Chapter 1: Shame
Chapter Text
"The world, after all, was still a place of bottomless horror. It was by no means a place of childlike simplicity where everything could be settled by a simple then-and-there decision"
- Dazai Osamu, "No longer Human"
The gentle light of the crystals was ethereal, casting every corner in a soft green glow. This sort of scenery would typically bring peacefulness to one's soul, and not admiring such a place would seem a real shame, if not for the conflicting emotions swirling in his chest. Azula walked out of the cave mere minutes ago, leaving him to make the most important decision of his life. Uncle Iroh was beside him, caged between these green crystals, and yet he kept silent.
Zuko would think his uncle would try to guide him towards the more optimal choice, but this time there was only silence. He could hear his own pulse and beating of his heart, creating a dull and sluggish thump his head.
This choice was only his to make, and his to commit to. Despite typically being high-strung and impulsive, this time a slight anxiety churned in his insides, making him break into a cold sweat. His options were limited at the moment, a crossroad of choice and action. There was no turning back regardless of what he chose at last. This was both his last chance and a means to an end. His last chance to repent for his mistake back when he was 13, as well as his last means of going down the road his uncle built for him. He knew exactly what his uncle thought was the right thing to do. But was it, really?
Uncle Iroh had always been an idealist in his own ways, regardless of his stance about the war. Because this wasn't only about him, wasn't it? This was about the entire world, and how now Zuko's choice would impact the course of the war.
Of course he would side with Azula, in the end. She was his only way of going back home and finally putting an end to his long quest in the Avatar's search. There she stood in his mind's eye, an open hand reaching towards him. She'd make everything right and manage to erase all the accusations and vitriol he's faced over the last months. The fact that she'd been the source of said rumors was left unsaid. Because it wouldn't matter anymore, would it? He'd have all he's wished for, his father's love and appreciation, his place back at the palace and back in the royal line. He'd have his country back - so full of mesmerizing sceneries, the most beautiful in the world - and everything will go back to how it originally was.
Was it selfish of him? To wish to turn back time and to hide in much happier memories, when he wouldn't have to think about the state of the world or what his father and the nation expected of him? It was, he knew it, and that certain knowledge was what held him back, even if by a slight string frying at its ends. It was woven by his uncle's teachings about love and the world, by his own experiences and an innate sense of justice - which seemed to always point towards everything he's been taught to hate.
He's seen the hurt the war is causing. He's seen families torn apart by orders and duty, while unable to do anything. He learned of the hate and disgust every other nation seemed to carry for the Fire Nation and its soldiers. He saw injustice and cruelty for no reason at all. How could anyone love such a world? How could it possibly be saved? Was complete rule by the Fire Nation the way to do that? There must have been a way that didn't involve such merciless bloodsheds for peace and harmony. How could that not be hypocrisy?
And yet, he was choosing to be selfish. He desperately tried to convince himself that he could change things, that he could open some eyes to the real issues when he arrived back home. He felt like a little kid, wishing he could just throw himself into his parent's arms, without needing to have permission or a reason to. He didn't want this sort of responsibility when the only thing he's been trying to do for years was to return back home.
"I really am a coward." he couldn't help but think to himself.
"You're many things, but you're not a traitor, are you?" came Azula's voice, echoing in his mind and filling up the foggy space with an artificial feeling of content.
“… Lately I’ve realized that I’m free to determine my own destiny, even if I’ll never be free of my mark.”
“But maybe you could be free of it.”
Just as he thought he was satisfied with his decision, his memory conjured up that moment, making him doubt himself all over again. Random acts of kindness were completely foreign to him, leaving him more confused than before. Lately, people have been kinder to him, like Song, trying to shelter him and his uncle when they were on the run, little Li’s family that tried their best to help him and make him feel at home, regardless of his name, or his uncle’s bizarre order of Pai Sho loving old people. People stood up for Li and Mushi in front of a teashop in Ba Sing Se’s lowest ring, and Jin was really nice to him when they went on a date.
Exactly when he believed he started growing used to such things, which apparently he didn’t, there came this too sincere, too tender moment between two people who have been sworn enemies up until that point. The places in which they metaphorically stood with each other had long since been decided, going back to almost a century.
And yet this girl, with a too good heart decided he’d be worth saving as well. Even if just from such a mundane thing such as a scar.
As his pace picked up towards the sound of fighting, he felt mountains of shame crumbling over his head, and rendering him almost incapable of moving forward. It was as if the uneven walls of the cavern had grown thousands of eyes too judge his every move and decision. The tell-tale feeling of wrongness settled beneath his ribcage, as he finally came upon the open space of the catacombs.
As a powerful blast of fire burst between the three people he could barely make out on the battlefield, he just prayed to whoever Spirit heard his wish that he wouldn’t have to fight her.
Chapter 2: Regret
Summary:
"The fact that good people can be forced to do wrong doesn’t make them less good. But it also doesn’t make the wrong less wrong.”
― Ovadya ben Malka
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
"The fact that good people can be forced to do wrong doesn’t make them less good. But it also doesn’t make the wrong less wrong.”
― Ovadya ben Malka
Azula was slowly fighting a smile as she felt a familiar wave of heat brush against her face. In no more than a few moments, all the cards were about to fall in place. She was already sure of Zuko's decision, and for the first time in a long while, he made his appearance at the right time.
As he stood between the three people on the battlefield, she couldn’t help but be reminded of another time they’ve been in a similar stand-still. Dust, smoke and ruins flashed in her mind’s eye and she now buzzed to see this how this round would end. She’d already placed her bets, having imagined how the fight would go, and yet nothing was quite as exhilarating as allowing oneself the privilege of suspense.
By the time the Avatar’s eyes widened in slight surprise, said cards had already fallen and crumpled on the ground, beneath Azula’s feet. Victory was rising on the horizon like the ever-powerful Sun every morning.
In an unusual way, though she should have expected it, having her brother at her side, protecting her blind spots, reassured her more than she would like to admit. Much too soon, she felt the tension melting away from her frame, letting it be replaced by excitement. All her focus directed itself towards the Avatar, no longer needing to worry about the waterbender. The pace kept changing, too flighty and airy for her too truly grasp, and yet she felt as though she could see through everything.
She tried her hardest to analyze her behaviour from a strategic point of view, but she found she couldn’t. She rarely felt as at ease as she now was, and while she did have a remarkable talent of foreseeing how battles were about to go down, had learned not to allow herself the relief of feeling victory while she was still very much fighting. It felt unnatural and it came from a place she hated going to. The unusual feeling was much too similar to the way she felt with Mai and Ty Lee at her side. Could it be that she trusted Zuko as much as she trusted those two? That’d be uncharacteristic of her, since her trust was the hardest thing in the world to obtain, and those in whose hands she did put her faith in were exceptional in every way that mattered. Her brother wasn’t qualified in that sense, and yet it seemed as though that special silver of control tumbled out of her grasp, and into his hand.
She hated it.
The life she’s been living up until this point had taught her to be self-reliant to a fault and to not let people in. She wouldn’t give an inch, without narrowing her eyes and fighting to the blood for it. This time shouldn’t have been any different. She and her brother were only bound by blood, a measly enough concept that she didn’t care enough for to believe in. After all, family itself as a concept has repeatedly failed her (except Father, of course) and yet it seemed that it was enough for her to lower her guard just enough to let her brother protect her.
“Blood is thicker than water, indeed” she silently mused.
In the air, clouds of steam and debris started rising heavily and turning the ground beneath their feet muddy. No more words were being exchanged, seemingly useless in here, beneath the earth. Adrenaline filled the air, violent and intoxicating and just in the slightest anxiety-inducing.
Blue locked on light gold and with the hissing of steam the two benders started circling each other like predators once again. Katara was watching Zuko’s every move, as if trying to determine the fastest way to tear him apart, and he couldn’t help the familiar thrill that coursed through his veins as they settled across from each other. It left him feeling both better and worse, both ashamed and unapologetic, both like letting himself fight without any concern for himself or others and like cowering away from her and her gaze at the same time. He was anxious and confused, couldn’t tell which was his decision and which was what he was simply expected to do.
“I thought you’d changed.”
“… I have changed.”
And like the coward that he was, Zuko let himself recede in the space in his mind where he could let himself ignore the world and the people around him, the feeling of uncertainty and fear. This time he was both, and it felt as though when the gate opened and the flood started, it would sweep away everything – his mind, his heart, his honour and his cowardice – rendering him incapable of regaining control over himself. It was weak of him, and yet he did what he could do best when he couldn’t deal with things – he got angry.
Anger was the most familiar feeling in the world to him, both a savior and a jailer. It consumed him entirely and messed up everything around himself – even the things he did care about. Maybe one day he’d be forgiven, if he could only understand whose forgiveness it was that he was seeking.
The rest of the fighting passed in a blur of colour, heat and debris. He barely registered being blown away a few steps as both allies and enemies, including the Dai Li under Azula’s command, were frozen in place as they watched the emerging Avatar rising from the broken crystals. The unearthly glow that followed the Avatar State was painting the scene in the white light that rivaled the brightness of the Sun.
In that moment, his mind cleared and it filled with one singular thought:
“We are all going to die. This will be a repeat of the Siege of the North Pole, and this time, there’s no benevolent Ocean Spirit sparing my miserable life.”
Except there apparently was. There was no great display of spiritual power – but as deafening lightning rippled across the enclosed catacombs – every mortal soul felt their hair stay on end. Princess Azula was in no way a benevolent deity, resembling the gods of vengeance and cruelty much better, but for those whom were about to witness the Avatar’s rath, it felt like a blessing.
So did Zuko, until what had transpired registered in his brain. The world had spined to a stop and he’d watched, with growing horror, as the boy born in the sky started plummeting towards the earth, with nobody to catch his lifeless body. The air smelled like ozone, and even in that aspect, the defeat of the Last Airbender resonated throughout the empty space. It felt as though the very air they breathed was on fire.
As it always happened, Azula dominated every arena she placed foot in.
He remembers only the disturbing painting the waterbender and the Avatar made – the girl clinging and cradling the body as gently as she could, as if the boy weren’t gone. Her eyes were struck with grief and tiredness – as if she was on the edge of giving up. Zuko almost felt bad as he realized the Firelord would want to see the Avatar’s body as confirmation of his death. They’d have to pry him out of her cold, grieving hands, and he didn’t think he or anyone could do that.
Was that what was expected of him? Was that all he was supposed to be? Just another bringer of death in a long row of killers, just as Katara has said. Rarely did he let himself think deeply about the entire situation he and this small group of people were in. They really were no more than children, sent to kill, maim and capture, when their life should have been anything but. He never would have wanted this sort of life forced upon another child.
Just then did he finally realise several things. Twelve was an incredibly young age to die at and yet it seemed that mere children were repeatedly pushed towards making such sacrifices.
He was going to be sick – why would such a thing be allowed and tolerated? What wrong did this boy ever do? He was the Avatar – the only real enemy the Fire Nation still had. But he didn’t choose to be born that way, no more than Zuko choose to be born amongst the warmonger Nation. Just like that, a young boy of twelve was killed by a girl of fourteen just because of who he was born as. And Zuko also had a hand in killing him. Was he no better than a murderer? How could Azula keep her composure after she just killed someone? Did she even realise it?
Just the thought of such a thing being seen as acceptable was sick. All is fair in war was no more than a lie perpetuated by those who weren’t strong enough to rise above their own weakness to act accordingly. Now, Zuko was one of those people.
He once stood in a war room and spoke up against a cruel sacrifice without wavering. His face was burned off for it and he was sent away forever with an impossible mission. He didn’t wish to regret it, even if he really did. He used to be young and incredibly stupid, didn’t he? And yet, there was honour and there were morals in that very stupidity that he lacked these days. How could he allow himself to sink this low in his own shame and vice?
Avatar Aang would never open his eyes again. The boy just hanged bonelessly in the hands of a girl consumed by grief. Their eyes met and he despised the irony of their past conversation. He was exactly what she told him he was, and he hated it – he never intended it to happen. Now, her eyes were burning with rage as she pinned him with a glare – it was clear that she was blaming him. In a way, so was he. That was probably the last time when the two of them would agree on something, and he couldn’t help but resent the finality of it.
He was disturbingly sick of himself – and he hated himself more than she probably could. Just another of their shared grievances, giving him the sense of an unwanted camaraderie. Most he regretted the fact that shame and uncertainty followed him regardless of his choice. Had he chosen to help them, he probably would have still despised himself for it.
Suddenly, his Uncle appeared, standing between the Avatar and Azula with the Dai Li. He was protecting him and Zuko wanted to scream. That was undeniable treachery, which meant he wouldn’t be able to protect him from the consequences. From now on, he and his uncle would no longer be on the same side. He’d chosen the side that lost, regardless of the fact that he could have returned like a hero to the Nation.
“Why would you do that? Are you insane?”
The Dragon of the West fought against the earthbending agents, ensuring the Avatar and the girl could escape.
“They’ll lock you up, just like any other traitor.”
The retired General fought Azula, blast for blast, shouldering the weight of her ruthless attacks.
“You can still turn this around, so why won’t you?”
Zuko fought Uncle Iroh, feeling the world crumbling around himself and his heart breaking in a million pieces. For once in his lifetime, instead of anger and aggression, his confusion brought him relinquish. It was unlike him, but he felt all fight leave him at the thought of hurting the very man that believed in him and loved him unconditionally.
“You can still run, so why won’t you?”
In the end, he simply let the Dai Li arrest him. His uncle glanced towards him and then let his eyes close in dismay. It felt like one more dismissal on the very long list of people giving up on him. The very thought would have brought him to the point of tears, if his anger wouldn’t have soured the concoction of sorrow in his chest.
I betrayed Uncle.
I betrayed Uncle.
I betrayed Uncle.
As silence finally settled across what was left of the battlefield, Azula turned to him and uttered the most dreadful words he’s ever heard in his life. They were too cruel and twisted, and said in a sickening tone – one that suggested pity or unwarranted concern. She spoke as if she cared, uncharacteristically soft and soothing:
“Treason is punishable by instant execution.”
Notes:
I support Azula rights and Azula wrongs. She’s my baby and I love her. Also, isn’t Katara just dreamy when she’s filled with uncontrollable rage? ^ - ^ (I'm kidding, she is terrifying)
As you can see, it takes a while to post, but I will absolutely keep updating. I am really excited for the next chapter and I believe so are the ones who read this fic before I started rewriting it. Thank you so much for reading and leaving kudos/comments! It really makes my day :D
Chapter 3: Death
Notes:
hello, my darlings! a tiny warning: today we are putting the graphic depictions of violence tag to work.
on another note, thank you, everyone, for your comments and kudos, they really motivate me and make my day a lot better :D
i won't be able to update for another week or so, so i am asking you to be patient until the next chapter comes out. thank you so much! (*ˊᗜˋ*)
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
“He sought his former accustomed fear of death and did not find it. "Where is it? What death?" There was no fear because there was no death.
In place of death there was light.”
- Leo Tolstoy, The Death of Ivan Ilych
His ears were ringing he could barely hear anything over the sound of his own pulse.
