Chapter 1: Prologue
Chapter Text
Iroh was on his feet the moment Physician Misen came out of the royal infirmary.
“Will he live?” he all but demanded, unable to keep the fear from his voice. “Will my nephew live?”
Physician Misen, already tense, hardened further. “The prince has a chance, but not a good one. An infection has already set in. And even if he does survive it…” She closed her eyes and swore quietly. “He’s sure to be blind in that eye, and his hearing will take a hit as well.”
“May I stay with him?”
Physician Misen nodded. “I need to get more supplies from the general infirmary; if you could stay until I return, it would be much appreciated. His condition shouldn’t change in the time it takes me, but if anything at all seems wrong, send a runner.”
Iroh nodded, and went quietly inside as the physician left. The royal infirmary was an oppressively large room, with each bed separated by screens for privacy. Iroh found his nephew just around the first screen, lying quiet and still on the narrow bed, covered by a thin blanket up to his chest. Bandages obscured the left side of his face, and a damp cloth had been laid over the half of his forehead that could still be seen.
Iroh barely made it to the chair before his knees gave out. “Oh, my nephew,” he whispered, and could not prevent the tears that leaked from his eyes as he squeezed them shut. “I have failed you. I will never be able to say how sorry I am.”
Zuko did not stir. His face was flushed, visible eye closed, a slight furrow at his brow. Too small, too still, too quiet. He barely seemed to take up space on the bed, sinking into the mattress like a shadow. Zuko had never been one to seem so small; he was always open and expressive, whether it be in joy or anger. Guileless to a fault; it was that very quality that had landed him here.
But no, this was not Zuko’s fault. There was only one to blame for this; the man who should have protected Zuko as a father. But Iroh had known for far too long that his brother did not, could not, care for others as he did for himself. What he had not understood was just how far Ozai would go to protect his own pride.
He understood now.
Anger burned inside of him. It roared like oil thrown on glowing coals, flashing strong and sudden. Ozai would pay for this. Iroh did not care what it cost him; he would end his brother himself if that was what it took. No man who defiled a sacred ceremony in order to maim his own child could continue to live. If there was any honor left in the Fire Nation, it could not survive while Ozai was Firelord.
Iroh, very deliberately, took a deep breath. He would need to be careful, were he to go through with this. But there was a way forward. Ozai had already set the precedent; if he would deign to fight a thirteen year old child in an Agni Kai, then he could not refuse a challenge from his own brother.
“I will find justice for you, nephew,” Iroh whispered. “For I cannot keep my honor while Ozai still lives.”
Eyes closed, Iroh settled himself, feeling the new purpose enter deep inside of him. Yes, he could burn for this. “Agni,” he whispered, “giver of the gift of fire. Accept my new purpose, and steady my flame.”
It was an old, sacred prayer, meant for the quiet places inside of quiet temples. Iroh had never once used it to invoke a course of action so terrible, but he could not see the fault in it now.
“I’m afraid that may not be the best of ideas,” said an old voice.
Iroh’s eyes snapped open. A tall man in ornate, old-fashioned red and black robes stood at the end of Zuko's bed, hands clasped behind his back, eyes grave. The man met his eyes. Iroh froze.
He had seen this man before, in old portraits that had been destroyed long ago. It was, after all, illegal under one of Firelord Sozin’s many decrees to own anything that promoted the Avatar.
Iroh rose slowly, and bowed low. “Avatar Roku. What brings you here?” How was he here? Iroh had met many spirits, but Avatar spirits were rarely seen unless an Avatar was present…
Iroh turned to his nephew, and the anger in his chest was swamped by cold fear. Zuko’s one visible eye was open. It glowed blue.
Iroh did not bother asking for confirmation. The last Avatar had died in a Fire Nation prison thirteen years ago; the Fire Sages had assured anyone who asked that the new Avatar, a loyal Fire Nation citizen, would be unveiled when they reached the age of sixteen and their spiritual energy grew strong enough for the Sages to find them.
Iroh remembered his nephew kneeling on the floor, pleading, professing his loyalty to a man who had already thrown him away. He felt sick. “I had not realized,” he said quietly, “That the spirits could be so cruel. It seems a lesson I must learn of many, tonight”
Avatar Roku nodded. “To be the Avatar is a hard road. I will not deny it.” He drew himself up further, regal as any noble, and met Iroh’s gaze. “Prince Iroh, I do not have much time. I come here to ask you to change your course. After a hundred years, the world cannot afford to lose another Avatar, and your nephew has the potential to end this war and restore balance to the world. But he will need guidance and healing if he is to carry out his destiny.”
Avatar Roku paused, but Iroh waited. He knew already what the man would ask for.
“And that means I must ask you to give up your vendetta of justice against Firelord Ozai. Prince Zuko needs a protector and guide; you cannot protect him if you die at your brother’s hand, nor if you assume the throne after his defeat.”
Iroh wanted to argue. The fire inside him, set so recently on a new purpose, fought back, raging at the thought of abandoning this anger, this justice that demanded to be served. But Iroh had not survived in court for so long without being able to temper his emotions and adjust his goals; he took a breath, let it out, and calmed his fire. Zuko needed him.
“I would be honored to carry out this task,” Iroh said, “for the balance of the world, and for the love of my nephew. I will protect him.” He would not let Zuko be harmed again, if he could help it.
Roku smiled, and bowed low. “Thank you, Prince Iroh. Do all that you can.”
The glow faded from Zuko’s eye, and the spirit of Avatar Roku disappeared. Zuko stirred, eyelid fluttering, but he did not wake.
Iroh dropped back into his chair, no longer feeling anger as he gazed at his nephew. Instead of the blaze of anger, he was drenched by fear, sorrow, grief. Fear for the danger Zuko would be in, sorrow for the burden already placed upon his shoulders, and grief for the loss of the future that he had always wanted for his nephew, a future unfettered by the demands of responsibility.
And yet, oddly enough, he felt hope. Hope for the world, hope for himself, hope for his nephew. For all that it was a terrible burden, Iroh could not think of a single living person who had the goodness and strength it would need to do the task of an Avatar in a world so far out of balance.
But Iroh also knew that none of that could happen if Zuko was not allowed the chance to heal and grow and to understand that the war needed to end. And he would not get that chance if the burn killed him.
He took a deep breath, going back through options he had not paused to think of in his rage. There was a way to save and heal his nephew, although it had its own risks. But any general knew that risks were necessary for victory, and Iroh was not just any general.
Iroh reached out and took his nephew’s hand. Zuko’s one visible eye opened just a fraction, and Iroh thought that for a moment his nephew saw him and was about to speak, but then his eye closed again and his face went still.
Iroh settled back and took a deep breath. He would stay with Zuko until Physician Misen returned. After that, he had work to do.
Azula wasn’t stupid. She was young, yes, but she wasn’t stupid. She knew exactly what her father had done to her brother. She knew what it meant.
After the Agni Kai, after waiting through the screaming with that expression of triumph fixed on her face, Azula did not follow her brother to the infirmary. Instead she went to her chambers, told her servants to leave her alone, and sat very still on her bed to think. She did her best thinking when she sat very, very still, with no distractions. Everything in place.
The servants whispered as they left; it had barely been minutes, but everyone already knew that something had happened to Prince Zuko at the Agni Kai, even if they didn’t know what. Azula marked the way they whispered to each other as they left, and noticed the looks they shot her way. They felt sorry for her, they thought she was in shock, they thought she was going to cry when she was alone and feel so sorry for her poor, poor brother.
But Azula wasn’t stupid. She knew this wasn’t something to cry about. It was a victory. It was a sign of Father’s preference for her over Zuko. Father had declared that Zuko was banished to the entire court, as soon as her brother had stopped screaming. Banishment was a good thing. It meant Zuko was no longer an obstacle. It meant Azula was next in line to be Firelord. It meant she had won.
But there was more to it than just that, and Azula would have been a fool to miss it. That Agni Kai had set a very dangerous precedent. No one had challenged the Firelord as he had burned his heir apparent with the entire court as witnesses. And Azula was sure that the Firelord would use this incident to find anyone who was not still loyal to him. Anyone who spoke out would be eliminated.
And that meant that Father could throw away his heirs, with only a flimsy manipulation of ceremony and tradition to justify burning and banishing someone that, just the day before, was honored above all but the Firelord himself.
It meant that, if Azula were to slip up—not that she would, of course she could never fail as badly as her brother did on a daily basis—but if, on the slim chance that she did…
Father had already thrown away one heir. And his reign was still young. Azula wasn’t stupid.
The palace had just become a very dangerous place. Before this, Zuko had always been there in all his impassioned, fumbling glory to distract Father. He was good at drawing attention, if nothing else. Any small slips Azula made were covered by the glaring mistakes that Zuko made. She could admit it to herself; his presence in the balance made her look better by contrast.
It wasn’t that she needed him; she could take care of herself. She had always expected him to be shunted away to some middle-of-nowhere battlefront, so that he could be forgotten and passed over like Uncle had been when the time came for Azula to become Firelord.
But she had not expected Father to get rid of him so soon.
Azula did not like it when things happened that she did not expect. It felt like tripping over a rock in her otherwise perfectly smooth training courtyard while performing a kata she’d already mastered. She could recover easily, and someone watching likely wouldn’t notice any difference, but it was still wrong that she’d been interrupted by something that should not have happened .
And Zuko shouldn’t have been banished so soon. It didn’t make sense; he certainly wasn’t as good as she was, but he wasn’t useless. He wouldn’t have made a good Firelord, but surely he could have been useful on the warfront in a few years. He would have become powerful, given time. It was a waste to just throw him away on some impossible quest. Everyone knew all the dragons were dead. Zuko wouldn’t be able to even find one, let alone kill one to prove his honor.
Azula did not understand why Father had done it. She hated it when she didn’t understand people. It meant she was missing something, and she hated that even more. There had to be a good reason for Father to get rid of Zuko so early.
And if there wasn’t…. Even if Father was ready to throw Zuko away, Azula didn’t have to.
Azula waited until night had fallen before she went to the infirmary. Azula made the trip quietly in a quiet palace. The palace always quieted at night. But there was more to it than tiredness tonight; all the servants she passed bowed extra low, and there were more guards than usual.
There were guards outside the royal infirmary as well. They bowed and let her through into the waiting chamber. Only a single lamp burned beside the door into the infirmary proper, throwing the room into uneven shadow. Sloppy. A royal waiting chamber should be ready and presentable at all times.
She lit the lamp on the other side of the door to even things out, and slipped through the door.
The infirmary itself was dim as well. Lamp light glowed from behind one of the screens, but that was all. The rest of the room was dark around her.
A healer stopped out from behind the screen. Nervous, bowing quickly and slightly too low, even for royalty. Probably an apprentice. “Princess Azula, what can I do for you?” the girl asked.
“I will speak to my brother. Leave us.”
The girl hesitated. “Your highness, the prince— err, your brother may not be—”
Azula cut her off. “Leave. Us.”
The girl gulped and bowed out of the room. Azula sighed and stepped around the screen. “Really,” she began, “how can a healer be so nerv—”
The words died in her throat. There was no point; her brother wouldn’t hear them. Somehow, she hadn’t expected him to be unconscious. Even though she had watched as Father burned him, even though she had heard him scream and seen him slump to the arena floor, the reality of it didn’t sink in until she saw him here, unconscious in a narrow infirmary bed, bandages on half his face, the other half flushed with fever.
Azula hadn’t seen the burn in the arena. She hadn’t been able to, with how people had all gotten to their feet around her and blocked her view. Surely it wasn’t that big; the healers must have been using extra bandages just to make sure of…something. Besides, royals deserved extra bandages, and healers to wait on them even when they were unconscious, and all kinds of special treatment. It wasn’t like Zuzu needed all these bottles of salve and rolls of bandages and clean medical tools arranged on the table near the bed. He was just sleeping. He would wake up again and be grumpy and predictable and it would be like nothing had changed.
Azula shook herself. She’d frozen just inside the screen, but she took a deep breath—catching the sharp taste of antiseptic on her tongue—and moved to the chair by the bed. Somehow, that was worse. She felt small when she sat down, but somehow Zuko who was supposed to be taller and bigger than her still seemed smaller, Zuko who was supposed to be awake just looked more sick.
Azula hated it when things didn’t go how they were supposed to. She stood again, jaw tight, and left the infirmary. The healer apprentice was in the waiting room, and Azula held up a hand before she could go back inside.
“My brother will live?” She hated that it was a question.
The girl hesitated. “It… is not certain, Princess.”
Azula left, holding herself upright with perfect posture, conscious of every step. Usually that wasn’t something she had to think about in order to get it right. But now it felt like everything was going wrong around her—pebbles and holes were scattered in a training courtyard that should have been smooth, and she had to be careful not to trip.
Iroh found his brother on the Firelord’s private balcony, presumably enjoying the peaceful night air. For all that Ozai ever enjoyed anything that he could not control. Iroh was no longer sure if his brother could find beauty in anything aside from himself anymore. That is, if he had ever been able to.
Ozai turned before Iroh had taken two steps past the balcony doors. Iroh stopped, and let the space exist between them as it always had. No use pretending otherwise.
“Have you come to kill me?” Ozai asked, with mockery in his voice and bearing. Old and new anger flared inside Iroh, but he breathed deep and mastered it. The first step to protecting Zuko was getting him away from this man. Anger would not serve him here.
Iroh shook his head. “I wish the world could be so simple as that, but I have a more important challenge for you tonight.”
Ozai raised an eyebrow. “And what could be more important than the vengeance I am sure you wish to wreak upon me? You’ve always cared for that failure son of mine, Agni only knows why.”
Iroh drew himself up so that he stood straight and true, hands folded into his sleeves in front of him. “Ozai, father of Zuko, in light of your recent actions against your own firstborn, I find you unworthy to raise and protect your son, and challenge you for guardianship of Zuko.”
Ozai actually looked surprised. He laughed. “No one has invoked that challenge in centuries; are you really so old fashioned to use it now? Or is this a joke, to spite me?”
“It is no joke, brother. It is clear to me—and the entire court—that you wish to be rid of your son. I do not find him worthless as you seem to.”
Ozai was no longer laughing. His eyes narrowed. “Zuko has shown that he is not worthy of serving me. But that does not mean I will let the lion vultures pick over his carcasse. What makes you think I would let you take him from me?”
“What makes you think that you can stop me?” Iroh replied. “Ozai, you know as well as I that that farce of an Agni Kai was more than enough to show that Zuko is not safe with you as his father. Do you truly wish to drag this matter into the open air and involve the courts? The Firelord may have control over the external affairs of our nation, but even the Firelord is subject to the laws that govern our lives and protect our future. The children of the Fire Nation are the future of the Fire Nation, Ozai. There are many who have not forgotten this, and who would take my side.
“This is not a battle you would win, should you wage it. I am offering you the chance for a low-profile agreement, without the backlash of a public challenge to your authority.”
And yet the challenge to his authority was still there. Ozai did not miss it; Iroh saw it in the way his brother’s eyes widened and narrowed again.
“I will not rescind his banishment,” Ozai said tightly.
Iroh resisted the urge to smile. Ozai was negotiating, not arguing. He was not a fool, and knew to hold onto what he could keep. For now, the only thing he could keep was his pride. “Of course,” Iroh said. “I would not expect you to.”
“And should the boy die,” Ozai continued, “He will die as my son. Any failure son of mine will have the sense to die when he is no longer wanted.”
“And should Zuko live,” Iroh retorted, “he will live to choose what life he will lead, whether that be as your son or as mine.”
“You assume he would choose you over me?”
“I hope that he will choose the path that will bring him honor.”
“That boy has no honor,” Ozai hissed. “His refusal to fight has forfeit any honor he ever had. He would have to do something great indeed to regain any.” A cruel smile flitted across Ozai’s face. “Perhaps I will include that in the terms of his banishment. If he could kill a dragon, I would accept that as proof of his usefulness, and he could return home.”
The idea made Iroh sick. If Zuko decided on returning home, Iroh knew there would be nothing he could do to stop Zuko from pursuing that course. His nephew would ignore all else in an effort to return home again; even morality, even destiny.
And he had no doubt that, with enough time, his nephew could build the skills necessary for such a feat. An Avatar would have that power, after all. But an Avatar that turned his power against the dragons… Iroh wondered what he could do, should such a thing happen. Would the world be better off waiting for another Avatar, rather than having an Avatar who sided with the Fire Nation?
No , Iroh thought savagely. Zuko is my nephew as well as the Avatar. I will not measure his life by thoughts of his usefulness to the world. I will have to trust in him, and the goodness I know he possesses.
“Zuko does not need to prove his honor to you, Ozai, and he does not need to prove it to me.”
“Very well.” That cruel smile was back. “Should the boy choose you, then those terms will not apply, as you seem so unconcerned about honor. Should he choose you, he will be banished for life with no hope of ever returning to the Fire Nation.”
“Then you agree that it will be Zuko’s choice?”
Ozai paused. “Yes, I agree. Should the boy die, he will die as my son. Should the boy live, he will choose. My scribes will draw up the...agreement."
Iroh bowed the most shallow bow he could manage while still technically being respectful. “I am glad we were able to come to a peaceful agreement. I will take my leave.”
The Firelord did not return the bow. Iroh had not seen his brother bow once since ascending the Dragon Throne. It was the right of the Firelord to hold himself so, but nevertheless Iroh could not help but think of his father Azulon, who had been a proud and terrible Firelord and yet had still managed to show respect to the people who served him. Ozai showed no respect to anyone but himself.
Physician Misen was back in the infirmary when Iroh returned. The woman didn’t bother bowing, and Iroh did not mind. She had far more important work to be doing.
