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Chapter Text

The royal court is as good as a pile of sand without the cogs that make it turn. No, not the monarchs or the dukes or the generals. I'm talking about the ants, not their queen. A palace is a well oiled clock, with every part turning at the exact moment it should, so that the hands may strike the hours precisely at the right second. Every servant knew it's place, so that the Firelord and their family could rule the country as per Agni's will.
At the top of this very complex beehive sat one Koji of Fire Fountain City, the head of staff of the Royal Palace. At only thirty seven, he had been both the youngest head of the staff (starting at the ripe age of twenty five) and the only one to hold the position for longer than ten years. He knew every face, every department, every door and window and corner of the palace. He knew everything and everyone there was to know about the old castle. It came as a surprise then when he ran into a new face, in what was supposed to be a peaceful Saturday morning with absolutely no work until just after noon, in the middle of a corridor that led to the kitchens.
It wasn't that Koji had never met the royal family, far from it. He was well acquainted with Fire Lord Azulon, Crown Prince Iroh, Prince Ozai and Prince Lu Ten (having met them all under wildly different circumstances). It was just that, as much as he knew about the existence of prince Ozai's family, he had never actually met any of them, neither children nor wife. They were not often in the palace, preferring the nearest royal villa as their place of residence. But Koji was no fool, having spent his whole life cataloguing people and things inside the heart of the fire nation. This new face was none other than Prince Zuko, son of Prince Ozai and fourth in line for the throne. His clothes embroidered with golden silk thread and a small but expensive hair piece in the shape of a flame gave his status away (and there was only one child his age in the main noble bloodline).
Koji rapidly stepped aside and bowed, pointedly not asking what the prince was doing so far off the royal rooms. He had stayed head of staff for so long by not questioning the will of the people above him and by Agni, he would keep doing so. However, instead of hearing departing footsteps, he heard absolutely nothing as Prince Zuko stopped right in front of him and cleared his throat. Koji repressed a sigh and slowly rose, dreading whatever request was about to disturb his free morning. When he looked down at the child (Ten years? Maybe eleven? He would have to review the royal family tree, he was supposed to know these things) he found two sparkling gold eyes looking at him expectantly and a slightly hunched posture, unbecoming of a young prince. Well then, time to help a possibly lost child.
"What can I do for you, your Highness?"
Prince Zuko took a step back, looked to the right, then to the left, and shuffled his feet. Nervous child then, possibly from not knowing where he was.
"Perhaps I could direct you to where you need to go, your Highness?"
The boy looked up at Koji, looking relieved and with a small shy smile on his lips. He opened and closed his mouth a couple times, before taking a deep breath and deciding on what to say.
"I was on my way to the kitchens. It would be highly ap... apr... appreciated if you would be so kind as to show me the way" he said confidently, with minimal stuttering.
"Very well, your highness, if you would follow me" Koji bowed once more, before heading to the left and towards the palace kitchens, feeling much better about his morning. He was headed there anyway, he would get his breakfast and then head to his room for bonding time with his cat. Plan back in place with only a slight setback, he picked up his pace.
"I'm Zuko, by the way... Prince Zuko, I mean..."
Koji startled a bit, not expecting the prince to address him and not knowing what he was supposed to answer to that. Introducing himself was always an option, but not always a safe one with a noble. He could say he already knew his name (which was obvious, otherwise he wouldn't have called the child by Your Highness) but that sounded rude. He eventually settled on a softly delivered "Well met" with a small nod.
"You're supposed to introduce yourself before saying well met"
Koji stopped and turned, finding Prince Zuko's staring expectantly at him. Oh well, lucky him founding a chatty prince. Introducing himself it would have to be.
"My name is Koji of Fire Fountain City, son of Caoli, your Highness, and I'm the head of staff of the Fire Nation Royal Palace." and another bow for good measure. Koji had found nobility appreciated too many bows rather than too little.
"Oh..." the prince bowed back at him before saying "My name is Prince Zuko of Hari Bulkan, son of Prince Ozai" he paused before looking up "I'm sorry, I didn't realize we were doing formal introductions"
"That's quite alright, your Highness. Would you like to continue to the kitchens?" The longer Koji spent with the prince, the shorter would be his free time. He sighed internally, he only wanted his pickled tuna and black coffee.
"Yes please".
And they continued in silence, almost to the door to the main chambers of the kitchens, when the boy spoke up again.
"Koji?"
"Yes, your Highness?" the head of staff answered automatically.
"You're the head of staff, right?"
"Yes, your Highness" Koji hoped the child wasn't half deaf, he hated having to repeat himself.
"Then, you wouldn't happen to know everything that goes on in this palace?"
"Yes, your Highness, I would" It didn't mean he could share it, mind you. There were things better not heard by impressionable young minds.
"You wouldn't happen to know what happened last night, would you?"
Koji, with one hand on the door handle, turned slowly and asked the increasingly nervous child.
"What would you mean by last night?... Your Highness" he tacked the title quickly at the end. It wouldn't do to disrespect the royal family, even those that talked in riddles.
"Would you happen to know what happened to Fire Lord Azulon? And my mom?"
With mounting horror, Koji noticed tears building up in the boy's eyes. He instantly regretted going to bed early the night before and waking up late that day, for he had no idea what Prince Zuko was talking about, but he had a growing suspicion he very much should.
Turns out, Koji didn't get his breakfast or cuddles with his cat. No. Because Agni had decided that day was a perfect day for regicide, which meant, the busiest day in at least the previous three months.
After leading Prince Zuko to the kitchens (and leaving the child without any possible answers, but with heavy reassurances that he would find information as soon as possible) he left the crying boy with Mio, one of the only competent cooks, and practically ran out of the kitchens. He had a lot to do and he was hours behind (mostly on funeral preparations).