“What?” He barely croaked. He must’ve looked especially shaken if Azula just narrowed her eyes and tilted her head to the side. She frowned and repeated those dreadful words:
“Treason is punishable by instant execution. Do you not understand?” That meant Uncle Iroh was to be killed and Zuko could do nothing to prevent it. He felt sick to his stomach and now his mistakes weighed heavily in his gut. He tried to reason with his sister.
“Considering the fact that I will be excused, why couldn’t he be as well?”
“Zuko, treason is treason, do you not understand that? Are you stupid? I can’t excuse that.” She was growing twitchy and annoyed, as if a bug kept pestering her. She hated how her brother kept asking dumb questions and tried to protect the treacherous fool. She felt the ich to remove him entirely from the battle scene, to separate him from her victory. His blatant display of care for their uncle was enough to make her both cringe and wonder how she could utilize that very thing.
It made sense that Zuko would care for Uncle Iroh. The old man always coddled him and treated him as though he was nothing more than a turtle-duckling. More than that, though, Zuko was an exceptionally loyal person. As he realized he couldn’t make her understand, he suddenly shifted gears. The worry and helplessness in his eyes turned into anger and protectiveness. “He will not be killed by your agents, Azula.” His voice was rough from the shouting and his eyes narrowed in silent warning.
He was all but demanding now and Azula just laughed lightly. “Really, where do you get this self-entitlement from, Zuko? And who said the Dai Li were the ones who’d kill him? I am more than apt of carrying out the law of The Fire Nation.”
“Are you insane? He is family-”
“Oh, please, don’t give me that.” She was beyond livid now. A jar of carefully hidden away anger suddenly opened and all she could do was watch as it spilled out. It stained her tongue and voice, dripping onto her clothes and sinking under her fingernails like fresh blood. Her own tone made her cringe with how open it was.
”So were Fire Lord Azulon and our dear Mother. I am only doing what needs to be done, in case you cannot grasp the concept.” Although she tried to keep it under control, she was simmering with rage by this point. What family was he talking of? Theirs didn’t qualify for it in any sane way. Their family fell apart when dear Lu Ten died and their pitiful Uncle gave up on the most important battle of the Fire Nation. Said man then proceeded to leave without a single word and not return for months after learning that it was his brother who’s been declared the new Fire Lord. When he did return, he did nothing but laze around and coddle Zuko, without even batting an eyelash in her direction. That was the man whom Zuko wanted to protect? Why would family suddenly matter so much to him? Why was he acting like he was so much better than her? He should be on his knees thanking her for the amount of kindness she was willing to bestow upon him. She was the very reason he’ll be able to return home without being turned into a glorified camp-fire. Why couldn’t he understand it? Understand her reasons?
“How can you even demand anything of me? I am your Crown Princess and my word is absolute.” This wasn’t how it was supposed to go, she was now fully upset and exceptionally tired. Killing the Avatar drained her in more ways than one and she hated having to expose that. All of her carefully curated control was slipping.
“Since when? Least I remember, I was the heir to the throne.”
“Least I remember you are nothing! Absolutely nothing! Even the filth on the bottom of my shoes holds more value than you do! How dare you even try to bargain when you are in such a fragile position? You are dependent on me! I get to choose what happens to you!” They were both screaming by now and Azula wanted to tear her hair out. This very attitude of his was going to get them both killed in the Fire Nation – he learned nothing from his mistakes and now she’d have to manage the damage he could cause them both back at the Palace. Suddenly, her plan of using Zuko as her personal guard dog and safety net evaporated, and she wished she were eight again – when she used to be allowed to throw up a tantrum when things didn’t go her way. She’d planed so much for this and it proved to have been for nothing at all.
“You may be the one who chooses what happens to me, but then I should get to decide our Uncle’s fate.” Zuko barely managed to grit out the words without completely snapping. This was what he hated about Azula – everything was about her and her plans. Nothing mattered outside of that – nothing was sacred, nothing held value – not people, not friends, not family, not herself. He’d always despised having to deal with this destructive streak of hers. Worst of all, she seemed completely unaware of it.
“Then what do you want, dear brother? Do you want to take his place? Siding with him is also an offence.” She was taunting him cruelly, calling him such an endearment when they both knew it was meant as an insult. Both siblings were besides themselves in this situation – looking like they’d all but tear each other’s throats out.
This was a real impasse.
Zuko wouldn’t let her execute Iroh, and Azula wouldn’t let it go. They were past the point of rationality, having burned the olive branch that was tentatively shoved between them mere minutes ago. The bridge was burned and now one of them would have to swallow their pride and paranoia to rebuild it, leaving their back turned to the other. One of them would have to surrender control to the other, but neither could do that. They were always fighting like rabid dogs over it. They made a pitiful picture, they were both sure.
Traditionally, this could only be resolved with an Agni Kai, but that would mean that Zuko was choosing to turn into her enemy, and Azula – into his punisher.
But what would she win if she killed Zuko? He was still somehow useful to her, even if he was more of a loose cannon. She’d have to think it thoroughly. In truth, the Firelord wanted Iroh back alive – after all, he still was useful to them – he was the closest to the deceased Admiral Zhao during the siege. Their grief-stricken people were blaming the Crown for Zhao’s incompetence, and the Firelord had decided to shove Iroh into their sad spotlight. Once a failure as a General, always a failure. People only remembered mistakes and Ozai wasn’t allowed to make them – not as the Firelord.
It was a sound strategy, but now she was torn between following the his direct orders and following the law of the Fire Nation. All traitors would perish – they’d be eliminated at the slightest indication of disloyalty. What would Father actually have her do? Execute or bring in the Dragon of the West? Knowing the Firelord’s schemes, she was leaning towards the latter – but that would mean admitting to having lied to Zuko. And it technically wasn’t a lie – Iroh’s actions towards the Nation and the Throne were irredeemable. However, this particular situation required… nuance and leniency – to a certain degree. That said, Zuko and his unpredictable moods were the real problem in this situation. He’d alternate between blindly following orders, or acting on his impulsive and bizarre sense of justice. That was what she reasoned with herself, at first.
But she knew her hesitance wasn’t caused by the position Iroh was in. No, they were the problem, the both of them. She hated him and now she wanted to hurt him deeply, in a way that mattered. She had the means to do it.
“Agni… What is wrong with that child?”
“Everything. And I hate you too, don’t worry.”
She sighed.
“What a headache…”
Was it worth it – shoving all this hate she’s been harbouring back down? Rationally speaking, Zuko was still a risky gamble and she didn’t have the luxury of going off of luck right now – after all, he was the unlucky one between the two of them. Whenever he was involved, things tended to go badly. He might actually damage her position more if he came back home. Their current fight wasn’t helping turn the odds in his favour either. She decided she’d let him choose this once.
“Come on. What do you propose, Zuzu? Do you want to fight me?”
At first, he only narrowed his eyes in response.
“I do, even if we shouldn’t have to.” came a few seconds later.
Oh, he clearly has been thinking about the outcome as well. Azula couldn’t help but smile – in the end, this would be the last time she’d have the chance to bicker with her dear brother, as well as enjoy his presence.
Zuko’s more rational side – the one sounding an awful lot like his Uncle – was screaming at him to back down and mend things as quickly as possible. However, the other side was angry – and rightfully so. He couldn’t help but think it was complete hypocrisy of Azula to suddenly act like his own crimes could be forgiven, when their Uncle was a better man than the both of them put together. He despised the fact that she couldn’t see this, any of this. They were the wrong ones. She couldn’t see the world outside the one she had created in her head and Zuko didn’t have the time and patience to unwind the wires in her mind. He barely had a clear head and she wouldn’t accept his help – she’d rather kill them both before admitting to being fucked in the head. He wasn’t the right one to help either. They were different sides of the same coin – if he raged, so would she, just quietly and discreetly. If he did something embarrassing, she’d also feel embarrassed but try to cover it up by making fun of him. They mirrored each other’s feeling, except it was all wrong. They were broken mirrors, only catching and reflecting the worst they had – broken in different places, so no emotion fit them both in the same way. The image turned so warped in time that neither could stand seeing it.
Zuko knew Azula didn’t care as long as things went her way. He also knew he was also a hypocrite and a traitor. He was now about to switch sides again, abandon his broken mirror. He’d fight Azula and give his Uncle enough time to break out of the Dai Li’s bonds. Then they’d run, as they did before.
“And where are you intending to go? You never think things through!”
“I’ll figure something out!”
He never did learn.
He was running on fumes by this point and the familiar paranoia that clouded his mind when Azula was involved was weighing him down – made him more reckless and on-edge than usual. Everything felt foggy in an unwanted way, with shame and mistakes making him question, once again if he was really making the right choice.
However, all that mattered right now was his Uncle’s safety. He could focus himself well enough on that singular goal for now – he could try not worry about every other thing that was nagging painfully at his mind, begging him for sick attention. He hated multitasking – maybe that was the cause of all of his misfortune – not learning to juggle multiple problems at the same time. He was a one-track mind type of person and a complete fool to top it off. He couldn’t fight Azula and hope to win, and yet he wanted to, he needed to prove to himself that he could be as good as her, if not better. He needed to prove it to others as well.
Zuko knew they hated each other for it – the constant struggle to one-up the other, to control the other and to gain other people’s attention. They were both expected to be outstanding, but since there’s two of them, only one could take the prize. The loser would be stuck in the dust. It was wrong of them to be this way, but they choose to ignored it – that was the only thing they’d agree on. They sometimes wished they could have grown to love each other, but they didn’t and there’s that.
They only grew to resent the other’s existence and now, that feeling would only grow and turn into their end. Or, well… into the one’s end, a mirror would be shattered beyond repair, and one would be left with nothing to reflect.
And that’s exactly how they fought, like sides of a single coin – one with perfect technique and cleverness, one with a burning passion and underhandedness. One of them was believed to be the lucky one, while the other was drowning in misfortunes, lucky only to have been born.
This was an ugly fight to watch, not bloody in an ordinary way, but destructive on a truly personal level. They were like two rabid dogs who knew nothing of sanity or control. Each blast of blue and orange was aimed to maim and taunt, each punch was meant to degrade and humiliate the other. Each word that was spoken was meant to twist knives into old wounds. The sound of fire burning rabidly and catching onto clothes and other trash on the ground was resonating throughout the caves, like an ode to a failed relationship.
Bruises were blooming like large purple flowers and blood had started flowing freely by the time the two siblings have started getting tired. Azula tried to close the space between them by quickly propelling herself forward, to only be kicked in the side and turned off-course. Zuko tried to use two fire whips to keep the enemy away for long enough to wipe the blood out of his eyes. Azula managed to bang his head against the ground earlier. He could barely see like this and he knew Azula did it on purpose – both to mock his poor sight in the left eye and slow his attacks.
As his vision cleared, he pushed closer and then dropped to the ground, as she was about to aim a blast towards his head. He smiled and kicked her feet from under her. He followed with a quick succession of blasts close to her hands. If her palms were burned, she wouldn’t be able to wield lighting – it would be too painful.
As if reading his mind, she quickly rose to her feet, cautious to keep him from having a clear impression of her position. Smoke was rising, and neither could breathe properly by this point. Zuko kept attacking ruthlessly, but as the familiar crackle of lightning filled the cave, he stopped moving and his eyes darted to the side, towards his Uncle. He positioned himself carefully between Azula and Iroh and waited carefully for the hit.
Except it never came.
“Come on, no lightning?” he mocked. As he heard the sound of earth moving and rocks falling behind him, he turned around briefly to grasp the situation. The Dai Li were moving , crowding his space and slowly leaving him no room to run.
That’s when it happened. As he was distracted by the earthbenders behind him, the arc of lightning pierced the smokey air earlier than Zuko anticipated. As he turned to catch it, he realised, with growing horror, that he was no longer fully rooted on the ground, his form a far cry from what he’s been practicing, half turned towards Azula, half turned towards the Dai Li.
With a blinding burst of light, Zuko fell to the ground. He’s never felt this much pain in his life. He was burning from the inside and he didn’t know what to do. His limbs were twitching violently and his heart felt as though it would simply melt out of his chest and pool on the ground, at his side. He sensed someone approaching, but couldn’t focus on anything. He felt like he was breathing too much and too little at the same time – the air tasted of melting iron and he inhaled it greedily, like a drunken sailor would down rum. He felt like throwing up until there was nothing inside him, until his bones and guts would come out as well, just to see his heart pumping and lungs contracting.
“What do you want us to do with him, your Highness?” He blearily opened his eyes and fought the dizziness that followed.
“Throw him in the sea. It wouldn’t make much of a difference.” Azula looked frazzled in a way she didn’t after killing the Avatar, her eyes both glazed over and holding a crazed light in them. They were pinned on him. Her hair was a mess and the side of her face was already bruising. Her clothes were bloody and Zuko didn’t know if it belonged to him, or her. He didn’t even care anymore. He wanted to yell and tell her that he hated her, and then ask her not to leave him alone right now. He was terrified of dying alone and he tried his hardest to convey it to her. Except, he couldn’t speak and his body was heavy like lead. She wouldn’t – she couldn’t understand. He felt like crying a little.
His eyes slid over to his Uncle for one last time. He could barely make out the look of broken grief on his face and the tears in his eyes, before everything started blurring together into dark green and ugly brown. His limbs were trembling violently, but when he felt someone trying to hoist him up, he took out his knife and slashed. He heard a distraught hiss before he was dropped back on the ground. He felt his head roll to the side and his eyes opened again desperately. They barely caught the bright reflection of metal and focused on the six words that have been plaguing his life since he was ten.
“Never give up without a fight!”
That was the last thing he saw before fading away and he wished he could kick and scream. He was terrified, but the more the world around himself started disappearing, the more he didn’t wish to return. It felt peacefully bitter-sweet, like finally being forgiven. It felt like the coldest embrace. He felt the fire inside him flicker for one last time, sizzling weakly, and then there was complete nothingness.
Notes:
don't worry guys, i typed temporary character death.
a really loved writing this chapter. it turned more analytical than i first intended, but i am really happy with it!
Chapter 4: Consequence
Summary:
“Your worst sin is that you have destroyed and betrayed yourself for nothing.”
― Fyodor Dostoevsky, Crime and Punishment
Notes:
ummm... hello, it's been a while. life has been really crazy since i last posted, and i'd go into detail, but i don't think that'd be interesting (though i almost won a world championship :D)
i'm really thankful for your patience, i hope i can get a healthier writing habit
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
“Your worst sin is that you have destroyed and betrayed yourself for nothing.”
― Fyodor Dostoevsky, Crime and Punishment
Caldera Daily!: The Earth Kingdom falls after a century
Rejoice Fire Nation citizens! Our most esteemed and cunning, Princess Azula, heir to the Fire throne, succeeded in Fire Nation’s most important objectives – bringing the city of Ba Sing Se to its knees after a long 100 years of fighting, and succeeding in defeating the Avatar. Bright as ever, she took down the city from the inside, sneaking in and overthrowing the Earth King by becoming the leader of the Dai Li.
There she found the banished Prince Zuko and traitorous General Iroh. With her brother’s help she defeated the Avatar, striking him down. Most regrettable, Prince Zuko lost his life in an effort of apprehending him. General Iroh took a traitor’s stance, against his respectable niece and nephew, as well as against his own nation. Upon the Princess’ arrival in the capitol, it’s been proven the general was also responsible for the loss at the North Pole, which lead to the death of thousands and thousands of brave-hearted Fire Nation officers. His heinous crimes cannot be excused and he shall be executed publicly, upon the eve of Sozin’s comet.
