Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

-     Book Two: To Fall Apart at the Seams     -

Zuko had met many nobles in his life. He’d been surrounded by them: generals, admirals, governors, magnates, advisors, and everyone in-between.

Of them all, Toph Beifong might be one of his favorites.

She sat leaned back in her chair, heels crossed on the table, stamped free of dirt only moments before she put them up there. The bottoms of her feet were visible, the soles of her shoes mysteriously missing. She ate her food with her fingers, unafraid to mention when she didn’t like something or when she did. She had a piece of hair that seemed to fall over her nose in the exact spot she didn’t want it, brushing it aside no less than twice a minute.

“You know,” Toph said, not totally finished chewing the dumpling she was working on, “This was not what I was expecting when I made this trip.”

Zuko coughed. “No?”

She shook her head. “I mean, I was hoping to not get thrown in a cell—not that it would hold the Greatest Earthbender in the World—maybe get a thank you or two, but this? You guys must’ve really missed her around here. For some reason.”

Tai snorted. “There’s a good chance this would’ve happened either way. Fire Lord Zuko over here seems to have a nasty habit of taking in strays.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Toph asked.

“You don’t need to tell her,” Zuko said.

“Oh-” Toph grinned, a bit feral- “Now you definitely do.”

Tai’s lips split into a wide smile of his own. “I met him by breaking into his office with some of my friends who wanted to murder him.”

Zuko buried his face in his hands. 

Toph let out a bark of laughter. “What the fuck? Dude, you’re the Fire Lord, why would you keep around a guy you met on a mission to kill you?”

Zuko, face still pressed to his palms, said, “He was nice? Look, I haven’t really been on the receiving end of a lot of niceness for a good while now. Lady Kya says it’s why I latch onto people so easily.”

“Aw, Fire Lord, are you attached?” Tai asked, turning his smile on Zuko.

“I was,” he replied. “Reconsidering it now.”

“I’m hurt.”

“Yeah, and here I was ready to fast-track our way to being best friends,” Toph added.

“Agni, when are Mai and Ty Lee getting here?” Zuko muttered under his breath. Then, he paused and said, “Actually, they might just make it worse.”

As Tai laughed, Toph spoke. “So, wait, I know who those last two are. Knife Girl and Circus Girl, right?” 

Zuko blinked. “Mai and Ty Lee? I… didn’t know you knew them."

“Fought ‘em a good few times.”

“ What? ”

“You’re right, ‘kicked their asses’ might be more appropriate. Anyway-” She waved him off- “Who’s the other person you mentioned, though?”

“Lady Kya?” Zuko asked.

“Yeah,” Toph nodded. “Her name sounds familiar.”

“Uh…”

“The Chief,” Tai said helpfully, and Zuko inclined his head at him.

“That’s right, her husband is the Chief of the Southern Water Tribe.”

Toph jerked so severely she nearly fell out of her chair. “Excuse me, the fuck did you just say?”

Zuko exchanged glances with Tai only to find a matching look of confusion. “Uh, she’s the wife of the Chief of the Southern Water Tribe? I, er, found her in a waterbender prison a while back and now she’s here and has sort of… asserted herself as healer of the house. She’s scary.” A beat. “And nice. Why?”

Instead of really responding, Toph simply chuckled, almost in disbelief. “Oma and Shu, Sokka and Katara are gonna lose their minds.”

Zuko sat up a bit straighter. He recognized those names. “You know Lady Kya’s children?”

Toph furrowed her brow. “Of course I do? Kinda hard not to when you spend months traveling together.”

“Months traveling together? But Chief Hakoda said his children traveled with the Avatar.”

“What are you—” Toph cut herself off, fell quiet for a moment, and then that same wild grin, which seemed to be common with her, blossomed on her face. “ Spirits, did you not know? I’m the Avatar’s earthbending master.”

It was Zuko’s turn to jerk in surprise. He found himself at a bit of a loss for words, which was fine considering Tai seemed to not be. 

“Oh, shit, you weren’t kidding when you said you were the Greatest Earthbender in the World,” he said.

“To be fair, almost everyone is lying when they say that about themselves.” She drummed her fingers casually against the armrest. “Almost everyone.”

Anything else that might have been said was cut off by Mai and Ty Lee appearing in the entryway of the room. They stopped there for a moment, seeming to drink in the sight of the table.

Finally, Mai asked in a level voice, “Zuko, care to inform us as to what’s going on?”

At her words, Toph jumped, a hand moving to press against her chest as her feet quickly slid off the table and landed on the floor. “Oma and Shu, warn a girl, why don’t you?”

“Uh, Mai, Ty Lee,” Zuko said, just a bit awkwardly, “This is Toph. She’s—”

“The Avatar’s pet earthbender,” Mai finished. “We’ve met.”

“Hey, if anything he’s my pet Avatar,” Toph said. “And he’s not here, either way.”

Mai raised an eyebrow, Ty Lee hovering over her shoulder. “You expect us to just believe that?”

“Mai,” Zuko said, more softly than he had actually intended, but perhaps that was what drew her attention. “She…She brought Azula back.”

The two girls froze. Ty Lee was the first to speak, her voice trembling a bit as she asked, “Azula? She—She’s home?”

Zuko nodded. “She is.”

There was silence for a long moment, and then Mai took Ty Lee’s hand firmly in hers and said sharply, “Well, we don’t want to see her.” She dragged her friend over to a chair and pushed her into it before sitting down herself. 

“That’s… fine,” Zuko said after a moment. “She’s in the medical wing, with Kya and Master Piandao.”

“Master Piandao?” Ty Lee repeated, brow furrowed. “Your old swords teacher?”

“ Swords teacher?” Tai asked, turning to Zuko with slightly-wide eyes. “You know how to use swords?”

Zuko’s face flushed a bit. “I used to,” he said. “I’m a bit out of practice. And, yes, Ty Lee-” He nodded to her- “The very same.”

“Why is he here?” She propped her elbows up on the table, resting her chin on the back of her hand. “Wasn’t he, like, a traitor or something?”

“Double traitor, now,” Toph said. “We didn’t like what the White Lotus was doing, and so here we are. Thanks for not kicking us out, by the way. We’ve definitely got a good thousand-gold bounty by now.”

“Yeah,” Zuko said, just a bit dazed by how nonchalantly she’d said that. “No problem.”

“Have you told the Avatar’s fan-girl her friend is here, yet?” Mai asked, accepting a roll from Ty Lee without looking.

“‘The Avatar’s fan-girl?’” Toph parroted.

“The Kyoshi Warrior,” Mai said.

“Suki!” Ty Lee added.

Toph jerked. “Suki? Suki is here? What the fuck?” She turned to Zuko. “Got any more surprises you’d like to share with the class, Fire Lord? I swear, next you’re gonna say fucking Jet is here or something.”

Tai and Zuko exchanged glances.

She sat up straighter. “No fucking way.”

“I mean, he’s not here now,” Tai said. “You’re talking about Freedom Fighter Jet, right? I know he knew the Avatar and his friends, so I’d assume so.”

“Yeah, ‘Freedom Fighter Jet,’” Toph nodded, her tone a bit hysterical. “The guy who, supposedly, fucking died.”

“Oh, yeah, he didn’t,” Tai waved her off. “Whatever you’re thinking of is probably what gave him his limp, though. He never told me about it, even though he insisted that he got it ‘ fighting the good fight ’ or whatever.” He shrugged. “I just assumed it was against firebenders or something.”

“Evil brainwashing earthbenders, actually,” Toph corrected. “So, wait, he was the one trying to ‘kill the Fire Lord’ that you came here with?”

“He was indeed.”

She snorted. “Yeah, all right. I only knew the guy for, like, four hours max , but he definitely seems the type to almost die and immediately decide his next mission should be to take out a dictator.” She paused, and then angled her head toward Zuko. “Not that you’re a tyrant. Your dad, I mean. He sucked. No offense.”

“None taken,” Zuko said. “He very much did.”

Toph grinned. “See? I knew I liked you.”

“You met me like two hours ago.”

“I’m a very good judge of character.” She popped another dumpling into her mouth, but paused in her chewing halfway-through. Cocking her head to the side, another smile grew on her face, though much warmer than pretty much any of the other ones he’d seen thus far. “Holy shit, is that—”

“Toph?”

Suki stood in the entranceway, jaw dropped, eyes wide. She stared at Toph as if she was scared she’d disappear when she looked away.

Toph vaulted over the armrest of the chair she was in and moved swiftly toward Suki. They were embracing only a moment later, a hold so tight it was like it was the last one they’d ever have.

“Suki, holy shit, it is so good to see you,” Toph said, and then chuckled and added, “Or, well…”

Suki laughed, wiping at her eyes. “Sweet Oma, Toph, you have no idea how happy I am to see you.” She cleared her throat. “Is…Is anyone else here?”

Toph’s shoulders slumped a bit. “Just me. Sorry.”

“Just you?” Suki asked. 

“Yeah.” Toph shrugged, but there was tension there that hadn’t been present before. “Went on a bit of a traitor arc, you know how it is.”

Suki furrowed her brow and stepped back, a sharp eye observing Toph carefully. “Traitor? What are you talking about?”

“I…” Toph rocked back on her heels. “... May or may not have gone on the run after breaking Azula out of prison. She’s here now. Sorry.”

“Azula?!” Suki cried, reeling back. “The Fire Nation Princess Azula? Toph, she’s the one who threw me in the Boiling Rock to begin with!”

“That’s why I said sorry!” Toph shot back. “I know she’s done shitty things, okay, but she’s also, like, the same age as Katara, and was objectively doing bad in the dungeons! No one would listen to me, and I wasn’t just gonna—gonna leave her there!”

“You should have,” Suki hissed. “She’d deserve it, after everything she did. She locked up her own friends.” She gestured wildly at Mai and Ty Lee, watching the exchange stoically. “She hurt so many people!”

“You weren’t there!” Toph exclaimed. “You didn’t see her! You can’t feel her. They fucked her up and then they just left her there to rot! How are we supposed to call ourselves the good guys when we treat our enemies the same way they treat us!”

“An eye for an eye,” Suki said, voice low.

“Kyoshi Island,” Toph scoffed. “Always quoting the words of your Lady. You know, Aang talked about how Kyoshi just kept telling him to kill whoever was in the way of balance. Aang.”