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Zuko wished he could go back two days. Just two days. If he ever got to find a moth wasp spirit, that's how he would use his wish.
See, his life two days before had been filled with ample time with his mom at the turtleduck pond, the occasional interaction with his father (never a pleasant one, but necessary nonetheless), enough tutoring lessons befitting his status as a prince and playing with his sister and friends (sometimes fun, sometimes not). Either way, it was a nice life, if not filled with more pressure and responsibility than the average peasant and more lessons than the average noble (and more burns than anyone else acquainted with Azula).
In exactly forty eight hours, his life managed to completely crumble before his eyes. He might be exaggerating, of course, he was still alive, still a prince... He ought to be grateful to his father, really (the void left by Ursa begged to differ).
It had been a regular autumn morning, when news of his uncle's return circulated throughout the palace and surrounding villas. Zuko was immediately excited. His uncle returning could only mean his cousin's return and a glorious victory to the Fire Nation. By sunset, the narrative in his head was completely different. Lu Ten had died. Uncle Iroh gave up on the siege. Father was called up to the throne room. Azula and Zuko managed to sneak in and hear the meeting.
Not only did he loose his favorite relative (aside from his mom), the fire nation had lost. And his father wanted the throne. That rightfully belonged to Uncle (who had no one to pass it down to). His eyes had filled with tears and he ran from the room, like a coward (like a grieving child).
He had been in his room for barely an hour, before Azula barged in, eyes sparkling (with excitement or terror, he could not say). Azulon wanted him dead, she said. To punish his father, she said. Zuko was going to die.
Morning came. Zuko had accepted his fate as truth. He would die so Prince Ozai could learn and better serve his country. He could do nothing. He would never manage to run away. He could plead, but it would only make him look weak. No, he decided he was going to face his death with honor.
He passed by the turtleduck pond to say goodbye. He reread Love amongst the dragons.
He ate the last of his secret stash of fire flakes. He wrote a small will, leaving his knife from the earth kingdom to his sister and everything else to his mom. She would know what to do with the infinite amounts of clothes, scrolls and various knick knacks that loitered his room. He secretly cried, bundled up in his favorite blanket, watching the sunrise with rising dread. "Anytime now", he thought, a void in place of his chest, eyes dry but still red.
When his door opened he immediatly turned to face... not anyone he had been expecting. It was his uncle Iroh. Well, he was not expecting the killing blow to come from his loving uncle, but perhaps he was to be taught a lesson too. No earthly attachments or how not to hesitate when delievering necessary violence (his uncle had never been decisive enough or cruel enough, if Ozai was to be believed).
Before he could say anything, his uncle strode across the room and enveloped him in his arms. The killing blow never came. Instead, he received the worst news of his life, worse than any burn he had ever felt. His mom was gone. His grandpa dead. His father was Firelord. And uncle Iroh was leaving the palace.
A spirit journey, he said, to find inner peace.
Well, all Zuko could think was that his own inner peace had left the palace with his mom and would be missing for the foreseable future.