As Ba Sing Se’s walls fell, Fire Nation troops circled de city, parading the streets in a grand show of power and victory. The Earth Kingdom government surrendered within a day and a half, all on its own accord, accepting Princess Azula generous offer of a peaceful co-existence. The current ministers shall keep their position until proper Fire Nation governors will be elected by his most honorable Majesty, Fire Lord Ozai. No locals are allowed outside of the city’s walls until they get proper Fire Nation passports and traveling passes.
As expected, the state of things was completely unruly, testament of the Earth Kingdom’s dirty and disorderly system. In the city’s harbor a fight broke out, after multiple Earth Kingdom ships were found lacking correct authorization, as well as trying to sneak citizens out of the city. Thankfully, the matter has been apprehended swiftly by the harbor’s new security teams, and the fugitives were taken care of by the Dai Li, under our Princess’ rule.
Noble citizens of the Fire Nation – rejoice, for our honorable efforts in sharing our prosperity have finally yielded results. Thanks to our nation’s fierce leader, Fire Lord Ozai, may Agni bless his reign, as well as our collective efforts, the Fire Nation can awake to an abundant and noble world, free of all blemishes!
“Have you heard the news?”
“What news? Did something happen?”
“You’re not gonna believe me…”
The news and several rumors broke out all over the world as soon as several articles appeared. Fishermen and merchants made the finest messengers, since they travelled from place to place rapidly, never remaining for long. The rumor mill was quickly turning, taking the largest cities by storm. Omashu, Yu Dao, Gaoling, Gaipan, Shu Jing, Fire Fountain City and the capitol, Caldera, had instantly grown restless. On all streets, in the corners between buildings, in slight crevices and in every home and every basement, people were loudly boasting, or shushing quietly – all saying the same thing-
”The Avatar has died. The Fire Nation won.”
On the southern coast, still in the Earth Kingdom, people were fleeing towards the Pole, through the freezing water, others were fighting rabidly against fate, while others were waiting quietly for fate to fall upon them. The people were losing their footing, after they had lost the one entity supposed to protect them. The world was in a bloody limbo – the victors and the defeated, neither really knowing what followed. It was jarring, like experiencing loss for a second time, like finally obtaining the one thing one’d always desired, but not understanding whether one was satisfied or not.
After learning how to hope again, the Earth Kingdom population was coldly reminded that fate favored a select group of people. The few ones still fighting, allied themselves with the rest of the Water Tribe warriors, now rogues. They stayed silent, as if unsure what destiny had in store for them. It felt like a hopeless endeavor, with people swinging from fiercely fighting against the oppressors to wishing to give up. After all, they had lost everything – the Avatar and their King.
In the Fire Nation, the citizens were still reeling after learning that they had finally won. The Avatar disappeared once again and the mighty Earth Kingdom capitol had fallen. Their Prince had died, but he died honorably, didn’t he? That was his purpose, after all – to defend their nation and its interests at the cost of his life. They’d mourned him for a time, before they had forgotten about it, and their anger turned to the traitorous General. Word had it Iroh had been thrown into the Palace’s prison the moment he’d set foot on the shore. They said the Dragon of the West had gone mad – that he’d killed Prince Zuko, though none knew if it was merely a rumor. The masses were slowly developing a gory fascination for the alleged murders in the catacombs, and Azula couldn’t understand why for the life of her.
She’d return in victorious grandeur, just as she’d expected, welcomed with a vast ceremony and a crowd of devoted servants waiting for her. They prepared a speech about her courage, strength and cleverness, yet she couldn’t help but believe all of it to be horribly dull. Typically, she adored the doting, the love and the adoration of her people, but this time, her mind kept slipping towards a horrible corner, where she felt as though she could hear her brother’s voice. She couldn’t help but think to herself “Well, I’m the rightful heir now. The people adore me.”
But she wasn’t exactly happy. She felt constantly on edge, just as if someone would turn around any second and utter in a low, menacing voice “She did it. She’s the one to blame.” It terrified her to think she’d get caught up in her lie, for the first time in long years. Though this wasn’t a normal lie, was it? Her actions had consequences and what she reaped she would sow. It made her break out in a cold sweat. Did she understand the severity of her actions? Did she know that getting rid of her brother was wrong? Yes, she did, she gulped, as if trying to ease off a tight knot in her throat. She was self-aware, like that. She was staring ahead into open space, out towards the sea, not a single obstacle for miles. She thought she’d be able to see the walls of the city and the blood staining them if she looked hard enough. The same blood was painting her hands red now too.
Was it guilt, or was it the terror of getting caught doing something she shouldn’t? She didn’t know, and didn’t want to either. It felt impossible to keep moving forward without feeling an intense need to look behind her, to check if anyone was following her, if anyone was coming to harm her. Azula could swear something was constantly moving in the corner of her eye. Digging her sharp nails into the soft skin of her palm, she let the pain wash over her, let it ground her again and cleanse the disturbance in her head. She let it sharpen her once more, into the perfect heir, the perfect Princess – cold, meticulous and confident. Weakness exists in one’s body only if one lets it. Just as everything else, this was only a matter of playing her cards right. And she never lost a strategy game.
Upon smelling the both stale and damp air of the prison, the gloom she felt earlier had amplified, yet remaining completely manageable. Everything was perfectly within her control – always. The narrow corridor gave off the sensation that the space itself was closing in on her, trying to cling onto something that still breathed. The door to the cell opened with an annoying screech. She’d have to get that oiled.
“How are you finding your new residence, Uncle?” she’d asked in mock politeness. She was only met with silence and a gaze looking through her. Iroh’s eyes were once amber, but now that all shine left them, they turned the color of reddish mud. Pitiful, really.
“Well, are you not going to answer? That would be uncivilized.” She scrunched up her nose and raised a brow. Time to change gears. “Am I really that repulsive to you? You wouldn’t even look at me when I’m talking to you, let alone talk to me, as an Uncle should.”
Perhaps the slight emotion she didn’t really intend to let out, made its way to him, since a dim spark in his eyes gave way to recognition. Yet, he looked completely wrecked and not really present with her.
“What is it you want, Azula?”
“Is it only about what I want when I’m talking to you?” she mused, as if really taking his perception of her into consideration. “I suppose I understand it would seem that way to you. Did you know almost everyone asks me what I want when I start talking to them? As polite as they try to be about it, they make it perfectly clear. Just as you did just now.”
He simply sighed. “That’s because, in the end, it’s only about what you want, Azula. Did you come here to make conversation, or do you have a motive? You never liked me that much.”
She wandered what there was to like about the old man. “Well, Zuko was particularly fond of you, even when you weren’t around.” It came as a surprise to her, how difficult uttering that name was now. It weighed heavy in her mouth, like a curse would. She smiled at him – the picture-perfect image of fake kindness. “Though, you were fond of him too.” And she sounded sour about it too. How deplorable.
Yet it seemed like that did the trick since he inhaled sharply, and his eyes filled with tears. Her chest hurt now, perfect smile still in place. “Why can’t you be normal? Why can’t you grieve? You did lose your brother.” That’s what was circling her head now.
“You… didn’t need to kill him… There was no purpose.” Her Uncle said between intakes of breath. He wasn’t allowing himself to cry – especially in front of her, she observed. And Azula supposed he was partially right. She didn’t need to do what she did, and she still couldn’t admit to herself what her crime was. How ruthless and childish, how monstrous.
For some reason unknown to her, instead of admitting her fault now, instead of saying her condolences, instead of trying to be empathetic, her heart blackened and filled with hot fury, as if asking “What about me? What about me? Why don’t you still see me? Why do you always refuse to do so? I’m hurting too, but I can’t say it. I’m terrified to.” Instantly, her mind settled into the kind of anger she knew well – the cold and composed one. Irony and disregard for empathy and kindness were her specialty when she got like this – all bared smiles, wild eyes and sharp edges.
“Oh, I always have a reason for doing things. I take everything into account and I control everything that happens the second the fight begins. He was an uncertain variable, too flexible and rigid at the same time, not a good combination for me. Had he returned with me, he would have his birthright restored, which would have lead to another, messier, altercation in the future. I just sped up the process for us both.” It was cold, too much, even for her. She was too callous, too harsh and cruel, but she couldn’t stop talking. She didn’t believe half of the things she said, but she was so fixed on inflicting damage that she couldn’t take a step back to understand what she was saying.
“Well, aren’t you just like Zuko, my dear?”
She spun around so quickly she almost lost her balance. There stood Ursa, watching her with a perfectly kind smile, just like her’s, sewn into her face. The only difference was that her eyes were warm too. Azula’s weren’t.
“It’s honestly amusing just how similar my dear children are.”
What a perfectly authentic laugh! Azula could never laugh like that – all grace and lightness. She was left gaping at her mother. She couldn’t understand what that terrible woman was doing there, standing without a care in a dingy prison cell, as if they were discussing the weather.
Iroh couldn’t help but raise his brows. What was she looking at? What had happened? Azula had stopped her tirade abruptly to stare at a point on the wall, leaving him with his gloom and an uneasy feeling. Was she not lucid? Could there be something messing with her head? He cleared his throat as silently as he could, and trying not to spook her in any way he said-
“Azula, child, there’s nothing there.”
...
Against what she’d been expecting, the Fire Nation was a beautiful place. Flowers bloomed all year long and the scenery was nothing short of breathtaking. What Katara had learned to despise, however, was the maddening humidity. Her hair was a constant mess, frizzy from the moment she woke up and barely tamable. She wished that were her only problem though.
She looked towards the clearing, where Toph was currently training Aang. As much as their healing sessions progressed, she had the feeling Aang was hiding something from her. Sokka had gone into town to find a new map, since their old one had gotten destroyed in the storm, which left her by herself at camp. She knew that Toph or Aang would call out to her if they needed something, but she felt the itch to keep herself busy regardless, while also checking in on them from time to time. Regardless how calming and mundane the scenery appeared to be, she felt herself growing more and more agitated by the minute. When was Sokka coming back from the market? Hadn’t Toph and Aang wandered to far or gotten too loud throwing rocks around? What was that that Momo ate – that couldn’t be edible?
Being on the run had made her grow weary. She wasn’t getting any sleep either - the constant nightmare that they’d somehow mess up and get caught keeping her awake at night. Ever since Ba Sing Se, life had become more and more difficult, everything they needed was attained with a higher risk, be it food, or information. People gave them weird looks wherever they went stating that they “must be from the colonies”. Some were nicer than others, thinking that four kids travelling without their parents, all the way from the Earth Kingdom’s coast needed all the care and nurturing they could get. Those kinds of people made Katara wonder just how could the Fire Nation wage a war.
A few old people even invited them in for a meal, when they said they’d been travelling for a few days without stop. Those kind people always confined in them that they’d lost many sons and daughters to the war. Katara couldn’t help but wander at that. “How can they still support the Fire Lord? How can they simply shoulder that injustice, and not rise and fight against it?” The truth was there were many old people – clearly too tired to wish for a change. The younger ones were very energetic, but also stricter and harsher, with quicker tempers and loads of pride. They weren’t all bad, but most of them kept going on about proving their worth to the nation, and Katara couldn’t help but despise them.
Sometimes, anger would rise up to the surface and she’d almost lose herself in her own head. She never said anything, kept quiet, kept the façade in place, but she felt like she was physically hurting every time she held herself back. She wished she could throw the entire Fire Nation in the ocean and watch them fight against the pull of the waves. There were times when she wished to see them struggle, when she craved revenge and justice for her people – but she knew she wouldn’t be able to solve anything.
Aang had gotten himself admitted into a Fire Nation school once, and he couldn’t help those children then. Thinking of those innocent kids, she couldn’t help but realize that they had no choice in their country’s actions, that they were nothing but a mass of faceless soldiers in the eyes of the world. Yet they were just children too – indoctrinated and awfully misguided, but children nonetheless. But hadn’t she been a kid too? Weren’t Aang, and Toph, and, Sokka and Suki children too? Didn’t they also deserve better than the cards the world had dealt them?
That’s when the cycle would make full circle, and she’d return to square one again.
When Sokka returned, he had a slight gloom clinging about him, and Katara couldn’t help but worry from the moment she saw him. Before she could open her mouth to ask what was wrong, Toph had already started talking, crossing her arms and frowning slightly.
“What’s with the shit face?”
Sokka said nothing at first, then cleared his throat and handed them a cut-out from a newspaper.
“Apparently we made the news a while ago.” he settled on, after seemingly going through a few other statements. The paper had black and red perfectly shaped characters written onto it. The title read “The Earth Kingdom falls after a century”. The mood darkened immediately. Katara read aloud the entire article, going rigid about half-way through it. From start to finish, it was a horrific display of propaganda and a mirror to their failure. The way it had been worded left her cold, with a chill running up her spine. After silence settled over everyone and the paper crumbled slightly in her hand, they all came to a start, as if someone had finally granted them the permission to speak again.
“Who could have written that? Don’t they realize how delusional they sound? Honorable efforts in sharing our prosperity do they even hear themselves?” started Toph, quickly followed by Sokka.
“It gets even worse if you read the entire page, I only took this bit.”
“I can’t believe these people seriously think there is nothing wrong with saying something like that” interjected Aang.
“How do they get away with publishing such lies?” wondered Katara aloud.
Sokka grimaced slightly. “They’re not lies to them though. Some of the things here do prove to be true though. As for the other things, they’re completely diminishing the seriousness of the matter.”
“It’s written so coldly.”
“I agree… But that’s not what caught my eye.” Sokka said, now pointing at a certain fragment of the paragraph. “They said here that Zuko is dead.”
As if on cue, everyone fell silent again. There was a certain unpleasant feeling going through each of their hearts. Aang seemed to break out of the trance first.
“But Zuko didn’t die! He was alive and fighting us until the very end.”
Katara joined him, gaze hardening. “That’s true, that must be misinformation.”
Sokka shrugged, as if letting some worry slip off his shoulders and fall to the ground. “Several people testified to seeing the corpse though. Azula herself, was cited in the whole article, saying that her brother had fought bravely, as weird as it sounds.”
“That doesn’t sound weird. It sounds fishy.” Said Toph furrowing her brow.
“I know! But everybody seems to take it really seriously in town. They’re holding a ceremony for him and everything.”
Aang let out a shaky breath “That’s… startling.”
“It is…” joined Katara before lapsing into silence again. For a long time they stayed like that, scrunched up paper in hand, conflicting thoughts swirling in their heads. Toph was starting to shake profusely, swinging her head from side to side. “No, Iroh wouldn’t have let that happen. He cares too much for his nephew.”
“He shouldn’t have, though” said Sokka, exhaling through his nose. “I guess that means we have one enemy less…” he tried to play it off as silly and lighthearted as he could, but the dread he felt was overpowering his words. A single thought was running through his head, as if on loop, “He was the same age as me, like Yue. But he didn’t die in order for the balance of the world to be restored. There’s nothing of him left.” As much as he hated the guy, it was jarring to know.