The name was spoken with quite a bit of weight, and based on the words surrounding it, Zuko could easily presume that this was the Avatar she was talking about. Aang.

Suki’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Forgive me for having little sympathy for someone like Azula.”

“This isn’t about sympathy,” Toph said. “I don’t even like her. But sorry if it’s a little hard for someone like me to look at her and not help.” Her throat bobbed as she swallowed, hard. “This isn’t just being imprisoned. She lost her bending.”

There was a bang, and Zuko realized a moment later that it was him, the table and chair shaking from the speed with which he stood. 

“Azula lost her bending?” He asked, voice hoarse.

Toph was silent. Then, slowly, she nodded.

Zuko’s fingers tangled in his hair, tugging for just a moment until he felt capable of thinking again. “I need to go to the medical wing.”

The journey was a bit of a blur. Zuko left the rest of them behind, mind fully occupied with his sister and her apparent lack of bending. Just how long was she imprisoned? There was no way it could be as long as he had been before he lost his own connection to Agni, but perhaps the requirements were different? He hadn’t yet had a chance to research Elemental Deprivation and its effects, and he bemoaned it now, as he was rather in the dark.

Still, when the door opened to Azula’s room in the medical wing, revealing Kya, Piandao, and his sister on the other side, Zuko knew that he couldn’t just wait to speak with her.

“Hello, your grace,” Kya said, honorifics a bit odd to hear from her but understandable given their current company. “Is there something I can help you with?”

“I’d like to speak with my sister,” he managed to say. She smiled gently at him and nodded.

“Well, my work was about done for the day, anyway,” she said. “I presume you would prefer privacy?”

“Please.”

Kya shuffled out of the room easily, leaving behind just the lightest pat on his shoulder. Piandao followed, remaining as silent as he had since Zuko had entered, but his gaze lingered, as if he wanted to drink in the sight of his former pupil before he left.

The door closed behind them, and Zuko and Azula were alone, for the first time in years.

“Why the wheelchair?” She asked before he could say anything. 

“What?”

“You walked earlier.” A small scrap of fabric twirled between her fingers. “Why the wheelchair now?”

“Can’t walk for long,” Zuko replied simply. “I’m working on it. With Lady Kya.”

Azula snorted. “She’s the Water Tribes’ mother, isn’t she?” Zuko didn’t respond, but she spoke as if he had. “Thought so. The resemblance is easy to see. Even a child could.”

She was much more lucid than she had been upon arriving. Zuko probably had Kya to thank for that. She could have that effect on people.

“Master Beifong mentioned you lost your bending.”

It was like a switch had been flipped. Azula’s face, already impossible to read, closed off even more. She scowled at him, eyes flashing. “And I bet you just delighted in that, didn’t you, brother? How does it feel, knowing that you only surpass me when the playing field is tilted so?”

“Azula,” Zuko said, trying to force as much intent into her name as he could. It must have worked a bit, as her head tilted the smallest amount to the side, her frown deepening. “It’s okay. I lost my bending too.”

Her whole body twitched. Then, she fell still, eyes flicking to gaze out the window. A moment later, she murmured, “I didn’t know the Avatar had arrived.”

Zuko’s brow furrowed. “The Avatar? What does he have to do with this?”

Azula’s nose scrunched and she turned to face him. “Don’t be daft, Zuko. You cannot claim to have lost your Fire as I have and in the same breath wonder what that slippery airbender has to do with it.”

“The Avatar isn’t here, Azula,” Zuko said. She observed him with a sharp eye. “And I have lost my bending .”

A few moments passed, and then she said, “You’ve always been a poor liar, Zuzu.”

“I’m not lying,” he said, a flash of annoyance shooting through his heart.

“I never said you were,” she replied curtly. “Tell me, then, how is it that your connection was broken, if not by the Avatar’s hands?”

Oh. Oh. He had wondered how she could have lost her bending in such a small amount of time. It seemed that she hadn’t, at least not in the same way Zuko had. Somehow, the Avatar had snapped her connection himself, something that was far too terrifying to ponder right now.

That meant too, though, that Azula had no idea how Zuko could have lost his own bending. He stared at her for a moment. She was acting how he would expect her to, given their childhoods, but it was a far cry to how she had been hours before. Perhaps this was bravado, more than anything. He didn’t particularly care to find out.

“I’m going to bed,” he said.

“Zuko,” Azula growled. “Answer me. You’re not slick with dodging a question. You never have been.”

“I’m tired, Azula,” he shot back. “And I’m the Fire Lord. If I want to go to bed, that’s what I’m going to do.”

His words silenced her. He wondered if she had even realized that he had been crowned. Was that information she would have been privy to? She wasn’t the person he wanted to ask to find out.

As he wheeled himself toward the door, knocking on it so that Lee would know he was ready to go, he glanced back at his sister one more time. She sat perched on the edge of the medical bed, hair wild and shorter than he’d ever seen it. Dark circles were beneath her eyes, so deep they looked like bruises.

“Your old room is open to you, if you want it,” Zuko said. “It should be just as you left it.”

Her lips pulled down even farther as she glared at him through slitted lids.

“Welcome back, Azula.”

She didn’t reply, but he hadn’t really expected her to, and as he was wheeled out and the door closed behind him, he closed his eyes, dug his nails into the palm of his hand, and focused on the pain rather than the emptiness within his soul where a Fire was meant to burn.

Chapter Text

If anyone asked, Zuko leaving his breakfast unfinished was not his fault this time.

Sure, he probably would have been able to eat more if he wasn’t doing work at the very same time, but in his defense, it was very important work. The Fire Nation was no longer at war, and as such no longer needed to be governed by a war council. Besides the lack of necessity, he felt it set a bad example. A new cabinet would be needed, but it wasn’t going to be easy. Nothing ever was, of course, and more than that the country hadn’t had anything but a war council for over a century, as Sozin put one in place just two years after Avatar Roku died.

Safe to say, there was a lot to do. Zuko, who already wasn’t feeling food this morning, easily took the distraction.

As it was, he was mentally preparing himself to eat his fourth berry when a knock at the door interrupted him. He dropped the task eagerly, calling out an invitation to enter.

“My Lord,” the servant said, bowing low. “I have a message for you.” They watched him nod before continuing, “Master Piandao has requested an audience with you.”

Zuko was all too willing to grant him one. The idea of eating was drastically unappealing for the time being, and though he was sure Kya would be disappointed, he was also sure she would be more so if he threw up what little he managed to consume. The excuse of speaking with Master Piandao was a simple one, and one that he would take gladly.

They met in a courtyard. It was one of more shrubbery, stones, and vines than trees, bushes, and ponds. There would be no turtleducks to be found, which was probably for the best. It would not do for Zuko to be distracted for his first conversation with his old swordsmaster in years. His fingers found the turtleduck feather in his pocket, and he brushed them against the vane for just a moment as Piandao approached.

“Your Majesty.” Piandao’s bow was lower than Zuko had ever witnessed from him. He’d never seen the man interact with his father, or his uncle, or anyone who might have warranted a deeper bow than the young Prince Zuko would. It was odd, but it somehow failed to make his stomach churn. Perhaps it was the warmth in Piandao’s eyes, something he hadn’t realized he’d forgotten about. He hadn’t known he was missing it until now.

“Master Piandao,” Zuko greeted. “It’s been quite some time. I’m glad to see you well.”

“It is a joy to see you again as well, sire,” Piandao said. His sword was at his hip, tucked into its scabbard. Zuko had never seen him without it. It was nice to know that some things never changed. “Join me for a walk?”

“It would be my pleasure.”

There wasn’t much walking done on Zuko’s part, but Piandao didn’t mention it. He simply slowed his speed to match Zuko’s own, as if it was natural. In a way, it was. Piandao had always encouraged Zuko to reach higher than ever before, and yet stayed by his side throughout it. “Any progress is progress, Prince Zuko,” he would murmur. “Whether it takes a month or a year, you are progressing all the same.” 

It was always different from the tutors his father hired for him. They were hand-picked by Ozai, and it was obvious. Their words were sharp and their eyes sharper, spotting any mistake he made, no matter how small or insignificant. They made him feel small and insignificant, as if his failures defined who he was.

“Princess Azula mastered this when she was half your age,” they’d mutter. “Her flames burn hot as Agni, and yet you cannot keep a candle from flickering out. Is this truly the heir your father deserves?”

That had confused Zuko, at the time. He was the first son of a second son. He would take a military position, or some advisor job, or a lordship left open. If he was lucky, he would prove himself worthy enough to not get shipped off to the colonies. 

Now, the crown was tucked into his hair, and the eyes of guards were on him as he slowly moved through the courtyard. His shoulder ached from a stab wound and his throat burned with phantom poison. His position, one that was never meant to be his, afforded him none of the mercy that perhaps he should have been due. Rather, it pressed him from all sides, curled shackles around his wrists, and whispered that it would never let him go. 

It was terrifying, and yet soothing, in some indescribable way. One way or another, he would die with this crown. He tried not to think about it too hard. 

The silence was comfortable enough that Zuko hadn’t really noticed it until it was broken. “Your Majesty,” Piandao said, finally breaching the calm, and then paused. “I cannot help but admit that it is odd to address you as such. I’ve spent so long with the same little prince in my mind, I find it strange finally seeing how you have changed.”

Zuko had changed quite a bit since they had last spoken, he supposed. More than Piandao likely knew. More than Zuko hoped he knew. 

“You’ve not remained the same either, Master Piandao,” Zuko said. “You’re one of the last people I would have expected to turn traitor.”

“I did desert the army, sire,” Piandao said flatly. 

“You also watched over me,” Zuko insisted. “For months. You kept me safe, and secure, and—and happy.”  The word was a bit raw, but it was true. Especially after Mom disappeared and Lu Ten ‘died,’ Piandao’s estate had been one of the few places where Zuko had been able to find any joy in life. He’d been able to shed his new status as crown prince and simply feel like himself again, even if it was only for a bit.

“I did,” Piandao nodded. “And then you vanished, and your father never spoke of it. Rather, he turned his eyes to the future, one where the world was coated in ash and drowned in blood. He desired a new world to rule, and cared not for how many lives would burn in the process. I could not allow that to happen.” He paused, and then added in a low voice, “I cannot see how you would have, either. Had you known, had you been capable, I feel you would have fought it.”