“How is he?” Iroh asked, but he did not need the answer to tell that Zuko was no better than he had been an hour ago.
“Not well,” Physician Misen replied. “His fever has risen, and the sedative I gave him for the initial treatment will be wearing off soon. I can’t give him any more without risking an addiction, so he’ll have to weather the pain with willow bark and not much else.”
“The Firelord,” Iroh said, “has declared Prince Zuko banished, and that he must leave the city before noon tomorrow. Will he be strong enough to travel?”
The Physician Misen, who had been hired partly because of her discretion and loyalty to the Royal Family, cursed. She said a number of under-her-breath things about his brother that Iroh would have been honor-bound to be offended by, if they had not been true. Instead he found himself agreeing with the general sentiment.
“He’s tough,” she said when she was finished. “And firebenders have an advantage when it comes to infections; he’ll be able to survive a high fever with fewer side effects than most. He should make it two days, maybe three without treating the burn. Any longer than that and you’d need a waterbending healer to keep him alive.”
Iroh nodded, and bowed. That would be enough time, barely. And he would find someone better than a waterbender. “Thank you, Physician Misen, for all that you have done for my nephew. I will stay with him tonight.”
The Physician returned the bow. “Thank you, Prince Iroh. It is an honor to care for my Prince. And it does you honor to care for him in turn.”
Iroh smiled. “More than you can know.”
The Physician left, and Iroh settled himself by his nephew’s bedside, readying himself for a long night, and an early departure.
Chapter Text
Zuko floated between two worlds. One of the worlds seemed to exist high above him, and was filled with heat and pain and horrible thoughts that swirled around in his head and refused to make sense. The other world was reached by sinking deep, deep down somewhere with no bottom, a world where fragments of dreams would sneak up behind him and prove themselves just as horrible as the waking nightmare he was trying to get away from.
So Zuko floated. He found a place deep inside himself where comforting heat warmed him, and stayed there. This heat was his , and that meant it was safe. It would protect him from those two worlds.
But sometimes the warmth inside him would fade, and he would find himself falling deeper into dreams where flames roared between the gaps in red curtains and letters arrived that made Mother cry, and then it was the deep of night and everything was wrong and he didn’t know why. There was nothing he could do but fall asleep again, the current dragging him under somewhere deeper and darker, and there was nothing he could do.
He fought back as best he could, and eventually he would be able to climb back up inside the warmth and stay there and let the heat consume anything that was not him. Yet sometimes the heat would grow too hot and burn too fiercely, and he would be forced upward to the waking world, where there was another kind of fire.
—A pain so bright it turned cold and deadened, so that all he could feel was the screaming edges of the place the pain should be—
—All the pain deadened, and the world gone dim and silent, but still the echo of pain there and reaching for him, waiting to have him again—
—A hand, the feel of it cool against his own feverish hand, holding onto him gently. And almost he could awaken fully, but he did not know who held his hand and he did not want to know—
And he would sink down again, confused and tired and just wanting to rest, but unable to make sense of those few things he had felt and too scared to sink back into the deep darkness that was the world of sleep.
But the fire burned hotter now, and he could not stay down forever.
—A familiar voice he could not place, singing softly. Mother? No, Mother was gone and not coming back, but that was her old lullaby, the lullaby that Azula had been too young to remember—
—A cool breeze on his face, the warmth of blankets tucked around his chin, the world rocking like when he’d been five years old and had fallen asleep on the beach at Ember Island, and had woken up while Mother carried him back to the house, and he hadn’t said a word because he didn’t want her to put him down just yet—
—And a deeper rocking that kept going, steady, with the smell of sea brine and coal smoke in the air—
—Again that familiar voice he could not place. Lu Ten? No, Lu Ten was dead, so he couldn’t be around to tell stories anymore, even if they had been stories that Zuko had always loved. Lu Ten was dead and now it was Zuko’s job to be Crown Prince, and so he needed to learn and prepare and do a good job—
He pulled back again, shying away from that memory. There was something more there, but it was too much to think of and he was just so tired…
Slipping down, he entered the world of dreams where he sat and stood and bowed for eternity at a funeral that would not end. He did not know whose funeral it was, and yet had the horrible feeling that it was his own. The child prince, young and foolhardy, dead by his own recklessness.
He jerked upward again, and this time the waking world was more distinct around him, with solid shapes and the pain back and that voice, so familiar.
“Uncle?” Zuko could barely hear his own voice. He opened his eyes to compensate, and found he could only see through one.
The singing stopped. “Prince Zuko!”
Yes, that was Uncle. Zuko could only see him through one blurry eye, but he was unmistakable. He tried to raise his head to get a better idea of where they were, but his body was horribly heavy and his vision faded at the edges when he tried to move.
“I am glad you’re awake.” Uncle was speaking again. “Here, I have something that will help you feel better.”
Uncle helped him sit up, and helped him hold the teacup when his hands shook too badly to hold it himself. He almost smiled; of course it was tea. Unusually bitter tea, but his throat was dry and Uncle liked it when he drank his tea, so he did not complain.
When the tea was gone Zuko found himself lying down again, and Uncle asking “How do you feel?”
It took too long to parse the question. “Tired,” he managed to say.
“Then you should rest,” he heard Uncle say. “It will not be long before we reach our destination.”
Zuko let himself sink down again into that deepness, and this time there were no dreams.
When Zuko woke next, it was to bright sunlight shining in his face. He winced and raised a hand to shade his eyes—
But he could only see from one. There was something itchy on his face that covered the other. A bandage? Why…?
He remembered. Blurry and indistinct, but Zuko remembered. An Agni Kai. He’d almost been…excited. Certainly prepared for the challenge. Ready. He’d been there for a good reason. He’d been sure he would win.
But he had been so, so wrong. He shouldn’t have been excited. He couldn’t have ever been prepared. His reason wasn’t good enough, and he would never have won. Not in a hundred years.
How long had it been? He tried to remember more since then, but he had only hazy, ill-defined flashes. A fever?
He couldn’t stay in bed any longer now that he was awake. He needed to find out how badly he’d messed up. He needed to fix this.
Zuko let his hand down, squinting through the glare. There was a window right above his bed, and the rising sun shone down through it with all the brightness of midmorning.
The infirmary didn’t have a window like that.
Zuko jerked upright. His head spun and his vision flashed but he ignored it, looking wildly about the room. The walls were gray stone with high, thin, unglazed windows. There were two other beds, unoccupied, and across the room a long, empty wooden counter with cabinets underneath. A curtain hung in the only doorway.
This wasn’t the palace. Was it even in the Fire Nation? The blankets weren’t red, instead a dusty looking brown color. No rugs, no banners, no metal anyway. Where was he?
He stood shakily, steadying himself against the wall. He still had his own clothes; one of his sleeping robes, in red and gold. No shoes. The stone floor warmed his feet.
Legs shaking with every step, Zuko stumbled across to the doorway. The room wouldn’t stop tilting, and his face stopped itching and started throbbing with every beat of his heart. He leaned against the doorframe, catching his breath, readying himself. No way to know what was beyond the curtain.
Would he have to fight? What if he'd been captured somehow? People from the Earth Kingdom built things out of stone, right? Would there be soldiers outside? He’d never fought an earthbender before.
Only one way to know. Zuko clenched his teeth against the pain, pushed away from the doorframe, and tore the curtain aside. He leapt forward, trying to land in a stance that would guard his left—
And tripped, falling hard on his right side. Agni, that hurt .
“Prince Zuko? What are you doing?”
“Uncle?” He pushed unsteadily himself to his knees and found Uncle Iroh, sitting in the sun with a pot of tea and a surprised look on his face. There were no soldiers, earthbenders or otherwise. Just a narrow, empty street between gray stone buildings, with vines growing up from cracks in the road. “Where are we?”
“I do not think you should be up yet, Prince Zuko,” Uncle said, a familiar concern in his voice.
“I’m fine,” Zuko muttered, but took Uncle’s hand and accepted help getting to his feet. He wasn’t entirely sure he could have stood on his own, and so he didn’t complain when Uncle steered him back inside and made him sit down on the bed. His whole head hurt now, with a dull throbbing that made it hard to think.
He leaned against the wall behind him. “Uncle, where are we?” he asked again.
Uncle sat on the next bed over and sighed. “We are with some…friends of mine. One of them is a very good healer.”
Zuko frowned. “Why do your friends live in a city of ruins?”
Uncle laughed, but didn’t answer. “How are you feeling, Zuko?”
“...Tired. And my face hurts. But not as bad as before.” He closed his eye, leaning his head against the wall. “Uncle, why are we here? Shouldn’t I be in the palace infirmary?”
A beat of silence. Zuko opened his eye and found that Uncle had closed his own eyes, a grave look on his face. He took a visible breath before speaking.
“There are a number of reasons. Few of them are good.” Uncle opened his eyes, and from the look on his face Zuko almost didn’t want to know.
“Prince Zuko…” Uncle paused, and took a deep breath. “Your father has banished you from the Fire Nation.”
“He…what?” Zuko found himself tense, fists clenched in the sheets. His chest felt tight. “Why?”
But he had the horrible feeling he already knew why. It didn’t take much to figure it out. An Agni Kai was a duel for honor and purpose. One could lose an Agni Kai without losing honor if you fought bravely and to the last, but to not fight at all….
He’d messed up very, very badly.
Uncle was looking at him intently. “Your father claims that you showed great disrespect by disrupting his council and then refusing to fight in the challenge that you had accepted. He claims you have lost your honor as a member of the Fire Nation, and that is why he has banished you.”
Disrespect. And probably a host of other things that Uncle wasn’t saying. Cowardice, for not fighting. Weakness, for begging mercy. Hypocrisy, for speaking against that general and yet still claiming loyalty to the Fire Nation when he was the one with something to lose. All shameful, unacceptable behavior, for the prince of the greatest nation in the world.
He clenched his jaw and stared straight ahead. He couldn’t see Uncle anymore. Banished. The word range hollow and echoing in his head, like the booming of funeral drums. Banished. But maybe—
“What are the terms?” He’d read of this before, mostly in plays but it did happen. If there was some way of fixing this mess and going home, some way of regaining his honor—he’d do anything.
“Prince Zuko, you need rest before—”
Zuko jerked to face him again. His head spun but he barely noticed. “I can’t rest, Uncle. I need to know. If there’s any way at all—”
“Zuko…” Uncle took another of those deep breaths. He wore a grave look that made him look even older. “In this, you have a choice. But I am afraid neither option is one you would hope for.”
“Just tell me.”
“Your father has declared that if you wish to remain Ozai’s son and return to the Fire Nation, then you must kill a dragon to prove your honor.”
But the dragons were — no, no there had to be something. “Is that why you came with me then, Uncle? You’ve killed dragons, so you must know how. We just have to find one, so we need to start looking…”
He swung his legs off the bed again, but found Uncle’s hand on his shoulder before he could stand. “Zuko. You will not find a dragon. And that is not why I came with you.” Uncle squeezed his shoulder, and there were tears in his eyes. “I wanted you to heal, Zuko, and to live. I came because I did not want to abandon you.”
“I don’t—” Zuko dropped his head and squeezed his eye shut, but it didn’t stop the tears from falling. The left side of his face stung and burned under the bandage. Apparently, that eye could still cry.
He didn’t understand. Nothing made sense. He’d messed up so bad, and there wasn’t anything he could do, and his face burned and his head hurt and Uncle’s hand was still there on his shoulder and he just couldn’t—
Uncle’s hand left his shoulder, but then he felt arms around him and he let himself be pulled against Uncle’s side. Zuko cried, and he knew he knew he must be getting tears all over Uncle’s clothes, but he was exhausted and he hadn’t been held like this since Mother had disappeared.
“I want to go home, Uncle,” Zuko whispered.
Uncle squeezed him tighter. “I promise you, Zuko, you will return to the Fire Nation someday. I do not know when, but this will not be forever.”
Zuko pulled away. “How can you know that? I’m banished, Uncle. If I can’t find a dragon…my life is over!”
“No!” Zuko jumped, but Uncle wasn’t finished. “This may be an end, Prince Zuko, but it is not the end. There is a whole world outside of the Fire Nation. There are many things to live for. You may just need to find something different.”
Zuko looked away. He didn’t want to “find something different”. He wanted to go home and prove himself and be a prince that could serve his nation. He’d already come to terms with the fact that he was going to be Firelord one day; he didn’t want to discard that and start all over again. He was loyal. Even in exile, he wouldn’t turn his back on his nation.
“There is another thing that you should know, Zuko.” Uncle was speaking again. What was there left to say? “Before we left the Fire Nation, I challenged Ozai for the right to your guardianship.”
Zuko froze, staring at the dusty floor. What did that have to do with anything? He made himself look up. “Why?”
Uncle smiled, but it was a sad smile. “I said it already, Zuko. Because I want you to heal, and to live. I wanted you to have the chance to choose your own destiny, free from the burden of being the Firelord’s son.”
“...I don’t understand,” Zuko said. “Why wouldn’t I want to be Father’s son?”
Uncle’s face hardened. “Zuko, do you believe that your father was right to burn you in that Agni Kai?”
Zuko felt himself freeze again, but it was different this time. He didn’t think he could move if he wanted to. He could feel heat on his face again, the near-gentle warmth right before the fire—
“It was to teach me respect,” he managed to whisper.
“No!” Zuko jumped, but Uncle wasn’t finished. “Ozai knows nothing of respect. He could not teach something he does not know himself. That was a lesson in fear, Zuko. Fear is the only thing Ozai understands.”
If it was a lesson in fear…
Zuko felt cold even thinking of the arena.
He shook himself. “Then maybe it was something that I needed to learn!” he said angrily. “Father is the Firelord. It’s his duty to protect the people and ensure that there is a strong heir ready to lead them when he’s gone. Father is a good Firelord. There has to be something he needs me to learn from this.”
Uncle was shaking his head. “Ozai is many things, Prince Zuko. But where was he when the 41st Division was set to be sacrificed? Where was he, when his people needed someone to protect them?”
“He was distracted because I spoke out of turn. He would have said something if I hadn’t!”
“No, Prince Zuko, he would have said nothing,” Uncle said. “And when the generals and ministers turned to him for permission to carry out their plan, he would have said yes. I have seen such plans go forward before. He would not have protected them.”
“Then maybe I was wrong to try!” Zuko yelled. He lurched to his feet. He couldn’t do this right now. He could barely even think , his head ached so badly.
“No, Zuko!” Uncle caught his arm. “Do not believe that lie. You know that protecting those soldiers was the right thing to do. Do not let yourself lose that.”
Zuko sat down again heavily. He couldn’t look Uncle in the eye anymore. He’d thought he was doing the right thing, in trying to protect the 41st. He had believed it, and he had believed in himself for the first time in what had felt like his whole life. He had believed he could fight and win, for those soldiers and for himself.
He would have been the youngest Fire Prince in history to fight an Agni Kai and win. He would have succeeded in protecting his people. He would have shown that even if Azula was better at firebending, he could still fight. He’d thought he was doing the right thing.
But he’d been wrong. Obviously, he’d been wrong. Father had to be right. If he wasn’t…
Zuko raised a hand to his bandaged, aching face. Father had to be right about this.
“Zuko…” Uncle’s hand was on his shoulder again. Zuko stiffened, but couldn't bring himself to pull away. “Perhaps I should not have spoken of your father to you like that. I am sorry. I know that I have caused you pain.”
Zuko didn’t respond. What was more pain from a family member? That was just how it was in the royal family.
Uncle was still talking. “But I also know that there are times in life where pain cannot be avoided. The question, then, is whether we endure the pain in order to work for a better future, or allow the pain to become a part of us and carry it with us wherever we go. I challenged your father to give you the chance to make that choice yourself, Prince Zuko, and give you a chance at freedom. The future you work toward is your decision.”
Zuko felt tears gathering in his eyes again; one went blurry and hot, the other stung and burned. How was he supposed to decide? He didn’t know what the right decision was, and he couldn’t afford to choose wrong again.
Kill a dragon, regain his honor, return to the Fire Nation and Father and Azula. Or say no, leave his family and his birthright behind, and earn some nameless thing called freedom.
Not your whole family , a little voice whispered. You’d still have Uncle.
A week ago it wouldn’t have even been a choice, but now he had a lesson in fear burned into his skin. He wanted to go back; he already missed the Fire Nation so much it hurt. He wanted to sit by the turtleduck pond, even if Mother wasn’t there anymore. He wanted to see his sister, even if all she would do is show off and rub his face in his own failures. But did he want to see Father?
It didn’t matter. It shouldn’t matter. He couldn’t afford to choose wrong.
He didn’t think he could take another failure.
Iroh left his nephew alone after that. He did not like to, but he knew Zuko well enough to understand that he liked to work through difficult things on his own. So, once it was clear that Zuko was not willing to talk any longer, he stood and told Zuko that he was going to inform his healer that he was awake and lucid.
He stepped out into warm sunlight and started the trek through the ancient city. It truly was a shame how the city could not be maintained anymore. So few people lived here now; it would be impossible for them to keep their city in good repair. And there was another reason for keeping the city so obviously abandoned; the Sun Warriors were supposed to all be dead, after all. Just like the dragons.
And wasn’t that a problem. Iroh believed what he had said to Zuko. He wanted Zuko to choose his path for himself. He needed that.
But he also did not know what he would do if Zuko decided to fulfill Ozai’s cruel quest in order to return home. He knew his nephew needed to be free to act, but there were some actions that Iroh could not allow his nephew to take. If Zuko were to challenge a dragon…Iroh did not know if he would fight to protect the dragon or his nephew.
