quiets. 

“Do you approve of this war, or the Fire Nation’s conquest at all?” 

“What?” Zuko’s head whips up, eyes narrowing. “Of course not!” 

“Right. Did you aid Princess Azula when she took over Ba Sing Se?” 

“No! No, I would never-” 

“Do you want peace?” 

“Of course I do!” 

“Did you spend the past months traveling with the Avatar, and keeping everyone safe, even to the hazard of your own life?” 

“I-”

Zuko cuts off. 

“I tried to.” He whispers. 

“You did.” Hakoda says. “Zuko, you did. Yes, I know who you are, I found out before you ever landed on this ship. But you aren’t the Fire Lord, and you’re not Azula- you didn’t do those things-” 

“He’s still my father.” Zuko cuts in forcefully. “ It’s still my blood. Ozai is still my father.” 

Hakoda has to take a deep breath and steady himself for a moment, thinking of a bar in the Earth Kingdom, his hands hauling up a bartender by his tunic, demanding that he repeat what he said, Bato pulling him back, calming him down-

He opens his eyes, and gently turns Zuko’s face so he can see the full extent of the handprint burned into his skin, the fire that smoldered down to his bones until Zuko was nothing but ash. 

Zuko intakes a sharp breath and turns away. 

“Fathers don’t do that to their children.” Hakoda says, and his rage is still barely contained, even after months of processing it. 

“He did.” Zuko croaks out, one hand wrapped tight around his wrist, nails digging into his skin. “He- held me down. It was in front of a crowd. I couldn’t- I couldn’t get away.” 

“Fathers don’t do that.” Hakoda repeats. “You were a child, Zuko.” 

“I spoke up in a meeting. I wasn’t supposed to be there-” 

“It wasn’t your fault.” Hakoda says, and he’ll say it forever if that’s what it takes to get it through Zuko’s skull. “Zuko, it was wrong, and it was cruel, and it wasn’t your fault.” 

Zuko lets out a half-sob, and Hakoda can’t stop himself from moving forward and wrapping him up in a tight hug. Zuko clutches at the back of his cloak, buries his head in his shoulder, and he weeps. 

For a few, long, minutes, Hakoda stays half-bent over the bed, just holding Zuko as he breaks. 

“I know I never told you,” Hakoda starts finally, in the most measured voice he can manage. “I didn’t know if you were ready to hear it, but Zuko- I consider you my son. I have for years. You’re part of my family, and you’re my son.” 

Zuko doesn't say anything, doesn’t seem capable of anything more than clinging onto Hakoda tighter, crying harder, but Zuko has never been good with words, and the way he folds into Hakoda’s chest tells him everything he needs to know about how Zuko feels about that. 

Zuko finally lets go and sits back, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes and sniffling. The door creaks, and they both turn their heads to find Katara and Sokka in the doorway. Katara’s eyes are red, and Sokka’s got an arm slung around her shoulders. Zuko holds out his arms, and Katara shoots into them, Sokka following by only a second. They climb onto his bed, as though they’re kids again, falling asleep telling each other stories, and Hakoda closes his hand around the pendant bound around his wrist. 

“Leaving you all was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do,” Hakoda tells them, tucking Katara’s loose, wet hair behind her ear. “and I am so sorry you have been through so much without me. But I am so proud of you all. You are brave, and you are selfless, and you are all so kind- I couldn’t be more proud to call you my children.” 

“Though,” He adds on, pulling a blanket tighter around Zuko’s shoulders. “I’d appreciate it if you stopped getting into life-threatening situations all the time. Better for my old-man heart.” 

Zuko lets out a wet laugh as Katara makes a sound of indignation. 

“Zuko’s the one who gets hurt all the time!” She says. “I’m perfectly responsible!” 

Sokka and Zuko snort at the same time, and Katara’s cheeks go pink. 

“She challenged a waterbending master to a duel in the North before she ever learned anything.” Zuko says, raising an eyebrow.

“And I’m pretty sure she was trying to kill him.” Sokka adds on. 

Hakoda groans, and only groans harder when Katara crosses her arms and says imperiously, 

“Well, I knew he wouldn’t die if he was as good as he said he was!” 

They continue to bicker good-naturedly, until Katara finally realizes that Zuko’s hair hasn’t been brushed in weeks, and immediately pulls out a brush. Zuko relaxes under her grasp while Sokka discusses Aang’s firebending with him, and Hakoda just sits back and takes it in. 

This is not permanent, he knows.

There is still a war to be won and a Fire Lord to depose, and the fact that his son is technically next in line for the throne does not make things any less complicated. But to be sitting here, with his children, his wonderful, fearless, children, however temporary it may be-

For now, it is enough. 

Zuko makes sure the hallway is clear before he carefully tiptoes out of the room, shutting the door as quietly as he can to avoid waking up Bato, whose eyebags are starting to rival Aang’s. 

Even taking a step makes the wound on his stomach burn, and he hisses a sharp breath before he moves again. Katara had told him in no uncertain terms that he shouldn’t try and move around without help, but it’s apparently been weeks since he’s been outside, and there’s nothing apparent about the lack of sun he feels- which is how he’s currently justifying directly disobeying her. 

Okay, maybe the sun set hours ago, but small, minor details. Maybe he also needs fresh air. Maybe, maybe, he really just needs to sit on the edge of the deck, legs carefully positioned to hang out over the side, stare blankly up at Yue, and try to force the panic that ebbs and flows in his chest back down to a low tide. 

Maybe even attempt the breathing exercises Iroh taught him. Even though Iroh is probably being carted off to some work camp in the far corners of the Fire Nation, or-

“I don’t think you’re supposed to be out of bed.” 

Zuko whips his head around, hands heating, but it’s just Aang. He sits down next to Zuko, resting his chin on the bottom bar of the railing. 

“You gonna tell on me?” He asks. His voice is still rough, even after regularly talking for a few days.

Aang shrugs, gives him a small, heavy smile. “Only if I have to.”

They sit in blessed silence for a minute. Zuko stares down at the dark waves, the cut of the white foam against the hull, and thinks of fishing trips with Sokka and Hakoda, years ago. 

“How are you feeling?” Aang asks.

Zuko resists the urge to snort. The wound on his chest is sprawling; an angry red with a cracked center- a nice, matched set for his face. 

Zuko almost laughs, he really does, because they’re in the middle of a war, and he’s great-grandson of the man who started it, the grandson of the man who perpetuated it, the son of the man waging it. Because his mother is dead and it would be a kinder fate if his uncle was, too. Because his father killed him once, so his sister, who is nothing if not competitive, had to do it, too. 

“I don’t know,” He says instead, because it’s mostly true. 

“Yeah.” Aang says. “Me, either.” 

Aang fiddles with Appa’s whistle, turning it over in his hands, pressing it into his palms. “Hey, Zuko?” He asks quietly, and Zuko turns to look at him, resting his head on his folded arms. “Do you know what happened, after Azula shot you?” 

Zuko shrugs. “You guys came here, I woke up in Hakoda’s room-” 

“No.” Aang says. “Between that. Do you- do you know?” 

Aang sounds close to tears, and his stomach is starting its familiar routine of practicing rope knots on his intestines. 

“Zuko, you-” 

“I know.” Zuko interrupts, sharp. “I died, Aang.” 