Zuko’s mouth was dry. Piandao didn’t know what had happened to him, he was sure of it. The man had no way of knowing the circumstances that led to Zuko’s change. Metamorphosis, perhaps. Piandao wasn’t there on the floor of that cell with him, watching with a sharp, careful gaze as Zuko slowly let his worldview crumble to pieces to be built anew. And yet he had such faith.

Zuko liked to think that even without the Agni Kai, without the cell and the darkness and the pain, that he would have been able to push past his desperation for his father’s love and see the truth. As it was, though, he had no real way of knowing, and he supposed it didn’t really matter. 'What if's of a world that would never be were nothing to dwell on. This was how things were now, and he would act accordingly. 

“I like to think so,” Zuko said, rather than the thousand things sitting heavy and bitter on his tongue. As he’d become lost in his thoughts, his steady pushing of the wheels had slowed. He picked it back up again, and Piandao continued walking as if nothing had happened.

“Princess Azula can no longer firebend,” the swordsmaster said. 

“I was wondering about that.” Zuko’s pointer nail made an indent in the flesh of his thumb. “How it came to be.”

“An ability the Avatar developed,” Piandao explained. “To bend the energy within a person. It was determined by the White Lotus and council within the Earth Kingdom to be the best option for containing the princess.” A beat. “I, and Master Beifong, disagreed.”

Zuko nodded, and tried not to think too hard about the fully-realized Avatar halfway across the world, with the apparent power to snatch the fire from within a person and snuff it out. After all, there wasn’t anything a person such as that could do to Zuko’s fire anymore. That spot in his soul was cold and empty, just as it had been the day that his flame finally flickered out. The Avatar could reach and reach, and there would be nothing for them to find.

Piandao’s words were a bit more measured as he continued, “Her Highness also happened to mention last night that your bending is gone, as well.”

Zuko set his jaw. “Yes, well, it turns out that isolation from the sun for a… prolonged period of time will do that to a firebender.”

Piandao was a smart man—smarter than most. Perhaps that would be enough for him to figure it out, or to at least figure something out. He was also a man with far more tact than most, which was likely why all he said was a strained “I see,” accompanied by tight lips and a clenched jaw.

A beat of silence passed, and then Piandao stepped out in front of Zuko. He pulled his hands from the wheels, folding them in his lap instead as the swordsmaster knelt before him.

“In the light of Agni,” he began, and Zuko’s heart was in his throat, “I, Piandao of Shu Jing, loyal citizen of the Fire Nation, do swear my sword to Fire Lord Zuko, He Who Sits the Dragon Throne. For as long as I live, my actions shall be his to command, my life his to keep, and my blade his to wield.”

Zuko had heard the oath before, or at least something similar. The Imperial Firebenders had said nearly the same thing when they swore themselves to his father or grandfather. The only thing truly changed was the end, the traditional “fire to wield” replaced with blade instead.

His chest was cold. “I, Fire Lord Zuko, do accept the fealty of Master Piandao of Shu Jing. Furthermore, with his oath kept, I do return unto him his life, and declare that all his actions shall be his own.” 

Piandao, from where he still knelt, sword drawn over his leg, raised one eyebrow. 

“I don’t need your life, Master,” Zuko said, dropping much of the formality of the impromptu event. “I don’t want that to belong to anyone but you. All I want is your blade at my side, your belief in the world I am trying to create, and perhaps…” He faltered. “Perhaps your advice, sometimes?”

Piandao stared at him for another long moment before his lips quirked up in a smile. He bowed his head. “And so you shall have it, my Lord.”

Zuko let out a small breath. “You know,” he said slowly, “When I’m trying to talk ‘officially,’ I just try to think about what you would say.”

Piandao chuckled. “I had wondered from where such decorum was born.”

He waved a hand lightly in the swordsmaster’s direction. “There you go, then.”

“Indeed.”

Piandao accompanied him through the rest of the courtyard, staying by his side as Lee, waiting at the entrance, bowed low before approaching them. 

“Your Majesty,” Lee said. “Chief of Staff Tora would like me to inform you that a selection of your guests are taking lunch together, and have invited you to join them.” He paused, and then added, “The Ladies Mai and Ty Lee are amongst them, as is Tai of Diushi.” 

Immediately, the idea was more appealing than when Lee had first started talking. Regardless of who else was present, there would be little to fear with Mai and Ty Lee there, and Tai had a tendency to make conversations feel far easier than they likely should.

“I’ll go,” he said, more to himself than anything, but Lee nodded. He angled his head to meet Piandao’s gaze. “Would you like to join me, Master?”

Piandao shook his head. “I would walk with you there, but then, if you would give me leave, my Lord, I would like to pay a visit to Princess Azula. I have not yet had the chance this morning.”

“Oh, please do,” Zuko said, before biting the inside of his cheek. He shifted his jaw and continued with a bit more care, “I feel she would do well with a familiar face. Do you need someone to show you the way?”

“She should still be in the medical wing,” Piandao said. “Lady Kya spoke yesterday of daily check-ups.”

Zuko sighed. “Makes sense. I have the same, though likely with a bit more… frequency.”

Piandao’s eyes flicked quickly to his neck, where the edge of his shoulder’s bandages must be visible. They returned to Zuko’s face a moment later. “I would expect so.” 

He didn’t know how common-knowledge the assassination attempts were. With Piandao, he supposed it didn’t matter. The man would find out either way, whether through word-of-mouth or his own observations. He likely already knew.

Piandao peeled away from them as they entered the corridor with the dining room. He offered a deep bow before heading down a separate hallway, and Zuko spent the rest of the small trip convincing his pointer nail to stop digging into his thumb.

As he pulled into the entrance of the room, he was greeted by reverberating laughter. He blinked. All five members of the table were in different states of uproar, and he had to wonder what was so funny. 

Ty Lee was the first to notice him, her smile seeming to grow even wider. “Zuko!” She exclaimed, sliding over the armrest of her seat and all-but-floating over to him. “You’re here! Oh, come on, come on, I saved you a spot.”

Once he gave her a nod of acknowledgement, she helped push him into place on the right side of the table. She retook her seat next to him, Toph Beifong on her other side. The earthbending master flashed him a grin, lifting her legs from where they were slung over the armrest to place them on the floor instead. He pressed his own feet against the ground as best he could, and her smile grew.

“Hey, there, Fire Lord,” she said. “You’re feeling better than yesterday.”

“Less stressful day so far,” he replied.

“Thank Oma for that,” Tai said from across the table, the middle spot of the three. “I really don’t know how you do it. My heart is about to give out just from worrying about you.”

Zuko’s face flushed. “I’m not that bad.”

Mai, across from Toph, snorted. She looked far more relaxed than she had been when he’d last seen her. “You really are. It’s fine, though. We still love you.”

“Don’t put words in my mouth,” Suki, who somehow was right across the table from him, said, but it was more lighthearted than he would have expected. She had been laughing when he’d come in, and the smile from it was still resolutely on her lips. It was a far cry from how he’d left her yesterday, deep in an argument with her friend only moments after reuniting. Azula’s face flashed in his mind, and he made a promise to himself not to bring her up.

“Okay, okay.” Ty Lee was bouncing a bit in her chair. “Oh, Zuko, I’m so glad you’re here. The Avatar’s, er, Lady… Master Beifong?”

“By Shu, just call me Toph,” the girl in question scoffed. “There’s half-a-chance my parents have disowned me by now, anyway.”

“They’d be stupid to,” Suki muttered.

“Never said they weren’t.” Toph’s teeth seemed sharper than usual as she smiled.

“Anyway,” Ty Lee interjected, deftly taking the conversation back, “Toph was telling us about the first time she won Earth Rumble!”

“‘Earth Rumble?’” Zuko repeated.

“It’s an earthbending tournament,” Mai explained, her voice monotone but not flat. “They have different ones all across the Earth Kingdom. When we were traveling, Ty Lee and I heard about some of them. They’ve all got pretty dumb names. Earth Shake, Stone Boom–”

“Don’t forget Boulder Bash!” Ty Lee exclaimed. “We met the Champion of that one!”

“He claimed he was the Champion,” Mai corrected her. “Without proof, might I add.”

Ty Lee shrugged. “He seemed confident enough for me. Anyway, Toph was the Champion of Earth Rumble! She was just telling us about how she won.”

“That’s what you all were laughing about?”

“I won Earth Rumble Four,” Toph said. “The last one I fought in, a few months ago, was Earth Rumble Six.”

The math wasn’t hard. “You were eleven?”

She scrunched her nose, jutting her chin a bit proudly. “Ten, actually.”

He let out a small breath. “I’m guessing this wasn’t a kids-only competition?”

Toph laughed. “Dude, if it was, I would’ve been Champion in Earth Rumble One.”

“That’s what was so funny,” Tai said, his eyes shining. “The image of this tiny blind ten-year-old beating up fully-grown men in front of hundreds of people.”

“And one woman,” Toph said. “That was the Champion before me. She was great, even made sure to only knock me out of the ring rather than knocking me out. In Earth Rumble One, I only made it through half of the competitors before one of them beat me. Honestly, the only reason I was let in was probably because it was the first one. They were just starting out, and were so fucking desperate for people to participate that they took anyone who could pass the trials, even if they were blind and, you know, seven.”

Zuko wondered momentarily where her parents were for all of this. The Beifongs were one of the most powerful families in the world. He was sure they wouldn’t have just let their tiny daughter go off to fight in an earthbending tournament. His thoughts turned to what she had said earlier. “‘There’s half-a-chance my parents have disowned me by now.’” Zuko was the last person to be under any illusion that parents always loved their kids. So, instead, he swallowed his words and let her continue.

“I made it to the Champion in Two,” she said, “But got knocked out in ten seconds flat. Probably would’ve been faster if she wasn’t trying to be gentle with me. I nearly beat her in Three, but I mean, she wasn’t the fucking Champion for nothing. They called her the Anchor, because once she was rooted in, it was impossible to get her to move.” Toph rolled her shoulders. “She told me not to come back again after Three, to ‘go be a kid’ or whatever. As if that wasn’t what I was doing.” She shrugged. “Not her fault she didn’t know about my shitty parents, but whatever.”