Chapter Text

Mio had heard about Lu Ten's death directly from the general. It was no secret to the palace staff that she enjoyed a rather casual friendship with Crown Prince Iroh, based on a mutual love for tea, food and good company. Since she had been hired to work in the kitchens they always took some time every week to have a pai sho match, sometimes with Prince Lu Ten, sometimes by themselves. She had always held them both dear to her heart, although conscious of her place in the fire nation food chain and always maintaining a certain distance that Iroh would rather do away with. Well, that fateful day, he finally got his wish.
As soon as Prince Iroh had returned from Ba Sing Se, he had rushed the meeting with Fire Lord Azulon and locked himself in his private rooms. He had then called for an afternoon tea set for two, to be delivered by Mio and Mio alone. At this point, half the castle knew the most recent gossip: Prince Lu Ten was ten feet underground, killed brutally by earthbenders. However, Mio had been busy gathering supplies at the market and didn't pick up on the tense atmosphere when she got back to the palace (she was always quite obtuse in regard to social cues). So, it was with a certain happiness that she went to welcome Prince Iroh back to the palace, with their usual afternoon of tea and pai sho. Turns out, the afternoon was not as peaceful as she had hoped.
The room smelled like charred wood and the curtains were drawn with only a smear of light able to pass trough. What must have been Prince Iroh was huddled behind the bed, rocking back and forth, occasionally letting out grunts, cries or echoes of his dead son's name. Mio had never seen her friend in such a state and she was quick to assume the worst. Lu Ten was dead. The little boy she had babysat for Iroh countless times, the sweet prince that dreamed of ending the war and harboring an era of peace, the son who deeply loved his family (even the cruel parts of it), the little soldier who would not be marching home, nevermore. Tears gathered on her eyes. She took a deep breath and suppressed them. She would mourn later, for in front of her there was a father mourning his only child.
They spent what felt like hours on the ground, Mio cradling Iroh's head and singing soft lullabies to him (all songs she had sung to Lu Ten when he was young). Time crawled by unnoticed, echoes of grief floating out the window, a measly cook taking the sorrow of a prince in her weathered hands and vowing to never part with it, to hold it and carefully keep it with such care it could be made of glass.
When Agni was finally setting and the wind was cooling, she disentangled herself from the grieving man and picked up the long discarded tea and fire cakes and made him eat. Some measly bites later, Iroh's gaze went blank and his mouth stopped chewing. Well, at least he had some sugar and calming tea in him. Mio got herself together, cleaned up the plates, opened the windows and dropped a blanket around the prince.
"I'll be right back, dear, won't be more than ten minutes, okay?"
Iroh barely acknowledged her, only slightly glancing her way before staring out the now open window. Mio landed a soft kiss on his forehead and took the trays back out the door, leaving Prince Iroh catatonic and alone.
She speed walked down the palace, directing servants to draw up a bath for the prince and went on to prepare a light and easy dinner for her friend, something that could be easily reheated when he felt like eating. She landed on some miso soup and some meat and veggie stuffed buns, speed running the whole process, narrowly avoiding burning down the whole kitchen, and leaving out the door less than ten minutes from walking in.
She walked back to the royal apartments, opening the door without knocking, only to be faced with Prince Ozai holding a fire fist up to Prince Iroh's face. They seemed to be in a face down of sorts, neither moving, not even breathing. She hesitated at the door, before knocking and bowing lower than she had ever done.
"Your dinner, my Lord"
A beat passed where no one dared to move, followed by a hollow laugh by Ozai.
"Enjoy your dinner, brother" he said, looking down on Iroh and swiftly exiting the room. Probably to concote one of his evil schemes, Mio thought.
"Mio"
She snapped her attention on Iroh faster than lightning, suprised by the clarity in the man's voice. Now looking at him, she could see the curving posture and dried tear tracks, but his eyes were lucid and his expression was determined. What the hell happened in ten minutes to ignite his inner flame?
"Thank you, for everything"
"Oh please, old man, we're past that. You need help and I'm happy to offer it. Now, there's a drawn bath and dinner's ready. You must be tired from all the travel." Mio attempted to bring up the mood, she was terrible at heart to hearts or comforting people. That was her wife's specialty, not hers. She had been lucky Iroh had not been in a mood to talk earlier, because she definetly did not know what to say to grieving people (especially if she was grieving too).
"And the crying" the prince added, with a sad smile.
She nodded and turned to the table in the middle of the room, putting down the tray and going on to close the room's doors.
"Mio" Iroh called once more. "I have to go."
"Well yes" retorted the cook "the bath is getting colder and I know you can reheat it, but we both know it's not the same and..."
"Mio, you're rambling" he interrupted.
"My apologies"
"That's not what I meant and you know it"
"What did you mean, Iroh?"
Iroh sighed before casually disclosing state secrets to a mere cook. Ozai wanted the throne. Azulon punished him by ordering him to kill his first son (Lu Ten had always been the favorite, Zuko had always been the unwanted child). Prince Zuko (a child) was to die. His mother would not let it happen. Firelord Azulon would not see the light of day, Ursa would never watch her children grow, Iroh would never see the throne. All for the greed of one man and for the protection of a boy.
"So, you see, I have to leave the palace, I could not save my son, but my nephew shall live"
"What about your father?" Mio knew Iroh did not hate Azulon (a product of being the favorite child), but that did not change the fact that the man was a horrible person (and father).
"If he would gladly loose a grandson after the death of another, then he shall reap what he sowed."
A tense silence permeated the room. Mio knew the chances of ever seeing Iroh after that day were slim. Even if he was just traveling the world, he would still be a contender to the throne and Ozai would not want him in his palace.
"I am going to see Zuko in the morning, to give him the news... and say goodbye."
"You're not dead now, are you?" she abruptly said, facing Iroh with a fiery gaze. The man stuttered, not expecting a comeback of the sorts. "Then you better not say goodbye to that boy. You bid him farewell and give him a date of your return. And you better return Iroh, or I will scour the ends of this earth, bring down the might of Agni in the world to find you, I'll even go to the spirit world if you're dead!"
The prince nodded a little misty eyed and embraced his dear friend. Mio would never admit to it, but Iroh hugs were the best hugs.
"I promise I will return, Mio." He pulled back and looked around the room before spotting the pai sho board. "Will you play a last match with me?"
Mio glared at Iroh.
"Not last, old man, one more of many to come! And you are going to go have that bath first! Next we'll play, we'll dine, we'll drink and we'll sleep. You cannot go see your nephew without a good night's rest"
The former Crown Prince Iroh merely laughed while walking towards the bathing chambers. And Mio felt all the fight left in her vanish and the tears she had been holding come out all at once, heavily but silently. It would not do to let Iroh see her cry.

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It was morning. Mio got up as always, stretched her aking muscles, rubbed lotion on her stump, put her wooden leg in place and kissed her wife, Saori, goodbye. She took a slight detour from the usual way to the kitchens, stopping by the south gate shrine. The cook took her time lighting up some incense, turning to Agni and uttering a single prayer followed by a lullaby. That was her grief. That would be her respects for the child that was not her own, but had always been part of her home. Iroh had cried and whimpered and melted out of the person he once was. Saori had screamed and begged for the life of her god child. Mio prayed. And Mio sung. And then Mio went to work (with a missing child and her dearest friend half way to the earth kingdom already).
The kitchen was an absolute chaos when she walked in. Half the servants were gossiping, while the other half was obsessively preparing the funeral of the now late Firelord Azulon. The spirits worked fast but Ozai worked faster. Mio set her sights on the complicated sugar desserts for the post funeral noble feast, working the morning away, trying not to hear the gossipmongers buzzing all around her like bees in a flower field. She was probably the only servant that knew the full story, not even Saori knew the whole thing (she only knew of Lu Ten's death, she was completely inconsolable after that).
By noon, the kitchen was empty save for her. The servants had either been sent to the four corners of the palace for extensive funeral preparations or were on their lunch break. A welcomed peace settled over Mio, repeatedly sculpting sakura petals out of powdered sugar and water, feeling like a waterbender sculpting ice (she laughed over the blasphemous thought of waterbending in the fire palace). She was halfway done with a whole sakura tree sculpture, when the kitchen doors were recklessly thrown open by none other than her boss, Koji, the castle's head of staff. His grumpy ass was accompained by a small boy, somewhere between ten and twelve years old, with shiny golden eyes. Mio was astonished by the golden molten lava eyes, until she realised the shine came from unshed tears and not some supernatural glow. She barely had time to stutter a greeting, before Koji dumped the child on her and powerwalked out of the kitchen without ever directing a word in her direction. The boy blinked owlishly at her, before the unshed tears in his eyes started to drip out of them. Flabbergasted and horrified by a crying child, Mio directed him to a chair and very softly asked for his name.
"Zuko" he said between sniffles.
Zuko, son of prince Ozai. Blessed Agni, the day before had been hard enough. It was just like the spirits to send her the problem child with the recently upheaveled life. Like her own didn't have enough problems.