Aang usually cries like most kids do; noisy, exuberant, public and unashamed. Now, he ducks his head as silent tears roll down his cheeks, a quiet whine in the back of his throat and Zuko immediately regrets being so blunt.

“I’m here now, though. It’s okay,” He says softly. 

Aang shakes his head. “Zuko, you- you were gone. For hours. You were gone. Do you even know-?”

“-How I came back?” Zuko finishes for him. 

“Yeah.” Aang says. “How?” 

“Your spirit is exhausted, child, I know.” Agni says softly. “You did your part when you helped find the Avatar and set him on the right path towards his destiny. If you want to be done, then you may be done. It is your decision.” 

“I’m just tired.” Zuko says hoarsely, and covers his eyes again. “I’m just really, really tired.” 

“Then so be it.” 

There is a warm hand on his forehead, and the world begins to dissolve around him, snow building up on the ice. 

“Wait.” 

The hand lifts. 

Zuko drags his eyes open, and when he forces himself to look directly at Agni, it burns. 

“My family.” He says. “I can’t leave them.”

“I cannot tell you the fate of those around you, child.” Agni says. “Whether the Avatar survived is not my realm.”

“So if I go back,” Zuko takes a shuddering breath. “they could all be gone.” 

“Perhaps.” 

“But if they’re not-” 

Katara, eyes wide with terror as the Dai Li closed in. Aang, unconscious in her arms. Sokka and Toph, facing unknown threats miles away-

Azula, panicked. 

Covering her ears like a toddler as Zuko spoke, flinching when he mentioned Ozai. 

Burn marks on her arms visible when her sleeves moved. 

“I have to go back.” Zuko says, and his voice cracks. “I have to. I can’t- I can’t leave them.” 

Agni regards him with an expression betraying nothing. 

“Light-child.” She rises to her feet, and when Zuko blinks, she floats off the ground. “I cannot promise your survival nor safety, but I will allow your decision. Remember that I am always with you, and know that your inner flame is used for more than simple fire.” 

“I had a choice.” Zuko answers, and hears Aang intake a sharp breath. “I was- I was so tired. But I had a choice, and you and Toph, and my siblings were here. So.” 

“Your siblings.” Aang repeats, ever too perceptive for his own good, and Zuko is suddenly deeply thankful Katara is fast asleep still. “She killed you-” 

“Ozai is not a kind man.” Zuko interrupts again. “I wish you didn’t have to learn this now, but some people-” red, gold, cold stone beneath him, fire above- “Some people should never be parents.” 

“Zuko.” Aang’s eyes are dark, unreadable. “Did he-” small fingers ghost over his scar, and Zuko wills himself not to jump back, but his involuntary flinch is apparently enough of an answer for Aang, who pulls back his hand as though it burns. 

“Oh.” Aang says, choked. 

“He’s not a kind man.” Zuko repeats. “Aang, when the time comes- we have to take him out. He can’t- he can’t keep hurting people.” 

“Take him out.” Aang says dumbly, and his hands fall to his sides. “Oh.” 

According to the Fire Nation, the Air Nomads had a highly-trained army, could bend the air right out of someone’s lungs. 

According to the skeletons in the back rooms of the Southern Air Temple, the Air Nomads practiced non-violence up until their flesh was melted from their bones. 

Zuko can’t stop himself from slinging an arm around Aang’s shaking shoulders, pulling him closer even as his chest screams protests. “I’m sorry, Aang.” 

“Me too,” Aang says, and then he straightens up, though he doesn’t throw off Zuko’s arm. “But it doesn’t matter. I failed the world at Ba Sing Se. It can't happen again." 

Hakoda stands silently as his kids finish loading supplies onto the saddle. Zuko, who Katara sternly told to stay still, Tui, Zuko, you don’t have to be moving every second of every day, is standing next to him. If Hakoda doesn’t look so hard at the red fractal scarring that peeks out from under his tunic, the way his face seems to lose color far easier than it retains it, Zuko could almost pass for healthy. 

“Tulok, I really don’t think we need ten pounds of seal jerky.” Sokka says, jumping down from Appa’s back.

Tulok gasps, affronted. 

“Have you forgotten your roots so quickly, boy?” He demands. “What are you eating for meat, then?” 

“We eat vegetarian a lot, actually.” Zuko says, and Tulok’s eyes go comically wide. 

“Vege- what the fuck is vegetarian?” 

“Aang doesn’t eat meat, so we make most meals without it!” Katara says cheerfully. 

“You wound me, cuz.” Tulok claps a hand over his chest, and staggers back as though he’s been stabbed. Katara giggles and shoves him all the way over, and Tulok lays eagle-spread on the deck, feigning despair, until Bato kicks him lightly in the side to get him back up. Hakoda has to turn away for a moment. 

Tulok hasn’t laughed in weeks. 

Katara’s laugh grows closer to Kya’s every day. 

“Okay, I think we’re ready to go?” Sokka says, and next to him, Zuko stills. 

“Great! Help me on!” Toph- who’s terrifying, by the way, though Hakoda will never admit it out loud- holds out a hand, and Sokka rolls his eyes before taking her hand. 

“I thought you could metal-bend now, Toph.” 

“I’m still working on the metal-seeing part, Snoozles. Why don’t you invent a new kind of bending and then we can-” 

“Technically, I invented a new kind of bending!” the Avatar pipes up, a gust of wind settling him on the bison’s head. 

“So did I!” Sokka says. “Bo-” 

“If you say boomerang-bending, so help me Shu, Sokka, I will throw you out of this saddle over the ocean-” 

“Zuko.” Hakoda turns, when he realizes the boy hasn’t moved from his side. “Are you alright?” 

Zuko shakes his head and resolutely doesn’t make eye contact. 

“Zuko, talk-” 

He’s cut off by Zuko throwing himself at him, burying his head in his chest. Hakoda immediately pulls him closer and realizes with a jolt that he’s grown at least three inches since he last saw him. Sokka attaches himself on without too much effort on his left, Katara on his right, and Hakoda tries to push the thought out of his mind that this could be the last time they’re all together. 

“Watch each other’s backs.” He says, and Katara holds on tighter. “Be safe, keep each other safe, keep the younger kids safe. I love you so much.” 

“Love you too, Dad.” Sokka says, and when he disengages, his eyes are shiny, but his jaw is set. “We’ll meet you at the islands in a few weeks. You have that list of contacts I gave you?” Hakoda nods, and Sokka and Katara go to hug Bato one more time. Zuko lingers for a second. 

“I-” He starts and then cuts off. “I... Someone told me- when the war is over- that I could help bring about peace.” 

Hakoda is quiet for a moment, before he moves to straighten out one of Zuko’s beads- a deep, wine-dark blue, almost maroon. “You certainly could.” 

“You wouldn’t- you wouldn’t hate me?” Zuko asks, and his voice shakes. “If I was Fire Nation? If I tried to end the war?” 

“Zuko,” Hakoda says. “how could I ever hate you? Son, if you ended the war and brought about peace- no matter what insignia you are bearing when you do it- I would be the proudest father alive.” 

Hakoda is rewarded for this speech with another quick, tight hug, and Zuko’s shoulders shake for just a second, before he lets go and immediately flees to hug Bato, and then climbs onto the bison’s back. 