“How’d you become Champion, then?” Tai asked, leaning forward a bit. “If she was so impossible to beat?”

“Same way I always won back then,” Toph replied easily. “By letting her underestimate me. She’d fought me twice before, thought she knew what to expect, and so tried to knock me out before rooting herself in. I sensed it and blocked it with an earth tent. I could still tell where she was, so before she could, well, anchor herself, I broke the ground underneath her and pushed her out of the ring.”

“And you were ten?” Tai asked.

Toph nodded, poised to pop a dumpling into her mouth. “And not a bit older.”

“What I wouldn’t give to have seen that,” Tai sighed forlornly.

“Don’t worry,” Suki said, patting him lightly on the shoulder. “Toph has a tendency to get into fights wherever she goes. I’m sure you’ll see one soon enough.”

“Hey!” Toph exclaimed, swallowing the food in her mouth to turn a glare in Suki’s direction. “I didn’t fight anyone, like, at all during the Serpent’s Pass.”

“No,” Suki shrugged, “But Sokka had quite a few stories to tell.”

Toph grumbled and leaned back in her chair. “Remind me to give Snoozles a good whack to the head when we next see him.”

“I think we’ll all be too busy crying for that,” Suki said. “Besides, he’s just helping to grow your reputation. Isn’t that what you want?”

“How’s she supposed to be underestimated with a reputation?” Zuko asked before he could stop himself. Toph gestured emphatically in his direction.

“Fire Lord gets it,”she said. “It’s all about the scams, Suki. Sokka knows that now.”

“Then why do you need to kick his ass?” Mai’s fingers hovered over her plate before selecting a slice of mango.

“I’ll take any opportunity I can get.”

“Sokka’s the cute one, right?” Ty Lee questioned. Her chin rested on the edge of the table, even though it looked a bit uncomfortable. 

“How the fuck would I know?” Toph waved a hand in front of her eyes.

“He is,” Suki confirmed, before her voice hardened. “He’s also my boyfriend.”

Ty Lee raised her hands in surrender. “Not open to sharing. Fair enough.” When Mai shot her a look, she continued, “What? I was in the circus! All kinds of people work there!”

“Wait,” Zuko cut in. “You were in the circus?”

Ty Lee blinked. “Yes? For like a year, until Mai and I got dragged off to go fight.”

“How’d you get your parents to allow that?” From what little Zuko remembered of them, Ty Lee’s parents were quite strict, and quite proud of their seven identical daughters. The few times he saw all of them together, Ty Lee had been dressed exactly the same as her sisters. The only way to tell her apart was her smile, the sparkle in her eye, and the energy that bounced under her skin: things that only those who knew her would be able to even recognize.

Ty Lee laughed, though there was a strain to it. “I didn’t.”

A beat of silence, and then Toph sighed. “You ran away.”

“Yep.” The lightness of her voice was surely faked, now. “I’m a septuplet. I have six sisters, and we all look exactly the same. We each chose our own hobbies, and we stayed away from each other, so I was never really close to any of them. A few months after we turned thirteen, when we were at a party, I just… I don’t know. I was standing there with all of them, wearing the exact same clothes in the exact same shade, and I realized that I couldn’t do it anymore. My hobby had always been acrobatics, and the circus was leaving town that night, and I guess it just felt… perfect, in a way.” Her throat bobbed. “I haven’t seen any of them since.”

It was easy to forget the things that Ty Lee struggled with. She’d had the same problems when they were kids, and even then Zuko had always been at least distantly aware of them. She covered everything with her bubbly personality, though, and made it almost impossible to imagine that the same girl who lit up every room she was in had spent countless nights wondering if her own parents would be able to pick her out of a crowd.

Mai reached a hand across the table, and though they couldn’t fold their palms together, she and Ty Lee pressed their fingers against each other’s in the air, and it was more intimate than it had any right to be.

“For what it’s worth,” Mai said, voice low, “You’ve always been stupid, thinking like that. We all went to school together. I’m not friends with Ty Lao, am I?”

Ty Lee laughed wetly. “I’d hope not. You two’d kill each other.”

“Exactly.”

Their fingers fell, and a silence with them. For a moment, everyone seemed content just eating their lunch. Zuko felt far more confident in his ability to finish this meal compared to breakfast. Talking made him hungry, he supposed.

“Master Beifong,” Tai said, finally breaking the silence, only to be interrupted by the girl in question.

“The ‘Toph’ thing wasn’t just for them, you know.”

Tai hummed. “Great, ‘cause I was not gonna remember to call you that every time. Uh, anyway. You keep talking about how you see with earthbending.”

“Yep.” Toph picked at her teeth.

“Yeah, okay, great. How?”

Her hand fell. “‘Scuse me?”

“The seeing with earthbending thing. How does that work?” Tai asked. 

“Oh.” Toph grinned, kicking her feet back over the armrest of her chair, her head angled toward Tai. “I just sense the vibrations. It lets me see where everything is. It works perfectly on earth and stone and shit. It’s foggy on wood, and I’ll sooner punch someone than walk on ice. Did that once, and I am not looking to do it again.”

Suki grinned. “That’s when you kissed me.”

Toph’s face grew red. “It was an accident!”

“Right,” Suki nodded sagely. “It’s only ‘cause you thought I was Sokka.”

“I will not go easy on you.”

“How the hell did you learn to use earthbending like that?” Tai asked, drawing attention back to the main conversation. Zuko supposed his interest made sense. Any firebending child acted that way the first time they learned about bending lightning, afterall. 

“Oh, I learned from badgermoles,” Toph said, as if it was simple.

“Badgermoles?” Mai repeated.

“They sound cute!” Ty Lee added.

“I wouldn’t know,” Toph said, “But, yeah, badgermoles. They were the first earthbenders, and they’re blind, too. When I ran into them as a kid, they taught me how to use earthbending like them.”

“Well, it certainly worked out for you,” Tai said, chin perched on his knuckles.

“I’ll say,” Toph laughed. She tilted her head to the side for a moment before continuing casually, “I could teach you, if you want.”

Tai seemed to choke on his breath. “You can?”

“Sure,” Toph shrugged. “I’ve done it before. Even saved Aang from the Loser Lord, apparently.” 

There that name was again. Aang. The Avatar. There was only one person the Loser Lord could be, then, and Zuko didn’t feel like dwelling on how laid-back Toph was when talking about his father. “I’ll warn you though, it’s not easy. In fact, I would dare say it’s super fucking hard.”

There was a smile on Tai’s face, slightly playful, as if he knew something that she didn’t. “I think I can handle it.”

“All right, clear your schedule, then,” Toph said, grinning widely, as if the thought of teaching someone again thrilled her to her core. “We’re going ‘til dinner.”

Lunch finished rather easily after that, and they all began to split off. Mai and Ty Lee left to apparently visit the library, while Toph and Tai prepared for their lesson. Suki went to join them and, to his shock, offered him a tentative smile and a wave as they left. He scrambled to return it, and while her shoulders remained stiff, some of that tension seeped away.

“Where to, sire?” Ming asked. Zuko thought of the paperwork still awaiting him. He would have to get back to his office eventually, but for now, there were more important conversations to be had.

There were more important people to see , who he would never be able to properly repair a bond with if he avoided ever even speaking with her.

“The medical wing,” he said. “I need to visit my sister.”

Chapter Text

Kya insisted on checking Zuko’s bandages before letting him talk with Azula. He wasn’t quite sure how to deny her, and so sat on the medical bed, tunic draped over a chair, as she inspected his shoulder.

“It’s looking good,” she mused. Zuko risked a glance. He was glad that Kya thought the wound was improving, because he couldn’t really tell. It was still a shiny and angry red, the raised tissue rippling unevenly. “Another week or two and it should be just about fully healed.”

“Really?” He asked. “How can you tell that?”

Kya laughed. “I’ve seen my fair share of wounds, Zuko. Trust me, this is healing normally. It may look a bit scary, but it’s supposed to look like that. Honestly, considering everything, I’d say it’s impressive that it is doing so well.”

Considering everything. He looked away. The scar around his eye ached. “You don’t have to remind me.”

She sighed. “That wasn’t what I meant,” she said. “You’ve been under a lot of stress recently. That has a tendency to slow healing. I’m glad that it hasn’t happened to you.” She ran a hand through his hair. “You’re doing well. I’m proud.”

Zuko’s throat was dry. “Thanks,” he said.

Kya flitted around him, checking a few more things that he couldn’t quite comprehend. Her hands, gentle and warm, would nudge his head in one direction and then the other, before drawing away to jot something down. She hummed a tune as she worked. 

Mom had always hummed to him when he was a child. She’d insisted on being the one to do his hair, and would draw it back in her soft hands, singing little songs from her hometown as she did. Kya’s voice was smoother than he remembered Mom’s being, and her hands were dotted with calluses where Mom’s had none, but the comfort it brought him was the same. Ursa wasn’t here, but Kya was, and perhaps that was all that really mattered.

She gave his good shoulder a squeeze once she finished, pressing a fresh cup of water into his hand. “You’re here to talk with your sister?”

He opened his mouth to reply, but was stopped by her stern look. Zuko swallowed some of the water before nodding. “Yeah.”

“That’s good,” Kya said. “She needs a friend.”

Zuko snorted. “We were never friends,” he said. “It just…” He took another drink. “She didn’t know I was down there. I know she didn’t. I don’t think…”

Kya remained quiet, letting him gather his thoughts.

“Anzo once told me that he didn’t think she would have left me down there,” Zuko managed to say. “If she’d known.”

If Kya was surprised at the mention of Anzo, she didn’t show it. “Did he?”

Zuko nodded. “I like to think so, too. She’s my sister.”

Kya hummed, picking his tunic up and flipping it over in her hands. “That she is. She’s been talking about you, you know. When she does talk.”

“Is she saying good things?” He asked.

“‘Good’ and ‘bad’ aren’t always so straightforward,” Kya said. “They’re things. You’ll have to judge the goodness of them yourself.”

He wished it was easier. He was unsurprised to find it wasn’t.

Kya helped him get his shirt back over his head. He slipped off the bed and back into his wheelchair all on his own, and pointedly ignored the smile she sent his way when he did. 

She guided him out of the room and down the hall. “She’s doing all right,” Kya said slowly when he asked about Azula. “As well as can be expected, at least. She bases a lot of her self-worth on her bending, doesn’t she?”