Aang, well-meaning and forgiving as ever, simply looked sad. Poor kid, Sokka had thought, he’s being too kind to a person who wouldn’t have blinked if the roles were reversed. Toph was easy to read now. She only wore certain emotions on her sleeve, but now she couldn’t hide away her confusion. Katara stayed silent through all and throughout. He couldn’t get a read on her. Instead, he slowly lapsed into his own thoughts.
Her complete mask of blankness left a hole in the other’s perception. She wondered if they’d have expected her to be compassionate and good-natured about it. Instead, unhealed scars had risen to the surface of her skin, shielding her heart from her usual reasoning. In her midst of rage and loathing she almost utter aloud, under her breath-
“Good riddance.”
Notes:
if anyone asks (nobody asked), i'm crediting mitski and radiohead for helping me write this chapter, more specifically humpty and exit music(for a film). got me in the right headspace
azula and katara are slightly easier to right, but i don't really get why. i really struggled with writing chapter 5, and i'm still unsure whether it's good enough or not, but i'll review later and see (it's 2:13 AM where i am and my eyes hurt)
thanks to everyone for their patience and i'll see you soon (hopefully)
Chapter 5: Rebirth
Summary:
“The moonlight lay everywhere with the natural peace that is granted to no other light.”
― Franz Kafka, The Trial
Notes:
in the honor of the release of the show next week, you het not one, but two chapters at once! say whaaaaaat?
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
“The moonlight lay everywhere with the natural peace that is granted to no other light.”
― Franz Kafka, The Trial
It’s never been quite so cold before. From pitch darkness and soulless silence there came sudden sound, startling like the flopping of wings in the night, or the plunge of a rock in a still lake. Water roared in his ears, like the entire wrath of the ocean, and as he tried to breath in, water poured in, filling his lungs. He was drowning in utter blackness with none to lend a hand.
He didn’t know what it was that he was expecting, but Death was much different from what he thought. There was only darkness and frigid cold, as if he’d been buried underneath snow. He was sure he was freezing and yet he couldn’t move a single muscle. His eyes opened and closed uselessly, only to be met by nothingness. As he felt his lungs being burned from the inside out, he couldn’t help but think of how ironic it was. He was burning alive, and yet he felt no warmth, nothing but the all-consuming cold.
In a way, he’d believed death to be kinder, more merciful, he’d dreamed of reuniting with the one’s he’d lost. Instead, only isolation and stillness lay ahead. Zuko didn’t do well with neither, leading him to moments of deep reflection – nothing more than a gallery where the walls were painted with his shame and regrets. They painted a horrid picture – of a long string of failures and half-hearted endeavors which have led him to this exact point, without him knowing.
This desolating abyss was no blessing – it wasn’t some grassy field underneath the sun where one could mingle in one’s remorse without corporeal worries tying them down, existing without pain. It wasn’t the long-awaited reunion that the Fire-Sages preached about. He should have known that wouldn’t be the case for him either.
Death was inevitable, he’d always known that. However, he’d always hoped it’d come for him a little later than this. It reduced him to an all-consuming numbness that sipped into the very fiber of his being. It wouldn’t let him move in the slightest, for any sort of movement appeared too much of struggle. And… Gods, the loneliness – it was suffocating.
How can one suffocate when there are no lungs that breathe?
Just as if he’d slipped underneath a thick sheet of ice, incapable of swimming, of screaming, or breathing, he found himself immersed in the deep waters of his regrets (They were many, weren’t they?). There was no ocean floor to drift towards, and not even the dimmest light shone from over the dome of ice. He was by himself, immersed in the frigid cold and bone-shattering loneliness.
“What are your regrets?”
“What a dumb thing to ask. I regret everything! How could I not? Everything I’ve tried to do kept turning out wrong, no matter how much I struggled to patch things up. I couldn’t be the perfect son, nor a good brother… I couldn’t even be an adequate heir, and I’ve completely failed as a nephew.” He reasoned, slowly starting to curl into himself. The numbness wouldn’t completely allow it, regardless of the amount of effort he put in. He couldn’t help but cringe at the thought. He just wanted to sleep forever now, and forget the land of the living. (It’s stupid, you know you’ll never be able to.)
“How would you do things a second time around?”
“Isn’t that a pointless rhetoric?” He was slowly growing annoyed to the repeated interruption of his pity party.
“Do you have anything better to do? You’re dead and all alone.”
“I suppose you’re right about that… First and foremost, I’d actually listen when Uncle tried to help me - he’s the only one who’s really cared about me. I didn’t understand why at first – why would he sacrifice his comfortable life at the Palace, his status, everything – to put up with an angry, nasty kid and an even nastier ship. So I pushed him away. But he stayed by my side, throughout everything, regardless of my stupidity and unreachable demands.” Thinking about his uncle, he was starting to grow worried. What would he do now? He had no one on his side, while Zuko no longer needed companionship. In a disturbing way, they resided in different stages of life, with himself rushing ahead.
“Anything more? What else?”
“…I think a second time around I’d know when to shut up.”
“That’s stupid.”
He wished he could just yell back “You’re stupid”, but he knew that’d be childish. “I was being sarcastic. Don’t spirits know what that is? Anyway… I think life would have turned out differently if I tried to be more patient, and took things one step at a time. Maybe I wouldn’t have been as foolish as to waste my life trying to capture the Avatar. Or perhaps I could’ve succeed in that...”
“Is that really all there is to it?”
The mysterious voice was, unknowingly, pushing every single one of his buttons. Zuko no longer saw a point to these questions, but something beckoned him to answer anyway, to justify his actions and to make himself understood. The more he said, the more he wished to shield himself from the voice and its inquiries. Was he wrong for it? “…No. I wish I could have been the son my father wanted. But in the end, as much as I think about it now, as much as I turn the matter over, I don’t think I could have. It’s one of my biggest regrets, mainly because it doesn’t entirely depend on me.” It hurt to acknowledge.
“What do you mean?”
Despite his anger concealing his hurt, his voice kept breaking as he talked, old despair resonating throughout the abyss.
“I just… did so much – I tried my hardest to make him see me, to make him proud of me. I wanted that – I wanted to prove that I’m not just lucky to be born, that I can be the son he wants. I trained, and studied, and prepared, and bled – all for a sliver of validation… but my efforts yielded no results – because he doesn’t want to see me. Because he doesn’t love me, and he never will.” Tears were threatening to spill forth, and he wished he could to wipe at his eyes furiously, but he wasn’t able move. “… And even if I were allowed to return home, and he would have told me he did, I wouldn’t have believed him, as much as I hate myself for it. It feels traitorous. I despise him for making me feel like this – angry all the time for no good reason, foolish for caring, hopeless for trying.” Regardless of what he did, he’d never be allowed to win.
“Is it really him the one you’re angry with?”
An exasperated huff “No, not exactly. I’m not.” He wished they’d leave him alone for the thousandth time. His head was starting to hurt from the questioning and the sound of the voice. It was like someone was speaking to him from inside his head. Ahead of him, still lay pitch darkness, and the numbing cold was still wrapping his body in a chilling molasses. He still couldn’t breathe, and the singular voice inside his brain was melting into a madness inducing buzz. Soon enough, his senses were plunged into the heart of a storm – a sound like wind hollowing wretchedly in his ears, an icy typhoon against his skin – small particles of ice and sand gathering together to cut out sharp indents all over his body. Zuko was both freezing and burning, without seeing anything or anyone, without feeling something real at all. Could this be hell? Could his final executioner have arrived to chop his soul, all that he had left, into fine dust?
Booming voices burst at once, like a deranged chorus, demanding his immediate attention. High pitched and gruff tones clamoured at once, leaving not a second of silence.
“Then who are you angry at?”
“Indeed, who are you angry at?”
“Answer the question, Prince Zuko.”
“Answer us.”
“I’m angry at myself! I am angry for caring so much, for making such a big deal out of it, I’m angry for feeling guilty all the time! And I’m tired… I’m so tired of it all.”
“Why?”
He knew he was unbalanced, slipping between uncontrollable rage and soul-shattering sadness. He wished he could express himself better. “Because I’m confused – because I don’t know what’s right and wrong anymore. What if I were wrong from the start? What if the Fire Nation’s conquest for glory wasn’t what I was taught at all? Then, all that violence would have been for nothing! All the pain and the suffering I’ve seen people endure on both sides would amount to nothing at all. Because that would mean that I was the villain all along. How could I ever make peace with that? Even in death, I cannot forgive myself, if it were the truth.”
“Then, are you the enemy?”
“Whose enemy? Who are you talking to? You’ve said it yourself – I’m dead! I have nothing ahead of me but my regrets.” Several scoffs could be heard in unison, and he felt blood rushing to his head at once.
“Who are you then? I believed I was speaking with Prince Zuko, notorious for his intense resilience.”
“You, however, appear to be no more than a fraud.”
He felt himself boiling over, his temper getting the better of him. “How dare you? I’m not so weak as to have been rendered incapable of fighting.” He couldn’t help the ugly snarl contorting his face. “Even as a spirit, I believe you’re still perfectly flammable.” Warmth was slowly creeping back to his fingertips, the numbness slightly decreasing.
“Well, it appears there’s still have some fight left in you, after all. That’s great!”
“How cheery.” A mean smile stretched his lips. “Would you like to see? Certainly, that’s wouldn’t be good for you.” He only wished he could pin a face to his infuriating questioner. However, completely ignoring his quite-direct threat, he was asked once again.
“Do you believe you’re in the right, then? Is the Fire Nation also in the right for the perpetuation of the war?”
“I’ve been taught that its purpose was sharing our nation’s greatness with the others…”
An ancient, angry voice ruptured his thought process before he could come up with anything else to add.
“And do you believe committing a genocide is the way to do it? Is the death of thousands necessary to prove that?”
“It’s not! I never said that was right! I don’t believe the war is serving anyone but the Firelord at this point, but what is there left to do? People are dying every day, regardless of the side they’re fighting for, whether it is right or not. I never said that it’s fair, I never believed so, but it’s the reality we live in.” He was beyond frustrated at this point and couldn’t understand what it was that the sprits were expecting of him. Just what did they want him to say? Why did a rhetoric matter so much?
He wished he could scream his lungs out. Pent-up rage, caused by unhealed scars, was rising back to the surface and threatening to spill over, to cut up anything in his path. It’s served him before, so why wouldn’t it now? But just as he flared up, he instantly sunk into a slowly simmering anger.
„It’s just as I said – the war serves no one but death itself. Nobody but the victors get any of the riches, and yet, the ones sent to give their lives away are the people with no choice in the matter. There’s no glory to my country’s actions – we’re hated wherever we go! I’ve seen their hate and their disgust, and I understand them. They have every reason to despise us! The world cannot go on like this.”
“But it’s already too late. I messed up irrevocably – I tossed my one chance at redemption for a fantasy in which I could return home into welcoming arms. Then, I threw that chance away as well. I died like an absolute imbecile, without solving anything. All my efforts were in vain especially because I channeled all my might in the wrong direction. And all of that happened because I was unable to accept that I have no home to return to.” The helplessness he felt was suffocating, and if he weren’t already dead, he’d have died of shame just as he finished uttering those wretched words. He was aching all over – eyes burning, but tears wouldn’t fall, the numbness circling his body like a hungry animal waiting to attack its prey. He kept pushing himself, shouting through the nausea that was threatening to take over.
“Those are my regrets. Happy?”
“Very. Now, tell me Fire Prince…
A pair of icy eyes was watching him carefully from the other side of the abyss – eyes he could barely look at because of how blinding their blue was. Yet, he felt unable to turn his head or shut his eyelids. The voice spoke in a low whisper, as if delivering an earth-shattering secret. It was familiar, and kind, yet he couldn’t place it. It spoke before all the other’s, which were now gathering in their disturbing chorus. Whispers and shouts overlapped into forming the question that would haunt him for the rest of his life -
“Are you willing to return to the Side of the Living, and undo your ancestor’s mistakes?
Are you capable of finally fulfilling the destiny We intended? If not, perish at once. ”
He didn’t need to think once about it. “Yes! Yes, I’ll do it! I’ll do anything!”
Wonderful.
Ice and currents mixed together to carry him towards the surface. The darkness wasn’t as steep anymore, but the disturbing hallowing of the storm was stronger than ever. It pried his lungs open, filling them with the frigid water, while the kind voice sung a slow lullaby, in a low hum. He wondered how could he even hear it over the assault on his ears.
Suddenly, he felt himself thrown onto a rocky shore with the entire force of the ocean. Just as pain starting blooming on his side, he started coughing haphazardly. It wrecked his entire body, and salty water started spilling from his lips. The waves kept beating into him relentlessly, but he kept coughing up more and more water. He was cold all over, his raggedy clothing sticking to his skin along with sand and algae. His eyes were hurting to badly to open them and his ears still kept ringing. Throughout his struggle to start breathing again, the eerie lullaby could be heard undisturbed. He’s never felt so relieved to inhale the hot and salty air of the beach. Steam was rising from everywhere around himself, as if trying to expel every droplet of water from his body. Just as his eyes adjusted a bit, he realized with a start - “My lungs are working. I’m alive!” Instead of the instant relief he expected, his stomach was instantly filled with dread. “I managed to survive, I didn’t return from the dead. That was all a dream… What matters now is that I don’t know where I am or how I got here.”
He was instantly on his feet, his body tense. If it weren’t for the uncontrollable tremble traveling throughout his frame, he would’ve believed he was safe. Instead, he was sure there was something or someone watching him, waiting to take him down.
“Well, I am glad to see that you’re back alright.”
There it was, the kind voice that he’d been hearing earlier. However, instead of coming from inside his own head, it called from behind him. Turning slowly towards the ocean, which was now eerily still, he came face to face to a girl clad in flowy pristine robes. Her hair was as white as snow, contrasting with the darkness of her skin. She looked as if she were his age, but her eyes – the palest blue, watched him as if she’d seen the world a thousand times over. Slightly startled, he dropped into a bow, recognizing the Moon Spirit.
“Princess Yue…” He called, and stopped not knowing what to follow with. What was he supposed to say in her presence? Was he to bow lower?
“Prince Zuko, it’s been a while. I hope you understand the situation you’re in now. The spirits and I decided to allow you a chance to make things right.”
“So, everything was real. I was dead, but you brought me back, your Highness. I am indebted to you.”
“That’s not true at all. While I may have healed you, another spirit granted you their strength to return amongst the living. It is him you owe to his life. Make no mistake, he’s not an easy spirit to serve.”
He was growing more alarmed by the second. “Who is it?” He was now watching the Moon Spirit with slight distrust. Instead she smiled, as if she understood his worries and considered them unprompted. It appeared she was even amused.
“No need to be so on guard. You’ve met him before, more or less. You took on his appearance quite a few times.
Just as he helped you return to life, you’ll have to honour his name, in kind, by carrying on his legacy.”
Just as she had finished talking, a creature, vaguely shaped like a human, started crawling out of the water. It’s frame, with gangly limbs hanging from its shoulders like dead weights, stood 4 heads taller than Zuko. As the spirit stopped in front of him, Zuko noticed no face attached to its head. At the sight, his entire body had gone rigid, and unease pooled in his stomach. When the creature raised its head, he flinched, only for his eyes to go wide once he realized what it was that the spirit was holding.