“Bye!” The Avatar yells. “Thank you so much for everything! We’ll see you guys soon!” 

The bison takes off into the cloudless blue sky, and Bato comes to stand next to him, gripping his shoulder.

“It’ll be alright, Koda.” he murmurs. Hakoda puts his hand on top of Bato’s, and turns to give him a thin smile. 

“We’ll make sure it is.” He says. 

“We do need to change clothes,” Sokka admits after they’ve landed on the outskirts of a small island, and Katara and Aang, having already discerned this, come back to camp with armfuls of red clothing with dubious origins. “We stick out way too much like this.” 

“I already called the black suit, so no one take it!" Aang yells over. 

Zuko knows that they’re right- Sokka and Katara will already be considered suspect because of their light eyes and dark skin; they can’t afford to call anymore attention to themselves through their clothes. But it feels wrong, so wrong, to shed his blue tunic and well-worn boots, to shrug on the red robes Sokka hands to him, even while his fingers remember the proper way to knot the sash. 

“You guys should probably take out your beads,” Katara says, and Zuko’s hand flies up to his hair. 

“Oh.” he says. “I guess, yeah. They don’t wear braids here, either.” 

Katara gives him a thin smile, and helps him unwind the beads from his hair. Zuko takes his hair ribbon and slides the beads through, knotting it around his ankle to keep track of it, and stops when he sees Sokka gather his wolf’s tail into a top-knot. 

Top-knots were a symbol of honor, pride; Zuko had never, ever, been allowed to wear one, his father constantly citing his inability to keep up with his lessons, his disrespectful demeanor. But Sokka is sliding a pin around his nonchalantly, like it doesn’t matter at all. 

Maybe it doesn’t. 

He’s seen it done enough times that it’s terribly easy to gather the top half of his hair into a bun and wrap the red ribbon Katara hands him around it. 

“How do I look?” Sokka asks, flexing his arm. 

“Terrible,” Toph supplies.

Sokka scowls at her before a look of realization dawns across his face. 

“Hey!” He yells, and Toph cackles. 

Zuko tunes out their bickering and goes to kneel by the water to see if his top-knot is straight. The reflection that peers back is almost not his own. Dark, long hair, straight jaw, golden eyes. If it wasn’t for the burn that dug craters into the right side of his face, Zuko would almost look like-

“You alright, Zuko?” Aang asks, tying a headband around his forehead to cover the tip of his arrow. 

“Fine.” Zuko smiles thinly, and looks away. “Let’s just try and lay low, yeah?” 

Having a dance party in a cave is not Zuko’s idea of laying low, and judging by Sokka’s permanently narrowed eyes, he doesn’t quite think so, either. 

But Aang has an actual smile on his face for the first time in ages, and Toph is even bobbing her head as she sits on a rock, and Katara looks so carefree like this, swinging around in Aang’s arms. Aang dips her low, and Katara blushes. 

“Oh, gross.” Sokka makes a gagging sound, and Zuko elbows him. 

“Are you gonna tell me you didn’t see that coming?” He asks.

“Oh no, I saw it coming.” Sokka groans. “But like, in the same way you’d see the monorail coming while you’re strapped to the tracks. No way out, and you just have to wait for it to run you over.” 

Zuko turns and stares at his brother. “Should I be concerned-?” 

“Recurring nightmare.” Sokka waves him off. “Eugh, if they kiss, I’m gonna have to break up this party myself.”

Turns out, Sokka doesn’t have to worry about that. Even as they make a quick escape on Appa’s back, Aang is still grinning, and he blushes even deeper when Katara leans over and plants a kiss on his cheek. 

“I’m gonna go throw up now.” Sokka announces, and is met with a wave of water to his face. 

“Don’t act like you’d be any different if Suki was here.” Zuko says.

Katara shoots him a grateful look. 

That, apparently, is the wrong thing to say. Sokka immediately turns away, and when Zuko turns to look at Aang and Katara, they shrug, confused. Zuko climbs to the back of the saddle. 

“Is something wrong?” He asks.

Sokka stares out at the lands passing beneath them. “When you guys were in the catacombs,” He says quietly. “Toph and I went to the throne room. There were these two girls there who were with Azula. Kuei told us they’d gotten in dressed as Kyoshi warriors.” 

“But how could-”

“I don’t know. I mean, Suki was fine last time I saw her, but…” 

“If Azula got a hold of them.” Zuko slumps down and scrubs at his face. “Agni. I’m sorry, Sokka.”

“It’s not your fault, Zuko.” Sokka says. 

“She’s my sister.”

“Yeah, she’s kind of insane.” 

“A little.” Zuko admits, even as a pang of guilt rises in his chest. “Listen. Iroh is somewhere in the Fire Nation- maybe- and if he’s being held, then maybe Suki is, too. Maybe we can find them.”

“Yeah,” Sokka says, though he doesn’t sound convinced. “Maybe.” 

“This is Fire Nation?” Toph asked, plugging her nose with one hand as Zuko helps her off the small dinghy with the other. “It smells like rotten fish!” 

Inwardly, Zuko has to agree. The town Sokka’s designated as the refuel spot is barely anything more than a floating trash barge. 

“Hey-” Aang says distractedly, stopping in front of a bulletin board right next to the docks. “This is weird.” 

“If it’s another wanted poster of you, leave it, you already have a collection and there’s no point in-” 

“No!” Aang interrupts, and grabs Zuko’s arm, dragging him over to the board. “Look!’

A poster has been pinned in front of the normal ones, and is clearly hand-painted. A simple portrait of a young man is painted at the top, and below it reads: 

My name is Tadashi. 

I was conscripted into the 41st division. 

I was 16 years old when I was cut down at the battle of Omashu by order of Fire Lord Ozai. 

No land was gained. 

No advancement made. 

I am one of thousands.

How many more sons will Ozai kill?

There’s no signature beneath, but a small jasmine flower is painted in the corner. 

Zuko stares at it, something like anticipation settling heavy in his stomach. 

“Isn’t that weird?” Aang says, hushed. “I’ve never seen anything like it before in a Fire Nation town.” 

A soldier stationed at the end of the dock is eyeing them warily. Zuko takes Aang’s shoulder and steers him back towards the rest of the group, who are haggling over fish in the small marketplace. 

Katara is stooped down a few feet away, and Zuko cranes his head to see what she’s looking at. it’s a child, probably no older than Panuk or Aake. But this child doesn’t have Aake’s flushed cheek, Panuk’s baby fat. She’s emaciated, and the brittle, thin hair that hangs in front of her face is hopelessly knotted up. Katara gives her a small pack of nuts out of her pack, and immediately takes one of the fish Sokka’s just bargained for to give to her as well. 

The child’s eyes widen, and she gives Katara a deep sign of the flame, before she scampers around the corner. 

“No point in feeding the street urchins.” The merchant grunts, counting out Sokka’s coins.

Katara whirls around on her heels, eyes narrowed. “What?” She demands.

“No point.” The merchant repeats, unbothered. “They’ll go hungry tomorrow, anyways. Takes food out of your own mouth.” 

“Why are there children starving here in the first place?” Aang asks quietly, and Zuko nods in agreement. 