“She did when we were younger,” Zuko replied. “Always talked about how much better she was than me because of it. To be fair, everyone talked about us that way.”

Kya pursed her lips. “Well, now that it’s gone, she’s… struggling. She’s coping about as well as I could hope, but I’m certain something will give eventually, and not necessarily in a good way.”

“What do you mean?”

Kya sighed. Her hand was on his good shoulder, and her thumb rubbed firm circles into his back. “Your sister believes that her entire value as a person comes from her bending.”

“She doesn’t,” Zuko couldn’t help but cut in. “It was a lot of it, but she was always ‘smarter than me’ and ‘stronger than me’ and ‘prettier than me.’ She was better than me at everything, not just bending, and she knew it.”

Kya clicked her tongue. “Why did she believe those things, though?”

Zuko paused. Azula hadn’t acted that way when they were younger, he knew. It was only after— “Dad told her,” he said. “Or at least, he made her think that way.”

Kya hummed. “‘Made’ is a strong word, but he certainly didn’t stop it. Molded her is perhaps better.”

Zuko frowned. “I don’t know the difference.”

“That’s okay,” Kya said. “What’s important is this: your father's nurturing, if you can call it that, started because of her inherent talent with firebending. Everything else she believed as a result. With the foundation gone, the rest crumbles. Without something else to hold it up, I fear the tower cannot stand for much longer.”

Zuko’s throat was dry. He had never really thought about how his father’s parenting methods affected Azula. He knew what happened to him: the story was beneath his sleeves, over his back, on his face . Azula had always been the golden child, though, especially once Mom was gone. Dad loved her, and he didn’t love Zuko, and look what came from that. It was strange to think that it didn’t matter whether Dad loved them or not; he hurt them either way.

“Can I talk to her?” He asked, voice raw. “Please?”

Kya led the way, opening Azula’s door and stepping inside. Before Zuko wheeled himself in behind her, he heard his sister speak.

“Agent,” she greeted. “How lovely to see you. What do you want?”

“I can’t visit one of my favorite patients?” Kya’s tone was light. 

Azula let out a bark of laughter, just a bit manic. “No.”

“Agent?” Zuko asked, entering the room as well. 

Kya cracked a smile. “That’s what she calls me.”

“Why?”

“She’s the Water Tribes’ mother,” Azula said, as if it was obvious. It was the same thing she’d said the day before. “Of course she’s an agent for them. You’d have to be stupid not to see it, Zuzu.” She glanced at him and tilted her head, as if considering something. “Then again…”

Well, it was nice to see that some things never changed.

“It’s nice to see you, too,” he said. “You seem to be in a better mood.”

“You don’t have your bending,” she replied. 

His throat hurt at the reminder. He nodded. “Nope. And neither do you.”

She waved him off. “Yes, yes, you’re thrilled. If neither of us have our Fire, then clearly the strongest between us should be Fire Lord.” A beat. “That’s me, Zuzu.”

It wasn’t particularly surprising that Azula thought his crown should be hers. The more he had thought back on his childhood, the more it had seemed as though she would take the throne after Ozai, one way or another. Now, though, things were different. Zuko was tired, and overworked, and the Dragon Throne was his . Where had Azula been when assassins had tried to kill him every other day? Where was she when Jet held a blade to his throat? Where was she when Anzo died on a mission that he was only on because Zuko asked him to go?

The crown was on Zuko’s head now, and its weight was his to bear. He would not give it up without a fight.

“Sorry, ‘Zula,” he rasped, “But you’re a bit too late for that.”

She scoffed and opened her mouth to reply, but was cut off by a knock at the door.

Kya turned the handle and stood in the way as she pulled it ajar. “Advisor Katon,” she said, the lightest air of surprise in her tone. “Lovely to see you. Did you need something?”

Lu Ten replied in a low voice, quiet enough that Zuko couldn’t quite make out what he’d said. 

“I’m not sure,” Kya said. She looked back at Zuko and raised her eyebrows imploringly. 

“He can come in,” Zuko said. He hoped that was what she was asking. Based on her nod, it seemed so.

Zuko hadn’t really thought about reintroducing Lu Ten to Azula. It probably wouldn’t be the best idea to simply throw her into it and tell her the truth, especially when Zuko wasn’t fully sure where her loyalties lay.

Lu Ten slipped through the door, closing it behind him. Azula glanced at him before her gaze flicked back to Zuko. “You really ought to reconsider, brother dearest,” she said. “When were you crowned?”

Zuko’s eyes met Lu Ten’s, finding similar confusion there, before he replied, “Two days after the Comet.”

Azula nodded sagely. “My coronation was the day of the Comet,” she said. “I’m the Fire Lord.”

“The crown’s on my head, ‘Zula,” Zuko said. “You were never the heir on paper, even while I was gone. Let me guess, Dad told you that you could be Fire Lord right before he tried to burn the world down?”

Azula narrowed her eyes. “What of it? He was the Fire Lord.”

“You were always better with history than I was,” Zuko said. “Is a Fire Lord saying something enough for abdication? For changing the line of succession? Even Fire Lord Azulon put it in writing just before he died.”

“He was the Fire Lord,” Azula insisted, though her words were sour. “He was the Voice of Agni.”

“He was,” Zuko nodded. “And it worked out quite well for him, wouldn’t you say?”

Azula’s cheeks flared red. Zuko wondered if she had seen their father, wherever he was held. Ba Sing Se, perhaps? That would be nice. It was suitably far from the homeland, nestled firmly in the most-protected of Earth Kingdom territory. If he wasn’t held there, Zuko would have a few complaints to raise.

Lu Ten cleared his throat, and Azula glared at him.

“Do you mind?” She asked. “I’m talking with my brother. Go and annoy Mother or, better yet, Uncle. I’m sure he’d love to see you. Far more than me, at least.”

Zuko blinked. “What are you talking about?”

Azula heaved a sigh. “It seems the idea of bothering me is irresistible to our dead relatives, Zuzu. First Mother during the Comet, now Lu Ten? If Grandfather is there when I go to wash my hair, I’m burning down the bathhouse.”

It took a moment to gather himself. “Lu– How did you know?”

“It’s obvious,” Azula scoffed. “He may be long dead, but I’ve a good memory. His eyes were amber. Insulting, really, to deign to take the throne and have anything but gold.”

Zuko had never really thought about how Lu Ten’s eyes were different from theirs, but at the moment it didn’t particularly matter. “You think he’s not there?”

“Like Mother,” Azula said, a bit melodically. She leaned her head back and stared at the ceiling, gaze flicking back and forth over its supports.

“Azula,” Zuko said firmly. “He’s not a—a vision or anything. He’s there.”

Her chin tilted forward as she locked gazes with him. “Who? Your advisor?”

“In a way,” he conceded. There was little purpose in lying to her now, he supposed. “It’s being kept a secret for now, so he’s going by Katon, but it is Lu Ten.”

Azula’s eyes snapped over to their cousin, studying him intensely. Despite her Fire being gone, Zuko thought her eyes might be burning.

A moment passed, and then Azula grinned widely. “Oh, I see!” She exclaimed, and then laughed harder than Zuko had ever heard. Her shoulders heaved as she gasped for breath, but the laughter didn’t stop, and eventually it seemed as if nothing would snap her from it bar time. Lu Ten departed quietly, and Kya wheeled Zuko out of the room. She patted him on the shoulder and wished him luck on his paperwork before returning to Azula, closing the door behind her.

He barely had time to process it. All of a sudden, he was out of the room, and Azula’s cackling was muffled by the walls. It still rang in his ears.

Zuko supposed that it would be best to follow Kya’s lead and get some work done. If it would take his mind off of his sister for a bit, he would consider anything a success.

As he settled into his office to work, the hours managed to slip by. The sunlight through the window turned golden, and then disappeared as it slid below the edge of the caldera. Lee entered to light the braziers, as well as to give him the food dropped off by a servant.

A few hours later, as the sky darkened and the distant horizon was painted by the colors of dusk, there was a knock at the door.

“Come in,” Zuko called, and couldn’t help the sigh of relief when Kya entered. “Lady Kya,” he said. “How can I help you?”

“Oh, stop with that,” she said teasingly. “I can’t come visit my favorite patient?”

It was different from what she said to Azula. One of my favorite patients. Zuko’s face warmed a bit. “I guess,” he said slowly. “But, uh, is there something you need?”

Kya hummed and stepped closer. “I just wanted to tell you that I’m proud of you.”

“Proud of me?” Zuko repeated. “Why?”

“Do I need a reason?” She asked.

“I mean…” Zuko scoured for an answer. “Dad always did.”

He didn’t think it was the best thing to say. Kya’s face shuddered for a moment, her eyes stormy. Then, she smiled, but her voice was tight as she said, “Well, I’m not him. Neither of us have time for me to list all the reasons I might have to be proud of you.” His cheeks flushed, but she ignored it. “However, I don’t see the harm in telling you a few.”

“You—You really don’t have—”

“Let me think…” Kya leaned against the corner of his desk. “You are dealing with the reappearance of your sister wonderfully, despite all the reasons why you rightly shouldn’t. She might not realize it, but she needs someone from her past showing her kindness, and she is getting that from you. I know it might be hard, but I am proud of you for it.”

Zuko didn’t think he could respond even if he had something to say. His throat was clogged and his thoughts were in a whirlwind, moving too quickly to differentiate anything in particular.

“You are in one of the most difficult positions anyone could ever be in,” Kya continued. “You’re ruling a nation, trying to guide it through and out of a war, with the whole world against you. You’re so strong.”

“Strong?” Zuko snorted. “I can’t even feel the sun.”

Kya blinked. “Of course you can,” she said. “It’s still in the sky, isn’t it? It still lights up the day, and warms your bones. Maybe your Fire is not there, but the sun has not abandoned you. It wouldn’t dare. In fact, I’d wager it’s just as proud of you as I am.”

Tears sprung to his eyes, and he did his best to ignore them. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Kya’s smile was gentle. Mom’s smiles had always been gentle, too, but with a strain to them that Kya’s lacked. He wondered if Ursa had ever smiled at him like that.