And then there was the matter of Zuko being the Avatar. Unrealized, but still the Avatar. The world needed the Avatar, but there was no doubt in Iroh’s mind that as he was now, Zuko was not ready to know. There was a reason that the Avatar traditionally was not told until they were sixteen, and not just because of spiritual maturity. No child should ever have to bear that burden so young.
But Iroh knew that Zuko would have to bear it one day. Not many years from now, the Fire Sages would be able to determine his identity, and Iroh had no doubt that Ozai would be quick to offer the illusion of love and acceptance if only Zuko would return to the Fire Nation and kill for them.
No, Zuko needed to understand by then that Ozai had no love in him, and that the Fire Nation was wrong to wage this war. But there was no good way to explain such a thing to him; how did one tell a son that his father did not love him? There was no good way.
Iroh let out a gusty sigh.
“Something on your mind?”
Iroh let out a surprised laugh; there were few people who could still sneak up on him. Stepping out from a narrow path between two buildings—doubtless some faster route through the city that Iroh did not know—one of the only men who could smiled in greeting.
“Ah, Master Tohil. Just the man I was looking for,” Iroh said. “I am afraid my nephew is awake.”
Tohil raised an eyebrow. “That’s earlier than expected.” He turned on his heel and strode down the street, back in the direction of the small healing room where Iroh and Zuko had been staying. “How is he?”
Following, Iroh sighed again. “I explained to him as best I could why we came here, and why he was banished. He did not take the news well.”
“That’s hardly surprising,” Tohil remarked. He made a quick turn, slipping into another side path so narrow that Iroh could barely follow him through it. “He’s had a rough time of it, from what you’ve told me. And I doubt that will be ending now.”
They emerged from the narrow alley onto a broader thoroughfare, and Iroh recognized it as one quite close to the healing room. Tohil stopped in the middle of the road and turned to face Iroh, a serious expression on his face.
He did not appear to be a terribly remarkable man at first glance; not tall or short, not broad or skinny. He did not wear the clothing of a warrior; instead he wore a simple, practical homespun tunic and pants dyed soft red and gold. He appeared perhaps to have just reached middle age, with the beginnings of lines on his face and the beginning of gray in the hair at his temples.
But then there was the bright gold color of his eyes, and the thickness of the gold bands he wore on his arms. No, this was not a simple Sun Warrior on a day off. Iroh had known for a long time that Master Tohil was one of the most skilled firebenders alive.
“Iroh,” Tohil said now. “I think that, before we see your nephew, you should know that I know something about him that you, perhaps, do not want anyone to know just yet. Including him.”
Iroh smiled noncommittally, concealing the spike of fear he felt for his nephew. Was there something he had missed? “And how would you know this?”
Tohil shrugged. “I’ve been healing for more than long enough to recognize spiritual energy, Iroh. He’s young, yes, but brimming with potential and chi. It’s not hard to see that he could be a very powerful bender after a few years of training. Why, I wouldn’t be surprised if he could learn bending styles from all four corners of the globe.” He gave a sharp, twinkling smile.
Iroh laughed again, but this time in relief. All four corners indeed. “Would there be others who could recognize his…potential in the way that you did?”
Tohil shrugged. “A Fire Sage could, in a few years. Another healing master like myself, from here or the Water Tribes. Maybe a guru or an Air Nomad elder, though I haven’t seen any of either for a while now. But even to one of them it wouldn’t be immediately obvious. And don’t worry; I won’t tell anyone. It’s easy to see he’s not yet ready.”
Iroh sighed in relief. That was good; the last thing he needed was knowledge of the Avatar’s identity circulating through the spiritual community. He knew there would be those among them eager to put the Avatar on the task of restoring balance, and who would forget that the Avatar is human as well as spirit.
But there was still one question. “Why did you wish me to know of your knowledge regarding my nephew?”
“Because it’s easy to see you could use some help, Iroh, and you’re more likely to take it from me if you know that I already know the secret.” He began walking again.
“And what kind of help are you offering?” Iroh asked. “You have already done a great deal for my nephew and I.”
“The help of an ally, and the help of someone who you don’t have to keep this secret from.” Tohil smiled sadly. “Secrets are a great burden to bear. The burden is easier when carried on multiple shoulders.”
Iroh supposed that he would know. “Thank you,” he said.
The man smiled, as always. It was incredible how many emotions he could display while still looking cheerful. “Of course. Now, let’s go see about this nephew of yours.”
Notes:
And there's chapter the second. I hope you enjoyed!
I want to give a HUGE thank you to everyone who left kudos and subscribed and bookmarked and commented! I wasn't really sure what kind of reception this fic would get (if it got one at all) and so every time I see the number of kudos go up or see another comment in my inbox it makes me so happy.
Seriously. I have never done crack cocaine before, but I have the feeling it would be similar to the intense elation I feel every time I see a new comment. It's honestly addictive and I had to turn off email notifications so I wouldn't drop what I was doing in order to reply. Thank you guys so much!!
As far as some kind of update schedule goes, I'm shooting for once a week, probably Mondays or Tuesdays. But again, this is the first story I've published while writing it, so I'm not entirely sure how that'll go.
Again, thank you all so much and have a wonderful morning/evening/day/night!
Chapter Text
Zuko sat stiffly on the edge of the bed as Master Tohil—who Uncle had introduced barely a minute ago—unwrapped the bandages that still covered his left eye. He hated how close the man stood, but he couldn’t deny that his face hurt. Having a healer look at it seemed to at least not be a terrible idea. Even if the healer in question did wear antiquated armbands and didn't even keep his hair long enough for a topknot.
But even if Zuko could admit he needed a healer, he still wished neither of them had come back. It felt like no time at all had passed between when Uncle had left and returned. He’d barely had time to think, let alone try to make a decision, and now he sat as tense as his exhaustion would allow, feeling horribly twitchy.
He felt it when the last layer of bandages was removed. An uncomfortable tugging as they were peeled away, followed by the sting of air on hot, burned skin. He closed his left eye on reflex, wincing at the stab of bright light.
“Definitely improved,” Master Tohil was saying. “It doesn’t need any immediate attention, so we’ll let it breathe for a bit while I answer your questions.”
Zuko kept his eye closed, staying silent as an unexpected fear rose in him. The burn was bad, even if Master Tohil said it had improved. He could still remember the pain of it as it happened, and the pain afterward. What kind of damage could cause that kind of pain? Would he be able to see anything from that eye but blinding light?
Uncle watched him silently, and Master Tohil seemed to be waiting for him to speak. Well, there was no way Zuko would be asking about this. He needed to know for himself, and there was only one way to find out. He braced himself, hands clenched in his lap, and blinked open his aching left eye.
The light blinded him at first, too bright to tell if he could see anything at all. He winced but kept the eye open, and gradually the light resolved into the same room that he could see through his right eye.
But…but that wasn’t possible. Zuko squeezed his right eye shut, expecting the world to go blurry, but it didn’t. If anything, he could see more clearly through his left eye.
He turned to Master Tohil, forgetting to be wary of the man anymore. He remembered the pain, so how—
“How can I see?” he demanded. “I shouldn’t be able to see.”
Master Toil smiled and sat down on the stone floor, ignoring the open space on the other bed. He looked perfectly at ease.
“Do you know, Prince Zuko, that some waterbenders use their bending to heal?”
He hadn’t known that. Zuko scowled and shook his head.
Master Tohil blinked. “That’s alright, you’ll just have to take my word for it.” He paused and held out a hand, palm up, in front of him. “The point is that waterbending isn’t the only discipline that can heal. Fire can do it too. Look.”
Motion flickered in the palm of Master Tohil’s hand. A flame grew slowly there, covering the surface of his palm with steady red fire. Like a bed of embers barely burning.
It was unlike anything Zuko had ever seen before; every master he’d ever been taught by had insisted on hot, strong, powerful flames. He’d never imagined a master making weak fire on purpose .
“There’s more to it than temperature, of course,” Master Tohil said. “The temperature you need depends on the type of injury you need to heal.” The flame grew brighter and hotter, passing through orange into blue and then white hot, so warm Zuko could feel it on his face. But still the flames stayed small and only flickered slightly. “But generally speaking, cooler flames are better for healing.”
The fire faded to red again, and Master Tohil looked up and smiled. Why did he keep doing that?
Zuko scowled at the flames. It didn’t make any sense. Fire was powerful and angry and destructive. Fire was a weapon, a weapon that Master Tohil clearly had incredible control over, to be able to produce such a hot flame. Weapons didn’t heal. And if they did, how could no one know about it but this one master, hidden away in a ruined city?
And yet Zuko could see just as well from his left eye as he could from his right. He looked up at Master Tohil’s still-smiling face.
“I don’t understand. How can fire heal?”
Master Tohil put out the fire in his palm and put on a more serious expression.
“You’ve probably been taught that fire can only be used for destruction, yes? That’s part of the truth, but not all of it. Fire can destroy. But if you can guide that destructive power and combine it with light and energy, then you can burn out what needs to be removed and lend strength to new growth.
“The destructive side of fire is what makes it so powerful when it’s used to heal. Waterbending can’t remove damaged tissue. It can only repair what’s already there. Sometimes that’s all an injury needs, but in other cases water will heal the immediate injury and yet leave lasting damage. Fire can heal completely.”
That almost made sense. It sounded logical, yet Zuko still couldn’t imagine it. The concept felt wrong, like a waste. Fire was powerful and strong. He couldn’t picture someone not using all that destructive potential when it was just one deep breath away. It was stupid not to use power when you had it. Anything else was weakness.
“Practically speaking,” Master Tohil said, “this means that a fire healer has the potential to heal anything, as long as they’re skilled enough. For example, I removed the damaged nerves and other internal structures in your left eye and then helped them grow back new. That’s why you can still see.”
Zuko supposed that was good. It just…didn’t seem possible. Even if his eye worked somehow, his head still ached and the burn was starting to itch again. He wished Master Tohil would go away and take his fire healing with him so Zuko wouldn’t have to think for a bit.
“Master Tohil’s skill is why I brought us here, Zuko,” Uncle said. Zuko had almost forgotten he was still there. He was smiling. “It’s wonderful, isn’t it? You will be able to recover completely in just a few more days. The burn won’t even skar.”
That—
Zuko tensed, anger surging through him. Everything he’d had to listen to his Uncle say since he’d woken up came back to him like a slap to the face. He clenched his fists on the thin mattress. He couldn’t look at Uncle. He couldn’t look at either of them. How could Uncle think—
“Zuko…” Uncle’s voice again. “What’s wrong?”
That was it. Zuko lurched to his feet and spun to face his Uncle, temper steaming. “Everything! How could anything not be wrong? I’m banished, Uncle!” Zuko’s voice broke. “I’ve been banished, and you want me to just go on with my life and pretend like nothing happened!”
Uncle’s face fell. “Zuko, please, I understand that—”
Zuko wasn’t done yet. “You don’t understand anything! I didn’t ask for any of this; I didn’t ask for you to meddle in my life. I can’t go home all healed up like nothing happened. I won’t pretend that nothing happened!”
“Zuko please, you must think carefully before you make a decision on this—”
“You want my decision?” Zuko fired back. “I won’t abandon my country.” He was barely aware of deciding, but with anger fueling him Zuko could see that his doubts were just weakness. He refused to be weak any longer. “I won’t leave my birthright behind. No matter how long it takes me, I will find a dragon and I will kill it to prove my honor!”
His declaration was met with silence. Zuko stood in the center of the room, heart pounding, waiting for more of a reaction than Master Tohil’s wide eyes or the dismayed look on Uncle’s face. Nothing.
Fine then. He didn’t have to wait for either of them. He ducked out through the curtained doorway, nearly tripped over the teapot that Uncle had left on the ground outside, and took off running.
Zuko knew he wouldn’t be able to manage it for long. His head spun and his legs shook and his bare feet already ached from pounding on hard ground. But physical pain was easier to deal with than the shame that crept up inside him as his anger drained away.
He paid no attention to where he was going, feeling only the pounding in his head build steadily. Eventually his strength ran out. He tripped on one of the many sprawling vines, and stumbled to his knees.
Vision spinning, Zuko hung his head and gasped for breath. How far had he made it? Did he need to get up again and keep going in case one of them was coming after him? He raised his head, but the wide courtyard he found himself in was deserted aside from himself and the vigorous plants that had burst through the stones years ago and now tangled on the ground, blooming with bright spring flowers.
Zuko closed his eyes, sagging. What did he think he was doing? Did he think he was just going to walk out the door and find a dragon within the hour? Not to mention he was injured, dizzy, barefoot, and didn’t know where he was or what he was doing. There wasn’t anything useful he could do right now aside from maybe try to gather information, get a lead on where to look.
And the best way to do that would be to talk to Uncle.
Zuko grimaced. That was the last thing he wanted to do right now. With that intense anger passed he didn’t know what to think about Uncle; part of him was grateful, incredibly grateful to have someone by his side and was ashamed of yelling at him, but he also was still frustrated with Uncle. He’d said again and again that it was Zuko’s choice what he did next, but it was so clear what he wanted Zuko to do.
Uncle would just have to be disappointed in him. Zuko had made his decision.
He pushed himself to his feet, breath mostly recovered. He hadn’t really looked at the city yet; the stone here was sandy-yellow instead of white-gray, and the buildings were shorter and larger with more space between them. The warm, light colors were incredibly odd to see in a city. Even if he imagined what it must have been like before falling into disrepair, Zuko knew this place was nothing like home.
With the exception of one building. A blocky tower built in tiered sections, it rose on the far side of the courtyard. It wasn’t so much the architecture that felt familiar, but the soaring height of it compared to all the other low, sprawling buildings. Vines climbed along almost the entire height of it.
Zuko picked his way through the tangled vines on the courtyard floor until he reached the tower. His balance was better with both eyes uncovered, but even then he wasn’t so sure about the crumbling steps that led up along the outside of the tower.
Zuko opted for a different route to the top. The vines were old and woody, thoroughly entrenched within cracks and crevices in the stones that made up the tower. They made good hand holds as he climbed.
Zuko was already shaking by the time he reached the top of the first tier, but he kept climbing until the vines ran out near the top. He heaved himself up onto the ledge that made the last tier, shaking, sweating, and gasping for breath. He inched his way along the narrow tier until he could see the inside of the city spread out before him. Even though he was exhausted from the climb, Zuko could breathe easier up here.
Zuko had always found heights comforting. At first he had only climbed trees in the gardens when Azula had been too small to reach the branches and follow him, but over the years he’d found more and more ways to climb higher and higher. Roofs, towers, walls, pillars in the high-ceiled formal rooms. No one ever looked up high. High places were good places, if you wanted to go unnoticed.
He sat with his back against the tower wall, legs hanging off the ledge. The wind up here was stronger than the ground, and it tugged strands of hair loose from the low tail it was tied in. Most of his hair had been left long, thankfully, but while Uncle had been gone Zuko had noticed how it was shaved around the outside edge of the bandage, with stubble just beginning to grow back.
It left the left side of his face feeling weird and itchy with the combination of heat from still-burned skill and cold from the chill wind. And it probably looked ridiculous. But up here, Zuko reminded himself, he didn’t care. High places were good places, if you wanted to be alone.
And this was a good place. He could see out across the city for what felt like miles, all the way to the mountains on the other side of the valley. The layout seemed odd; the closer to the center the buildings were, the more space there was between them and the larger and taller they were built. In the very center of the city reared a truly massive building, stranger than anything Zuko had ever seen. It was built in tiers, like his own tower, but the tiers were shorter and made a pyramid shape, like a small mountain.
The city was incredible. Strange and very little like home, but still incredible. Where was he? Zuko tried to remember if he’d ever heard about ancient ruined cities in his lessons, but came up blank. He didn’t actually know much about Earth Kingdom buildings, ancient or otherwise. But Tohil’s golden eyes and armbands had definitely been Fire Nation, even if they did seem old fashioned—
Oh . How had he not realized it sooner? An ancient city with architecture like nothing he’d ever seen, and from the sun’s angle he’d come north, maybe enough to be just out of Fire Nation waters…
The city of the ancient, extinct Sun Warriors. The traditional starting point for a dragon hunt.
Sitting on the top of that tower, staring out over an ancient city known for the very task Zuko needed to complete…it felt like destiny. For a moment Zuko imagined that this was why Uncle had brought him here, to start the hunt as tradition dictated. But then he remembered Uncle’s words from earlier about Tohil’s healing; that was Uncle’s reason.
Zuko shied away from the thought. He didn’t want to think about Uncle; it was difficult to be angry when he was so tired.
But Tohil…Uncle had said he lived here. And the man dressed like it was two hundred years ago, and knew a firebending technique that Zuko had never even heard legend of.
But that was ridiculous. He’d always been told that the Sun Warriors had died out centuries ago; their old superstitions hadn’t been able to survive as the greater Fire Nation advanced. There weren’t any Sun Warriors left.
But people also said there weren’t any dragons left, after Uncle had killed the last one. Maybe if there were still Sun Warriors alive, then the chance of him finding a dragon soon was much higher.
Looking out over the ancient city, Zuko made up his mind. He would find a dragon, and he would go home again.
And whatever Uncle’s reason for coming here had been, Zuko knew that this was a sign. This place was, after all, the best place in the world to start his hunt. He had to be here for a reason.
The curtain flapped closed behind Zuko. Already on his feet, Iroh was nearly to the doorway when Tohil caught his arm.
“Let him go for now, Iroh,” Tohil said.