Chapter Text

Zuko had never been in the palace kitchen's. Truth be told, he had rarely been in the palace at all growing up. Perhaps once or twice a month, for fancy dinners with the Firelord and his uncle and cousin, or fire bending exams, or all-court events. His favorite place in the whole castle was the turtleduck pond. They had one at home (well, at their villa. He guessed the palace was home now), but it was much smaller and had a single family of turtleducks. The one at the palace tho had at least three, in what amounted to sixteen turtleducks last time he counted. He would rather be at the pond than at the kitchens, but he had not eaten since the day before, when he found out he was going to die. He didn't, but no one bothered with breakfast that morning, between saying goodbye to his uncle and moving into the castle. Father was much too busy prepping the coronation and funeral (in that order) and Azula had probably ordered her attendants to bring her food. One more way that Azula was better than him, it had been years since he was granted attendants. His mother usually took care of helping him with the more formal clothes and important tasks (not anymore), but Zuko had figured out how to take care of himself in a way any other prince wouldn't have to (his mother said that made him independent and self-reliable, personally he thought it was his father's way of promoting him to peasant).
He looked at the kitchen aid with the gaping mouth and tried to compose himself. He almost broke into tears in front of the chief of staff, he would not do the same again. He had to leave a good strong impression in the royal staff (or they would have no qualms on turning on him and tattling to his sister) (or worse, his father).
"I'm Zuko" Good one, Zuko, you forgot the title- "Prince Zuko, son of Ozai. I demand breakfast" The servant frowned and the prince was quick to tack on a "please" at the end. He had to be strong and demanding, but no one liked a rude prince. The servant would be more inclined to serve him if he was polite like his uncle. It would not do to be kind like his mother (not yet when he didn't know anyone) or scary and ruthless like his father and sister (he never had the guts for that, even when he had his own personal attendants).
"Of course, your Highness" the aid bowed, not low enough for a prince, but he gave her the benefit of the doubt. She still looked shell shocked looking at him.
"A serving of rice, some fish unless you only have tuna, in which case a serving of tofu, either one with a heavy dose of flaming tulip oil and a steamed bun with red bean paste." Zuko stopped and thought if he was missing anything from his typical breakfast. Well, it's not like his mother was here, he thought bitterly, it wouldn't hurt to indulge a little bit. "A small serving of fire flakes and two cherry mochi as well." After a brief pause he tackled the hurried "please" once again.
"Right away, your highness" she bowed again and then started fluttering about the kitchen.
Zuko took that moment as an opportunity to explore the kitchens. They were much bigger and more populated than the ones at the villa. The people also seemed much busier (but he guessed that was due to the funeral and the coronation) and had no hesitation to gawk at him. There were white sugar sculptures, typical of mourning feasts, and mountains of white mochis and white fish and white rice. He had only ever been to one mourning feast, the one for his aunt, uncle Iroh's wife, but he still held the same despise for white that he did then. Funerals certainly robbed everyone and everything of color. He couldn't stop but think that they hadn't one for Lu Ten, and they wouldn't be having it. His uncle had left and they couldn't hold a son's funeral without his very much alive father (in Zuko's opinion, his cousin deserved a feast in his honor much more than his grandfather).
Barely ten minutes past, the servant came back with the food and both a jug of water and a tea pot.
"Would you like to eat in the kitchens or a more private place, your highness?"
Zuko glanced around and conceded that a private place would be wiser (and less crowded).
"Right this way, your highness".
The prince grimaced a little at the constant repeat of his honorific. It was what he deserved certainly, but he much preferred the staff at the villa that called him Prince Zuko. His title should be honorific enough.
Just a short walk from the kitchens, the aid opened a door on their left (without letting go of the heavy tray of food. Zuko was starting to be impressed with the muscles she was no doubt packing under the uniform). It led to a small sitting room with a small porch that led to a flower garden. Charming and private. The maid put down the tray in the table at the center of the room and kneeled to pour him some water and tea. She made to leave but Zuko halted her escape.
"Your name"
She stared at him blankly.
"What is your name?"
" Mio, your Highness." She responded, blinking out of whatever self induced stupor had overcome her.
"I'm Prince Zuko, well met" the prince sat at the table and started on the fish. Mudfish, not his favorite, but at least it wasn't tuna.
"Could I be excused, your highness".
Zuko barely looked up from his meal, before shaking his head lightly.
"No, please sit".
The servant looked at him like he had grown two heads and he realized too late that he had indulged once more in Not Princely Behaviour TM. Oh well, he was much too exhausted for protocol and who would reprimand him? (His mother?) She approached the table and sat to the left of him. Good, he had not specified, but to be sat in front of him would be a declaration of equal status, while on the right would have been the usual place of an advisor. The left was, quite fittingly, servitude.
"First, you shall address me as Prince Zuko. Reserve Your Highness for my sister, if you'd please. In front of any nobility, Crown Prince Zuko"
She looked surprised for all of three seconds, before settling in a relaxed expression. He didn't know what he said to put her at ease, but he was glad either way.
"Secondly, I understand the chief of staff will be incredibly busy for the next days with preparations, but I have not had any attendants or guards appointed to me. You shall indicate where I can find the chief of the guard or bring me to them yourself." He paused to get started on the steamed bun and to order his thoughts. What else would a crown prince need? (What else would Ozai demand?)
"Of course, Prince Zuko? Anything else I can aid in?"
He felt a bit annoyed she assumed he was done talking, but quickly dispelled the notion. He was eating after all, it must have looked that way.
"Yes. I will need new formal clothes for the funeral and the coronation. I have not received word of the head of wardrobe, but it's understandable, I have only arrived at the palace a few hours ago. Would you happen to know where I can find her?"
"Yes. Would you like to visit the Captain's office or the Head of Wardrobe first, Prince Zuko?"
She had a weird smirk at the mention of the latter, and Zuko feared he was being the but of an inside joke from the palace staff. He grit his teeth and reminded himself that his temper would lead no where (the voice inside his head sounded suspiciously like Lu Ten).
"The Captain." Zuko finished the rice and moved on to the fireflakes. "You can wait there, we shall leave momen.. momin.. momentari.. momentarily." Great, he stumbled trough his words. In an attempt to distract the servant (Mio, the Lu Ten voice supplied), he held up one of the cherry mochis. "Here, you can have one".
Mio smiled warmly up at him (it reminded him so much of his mother's smile that he almost broke down crying) and gracefully accepted the sweet.
"Thank you, Prince Zuko"
He finished his meal feeling like he had accomplished something. What, he didn't know, but he felt slightly less alone in the big dark palace.
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Saori didn't know how she got out of bed that day. Her bones felt like they were made of lead, her hip was pulsing and aching and her face looked like a herd of komodo rhinos trampled all over it. In all honesty, she felt worse than she looked. She felt like someone had carved out a piece of her chest with a hot knife and cauterized the wound with lightning.
Lu Ten was gone. Her godson was seven feet under (not even that, the rumour was his body was totally unrecognizable, his chest like a cave, his legs broken in at least ten different places, his eyes imploded from the inside out). And yep, she was throwing up again. Only bile fluid came up, she hadn't eaten since her wife had told her the news and she had lost the contents of her stomach several times since.
She knew. She knew twenty years prior she should have declined Princess Rin's offer, no matter how much she cherished their friendship and could not have a child of her own. Oh, how she wished she continued her life in blissful ignorance and gave up on children once and for all. At least then she would not be feeling like dying herself. The only reason she did not run a blade trough her throat was the grief she would bring on her wife. Sweet Mio, the light of her life, did not deserve more grief than what she was feeling already.
Saori managed to get her cumbersome and heavy body across the room and dress herself in her usual black and red outfit (she refused to wear white, she would be breaking down in tears enough that day, she did not need more incentives). She gathered her hair and pinned it up and mentally prepared herself for the day ahead. What she needed was a good cup of coffee, a whole pouch of tobacco and a day lost in fabric and needles. Lots and lots of needles (and if by late morning she already had two cups of coffee, three cigars and a constellation of tiny needle wounds, no one needed to know).
While her colleagues were handling Princess Azula's and soon to be Firelord Ozai's funeral clothes (she could not handle touching white), she started on the coronation outfits. It was an honour to work on a set of coronation robes for a new Firelord. Her predecessor never had the chance. She found the experience underwhelming and more difficult than expected (that might have been because of the unshed tears she carried around all day).
Her staff got the memo to stay away from her by the third time her eyes started leaking when spotting the white gowns, so they made themselves scarce. So it came as a surprise when one of the new apprentices approached her, saying she had visitors.
The first (and only) thing she saw was her wife standing near the door of the Wardrobe department. Saori did not hesitate in collapsing on top of her, taking some weight out of her tired bones and already feeling the tears coming.
"Um.. Dear, now might not be the best.." Mio started saying.
"Nope. No. Shut up, Mi. Give me a minute". Saori borrowed even deeper in her wife's embrace, tucking her face in her hair and breathing properly for the first time that day. A couple seconds later, someone cleared their throat very pointedly. She felt Mio turn her head to the right.
"It's been a minute, I counted" a voice said haughtily, a young voice. She was so not in the mood to pander to noble stuck up children that day (especially when she was missing her own) and prepared herself to go on a rampage unhinged enough to make the child leave but controlled enough not to be fired.
When she disentangled herself from Mio and composed herself enough to start talking, she almost fainted on the spot. What could only be a ghost was in front of her. A ghost using Lu Ten's face from when he was ten.
"Lu Ten?"
Before he could do more than open his mouth, the world suddenly turned in on itself and she felt really nausea for a second, followed by the sweet sweet void of unconsciousness.