When they were in the Earth Kingdom, it had been so easy to see what the Fire Nation had destroyed- towns wiped off the map with black scorch marks. Children with burns around their arms, their legs, even their faces, like Zuko. Families missing any men older than fifteen, mothers struggling to protect and feed who remained.

He hadn’t expected to see the same devastation within the Fire Nation. 

The merchant snorts and gestures up the river to the metal monstrosity built into the mountain. “They built the factory there a couple years ago. Pollutes the river. No food supply, no economy. No economy, folks get desperate.” He turns to Katara. “Street urchins.”

He swings the wooden doors of his stand closed with a final snap, and Katara steps back, obviously incensed. 

“This is horrible!” She fumes. “We have to-” 

Sokka claps a hand over her mouth and his eyes flit up to the street corner, where a couple more Fire Nation guards are stationed. 

“Let’s talk about this on the road.” He says, and doesn’t loosen his hand till Katara nods. 

Zuko stokes the fire as Katara finishes the stew. 

“We need to help.” She says quietly. 

“We’ll be helping by ending the war.” Sokka says. “We need to move on, Katara.” 

“But they’re starving!” Katara says. “And that horrible factory is causing all of it!” 

“She’s right.” Zuko says, even surprising himself. “They need help.” 

“What could we possibly do?” Sokka throws his hands up. “We can’t go back in time and stop the Fire Nation from being horrible to its own citizens! We have to stick to-“ 

“-the schedule, I know.” Katara finished irritably. “Fine. We can leave in the morning.” 

Katara seems to have acquiesced to Sokka’s demands- oddly quickly- but something’s off about this place. 

And Zuko’s going to figure out what it is. 

The camp is silent when Zuko carefully gets up from his sleeping bag. The fire is almost completely out, Yue high in the dark sky. Sokka is snoring, and Katara’s pulled an extra blanket over her head to block it out. Aang is asleep against Appa’s back, and Toph’s feet are sticking out from her earth tent. None of them stir when Zuko creeps out of the camp and towards the dock. 

He doesn’t remember much about his lessons at the palace. He’d never been allowed to go to school like Azula was; he would embarrass the family. Azula never did. Zuko remembers being half-convinced Azula couldn’t make mistakes, and that maybe he was just doomed to always incur the wrath of his father over mistaken dates in his history lessons. 

Zuko glances out the side of the small dinghy he’s temporarily borrowed and sees the green sludge settled across the top of the water, and wonders if, perhaps, his mistakes were not the most pertinent ones in his history lessons. 

The Fire Nation is the greatest civilization in history. 

Zuko pulls up to the far end of the decrepit docks and creeps out, careful to stay in the shadows while he ties the dinghy up. 

A couple of kids are huddled together against the side of a building. Their clothes are threadbare, their faces gaunt. One of them is a firebender; they keep a small fire going, one hand stoking the flames, the other smoothing back the thin hair of a smaller child in their lap. 

Other countries, without centralized power, leave their citizens on the periphery to starve. 

Zuko pulls his hood higher as he walks over and places the last couple of apples and jerky he’d swiped from Sokka’s pack in front of them. The firebender’s eyes are narrowed, but Zuko keeps his hands up and backs away before the kid makes a move. 

That’s why your Great-grandfather Sozin started his holy conquest- to bring the greatness of the Fire Nation to the savages across the world. 

The kids tear into the food the minute Zuko is out of their line of sight. 

Something hot and angry is stirring in his chest as Zuko ducks around a corner. It is so obvious the destruction this war has wrought on its own people. Why is the Fire Nation so hell-bent on perpetuating a pointless conflict? 

A small building on the edge of town is lit-up, even while the rest of the houses are dark, and Zuko ducks through the low doorway.

The tender behind the bar raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t comment as Zuko sits at the counter. It’s quiet; a few men and women are drinking at tables behind him, with rarely a word passing between them. A small statue of the town patron, the Painted Lady, stands in the corner. 

“What do you want, kid?” The bartender says gruffly. 

“Whatever you got.” Zuko shrugs.

She raises an eyebrow again, and fills a glass of water, throwing it down the counter at him. “You came in with those other kids, didn’t you?”  

“We’re just passing through. “ Zuko says noncommittally. “Needed supplies.” 

“And you stopped here to get’em?” The bartender snorts. “Kid, everyone knows this place is a write-off. Might as well go eight klicks east to Nikki and get your supplies there.” 

“Didn’t have the time.” Zuko says, and puts the glass down. “What happened here, anyways?” 

“The war happened.” The bartender says, and it might be Zuko’s imagination, but she straightens up, quiets down, when she says it. “The war effort meant more production. Meant the factory. Every citizen has to do their part.”  

Zuko narrows his eyes. This is why he had such an uneasy feeling around this place. “But it’s destroyed your-” 

“Have you heard the tale of the son of the Jasmine Farmer?” the bartender asks. Her hands are tight around her rag. 

“What?” Zuko blinks. 

“The tale of the Jasmine Farmer.” The bartender repeats, and she stares steadily at him. 

“Uh.” 

“It’s a well-known tale.” She says. “There was a jasmine farm at the edge of an archipelago, passed down from father to son. The farm had known fair weather and terrible storms, good farmers and bad, but it always grew plentiful crops, no matter what.” 

“I don’t know-” 

“When the farmer was on his death-bed, he called his son to him,” The bartender blazes on, as though she can’t hear him. “And he told him that the reason their crops always yielded abundance was that a benevolent spirit guarded the farm.” 

‘How can this be?’ The son asked. ‘I have not seen nor felt any spirit protecting me.’ 

‘The spirit does not protect you.’ The father refuted. ‘The spirit protects the farm and its inhabitants. Do not harm the farm, nor its inhabitants, and the spirit will persist in its blessing. But harm this land, or one person on it, and the blessing will break and turn. Promise that you will abide by these rules.’ 

‘I promise,’ The son said, and the father passed away. 

Years passed, and the son grew and had a child himself, and the son grew careless in minding his father’s rules, even becoming cruel at times. His son, just a child, witnessed his father’s callousness and spoke out against it. The father grew enraged with his son and killed him for his disrespect. The spirit, witnessing this act, broke the blessing that guarded the farm."

The bartender finishes wiping down the counter, and turns to look at him. 

“What happened next?” Zuko asks, and the bartender shrugs, a wry half-smile forming on her face. 

“Don’t know,” she shrugs. “We’re still living in it.” 

Zuko stares at her. Before he can open his mouth, the woman places a small Pai Sho piece down in front of him. A wooden jasmine piece, cracked in the middle. 

“Come by the bar tomorrow night,” the bartender says. “If you want to learn what happens to the farm.” 

The small Pai Sho piece seems to burn a hole through his pocket as he docks the dinghy and climbs out to start the short walk towards camp.

Everything about the woman screamed that she wouldn’t exactly be first in line to lay down her life for the Dragon Throne. That doesn’t necessarily mean she isn’t dangerous, but isn’t the enemy of his enemy his friend? 

A stick cracks to his right, and Zuko whirls around, fire alight on his hand. 

“Who’s there?” he demands. 

“Zuko?” 