In one hand, the mask of a cerulean demon, with its long, white fangs poking out, was grinning up at him. In the other, a pair of dao swords, the same ones he’d forged himself.
“The Blue Spirit” he said, in muted reverence.
Notes:
and the temporary death bit is over... for now (kidding)
zuko is so difficult to write - especially if he doesn't go to the palace. i'll have to work around future plot points in character development for both katara and zuko, but bear with me
until then, bye, and thank you for reading my work! if there is anything that you feel might contribute to these character's story lines, or if there's any concept particularly badly expressed, please leave a comment. criticism is welcome and i'd appreciate the feedback!
Chapter 6: Reality
Summary:
The Blue Spirit appears
Notes:
sooooo... i am alive guys
i am so sorry for the wait and most-likely disappointing update. i am very critical of my writing and have rewritten most of the chapter several times. but that doesn't matter.worry not, for this fic never leaves my mind, and i'll surely keep posting!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
After the spirits have disappeared, Zuko finally took a good look at his reflection in the water. He was greeted by the filthy face of a scarred boy, drenched from head to toe in sea water. His wounds were all healed, and he couldn’t help but run a hand over his skin, as if to check if it were real. As if in a trance, he took notice of the large scar resting above his heart, covered in raw pink and red tissue. Applying the slightest bit of pressure he understood that he had really died. It sent his head spinning in an effort to make sense of it all. The lightning had passed through his heart, his efforts rendered useless in the face of true danger. It was clear to him that during the Agni Kai, Azula’s lightning had passed through his heart. He’d never gotten a proper chance to ground himself, to protect his Uncle or himself from his own mind-numbing foolishness.
The irony of the matter was not lost on him. Azula had killed the Avatar in the exact same way – by misdirection and deceit. He was growing more and more nauseous by the minute – head splitting with the force of realisation. He was aware of her usual tactics, yet he fell for them anyway. (Useless, an utter fool) Then, was the Avatar dead now? Well, he was too, by any means. Did it even hold any significance anymore? He now had a different purpose, his fate had broken away from the Avatar’s. Except, that’s merely what he supposes. Still, something tired and ancient in his bones told him he was far from being secluded from his past. Punishingly, he had now understood the imbalance tearing the world apart in the Avatar’s absence – even felt it with his whole being in his brief time away in the Spirit World. The mere mention of such a being’s existence had given hope to many, humans and spirits, friends or foes – himself included. Some had been under a terrible illusion, as he’d been, but the Avatar still shone like a beacon of light in complete darkness, an unusual phenomena in itself.
The casual balancing act the world itself had been holding onto had snapped like an old circus rope, casting everything into uncertainty. It brought upon confusion, amongst the victors and the defeated, neither knowing where the rest of the road would lead.
“No, it doesn’t matter anymore. I am complicit in his death, and I’ll have to shoulder the consequences of my actions until my very end.” He told himself in the dead of the night. Shame was eating him alive, and he didn’t know if it would ever leave him for as long as he lived. Just what had he been thinking? Like his Uncle had said, in this exact moment he was completely free, his new destiny shining down on him. He had all the tools to chase it, to turn the darkness and the pain away, yet he simply let himself fall back into the person he had been.
“I thought you have changed.”
She was right. He hadn’t, he only pretended to. He’d lied to himself, to his Uncle and to Katara that he was different from before, when he wasn’t ready to leave it all behind. So now he should start making amends – try to undo the pain and damage he’d caused (Absolutely useless now, though. It’s much too late). He couldn’t help but think of what his Uncle had told him once. “It’s not the Spirits that forsake us, that punish us. It’s us dealing ourselves harm – because we feel guilt, because we understand the immorality of our actions and seek rightness.” He breathed in a deep breath, hoping to clear his head. He opened his eyes, gold drawn to polished blue, his mouth setting in a firm line. Tugging the mask on, he hooked the swords to his back and started walking. He was done waiting for someone to pick his choices for him.
Word had it several spirits had broken out from the Spirit World following the Avatar’s demise. Without a proper bridge between the two worlds, forgotten creatures, souls lacking their bodies had begun walking once more in broad daylight. They slithered their way into the forests, and rivers, into the muddy waters and underneath the earth. They took shelter in the decrypt cellars and attics, underneath the dirty bridges and in old buildings. Of course, it was complete speculation – the Spirits no more than man’s fantasy then the mercy of the lords. In times like these, the ones holding power simply shrugged their shoulders and nonchalantly decreteed: “People need to believe in something, in order to find purpose. Let them think the Spirits are amongst us, approving of our victories. Let them scare themselves with childish stories if they believe them to be true.”
However, while Spirits were far from capable of slipping into the mortal realm, mystical tales of their adventures taking shape into a distorted reality, different from said stories. The people of the Fire Nation were starting the rumor that a benevolent spirit had risen again, to take care of those in need and to punish those who abused their power. The dual swords he wielded left a bloody trail from the western shore to the east. Some said he wished to slay the Fire Lord, for leaving his devoted followers grow hungry and poor. Others were saying the ocean spirits would retaliate at the next full moon, and sink the entire Archipelago to its sandy floor.
Most said the rumor about the spirit with a blue theatre mask were true. They called him the Blue Spirit, and most declared he’d roamed the capitol’s streets before. He was violent and ruthless to his opponents, while kind and generous to the poor. Some insisted he could fly or teleport, and others believed he could heal. All the others said he was no more than a bandit, looking to steal the governor’s hard-earned money, throw it around, and keep most of it for himself. When word of it made its way to the Fire Lord’s council, they’d considered the matter for a bit, before dismissing it completely. Still, a bounty had been placed on the bandit’s head.
If you were to ask Kuzon, he was highly skeptical of the Spirits and their mysterious wills as a whole. He seemed not to take either side, whenever asked. Most that met the young traveler would have said the most noticeable trait of his was the huge bandage covering the left side of his face. He used to be a soldier, but after the fall of Ba Sing Se, where he’d been injured, he’d been dispatched and sent home. He carried swords, since he wasn’t a bender, and was an excellent herbalist. Word had it he made a wonderful cup of tea, if not a tad too bitter.
As he pushed through the crowded market he was made ware of several people openly staring him down. Nothing’s new.
It’s only been a few weeks since he returned home and he was already exhausted. He’d made it a point to never stay in a single place longer than a few days. People tended to get too curious, too pushy – especially when it came to peculiar strangers. He had to keep going, to keep moving. He swore he’d rewrite the wrong he did, that he’d reclaim his honor for himself, perhaps even earn forgiveness. He would keep fighting, whatever the cost – however tired or wary he grew.
Still, he’s started feeling lighter as of late. Even the darkness of the night didn’t seem as terrifying as it did before. As his Uncle would have praised, he was starting to see the faint light at the end of the tunnel. All he had to do was to keep going, to trust his heart enough to let it guide him to a better place – whatever that meant for himself. This time, he’d listen to the advice he’d been so freely given.
What a saddening thought. You truly get to appreciate something only after it’s already been lost.
Though, that’s how it’s been for a long while, he mused. He’d let himself openly cherish his crew when they were already set up to go away by Zhao. He’d only cared for his Uncle’s presence after he’d almost thought he’d die beneath sharp ice and frigid water. Again, he’d grown fond of him when they’d been branded traitors by Azula, when they went different ways for a while. His Uncle almost died, they made it to the Impenetrable City, he started to forget the nasty cards the world had dealt him – but still couldn’t appreciate his love and support. He betrayed his Uncle.
Traitor-
It’s right.
He’s lived a life so full of loss, and yet he was always blind to the ones openly caring for him. He’d had so many chances to be good, and yet he only sought out one man’s approval – which he didn’t achieve in the end. So he’d try again, not just because the Spirits were too considerate to let him die on foreign land, but because his Uncle believed that Zuko could become a better man-
Even though he was extremely close to strangling a guy he’s just met.
“What do you mean he stole a komodo-rhino, and everybody just let him?” he practically yelled at the man unfortunate enough to have been talking to him. He looked as though he was about to cry.
“Well… yes, that happens sometimes – but it’s not really stealing because he’s the Governor’s son-”
Zuko – Kuzon was watching him with incredulous eyes. “So what? What kind of Governor lets their snotty brat do whatever they please?”
“Well, I don’t know! What do you even want from me? To fight him on it? No chance – I’d rather keep the land I own up on the hill. The last guy how was stupid enough to revolt against the Ao family had his entire crop burnt down. Then, he was forced to sell it to them.” The guy seemed horrified enough just by talking about it. Were all regions in the Fire Nation like this? He wishes he was wrong to start making assumptions.
So, he did what anyone would consider reasonable in his place – he’d gathered information on these noblemen. The more he heard the more enraged he grew. The people were forced to live in complete poverty, in houses with leaking rooftops and not enough sleeping mats. And that covered merely the people who were under a direct contract with the Ao’s. They could barely afford to keep animals for field-work, or transportation to larger markets, near the big cities. Most kids didn’t even continue going to school after the obligatory six years were over.
For a ‘superior’ and ‘brightly educated’ nation, all of these people were living in horrific conditions. If Zuko were to compare an Earth Kingdom village with the ones he was passing through, he would barely be able to tell them apart. And to think he’d actually believed it when he spat that the Fire Nation was far superior when it comes to equality between social classes. He’d only been thought from a prettily written book that his tutors had basically beaten into his head – barely questioned a thing. He felt himself starting to grow embarrassed by his naivete and childishness.
Reality was a truly brutal thing, and the more he saw the harsher the reality of truth became.
And yet, no matter how poor and tired people were, they always opened their door to other strangers in need – especially if they used to be part of the army. It seemed like everyone had a story to tell about their father, their uncles or aunts, from before their loved ones had been drafted to the front. As a child, he’d have felt proud upon hearing of his people’s loyalty to such an important cause, he’d have felt inspired by their passion and might – even daydreamed about leading the people himself. Now, however, he saw the pain sealed deep behind their eyes, their smiles too wide, their proud boasting of achievements nothing more than empty, barely-there conviction. Most of these stories were similar: their loved ones died after achieving that small victory for someone else.
After all, how could one, as a ruler claim his people were the happiest they had ever been in these conditions? How delusional does one have to be to proudly be able to claim such non-sense?
The longer he stayed and talked to these people, the more a gaping chasm opened itself up in his chest. Shame and guilt were seeping out of it, and he could almost see them leaking out onto the old floors. He tried fighting his scowl away, his indignation and anger at himself and the situation. He was trying to smile compassionately, as he’d seen his Uncle do, as serene as a bird amongst the clouds, though he knew he always came across as terribly awkward and clumsy. He was starting to hate that about himself too.
By the time the night fell, he’d gathered all the information he needed.
Sneaking into a nobleman’s house was a truly laughable matter after one’s already snuck into some of the most dangerous places in the world. Flipping his body onto the high wall from where he’d been perched on the tree branch, he quickly but carefully made his way to the housemaster’s study. If his memory served him right, Hiy Ao was one of the Ministry of Agriculture’s esteemed high councilors and had served in the war himself.
A slight feeling lead him – now turned spirit – to believe he might find something compelling amongst this man’s letters. He no longer had any access to Army outposts, not that he’d be able to find one so far inland. Since the Fire Nation was made up of scattered islands surrounding the main archipelago, it was no surprise that most communication would be made via messenger hawk or by boat. For now Zuko was merely interested in being able to locate himself on a map as accurately as he could.
The fire he light in his palm was crackling tiredly – barely more than a candle flame – almost going out completely before returning thrice as powerful as he intended it. Slightly concerned, he tried concentrating on it, yet he kept losing control of it. What the hell is happening? Why now? He thought to himself, growing alarmed. He snuffed the fire out completely, and turned to the shelves and drawers. As expected, one needed a key in order to open them, but it was not a problem to Zuko.
Crouching low, he took out a set of small silver pins. Sticking his ear to the wood of the drawer, he stuck the two pins in the keyhole. Letting his eyes close, he listened intently to the tell-tale click of the lock as he probed the mechanism with his pin.
There it is!
He twisted the other pin slightly and a resolute click bounced off the walls of the silent study. The drawer creaked open and he finally took a peek inside. Ruffling through the papers, he picked out the ones that seemed more enticing than the others, mentally sorting through them.
Suddenly, his movements stilled. With trembling hands, he carefully reread the shaking letter in his grasp. The luxuriant handwriting revealed someone of high status as its author, with controlled, neat calligraphy. “Most likely a wealthy swordsman” he mused. The contents were stating the capture and the arrest of a terribly traitorous general, as well as the prison he’d been assigned to. His eyes widened in realization. Only prisoners of truly noble origins, were kept in the royal dungeons. Those people were usually unruly politicians, or foreigners with lots of intel to spill. He knew this wasn’t the case. Even without the author stating the General’s name, the letter was steeped in clear mockery of him – once great commander and general. It was impossible not to recognize the one this noble was disrespecting.
Uncle
His Uncle was being kept in the Capitol’s prison, near the Palace, like a common criminal. It was degrading of someone of his status, but most of all it was terribly wrong. It was a mistake – Zuko’s mistake, not his Uncle’s. He’d taken the blame for something he hadn’t done at all, simply to shield his foolish nephew. With his wrong-doings glaring as such in his face, Zuko understood what he needed to do. It filled him with both unprecedent conviction and earth-shattering guilt. He wouldn’t sleep until he knew his Uncle was safe – the only person who’s stood by his side through thick and thin, without wishing for anything in return.
The sound of feet shuffling on the wooden floors outside the study brought him out of his thoughts. He deftly hid himself in the dark room and waited until the sound faded completely.
No longer wasting any time, he took out a map and checked his location. Surprisingly, he wasn’t too far away from his target. Doing some quick math, Zuko concluded it should take him about two continuous days to reach the Fire Nation’s capitol. He could go for long periods of time without rest, which didn’t make it a problem. Besides, he suspected he wouldn’t be capable of rest for some time anyway.
Slipping the map in his robe, he silently made his way out into the hall. The only source of light was the sliver of moonlight coming from the window on the other side. All movement in the mansion was stilled so far into the night. His own quick steps were completely silent on the wooden boards. He’d already taken two coffers’ worth of money, before making his way to the housemaster’s personal suite.
The sound of sharp blades being drawn is enough to stir the man into waking. Wide, terrified eyes take in the horrid image of the demon ahead, just as the candle’s light had been mysteriously snuffed out. It’s ominous smile floats above the sharp metal in a silent warning of what’s to come. The terrible spirit that every peasant’s been talking about is right in front of his eyes – sharp gold gleaming from the blackness of its eyes. If Hiy Ao were a lesser man he’d drop to his knees in an instant, kowtowing before the malevolent presence in the room. Instead, he waits, appraising the creature – more nightmare-made-flesh than anything else – or that’s what he’s convinced himself of. Regardless of the truth, he cannot fathom moving from his place frozen amongst the pillows.
The cerulean blue tilts, almost questioningly, to the side, the two drops of molten gold moving along with the rest of its demonic visage. All warmth in the room dissipates like dust in the night, and Hiy Ao feels a real shiver of terror creep along his spine. The moonlit blades move, almost too quick to see, and he’s suddenly pressing himself to the opposing wall in an effort to move away from the sharpness at his neck. He’s completely certain that if he were to even swallow, he’d end up cutting his own throat.