“More than anything,” Kya continued, “You are kind. It’s not an easy thing to be. Making the choice to be good, especially in a world with often so little mercy, is difficult, and few would blame you for not, given all you’ve been through. And yet…” She brushed aside a stray piece of hair with her thumb, finger pressing over his forehead. “You ask why I’m proud of you. I ask how could I not be?”

Zuko swallowed. His throat was dry. His eyes were heavy with exhaustion. His bones ached, and he wasn’t sure he would ever get enough sleep to make them stop. Every little thing he did felt as if it was doing anything but helping. He hadn’t quite realized just how much he needed to hear Kya’s words until she’d already said them. They slotted in place behind his heart, though, and sounded steady and calming, like the waves on the ocean.

“Thanks, Mom,” he said.

Kya froze. Zuko’s heartbeat was audible in his ears, and abruptly he felt like throwing up. He held tight to those words behind his heart, suddenly intimately aware that they might be the last of their kind to come from her lips. 

How dare he? Kya had children—real children—who had gone off and fought in the war alongside the Avatar. She had two kids that she had sacrificed herself for—that she hadn’t seen in years—who she probably missed more than the sun missed the stars. The last thing she wanted was the leader of the nation that took her away from them calling her ‘Mom.’ It didn’t matter how much she liked him, or how proud of him she was, or how right it felt to him. None of that mattered at all.

The world stood still. Zuko didn’t dare move. Not first. If Kya stayed still forever, he would too. His eyes burned.

Then, the moment was shattered. Kya’s smile returned, somehow softer than before. Her hand resting on his cheek, she leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his brow. “Anytime, sweetheart,” she murmured. 

Her eyes were wet.

Kya stepped back. “Finish up what you’re working on and go get some sleep. You seem tired.”

He barely managed to nod. “Okay.” His voice broke on the word.

She ignored it. “Sleep well, Zuko.”

He didn’t respond—didn’t think he could—but she seemed to understand. Another smile, crinkling around her eyes, and she was gone, the door closed firmly behind her.

Through the window, the moon sparkled, almost like laughter. It didn’t feel mocking, though. Rather, it was happy, as if something it was waiting for had finally come to pass.

Chapter Text

No matter how much work he had to get done, Zuko didn’t think he’d ever be able to quite say no when Mai showed up insisting that they hang out. Throwing in Ty Lee staring at him with wide, imploring eyes, and he might as well not have even tried to work in the first place.

He supposed it was worth it. Azula’s arrival, though they danced around the topic and the name as if it was poison, seemed to have spurred his friends into remembering their time traveling the Earth Kingdom. He was perfectly content with sitting back and listening as they bickered over the finer details of whatever village they’d stumbled into as they tried to make their way toward Ba Sing Se.

“It was Mai’s idea actually.”

“Oh, no,” Mai said, pointing a stern finger at Ty Lee. “You are not blaming that one on me. If you recall, I wanted to leave that town from the moment we arrived.”

“Sure.” Ty Lee popped a pink berry from the dish on the table into her mouth. “Doesn’t change the fact that burning down their weapons stores was your idea.”

Mai huffed and crossed her arms. “They were Earth Kingdom soldiers,” she said. “It was for the betterment of the Fire Nation. I was thinking ahead.”

“Of course you were,” Ty Lee hummed. “Personally, I would have been perfectly happy burning that place down to help the villagers, but if you’re too deep in your gloom, then I suppose—”

She cut herself off, eyes widening as they focused in on something over Zuko’s shoulder. Mai, in the other armchair facing the door, froze as well, the fingers that were twirling a small dagger coming to a standstill. Zuko turned, and eyes met eyes, gold met gold.

“No, no, go on,” Azula said, leaning against the doorframe. “I want to hear this.”

“What are you doing out of the medical wing?” Zuko asked before either of his friends could speak.

“Unlike someone, my legs are perfectly functional,” she replied. He ignored the jab. In a way, he almost appreciated how familiar it felt coming from her. “The healer said it would be good for me to get some air.”

The healer… “You mean Lady Kya?” 

Azula waved him off. “She’s not a noble, Zuzu.”

“Her husband is the Chief of the Southern Water Tribe,” Zuko said. “The leader of a foreign nation. I’m just being respectful.”

“If you wish to represent the Fire Nation, then perhaps you should learn who it is exactly that is worthy of respect.”

He could almost laugh. Azula didn’t know anything about Kya. She didn’t know what Kya had gone through, nor how she had stayed strong despite it. In fact, all that she knew about Kya was that she was helping to heal her, and despite that Azula insisted on insulting her. 

Zuko tried to remember what Kya had said the previous day. Ozai molded her. “Dad never trained me in that much,” he said.

Her eye twitched. He wasn’t quite sure if it was in reaction to his words, or just something that happened. Still, she pushed herself off of the doorframe and fully entered the sitting room, plopping down on the opposite end of the couch from Zuko, Ty Lee in the armchair across from her.

An awkward silence fell.

Azula scoffed. “No one’s going to say anything? What are you afraid of? It’s not like any of you can hide things from me.”

“So we didn’t hide that we were switching sides until Ty Lee just so happened to chi block you?” Mai shot back.

Azula let out a bark of a laugh. “Please. You weren’t hiding that from me. You were hiding it from yourselves. You didn’t know what choice you were going to make until you’d already made it.” She rolled her shoulders. “Though I have to admit, it made me respect you more than anything else ever did. It took a healthy amount of bravery to make a choice like that.” She tilted her head. “Or an unhealthy amount of foolishness.”

“Then why are you here?” Mai asked. “If you think us so foolish? If you truly believe that Zuko has stolen your crown?”

Azula snorted. “Seems everyone’s a traitor these days. Trust me, when I’m Fire Lord, you’ll be right back in a cell.”

Technically, Zuko could have her thrown in a cell for that, if he wanted to. He could take it as a threat to himself, to his position, and lock her away to rot. His father had done it to him, his official heir, for less. 

She’s struggling, Kya’s voice whispered. She’s coping. She doesn’t know who she is without her firebending, without everything she believed to be true.

With Mai and Ty Lee’s eyes on him, and Azula’s wandering the ceiling, Zuko reached forward and plucked a pastry off of the table in front of them. “Cherry tart?” He asked, holding it out to his sister, and ignored the way her nails scratched at the side of his palm as she took it.

At dinner that evening, halfway through Tai’s recounting of his lesson with Toph, Mai interrupted by asking sharply, “Why do you let her do that?”

Tai blinked. “Uh, earthbending training involves a lot of throwing rocks, it’s not as much letting her as it is failing to stop her.”

“Not you,” Mai said. It felt as if her gaze was boring into Zuko’s soul. “Why do you let Azula act like that?”

It was as if all of the air had been sucked out of the room at the mention of her name. Even Tai, who Zuko was quite sure had never met Azula, stilled, as if he understood the implications even without the background.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Zuko asked. “I’m not letting her do anything.”

“She is sitting there in front of you, talking about how she is going to be Fire Lord, while the crown is on your head.” Mai gripped her glass so tight, Zuko worried it might shatter. “You act as if she wouldn’t hesitate to take you out if she was given the chance.”

“Mai—” Ty Lee said softly, pulling at her friend’s arm only to have it yanked from her grasp.

“I’m not stupid, Mai,” Zuko said. “I heard her. I hear her. She— What she doesn’t need right now, though, is people accusing her of doing wrong when she hasn’t, yet.”

“But she has!” Mai exclaimed. She shoved away from the table, getting to her feet. The glass was abandoned. “She’s hurt so many people! She’s burned them, and killed them, and locked them away. She helped conquer Ba Sing Se, and even if the coup was bloodless, her rule certainly wasn’t!” She took a deep breath. “She hurt Ty Lee. She hurt me. She hurt you, Zuko, and now you’re just— you’re letting it happen again.”

His blood felt cold. “We were kids, Mai. That’s not— Things have changed.”

“But she hasn’t.”

“You’re both stupid.” Toph reclined sideways in her chair, feet hanging over the armrest. She pointed vaguely in Mai’s direction. “Azula has changed. You’d know that if you spent any time with her—not that I blame you for not doing that. Still, she’s— losing her bending fucked her up. Big time. She’s more… malleable, now. Changeable. Changed.” Her finger shifted to be aimed more at Zuko. “That doesn’t make her a good person. Not yet. She hasn’t changed enough to be a good person. She could though.” Toph threw her hands up. “Arguing about it isn’t gonna get anyone anywhere.”

“So what do you suggest?” Mai asked harshly. It was rare to see her so emotional. Zuko wondered what Azula would think if she knew the effect she could have. Perhaps she did know.

“You can’t just assume the worst of her,” Toph said. “Don’t treat her as if she’s the same person she was when she locked you away. She’s not. She’s lost her father, and her bending, and all of her power with them. That’s made her different, whether you like it or not. You don’t have to go frolicking through a field with her or some shit like that, but, I don’t know, you can at least remember that she’s a person.”

Mai made a face, as if the thought caused her physical pain. Zuko understood. It was often difficult to remember that there was human blood beneath his father’s skin; a heart beat in his chest and a brain dwelled in his head and he was as mortal as anyone, no matter how invincible he’d seemed every time he stood over Zuko with fire in his fists and malice in his eyes.

“You, though, Fire Lord-” Toph scrunched her nose- “You can’t just let her walk all over you. She says wrong things sometimes. She does bad things sometimes. Even if she doesn’t realize that they’re wrong, you can’t just let her say or do them. You have to tell her that she’s wrong.”

Zuko wasn’t sure that he could do that.

It seemed like Toph was aware. “You don’t have to be that direct if you’re too scared to, but you’ve still gotta tell her. That was the only way she learned on our way here, and it’s the only way she’ll learn now.”

Two days later, when Zuko got a break from arguing with the council over retribution for the war prisoner transport—because no, Admiral, they were not taking it as a declaration of further war from the Earth Kingdom when the attackers were firebenders—he went to the medical wing to see Azula again.

“The crown was never going to look good on you,” she said, laid back across the bed with her legs crossed. Her fingers twisted above her, and he wondered if she hoped flames would dance off of them if she just moved the right way. “You don’t have the right head shape for it.”

Zuko thought of what Toph had said. You’ve gotta tell her. He shrugged. “Doesn’t really matter if it looks good,” he replied. “It’s mine all the same.”

Azula’s eyes narrowed. “Not for long, brother.”