There’s some rustling, and Katara emerges from behind some bushes. Red paint is marked in careful strokes on her face, and she’s wearing a flowing white fabric tied off with rope. It looks familiar, and Zuko spends a second trying to place it before- 

“Are you pretending to be the Painted Lady?” He hisses, stepping forward. “Katara, that’s so dangerous!” 

Katara shushes him and throws a panicked glance towards the camp, but no one makes a sound. “I just-” She groans. “I need to help, but I can’t exactly waterbend without getting in trouble, and this seemed like the easiest solution, so- wait.” Her eyes narrow, and she jabs a finger in his chest. “Where are you coming from?” 

“Uh,” Zuko closes his fingers around the Pai Sho piece in his palm. 

“You went out to look around, didn’t you?” Katara accuses. 

“Maybe.” 

“I can’t believe you’re yelling at me about ‘dangerous’ when you’re-” 

“I didn’t waterbend in a Fire Nation town-” 

“You’re literally their prince, you dumbass! ” 

“Okay, okay.” Zuko pinches the bridge of his nose. “Okay, let’s just- are you gonna be stupid?” 

Katara crosses her arms. “Are you?” 

“Not on purpose!” 

“Fine.” Katara says, offering him her forearm. “I won’t tell Sokka if you don’t tell Sokka.” 

“Definitely let’s not tell Sokka.” Zuko agrees, and clasps her forearm in promise. “He’d kill us.” 

“I think Appa’s sick!” Aang announces after breakfast the next morning. “His tongue’s a weird purple color!” 

“Oh, no!” Katara says, eyes wide and concerned. “We better go see if we can get medicine in town for him.” 

“We have a lot of ground to cover,” Sokka objects. 

“Appa can’t fly when he’s sick.” Aang says crossly. “He gets sick days and vacation days, Sokka.” 

“Yeah, Sokka, you’ve been working us too hard, anyways! Appa needs medicine!” Katara says. 

“Fine.” Sokka relents. “Let’s go see if they have any. But we’re leaving tomorrow.” 

Zuko catches Katara’s eye and raises his eyebrow, and she flushes before she turns away. 

Katara is already gone when Zuko quietly gets up that night. Her sleeping bag is suspiciously lumpy, when Zuko takes a closer look at it, and some of Appa’s straw is missing. He rolls his eyes, but pulls his hood up and creeps quietly towards the dock. 

The bar is as quiet as it was the night before, and when Zuko approaches the bartender- a man this time, with a large scar through one eyebrow- he flashes the Pai Sho piece in his palm. The man glances at it before he jerks with his head towards the back, and Zuko follows him. The man silently leads him to a supply closet. He moves a shelf in the back, and knocks three times at the door behind it. The door opens, and the man gestures Zuko through, before leaving to go back to the bar. 

The room is small and cramped, with a table shoved to the side overflowing with maps and documents, and far too many people in it. The bartender from yesterday stands in front of Zuko, arms crossed. 

“So, you showed.” She says, eyebrows raised. “Didn’t think you would.” 

Zuko meets her gaze, even when it begins to flit to his scar. “What’s happening here is wrong. And I think you think so, too.” 

“Perhaps.” The woman agrees. “If we are to trust each other, we need to exchange names. I am Teruko.” 

Zuko weighs and measures his choices. He’s not a great firebender, only maybe a passable one, but he’s gotten out of worse situations than this, if it does go wrong. 

“Zuko.” He says. Teruko’s eyes widen, and now she’s staring unabashedly at his scar. 

“Is that your full name?” She asks, and Zuko can feel his palms heating up. 

“I-” 

“We’d heard stories.” Teruko says, and one of the men comes to stand behind her. “We couldn’t believe they were true.” 

“Stories?” Zuko manages to croak out. 

“That you had returned.” Teruko says, and her eyes avert to the ground. “Crown Prince Zuko of the Fire Nation.” 

She bows deep, forehead to the floor, and every other person in the room immediately follows suit. Zuko stares at their backs, feeling deeply uncomfortable. 

“Please,” he begs. “Please, rise.” 

Teruko does first. “It’s true, then?” She asks, and her voice is oddly cold. “Your father killed you, but you returned somehow?” 

It’s shocking, how blunt she says it.

“Yes,” Zuko says, and murmurs go throughout the small room. “I can’t really explain how.” 

“The White Lotus informed us that you were traveling with the Avatar.” Teruko says. 

“The White Lotus-?” 

“Yes, yes, your uncle-” 

“My uncle?” Zuko repeats, and oh damn it all to Koh, he’s dumb, isn’t he? Iroh had practically screamed that he was working with a rebellion of some sort, and that spirits-damned white lotus Pai Sho piece- 

“You’re a rebellion.” He says, and feels stupid when the man next to Teruko laughs. 

“Well, yes, but we don’t generally call ourselves that.” 

“I thought-” Zuko stares at the faces staring back at him. “I thought the Fire Nation didn’t have any rebellions-” 

“Oh, kid.” Teruko says, and grins, gesturing at the table behind him. “We’re not even the only group in this area. Though-” She frowns, turning towards the man. “-we lost contact with Chan in Gaoling, didn’t we?” 

“You have groups in the Earth Kingdom?” 

“Freedom doesn’t belong to any nation.” Teruko crosses her arms. “And it’s every nation’s responsibility to fight for it.” 

But-” Zuko stares at them. “How is it possible- how have they not tracked you down?” 

“They have.” Teruko says shortly. “About half of our members have already been carted off to that work camp up near the Caldera.” She looks back up at him. “We’re aware of the cost, Prince Zuko. We’ve been marked for years. Might as well do everything we can before our time is up.” 

The use of his long-dusty title does not get past Zuko, who looks over the cramped room with a growing fear gnawing in his stomach, but something like determination in his head. 

“Okay.” He says. “Okay. How can I help?” 

Teruko grins sharply at him. 

“You know that factory down the river?” 

The plan is simple in its complexity. 

The factory, which produces the sheet metal then used to make everything from ships to weapons, is polluting the river. They’ve been walking a tight line between sabotaging the factory enough to make the products unusable and making the authorities suspicious enough to punish the entire town. 

Teruko also explains that the man who is constantly at her right, who gruffly introduces himself as Katsuo, has been working at the factory for a little over six months, and has managed to identify a gap in the patrols, a few hours after midnight. If they can get in and mess with enough of the machines in subtle ways- remove some bolts, deaden some fires, make sure enough paperwork goes missing- the plant will have to shut down for at least a few weeks, and they can make their next move. 

“And what’s the next move?” Zuko asks suspiciously, and Teruko shrugs with one shoulder. 

“No one should know everything about everything.” She says, and the look on her face is hard enough that Zuko decides not to question her further. She tells him to meet them about a mile outside the plant in the dead of night, the following night. 

“Last chance to back out, take the Avatar, and run. We might get caught. “ Teruko says, crossing her arms. Yue is new tonight; Zuko can barely make Teruko out without Her light, and it takes Zuko a minute to realize he could just, you know, firebend to make light. “This isn’t something we can guarantee we’ll come back from. Maybe you should sit this out.” 

“I’m a little new at this Prince thing,” Zuko says. “But don’t I, like, technically outrank you?” 

Teruko’s eyebrows shoot into her bangs, and she lets out a surprised laugh.  “Technically, yes.” She admits. 

“Then you can’t really tell me no.” 