Before he can think of screaming, a sheet of paper is shoved in front of his eyes by an unseen hand. It’s a ledger containing the details of that year’s crop harvest – more unbalanced than it ought to have been, that he did know. He was merely trying to preserve his noble family’s luxurious way of life in a difficult time. What does a spirit understand about man’s way of life? Was he to worship the spirit – build an altar and pray? But who’d pray to a spirit that thrives in emptying nobleman’s coffers?
The secretary understood what the spirit truly wanted, but it was just as absurd. The blade at his neck retreated just enough to let him speak.
“What do you want from me? What kind of spirit are you, to tell me how to do my job?” he spat, rushing to get the words out as evenly as he could.
Just then, those glowing drops of gold sharpened into slits and he realized he might have angered the spirit. Then, something else was dropped into his lap – a lock of long, dark hair. Horror coursed through his veins. His wife was dutifully pretending to be asleep, in spite of her hands joined as if praying, but he knew the hair was his son’s. The message was clear – pay your debts back to the people in town, or live with your son’s blood on your hands. Had Ao Hiy been a stronger man, perhaps he’d have apprehended the bandit spirit and claimed the bounty on its head. But when one of the demon’s blades fell above his wife’s neck, he shook his head, bursting into terrified shivers and claimed:
“Yes, my benevolent lord, I shall do as you are guiding me. This one did not mean to bring disrespect to the venerable Blue Spirit!”
Hysteric crying shook the couple as the terrifying mask tilted once more to nod minutely. The golden slits of the spirit’s eyes returned to full, round beads of molten gold.
Before even registering the flame of the candle bursting alight, the spirit was no more. The window was wide open, when it had been closed no longer than a moment before, the sheer curtains moving slowly in the gentle wind. Moonlight was casting a surreal shine over the room, as if stuck after dusk had fallen. The night was a warm one, so how could it have been so cold in the room when the creature had been there?
It dawned on the Ao’s just then – that was no man masquerading as a spirit – but a real creature of vengeance and righteous bloodshed.
By the time the sun had risen, Zuko was already on his way out of town. He’d left most of the money to the townspeople, keeping just enough to buy some food for himself. Some people he’d… nudged into taking action for the betterment of the small region, but the way things were about to go from this point on was no longer under his control. He hoped the others would start working together for their own benefit and get what the Ao’s owed them.
Now, with a large bamboo hat atop his head, he was making his way through grassy fields or underneath the thick canopy of trees. He was starting to enjoy this almost aimless travel more than he thought he would. The morning air was fresh, damp but still cool on the skin. It was… relaxing, or calming even.
Even his wild thoughts weren’t straying as much towards his own incompetence as he took in the various landscapes he came across. He was usually a little lonely, now that he had no one to go back to, but in the quietness surrounding him he felt more at peace than he had in three long years, or maybe more.
“If only there weren’t as many mosquito-wasps”, he irritatingly thought to himself as he burned another one of those annoying fuckers to ash.
“Seriously, what use do those creatures even serve other than to be a complete nuisance?”
Suddenly, he felt something sharp at the back of his neck and he yelped in pain. Slapping with more force than necessary, he yelled out a long string of curses in the otherwise quiet morning.
Notes:
i believe the next chapter will be focusing on Zuko and Iroh's reunion, as well as seeing what our lovely gaang is up to. i have most of the plot-line figured out, so it shouldn't be too hard to navigate from here. i believe zutara will have to wait for some more chapters, i am sorry
thank you for reading, and maybe leave a comment if you feel up for chatting. your comments truly push me to fight writer's block, so i deeply appreciate you all! see ya
Chapter 7: Crossed
Summary:
“Who controls the past controls the future. Who controls the present controls the past.”
― George Orwell, 1984
Notes:
hiii! it's me again
while it's not 2026, it is 2025 now. so, Splax you are definetly right.
there is no zutara yet. sorry!:'')
enjoy!!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
“Who controls the past controls the future. Who controls the present controls the past.”
― George Orwell, 1984
Standing at the edge of the old volcano looking down, Zuko felt overwhelmed with the familiar sense of nostalgia. A pang of pain shot through his chest as he thought “I never thought this is how I would return home”. If he were to lose his footing on the jagged path along the very edge, the fall would certainly be a sharp and painful one. “Deadly, most likely.” As he glanced down once more, he felt the slight feeling of vertigo overtake him. Still, he placed on foot in front of the other along the muddy path as he contemplated his next course of action.
It appeared painfully obvious to him that he had to devise a plan to bust his Uncle out of prison. He didn’t know how long he had until something would happen to him, as per the Fire Lord’s uncertain whims, without taking Azula into consideration. Where exactly was he being kept? Was he well – was he eating? Do Azula and the Fire Lord have a plan for him? Why is he being kept there and not elsewhere? From what he remembered, Boiling Rock was usually the place for high-status traitors or dangerous criminals, not the Royal Prison. His thoughts took a dark turn – were they foraging for information or was it merely a way of ridiculing him? If it was the former, then what was it that they deemed as important intel? Was there something his Uncle was withholding?
He was already on high-alert. He couldn’t mess it up – not this time. As much as he wanted to simply rush over and check on his uncle, he couldn’t possibly do that without putting them both at risk. He had to think it trough – figure out the timing, the exact location, the nearest exits, not to mention the place they would run off to. If he also managed to gather information on his sister and father’s plans, it would also provide a sliver of safety.
But where should we go? Where could we go?
Nowhere was safe – not anymore.
He sighed tiredly. Making his way down towards the city, he crossed oh-so-familiar paths that led to those peculiar crooks and nooks in the mountain where he’d sometimes venture as a child. He used to sneak out through these exact lava-made corridors whenever he needed space or to work out frustrations. Years later, the ceiling was closer, the space more cramped than he remembered it, the torches that lined the walls nowhere in sight. It was cold and windy now, and it felt so lonely to walk through the familiar routes knowing he didn’t have a place to return to.
The fire he lit in the palm of his hand flicked abnormally, then slowly started to die down. Slightly confused, Zuko concentrated on it, but found he couldn’t keep it from extinguishing. The shadows closed in rapidly on the already-dim lighted tunnel, before completely fading into darkness. Frustrated, he willed the fire to his hands, but he picked up nothing but smoke and the faint feel of warmth. He stopped walking. Something was clearly wrong with the tunnels. He fell into a well-practiced stance and shot out a burst of fire. It was pathetic, no more powerful than the candle light, and he broke out in cold sweat. “Just what is happening with my firebending?” Fully distracted, he worked through several katas with renewed single-mindedness, each effort of his met with astounding failure.
What the hell?
Was there something wrong with the volcano, or was there something wrong with him? He couldn’t tell. He desperately wished it was the former, but a gut feeling was telling him otherwise. Familiar anger rose up in him – How useless was he, a firebender of the royal family, that couldn’t summon even the faintest trail of smoke anymore? He needed to get a grip and calm down, he knew, but as panic rose up in his chest, so did fury. The air was growing thin and it wouldn’t do him any good to linger in an unproperly ventilated space, so clenching his jaw, he made his way to the exit.
As he approached it, he slowed down and minded the sounds surrounding him. Noting nothing but silence ahead, he stepped out into the night.
Caldera City wasn’t much different from how he remembered it, a fact which he wouldn’t know what to make of. The feeling of disappointment lured him further in, yet as he walked, he felt his shoulders sag in relief. Was it bad that he wished things would always stay the same here? In the dead of the night, the capitol appeared frozen in time, in the days of Zuko’s childhood. The same warm light shone from underneath burgundy street lamps. The streets were as twisted and as crooked as they’ve always been, if a tad more worn down. The specific smell of summer nights permeated the air, slightly cooler and humid than during the day, but still warm and familiar. His wandering thoughts melted into a muted buzz at the back of his mind, head full of the sound of crickets and the occasional patter of officers on patrol.
As he ventured further into the city, the dusty old homes turned into larger, cleaner complexes that, in turn, became impressive manors, fit for the heart of an empire. “In that respect, Ba Sing Se and Caldera are not much different from the other” he mused. While his home city didn’t have high walls separating the rich from the poor, the difference in class still stood apparent the more you traveled in. As a child, everything looked brighter than it truly was, much simpler than now. His gut twisted in a mix of guilt and anger at his own ignorance and misguided idolatry of his father.
Slipping into another of tunnels he’d inspected with Azula during their childhood, he made his way inside the Palace. When his sister had first insisted upon sneaking around, he’d had refused her intensely, yet he caved as time went on. Back then, it seemed like such a silly thing, meant to make their games of hide and seek more interesting, but now it proved to be the one skill that let him pass through the Royal gates undetected. In a way, it felt like the toppling of castle made of cards, like crushing a child’s dear toy, what he was now doing. He wanted to believe he wasn’t the sentimental type, yet he grew sad at the thought that he’d somehow destroyed the last golden memory of him and Azula being somehow close. The thought of seeing her again so soon filled him both with rage and apprehension – he wouldn’t know how he’d truly react. His relationship with his sister was a complicated one, betrayal and fratricide not-withstanding, so he made a point on not lingering on the past, however it had been.
Stepping onto the white marble of the floor felt like stepping back into the past as well. If he were to close his eyes and empty his head, he could almost imagine the last three years as being nothing more than a bad dream. It felt terrible, wanting to return home with all his heart, yet knowing he would never forgive himself if he did. He’s seen far too many things for himself to gaze upon the burgundy tassels of the lamps and not see dripping blood. The once-innocent image of the palace now filled him with dread, and an unfamiliar yet satisfying anger. Much like a ghost would (How was he any different from one now?) he haunted the dimly lit halls, skillfully evading the eyes of royal guards.
The Hall of Fire Lords felt both like a punch to the gut and a slap across the face. The serious faces painted on the wall stared down at him, judging, waiting for him to stumble and fall farther than he already had. The familiar shame he’d nursed for over three years bubbled to the surface, nearly choking him.
I know that what I am doing now is right, yet I feel like the biggest of fools, going against over one hundred years of warlords
And what for?
The Earth Kingdom still fell.
The Air Temples had been deserted for a century.
The rebels were scattered – not a chance of being found out.
Blood had been spilled.
The Avatar was dead, never to return.
And he’d had a hand in the mess of it –
What for? For whom? Why?
The steady sound of shoes on the marble floor shook him out of his stupor, and he deftly hid beneath the burgundy canopy of curtains. He was holding his breath, heart beating wildly, yet his eyes were searching for the source of the sound. A girl made her way into the hall, dark hair flowing behind her like a mantle. Her eyes were sharp and golden, her brow furrowed, mouth twisted into an unpleased scowl. At the sight of her, Zuko wanted to spring out and – what? Fight her? Hurt her? – yet he stayed rooted to his spot watching her intently. He himself grew uncertain when he realized she looked unwell, something clearly off about her. The spark in her eyes he’d misunderstood as sharpness was mad, frazzled luster. Dark eyebags hung beneath her eyes and her lips were moving as though she were speaking with someone. She wasn’t though – so clearly she was thinking aloud, Zuko concluded. The feeling of wrongness agitated him the more he watched her, almost leading him to wander if she was convinced that someone was speaking to her. By the time he’d managed to pick out a disjointed “mother” she’d already passed and left the grand Hall. He’d had half the mind to go after her, shake her and ask her where Uncle was, but reigned himself in just in time.
Unsettled, he made his way to the kitchen, where he gathered some more food and supplies for the road – tea was a necessity when travelling with Uncle. His movements were swift, though only half of his mind was paying attention to what he was doing, almost robotic.
Sneaking into the prison was as easy as he’d expected, but finding his Uncle not so much. He’d left his meagre belongings buried at the root of a tree, at a safe distance, and disguised himself into a guard. After fumbling for a while along the long halls, he came across what he recognized as a familiar lump in one of the cells. He made quick work of the lock on the door, and taking a deep grounding breath he made his way inside. As his eyes fell on the man in front of him, he felt them well up with tears. Not only had he missed him, but he now saw the horrible conditions his uncle had faced because of him. With shackles around his wrists, dirty rags for clothes, his uncle’s back faced the door. Zuko didn’t know if he was grateful for the small opportunity to compose himself, or needlessly anxious at the image of his Uncle turned away from him. Overwhelmed with guilt, he took another breath.
“Uncle, it’s me.” His voice came out hoarser he intended, cracking with emotion. He knew he didn’t deserve asking for his Uncle’s forgiveness, nor his presence at all, yet he knew he had to make peace with the idea. He’d try to make it up to him somehow.
The man turned on his cot and stared at the young guard for a while. His face was pale and stricken with anxiousness, the mark of burn on the left side of his face. Iroh’s heart lurched at the sight, yet he was unsure whether if the one standing before him was a figment of his imagination or a cruel test from the Spirits.
“Uncle… I know you might have mixed feelings about seeing me, but I want you to know I’m so, so sorry, Uncle. I am so sorry and ashamed of what I did.” That’s when tears finally fell. They poured down his cheeks, like merciless little rivulets. “I don’t know how I’ll ever make it up to you, but I will try my hardest to do so…” He said, voice cracking the longer he kept talking, wishing for comfort, yet knowing he didn’t deserve it. “… to try and be the person you wanted me to be.”
The words came out like a plea, desperate like those of criminal’s in the face of Justice, trembling like those of a child’s in front of their parent. Before Zuko could utter another useless word, as he choked on a sob, he felt his tunic being pulled towards the iron bars. A hand cradled the back of his head like he was nothing more than a whiny kid who’d scrapped his knee, and pulled him in an embrace. The mass of desperation in his throat dislodged itself, and before he could help himself he said-
“How can you forgive me so easily? I thought you’d be furious with me.” That’s what he’d expected, as patient as his uncle always was, he wouldn’t welcome him back like this. He almost wished for anger, for righteous fury to consume the man, if even for a second, for they would perhaps mute the wide open gap in his chest and the anxiousness in his gut. The longer he let himself enjoy the undeserved comfort of his uncle’s presence, the more he could feel himself crumbling. Trembles wrecked his body, and before long he’d realized he wasn’t the only one shaking. His eyes widened as his mind caught up on the fact that his uncle was crying too. But why?
“How could I possibly be angry? I thought I’d lost you, I thought you’d died.” He smiled sadly, grief flitting across his features. “Are you truly here, alive, I now wonder? Regardless, I am truly blessed to have you by my side again.” There was a complicated look in his eyes and Zuko didn’t know what to do with himself. “What has happened to you, my nephew?”
“I’ll tell you later. For now, come with me. You’re not staying here any longer.” He decided and pulled away from the hug in order to work on the rusty lock. Just as he brought out his pins, his Uncle stopped him.
“Don’t. I would only slow you down. Let’s just talk.” He smiled kindly, yet clearly scheming, and Zuko felt himself growing frustrated at the display.
“No. We’re going. Why would you want to stay here?” he whispered, half-exasperated half-fond of his Uncle’s antics. He couldn’t deny himself the slight feel of normalcy between them, even if he knew he wasn’t deserving of it.
“Because if I truly wished to leave, I’d find a way to do so. We need information, for one, and I want to know what you are thinking now, nephew. Where would we go? What would we do?”