Iroh stopped himself and took a deliberate breath. “Yes, of course. He needs to calm himself.” Iroh was no stranger to his nephew’s temper. But he could not dismiss the fear that had taken root in him with Zuko’s declaration. This was the worst case scenario, and Iroh hated to think that there might be nothing he could do. “Although I worry that he will push himself too far when he still needs rest.”
“He’s in good enough shape for some physical activity, and time in the sun will be good for him too.” Tohil let go of Iroh’s arm, and it was then that Iroh realized Tohil was no longer smiling. “Iroh, I need you to explain what, exactly, he was talking about just now. Why is the boy you brought here on a dragon hunt? Why is the Avatar on a dragon hunt?”
Iroh sighed. This was a conversation for tea, but he knew Tohil was not the kind of man who would wait for this answer. “The Firelord has declared that the only way Zuko can prove his honor and return home is to kill a dragon. I had hoped to convince him to take a different path, but I see that will be…more difficult than expected. I will make sure we leave this place as soon as possible, and I will do my best to make sure that my nephew does not have the chance to do something he may later regret.”
Tohil folded his arms and stared into space a moment, brow furrowed in thought. “...That certainly complicates matters. But Iroh, the problem here is larger than whether or not the two of you are thrown from the island. He’s the Avatar . I know Zuko’s young, but the world already needs him.”
Iroh met Tohil’s gaze head on, and stood his ground. “He is not yet ready to know. And if there is any chance of Zuko ever being ready to restore balance to the world, then I must treat him as my nephew first and the Avatar second. I believe he can move past this. He simply needs to be given enough time.”
Tohil actually took a step back, shaking his head. “I wasn’t suggesting telling him yet. It’s easy to see he needs time to work through some other stuff first. But he needs more than just time. He needs to understand .”
Iroh frowned. “Understand what?”
A fierce, old look came across Tohil’s face, and for a moment he looked like the warrior that Iroh knew he had once been. “A great many things. But first of all, he needs to understand dragons. I think I may need to pay a visit to the Masters Ran and Shaw.”
Notes:
So you know how I said I'd try for weekly updates? yeah so do I...
But anyway here it is. This chapter was a pretty tricky one since I had to figure out some specifics of how the next few chapters are going to go before I could finish it. I wanted to get into that plot already, but it'll have to wait for next week.
Chapter Text
Tohil had to wait hours before Zuko decided to climb down from his perch near the top of an abandoned meditation tower. Zuko hadn’t been difficult to find, at least after Iroh had mentioned his habit of climbing when he wanted to be alone, but Tohil would rather have spent the time searching for him than sitting and waiting in the overgrown courtyard below.
Tohil had known and still knew plenty of old people (and some young ones, too) who would have been glad for the time to “sit and reflect,” or whatever it is that old people spent all their time doing once they retired. Despite his own age, Tohil had never felt the inclination to either retire or spend any great amount of time “reflecting”. If there was one thing his already long life had taught him, it was that there was always something meaningful to do.
Just then, “something meaningful” meant waiting for an understandably temperamental fire prince and unrealized avatar to be ready for healing and human company, an activity that very nearly forced Tohil to sit and reflect. Luckily he had prepared for situations like this, and so he had on him a medical treatise from the Fire Nation that he hadn’t had time to read yet. Despite the war, or more likely because of it, there was plenty of good medical thought going on in the Fire Nation.
Absorbed in his reading, Tohil was almost able to forget who he was sitting in that hot, dusty, overgrown courtyard. But he kept the reason there in the back of his mind, waiting for when Zuko came down and he would be needed.
In the aftermath of Zuko’s outburst, Iroh had been understandably concerned about the prince’s decision to fulfill the terms of his banishment. But as a healer Tohil had a more pressing concern, one he was willing to sit here and wait for. Seeing the Masters would have to come later. Tohil didn’t particularly like being patient, but he’d discovered it was a skill one couldn’t help but develop with age.
It was nearly mid afternoon when Zuko finally came down. Tohil very intentionally did not watch his descent; he had no intention of making himself age any faster. If Prince Zuko could get up there, then he would most likely get down too. Instead Tohil pretended to read the treatise, even though he’d finished it nearly an hour ago. Patience indeed.
A loud thump and a quiet curse announced Zuko’s arrival on the ground. Tohil looked up, concerned, but Zuko did not appear injured from the fall, only frustrated. He sat at the foot of the tower, flushed and panting to catch his breath. Zuko met his eye and glared. It was an impressive glare, all things considered.
Despite the sweat, dust, and clear exhaustion, Zuko did look a little healthier than when he’d stormed out a few hours ago. His eyes were more alert, and his skin tone had evened out. He was definitely ready to be moving again—although climbing five story towers might still be a bit much. Tohil had no doubt he’d finish recovering quickly, if only Zuko would let him finish healing that burn.
Tohil nodded pleasantly and remained sitting. “Lovely day, isn’t it? I’ve been told bright sunlight like this is good for meditation, although I’ve never much liked meditating myself.”
Still breathing hard, Prince Zuko pushed himself to his feet. He stumbled, but steadied himself with a hand against the tower wall. He glared with his head held high, chin stuck out slightly, like he was trying to be intimidating. It wasn’t particularly effective, coming from an injured kid in a sleeping robe who couldn’t be more than five feet tall.
“Why were you waiting for me?” Prince Zuko asked.
Tohil put his scroll to the side and folded his hands in his lap. “Simple, really. We have a conversation to finish about your injury. You might still have questions for me, and I have a few questions for you.”
Zuko looked slightly bewildered. “You didn’t have to wait out here just for that.”
Tohil shrugged. “No, but as your healer it’s my responsibility to make sure you don’t pass out from heat exhaustion or fall in a spike pit. And I imagine you might appreciate someone to show you the way back.”
And also someone to make sure he didn’t run across anything too obviously dragon related. Like one of the active temples, or one of the many murals and mosaics that old Manrin insisted on maintaining. Dramatic reveals like that were better done under controlled circumstances.
“I could have found my own way,” Zuko said, folding his arms a bit petulantly. “And heat doesn’t bother firebenders, and I haven’t seen even one spike pit.”
“It doesn’t bother healthy ones. And the problem with the spike pits is that you can’t see them until it's too late.” Tohil kept his tone even and a pleasant smile on his face, gesturing to a patch of relatively plant-free stone near him. “Why don’t you sit down?”
“What kind of city is this?” Zuko muttered, but sat.
Tohil decided to let that remark slide. “Have you figured out where we are yet?” he asked, genuinely curious.
Zuko looked up, a cautious look on his face. “...We’re in the city of the Sun Warriors. They aren’t all dead, and you’re one of them.”
Well that was fast. But he’d be meeting the Masters soon anyway, so there was no point keeping it secret. “What gave it away?” he asked wryly. “Was it the hair? It’s always the hair.”
Zuko looked at him like it was obvious, missing the joke entirely. “We didn’t come very far north. There was only one option.” He paused, turning half away but still watching Tohil from the corner of his eye. “And I already had dragons on my mind.”
And no wonder why. Iroh had explained the terms of Zuko’s banishment when the two of them had arrived on the island, even if he had been cagey about the reason for it. The Chieftain had nearly thrown them both out because of those terms. A younger Tohil might have supported that decision, but those extreme feelings had now been tempered by years of regret. He hadn’t forgotten what had happened to the dragons, and nor would he let it happen again. But that didn’t mean he had to refuse care to those who were yet innocent.
Zuko continued to eye him, posture growing more hostile. “I won’t let you change my mind. I don’t care how hard it is to find a dragon. I’m going home.”
“I’m not here to persuade you,” Tohil said, smiling to try and break the tension. “Not now, at least. Right now I’m here about that burn.”
Zuko looked away. He pulled his legs to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, like a turtle-crab retreating into its shell. “You’ve done enough already. I’m fine now.”
In his very long healing career, Tohil had dealt with plenty of patients who, for various terrible reasons, didn’t seem to want a full, miraculous recovery. It wasn’t professional, but people like that never failed to make him just a little bit angry at the world.
He put on his best how-stupid-do-you-think-I-am face and said “Have you looked in a mirror lately? I don’t have to have decades of healing experience to know you are not ‘fine.’”
Zuko scowled at him before looking away again. “You fixed my eye. I don’t need any more than that.”
Tohil sighed, exasperated. “Yes, I did. I also fixed your ear, too, if you hadn’t noticed. But that and treating the infection is all I’ve finished with. I’ve only done the bare minimum for the muscle and skin on the outside. If you let it heal naturally, it’ll scar. It won’t be pretty.”
“I’m not an idiot!” Zuko yelled. “I know I’ll have a scar, and so does everyone else who was at the Agni Kai.”
…Agni Kai? Tohil felt like someone had thrown him into a wall. Iroh hadn’t mentioned an Agni Kai. Who let a thirteen year old child fight in an Agni Kai? What kind of opponent went for the face?
Zuko was still looking at him, tense and angry, waiting. Tohil tried to rein in his emotions, thinking quickly. If this truly was a matter of honor, then Tohil wouldn’t hold the same authority as a healer. If it was a matter of honor… “I wasn’t aware your injury was from an honor duel,” he said after a moment. “Was the duel official?"
“Of course it was official,” Zuko said, but he seemed to be relaxing, thinking that Tohil was backing off.
How wrong he was. Iroh probably wouldn’t be able to have a truly frank conversation about this for fear of alienating Zuko. Tohil knew that Iroh needed his nephew to keep trusting him.
Tohil didn’t have that problem. He had long since learned that self delusions like this were best pulled up early, before they had the chance to truly take root in the soul. It would hurt now, but not as much as it would hurt years later.
“I assume that someone under the age of majority still needs their guardian’s permission to fight an Agni Kai?”
“Yes, but I had permission and it was official. My father was the one who ordered me to fight, for Agni’s sake!”
Ordered— Since when could a father order their child to fight? What in Agni’s own ashes was going on in the Fire Nation? Tohil took a very deep breath.
“Why, exactly, were you ordered to fight this duel? Who did you fight?”
Zuko hesitated. His whole body tensed, and he shrank into himself. But he still spoke. “I spoke out of turn. I disrespected the Fire Lord in his war room, in front of all his generals and advisors. It was a grave insult.”
Tohil wanted to burn something. Preferably the current Fire Lord. To a crisp. And then down to ashes, which he would dump in the deepest ocean trench he could find.
“So you’re telling me that the Fire Lord, the person responsible for protecting the people of his nation, not to mention his own son, ordered you to fight against him in a duel? And you agreed?”
Zuko wouldn’t look at him. He stared straight ahead with his chin between his knees so that all Tohil could see was the burn covering his face. “I didn’t realize it would be him,” he said quietly. “I thought I would be fighting the general I spoke against.”
This just kept getting worse. “And the duel went forward anyway? You didn’t protest?”
Zuko jerked upright, angry again. “How could I have? I couldn’t speak against the Fire Lord. It was my fault for misunderstanding.”
“I don’t know how you do it in the Fire Nation these days, but as far as I’m aware an Agni Kai isn’t honorable unless both participants agree to the duel with full understanding of their agreement.”
“...he’s the Fire Lord. I couldn’t speak against him.”
Tohil sighed again. He wasn’t getting anywhere. “And so, what? You fought him and lost?” Had the Fire Lord’s hand slipped? How had Zuko ended up with a burn that bad? Even a measly partial thickness burn would have ended the duel, yet Zuko had been burned so badly it nearly killed him.
If Zuko had been tense before, now he was tensed up so tight he was nearly vibrating. The one eye that Tohil could see stared at nothing. “I couldn’t fight him. It was shameful, but I begged mercy. I couldn’t fight for what I had tried to stand up for in the war room. I showed that I had no honor.”
Tohil had heard other Warriors claim that the Fire Nation had abandoned honor. He didn’t know about everyone in the Nation, but the Fire Lord certainly had. “Unless the definition of honor has changed in the last few decades,” he said, voice carefully controlled, “then I believe it was your father who showed that he had no honor in that duel.”
Zuko looked livid . “I won’t let you insult my father! He did what he had to to teach me respect!”
Tohil shook his head. “No man who hurts his son wants respect. The only thing he wanted to teach you was fear.”
Zuko went pale. He looked away, blinking furiously and glaring at nothing. “My father cares about me,” he said quietly. “He wants me back. He gave me a task so that I could prove myself and return home with honor.”
How long had Zuko been telling himself that his father still cared? It had the sound of a recital to it, like a meditation mantra. This lie was far from new. It was rooted deep.
“I stand by what I said,” Tohil said eventually. “I don’t believe that duel was an honorable one, and I don’t believe you deserve to keep the mark from it. Think about it. It doesn’t matter how long you wait; I’ll always be able to heal that scar if you want me to. It would be my honor.”
Zuko didn’t reply for a long time. Tohil hoped he was thinking, truly thinking, but didn’t know Zuko well enough to tell if it was likely.
“That won’t be necessary,” Zuko said. “Thank you for all that you’ve done, Master Tohil, but I won’t ask any more of you.”
“Look, if you truly want to keep the scar I can leave it alone. I can help the burn heal like it would naturally, just faster. At least that way you won’t have to deal with the pain of it.”
“...I’ll think about it.”
For now, that was probably all he would get. If Zuko stayed after he met the masters, then he might have another chance to convince him. But until then, Tohil supposed he would have to be patient.
“Will you tell me anything about dragons?” Zuko said after a moment. “I need to know where to find one.”
Tohil winced. This kid had terrible timing. And Tohil could see now that he wouldn’t be able to convince Zuko to abandon his quest with words alone. He’d have to follow through with the idea he’d proposed to Iroh.
“There’s a lot I could tell you, actually. But I have some friends you should meet who will be more useful. They’re old masters who remember far more than I do.”
Notes:
So uhh, yeah. It's been a bit more than a week. some stuff's gone down since I last posted, not to mention I had to do a complete overhaul of this chapter and postpone a lot of the content I had ready for next chapter. I really did want to get to Zuko meeting the Masters, but that's gonna be next time. On the bright side, I already have most of next chapter written, so it should go up in a few more days.
What do you guys think of Tohil? I didn't really expect him to be a major character in this but he kind of stole the spotlight without me expecting it lol.
I hope you all enjoyed!
Chapter 5: A Command
Notes:
May I just say, from the bottom of my heart, sorry. I didn't exactly mean to take this long, but then I broke my foot and life went a little insane for a bit. (If you ever find yourself in the wacked-up position where you have to choose what bone to break, do not go for a foot bone. Or a femur. Or like anything from the waist down. Not being able to walk sucks.) So yeah, here I am, and here's the chapter.
Chapter Text
Master Tohil insisted they return to the temporary healing room. “Even if you won’t let me heal you the fast way,” he said, “I’m still going to make sure you recover as quickly as possible. That means rest.”
Zuko didn’t complain. Maybe the heat was getting to him; his head pounded and his throat was parched. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten something.
But even through his exhaustion Zuko wondered about the “old masters” that Tohil said he should meet. He’d agreed to the meeting when Tohil suggested it; he couldn’t ignore any leads, no matter how vague.
He tried not to think about the other things that Master Tohil had said during their conversation. His reactions had been…strange. Zuko couldn’t see the reason for him to act so shocked about the story, and so he tried to put the whole conversation out of his head. It didn’t matter what Master Tohil thought about the Agni Kai. It was over. Zuko had already made his decision. He tried to put it out of his mind.
But even as he tried not to think about it, one thing Master Tohil had said came back to him, so similar to what Uncle had told him earlier that day. The only thing he wanted to teach you was fear .
Then Zuko thought of Uncle, and how he himself had yelled at Uncle for just trying to help.
By the time they reached the section of the city where the stonework turned from warm yellow to cold gray, Zuko had given up on trying to puzzle out his next move.
Maybe Uncle would know something. If Uncle would even talk to him, after how Zuko had yelled at him before.
Zuko didn’t recognize the old building where he’d been staying until Tohil veered toward the doorway and ducked under the curtain. Zuko hesitated on the threshold; he wasn’t scared of Uncle being angry with him for yelling, not really. What he was scared of was the disappointment he knew Uncle felt in him. Uncle had wanted him to choose differently.
Whatever Uncle’s reaction, he’d just have to deal with it. Even if Uncle decided to leave him on his own, it didn’t matter. Zuko had made his decision.
He went inside the small building after Tohil. Uncle had made tea, of course, and sat on the floor in a patch of sunlight that fell from one of the windows. Zuko stopped on the threshold, tense, waiting.
Uncle looked up, but instead of anger or disappointment, Zuko found Uncle smiling. “Ah, nephew, I am glad you have returned.” Uncle turned to include Tohil in his next remark. “Would you both care to join me in enjoying this tea?”
Zuko didn’t move. Granted, he didn’t think he’d ever seen Uncle seriously angry, but surely Zuko had done enough. Surely there should be some kind of consequence.
“Tea sounds lovely,” Tohil said brightly. He sat on the floor as well, perfectly content to play along with whatever strange scheme Zuko had found himself in. They were both looking at him now, expectantly.
Zuko braced himself. “Aren’t you angry with me?”
Uncle relaxed visibly, his smile returning. “I am not upset with you, Zuko. I told you before, didn’t I? I wished you to make your own decision in this matter. I will not be angry with you over the choice that you have made. I will be by your side as long as you wish it.”
He didn’t know how to reply to that, so instead he sat down and accepted the tea that Uncle offered him. He took a sip just to have something to do with his hands, and found that he was horribly thirsty. Had he had anything to drink since he’d woken up? He hadn't eaten anything, either, and was beginning to notice.
“The tea is wonderful, Iroh,” Tohil said. “You really do have a unique skill in brewing.”
Uncle smiled. “My skill would be worth nothing if there were not those who appreciated it.”