“Technically.” Teruko says. “But I have to strongly advise that you-” 

“Do you know many people I’ve seen here, starving? Kids, mostly?” Zuko interrupts. Did you know, I spent the past four years in the Southern Water Tribe? They really don’t have much of anything. We’ve completely decimated them. And yet, no one goes hungry. Every single member of the tribe is taken care of. How can we possibly claim to be the greatest nation in the world when our own people are starving?” 

“We can’t.” Teruko agrees. 

“So, then, I have to do something about it.” Zuko says. “You can’t stop me.” 

“Prince Zuko,” Teruko tilts her chin up. “I wouldn’t want to.” 

She places a fist at the heel of her hand, and bows, and Zuko can’t stop the grin that takes over his face when he bows back. 

“Let’s go then,” Teruko says, and nods towards the dark factory, looming in the distance. 

But before Zuko can take a single step forward, the ground shakes, there’s a distant boom, and  fire explodes out the front of the factory, blowing debris in the river below. Teruko straightens up and glances at Katsuo, who’s gone very pale. 

“You didn’t-” Teruko starts. 

“No.” Katsuo croaks out. “No, I wouldn’t be this stupid.” 

“Then who-” 

The ripples over the water seem a little too consistent to be natural, and when Zuko steps out onto the bank, he sees two dark figures gliding quickly over the water. He can’t stop himself from letting out a string of filthy swears that would definitely get him smacked if Kanna was here. 

He lights his hand and holds it up to his face as the dark figures approach the bank, and by the time the Painted Lady and Kuzon the Definitely Very Normal Fire Nation Colonist Child step onto the riverbank, they at least have the conscience to look vaguely sheepish. 

“The Painted Lady-?” Teruko asks in a hushed tone, and Katara’s eyes widen. 

“Not quite.” Zuko says shortly, and gestures at his sister, who’s expression has already molded into sheer defiance by the time she rips off the gauze around her face. 

”You- you’re a child. You’re both kids.” Katsuo says. “Did you- did you two just blow up that factory?” 

An alarm begins to sound by the blown-out factory, and Teruko swears and gestures for them to stand closer to the cliff-side. 

“It was polluting the river.” Katara says. “I had to help-” 

“They’re gonna rain hellfire down on us.” Katsuo says distantly. “There’s no way they’ll just-” 

“Katsuo, breathe, ” Teruko says firmly, wrapping a tight hand around his arm. “You all need to go.” 

“But-” Zuko starts, but Teruko shakes her head. 

“Prince Zuko.” She says, harsh. “You can do much more from the Dragon Throne. To go down now, for this- It’s selfish. Go!” 

Zuko stares at her, until Katara grabs his arm and begins pulling him away. He keeps staring as Teruko and Katsuo sit down side by side on the cliff, and watch the factory burn. 

Toph and Sokka are awake when they get back to camp, and Sokka looks three seconds away from pulling his hair out by the root. 

“Where the fuck have you been?” He shouts, boomerang in hand. “I wake up to an explosion, and you’re all just gone? You have three second to explain before I start smashing heads-” 

“Katara and Aang blew up the factory.” Zuko says dully, wrenching his arm out of Katara’s grip and going to pack up his sleeping bag. “We need to go before they send more authorities to investigate.” 

“You did what?” Toph crows. “Hell yeah, Sugar Queen! Rock on!” 

“Zuko joined a rebellion!” Katara yells. “And I was just trying to help- they’re starving, Zuko-” 

“You think I didn’t see that?” Zuko demands, whirling around. “Katara, I fucking saw. Do you even know what they’re gonna do to this place? To anyone they think is responsible?” 

Katara’s gone slightly pale, and Sokka steps between them, jaw set. 

“We have to go.” Sokka says. “We can’t let them get Aang or Zuko.” 

“No.” Katara says resolute, though her eyes are shiny. “I’m not leaving them.”

“There’s nothing we can do.” Zuko says, and tries to soften his tone. “Other than end the war.” 

“Maybe there is?” Aang steps forward, even though Sokka turns on him next. 

“Oh, don’t think you’re getting out of this just because you’re the “Avatar” or whatever,” Sokka says. “What you did was so dangerous and stupid and completely-” 

“Listen to me!” Aang pulls off his headband, running his hands over the short black hair that covers his tattoos. “Listen, I know, we didn’t think, but maybe we can still stop them from destroying the town?” 

“How?” Zuko says. “We fucked up, but if we get caught, we definitely can’t do anything to help these people.” 

“Sparky’s right.” Toph says. “We should just go.” 

“No, listen. What’s the one thing everyone in this town people would actually fear if it turned against them?”  

“I don’t know?” Sokka throws his hands up. “You?” 

Aang makes an affronted noise.  “I don’t want people to be afraid of me!” He says indignantly, then shakes his head. “But no, no- who do they all actually respect? Like, who would they listen to?” Katara stares at her hands, where red paint is smeared from her face. “The Painted Lady.” She says quietly, and Aang beams at her. 

“Whaddaya say we give the town a little spirit action, chalk the explosion up to some divine retribution?” 

“I’d say that’s the dumbest idea I’ve ever heard.” Sokka crosses his arms. “Everyone on the bison, let’s go, chop-chop, little terrorists, we have a schedule to-” 

“Let’s do it.” Zuko interrupts his brother. “I think we have to at least try.” 

Katara lifts her head, and gives him a little grin. “Let’s at least try.” She agrees, and puts her hat back on. “I’m feeling spirit-y tonight. Toph, can you supply some ground-shaking terror?” 

Toph leaps up, cracking her knuckles. “That’s the greatest thing you’ve ever said to me!” She cries. “Let’s go!” 

“I hate that that worked.” Sokka slumps down, hands over his eyes as they speed away from the clean river and non-destroyed town. “Please don’t ever blow up a factory ever again.” 

“No promises.” Katara says cheerfully from Appa’s head, and Sokka just groans harder. 

Sokka’s bad mood hasn’t dissipated by the time they land in their next stop, the last before they head to the islands that Sokka’s designated as the meet-up space before the invasion. He doesn’t perk up, not even when Zuko suggests heading into town for dinner instead of cooking. 

“Is he...not eating?” Zuko half-stage whispers, glancing at Sokka’s hunched over back. 

“Snoozles isn’t eating?” Toph demands. “Not even the meat? Oh, spirits. The world must be ending.” 

“I can hear you guys!” Sokka grumbles, turning around. 

“We weren’t trying to be quiet!” Toph shoots back. “Either tell us what’s wrong or shut up!” 

Sokka scowls and turns back, and Aang kicks Toph’s ankle before calling, 

“Sokka, is something wrong?” 

“It’s fine.” Sokka says, and Katara raises her eyebrow at Zuko, who shrugs. He can’t think of anything that might have upset Sokka lately. 

“Sokka?” Katara asks. “What’s wrong?” 

“It’s just hard, sometimes.” Sokka mumbles, and Katara shoots out of her chair at the same time Zuko immediately stands up, and they sit on either side of their brother. 

“What’s hard?” Zuko asks. 