Chapter Text

The morning wasn't turning out as initially expected. It was going miles better than the few hours that preceded it, but every time Zuko thought it had finally taken a turn for the better, he was unpleasantly surprised. Turns out captains of the guard are extremely busy and unavailable during courtly transfers of power and could not be found in their offices or their quarters or any expected guard post. Therefore, the prince was still without personal guards (Azula would scoff at the notion of needing them in the first place and Father would have sneered at him for not handling the duties of a prince more efficiently) (not that he could do that, with his father hogging all the captains).
His hopes were slightly higher for the clothing department. It was the exact same workshop that made all of his clothes before and he had met at least half the workers there when they came to the villa. The only difference was he was going to be talking to the chief of wardrobe. No big deal.
Except apparently he looked like a ghost of his dead cousin and had made the poor woman faint. Just great. Some spirit had to be laughing at him. (or cursing him, at this point he wouldn't be surprised).
Mio caught the chief of wardrobe and set her gently on a bench on the waiting area. After checking her pulse and her breathing (and leaving a tiny kiss on her forehead) (were they together? Friends? Girlfriends?), Mio turned to Zuko with an apologetic look.
"My apologies, Prince Zuko, it seems my wife is indisposed."- Ah, so they were married-"Would you like to reschedule your appointment?"
Zuko thought about it. He could just call it a day and lock himself up in his new room (and really he was due for a crying session and a power nap), but the funeral was to be held the next day at Agni's last light and the coronation would be the day after at first light. He didn't have the time if he wanted his clothes ready in less than twenty four hours. And he was worried about the fainting woman anyway, might as well stay (such weakness, the Azula side of his brain sneered) (But the Lu Ten voice approved, so Zuko tried to tell his sister to shut up).
"No, that won't be necessary. Someone can send to the kitchens for some water and refreshments and I'll just wait here. Maybe talk to some of the seamstresses to start on the funeral robes."
"Of course. What would you like from the kitchens, Prince Zuko?"
The prince regarded Mio and took notice of the tense way she was standing. In spite of being the perfect image of politeness, there was a new hesitance to her movements that wasn't there before. Maybe she didn't want to leave her wife while she was unconscious.
"Some tea would be best, a calming blend? Oh, and there's no need for you to go, Mio, we can send someone else"
Mio had a surprised look on her face (again) that only made Zuko feel like he was doing something wrong as a prince. He wasn't though, was he?
The cook bowed slightly deeper than she had been before (so no, he wasn't doing anything wrong! He had gained the respect of at least one servant) and went to send one of the smaller apprentices to fetch the tea from the kitchens.
Meanwhile, Zuko sat in the waiting area, right in front of the unconscious woman.
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Saori was brought back to the land of the living by familiar hands stroking her hair and the soft chatter of the sewing room. She couldn't remember what had made her faint, but it was far from the first time it had happened. The doctor had said something about blood running too fast and too much coffee and advancing in age and Saori had chose to ignore him. The important thing was not to panic and try to take deep breaths.
"She's awake" a raspy voice she had never heard before sounded from her... left? Right? Somewhere to the side of her, she was too nauseous to think.
"I'm awake, give me five minutes" she said draping a hand over her eyes.
"Do you want me to count?"
Saori heard Mio snort and try to hide it behind coughs. Figures that Mio would appreciate that type of blunt humour over her sarcasm. The seamstress took a deep breath, forced down bile and sat up, with some help from her wife. In front of her sat a child, no more than ten years old, in nobility's finest fabrics, albeit with a simple design. She remembered that garment, she was the one to embroider it with the gold thread reserved for the royal family. She was pretty sure that the child in front of her was the (now Crown) Prince Zuko, although she had never met him.
"Forgive me, Your Highness" she tried to bow without having to get up, but miscalculated and would have fallen if not for the firm arms still holding her up.
"Lie back down!" the prince said with what was supposed to be an authoritarian tone, but came across as more of a concerned one. Looking at him, his face gave away some panic and he had his arms outstretched as if to catch her if she fell. Saori looked at Mio to gauge her reaction and her wife was nothing if not amused at the prince's behaviour.
"Forgive me, Your Highness" she repeated "for my fragile disposition, but I assure you that I'm much better and will probably not faint again"
The prince frowned looking very much not convinced.
"I am Pri... Crown Prince Zuko of Hari Bulkan, son of Prince Ozai. Sorry for confusing you earlier, I'm told I look a lot like my cousin did at my age" at that a look of sorrow came across his face which Saori was pretty sure was mirrored by her own.
"I am Saori of Yu Dao, daughter of Miu, Head of Wardrobe of the Fire Nation Royal Palace. Well met."
"Wait" Prince Zuko said, confused "Mio is your wife and your mother? Or your mother has the same name as your wife?"
Mio let out one of her kettle sounding laughs and Saori felt herself smile for the first time since the terrible news of the previous night. Prince Zuko looked slightly embarrassed now and his cheeks were slowly turning a light pink, but he tried to look dignified and did not take back the question.
"Neither" said Saori, further confusing the prince. "I present myself as the daughter of my in-laws, rather than my own parents. Mio and her mother shared a common name, although written in different ways"
The prince looked like he wanted to ask further questions, but ended up shaking his head and taking a determined stance.
"Well met" he started "Are you well enough to discuss important matters or would you rather I come back later?"
Saori was apprehensive of what the Crown Prince thought constituted an important matter (and she felt like crying again, realising that the child in front of her was the new Crown Prince and not her god child).