Slightly jostled by Iroh’s train of thought, Zuko tried to push the irritation and worry down, and fell silent for a bit. His uncle was clearly wondering how was he here in the first place, what is he doing and why. The truth sounded like absolute bullshit, but he was not in a position to lie about it. He wouldn’t be able to, not to his Uncle.
“Fine, let’s talk. But after I’ve answered your questions, you’ll answer mine. I know you are not refusing freedom for mere convenience.”
That seemed to amuse the old man greatly, the familiar twinkle of mischief returning to his eyes. “Of course, my nephew.” He agreed amiably.
“So what happened after Ba Sing Se?”
Letting out a truly self-indulgent sigh, he started talking. He told his Uncle about the Spirits, about their decision to help him by giving him the role of a vessel. He watched closely as his Uncle’s brows raised higher and higher the more he talked. In any other situation the expression would’ve been enough to make Zuko chuckle, but the glint in his eyes told him the situation was more dire than he realized. The more he talked, the more his Uncle would ask for clarification, and the more Zuko could tell he was drawing conclusions he wouldn’t even dream of. Deciding not to trouble himself with that train of thought, he finished his story. Silence stretched between the two of them for a while, after he’d stopped speaking.
That’s when Zuko realized something must have been unusual – even more so than the obvious – if his Uncle was taking his sweet time mulling over the story. So why was he stalling?
“Uncle, what are you not telling me? Why are you willing to stay here as a prisoner?” he said, uncapable of letting the silence lapse a moment longer.
A long-winded sigh left his Uncle’s lips. “These are not easy questions to answer, nephew...” A long intake of breath, and he continued “As I already suspected, you must play a part in shaping the war’s outcome. Otherwise, the Spirits wouldn’t have intervened. It’s in your blood, it’s your legacy. You must leave this place at once.”
“If you keep speaking in riddles, I’ll end up with more questions than answers” Zuko bit. He was slowly losing his patience. There wasn’t enough time to play mind-games with the old man and the cryptic wording was getting on his nerves. What role could he have in shaping the world? He was a long-disgraced prince, a dead one at that, an unlucky bastard who stumbled from one terrifying disaster to another. It was beyond depressing, so he tried to will the thought away from his mind. “I no longer have a legacy to uphold, you know, not to mention a lack of clear direction” he drawled with an eye roll. The statement was uncomfortably truthful, but he’s never been a good liar and he wasn’t about to cultivate that certain skill now. It still hurt to think about it, but after everything he’s lost, he wasn’t willing to let go of his Uncle. “Yes, I’d lost my mother, my title, my pride and even my life, so there’s little I can still hold on to.” He thought to himself. It was as pathetic as it was liberating, and he was still unsure what to make of these feelings. “Ugh…”
“If that is how you feel, my nephew, then I suggest you learn more about your great grandfather. The Dragon-Bone catacombs are not far from here.” His eyes glinted as he talked, and Zuko could barely hold back a scoff. The Dragon of the West had never lost his edge, and when he set his mind to a course of action little could deter him from it. Zuko knew that better than anyone – they were related after all.
“It seems to be a family trait. That and war-mongering”
The voice spitting in his ear said. It sounded an awful lot like Katara, which left him with a bitter taste. Little could get under his skin by this point (what a terrible liar you are) yet the moment that voice appeared in his mind, he knew he was bound to doubt himself and his capability to do good. Like a storm at sea, she relentlessly tore into him, like waves crashing into a creaking boat that was more wreck than ship. However, he could never quite shut her out, for she could only hit where it hurt. And he never lost the bad habit of retaliating even when he kept losing. Few things mattered when the instinct to fight back reared its head, not family, not honor, not right or wrong, not even himself. How selfish.
Clearing his head to the best of his ability, his eyes narrowed on the figure of his Uncle sitting serenely behind bars. Perhaps the old man had finally lost his mind. Perhaps Zuko did too, since he simply scowled and rose to his feet to walk out. He knew he was most likely being played, but he was a weak man above all, so he turned back to simply utter “I’ll be back. Don’t do anything stupid.” As he creeped out into the night, he became sure that he’d gone completely insane, indeed. They didn’t have time for a shitty history lesson!
Yet, his feet carried him to where the temples and the catacombs were. Stealing sage’s cloak was easier than he’d anticipated, as well as walking amongst them without rising suspicion. Clad in those crimson robes, with warm lanterns swaying gently in the wind and incense wafting into the air in thin strands of smoke, he felt oddly serene. Perhaps he might give meditation a try again, when this circus was over. He lit a ball of flame in his palm, but before he could make ten steps it fizzled out. Dread spread into him again. Just what in the world was wrong with him? Lighting it again, he could see the fire was visibly weaker than before, so he quickly made his way down the stairs, down a path he’d discovered while playing with Azula. He banished all thoughts of his childhood before he could get all mopey. The fire in his palm fizzled into smoke once more, and he sighed tiredly.
The process of flame burning and slowly extinguishing went on for a while, to the point Zuko gave up in paying attention to it. The bones holding up the structure above his head were massive, off-white and deceptively endless. How many dragons were killed to make these paths? It was morbid curiosity that made him ask himself that question, which he regretted almost immediately. The serene quietness of the catacombs transformed into something heavy and suffocating. The long, confusing corridors suddenly oozed sheer resentment, like undead souls rioting against the cage of bone. Still, no sound could be heard above the cracking of flames and Zuko’s silent shuffling. Turning his head, the sentiment of being watched made goosebumps break along the surface of his skin, yet there was no one behind him. His pupils shrunk into pinpricks as he turned around to see he was already at the end of the tunnel.
“I could swear the road to here was longer” he reasoned with himself, while still raising his hand to touch the lock. Fire burst from his palm, way stronger than before, wild and uncontrolled. A shiver ran down his spine as he knew he could no longer exhaust such a powerful blast. Something was up. He was being watched, resentment dripping from the walls, yet no sound resonated in the empty space. Suddenly, the door gave a hair-raising screech, as if alive, yet completely inhuman, and opened into darkness. One by one, the lanterns lining the walls lit up. Dumbfounded, Zuko stepped inside, and the door closed once more.
This is insanity! What in the name of Agni am I doing? He mentally reprimanded himself. Yet, curiosity was getting the better of him and he wound up looking around the room. Unusual artifacts littered the ground, exquisite jewelry and weapons lay in a heap, scrolls stuffed in a high vase held together by thin rivers of gold. It looked like lightning. And above all, a statue of Firelord Sozin watched over the display of wealth, surrounded by a dancing depiction of his dragon. In front of the statue lay a beautifully decorated pot, clearly housing his ashes. It was surreal. He was standing in front of all earthly remains of his ancestor, more legend than man. If he ever wore to become Firelord, a similar tomb would have been built for him.
Moving the pot aside, he stretched towards the scrolls. He expected grandiose calligraphy depicting his great grandfather’s acts of bravery, yet he was met with a rushed and quite mediocre handwriting. At first, he couldn’t quite make sense of what he was reading, but surely enough, it was a chronicle Sozin himself wrote, detailing his childhood and teenage years. It was written in a sorrowful tone, betraying nostalgia and a deep fear for the unknown. Most shocking, it revealed intimate details of his friendship with Avatar Roku. He read through each piece of parchment, each scroll, watching as each brush stroke grew more erratic and aggressive. If the paper and parchment weren’t so high quality, they characters would have turned into globs of ink. The content himself was even more concerning, raging between instability and tranquility. Nearing the end, all that was left were fear and rage and a long ledger of crimes. For the first time in his life, as he read through these chronicles he came to a different conclusion from the one he’d been brought up with. These weren’t the writings of a great, wise yet wary mind, not the story of greatness and ambition.
These were the ramblings of a madman.
Incredulous, but slightly unsurprised, he turned to take out the next scroll. His jaw dropped. Was that all? There should have been more! Was the reading tarnishing the already deteriorating image of Firelord Sozin he’d cultivated since childhood? Yes. Was it surprising that he was a flawed human being that went mad in his old age? Not at all! After everything he’s lived through, Zuko would be hard pressed to call the guy a hero, so the scrolls already affirmed what he already thought. “There is nothing here that would be considered a secret!” he thought. He ran a hand down his face and groaned loudly in dismay, his already short temper raising. “So what? I came all the way here, likely risked it all in terms of security, likely acquired a truly skilled stalker, locked himself in a room with a single exit – all to read a slightly more detailed version of history he could repeat backwards in his sleep from the age of seven!” Beyond disappointed didn’t begin to cut it.
Still quietly fuming, he turned his eyes back to the room he was confined in. Nothing seemed that particularly interesting to look through, yet he stood and took a short inventory of the antiques. Paper fans, crimson robes, golden jewelry, quite rusted weaponry, and scrolls upon scrolls upon scrolls, both paper and parchment. Oh, and that set of calligraphy brushes. “Too bad his Majesty didn’t make good use of it” he thought, more than slightly petty. Turning towards the statue, he caught something new. The Firelord’s eyes were made of ruby, just like his dragon’s, while the rest was smooth marble. While that alone wouldn’t usually be enough to raise suspicion, as he slowly circled the statue again, he distinctly saw those eyes following him. Was it some sort of illusionary trick? Stepping on the dais next to it, he scrutinized the artwork. This close up, Sozin’s face looked horrifyingly realistic, with eyes that seemed to keep tracking his movement. Warm air blew from above, and Zuko looked up to see two glowing rubies looking down at him, and steam blowing from stone nostrils. He instantly scrambled to get away from the marble dragon, but the farther he crawled, the closer it followed. “I lied. This is where I die” he discerned when his back hit the wall. The creature kept creeping towards him. Suddenly, an ancient voice rang out and it froze.
“Hao Ran, stand down.”
Zuko felt as though he’d been doused in ice water himself, yet he raised his eyes. From across the room, his gaze met glowing red jewels and he was suddenly face to face with Sozin himself. His lungs couldn’t manage more than a weak intake of breath, the horror of the situation settling over his mind to completely numb him. Still, he rose to his feet, in an effort to even out his chances of escaping with his life. He bowed as low as he dared, his hands joining in front of his face in the classic salute. Keeping his head down and barely trusting his own voice, he spoke –
“Firelord Sozin, please excuse this lowly one for stepping foot in your resting place without proper offerings. If I may impose upon your kindness, I ask of you to allow me to leave this room.”
After that he fell silent and held his breath. Sweat was starting to gather at his brow, yet he kept his hands steady and head bent in submission. Above all, he felt sick to his stomach in the presence of such a disgusting man.
“Rise, Crown Prince Zuko, I wish to see my disgraced great grandson.”
What an odd request to have, though he understood he couldn’t possibly object. As he straightened himself fully, he looked the deceased Firelord in the eye. The situation was far beyond him. Before Ba Sing Se, the Spirits had been an abstract concept, considered at best beings of higher power that intervened only when the situation became too dire for mortals to handle. At worst, they were merely legends and forces of nature. Yet, fate seemed to wish to prove him wrong on all aspects of life, so they must truly be a secret third thing. He was slowly but surely growing regretful over not paying more attention to his lectures. Was Sozin there for a reason, or had his soul been invoked by someone entering the room?
But that didn’t make any sense! The Spirit World was growing palpable only during the solstices. “What is the date today? Have I unknowingly made the worst decision of my life?” he scrambled for reason. As his thoughts gathered into answers, he froze up again, eyes widening. It was the Summer Solstice, the second time in a year when night and day became perfect equals.
“Now, riddle me this. Why would the worst of trash stand before me if not to stupidly challenge me? Why are you truly here I wish to learn, I know it can’t possibly be an honest mistake.” His imposing mug was twisting into a cruel smirk, an all-too-familiar expression even after such a long time. Zuko could see he was being looked down upon as even below a worm. He’d never been able to stomach such treatment, and anger was slowly brewing beneath the fear he formerly felt. It made him want to bite back, if only to prove that he was able to.
“I am here to learn the truth. Though from what I gathered, there’s not much I didn’t already know. It was simply a pathetic version of the story, less palatable than the one I grew up with. It appears you never could quite trust others as you trusted the Avatar, for all your hate. It’s quite sad-”
A hand flew through the air, only to miss its intended landing place. Zuko’s eyes widened as he observed the way Sozin’s arm cut straight through him, without inflicting any damage. He looked down, his own hands slightly unfamiliar to the ones he knew. For one, he was suddenly clad in long, flowing black and crimson robes, with golden vambraces elegantly adorning his forearms, though clearly lacking in function. Just what was happening? The beast growled behind him, formerly forgotten, but now Zuko turned around instantly to see it standing above his own body, inert on the ground. “If I could, I’d probably faint about now” he decided as his hands passed through his own body when he tried to shake his own shoulders.
“What just– ” he tried to mumble stupidly.
“You insolent brat! Not only did you betray your country and your linage, but you allied yourself with savage spirits!” the deceased Firelord yelled madly. As Sozin kept cursing him out and spewing idiocies, Zuko grew steadily calmer. On one hand, the clear instability the old man possessed could be used to his advantage, considering the fact that he’s yet to actually hurt him. The deranged Majesty clearly wanted to inflict damage, but he was unable to for some reason. Was he being protected by the Blue Spirit, or was his great grandfather’s Spirit too weak to harm him? Thinking about the why’s and how’s made his brain hurt. “I should stick to my reason for being here, above all. I don’t have all day.”
“Is there something I should know about the way you died?” he asked plainly, since he was lacking the energy to artfully inquire about such insensitive information. He wanted to roll his eyes, but he wanted the old man to answer him with mild retaliation, not to launch into another cursing session. The more he irritated the deceased Firelord, the more information he seemed to let slip out and the easier he was to coerce into talking.
Sozin merely scoffed, as if the idea were absurd. “I died like any other well-achieved man. Surrounded by my family and most trusted fellows.” His eyes glinted in cold calculation. “But why learn about my death? Did your fool of an Uncle lead you down a wild boar-goose chase?”
“There’s something I must learn about my great grandfather’s death. Something that can only be learned here.” He rushed out. He could tell he was quickly losing footing in his verbal spar with Sozin. He gave out critical information, which left him with limited courses of action. From the way his great grandfather’s eyes shone in sadistic delight, he understood that he foolishly underestimated the man in front of him. Why was this a lesson he couldn’t seem to ever learn? Why was he rushing the second he was given the smallest space to move?
Thrice doesn’t seem to be enough to teach you something, no wonder Father cast you out.
You’re much too prideful, in spite of lacking ability.
Frustration and desperation were clawing up his throat. Azula was right, of course she was, he was always falling back to this place when faced with an important challenge. His eyes were trained on the spirit in front of him, but his mind was far away in a familiar recess of critique. Voices other than his own ruled that place, joining people from his life together, those he’d failed, those he’d lost and those he simply hated.
All bark and no bite.
“I believe I know what you need to see” the old man smiled. It wasn’t nice, it promised pain and blood, but Zuko was beyond the point of being able to hurt for the man. Sozin was as much of a fraud as he was, unfortunately alike in terms of temper and honor. To pity Sozin was to pity someone like himself, and he felt sickened by the sheer amount of self-reflection he’d been forced to do. He nodded minutely, which seemed to astound the man, whose eyes narrowed in suspicion. Zuko was tired of mind-games to last several lifetimes.