Sokka won’t even meet his eyes, and that’s enough to make Zuko think of those terrible weeks after Yue’s sacrifice, when Sokka talked little and slept less. “You’re all incredible benders, and that’s great, it’s so cool to see you guys develop your gifts, but-” Sokka makes a noise of frustration. “I don’t have anything like that. I can’t- I can’t protect you. I’m useless. ”

It’s silent for a second, while Katara shoots a panicked glance at Aang, who looks just as bewildered. 

“Sokka.” Katara says firmly. “You’re the farthest thing from useless.”

“Pretty sure we’d all be dead by now if it wasn’t for you.” Zuko says, and nudges his shoulder against Sokka. 

“Honestly.” Toph pipes up. “You’re the only one here with half a brain cell.” 

“Hey!” Aang says indignantly, and there’s a plick and a gasp of pain, like Toph’s just thrown a pebble against Aang’s arrow. 

Sokka shrugs one shoulder. “I guess. I just don’t really see how I’m contributing, right now. Dead weight.”

“I’m really sorry you’re feeling that way,” Katara says. “But I hope you know that none of us see you that way. Hey, I know what will make you feel better!” 

“What?” Sokka groans. 

“Shopping!” 

The shopping trip works well enough, but the advice of the shopkeeper to go see the word-master who has an estate at the edge of the town for training works even better. 

“Are we sure we should just let him go see a random Fire Nation guy for training? What if he gets caught?” Katara asks, wrapping her arms around her stomach as they eye Sokka’s retreating figure. 

Zuko snorts. “The last time you were loose in a Fire Nation town without supervision you blew up a factory.” 

“You joined a rebellion-” 

“Yeah, yeah, you’re both idiots, we get it.” Toph groans. “Spirits. It’s gonna be so boring around here until he gets back.” 

Toph is about as good at predicting the future as Aunt Wu. 

They spend the next few days in various stages of boredom and heat stroke, until Toph sits straight up one day and yells, “Sokka’s coming!” 

“Hi!” Sokka says brightly as he walks into camp. “I need help wi- ugh-” The wind is knocked out of him as the younger kids go flying towards him, wrapping their arms around him. Zuko snorts at Sokka’s half-annoyed, half-pleased expression. 

“I need help,” He complains, as Aang makes kissy faces at him, squishing his cheeks together. “not hugs.”

“Sshh.” Toph shoves a finger over his mouth. “No talking.” 

Sokka makes desperate eye contact with Zuko, who shrugs at him, smirking, until the kids finally show mercy and let go.

“How’s training?” Katara asks. Sokka grins. 

“Great! Master Piandao says I’m doing really well- I’m actually about to forge my own sword, and I need some help moving that meteor.” He turns to Toph. “Wanna bend a really big rock?” 

“Snoozles,” Toph sighs. “I would like nothing better.” 

The estate is at the top of a hill, and Toph and Aang are able to subtly bend the rock while Zuko, Katara, and Sokka pretend like they’re pushing it, until they reach the front door. 

Zuko stares at the lotus design carved into the wood, a niggling feeling in the back of his head. There’s no way- “Hey, Sokka?” He asks slowly, running his fingers over the carving. “What did you say this guy’s name was?” 

The door swings open, and a tall, familiar man with tan skin, and lines by his eyes that used to wrinkle whenever he laughed at Lu Ten’s antics, wide hands that used to correct Zuko’s stance without hitting or burning or pinching, not once, dark eyes that widen, staring at him- 

“Zuko,” Master Piandao croaks out, “They told me- I didn’t dare think it true-” 

Zuko swallows the lump that’s already taken up half his throat when Piandao takes a step forward and wraps his arms around his shoulders. 

“Hi, Master Piandao,” Zuko manages to get out. 

Piandao’s estate is almost exactly how Zuko remembers it- immaculately kept gardens, massive windows, sunlight spilling across the floors, the hall of students- 

It takes Zuko about ten seconds to find what he’s looking for. 

Lu Ten, eyes crinkling in amusement, though he wasn’t allowed to smile for the portrait, stares at him, perpetually frozen as a teenager. Zuko remembers sitting a few feet away, legs swinging, chattering to his cousin, as the portrait was done. 

“It is one of my greatest regrets that I didn’t have one done for you.” Piandao says quietly, and Zuko shakes his head, fingers grazing the parchment. 

“I wasn’t really one of your students.” Zuko says. 

“Didn't seem to matter so much, after the-” Piandao glances at Katara, Aang, and Toph, who are trailing them with wide eyes, unabashedly listening to their conversation. Sokka had been dragged away by Fat to the workshop to forge his sword, with Piandao promising to meet them soon.

Zuko shrugs. “They know.” He says simply, unable to look away from the picture. “I, uh, woke up in the Southern Water Tribe.” 

“I was told. I just didn’t know how much to believe- even after many others told me, too.” Piandao says. “You’ve been on quite the reckless adventure, young man.” 

“Wait, wait-” Toph interrupts. “I’m sorry, I’m just a little confused. Isn’t he Fire Nation?” 

“I am.” There’s a note of amusement in Piandao’s voice. “But the way of the sword does not belong to any one nation.” 

“Neither does Pai Sho, apparently,” Zuko turns to him, one eyebrow raised, and Piandao chuckles. 

“I see your uncle finally got to you.” He says, and slips a small white lotus tile out from his pocket, flipping it between his fingers. 

“He did get to me.” Zuko admits, the guilt heavy in his throat. “But he’s gone. I-I let him get captured-”

“That wasn’t your fault, Zuko,” Katara says firmly. 

“If anything, it’s my fault,” Aang butts in, and Zuko looks up sharply 

“It is not your fault, Aang, you were unconscious. If it’s anyone’s fault that Iroh’s gone and probably dead, it’s me-” 

“Prince Zuko.” Piandao interrupts sharply, and spirits, Zuko is never going to get used to that stupid fucking title. “Your uncle is not dead.” 

The room goes silent, and Zuko turns to look at his old master. “He- he’s not? But I saw him get captured-” 

Piandao snorts. “You think something as trivial as getting arrested for treason would take down the Dragon of the West? No, no, Iroh is very much alive.” A ghost of irritation passes over Piandao’s face. “How that man manages to send enough messages to annoy me from a prison cell is beyond me-” 

“Uncle’s in prison?” Toph asks. She steps forward and subtly wraps her hand tight around Zuko’s fingers, squeezing tightly enough that Zuko feels less like he’s floating above the room. “Where?” 

“The Caldera,” Piandao shakes his head. “A prison a few klicks from the palace, used mostly for political prisoners. It’s practically impenetrable.” 

Toph squeezes, once, twice, three times, and Zuko understands her meaning perfectly. 

Prisons are only impenetrable until someone breaks into them. 

And luckily, just by coincidence, they’ll be up that way within a few weeks. 

Piandao brings them to a small garden outside, and Zuko can remember, painfully well, playing cards with Lu Ten on the stone ground, giggling and shoving his cousin when he cheated. 

“I need to get back to Sokka, but please, wait here, and we can all have dinner together. Your uncle will be overjoyed to hear that I’ve finally set eyes on you. In the meantime, Prince Zuko-” Piandao hands him a scabbard. “If I remember correctly, you favored these quite heavily. Perhaps you’d like to get reacquainted?” 

Piandao disappears back into the house, and Zuko stares down at the unassuming black leather of the scabbard.