"I am well enough, Your Highness"
"Very well. First, I have already said this to Mio, but you are to address me as Prince Zuko, Your Highness is for my sister, Crown Prince Zuko in front of nobility. Second, I will need a set of robes for the funeral and one for the coronation. I am unsure if you have already started, but if not you can use my previous funeral robes and just alter them."
"I have not, Your... Prince Zuko. Prince Ozai did not order a set made." Saori grimaced. She was unsure if it was an innocent mistake but, knowing Ozai, it was probably deliberate.
"Of course not, my father has more important business to attend to. He is to be Firelord after all" Prince Zuko faltered slightly at his father's new title, but continued on "I am to take care of matters by myself if I wish to be Firelord myself one day".
Saori nodded and, after a moment to access if she was well enough, she stood up, marching purposefully to her work area. She heard the prince following behind her, slightly unsure.
"It would be much easier to alter a previous set of mourning robes, but are you certain you do not want a new one, Prince Zuko? Being the Crown Prince you need only ask. And the other noble houses will certainly talk about you using the same garments."
Prince Zuko paused for a moment and appeared to think very deeply, before smiling up at her (she realized she had not yet seen the prince smile. It was a nice smile, thankfully very different from Lu Ten's, much less mischievous).
"I would like them to be the same garments, please. Just alter them to my size. As for the coronation garments, I would like a new set, fit for a Crown Prince."
Saori nodded and took out her drawing pad, a charcoal stick and about a dozen sample drawings out of their catalogue.
"Very well. I will send someone to fetch your mourning robes and adjust them. As for your coronation robes, we have about a dozen options from previous coronations, as well as about another dozen with more current styles. Would you like to take a look, Your... Prince Zuko?"
It was harder than she thought to call him by his title over his honorific. The only royals she had ever treated like that were the deceased Princess Rin and (the now deceased) Prince Lu Ten. To call a royal as anything other than Your Highness (or Your Majesty) was a sign of proximity, which she had never heard Prince Ozai, Princess Azula or even Princess Ursa allow.
The prince perused the drawings laid down on the table, before his eyes widened and his face broke out in glee. She looked at the drawing he held, a very flowy and dramatic set of robes, made with a gradient fabric and adorned with sun and moon imagery. They were the coronation robes of a prince from many years ago (maybe centuries), from way before the war started. If she remembered correctly he had been married to a water tribe princess and his robes denoted the marriage of both cultures, with silver thread mixed with gold and a gradient reminiscent of a sunset, the time of day the sun gave away the sky to the moon. The style of the robes were used more for theatre in current days (and women's roles at that).
"It looks like the Dragon Empress' dress in Love amongst the Dragons" he said "I would like this one" he pointed while smiling widely at Saori (and how could she say no to such a face. She really was too weak when it came to children).
"Are you sure you do not want a more modern design, Prince Zuko? Dark reds and blacks are more appropriate for coronations, as well as gold and even some white if it is after a funeral."
Zuko shook his head.
"I would like this one" he paused, looking at the drawing again "with some alterations. The gradient should look like dawn, instead of dusk. The embroidery should be mostly gold, you can take out the silver. And I would like a big design of a red and blue dragons, as well as red and blue accents throughout the robes."
Blue?! Prince Zuko wanted to wear the water tribe's colours to a fire nation coronation?
"My prince, please, would you really like blue? There are dragons in a multitude of colours, from pink to orange to gold! Yes, the last dragon Prince Iroh slayed was gold indeed, wouldn't you prefer that one?" Saori was starting to panic. Surely Prince Ozai was going to bring down hell upon the clothing department if his son wore blue to the coronation.
"But I want the dragons to be the Dragon Emperor and the Dragon Empress from Love amongst the Dragons... And the Dragon Empress is blue. And so is the Dark Water Spirit!" he looked at her expectantly. She sighed.
"Prince Zuko, as Crown Prince it is not advisable for you to wear the colour of our enemies to a ceremony where you'll pledge to serve our great nation as the next Firelord. Gold dragons would be a much wiser choice".
Saori saw the exact moment Prince Zuko straitened his spine and made up his mind.
"That is silly. The savages of the water tribes do not own the colour blue. They do not own the sky or the ocean or the blue dragons or the shells at the beach or the Great Spirits. I will wear the colours of the Dragon Emperors, as sign of the great rulers they were and the great ruler I will be. And if anyone has anything to say about it, they will hold their tongue in front of their Crown Prince."
"Even if it is the Firelord, my prince?"
Saori knew immediately that she had made a mistake by bringing Ozai into the conversation. All the light went out the prince's eyes and a coldness overcame his gaze. She felt like she was in front of unfeeling royalty, instead of the excited prince she had seen just moments prior.
" You will do as I say. What the Firelord says or not is none of your business, seamstress. I expect the robes to be delivered to my rooms hours before the ceremonies, with a servant to make any necessary adjustments. Your opinion is not needed nor wanted."
Prince Zuko sneered at her and made to exit the workshop. Before he did, he turned to Mio.
"Send my dinner to my chambers, I do not wish to share a meal with my sister."
Mio bowed to the prince and he was quick to leave. Saori stared dumbly at the closed door and cursed herself in her mind. Lu Ten would have been disappointed in her. He so adored his cousin and despised his uncle. She sniffed just at the thought.
Prince Zuko wanted a robe fit for an emperor? She would give him one. She could no longer make her god child's clothes, but she would make the best ones for his cousin and pray that would be enough to make Lu Ten smile at her from the afterlife.