“For as long as Agni allows,” Zuko said. “He hasn’t seemed too upset with my rule so far.”

She made a face and turned away.

Time passed, as it always did, and Azula came out of the medical wing more and more. She would stalk through the palace, or would pop up wherever he was and bother him with more talk about “when I’m Fire Lord—” and “well Dad said—” until she got bored or annoyed with him and left.

“She hasn’t gone back to her room,” Kya mentioned one night, a week or so after Azula arrived.

Zuko furrowed his brow. “At all?”

Kya shook her head. “She comes back here every day.” Her hands rubbed a cool salve over the healing wound on his shoulder. “Sleeps on the medical bed. She claims it’s because it’s easier to defend, but I’m not so sure…”

Zuko sighed. “I’ll talk to her about it.”

Later, when Azula wandered in while he was trying to work through an argument between two governors—and considering just sending the missives over to Lu Ten to deal with—he stayed quiet as she perched herself on the corner of his desk and peered down at the documents.

“You don’t look as though you’re working very hard, Zuzu,” she said. “Playing Fire Lord too difficult for you?”

“More like too annoying,” he muttered. “Governor Goro and Governor Hibiki have been fighting over a few square miles of territory for the better part of two months now, and if I have to read about the value of the Nisu Hills one more time, I might throw the letter in the fire.” 

“Just have the land burned,” Azula said. “Or if it truly is valuable, take it in the name of the royal family. Fight over.”

Zuko wasn’t going to do that. He also wasn’t going to argue with Azula over it. He glared down at the paper for another moment before clicking his tongue and setting it to the side. “I’m just gonna send these over to Advisor Katon to deal with.”

“Ah, yes,” Azula hummed. “Advisor Katon. Tell me, brother, does he really think that he’s fooling anyone?”

“He’s fooling most people,” Zuko replied. 

“He didn’t fool me.”

Zuko rolled his shoulders. “You’re not most people.” That gave her pause enough that he was able to swoop in and take control of the conversation, asking, “Why aren’t you sleeping in your room?”

To her credit, she recovered quickly. “Oh, did you have an ambush waiting there for me? I’m sorry to disappoint, but—”

“Sweet Agni, Azula, no,” he groaned, wishing that he could just bury his face in his hands. Instead, he said, “The medical beds aren’t very comfortable. Trust me, I would know. If there’s something wrong with your room, just say it.”

She was silent for a long moment, and still too. Then, she said, “I want different quarters. I don’t like those.” A pause. “I should be in the Fire Lord’s chambers, but as those are occupied—”

“They’re not,” he cut in. “I’m sleeping in my room.” At her look, he shrugged. “There aren’t any substantial differences, and I prefer the balcony’s view.” And he didn’t think he could stomach sleeping in the same room Ozai once had. “If you want Dad’s old room, it’s yours.”

She stared at him, and then hummed. “Good.”

That evening, a guard informed him that she had gone to bed in the old Fire Lord’s chambers. The next morning, he was told that she had emerged from her own room. Zuko didn’t ask about it, and Azula didn’t sleep in the medical wing anymore.

As the days wore on and Zuko got more used to the idea of having an advisor, he also got more used to the idea of giving away some of the work that he had. Really, it was when Lu Ten all-but-barged into his office and demanded that Zuko start letting him take some of the less-important work that he actually began to do it, but the difference was startling. Even if the work still never ended, it felt like a more worthy use of his time, and made him start to consider the value of having a real cabinet—one with people that could focus on the more specific, menial tasks and give him more time to devote to the nation as a whole.

The extra free time that he would get—that he was already getting, thanks to Lu Ten’s contributions—was nothing to scoff at, either.

It was thanks to this free time that he was able to start leaving his work in the afternoons to go and hang around with his friends. He would sit on the bottom steps of the palace in the main courtyard with Mai, Ty Lee, and Suki as Toph and Tai had their earthbending lessons.

Which involved a lot of flying rocks.

“Oma and Shu, I don’t think my bruises are ever going to go away,” Tai said, rubbing his side as he got to his feet after being knocked down. There was a blindfold tied securely around his eyes.

“Not if you don’t learn,” Toph replied. “Seriously, Twinkletoes picked this up faster than you.”

“‘Twinkletoes?’” Tai repeated.

“She means Aang,” Suki said from her place just a few feet from Zuko. Mai and Ty Lee were playing a card game some yards away, so it was only him and the Kyoshi Warrior on the steps. “The Avatar.”

Tai sputtered. “You cannot seriously be comparing me to the Avatar.”

“He’s the only other person I ever taught,” Toph said. “Anyway, you’re having a similar problem to him. You’re thinking too much like how you’ve already been taught. Not like an airbender, though, more like…” She tapped her chin and then snapped her fingers. “A waterbender! You’re thinking like a waterbender. You’re feeling for how the rock is going to change, but it isn’t. You’ve gotta focus on that stability, instead.”

Tai let out a bit of a shaky breath. “Okay. Let’s try again.”

As the two of them got going again, there was a small huff beside him, and then Suki said, “She’s great, isn’t she?” He glanced at her, a bit surprised that she was initiating conversation with him. They’d gotten along more in recent weeks, as he got along with Toph and Suki even spent time with Mai and Ty Lee, but the two of them never really talked without others there to balance it out.

“She’s certainly something,” Zuko replied when he found his words again. “Skilled. Obviously.” 

Suki chuckled. “Yeah. She saved my life a good few times. Saved everyone’s life with the whole saving-the-world thing.”

“Wasn’t that mostly the Avatar?”

“As his teacher, I’d give her a bit of credit,” Suki said dryly. “And even then, that’s just in the fight against Ozai. From what I hear, everyone played a role.” She nodded toward Toph, who was cackling as Tai managed to dodge a rock only to trip over his own foot and fall to the ground. “She helped take down the airship fleet that was going to burn down the Earth Kingdom. Not much good in Aang defeating the Fire Lord if there’s nothing left to be saved.”

“Huh.” Zuko hadn’t thought about it much, but he supposed that the Avatar wouldn’t have been able to take down the airships, and fight Azula, and stop his father. He wasn’t quite sure if the idea of it being a team-effort comforted him or not. He decided not to dwell on it. “You’ve made up, then?”

“From the first day?” Suki asked. At his confirmation, she nodded, “Yeah. Well enough. We weren’t really fighting, just… disagreeing. We come from two different worlds, you know? We—We fought in two different wars. There are things that she went through that I’ll never understand. It’s the same the other way around. Sometimes when—when our emotions are really high, it’s hard to remember that, but it doesn’t… It’s not her fault that she grew up the way she did. She turned out great, regardless. That’s what I have to make sure I don’t forget.” She sounded like she was talking more to herself than him at the end of that.

Zuko’s mouth was a bit dry, but he eventually asked, “What was it like?” Her eyes flicked to him. “Growing up on Kyoshi Island?”

“Well…” Suki’s hair, brown and fluffy from a recent wash, shifted in the breeze that ran through the courtyard. “It was quiet. There were a good number of villages that are a part of Kyoshi Island, even ones on surrounding islands instead. They are why we are known for trade. My village, on the other hand, has always been… more dedicated to the doctrine of Kyoshi. Other than just her teachings, we practiced very strict isolationism. The other villages resented us for it, in a way, but I still ended up the leader of both my home’s sect of Kyoshi Warriors, as well as the group as whole, should the need ever arise for us all to unite.” She shrugged. “It was nice, and I had my friends—my sisters—but sometimes it was also… lonely.”

Zuko could relate, in a way. Perhaps the society he grew up in was not isolationist, but he had always felt detached. It came with being royalty, he supposed, but even more than that it seemed as if it came from being Zuko. Everyone left or died, except for the one person who rightly should have.

“I didn’t really have any friends when I was a kid,” he admitted. “The closest would be Mai or Ty Lee, but they were—they were Azula’s friends. They weren’t really mine. My cousin was a lot older than me and he… died. My uncle was gone for years, and then switched sides, and my mother disappeared when I was ten. I went to Master Piandao’s in the summer, but he was a teacher, he wasn’t a—a friend.” He let out a breath. “So I didn’t really have anyone.” He tried for a smile. “If you couldn’t tell.”

“Your dad?”

“The worst,” Zuko replied without even thinking about it. “I mean, you already knew that, but… yeah. The evil that he put out into the world didn’t just turn off when he came home for the night. At least when I was younger, he preferred to ignore me.” He lowered his voice. “It was better when he forgot I was there than when he remembered.”

Suki’s lips were pursed, but she didn’t look at him sadly, the way so many did. Instead, there was more understanding, as if something that he had said resonated with her.

Eventually, she exhaled through her nose and turned, looking off at the sky and the pale clouds delicately streaked across it. “It’s not your fault that you grew up how you did, either,” she said after a long moment. “And for what it’s worth, I think you ended up all right despite it.”

He wasn’t quite sure what it was about that conversation, but it was the push that Zuko needed to—after pretending for her whole stay that it wasn’t an issue—finally tell Azula the truth about his time after the Agni Kai.

It would just be her and Master Piandao this time. As much as he liked Suki and Toph, he couldn’t help the desire to execute a certain amount of caution when it came to revealing his deepest secret to anyone from the other nations, especially those that were so close to the Avatar. He liked them, they might even be on the way to becoming friends, but they weren’t from the Fire Nation, and they weren’t…they weren’t Kya.

So. Azula and Piandao it was.

Sequestered in a private corner of the medical wing, with the only guards in earshot being Ming and Lee, Zuko sat his sister and swordsmaster down and took in a deep breath. Kya rested a hand on his shoulder, standing just beside him as moral support, and he did his best to draw strength from it. They hadn’t mentioned the Mom thing in the days since it had happened, but it hadn’t changed the way that she treated him, so he was perfectly happy carefully avoiding it until he couldn’t anymore.

“Is there something you needed, Zuzu?” Azula asked, once he had been silent for what she must have decided was too long. “Do you not have a kingdom to run, however illegitimately?”

Master Piandao said nothing, but the back of his fingers came up to rest against her forearm, and she, oddly enough, settled.

“Well, as you know, starting from when I was about thirteen, I was… gone, both publicly and privately.”