Zuko finished his cup, and Uncle refilled it with a twinkle in his eye. Zuko decided he was not going to start screaming again, no matter how much he wanted to. Were either of them going to talk about anything important?
Tohil finished his tea quickly, and set his cup on the floor, out of refill range. Zuko's respect for the man increased; there weren’t many who could rush through tea with Uncle and get away with it.
“Thank you again for the tea, Iroh,” he said, standing. “I need to be on my way, now. I have a visit to pay to some old friends, before I introduce them to Prince Zuko tomorrow.”
Uncle paused mid sip. “So soon?”
Zuko scowled. “I’m healed enough, and I need to start looking as soon as I can.”
“My thoughts exactly,” Tohil said, smiling cheerfully. “There’s no good reason to waste time waiting. Oh, and I should warn you, Prince Zuko. There’s usually a bit of ceremony involved when someone meets the Masters for the first time.” He sailed out the door without waiting for a reply, a spring in his step.
Uncle sighed, a slight furrow between his brows, and turned back to his tea. He looked worried. When had Zuko last seen that look on his face?
“…Are you all right, Uncle?” he asked after a moment.
Uncle seemed to shake himself, and his smile seemed forced. “Of course. I am simply worried that you may strain yourself so soon after your injury, if you do not take time to rest.”
Zuko couldn’t really bring himself to be angry. He looked down at his tea, the cup empty again. “I’ll be fine, Uncle.”
Uncle continued to smile that brittle smile. “Of course.”
Not far into the next morning, Zuko decided he was going to strangle Tohil the next time he saw the man. A bit of ceremony . He’d just failed to mention that said ceremony involved carrying a handful of fire up the side of an Agni-forsaken mountain .
Zuko hauled himself up the face of yet another boulder, gasping for breath, the flame in his hand guttering dangerously. He’d barely made it halfway, and he was already exhausted and feeling like his breakfast would be coming back up soon. He hadn’t firebent since his warmup just before entering the Agni Kai arena. He hadn’t so much as meditated, and now his chi felt thin and weak as it fueled the unsteady fire in his hand.
He needed to pull himself together. He’d met five year olds with better control than he was displaying. Zuko paused on top of the boulder and took deep, measured breaths like he’d been taught since before he could remember, trying to feel the air as it converted to energy in his body. The flame steadied, and he went on.
By the time Zuko reached the top, he could barely keep his fire going. If he’d been even a little worse at breath control, it would have gone out by now, and he probably would have passed out with it. As it was he could barely keep moving as he scrambled up the last few feet of loose scree, covered in sweat and grime.
The first person Zuko saw was the Sun Warrior Chieftain, standing in the center of a wide basin carved into the cleft between the two mountain peaks. A massive staircase led upward from the basin to a walkway that spanned the distance between the two peaks. Master Tohil stood at the foot of the staircase, and the basin was ringed with Warriors. Uncle stood outside the circle, looking in.
Trembling from more than exhaustion now—what kind of Masters was he meeting, if they wanted this much fuss made about it?—Zuko fought to keep his back straight, his breaths even, and his flame held high as the Chieftain stepped forward.
Zuko barely processed what the Chieftain said. Something along the lines of “Tohil has vouched for you so you probably won’t die, but still be respectful.”
A cool wind blew up the side of the mountain as the Chieftain spoke, chilling the sweat on the back of Zuko’s neck. His flame guttered and nearly went out, but he managed to hold it steady long enough for it to survive the wind.
The wind died, and the Chieftain reached forward to take a piece of Zuko’s fire. He stoked it and split it again, then gave each piece to the Warriors in the circle to either side of Zuko. He didn’t dare take his eyes off the chief to see what they did with it, but he could still feel the flame as it grew and traveled around the circle, until he could see the Warriors on the far side of the circle holding spinning wheels of fire. A fierce chant began, building like the fire.
The Chieftain stepped to the side, gesturing Zuko forward. Steeling himself, Zuko tried to stride confidently through the open space inside the circle. No matter how intimidating this was, he had to believe it would be worth it. If these Masters could help him find a dragon, it didn’t matter how much he had to go through in order to meet them.
Tohil stopped him when he reached the staircase, leaning down to whisper. “Remember,” he said, voice barely audible above the chanting and drums, “I vouched for you. You have nothing to fear from the Masters, so long as you treat them with respect.”
Zuko nodded, and Tohil stepped back. Zuko looked back just once, and saw Uncle standing outside of the circle, hands folded in front of him serenely. But his smile had that same brittle quality to it from the night before. Uncle was scared.
He started up the stairs. The chanting drove him upward as his legs shook and his arms trembled to hold the flame in front of him. He reached the top and stood trembling, gasping for breath. He didn’t have any idea what to do next, and so instead he concentrated on keeping his flame alight. It was all he could manage.
The chanting cut off. Zuko imagined he could hear the silence around him thickening, broken only by his own gasping breaths. He glanced to either side again. Tunnels entered the mountains at either end of the walkway. Which one should he face?
A deep horn call split the stillness. The sound vibrated in his chest and the stone below him, like the roar of some ancient beast. The horn call ended. The walkway continued to shake.
The shaking only grew, and hot wind blasted from both tunnels. Zuko gave up on standing and fell to his knees, fire held before him, glancing rapidly from tunnel to tunnel. The very mountains shook.
Zuko tried to hold onto Tohil’s words— nothing to fear . But he also remembered the look on Uncle’s face, the fear hidden behind that serene smile. He didn’t know who to believe.
It shouldn’t matter. It didn’t matter. Whatever was coming, he would be ready and it would be worth it. He would endure any fear so long as it meant he could go home. The wind stopped and Zuko held his breath.
Dragons burst from both tunnels.
They poured from the mountainsides like water, knifing straight up and into the air, curving through the sky around him in great arcs, mirroring each other so that he couldn’t watch one without losing track of the other.
Zuko knelt there, looking upward, frozen in place as the dragons circled. How were they so big ? How could anyone be powerful enough to kill one of these things? He couldn’t fight something like this. It was too much. He’d never win. It was just like before, with the Agni Kai. He’d gone in expecting glory and instead found a threat to his very life.
He should have known better. Then and now, all he could hope to do was beg for mercy.
The dragons slowed their flight, and with one last flourish they came to rest on the walkway to either side of him. They both curved their long, graceful necks to look at him straight on, their eyes ancient and burning.
What mercy would he get from a dragon? He’d begged mercy from his own father, and instead been given a lesson in fear.
Mercy didn’t work. And Zuko still held a flame.
Only one thing to do, then. Only one way to go home. Zuko stood and brought his cupped hands apart, splitting the flame so that he held a piece of it in each palm. He’d never been a very good firebender. He wasn’t a prodigy like Azula, he didn’t have years and years of experience like Uncle, he didn’t have raw power like Father.
But he knew how to keep trying, and he knew what happened when you didn’t fight back.
Fire in each hand, Zuko sank into a bending stance and stared right back up at the dragons in front him. This was his best chance, the only chance he was likely to get. He wouldn't back down. He would go home again.
The blue dragon narrowed its eyes, head pulling back. The red dragon brought its head forward, its golden eyes staring him down with a depth and heat that scared Zuko to the depth of his very soul. This was an old, old creature, with memories that stretched back further than Zuko could fathom.
Zuko realized he was shaking, but he didn’t let his stance waver. He already knew this game; bend while terrified, with a task before him that no one could hope to succeed in.
But he had to. He had to . It was the only way home.
“I’m sorry, Master Dragon,” Zuko said.
He tried to strike fast, throwing his weight forward into a flat-palmed strike to send his strength straight forward in a great burst of fire.
The dragon was faster. Before Zuko’s hand reached striking position the dragon poured a torrent of multicolored fire from its jaws. Zuko screamed, throwing his hands up to shield his face as the fire rushed toward him—
But there was no pain. Zuko raised his head just enough to see, and found himself surrounded by fire. Golden, orange, green, red, blue, the flames came close to either side but didn’t touch him. It was more fire than he’d ever seen in his life, so thick he couldn’t see anything past it. The heat of it sunk into his skin and lifted his hair in its updraft. This much fire should have been terrifying, unquenchable, unstoppable.
It was all these things. And it was also beautiful.
Zuko let his arms fall and dropped, once again, to his knees. He couldn’t fight this. It was too much. He was too weak. It wouldn’t take even a moment for this dragon to kill him.
The flames died.
Zuko found himself once again staring into the eyes of the red dragon, but this time he couldn’t find the strength to stand and fight. He was dead. He looked up at the dragon, and the dragon looked back with those ancient eyes.
The red dragon broke eye contact and flew straight upward. Zuko flinched back but the red dragon didn’t attack; instead, the blue dragon drifted forward, meeting Zuko’s terrified gaze. Was this some kind of game? Blow fire at the banished, powerless prince until he can’t take it anymore?
But instead of roaring fire the blue dragon reached out one of its legs, the claws holding gently to something inside. The dragon set something on the ground that looked like a large, shiny stone, and used the end of its snout to nudge the stone across the walkway toward where Zuko still knelt.
It couldn’t be—
Before he had a chance to really see, the blue dragon reached out one of its long whiskers. Zuko jerked back but the whisker darted forward and touched his forehead—
Fragments of thought poured into his mind. Years passing, day and night the same length, the sun rising three times, and on the third morning—
Duty, love, protection. A command.
The whisker pulled back. Zuko gasped, looking up and up at the dragon before him. “Wait, please, I don't understand!”
The blue dragon bent its great head down, blew a warm puff of air into his face, and leapt into the air. Zuko watched it rise to meet the red dragon high, high above. The two twirled around each other once, twice, split, and arced downward to pour back into the tunnels with a rush of wind.
Zuko was left kneeling on the walkway, alone. Alone, save for the dragon egg on the walkway next to him.
Chapter Text
“Not yet,” Tohil said softly.
Iroh aborted his step forward, turning it into a shift of his weight from one foot to the other. He had barely held onto his facade of calm through this whole morning, and the moment the Masters had returned to their caves his first instinct had been to run straight up those steps and make sure Zuko was alright.
The fire had roared so loudly, he couldn’t be sure whether or not he’d heard Zuko cry out when the flames rose. Could the reason for that cry also be why Iroh could no longer see him? Was his nephew dying slowly on the walkway above?
“You know they wouldn’t have harmed him,” Tohil said, voice barely audible.
“I would like to see the proof for myself,” Iroh replied, just as quietly.
They waited. The circle of Sun Warriors waited as well, still holding their rings of fire. Iroh counted his breaths. He imagined he could mark the sun as it climbed slowly up the side of the sky.
“There is no rule that says I cannot go up to meet him,” Iroh said quietly.
Tohil met his eyes, and after a moment, nodded. Iroh let the healer lead the way to the steps. No one tried to stop them, and when they reached the stairway Iroh surged ahead, nearly running. His mind kept conjuring the same memory, the image of Zuko lying prone on the floor of the arena, still as death. With every breath he prayed to Agni that he would not find his nephew the same way again.
But Zuko was not lying on the floor of the walkway when Iroh finally reached the top. Instead his nephew knelt, facing the morning sun. Iroh knelt beside him quickly, scanning for any new injuries.
“All you alright, Zuko?” he asked.
Zuko startled, as if he hadn’t even realized Iroh was there. Zuko turned slightly to face him. “I, I don’t….” Zuko spoke as quietly as Iroh had ever heard him, and there was such unguarded confusion on his face and in his voice that Iroh found himself at a loss.
“What is wrong?” Iroh asked. “Whatever it is, I am sure we can find a solution.”
With a shaking hand, Zuko pointed.
Just then, Tohil reached the top of the stairway. Iroh saw out of the corner of his eye as Tohil stopped and stared . He stared at what Zuko pointed at, and what Iroh had at first failed to see. A dragon egg, marbled red and gold, sitting innocently on the walkway in front of them.
“Well,” Tohil said finally, “That’s one way to do it.”
Iroh remembered then why Tohil had wanted Zuko to meet the Masters; to learn that dragons were not beings to be killed by mere mortals. Responsibility for a dragon egg, he supposed, would certainly teach that lesson.
But Iroh could think of another reason for the Masters’ gift. It was tradition, after all, for the Avatar to have an animal guide. What better guild for a Fire Nation Avatar than a dragon?
“I am sure,” Iroh said slowly, “that the Masters had a good reason for their gift.”
Tohil stepped up beside them both, his face serious. “It is a great honor to be offered the chance to hatch a dragon. In my time, dragons and the humans who hatched them became the closest of companions. It has been a long, long time since anyone has been offered that chance.
“You have a decision to make, Prince Zuko.”
Zuko swallowed visibly, conflict clear on his face. Iroh didn’t dare speak. There was a second choice, after all. A darker path. The Firelord had not specified how old the dragon had to be, only that Zuko needed to kill one.
Iroh knew Zuko had a good heart, a strong sense of honor, but he couldn’t be sure that his desperation to return home wouldn’t overwhelm those qualities. To have such an easy solution right in front of him… Iroh had seen many strong men fold under less pressure than Zuko faced.
Zuko raised his chin. “Maybe…maybe there’s another way I can return home. Becoming friends with a dragon has to be a greater achievement than defeating one.”
Iroh held in his sigh of relief. Zuko stood and picked up the dragon egg carefully. When he turned to face them angry determination was clear on his face, like he was challenging them to say otherwise. Iroh couldn’t keep from smiling.
“How long will it take for the egg to hatch?” Zuko asked.
Tohil raised an eyebrow. “You’d know that better than I do. Master Shaw gave you instructions, didn’t she?”
Zuko’s face cleared, showing slight surprise. “I guess she did,” he said. He looked at Iroh and scowled. “Why are you smiling at me like that?”
Once again, Iroh couldn’t stop his smile from growing. “Because I am proud of you, Zuko. And I am happy that you found a way through this dark time.”
Zuko sighed. He was clearly exhausted; his arms trembled as he held the egg, but Iroh knew his nephew wouldn’t accept help carrying it. Zuko held what he saw as his path home, and there would be no getting it away from him now.
Not that Iroh would ever want to. But he did hope the egg would be not Zuko’s path back home, but a path that would lead him to the understanding he still lacked. Before he made the mistake of believing, once again, that his father would be merciful.
The Sun Warriors, Zuko was coming to realize, really liked their ceremonies. When the rest of the warriors assembled had seen the dragon egg, another round of drumming and chanting had commenced, along with a very official-sounding speech. Master Tohil had already told him briefly what to expect now that he was responsible for a dragon egg. And a good thing, too; the loud, flowery words had flown completely over Zuko’s exhausted head. At least he’d been allowed to leave the mountain with the rest of the warriors by a hidden staircase, instead of scrambling back down the rocky slopes.
They hadn’t returned to the healing room after that. Instead, Zuko had found himself born along with the tide of celebrating warriors, Uncle’s hand on his shoulder, into another part of the city. It was the older part, built of yellow sandstone. There, children and elders and adults in less war-like clothing had paused chores and spilled from buildings to join the throng of celebration.
It was a sight completely unlike anything Zuko had ever seen in the Fire Nation. Everywhere he looked were people with wild, unrestrained joy on their faces; some shouting, some dancing, some painting the air with designs of fire. Many had tears in their eyes, and one old man wept openly where he sat by the flowing fountain.
The sheer energy was overwhelming. It was like the fire that the dragon had shown him; so powerful it could not be resisted. Zuko stood rooted to the ground, holding tightly to the egg with both arms. The egg was something solid to hold onto, a rock in the river that tried to sweep him away.
“Let us leave them to their celebration for now,” Uncle said. Zuko nodded, and allowed himself to be led out of the crowd in the square. They went down a side street and into a smaller house.
“This is Master Tohil’s home,” Uncle explained as they entered. “I’m sure he’ll return soon.”
Zuko nodded, too exhausted to pay attention to anything but the important things. Namely, that Uncle led him to a quiet room with curtains on the window and a mattress with blankets on the floor. There were probably things for him to do or people for him to talk to or decisions for him to make, but just then all he could think was that those were problems for later.
So he flopped down onto the mattress, nested the dragon egg into a pile of blankets, and fell asleep.
When Zuko woke up, the first thing he saw was the dragon egg, sitting innocently on the mattress next to his head. It hadn’t been moved, had it? It seemed to be in the same place as before, with the same blanket cushioning it.
Would he be able to tell if someone had touched it while he was asleep? Could someone hurt a dragon egg without breaking the shell? There was too much he didn’t know about it, so much that he needed to know. This egg was the one thing that could, maybe, let him go home. He had to protect it at all costs.
But for now the important thing was that the egg was still here.
Zuko relaxed marginally. He sat up and yawned, wincing when it pulled at his burn. It itched horribly under the bandages, and was beginning to ache again. Had he slept on it wrong? Or maybe the pain herbs from this morning were just wearing off.
It was probably fine. Master Tohil had said it was healing. But the pain was distracting, and Zuko didn’t even want to think of what his hair must look like after the burn treatments. But Uncle had helped him tie up what was left of it this morning, so it couldn’t be too bad, right?
Tentative, he felt along the edge of the bandage where the burn met his hairline. Some of it had been shaved, but only in a narrow strip around the edge of the burn. He could already feel the soft fuzz where it was growing back.
Satisfied for now, Zuko picked up the egg and left the room. He was still tired, but he couldn’t just wait around for something to happen. He had a dragon egg, and he hadn’t even been away from home for a week. Like finding himself in the city of the Sun Warriors, this had to be destiny. He just had to protect the egg until it hatched, and then…
Zuko paused in the middle of the hallway. Then what? He couldn’t kill a baby dragon. He couldn’t regain his honor by killing a defenseless hatchling; it would just be wrong .