Chapter Text

Ozai had never been Zuko's favourite person. He didn't even reach top ten if he was being honest. But he was the number one person Zuko wanted to impress in the world. If he wanted to be an honourable Prince to his nation and have the privilege to contribute to the good of his people, Ozai was the one he had to convince.

Zuko had realized he was not like every other person in his family's villa later than Azula. His sister came into this world a princess, from the moment she opened her eyes it felt like she knew who she was destined to be. Zuko was not his sister. He was just a child. He did not know what honour and duty meant. He did not know what was the difference between a peasant and a prince. But he learned (his father would not stand for less). He started to realize that being granted whatever he wanted by his attendants wasn't a normal part of life for everyone. He started to understand what Uncle Iroh meant when he said he was going to rule. He started to perceive the court's power struggles as just that and not as weird adult talk. By the time that he was ten, he knew what he was and what he had to become. A prince, a servant to his nation blessed by the light of Agni to bring greatness to the world and to his people. He would not be Firelord, of course, but he could still help. He could become a general, like his Uncle (despite not having the innate firebending and commanding skills his sister naturally possessed), or an advisor or a governor of a smaller part of the empire. Either way, he knew he was above the common people for a reason, to bring prosperity to them, to make their lives and the future of his nation a better place.

Somehow, Zuko thought his father did not see a prince's role in the same way.

And when suddenly Zuko became the Crown Prince and the future Firelord (at the cost of everyone in his life he loved the most), he knew he had paid the price for the glorious purpose that now befell him (and his father). He knew his Uncle had wanted to end the war (by conquering the rest of the world and establishing a peaceful world under the banner of the Fire Narion). He knew his cousin Lu Ten had wanted to end the war (by negotiating peace treaties and maintaining their current borders, the Fire Nation had the territories they had originally wanted anyway). He knew his grandfather had wanted to end the war (much the same way as his uncle). He also knew his father did not want to end the war. He did not know why, after all if the Fire Nation won, the war would be over. But Ozai never once in Zuko's short life expressed wanting to win and end the war. Zuko thought that prolonging a game of pai sho just to see your opponent suffer wasn't as satisfying as winning (not only just because Zuko was terrible at pai sho).

So, being the future Firelord, Zuko made a promise to himself. If his father did not end the war, he was going to be the one to do so. Firelord Zuko, the harbinger of peace, the ruler of all four nations under the prosperous reign of Agni (well, three) and the one to finally civilize the savage water tribes and the analphabet earth kingdom. He would set up schools, promote tolerance and bring balance to both the physical and spirit world (who needed the Avatar when the world would have Firelord Zuko?).