“Yes, yes,” Azula said, waving her hand in the air impatiently. “Father was training you specially. He told me all about it, there’s no need to brag.” She snorted. “Shows how grateful you are, and how much of it you took to heart, that you try to tear everything down without a second thought.”

He was almost tempted to ask her what, exactly, Ozai had told her about where Zuko was. It would be a lie, obviously, but he couldn’t help the curiosity. Still, he swallowed any questions that might be forming. That was not what this was about. There was no need to get side-tracked about the many tales his father must have spun, both to the world and to himself, to keep the truth hidden.

It didn’t matter, now. He had failed, and Zuko was free, and he could tell the secret to whomever or keep it from whomever and there was no one there to stop him. The crown was on his head, and it was a weight that bore down on him, but it was his all the same.

Kya was next to him, a calm and steadying presence, and a Fire didn’t burn in his soul anymore, but he could almost feel echoes of its warmth.

“At a war meeting, I spoke out against a general’s plan to sacrifice an entire division of new recruits in order to secure a hill with no strategic value for nothing more than glory. Dad made me fight an Agni Kai, and it was with him, not the general, because I had spoken up in his war room.”

“We know this, Zuko,” Azula drawled. She had been there, hadn’t she? For all the rumors that were spread and all the untruths that floated in the streets, Azula had watched.

And yet she thought Dad had any modicum of care for him? It almost made him want to laugh.

He pressed on.

“I refused to fight him, so he burned and banished me, and said that I could only return if I captured the Avatar.”

Azula laughed. “The Avatar? He was nothing more than a story, then. He’d been gone for a century.”

“So he had,” Zuko nodded. “I thought it was unfair, and that what Dad was doing was bad. So, instead of leaving on the mission, I stormed into the throne room and kind of… lost it.”

She raised an eyebrow. “‘Lost it?’ I would have loved to see that. What could you have possibly said?”

“It was a bit of a blur.” Zuko’s fingers entangled in the hem of his shirt, and Kya’s grip tightened on his shoulder. “I called him a coward, told him I was going to find and help the Avatar, among other things.”

Another laugh, higher than before. “So you weren’t hidden away to be trained, but to be shamed.” Her eyes and teeth gleamed. “Figures. Though I’ve always wondered what estate. It wasn’t Ember Island, I know that—”

“There was no estate,” Zuko spat, that warmth abruptly shifting into a searing heat, an anger that boiled his blood. “He had me locked in a cell, hundreds of feet below the palace. The only entrance is behind a tapestry of the Avatar in the trophy room. He would come down there, and he would mock me and beat me and burn me, and then would leave me in the dark and the cold for days until he came back to do it again.”

Azula’s jaw was set, and despite the lack of Fire within her, it looked as if her eyes were glowing. “It was a test,” she said sharply. “You were meant to try and escape, to prove—”

“You think I didn’t try?” Zuko laughed, manic, but he couldn’t help it. “I did. I have the scars to prove it! Every day was agony, and still I tried to leave, until I couldn’t anymore.” He ran a hand through his hair, thin strands that might never grow strong again. “Do you know what happens to a firebender when they’re locked away from the Sun for long enough?”

She glared at him, fists clenched, but didn’t answer.

“Ever-so-slowly, your Fire slips away,” he said. “Perhaps it can last if you try to stoke it, but any flame, any flicker, was punished, and so I didn’t. You feel it start to weaken, feel it start to die, and then one day, all at once, that connection to the Sun that you’ve had your entire life, snaps like a cord. It is ripped away from you, and your fire is snuffed out, and you are screaming, and in pain, and alone—”

Azula shot to her feet and stormed from the room, the door slamming shut behind her. Zuko tried to let out a breath, but a strangled sound followed it. The fire in his veins had turned to embers, smoldering and slowly going out.

Piandao, who had been silent the whole time, met his gaze.

“I am so sorry,” he finally said, voice low. “If I had known—”

“That was the point,” Zuko said, words slow as exhaustion sunk in. “No one knew.”

“I suppose so.” Piandao sighed. “It is almost astounding,” he then mused, “That you keep finding ways to impress me; ways to make me proud of you.” Zuko flushed, as if those embers had decided to gather in his face. “Though I prefer not to speak in ultimatums, I cannot help but be certain that you are one of the strongest people there is.”

“Really?” He didn’t like how small his voice was when he said it, but that same exhaustion was permeating every fiber of his being. 

Piandao cracked a smile. “I can think of none stronger.”

Zuko let out a shaky breath. “Azula’s mad, isn’t she?”

“It doesn’t matter if she’s mad,” Kya said. “She can feel however she wants to feel. It is not your responsibility to cushion her.”

“The princess has had her worldview turned upside down quite a few times in the last months,” Piandao added. “Her father is one of the things that she has tried to cling to, but she is not so illogical to brush aside anything that doesn’t fit into her fantasy. She needs time to reconcile those things.”

“Time,” Zuko murmured. “I can give her time.”

And so he did. 

As it turned out, she needed less than he’d expected.

The following night, as Zuko sat on his balcony, a shadow fell over him, silhouetted by the light from his bedroom.

He stayed still, forehead resting against the banister and legs hanging between the pillars of the railing. Eventually, a presence settled in next to him, feet slipping over the side to mirror his own position.

They sat in silence for a long few moments, and Zuko stared out at the homes of his people as they all began to head to sleep, lights flickering out in windows and street lamps growing dimmer.

Eventually, Azula said, “It’s a waste of resources, using troops like that. You were right to speak up. Those generals should have been stopped.” A beat. “There’s no room for arrogance in war.”

Zuko couldn’t help his chuckle, mind echoing with reports of Phoenix King Ozai, and replied, “Tell that to Dad.”

Azula laughed, more genuine than he’d heard from her in years; more genuine than any other since Mom left.

Neither of them said another word, but she didn’t leave, and instead they watched the city and watched the stars as time slowly slipped by.

Over the following few days, Azula was quieter than before. She still made her little comments, but they were more about the crown than about their father, and Zuko supposed he would take victories where he could.

The bandages around his shoulder finally came off, Kya comfortable with the healing that had been done. It was longer than perhaps necessary, but she said that she preferred to be safe rather than sorry.

Azula was watching as Kya worked to apply a new salve to help prevent any catching on clothes. She’d come after Zuko invited her, claiming that she wouldn't mind seeing the new scar. In actuality, Zuko thought that his sister was actually interested in seeing the rest of the scars over his torso, which had to be uncovered to take the bandages off. Azula’s eyes traced his skin, sharp and narrowed, and he did his best not to shift under her calculating gaze.

When Kya was halfway through helping him pull his shirt back on, there was a knock that sounded through the room. Kya hurried toward the door while Azula wordlessly tossed a blanket over him to cover any exposed skin.

“Oh, Chief of Staff Tora,” Kya said, glancing back and then opening the door wider. “What can I do for you?”

“Nothing from you, Lady Kya, thank you,” Tora said, stepping inside. Her eyes flicked over Zuko and then Azula before she faced him again and bowed. “You have a visitor, my Lord. They’re waiting in a sitting room near the front of the palace.”

Zuko furrowed his brow. “A visitor? Who?”

Abruptly, Tora’s expression grew uncomfortable. It was a strange look on her, and not a very welcome one. “Pardon me, sire, but I feel it might be better if you just see for yourself.” She bowed to Azula as well, shallower than she had to him. “The princess may wish to join you, as well.”

Zuko exchanged glances with Azula, but couldn’t read whatever emotion was in her gaze. “All right,” he said. “Give me just a moment.”

Tora inclined her head and stepped out of the room, closing the door behind her.

“Are you coming, ‘Zula?” He asked as Kya finished helping him pull his shirt on.

“Of course,” Azula said, scrunching her nose. “I am the princess, am I not?”

Zuko nodded. “You are.” He bit the inside of his cheek and then asked, “Lady Kya, would you join us as well?”

She blinked, and then smiled gently at him. “If you want me there, of course I will.”

Tora led them through the corridors, barely even batting an eye at the addition of Kya's presence. Zuko wondered who that said more about. Eventually, they made it to a closed set of doors. Tora turned to face them, and Zuko’s breath was nearly knocked from his lungs as he saw a single strand of hair free from where the rest was tied back.

“Is there anything we need to know?” He asked, trying to keep any shaking from his voice. Azula shot him a look, so perhaps he failed.

“Nothing that I think will help, your Majesty,” Tora replied. She seemed to finally notice the hair, her eye twitching as she brushed it back out of her face. “Captain Azami is within, along with the guests.”

“Thank you, Chief of Staff Tora,” Zuko said. Azula’s fingers moved, as if she was itching to open the doors herself. “I believe we’re ready.”

Tora bowed low to him, less so to Azula, and then turned, taking the handles and pushing the doors open before stepping to the side to allow them through.

The sitting room was simple, and not one that he could remember being in before. The floor space was rather open, the lighting a bit dim from the mostly-drawn curtains, with only two couches and a pair of armchairs to sit in.

On one of the couches sat a man and a woman. Azami stood near them, her face oddly shuddered. As they entered the room and the doors closed behind, attention was called to them. Azami bowed deeply before straightening. The man, with a face that Zuko couldn’t recognize, glanced at him and Azula before he turned back to the woman. He had his arms around her, speaking in a low voice through her long hair. Perhaps reassurances?

How did these people get into the palace, let alone manage to convince the staff that they needed a private meeting with the only two members of the royal family? So far, not a single explanation had been given, and it made Zuko’s stomach churn.

“Hello,” he said after a long moment of awkward silence. “I am Fire Lord Zuko, and this is Princess Azula. You requested an audience?”

The man rubbed the woman’s arms before releasing her from his hold and patting her knee. Her shoulders shifted with a deep breath before she stood.

Her hair fell back from her face, and Azula’s hand suddenly wrapped around his forearm, gripping tightly. 

Amber eyes, older and lighter and yet all-the-same, flickered between him and his sister, eyebrows creased the same way Azula’s did, and a smile pulled at lips that curved like his own.

“Hello, my loves,” Ursa—his mother, Azula’s mother, Mom—said, her arms open and face happier than he remembered. She let out a light laugh, almost incredulous, as if she couldn't quite believe her eyes. “I’m back.”

Azula’s fingers were tight around his arm, nails digging into his flesh and close to drawing blood, and as his breath hitched and his throat ached and his heart pounded in his ears, he almost hoped that they did.