Azula would do it , part of him thought. And Father would praise her for it. But Zuko couldn’t take the easy way out. No, he’d have to do what he’d said he would when he picked up the egg for the first time. He’d have to become allies with the dragon inside, and persuade it to help the Fire Nation in its mission to civilize the world. Surely that would be enough to restore his honor.
Mind made up, Zuko continued down the hallway. He could smell tea brewing, and followed the scent into a large, empty sunroom. One entire wall was taken up by windows, and the windows actually had glass in them; large, clear panes that let the light spill inside beautifully.
Zuko stopped in the doorway, amazed. Even in Caldera, he’d never seen glass so clear, and never so much of it in the same place.
“These windows are older than I am,” a voice said.
Zuko jumped, tightening his grip on the egg. But it was only Master Tohil, sitting off to the side with a teapot and a scroll. He’d expected Uncle to be where the tea was, but Zuko had meant to find Master Tohil anyway.
Zuko sat down on the stone floor next to Master Tohil, holding the dragon egg securely in his lap. “I have questions,” he said.
Master Tohil set down his scroll with a sigh. “Naturally. All right then, young fire prince, what is it you wish to know?”
Zuko frowned. Where to start? “When the blue dragon—”
“Master Shaw.”
Zuko scowled at Master Tohil, who seemed completely unfazed. “That’s the blue dragon’s name; Master Shaw. The red is Master Ran. You’d do well to call the Masters by name, since they’ve entrusted an egg to you. They deserve your respect.”
That seemed uncomfortably like politics to Zuko, but respecting the two dragons who could have easily killed him did seem like a good idea. “Fine then. After Master Shaw gave me the egg, one of her whiskers touched my forehead. I saw all these images, but they were too fast to make out, and now I just know things, like how it’s going to be a long time before the egg hatches.”
“That was one of the ways that the dragons communicate. They can share thoughts with each other, and with humans. Master Shaw gave you instructions on how to care for the egg.”
Zuko grimaced. “Do they ever use words? It felt like I was having my head split open.”
Master Tohil laughed. “I wouldn’t be surprised if the Masters could speak our tongue, but I have never had the privilege of hearing them do it. They are both very old, after all, and the language they know may be quite different from how we speak now. But don’t worry, your soon to be dragon friend will likely learn to communicate in words as well as thoughts."
“...How do I know we’ll be friends when the egg hatches?”
Zuko immediately felt embarrassed for even asking the question, but Master Tohil didn’t seem to find it strange. Instead he looked thoughtful.
“Dragon eggs are different from the eggs of other creatures,” he eventually said. “Baby dragons can survive in their eggs for centuries, and they have some level of awareness even then. Eggs who are given to humans to be hatched have already chosen that path in life. And if the egg doesn’t like the human it's given too, then it won’t hatch.”
Zuko looked down at the egg in his lap, feeling sick. “So there’s a chance the egg will never hatch?”
Tohil looked at him side-long. “There is a chance. But the Masters have been matching eggs and humans for a rather long time, you know. It was always rare for them to get it wrong. And when the egg hatches, you can know that the dragon didn’t just choose to be hatched by a human, but to be hatched by you.”
Zuko wasn’t sure if that idea made him feel better or worse. The idea of having someone choose him, on purpose…it sounded too good to be true.
“Is there anything I can do to make it more likely for the egg to hatch?”
Master Tohil smiled. “I can’t say there’s anything that will guarantee it, but our traditions say that one who hatches a dragon egg must be a strong warrior. It certainly wouldn't hurt to train your bending. In fact I’m sure there are at least a dozen warriors ready to ask for the privilege of being your teacher.”
“Really?” Zuko asked before he could stop himself. Few teachers had ever wanted to train him; he’d never been talented at firebending, and few teachers had wanted to deal with his painfully slow progress.
“Everyone will want to be sure that the first human to be charged with a dragon egg in over a hundred years is up to the task,” Tohil said lightly.
Zuko’s excitement soured. Of course, it was because they wanted something from him. That had always been why people helped him, so why should it change now?
But there was more to it than just him. Zuko remembered the stunned silence that had greeted him when he climbed down the stairs with the dragon egg in his arms, and how that silence had turned into wild celebration. He imagined he could still hear faint music coming from the square, the beat of drums and chanting voices.
“This egg…it's important, isn’t it?” he asked quietly. “Not just for me.”
Master Tohil nodded. “It is. When we hid ourselves away and stopped hatching dragons, it was in the hope that someday the world would be ready for dragons once again. Many will take this as a sign that the long hoped for time has come at last, when the people of the Fire Nation can view dragons as fellow people instead of creatures to be hunted.”
Zuko wasn’t so sure. He hadn’t known dragons were truly intelligent until he’d met some, and his first instinct had still been to fight them. But maybe…he looked down at the egg. If more people had the opportunity to meet dragons and understand them, maybe people wouldn’t want to hunt them anymore. Maybe the dragons could even be on their side in the war. How incredible would it be for his people, to have dragons fighting at their side?
More and more Zuko was convinced that hatching the egg was the right thing to do. It wasn’t exactly what his father had tasked him with, but it was close enough, right? If he did something this grand, Father would recognize it as the accomplishment it was. Right?
He just had to believe it, Zuko decided. He couldn’t let doubt get in the way of action. He couldn’t do anything to make the egg hatch faster, so he would need to use that time to get better at firebending.
An unexpected idea popped into Zuko’s head. “Master Tohil,” Zuko began, “Would you train me?”
The healer looked taken aback. Zuko resisted the urge to flinch, immediately convinced that that had been the wrong thing to say, or at the very least the wrong way to ask. Requesting training from a master was a serious thing in the Fire Nation, and it had been horribly disrespectful of him to ask so flippantly.
But before Zuko could think of an adequate apology, Master Tohil’s expression of shock broke into laughter. He even wiped away a tear, shaking his head slowly.
“Of all the people you could have asked…you don’t have any idea what it means to ask me, do you?”
Zuko shook his head, at a loss. Master Tohil didn’t seem angry, but still…
“The only thing I’ve taught for years, Prince Zuko, has been healing. Are you sure you want to learn from someone whose greatest talent would be despised by the modern Fire Nation?”
Zuko hesitated, and wondered just why he’d jumped at the idea of learning from Master Tohil. Another memory popped into his head at the thought; the memory of watching flames in every color pour from Master Ran’s mouth. The fire that could have burned him, but hadn’t. Zuko had been too scared and confused back then to feel curiosity, but now the feeling burned inside of him. There was something about that fire, something Zuko didn’t understand yet but desperately wanted too.
He looked out the windows over the ancient city, struggling to find words. “The fire you made, when you showed me yesterday…it's like Master Ran’s fire. All the colors. I don’t know what it means yet, but I want to.”
“All right then.” Master Tohil smiled, leaning back on his hands. “I’ll train you until the egg hatches, but on one condition. Let me heal your face.”
Zuko glared to hide his flinch. “I already told you, no. I’m keeping the scar.”
Master Tohil held up his hands, placating. “I never said I had to heal the scar. Just let me speed the process along; I can hardly train you while you’re still recovering. I promise you’ll keep the scar.”
Zuko hesitated. He felt the weight of the dragon egg in his lap, a steadiness that made it easier to ground himself and think. “Fine,” he said. Training sooner was a good thing, and certainly better than needless pain. “As long as we start today.”
“Of course. Should we wait for Iroh before I finish the healing?”
Zuko shook his head. “Let’s just get it over with.” Besides, he had the feeling Uncle wouldn’t be happy with how he was going about this.
“There’s no time like the present, is there?” Tohil said, grinning and shaking out his hands. Then he brought both together and began going through the colors with a small flame, like when he’d first shown Zuko his healing fire. It still seemed strange, but not as alarming as when Zuko had first seen it.
How much faster the Fire Nation could win the war, if they had healers like this as well as fighters? Healing seemed like a huge tactical advantage. Was that why it had taken so long to defeat the Southern Water Tribe? What if he could bring this back to his nation as well? Surely that would be an accomplishment, to discover an entirely new form of firebending.
“Could you train me to heal,” Zuko asked, “as well as how to fight?”
Master Tohil raised both eyebrows. “You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?”
Zuko scowled. “Can you teach me or not?”
Master Tohil looked back at his hands, where the flame had once again turned white-hot. “That’s a rather difficult question to answer, actually. Healing requires an entirely different technique than combat bending; most people who have already learned combat bending can’t learn how to heal. You might not be able to either.”
“I’m going to try anyway,” Zuko said, practically daring Master Tohil to tell him no.
Master Tohil just laughed, the fire in his hands cooling down to red again. “I won’t turn away a willing student. But don’t be too hard on yourself if you can’t pick it up. Now, I’m all warmed up. Let’s finish this, shall we?”
Zuko nodded, a sudden lump forming in his throat. He held onto the egg tighter as Master Tohil moved, kneeling on his left side.
“This will probably itch a bit,” Master Tohil said as he unwound the bandages. “Just take deep breaths and try to relax. It might help to close your eyes.”
Zuko tried to relax, he really did. Closing his eyes helped a bit, but he could still feel it when Master Tohil’s hand came near his face. He could feel the warmth, so close, just like—
“Have you thought about what you’re going to name the dragon?”
Zuko jumped, but Master Tohil didn’t comment. Instead he elaborated; “It’s tradition for the one who hatches a dragon egg to give the dragon a name. For wild hatchings that would be the parents, but for a human hatching the human gets to choose.”
“I don’t know yet,” he said, trying not to move his face too much as he talked. “Shouldn’t you be concentrating?” The burn had started to itch, like Master Tohil said it would. But it didn’t hurt, not like before, and Zuko found that talking helped him stay relatively calm.
“I could heal a wound like this in my sleep,” Master Tohil replied. “In fact, I have healed wounds like this in my sleep. They were my own though, not someone else’s.”
“How did you firebend while you were asleep?” Zuko asked, curious and horrified at the same time. “Isn’t that dangerous?”
“Well technically I was unconscious, not asleep,” Master Tohil said. “And yes it is dangerous, which is why I won’t be teaching you that until you master plenty of other techniques while awake. But I’ll tell that story later. Right now we’re talking about dragon names.”
“...I’ve only ever named turtleducks,” Zuko admitted.
“You give those little devils names ?”
“They’re cute!” Zuko exclaimed, horrified that anyone could think otherwise. But Master Tohil seemed to, and so Zuko spent the next fifteen minutes loudly and passionately defending the honor and good name of turtleducks.
His face never did much more than itch the whole time, and the heat never grew to be uncomfortable. Multiple times throughout the conversation Zuko wished he could turn and glare at Master Tohil properly for saying something that was so obviously wrong . Had the man ever even seen a turtleduck? But he kept his head still and his eyes shut.
“All done!” Master Tohil announced, right before Zuko could ask if his hatred came from some childhood trauma associated with turtleducks. Zuko felt Master Tohil’s hand leave the side of his face. Had it even itched during the last few minutes?
Didn’t matter. He opened both eyes to give Master Tohil a proper glare, and found the man grinning like a maniac. “You…didn’t actually believe any of what you said about turtleducks, did you?” Zuko asked.
Master Tohil laughed. “I may have played up my dislike. But anyway, first lesson of fire healing. It’s hard to heal people when they’re all tensed up, so if you can find a way to distract them it will go far more smoothly.”
This time Zuko glared for entirely different reasons.
“How does it feel now?” Master Tohil asked, wisely changing the subject.
“Better,” Zuko said, turning his attention to his face. He moved his facial muscles experimentally. “Stiff. It doesn’t hurt though.”
Master Tohil nodded. “Not surprising. It’s like year-old scar tissue now, so it shouldn’t get infected or be painful again. Let me know if it does, though.”
Zuko nodded, tracing the edges of the scar with one hand. He couldn’t decide if it felt bigger or smaller, now that it no longer throbbed with his heartbeat. The scar tissue felt foreign beneath his fingers.
“Where can I find a mirror?” Zuko asked.
“...I have a small one in my study,” Master Tohil said. “I’ll go get it.” He stood and left the room.
Zuko nearly told him not to bother, that he could wait to see what he looked like now. But there wasn’t any point in putting it off. One way or another he would see. He wanted to see, at least before anyone else did.
He heard footsteps beyond the curtained doorway, but it wasn’t Master Tohil who entered. It was Uncle, carrying what looked suspiciously like a travel sized Pai Sho table.
“Ah, nephew,” Uncle said, a slight hint of surprise in his voice. “I had not expected to find you awake. Did you sleep well?”
Zuko shrugged. “I guess.”
Uncle sat near him, setting up the Pai Sho table. “I am glad. I had thought to ask Master Tohil for a game, but perhaps you would oblige me?”
Zuko normally didn’t mind Pai Sho too much, when he didn’t have something better to be doing, but right now the strategy and mental gymnastics the game required did not sound like fun. “Err, I think Master Tohil will be back soon if you want to play with him,” he said quickly. “He just went to get a mirror.”
Uncle paused. “A mirror, you say.”
…And Zuko realized he’d said too much, and it was too late to take it back. Uncle looked at him more closely, and Zuko met his eyes, resisting the urge to turn the left side of his face away.
“Zuko,” Uncle said quietly, “What happened to your burn?”
Zuko did turn away then, no longer able to stand the scrutiny. “Master Tohil healed it for me, so I could start training. He said he’d help me get better at firebending so I can protect the egg.”
“It does not appear to be…entirely healed,” Uncle said, in that infuriatingly careful way of his.
Zuko clenched his jaw and said nothing. He’d felt terrible for shouting at Uncle yesterday and he didn’t want to do it again. Not about this.
Thankfully, Master Tohil chose that moment to come back into the sunroom, a small mirror in hand. “Ah, Iroh,” he said. “I hope I’m not interrupting a game.”
“Of course not,” Uncle said, showing none of the tension that Zuko himself was feeling. “In fact, Zuko was just in the middle of declining my offer. Would you care to play?”
“Perhaps in a moment,” Master Tohil said. “I have a patient to consult with first. As requested, Zuko.” He held out the mirror.
Zuko took it in a hand that trembled. He held it in his lap next to the dragon egg, not daring to look yet, feeling the eyes of Uncle and Master Tohil on him. He wished he didn’t have an audience for this; it was like they were waiting for his reaction to see if he did it right.
Neither of them could entirely hide their anticipation. Did they think he’d break when he saw himself and have Master Tohil heal the scar after all? The thought made him bristle with anger, and that anger was just enough to give him the courage to take the mirror in both hands, ready to look. He’d show them; he wasn’t so dishonorable that he’d forgo the punishment he deserved.
Zuko looked in the mirror.
He froze. It was—not worse, since he hadn’t exactly imagined what it would be like, but…he took a deep, shuddering breath. It was bad. He’d seen burn scars before, he had a few small ones from training accidents and instructors who got rough, but somehow he hadn’t connected the image he’d already known to the idea of his own face. Almost half of his face .
Banishment with terms was one thing, but this was…permanent. It was meant to be permanent. Zuko had thought he’d understood just how badly he’d messed up, from how hard his task was supposed to be. But this—
This was his real punishment. A permanent mark of his failure, for all to see until the end of his days. A reminder to make sure he never made the same mistake again.
He turned the mirror over, and it was like waking from a nightmare. Both Uncle and Master Tohil were still looking at him, Uncle almost nervously and Master Tohil with…sadness? Whatever it was, Zuko hated it. He’d brought this on himself. He didn’t want to be pitied.
“Can I keep the mirror?” he asked. “I want to get used to how I look now.”
“Zuko, I don’t think—” Uncle started, but Master Tohil cut him off.
“Of course,” he said, and there was that hint of sadness again. “I’ll let you know if I need it.”
“Thank you,” Zuko said, voice cracking. He stood, clutching both dragon egg and mirror to his chest. Without another word, he fled the room. He couldn’t stand the way they looked at him, and he was too tired to fight back.
Zuko didn’t realize he was crying until he’d made it back to the room where he’d slept. When he sat on the mattress and hugged the egg, he found it wet with his own tears. He jumped and wiped them off with a blanket; he didn’t know if water could hurt the egg.
He had to set the egg to the side in order to keep it dry, because he couldn’t stop the tears from leaking out of his eyes, even when he squeezed them tightly shut. He hugged a blanket instead, wishing he could stop. He hated crying, but getting angry about it only made him cry harder.
He just…he just wished he hadn’t messed up so badly. He wished he wasn’t so stupid and useless, wished he’d fought back, wished he’d been able to stay silent, wished he’d never gone to that war meeting at all. He hadn’t been invited, so what made him think it would be a good idea to go?
And now here he was, with no one to blame but himself for the mess he’d made of his own life.
Zuko fell onto his back and stared through watery eyes at the ceiling. He could feel his tears making tracks down his cheeks and soaking into his hairline. He could feel the difference in how they flowed on his skin, between his right side and his left.
Eventually, he did stop crying, and Zuko found himself staring at the sandstone ceiling. It had been painted, once upon a time, and he could still make out the patterns of red and orange and gold. A red dragon, flying through golden clouds.
Zuko turned his head on the mattress, the tie on his phoenix tail digging uncomfortably into his head, and looked at the dragon egg. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself for battle like he’d been taught. There was a way through this. All wasn’t lost. The scar might be permanent but his banishment didn’t have to be. He could return home, and Father would restore his honor, and everything would be all right again. He just had to remember that. As long as he did, he could get through this.
And so Zuko stood up, wiped his eyes, picked up the egg, and went to find Master Tohil. He had training to start.
Notes:
So this chapter was a little longer than I had planned, but I doubt anyway is complaining so I won't wax poetic about it. (should I have been doing math homework instead of finishing this? Absolutely.)