Yes, that's what he wanted to do.

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Zuko did not want to do anything.

After the disastrous meeting with the Head of Wardrobe (and really, did he really have to let his temper get the better of him), he wanted nothing more than to go to his room and have that crying session and power nap he had been craving since staying up all night. The last twenty four hours had held enough emotional trauma for a lifetime. And it was only about an hour after noon. He still had to somehow find the captain of the guard, preferably that same day and not the next, when everyone would be busy with the funeral. And he had firebending training. His father had been clear that while all his classes were cancelled for the mandatory mourning period (exactly seven days, no more no less), he was expected to continue his bending practice (and if he knew Zuko was slouching he would punish him severely). So it was with a deep sigh and the will to defenestrate himself that Zuko dragged his body to his room to get dressed for training. He had not been able to do it at first light (and his father preferred he do it under the punishing sun of mid afternoon anyway), so he wanted to get practice over with as soon as possible so he could finally rest.

He got dressed (and, after a brief pause, picked up his swords), and headed to the turtle duck pond. He would not train there, but he knew that the balcony around it led to one of the lesser used training courtyards (he had trained with his swords many times there alongside Lu Ten).

He started with the current set of katas he had been learning two days prior. His sister had learned it months before him and he was expected to have it perfected in maximum four days. They were a slightly modified version of one of the first basic katas he had learned, but more complicated mainly due to elevation. He was supposed to barely touch the ground in between jumps and kicks and spins and even a jet of fire thrown downward designed to keep him in the air. It made him think of airbending and Zuko wondered if he could get his hands on some of the airbender scrolls in the royal library to see if they could help him keep himself in the air. As it was, Zuko was quite abysmal at that particular set. His kicks were always better when he had the time to land them in a firmer stance. Even though he was hot tempered and impulsive with his bending, his Uncle was right when he said he was at his best when he thought of himself as a volcano, grounded and firm but explosive. A volcano did not fly though. Or jump or spin. Zuko was screwed.

So, it was with sudden horror that he locked eyes with his sister while repeating the damn set for the third time, making him fall spectacularly on his face. Azula indulged in laughing at him and came down from the balcony with a single well aimed jump.

"Zuzu, still at the Flying Bat-Squirrel form? You really should have moved on from that by now"

Zuko scowled and got up to confront his sister. She looked the same as always, in all her nine year old glory, sneering down at him even though she was shorter.

"I'm almost done! And I'm not in class right now, I have no need for your cri..criticism Azula!"

He didn't like how he could never sound as confident or as distinguished when he was talking to his sister. He always felt like he came across as whining (and she always made him feel like he was beneath her in every possible way).

"Of course, that last rotation was completely intentional and not a rookie mistake. And clearly the third jump was no higher than two palms while the following was at least four, right? I don't have a ruler on me, but I'm sure your form would pass a technical test." she smiled at him with mocking innocence.

He knew, alright? He knew he did not jump as high or as low as he was technically supposed. And he knew he was throwing out his balance at the last movement and overcompensating with extra rotation. He did not need his sister to point out his multiple flaws to his face.

"Go away Azula, let me practice" Zuko said with a tired voice. He still just wanted his bed, but he had to go through the set at least three more times, plus stretching, before he could retire to his room.

"Oh, I will" she practically purred "I have a proposition."

Nothing good ever came from Azula's proposals.

"We have a training duel using only the forms from this set and if you win, I'll tell you what really happened to Mother and Grandfather"

Zuko stopped breathing. The prince was not stupid or slow of mind. He had estimated what had happened the night before. His mother was gone, his grandfather dead and his Uncle went on a sabbatical year. All of this after his cousin died and his father asked for a meeting with his grandfather. In a span of less than 24 hours. Zuko did not believe in coincidences. But he also did not know what happened. He could guess all he wanted, but he did not know any details.

He considered accepting. There was no guarantee that Azula knew anything and even if she did that she would tell him any of it. There was also no chance that he would win. He only beat his sister one in every ten fights they had in training. His chances were low, let alone with a bending form he had not mastered and she had. No, he could not accept.

He looked at her and was about to decline, when she jumped and threw fire at him, with a perfect replication of the second kick in the Flying Bat-Squirrel set. Zuko barely had time to put out his hand, set his stand (like an earthbender, Azula always mocked) and separate the flames. Azula tutted at him.

"Now, Zuzu, that is not part of the set. Wrong form" she grinned and came charging.

Zuko did his best at dodging and even tried to use the correct forms, but Azula was relentless and he ended up falling into old more comfortable bending techniques. A flying kick from Azula was avoided with a low roll to the ground, while a fireball from him was jumped over like it was just a river stone (and really, was his sister secretly an airbender? How high could she jump?). Zuko felt himself getting more and more desperate (and tired, so very tired, the lack of sleep was starting to make itself known) and Azula started getting more and more aggressive. Until, finally, in a cloud of flames Zuko had no hope of trying to redirect, he simply threw himself to the right unto the ground. He escaped most of the attack, but Azula sent one last punch with a flame so focused and hot he could see a bit of blue in the middle. It burned right trough his clothes and burned him in the left shoulder. He did not scream. If he yelped or complained Azula would only gloat.

"Looks like you will keep on wondering, dum dum" And she laughed to herself, leaving the way she came, not even stopping at the burn she had left on him.

Great, now he had to change his clothes and treat his new burn. He did not have his usual salve with him (he forgot it in his old room at the villa). Which meant a detour to the infirmary.

Great, just amazing. His day could not get any better.

"That's not a challenge, Agni!" Zuko thought to himself.

The sun seemed to shine brighter for a second, while Zuko gathered his things and made for the healers' rooms. Even the spirits were laughing at him.