“What is it?” Aang demands, lifting himself up on a gust of wind to look over Zuko’s shoulder. Zuko carefully pulls out the sword within by the hilt, the metal glinting in the afternoon sun. 

“Oh, it’s just a sword.” Aang blows a raspberry. “Boring. Hey, who wants to play air ball with me-?” 

Zuko separates the sword into two, each half equally well-balanced in his hands, and feels a grin spread across his face. 

“Two swords?” Katara asks dubiously. “That seems a little excessive,”

“Dao.” Zuko corrects, flexing his wrist as he moves the swords in concentric circles. “It’s not two swords- it’s two halves of the same sword.” 

He whips one above his head, inadvertently taking off the leaves of a nearby tree branch, and Katara gives a surprised laugh. 

“You already know how to use them?” She asks.

Zuko nods and pulls the halves together again. “My cousin.” He says. “Lu Ten trained with Master Piandao when I was little. I came with him, and Master Piandao let me train, too.” 

“You’re a firebender,” Toph points out. “Why would you need weapons?” 

Zuko gives a half-shrug and very purposefully does not think about the dark, rough skin splotched across his torso, his arms. “I wasn’t very good at it when I was younger. A lot of firebenders make their first flames as a baby, but I think I didn’t spark until I was five or six.” 

“How old was Azula?” Aang asks curiously. 

“Six months.” Zuko says, and laughs. “Mom told me she lit my hair on fire.” 

“That tracks.” Katara says darkly. “She’s crazy.” 

“Ozai is a lot worse.” Zuko says, and slides the swords back into the scabbard. It feels right, hanging over his shoulder. Like he was missing a part of himself, and now it’s returned. 

Katara makes a disbelieving sound, like she’s going to argue with him, but Aang distracts her into a playing a game, and Zuko runs through the katas he remembers, thinking of a little girl with bright eyes and hot fire in the garden, running away from him, giggling. 

Sokka’s sword is dark and far heavier than any weapon Zuko’s ever seen, and Sokka’s pride for it is even denser. They leave Piandao’s estate a few days later, burdened with extra supplies, a white lotus tile in Sokka’s pocket, and Piandao’s promise to contact Iroh. 

The islands where they’ll meet the rest of the invasion forces are only a few hours’ flight away, and they arrive several days ahead of schedule. Sokka spends most of their free time hunched over maps. 

“Don’t you have this memorized by now?” Zuko asks him, the night before the fleet is due to arrive. It’s late; the rest of the kids are already asleep.

Sokka doesn’t tear his eyes away to say, “Maybe, but we need more back-up plans, in case Aang can’t get to the Fire Lord, or something else goes wrong in the palace, or-” Sokka cuts off. He glances up at Zuko. “Are you gonna be okay, going into the palace?” He asks quietly.

Zuko is meant to accompany Aang through the tunnels under the Caldera, in plan A. 

Zuko shrugs. “Doesn’t really matter if I am or I’m not.” He says. “This has to be done.” 

“I know he’s, like, the worst person in history,” Sokka says hesitantly. “but Ozai’s still your dad, Zuko.” 

“He burned off half my face in front of a crowd, Sokka.” Zuko says, and only feels a little bad when his brother cringes, intaking a sharp breath. “And he killed my mother. I’d kill him myself if it wasn’t Aang’s job.” 

“It’s not one that I want.” Aang says, mumbled, and Sokka and Zuko both look up. Zuko had thought the younger kids were all asleep, but Aang is staring at them with wide eyes. 

“What, Aang?” Sokka asks. 

“Killing anyone.” He repeats. “It goes directly against everything I was taught.”

“Aang.” Zuko says, and forces his tone to be gentle. “Do you know how many deaths he’s responsible for? How many more people he’ll kill?”

“I know, I know,” Aang shakes his head, rubbing his hands over his dark hair. “You think I don’t know that? Acting in self-defense is one thing, but to go to the palace with the intention to deliberately murder someone? It’s not right.” 

“I was your age when he killed me.” Zuko says bluntly. “I was twelve, and I was defenseless. Don't you get that he won’t hesitate to kill you, too? He'll-” 

Aang gets up, face paling, and within a few seconds, has disappeared completely from view of the fire. Zuko stares into the darkness, his stomach curdling sour. 

“Uh,” Sokka says. “I think you maybe were a little harsh, Zuko.” 

“You think?” Zuko scrubs at his face. “Fuck. I’m an idiot. He’s a kid.” 

“Go find him, I’ll stay here.” Sokka says, and Zuko, the guilt already settling around his neck like a whetstone, doesn’t need anymore prompting to take off in the direction Aang went. 

The islands aren’t big, but Aang has a habit of finding the most precarious, isolated areas and shoving himself into tight corners, so it takes Zuko a couple of hours to cover all the ground. 

Zuko finds him as Agni’s face is barely cresting over the ocean, drenching the sky in the palest pinks and blues. He carefully climbs down the cliff-face, and settles himself on the ledge next to Aang, who has a razor in one hand, and is staring out over the water with a blank expression. 

“You’re right, aren’t you?” Aang says, and his voice is rough, like he’s been crying. “I have to do it.”

“Aang-” Zuko takes a deep breath. “I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have said that to you. All I did was scare you, and it wasn’t okay.”

“But you’re right.” Aang insists. “He did kill you. And maybe- maybe I have to just do it.” His hand tightens around the razor, and he reaches up to touch the edge of his arrow, just barely visible under his hair. 

“I won’t let anyone else get hurt because of me.” He says. “I failed everyone once already. I won’t do it again.” 

Not too terribly far away, the Princess of the Fire Nation climbs the steps to a prison cell once again, her cloak wrapped tight around her. Her uncle sits with his back turned, his head bowed, showing only his bedraggled hair and dirty neck. 

“Today’s the invasion.” Azula says by way of greeting. “Mai, Ty Lee, and Father are already underneath the palace.” 

Uncle doesn’t respond. He never does. 

“I don’t know why those idiots would still try and invade, after I clearly learned their plans in Ba Sing Se.” Azula studies her nails. “But if they’re dumb enough to get killed from a little lightning, then-” 

“Azula.” Uncle says, and Azula freezes to the spot. 

Uncle turns, and his face is determined, his eyes bright, though he hasn’t seen the outside of this prison cell in months. “Your brother did not die from your lightning.” 

“He’s not my brother,” Azula says automatically, though the words feel wrong, even now. 

The boy in the catacombs had looked so much like her. 

Like looking in a mirror. 

Like looking at a mirrored past where she knelt on cold stone while Father towered above her, hand alight. 

“Azula.” Uncle says again. “Zuko did not die. Despite your father’s best efforts. And yours.” 

“Why are you even talking to me, now, after months?” Azula snaps. “What, all it takes is one mention of my idiot brother, and you're finally ready?"

Uncle’s eyes soften, if just for a moment. “I love you just as much as I love Zuko.” 

“Loved Zuko.” 

“Love.” Uncle repeats firmly. “And I will say that to you as many times as it takes before you understand that what your father has done and will do, is not love.”

“Love is a weakness.” Azula says, and her mouth feels bitter. Uncle raises an eyebrow at her. “It’s a weakness to be cut out. Have fun rotting away in your cell, Uncle. I’ll see you after the invasion.”