Question: I'm trying to decide whether I want to create an entirely new dragon character to be Zuko's animal companion, or if I should just go with Druk. I haven't read many of the comics so I don't know how much he shows up/how established a character he actually is in canon. Does anyone have strong opinions on this? Cause at this point I could go either way.
I hope you all have a nice day/night! Get some sleep if you need it!
Chapter Text
Zuko found Master Tohil sitting outside on a covered terrace that overlooked the house’s training yard, reading in the last of the day’s sun. Zuko stepped up beside him, set down the egg, and bowed formally. “I am ready to start my training now, Master,” he said. “If it’s not too much of an interruption.”
Master Tohil set down his scroll. “Not at all. There will always be more time for reading. But are you sure you want to start now? It’s been a long day already.”
Zuko straightened from his bow and sat down on the terrace. “I’m ready to start now.” The length of the day didn’t matter. He had a task to complete, and complete it he would. He didn’t have time to waste on rest.
Master Tohil raised an eyebrow, but didn’t comment further on Zuko’s timing. He also didn’t comment on Zuko’s flushed face, or the redness Zuko was sure still lingered in his eyes. He’d never been a pretty crier, not like Azula. Even her childhood tantrums had been graceful.
“Alright then,” Master Tohil said. “Let’s start with something you’ll need to know for both healing and combat. Now tell me, Prince Zuko, how do you fuel your fire?”
Zuko hesitated, caught off guard. “The same way everyone else does? I’m not sure what you mean, Master.”
“Let me rephrase; when you make fire, what emotion do you use to fuel it? What’s your reason for bending?”
Zuko had the inexplicable feeling that whatever his answer was, it would be wrong. That was how training always went, after all. But he had to show Master Tohil he valued the instruction, so Zuko straightened his back and answered.
“I bend in order to get stronger and be useful to my nation,” he said staunchly. “I need to be a strong bender if I’m going to lead the Fire Nation someday.”
“And how do you usually feel when bending?”
“...Feel, Master?” Zuko hadn’t ever been asked a question like that.
Master Tohil nodded. “Feel. Do you take pride in your bending? Do you enjoy the power? Do you feel determined to get better and better?”
Zuko shrugged. “All of them, sometimes, but usually I’m…” he trailed off. He’d never really thought about it before, but now that he did he didn’t want to admit it.
“Yes?”
“...Angry,” Zuko admitted. “Mostly I just feel angry.”
Master Tohil blinked. “Doesn’t that get tiring?”
“Training is supposed to be tiring,” Zuko said, trying to gain back some of his dignity. “If you’re not tired at the end then you didn’t get any better.”
“No, no, not physically tiring. I mean emotionally. It’s not easy, being angry all the time.”
“I’m not angry all the time,” Zuko said with a scowl.
“Just most of the time, then?”
Zuko flushed. “There’s usually something. Besides, it’s better than—”
He stopped himself just in time, cutting off both his words and his thoughts. The last thing he wanted to do was start crying again.
At least Master Tohil seemed ready to ignore his slip-up. “All right then. So it’s safe to say that, primarily, you fuel your firebending with anger. What did your previous teachers have to say about that?”
“We didn’t exactly have conversations about it,” Zuko said. “But during sparing especially, they always told me to use my anger to make my bending stronger.”
“That can be a strong tactic,” Master Tohil said, “But it’s not exactly a stable one. Can you guess why?”
Zuko shook his head. “No, Master.”
Grinning, Master Tohil stood and dusted off his hands. “Well then, let’s find out. Time to throw some fire around!”
Zuko’s eyebrow twitched. Throw some fire around? If any of the royal instructors had spoken like that back home, they’d have been fired on the spot. Probably literally.
Nevertheless, Zuko stood and hopped off the terrace after him. Master Tohil stopped in the center of the training yard and turned toward him. “Alright, pupil of mine, I want you to make some fire. Don’t worry about fancy footwork or anything; just make some fire and make it hot. On my mark.”
Zuko nodded and took a basic stance, his breathing falling into rhythm like he’d always been taught.
“Now, think of something that makes you angry. You don’t have to tell me what it is; just use it for your strike.”
Nodding again, Zuko focused. He thought of the time when the head gardener had wanted to renovate the turtleduck pond into a fountain or something equally stupid. It wasn’t hard to remember how angry he’d been back then. That pond had been Mom’s favorite; how could they even think of destroying it?
“Ready?”
In response, Zuko took a final deep breath, tightened his stance, and threw all his energy forward in an explosive burst of flame.
It…wasn’t very good. He grimaced, waiting for Master Tohil’s reprimand. Zuko could do better, he knew he could.
But Master Tohil just nodded cheerfully. “Not bad for starters. Try again. Maybe think of something else this time, something that gets you properly hateful.”
Zuko thought of palace gossip. Whispers that he’d hear right before walking around corners, whispers about the Firelord’s children. He thought of the anger that always burned inside of him when he heard them; if people had something to say, they should say it to his face!
Zuko struck again, lighting his anger on fire as he punched straight forward.
“Better,” Master Tohil said. “Again.”
This time Zuko thought of his previous teachers, how they’d always tell him everything he did wrong but never how to fix it. More fire.
“Again.”
Azula’s taunts after training, how she always knew just where to jab at him. Hotter flames.
“Again.”
Hours and hours alone on the training field, drilling the same kata over and over because he just couldn’t get it right .
“Good! Again.”
Master Tohil’s constant cheerfulness, like nothing in the world was ever wrong.
“Now we’re cooking! Again!”
Uncle’s attempts to stop him from carrying out his quest, despite knowing that dragons were still alive!
“Yes! Again!”
Anger at himself for crying like a weakling. For forgetting his place and speaking up in that meeting. For being so idiotic that he accepted the challenge. For being such a coward that he wouldn’t fight!
For wondering, in a dark, deep part of his soul, if Father wanted him back at all.
Zuko roared and pushed out his strongest burst of flame yet. The fire poured from him in a torrent, so hot the sweat on his arms steamed. It was like a waterfall, unstoppable!
Until his chi ran out.
The fire disappeared with a whoosh , and Zuko’s vision fuzzed out. He came too on his knees a moment later, gasping for breath. He had to brace against the ground to keep upright.
Had he done that? It had been more fire than he’d seen even Azula make at once, but now that it was gone he thought he might pass out.
“That should be enough,” Master Tohil said. “Good job.”
Zuko had half forgotten his teacher was even there. Master Tohil sat down next to him, and Zuko was too tired to shrug away the steadying hand on his shoulder.
“Try to sit up a little straighter,” the healer said. “If you brace your arms behind you, it will open your airways much better.”
Zuko did so painfully, but after a few more deep breaths his lungs didn’t ache quite so horribly and his head started to clear.
“Now, what do you think happened?” Master Tohil said.
Zuko groaned. “Ran out of chi.”
“You didn’t just run out; you burned straight through it all. Ordinarily, your body has safeguards in place to conserve chi. It takes truly strong emotions to bypass those safeguards and use your full potential.”
Zuko gave up on sitting upright and flopped onto the ground. “Isn’t being able to do that an advantage?”
“Not if it leaves you like this,” Master Tohil said dryly.
Zuko scowled, but couldn’t argue. He still hadn’t caught his breath.
“Anger,” Master Tohil began, “is a kind of defense mechanism. When we feel threatened or hurt, anger comes to our aid so that we can fight back. It is powerful, as you just felt. But it’s not a natural state, and it’s certainly not stable. Do you think you could have directed those flames just now? Or stopped them if a friend had been in the blast radius?”
Zuko shook his head, shame making him want to shrink into the ground. Firebenders had to stay in control. Losing that was the ultimate sign of weakness.
“I pushed you intentionally,” Master Tohil said, and his voice was almost gentle. “I wanted you to understand just what kind of fire you were playing with. Anger can be strong, yes, but it destroys all too easily. If you want to be a true master, then you need a fuel other than anger. Y ou have to be able to choose when to burn. ”
Breathing mostly recovered, Zuko pushed himself back into a sitting position. “What do you mean?”
Standing, Master Tohil smiled. “Let me show you.” He slid one of the gold armbands from his left forearm and held it up. “The gold to make this has been passed down in my family since before the dragons taught my people to bend. Watch closely.”
He set the armband on the stones in front of him, posture easy and casual. Then, with a sharp downward thrust of his hand, he shot a torrent of flame straight at it.
Zuko cried out and reached for it, but the armband was out of his reach and Master Tohil’s fire was too strong. Nearly white hot, the flames cracked the flagstones where they hit and stirred up a wind in the training yard. Master Tohil strained visibly, leaning forward to keep from being thrown back by his own fire. The armband didn’t stand a chance.
But when the flames stopped, the armband was still there. Sitting innocently on the shattered flagstones, as if nothing at all had happened. Master Tohil picked it up and tossed it to Zuko.
Zuko fumbled the catch, expecting it to burn him. But the gold was only pleasantly warm, nowhere near hot enough to burn to even a nonbender.
Zuko gaped. “How did you do that?”
Master Tohil grinned. “Control. I didn’t want to melt it, and so I didn’t. A great deal of experience helps too, but the concept is simple. Control your fire well, and you can not only make it burn, but stop it from burning as well. In order to heal, you need that kind of control.”
Firebending to not burn things? The idea made Zuko’s head hurt. “It doesn’t make any sense,” he said. “How can fire not burn things? Burning is what it does.”
Sitting down again, Master Tohil took back his armband and raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t the Masters tell you? Fire is life. Life can destroy, yes, but it always does so in order to make way for something new. That’s what it means to heal, and what it means to fight. To clear the way for something new.”
Scowling, Zuko tried to wrap his head around the idea. The Masters hadn’t told him anything, had they? Aside from instructions on how to care for the egg and blowing fire in his face.
But…maybe there was more to what they’d done. The fire they’d shown him had been incredible, with so many colors. If fire was life…it would look like that.
“...Not all fire is like what the Masters showed me,” Zuko said eventually.
“No, it’s not.” Master Tohil shook his head sadly. “There’s a great deal about firebending that the world, and the Fire Nation in particular, doesn’t understand.”
Zuko bristled, ready to leap to his nation’s defense. “The Fire Nation—” he began.
Master Tohil held up a hand hurriedly. “Not to say that the Fire Nation's bending isn’t great or powerful. Power, they certainly have. But power isn’t everything, and every Nation still has something to learn. Even the Fire Nation.”
Zuko’s first instinct was to deny it. But how could he? Master Tohil had already shown him so many things he’d never even dreamed of. And if a prince of the Fire Nation didn’t know about fire healing, how could the rest of the nation?
The only thing he could conclude was that Master Tohil was right.
The thought shouldn’t have made him feel as happy as it did. But if there were things the Fire Nation still needed to learn, knowledge that Zuko was in the position to acquire…Wasn’t this the perfect opportunity to show that he could be useful? If he came back from banishment, not having simply fulfilled his mission, but also bringing back a dragon ally and knowledge of a lost bending art? His father would have to acknowledge him.
“Can I try it?” Zuko asked.
“What, healing?”
He nodded eagerly.
“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Master Tohil said with a smile. “Healing with fire is tricky; if you don’t know what you’re doing, you can just as easily hurt someone as help them.”
Zuko grimaced. “Yes, Master.”
“Not to worry,” Master Tohil with a lazy wave of the hand. “You can still practice just fine. In fact…” he trailed off and stood, walking to the edge of the training yard where dandelions grew in the gaps between stones. He picked a handful and came back, depositing a small bouquet on the stone in front of Zuko. “You can start on these.”
Zuko picked up a flower with some trepidation. “I’m supposed to heal the flower?”
“No, no, just firebend without burning it. Like this.” He picked up one himself, laid it flat on the palm of his hand, and set his hand on fire. But, just like with the armband, the flower failed to burn. “The trick is to be very intentional about why you’re making the flame. Don’t fuel it with anger, and don't let the flame do what it wants. Direct it. Don’t let it grow by feeding on the flower. Once you can stop the flame from burning, you'll be ready to try real healing.”
Zuko took a deep breath and nodded. He held the flower in hand, staring at it intently. Don’t burn the flower. Don’t burn the flower. Flowers are nice, and pretty, and reminded him of Azula because she always used them for fire dart practice.
He burned the flower.
Zuko pulled his hand back with a yelp as the dandelion burst into flame. It fell to the stones in front of him, sizzling quietly.
He scowled and grabbed another one. This one burned too, and his scowl deepened.
Master Tohil laughed. “Don't beat yourself up too much. It took me weeks to figure it out when I first started, and that’s faster than most. Just keep trying for now. And I’ll give you a few more exercises to work on tomorrow that will help.”
Nodding, Zuko picked up another dandelion.
“Don’t do any more than that pile today,” Master Tohil said. “It’s almost sundown, after all, and you still need rest.” He stood. “I’ll go see about something to eat. Come inside when you’re finished, all right?”
“Yes, Master,” Zuko said, and burned another dandelion.
Zuko swore as another dandelion went up in flames. He’d taken to holding them by the stem with one hand and bending with the other so that, when the flowers inevitably caught fire, they were easier to drop without burning himself.
“I hope Master Tohil didn’t teach you that expression.”
Zuko jumped and found Uncle standing behind him, a serene expression on his face. He tensed, suddenly aware of the mess he’d been making with the smoldering flowers. “No. Just the flowers.”
“Ah, of course. I tried that exercise a few times myself. I never had the patience for it,” Uncle said. “Do you mind if I join you, Zuko?”
Hurriedly, Zuko gathered the litter of singed flowers into a somewhat neat pile. “Of course not.” He straightened his back and tried to brush the ash of his hands, but only managed to smear it further. He hid them in his lap instead.
Uncle sat down on the ground beside him, groaning quietly. “I am not so young as I used to be,” he said with a chuckle. Zuko stayed quiet.
“It has been a rather long day,” Uncle said in a trailing-off, inviting-further-comment kind of way. A leading remark. Zuko hated those.
He shrugged in reply, and hated how tense he was. He didn’t used to feel tense around Uncle, but after the last few days he didn’t know how else to feel. Zuko had yelled at him, refused the help he’d offered, and Zuko knew he’d made choices that Uncle didn’t approve of.
But at least he hadn’t lied like Uncle had.
The reminder was almost welcome. It made it much easier to be angry with Uncle, rather than scared of him. It was almost comforting, not at all like the wrong-footed feeling he’d had ever since waking up. This was familiar territory.
Uncle sighed a long, low sigh. “Zuko…I wanted to apologize to you.”
Zuko jerked to face him, eyes wide. That was the last thing he’d expected to hear. “What do you mean?”
Uncle looked sad and tired, a look Zuko rarely saw on him. “Exactly what I said, Zuko. I have not treated you well these last few days. I tried so hard to take care of you that I forgot you still need space to make your own decisions. I fear I put too much pressure on you.”
As his shock wore off, Zuko only found himself more angry. “Is that all?” he asked, caustic. “What about how you lied to me about the dragons? You said I wouldn't find one, but you knew . You had to have known.”
Rather than defend himself, Uncle only sighed. “You are right to be angry with me. That lie is another thing I need to apologize for.”
Zuko looked away, holding desperately onto his anger. When was the last time someone had apologized to him and meant it? He stared at the pile of burned flowers, fists clenched where they rested.
“Will you allow me to explain why I took the actions I did?” Uncle asked quietly.
He almost refused, but instead nodded jerkily.
“After the Agni Kai,” Uncle began, “I spoke with the doctor who treated you. She could not be sure that you would survive. She said that even if you did, you would never see from your left eye again. I was…quite angry, and nearly did something that I am not convinced I would have regretted.”
The sun finally dipped behind the mountains. Zuko felt cold in its absence, and in the presence of Uncle’s story. He hadn’t realized how near to death he’d come, in that confused haze that had come…after.
He heard Uncle take a deep breath before he continued. “I was reminded by a wise man that revenge would not be helpful to you. And so I changed my goal; I decided that I would do everything I could to ensure that you were well cared for, and had the opportunity to choose your own path forward once you came back to yourself. So I brought you here, where Master Tohil could heal you.”
“And the lie?” Zuko asked, still staring at the ruined dandelions.
“It was not the first I have told concerning the dragons. When I hunted them in my youth, I came here searching for answers. When the Sun Warriors found out that I was of Sozin’s line, they offered me to the Masters for vengeance. I am only now beginning to understand why they spared me that day. At the time, the only thing I understood was that I had been entirely at the mercy of the dragons I had come to kill. If the Masters had not spared me, I would have died that day. I met Master Tohil afterwards, and together we came up with the lie I have told ever since: that I killed the last dragon.
“It was because of this experience, Zuko, that I did not tell you there are dragons left. I did not want you to go and meet the same fate that I nearly did.”
“Then why didn’t you stop me from meeting the Masters today?” Zuko asked tightly.
“It was Master Tohil’s idea,” Uncle said, “And he assured me that they would not harm you. Your meeting was inevitable, so I thought it best to let it go forward on somewhat controlled terms.”
There was more left unsaid, Zuko could practically feel it in the air between them. He drew his knees up to his chest. It was getting harder and harder to stay angry. Now he just ached faintly and felt cold all over. He was too tired for this.
But all the same, Zuko still had one more question. “And why did you say all those things yesterday, about my father and the Agni Kai? About…the lesson in fear?”
“Because, Zuko, I believed them to be true.”
“You wanted me to choose differently,” Zuko said, finally turning back to face Uncle. “You wanted me to abandon the Fire Nation because I failed. I don’t know how you could even think I would choose that! All I want is to earn my honor back and go home and have my father acknowledge me. I know I messed up, but I don’t want to run away just because getting home will be hard. I don’t care how long it takes, Uncle. I’m going to make everything right again!”