The two wordlessly mounted the dragon, and the young prince had to hold in his excitement at the prospect. Still in that eerie room, he couldn’t understand why they needed to do such a thing, but he wasn’t about to start complaining. Turning his head around, his eyes caught onto a bronze mirror and he froze. His own reflection was a stranger. The robes he wore were regal and finer than anything he’s worn in three years. They were layered beautifully, and as he watched he realized the black on his clothes was truly navy. Swirls of white lined the inner-most of the robes, of a dark blue color, in a reminiscent manner to the lines of the Blue Spirit mask. Above, lay an outer robe of deep red, trimmed with gold, depicting fine flames along the hems. What took his breath away, though, was his own face, hidden beneath the mask, and his hair which was longer than he remembers ever having it, pulled in the distinct Fire Nation manner, half up, half in a topknot decorated with a flaming crown. Shaking, he raised his hands towards the mask, lifting it only to almost drop it. He watched to pure look of shock cross his bare face in the mirror. No scar marred the fair skin, and he was suddenly struck with a deep sense of wrongness. Two golden eyes stared back, symmetrical in shape, and the deep resemblance to his father turned his stomach.
His feelings regarding the current Firelord were complicated at best. He didn’t want Zuko to ever return home, didn’t even want him alive, and there wasn’t much he could do to change Father’s mind. He’s tried and spectacularly failed, made a laughingstock out of himself and the only other person who stood beside him. There wasn’t much to miss.
Wordlessly, he raised the mask back to his face, tying the string securely behind his head. By the time his hands returned to the scaley back of the dragon, Sozin was already watching him closely and without further comments, ordered Hao Ran to take flight.
The sensation was incredible. Never in his life had he entertained the idea of flying as a possibility, yet here he was, riding a dragon in the company of the most famous Firelord in recent history. They rose higher than he considered possible, feeling the air whip his hair and robes around. Hao Ran flew in wide loops, sometimes tilting the passengers dangerously near the earth. He took them above the Caldera, the growth in altitude making the city turn into a splatter of light and dark. The old volcano’s walls curled towards the rapidly shrinking city, as if prepared to swallow it into a deep sea of obsidian. The last rays of the setting sun painted the scenery in reds and oranges, the sky itself coloring into a mix of blues and faint pinks. It was widely agreed upon that the most gorgeous sunsets belonged to the Fire Nation, and Zuko missed them terribly. There was salt in the air, and a specific smell of sulfur and smoke that he’s long since associated with his homeland.
Breaking out of his reverie, he turned his eyes to Sozin, who had grown suspiciously quiet. Eyes narrowing, he tried to imagine what the old crook had in store for him. His firebending had steadily grown useless on the way to the capital, and now he could no longer feel his inner flame. He still had his swords, but he wasn’t too convinced of their capacity when fighting a dragon and a powerful warlord. Irritated, he sighed and decided to try playing nice, though it clearly wasn’t his strongest suit.
They drifted for quite a while before they reached an unfortunately familiar place – Crescent Moon Island, Avatar Roku’s home. Zuko grew alarmed. Weren’t the Fire Sages likely to notice something amiss at a time like this? Why did Sozin bring him here? Hao Ran flew closer to the ground, until they could finally get down. However, the prospect didn’t bring the exiled prince any comfort. Still silent, Zuko could no longer take the cryptic behavior.
“Firelord Sozin, why are we here?”
“To learn about your great grandfather’s death, of course. You must be quite ignorant if you still haven’t understood” was all he said before swiping through the air with a long sleeve. The scenery changed to a lush green island bathed in moonlight, emanating calm and quiet. Too much quiet. No birdsong could be heard, but the buzzing of insects was alarming. Down the beach, the water stirred, chaotic waves crashing into the shore. The ground itself started rumbling, and with it alarmed cries, both animal and human, filled the air. However, the chaos didn’t truly begin until the earthquake grew in its intensity and the volcano erupted. Zuko grew horrified.
Ash filled the air, forming dark clouds that swirled around the island like an ominous sign. People were rushing, leaving their homes behind in complete panic, disorderedly running towards the port. Were there enough boats? Was there enough time? Lava trickled down stream, allowing unbearable heat to raise into the air and incinerating the forest. In the middle of it all, stood Avatar Roku. He wrestled the angry mountain in a terrifying display of bending, but no matter his efforts, the volcano kept erupting. Explosion after explosion left the peak, releasing ash, heat and poisonous smoke into the air. Desperation colored the old man’s strife and Zuko couldn’t help but feel bad for him. His hometown was bound to disappear beneath tar, regardless of the fight he was putting up. In the last moment, he could see Sozin arriving on his dragon and fighting alongside Roku like old friends. That was surprising, and even though Zuko could already tell how it would all end, foolish hope seized him for a moment. He kept watching with rapt attention.
The dragons circling the peak.
The two strongest benders in the world at that time.
Sozin’s betrayal and his final confession.
Fang’s loyalty.
Roku’s death.
Then nothing.
…
This couldn’t be it. There must be something he didn’t pay enough attention to.
But you know the truth now, don’t you?
How could that be the truth? How could Sozin possibly know? Why did he make me watch this?
“You know why, Prince Zuko. Because, while I may be your father’s grandfather, your mother’s grandfather was Avatar Roku. My oldest friend and the man I betrayed” Sozin drawled as if beyond bored. His eyes, however, never strayed from where Zuko stood motionless and shocked. The prince’s thoughts were in a wild disarray, the only conscious one permeating being a long string of “why?”. The old lord sighed, and with an unnecessary intake of breath, turned the illusion around them into the remains of Crescent Island. The dragon started rumbling and Zuko forced his mind away from the spiral he fell down into. His eyes narrowed on the man before him, face mouth twisting into a snarl. Before he could say anything, however, Sozin spoke again.
“Now you have your answers. You don’t have to like them. You were supposed to carry on my legacy, as heir to the throne. You were raised to be strong, but I see you were simply too soft and stupid to see everything that has been done for the benefit of the Fire Nation.”
“The benefit of the Fire Nation, you say?” Zuko parroted back, subdued. Then, looking up, rage burning in his eyes he bit out. “There’s no one in the Nation ‘benefitting’ from the war but a select number of people. No commoner is living better thanks to your war. In these times, only the generals and the admirals are advantaged, only the Royal Family enjoying the spoils of war. Beyond those gilded palaces there is only death and famine. And maybe the islands are all right, will be all right, but what about the people beyond the sea? What about those whose only mistake is the Nation they were born in? There are kind people out there– ” he stressed, remembering the generosity strangers had shown him. His mind drifted to Song, Lee’s family and all those who helped him and his Uncle to get to Ba Sing Se. He thought of a girl that offered to heal his Uncle in the wastelands, the same girl who offered to heal an already scarred wound. Voice choking with emotion, he pushed on
“There are kind people out there, people who have been hurt and are suffering at the hands of our soldiers. Everyone in the world hates us, there is not a soul out there who would speak of our greatness unless beaten. And they are right. So why? Who is this all for? Our pride, our ego?”
“Our honor?” he spat, barely holding back the tremors that wrecked his body. It was too much, there were too many things wrong, and he wasn’t enough to right all of them.
“So what? You want to go out there and die for others? What have they done for you? You take their side, turn your back on your blood, all to roll around in the mud with the pigs.” The deceased Firelord asked.
All fight left Zuko. He suddenly calmed down, unable to see the man in front of him as anything other than deeply egotistical and pathetic. He was looking at himself, older and warier, selfish and unsatisfied with everything. The thought horrified him.
“Is kindness such a complicated concept for you? I don’t claim to be kind myself, I’ve been selfish and disgusting more times than I can count, but there was always someone willing to try to help. Even if I didn’t see it until it was too late. Because the world is not as hopeless as I feel. It simply is.”
“Pray you never meet me again, for your own sake, you stupid mut. I am Firelord Sozin, the bringer of prosperity and the Killer of the Air Nomads.” The Firelord started. “I – ”
He blinked, and Zuko was suddenly alone in the tomb. His bones hurt and he was severely confused, but he was back in all piece. He stared at the marble statue. “So much for the malevolent spirit of a powerful Firelord” he thought annoyedly, though he still couldn’t quite shake the nerves off. His hands were still trembling. Pushing himself to his feet, he picked up his things and turned towards the door. A chill ran up his spine at the idea of being locked in that room and he quickened his pace until he was standing in front of the bronze exit.
Just like when he opened the door, he was able to conjure a powerful blast of flame, but when he tried to light his path, there wasn’t as much as a flicker of smoke. He sighed, already on high alert, and rapidly left the place. Weirdly, he felt both lighter and heavier than he did before.
Upon arriving back to Iroh cell, he felt as he’d been doused in cold water. The image of his Uncle sitting in the dark, defeated and unwell instantly remembered him of his reason for being there. Sitting down quietly, he started.
“So… Avatar Roku” he said dumbly. How does one breach this sort of topic without sounding like a moron? His Uncle simply hummed and turned fully to face him. His eyes glinted in the dark, clearly amused by his lame approach. Thankfully, he deigned to spare Zuko of further embarrassment.
“You must have realized by now, your great grandfathers are Avatar Roku and Firelord Sozin. The two of them, while starting out as friends, ended up at war with each other as time passed. Their actions have had repercussions all around the world, which is now in a dire state. At the end of their lives they grew warier of each other, both too stubborn for their own good. Likewise, you’ve struggled your entire life with the decisions your ancestors made a hundred years prior. Because understanding the struggle between your two great-grandfathers can help you better understand the battle within yourself. Evil and good are always at war inside you, Zuko. It is your nature, your legacy.”
The prospect overwhelmed Zuko, as much as it confirmed the truth behind his conversation with Sozin. His own decisions were the result of poor decision-making, that much he’s always known, being as prone to rushing as he was. However, this situation didn’t only concern him – it affected the entire world. His Uncle was talking animatedly now, conviction dripping into every word, and Zuko wanted him to be wrong so bad. It was impossible to think of a way to fix it with limited knowledge and discord ripping the nations apart.
“But there’s a good side. What happened generations ago can be resolved now – by you. Because of your legacy, you alone can cleanse the sins of our family and the Fire Nation. Born in you, along with all the strife, is the power to restore balance to the world.” he finished. Turning once again, he walked over to the wall, where he dislodged a loose brick. Zuko’s eyes widened at that. His Uncle turned, a Fire Crown sitting in his open palm.
“This is a royal artifact. It is supposed to be worn by the Crown Prince.”
“I am no longer a prince” he managed to croak out. It sounded like a weak excuse, but it felt like his entire world-view was coming apart at the seams. The foundation was already shaky, and now a gust of wind led it tumbling down, down, down.
“What do I do now, Uncle?” he asked, desperate beyond belief. The sound of guards patrolling outside sobered him up. “Doesn’t matter right now. Come on, let’s get out of here.”
“I am staying, Zuko.” He seemed almost sad, yet he smiled.
“Why? Information can’t be that difficult to obtain. I can– ” he started.
“I am staying to look after Azula, my nephew. Something is deeply wrong with her, and now she has no one. I am ashamed to say I never treated the two of you equally. But now, you are strong, Zuko, strong enough to make wise decisions, to pursue your own happiness. While to you it may seem like you are being punished by the Spirits, remember that the Fall of Ba Sing Se is not only your fault. I had my own hand in it. I am now repenting for a mistake I made long ago.”
Hot tears streamed down both of their faces. In spite of his disappointment and confusion, Zuko understood. He couldn’t bring himself to think about Azula, didn’t know what to believe and feel, but he would accept what his Uncle decided to do. After all, he’d followed Zuko when he didn’t have to, sacrificed everything for him, cared for him even when Zuko didn’t. It was thankless work, he couldn’t implore him now to chose him over… Azula. It still hurt.
“Will you truly be safe? Promise me you will, otherwise, I won’t be leaving this cell.” He murmured. He feared that if he spoke any louder, he would completely break.
“I’ll be safe, my nephew, I promise. And we’ll meet again” his Uncle responded, clearly in pain, but honest. “I’ll find a way to communicate with you. We’ll be alright, we always are. Now, what will you do? The decision belongs to you – you now know the ugly truth behind our family.”
Zuko shifted uncomfortably. He pondered if worrying his Uncle was worth it. He finally caved, and he braced for what was about to come. “I lost my bending. It’s just, not there anymore.”
At first, his Uncle looked at him as if he’d grown a second head, and Zuko inwardly cringed. Then, his eyes filled with recognition, easing his expression into something softer, until they finally settled on mirth(“?”). That was when he finally laughed, fully shaking as if Zuko had just said the joke of the century. His won face twisted into a scowl, both hurt and enraged that his Uncle wasn’t taking this seriously. What he said, though, surprised him –
“It seems you aren’t done with learning about secrets, Prince Zuko” he told him, smiling happily.
Zuko was steadily growing more convinced of the fact that his Uncle had gone crazy.
The Royal Palace of the Fire Nation was a somber place. In the evenings, when the sun was on its way to setting, the shadows grew sharper and sharper until they distorted the place completely. Azula had always hated that. When she was still a child, she was afraid that a monster would jump out and snatch her when she wasn’t paying attention. The stupid fairytales she’d sometimes indulge in didn’t help the matter. As she’d grown, however, her fear disappeared, but the dislike still existed.
Nowadays, she felt watched.
While that wouldn’t be worrisome for someone like her, the nature of her pursuers wasn’t a typical one. If she were to speak of it, of them, she was sure to be thrown in with the loonies. She was better than this, and if ghosts decided to follow, she wasn’t about to faint in fear, like some pathetic simpleton. No, she was better than that. It all was the product of a busy mind. Sensing something behind her, she turned only to see her brother, young and with full cheeks, looking up at her from behind a curtain. She kept on walking. He talked, unprompted as always. She tunned him out.
“Scram, you brat.” She spat.
She needed her wits about her. Indeed, she was heading to quite an important place and she couldn’t allow mistakes. The Firelord was requesting her presence, which meant she was most likely receiving a new assignment. Upon faced with the great entrance to the throne room, she stopped. Breathing in, she cleared her head of all distractions, forgetting all about little ghosts creeping along the corridors. She entered, holding her head high, her posture perfect, as expected.
Bowing low on the dark tiles, she waited.
“Azula, you must be finding the Palace terribly stuffy after spending so much time in a foreign land.”
And so it began. The tale of incapable advisors and the importance to see the nation, to uphold the dignity of the Royal Family. A princess must, surely, learn all about every strategic point in the nation (She could recite that knowledge backwards), especially with the Black Sun a mere couple of months away (She suggested most of the military positions. Father was proud).
“Of course, your Majesty.” She bowed until her head touched the floor. “If I make inquire upon the details of such voyage?”
“You leave in one week. Starting from Jang Hui River.”
Notes:
浩然 (hào rán) – vast
so, there we have it. zuko and iroh reunion, with a twist :D
unfortunetly, there is no gaang this time, but the next chapter is split between them and zuko's shenenigans.
how do we feel about the brief spirit world mention, not to mention the azula chameo (just what could happen?)
i'll fix typos later if there are any, so please let me know if there is anything amissthat is it for now. the next three chapters have been mapped out, it's just a matter of sitting down and writing. i have also decided to write longer chapters, since the updates are slow (university is hard)
see you next time, and thank you profusely for sticking around! i am honored to have such supportive readers! bye bye and take care! :)