“Oh, Zuko,” Uncle said, and there were tears in his eyes. Why was he crying? What was there to be sad about? Why wasn’t he angry? “I know. I wanted you to have the chance to be happy."
Before Zuko knew it he was crying too. “I know you must have made sacrifices in order to help me. And I don’t want to refuse everything you’ve tried to do, but I can’t give up. I’m sorry I’ve kept you, Uncle. You don’t have to stay with me. You can go home now.”
Zuko let his face fall into his knees and cried quietly. This time he was too tired to even get properly annoyed with himself; he just wished that this could be easy, but nothing ever was. Not for him.
He felt Uncle’s arms go around him. He stiffened, breath hitching, but the hug was gentle.
“I am not going to leave, Zuko,” Uncle said, low and sure. “I am never going to leave you, even if I disagree with the path you choose to follow. I promise, I will not leave you alone.”
Zuko buried his face in Uncle’s chest and cried harder. He stopped trying to fight his exhaustion and fear and let Uncle hold him. It felt like minutes before he even had breath to gasp out one question.
“Why not?”
Uncle just held him tighter. “Because you are precious to me, and because I believe in who you are. I want you to have the chance to grow into the beautiful prince I know you will be.”
Uncle’s words came bittersweet. Zuko believed them; he believed that Uncle cared for him, but it wasn’t Uncle he wanted to hear those words from. He wished desperately that it was his father who had said those words, and the fact that it wasn’t only made them more painful to hear.
Zuko knew his father’s love would not come cheap like Uncle’s. The Firelord couldn’t afford to spend his time on someone so weak as Zuko. If Zuko wanted his father’s love, he would need to earn it.
Later that night, after Iroh’s nephew had cried himself into exhausted sleep and Iroh had brought him back inside, Tohil found him still awake.
“When do you plan to tell him?” Tohil asked, without preamble.
Iroh looked up from the fire he was tending. “Tell him what?”
Tohil sighed, for a moment looking as old as Iroh knew him to truly be. “That he’s the Avatar. The sooner you tell him, the more time he’ll have to adjust to the idea. Agni knows he’ll need all the time he can get.”
Iroh shook his head slowly. “We cannot tell him now. If we did, he would go straight back to the Firelord and allow himself to become the Fire Nation’s path to victory, all to earn acknowledgement from a man who does not know the meaning of love. You are right, Tohil, in that he needs more time. He needs time away from his father before he’s ready to know.”
Tohil sighed, his unusual gloom lifting. “You’re right as usual, Iroh. You sure got the wisdom that comes with age. Do you think my lack of aging is perhaps what cheated me out of my share?”
Iroh chuckled. “I believe you have passed through the wisdom of age and come out on the other side with a strong understanding of what it means to be alive. You know the true value of things, having seen what comes and goes, and what stays despite it all.”
“Maybe I should take up poetry,” Tohil said with a smile, “so I can explain this ‘value’ in a way that makes me sound like I’ve lived long enough to know what I’m talking about.”
Iroh shook his head, still laughing. “Perhaps you shouldn’t go so far. I’m afraid many old people like myself would feel inadequate in the face of your wisdom, if you were able to express it.”
Tohil actually rolled his eyes at that, but didn’t take the joke any further. Iroh was glad of it. He’d tried for his friend’s sake, but he wasn’t exactly in a joking mood.
“Do you think time away will be enough?” Tohil asked.
Iroh shook his head slowly. “I don’t know. I just don’t know. All I can do is hope that Ozai’s mark has not penetrated all the way to the soul.”
Tohil stared into the fire, his face the face of a much younger man and yet in that moment showing all the years he’d lived and all the things Iroh knew and imagined he had seen. “That sorry excuse for a man will pay for what he’s done,” Tohil said softly. “To Zuko, and to the world.”
Iroh nodded. His first priority would always be Zuko, but he also knew his brother. Already the man’s pride was building his pyre.
“What’s that?” Tohil said, a faint look of surprise on his face.
Iroh broke from his reverie and followed his friend’s gaze to the window, where a messenger hawk perched. The bird screeched a greeting. As far as Iroh could see in the firelight, the scroll carrier was marked with gold, for messages sent between members of the royal family.
Iroh stood and went to the window, nervous despite himself. Any reason for Ozai to contact him couldn’t be good.
He found two messages inside, one addressed to him and one to Zuko. Neither was from Ozai.
Uncle,
Does my brother live? If so, give him the letter addressed to him and there will be no further need for us to correspond. If not, I trust you will be prompt in informing me.
—Azula, Crown Princess of the Fire Nation
Iroh swore quietly.
Notes:
I have absolutely no idea if the Avatar universe has dandelions. This chapter took long enough already, I didn't want to spend three hours scouring the wiki to find out. Good thing I've got that Not Canon Compliant tag I guess. I just didn't quite think this is how I'd first use it.
But anyway, some heavy stuff this chapter. I went into this trying to give Zuko a break, but he insisted on working himself to complete exhaustion.
I also want to make it clear: Zuko's thoughts about earning Ozai's love and approval are VERY UNHEALTHY. Any parent that you have to earn love from has a big problem on their end. It's NEVER a child's fault if they have a parent who doesn't love them. Zuko, unfortunately, hasn't realized that yet. Don't worry, he'll get there eventually.
Thoughts? Predictions? Reactions? Fishing for comments I most certainly am. I hope you all enjoyed, and have a good day and/or night!
Chapter 8: Interlude: Azula's Triumph
Notes:
So uh, it's been a little while. Again. My bad guys. The months of April and May just about killed me. I traveled through three time zones, got sick twice, had a minor concussion, and had to deal with AP exams after all that. I'm only feeling a little bit dead inside. I wouldn't be feeling half as awkward if I hadn't had this chapter written like, a month and a half ago and then didn't post it until now. Sorry. But yeah this chapter fought me a bit, and I'm still not entirely sure if it has the effect I wanted it to. But I really wanted to get back to writing this and make some serious progress this summer, hopefully on a semi-regular posting schedule, and I can't move forward in the story without this bit. I'll stop rambling now: enjoy!
Chapter Text
The day after his brother and son left the Fire Nation in disgrace, Ozai summoned his daughter to the war chamber. She held herself well, as she always had. But when she knelt and awaited his words, Ozai read uncertainty in the tension of her shoulders.
That was good.
“Rise, daughter,” the Firelord said.
Azula straightened, her face a perfect mask of calm expectation, eyes lowered respectfully. The picture of a perfect princess. Whatever had gone wrong in Zuko had clearly gone very right in her.
For a moment he studied his daughter, his perfect creation. Or near-perfect, at least. It was time to see just how close to perfection Azula truly was. Or, perhaps, how far, but Ozai had a feeling it wouldn’t come to that.
“I have news for you, Azula.”
“News?” she asked, her eyes rising to meet his.
“Indeed,” he said, resolving to draw out his explanation as much as possible. “Unfortunate though the events of these last few days have been, the Fire Nation must remain strong. With your brother gone, we appear to be without an official heir. This situation must be rectified.”
Azula flinched. Just the tiniest movement; he doubted anyone else would have noticed it. She was afraid.
That was good.
Ozai continued as if he hadn’t noticed anything. “ Zuko has made himself unavailable. The Fire Nation must have a visible heir, one who is present at court and can prove herself to be strong. While Zuko is occupied elsewhere, someone else must take up the task.”
A look of cautious hope stole across Azula’s face. “Father, are you implying…?”
Ozai smiled. “The Fire Nation must remain strong. For that reason, I am giving you the title of Crown Princess. I am sure you understand the responsibility you will carry as heir.”
His daughter sat up just a tiny bit straighter, her expression tightening. “Yes, Father, I understand.”
She did. Ozai had made sure she had been educated as befitted a royal heir, but more than that he had made sure she understood the consequences of failure. She would do well, just as he’d always known she would.
That very night, he received word from the chief hawk handler that his daughter had sent her best messenger hawk on a long distance flight. It seemed the new Crown Princess was taking her role, and what she likely saw as potential competition, seriously. Ozai decided the move showed good instincts, even if she did slightly misunderstand Zuko’s potential. Zuko’s role as a member of the Royal Family was ended. For good.
Iroh had a problem.
This wasn’t a new feeling for him; he’d had many problems throughout his life, and was well acquainted with both successful solutions and the kind of attempts at solutions that blew up in his face or turned to ash in his hands.
But perhaps more than ever before, this was a problem he needed to solve. And it would be…
Complicated.
Iroh held in his hand the short letter he’d received from Azula the evening before. A simple request from his niece, the girl who’d been too young for him to know when he left for Ba Sing Se. The girl who, once he’d returned, had grown to be so much like his brother that he couldn't look her in the eyes without knowing the kind of person she could so easily become.
He knew now that those thoughts had been cowardice, and his lack of attempts to get to know his niece had been a mistake.
It wasn’t the letter’s request that caused his problem. He’d been wary of what she’d have to say to Zuko, but Iroh knew the last thing he needed was to break Zuko’s trust by keeping her letter from him. He’d slipped it underneath the curtain to Zuko’s room the night before, and prayed that Zuko would take his sister’s new title well.
It was her title that had Iroh worried. Her title, and its permanence.
When Iroh had first realized the war needed to end, he’d known that the Fire Nation would need not just someone to end the war, but someone to lead them out of it and ensure the other nations did not destroy them in vengeance. He’d always imagined it would be Zuko; Zuko, who had his mother’s kind heart and a sense of honor that harkened back to the very foundation of the Fire Nation itself.
But the Avatar could not also be Firelord. And though Iroh himself could perhaps take the throne in the immediate aftermath, he had no heirs.
There was no way to avoid it. Sooner or later, Azula would become Firelord.
Iroh took a deep breath and set the letter aside. This was far from an ideal situation, but he had spent his entire military career making the best of non-ideal situations. He would simply have to mitigate this one as well.
So he stood and went to use Tohil’s writing desk. There was only so much he could do through writing, but it was his responsibility to try. It was time Iroh got to know his niece.
It was raining hard the night Ty Lee snuck into Azula’s room at the palace for the last time. Perched on the roof outside the princess’s window, she gave the secret knock with a hand that shook. Spring this year was unusually cold, and that combined with the rain had Ty Lee shivering. The cold, and anticipation of what she was about to do.
The paper screen flew open, revealing Azula’s annoyed face. “What do you think you're doing out there?” she demanded.
Ty Lee tried for a sheepish smile, but it turned out brittle. “Can I come inside?”
Azula huffed in annoyance, but stepped back from the window. Ty Lee tumbled through, a little awkwardly with her shivering and the bag slung over her shoulder. As she got to her feet, Azula shut the window just as sharply as she’d opened it.
Ty Lee set down her bag and stood in the center of Azula’s bedroom, trying to rub warmth back into her arms.
“Well you look cold and pathetic,” Azula said, with no real heat in her voice. “What are you doing here?”
Ty Lee didn’t try to fight it; she was already tearing up. “I can’t stand it here anymore, Azula. I’m running away to join the circus.”
Azula actually laughed, and that was the final straw. Ty Lee burst into tears, covering her face with her hands.
“Oh, come on, I didn’t mean it like that,” Azula said, and Ty Lee let Azula pull her hands away from her face. “You joke about it so much that I didn’t think you were serious.”
“It was a joke at first,” Ty Lee admitted, voice wobbling. “But the more I thought about it the better it sounded, and now—” She choked on her tears and hid her face again.
“Look, put on some dry clothes and pull yourself together, and then we’ll talk about it,” Azula said, only a little annoyed. “I’ll go have a servant bring some of those pastries you like.”
Ty Lee smiled through her tears. “Oh Azula, I knew you cared!”
“I care that you don’t die of cold in my bedroom,” Azula said, but there was no real heat in her voice. Azula really was much nicer than most people thought. You just had to be nice to her first.
Still sniffling a bit, Ty Lee pulled dry clothes out of her bag and went behind the changing screen. She emerged feeling much warmer, but still slightly damp. By then Azula was back, putting things away at her writing desk.
“Did you hear from Zuko again?” Ty Lee asked. Azula had spoken a handful of times about the letters she got from her brother in the year since he’d…left. She never said much about them, but Ty Lee just knew that Azula liked hearing from him. She always had that small, exasperated smile whenever she talked about them. Mai said she couldn’t see it, but Ty Lee always could.
But no smile tonight. Instead she scowled. “Dum-Dum’s taking forever to write back. He should know better than to keep a princess waiting.”
Ty Lee giggled, and a knock at the door announced the arrival of the pastries.
They settled on the couch near the fireplace, the tray of sweets between them. Ty Lee barely had time to take a bite before Azula was saying “All right, tell me what’s going on.”
Swallowing her bite of pastry, Ty Lee resisted the urge to start crying again. “It’s a little silly,” she admitted. “Nothing really changed, but maybe I was feeling sad with all the rain and there’s a circus in town right now , and I started thinking that this would be the perfect time, and…” she trailed off miserably. “I’m not happy here, Azula. I want to go somewhere where I can be who I want to be all the time.”
Azula looked at her with an expression Ty Lee had rarely seen on the princess’s face. Was Azula…sad?
“And you think that the circus is the place for you,” Azula said, a bit flatly. “You’d give up being a courtier’s daughter and a friend to the princess to go be an acrobat?”
“It’s what I’ve always wanted,” Ty Lee said. “I already said goodbye to Mai.”
“That’s why you’re here, then? To say goodbye?” She didn’t quite sound like she believed it.
“You know I’d never leave without it.”
Azula didn’t seem to have much to say after that, and Ty Lee was getting drowsy. Azula grudgingly offered to let her stay the night, and Ty Lee agreed easily. She woke up before dawn the next morning, and as she prepared to slip out the window Ty Lee realized that she hadn’t, after everything, said goodbye to Azula. It had just seemed so cruel; Mai had understood why she was going, and Ty Lee hoped her parents would after they found the letter she’d left for them, but Azula…
Azula tried so hard not to show it when she was sad. If Ty Lee looked her in the eyes and said goodbye, she was scared that Azula would do something horrible like start crying. Well, no, Ty Lee didn’t believe she’d actually cry. But she didn’t want to see Azula, the perfect crown princess, sad because of Ty Lee. It wouldn’t be right.
Mai found Crown Princess Azula in her private training courtyard, finishing a kata Mai knew Azula could have done in her sleep. Mai stood under the eaves, waiting until Azula had finished the kata and relaxed her stance. It was only when Azula finished with a final exhale that Mai noticed she’d done the set with her eyes closed.
The princess opened them almost lazily, her gaze already on Mai. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” she called, relaxed like a predator on her home turf. Azula had grown into her role as heir naturally, with the kind of easy grace that made half the palace forget she’d only been official heir for two years.
Mai stepped out from under the eaves and joined Azula in the courtyard. “It’s official,” Mai said. “In six months, I won’t be an only child.”
“You’ll forgive me if I’m not surprised,” Azula said in her customary dry tone. “City gossip has been speculating for a few weeks now.”
“I didn’t expect anything less,” Mai said.
Azula smiled slightly, an expression of triumph. She hated overt flattery, but she always appreciated the subtle, matter-of-fact kind, the kind Mai was good at. Lately she’d been wondering if this was part of why Azula had kept her around for so long.
She’d likely never know. “There’s something else,” Mai said. “Mother says our family has been separated for too long; we’re leaving for the Colonies to be with Father.”
Azula stilled, her relaxed posture stiffening slightly. “And why didn’t I hear about this from the gossip mill?”
“Because Mother only decided this morning. Gossip doesn’t travel that fast.”
Azula had gotten terrifyingly good at hiding discomfort these past two years; the way she turned her face away just slightly would have seemed casual to anyone else. “Are you sure you won’t die of boredom in your little colony town?”
“I just might,” Mai said.
The conversation lapsed, tension filling the space where words had been. Their time together lately had been full of these lapses; Mai had often wondered if Azula also felt the phantom of Ty Lee during these times, wondered if Azula was also wondering what their mutual friend might say. They were a dreary pair without her, that was for certain.
Mai had half-expected Azula to ask—or maybe order—her to stay. An official request from the Crown Princess would convince Mai’s mother to let her stay here, maybe even as a guest in the palace if Azula invited her. But now, watching Azula as she moved into a set of easy stretches, Mai doubted it would happen. Azula hadn’t asked Ty Lee to stay, so there was no reason Mai would get something she hadn’t.
“Mother wants to leave within the month,” Mai said, attempting to fill the silence. “Anything interesting happening before then?”
Azula shrugged. “I have a duel tomorrow. Some general’s son wants the honor of having his every weakness exposed in front of a crowd. I really don’t know why they keep asking.”
“If he’s that terrible you wouldn’t have agreed in the first place,” Mai said.
Azula almost smiled. “He’s not. He might even be able to hold his own for a moment or two, before I destroy him.”
“Am I invited?”
It was the wrong thing to say. Azula went still again, siding eying Mai with a hint of something bitter on her face. “It’s not like anyone would stop you at the door.”
Mai didn’t reply. There had been times lately when she wondered. A year ago the thought to ask permission to come be with the princess wouldn’t have even crossed her mind, but a year ago Ty Lee would have been there to drag Mai along by the arm and make sure they were both there early.
Mai still spent time with Azula these days, but it was rare outside of formal occasions or social events, the kinds of events where an official invite was customary. It was hard to tell if the change was because Ty Lee had left, or if Azula’s growing responsibilities meant she no longer had time for friends.
“I should return home to help Mother,” Mai said, and Azula didn’t stop her when she turned around and left.
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